"They prepare for war, such as it is."
"Their civilization is built on war. How else could they react?"
"Mewl like children? Hide in the dark?"
"The dark is our domain. And even children will fight if a sword is placed in their hands."
"Fear is a powerful motivator. Don't we all know it?"
Warhammer 40,000: Chains of Fear
Chapter 2: Distress
Gollan was taking minutes.
In a world where the Emperor's light grew dimmer, it was the one piece of comfort Tiberius could take from the situation. Starkan was going to be attacked by Dark Eldar – depraved xenos who, if they were feeling merciful, would just slaughter you and your fellow human beings down to the last child. An entire race of pirates, spawned from the darkest pits of the void. Enough to give those in the war chamber pause, even in the knowledge that they were in the under-level of the governor's palace, and by extension, the most secure place on the planet. Ministers and officers talked, bickered, and sometimes did both. They talked loudly, increased their volume in a bid to get their points across, voices echoing across the granite walls, General Buren would get everyone to shut up listen for a few minutes, and the cycle would begin anew.
And through it all, in silent servitude, Gollan was taking minutes. That, at least, was a semblance of normality.
"Enough!"
So was Buren's outburst, causing every minister, Arbites officer, and PDF subordinate to stop, look up, and listen. Buren wasn't a tall man, or particularly physically intimidating, but he could throw his voice, and throw it well.
"This is inane," the general said, and Tiberius could see a fire in his eyes as he looked across the round war table, one wide enough to seat up to twenty people. "The alien is at our door, and we're acting like children."
"But are the xenos at our door? All we have is-"
"A transmission from the Pathe, passed onto us from Pilgrim's Pride."
Waldau, the minister of agriculture, scoffed. "And we trust the word of rogue traders?"
"I trust that the Dark Eldar who attacked their ship thought just as low of them. That they did not expect to be repelled, or taken captive, or tortured." Buren smiled grimly. "Xenos still have tongues. They talked long enough to inform us of a kabal's plan to invade Starkan."
If 'invade' is really the word to use, Tiberius reflected.
"And where is Pilgrim's Pride now?" asked Marshal Azzopardi, the commander of all Arbites on Starkan. "What are those criminals doing now that they have sounded the trumpet?"
"I suspect what criminals and pirates do best," Buren answered.
"You suspect? I thought the great General Buren of the stalwart defenders of our planet could give us more than just suspicions."
Tiberius sighed. He'd expected this. There'd been tension between Buren and Azzopardi ever since the anarchy that had plagued Starkan two years prior. It was the PDF who had put the rebellion down, but it was from the PDF that a sizable number of dissidents had sprouted. The Arbites had fought, and bled, and died. And even in the midst of an alien invasion, it was clear that Azzopardi wasn't going to let Buren forget it.
"We can't trace the ship," Buren answered. "They may care enough about Starkan to ensure that this world remains a hub to sell their wares. But to expect a rogue trader to come to our aid? You place too much faith in humanity."
"Do not presume to lecture me on faith."
"If you agree to not lecture me on how to do my job."
Tiberius smiled – three minutes. Buren had kept the room silent for a three whole minutes. That had to be a record.
"The PDF has begun fortifying the capital," Buren continued. "With the governor's permission, I would like to withdraw the people of outlying settlements to the capital as well, or failing that, assign them to defensible hubs."
"A retreat?" asked Polaki, the minster of infrastructure. "You would leave our homes undefended?"
"The Dark Eldar come for us far more than our wares. They're like any predatory animal, going for the kill unless the prey is clustered too close together."
"One might say that would make the prey easier to corral."
"And I would say that as minister of infrastructure, you should focus on rebuilding our world after we're done defending it. Because defending it is the job the Emperor has given me."
"I gave you the job, actually," Tiberius said. He rose to his feet, placing his hands in his pockets – he did not wish for those around him to see their sweat, or their shaking. "But General Buren has my permission to oversee our defences as he sees fit."
"You trust him?" Azzopardi scoffed.
"I trust him to point his lasgun in the right direction when the Dark Eldar arrive."
Buren smiled. Tiberius did not. He didn't disapprove of the general's plan. In fact, given what he knew of the Dark Eldar, it was probably the best plan he could have come up with. Even so, he would have preferred to be forewarned about the plan before it was presented in this council.
And you took down every word, didn't you? Tiberius wondered, sparing a glance at Gollan, the ordinate still scribbling away, his parchment all rolled up at his feet. Well, good. Though words only tell so much.
Buren continued talking, and Tiberius rubbed his hands together. How could he do it, he wondered? How could Buren talk so calmly in the knowledge that xenos were at their door? He commanded a Planetary Defence Force of 10,000 men – possibly enough to defend a city, hardly enough to defend a planet. How could he be so calm? How could he…
Emperor help me.
The Emperor was tens of thousands of light years away, he reminded himself. The Emperor would save his soul, but out here, whether he could save his body from being maimed was another matter. Fear, he reflected. Fear was keeping his hands in his pockets, keeping his voice low. Fear was something that his ministers were showing, as they hung on Buren's word. Gone was their defiance and bickering. Even Azzopardi had fallen silent. But as he watched a hologram of Starkan appear on the table, as Buren began giving a speech on troop movements, and evacuation plans, and Emperor knew what else, he-
"We need help."
He'd had enough. He rose to his feet once more. From the glare Buren gave him, he could tell that the general resented being interrupted.
"We need to request aid."
And Buren was welcome to resent him for that.
"Request aid," Buren murmured. "Is that necessary?"
Some of the ministers stirred. Buren's staff remained silent.
"We're faced with alien attack," Tiberius said. "And all due respect to the PDF, they are, but…well…"
"Go on," Buren said, eyes narrowed.
"PDF," Tiberius said. "Our first line of defence. Right now, our only line of defence."
"We know the Dark Eldar will attack," Buren said. "We can be prepared for them. If every planet in the Imperium cried out for aid at the prospect of xenos launching an assault, no aid could be provided at all."
"I'm aware of that," Tiberius said. "But that's my point. We know the Dark Eldar will attack, and soon. We can have aid here in time for that, to end the fight before it begins." Buren opened his mouth but Tiberius beat him to it. "I am aware of the laws of the Imperium, that a governor should only request aid when the need is dire. But surely you can see the opportunity that has presented itself to us."
He looked around the room, at the gathering of "you" present. Ministers. Officers. Officials. All of whom looked to him. Many of whom were nodding. Some of whom could not hide the look in their eye. Aliens were coming. Why not ask for help? Why not request others to fight for them, so their sons and daughters did not have to? Loyalty, fear, practicality, the motivations all led to the same desire.
"This is a waste," Buren said. "We-"
"I motion that we petition aid from the Imperial Navy," Tiberius said. He looked at Buren. "You have command over the ground. The sky, however, is closer to my dominion than yours."
"Hear hear," came a cacophony of voices. Enough to show Buren that he couldn't fight against the tide. The slump in his shoulders, the look in his eye. Tiberius smiled.
"The sky is your dominion," the general said. "Just don't keep your head in the clouds for too long."
"Stop marching Commander, you're not on parade."
Cipcini glanced at Shinnon, stopped moving, then turned her gaze out to the void of space. For a few moments, she held herself there. Then, a moment after that, she returned to treating the bridge of the Pathe as a drill ground.
Oh for goodness sake.
Shinnon got to his feet and walked over, arm outstretched.
"Don't tell me to stop moving."
Cipcini had stopped again, in spite of her words, even though Shinnon could tell that she was as jumpy as an azenha. He glanced around at the bridge, the servitors doing their jobs, as was their want. He returned his gaze to Cipcini – one ankle was twisted around the other. Her hands were in her pockets, and her body swayed from side to side.
"You need orders," Shinnon said.
"What?"
"Something to get your mind off the fact that we're fragged." He turned around and returned to his command chair. "Be at ease commander, I'm sure there's something on this piece of flotsam that requires your attention."
"Sir, I'm not just some token XO."
"Course you are. Same way I'm a token captain."
"Sir!"
He sighed, and looked up at her. The agitation was there, but now it was laced with outright aggression. Enough to fool him just for a second that she wasn't scared shitless.
"What do you want of me Commander?"
"I want…" She bit her lip. "I'd like, maybe, a little…drive."
"Drive?"
"Yes, drive. Something to show that you at least have the spine to pretend to care that xenos are bearing down on us."
"Why?" He leant forward. "For whose sake? These automatons?" He clicked his fingers in a servitor's direction, the servitor not reacting at all. "I'm sure the Machine God is keeping them company."
"Captain-"
"Or is it for your sake?" he continued. "Because like I said, I can find you something to do, if you want your mind taken off the upcoming slaughter."
"While you do nothing."
"While I do nothing," he repeated, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. "Maybe it hasn't occurred to you that's all I can do."
She didn't answer. She stood there, he sat there, and the servitors of the bridge continued their eternal service. Or at least for as long as eternity could provide.
"Thought I made this clear," Shinnon murmured, as he closed his eyes. "The Pathe is a listening post, and a poorly defended one at that. Of course, the Dark Eldar being the pirates that they are, won't have the decency to atomize us, they'll actually board the ship, kidnap us, torture us, and then, if we're lucky, let us die." He opened them again – he didn't want images of those aliens filling his vision. "You do know about the Dark Eldar, correct?"
"Of course," Cipcini nodded.
"Have you fought them?"
She shook her head.
"Well, I have. As a lieutenant commander aboard the Imperial Dawn." He sighed – he wasn't in the mood to reminisce, but that was still better than Cipcini treating him like some kind of lout. "An Invincible-class battleship." He laughed. "Invincible."
"Did they…did they attack?"
"No, of course not." He let out a laugh. "Didn't you hear that it was 'invincible?' No. They ran rings around us through the entire Jordanita system, picking off one evacuation ship after another. That's how they operate. They take out the weakest, avoid any confrontation with an enemy that has superior firepower, and if they break that rule, you can bet they're going to try and avoid receiving as much of that firepower as possible." He leant forward. "So yes, I'm doing nothing. Because I'm faced with the prospect of the xenos paying attention to the Pathe or not. If they do, we're not as good as dead, but will wish we were. And if they don't, well, lucky us. If you think the Imperium is going to miss Starkan if it falls, you've got a lot to learn about the universe."
Cipcini stood there for a moment. Eventually, she asked, "aren't you angry?"
"What?"
"These aliens. The ones who take our people, who blaspheme against the Emperor, who sully His creation with their presence. Surely you would want to prepare yourself as much as possible to deal with them. To maintain His light as the dark reaches out for us. Surely you'd want to do that."
"No," Shinnon said. "I wouldn't. Not anymore than resorting to trite platitudes."
Cipcini's eyes gave an icy flash. "Then it's no mystery that you're here, and not on an actual ship."
Shinnon remained seated, even as a servitor rolled up to him. The gall, he reflected. Here two weeks, and she was dared presumed to tell him how to…how to…
"Cap. Tain?"
He glanced at the servitor. "Yes?"
"Or. Ders. From. Plan. Et."
"Wonderful," he mused. But then he took the data-slate and smiled. It had been sent by vox, to be given to his astropath. And the request it gave was most appealing.
"What is it?" Cipcini asked, walking over. "What does it say?"
Shinnon smirked. "You were talking about ships earlier, Commander? About the Imperial Navy?"
She stared at him.
"Well, looks like Governor Tiberius is in the mood for some of those ships to be summoned to the Artika system." He rose to his feet and patted her on the shoulder. "I have an appointment with our astropath. Feel free to use the bridge as a drill ground in my absence."
It was early morning in Artin, and something was wrong.
Maria had turned in as soon as she'd dumped the carcass at Conus's the day prior, picked up some bigornias in return, and gone to sleep. Now, the town was abuzz with activity. Far more so than usual, and not the kind of activity that made her feel at ease. Artin had a population of about 196 souls. Right now, standing outside her hab unit, looking out over the dusty streets, she was seeing all of them at the same time. Watching how they moved. How they glanced at each other. How they remained silent. She watched as Dorin, her neighbour from the adjacent hab unit, exited his abode and began heading out.
"Hey," she called out to him. "What's going on?"
"Maria?" he asked.
"Yes, me, Maria," she responded curtly. "What's happening?"
"I dunno," he said. "Some kind of announcement in the town square. Cinna wants the whole town to come."
"Cinna?" she exclaimed.
"Didn't you hear the vox?" he asked.
"I was sleeping," she said. She swallowed. "You…did say Cinna, right?"
"Do you know another Cinna?"
"No," she murmured.
"Well, until we get another Cinna, we have to take what the Emperor provides." He gave her a small wave and walked briskly up the street while Maria just stood there, frozen in place. Like someone had put an icicle down her back and drilled it into the ground, the chill spreading into her spine, and keeping her rooted to the spot.
"Morning," she heard a voice behind her say. "You're up early."
She glanced at Aidan. He'd gone to bed after her, and somehow, he looked even more refreshed. He'd barely said a word on the way back to Artin, and now…
"Huh. Everyone's up early."
…and now he couldn't stop talking.
"So, anyway, I was thinking-"
"Come on," Maria said. "There's a meeting in the town square."
"A meeting? Can't we-"
"Cinna called it."
Aidan turned as pale as the proverbial icicle that was supposedly down her back. "Cinna?" he whispered. "You…you sure?"
"Well, Dorin's sure, and I trust him. I also trust that everyone needs to be somewhere in a hurry, and who better than Cinna to crack the whip?"
"Who better than Cinna to put a bullet in-"
"Come on," Maria said. "Get dressed. Cinna's psychopathic enough, we don't need to give him due cause."
"Due cause my arse."
Nonetheless, Aidan obliged, as did Maria. They'd changed into day clothes in three minutes. They arrived at the town square seven minutes after that. Nearly two-hundred people stood around the podium, once presided over by Adept Grenfell. Now, only one man would dare stand there. Only one man could keep the people of Artin in line, even though they didn't need keeping in line at all, Maria reflected. All they…or at least she, wanted, was to live, to serve, to worship the Emperor in the knowledge that He protected her, and would bring her to His side when she departed this world. But for someone like Cinna, that wasn't enough. For someone like Cinna, just wanting to live would be laxity, or sloth, or some other sin. For someone like Cinna…
She averted her gaze as she watched the man take the podium. Someone like Cinna was the price Artin had paid for daring to have an adept who'd thrown in his lot with the rebels. She and everyone else had watched his execution at this very spot two years ago, pleading for his life, before Cinna had put a bolt through his forehead, his blood joining that of the guilty and innocent. Now, Arbitrator Cinna, officer of the Adeptus Arbites and de facto head official for the town of Artin, was unto a god. Not demanding worship per se, but still demanding fear and respect. And not afraid to deal with anyone who stepped out of line, often through painful means.
"At ease, citizens."
Sometimes through lethal ones.
"Notice is as follows," the arbitrator began. "An immediate xenos attack is expected on Starkan. By order of Governor Tiberius, all citizens are ordered to head to Reltoyla."
"Reltoyla?"
"Xenos?"
"That's thousands of miles away, we-"
"Artin is to be emptied within the hour," Cinna continued, his voice blaring out over the vox above the protests of the townsfolk. "The governor demands, and I shall enforce his decree." He leaned out over the podium. "No exceptions. Dissent will not be tolerated. One hour, we shall meet outside the town chapel. All vehicles are to be commandeered. We shall then move as a group towards the capital."
There were no questions this time, yet Maria, at least, had them. She glared at Cinna as he walked down from the podium. She couldn't do anything – even with her shrap-shot, his carapace armour would absorb the shots, and she'd be dead with a single round from his bolt pistol. Adeptus Arbites were supposedly keepers of the peace. Far as she was concerned, peace had ended two years ago, and Cinna had ensured it never returned.
So, xenos, she reflected, as the crowd began to generate the buzz of panicked conversation. You couldn't tell us what kind, Cinna? Orks? Rak'gol? Any idea when they'll arrive?
"Sis?"
She looked at Aidan. He looked tired. Very tired.
"Are we…y'know…"
"What?" she asked.
"I mean…"
"We're going to do what Cinna says," she said. "So that means heading home, getting the essentials, and meeting at the chapel." She forced a smile. "Think you'll agree that our guns count as essential, right?"
Aidan nodded. He turned away silently, and began walking off. No help, no response, she'd probably have to pack some spare clothes for him. Frowning, she clenched her fists, and followed after him.
Her fists being clenched didn't stop them from shaking though.
"Trenches. It would be fragging trenches. Hey, why not dig out a sewer while we're at it?"
"One more word Private, and you'll be in a sewer for the rest of your miserable life."
"And how long is that, eh? You think fragging aliens are going to let me live that long?"
"Longer than me right now."
"Then why don't you-"
Lieutenant Cassius Dac watched as Sergeant Berdejo kneed Private Enright in the groin, bringing the altercation to a quick and painful end. The nearby troopers chortled before returning to the task of digging trenches, raising barbed wire, and all other means of setting up a perimeter around Starkan's capital. A static defence, bringing with it all the firepower Starkan's PDF had to bear. Only hours ago had they heard Governor Tiberius's relocation order over the vox. A few hours after that, the refugees had begun flooding in, giving the PDF the joint-task of assigning habitation, while also ensuring that said habitation could be defended. Provided that scenes like this didn't tear the PDF apart first.
"That's enough," Cassius said. He was standing above the trench, overlooking the surrounding farmland that Reltoyla cut deeper into every year. "You want to fight, fine. Just save it for the xenos."
"Easy for you to say L.T., xenos don't have balls."
Well, Private Enright was certainly taking the ball busting better than he could have hoped for.
"Aren't eldar like us though?" piped up Private Prix. "Like…would they have balls?"
"Kill one of them, you have my permission to find out," Cassius said. He kicked some dirt down into the trench. "But for now, dig. Or I'll have the sergeant do some more ball busting."
The platoon fell silent, and Cassius returned his gaze to the field. They were in the second trench line, located on the city's perimeter. For decades, urban sprawl had been cutting into the surrounding farmland, but now, the fortifications were finishing the job. Water traps had become trenches. Farmhouses command posts. The autumn crops had been harvested early. All in the hope that the fight would last a short enough period of time that they wouldn't starve.
"It's Dark Eldar we're up against, technically."
Cassius glanced at Berdejo, as she climbed out of the trench to behold the view of barbed wire, dirt, and more dirt. She was easily the largest member of his platoon, a walking bulk of muscle attached to two legs. It made the job of ball busting all the easier for her.
"Think that matters?" he asked.
"Might matter to the men, if they knew the difference."
"They're aliens," Cassius murmured. "Do you think the Emperor cares if one group of xenos is slightly less depraved than the other?"
"The Emperor? No. The people fighting those aliens? Maybe. We tell children stories about orks rather than jokaero after all. Least we do when we want them to behave."
Cassius remained silent. Berjedo was great with keeping the squad in line. Unfortunately, her same bluntness sometimes carried on into casual conversation.
"How's the family?"
Case in point. Cassius remained silent, and kept his gaze on the horizon. He could see another convoy making its way down the main highway.
"Sir?"
He let out a sigh. "They're coping."
"Coping?"
"Jocasta understood, Portia cried, and Octavian said that he hated me. They kept saying that right up to when they were turned over to Sister Lynne."
"I hear the Shrine of Saint Nega is being fortified as well." Berjedo hesitated. "Y'know, you could request-"
"No," Cassius said. He looked at her, before gesturing to the troopers. "How many of them have families? How many of them would want to be with them right now?"
"Most, I suppose."
"Right. So what does it say if I request for a transfer to be closer to my own family?" Cassius didn't let her answer. "Nothing good. So I'll stay out here, piss and shit in the dirt, watch them freeze, and keep my lasgun close. And when this is over, I'll get home, and do what fathers are meant to do." He smiled faintly. "That's another war in of itself."
"I'll take your word for it." Berjedo looked like she wanted to say something else. But by this point two of the troopers were in a scuffle, and she had to head back into the trench, yank a shovel away, and use it in a different manner.
Cassius remained standing. He trusted the sergeant to maintain order. All he could do right now was to be a less boisterous example. To show the men there was nothing to fear. To continue his service to the Emperor.
"Now if I hear one more word out of you, I'll string you up, feed you to a grox, and-"
However difficult that could be.