"And so the die is cast."
"You almost sound disappointed."
"After ten millennia, you seek a challenge."
"I'm sure there'll be others."
"Indeed. But it matters not. Our target will fall – fear of the alien has seen to that."
Warhammer 40,000: Chains of Fear
Chapter 4: Preparation
Back here again.
The PDF had been concentrated at Reltoyla, and mostly in the area surrounding the city. Within Reltoyla itself, a sizable portion had been assigned to guard the governor's residence. With limited manpower, few PDF soldiers had been assigned to the residential sector. Protecting the people was the job of the Adeptus Arbites after all. But nonetheless, this was a time of war. So a PDF lieutenant making his way through the streets on the way to the Shrine of Saint Nega wouldn't be out of the ordinary.
Or at least, such were Cassius's thoughts as he made his way through the streets in question, heading for the shrine in question, hoping that the Arbites in question were more focused on keeping civilians in line than soldiers. And that questions wouldn't be asked, while he silently asked questions ranging from "when will the Dark Eldar arrive" to "when will I arrive?" He didn't know the answer to the former. But the latter was a question that was soon answered. He stood in place as he beheld the shrine in question.
Too many questions, he thought.
He kept his gaze on the shrine. It towered over the hab units, but that was about it. A column of stairs led up to its entrance, now flanked by barbed wire and sandbags. PDF soldiers remained in place – about a squad's worth, but all at ease. He'd trained in the PDF long enough to gauge a trooper's mood, and these men were taking it easy, as much as ease as one could be in such times. Ease enough that they were laying back and smoking, reading, or laughing nervously. Enough to let mothers and children loiter around in the square outside the shrine, whether it be in the glow of Starkan's sun, or in the shadow of the statue of Saint Nega. The Patron Saint of Mercy. All in a pale imitation of what it had been like here just a few days ago.
If I'm found, will I receive mercy?
He didn't know, but remained focus on the problem at hand. All he had to do was walk through that square, walk past the troopers, gain entry to the shrine, find his family, and do so without arousing suspicion. Frowning, he reflected that he was a lieutenant – that should give him enough clout to bypass awkward questions but-
"Cassius?"
…or he could just stay put and see Jocasta walk up to him. Considering that was what had just happened, Plan B had become the optimal course of action.
"Jo…Jocasta…"
And Plan B had now gone the way of Saint Nega herself – remembered, but lost to time. Jocasta, however, was still here. Looking at him in bewilderment.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I…" Cassius swallowed – his throat was dry, and his tongue was tied. "I had to see you."
"See me?" Jocasta whispered. "Cassius, aren't you meant to be with your unit? Aliens are about to attack, you can't just sneak off and-"
The words washed over Cassius's mind, as he barely listened. This wasn't how it was meant to go, he told himself. Jocasta had told him that she loved him when they last spoke. Before he sent them off to the shrine, as Sister Lynne led them away. This…this wasn't meant to happen.
"Cassius?"
Wrong. It was all wrong, he reflected. Aliens weren't meant to invade, he wasn't meant to be here, Jocasta was-"
"Cassius, are you listening?"
He returned to the here and now. His throat still sore, his body still rooted in place. Jocasta just looked at him, as she brushed some hair from her eyes. Black hair that was turning grey much too fast. Silently, he glanced out over the courtyard. It took him only a moment to find his children, playing with others as children were wont to do. It took only another moment for him to ask how he couldn't have seen them until now. But there they were – Octavian in the lead, Portia trailing behind. His son, ever the leader. Not like himself.
"They look happy," he murmured. He turned back to his wife. "A lot of the children do."
"Cassius, that's hardly the point."
"Do they know?" he whispered.
"What?"
"Do they know?" he repeated.
"Wha…of course they don't know," Jocasta hissed. "Emperor preserve me, do you think I want to give our children nightmares? That aliens are coming? Nega preserve me, they're even saying that it's Dark Eldar."
"It is," Cassius murmured.
"I…" Jocasta stumbled, but quickly composed herself. "Terra help me, do you think I'm going to terrify my children with…with that?"
"They should know the truth."
"Why are you here Cassius?" He tried to walk away, but she grabbed him. "Answer me."
"I…" Cassius stopped walking, only to sit down on the steps of a hab unit. Plascrete steps that would shatter as quickly as the unit itself with moderate firepower. "I…I just had to see you."
"Did sergeant what's-her-name cover for you? Emperor bless that woman, she-"
"Damn it Jocasta I had to see you!" he yelled, loud enough for some children to stop running, but thankfully, no troopers or Arbites. "I…"
"Cassius…"
"I had to see you," he repeated. "I…" He trailed off, resting his face in his hands. When they emerged, his eyes were red. "I couldn't leave without…without making it better. I couldn't leave with Octavian saying he hated me, with you looking at me like I was never coming back, because…" He swallowed, his Adam's apple warbling. "Because I don't know if I'm coming back Jocasta. Emperor help me, there's the Imperial Guard, the Navy, there's everything but the Astartes, but Emperor forgive me, I'm scared. I…I just couldn't…"
He couldn't bear it. He felt like a coward. He was a coward, he told himself. He was a coward for leaving his unit, he was a coward for entering the city, and he was a coward for expecting his wife to make up for said cowardice. Fear, he reflected. Fear had come to every citizen of Starkan. And he'd failed in the battle against it. Miserably. He kept feeling that way even as Jocasta hugged him.
"I know," she whispered. "I know…" She paused, before kissing him. "I'm so proud of you Cassius. I always have been – you trained, you drilled, and I always knew that someday you might have to fight." She kissed him once more. "And your children love you."
"They said-"
"Portia said what any three year old would say when she thinks her father is going away without reason, and Octavian said what any five year old would say when he thinks he understands the world." She smiled. "Come on, Cassius. I'll let you see that for yourself."
"I…" He swallowed. "I really should get back to my unit."
His wife put her hands on her hips. "Are you telling me you walked all this way, risked censure, and betrayed the Emperor's faith, just to back out now?"
"The Emperor-"
"To the Warp with the Emperor. You're here, he's not. Your children are yours, not his. And this is our world more than any other's."
Cassius couldn't help but smile at such casual blasphemy. But silently, he got to his feet, following his wife over into the square. The smile remained as his children saw him. As they cried out for him and ran over. Remained as he hugged them as tightly as he ever had, or, as he reminded himself, harder than he might ever do so again.
He had fled in the face of fear. Had risked everything for this moment.
It was worth it.
Otis. Phaela. Sarandi. Aidan.
The words were in her mind, but not on her lips, as she dragged herself across the field that lay adjacent to the Iron Road. Her left hand was pressed against her waist, her fingers wet with blood. Her right was dedicated to dragging an autogun through the grass, thick with evening dew. Hours had passed since the convoy had been hit. Since she'd dared move from the ditch, laying still, as she'd heard the sounds of gunfire, laughter, and screams, as if demons themselves had come to Starkan. Creatures of myth, she knew, nothing more than sailor stories spawned from the superstitions of the Warp, and yet, if they did exist, and did what those monsters had to her fellow townspeople, she would have believed it. Monsters. Demons. Men. As the Emperor's children slaughtered each other, why did xenos need to exist?
Otis. Phaela. Sarandi. Aidan.
She couldn't bring herself to recite the names of the other 192 people who had been killed, or may have survived. Four names were enough to keep her going. Blood pouring out of her wound, dragging Aidan's autogun along, the farmhouse was her destination. At the least, safety, far more so than what the highway could provide. And quite possibly, her quandary.
Otis. Phaela. Sarandi. Aidan.
She groaned, and reached the farmhouse's entrance. It hadn't been burnt down like the one she'd seen with her brother a few days ago, but it was clear that no-one had lived her for quite some time. The rotting wood, the rickety shutters, the stench. The way the door creaked open as she nudged it with the butt of her rifle – aratho webs were everywhere. Enough to bind her wound, she reflected grimly. Well, maybe she could find the kitchen and find a way to get out the shrapnel that had found its way into her, or-
"Emperor, hear my prayer…"
She bit her lip, and not just because of the pain in her side. That voice…
"…let my soul shine in the dark, and illuminate the way for the unfaithful."
She pressed the autogun against her shoulder. Yes, there was no mistaking it. She slowly made her way down the hall, doing her best to not let the floorboards creek. She'd found him.
"Know that I am your faithful servant."
Liar. She kept moving, coming to the living room. A small fire had been lit.
"And shall be forevermore."
Casting its light on carapace armour, and a bolt pistol put beside it. Casting its light on the man seated in front of the embers.
"Cinna."
He turned to face her, as if he were a child looking up to his mother. He slowly reached for his gun.
"Don't," she said. She gestured towards a couch. "Sit."
Cinna silently obeyed. She looked down the sights of the autogun, fighting just to stay conscious."
"You're bleeding," he said.
"I know."
"I can help," he said.
"Liar," Maria whispered, even as pain's voice joined her words.
"Why would I lie?" he asked.
"Because you take lives, you don't save them. Because you left us all to die."
"Left you…do I know you?"
Maria laughed. Laughed, even as her throat ran sore. Laughed, as her left side tore into her very soul. Laughed, as she collapsed down against the adjacent sofa, near where Cinna's gear was. Laughed, and stopped only when Cinna's silence silenced her in turn.
"You don't know," she whispered. "Emperor almighty, you don't even know."
"Don't take the Emperor's name in vain."
"Go to hell," she spat. She rested the autogun on the ground, her hands on its butt. "They're all dead, you know. The people of Artin. The people you were meant to protect."
Cinna remained silent, and Maria glared at him. Gone was the Arbitrator who had executed Adept Schaar, alongside a dozen men and women who he deemed guilty by association. Gone was the figure of her nightmare. All that sat before her now was a man, like any other. Like the men she'd seen killed on the road today. Like the men she'd killed in the rebellion two years ago, as she fought to defend her family. Like men Cinna had killed after the rebellion had ended, judging them as guilty, and dispatching justice through execution.
"I fled," he said. "And I'm alive. Still able to serve the Emperor."
"And not us?" she whispered. She continued to glare at him, the fire reflecting off her eyes. "Did it even occur to you to fight back?"
"As I said, I serve the Emperor. I'll answer to him, not to you."
Maria scoffed and lay back in her seat. "Who were they?" she asked. "The people who attacked us."
"Rebels turned bandits, most likely, the ones who survived the attempted coup from two years ago. Decadents who turned their back on his Almighty. Traitors, for whom there can be no forgiveness. I believe you may have seen their handiwork."
The burnt farm, she reflected. Somehow, he knew. And he hadn't lifted a finger to help even then.
"Are you a traitor?" she asked. "The one who fled?"
"You're upset," Cinna said. "I understand that."
"No. You don't. You can't possibly imagine how much I hate you. How I saw what you did to those people two years ago." She leant forward. "Do you even know their names, Cinna? Did you even stop to ask who was guilty and who was innocent?"
"Adept Schaar was guilty," he said.
"And his family? Friends? Relatives? Support staff?"
"Innocent may die alongside the guilty. All that matters is that the guilty party is punished. Better a hundred innocents die than one guilty man go free."
"Better that nearly two-hundred die so that you can live also."
Cinna made a move to go forward. Maria raised her rifle, stopping him in his tracks. He glared at her, a glint in his eyes coming from more than just the fire in the corner. Slowly, he spoke.
"Xenos are coming," he said. "You won't last a day without me."
"I lasted well enough without you on the highway."
"The rebels," he said, and for a moment Maria heard desperation in his voice. "You should hate them, not me. They killed your people. They-"
"I do hate them. Even more than you. Only, I can't do anything about that." She winced, as her blood spilled onto the couch's mattress. "Only…" She sighed, and rose to her feet. "Fear does strange things, doesn't it? I'm probably going to die one way or another, and all I can think about is…" She trailed off, and glanced towards the room's exit. "I guess-"
Cinna charged into her.
It had been all the opening he'd needed. One look away, and he'd charged into her, sending them both crashing out the door. Maria screamed as she collided against the hallway wall. Blood poured out, but she wasn't dead. Not yet. Yet she might soon be, as Cinna grabbed the autogun.
"Traitor! Heretic!"
She struggled to keep a hold of it. But he pressed it down against her throat, choking her.
"By my right as arbitrator, you are convicted of treason…"
She choked, gasping for air, rasping like a dying animal. She tried to hit him, but her hands flailed against his face.
"…and sentenced to death."
She could barely breathe. She was the grox, and Cinna was pressing the knife against her throat. An animal was trying to kill her. Like an animal, she fought to stay alive.
"This is my judgement."
She rested her hands on the autogun, but couldn't pry it off her throat.
"May the Emperor have mercy on your soul."
The Emperor, she reflected. The Emperor who had done nothing for her. The Emperor who let men like Cinna do whatever the hell they wanted.
"For I shall grant you none."
And in that moment, it was all clear. Cinna wasn't a coward. Cinna was a monster.
Otis. Phaela. Sarandi. Aidan.
She squeezed the trigger of the autogun. A volley of shots hit the door at the end of the hallway, doing Cinna no harm. But it gave him pause as he automatically recoiled from the weapon, caught off-guard. Enough for her to shove the autogun forward, giving her enough space to kick him off her, sending him sprawling.
"I'll kill you!" he yelled. Fire was once more in his eyes, as he made ready to charge. She picked up the autogun, holding it under her arm – at this close range, she didn't need to worry about accuracy. Cinna turned to flee back into the lounge room. For a moment, she hesitated.
Otis. Phaela. Sarandi. Aidan.
But only for a moment, as she gave the trigger another squeeze. Cinna screamed as bullets tore into his back, falling down to the floor. Through the gloom, she could see him reaching for his bolt gun. With a yell, fighting the pain, she got to her feet and rushed him, kicking him in the side. He screamed, and rolled over, finding the rifle pointed down at him.
"Say it!" she yelled. "Say it!"
"I…I don't…"
"Say it! Admit it!"
"Please…please don't kill me…"
"Say you were afraid! That you're a coward! That you let my people die!" She pressed the gun down as hard as she could, right against his forehead. "Emperor help me, say it!"
"The Emperor…God-Emperor…"
"The Emperor can't help you! Say it!" Blood fell onto the floor. Water fell down her cheeks. "Say it," she whispered.
"I…" Now, Cinna was crying. "Oh, Saint Nega, I…I fled. I was scared. I…I was ready to fight, but I saw them…so many…I…I didn't want to die…"
"Say it," she whispered. "Admit it. Say that you're a coward."
"I…" He swallowed. "I'm a coward."
"Louder!"
"I, Arbitrator Cinna Alaqeh, am a coward!" He was blubbering now. "Emperor help me, I'm a coward!"
Maria took a step back. He lay there, blubbering like a child. A coward had taken the lives of her people. A coward had let the lives of her people be taken. A coward had nearly taken her own life, but now, lay her crying. Daring mercy to be granted, as Saint Nega would have wanted. Even as he dispatched "justice."
"It's…it's alright," he said. "I…I can help. We'll patch you up, and-"
"Otis. Phaela. Sarandi. Aidan."
He stared at her. "What?"
"Otis," Maria repeated. "Phaela. Sarandi. Aidan."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Otis," Maria repeated, her voice wavering, her eyes watering. "Phaela. Sarandi. Aidan."
"I…I don't know who these people are."
"No," Maria said. "I know you don't." She raised her rifle. "But, Emperor willing, you'll meet them."
Cinna's eyes grew wide. "Wait," he said. "I-"
She fired only one shot this time. But only one bullet was needed to go through his forehead, killing him instantly. His body crumpled onto the floor, lying by a dying fire. His blood soaking into the wood. Dead. Unmourned. Unburied.
"Otis," Maria repeated. "Phaela. Sarandi. Aidan."
She limped over to the couch, dropping the autogun. It was Aidan's weapon, not hers.
"Aylla. Bararr."
She collapsed onto the couch, closing her eyes, letting the tears and blood flow.
"Anne. Lanka. Kandy."
She needed sleep. Needed rest. Her wound could wait until morning, she reassured herself.
"Borga. Helena. Dorin."
Funny, she reflected, as she felt sleep's embrace take her, accompanied by the touch of something darker, and far more eternal. Laying her, reciting the names of the fallen…
"Conus, Yung…"
…she no longer felt afraid.
He found her in the chapel.
Pathe had taught him how to play the waiting game, and now he'd mastered it. That meant either continuing to play the waiting game and winning for every second of every hour, or finding a new game to play. Right now, it was "find Commander Cipcini because servitors aren't any fun." So, partly due to intuition, partly due to the Pathe not being that large, he found Sabina Cipcini in the listening post's chapel. Knelt in front of a mural of the God-Emperor, sword in one hand, the Lectitio Divinitatus in the other.
"Thought I'd find you here."
She didn't respond, but he continued walking up through the chapel. Past wooden pews, past flickering candles that cast their light on the marble walls, past the servo-skulls that hovered in the air, as if aspiring to be angels. He only stopped right in front of her – his commander below him, the God-Emperor above. The natural order of things he supposed, though from what little understood, the Emperor hadn't walked in shining armour among mankind for ten-thousand years.
"Haven't been in here much," he said.
"I'm not surprised."
Ah, so she did speak, he reflected. He paused in silence for a moment. Nothing but silence remained.
"Well, least there won't be any servitors in here," he continued awkwardly. "I mean, some people claim the Machine God and God-Emperor are one and the same, but, well, I'm not a philosopher."
"Or a saint."
"Or a saint," he agreed.
"So what are you?"
She still hadn't turned to face him. So, with care to be as silent as possible, he went to sit down in a pew. It looked like it was made out of bluewood – a wood less known for its bizarre name, and more known for its sturdiness and-
CRASH!
-and sturdiness was overrated, he reflected, as he crashed right through the bench. He would have cursed if, as he fell, he didn't see Cipcini spring up in surprise. And hadn't seen the tears in her eyes.
Bloody hell.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"Am I alright?" he asked. "What about you?"
"Me?"
"You're crying," he said.
"You fell through a pew."
"So I'll give the servitors something to do, and laugh as servants of the Machine God defile a chapel of the Emperor. But what about-"
"This isn't funny!" She stormed past him.
"Listen, everyone cries, I-"
"It's not about the tears!" She spun around – her eyes were red. Very red. So red that it wasn't just due to the tears in question.
"You come in here," Cipcini began. "You…you…"
"Exposed bluewood as a sham?"
"You smash a pew-"
"Actually, I fell through it."
"-and make jokes about the Machine God, and servitors, and blasphemy, and…and…" She trailed off, before sitting on a pew of her own. Exhausted. "Go to hell," she whispered.
Shinnon cast a glance back at the Emperor. The Emperor's visage stared right back at him. Hard, firm…uncaring, he supposed? Maybe that didn't accurately describe the man, for in His power, he held the Imperium together, let His ships sail through the Warp. "The Emperor protects," as the saying went. Maybe that was why Cipcini was here. Or maybe…
"Faith before fear," he murmured.
"What?" Cipcini looked up at him.
Shinnon looked back at her. Finally, he understood. Finally, it all made sense.
"You're afraid," he said.
"What?"
"You're afraid," he repeated. "That's why you're here. That's why you were pacing up and down the bridge. The Dark Eldar are coming, and you're afraid."
"I…I am not."
"Guess that's why you came into the chapel. Maybe-"
"I. Am not. Afraid!" She rose to her feet and made a beeline towards him. "If you think-"
"Only natural, I guess. I mean-"
She punched him in the jaw, sending Shinnon sprawling through another pew. Bluewood scattered everywhere. He would have winced, if not for Cipcini jumping on top of him, punching him once after another.
"Take it back!" she yelled. "Take it-"
He grabbed her arm and punched her in the jaw, followed by a kick to the stomach. It was enough to get her off him.
"Commander, stand down!"
She sprung up and charged into him, slamming him against the mural. This time, nothing shattered. But candles fell down as he slammed back into her, sending them both sprawling over the ground. She-
"Enough!"
Shinnon had got up first, and had drawn a laspistol. Cipcini glared at him right up the barrel.
"You don't scare me," she said.
"Maybe not. But the Dark Eldar do, don't they?"
She laughed bitterly before collapsing back down onto the ground. Pieces of broken bluewood surrounded her, as if she was in the centre of a self-consuming spiral.
"You don't know me," she said.
"I can guess that you put a lot of faith in the Emperor." He glanced at the mural of His benevolence. "No idea why."
"Heretic."
"Heretic, apostate, traitor, call me what you want."
"Can I call you a cunt?"
"If you want. Preferably not in front of our subordinates."
"Good," Cipcini said. "Because that's what you are. A cunt."
Shinnon's gaze narrowed, fighting the urge to wince. "I've been called worse."
Liar.
"I can believe that," Cipcini said. "Like I said, you know nothing."
"I'm a captain of a listening station who actually has experience with Dark Eldar."
"Formerly stationed on a ship that never made contact."
"And you?" he snapped. "What's your experience?"
"Thanly'yin," she said.
"Your homeworld?"
"A hive world," she whispered. Another tear streaked down her cheek. "You ever been on a hive world, Captain?"
"No," he murmured. "I haven't."
"Well, lucky you. You don't need to know that I know exactly what the Dark Eldar have in store for us."
"And how would you know that?"
"Because it's exactly what human beings do to each other."
Shinnon opened his mouth, then closed it. Likewise, he lowered the laspistol. He'd heard of hive worlds. Of hives themselves – towering cities that housed billions of souls. All numbers, he reflected. Sabina Cipcini had been one of those numbers. Been a number in the Imperial Fleet as well. Maybe it was natural that she looked to the Emperor, he reflected. Maybe, out here in space, it was the only thing she could look to.
"I know what humans can do to each other," he murmured.
"Don't patronize me."
"I know," he said, "because I saw it on Starkan two years ago. When insurgents tried to overthrow Governor Tiberius."
Cipcini didn't say anything this time.
"It was a harsh winter," he said, kneeling down in front of her. "I wasn't on the planet myself, but I read the reports. Saw the vids. Thousands dying due to famine, tens of thousands dying in the ensuing rebellion."
"Traitors, the lot of them."
"True. Doesn't make watching people being executed any more appealing."
Cipcini didn't answer that question. She remained silent even as Shinnon got back up. He didn't glance at the Emperor this time. There was nothing left to say to Him. And his impassive gaze would tell him nothing that he didn't already know. Starkan meant nothing. Its people meant even less.
"I get it," he said. "You're afraid."
She turned around, forming a fist under her chin.
"I'm afraid too," he said.
She glanced at him. "How?" she asked.
"How?" he repeated. "Well, Pathe is a sitting target, and the Dark Eldar are…well, Dark Eldar. Aliens. Why do you think I've been doing nothing on the bridge up until now?"
She opened her mouth to say something. He guessed her words would have been 'because you're lazy' or some such. He couldn't blame her if she did say that. But he wouldn't press the issue.
"So, yeah," he said. "I deal with fear in my way. I'll let you deal with it in yours." He gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Just come back to the bridge when you've dealt with it."
He turned to leave. He began walking, and was still walking when Cipcini said, "I think the Emperor might like my way more."
"He might. But he might like you a bit less if He knew that you struck a superior officer." He glanced back at her, and saw the fear in her eyes. Fear of realizing what she'd done. What might be done in response to that action. Fear that stemmed from a lot of things.
"But like I said," Shinnon murmured, "we all deal with fear in our own way."
And so he left. Out of the chapel. Out of the sight of the Emperor. Into the corridor, straight into a servitor.
"Trans. Miss. On."
He took the astropathic transcript.
And felt fear of a very different kind.
"Tomina is under attack?"
"That's what I've heard."
"What you've heard?"
"I'm only in command of the PDF," Buren said. "Do you think Aran or Kurtz are going to waste time on me?"
"I…" Tiberius trailed off. No, he reflected. He supposed not. The PDF had been folded into the Imperial Guard's command structure. Buren was part of that structure, but not integral to it.
"The PDF has been conscripted into the Guard," Buren continued. "We'll only have a token force to defend Starkan."
"But…but the Dark Eldar," Tiberius protested. "They-"
"Tomina is under attack," Buren repeated. "That's all I know, and if Kurtz or Aran know more, they're not saying it."
Tiberius buried his face in his hands. The Navy, the Guard, even his own forces…they were going, and within a day, they'd be gone. Tomina, a forge world, was under attack, and-
…and sweat trickled down his brow. He'd summoned them here, over Buren's objections. He'd made a request for aid, leaving Tomina defenceless. He…he could be impeached. Removed. Even executed.
"What'll happen?" he whispered.
"I told you," Buren said, even as Tiberius got to his feet. "The Imperial Guard and-"
"Will I still be governor after this?" He walked over to the window, looking out across the residence towards the fence that surrounded it. "I mean, they can't blame me, can they? I mean, yes, I requested aid, but they chose to come? Oh, who's the governor of Tomina? Snir? Yes, yes…" He swallowed. "I mean…yes. Yes, it'll be fine. He'll understand." He looked over a Buren. "It'll be fine, won't it? I survived a rebellion, I'll survive this. They can't blame me."
Buren frowned. "If the Dark Eldar-"
"The Dark Eldar," he scoffed. "Where are they? Are they even coming? This…this is a ploy! It…it makes sense. Someone-"
"Governor?" Buren asked. "May I make a suggestion?"
"Oh yes," Tiberius said. "Any at all."
"Shut up."
Tiberius stood there, rooted to the spot, like a tree facing an oncoming storm. Buren's eyes were like lightning, his fists curled in the shape of thunder clouds. He stood there, like the eye, projecting wind outward.
"Tomina is under attack," he said. "It's a forge world, the heart of the Germaine sector, a crucial production node."
"I know," Tiberius protested.
"So do you think Starkan matters in that context?" Buren asked.
"I don't think-"
"Do you matter?"
Tiberius opened his mouth. Nothing came out, as Buren stood there. As did Gollan, in the corner of his office. He'd forgotten all about him until now. Silently, Tiberius collapsed into his chair, rubbing his forehead. No, he supposed. He didn't matter. Starkan didn't matter. Tomina, however, did.
He didn't ask Buren what he thought about how, in the midst of all this, he'd feared for his own position. That even now, reflecting on his cowardice, the fear remained. That even if the Dark Eldar came, and by some miracle were repelled, that he feared what the Imperium might do to him. He, Hector Tiberius, governor of Starkan – the coward who called for aid, and was given it, only to leave a forge world undefended. Thinking back to the war room, it had seemed so prudent. So perfect an opportunity. Now, though…He sighed. Buren had objected to calling for aid. Right now, it was validated.
"You sure you don't know anything else?" he murmured.
"All I know is that Pathe transmitted it to Kurtz's flagship," Buren said.
Another transmission, Tiberius reflected. Started with one, and this affair ends with one, without even the courtesy of forwarding it on to me directly. He wondered how those on the Pathe would take it. Those same magnificent battleships having entered the system, now only to leave. Would they feel helplessness, he wondered? Isolation? Fear?
He wouldn't be surprised. He felt all of those things himself.
"So what now?" he asked. "How long until the ships depart?"
"Likely twenty-four hours."
Tiberius didn't ask about travel time to Tomina. He wasn't a navigator. But he knew that the Warp was a fickle mistress.
"As for what now?" Buren said. "We keep what PDF we can, and wait for the xenos."
Tiberius looked at him. "Is that all?"
"Have you got a better idea?"
"No," Tiberius sighed. He slumped into his chair. "Only…" He shook his head. "Never mind. Go out and defend my planet, General."
Buren nodded and headed for the exit. But before he left, Tiberius asked, "Buren?"
The general turned around. "Aren't you afraid?"
"Terrified." Buren smiled. "Is that all, Governor?"
"Yes," Tiberius said, as his mind turned to the future. Of aliens that had never come. Of Rogue Traders who had tipped off his world. Of Tomina, and the loss of men and material that was going on over a thousand light years away. Of his future, and his fear. "I suppose it is."