ELEVEN
Losing somebody close to you is a feeling that I have never gotten used to even after numerous decades of service. Anyone who's spent even a single campaign in the Imperial Guard knows the feeling and, like any soldier, all I was able to do at the time was try to cope with the sudden void in my life. Commissar Waffans was a good man and a good friend and if things had gone differently I'm sure that our relationship could have grown into something more. Alas, that was never to be and despite lamenting his demise for several days, by the time I left Magnus Viridis he was but another memory. His features fading to that of just another face, a face like so many others. Its regrettable, but I can barely recall how he looked other than the characteristic cap, coat, and mask. Features that made him look like every other commissar attached to the Death Korps. It is a sad truth that unless one has done something truly remarkable and on an immense scale your memory will inevitably cease to be: people will forget your name and face; your heirlooms will decay and crumble; all records of your existence will fade or be written over; and you will eventually be degraded to just another soul amongst countless trillions that have passed on before you. To be totally forgotten is a fate worse than death and yet it is the fate of everyone except for an exceptional few. Even my contributions to the Imperium will barely amount to a footnote in the annals of history and those annals will be forgotten, destroyed after a few millennia or rewritten by next victors and all the important lessons it contained will be lost. As an Eldar once said to me, the biggest problem with humanity isn't our violent tendency but our woefully short memories. Decades after the fact I can understand what he meant but at the time I was too busy trying to perforate him with a heavy bolter but, once again, I'm getting ahead of myself.
The aftermath of our battle for the city was nothing short of complete pandemonium. The arriving Valhallans and Kastaforians were eager to push beyond the city walls to avenge their fallen brethren but when Lord General Zyvan was finally informed of the catastrophe he ordered a complete cessation of our offensive operations and directed an immediate consolidation of our remaining forces.
As for myself, I cannot recollect much from the time immediately following Waffan's death. I recall meandering to the Lament's wreckage and staring out to the Tau forces surrounding the city but little else beyond that. As O'Lar'shi had implied, the Tau force outside the city had ceased firing upon us and were slowly drawing back into the forest. That mercy, though, was a stupid mistake on the Tau's part as we were soon able to recover the wounded from the field and focus our energy on salvaging a number of damaged armour units in order to rebuild some of our heavy forces. I watched as wounded soldiers limped passed me, some having to be led by others as the smeared blood and gore across their faces had left them blinded. I even recall seeing one man stumble passed me, his eyes glazed over as though all conscious thought was absent. He was completely oblivious to the fact that both his arms were missing. Much like the death of Devian back on board the Bounty, a sense of impotence overwhelmed me as I stared into the enemy lines as they vanished into the thick jungles. According to Watz, I was in a shocked stupor and it took both him and Cain to drag me back to the centaur. I should have been more grateful as seeing a shell-shocked commissar would've immediately tanked all confidence and credibility in us. For once, my penchant for going unnoticed probably saved my reputation.
When my mental faculties decided to start doing their job again, I was sitting in the corner of the main command center with a bowl of tanna leaf tea in my hands. Since the bowl was half-empty and my throat felt hot I assumed that I had been sipping at it subconsciously. Under my breath I muttered something about desiring a real drink rather than tea but given my state it was a good thing I kept sober. Most of the regimental senior officers were gathered around the briefing table, shouting and yelling about things that I could barely make out. The only people absent, I noted, were the senior officers from the Adumbrian and Kriegan regiments. There was a Kriegan officer present but it wasn't anyone I was familiar with. He looked a little dishevelled and smelt of burnt promethium and grease. He wore the bars of a lieutenant on his collar, which led me to the later-confirmed suspicion that he was the highest-ranking officer left in the armoured regiment. A stocky young man, the stress of battle was still evident in his twitching eyes that locked onto anything that made even the slightest rattle and it took a small mug of rotgut just to get his nerves calmed enough for the briefing (a somewhat unorthodox tactic but a strung-out junior officer was about as useless to us as the hat on his head). Commissar Cain spent quite some time talking with him once his nerves had been settled and by the end of their conversation he had a faint, reassuring smile. Cain had worked his magic charm once again.
"What's your regiment's status lieutenant?" Zyvan finally asked.
"Umm…really, really bad?" he replied bluntly and it became obvious just how far he was in over his head. I doubt that he had ever been addressed by somebody as high as a lord general, let alone given audience. "We grouped what's left into new squads…about four or five in total. Most of them are damaged and a few need replacement crews. We've got one vanquisher from the heavy armour company, a few annihilators and exterminators as well, but the rest are standard pattern Leman Russ tanks. In total…we're at maybe 20% effective strength…probably less actually."
"And the recovery operation?"
"Well, uh…we're still unloading the Trojans from the shuttles, sir. Our techpriests are out on the field inspecting the damage and seeing if any can be salvaged."
"They must be rightly hacked off right now," Zyvan commented, which made a few officers chuckle faintly. "We'll need every tank that can be recovered. I'm sure Kasteen and the other regiments will have no objections to lending all your technical staff in order to facilitate the process," Zyvan stated to no one in particular.
"It'll be much appreciated," the young lieutenant nodded. "At the very least, we should be able to get enough spare parts to keep what few tanks we have running as well as the remaining tanks from the Cadian regiment." Zyvan then directed again to no one in particular, "Anything you salvage that can fire but cannot move will be turned into a defensive strongpoint inside the walls"
"Speaking of my Cadians," Major Currae interrupted, "with your permission, Lord General, I would recommend that we merge our armoured regiments together. With no disrespect to the lieutenant, the remnants of his regiment will need a proper command structure for leadership." The move made sense since both armoured regiments were woefully under-strength at the moment. With Zyvan finally planetside a more solidified command structure could be organized. Currae was visibly relieved that a more experienced officer would now take hands on command of the campaign and Cain reassured me in private that there were few generals he had more confidence in than Zyvan, which left me more reassured despite the bleak outlook at the time.
"Do you have objections to this lieutenant?" Zyvan asked out of politeness rather than any actual need for consent.
"None!" he rather hastily blurted in response. Perhaps he was a bit too eager to relinquish command but on the bright side, the lad knew where his limits were. Much like Currae, he was relieved of the stress of leadership and could fall back into the role he was far more comfortable in. He never did muster much higher than a captain but last I checked he was retired and teaching at a schola back on Krieg. Retirement alone was something most Kriegans never achieved so I guess he did all right. The recovery process would take some time once the Trojans were finally led out into the field, many of whom were paranoid the Tau would start taking potshots at them while they worked. As I mentioned before, because of the Tau's generosity, we were able to salvage a great deal and by the time we were to head outside the walls, we had a respectable armoured force again. Once again, and to no surprise, Cain would later put forth his own contribution to this effort – a contribution that would greatly affect the outcome of the campaign.
The briefing went on for several more minutes, the details of which I cannot recollect but they revolved primarily around solidifying our defences for the time when the Tau realized we weren't going to leave. With the main gate full of holes we were going to have trouble keeping the Tau out, a problem which was compounded by the fact that the Tau had breached the walls in several other locations, some of which were only large enough to squeeze troops through and so hidden by industrial hardware that one would scarcely notice them in passing. "We'll need to plug all these holes if we're going to stand any chance of holding Vertens," Zyvan said even though it was a bit of an obvious observation.
"We should send teams to scout the perimeter walls and mark them for the engineers," a Kastaforian officer suggested. "It'd be faster if we patrol from the outside…though we can't be sure how the Tau will respond."
"If the Tau don't attack the Trojans, we can be safe in assuming they won't fire on foot patrols," Zyvan concluded before suddenly turning to Cain. One of the things about being on good terms with a Lord General was that they had a tendency to look to you as the first volunteer. Cain probably enjoyed that perk but I would've felt differently. As expected, Cain was prompt in accepting the task of leading some of the patrols should they do it from the exterior and, knowing Cain, that meant he was going to drag me along as well for 'experience.' He did, however, voice the same concern about the Tau as well and said he wouldn't want to jeopardize the safety of our troops just to get a simple job done a little bit faster, which was an admirable thing to say I suppose. Of course, now it meant my safety would only come at the expense of somebody attacking the Trojans.
Since the universe has never been very kind to me, the Trojans were eventually able to work without incident, which meant that Cain and I were to lead patrols outside the city walls. But we wouldn't learn of that fact until the next day. For the time being, Zyvan decreed, we would consolidate within the city, tend to our injured, plot new strategies, and would worry about plugging holes in the morning. It had been a long and hard-fought day and he felt pushing the troops further would be counter-productive to morale.
If I knew how much trouble would spawn from one night's rest I would've scouted those walls in the darkness entirely on my own.
The meeting came to an abrupt halt when the doors opened and our good friends, the Adumbrians, came waltzing in. Up until that point, the subject of the Adumbrians had been the carnifex in the room and while Kasteen would normally have gone on a tirade on the subject, proper etiquette stayed her tongue. The sudden silence and hard gazes reflected the unanimous sentiment from the rest of us – this mess was the result of their actions. Were we not so hard-pressed for troops we would have had their entire command staff summarily executed. Though the regimental officers were willing to express their contempt through insidious glares, my temperament insisted on a more obvious expression of my discontent. Cain was the only one who noticed me rise from my seat at the rear of the room however by the time he clued in on what I was about to, do his calls for restraint came too late.
I always upheld my promises so I went straight up to Wren, who was surprised and puzzled by my sudden approach, and punched him right in his oversized nose. Stimpsen, in an effort to protect his comrade, tried to draw out his laspistol but his fat fingers and battle fatigue meant he bumbled in his attempt. By the time he got it out, I was able to seize his arm and slam him face-first into the briefing table. I probably would've continued too were it not for Cain forcibly pinning my arms lifting me up and hoisting me away. It was probably for the best as my rage would have compelled me to beat the Emperor-loving life out of them both.
Being almost seventy pounds lighter than Cain, I was powerless to resist him as he hauled me back from the table (unless I wanted to start a fight with him too). "That's enough Abel, we have sufficient enemies to deal with without us going at each other's throats," Cain said. His words plus the realization I had assaulted two commissars right in front of a Lord General finally served to calm me down, not to mention leave me feeling a bit embarrassed. When he felt the tension ease from my muscles, Cain let me go and I took a seat at the table as far from the Adumbrians as possible.
"I guess we should've expected that," Broklaw commented.
"To be honest I forgot she was even in the room," Zyvan replied. I half expected some sort of protest from the two commissars but once they had been helped off the floor they merely took a seat in silence. Most likely, they knew the axe that hung over their heads and weren't about to draw any more attention to themselves than they already had. Besides, aside from bloodied noses and bruised egos, they were fine. "Well, now that everybody is here we can get down to business. First, and I'll be brief because there are more important matters at hand, Colonel Trevek…you're reckless disregard for orders and the advice of veteran officers is not only a disgrace to your homeworld and to your regiment but a blight upon the Imperial Guard itself. Your regiment is still in good order only because of the selfless valour of thousands of Kriegans who gave their lives to save your worthless arse. Whatever happens on this campaign, Trevek, you, your commisarsand your regiment will not leave until this planet is under complete Imperial control, is that understood?"
It was probably the only time I had ever seen Trevek visibly shaken and I almost felt a little sorry for him. It wasn't entirely his fault that his lack of off-world experience led him to rely too heavily on the ill-guided advice of his commissars. At the same time, though, he should've remembered who was in command and kept his mind on the objectives. "Y-yes your lordship," he answered and remained silently for almost the whole duration of the briefing.
As the hololithic display unit in the table activated, illuminating a glowing three-dimensional map of the city and the surrounding region, Zyvan directed everyone's attention to the readout of our forces scattered throughout the city. "As you are all already aware, the devastation of the Kriegan armoured regiment creates a major weakness in our current strategy. With limited armour support available now, our original plans for a major push along the highway into the Tau-controlled capital of Aedans will have to be put on hold until additional reinforcements arrive…if Segmentum Command decides to send any." Zyvan's inflection on the last few words left us with little doubt that Segmentum Command would consider the situation 'too volatile' to risk sending in additional forces. The fact we lost our armoured regiment so quickly would likely make the powers-that-be second-guess Zyvan's ability to ensure a victory. Of course, it was considered on par to be sent into major campaigns grossly undermanned despite the supposed urgency in obtaining victory. Perhaps Segmentum Command had more faith in the Emperor's ability to deliver victory despite the Adumbrian's impeccable talent for deftly snatching defeat away from the jaws of victory.
As the conversation continued, the diagram flickered out and was soon replaced with a new image of the planetary capital Aedans, which looked almost identical to Vertens with the exception of the governor's palace. Like Vertens, it too had massive walls used in years passed to keep out orks and raiders. "Without sufficient armour support, any attempt to punch through the front gates of Aedans will fail. As such, our best bet in taking control of the city is to approach through the jungle, breech through the weak points into the wall's infrastructure making our own gate for our assault forces."
"The jungles around the city are going to be crawling with those kroot bastards," commented Captain Hellgarr, one of the ranking officers from the Catachan regiments and a man who probably had more in common with an ork than with the average Imperial citizen. "Now my boys aren't afraid of those tree-jumpers but asking us to fight our way up to the city is going to be slow and bloody." Now it was obvious that the Catachans would have no qualms about fighting through miles of jungle but the rest of us were more accustomed to urban warfare and the apprehension was visible on the faces of most of the other regimental officers. Zyvan, though, didn't seem too discouraged, though the fact that he would be sitting all the way at the backlines sipping recaf and tea may have had something to do with that.
"With the Emperor's blessing, we might not have to," Zyvan explained. A bright, blue light began to flash for attention – a long, wavy line that extended from a few miles northeast of the city and continuing all the way past Aedans. "Before the highway was completed, this river served as a major means of transport between the two cities. Small, secondary roads connect Vertens to a riverside town. The Adumbrians will make a push against Aedans main gates in a diversionary assault while the remainder of our forces proceed up the river and offload at this point less than a half-mile from the city walls."
Though I said nothing at the time, I had my concerns about the transparency of such a plan. It would be unlikely that the Tau were oblivious to the river's existence and even less likely that the governor hadn't taken it this route into account. Still, if the Tau were banking on us retreating then they may have not been prepared to repel an assault. As Cain once explained to me, the Tau were not fans of defensive tactics and holding a city against us was counter to their usual military conventions. "And what about the Orks?" Cain asked, giving voice to my second concern. Though we didn't have accurate reports on the Ork problem, we knew that they were situated somewhere between the river and highway in the dense jungle.
"My intelligence officer assures us that the Orks main camp is situated well enough away that our forces will go unnoticed by the Orks. Even in the worst-case scenario, the river is wide and deep enough to keep the Orks from being too problematic. If they do try to follow us up-river, they will attract the Tau's attention and we can capitalize on the added confusion."
I probably wasn't the only one grimacing at the thought of us, the Tau, and the Ork all in one massive, bloody brawl but if that was our best option for getting off this planet then what other choice did we have? I had the sneaking suspicion that I would be near the forefront of all that carnage but the truth ended up being that I would be knee-deep in the middle of shit-creek. This little pearl of wisdom wouldn't dawn upon me until I was well past the point of no return. At the moment, I still naively believed I could make it through the campaign unscathed.
As the meeting progressed and various ideas of volleyed back and forth across the table like artillery rounds, all mixed in with thinly veiled criticisms of the Adumbrians, the Lord General finally adjourned the meeting. All the regiments still had work to do in order to finish securing the city and I had a bottle of amasec to acquaint myself with along with a mountain of paperwork to dig through. Though it might sound strange to some, I was actually looking forward to a bottomless barrel of bureaucracy and silently hoped that my next footsteps onto a battlefield would be at a much later date (once again, my hopes were as accurate as a cross-eyed ork). Not wanting to take my eyes off either of the Adumbrian commissars, I waited until they had filed out before finally getting up and joining suit. When I stepped out from the briefing room, though, I was surprised to see a pair of Kriegan soldiers waiting for me, one of whom had their arm fastened in a sling.
"What are you two doing here?" I asked.
"Hoping to hear first-hand how screwed we are," Watz sarcastically answered, which I really couldn't fault him for. "What do you think? We were waiting for you obviously. We were hoping that we could perhaps…remain assigned to your service."
At first I was at a bit of a loss for words and half-suspected they had ulterior motives for hanging around me. The truth, however, was far simpler – I had treated him far better than any other commissar or commanding officer and he simply didn't want to go back to being bossed around by a bunch of humourless carbon copies. He got a taste of life outside a Kriegan regiment and he liked it, especially since any officer in his old regiment would've smacked him upside the head for such prolific use of sarcasm. As for Heilmit, he was simply following his friend's lead. "I know Commissar Waffans said to stay with me until he said otherwise but as a commissar he technically has no authority over personnel assignment. You'd have to put in a transfer request with your commanding officer."
Just then, said commanding officer, the young lieutenant, happened to walk past us. Since the merge was technically only in a functional sense in order to provide a stable command hierarchy, the lieutenant still had authority over the Kriegans under his command. "Hey Mann," Watz shouted, "get me transferred over the 597th here and I'll call us even."
It took a moment for the battle-weary lieutenant to realize he was being addressed again but once the gears started churning he recognized who was addressing him and why. "Oh, uh…sure. I'll see what I can do," he hastily replied and nodded before shuffling off in an even greater rush.
"Just how many people are indebted to you?" I asked with thorough confusion.
"Far less now thanks to almost all of them being dead," Watz replied. "There goes my carefully laid plan to indebt my way into an easy retirement."
"You do realize that I'll be giving you anything but?"
"True…but the way I see it, with you I have a chance to do something that nobody in my family has been able to for generations – make it to retirement." For a Kriegan, such a goal seemed almost like a far-fetched dream but if he really wanted to make it out of his military career alive I had every intention of making him work for it. All in all, it was quite a profitable partnership for the three of us.
Despite my willingness to barricade myself in my makeshift office (I think it used to be a storage room) behind an impenetrable wall of paper and dataslates, I was eventually coaxed out by Cain. Maybe he knew that burying myself in work was my usual means to cope with stress or maybe he just thought that I made him look bad by working so much. Either way, once Cain managed to dig his way through my castella of dataslates, he didn't need to work very hard to convince me to tag along. Were he a more self-centered man I would have been worried about how easy he could convince me to see things his way but I trusted that he was thinking of what was best for me.
As we walked out of the main compound that served as our headquarters, a few times he asked how I was holding up. While I appreciated the sentiment, I insisted that I was still perfectly capable of doing my job. Waffans wasn't the first friend of mine to die in combat but he was definitely the closest. When I was still a cadet, a friend of mine by the name of Kenrick had an unfortunate midnight rendezvous with the business end of an Ork's cleaver. It was probably the first time I had seen somebody get hacked apart by an Ork up close but I felt very little over the loss. In fact, my first response was merely 'Emperor's blood! They killed Kendrick!' However, despite my insistence to the contrary, Waffans' death was affecting me to some degree; a fact made evident by my sudden, violent reaction to Wren's appearance back in the briefing room. I believe I was trying to convince myself that I was okay more than I was trying to convince Cain. Whether by pride or my strict adherence to the credos that Kriegans were unaffected by death, I was determined to keep my focus on my duty. The Emperor, after all, came before my petty emotions.
Despite the ongoing military campaign happening around us, there was a strange calmness surrounding our headquarters. Soldiers stood attentively on guard while sentinels and servitors moved heavy equipment to and from our makeshift vehicle bays and only occasionally was the sound of clanking mechanized walkers interrupted by barked orders from hastily-erected speakers. Along with the tranquility there also hung an air of despair; normally chatting and joking troops were instead quiet and somber and those we passed only gave us a passing glance. One didn't need to be a commissar to tell that morale was dipping amongst the troops but even Cain's charm could only do so much. It was falling beyond the help of cheery words and fancy speeches – they would need a victory in the coming days to remind them that the Emperor still watched over them. Victory, though, was something we couldn't give them just yet so all we could do was keep the troops from turning mutinous for a few more days and make sure the next battle turned out better. Fortunately, as I would learn over the years, wherever Cain was, you could be certain that trouble would eventually find its way to him. How so much trouble could gravitate to one man is a truth that never ceased to confound me.
Perhaps he kicked the Emperor's puppy in a past life.
Since I generally kept my attention focused on Cain, I didn't realize that he was leading me away from the compound (and more specifically the officer's mess) until we were at the perimeter checkpoint and a guardsman asked where we were off to at such a late hour. With his commissarial authority and legendary status, he was able to brush the guardsman aside with little more than a trifling gesture of reassurance, which was probably more consideration then most commissars would've given the soldier.
"Where exactly are we going?" I asked once my curiosity could take no more of the mystery.
"Just a little place that Jurgen scouted out for me while we were in the briefing," Cain replied. He was clearly taking the time to enjoy teasing my curiosity with nondescript answers. I shouldn't have been surprised that something was open in the city despite nearly a quarter of it being reduced to rubble and smoking craters; even if the world was ending tomorrow people would still insist on going out and getting a pint. Beside, with an influx of nearly twenty-five thousand guardsmen and non-military support staff, what self-respecting entrepreneur wouldn't try to take advantage of so much idle coin?
Night was already setting upon the city, which wasn't saying much thanks to the world's relatively short planetary rotation (a day lasted roughly seventeen standard hours), but there seemed to be enough working luminator poles in the city streets to keep our path well-lit. Aside from the occasional cluster of patrolling soldiers, we saw little activity on the city streets. What civilians remained were still bunkered down in their shelters with little interest in venturing topside until it was guaranteed safe. In fact, I think Zyvan insisted they remained where they were so we didn't have to worry about ushering them all back down when the Tau realized they'd have to evict us in person.
Despite the forecast of impending doom mixed with a chance of horrific mutilation, there did appear to be one establishment that intended to remain defiant in the face of annihilation. I couldn't blame the owners for wanting to keep the place running – better to die doing what they enjoyed rather than cowering in a crowded emergency shelter (which, by the way, offered absolutely no protection against anything other than stiff breezes and heavy rain). The establishment in question was known simply as the Tirnanog, which meant Emperor knows what and when I asked around I got answers ranging from ancient High Gothic dialects, native tongues, indigenous species, to the owner's mum, none of which were correct according to later research. Regardless of the weird name, it was a fine establishment and I would certainly recommend it to anybody venturing to that sector of space (though most people who travel to Magnus Viridis are of the obscenely-rich class who would likely consider such a place far beneath their standards).
For its supposed popularity, it was extremely small and if it hadn't been for the hanging metal sign over the door at the very corner of a large residential block I would have walked right past it. In fact, the sign was basically the only indication that it was a place of business of any extent and differentiated it from all the other doors that led to residential units. Such architectural repetition was a hallmark of the city and the only thing that set this particular drab block of housing apart from all the other rockrete monoliths was that this one had a Tau hovertank crash through the front lobby. At least the burnt, yellow hull added a bit of colour.
The interior of the Tirnanog made up for the lack of a proper façade – finely varnished dark woods adorned the walls, countertops, and furniture, with brass fitting and fixtures that were all complimented by the tinted luminators that gave the tavern a soft, yellow hue. Behind the bar was a burly, old man with an enormous moustache that seemed to have left him unable to grow hair anywhere else on his head. He seemed to be preoccupied sorting through crates of mugs and glasses, separating the good ones from their shattered brethren. Our arrival, announced by a chiming bell, caught his attention and he seemed quite pleased to see a pair of Imperial commissars dropping by. He was quite eager to profess his anger and disapproval of the governor's actions and sing praises of our timely arrival, Though part of me suspected that this could have been partly in anticipation of the rounds of Inquisitional questioning that would follow once we had reclaimed the planet. Genuine or not, he was eager to serve us and the few patrons that were already present were quick to give us the space we desired.
"You know Abel, if you need a few days off to recoup you're welcome to it. I can keep you busy with enough paperwork to keep you off the field," Cain said a short time after we took a seat in a far corner booth.
As tempting as the offer was my pride was reluctant to let me just slip away from my responsibilities that easily and I bet that Cain knew this as well but made the offer anyways if only to appear supportive. "I don't need to be coddled Cain," I replied. "I'm not a child anymore."
"Except you are…at least by military standards," Cain insisted, shifting to a stern and hard tone that I would eventually dub his 'tutor voice.' "You're young, you're eager, you're far more energetic than I can muster at my age, and most importantly you're hacked off at enemy and ally alike. If you don't keep control of things you're going to make rash, impulsive decisions that are only going to get you killed. Trust me when I say that I know what I'm talking about because I was exactly the same way when I was young. Then I got stranded on Perlia, smack in the center of enemy territory, and completely abandoned by the people who used to be my allies and now thought I was dead. I was hacked off…but I kept a level head. I just don't want you rushing off trying to kill every Tau on your own…there's enough of that sentiment from the troops already without you adding to my problems."
I sat in silence for a while, pensive as I mulled over his words. Finally I simply released a defeated sigh, "Dammit, why do you get to be right all the time?"
He chuckled and said, "It's something you acquire as you get older. It's pretty much the only thing you get to look forward to when you reach my age." We shared in a quiet laugh before returning to more idle conversation – what to do about troop morale, disciplinary horror stories, and how much we'd love to strangle certain guardsmen. These were the sort of things that a commissar simply couldn't share with the common trooper and I believe that Cain appreciated having an outlet that actually spoke back.
Unfortunately, our peaceful evening eventually came to a crashing halt. That shouldn't surprise anybody, though, since Cain's presence usually stirs up a ruckus, either in the positive or negative sense. The fact that we had gone for almost an hour completely undisturbed was surprising but it gradually became a 'too good to last' and by the end we were waiting for the inevitable. It started as most commotions in a tavern do – something spilled, people started shouting, and eventually somebody got dropped through a table. We should have ignored it but since bar fights could turn very violent very quickly we eventually decided to investigate. What we saw was a little bit surprising – the fight seemed to have broken out between a scrawny young man and the one of the single-largest humans I had seen not encased in power armour (a Catachan, judging by his fatigues). What was surprising, though, was that it was the Catachan who was facedown on the broken table.
"Terribly sorry about the table Maddok," apologized the one standing. Unfortunately, it took a lot more than just a few planks of wood to put a Catachan down and the angry giant was soon getting back to his feet. "Aw, come on big guy…I already said I was sorry. I'll buy you another one. There's no need to get violent." However, his words fell on deaf ears and the Catachan belted him with a powerful hook that sent the man stumbling into the bar. "Wow…guy has fists like rockrete," he commented to the barkeep, who seemed concerned over the smaller man's safety.
"You okay there pal? Need anything?" the barkeep asked.
"I could use some salt," he said and helped himself to a nearby salt shaker, which happened to be almost a foot long and made entirely of brass. I don't believe the Catachan was paying much heed to what was being said as he approached undaunted and just as he was about to swing the smaller man spun around quickly and clocked the Catachan with the salt shaker. That only stunned the giant, however, and it took a second, heavier swing to knock him out. "I think we'll refrain from the salt puns for tonight," the victor mused as he tossed the salt shaker back to the barkeep.
By this point, Cain had grown weary of watching some civilian beat the tar out of a guardsman and moved to intervene. "I think that's quite en-" Cain spoke but didn't get to finish his sentence. The moment his hand touched the other man's shoulder to turn him about, the civilian sprung into action. Before my hand could even reach my laspistol Cain had already been thrown into the ground and likely would've received worse had I not fired my gun into the air to finally put an end to the debacle.
"You there," I said sternly, aiming my laspistol at the civilian in question, "hands where I can see them and step away from the commissar."
"Commissar?" he repeated and took a second glance at the man at his feet. He seemed genuinely surprised at the realization that he had just toppled over an Imperial commissar and not just another drunk guardsman. "Oh sweet Emperor, I…I didn't realize you were one of them. I mean, I thought you his friend or something…"
"And now we can add assaulting a commissar on top of assaulting a guardsman," Cain said as he got back to his feet. He seemed unharmed by the assault, likely more stunned by the surprise than the actual impact. Though he sounded irritated, Cain didn't seem very angry at the incident but considering what we had gone through during the past several hours a drunken idiot was a pleasant alternative to kroot warriors and battlesuits.
"Either one of those is a capital offense; should I just shoot him now?" I asked.
"Sh-shoot me? Now hold on just a minute," the man hastily replied. "There's no need to be so hasty. The guy swung at me first, you can just ask anybody else in the bar. I was just defending myself!"
"Right, then you beat him senseless and throw a commissar to the ground," I replied, feigning skepticism in order to simply torment the man further. I had no intention of actually shooting him unless Cain wanted me to (which I doubted considering Cain's nature) but it didn't mean I couldn't have a little fun at his expense. "How do I know you didn't antagonize the big guy, hmm? For all we know, you could be an alien sympathizer…or worse, a conspirator."
"You think I'm in league with those misanthropes? Oh, now that's just ridiculous. I spent years in the PDF fighting off Orks and pirates!"
"You mean the PDF that the bulk of which is now aligned with the xenos?"
"Oh…right, bad example."
"Wait, you were a soldier? Kinda scrawny to be fighting don't you think?" I remarked. The guy might have been about as tall as Cain but he was only slightly heavier than me. Had he not withstood a punch from a Catachan I would've assumed him to be liable to be floored by a stiff breeze. A closer look, though, did reveal some tell-tale signs of an experienced soldier, including scarring along the sides of his head, including the upper edges of both his ears, which looked as though they had been chewed off.
"Yeah, I know…crazy isn't it?" he replied and sounded a lot more casual than he should've been. "They'll pretty much take anybody these days, even useless, scrawny-ass wimps like me."
"Stop being so damn modest," the barkeep suddenly shouted out. "This guy was the best damn shot in the whole PDF…and he knows the jungle like the back of his hand."
"Frak Maddok, what'd I ever do to you?" the man groaned, now visibly annoyed with the barkeep but in the 'contempt and familiarity' way. "I told you I didn't want to get involved in this mess…now people are going to be all 'Hey Kay, take us to the secret jungle passage' and 'Yo Kay, kill all those damn Orks for us!'"
"Well then, if you wish to avoid the summary execution block and prove you're not an alien sympathizer, I suggest you find the nearest security station and volunteer your services to His Divine Majesty," Cain spoke up as he motioned for me to holster my weapon. With how drained our forces were we would need any assistance we could muster, even if it was from a questionable civilian source. Normally I would prefer if the civilians just stayed out of our way but it wouldn't be the first time civilians were used as guides in unfamiliar territories.
"I…I guess I have no choice now, huh?" the man sighed in defeat. "If it's all right with you two, I think I'll have one last pint before I sign myself up to get killed." Given the man's attitude, I could have easily ventured a guess why he was a former PDF soldier.
Little did I realize, though, was this man was going to have a far greater impact on the events on Magnus Viridis than I could have possibly foreseen. In fact, that night in the Tirnanog would have lasting consequences on my life for decades to come.