Chapter Two.
These notes are my life. I write them each time I survive a mission so that my life will be recorded until my last battle. Why I do this I am not sure but I find it comforting somehow. As I don't expect to retire, I assume that I will die in battle but even so, my men have all vowed to fill in my final fight should any of them survive through it rather than joining me in hell.
After the battle on Victuss III, we had returned to the Ark Lotus without any major wounds and had a suitcase full of credits at our side, a job well done by all accounts. We had divvied up the cash then separated to our own company.
The Ark Lotus wasn't a huge ship. I had bought it from a retired Rogue Trader several years ago and because of this, it was packed to the metaphorical teeth with weapons and high-tech systems. It had set us back by a terrifying amount of credits, but then again I suppose we'd have only spent it on a year's supply of Fenrisian ale or something similar. Old Firebeard had sold it me at a discount anyway.
It was sleek in design like a shark unlike the more bulky Imperial ships. Its guns sat inside until needed, making it appear less dangerous while increasing speed. Inside was an assortment of small rooms ranging from personal quarters, a gym, kitchen and armouries. There was also several hidden compartments and passageways that came in very handy more often than not.
Despite what I had told the Governor, we didn't have any other work to go to so I lounged around the ship, passing the time idly as I waited for something to happen. Jones sat nearby, deconstructing his rocket launcher, cleaning the parts then reassembling it again.
Jones was near to clinical insanity but he was a good fighter and could be trusted to watch your back. Before I'd met him he had been in the Imperial Guard. During an Ork invasion he had been nearly killed when he fired a rocket at point blank range at a ramble of approaching green-skins, even as the rest of his squad fled. His skin had been ripped to shreds by the shrapnel but somehow he had survived to fight another day.
When he was finally satisfied with the weapon he placed it down on the table and stood. "This is a drag." he groaned. "Fancy some Tarrot and enough ale to knock us out?"
"You can't play tarrot to save your life and you never pay up." I muttered absently.
"Drunken bare knuckle boxing?" he offered as he ran a scarred hand through his blonde hair.
"How about you check up on the new gun Gear's working on. He should be done by now and if you're there first then you'll get to try it out. He guaranties me that it makes a big bang."
"Fine, fine. I know when I'm not wanted." he huffed before skulking away.
I settled back into my seat for a moment then, growing restless I decided to hit the gym to vent some of the boredom. Bennett and McGillivray were already there, both training in silence.
Bennett was a big man with bald head and dark skin. His voice was deep but quiet in a reserved way, like every word he said was carefully thought about and spoken at just the right volume to be heard. It was a trait of his people, the citizens of Alabaar, a peaceful world of pleasant meadows and airy woods. That was, until the foul monsters of Nurgle invaded and corrupted the land with disease and rot. The invaders had been defeated but the putrid spread of illness to man, beast and plant couldn't be stopped. He was the first man on my team and served as a self-proclaimed bodyguard.
Willy McGillivray was his polar opposite. With long ragged hair, a good sized beard, hardened facial features and a voice that carried through half the ship when he spoke, he had more in common with Jones then the rest of us yet the two hated each other in a competitive way. He was a native of the deathworld, Fenris, home of the Astartes chapter Space Wolves. He never spoke of his past though so how he got away from that hell hole I couldn't say. Despite his light-hearted demeanour he was very reserved and never spoke a word about himself. I could only guess at the hell he had been through by the haunted look in the very back of his eyes. We didn't ask, he didn't tell.
Removing my shirt I began with the weights. My right arm shone in the gym's light. The full limb was an augmentation. Good quality one too. I lost the real one during my first real battle when an Ork cut it off with one of their crude axes. I was carted off as our forces retreated. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was that damn green skin gnawing on my bloody arm. The Guard never offered me, a lowly private, an augmentation so I travelled the galaxy single headedly until I had enough money to buy a new arm.
After passing an hour in silent training then a quick wash down, all three of us made our way to the mess hall to grab some food. The hired kitchen staff served us our roast diner then we headed over to Amund who was already seated and was half way through a thick grox steak. He nodded to us as we joined him.
Benius Amund was a pale man with thick black hair and rock steady muscles. His eyesight was perfect and his patience everlasting, making him a skilled sharp shooter. He'd been a merc for as long as I've known him. We had worked together a few times before I finally managed to convince him to join me. I looked to him for any information as he had been to more planets than the rest of us put together.
"What's the plan then, Silver?" grunted McGillivray. He took a deep gulp of ale then belched. "There's a galaxy full of evil yet were sat on our thumbs floating through space."
"It's only a matter of time and you know it." I replied after swallowing a lump of my steak. "There's a Hive fleet nearby, a Tau expansion near the Damocles Gulf and Chaos seem to be stirring up again. The Guard are spread too thin to even attempt to protect everyone. People care more for their life than their credits."
McGillivray growled in frustration. "I know. Waiting just bugs me. That last battle was pointless. There were so many PDF rammed into that city that there wasn't room to really fight."
"We got paid. That's what counts." replied Amund, using the logic of a true mercenary.
Jones strode into the room with a grin on his battered face. "Hey, boss. Gear got a message through. We've been offered a new job."
"Looks like you won't have to wait much longer." I told McGillivray as I shovelled the last of my meal into my mouth then rose and followed Jones to Gear's section of the ship. The others headed that way too.
The sound of loud machinery, flashing lights and an abundance of cables and wires indicated that we were entering the technophile's lair. He had taken over a large section of the ship and filled it with all manner of machines and computers. If the wires and gears didn't cripple any unwary passers through then the highly explosive custom weapons that were left scattered around would probably do the job.
We found Gear busily clicking away at our communication console. He was a failed Tech-priest Artisan, or Constructor as they are sometimes called. He was too impatient to become a full Tech-priest due to his constant errors in ritual and construction. Where other Tech-priests would build one item with careful and delicate blessings, rituals components and construction, Gear would build three after the first two explode or failed to work. He didn't ask for pay though, just lots of room and parts. Since he managed to keep the ship running we didn't feel inclined to replace him.
"We received a message six minutes and forty eight seconds ago from the nearby planet of Rascidaal II. Would you like me to replay it?" Gear asked in his slightly metallic voice. Like all Tech-priests he had several augmentations but most of his seemed purely aesthetic. If you took away the glowing red eye, robotic voice and second thumbs than he was actually a fairly handsome man. He had smooth brown hair and gentle features.
I indicated for him to play the message and after a few seconds a powerful voice began to feed into the room.
"This is Filnir Alacar, planetary Governor of Rascidaal II. This is a message to the leader of the mercenary group, Katana. Rascidaal II is suffering under a storm of rebellion that looks set to spread across the planet. The Imperial Guard don't have the resources to keep the peace and many of our Planetary Defence Force troopers were recruited to combat the tyranid threat. We ask that your team come and investigate the cause of this disruption and erase it as cleanly as possible. We desire this commotion to be kept as quiet as possible so that unwanted attention is not gained. Please respond immediately so that we can create a plan for the betterment of the Imperium. The Emperor's blessing be upon you."
The message ended and the gruff voice of the Governor died away leaving only the gentle whines of Gears various machinery to fill the silence.
Jones broke the silence. "What the hell is that guy talking about. Investigation, quiet, cleanly? Does he know who he is begging for help. We're mercenaries, not Inquisitors. We get paid to make big bangs, not tell people off for being angry at a more than likely corrupt government." he sneered.
"That's why he chose us. If the Inquisitors get involved and suspect xeno or heretic involvement then the planet will likely be purged. That would be bad for the current government in more ways than one. We on the other hand will just find and remove the problem." I muttered as my eyes took in all of the additional information that Gear had pulled up onto a nearby screen.
"It sounds complicated." grunted McGillivray from his position of leaning on the door frame.
"Sounds like money." countered Jones, the glint of profit in his eyes.
"Rascidaal II, I have been there." mused Amund. He had been to hundreds of worlds but his detailed memories were near perfect. "It is an average cosmopolitan world with little that sets it apart from the rest. There are many science institutes though, ranging from domestic purposes to new ways to wage war. The scientific hub of the Rascidaal system."
Any history of Xeno interference?" I asked, knowing that the majority of rebellions are caused by outside elements.
He thought for a moment. "They are blighted with Orks from a long past attack but that is about it. It is a fairly safe system that hasn't suffered any invasion for several generations. We all know that that makes little difference though." he ended with a solemn tone to his voice.
"It sounds like a long job." pointed out Bennett. "There is no immediate enemy to fight, it seems more like a heretic hunt than a battle."
"Well we aint got anything else to do. It's a chance for some VIP treatment with a nice hotel and plenty of free food. Pay don't sound bad either." added Jones. That statement summed him up pretty well.
"What's the point if there's nothing to beat up." growled McGillivray in a low grumble. "The best food is always that which comes after a glorious battle."
"Look at it this way," I said, already knowing how the conversation would go. "whatever the cause of the rebellion, when we find it, we get to kill it. 'Nids, Tau, Chaos or heretics, they all make pretty colours when you shoot them."
"You think it will be worth the time then?"
At that moment, Gornak slinked into the room holding two defla by their long grey tails. They squeaked in high pitched tones with terror, their four eyes darting frantically around in search of escape. They were a blight on ships, chewing through cables and spreading infection. Gornak was the most adept hunter so we left the rodents to him.
He was a shadowy character that kept himself to himself, not even putting up a sociable front like McGillivray. He spoke even less than Bennett, not the best trait considering he served as our translator. Over a dozen different languages he could speak fluently while another dozen or so that he knew enough off to help us in most situations.
"What do you think?" I inquired. "Take a long, potentially boring job but the pay is good or sit back and wait for a more exciting offer?"
He clicked his tongue, made a grumbling sound in the back of his throat then continued through the room. His social skills defiantly needed some work. His answer was plain enough though, he disliked small confined spaces so an open planet was always preferable than the narrow passages of the Ark Lotus.
"Looks like its decided then. Gear, patch me through to whatever line the governor left for us to answer. Bennett, get everything ready. Rascidaal II is only a short distance. Somebody go tell Briar to move us out."
Gear tapped several keys and after a few moments a large face appeared on the holoscreen. It was a hardened male face with short grey hair that looked recently grown from a military buzz cut. He had the look of a retired soldier about him but had the glint of intelligence within his blue eyes.
"Thank you for your swift reply." said the governor. His voice was rough, used to barking orders but seemed slightly refined like it had undergone lessons in etiquette. "What is your answer?" It was clear that he already knew what we had decided.
"We accept your job." My face was deliberately passive as I spoke to ensure that he couldn't read me.
"Good. This planet is going to the warp. Any longer and I fear that the people will take the planet by force, and we all know what that means."
Extermination. Plain and simple. If a populous rebelled against its Imperial government then it was an act of treason and heresy, punishable by death. The Inquisition wouldn't blink an eye at mass execution to restore Imperial control. I'd seen it happen before and I've little doubt that I'll see it again.
"Don't worry, we're already on course for Rascidaal II as we speak. Just make sure that all the information and resources are ready for our arrival and we'll get on fine." I said, studying the enlarged, flickering face for any signs of emotion. It revealed nothing. He too was clearly an expert at hiding outward feelings.
"My entire administration is at your service. Just keep a low profile and don't attract any Imperial attention. That would be the last thing that this planet needs at the moment." came the reply. Even though his face remained neutral, the dark bags under his eyes were a testament to the stress he was under.
"Roger. We don't want Imperial attention for our own reasons so those conditions apply to you too." I cautioned. We'd had Imperial forces on our back for a while now but were luckily deemed a lesser threat to human stability than the vast armada of aliens and heretics that surrounded humanity. Even so, it paid not to get noticed.
"Sure. We await your arrival. Alacar out." The face faded away and the holoscreen powered down.
I turned to the technophile. "Gear, can you hook us up with some sensory equipment for recon and detection? Anything that you thing will make this go as quickly as possible?"
"Can do. I've got some of that sorta thing knocking around here somewhere." he answered, indicating with a wide sweeping motion the tangle of cables and scrap metal that he called home. To say how organised and logical Techpriests were suppose to be, all of them that I'd met all seemed to share the same jumbled death-trap of wires and equipment littered around wherever they went.
"Good. I have a feeling we'll need them." I finished. It felt strange, preparing to do the sacred job of my enemies. I'd only ever been on the receiving end. Times were changing it seemed.
Moving through the ship I arrived at the main deck. There were a handful of crewmen that kept everything running stationed at control panels across the room. There was a raised stage at the centre where the captain was suppose to stand while various screens were dotted around. A large, super-enforced window looked out into space, revealing distant stars.
I made my way toward the main controls for the ship and found our pilot, Jared Briar, adjusting a few levers. He was an ex-smuggler and had once captained his own ship. He was an ace pilot and handy with a pistol but had a tendency for getting into trouble. Charm was a weapon for him and had caused him to be banned from several planets through certain acts with the young daughters of government and military officials. His crew had mutinied after a particular incident that involved a particularly beautiful daughter of an Inquisitor.
"How long have we got?" I asked, stifling a yawn.
"Enough time to get some sleep." he replied offhandedly. His blue eyes glanced up at me and he smirked. "You'll be a walking corpse if you keep up this pace."
"Sleep comes when it comes. I only feel worse afterward anyway."
"Your call chief, just stating my opinion." he laughed. After a moment he became more serious. "You think all of this is valid? I mean, I certainly wouldn't hire a merc for this kind of job. I'd be looking into Head Hunters or something along those lines. Mercs seem…to blunt for this kind of work, no offence."
I had been thinking the same but my finely honed instincts weren't reacting to any subtle hints of danger so I was willing to take my chances. "Gear is running some checks but it all seems to be genuine." I sighed. "I guess you're right though, I need some rest. If you need me then just give me a buzz."
"Aye Aye Captain." I watched him push a few buttons and give out some orders that allowed the Lotus to slip into the Warp.
Somebody had once told me that the Warp looked different to every man, that it didn't have a true shape but was a maelstrom of raging emotions that fed upon the viewer's feelings and thoughts. Whatever it was, it made me sick to look upon it and always unsettled me, like suddenly remembering something traumatic from your past with such vividness that you feel it is happening again.
Turning away from the hellish scene I left Briar to his job and retreated to my weapon littered quarters for a few hours of fitful sleep.