Guard fic 4.0
I figured this warranted a new chapter - just throwing it up before work :)
The luminator had been extinguished and King was lying under his bed, using the light of his stolen torch to draw a map with his stolen pen of the parts of the base he had seen on the lining of Bellis’ great coat. Oddly, they had been civil, as close to friendship as they ever got, after that discussion. It wasn’t anger on either of their parts, just…regret that she was right. He regretted that he’d screwed things up so deeply for the regiment, and she regretted that the Astra Militarum would lose such a competent soldier. He felt strangely calm about the terminal effect it would have on him himself, such a minor thing compared to the high stakes they were playing for, stakes that seemed to rise every time he caught up.
Rossaria had agreed for the good of the mission and the morale of Bill, Hunter and Bellis, to pretend that he still held his previous rank. She also threw another demo charge his way, the reason why the Tau had wanted to speak to him specifically. It’s because of Tau names apparently, that chapter and verse they quote wasn’t really a name but a title and that’s what they thought his was too.
“He didn’t call me Lord Commissar” Rossaria had explained. “He’d called me Commissar Lord.”
King had shrugged “Same thing.”
She shook her head.
“It’s a world of difference. That’s how they lay out their names - caste, title, planet of origin, things you’ve done. So I’m a Commissar class, lord rank, from the planet Rossaria and Bharti is a deed name. According to them.”
“So why is Commander King of more interest than Commander Trevanus? There's no planets called either of those.” He had asked. Rossaria had rolled her eyes.
“Throne save me from uneducated soldiers - King is an arcane word for Emperor, didn’t you know that?”
“What??” King had jumped up as if he’d been shot, and even remembering it now that revelation made his blood chill. His men had jumped up too, instantly alert, and he had had to wave them back down before continuing. “They think I’m the Emperor? But I, I mean, that’s crazy! It’s just a name, it doesn’t mean anything. Names don’t have meanings.”
“We know that, but they don’t. Commander class, King rank - technically I believe it is one step below Emperor, so a better translation would probably be High Lord of Terra - from the planet Antonius. It’s in the wrong order for them, but I’m certain it’s what they’re thinking. That’s why they’re so keen to talk to us.”
“But it’s not even a word! I’ve spoken Gothic all my life and I’ve never heard it, so how would a bunch of greyskinned heretics know it and I don’t?”
She had just shrugged “I knew it. They study, very thoroughly. It’s hardly surprising that they will have come across a few arcane words that you don’t know.”
So that was it. He would pretend to still be a Commander for the duration of this mission, and his priority was to escape the Tau so that he could hand himself over to the Commissariat to be killed as politely as they can get away with. So if his luck changed and everything worked out the best possible way from now on, he could hopefully aspire to die on his knees with a bolter round in the back of the head. Not really the end to his career that he had expected, but it seemed a fitting end to life on Sargas.
It wasn’t going to hold him back from the escape attempts, though he currently had no other plans for that than to keep mapping things as best as he could and look for his chance. He had a few days before it became relevant anyway, because Rossaria wasn’t going to be fit to run for at least three days and he was damned if he was going to leave anyone behind. Admittedly he was damned already by his own actions, but to add deliberate neglect to unconscionable mistake would be something he could never forgive in himself. So he lay on his stomach on the floor, using the chunky alien pen to draw a map and trying to work out any way of getting them all out alive. Ideas weren’t exactly coming thick and fast.
The next morning he returned Bellis’ coat to him without a word. The previously daily language classes and propaganda meetings with the traitor colonists appeared to have been suspended for now, presumably in deference to King and Rossaria’s presence, or maybe the colonists had just refused to go head to head with a Commissar regarding the nature of duty. This spared them several hours of painful rhetoric, but did leave them with the almost equally painful job of filling the long hours in their cell. Breakfast was brought in without the blue-haired girl from yesterday and Antonius decided not to continue with the verbal sparring today. There didn’t feel like there was much point now.
Rossaria threw herself into her recovery with the same devotion and zeal as she had in everything, pushing herself to walk unaided as much as possible and refusing help when it was offered. OK, so she wasn’t exactly doing stomach crunches or running, but over the next few days she did recover sufficiently until she was able to walk short distances with barely a limp. On the second day, one of the Robes came to their cell to announce that they should meet now to discuss the situation. Antonius entirely failed to even try to bite back a sarcastic comment about his busy schedule, and Rossaria made the more helpful point that since they had no access to their comrades, Imperial comms or even a pen (Antonius tried not to wince at this comment), any discussion would be without preparation or ability to discuss with the rest of the Imperium and thus would be of limited value. Robes acknowledged this, but countered that this would allow the two of them more freedom to talk as individuals, since the vastness of an Empire can detract from the narrow vision of the immediate. Lacking any other practical options except for sitting in their cell and rotting, King suggested that the three guardsmen accompany them. Robes looked at him.
“Why?”
“I assume you will have your guards and aides present to assist you. You already hold us at a significant disadvantage in talks as we are your prisoners, surely it can’t do you any harm to let us have the people you have assembled so kindly for us here.”
The creature may not excel at human culture, but it seemed to recognise that volume of sarcasm when it heard it.
“It is disappointing that you persist in seeing yourself only as our prisoner. More will be accomplished by debate if you are able to become open-minded, and we would be pleased to release you if you did not act as a threat to us. We do not feel that anything would be gained by adding more humans to the discussion at this point: for our initial discussion we will speak to you and the Commissar Lord alone.”
Options being rather limited, the Empire’s finest mentally shrugged and agreed to the terms, such as they were. Antonius tried to imagine himself as a high lord of Terra negotiating on behalf of the Empire, but all he could envisage was himself kneeling in the snow, the heavy weight of magni-cuffs around his wrists, the cold muzzle of Rossaria’s bolt pistol brushing the hair at the back of his head.
The luminator had been extinguished and King was lying under his bed, using the light of his stolen torch to draw a map with his stolen pen of the parts of the base he had seen on the lining of Bellis’ great coat. Oddly, they had been civil, as close to friendship as they ever got, after that discussion. It wasn’t anger on either of their parts, just…regret that she was right. He regretted that he’d screwed things up so deeply for the regiment, and she regretted that the Astra Militarum would lose such a competent soldier. He felt strangely calm about the terminal effect it would have on him himself, such a minor thing compared to the high stakes they were playing for, stakes that seemed to rise every time he caught up.
Rossaria had agreed for the good of the mission and the morale of Bill, Hunter and Bellis, to pretend that he still held his previous rank. She also threw another demo charge his way, the reason why the Tau had wanted to speak to him specifically. It’s because of Tau names apparently, that chapter and verse they quote wasn’t really a name but a title and that’s what they thought his was too.
“He didn’t call me Lord Commissar” Rossaria had explained. “He’d called me Commissar Lord.”
King had shrugged “Same thing.”
She shook her head.
“It’s a world of difference. That’s how they lay out their names - caste, title, planet of origin, things you’ve done. So I’m a Commissar class, lord rank, from the planet Rossaria and Bharti is a deed name. According to them.”
“So why is Commander King of more interest than Commander Trevanus? There's no planets called either of those.” He had asked. Rossaria had rolled her eyes.
“Throne save me from uneducated soldiers - King is an arcane word for Emperor, didn’t you know that?”
“What??” King had jumped up as if he’d been shot, and even remembering it now that revelation made his blood chill. His men had jumped up too, instantly alert, and he had had to wave them back down before continuing. “They think I’m the Emperor? But I, I mean, that’s crazy! It’s just a name, it doesn’t mean anything. Names don’t have meanings.”
“We know that, but they don’t. Commander class, King rank - technically I believe it is one step below Emperor, so a better translation would probably be High Lord of Terra - from the planet Antonius. It’s in the wrong order for them, but I’m certain it’s what they’re thinking. That’s why they’re so keen to talk to us.”
“But it’s not even a word! I’ve spoken Gothic all my life and I’ve never heard it, so how would a bunch of greyskinned heretics know it and I don’t?”
She had just shrugged “I knew it. They study, very thoroughly. It’s hardly surprising that they will have come across a few arcane words that you don’t know.”
So that was it. He would pretend to still be a Commander for the duration of this mission, and his priority was to escape the Tau so that he could hand himself over to the Commissariat to be killed as politely as they can get away with. So if his luck changed and everything worked out the best possible way from now on, he could hopefully aspire to die on his knees with a bolter round in the back of the head. Not really the end to his career that he had expected, but it seemed a fitting end to life on Sargas.
It wasn’t going to hold him back from the escape attempts, though he currently had no other plans for that than to keep mapping things as best as he could and look for his chance. He had a few days before it became relevant anyway, because Rossaria wasn’t going to be fit to run for at least three days and he was damned if he was going to leave anyone behind. Admittedly he was damned already by his own actions, but to add deliberate neglect to unconscionable mistake would be something he could never forgive in himself. So he lay on his stomach on the floor, using the chunky alien pen to draw a map and trying to work out any way of getting them all out alive. Ideas weren’t exactly coming thick and fast.
The next morning he returned Bellis’ coat to him without a word. The previously daily language classes and propaganda meetings with the traitor colonists appeared to have been suspended for now, presumably in deference to King and Rossaria’s presence, or maybe the colonists had just refused to go head to head with a Commissar regarding the nature of duty. This spared them several hours of painful rhetoric, but did leave them with the almost equally painful job of filling the long hours in their cell. Breakfast was brought in without the blue-haired girl from yesterday and Antonius decided not to continue with the verbal sparring today. There didn’t feel like there was much point now.
Rossaria threw herself into her recovery with the same devotion and zeal as she had in everything, pushing herself to walk unaided as much as possible and refusing help when it was offered. OK, so she wasn’t exactly doing stomach crunches or running, but over the next few days she did recover sufficiently until she was able to walk short distances with barely a limp. On the second day, one of the Robes came to their cell to announce that they should meet now to discuss the situation. Antonius entirely failed to even try to bite back a sarcastic comment about his busy schedule, and Rossaria made the more helpful point that since they had no access to their comrades, Imperial comms or even a pen (Antonius tried not to wince at this comment), any discussion would be without preparation or ability to discuss with the rest of the Imperium and thus would be of limited value. Robes acknowledged this, but countered that this would allow the two of them more freedom to talk as individuals, since the vastness of an Empire can detract from the narrow vision of the immediate. Lacking any other practical options except for sitting in their cell and rotting, King suggested that the three guardsmen accompany them. Robes looked at him.
“Why?”
“I assume you will have your guards and aides present to assist you. You already hold us at a significant disadvantage in talks as we are your prisoners, surely it can’t do you any harm to let us have the people you have assembled so kindly for us here.”
The creature may not excel at human culture, but it seemed to recognise that volume of sarcasm when it heard it.
“It is disappointing that you persist in seeing yourself only as our prisoner. More will be accomplished by debate if you are able to become open-minded, and we would be pleased to release you if you did not act as a threat to us. We do not feel that anything would be gained by adding more humans to the discussion at this point: for our initial discussion we will speak to you and the Commissar Lord alone.”
Options being rather limited, the Empire’s finest mentally shrugged and agreed to the terms, such as they were. Antonius tried to imagine himself as a high lord of Terra negotiating on behalf of the Empire, but all he could envisage was himself kneeling in the snow, the heavy weight of magni-cuffs around his wrists, the cold muzzle of Rossaria’s bolt pistol brushing the hair at the back of his head.