indeed, Sturm admitted, but you must learn to expect this kind of loss, Gaunt. This is war. He tossed the data-slate aside. Now this hitting business. Chain of command and all that. My hands are tied. Its to be a court martial.
Gaunt was level and unblinking. If youre going to shoot me for it, get on with it. I struck Ortiz in the heat of the moment. In hindsight, I realise he was probably following orders. Some damn fool orders from HQ.
Now look, you jumped up Gilbear began, stepping forward.
Would you like me to demonstrate what I did to Ortiz? Gaunt asked the bigger man acidly.
Silence, both of you! snarled Sturm. Commissar Gaunt Colonel- commissar I take my duty seriously, and that duty is to enforce the discipline and rule of Warmaster Macaroth, and through him the beloved Emperor himself, strictly and absolutely. The Imperial Guard is based upon the towering principles of respect, authority, unswerving loyalty and total obedience. Any aberration, even from a officer of your stature, is to be What the hell is that noise?
He crossed to the window. What he saw made him gawp speechlessly. The Basilisk tank thundering up the drive was dragging part of the main gate after it and scattering gaudcocks and drilling Bluebloods indiscriminately in its path. It slewed to a halt on the front lawn, demolishing an ornamental fountain in a spray of water and stone.
A powerful man in the uniform of a Serpent colonel leapt down and strode for the main entrance to the house. His face was set and mean, swollen with bruises down the left side. A door slammed. There was some shouting, some running footsteps. Another slamming door.
Some moments later, an aide edged into the study, holding out a data-slate for Sturm. Colonel Ortiz has just filed an incident report. He suggested you saw it at once, sir.
Gilbear snatched it and read it hastily. It seems that Major Ortiz wishes to make it clear he was injured by his own weapons recoil during the recent bombardment. Gilbear looked up at Sturm with a nervous laugh. That means
I know what it means! Sturm snapped. The general glared at Gaunt, and Gaunt glared right back, unblinking.
I think you should know, Gaunt said, low and deadly, it seems that callous murder can be committed out here in the lawless warzones, and the fact of it can be hidden by the confusion of war. You should bear that in mind, general, sir.
Sturm was lost for words for a moment. By the time he had remembered to dismiss Gaunt, the commissar had already gone.
Oh, for Feths sake, play something more cheerful, Corbec said from his troop-ship bunk, flexing his bandaged hand. He was haunted by the ghost of his missing finger. Appropriate, he thought.
In the bunk below him, Milo squeezed the bladder of his pipes and made them let out a moan, a shrill, sad sigh. It echoed around the vast troop bay of the huge, ancient starship, where a thousand Tanith Ghosts were billeted in bunks. The dull rhythm of the warp engines seemed to beat in time to the wailing pipes.
How about Euan Fairlows March? Milo asked.
Above him, Corbec smiled, remembering the old jig, and the nights he heard it played in the taverns of Tanith Magna.
That would be very fine, he said.
The energetic skip of the jig began and quickly snaked out across the iron mesh of the deck, between the aisles of bunks, around stacks of kits and camo-cloaks, through the smoky groups where men played cards or drank, over bunks where others slept or secretly gazed at portraits of women and children who were forever lost, and tried to hide their tears.
Enjoying the tune, Corbec looked up from his bunk when he heard footsteps approach down the deck-plates. He jumped up when he saw it was Gaunt. The commissar was dressed as he had first met him, fifty days before, in high-waisted dress breeches with leather braces, a sleeveless undershirt and jack boots.
Sir! Corbec said,
Gaunt was level and unblinking. If youre going to shoot me for it, get on with it. I struck Ortiz in the heat of the moment. In hindsight, I realise he was probably following orders. Some damn fool orders from HQ.
Now look, you jumped up Gilbear began, stepping forward.
Would you like me to demonstrate what I did to Ortiz? Gaunt asked the bigger man acidly.
Silence, both of you! snarled Sturm. Commissar Gaunt Colonel- commissar I take my duty seriously, and that duty is to enforce the discipline and rule of Warmaster Macaroth, and through him the beloved Emperor himself, strictly and absolutely. The Imperial Guard is based upon the towering principles of respect, authority, unswerving loyalty and total obedience. Any aberration, even from a officer of your stature, is to be What the hell is that noise?
He crossed to the window. What he saw made him gawp speechlessly. The Basilisk tank thundering up the drive was dragging part of the main gate after it and scattering gaudcocks and drilling Bluebloods indiscriminately in its path. It slewed to a halt on the front lawn, demolishing an ornamental fountain in a spray of water and stone.
A powerful man in the uniform of a Serpent colonel leapt down and strode for the main entrance to the house. His face was set and mean, swollen with bruises down the left side. A door slammed. There was some shouting, some running footsteps. Another slamming door.
Some moments later, an aide edged into the study, holding out a data-slate for Sturm. Colonel Ortiz has just filed an incident report. He suggested you saw it at once, sir.
Gilbear snatched it and read it hastily. It seems that Major Ortiz wishes to make it clear he was injured by his own weapons recoil during the recent bombardment. Gilbear looked up at Sturm with a nervous laugh. That means
I know what it means! Sturm snapped. The general glared at Gaunt, and Gaunt glared right back, unblinking.
I think you should know, Gaunt said, low and deadly, it seems that callous murder can be committed out here in the lawless warzones, and the fact of it can be hidden by the confusion of war. You should bear that in mind, general, sir.
Sturm was lost for words for a moment. By the time he had remembered to dismiss Gaunt, the commissar had already gone.
Oh, for Feths sake, play something more cheerful, Corbec said from his troop-ship bunk, flexing his bandaged hand. He was haunted by the ghost of his missing finger. Appropriate, he thought.
In the bunk below him, Milo squeezed the bladder of his pipes and made them let out a moan, a shrill, sad sigh. It echoed around the vast troop bay of the huge, ancient starship, where a thousand Tanith Ghosts were billeted in bunks. The dull rhythm of the warp engines seemed to beat in time to the wailing pipes.
How about Euan Fairlows March? Milo asked.
Above him, Corbec smiled, remembering the old jig, and the nights he heard it played in the taverns of Tanith Magna.
That would be very fine, he said.
The energetic skip of the jig began and quickly snaked out across the iron mesh of the deck, between the aisles of bunks, around stacks of kits and camo-cloaks, through the smoky groups where men played cards or drank, over bunks where others slept or secretly gazed at portraits of women and children who were forever lost, and tried to hide their tears.
Enjoying the tune, Corbec looked up from his bunk when he heard footsteps approach down the deck-plates. He jumped up when he saw it was Gaunt. The commissar was dressed as he had first met him, fifty days before, in high-waisted dress breeches with leather braces, a sleeveless undershirt and jack boots.
Sir! Corbec said,
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