Dan Abnett - First and Only

Zoren nodded. He turned, as if to survey the room, but the close confines of Gaunt's quarters allowed for little contemplation. 'It was during the Famine Wars on Idolwilde, perhaps three standard years ago. My Dragoons were sent in as a peacekeeping presence in the main city-state, Kenadie. That was just before the food riots began in earnest and before the fall of the local government. The man you know as Fereyd was masquerading as a local grain broker called Bel Torthute, a trade-banker with a place on the Idolwilde Senate. His cover was perfect. I had no idea he was an offworld operative. No idea he wasn't a native. He had the language, the customs, the gestures—'

'I know how Fereyd works. Observational perfection is his speciality, and that mimicry thing.'

Then you'll know his modus operandi too. To work with what he calls the ''trustworthy salt'' of the Imperium.'

Gaunt nodded, a half-smile curving his mouth.

To work in such environments, so alone, so vulnerable, our mutual friend needs to nurture the support of those elements of the Imperium he deems uncorrupted. Rooting out corruption and taint in Imperium-sponsored bureaucracies, he can't trust the Administratum, the Ministorum, or any ranking officials who might be part of the conspiratorial infrastructure. He told me that he always found his best allies in the Guard in those circumstances, in men drafted into crisis flash-points, plain soldiery who like as not were newcomers to any such event, and thus not part of the problem. That is what he found in me and some of my officer cadre. It took him a long time and much careful investigation to trust me, and just as long to win my trust back. Eventually, in the midst of the food riots, we Vitrians were the only elements he could count on. The Famine Wars had been orchestrated by a government faction with ties into the Departmento Munitorium. They were able to field two regiments of Imperial Guard turned to their purpose. We defeated them.'

The Battle of Altatha. I have read some of the details. I had no idea Imperial corruption was behind the Famine Wars.'

Zoren smiled sadly. 'Such information is often suppressed. For the good of morale. We parted company as allies. I never thought to meet him again.'

Gaunt sat down on his cot. He leaned his elbows onto his knees, deep in thought. 'And now you have?'

'I received a message, encrypted, during my disembarkation from shore leave on Pyrites. Shortly after that, a meeting.'

'In person?'

Zoren shook his head. 'An intermediary.'

'And how did you know to trust this intermediary?'

'He used certain identifiers. Code words Bel Torthute and I had developed and used on Idolwilde. Cipher syllables from Vitrian combat-cant that only he would have known the significance of. Torthute made a point of studying the cultural heritage of the Vitrian Byhata, our Art of War. Only he could have sent the message and couched it so.'

That's Fereyd. So you are my ally? I have a feeling you know more about this situation than me, Zoren.'

Zoren watched the tall, powerful man sat on the cot, his chin resting on his hands. He'd come to admire him during the Fortis action, and Fereyd's message had contained details specific to Gaunt. It was clear the Imperial covert agent trusted Commissar-Colonel Ibram Gaunt more than almost anyone in the sector. More than myself, Zoren thought.

'I know this much, Gaunt. A group of high-ranking conspirators in the Sabbat Worlds Crusade High Command is hunting for something precious. Something so vital they may be prepared to twist the overall purpose of the crusade to achieve it The key that unlocks that something has been deflected out of their waiting hands and diverted to you for safekeeping, as you were the only one of Fereyd's operatives in range to deal with it.'

Gaunt rose angrily. 'I'm no one's operative!' he snarled.

Zoren waved him back with a deft apologetic gesture to the mouth that indicated a misprision with language. Gaunt reminded himself that Low Gothic was not the colonel's first tongue. 'A trusted partner,' he corrected. 'Fereyd has been careful to establish a wide, remote circle of friends on whom he can call at times like this. You were the only one able to intercept to safeguard the key on Pyrites. After some further manipulation, he made sure I was on the same transport as you to assist. How else do you think we Vitrians ended up on the Absalom so conveniently? I imagine Fereyd and his agents in the Warmaster's command staff risked great exposure arranging for us to be diverted to this ship. It would be about as overt an action as a covert dared.'

'Did he tell you anything else, this intermediary?' Gaunt said.

That I was to offer you all assistance, up to and beyond countermanding the direct orders of my superiors.'

There was a long quiet space as the enormity of this sunk in. 'And then?' Gaunt asked.

The instructions said that you would make the right choice. That Fereyd, unable to directly intercede here, would trust you to carry this forward until his network was able to involve itself again. That you would assess the situation and act accordingly.'

Gaunt laughed humourlessly. 'But I know nothing! I don't know what this is about, or where it's going! This shadowplay isn't what I'm good at!'

'Because you're a soldier?'

'What?'

Zoren repeated it. 'Because you're a soldier? Like me, you deal in orders and commands and direct action. This doesn't sit easy with any of us that Fereyd employs. Us ''Imperial salt'' may be trustworthy and able to be recruited to his cause, but we lack the sophistication to understand the war. This isn't something we solve with flamers and fire-teams.'

Gaunt cursed Fereyd's name. Zoren echoed him, and they both began to laugh.

'Unless you can,' Zoren said, suddenly serious.

'Why?'

'Why? Because he trusts you. Because you're a colonel second and a commissar first, a political officer. And this war is all politics. Intrigue. We were both on Pyrites, Gaunt. Why did he divert the key to you and not me? Why am I here to help you, and not the other way around?'

Gaunt cursed Fereyd's name again, but this time it was low and bitter.

He was about to speak again when there was a fierce hammering at the door to the quarters. Gaunt swept to his feet and pulled the door open. Corbec stood outside, his face flushed and fierce.

'What?' managed Gaunt.

You'd better come, sir. We've got three dead and another critical. The Jantine are playing for keeps.'

ELEVEN

Corbec led Gaunt, Zoren and a gaggle of others into the Infirmary annex where Dorden awaited them.

'Colhn, Freul, Lonegin…' Dorden said, gesturing to three shapes under sheets on the floor. 'Feygor's over there.'

Gaunt looked across at Rawne's adjutant, who lay, sucking breath through a transparent pipe, on a gurney in the corner.

'Puncture wound. Knife. Lungs are failing. Another hour unless I can get fresh equipment.'

'Rawne?' Gaunt asked.

Corbec edged forward. 'Like I said, sir: no sign. It was hit and run. They must have taken him with them. But they left this to let us know.'

Corbec showed the commissar the Jantine cap badge. 'Pinned it to Colhn's forehead,' he said with loathing.

Zoren was puzzled. 'Why such an outward show of force?'

The Jantine are a part of all of this. But they also have a declared rivalry with the Ghosts. This comes to light, it'll look like inter-regiment feuding. There'll be reprimands, but it will cloud the true matter. They want to take credit… under cover of an open feud they can do anything they like.'

Gaunt realised they were all looking at him. His mind was racing. 'So we do the same. Colm: maintain the perimeter patrols on this deck, double strength. But also organise a raid on the Jantine. Lead it yourself. Kill some for me.'