humid the further down one ventured, but with water rationing at a cautious end, Commissar Rezail
gladly indulged his thirst and hunger. He sat on a rock at the treeline, staring into the yellow bulb40
lights that seemed to float in the darkness. He chewed on one of the peeled fruits, relishing its
freshness and aroma, both of which filled his nostrils and coated his taste-deprived tongue.
Everyone at camp was clamouring to see this so-called paradise, but for now, the camp would
remain where it was. Only when the fuel shortage turned absolutely critical would they establish
another camp within the caves. At least, that was Turk’s wise contribution to the discussions. Nisri,
however, seemed pensive and rather territorial about the entire matter. He wouldn’t commit to any
answer, and instead loosened the water and food restrictions to just shy of luxuries like showers and
laundry.
Rezail was lost in thought when Tyrell cleared his throat. Colonel Nisri was standing, waiting.
“A moment of your time?” Nisri asked, smiling and calm.
“Certainly,” Rezail said, wiping the juices from his mouth. “Alone?”
“No, your adjutant may be helpful in… facilitating an explanation of my request.”
“All right,” Rezail responded, intrigued. There was still considerable tension between him and
Nisri, but the colonel seemed oblivious to the events surrounding Raham’s death and the riot… a
riot that had left others, including Quartermaster Kortan and his assistant, Sabaak, recovering in the
med-bay.
“I would like to formally announce my tribe’s interest in colonising Khadar.”
Rezail was not expecting that. He glanced at Tyrell, who looked equally surprised.
“But, service in the Imperial Guard is a lifetime commitment,” Rezail said, cautiously.
“I know that, of course, but the High Lords of Terra have rewarded a home world with sister
planets before. I am asking that my tribe, the Turenag Alliance, be allowed to colonise Khadar on
behalf of the Imperium.”
“That only happens under extraordinary circumstances: extended campaigns, meritorious service
so far above the call of duty that the war is entered as a Holy Action in all Remembrancer accounts,
and in the official history of the Imperium.”
Nisri shrugged and smiled broadly. “I would call these extraordinary circumstances, would you
not?”
“No,” Rezail responded, “and the only times the High Lords have done this is in recognition of
the efforts of the Adeptus Astartes, never for a regiment.”
“Almost never,” Nisri said.
“You’re splitting hairs,” Rezail said. “The fact is, colonising a world is such a monumental
undertaking that it’s hardly done. And, whether I agree with you or not is beside the point, it is not
my decision to make. Coming to me first carries no weight.”
“Yes, but they would listen to a political officer more than they would a colonel, correct?
Besides, there is a greater consideration here.”
“And what’s that?” Rezail asked cautiously.
“What I’m proposing would end the struggles between the Turenag and the Banna Alliances.
I’m offering you the opportunity to end the threat of civil war on my world, something not even the
Commissariat could do.”
5
Nisri had only just left when Rezail threw a cautious glance at Tyrell. “What do you think?” Rezail
asked.
Tyrell looked around. “I think that this is a very dangerous thing.”
“A chance to end the violence? How bad is the fighting on your worlds?”
“We skirt civil war constantly. The Banna and Turenag cannot battle openly without risking the
wrath of the Adeptus Arbites, the holders of Imperial Law. But they can induce others to draw blood
for them, and they’ve grown adept at manipulating proxies to war on their behalf. It is a civil war
41
fought in back alleys and in assassination. But, nothing can stay in the shadows forever. This will
not remain hidden.”
“Would this be perceived as taking sides? Or favouritism?”
“Indeed, yes,” Tyrell responded. “By giving the Turenag this world, you are rewarding them for
their actions, for killing the Orakle, for every Banna they killed. The Banna would never allow this,
and they are on the same expedition. Iban Salid has as much claim on Khadar as the Turenag has.”
“If the High Lords of Terra agree,” Rezail said, shaking his head, “which I highly doubt, the
undertaking would be massive: the ships, the logistics, the formation of a planetary governance, the
inclusion of the Adeptus Arbites to ensure the colony is being built according to Imperial Law, a
military presence to protect the planet, the redrawing of naval patrol routes to include Khadar…
even to call it mammoth is to treat the matter casually.”
“Of course, commissar.”
“But, wouldn’t the Banna want to be rid of the Turenag?”
“They would be sharing Tallarn, not owning it, so to speak. By the blessing of the High Lords of
Terra and the Munificence of His Golden Throne, the Turenag would settle and colonise this
world.”
“And the Banna’s pride prevents them from allowing it.”
“All the alliances would take umbrage. They would all be demanding a world to settle on this
precedent. But for the Banna, it would say that the Turenag are right. More important, it means the
Banna would be admitting that they are wrong, in the eyes of the Imperium.”
“Damn,” Rezail said. “Your people are stubborn.”
Tyrell nodded without hesitation. He was a patient man, which the commissar appreciated,
especially in light of the tricky manoeuvring to be undertaken between the Banna and Turenag.
Whenever Rezail felt like handling the situation with the rough bluster of the commissars, he looked
to Tyrell for a calmer response.
“Can I ignore the request, and contribute to the growing violence between your two tribal
alliances?”
“There is another consideration,” Tyrell said, scratching his chin. A sly smile crept across his
lips, and Rezail knew he wasn’t going to like the suggestion, if only because it would be the prudent
course.
6
“I have to admit,” Nisri said, standing next to the commissar at the jungle’s tree line. “I didn’t
expect an answer so soon.”
“I don’t have an answer for you, not yet,” Rezail replied. “I recognise the importance of this
world in saving Tallarn from civil war, but I also recognise it as a shrewd move to legitimise your
assassination of the Orakle and your conflict with the Banna.”
“I assure you, that I’m only interested in obtaining this paradise for my people.”
“Even if it required you and your tribe to ‘admit’ that you made a mistake in assassinating the
Orakle?”
Nisri’s smile remained, but there was a ruthless edge to his admission. He understood the game,
far better than the more straightforward Turk. “Our assassination of the heretic Orakle was
righteous. To admit otherwise is to renounce our claim of serving the Emperor and, more
importantly, our claim on this world.”
“I understand that,” Rezail said, “but as an official representative of the Imperium’s interests, I
must appear impartial.”
42
“Of course,” Nisri said, “and as an official representative of the High Lords of Terra, you must
also protect the security of the dominions of man. By giving us a home, Tallarn is made peaceful. Is
that not in the best interests of the Imperium?”
Rezail chuckled aloud, something Nisri was not expecting. It was obvious that Nisri enjoyed a
position of power, and people followed his word, often without question or criticism. The laughter
ruffled his feathers, and he appeared indignant.
“Colonel Dakar,” Rezail said, still chuckling, “you’re trying to argue the politics of the
Imperium with a political officer. You are a savvy man, I respect that, but I was trained by the Battle
Orators of the Schola Progenium, so I’d appreciate not being ‘handled’. The fact is, you are making
a request for consideration under the articles put forth by the Master of the Administratum, the
ancient right of an Imperial Guard regiment to claim an uninhabited or conquered planet for
colonisation by their homeworld, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Nisri said, trying to curb his impatience. “And—”
“And, under those articles, your regiment is composed of elements of the Turenag and Banna
tribes. So consider your course very carefully, because, as it stands, both the Banna and Turenag
have an equal right to make a claim for their people.”
“You have no right to make—”
“Don’t interrupt me again, colonel,” Rezail said, his voice even and cold. “You have one option
for your people to settle this world, Colonel Nisri, if the High Lords of Terra even entertain the
matter, and that’s through the Administratum, after the High Lords’ blessings, of course. Now,
seeing as your regiment is comprised of Banna and Turenag, I would bet my life that you never even
discussed your plans for this world with Lieutenant Colonel Iban Salid. Am I mistaken?”
“I am his superior. I do not need to discuss anything with him.”
“You do when you’re using Imperial law to favour your tribe above his. We’ve been through
this, colonel. You have no tribe when you wear that uniform, and all soldiers are equal in their
duties to the Emperor. If you truly wish me to treat this matter seriously, you will include the
lieutenant-colonel in any discussions involving colonising this planet.”
43
CHAPTER SIX
“Look to the sky too often and you open your throat to the knife.”
—The Accounts of the Tallarn by Remembrancer Tremault
1
Day Eighty-Five.
The mood had lifted considerably at camp in the last couple of days. The fresh fruit, meat and
water reinvigorated the soldiers, and different squads were allowed to help explore the caves in
shifts. So far, they’d uncovered seven caverns spread out over nineteen kilometres, with new tunnels
and passages discovered daily. There was no telling the extent of the network, but for certain, they
had only touched upon a fraction of the true paradise beneath.
The tunnels and caverns continued descending deeper into the earth, where the jungles grew
thicker and wilder.
The Sentinels couldn’t navigate the jungles of Caverns Cathedral and Emperor, while the trees
of Golden Throne grew in such tight clusters that the squads could only advance a few metres every
ten minutes. Nobody had yet found the cavern where the Sentinel had fallen, and one squad reported
discovering an underground lake. Unfortunately, their pathfinding skills proved insufficient to find it
again through the maze of tunnels.
Still, it was all done in high spirits, the lack of supplies and the events of last week ignored in
favour of the recent good fortune.
Both Sergeant Ballasra and Captain Toria were on extended patrol, venturing so far underground
that they couldn’t be reached by voxes and micro-beads. Sergeant Ballasra’s last report indicated
that he had found the head of a beautiful waterfall that plummeted into the dark mists below.
Meanwhile, back at the camp, the Guardsmen had built a fire pit from collected shrubs, and were
enjoying a rare feast of seven Khadar pigs, hairless albino-like creatures with snouts and no eyes,
slaughtered and mounted on spits.
2
Turk, Nisri, Rezail and Tyrell sat in the shade of the command bunker. The door was closed and two
Guardsmen waited outside. The laughing and the reverie of the men drifted through the walls, and
the smell of succulent roasted Khadar pig tickled the nostrils. Nobody wanted to be inside, but the
argument was too heated to walk away from it.
“Absolutely not!” Turk said. “My tribe has as much claim to this world as the Turenag.”
“This paradise is not befitting idolaters,” Nisri said, growing more heated.
“Oh, but it is promised to murderers and butchers?”
“We kill the undeserving. You should thank us for saving you from—”
“The undeserving? You misbegotten—”
“Keep it civil,” Rezail warned, casting an eye on both men.
“Fine,” Turk responded, throwing his arms in the air. “What of the ruling of the Commissariat,
Colonel Dakar? This means nothing to you? Some would say that is treason!”
44
“The Commissariat already commended us on the execution of the Orakle—”
“And on our just actions against your tribe!” Turk countered.
“Oh yes,” Nisri snapped back, “because the murder of innocent women and children is the kind
of nobility I’d expect from—”
“Don’t speak to your betters about nobility—”
“Gentlemen,” Rezail said, briefly entertaining the idea of shooting them both, “we’re not here to
argue who’s in the right. You’ve been doing that for… how many generations?” he asked Tyrell.
“Forty.”
“That many?”
“No, commissar, not forty specifically Among the tribesmen, forty means many. It means too
many to count.”
Rezail nodded. “You’ve been fighting for countless generations with no end in sight. Back to the
matter of this planet.”
“The Banna Alliance will never agree to the Turenag’s claim on this world,” Turk said. “It is
either shared, or it belongs to no one.”
“No,” Rezail said, correcting him, “actually, it belongs to the Emperor. Who acts as custodian,
however, is another matter, one that makes this entire debacle moot.”
“Commissar Rezail,” Nisri said with a grand sigh. “What is the purpose of this meeting?”
“The purpose of this meeting, gentlemen, is to demonstrate that neither of you holds any
legitimate claim to this world. At best, and that’s a highly slim ‘at best’, you may be able to make
the request as a regiment, but not as an individual tribe. By doing that, you’re splitting your
nonexistent odds even further.”
“I am fine with that,” Turk said with a smile aimed at Nisri.
“We would no longer be at each other’s throats,” Nisri said.
“Fine, admit your mistake in murdering the Orakle, and apologise.”
“No,” Nisri said, sitting against a console. “We were just.”
The room was quiet for a moment, both men spent of their argument. It was long enough to
realise that everything was too quiet. The noise outside had abruptly died. One of the Guardsmen
hammered on the door.
“Sirs, you need to see this….”
The four men quickly exited the command bunker.
3
The dream threw Kamala into a storm’s pitch of images. A silence pressed her against the wall and
did obscene things to her. She fought it, her fists connecting with nothing, her body wet with blood.
For a moment, she forgot about her powers, her ability to defend herself. The shadows whispered at
her and encouraged her to fight back.
