Hark stopped in the middle of the quad, tipped his head back, and cursed. He cursed the Bremenen CO, though it wasn’t personal. The Bremenen CO had simply become a hobbyhorse for Hark to take out his frustration on. When he’d finished cursing, he checked to see if he felt any better, and found that he didn’t very much, actually.
He looked at his watch. If he called up a car from the pool, he could be at Section by nightfall. Despite the snow, the roads were still clear enough for a decent run into the city. He could go to Section, and quietly call in a few favours. He could find out how the land lay, and get the inside track on the likelihood of an imminent posting, maybe even seed the idea and get some gears moving. The Munitorum moved at its own pace, but sometimes it didn’t hurt to give it a little shove. He should have done it months ago. Yes, he’d go on up to Section, stick a finger in the air to see which way the wind was blowing, and maybe bend the ear of a couple of senior commissars he knew.
He turned and looked towards the fence in the direction of the city. Even in the snow-light gloom, he could see the immense spread of lights through the chainlink, like a fallen constellation, with the crown of the Oligarchy rising behind it. He was resolved. Doing something, anything, was better than this backbreaking damage control.
Hark sniffed. He realised he might have to revise his travel plans. It looked like worse weather was on the way. From where he was standing, the storm clouds over the Oligarchy looked especially black and menacing, like smoke.
He heard a voice calling his name, and turned to see Ludd thumping across the quad towards him. Now what?
‘Excuse the interruption, sir,’ Ludd declared as he reached Hark. ‘Something’s going on.’
‘Ludd,’ said Hark, brushing snow off his nose, ‘you realise your sole use to me is to supply meaningful and intelligible nouns and adverbs in place of the word something in sentences like that?’
‘Yes,’ Ludd shrugged, ‘but sometimes they don’t issue me with enough nouns from stores.’
‘Was that a joke, Ludd?’
‘Like a joke, but smaller, sir,’ Ludd replied, and handed Hark a message slip. ‘The vox office sent this through ten minutes ago. Your eyes only.’
A discipline matter. Hark groaned. It had to be a discipline matter, or it would have gone straight to Kolea, or whoever was officer of the watch. What now? What now?
Hark tore the slip open, and sniffed as he unfolded and read it. Snowflakes made little tick noises as they struck the sheet of paper in his gloved hands.
‘Summon the senior staff,’ he said to Ludd.
‘Sir?’
‘Summon the senior staff. Five minutes.’
‘Well, Rawne’s in jail, and the colonel’s off-site. Do we have any senior staff left?’ Ludd asked.
‘This isn’t even slightly the time for jokes, Ludd,’ said Hark.
Ludd saw the look on Hark’s face, and his grin quickly vanished.
‘Right, sir. At once,’ he said, and ran off through the snow towards the Tanith blockhouses.
‘And take us to Active Pending, please!’ Hark yelled after him.
Ludd stopped and looked back.
‘Active Pending?’ he asked.
‘You heard me, Ludd.’
‘Yes, sir!’
Ludd turned back and started running again.
Hark looked back down at the paper. Where the snowflakes had hit it, they had turned into drops of water and run, smudging the crude black ink of the printout. They looked like tears from a woman’s eyes, causing her make-up to streak. They looked like blood leaking from bullet holes.
‘Feth!’ he cried. ‘Feth! Feth!’
Just when he thought morale and behaviour were at their lowest, a whole new universe of bad had opened up.
Active Pending. The regiment woke up fast. It shook and galvanised itself to stand to, the pre-transit or pre-combat prepped status. Activity boiled through the Tanith barracks. Everything was suddenly bustling. Beltayn hurried along the main link corridor carrying the day-book and the other logs. Ghosts ran past him in both directions, scrambling for their assigned stations.
‘Is this a drill?’ Dalin Criid asked Beltayn as he went past.
‘What?’ Beltayn replied, looking up from the logs that he was reading as he walked.
‘It’s a drill, right?’ asked Dalin. He was with several young troopers from his company.
‘Just get on with it, trooper,’ Beltayn said.
Dalin shrugged and hurried away with his comrades.
Beltayn tutted and resumed his reading. A thought struck him.
‘Wait! Criid!’ he shouted after the departing soldiers.
Dalin turned and ran back to him.
‘Yes?’
‘You need to attend senior staff.’
‘Why? Did I get a promotion?’
‘Don’t be a feth-head, Criid,’ said Beltayn wearily. ‘You’re E Company adjutant.’
‘For my sins,’ Dalin agreed.
‘Well, Captain Meryn is off-site.’
‘Captain Meryn’s banged up in jail, that’s what I heard,’ Dalin said. The look on his face suggested that he didn’t think it could have happened to a more deserving soul.
‘Captain Meryn’s status is not your business, trooper,’ Beltayn said, ‘so let’s ditch the lip. His absence is your business. As his adjutant, you have to attend and gather all the relevants for him, or for whoever ends up in charge of your fething shower.’
‘Really?’
‘Two minutes, please, in the temple house.’
Dalin let out an oath and ran off.
Beltayn turned and resumed his course. As he swept past medicae, he stopped, rapped on the door, and stuck his head in.
‘Senior staff, two minutes, doctor,’ he called.
Dorden looked up from his desk.
‘Thank you, adjutant,’ he said.
Beltayn nodded and went out, closing the door behind him.
‘It seems I’m called away,’ said Dorden.
‘Well, that’s a gigantic shame,’ replied Father Zweil. The ayatani was sitting across the desk from the chief medic.
‘It really is,’ Dorden agreed. ‘I finally get you to show up here for your examination, and I’m called out.’
‘We can finish at a later date,’ said Zweil.
‘We’re almost done as it is,’ said Dorden. He was busily writing up the notes that would accompany the little phials of blood and tissue samples he’d collected. ‘Can you be patient for a moment longer?’
‘Patient or patient?’ asked Zweil.
Dorden smiled, and got up. He walked through to the adjoining room, where Ana Curth was loading stainless steel instruments into the autoclave.
‘Can you finish up for me?’ he asked.
‘With Zweil?’
‘Yes. Just finish writing up the notes, ask him the green slip questions, and bag the samples and documents with his signature.’
She nodded, and said, ‘I can take them over to the pharmacon if you like.’
‘Thanks. Some kind of staff meeting’s been called.’
‘I know,’ she smiled. ‘I think it’s a drill. We’ve gone to Active Pending.’
‘Have we indeed?’ asked Dorden. He turned to leave.
‘How did you get him to show up?’ Curth asked.
‘The ayatani? I sicced Gaunt on him,’ Dorden replied.
‘And how did you get him to sit still for the samples? Zweil hates needles.’
Dorden showed her his left arm. His sleeve was rolled up and there was a small swab dressing taped in the crook of the elbow. ‘I did everything I was going to do to him to myself first to show it wasn’t going to hurt.’
‘Very clever.’