‘Oh, feth,’ he murmured. The Armaduke had fallen out of warp. They were in trouble.
‘Get Gaunt,’ he said.
‘Comms are down,’ replied Wilder.
‘Have you sent anyone to get Gaunt?’ Blenner asked.
Wilder half shrugged.
‘You’re a bunch of fething idiots,’ said Blenner.
‘Commissar!’
Blenner turned. Gol Kolea had entered the chamber, flanked by troopers from C Company. They were all armed. They all looked like actual proper soldiers. Rerval, Kolea’s adjutant and vox-man, had a dressing on his head that was soaked in blood, and he was still walking around performing duties. Fething idiot bandsmen.
‘Everyone all right here, sir?’ Kolea asked.
‘Not really, major,’ said Blenner, ‘and in ways you couldn’t possibly want to imagine.’
Kolea frowned.
‘This… with respect, commissar, this doesn’t look much like secondary order to me.’
‘Or me,’ Blenner nodded. ‘I think I’ll shoot the lot of them for being idiots.’
‘I’d rather you got the Colours Company on their feet and held Transit Six,’ said Kolea. ‘What’s the munition situation?’
Probably plentiful, thought Blenner, seeing as my mob hardly ever shoot at anything.
‘I’ll check,’ he said.
He paused.
‘Hold Transit Six?’ he asked.
‘The ship’s been boarded,’ said Kolea. ‘We have hostiles advancing from the aft section, from the engine house.’
Blenner’s guts turned to ice water.
‘Boarded?’
‘That’s as much as I know.’
‘Who’s coordinating? Gaunt?’
‘We’ve got no central coordination because the comms are out and vox is patchy. I’m trying to coordinate with Kolosim and Baskevyl. They’re advancing into Lower Transitionary Eight. Elam and Arcuda have Nine covered. According to Elam, there’s fighting in the engine house, and hostiles reported.’
‘What kind of hostiles?’ asked Blenner.
‘The hostile kind,’ said Kolea. ‘That’s all I know.’
Blenner nodded.
‘Brace yourself, major,’ he said. Kolea looked nonplussed, but nodded.
Blenner turned to the bandsmen. He was a genial man, but he possessed a powerful voice, especially in times of crisis, such as the bar being noisy when he wanted a round, or when a waiter was ignoring him.
‘You’re a disgrace to the fething Emperor, may He bless us all, Throne knows why!’ he bellowed. ‘We are under attack, Colours! Forget farting around with your fething musical instruments and get yourselves formed up! Wilder!’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Munition count! Get everyone stocked and loaded! Anyone shows short, get people to tip out their musettes and even things up!’
‘You’re shouting and I’m right in front of you,’ said Wilder.
‘Damn right I’m shouting! I want Colours in secondary order in two minutes, or I will take a fething hautserfone and start clubbing people to death with it! Find that Fury of Belladon and find it fast!’
The bandsmen started to scramble. Blenner turned back to Kolea.
‘We’ll be secure in five, major,’ he said. ‘I’ll have them advance and hold Transit Six.’
Kolea nodded.
‘Move out!’ Kolea told his company. ‘May the Emperor protect you,’ he said, looking back at Blenner.
Blenner went back to his cabin. At least, he thought, at least with Kolea, Kolosim, Elam and Baskevyl in the field, there would be a buffer between him and the hostiles.
He found the bottle of pills in his campaign chest. He took two, then a third just to be sure. He knocked them down with a swig of amasec.
He could do this. He was a fething fighting man of the Throne. Of course he could.
And if he couldn’t, there were plenty of places to hide.
Dalin Criid was in charge, and he didn’t like it much. There was no sign of Captain Meryn – the last word was that Meryn had gone to the infirmary – so although there were several men senior to him in the company, Dalin, as adjutant, had command.
E Company’s barrack deck was in uproar. He had to yell repeatedly to get some kind of order. The last command received had been to go to secondary order, so that’s what Dalin intended to do until he heard otherwise.
‘Secure the barrack deck!’ he shouted. ‘I want watches and repulse details at every hatch! Let’s scout the halls nearby too! I want to know what shape everyone else is in!’
E Company started to move with some purpose. Support and ancillary personnel looked scared. There were a lot of minor injuries, but Dalin could see that fear was the biggest problem.
‘What do you want us to do, sir?’ asked Jessi Banda. Dalin didn’t rise to the sarcastic emphasis she put on ‘sir’.
‘Help anybody that needs help,’ said Dalin. ‘Try to calm fears. Leyr? Neskon? Take a party to the far hatches and sing out if anyone approaches from aft.’
The men nodded.
Dalin wanted to head to the retinue holds and find Yoncy. He desperately needed to know if his kid sister was all right. But he knew he couldn’t show any kind of favouritism. The situation needed to be controlled, and essential personnel needed to be–
He turned.
‘Get things settled here,’ he told Banda and Wheln.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Banda.
‘I’ll be right back.’
The private and reserved cabins were at the for’ard end of the company deck. He pushed his way through the jostle of bodies and headed that way. Gaunt’s son, Felyx, was billeted in one of those cabins. Dalin knew Gaunt would want the boy secured. The colonelcommissar hated the fact that his offspring was here at all. He’d made a special point of asking Dalin to watch Felyx.
And Dalin wanted to check too. He liked Felyx. He felt they had become friends. He was a little afraid that the bond he had formed was part of a selfish urge to impress and please Gaunt. He liked to dismiss that idea, and tell himself that he had found a friend, and that Felyx needed a comrade he could count on, but the nagging doubt wouldn’t go away.
In all honesty, Dalin Criid wished he could work out what it was that drew him to Felyx Meritous Chass so strongly, and hoped in his heart of hearts that it wasn’t a psychological need to impress his beloved commander.
He found the cabin and banged on the door.
‘Felyx? Felyx, it’s Dalin.’
After a short delay, the hatch opened, and Dalin stepped in.
‘Are you all right?’ he began.
Felyx was sitting on the cot, his jacket pulled around his shoulders. He looked pale and ill. Nahum Ludd had opened the door for Dalin.
‘Sir, what are you doing here?’ Dalin asked.
‘I came to check on Felyx,’ said Ludd. ‘The ship’s under attack.’
‘I know,’ said Dalin.
‘It’s serious, trooper,’ said Ludd. ‘I knew the colonel-commissar would want to make sure Felyx was all right, and comms are fethed.’
Dalin nodded. He felt annoyed. He and Ludd were not far off in age, and like him, Ludd had gone out of his way to bond with Felyx. They had become almost like rivals feuding over a girl. It was stupid, but Dalin felt somehow jealous finding Ludd here. He was sure, damn sure, that Ludd was motivated by the same urge Dalin feared in himself. A desire to cover himself in acclaim and ingratiate himself to Gaunt. It had been remarked before that Ludd and Dalin represented the new generation of Ghosts, that one day Ludd might be senior commissar of the regiment, and Dalin a full company officer. One day, if the fates proved kind, and the regiment lasted that long. They were emblematic of the future, of the campaigns to come, Ghost commanders in the making. And as such, both wanted the approval and notice of Ibram Gaunt, who would make the decisions and recommendations that would shape their careers. Gaunt was a father figure to them both, and here they both were, sucking up by trying to be the man who ‘looked after’ Gaunt’s son.