If it’s visibly doing that to the metal structure of the ship, thought Gaunt, what’s it doing to our bodies? Our cellular structures? Our minds? Our souls?
He exited Port Primary and entered the tighter network of halls, companionways and tunnel ducts that linked the habitation levels and cargo spaces. Ceilings were lower, and the corridors were more densely lined with cabling and exterior-mounted switching boxes and circuitry. It was in these levels, less-well lit and claustrophobic, that the ancient ship felt more like a hive. An underground hive.
The light strings, glow-globes and wall lamps flickered at what seemed like a too infrequent rate, as if power was intermittent or struggling to reach the extremities of the ship. Bad odours gusted like halitosis from the air-circ vents: the rank stink of oil and grease, of sump water, of stagnant hydraulics, of refuse and badly draining sanitation systems, of stale cooking, of unwashed flesh, of grilles overheating because they were clogged with lint and soot and dust.
The Armaduke should have been scrapped long ago. It had been spared from the breaker’s yards to perform the Salvation’s Reach run, with little expectation it would be seen again.
Gaunt knew how it felt.
The mission had been a success – an astonishing success, in fact, given the odds. As had happened so often before, Gaunt took little satisfaction from that, because of the cost. The cost was too great, every time.
Gaunt passed the door of one of the mess halls, and saw Viktor Hark sitting alone at one of the long, shabby tables, nursing a cup of caffeine. A cold smell of boiled cabbage and root veg lingered in the hall. The room was too brightly lit. From the back, Gaunt could hear servitors prepping food for the next meal rotation.
‘Viktor?’
Hark started to rise.
‘Easy,’ Gaunt told him. ‘Briefing. In thirty minutes. Can you scare up the company officers and particulars for me?’
Hark nodded.
‘Everyone?’
‘Just those you can find. Don’t pull people off duties. This is informal for now, but I want to get the word out.’
‘The word?’
‘Could be trouble ahead.’
Hark got to his feet and plonked his cup on the cart for empties and dirties.
‘Ibram,’ he said, ‘there’s always trouble ahead.’
They met in the wardroom. Hark had rounded up Ludd, Fazekiel, Mkoll, Larkin, Baskevyl, Kolea and most of the company commanders. The notable absences were Blenner, Rawne, Meryn, and Daur and Major Pasha, both of whom were still in the infirmary. Captain Nico Spetnin was standing in for Pasha, and Adjutant Mohr and Sergeant Venar for Daur.
‘No Criid?’ Gaunt asked Hark as he came in and the officers rose.
‘Criid?’ Hark replied. ‘Tona’s not company or particular level.’
Gaunt hesitated. His mind had been all over the place since–
He’d forgotten he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Criid.
‘All right, as you were,’ he said, with a gesture to ‘easy’ themselves that they all recognised.
‘Something awry, sir?’ Baskevyl asked, pre-empting the standard comment of Gaunt’s adjutant.
Beltayn, sitting up front, data-slate in hand ready to take notes, rolled his eyes at the trickle of laughter.
‘Yeah, Bask,’ Gaunt replied. They settled down quickly.
Gaunt took off his cap and unbuttoned his coat. The air got close in the wardroom when you packed it with bodies.
‘It may be nothing,’ he told them, ‘but we need to come to secondary order as of right now.’
‘Secondary order?’ Kolosim repeated.
‘Combat ready?’ asked Kolea.
Gaunt nodded.
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘We’re only four weeks out of that shitstorm…’ Obel murmured.
Gaunt looked at him. The intensity of Gaunt’s unblinking augmetic stare pinned Obel to his seat.
‘Sir, I didn’t mean–’ he began.
Gaunt often forgot how hard his new eyes could be. He hadn’t meant to discomfort an officer as loyal and dependable as Obel.
‘I know, Lunny,’ Gaunt said. ‘We’re all still licking our wounds. And I’m aware of our piss-poor supply levels. But the war works to its own schedule, not ours. I need the First to come to secondary order in the next twelve hours.’
There was a general groan.
‘Any specifics you can give us, sir?’ asked Bask.
‘Shipmaster Spika informs me that the Armaduke is experiencing drive issues. It might not bring us home. If we fall short or explosively de-translate, I want the fighting companies ready for protection duties.’
‘Shipboard? Counter-boarding?’ asked Kolea, his voice a growl.
‘Anything, Gol,’ Gaunt replied. ‘Just make sure your squads are ready to deal with any kind of contact. Anything they might reasonably be expected to counter.’
Kolea nodded.
‘And make it generally known to all that in the event of action, munition conservation is essential.’
The officers took note.
‘Ludd?’ said Gaunt.
‘Yes, sir?’ Commissar Ludd answered.
‘See to it that our friends are informed,’ Gaunt told the company’s youngest commissar.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Ludd.
‘Hark?’
‘Yes, sir?’ Hark replied.
‘I’ll leave it to you to bring Rawne and B Company up to speed.’
Hark nodded.
‘Well,’ said Gaunt, ‘that’s all. Thanks for your attention. Get to it.’
On the way out, he caught Baskevyl’s arm.
‘If you see Criid, send her my way will you?’
‘Of course,’ Bask said.
Gaunt wandered back to his stateroom along Lower Spinal Sixty. He had a stop to make along the way.
He paused to look into one of the company decks, the hold spaces of the ship that served as accommodation for the retinue. This was home for the souls that had signed the accompany bond to travel with the regiment: the wives, the children, the families, and the tinkers and traders that made up the Tanith First’s vital support network. Salvation’s Reach had been a perilous venture, but every one of the regiment’s extended family had signed the bond to come along. They had decided they would rather risk their lives and die with the Ghosts than stay behind on Menazoid Sigma and perhaps never catch up with them again.
Gaunt thought that showed more courage and faith than any soldier had. Guard life was made better by the constant strength of family, but it was a hard existence. He’d had to consider carefully before approving the issue of the bond.
He watched the children play, the women work, the lines of washing drifting overhead from the chamber’s rafters. Their faith had seen them safely past the dangers of the Reach, but there were always new dangers. The implications of the drive problem troubled him, and the aborted resupply on Aigor 991 played on his mind. Major Kolea had encountered some form of the Ruinous Powers that seemed to be hunting for them. It had claimed to be the voice of Anarch Sek, and it had demanded the return of something called ‘the eagle stones’. It had murdered several members of the landing party. Gol Kolea had done well to abort the resupply, but Gaunt had a lingering feeling that Gol hadn’t told him everything about the encounter. Perhaps it had just been the terror of the experience that had made Gol seem unforthcoming.
No one had a solid idea what ‘the eagle stones’ might be, but if Sek’s power had touched them at Aigor 991, then the Archenemy was closer on their heels than Gaunt liked to imagine. Against the odds, they had survived the Reach mission. Was an unforeseen and greater threat lying in wait for them all? Could he safeguard the families a second time? It was not the dispassionate concern of a commander. Gaunt had always been alone, but now he had family aboard too. His son…