New Imperium Ch. 01

Luck remained with me, though: the beast leaped at me the exact moment I brought my rifle to bear on it. My bayonet plunged into its stomach, and its weight jarred my recoil-numbed arms. I stumbled back, tripping on my cast-off pack, and we tumbled down into the dead ground. My grip held, keeping the mutant just out of reach of its furiously snapping teeth and swiping claws.

My heart hammered in my chest, abhuman death staring me in the face. It thrashed and snarled, trying to use its bulk to wrench the rifle out of my hands or tear the bayonet from where it was lodged in its guts. Desperately, I fumbled for my knife, another power pack, anything, even as it's frothing spit and blood dripped onto me.

The laspistol's grip found its way into my hand, and I tore it free from my belt. "Frakking!" The first shot cratered its rib cage inwards. "Emperor-damned!" The second tore away half of its throat. "Filthy!" The third pierced its eye and blew out the side of its twisted face. "Mutant." A death rattle gurgled in its ruined body.

I heaved its bulk away, rolling to my side before climbing back up to my feet. A few trees still burned fitfully and the air stunk of burnt hair and roasted flesh. My heart rate slowly decreased, my breath coming in more regular intervals, and I slotted new power packs into my weapons with trembling hands.

"Where the Frak am I?" I mumbled, looking back into the burning woods. "Where the Frak am I?!" I bellowed my frustration and growing terror.

"Pway syd yna!" A voice shouted from behind me, in the veil of fog at the other end of the fallow field.

I wheeled, lasgun back into my shoulder, and saw a dozen or so figures emerging from the haze. Thank the Emperor that they were human, or at least less mutated than the ones I'd just dispatched. Rusty, cobbled together armor clanked and jingled as they hustled their way towards me. Most carried fiercely burning torches, the remainder rusty metal shields, and all carried notched and beaten swords.

As far as I knew, Chrysalis Secundus had no primitive and feudal tribes, just like it shouldn't have had any trees.

"Pway syd yna!" One of the men shouted again, raising a steel-gloved hand to stop the others, "Pway wyt ti? Pway wyt ti ac o ble wyt ti?"

My first instinct, of course, was to blink in confused annoyance at the armored man's garbled questions. Instead, I lowered the barrel of my rifle slightly, squinting in concentration. I tried to place his words amongst any of the hundreds of gibberish dialects I'd encountered over the decades fighting and swindling in the name of the Inquisition. That only lasted for a few more moments of tense glares and more unintelligible shouting, though not before a vague sense of recollection twinged in my mind.

I slowly set my ruined pack down, keeping my movements slow and an eye on the wary tribesmen. Hacri and I had cobbled together an old Elucidator-model translator years before, and it had come in handy many times over the years when I'd been forced to trade with backwater feudal governors and abhuman underhive gangers. I could only hope it would work on these unknown warriors.

Their leader narrowed his eyes at me but didn't make any additional move while I tuned my personal commbead to the brick-sized device. Then, after a moment of fiddling and mumbled prayers to the distant Ommnissiah, I pantomimed to the man for him to speak again.

"Pway wyt ti?!" His voice had steel in it but was clearly frayed by living in such a dreary wasteland.

The Elucidator chirped and warbled before my commbead crackled, "Who? Who? Other syntax unidentifiable."

"That's frakking helpful," I mumbled. "Soldier!" I pointed at my chest, letting the lasrifle dangle a bit lower. "Soldier!" The device squawked something back at the tribesmen -- filwyr, filwyr -- and I supposed that it was at least partially intelligible, based on the way they muttered amongst themselves.

"Le? O ba le?" The leader shouted. "Where? From where?" My commbead crackled helpfully. That nagging familiarity struck me again. I'd heard words like this before, though spoken by much more refined and alien throats. It seemed impossible, but it was equally impossible that I'd been flung to some feudal wasteland.

A wasteland that it seemed, based on the corrupted but barely recognizable speech, was also an Aeldari Exodite world.

"Where?" I muttered, incredulous. How far had those Emperor-damned cultists thrown me? Even the most primitive human cultures knew, at some level, of the great empire that spanned the stars and of the living god that sat at its head. How far had the corruption of the Xeno and the Warp cast this place down? I shook my head and grumbled; one thing at a time. So, I coughed and raised my voice for the Elucidator to pick up, "From the Imperium. The Imperium of Man."

***

After inspecting the slain mutants and putting out the fires, the motley band of primitive militia seemed to accept me at least as a fellow untainted human. For that, I quietly thanked Hacri and the mostly hidden implants he'd endowed me with at Onka's request. The sergeant -- or whatever his title was -- stayed close by, both trying to draw more information from me and ensuring this strange new "filwyr" was only a sword's length away. Finally, they led me back across the field and onto a cobblestone road that twisted between the gnarled trees and another stretch of unproductive fields.

Once, maybe, this land has been well-kept and rich, but no longer. In that way, it reminded me of the hive cities I'd spent most of my life in and around and gave me a glimmer of hope that this place had also been touched at least once by Imperial might. Iron light posts dotted both sides of the road, most of them darkened and bent, but well made when they'd been installed. Empty farmhouses, like shades in the dim woods, loomed in the near distance.

The sergeant and one or two others tried to muddle through a conversation with me, but my vocabulary and the Elucidator's capacity were limited. Most questions were aimed at my kit or the Imperium, but I could do little more than nod or shrug in confusion. I still couldn't place where I was or who these people were, and I tried to bury the worst possible explanations beneath my exhaustion.

There was a faint glow ahead, and my face faltered slightly. "Beth? Beth yw hynny?" What is that?

"M'aen Darkshire," he said. It is Darkshire.

I could see a cluster of buildings, a town, I supposed, but the terrain around us took on a very different character as we left the fallow farmland. Something had scorched and splintered the trees, and arrows and spears riddled shattered wood and broken ground. Derelict war machines of wildly varied construction lay broken and silent, and the already sickly ground was cratered and torn.

Honestly, it resembled a battlefield on any of a thousand worlds in the Imperium, but these feudal humans possessed nowhere near that level of firepower. The air only vaguely stunk of brimstone and ash, so the battle couldn't have been that recent. No bodies marred the site, but neat rows of wooden grave markers sat in clusters at the edge of the ruined place.

I pointed, remembering more and more broken Aeldari as I exercised it, "Pa frwdyr?" What battle?

The next word he spoke was the same across a hundred different languages and dialects, and was immediately intelligible. "Daemons."

"Frak," I spat, a cold wave of fear flushing through me. "Where the Frak is this? Ble Mae hyn?" I pointed at the ground beneath our feet. "Ble Mae hyn?!"

He seemed confused, "M'aen Azeroth."

Azeroth? What and where the Frak was Azeroth? We continued past shattered palisades and bombed-out fortifications and towards the town proper. The glow built and grew, dispelling the worst of the unnatural veil. It emanated from regularly spaced light purple crystals that rested in sconces of ornately carved metal at odds with the warped and rustic nature of the rest of that cursed place. I didn't ask any more questions and certainly didn't have the words for them if I'd wanted to.

Other guards looked me up and down as we passed into the central space of the village, but no one stopped us. Civilians, garbed in simple tunics and dresses straight out of a children's book about feudal worlds, moved about the large square. A few glanced quizzically at me, pointing and murmuring amongst themselves. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the air stank of filth, which made it feel much more like a familiar and Imperial world.

Amongst it all, though, I smelled food cooking somewhere and realized that I was painfully hungry.

After some verbal fumbling and bitter swearing at the Elucidator, I managed to communicate to the sergeant and other guards that a hearty meal and a rest were the only things I was interested in. It seemed that he was uncertain about leaving my side and unsure about what exactly he was supposed to do, but I was insistent. He finally relented, pointing at one of the larger buildings, "Tafarn, tafarn." Inn, inn. He pantomimed eating and sleeping and then made it clear that I shouldn't leave the building.

I shrugged, still dazed and overwhelmed. The departure of multiple overlapping waves of adrenaline had left me hazy and exhausted. A hearty bowl of Soylens Viridiens and a warm cot were just about the only things I was thinking about.

Warm light and some kind of music spilled from the warped door frame of the in. And, released from my minders, I trudged inside. A great fire burned in a soot-blackened fireplace, and rusty chandeliers hung from the equally blackened rafters, each draped with candles that bled light and fingers of wax down onto the tables. Tables as beaten as the building exteriors filled the ample open space, more candles scattered randomly across them. Steam and delicious scents wafted out of an apparent galley at the back of the room, and a wooden staircase rose into the shadowed second floor off to my right.

A dozen humans, all male, sat amongst the tables in small groups, eating stew and various other dishes I didn't recognize. Their gazes followed me as I trudged to an empty table and stifled a yawn. Conversations stopped for only a few moments before resuming, though in slightly more hushed tones.

The bench was sturdy, the nicked and pitted tabletop not especially greasy: all in all, not the worst such establishment I'd ever visited in all of my travels. My pack went onto the seat beside me, but I kept my weapons strapped to my aching body. I still wasn't sure if this was some forgotten and backwater imperial world, but even the most advanced worlds of Men were dangerous enough.

The other patrons cast a few more sidelong glances in my direction before deciding, apparently, that they should just as well mind their own damned business.

Two of those quaint humans, though, thought otherwise. The first seemed to be the proprietor or owner. One way or the other, she worked in the half-rotted place, and she hustled over as soon as I was settled. She had black hair and darker skin than the other humans I'd seen so far, though her eyes were a light brown. Despite the chill outside, she wore only a long red skirt and a short top of the same color that exposed her tiny waist and stomach.

The other stayed in the gloom in the corner, though I could see her feminine shape and the shine of light-colored eyes watching me.

"Beth alla i ddod a chi?" I guessed she was asking me what I wanted, based first on my vague recollections of Aeldari and secondly on the squawked suggestions of the Elucidator.

There were a great many things that I wanted at the moment: answers, two days of pure rest, a willing woman. I figured the only things the tawny-skinned provincial beauty would be able to give me at that moment, however, were a warm meal and a cold drink. "Um...dwi angen diod?"

She nodded slightly but then narrowed her eyes and looked at my kit. Clearly not trusting a half-burnt stranger, she tilted her head to the side and pointed into her palm. She didn't speak, and I wouldn't have needed to translate if she had; I was a stranger, and I had to pay upfront.

Thankfully, in all my years buying up Onca's provisions, I'd learned to carry more than imperial credits and my winning personality. So I felt around under my scorched fatigues for the small pouch of baubles and quietly thanked the Emperor that it was still there. Perhaps, I thought, that that was the moment to dazzle these feudal rubes with a bit of Inquisitorial splendor.

I dumped the pouch onto the table, my other hand sliding onto my laspistol in case any of the patrons got untoward ideas. Gold coins from Krastellan, void gems from Ghosar Quintus, pearls from Tahnel, and a dozen other curios and valuables. The woman's eyes widened, and the men clustered around the other table craned their necks to get a look. She took the gold coin I offered and hefted its weight with well-practiced expertise, and my opinion of these provincials grew somewhat. They might've been surrounded by corruption and somehow trapped in an Aeldari web, but they were civilized enough to keep pushing back against the darkness.

After practically running back to the savory-smelling kitchens, she quickly made her way back with a wooden bowl of stew, a crust of bread, and an impressively large mug of frothy ale. Silver coins clattered in her hand -- my change, I supposed -- and she pantomimed and pointed upstairs. "Oh yes, I need a room," I mumbled in Gothic and downed a hefty portion of the ale, "and maybe when I wake up, I'll be back in a warm bed on a planet that makes sense." She smiled at me and nodded, pocketing a few more of the silver coins and handing the rest back to me.

The stew was surprisingly good for such a dreary land, and the ale was as strong as it was deliciously bitter. I'd had many setbacks early in life and many more after entering Onca's employ -- though none quite this bad -- and I resolved to not look a gift grox in the mouth. There were humans here, weren't there? Chaos, heresy, and the Xeno may have lurked nearby, just out of sight, but at that moment, I had good food and good drink and a sturdy roof over me.

And, as the other woman in the establishment padded her way towards me, I began to wonder if I could have something else on my wish list.

"Hawddamor," she greeted me with a smile, walking around the table to settle neatly beside me on the bench as if she simply belonged there. "Filwyr, oes?"

I arched an eyebrow at her and kept my weapons close at hand, at least for the moment. "Yes, um, soldier. Filwyr." She was short and petite, with flaxen hair streaked through with light brown and a few strands of silver. A blue skirt and thin white blouse covered a youthful-looking body, though the age betrayed by the gray in her hair was reflected in the tiny lines just beginning to collect around her eyes.

There was something about her crooked half-smile and easy confidence that drew me in. Not that I needed much attracting: her and the innkeeper were the most beautiful women I'd seen on the last four planets we'd visited. I began to wonder what other treasures this place held.

"Ymladd cyreuthliad?" She asked, her large and bright blue eyes not leaving mine as she reached over to help herself to a bite of bread.

The Elucidator clicked, "Fight. Demons?"

I shuddered, thinking of the handful of times I'd faced true warpcraft with Onca. "Yes. Oes."

Her hand lazily stroked my thigh through my fatigues and battered carapace armor. When had that gotten there? I didn't mind, of course. "Rwy'n ymddiried ynoch chi, felly."

"Trust. You. Remainder unknown."

One of the men at the other table guffawed loudly and pointed none-too-subtly at my newest lady friend, but she skewered him with a withering glare before I had the chance to do anything. He quickly returned to their hushed conversation, and my companion brought her beautiful face back to look into mine. "It's nice someone trusts me here," I murmured in Gothic. "Diolch." I thanked her, not really able to think of anything else to say with the ale flooding into my head.

"Unig?" She asked, a business-like seriousness hardening her eyes, even though the coy smile and gently rubbing hand remained.

"Lonely?" My commbead warbled.

Ah.

Emperor knows I'd been in that exact position more times than I care to admit, with a joy-girl crawling all over me in some dim amasec joint, but the day's events had lessened my usually sharp awareness. Her hand crept further up my leg, she leaned in further, and I caught the hint of some alluring and floral scent that set my toes curling in my boots. Perhaps such an aggressive display of wealth hadn't been the best course of action?

Frak it: I was tired, confused, and undoubtedly lonely.

"Oes," I mumbled and took another hefty mouthful of ale. "Unig, oes."

Her free hand gently grazed mine as she reached for my ale and took her own long drink. A roguish smile graced her full lips, at odds with the air of a mature seductress she'd worked so hard to present. She leaned close, the same sweet scent embracing me and sending blood flowing to all sorts of places.

"Eich ystafell?"

"Your room?" The monotonous device chirped, jarringly at odds with her honeyed words.

"Oes," I grinned back at her.

***

My lodgings were spare and rustic, but they were at least generally free of the mildew and stink that pervades the benighted town. Not that I was paying much attention to any of that, as my new 'friend' threw herself at me the moment I closed the heavy wooden door. She had to pull my two-meter-tall frame down to meet her, but I was pleasantly surprised by her spunky enthusiasm and did nothing to dissuade her.

Her lips were warm and pillowy, and she cooed gently into our kiss. We kissed gently once, twice, exploring each other before opening my lips with her insistent tongue. She pressed her petite body up and against my armor, managing to seem submissive and eager all at once.

My arms went to her hips, pulling her up onto her toes, and she yelped meekly into our kiss. She seemed so light, her body wiry and toned like only a lifetime of hard and lean times can cause. My hands wandered lower, though, finding a delightfully plump rear, and her breasts pillowed against my chest enough for me to realize they weren't precisely lean either.

She pulled back slightly, her breathing faster and her pale cheeks flushed. "Drewllyd," she crinkled her nose despite her best efforts to maintain her professionally sensuous demeanor and pointed at a large wooden basin in the corner of the room. "Drewllyd. Ymdrochi?"

The Elucidator picked that moment to cease being helpful, but I understand well enough. Throne on Earth, I couldn't blame her hesitation. After all, I'd killed half a dozen mutants and cultists that day and been sent through the bowels of the Eye of Terror for all I knew. I'm sure I stank enough for an entire regiment of surly Guardsmen.

My rented companion helped me strip off the combat webbing and carapace armor with practiced ease, and I supposed she had a bit of experience with the men who guarded the roads and hovels here. She peeled my crusted fatigues away from blackened and bruised skin and daintily heaped them in the corner, only seeming slightly disgusted as she did so. In fact, curiosity twinkled in her pale blue eyes: at the uniform, at the Imperial tattoos and augmetics beneath it, and at the not-insignificant bulge beneath my shorts.

I looked over my companion's head and saw a rudimentary mirror bolted to the wall beyond the basin. Bruises and scrapes from the day's insanity were checkered across my torso amongst the decades of scars from the Inquisition's non-tender mercies. My pale skin -- hives and inquisitorial starships don't do well for a healthy tan -- covered a dozen or so implants that sat dark and irregular just beneath it. From redundant organs to machine spirit interfaces needed to use some of Hacri's more esoteric devices; each made me a better tool for my Inquisitor. That, and the overmuscled, hormone-hardened body that'd gotten me in and out of hundreds of underhive scraps. Thankfully, I still mostly resembled a human, unlike some of her more grotesquely modified hired muscle, or a superhuman monstrosity like Deldan. My face was craggy from innumerable breaks, with my ragged and singed black beard covering an oft-broken jaw and sitting below narrow hazel eyes.