Home Fires – Chapter Twenty-Five: Interlude
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Intro 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 Epilogue
The door to the cell flung open and Grel Chaldor’s eyes stung. The light was so bright. He was too broken to even whimper.
“Get him up.” the familiar voice of Interrogator Io thundered. On command, two troopers in ornate Inquisitorial dress frogmarched over to Chaldor and hefted him by his armpits.
This is it, thought Chaldor, they’re going to execute me…
For what seemed like an eternity, Chaldor was hauled through endless plasteel corridors. A liminal nightmare with no end or beginning. He faded in and out of consciousness until he felt himself fall.
His head, lower back, and arms were supported by a suspiciously soft surface. Forcing his eyes open, he found himself in a comfortable chair. Opposite him, Interrogator Io stood near a bank of cogitators and monitors. Piles of dataslates poked up from the ground at alarmingly unstable angles.
“Welcome to your new home, Tactician.” Io said as if he was the one who was home. Chaldor looked around the well-lit space. A comfortable looking cot was bolted into the corner. A thin transparent plasteel sliding door revealed a small bathing area and facilities.
“Is there anything you need, Tactician? Food? Caffeiene?”
“…why?” Chaldor rasped.
“Why what?” Io asked, but then his face lit up. “Oh, yes! The torture! Water under the bridge, so to speak. We had to be sure of your loyalty and convictions given your… history…”
His history? He lived at a scholam until he was promoted to Tactician. Then he had lived in the tertiary wing of Bakka Fleet Headquarters until Io and his goons had scooped him up and exposed his brain to enough voltage to run an auspex scanner. He provided hundreds of consults to sources across the Segmentum. Any of them could have been heretics. Chaldor grunted.
“Now that you’re settled…” Io continued, “…The Inquisition needs your expertise.” Io grabbed three of the dataslates and placed them before Io. They bore the familiar symbols of Imperial war logs. A jagged skull glyph indicated Ork attacks on a planet and…
Grel Chaldor felt life surge into him. He gasped audibly.
That was the logo of the Azure Flames Adeptus Astartes.
Io smiled. “Good, I see I have your attention. What do you make of this?”
“How recent are these?” Chaldor coughed weakly as his shaking hands grasped the leftmost slate.
“Consider them to be as recent as possible.” Io said, then turned and barked “Tea! With sugar!”
“No,” Chaldor wheezed. “Caffeine, black, and three protein rations.”
Io scoffed. “Caffeine, black, and a fresh meal. With real vegetables. On the triple!”
Someone saluted and ran off, but Chaldor paid them no mind. The slates told a story. Ork invasion. Troop movements. God-Emperor of Mankind, a daring Astartes raid with a tank lift? Stories like this were what made Grel Chaldor fall in love with tactics.
As he studied, eventually the food arrived. Chaldor didn’t even recognize it as the best meal he had ever eaten in his life. His mind assembled the facts and figures into a whole. The war became his to view through the lens of the reports, as if he were floating above the fray.
“It doesn’t look good…” he finally managed to say.
“Of course it doesn’t look good.” Io snapped. “Any first year Tactician could have told you that. What I need is the BARE minimum of support to make this conflict last at least six more months. Fleet engagements. Troop committal. Supplies. Strongpoints that must be held.”
Chaldor nodded. He began to work.
Hours later, he looked up.
“What if I’m wrong? Are you going to kill me?” he asked with enough force that he surprised even himself.
Io frowned.
He advanced on Chaldor. Oh no, he thought, was that too much?
The prim Interrogator gently lifted Chaldor out of his chair by his collar.
“Listen to me, Grel. You are now employed by the Most Holy Inquisition. You. Are. NEVER. Wrong. If your projections are not congruent with future events, it is THEY who have failed the Emperor, NOT you.”
“Oh.”
Io smiled. “Yes. Now, the figures.”