Part 12

Interludes

Johann

(Ex)Vox Specialist Third-Class Johann was finding that in the Red Redemption, the reward for service was more service. When he reported his success to the Prophet he was given an unreasonably large chainsword and a team of lower deck converts and assigned to the front lines of the revolution. It didn't take long for him to discover that even with surprise on their side, and, astonishingly, a second mutiny happening at the same time, the Captain and loyalists were all very good at their jobs, the Red Redemption zealots had barely even encountered the ships armsmen at all! Rather they were spending most of their time wandering the halls that had been turned into treacherous mazes by the twisted tech-sorcery of Enginseer Gaetaen. Bulkheads would close with astonishing rapidity, compartments vented to vacuum, long dormant power lines would spark up just as they attempted to use their carefully hoarded high explosives, and when the ship finally brought them into contact with an enemy, more often than not it was with the combat servitors pouring out of the cargo hold, for their part the servitors had no more problem engaging the zealots than they did anything else, and the situation in the halls was... messy.

Johann quickly stashed his eviscerator in a storage closet, both the armsmen and the servitors had learned to shoot those carrying the dangerous close combat weapons first, and he fought with his duty autopistol, when he fought at all, generally managing to arrive at combats just as they were ending.

There were thousands of mutineers though, and they couldn't all be stopped at once, as the combat grew fiercer priests of the Red Redemption became more vigorous with their inspiring speeches, and Johann found himself caught up despite himself, he did believe in the rightness of what he was doing after all, the Captain had clearly gone astray from the Emperor's light. And in fact, once they took the bridge they could---

Borman

BOOM

Ship-Sergeant Borman grinned behind his reflective black faceplate and lowered his shotgun. Another batch of the mutineers dead before they even knew they were in a fight, the priest had gotten pretty close though, he nudged her fallen eviscerator with his armored boot.

“What do you think Lyle? Want a souvenir?”

His squadmate eyed the fallen weapon balefully, “No way, those things are death traps, I mean, charging at a squad of shotguns swinging a sword? No thank you.” He shook his head.

“You know something I've been wondering though?”

“Eyes up, ready guns!” Shouted Borman, spotting another gang of mutineers down the hall.

A short while later, after violence had happened, he finally got a chance to respond.

“What have you been wondering?”

“Well, where did they get all these giant chainswords anyway?”

“What do you mean? They are religious cultists, cultists always have ridiculous weapons, remember that genestealer cult that was in those passengers we picked up on Icarus Prime? They had guns that fired their own hands.”

“Sure, but, they made those, or grew them, whatever, I can accept that they managed to sneak on board, we weren't exactly counting the conscripts too carefully, and were in dock for weeks on the refit, but we do have guards at the holds and lighter bays and none of us ever saw seven foot chainsaws coming in, they are kind of hard to hide after all.”

“Point taken, I could see one or two making their way onboard, but not in their hundreds, maybe they have craftsmen making them somewhere below-decks?”

Lyle laughed, pointing to a body on the ground who had chosen to forego his shirt in favor of a pair of chains wrapped across his chest and what might have been a crudely carved Imperial eagle in his skin.

“These look like craftsmen to you?”

“Just one of those mysteries I guess, you think to much Lyle.”

Halit Kurt

It is difficult to take an accurate census of an Imperial vessel of any age, they are simply too large, too old, with too many places to hide, intentionally or otherwise. A Chalice class battlecruiser like Parte Visiblis had on paper a crew of one hundred thousand. But that number could easily have been off by ten percent or more. As long as all the duties are done, and the ship doesn't run out of supplies, nobody really cares anyway.

So it was that Twist-Catcher Halit lead a team of armsmen through the bilgedecks, Mutant-Town, or home as he called it. Parte Visiblis is a city, with schools and parks, shops and residential districts, and slums. And like slums everywhere, they had their own ways of surviving, their schools were rather more hands on, their businesses barter based, and their residences ramshackle at best, but the bilge decks had a vibrancy to them that was rarely seen by the “civilized” crew.

As they traveled, Halit signaled certain individuals, and gave them instructions in the undercant, telling them to find security and stay there for a time, as well as... other things.

“How much farther is it?” The armsmen were less belligerent than usual, they knew they were on unfriendly ground here.

“Soon.”

And indeed it was, Halit's quarters where markedly nicer than those around him, a function of his exalted, and official, position as a crewmember. Inviting the squad inside, they moved quickly to his makeshift laboratory, where he set about ordering them to grab various items he claimed to need, a large transport case here, a collection of chipped beakers with suspicious fluids there. They weren't actually important, but he wanted their hands full of something that wasn't guns when they left his home.

When satisfied Halit pronounced that they could all leave, he would go last to lock up.

The screams started as soon as the last one left his home. Halit winced. This was necessary, but he took no pleasure in it. He started when he heard a shotgun boom, they weren't supposed to be able to fight back!.

He stepped outside, a crowd of his brothers and sisters had mostly pacified the armsmen, with only one, the leader, alive, backed against the front of his house and trying to aim his shotgun everywhere at once. He spat when he noticed Halit.

“Traitor! You would kill men at a time like this?”

“No, no traitor me, no.” Halit Replied. “I am loyal to the ship and to my people, and dark times are ahead for both, yes. When the chymical is unleashed, the villages become less safe, there are secret places safer ones to hide in yes, but not completely safe, not completely stocked. We need weapons, armor,” he paused. “and meat.”

The sergeant swung his shotgun around, it boomed once more, then the mutants fell upon him and there were no more sounds.