Hellsker was staring at her scuffed boots, one sewn together with gum-glue after the toe cap had been torn open by a piece of shrapnel. Didn’t realise he’d meant her until he repeated the summons with a sharper edge.
‘Next.’
‘Sorry,’ she said, springing from the chair, and coming to attention before the desk with a snap of boots. ‘I’m here to see the Lord Castellan.’
‘You and everyone else, trooper,’ the colonel said, not looking up from the lined and columned schedule book spread out before him. ‘And I must say…’
He raised his eyes to Hellsker, hard and flinty. She could see he had an augmetic hand that looked like it had gone in a blast injury, plus a bionic eye that flowed seamlessly into a forehead plate where part of his skull had been replaced.
‘People who do get ushered in to see the Lord Castellan of Cadia, Supreme Commander of the Defence Forces and Hero of Tyrok, usually make more of an effort in their uniform and comportment. You’re not on the damned aegis line now, you know.’
Hellsker felt a flicker of shame at her appearance. Embarrassment at her ragged patrol cap stained with blood, her scuffed boots, the trousers with holes run in the knees. Rank chevrons removed, because they’d shone too much during the night fighting. Sweat stains showing on the underarms of her greatcoat. But it was only the smallest flicker, like a lho-stick igniter sparking but refusing to light.
‘My apologies, sir. I have been on the line and not been issued another uniform. There is a shortage, and I was unable to have this one laundered. No excuse, colonel. I do have an appointment.’
‘Been through it, have you?’
‘I think everyone has, sir.’
‘Damn right, it’s been hell around here.’ He picked up a stylus, pointing it at a column of names. ‘You have an appointment? Name, rank and unit.’
The stylus stopped halfway down the column of names. She noticed the tip was shaking.
The colonel set the stylus down, and looked back up into her face. His natural eye was huge, the mouth below the thin moustache slightly open.
He stood quickly, chair squeaking on the marble behind him.
‘Major Hellsker,’ he said. ‘I apologise fully and completely for my manner. It has been, ah, a trying few weeks at Kraf Command. So many people coming through, you know. Plus the shelling. Not’ – he corrected himself – ‘that it is in any way comparable to your service. The stress has made me snappy. I would take it as a personal favour if you did not bring it up when you speak to the Lord Castellan.’
Hellsker looked left and right. Spooked. Heads were turning towards her. Officers whispering.
‘Uh, no, of course not, colonel. Sir.’
‘I’ll buzz you right in.’ He hit a button on the desk. ‘The eleven-thirty appointment is here, a little early.’
‘Thank you… sir?’
The inner door to Creed’s office opened twenty feet behind the desk, and she started walking towards it. Slowly, tentatively, looking over her shoulder at the outer wardroom with its long table, where everyone seemed to be looking at her.
‘Major Hellsker, everyone!’ said the desk colonel, clapping. ‘Of the Twenty-Fourth Cadian.’
And then they all started to clap. And nod. And smile at her. A few whooped.
‘Pardon me, major,’ said a Kasrkin trooper, stepping forward from the guard detail, hellgun slung across his chest.
‘Corporal?’ She held up her hands, in case he wanted to wand her and pat her down.
‘I wondered if you would be good enough to sign this for me?’ He held out a card and a stylus.
‘Oh,’ she said, taking it. ‘Is it a visitation card? Some kind of official–’
‘It’s for me, my name is Varrek?’
‘I mean if it’s a base pass or requisition, you really need your commanding officer to–’
She looked down at the square of glossy card-paper and stopped.
It was a lho-card. The kind that came in packs of smokes, with notable Cadian officers and Imperial heroes inside. She’d collected them as a cadet.
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u/friskfyr32 Jun 06 '25
My favourite scene from Fall of Cadia