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The next people they came across were White Scars.
Sogetai and Temechi stopped as abruptly as usual—Anat was going to be bruised from this, but then he was bruised already—but this time, instead of silence as Temechi reached for his weapon there was a series of clicks, and they turned the corner at a walk.
The full squad of White Scars waiting for them broke into a whooping cheer. Anat shrunk in on himself in Sogetai’s arms as they encircled the two of them. Someone was clapping Sogetai loudly on the shoulder; another had a sack for the rune priest’s head. Judging by the lumps, they’d taken several already.
“We were almost about to go find you,” said one of them—the ranking officer? Anat would have to learn how the White Scars marked rank.
“Well, we were right,” said Sogetai.
“You were,” the possible officer admitted, a little stiffly. (Had these two taken off alone without sanction? Surely not… But everyone said the White Scars did things differently.)
“The others?” Temechi asked.
“He’s the last one,” one of the other new White Scars said. “Ilchidei’s squad got the other three out already—the Daliyetemishi is already gone.”
Anat’s first reaction was relief—his brothers were out of this nightmare before him.
His second, ignobly, was a kind of disappointment—almost betrayal. He had hoped that he would see them after… after what always happened after battles were won. That they’d at least be kept together. They hadn’t even promised that, and yet…
“D’you want me to carry him so you can fight? I already got my heads…”
All thoughts of his brothers—all thoughts at all—were lost in terror. Anat’s world narrowed to the beating of his hearts and his shallow breath and no no no—
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Temechi said. He reached over to put a gauntleted hand on Anat’s shoulder.
That at least jolted Anat out of his panic. He’d been hyperventilating; after the fact he could recognize that. What had… well, he hadn’t been thinking.
He took a deep breath to steady himself, and forced himself to hold it before letting it out. They had his brothers. Whatever else happened, he would see them. Not this ship’s night, but… they had been lenient so far. Perhaps they would let him bargain.
If it was Sogetai or Temechi and not these others or the khan or the Khan—
Anat pulled one arm from around his precious bundle and grasped the edge of Sogetai’s shoulder plate, as hard as he could. He leaned his head against Temechi’s gauntlet, and tried to let the tension in his fingers and the hard joints digging into his cheek distract him from his fears.
“He’s right,” Sogetai said. He paused. “And anyway, I got a head earlier too.”
The Scar who had made the offer took a step back, hands raised in apology.
“Was it… was it like you saw before?” That was yet another of the new Scars, young-sounding and hesitant.
“We found Anat chained to their bilge rat captain’s bed,” Sogetai snapped.
“We had also hoped…” Temechi trailed off. He still had his hand on Anat, and it felt like a shield.
“Well, at least—” That was the one who already had heads.
“The Radnashiri will be docking one level below,” Sogetai said, interrupting. “Let’s be there to meet her.”
Some of the new Scars seemed uncertain, but Temechi nodded, and their maybe-leader also seemed to think Sogetai’s word was enough. “Right. Let’s go.”
Temechi took his hand away, and Anat hastily curled back around the bundle of jewelry as the squad broke into a run.
The last time Anat had been in the midst of armored Space Marines on the move, he’d been one of them, and his helm had dulled the sound. Now, the thunder of their boots on the ceramite decks was overwhelming—the silence each time they stopped, the same.
The larger group could afford to be bolder; even so, Sogetai fell back each time they met opposition. Passing up glory. Could he afford to?
They met another White Scar squad—more eyes on him, more—but no, don’t think of that. Not yet—
Oh. Now.
They had stopped moving, focusing on a locked and pressurized door—and then at some coded signal they were through, into the Radnashiri, and away, leaving the captain’s flagship to bleed air and bodies behind them.
Sogetai and Temechi stopped as abruptly as usual—Anat was going to be bruised from this, but then he was bruised already—but this time, instead of silence as Temechi reached for his weapon there was a series of clicks, and they turned the corner at a walk.
The full squad of White Scars waiting for them broke into a whooping cheer. Anat shrunk in on himself in Sogetai’s arms as they encircled the two of them. Someone was clapping Sogetai loudly on the shoulder; another had a sack for the rune priest’s head. Judging by the lumps, they’d taken several already.
“We were almost about to go find you,” said one of them—the ranking officer? Anat would have to learn how the White Scars marked rank.
“Well, we were right,” said Sogetai.
“You were,” the possible officer admitted, a little stiffly. (Had these two taken off alone without sanction? Surely not… But everyone said the White Scars did things differently.)
“The others?” Temechi asked.
“He’s the last one,” one of the other new White Scars said. “Ilchidei’s squad got the other three out already—the Daliyetemishi is already gone.”
Anat’s first reaction was relief—his brothers were out of this nightmare before him.
His second, ignobly, was a kind of disappointment—almost betrayal. He had hoped that he would see them after… after what always happened after battles were won. That they’d at least be kept together. They hadn’t even promised that, and yet…
“D’you want me to carry him so you can fight? I already got my heads…”
All thoughts of his brothers—all thoughts at all—were lost in terror. Anat’s world narrowed to the beating of his hearts and his shallow breath and no no no—
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Temechi said. He reached over to put a gauntleted hand on Anat’s shoulder.
That at least jolted Anat out of his panic. He’d been hyperventilating; after the fact he could recognize that. What had… well, he hadn’t been thinking.
He took a deep breath to steady himself, and forced himself to hold it before letting it out. They had his brothers. Whatever else happened, he would see them. Not this ship’s night, but… they had been lenient so far. Perhaps they would let him bargain.
If it was Sogetai or Temechi and not these others or the khan or the Khan—
Anat pulled one arm from around his precious bundle and grasped the edge of Sogetai’s shoulder plate, as hard as he could. He leaned his head against Temechi’s gauntlet, and tried to let the tension in his fingers and the hard joints digging into his cheek distract him from his fears.
“He’s right,” Sogetai said. He paused. “And anyway, I got a head earlier too.”
The Scar who had made the offer took a step back, hands raised in apology.
“Was it… was it like you saw before?” That was yet another of the new Scars, young-sounding and hesitant.
“We found Anat chained to their bilge rat captain’s bed,” Sogetai snapped.
“We had also hoped…” Temechi trailed off. He still had his hand on Anat, and it felt like a shield.
“Well, at least—” That was the one who already had heads.
“The Radnashiri will be docking one level below,” Sogetai said, interrupting. “Let’s be there to meet her.”
Some of the new Scars seemed uncertain, but Temechi nodded, and their maybe-leader also seemed to think Sogetai’s word was enough. “Right. Let’s go.”
Temechi took his hand away, and Anat hastily curled back around the bundle of jewelry as the squad broke into a run.
The last time Anat had been in the midst of armored Space Marines on the move, he’d been one of them, and his helm had dulled the sound. Now, the thunder of their boots on the ceramite decks was overwhelming—the silence each time they stopped, the same.
The larger group could afford to be bolder; even so, Sogetai fell back each time they met opposition. Passing up glory. Could he afford to?
They met another White Scar squad—more eyes on him, more—but no, don’t think of that. Not yet—
Oh. Now.
They had stopped moving, focusing on a locked and pressurized door—and then at some coded signal they were through, into the Radnashiri, and away, leaving the captain’s flagship to bleed air and bodies behind them.
