Guard fic 3.4
What happened next to the treacherous Antonius King.
That journey was the longest one in Antonius King’s life. He was surrounded by vile Xenos, the creatures he’d spent months focussed on killing. He didn’t regret the decision he’d made - he was too good an officer to be hesitant in making decisions or to regret the difficult ones - but his mind was still reeling from the speed it had happened and the fall out that came from it. Frakking Commissars. Frakking stupid Commissars who couldn’t see what needed to be done: or worse, maybe he could see it all too clearly but was covering his back by hanging King out to dry so he didn’t have to be seen to endorse what he knew needed to be done. Thanks Commissar, appreciate the support. Coward.
He worried about Trevanus, would the kid have what it takes? He’d need to be strong enough to stand up to Aloysius, bold enough to run the regiment alone, confident enough to make the hard decisions, and savvy enough to make the right ones. King just wasn’t convinced that Trevanus had all that. Hopefully the tales of his own heroic sacrifice and endorsement of Trevanus would help. He was confident that Rhys and Jaks at least would ensure that his side of the story was spread so at least the rank and file would know why he did it. A ringing endorsement from the people too low in the command chain to have a voice. He would say that it was better than nothing, but he wasn’t really convinced.
Then there was Rossaria. He’d seen her fall but from a distance, so he had no idea how badly wounded she was. There were times he hated her but he had to admit that was because she was good at her job, and on the rare occasions when she wasn’t being formal there seemed to be a good person hidden in there. Also she was, in the unlikely event that either of them made it back alive, his only chance at clearing his name. Of course, that was assuming she didn’t execute him herself for getting her captured by the Tau, and even that was assuming she didn’t die of her wounds before he even saw her again. The Tau had seemed confident of healing her, but what did they know of human medicine? Damn blue buggers would probably kill her in the trying.
Perhaps surprisingly, none of his concern was for his current situation with the Tau. He didn’t know what they were expecting to gain from this, though he had about a dozen guesses, but ultimately that didn’t matter. He was confident that he would die before he gave them anything and that was a comforting thought - so now it was just a case of waiting to see how he would do that. Of course the ideal situation would be to escape and make it home in time to be shot by his own side, but if that meant that they could recover the artefact then he really didn’t care. He felt confident that he could stand before the Golden Throne and give a good account of himself.
All around him, Tau chattered in their strange language, looking at him with open interest and distrust. Clearly not everyone shared the robe guy’s opinion on the matter. He couldn’t follow a damn word of it and he didn’t care. Or rather, he was glad of it - the first step towards sympathy towards the enemy is having an interest in them. King searched around in his memory for a half-remembered childhood hymn to the Emperor, singing quietly to himself to distract his mind from anything more relevant and to show his defiance to his captors. It certainly seemed to spook the buggers, so he added a bit more volume to make the point.
The journey ended after five and a half rounds of the song, so he would estimate around an hour. Without knowing the speed they were going at however, that information was of limited use. He wasn’t one of those people with an innate direction sense and while he could say that it felt like they’d been going pretty straight the whole time, that was about all he could determine from inside the vehicle.
He was escorted by armed guards from the skimmer to what was clearly the Tau base, a strange alien architecture that made his skin crawl. It seemed to be all curves and domes, like snow-covered mushrooms, with scarcely a straight line to be seen. Mind you, a decent airstrike would take out those ball on stalk things, no wonder they guard their airspace so tightly. He wondered briefly if he could organise an orbital bombardment, before remembering that this was no longer his call to make. Rossaria was taken out of the other vehicle on what looked a bit like a stretcher, obviously she hadn’t regained consciousness yet. He walked stiffly, marching like a drill sergeant, two lines of fire warriors flanking him on either side as he was taken into their base.
The first thing that hit him was the temperature. Frakkers had decent heating! Normally walking indoors on Sargas would be nothing more than a welcome relief from the wind chill but here it was the kind of temperature that had it been an Imperial base, would have had him taking off his coat. Here in enemy territory he merely unbuttoned it, ensuring that his uniform and rank remained visible and obvious. It was bad enough that he was unarmed in the midst of so many of the enemy but he wasn’t prepared to risk losing his coat. That would ensure he would definitely freeze to death if he ever did escape.
There were humans and aliens mixing together all through the building, the traitor population seemingly given free range within the Tau buildings. It made his blood boil to see the colonists, those once-fine people who form the ground roots of our glorious Empire, abandoning their self-esteem and pride to play lackeys to a Xeno race. He kept his eyes straight ahead and didn’t dignify their stares with a response.
He was taken to a room, looked like a small conference room, with several seats available around one table, and another table holding drinks and food of various unidentifiable kinds. Having served with the Imperial Guard for more years than he cared to count meant unidentifiable food was something he was pretty used to though, so that was less daunting than it may be. The guards left him alone and he gave the door a cursory try just to confirm his assumption that it was locked (it was of course, but he would have felt pretty stupid if he hadn’t tried) before turning his attention to the more edible looking foodstuffs. Those same years of service had taught him that you never know when or where the next meal is coming from, or what it will taste like when you do, so he wasn’t going to pass up food on offer. Having identified some strips of meat of some kind and balls of something that seemed pretty solid and didn’t appear to poison him, he ate several before stuffing his pockets with handfuls of the things. That done, he analysed the seating arrangements, picked the chair that seemed most likely to be the one the Tau negotiator would want and parked himself down, his feet on the table, a puddle forming across its surface as the ice in the leather finally started to melt.
It took about twenty minutes for company to arrive. When it did, it was the negotiator creature - presumably the same one that he had spoken to on the battlefield, though all Tau looked pretty identical to him so it could have been any of them in a dress - flanked by four guards who assembled themselves at various points around the room, and one Tau that did actually look different from the others. He gave a slight smile as he recognised his own handiwork, a sword slash across the creature’s face that had broken open its helmet and ruined whatever good looks the other Xenos might have once thought it to possess. He had guessed correctly when he had assumed it was in charge then. Playing things cool, he stood casually as they entered, feeling the water from the melted ice squelching unpleasantly on his feet as he did so.
“Gentlemen.” He greeted them, as though it were his base and his office. “Care to explain?”
Robes turned to Scar and a brief conversation was had. So Scar needed a translator to deal in gothic, it seemed. Robes turned back to him to respond.
“Good day commander. We wish to thank you for your agreement to negotiate with us and apologise for the confusion which I understand arose. Your fellow commander is being treated well and will recover, which I am sure you will be glad to hear. We will arrange for you to meet with her once our discussions here are concluded.”
This one had a much more fluid speech, so he assumed it must be a different one. Were the robes the Tau version of the Administratum then? Were they high rank or low? A briefing document would be so helpful right now.
“Let’s get one thing straight: I did not agree to negotiate with you, I was captured in battle and brought here against my will. My colleague and I are here as your prisoners and nothing else. I have no interest in talks.”
Again the pause for translation before Robes answered on Scar’s behalf.
“Negotiation is not our commander’s choice either, this is a decision which is forced on him. He is angry that a ceasefire has been agreed and hopes that he can get back to fighting your people soon. However, the case...”
King interrupted “Tell your commander that I like his attitude.”
Robes continued, ignoring this “However the case is that we are...”
“Tell him!” King insisted. Robes broke off again to converse with Scar. Scar looked at King and Antonius held his gaze, looking properly into the eerily clear eyes of a Tau for the first time. For a moment, he almost felt that he saw a soldier there. Almost. Scar broke away first, turning to Robes as envoy for its answering jibe.
“He says that you are foolish, for he will surely be victorious. Now, the case is…”
“Ask him where he got that scar then.”
“The case is” Robes continued, pointedly ignoring the insult trading going on around it. “That we are keen to end this conflict as quickly as it can be and we believe that you want this too. We believe that diplomacy is possible between civilised races and so we will speak with you and your fellow commander to achieve peace with no further bloodshed.”
“Commissar.” King growled. Robes looked puzzled.
“This is her name?”
“Her rank. She is Lord Commissar Bharti. I am Commander King.” Or at least he was this morning, and still was as far as they knew. “You want to talk to us, get our rank right.”
It inclined its head slowly in a strange kind of nod.
“I acknowledge this, Commander King. I see too that you are not ready for discussions today, and Lord Commissar Bharti is not yet recovered. I will take you to your colleagues and we will continue this another day.”
King was about to shout about that, when part of the speech caught up with him.
“My colleagues? The only person you captured with me was Lord Commissar Bharti and you said she isn’t recovered. Or is that another lie?”
“We do not lie, Commander King. Your colleagues in your personal team were wounded and captured some weeks ago, we have spoken also with them and this is why we knew you were someone who it is worth speaking to. Their names are William Rau, Gisel Hunter and Jackson Marsh.”
That journey was the longest one in Antonius King’s life. He was surrounded by vile Xenos, the creatures he’d spent months focussed on killing. He didn’t regret the decision he’d made - he was too good an officer to be hesitant in making decisions or to regret the difficult ones - but his mind was still reeling from the speed it had happened and the fall out that came from it. Frakking Commissars. Frakking stupid Commissars who couldn’t see what needed to be done: or worse, maybe he could see it all too clearly but was covering his back by hanging King out to dry so he didn’t have to be seen to endorse what he knew needed to be done. Thanks Commissar, appreciate the support. Coward.
He worried about Trevanus, would the kid have what it takes? He’d need to be strong enough to stand up to Aloysius, bold enough to run the regiment alone, confident enough to make the hard decisions, and savvy enough to make the right ones. King just wasn’t convinced that Trevanus had all that. Hopefully the tales of his own heroic sacrifice and endorsement of Trevanus would help. He was confident that Rhys and Jaks at least would ensure that his side of the story was spread so at least the rank and file would know why he did it. A ringing endorsement from the people too low in the command chain to have a voice. He would say that it was better than nothing, but he wasn’t really convinced.
Then there was Rossaria. He’d seen her fall but from a distance, so he had no idea how badly wounded she was. There were times he hated her but he had to admit that was because she was good at her job, and on the rare occasions when she wasn’t being formal there seemed to be a good person hidden in there. Also she was, in the unlikely event that either of them made it back alive, his only chance at clearing his name. Of course, that was assuming she didn’t execute him herself for getting her captured by the Tau, and even that was assuming she didn’t die of her wounds before he even saw her again. The Tau had seemed confident of healing her, but what did they know of human medicine? Damn blue buggers would probably kill her in the trying.
Perhaps surprisingly, none of his concern was for his current situation with the Tau. He didn’t know what they were expecting to gain from this, though he had about a dozen guesses, but ultimately that didn’t matter. He was confident that he would die before he gave them anything and that was a comforting thought - so now it was just a case of waiting to see how he would do that. Of course the ideal situation would be to escape and make it home in time to be shot by his own side, but if that meant that they could recover the artefact then he really didn’t care. He felt confident that he could stand before the Golden Throne and give a good account of himself.
All around him, Tau chattered in their strange language, looking at him with open interest and distrust. Clearly not everyone shared the robe guy’s opinion on the matter. He couldn’t follow a damn word of it and he didn’t care. Or rather, he was glad of it - the first step towards sympathy towards the enemy is having an interest in them. King searched around in his memory for a half-remembered childhood hymn to the Emperor, singing quietly to himself to distract his mind from anything more relevant and to show his defiance to his captors. It certainly seemed to spook the buggers, so he added a bit more volume to make the point.
The journey ended after five and a half rounds of the song, so he would estimate around an hour. Without knowing the speed they were going at however, that information was of limited use. He wasn’t one of those people with an innate direction sense and while he could say that it felt like they’d been going pretty straight the whole time, that was about all he could determine from inside the vehicle.
He was escorted by armed guards from the skimmer to what was clearly the Tau base, a strange alien architecture that made his skin crawl. It seemed to be all curves and domes, like snow-covered mushrooms, with scarcely a straight line to be seen. Mind you, a decent airstrike would take out those ball on stalk things, no wonder they guard their airspace so tightly. He wondered briefly if he could organise an orbital bombardment, before remembering that this was no longer his call to make. Rossaria was taken out of the other vehicle on what looked a bit like a stretcher, obviously she hadn’t regained consciousness yet. He walked stiffly, marching like a drill sergeant, two lines of fire warriors flanking him on either side as he was taken into their base.
The first thing that hit him was the temperature. Frakkers had decent heating! Normally walking indoors on Sargas would be nothing more than a welcome relief from the wind chill but here it was the kind of temperature that had it been an Imperial base, would have had him taking off his coat. Here in enemy territory he merely unbuttoned it, ensuring that his uniform and rank remained visible and obvious. It was bad enough that he was unarmed in the midst of so many of the enemy but he wasn’t prepared to risk losing his coat. That would ensure he would definitely freeze to death if he ever did escape.
There were humans and aliens mixing together all through the building, the traitor population seemingly given free range within the Tau buildings. It made his blood boil to see the colonists, those once-fine people who form the ground roots of our glorious Empire, abandoning their self-esteem and pride to play lackeys to a Xeno race. He kept his eyes straight ahead and didn’t dignify their stares with a response.
He was taken to a room, looked like a small conference room, with several seats available around one table, and another table holding drinks and food of various unidentifiable kinds. Having served with the Imperial Guard for more years than he cared to count meant unidentifiable food was something he was pretty used to though, so that was less daunting than it may be. The guards left him alone and he gave the door a cursory try just to confirm his assumption that it was locked (it was of course, but he would have felt pretty stupid if he hadn’t tried) before turning his attention to the more edible looking foodstuffs. Those same years of service had taught him that you never know when or where the next meal is coming from, or what it will taste like when you do, so he wasn’t going to pass up food on offer. Having identified some strips of meat of some kind and balls of something that seemed pretty solid and didn’t appear to poison him, he ate several before stuffing his pockets with handfuls of the things. That done, he analysed the seating arrangements, picked the chair that seemed most likely to be the one the Tau negotiator would want and parked himself down, his feet on the table, a puddle forming across its surface as the ice in the leather finally started to melt.
It took about twenty minutes for company to arrive. When it did, it was the negotiator creature - presumably the same one that he had spoken to on the battlefield, though all Tau looked pretty identical to him so it could have been any of them in a dress - flanked by four guards who assembled themselves at various points around the room, and one Tau that did actually look different from the others. He gave a slight smile as he recognised his own handiwork, a sword slash across the creature’s face that had broken open its helmet and ruined whatever good looks the other Xenos might have once thought it to possess. He had guessed correctly when he had assumed it was in charge then. Playing things cool, he stood casually as they entered, feeling the water from the melted ice squelching unpleasantly on his feet as he did so.
“Gentlemen.” He greeted them, as though it were his base and his office. “Care to explain?”
Robes turned to Scar and a brief conversation was had. So Scar needed a translator to deal in gothic, it seemed. Robes turned back to him to respond.
“Good day commander. We wish to thank you for your agreement to negotiate with us and apologise for the confusion which I understand arose. Your fellow commander is being treated well and will recover, which I am sure you will be glad to hear. We will arrange for you to meet with her once our discussions here are concluded.”
This one had a much more fluid speech, so he assumed it must be a different one. Were the robes the Tau version of the Administratum then? Were they high rank or low? A briefing document would be so helpful right now.
“Let’s get one thing straight: I did not agree to negotiate with you, I was captured in battle and brought here against my will. My colleague and I are here as your prisoners and nothing else. I have no interest in talks.”
Again the pause for translation before Robes answered on Scar’s behalf.
“Negotiation is not our commander’s choice either, this is a decision which is forced on him. He is angry that a ceasefire has been agreed and hopes that he can get back to fighting your people soon. However, the case...”
King interrupted “Tell your commander that I like his attitude.”
Robes continued, ignoring this “However the case is that we are...”
“Tell him!” King insisted. Robes broke off again to converse with Scar. Scar looked at King and Antonius held his gaze, looking properly into the eerily clear eyes of a Tau for the first time. For a moment, he almost felt that he saw a soldier there. Almost. Scar broke away first, turning to Robes as envoy for its answering jibe.
“He says that you are foolish, for he will surely be victorious. Now, the case is…”
“Ask him where he got that scar then.”
“The case is” Robes continued, pointedly ignoring the insult trading going on around it. “That we are keen to end this conflict as quickly as it can be and we believe that you want this too. We believe that diplomacy is possible between civilised races and so we will speak with you and your fellow commander to achieve peace with no further bloodshed.”
“Commissar.” King growled. Robes looked puzzled.
“This is her name?”
“Her rank. She is Lord Commissar Bharti. I am Commander King.” Or at least he was this morning, and still was as far as they knew. “You want to talk to us, get our rank right.”
It inclined its head slowly in a strange kind of nod.
“I acknowledge this, Commander King. I see too that you are not ready for discussions today, and Lord Commissar Bharti is not yet recovered. I will take you to your colleagues and we will continue this another day.”
King was about to shout about that, when part of the speech caught up with him.
“My colleagues? The only person you captured with me was Lord Commissar Bharti and you said she isn’t recovered. Or is that another lie?”
“We do not lie, Commander King. Your colleagues in your personal team were wounded and captured some weeks ago, we have spoken also with them and this is why we knew you were someone who it is worth speaking to. Their names are William Rau, Gisel Hunter and Jackson Marsh.”