The Shadow War Chapter 3: Killer's Conscience

The Shadow War Chapter 3: Killer’s Conscience

Renfield stalked the lower deck of the Absolution, hands clasped tight, right index finger tapping constantly against the back of the left. Pulling the trigger, over and over and over again. The first shot fired in anger. The first shot to kill.

He couldn’t stop replaying the scene. Van Baalen turning and falling, the psyker’s eyes brimming with fire, the euphoric smile that graced his dying face. The scope coming up, the slight hum of the long-las. The blinding light as the shot made contact. The Psyker falling.

 It wasn’t the killing that bothered Renfield. He’d trained all his life for that, shooting as soon as he could walk, and from the fields of Iago VI to the training grounds of the Schola where he trained with the future heroes of the Imperium. The future Stormtroopers of the Holy Inquisition.

He had been denied all that, or saved from it, by Van Baalen’s sudden arrival. The Inquisitor had turned up only one rotation before Renfield’s batch were due to be shipped off to join the Valconian Eagles regiment. He had demanded the best, and as he had expected, Renfield was chosen. With any firearm, he was a prodigy, and his talent had been honed by hours of practice and competition. Unwise as it was to refuse an agent of the Emperor, the regiment had handed over Renfield, and he had entered service with Van Baalen’s personal retinue. Only now, alone in the bowels of the Inquisitor’s huge vessel, did he begin to wonder if it was a blessing or a curse.

***

“How’s he taking it?” Hansfeld asked, turning to Van Baalen. The inquisitor shrugged and brought the camera image tracking Renfield onto the main screen.

“As well as can be expected. We all remember our first kill.” He shot a glance at the screen on the left, tracking Caine and Abel, who were, as always, sparring in the training room. “Well, almost all of us. I imagine those two have killed more than anyone else on this ship. Directly, at least.”

Hansfeld detected the edge in his master’s voice. “Still thinking about Calix?”

“How could I stop? Seventeen billion souls commended to the Emperor’s Grace, four years of constant war, and in the end we bomb it to the warp and back anyway. What was it all for?”

“For the good of the whole system, sir. I needn’t remind you that, had the heretics got hold of the starport, we’d have a sector-wide civil war on our hands.” As soon as he finished, Hansfeld regretted it. Van Baalen spun in a flash, and seized the acolyte by the lapels.

“Yes, Hansfeld, and one day, when you’re standing where I am, I hope it’s that easy for you. And I pray to Emperor that you never find yourself having to give that order.” There was a fire in his eyes that Hansfeld had learned to fear. “I heard them that night as I prayed, Hansfeld. Heard every single man, woman and child I obliterated.  Screaming out, and only one word. Only one word, from a whole planet. And that words was ‘why?’”

“I didn’t mean-” Hansfeld began, but was cut off.

“I know exactly what you intended, acolyte Hansfeld. Don’t ever presume to tell me my duty. And do not, for one second, presume I enjoy it.”

***

Renfield started as the footsteps approached from behind. He remained still, listening. Too light to be Van Baalen, too heavy to be one of the assassins. Reyna. The psyker. Just what he needed.

“You’re alone down here?”

“I was,” Renfield replied, “until you arrived. What is it, Reyna, I’m not in the mood to talk? Orders from Van Baalen?” He turned to the young acolyte, and she stepped into the light.

“No orders, Renfield. I just wanted to make sure you’re ok. After, y’know, earlier.” She replied, and Renfield’s anger coalesced into cynicism.

“Which one sent you? Van Baalen or Hansfeld?” He tried to keep the edge out of his voice, but it was impossible to hide anything from her.

“Neither. I’m just concerned.” She said, hiding her offense far better than Renfield had disguised his scepticism.

“Forgive me for not believing you, acolyte.” He replied icily, before remembering who he was talking to. She was the closest he had to a friend, the hostility was uncalled for. “I’m sorry, Reyna. I’ve not exactly had a good day.”

“I know, Renfield, and not just because I can read your mind at twenty paces.” Renfield’s heart sunk as she so pointedly reminded him of what she was. He instantly sunk once more into the memory. The eyes, the sights, the shot… and then it was Reyna’s eyes, blazing with the power of the warp, he face in the scope.

“Oh, feth.” He muttered, and sagged against the wall, eyes firmly shut. “Feth, feth, feth.”

“I know what you’re seeing.” She said, as if it were any kind of consolation. “It’s ok. I can control my abilities. That’s not going to happen.”

“But what if it does?” Renfield said, voice cracking. “What if one day, it’s you I have to put down? Or the boss himself. This is the Ordo Xenos, for Emperor’s sake. I’m not here to kill humans, not good, loyal humans. That psyker, when he died, he was smiling. He saw the Emperor’s light. He found redemption, and I killed him.” Renfield found he was crying. Reyna stepped up beside him.

“That wasn’t what he saw. He saw monsters and demons and dark things hiding in the light. He was giving in to Chaos, although he didn’t know it. You did him a favour.”

“Don’t.” He opened his eyes, blinking in the darkness. “Don’t try and make this better. Mad or not, he was a good man in a bad place, and I killed him.”

“You saved the others.”

“I killed him, Reyna. A real, living human. He was alive and I fired and he was dead. Simple as that.”

“You mustn’t do this to yourself. It’ll only put us all in danger next time we’re in the field.”

“In the field? We’re supposed to be Xenos hunters. ‘In the field’, we should be shooting up bugs, or greenskins. Not men.”

“Sometimes we all have to do things we don’t like, Renfield. You can’t hide from that.”

“Not when you’re around, apparently. Not when you can see everything I’m about to say before-”

“-You’ve even said it?” Reyna laughed, and Renfield had to permit himself a smile. “Look, Renfield. You did what you had to. You saved Van Baalen. You did your job. You can’t just crawl around down here for the rest of your life. Face it and move on. And for what it’s worth, this is a good thing.”

Renfield paused. “How can this be good?” he asked, noting the confidence in her voice. Reyna was rarely wrong, being able to read his mind sometimes better than he could himself. He had complete faith she was right, but couldn’t shake his own doubt.

“Because, my friend, this ship is full of monsters. Caine and Abel take pleasure in every kill. Whatever conscience Hansfeld had died long ago, and Van Baalen’s killed whole planets. They’re insane monsters, all of them, and this fear, this anger? This is the first step away from becoming like them. You’re the last good one left here, don’t throw that away.”

As she spoke, Renfield began to feel better, and while he was suspicious, somewhere deep down, that Reyna was somehow using her powers to twist his thoughts, he knew everything she said was true. There was just one question left.

“I’m the last?” he asked, meeting Reyna’s eyes. Eyes that somehow looked so innocent in the darkness.  “What about you?”

“Me, a monster?” she said, her smile fading. “You have no idea. No idea.”

“Then tell me. Tell me, and let me help.”

***

Alone in the chamber, Hansfeld watched Renfield and Reyna talk with disinterest in the words he could make out. There was no audio, but they were both facing the camera and he could lip-read well enough. It was none of his concern what they were discussing, but their candidness alarmed him. There was no rule against members of the retinue being close, and some Inquisitors positively encouraged it, but Hansfeld was uneasy. Allowing the new recruits to form bonds would get in the way of the team.

And there was something else. Hansfeld would never admit it, but somewhere inside he envied the young sniper and psyker. They hadn’t seen what he had, hadn’t lost what he had, and still had faith in themselves to do the right thing. All of those moments had long gone for him. He was the last of the first, Van Baalen’s oldest follower, and he had seen enough men become monsters and achieve greatness for their pains.

Hiding from his righteous duty as Renfield was doing was a threat to the whole team, and Hansfeld had seen too many times what indecision and weakness could lead to. More often than not, someone died.

He reached for the encrypted vox at is belt, and entered the coding only he knew.

“Keep an eye on Renfield and Reyna. Make sure they don’t get in the way.”

Somewhere in the bowels of the ship, something answered.

“Yes, master. And if they do?”

“Terminate them.”