Sholto

I wrote this months ago. Maybe posting this first half will make me finish it! See what you think - all comments more than welcome.


“Close your eyes, sweetie.” Ameli did so, her head tilting back as her young features suffused with the golden pleasure of anticipation. “Now,” said Kirin, winking over at his wife, who just rolled her eyes, “hold out your hands.”

He placed the flimsy box in Ameli’s outstretched hands, and she let out a little squeak of delight. Her bare feet shuffled on the kitchen floor. “You can open them now.”

“Daddy! Look, Mummy, look. It’s a ‘Starty.” Already the top of the box was open and her little hands were fumbling around inside for the toy.

Kirin caught his wife’s expression. “I was on my way back from the site and this wee shop had a sign up. You know how hard they are to find. I couldn’t resist.” He grinned appeasingly and gestured by way of explanation at a transported Ameli, who almost had the figurine free of its wrappings.

“I would say impossible, unless they’ve fallen off the back of a truck,” said Manyi. “You know where your money’s going, don’t you? I just hope you didn’t pay too much.”

Kirin shook his head and turned to Ameli, who was holding the empty box out to him. He took it.

“Betha and Evry have got one, but that’s just between them and there’s is a silly yellow colour and you can’t see his face or anything.”

“Yup,” said Kirin, basking in the rare glow of having indulged his only child to perfection. He turned the box over, reading the printed words. “And this one is a…”

“- he’s a Raven Guard, Daddy.” Kirin grinned again at the very serious tone of chastisement in his daughter’s voice. “’Victor at Morts’. I think that’s his name; Victor. And he’s a Captain, see? With one, two, three, four, five long-service studs. And he’s got white hair. And a power sword. And he can ride on my unicorn.” She turned and ran from the kitchen, hair tumbling behind her. “Thanks, Daddy! Thanks, Mummy!”

Kirin waited out the pause, knowing what was coming. It was worth it though, for the look on Ameli’s face.

“I just think she’s a bit young, and we don’t know anything about these people, and we shouldn’t be just -” Manyi waved a hand in the air, tracing tight circles, “- assuming they’re what they say they are. I mean, swords, for Lights’ sake! Who carries swords? What kind of idiots do they take us for? I’m worried, Kirin, this whole thing is very strange, and you go and bring that thing into our house and give it to Ameli.”

“They’re our cousins, Manyi, our cousins from a million worlds – a million! – and they’ve come a heck of a long way to find us. I think they know what they’re doing, and I think we can trust them.” He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her belly, resting his head on her shoulder. “Just imagine the possibilities!”

“I hope you’re right. I really do, but we should keep our eyes open, that’s all I’m saying.” She snapped the waste pipe closed, and half-turned, nuzzling her face into his hair. “They don’t really carry swords, do they?”


“…scientists are still struggling to comprehend this invisible force described by the Newcomers as ‘the Warp’, and how what has been termed a ‘Warp-Storm’ had – until recently - cut our world off from the rest of the known galaxy for many thousands of…”

Manyi changed the channel.

“…Newcomer Ambassador – some say ‘Missionary’ – Memnarch Torthonius had some surprising things to say about the Church of the Lights yesterday evening at a gala dinner in his…”

And again.

“…small number of protestors, say police, although more than at similar demonstrations in the city last month. Bearing signs heralding the Newcomer’s revered Emperor as – well, Thom, that’s a new one!”

“You’re right, Kathy!”

“- as the King of Stones, whose return was foretold in ancient myths and…”

And again.

“…the man in that picture, with all that armour – he could hardly move if it – if it were metal or steel – you – you ever try wearing a flak jacket even? It’s clearly ceremonial and is probably made of some kind of plastic – so enough already with this talk of super-soldiers –“

“- they haven’t told us – of course they’re super-soldiers – and they haven’t told us anything about –“

“- oh, come on, they’re – they’re a small mission with only a few people – you – you – you expect them to arrive with – with a library -?”

“- will you let me? – I expected something more than a few images, yes, and – and – let me finish – they still haven’t -“

Manyi turned the projector off, finished her lukewarm coffee and started picking up Ameli’s toys from the floor. The wonders of the galaxy that Torthonius and his fellow Newcomers had been slowly unveiling since his momentous arrival two years ago were still sinking in. Spaceships that could travel faster than light. Cities that towered above mountains. Aliens. Actual, honest-to-goodness aliens, although they hadn’t brought any pictures of them with them, sadly. Kirin had nearly cried when he’d heard that, and the memory still brought a wry smile to her face.

And then there were the Astartes. Adeptus Astartes, whatever that meant in the Newcomer’s odd language. The images of these ‘super-soldiers’ had torn round the bit-feeds like wildfire, gripping the planet’s imagination like nothing else. Still images only, no flicks, and always standing alone and imposing on some startlingly otherworldy place. Always alone, for some reason, before a crystalline forest of amethyst or under a sky the colour of blood. The toy companies had gone crazy; Midwinter’s Day itself had seen nothing like the frenzy to get a hold of these toys once they’d started hitting the shops. She had been a bit harsh on Kirin, she decided; Ameli hadn’t stopped grinning for days.

It was all pretty much impossible for most people to get their heads around. Manyi herself understood little of what the bit-feeds had to say on the more technical aspects – although her more science-minded friends kept complaining there wasn’t enough – but the religious overtones that were starting to creep into Torthonius’ press-conferences were – surprising, to say the least. Unsettling, even.

The Church of the Lights was, well – it was quaint, wasn’t it? Comforting like a warm, summers day, friendly like an old sheepdog, familiar like biscuits and tea, but even the Church Assembly, far away on the other side of the world, had been stirred from their lazy, afternoon meditations to retort to some slanted criticisms from Torthonius. Of course, the most stinging comments always came from his junior staff in some out-of-the-way place or other. “Pay no heed,” Torthonius’ grandfatherly face would suggest as he nodded wisely and sympathetically and then changed the subject, “my colleagues are young and know not what they say.”

But they did know. And they kept saying it, while the press kept letting them get away with it. And people were taking notice, and taking to the streets in some countries, protesting both sides of a divide that simply hadn’t existed two years ago.

She knew men like Torthonius, knew from a solid career in international finance that he was only soft and round on the outside. It was the eyes, that self-absorbed mania of purpose that only the powerful and the rich possessed, and those who challenged them and fell by the wayside only appreciated when it was too late. The eyes that seemed to glitter like benign sunbeams in a seabreeze, but were really razor-blades hidden in dark ice. She knew him and his ilk all too well. Torthonius worried her, and the more benign he seemed, the more he made self-deprecating, little jokes about his unusual accent, the less attention she paid to what he said and the more to what he did.

Kirin thought he was some long-lost, benevolent uncle, sent by their cousins across the stars to lift them all into a golden era, but then Kirin – for all she loved him – well, if he didn’t quite button up the back, there was definitely a seam.

Before going to bed she checked on Ameli. The pitch-black soldier-doll lay in the girl’s arms, its plastic face smiling up at Manyi in the glow of the nightlight.


“…Ah, the Emperor. Yes, I have to be careful when talking about the Emperor. Quite a few of my colleagues in this mission revere Him almost as if He were a god <laughs>, so I have to watch what I say. But what can I say that will do Him justice? He rescued the human race from extinction. I cannot put it any more plainly. Mankind’s history in the stars is long and dark, and we fell a very, very long way. He dragged us back up. He brought us together. And – sorry, my dear, go on.”

“Sorry, Ambassador. I was going to ask about the Golden Throne.”

“Yes, of course. Well, it gets misunderstood. The Emperor lived a long life and became very ill. The Golden Throne keeps Him alive, like your life support machines, in the hope that, one day, we can develop the technology to cure him properly. That is all the so-called Golden Throne does. He is very much alive and, although he does not take an active part in affairs of state or governance any longer, He is always very close in our hearts.”


“Where are we going, Mummy?” Ameli bounced along the pavement, Victor the Space Marine swinging to and fro.

“The meeting’s been delayed again – you don’t need to drive me to the airport tonight,” said Manyi to Kirin as she checked her messages.

“Where are we going, Daddy?” Ameli re-targeted her question without missing a beat.

“Again?” Kirin shook his head. “When is it going to be, then? We’ve got that thing next weekend, remember?” He smiled down at Ameli. “We’re going for lunch, sweetie.”

“I don’t know, I’ll find out tomorrow.” She took his arm as they walked. “Will you miss me?”

“Where?” Ameli jumped as she walked. “Can we go to the toy shop after? The one with the playhouse?”

Kirin grinned and looked at Manyi, feigning heartbreak. “But how can I miss you when you just won’t go?” That got him a thump in the ribs, which let him feign agony instead.

“Can I play with the playhouse after lunch?”

Manyi was about to answer when a man ran out of the crowd, almost crashing into her and Ameli, before he caught his balance and raced on down the street, quickly vanishing into the throng.

“Ar**hole!”

Manyi glared at Kirin, jabbing her head pointedly at Ameli, and then glared again as Ameli gleefully repeated what her father had just said.

“Mummy! Daddy said ‘ar**hole’. He’s not supposed to –“

The explosion seemed to suck the air from their lungs, the hammer-pulse driving through them as if they were nothing but ghosts before a hurricane, as almost a whole street away the front of an office-block disappeared in noise and dust. Into the ringing, echoing silence that followed rose screams and shouts, billowing grey-white clouds, the clanging of alarms from buildings all around and the clattering panic of running feet as hundreds stampeded in mass confusion.

Manyi was swept up in the throng, all around her faces white with dust and fear, rigid with an animal need to flee. Elbows and shoulders crashed into her, threatening to knock her off balance, forcing her to run with the tide. Out of the jumble, a glimpse: Ameli, whipped along in the chaos, tear-streaked and one stumble away from vanishing underfoot. Manyi lunged, grabbed, pushed and screamed in desperation. One grasping hand locked on her child’s shoulder, an iron grip only death could break. An advertising hoarding, like a rock in a stream, the river of panic breaking around it. She pushed Ameli with all her strength towards it, ignoring the bony thuds of people caroming off her. She would deal with the pain later.

And then she was in the lee of the hoarding, a sobbing Ameli in her arms, the both of them curled on the hard pavement as the dust and the roar and the panic swirled and streamed around them.


It took the longest hours of her life to find Kirin, lying pale and dirty and battered and breathing on a gurney in the hospital hall. A harassed looking nurse who never once looked at her fired off something about concussion and chest compression and blunt trauma and then left to find a nameless doctor who never came.

Manyi took Kirin’s hand, and waited for him to wake up, slow tears of relief and joy tracking pink lines through the dust on her face. The hospital hall was crowded, and she shrank back against the wall, the sheer numbers clogging the overflowing wards an unpleasant echo of the afternoon’s events. Lots of nurses, few doctors, people visiting the injured, and the other people. After an hour or two she found she could recognise them easily, those people who had been there since she arrived, walking up and down the long, long hall, looking into ward after ward, under sheet after sheet, calling the same names again and again. Their voices grew thinner, and their steps heavier as day frayed into night and the crowds of people drifted away, and soon Manyi started avoiding their red-rimmed eyes, and gripped Kirin’s hand all the tighter.

Most of them were still there when Kirin awoke the next morning.


“…police sources say that the device was planted outside the editorial offices of The Monitor. A statement released onto the bit-feeds by a group calling itself The Lights of Truth, claimed responsibility for the attack, which caused eighteen fatalities. The motive, the statement asserts, was ‘to strike a blow against those establishment figures who portray the sinister Newcomers as friends, and to awaken this world to the alien threat in our midst.’ Government sources close to the security services now say…”


The police came to question Kirin shortly after he awoke.

Two men in dark blue suits who moved as softly and deliberately as they spoke, and a tall woman wearing a southern makash so he couldn’t see her face. She never said a word, but did leave early on and returned with a doctor he didn’t recognise, who gave him a private room and some more drugs.

(Ameli was unhurt, and he wanted to go back to sleep)

He told them he had seen a man running just before the bomb went off.

(Bomb. Yes, but Ameli was safe)

Manyi told them she hadn’t got a proper look at him, and then she seemed to get very tired and the tall woman helped her to sit down.

He answered their questions as best he could through the feathered fog of the concussion and the medication, and a few times he turned to Manyi for corroboration, only to remember every time that she was dozing in a chair in the corner.

(But that was okay, because Ameli was safe with her grandparents)

Their questions came and went like waves at low tide, always returning to the one issue. What the man had looked like. They showed him pictures, some of them photographs, and some on a screen that flashed in a way that hurt his eyes. Every picture they showed him was of a different man, and after a while he began to wonder if he had really had a good look at the man at all. Did he have short, dark hair, or had be been wearing a cap? He might have been young, but then he might have been quite old, he agreed.

(He hadn’t been able to protect Ameli, but at least Manyi…)

Still Manyi slumbered in the corner, although the tall woman did check on her once or twice, Kirin was pleased to see.

Was the man tall? Kirin wasn’t sure. Might it have been a woman with her hair up? It might, Kirin conceded as his head filled with soft down and the screen flashed on the edges of his vision. There was a face on the screen, one he realised had been there all along. Yes. That had been the man. That was him. He was sure now.

Later, when he and Manyi awoke, the police arrived.


“Q: Ambassador Torthonius, do you see the recent terrorist bombing as a direct attack on yourself and the people you represent?

A: Thank you. That’s a good question. The Imperium has a long and noble tradition of never wavering in the face of aggression, even if it be the face of a once trusted friend. Most steeped in blood is the hand of the betrayer, and I know you all feel betrayed by these recent events, as do I. Bombs in the street are no way to conduct a discourse. Who knew that the capacity for such mindless evil existed, and that it would be directed against visitors from afar with the most peaceful of intent? It saddens me that the actions of this fearful and treacherous minority, these despicable few who would strike from hiding at the open hand of sacred friendship we offer your world, have forced me to increase my personal security to ensure my safety. I am pleased to say that our particular friends in your government have asked us to assist in tracing these radical agents of terror – one might well call them heretics to the very idea of democracy – and we have been honoured to agree to this request. My meagre resources have been placed at the disposal of…”


The train’s brakes hissed as Manyi pushed Kirin’s wheelchair across the sun-hammered carpark. The thick air smelled of baked tarmac, fumes and burnt dust.

Kirin said something Manyi couldn’t hear, and she leaned closer. “What was that?”

He cleared his throat. “You saved Ameli.”

“I nearly –“ Manyi blinked, but it seemed she had run out of tears. “I nearly lost her, Kirin, for just a moment there. Lights, it was so frightening. I nearly lost her.”

“But you saved her.”

Manyi smiled, glad of the support. “Nothing you wouldn’t have done.” Then she saw his neck stiffen and realised she had misunderstood him completely.

“No? And what did I do? Lie on the ground and get trampled, that’s what. Some father I am. Can’t even…”

Manyi pushed him on in silence, through the dry oven of the carpark towards the waiting train. Demonstrations in the city centre had meant it was pointless taking the car.

“Ameli thinks you’re a hero, and she’s right. You saw the card her class did for you –“

“I’ll tell you one thing. I’m going to make damned sure those b******s never do anything like that again. Keane and some of the boys from the site came up to see me yesterday. Well, they said they might know a thing or two about some of the people behind it. You know, these ‘Lights of Truth’ lot. There’s others, you know, they’re not the only ones, not by a -”

“Kirin, I’m not sure these Lights of –“

“- traitors, all of them. The best thing that ever happened to this damned world, and they plant bombs. Nearly killed all of us. I think the Church has something to do with it, too –“

“Oh, come on –“

“- Keane’s been talking to some of his mates in the police. You won’t believe some of the – we need to cut the roots before they grow, you know what I mean? Cut the roots.”


“…and while we as publishers of The Monitor appreciate Ambassador Torthonius’ kind words and sizeable donation to the families of the dead and injured among our staff, we are left to wonder at the identity of terrorists who would, in apparently protesting at the near-deification of the Newcomers in some sections of the media, chose to strike at an internationally-circulated newspaper that has continually questioned the Newcomer’s motives and actions since their arrival…”


There were far more people at the meeting than Kirin had expected, and the recycling plant’s loading hall was almost full. Kirin was surprised at some of the faces he saw, but feelings were running strong and the people who worked at the site were good people.

He found Keane and the others from his section, and had to endure yet another round of mock hero-worship and warmly genuine concern for the health of him and his family. It was touching, he thought, as was the way they listened carefully to him when he spoke, as if afraid they might miss something. Keane had always been the head in his section, a loud and proud alpha-male, and he still was, but even Keane seemed quieter around Kirin, and always ending up standing beside him whenever Kirin was talking about the blast and the man he had seen running; the man who had now been arrested. Kirin was expected to be a witness if it ever went to trial.

Just before the meeting broke up Keane took him to one side, and showed him some booklets.

“Keep these to yourself for now, alright mate? Just read ‘em, and you’ll see what’s what. What’s really going on. I got them from a mate on the police, knows a man who knows a man who knows a Newcomer, right? Their Emperor. Man, you have to read about him, what he’s done. Just read it. You’ll see. He’s trying to unite every human in the galaxy, every last one, keep us safe, protect us, yeah? There’s some people try and fight the Emperor wherever he goes. Heretics, they’re called. They even tried to kill him once, but he’s one tough son of a bitch. They’re everywhere, even right here. Among us. Just read it. You’ll see.”


“…I have no comment on that, it is baseless rumour masquerading as fact.”

“- suggestions that the Ambassador has offered the security services use of advanced tech–“

“That I will comment on, because I can categorically deny it, and furthermore it – it angers me on a personal level that – that – for some people will stoop so low as to accuse our friends the Newcomers – who have said they’ll leave if we ask, remember – nothing has been offered to the security services. Nothing.”

“But have the Newcomers offered it to anyone else in the govern–?”

“Have I not just answered that question? Thank you. Thank you.”

“That was Minister of the Interior Raydha kia Juerra…”


“They’ve arrested four priests, Kirin. I have to do something. I knew one of –“

“Damn right they did. You heard what they found –“

“What they say they found. I knew Father Burrell –“

“Just listen to yourself. Will you just? What they say they found? It’s a conspiracy now, is it? Do you have any idea how paranoid that sounds? They arrested the bomber –“

“They did not arrest the – he was a protester, yes, but you saw that report on the holos, he had nothing to do with it. He was -”

“He confessed, Manyi. A confession. They raided the people he named and found the – it was the same guy I saw running that day – I mean, how much more do you want? That – that holo-report was more paranoid bulls**t put out by…by…”

“By whom, Kirin? Say it. No? Traitors. That’s what you want to say, isn’t it? They’re all traitors now, aren’t they? Or are you going to start calling them heretics now, too? I don’t know who the hell started using that word, but it sickens me. The Newcomers aren’t gods, their crippled Emperor isn’t a –“

“- don’t talk about the Emperor like that –“

“- isn’t a god, and the protestors aren’t heretics or bloody traitors! Am I a traitor? I’m going on that damn march tomorrow, and I’ll be sure to wave if I see you and your friends behind the barricades throwing rocks at us. Get your own fecking dinner.”

Manyi stormed out, slamming the door behind her and stood for a moment collecting herself. She spotted more of Ameli’s toys, swept them up rather more roughly than the cheap plastic of some of them would tolerate and stamped up the stairs.

Ameli was pretending to be asleep, the Raven Guard figure lying on her covers.

“Go back to sleep now. Everything’s okay.”

Ameli’s head popped up. “Why is daddy so angry all the time?”

“I wish I knew. I think after the bomb and everything…”

“But that was ages ago.”

“I know, sweetie, but he sees bombs everywhere now. He’s just trying to protect us, or at least he thinks he is.” She picked up the toy, trying to make it out in the dim light. “What happened to Victor?”

“I stuck some glitter on his hair, but daddy used a big word – said it was a sack of something – and made me clean it off and some of the paint came away and now his white hair is kind of red and I can’t fix it.”

Manyi smiled softly, put the toy on the shelf, tucked her daughter back in and stood up. She stopped on the way out. “The big word daddy used. What was it? Was it ‘sacrilegious’?”

But Ameli was already asleep.


“…Archimandrite Habukahmaran, who has established close, personal links with Ambassador Torthonius in recent months, said in his annual sermon of Remembrance today that the teachings of the Newcomers and the holy texts of the Church are not as far apart as some have claimed, and that much common ground exists that ‘deserves to be ploughed in a spirit of fertile co-operation’.

His surprising comments angered critics of the Newcomers, who carried banners at several marches today around the country protesting at the treatment of some allegedly radical priests who have spoken out against what they claim is the hidden militarism and despotism of the Newcomers. Despite a heavy police presence, sporadic violence once again broke out with dozens hospitalised and many more arrested…”


“POSTED: 12,154/43/3 by Oberon:

“This should come as no ++link++ surprise ++link++ to people who’ve been following ++link++ the deranged attitudes of the Hate The Newcomers lunatic fringe, but it should still enrage you. Is there no end to their conspiracy madness? Emperor’s New Gun ++link++ has the scoop:-“

• “Some of most prominent sufferers of Newcomer Derangement Syndrome are claiming that this ++link++ - a blurry image of what is either a dust storm or a cloud shadow to anyone with half a brain – is in fact proof of secret Newcomer landings in the Kthada region of Tsellis. Hullo?! They don’t need to land secretly – don’t tell these crackpots, but – we already know they’re here!!! They’ve been here for three years. It’s a dust storm, morons.”

“And as is becoming tragically familiar with this lot:-

• “And yes. Quite a few ++link++ of the crazies use the I-word. Invasion. Put your tin-foil hats back on, guys, your brain waves are leaking out on the rug.”

“Let them rant on. They’re just doing us a service by making them easy to spot. You all know I’m not entirely uncritical of the Newcomers and the Emperor, but the Man has done some incredible things for humanity, and the people who disrespect him and his envoys like this better watch out. They’re going to wind up on one side of the argument, and all the guns are going to wind up on the other. And – believe me – I’m talking about some big, fecking guns although, as always, I can’t reveal my sources!

“It is a dark path these crazies are walking down, and in their version of the future, there is only war. We’ll be waiting.

“Ever vigilant. Oberon.”


The winter drizzle was dying out, gusted away on the chill breeze, when Kirin reached Apsley House.

Despite the grand-sounding name, it was just another former townhouse that had been converted – butchered might be the word – into office space years ago. Like most of the former townhouses on these back streets, it didn’t look as if it had warmed tenants for quite some time, but a light glowed on the second floor. Just as Keane had said.

Kirin’s mouth was dry as he rang the buzzer. He heard footsteps, remembered he still had his rain-hat on and whipped it off, spraying water across the tiled walls of the close.

A man wearing a southern makash across most of his face opened the door without a word, and then closed it again as soon as Kirin was inside. The man glanced at Kirin and then limped away across a fading, water-damaged carpet. Kirin followed him, past dust-covered plastic pot-plants and an empty fish-tank and into a small side-office, where the man indicated one of the two chairs that bracketed a small desk. The man left and Kirin sat, and waited, his heart hammering.

A few minutes later another man came in, his dark-blue suit as well-tailored as the calm expression on his oddly ageless face. Briefly, Kirin wondered if he knew him from somewhere. The man sat, and started pulling out papers from a drawer in the desk.

“Kirin anh Gleish.” It was not a question, but Kirin nodded anyway, his mouth too dry for words. The man’s voice sounded familiar, too, but then all the Newcomers spoke with the same odd accent.

The man looked up, and smiled. “Of course. The Monitor bombing.”

“Yes. That’s right. I was going to give evidence, but –“

“- but he confessed. I know. You were very – co-operative. We have to keep this brief. You would be surprised how closely we’re being watched, how much some people are determined to disrupt the good that we seek to do here. That is why all the – how do you say? – cloak and dagger.” The man gestured with one hand, taking in the mouldering surroundings.

Kirin found the words just tumbling out of him. “I just wanted to say I think that you and – it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to us – Ambassador Torthonius is – he’s a great man – and to meet one of you, face to face – all you’ve done for us and when I see people protesting and calling the Emperor a tyrant and when even my wife –“

“Yes. Your wife. Shall we talk about your wife?”

Kirin paused, taken aback. “Manyi? What has she –? You know about her?”

The man glanced at some papers on the desk, but Kirin could not see what was on them. “She has some unusual acquaintances. Some odd alliances. She has become a focal point for much of the local – I was going to say ‘resistance’, but that would be foolish, no? She has even acquired some international connections, some international status. You know nothing of this?”

Kirin shook his head. “No. It’s all – she and I don’t really – she goes on these marches and I – well I told her it was wrongheaded, but she is very independent. She gets like that. I didn’t know she – international? Manyi is – she’s not one of the crazies. She’s not a threat, sir -”

“I see. Have you ever seen a picture of a xeno?”

It was only the sudden chill down his spine that made Kirin realise how much he was sweating. “No.”

The man began selecting sheaves of paper from a drawer, and then placed them one after the other in front of Kirin. “They have names, although I will not insult the purity of this world by speaking them. These are what the forces of the Emperor protect mankind from. I have personally been in orbit around worlds turned black by these beings here, their number was so many. Yes. Those are teeth, and yes, we killed them all, Kirin.”

“But these are not the worst of the enemies the Emperor has to face.” He removed the pictures, and laid more down. “These are mutants. Twisted mockeries of mankind. They can arise anywhere, and from an extra finger on one hand one day –“ he laid down another picture, “- you can have this being born the next.” He laid down another, and Kirin felt his stomach turn. “Mutants can do things, Kirin, with their minds. They are a danger almost beyond comprehension. A mutant did this to a family before we caught up with it.” The man waited silently, then took up the pictures and put them away.

“But even these are not the worst. I think you know what I’m talking about. Heretics, Kirin. There is no greater enemy. The enemy within. The corruptor of the young and the innocent. The shadow at the door. The ruin of mankind. I would not show any man a picture of true corruption, but I can show you all you need to know about the nature of the heretic.” The man pointed to the grimy glass wall partition beside Kirin. He looked, but there was nothing in the office beyond. Just more dust and chairs and filing cabinets, faintly seen through his own reflection. And then he realised what the man had meant.

“The enemy within,” whispered Kirin to the ghost in the glass.

“The enemy within. The greatest enemy of all. You cannot fight what you cannot see, Kirin. But do you see now?”

Kirin nodded, his mind numb.

“The heretic is in all of us, always. In us and in those we love. We must remain ever vigilant. Now. Let us talk about your wife.”


Sholto

blueboy93

Great work yet again mate, though I prefered the killing one

Sholto

Cheers blueboy - I try never to write the same story twice, so you're gonna like some more than others

Sholto

Olgerth Istaarn

Ohh, interesting... different for sure

TwistedDarkness

I like it. It seems like something Arthur C. Clarke woukd write, but the Overlords are human.

Waterbizkit

More excellent work. A very different read to some of the more combat oriented stories I've read previously, but it's a welcome change of pace. I quite like the way you illustrate the slow and steady changes in society happening across the planet, it really gives strong impression of something eating away at what once was.

I look forward to more.

~Bizkit

Psymon

This. Is. Awesomesauce.

Interesting to see how a world is influenced by a slow Imperial takeover. It's a perspective I've never seen in fluff. A world quite like our own too. The tone reminds me a bit of 1984, but I never finished that, I keep meaning to go back and read it.

fifth_horseman

*skims through the beginning*
Space Marine... action figures? Well, sounds like the twisted genius of Sholto is at work again.

Gonna read it in the evening, that's for sure.



Finished reading. Nice and interesting. One can tell there is something wrong going on, and of course the subliminals (flashing screen...) are a neato trick too.

Me says it's interesting, it's got mucho potential... and I'll love to see the other half.

Andkat

Nice story, Sholto.

TheDividedGod

Good lord, man, get on with it!

Some of the best short-story sci-fi i've read in a long time.

nemesis09

Bloody brillant...really a breath of fresh air into the rather staid and stale genre of 40k fiction..

Zallis

I second nemesis09's words. This is really something different from the "In the Emperor's name, attack!" sort of stuff.

Koranus

Man this should be made in a movie !!!When are you making part 2?

Fannin

I love it. I came out of this not knowing how you were trying to portray the Imperium... stalwart defender of humanity or oppressive theocratic regime?

I think that was intentional, and makes you think. Very well done.

theBlind

I really like it - that's coming from someone who only rarely reads fanfics online.
Really good work!

Distephano

one of the most excellent stories i have ever read on these boards, captivating, intelligent and full of the waiting anticipation. Well done

the herald

I'd like to congratulate you on a brilliant story Sholto
*Gives Sholto a cookie and a pat on the back*

sethgarrick

I posted a few weeks ago in a different thread about the notion of 40k kiddies having SM toys/action figures as part of the overall IoM's 'Yay Humans!' propaganda campaign. Its the sort of thing that can really demonstrate the creeping and insidious nature of the thing: the Imperium is working to recruit your children. To bad present-day corporations didn't do the same thing. McDonald-branded Space Marines, anyone?
The story also dovetails nicely with the current '40k meets Present-Day Earth' thread, only much more detailed (and eloquent). A charming mix of truth, sweet new tech, and dark innuendo works better than IG battalions or virus bombs. Yay the non-violent invasion!

Looking forward to the finish.

peace
sg

Fannin

I wonder if the Imperium is really wrong in what it does in this story.

No, the ends don't justify the means... or do they? Do they when the alternative is annihilation?

Suppose for a second that a Tyranid hivefleet is headed straight towards this quaint little planet. A subtle invasion, as occurs in this story, leaves much of the infrastructure and population intact... with an Imperial government, these two things can be combined to form something capable of beating back the theoretical incoming hivefleet.

A few clandestine bombs here and there are nothing compared to the two alternatives: quick and brutal Imperial invasion, or the hivefleet consuming the planet.

sethgarrick

@Fanin

If it was your wife and son who died in those clandestine bombs, platitudes like 'the ends justify the means' probably wouldn't do much to console you.

And what if there were no Hive fleet bearing down on the planet? What if its just about resources the IoM needs to continue its perpetual war on a front a hundred million miles away? How are the reletives of the dead supposed to accept that as somehow being neccessary?

The IoM is a totalitarian state, and it doesn't believe in fuzzy ideals like inalienable rights for its citizens. It is founded on the twin beliefs that might does make right, and that the end does in fact justify the means. That is to contrast our comparitively Utopian existence here in the elightened democracies of the real-world west.

Ask yourself this: if a President or Prime Minister authorised a few small clandestine bombings (killing a few minor, non-essential people) in order to get laws passed which would, in the future, prevent terrorists from getting into the country to set off great huge devastating bombs (that would cripple the country), would that President or Prime Minister be justified, or not?

That is what I love about this story: it shows just how horrible and savage (yet clever and cunning) humanity has become in the future in order to perpetuate its existence.

theBlind

Well, truth is always a matter of perspecive.
If the inquisition kills someone to save a planet, it would be considered a great victory - yet to the family of the person, it would be a great tragedy.

Sholto

Interestingly enough, that's almost the exact subject of another story I am working on

Thanks for all the comments, everyone. I will finish this story.

@theBlind - if you find it hard locating the really good 40k fanfic among the crowds, try the Stories of Renown at the Black Library fanfic forum. Alternatively, on my website, I have collected some of the finest 40k fanfic from around the internet - it's all well worth a read.

Sholto

Someone

You have a very interesting way of writing, I can feel how I start too like the characters and see the way I want the story too go because of the fact that I like them, but instead it goes in the opposite way and I can feel how it's starting to go bad for everyone involved. Also nice to see that you can manage a slower paced non-action oriented piece, due too the fanfics being quite short there's often an abundence of action and very little in the way of character development.

In short, keep up the good work and experiment with different styles of writing and stick with one that works the best for you. Also I would like to thank you for making me start reading fan-fics, now I'm stuck in Revenants Rise of the Tau and I love that story, from time to time it's too much action, but since it's written in short story format with a chapter coming out about daily I can understand why. Was also very nice too see the more subtle nature that the Imperium can display.

So keep up the good work and please write a Matroyshka (sp?) part 2. But focus a bit more on the characters there and don't give them such an immediate threat such a the tyranid swarm.

Feil

I'd like to see the question of "Is the Imperium responsible for the bombing" left either unanswered or have the answer indicated to be 'no'. The IoM is, as usual, in for the long game. Certainly the Imperials wish to create conflict, and wish to capitalize on that conflict when it comes--but there is no reason for them to risk exposure by dirtying their hands. Modern history has taught us nothing if not that when a group feels that that which it holds most dear is under attack, and when it cannot gain headway by conventional means, it will resort to violence--there is no need for Imperial conspiracies; patience will suffice.

theBlind

I fully agree with Feil - the Imperium is not stupid, nor even blunt.
They can't be, for them to take every rediscovered planet by force would mean to waste untold numbers of the Guard to gain a ravaged world, where a little patience and a few well-trained individuals speaking a handful of well-chosen words will gain the imperium a compliant planet with it's industry intact - a planet where the very population chose to join the imperium is also much less prone to breed heresy.

The imperium is always in for the long run. The individuals resposible often enough have access to rejuvenation(sp?) treatments and live for hundreds of years, that very much lends itself to long-term planning.

Fannin

Sethgarrick:

If there does happen to be a hivefleet bearing down on the planet, whether my family dies by clandestine bombs or is chewed in half by a Carnifex, the end result is the same. In the first scenario, though, the rest of the planet survives.

There's no question that the Imperium is an ugly, ugly thing.... but it is no more and no less ugly than it had to become in order to survive, and, so long as it survives, the hopes of a future for mankind survive too. Pretty ideas like unalienable rights, reason, and enlightenment just did not, and in fact cannot, survive encountering the myriad horrors of the 41st millenium. Like it or not, the Imperium is what we would be were we in its situation... and, given the circumstances, there is no real way to say whether that's right or wrong.

sethgarrick

@Fannin:

I think the IoM would probably proceed in a similar manner (clandestine bombs et al.) to pacify/enlist a new industrialized world whether or not there was some sort of impending xeno invasion that would kill everyone, simply because it's the most efficient manner.

Then again, I also think that if the hypothetical Nids find themselves in a position to take our planet from the IoM, that the IoM are quite likely to quietly virus-bomb us so as to prevent the enemy from exploiting us/our resources.

I guess I'm just not a big fan of the humans of the future. Benny said it best:

Quote:

Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety

For what it's worth, when it comes time to die for my planet, I'd rather be killed by folks who I know are my enemies, than by those claiming to be my allies. That may be a bit semantic, being dead either way, but if I had my druthers... To me an honest enemy is better than a shifty friend.

As for neccessary sacrifices of liberty in the hostile 40k universe, from what I've read (and I confess, that's not a whole lot), the Tau have done a reasonably nice job of maintaining a few square feet of moral high ground when it comes to conquering the galaxy. More straight-up 'Join us for the Greater Good', than the dirty tricks and Darwinian imperatives typically displayed among the other races. I'll stand happily corrected, should anyone have an example otherwise.

peace (but not at any cost)
sg

Divinatus

@seth,

The Tau aren't as bright and shiny as they seem,(Figuritively speaking ) In several cases, they've shown they'll dirty their hands if its necessary. Read the Last Chancers,



Also, apparently the Ethereals manipulate the other castes with a gland in their forehead. Basically saying, the greater good ain't real, the ethereals just mincontrol everyone non literally.

Source?
Xenology

Taveras

Sholto,

You demonstrate an understanding of the 40k Imperium and how it realistically functions in a more mature work of fiction than anything I've ever read from BL. You should send your story to Black Library and have Marc Gascoigne put you on the pay-roll.

I frequent the BL forums and KNOW that there are a lot of older fans STARVING for a more thoughtful series of 40k fiction than the same old routine of marines kicking alien butt. The Horus Heresy series was supposed to be such a thing, but after Dan Abnett's more thoughtful "Horus Rising", the rest of the series has, so far, become much of the same old formula (even if it's still entertaining).

The 40k universe is very cool because of its dark realism, historical parallels, and shades of grey. But it takes maturity for many to realize this. Your story gives us a needed perspective. Too bad most of the BL books are marketed to those who just want marines kicking alien butt.

Takashi_Kurita

I still don't understand why people treat this as a big deal. Yes, the Tau are willing to be expedient and even willing to kill in order to preserve thier realm, etc. How does this translate into them being these horrible, aweful oppressors just like the Imperium is? The bright and shiny thing comes from the fact that the Tau, even thier ruling class, are actually attempting to better the lives of eveyrone in thier empire. They believe that they're doing good (The "Greater Good"). Sometimes lives have to be sacrificed to achieve those ends, unfortunately. Most Imperial Governors, Admirals, and Rulers, on the other hand, don't believe in anyone's good except for thier own, and thier ability to hand on and hold onto power as long as possible.

Both realms have thier dark side, just like any civilization. But the Tau don't have entire worlds full of toxic, smog-choked factory cities where people live out thier entire miserable, short lives on a factory machine. They don't have slave-gangs of navy crews that are chained to thier consoles. They don't routinely mindwipe or exterminte thier own forces. Etc. There's a world of difference. I don't think there was anybody that was under any kind delusion that the Tau never did ugly, scary, or violent things. Pragmatism is one of thier big things, after all, and that certainly includes "getting thier hands dirty". Gav's novel never really had the kind of impact that it was supposed to have, not for me. He wasn't showing me anything that I didn't already know.

Are there really some people that think that the Tau are supposed to be a bunch of Boy-Scouts? Certainly no Tau-fans that I know of think that way. Does anyone, other than Tau-haters who're trying to set up a Straw Man to knock down, think that?

Fannin

Sethgarrick:

Believe me, I agree with you 100% as it pertains to modern, real-world governments. And, again, I hardly think the Imperium is a bastion for the rights of man. It's not; it's a despotic dystopia.... at least, a lot of it is. There's tremendous variability in the Imperium as far as what kind of government each planet actually has, given planetary governors are, as far as local civics are concerned, fairly autonomous. One planet could have a Hitler-esque iron-fisted dictatorship, while a few systems over there could be a planet as democratic as the real-world West.

All I'm trying to say is that our high-minded ideals would not survive the 41st millenium. The Imperium is what is has to be for mankind to continue to exist, and they are no different than we would be were we in their shoes. Ultimately, I just don't think we're in any position to levy moral judgements against them.

As far as the Tau are concerned... yes, I do agree that they're about as libertarian as a militarized spacefaring race can be; however, I have three points to make.

One, Medusa V represented the first real defeat the Empire has suffered. As such, they have yet to have the experience the full brunt of the aformentioned horrors of the 41st Millenium. Once they do, you can expect their characteristic naivety to wear thin.

Two, Tau do not have a strong warp signature, and therefore are not a prime target for the Ruinous Powers. Quite simply, Tau need not deeply concern themselves with ferreting out the corrupt within their ranks. The Imperium does, and there's simply no nice or libertarian way to ensure Chaos does not consume you from within.

Three, Tau show scant little independent thought as far as their "Greater Good" is concerned. They may as well be a hive of insects working in one accord. Is this bad? Not necessarily. But does it represent real freedom? Absolutely not. Willful slavery is just that... slavery, and made all the worse when your complete and utter devotion to your superiors keeps you from ever questioning it. Ultimately, the real difference here is that, while the Imperium employs chains, the Tau Empire doesn't even have to. The net result is the same.

Takashi_Kurita

No, this simply isn't true, and it's been discussed at length many, many times. The Imperium doesn't have to be as bad as it is, it's far *worse* than it needs to be. For one thing, it wasn't nearly this bad when it was first founded, during the Crusade, and even after the Heresy. It's gotten progressively worse and worse, and more and more despotic and corrupt. It continues to soldier on despite it's extreme form of fascism, not because of it.

The threat of rogue psykers, xenos, and rebels existed in M30, and yet the Imperium wasn't nearly as bad as it is now in terms of oppressiveness, and they did just fine. The Warp was there, just as much of a threat as it is now, and they did okay. (They weren't aware of the grand scheme of there being 4 powers behind it, or that the name of the evil was Chaos, but the immediate, day to day threats were the same, and were handled, and they were well aware that the Warp was extraordinarily dangerous.) Those days, at least in the Horus Heresy novels, were portrayed as a time of optimism in the Imperium. What happened to that? When did the semi-feudal future utopia transform into a totalitarian dystopia?

Sevorak

Well... the loss of your divine leader, half of his 'sons', the betrayal of fully half your armed forces, and a series of horrifically bloody engagements have a tendency to make you just a little more cynical and conservative. Perhaps it might be somewhat worse than it explicitly needs to be (though I find it dubious, for reasons I will explain in a minute), but it's certainly not worse than you should reasonably expect it to be.

Consider this: the Imperium is by far the largest and most powerful galactic empire - they face a great many threats from within and without; many of these frankly necessitate the Imperium's rather harsh and often seemingly dystopian policies. However, don't be too swayed by the 'there is only war!' rhetoric - the Imperium really isn't quite so dystopian as it is often portrayed; it's an empire of a million worlds, innately wildly imbued with massive variation amongst its planets and sectors. For every grim, foreboding solar system of starkly fortified, monolithic fortress worlds, there is likely a scattering of verdant, fertile paradises untouched by the ravening hordes and manipulations of xenos races, or the depredations of the Ruinous Powers.

'What happened' was essentially that the idealistic crusaders you refer to became faced with the realities of maintaining an empire of a million worlds; they grew up and learned that they had to deal with a whole new set of harsh realities. Anyone can set out with a vast army and subjugate, conquer, and otherwise unite - to actually maintain what you have created in a few comparatively fleeting moments of flame and righteous fury is infinitely harder, especially after such a momentous schism as the Horus Heresy, and essentially stripped of fully half of your strength. It's enough to embitter anyone - and what you cannot deny is that the Imperium's approach, no matter how harsh it may sometimes seem, works.

True, they are far from perfect - but they've taken the best of a bad situation and done what they could, and have accomplished some truly remarkable feats. They have successfully maintained a horrifically gargantuan civilization through terrible ordeals, in spite of incredible odds, and remain standing as a galactic superpower. All of the factions have their flaws, and given the somewhat unique situation of the Imperium - essentially as the closest thing there is to the rulers of the galaxy - I think a greater extent of paranoia and caution with regards to potential catalysts for disorder and destruction can be forgiven. Because that is, in essence, what it takes to survive.


Uhm... yeah. Well, I went on a bit, didn't I? -laughs-


To say something on-topic... well, awesome story, Sholto! Truly outstanding to see something more than the typical drivel of "Generic Space Marine Hero No.463 defeats Generic Chaos-derived adversary." It's very refreshing... and even when you do write Space Marines, it's by far a more interesting perspective on them than what's normally seen. Thought-provoking and thoroughly enjoyable. ^_^ So, in short, awesome work. I'd love to read more.

Robert Frazer

I know I'm entering the fray rather late in the day, just to interject and say that when it comes to the ayes and the naes I see it Sevorak's way.

It's certainly true that the Imperium of Man isn't a marshamallow land where good boys and girls gaily skip, bound and frolic through rainbow fields of sunbeams and lollipops, but then nor is she all the rings and gulfs of hell all collapsed into one handy economy travel-pack either. The Imperium should be seen as landscape of contrasts, and investigating the magic and muddle whereby places of wildly different environment and temperament - somehow - struggle and soldier on to maintain the reputation of

gah - I have to dash, I'll finish this later.

Quickly for Sholto - I'm sorry, I know I've been a wee bit slack with Heaven's Altar, but my exams end this week and I should have some free time to chomp through the rest of it then.

sethgarrick

Safest to say then that it makes for generally more interesting reading (and writing) when expounding on the greatest excesses or moral questionability within future humanity, yes? Because focussing on the happy, tranquil planets with stable, pacifistic governments, environmentally-friendly industries, and well-adapted multicultural societies would, IMO, be a bit of a snoozer.

...

Though maybe every once in a while someplace like that in the 41st millenium should at least get a passing mention. Like a unicorn or the holy grail. As an ideal the optimists down in the muck with the hardened cynics could wax rhapsodically about: 'that nice planet just across the solar system with the pleasant, friendly, well-groomed people and their spotlessly clean public washrooms'.

Might make for a nice break in all the constant 40k darkity-darkness.

peace
sg

Takashi_Kurita

Read The Golden Age some time, and you might change your mind about that. It certainly wasn't a snoozer. I was glued to that book, and the rest of the trilogy, from the moment I started reading it.

Sholto

Then you will not be disappointed

My view of the Imperium in a nutshell! I think it needs capitalised to give it its full import:-

Patience Will Suffice

My feelings exactly.

Ditto

I keep trying...one of these days I'll win one of those damned competitions!!!

@Sevorak - thanks for reading. Hope you find (and like) some of my other stuff - in fact, I see that The Killing has made a re-appearance on the front page

@Robert Frazer - you put Heaven's Altar aside for exams! Exams!? Get your priorities straight, you perfidious dog, or I'll have you clapped fore the mainmast!

(best of luck with the exams )

Sholto

Koranus

Tree chears for Sholto!!!HURRRA!HURRRA!HURRRA!

Divinatus

Sholto, the Inquisition should lock you up, minds with such a knack for writing are dangerous

Zug_zug

It's rare to find a fanfic as good as this. What makes it so fascinating is that amidst countless battles between xenos and superhumans this is a story about the ordinary lives of ordinary citizens. Warhammer 40k has grown simply too large for itself. Hearing about another epic battles of the Space Marines or the Guardsmen is simply not enough for us. It is the little things the universe encompasses which become truly interesting and this is a perfect example.

Feil

Zug_zug: click the hyperlink in Sholto's sig marked 'Incunabulum'. It's full of 40k fiction as good as this.



Really, it's excusable. Reading Heaven's Altar--at least the earlier chapters of it--falls near the bottom level of importance for Sholto fiction. That is to say, 'Very important but not quite necessary for life, health, or future happiness'. Now, if it were 'Matrioshka', say, then it would be unforgivable, even for a Fluff God.

Azara

brilliant work sholto.

Proteus

Sholto, I am an avid reader of character-centric dramatic fiction as well as science fiction; relatively speaking, there are few fan-written stories across any genre or franchise that stand out as memorable, and this is one of those stories. This first part of Close Your Eyes is a page-turner, impossible to put down. It's a breath of fresh air to see characters that I can easily relate to, and it's truly scary-- watching a believable culture, being primed for absorption into the Imperium. Thanks for a great read. It's an understatement to say that I'm looking forward to the story's conclusion.

Sholto

Thanks for the great comments, everyone - I really appreciate the interest this story has generated. I've just finished a WFB story (which I won't post here, obviously) so I'll get onto Part 2 of Close Your Eyes shortly.

Sholto

Koranus

HURAAAA FOR SHOLTO!!!I can't wait to read it

Imperial Dane

Brilliant sholto, quite the story, a world meeting the Imperium, and the imperium being nice and all.. Though don't they use alot of subterfuge ? I thought that was the trademark of the tau, the imperium being slightly more blunt about what is going on.

Innonexess

great story (as always)!




Could you post the link to the WHFB story (or at least PM me it).

thanks,
INNXS

MagosMechanicus

The Missionarius Galaxia has already been stated as prepared to spend generations gradually moulding local religions to be compatible with the Imperial Creed, and when the Ecclesiarchy, usually one of the Imperium's most extreme and "blunt" groups, can take that kind of long view, this is hardly a stretch.

Very pleased to hear you've gone back to this story, Sholto.

Sholto

The story - Lessons In Blood - can be read here

Sholto