The Trial of Lucille von Shard by Denny Flowers

Author:Denny Flowers
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2022-06-28T12:29:32+00:00

About the Author

Denny Flowers is the author of the novels Fire Made Flesh and Outgunned, the novella Low Lives and several short stories. He lives in Kent with his wife and son, and has no proven connection with House Delaque.

An extract from Outgunned.

I cannot tell you when war began on Bacchus.

I could provide the date that Imperial forces were dispatched to the once prosperous agri world to combat the mounting ork threat. But greenskins emerged from the swamps years prior, local forces suppressing their numbers for almost a decade before their sudden plea for assistance. Many had already lost loved ones or limbs before official records decree the conflict even started. Their war began early.

My war began in a dingy cabin nestled deep within Orbital Station Salus, the monolithic space station suspended above Bacchus. I awaited authorisation to depart for the planet below, and had for over a day. There were either atmospheric irregularities or hostile forces operating in the area, depending on whether one believed the official account or overheard whispers in corridors.

With my meagre possessions and ample equipment already stowed, there was little I could do but wait. My time was occupied watching a tiresome recruitment pict, even though I had already endured it a dozen times or more. It was, after all, the reason I was there. The holo-display projected a grainy image of an ork warrior. A wiry creature, clad only in a scrap of loincloth, the greenskin was nevertheless imposing, its tusks bared in a snarl, a crude spear brandished with intent. It sniffed the air, like a bloodhound, before roaring and surging forward, intent on its prey.

‘On the agri world of Bacchus, vile xenos beasts threaten the loyal citizens of the Imperium!’

As the narrator’s voice crackled into life, the panned shot revealed an Imperial citizen fleeing, dragging a child behind her. Their attire was not in keeping with Bacchus, for the image had been cut from a far older pict and crudely spliced into the more recent footage. The work was sloppy, either that of an amateur or someone who cared little for their subject or reputation.

The woman stumbled, falling just as the ork loomed behind her, its spear poised for the killing blow. She tried to cover her child with her body, even as the boy glared at the ork with undisguised hatred.

I paused the playback, the image freezing.

The footage presented some classic archetypes: the mother embodying noble sacri­fice, her child angry and defiant despite the xenos threat ably represented by the ork. I could see the intent. But the seams between the cuts were painfully apparent, noticeable to even the most dull-witted menial worker. The footage of the ork was genuine from what I could tell; the way its feet sank into the burnt-orange swamp would be difficult to simulate. Conversely, the woman had been deposited on a convenient stretch of rock in a crude attempt to disguise the pict-seam. She was beautiful in a restrained way, and I was sure I had seen her in a previous vid.

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