Above and Beyond (Warhammer 40,000) by Denny Flowers

Author:Denny Flowers [Flowers, Denny]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: FLS
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2024-10-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I retired soon after, but did not sleep despite stretching out in my bed. I could not close my eyes. They seemed fixed upon the bunk above. It was empty now, like all of them. I was the only one left, unless you counted the commissar’s cargo. I should perhaps have checked on the psyker, ensured his life signs were stable. But I did not want to risk him speaking to me again. I could still recall his words.

Witness her fall. Mourn her death. Seek no more.

I was almost relieved when Iwazar’s lenses lit up, its projector firing. It would be bad news, I knew that. But at least it would be news I could share with someone. At least it might take me from that bunk.

‘Seekers of the God-Emperor’s light. I fear it is time to impart some painful truths.’

The voice had that same tone, honeyed but laced with poison. And there he stood, manifesting before me. Assuming it was a he, for it was difficult to be sure given the diaphanous robe and androgynous face. But though angular, his features were close enough to human that one could almost forget what he really was, despite his tapered ears.

It was probably his eyes that were most telling. They were mournful and beautiful and cold as the void itself. Whenever his gaze chanced in my direction, I had a horrible sensation that he was staring straight at me.

He smiled. At least, his lips curled and teeth glinted.

The image then cut to the Láech breaching Edbar. I had seen some of the footage, but much was new. Notably the priest attempting to flee, only for a blade to be thrust into his back, the attackers howling in triumph as he fell, Cesh’s voice narrating it all.

‘The off-worlders? Supposed servants of the God-Emperor’s light? They slaughter your people, murder your priests, and burn whatever is left.’

The image cut to Commissar Shard’s manic grin as he rode the Hellhound into the ranks of the separatists, chainsword wailing as flames consumed living and dead alike. The playback slowed, the lens focusing on the commissar’s face, his mouth torn open in glee, eyes shining as his blade ripped through the fleeing troops.

Cesh again, head hung low, as though overcome with sorrow, hair spilled over his shoulders. He conveyed an eternity of pain in that gesture, unimagin­able hardship in the simple bowing of his head. Were he an actor, I would have recommended him to the finest playhouse on Terra.

He seemed to meet my gaze. And by extension the other viewers, for I had to presume his message was cast through Edbar’s remaining vox-units and projectors. He hesitated, looking away, as though unwilling to admit to what would come next. I found myself leaning forward, drawn by his words. The words of a xenos. I had to remember that. You could tell from how he moved. Too graceful. Too self-assured.

‘My people serve the Light of Truth. Just as your world once did, and just as your God-Emperor still does.

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