I began to feel claustrophobic. I envied the Understudy his ability to ignore his surroundings. Sometimes, over the roar of the engines, I thought I could hear the distant sound of heavy artillery. Of course, that just made me worry about being hit by some stray shell or lascannon shot. Every time the Atlas hit an obstruction or lurched around because of uneven ground, my stomach clenched. I began to sweat. My mouth felt dry. I was more scared than I had been in the battle around the Baneblade.
I told myself I was being foolish but it did not help. Perhaps it was some sort of delayed reaction to the events of the day before. Perhaps it was simply that death was on my mind, but I began to think that I was going to die inside that small, cramped chamber, that I would never see the light of day again, that the inside of the Atlas would be my coffin.
I noticed that Anton and Ivan were looking at me strangely.
‘What are you looking at?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know but it’s looking back,’ Anton said. It was an old challenge from our childhoods. He smiled as he said it.
‘You’re looking a bit green around the gills,’ Ivan said. ‘Got something on your mind?’
He said it quietly so that neither the corporal nor the Understudy could hear him.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘I’m just thinking.’
‘I’m not surprised that you look sick then,’ Anton said. ‘You don’t want to put too much strain on that tiny brain of yours.’
‘At least he has a brain,’ Ivan said. ‘When I look in your ear I can see clean out the other side.’
We kept bickering and chatting quietly as the Atlas moved on across the ruins of the city towards the distant sound of battle.
Eventually, the Atlas came to a halt. The back doors were thrown open and a red-cowled adept stood there. ‘You must exit here,’ he said. ‘This is as far as we can take you.’
We were all grateful to pile out. I looked around and saw that in the direction we had come there was nothing but rubble for leagues and leagues. Around us now though were some more starscrapers. I heard the thunder of heavy weapons fire very close and the roar of vehicle engines and the monstrous tread of Titans as they walked.
The Understudy was the last out of the Atlas and he consulted his wrist chronometer. Like all officers’ watches in the Seventh it had a navigator built into it. Having checked the coordinates of our present position he turned and walked towards where he knew headquarters must be. He did not say thank you or goodbye to the techs but they did not seem to notice. I waved to them as we departed and none of them waved back or said farewell.
We marched through streets blocked with the rubble. When you are on the side of a hive, you lose all awareness of the fact. It is like being on the side of a volcano. We had a view of endless starscrapers retreating into the distance, each higher than the next, like a range of mountains that might cover half the world. The towers we had seen as we approached the city were little more than tiny replicas of these enormous structures. It seemed foolish of us to have attacked this place. We were like an army of ants trying to invade a human city. The vast height of the hive was lost in clouds. In the distance was a peculiar glow, illuminating the sky, a blurred patch of light at once ominous and mystical. I wondered what it was. I had seen it before but I was no nearer to understanding.
As we got closer to the sound of battle, we were suddenly enclosed by a tide of men and armoured vehicles storming towards a distant goal. It was strange because we were the only part of that mass that did not have orders. Soldiers moved all around us, running into place, taking up position, at first hundreds and hundreds of them and then thousands and thousands.
It did not seem like we even had a goal but I had underestimated the Understudy’s newfound determination and resourcefulness. We kept going until we entered the rubble-strewn ruins of a city square. There were tents here and signs pointing towards cellars and, when he asked, the Understudy was given directions to our new HQ.
Much to my surprise we were hustled through the place and into the august presence of the colonel. I don’t think I had been so close to old Walrus-face as I was then. I could have reached out and plucked a bristle from the great moustache that drooped down long past his narrow chin. I could have reached out and pulled one of the scores of medals and ribbons from the chest plate of his enormously elaborate uniform.
The inside of the bunker was full of the officers of his entourage, studying maps, listening to the comm-net but mostly trying to toady to our regimental commander while they had the chance. Lho stick fug filled the air. The subdued hum of reports coming in and being responded to was audible all around.
‘Ryker, good to see you,’ he said, using the Understudy’s real name. ‘Thought we had lost you when the Indomitable brewed up.’
The old Understudy would have fawned at his notice, would probably have offered to lick his boots clean. The new Understudy just stared at him as if trying to decipher meaning from the words of a xenos.
If the colonel was discomfited by this, he gave no sign. I suppose he had enough lackeys grovelling around him. Or maybe he had more experience of talking to young officers just emerged from the hell of battle than I give him credit for.
‘Well, it’s a jolly good show that you survived. Lord High Commander Macharius himself was asking after you and Lieutenant Doblinsky and your crew. You are all to be decorated by him personally for being first through the gate.’
‘Lieutenant Doblinsky is dead, sir,’ said the Understudy in his rasping monotone.
‘Then we’ll be needing someone to take his place, won’t we, Lieutenant Ryker?’ He beamed as he field-promoted the Understudy on the spot. ‘Of course, we will have to put in the appropriate paperwork but don’t worry, it will be confirmed within a decade or so.’
Everyone laughed at his little joke except the Understudy. I think he had passed into a world without humour as well as without sanity. ‘Thank you, sir,’ was all he said. ‘Will we be reassigned to a Baneblade?’
The colonel slapped his side as if the Understudy had made a good joke. ‘Of course, as soon as the replacements are delivered. That should be right about the time the paperwork for your brevet comes back from Headquarters.’
‘I see, sir,’ said the Understudy, obviously baffled.
‘Anyway, we’ll need to keep you and your boys close at hand until you can all be presented to Lord High Commander Macharius. It would not do to lose any more of you, would it, Lieutenant Ryker?’
I could see the strangeness of the Understudy was starting to get through even to the colonel. He was obviously not used to such a cold reaction to his bluff good humour. The officers of the colonel’s entourage were beginning to stare at the Understudy a little disapprovingly. I had the feeling it would become a whole avalanche of disapproval if the colonel gave the sign. If the Understudy was aware of any of this, his mask-like features gave not the slightest sign.
‘No Baneblade, sir?’ was all he said.
‘Keen to get back in the saddle, eh?’ said the colonel. ‘Can’t say as I blame you! Want to take another swipe at the damned heretic, eh?’
The colonel was obviously keen to put the best possible interpretation on the Understudy’s behaviour. The expressions of the faces of the entourage warmed as they realised this. Suddenly they all admired the Understudy’s martial spirit.
‘Yes, sir,’ was all the Understudy said. I was glad for his sake that he at least had the sense to say that.