Secret War: Upon Blood Sands by BAD Agar, Adrassil (amazing books to read TXT) 📕

"I do not have a clue what to make of this," said the young medicae.

"Neither," said Helma gruffly. "You guys think if the Inquisitor finds out about this, she'll kill us?"

"No," said Torris without hesitation. "I remember she said to Attelus as we left, 'anything and everything to win,' it's one of Attelus' little, pragmatic philosophies. I think she knew this was going to happen, or at least had an idea. It's official; we work for a radical inquisitor, everyone."

"Figured that out a long time ago," said Karmen.

"Yeah, well, we don't have quite as much seniority as you," said Torris. "I'm pretty sure we all suspected it, but now it's confirmed, without any doubt."

Karmen shrugged and pursed her lips. "It depends really on whether she kills us when we get back; until then, it's not really confirmed at all. It's conjecture, Marcel."

"You say that even though you said you'd already figured it out," said Jelket. "I think Marcel's right. Inquisitor Enandra is a radical. I've been saying it for years."

"Of course you have," said Karmen. "But you say a lot of things, Jelket."

"Well," said Delathasi. "It all depends if Vark rats us out."

Vark emerged from the stairway, frowning with his arms folded. "I heard you, then, girl," he growled.

Delathasi smiled. "I knew you would and knew you were up there."

"Are you? Are you going to 'rat us out?'" Verenth said.

"I'd already promised I'd tell the inquisitor everything once we get back," said Vark. "I'm a man of my word. Anyway, does it matter? That psyker bitch of Enandra's will just pluck it from our memories."

Vark smirked at Karmen pointedly. "Or this psyker will pluck it from our memory."

Torris couldn't help stiffen as Karmen's face darkened and her jaw tightened.

"That's if you get back, Vark," Karmen growled.

Vark's expression turned murderous. "Is that a threat, Karmen?"

Karmen's face lightened. "No, it is just a mere statement of fact, Vark. We have no idea who will make it back. If anyone will at all. You and I must work together, so I would never threaten. You are just pushing it, is all I'm saying."

"You attend the ecclesiarcal services, too," said Vark. "I do not understand how you can be so casual to our leader's radical tendencies."

Karmen sniggered. "Vark, she hired me. I was a rogue, mercenary psyker. Of course, she's a frigging radical, and of course, I don't mind she is one. I believe the God-Emperor is above all things but also believe that his rules he made during the birth of this Imperium of man were more suited to a different time. I believe that he now understands that much must be done for the continued survival of our species that ten thousand years ago would be deemed wrong."

"Like mind-controlling a thousand mercenary soldiers to be slaughtered as a distraction for our escape," said Darrance.

"I hope, Darrance," said Karmen. "I truly hope."

"Or you pray," said Darrance contemptuously.

There was a long, weighted silence. The only sounds were the slight hum of the engine and shuffling feet. Again it was Halsin who broke it.

"Is anyone going to meet the eldar next time?"

"I will," said Verenth. "I think we could learn much from them."

Vark sneered.

"Much we can use against them if needs be," elaborated Verenth.

"I will, too," said Hayden. "I think we will need them as allies in the future, and the one I spoke to mentioned he was once a Ranger. I have heard they are brilliant snipers, and he might teach me how to improve my shooting."

"I wouldn't have thought that to be even possible," said Helma playfully.

Hayden smiled.

"As will I," said Delathasi. "I talked to one who said she was once a 'Howling Banshee,' she said she would be interested in teaching me a few sword techniques."

Karmen laughed. "I have a lot in common with their kind, them being psykers and all. So I will be seeing them again."

Eventually, everyone but Vark and Torris admitted they were interested.

Torris, in truth, was going to meet the eldar again too. But for a different reason. He wanted to know how they ticked—their exact thought processes. So far, he could only view them from a human eye, so he had no choice but to project his own human mentality onto them, so what little he and the others had learned from this bizarre encounter had little merit. The ones they spoke to seemed like outliers. A very liberal minority that didn't look down on humanity, hence why this 'autarch Raloth Arlyandor' chose them as ambassadors. If Torris truly wanted to learn more, he had to talk to at least one of the majority.

That warlock Klrith would be perfect. If only Torris could find a way to interact with the arrogant, prejudiced creature, somehow.

He could only think of one way, and it depressed him more than he could say.

"Marcel?" said Karmen, knocking Torris from his thoughts. "We're getting something to eat; you want to come?"

Torris nodded and started up the staircase after the others, cursing quietly under his breath.

"You want to do, what?" said Attelus; he sat on his padded chair behind the small black office desk in his quarters—looking at Torris with a raised eyebrow. Like all of the Guncutter's interior, it was luxurious, with dark red carpet and walls wallpapered a lush white. Gold abrasions lined the walls and floor. It was once Taryst's ship, and everyone in the organisation knew of the rogue trader's more flamboyant tastes and his obsession with crimson, gold and white. Sometimes when Torris walked through the ship, it would take him to the old days. Back to simpler times.

"I said-"

"I heard what you said. I'm sorry, just reminiscing. This place takes me back."

Attelus nodded. "Yeah, I guess it would. Do you seriously want to talk to that arsehole?"

"I don't want to talk to him," said Torris. "I just feel if we want to get the whole picture, we need to talk to those not so...not so..."

"Accepting?"

Torris nodded. "You are connected. As far as I know, this Raloth could just be putting up a front. Can you try to arrange this meeting?"

Attelus frowned. "If he was putting up a front, I don't think Klrith would've been the one to guide or landing."

Torris shrugged. "Maybe. But by talking to him, I might be able to figure out why he hates us, why they really look down on us, and that might help us in our future diplomatic endeavours. Who knows? Maybe I could put him wrong."

Attelus sniggered and leaned back in his chair, "yeah, good luck with that."

"Look, just ask the autarch. Okay?"

Attelus thought on it for a few seconds before shrugging and saying, "yeah, I don't see why not. But whether the warlock will agree is another story, entirely. It's funny; first, you were all against meeting the eldar, but now you're all for it."

"What is that saying of yours? Know your enemy?"

Attelus sighed. "They aren't our enemy, Torris."

"Yeah, these aren't. But what about the others out there?"

"All right, point taken," Attelus said.

"Did you tell her?" said Torris.

"Tell who, what?"

"You and Adelana had a private talk. Did you finally tell her how you feel?"

"No, that was about something else. Why?"

"It just seemed you finally got some balls, kid."

Attelus shrugged. "I will tell her soon."

"Yeah, well, we're running on borrowed time in our line of work. We're lucky we're all still alive after these three years. So do it soon."

"I'm not."

"You're not, what?"

"Running on borrowed time."

Torris frowned and furrowed his brow at Attelus' arrogance, then turned for the door.

"Why do you hate me, Torris?"

Torris looked back; it seemed like the boy finally got some balls after all.

"I don't hate you," Torris said.

"Okay," said Attelus, leaning back his chair and pursing his lips in bemusement. "Then...what?"

"Unlike the others, I know exactly who and what you are, and what you could potentially become. I saw it when you manipulated Jeurat. I saw it when that Rodyille character tried to rape Adelana. You've got evil in you, you are capable of great evil, and I don't like it."

Attelus sighed and swivelled in his chair. "Don't you think I know that? Why do you think I haven't told Adelana my feelings yet? I'm sure she'll say no because she knows that too. I'm trying to be a good person, Torris. I'm really trying as much as I can to be a good person when I'm a murderous, manipulative bastard. Isn't that enough to earn your respect? After all the shit I've been through?"

It was Torris' turn to sigh. "I do respect you. I respect your abilities, believe it or not. But that doesn't mean I have to like you. I'm sorry, that's just how this cosmos works."

"Whatever," Attelus growled.

Torris took that as his cue to leave and turned away.

"Marcel," said Attelus, causing Torris to stop and clench his fists. "You're a good person. You and Jeurat."

Torris said nothing.

"I'm not a good person. So tell me, what means more, Marcel? Someone who's inherently good, doing good? Or someone who's inherently evil doing good, despite their ingrained nature?"

Torris stood, struggling for a response. But he couldn't think of anything, so he said instead.

"Even still, you need to tell her," said Torris.

"I will, one day."

"For someone who supposedly has a shit ton of willpower, you're still a frigging huge coward."

Attelus furrowed his brow and frowned.

"Yeah," said Torris. "As Elandria used to say, 'whatever.'"

The following days passed by. Attelus and Adelana trained under Raloth. He taught Attelus the way of the commander while teaching Adelana swordplay, and much to Attelus annoyance- Adelana made more progress with the sword in that week than she had in months under him. On the fourth day, Raloth made them meditate. Neither Attelus nor Adelana had done it before, and they struggled. Adelana grasped it quicker than Attelus, of course. Attelus mind was always a chatter. Telling him to clear his thoughts was the equivalent of asking him to stop breathing.

The following meetings with the eldar went well. Every one of the group took part in each. Even Vark, who still kept in the background but whose expression slowly changed from furrowing anger to one of genuine interest as he unashamedly listened in to the conversations. Adelana received her robes from Coulyte on the third meeting. She put them on later after some convincing.

They were made of patterns of shining gold and red. Matching her hair and every man's jaw dropped when she emerged into the common room, blushing like hell. Adelana thought she looked terrible, and no amount of words would convince her otherwise.

On the second to last day, at the end of the training session, Attelus asked Raloth about Torris' meeting Klrith.

A flash of anger crossed the autarch's sharp features.

"And why would Torris want to talk to Klrith?" said Raloth.

Attelus straightened, seeing he'd hit a nerve. "He wishes to understand why Klrith looks down on us humans. He hopes it'll allow us to understand why much of your race does."

Raloth sighed and scratched his nose. Adelana and Attelus were coated head to toe in sweat, but the eldar had one slight bead running down his patrician forehead.

"He sees through this," said Attelus, seizing the initiative. "Torris knows that the eldar we talk to are in the minority. He wishes to see the other side. Not just the side you want us to see."

Raloth shook his head. "Yet again, I find I have underestimated you, humans. Okay, I will ask Klrith, but I truly doubt he will acquiesce. He has been sulking in his quarters ever since your arrival."

Attelus rolled his eyes.

Three hours later, Raloth and Klrith marched into the Guncutter's storage area.

Verenth and Helma were there, sparring in hand to hand combat while Adelana was in the midst of practising her cameleoline cloak technique and Jelket, bench pressing weights with Hayden as his spotter. All froze in abstract shock, even Jelket. No eldar had set foot in the guncutter yet.

"I wish to speak with this Torris, mon-keigh!" Klrith snapped.

With Karmen Attelus and Adelana. Torris was led into the Kaltoria by Raloth