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  “Good enough and thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, we could all end up in a court marshal if I screw this up.”

  Gurges took his station overlooking the prisoners, he did not want to start surveying the crates until he was not assigned; it would look more as if he was truly attending to his weapon. He could hardly take his weapon apart for maintenance when he was supposed to be on alert to use it. Every so often he would glance to his left where the unloading continued unabated. The line of black clad soldiers looked like ant carrying loads back to their nests but Gurges knew that the loads were something more sinister than food. It was not just the fact that Sergeant Curtius was worried, although that did little to salve his mind. The rumours of the sheer brutality and amorality of the Black Guard had reached his ears too. Given that Gurges was acquainted with some of the less reputable people in the Empire, although not the truly malevolent, he was a low-level acquirer of less than legal items, not a full-blown criminal. For a while now there had been whisperings of the Empire taking certain groups more seriously, more raids in the night of those suspected of not subscribing to the beliefs of Sol Invictus. This was not just the arrests of those suspected of being of another faith, for they were already common, but now there were also the capture of those who merely did not believe. Many of the more seedy inhabitants of the Empire simply nodded their head in the direction of belief and continued their merry way. However, they had started to attend sermons at the Temple more regularly and allow the priests more leeway in their business dealings. Gurges could tell there would soon be a crackdown if the criminal elements were becoming pious, especially as it was not in their financial best interest, from a purely economic point of view.

  When his watch was over Gurges nodded almost imperceptibly at Sergeant Curtius. There were ways and means of going about things and Gurges did not want to give any indication of what he was about to do.

  “Have you even bothered to clean that thing since we set off?” Yelled Sergeant Curtius, “We have been through a major sandstorm and an engagement! You know as well as I do that any dirt could throw that thing out by enough to put my life and the rest of this squad in danger. Get it sorted!”

  Gurges now had his excuse for dismantling the rifle and looking carefully at all the components established; from here on, he was on his own. He climbed onto the roof of one of the Squads Crabs, one of the few flat areas with the space he would require. Sliding back the restraining bolt he removed the barrel and placed it on the Crab. After removing a number of other components, some screw, some bolted into place the sniper rifle was separated into a number of independent cleanable pieces. He then unpacked his field cleaning kit. Taking a number of paper towels, he wiped down the visible parts of the gun, just to get rid of the surface detritus. Gurges then took care to cover the stock with a regular towel so as to stop the various solvents he was going to use damaging it. As it would take a little while Gurges liked to spray everything but the barrel and the stock in solvent and let it sit while the time consuming process of barrel cleaning was done. As a sniper rifle was by necessity rifled to increase accuracy it was important to remove anything that could slow the spin of the round or throw it off on its route down the barrel. This could result in inaccuracy, dangerous enough in a military sniper rifle but there was also the chance of damage and backfire, which Gurges definitely wanted to avoid. With a reverence that would not have been out of place in one of the Imperial Temples during a service Gurges threaded the cleaning patch through the jib at the end of the end of the cleaning rod and inserted it into the muzzle. After he pushed it down in the muzzle he removed the cleaning patch at the other end, as he did not want to re-coat the interior of the muzzle with the materials he had only just removed. He repeated this until the patches came out clean. Gurges finally came to his favourite part, while this was not the most important part of weapon maintenance he found the intricate work of firstly oiling the stock, spraying the metal parts with rust protector and finally using a cue tip to apply Military Rifle Grease onto the moving parts strangely cathartic and helped in his mind to bond him to his weapon. After re-assembling his scope-less weapon Gurges packed the used portion of his field cleaning kit away and turned his attention to the scope. The exterior was rubbed down and a light solvent applied to the lenses. He then spent a good five minutes rubbing down the lenses with an extremely soft cloth so as no to scratch them. After a final light blow he deemed the job to be good enough and raised the scope to his eye to test it, a distant target was required to make sure nothing was out of alignment and Gurges, seemingly at random chose the line of Black Guard carrying the crates as his calibration point.

  At first it was hard to make out any writing at all on the crates for the original markings had been painted over with black paint. Many of the crates looked simply unmarked as a result, but Gurges knew that eventually one would appear upon which a shoddy job had been done. He was not a cynic, but he certainly did not have much faith in human nature. He did not go disappointed. One of the crates although painted had not had a second coat applied to it and in the partial reflection of the Sun off the ridges on the crate he saw the remnants of the original markings, which would have been invisible close to or at the wrong angle. The markings read ‘C4 + Mg Combine’. This was a potent mixture of plastic explosive and a high temperature magnesium reactive burning agent, hot enough to melt steel. Whatever the target was it was formidable indeed, that reactant was generally used against military grade bunkers and field fortifications. Gurges decided it was time to tell Sergeant Curtius what he had learned when he noticed a Black Guard turn to see him looking down his scope at the line. With exaggerated care Gurges blew on the end of the scope and polished it off one last time before looking through it again, this time on a similar angle but this time not looking at the Black Guard’s operation.

  “They’re unloading WHAT?” Asked Sergeant Curtius, while Lieutenant Gratius looked on in puzzlement.

  “There’s no Intel I’ve come across that indicates anything that would require that level of explosives here. It’s been a backwater of Sol Invictus for years. Even the Imperial Compound is a basic, made of steel-reinforced concrete and capable of being breached by conventional plastic explosives,” mused Lieutenant Gratius. “This stuff is overkill.”

  “Let’s get everyone back a bit further from the city; I’m not sure how far the effect of that stuff will go. It could blast the lot of us to Invictus himself if the Black Guard aren’t careful,” Advised Sergeant Curtius. “and there’s no way I trust them to be careful.”

  The calls went out via the chain of command and all Halberdiers not only moved themselves but also moved their contingent of prisoners as far as they thought they could get away with, whilst still remaining ensconced within the overall encampment being used to contain them. It was a difficult manoeuvre as an entire block of prisoners would seem totally out of alignment compared to the roughly straight line maintained by many of the other squads. Fortunately the Black Guard were pre-occupied by the transport of the crates into the city and the rest of their orders and by the time they had finished these tasks a number of the more clued up Squads had also followed Calidius’ lead. As the squad that had not only managed to rid themselves of their Black Guard liaison and came through the recent attack relatively unscathed they had become an example of sorts, of what to do if you wanted to survive the mission.

  The Black Guard came running out of the city, barely looking over at the Squads or the prisoners; obviously they cared little for the troops supporting them or the civilians they were supposed to be escorting. As the Black Guard ran behind their more distant Armoured Personnel Carriers the squads that had followed on from Calidius’ lead caught on, just after Lieutenant Gratius did.

  “Hit cover! Incoming!” He yelled so that all within earshot could at least have the maximum chance to obtain what little shelter was available.

  To the west of the prominent golden curves of the Dome of the Rock a squ
are bell tower exploded in a hail of harsh silver sparks, the embers of magnesium melting through the surrounding buildings’ roofs and setting their interiors alight. The bright dancing lights were a parody of the fireworks seen in the skies of the Empire when the main Solstice Celebrations were in full swing. The Solstice Celebration fireworks however were much higher in the sky and would be hard pressed to be visible during the day. This blast, however, had no such difficulty. The force of the blast almost took the pale blue domes next to it off with its ferocity, but they were not to be spared as they too erupted with the same crescendo as the tower next to it. As the tops were blow off the blue domes a secondary explosion rumbled into being shaking the very earth upon which the entire column was sitting.

  “What the HELL…” Sergeant Curtius started to exclaim as the rumble reached ear-splitting proportions.

  The entire building that had housed both the tower and the delicate domes lifted off the ground and a jet of white fire spewed out of its narrow entrance. The entire world seemed to go silent as the structure reached the parabola of it journey. A wall of shock and noise burst from its landing point as the impact of its fall and the shockwave of the explosives set by the Black Guard flattened several thousand meters of the city.

  As peace re-asserted itself a wail rose from the prisoners who had realised what had been decimated by the charges set by the Black Guard. Their visceral pain echoed from the surrounding hills as the Christian contingent of the prisoners realised the result of the blast. The Empire had eradicated the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This was, according to their belief system, the place where their god-figure’s avatar had been killed and then resurrected. Several of them fell back to their knees and wept unashamedly in the face of such a cruel attack on their beliefs. Others were held back by members of their family in their anger, and in many instances individuals of other faiths who understood their pain given their own mythology was so tied in to this landscape.

  Lieutenant Gratius, although not a believer, was staring at the smoking crater is disbelief when he overheard a Black Guard. The Black Guard had still not emerged from their sheltered position.

  “Well, that’s one down. Just wait till they get a load of this!”

  Sergeant Curtius had also heard the throwaway comment, “Oh Shi…” he exclaimed as everyone around them threw themselves back towards their cover.

  The destruction of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre seemed as nought compared with what followed, intentionally or not the Black Guard had emulated the rains of fire and brimstone so inherent in the religions they scarred that day. There was a deep bass bump, which seemed to come from everywhere around the Squad. Nothing appeared to happen on the surface but there was an increase in the amount of wind towards the city. Silence once again reigned supreme, but all lived in dread of what would happen next as the anticipation hung in the air suffocating almost as much as the drawing of air towards the city. As it seemed that nothing untoward would happen; the entire earth dropped from under the column. Even though most people were lying on their fronts to reduce the target they presented to the blast, this unexpected gravitational assault winded all of them. As breath returned and eyes turned towards the city all realising that this was but the start of an event never to be repeated. Just below the golden dome in the centre of the city, a series of ancient walls blew outwards - dull thuds punctuating the sequential detonations. Surprisingly the Dome itself, close as it was to this amount of explosive, held its position and did not fall. It was then that it became apparent it was not falling because it was slowly rising, in one piece. It was borne aloft on a silver and white column of flames much like a pre-Imperial rocket launching toward the cosmos. Just as it was starting to slow its ascent the ground around the complex dropped in a circular formation, the sinkhole growing exponentially and a wall of white air flew outward ripping the Dome to shreds, the fragments of gold lost in the sheer power of the explosion. Buildings dropped into the crater forming around where the dome had stood and as the sound of the explosion hit the prisoners and the soldiers alike the world went truly silent. The panorama of continuing destruction became surreal when the sound disappeared. It was impossible to believe in the scale without an iota of sound to gauge it by. It became increasingly difficult to do that even visually as a cloud of dust obscured the scar left where much of the city had been, until recently. The dust being of larger particles than the sandstorm they had previously endured did not clog the senses it assaulted them as fragments of rubble battered at the cover and prone bodies indiscriminately. The haze and smaller dust particle felt unclean as though they were the dead and breathing them in was somehow cannibalistic. Many retched soundlessly as the particles made their way into the respiratory tract and they were disgusted by the feeling.

  Then the shockwave hit, rendering all unconscious, save for the Black Guard and approximately half of the Squads who had managed to shelter behind their APC’s but even they were unable to raise themselves for a good number of minutes.

  Chapter 10

  “Surely releasing what-ever this other weapon is in the centre of the rebel controlled area would be more effective than on this minor outpost? I know tactically it has been a thorn in our side for a while as it meant the rebels had warning of many of our assaults, but there’s nothing much it can do if there’s no-one to warn.” General Hostilius regretted the words even as they came out of his mouth. Questioning an Investigator was an idiotic idea, much less one that had so clearly taken leave of her senses.

  “You forget yourself General. Not only am I now in command of this mission - one that you have failed to complete, I hasten to add, - but the objectives of this mission have changed due to your failure. We are no longer seeking to end this little uprising as quickly as possible. Those who would throw off the rule of the Empire must be shown what the consequences of rejecting the rule of Sol Invictus are. We are to build a legend so dark that none would dare rise up again. The nature of this weapon is such that by instigating a strike on a minor target, albeit one that is tactically significant, it will achieve this end much better than simply launching it into the most densely populated area. That would be too quick. We need to let the fear spread as they try to figure out what is going on. When they realise the terror of their situation we unleash the penultimate weapon at our disposal.” Investigator Celeris shouted, clearly in the depths of some religious fervour from the depths of her being. Although her external demeanour was mainly calm and measured the cracks were beginning to show as a glint in her eye betrayed the pleasure she felt at the thought of what was to come.

  “General, despite the fact that you are clearly flawed in your approach to this campaign I will allow you some share of the honour. You may enter the command to launch the second of the weapons I have selected. The second horseman shall be unleashed on the ungodly, exactly as their heathen beliefs say that it shall. This horseman is named ‘Plague’ and shall tear through their ranks. The only way to contain it with the facilities at their deposal is for them to eliminate their own as and when they show signs of the sickness. This may or may not be enough, but it will sap their spirit.”

  General Hostilius knew that he should refuse the veiled order, this knowledge was not from any teaching of the Empire but from the confines of his own being. He knew that no human should inflict that degree of suffering on another, even when ordered by an Investigator with the authority of the Patriarch himself. A use of biological weaponry was not only disproportionate to the objectives but the deployment was in such a manner as to spread slowly through the ranks of the rebels and not to bring an end to the siege quickly. The outlying outpost would be infected and they would slowly spread the disease through the rest of the rebel lines as the troops were rotated. At first nothing would be noticed as illness would be relatively normal but the exponential growth would then panic the rebels as they would be brought low without the certainty of enemy action to define their losses. They would then be forced to quarantine anyone with sign
s of the contagion. The prudent course of action would be to exterminate anyone with the symptoms of the illness and burn the bodies. In the cramped quarters the rebels occupied this would merely serve to slow the spread. General Hostilius pondered if he could refuse to enter the firing instructions into the computer, but he quickly realised this would not help matters for the Investigator having superior clearance would just kill him and enter the order herself. With marked reluctance, he stepped towards the consol and entered the activation codes.

  As people managed to find their feet around the squad, their mouths opened in horror at the consequences of the explosion. They cared not for the ringing in their ears that obliterated all other sound, for their agony was predicated on a more fundamental level. All that they had spent their lives believing in had, in that one instance, much of its earthly presence removed. The places that had reminded the prisoners of their steadfast doctrine in the face of such oppression from the Empire had been wiped clean away. Many of the scriptures to which they had subscribed described the eternal agony of being removed from their Gods presence and his love. Such separation was described as a black hole of despair that tore at the very soul of those so sentenced to spend an eternity in that place absent of that which they hoped to enjoy. In that moment of realisation after seeing the crater that had been Jerusalem, they began to feel the indeterminable agony that this described. The structures, which by their physical presence on earth had been such a comfort and served to bring them closer to the eternal of their worship, were suddenly ended and thus brought a sense of non-permanence to their beliefs; a set of beliefs that had depended entirely on permanence and eternity.