Turning Point -Warhammer 40k Fan Fiction

Chapter 2 - Crossing the Line

    “Gregor,” Joseph whispered, mostly to himself.  Suddenly light-headed, Joseph felt like he was watching himself in a dream.  He looked down at his own hand in horror, realizing that he was still pointing his smoking las-pistol at Gregor's head.  Involuntarily, his hand slowly lowered itself and he looked back to his friend spread on the floor before him.

         “So you're here to kill me?”  Gregor kept his eyes transfixed onto Joseph's.  “Get it over with then!” his reply full of venom.  Joseph felt his anger rising from within. 

         “What are... what are you doing here Gregor?” Joseph started, clearing his throat mid-way.  “I thought you were smarter than this...”

         “When you didn't show up, I figured you were just too scared, or maybe even brainwashed.  But now, I see that you just want glory from your precious Guard; even if it means both of our deaths." Gregor stopped, turned his head to the side and spit blood.  "I only ever wanted to see the galaxy. I didn't want to die a pawn in someone else's sick game,”  Gregor spouted defiantly.

         “Didn't show up?  What the hell are you talking about?  You're the one who deserted the Guard.  You wanted to be free, so you joined the very power we've fought and bled to defend against?” Joseph reasoned, still feeling the dream-like edge surrounding this whole encounter.

         “What?  It's not like that... Damnit Joseph!  You should know me better than that.”  A defensive yet hurt tone surrounded his statement.

         “Sorry?” Joseph pondered, shaking his head slightly.  “I know you better than what?  You leave without saying a word, and now you're here shooting at the very men you used to risk your life trying to protect?”  Joseph felt a righteous anger fuel his words.

         Moving slowly, Gregor used the wall behind him to leverage himself up painfully to his feet.

         “We didn’t know for sure if the regiment would find us so quickly.  We’re not aligned with the enemy.  We’ve already had two firefights this morning with them just to get here.  Besides, I told you everything in the letter.  You did read the letter, didn't you?” Gregor asked, while moving his hand away from his shoulder wound, checking for blood.  Trace amounts of it was trickling from his mostly burnt wound.

         “What letter?  I never got a letter.”

         “The one I left in your gear.  When we all took weekend leave, I got back earlier than you did.  I wrote down everything in the letter.  Damnit, I risked everything to get us this chance!” Gregor looked down, suddenly lost in deep thought.

         “Why?  What did it say?”

         “Joseph, someone’s after you.  You’ve been marked for the Black Ships,” Gregor stated, ignoring the original question.

         “What are you talking about?”

         The Black Ships were the bane of every imperial citizen’s existence.  Known simply for the large black space ships that were used, those unlucky enough to be marked as heretics and possible psychics were handed over without question, only to have the majority of them ritually sacrificed.

         “The Black Ships, Joseph.  Someone has pegged you dangerous.”

         “The Black Ships?” Joseph pondered.  Recall sharpened in his mind, and one thought came forward.  One horrible and devastating thought… the Inquisition.

         Seeing the knowing look in Joseph's eyes, Gregor spoke up again.  “I was filling out my leave request just a few hours after you already left for yours.  I was outside of the office, just a few meters away from the communications room, waiting for Thatch to return.  That’s when I overheard the communicae.  Someone has given your name over to the Inquisition, the Ordos Hereticus.  They think you may have carried with you a taint from the enemy.” Gregor's voice began to rise in volume as near panic set in his words.

         The Inquisition was by far the single most feared institution in the Imperium of Man.  Without rival in authority and power, they relentlessly hunt all that threaten man, from without and within.  Their unquestioned jurisdiction allowed them to operate without mercy, not leaving a single possibility of threat to chance.

         “That makes no sense.  Why didn’t they detain me when I got back from leave yesterday?” Joseph replied weakly, slowly absorbing the whole situation.

         “From what I could hear, they instructed that you were to be watched carefully.  But they were adamant about keeping you un-informed.  They wanted to bide their time until a transport was available in-system.”  As Gregor relayed the story to Joseph, his breathing slowly became erratic as his body began to go into shock.

         Joseph could only look his friend into his eyes to know that he was telling the unadulterated truth.

         “Look, while in the city for leave, I found a rogue trader captain in town that needs two gun-hands.  We can use this to start a new life, maybe get away from this war and make a fortune... all of this was in the letter.  I was sure you'd check your gear.  You always were so damn adamant about that.  Where did that letter go?  Damnit Storm…”

         “Don't call me that, I hate it when you call me that...” Joseph interrupted.

         “Stor.... Joseph, listen... there’s still a chance we can get out of this.  The person on the communication said that it would take up to three days before the ship could arrive.  If I can slip out and hide for a bit, when you get back you can meet me in New Gherin.  There's a bar called the Angry Anchor in the port area.  A captain Vin Holson is our contact.  We can start a new life and make a fortune for ourselves.  Storm... sorry, Joseph... this is what we always wanted, what we always talked bout.”  Gregor's words were filled with haste, as outside of the hall the fire teams further in the building were finishing their search.

         “I don't know, Gregor... this is crazy.”  Joseph no longer even believed his own words.  “I don’t even know how we’ll get you out of here…”  Joseph was instantly cut short, as a cracking shot rang out from the doorway behind him.

         In what seemed like the longest second of Joseph's life, he watched in horror as Gregor's face was twisted violently to the side and exploded into a mist of blood and bone.  His best friend's body slumped harshly against the wall and slid down, leaving a red trail of blood and gore.

         Joseph turned around and saw Private Dereje Novo standing in the doorway, holding his smoking las-gun in front of him.

         “Wha... wha... what did you do?” Joseph demanded, his voice straining to be more than the whisper it was.

         “I killed a traitor, Storm,” Novo replied flatly.  He walked across the room to where Joseph was standing, and stared over the dead body of Gregor.  He still had his gun raised, keeping it trained on Joseph.
 
         “Were you actually going to stand there and talk to the traitor all day?  No, I bet you were going to help him,” Novo spat.

         Joseph didn't reply immediately, shock still stalling his mind and slowing his words.  “He... he was wounded, I had him under control.”  Joseph slowly started to regain his composure.

         “Don't give me that.  I found the letter Joseph.”  Novo began to smile.

         “You went through my gear, you stole from me?” Joseph said accusingly.  Joseph felt his grip tightening around the las-pistol at his side.

         “Spare me the drama!  I saw him put it there, and I saw him looking through the Colonel's office.  I know what he was trying to do.  I always knew you were dangerous… tainted!” Novo exclaimed, relishing the accusation against Joseph and ending his speech with a devious smile.

         Outside the hallway, Joseph could hear footsteps making their way towards the room.  Novo's words faded away in his mind, and fury started to overtake him.

         “You should have shot me while you had the chance,” Joseph whispered, almost too quiet to hear.

         “What are…” started Novo.

         The brilliant flash of the blast from the las-pistol interrupted Novo, and the utter look of surprise on his face struck Joseph as comical.  His rifle went off, exploding into the wall behind Joseph.  Due to the extreme close range of the pistol’s shot, the las-bolt burnt its way cleanly through Novo’s chest and ended its blazing path into the wall behind.  Novo fell backwards without a cry, crashing into the broken flooring behind him.
 
         Walking up to the dying man, Joseph spoke as Novo's body began its death spasms, his arms flailing and thrashing about.  Joseph stared into the man’s eyes, watching as the spark of life slowly extinguished.  “You never should have taken that letter.”

         Joseph blinked slowly, and stared down incredulously at his once again smoking las-pistol.  The fury that had clouded his mind, his entire being it had seemed, dissipated and left him in a state of disbelief.  Cries of alarm echoed from outside the hallway, and the clatter of footsteps rose in volume.

         Re-holstering his las-pistol, Joseph wiped the sweat off of his brow.  Stopping his hands in front of his face, he could see how bad they were shaking.  He quickly dried his hands with his shirt, and moved towards the door.  He stopped after a few steps, and took a final look back at his best friend's corpse.

         “I'm sorry Gregor.  I’ll never forget what you did for me!” he apologized.

         Remembering Novo's last words, Joseph looked towards the doorway and saw no movement or shadows yet.  He hurried across the room to where Novo was lying.  Searching the corpse’s jacket pockets, Joseph sighed in relief as a folded note was found in the top right breast pocket, just inches away from the smoldering crater left from the las-shot.  He quickly secured the light paper in his own breast pocket, and once again made for the doorway.




         Outside of the hab building, the remaining squad members were sitting quietly, waiting for the called-in transport truck already on its way.  As Doc was busy patching up two of the soldiers, the Colonel made his way over to where Joseph was sitting alone.

         “Colonel,” Joseph nodded.  “How is he?”

         “Doc said Briggs is gonna make it.  You know how stubborn the man is,” the Colonel joked.  “It looks like Harrison will be fine too, although he may need a new arm from the elbow down.  Poor bastard took the bad end of a frag grenade.”  A few moments of silence went by as the sky above rumbled the warning of a weather change.  “I'm sorry, Joseph.  I know he was your best friend.  I know it wasn't easy,” the Colonel said quietly.

         Joseph looked at the Colonel and nodded, trying to ignore the iron grip his stomach felt clinched in.  He purposely kept his hands in his front pockets, hiding the fact that they were shaking from the earlier confrontation.  A slow drizzle started to fall from the sky.

         About a half hour ago, Corporal Johnson had made his way to the room just as Joseph was about to exit into the hallway.  Without words, Johnson had assessed that in the firefight Novo had been shot and died instantly.  Gregor and the other unidentified man had been killed in the result of the confrontation.  Joseph had said nothing, but just nodded weakly to affirm the Corporal's findings.

         Every time Joseph started to think about the ramifications what he had done to Novo, his mind replayed Gregor's fatal shot.  Joseph found no remorse for killing one of his own, but knew that he had now crossed a line.

         “War does crazy things to a man,” Joseph explained.  “In the end, all we have is our loyalties.”  Joseph found himself surprised at his own words.  He felt empty and emotionless at this critical time of his life.

         “The Emperor protects,” the Colonel added, nodding in agreement.  “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm recommending you for a commendation when we get back.  Storm, you're not only our best, but you are truly everything the Guard embodies.”  The Colonel didn't wait for a reply, but merely placed his hand on Joseph's shoulder, nodded, and walked away.

         A small chuckle began to form in the back of Joseph's throat.  He had crossed a line, and was about to receive yet another award.  The chuckle quickly turned into a strange laugh.  Joseph turned his head upwards towards the sky, where rain fell progressively harder onto his face.  The Colonel's words still ringing in his head, Joseph suddenly felt sick.  The laughter quickly died away, and he climbed unsteadily to his feet.  Unsure of who he was or what he was doing anymore, Joseph walked out of sight and vomited.



         Joseph exited the debriefing room, rubbing his eyes and fighting down a yawn.  The debriefing itself had gone by without confrontation, but Joseph still felt the unease of knowing the truth.  Although he detected that the Colonel and the Corporal were holding something back, he still knew that they did not recognize the truth of the final events inside of the hab building just few scant hours before.

         All leave had been cancelled for the men on base, prompting all sorts of angry yet controlled outbursts.  Fatigue kept Joseph from wondering too much about what may be going down behind the scenes.  The blank stare and pained gait of the men passing by him in the hall evoked in Joseph a strong likeness to that of zombies from countless horror stories told by family and friends in his youth.  Everything in Joseph’s world seemed to be crashing down around him.

         The sudden and loud report of a transport returning to the garage outside served to remind him of the war that was still being waged not far from their position.  Joseph’s regiment had done more than their fair share of fighting in the past month, the men’s morale plummeting even further into dangerous levels.

         He quickened his step and made for his private bunk.  Once he was sure he was alone, he sat on his bed and pulled out the folded note from his breast pocket.  Opening the letter, he read the neat hand-written words, so typical of Gregor:

          “Joseph, I have left the Guard, and I'm making my way to New Gherin, the main port city of this planet.  I am to meet with a Captain Vin Holson to discuss terms for us to join his crew.  I know you have a thousand questions, but please read the next line carefully.  Someone has reported you to the Inquisition.  The Black Ships are to arrive in two days from the day I wrote this.”  Joseph noticed the date in the top right-hand corner of the flimsy paper.  If what he was reading was true, and Joseph automatically felt inclined to believe every word, tomorrow should mark the arrival of the Inquisitor.

         Although he had heard these words from Gregor himself, they still had a shocking quality to them.  Joseph read on: “I’m not sure of why you have been singled out, but I over-heard the communiqué myself.  They think you have been tainted, or are otherwise a danger to us all.  Joseph, when you and I joined the guard, we had dreams of glory and battle.  However, these past eight months have opened my eyes to what this universe really has to offer.  We have already outlived the life expectancy for the average soldier of the Imperium, and I feel my luck may already run out.  We joined together to strike out and achieve our destiny in the stars.  We are a long, long way from home.  A home that I’m afraid neither of us will ever see again if we stay our course.  I have struck an agreement with this Captain to take both of us on as gun hands.  It seems your fame has preceded you, as he has heard your name in passing.  This is our one chance for a reprieve.  When your father told you to seek out your destiny, he didn't mean for you to die a horrible, meaningless death.  I also know of your purity and compassion.  Just as I have never doubted you, I won’t start now.  I have left ahead of you, feigning to join deserters from our regiment so that I can get to New Gherin using an alternate route, where hopefully I will not be looked for.  I hope to see you soon my brother.  Comrades forever, Gregor.”

         The note in front of Joseph began to blur.  He used his free hand to absently wipe away the tears that were forming.  A battle began to take place in his mind, as the realization of the futility in his current course and the fear of an unknown life took hold.  The life his father had tried to push him towards on that hot summer days seemed suddenly lost forever.  He closed his eyes as the battle inside him raged further, until he no longer sensed the world around him.  With the thousands of thoughts racing through his mind slowly floating away like driftwood down a river stream, Joseph fell asleep.




         “Hey, give it back!” he yelled, as the two much taller boys stood over him laughing.  “It’s mine!”

         “If the baby can get it, the baby can have it!” the older one mocked, holding the wooden toy higher in the air.

         It was already the second time this week that they had taken one of his few toys.  Joseph had only a few scant possessions, one of the drawbacks of being a child in a large and financially challenged family.

         “Hey look, I think he’s going to cry!” taunted the other one, as he grabbed the wooden sword and began to toss it back and forth with the older brother.

         “Tell you what, if you can take it from us, we’ll never touch your baby toys again,” explained the eldest brother.

         He lowered the toy just within reach of Joseph.  Seeing the opportunity (and at the tender age of 9 not understanding the trap laid for him), Joseph grabbed for it.  Waiting until the last moment, the older boy spun around and kicked the legs out from under Joseph.  Sprawling hard to the ground, he hit with a loud thud that took the breath from his lungs.  Stunned and embarrassed, Joseph’s eyes began to tear up.

         Seeing the tears rolling down their younger brother’s cheeks, the two older boys began to laugh even louder.

         A sudden calm seized over Joseph, and his demeanor changed.  Seeing the change in the young boy, the eldest once again held the toy just within reach.

         “Uh oh, looks like he means business now!” he taunted, dangling the edge of the wooden sword near Joseph’s face.

         Without a word, Joseph kicked his eldest brother on the side of his right knee.  The force from the blow buckled the older boy’s knee, causing him to fall on his hands and knees in front of Joseph.  Grabbing the wooden toy from the stunned boy’s hand as he fell, Joseph quickly spun into a round-house kick that caught his brother’s chin.  The practiced maneuver landed flush, sending the older brother into a roll several feet back.

         Joseph’s young keen eyes caught the other brother’s movement to his left.  He quickly turned to meet the new threat head on.  A rather large fist was inbound for his head.  However, Joseph had no problem at all picking up the threat.  He easily dodged the slow moving arm, and was able to move inside his brother’s guard.  A knee to the stomach brought his brother’s head down just enough for Joseph to throw a devastating uppercut, landing squarely on the boy’s chin.  Like a drunk trying to stand on his feet, his brother took a few staggered steps and collapsed to the ground, no longer laughing.

         Suddenly realizing what he had done, Joseph looked at his hands and stood amazed.  For too long he had taken their abuse without as much as a push back.  This time, something inside him seemed to take over.  Fear began forming inside of his mind, as he felt as if he was no longer the same, and that his life would forever change.

         Hurried footsteps echoed outside of the barn, and Joseph knew his father had heard the commotion coming from the boys fight.  Scared of his father’s wrath, Joseph contemplated running.  He started for the door on the other side, pulling at the handle to open it.  Seemingly stuck, he darted for the side panel that he knew would slide just enough for him to escape into the fields outside.

         Just as he was about to make it into freedom, a hand grabbed him from behind.

         “Joseph!”




         Joseph awoke violently, finding himself suddenly short of breath.  Sweat trickled down his brow and he quickly wiped it away.  Not sure of where he was for the moment, he scanned the dark surroundings.  With a wave of relief, he saw that the note was still held tightly in his right hand.  He folded it up, and put it away inside of his pocket.

         Checking his chronometer, he saw that it was roughly eight hours after he had left the debriefing.  The barracks were quiet, with the occasional snore breaking the silence in small increments.  There was only about forty minutes until the place came alive again.  He remembered that they had another set of patrols in a few more hours, and the briefing on their new assignment.  Joseph had scant few minutes to make a decision.  Somehow he must elude the guards and escape into the city.

         Joseph pulled up his gear bag, and grabbed the belt holster from the nearby cabinet.  Un-holstering the las-pistol from its compartment, he stared at the family crest engraved into the handles.  Flashbacks from the day before broke into his conscious thoughts.

         He remembered the fatal shot that had shattered the face of his friend, the long agonizing moment of watching his body fall and rest into a pool of blood.  The numbness that had overtaken him at that moment was now replaced by grief; the loss of a friend that he would no longer share the future with. 

          Joseph’s mind then replayed the devastating blast that he himself had created, scoring the large hole in Novo’s chest.  He tried to feel grief for committing a murder.  Remembering the disdain he had already felt for the man and the fact that he taken away over twenty years of friendship, hatred welled up in Joseph’s heart.

         Joseph had crossed the line and found himself upon a turning point, and he had done so willingly.  The deeper he searched inside of himself, the more he knew that what he did was right.  He would have gladly done it again.

         Joseph had his answer.  He was no longer an Imperial Guardsman.  Now, his whole life was much more complicated.  He wasn’t simply a soldier.  He wasn’t simply a murderer.  He wasn’t simply the son of a poor hab farmer looking for his place in the universe.  He was now the master of his own destiny.  But he was also the object of the Imperial Inquisition’s interest.

         Re-holstering his weapon, Joseph strapped his belt around his waist.  Gathering very few of his belongings (which mostly consisted of a couple change of clothes, a picture of his father, and some loose credits), Joseph tossed them quickly into a draw-string bag.  His chronometer showed only twenty minutes time for him to make good his escape.  If he was quiet and lucky, he could take one of the small jeep transports in the shop and make way for New Gherin while the few men guarding the barracks were on patrol.

         For the first time in a long while, Joseph felt fear.  Fear of not only the unknown, but the gripping terror that great change brought.  This also stirred an excitement into him.  Passing through the main hallway where a guard was reading a data-slate, he slipped unnoticed into one of the large open hangars.  Finding a suitable transport, Joseph grabbed the labeled decoder key off of the wall.

         Pushing the smaller entrance door to the side of the hanger open, he left just enough room for the jeep to have clearance.  Checking quickly, he only had ten minutes left to leave without notice.  He figured it would take an hour or two for people to notice his absence.

         Throwing the jeep into neutral, he pushed it as quietly as possible, fearing that the engine starting would stir trouble.  His natural strength helped it move with ease, as he finally cleared the doorway into the cold dark morning.  Carefully closing the entrance behind him, Joseph pushed the jeep a minute or two more.  Satisfied that the engine noise would be minimal at this range, he inserted the decoder key, and the jeep hummed to life.

         Looking back one last time, Joseph quietly said goodbye to the friends and bonds he had made.  Far off in the distance, a couple of troopers were repairing some of the targeting drones in the field, but their attention was not in Joseph’s direction.  Turning back to the road ahead, he depressed the throttle and started towards New Gherin.  He started towards his new life.