Turning Point -Warhammer 40k Fan Fiction

Chapter 3 - The Captain

The nine-hour drive to the port city of New Gherin was pretty much un-eventful.  The monotonous jolting from the poorly maintained road was only broken a couple of times.  Twice, an Imperial speeder had hovered by above the roadway, and each time Joseph had breathed a sigh of relief when the regimental standard on the side was not that of his own.

         It was now well into the afternoon, where the sun shone its brightest and hottest.  The wind from the open-topped jeep had kept him relatively cool during the morning ride, but now it was no longer adequate to stop Joseph from perspiring. 

         Stopping briefly to speak with a disheveled man who looked like a local, Joseph was able to find out exactly where the port district of the city was located.  Once confident with the given directions, he returned to the road and found himself near his destination within ten minutes.  No longer wishing to chance being discovered by the authorities, he stopped about a mile away from the cluster of bars and dilapidated buildings by the docks.  Parking behind two large transport containers, he grabbed his gear and started for the docks.

         The city around him was bustling with life.  Scores of pedestrians and road traffic polluted the city with a roaring ambience.  Joseph wouldn’t have a hard time at all blending in with the large crowd moving through the streets.  Plenty of off-duty guardsmen, some still in their fatigues, strode about the street, moving from bar to bar.  Vendors and street performers held captive the people caught strolling by their places on the sidewalk.  Joseph had a passing memory of the circus he’d visited a couple of times during childhood on his home planet.  Smiling briefly at the fond memory, Joseph hoisted his draw-string bag behind his back and continued his short walk towards the docks.



         The docks were a conglomeration of both traditional sea transport locations and star-dock pads.  The busiest section of the planet, the docks served as both the local and off-planet traveling hot-spot.  As such, multitudes of bars and clubs lined the streets opposite of the port.  Because of its huge economic earnings, the Guard was desperately fighting off the Chaos horde to protect New Gherin.  It was vital for not only the planet, but the very system.

         Once on the main strip of the docks, Joseph quickly found what he was looking for.  Sitting between a burned out building and the Sinking Clam, stood the desolate and beaten-down Angry Anchor.  The red neon lights were near the end of their life, as half of the letters blinked on and off rapidly.  Despite its appearance, however, people were streaming in and out of the place.  Most of the bars in the area usually doubled as a hospice on the upper floors, providing rooms barely able to accommodate more than a single bed and a small nightstand.

         Standing directly in front of the Angry Anchor, Joseph double-checked Gregor’s letter.  It seemed without a doubt that the run down building in front of him was where his future awaited.  The Captain would be found here.  Neatly folding the letter and placing it back into his pocket, he started for the door.  The pulsing beat from the loud music inside had already started to replace the noise of the city behind him as he stood in line to enter the busy bar.  After a brief stare and subsequent nod of the head from the door man, Joseph found himself inside.

         The Angry Anchor was surprisingly bigger in the interior than its outside appearance would hint at.  A large open area directly in front of him served as a dance floor, filled with drunken patrons moving and thrashing to the pumping beats that the vox speakers blasted.  Encircling the entire outside portion of the dance floor was the bar area where multitudes of people were sitting on the stools drinking and mingling with each other.  There were easily thousands of people in the place. 

         The crowd itself seemed a mix of just about every type of person Joseph had seen in a city.  Several spots were taken by gang members… off-worlders were making deals in the smoky corner by the windows facing the water… and local dock workers were found sitting at several tables by the women dancing on poles.  Off duty guardsmen were found all over, drinking, gambling, and trying to pick up the local pleasure girls.  As far as anyone knew, Joseph was just another guardsmen looking to kick back and relax.

         “What’ll it be?” asked a large heavily tattooed bartender as Joseph approached a stool.

         “Just give me a shot of Dragonfire,” Joseph answered back.

         Grabbing two bottles from beneath the tabletop, the bartender poured a measure of each into a shot glass and handed it to Joseph.  Nodding to the bartender, he grabbed the glass and swallowed the thick spicy drink.  The familiar burning sensation from his favorite drink warmed his belly.  He ordered a locally brewed beer and threw a few imperial coins on the counter.

         “I’m looking for someone,” Joseph notified the bartender.  The burly tattooed man didn’t respond, but merely raised his eyebrows in question.  “He’s an off-worlder, a rogue-trader.”

         “We get a lot of those around here, in case you can’t see for yourself,” the man replied, starting to walk away.

         Joseph grabbed the man’s arm and looked him straight in the eye.  “His name’s Vin Holson.”  The man shook the hand off of his large arm, his lips pursing together as he turned again to face Joseph.

         “So you’re the merc he’s been waiting for?” he half-asked, slowly nodding his head.

         “I am.  Tell the captain I’ll be waiting over at that table by the window there,” Joseph responded, leaving his seat and relocating to the table nearby.

         The pulsating beat echoing through the establishment changed slightly, as a new song vibrated the entire area.  Some of the crowd on the dance floor moved harder, showing their appreciation to a familiar tune.  Joseph slowly nursed his beer as the minutes went by.

         A man on the other side of the room seemed to take a sudden interest in Joseph.  He caught the man’s stare a couple of times, and began to stiffen up.  Slowly, Joseph readied his hold-out pistol in the back of his belt.

         “Well, well, well, what do we have here?  This is a killing machine?  Looks more like a lost farm boy if you ask me.”  A large man, looking to be in his early forties sat down the seat opposite of Joseph, his lips forming a cocky smile.  His long silvery hair was tied back into a ponytail behind him.  His dark brown eyes were deep-set into their sockets, automatically giving the man a shady demeanor.  He wore a long black cerise jacket, through which Joseph could easily tell the man carried a holster and gun inside of.  Another man, heavily augmented on his face, sat beside him.

         “Who…” Joseph started.

         “The name’s Captain Yrius Vin Holson, my boy,” he interrupted.  “And this is my number one, Adrium Strom.”  The man next to him nodded slightly, his metal implants shining as the light above the table glimmered off of them.  “You must be…”

         “Joseph Vintros… and I am not your boy,” he stated with disgust.

         “Well, Joseph, it seems that you and I have some business to discuss.  Where is the gentleman whom arranged this meeting?  Did he find a better offer, my boy?”  The captain replied jovially as if oblivious to Joseph’s clear and rising frustration.

         “It’s Joseph, and no, he didn’t find a better offer.  He’s dead,” Joseph said with a dry and serious demeanor. 

         “Oh,” the Captain simply stated.  Leaning back in his chair he signaled a waitress nearby.

         Seemingly unaffected, the Captain continued “So you’re looking for a way off-planet?  I can accommodate, but for a price.”

         “I heard, you need a gun-hand.  I’m good with a gun.  So I’ll help you for a week or two and then we part.”  Joseph ordered another local brew and turned his attention back to the Captain.

         A hearty laugh erupted from Vin Holson.  The metallic man sitting on the side exchanged a nervous smile between the two men.

         “A week or two?  Now you’ve got to be pulling my chain, my boy.  We’re talking at least six months, if I’m feeling charitable, and if you’re good enough with that gun.”  The Captain pointed to the holster around Joseph’s waist.

         “For the last friggin time, I’m not your ‘boy’.  And it’s a month at the most.  I don’t think you understand…”

         “Now listen to me boy,” the Captain started, the jovial tone falling quickly out of his voice, “It’s you who does not seem to understand.”

         Joseph promptly glanced outside of the nearest window as a local arbites patrol cruised by.  Quickly placing his hand to cover his face, he turned his body mostly towards the inside of the bar.  The Captain, noticing his body language and motion, raised an eyebrow and smiled.

         “Exactly my point, my boy.”  Vin Holson spoke, emphasizing the last part.  “You reek of trouble, and not just the local kind.  You haven’t been released from the Guard, have you?”

         Joseph, once again checking out the window to see the patrol now gone, faced the Captain. 

         “You knew the situation when you talked to my friend.  I don’t believe you to be that naïve.”

         “I might have, but the point is still there.  You’re lucky I’m even considering taking you on, my boy.  Six months, maybe less if you prove yourself extra valuable.”

         Struggling to hold back his anger, Joseph downed the rest of his beer and stood up.  The chair behind him swung back violently and loudly crashed to the floor.

         “I think I’ve made a mistake, this meeting is over.”  The crowd nearby focused their attention on the scene Joseph was making.

         “It was a pleasure doing business, please refer your friends.”  Captain Vin Holson replied in a pleasant manner.  Snickers from the crowd around them erupted as Joseph left the table and headed for the front exit.  “I’ll be here if you change your mind.”  The Captain exchanged a knowing look with his number one.

         Pushing through the crowd of people, Joseph made his way towards the door.



         Once outside of the dingy bar, Joseph took a brief second to breathe in slowly the cool sea air.  He slowly calmed himself from the earlier confrontation with the extremely arrogant Captain.  He had made a mistake to try and trust a rogue trader captain, but Joseph still knew there was no going back now.  He looked around at one of the close by sea transports.  If he could get passage to the main city of Pasius, he could arrange off-planet travel there under an assumed identity.

         After speaking with three of the docks local sea transport captains, Joseph found one that didn’t require logged travel and took imperial coins without question.  He paid for a one-way trip to Pasius and was told the boat would leave in about an hour.

         Finding a quiet spot underneath the docks (and appropriately out of sight), Joseph sat down on the hard damp rock.  He set his gear bag down and used it as a pillow.  Adjusting his chronometer to wake him in fifty minutes, he lay down and tried to catch a quick nap.



         In a sudden violent jolt, Joseph awoke underneath the wooden planks of the docks.  His back protesting from the harsh bed of rock, he slowly regained his sense of awareness and checked his chronometer.  He had five minutes before his alarm was set to wake him.  Stretching to a big yawn, he dusted off his pants and stood up.  Gathering his gear bag and shouldering it, he started his short walk to the ship that should be shortly ready to embark.

         Twenty feet from his destination, Joseph stopped dead in his tracks.  The Captain of the ship with whom he’d arranged transport with was speaking to Corporal Trent Johnson.  Flanking the Corporal on each side was a guardsman, but with their backs to Joseph he didn’t recognize the men.  Thoughts raced through his mind as he ducked behind a stack of crates nearby.

         The men talked for about a minute or two, then Joseph noticed the ship Captain pointing to his ship and watched as the Corporal nodded.  Beckoning the two soldiers beside him, they walked towards the ship and boarded.  Absently wiping the sweat that started trickling down his brow, Joseph thanked his luck that he had awoken early and had a chance to witness this startling scene.  Five minutes later, and he would have been ambushed.

         “There’s no such thing as luck, my son.”  Darius Vintros’s voice echoed from his past.  “Fate will reveal to you the way, and sometimes it sweeps you along without warning, and without choice.”

         How did they find him?  He had been careful to watch for any signs of being followed, and he had spoken to no one.  With a buzzing sense of dread churning in his stomach, Joseph realized that the jeep must have had a tracking device on it.  In his haste to leave he had forgotten that very simple fact.  Now he had to watch every step.


         After carefully sneaking his way back to the main strip of bars, Joseph reluctantly had to admit to himself that going back into the Angry Anchor was his best choice.  The large crowd would allow him to blend into the background until he could find another shipmaster to get off-planet quickly.

         The door bouncer merely nodded to Joseph and let out a short grunt, letting him pass inside without question.  Time was now a factor that worried Joseph.  He needed to find a shipmaster fast.

         Music still blaring, and the dancers on the floor still grinding to a similar beat, Joseph milled his way through the crowd back over to the bar near the rear.  A different and larger bartender listened for his order.

         “I’ll have a beer.”  Joseph flipped a coin onto the bar.  “Where can a man find passage off-planet?”  He took out four more golden coins and handed them directly to the large man.

         The man said nothing as he took the pieces of imperial currency and placed them in his pocket.  He reached underneath the bar and slammed a cold bottle of beer in front of Joseph.  Eyeing him briefly, he finally spoke.

         “You’d be wanting to deal with some Rogue Traders, aye?”

         Joseph showed his assent with a nod of his head.

         “Dangerous sort, they are.  Not for the easy folk,” the bartender spoke in his thick local accent.

         “Don’t fret, I’m not easy.  I’m looking for some work, and travel off-planet.”

         “And just how soon you be lookin’ to go?” the large man folded his arms and leaned on the bar top.

         “The sooner, the better.  I’ve had enough of this planet,” Joseph lied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

         The burly bartender let loose a haughty, wet laugh.  It sounded to Joseph more like the cough of a dying man.  “Borge will set you up.  You just wait at table in corner there.”  He pointed to Joseph’s right hand side where a table sat with two unoccupied chairs.  Nodding briefly, Joseph grabbed his beer and walked to the corner, sitting in the chair against the wall.  Taking a small nervous sip of his beer, Joseph viewed the entire scene in front of him and waited.


         Five of the longest minutes in his life went by as Joseph sat impatiently staring at the main floor area of the crowded bar.  Joseph knew that pretty soon a search party would enter the bar.  It was only a matter of mere minutes.

         Scanning carefully around him, Joseph made a mental note of all the exits nearby.  Most of them were obstructed and a couple even blocked by various patrons standing around.  The few options left for a quick egress left Joseph feeling on edge.

         Trying to be as subtle as possible, he reached inside of the bag underneath the table.  Grabbing the smaller and much less powerful hold-out pistol he had inside, Joseph quickly tucked the metal object underneath his shirt and trapped it in the lining of his belt.  If there was to be trouble, a shot or two might buy him just enough time to leave.

         The sudden jolt of a beer mug crashing down on the table top caused Joseph to jump back a bit in his chair.  Taking a seat almost at once, the man whose beer had almost caused Joseph to pull out his sidearm, smiled and stuck out his hand.

         “Captain John Fraskin, at your service,” the disheveled man spoke.

         Looking around in confusion, Joseph reluctantly took the dirty hand proffered across the table.  Absently wiping away the excess moisture and grime from his hand, Joseph surveyed the so called ‘Captain’.  His somewhat plain yet ragged clothing gave no hint or clue as to whether the man was an off-worlder or native.  Now that the breeze from the air coolers inside of the bar was blowing his way, Joseph was able to nose the man sitting several feet from him.

         Not waiting for Joseph’s reply, the man continued.  “I hear you’re looking for a crew to join.  I hear you’re in a hurry, too.”

         “Time stops for no one, stranger,” Joseph replied, still wary and unsure if this man truly had a ship and crew to represent.

         A hearty and almost comical laughter erupted from the man.  “Aye, the old bastard despises us all.  You need a ship, and I need another gun hand.  And it just so happens we leave tonight.”

         Movement from the front of the room caught Joseph’s eye.  Three men dressed in brown-green fatigues had just entered the main entry-way.  Two of them broke off and started addressing the bartenders nearby.

         “Tonight may not be good enough.  I need to leave now… or at least get out of eye-sight,” Joseph told the man, leaning lower to the table and looking at him directly in the eye.

         “That hot, huh?”

         “Scorching,” Joseph replied flatly.

         “Ok, if you can get to port 24 on the star side of the docks, you’ll see my ship.  She’s the Armigosa.  We’ll discuss terms there.”  The Captain spoke in a much quieter tone, all humor leaving his voice.

         One of the bartenders in the far right hand corner pointed in Joseph’s general direction.  The men in fatigues nodded and started towards the back of the bar.

         “Port 24, star side.  Don’t be long,” Joseph affirmed.

         “Go.  I’ll be there in under an hour.”  The dirty Captain rose and started to walk away from the table.  Stopping in his tracks, he reversed, grabbed his almost forgotten beer, and winked at Joseph before walking away. 

         Grabbing his bag, Joseph downed what was left the bitter local beer he had been nursing and started towards the back exit.  He had almost made it to the door when a tall and burly man stepped into his path.

         “Stand somewhere else, friend,” Joseph said in a not too friendly tone.

         “I’m not your friend, little man,” the giant replied.

         Always ready for trouble, Joseph readied himself for a fight.  He shifted his bodyweight ever so slightly and expected the brawl to start at any moment.

         “It looks as if you’ve found your way off-planet, my boy,” came a voice from behind Joseph.  Nearly jumping out of his skin, he turned slightly to see Captain Yrius Vin Holson standing a few feet to his right side.

         “What is this?” asked Joseph.

         With a slight wave of his hand, the Captain signaled to the large man blocking Joseph’s way.  The big man grunted and left.

         “Don’t worry about Kuro.  He’s just anxious to fight since things have been relatively quiet,” Vin Holson replied as he stood opposite of Joseph.

         “What do you want?  I’m in a bit of a hurry, and I thought we understood each other,” Joseph said impatiently.

         Looking around Joseph’s shoulders and seeing the military men in the fatigues searching the crowd, the Captain merely smiled and nodded. 

         “Yes, I can see that.  Your friends seem to be quite intent on finding you, my boy.  I guess that’s why you’re so hasty to find transport.  So hasty that you’d take up with that twit, Friskin.”

         “It’s Fraskin.  And yes, I am in a hurry.  But at least he’s not annoying and arrogant,” Joseph stated.

         “No, but when one fails to find the time to bathe properly, twit is quite appropriate.  And if you think he’s in bad shape, wait until you see the crap of a ship he calls home,” Vin Holson replied, whistling at the end to add emphasis.

         “Look, I don’t have time for this.  Pardon me if I don’t say goodbye,” Joseph said and tried to urgently push his way past the Captain.

         With surprising strength, the Captain grabbed Joseph by his upper arm and held him in place.

         “I only warn you because this ‘Captain’, this ‘twit’, is the type of man who’d sell his own mother if the price was right.  You go to that ship, and you might as well walk to the gallows yourself.  That’s what they do to a Guard deserter, don’t they?”

         Caught by surprise and suddenly overwhelmed with fear, Joseph pulled his hold-out pistol and pointed it at the Captain.

         “Back off, I’m taking my leave,” Joseph said in an uneven whisper.
         Calmly taking a step aside and raising his hands slightly in the air, the Captain let Joseph past him.

         “Just take a good look before you board that ship.  Be a shame for you to give up so easily.  It’s not what Gregor would want,” the Captain called after him.

         Ridden with fear, confusion, and a strong dose of adrenalin, Joseph barged out of the exit door and ran off to the relative safety of the crowds bustling by the docks.  He turned back only once to see the Captain standing near the exit door inside.  Captain Yrius Vin Holson waved briefly and shut the door.



         Hearing voices down the narrow corridor of the docking tunnel, Joseph quickly slid behind a stack of nearby crates.  He had made good time getting to the port, never slowing from a brisk walk.  So far, he had seen no signs of the Guard or the local authorities.  Now that he was almost there, it was time to take every precaution necessary.

         After a brief conversation, two mechanics who had been talking at the far end of the tunnel split up and walked away in different directions.  Now clear of people, Joseph made his way to the end of the tunnel and walked into the vast open space that served as port 24’s spaceship dock.  Several large and unimpressive merchant class ships and a couple small rogue trader vessels sat dormant on the landing pads in front of him.  On the furthest landing pad to his right stood a small and weathered ship.  Without even looking at the vessel’s name, he could tell it was definitely Fraskin’s ship.

         Most of the workers and mechanics were too busy to even notice Joseph as he walked towards the small vessel at the back of the port.  Joseph eyed them carefully to make sure he wasn’t being watched or followed.  He was only twenty feet away from freedom.

         Suddenly, Joseph stopped dead in his tracks.  The five guns trained on him may have given him pause, but it was the stern face of Corporal Trent Johnson that froze him.