V2 Chapter 133: I Lost, Major General. I Am... Not Your Equal.
By the time Duvette's shuttle entered Delavere's flagship, the cruiser's hangar deck was already under 112th Combat Group control.
The shuttle hatch opened and air carrying the smell of propellant and burned metal rolled in. On both sides of the hangar, destroyed gun servitors and defence servitor wreckage lay where they had fallen. The deck was covered in scorched impact marks.
The Second Assault Infantry Regiment had secured the hangar corridors, the upper command deck, the communications compartment, and the main transit routes leading to the bridge. The cruiser was still an enormous vessel and many of the lower decks remained sealed, but for what Duvette needed to do, the core areas were enough.
As Duvette walked down the shuttle ramp, 112th Combat Group soldiers along his route stopped and saluted.
The enemy ship's crew and armed ratings crouched along the corridor walls and tried to raise their heads to see who was coming. The soldiers guarding them pressed them back down with rifle stocks, telling them in low voices to keep their heads down.
Duvette did not stop.
He walked forward through corridors that still bore heavy signs of the engagement. Bodies from the earlier fighting were still visible. The weapons of the vessel's armed crew, defence servitors, and Heldane's Inquisitorial strike team had been gathered and piled to one side.
When he reached the command bridge, the situation there was entirely under control.
The officers on Delavere's bridge had at least been spared the indignity that the lower-deck ratings were enduring. They had not been made to crouch on the floor. They had simply been gathered and held to one side, standing in the corner with expressions that were deeply unhappy, flanked on all sides by armed Second Assault Infantry Regiment soldiers and Inquisitorial Storm Troopers.
Anderson saw Duvette and came forward immediately.
"Commissar."
Duvette gave a nod.
Anderson delivered his report. "Based on Delavere's communications, there are still ground force formations that have not acknowledged the ceasefire. One is the Gantine First Noble Soldiery. The other is Heldane's directly attached Inquisitorial strike team."
He paused.
"Heldane himself has been confirmed as having left the flagship. His likely destination is the planet surface."
Duvette turned to the hololithic tactical display at the centre of the bridge.
On the surface, the Gantine noble troop markers were still tangled with the Tanith defensive line. Elsewhere, several small signals representing Inquisitorial strike teams were moving toward the ruins, with a handful already being suppressed by ground forces.
"Understood."
Duvette looked at the communications station.
"Raise Evan. Have three 112th direct-attached regiments encircle the Gantine noble soldiery. Order them to break the formation and disarm them."
He looked at the markers on the hololithic display that were still pushing forward, and his voice hardened.
"Any that continue to resist are to be executed on the spot."
The communications officer relayed the order immediately.
Duvette did not look at the star chart again. He turned and walked toward Delavere.
The Imperial general's hands were still bound. Two Inquisitorial Storm Troopers stood at his sides. His uniform was dishevelled, the anger in his face not yet fully faded, but he could no longer conceal that he had lost.
Duvette stopped in front of him and showed a smile.
"Good day, General Delavere."
Delavere's expression darkened further.
Then his eyes widened as Duvette reached to his hip and drew the power sword.
For the first time, something changed in the expression of the man who had been treating Duvette with contempt until moments ago.
"What are you doing?!"
Duvette did not answer.
Delavere's voice rose immediately. "You should know that killing an Imperial general without authorisation is a capital offence. Duvette Erdmann, you will be branded a traitor for the rest of your days!"
The power sword came down.
The blade passed across the front of Delavere's wrists.
When Delavere opened his eyes again, his hands were free. The severed restraints fell to the floor with a quiet sound.
Duvette returned the power sword to its scabbard unhurriedly.
"You have lost."
He looked at Delavere, his voice level.
"I am not going to do anything to you. Am I, General Delavere."
Delavere did not speak immediately.
He looked down at his wrists, then back up at Duvette. The fury and confusion on his face alternated and then were both pressed down by force.
He became aware, suddenly, that the young Major General-Commissar in front of him had something about him that was very difficult to look past.
This was not simply the posture of a victor, and it was not only the weight that came with command authority. He stood at the centre of the bridge, and every armed soldier around him moved as though they were naturally oriented toward him.
A thought surfaced in Delavere's mind.
This man looks as though he was born to stand at a command station, the kind of man who leads millions, like that legendary Lord of the Sun of old...
He drew a breath and forced those thoughts down.
"What do you want?"
Duvette did not answer immediately.
He turned and walked to the command bridge's observation window. Through it, the barren surface of Menazoid Epsilon turned slowly below, with the residual energy flares from the fleet engagement still visible in the distance.
"Do you know what you actually wanted?"
Delavere's brow came together.
Duvette continued. "What is down there is not an ordinary relic from the Dark Age of Technology. It is a complete STC."
Delavere's expression shifted slightly.
"You knew?"
"I knew before you did." Duvette said. "It can produce Men of Iron. Genuine Men of Iron."
Several officers on the bridge changed colour.
Duvette looked back at Delavere.
"But that STC has been exposed to Chaos corruption. If you had made contact with it carelessly, what you would have received is not military distinction and it is not the leverage to climb to a higher position."
He said: "What you would have received is Men of Iron out of control, Chaos contamination, and the destruction of the entire crusade."
Delavere's expression continued to worsen.
He looked at Duvette, his voice dropping.
"Heldane never told me any of this."
Duvette did not interrupt him.
Delavere said through clenched teeth: "He only told me that there was a legacy down there sufficient to change the course of the war. He said that if we controlled it, the crusade would have the strength it needed, that the war for the Sabbat Worlds could be concluded ahead of schedule. And that I would also be able to take the position of..."
He stopped. For the first time, something that looked like doubt appeared in his eyes.
"He kept the most dangerous information from me."
Duvette turned back and shrugged.
"That's correct."
He looked at Delavere.
"He was using you. Wasn't he."
Those words gave Delavere somewhere to stand.
The General's expression eased slightly. He could not accept being defeated face-to-face by a Major General-Commissar, but if the entire situation had been built on Heldane's deception and manipulation, there was at least an explanation for it.
He was about to speak, to ask what Duvette intended to do next, when the lights on the command bridge flickered.
Duvette's expression changed immediately.
A short, sharp tone came through the communications equipment. Several bridge officers clutched their heads at the same moment. The next instant, Delavere pitched forward and went down hard.
His body began to convulse. His eyes rolled back. Blood ran from his nose, the corners of his eyes, and his ears.
"Medicae!"
Duvette stepped forward quickly.
He could feel a cold psychic force tearing at Delavere from within. This was Heldane's contingency. The horse-faced Inquisitor was exceptionally skilled at controlling others through psychic means.
"Damn it."
Duvette's eyes sharpened.
Silence activated immediately.
The invisible Reality Anchoring Field spread across the several metres around Delavere. The cold psychic force was cut off as though severed at the root. Delavere's convulsing, twisting body went still almost instantly.
He was still bleeding. His breathing was disordered. But the death-like convulsions had stopped.
Duvette turned and raised his voice.
"Medicae personnel, now!"
Delavere could not die. Not here, not in front of him. That would bring an entirely different category of trouble.
The vessel's medical team came through the bridge hatch quickly. Several medicae officers dropped to their knees beside Delavere and began administering injections, sealing the blood sources, and monitoring his cerebral and neural responses with portable instruments.
Duvette stood to the side and watched the Imperial general's condition.
Time passed.
The fighting outside the vessel had been fading. Delavere's ceasefire order and Duvette's counter-directives were taking effect. Fleet exchanges had dropped sharply, and only scattered fire remained in low orbit.
On the ground, the main engagements were also approaching their end.
The Gantine First Noble Soldiery had been pressed back to the western ridge and surrounded by three 112th direct-attached regiments and the three Tanith light infantry regiments. Encircled by forces several times their strength, the formation's coherence began to collapse.
Units that continued to resist were eliminated individually. Those who put down their weapons were gathered and secured.
Heldane's directly attached Inquisitorial strike team was also broken. The several groups that had attempted to approach the ruins entrance were entirely stopped by Kleist's Eisenmark Armoured Regiment and the entrance defence line.
The only problem was that Heldane himself was still unaccounted for. But an Inquisitor whose method of operation was psychic manipulation from a distance was not a serious threat once you knew where to look. A pass with the Grand Strategic Display once he was on the surface would be enough to find the rat.
When the surface reports came in, Duvette was preparing to head down to the planet to deal with the ruins.
He was turning to leave when the medicae officer spoke.
"He's conscious."
Duvette stopped.
Delavere lay on a temporary medicae stretcher that had been brought onto the bridge. His colour was grey. There was still blood around his eyes and below his nose that had not been fully cleaned. He opened his eyes and looked at Duvette standing in front of him.
In that moment, his expression became very difficult to read.
He had felt death come close. He also understood now who had wanted him silenced.
Heldane had tried to kill him.
Duvette had saved his life.
He looked at the young man, and that strange feeling surfaced in him again. The man stood there as though he had been born to command everything around him.
Delavere's lips moved.
Duvette stepped closer and lowered his head.
A faint voice reached him.
"I lost, Major General."
Delavere paused. His breathing was quiet.
"I am... not your equal."