“Can’t say I’m glad to be here, captain, but a war’s a war, and we go where the Emperor wills us. Did you arrange these billets?”
Daur glanced around at the mouldering sheds where the Tanith First were breaking out their kits and lighting lamps in neat platoon order.
“No, sir,” he replied sheepishly. “I wanted better. But space is at a premium in the hive just now.”
Corbec chuckled. “In a place this big?”
“We have been overrun with refugees and wounded from the south. All free areas such as the Commercia, the Landing Field and the manufactories have been opened to house them. I actually requested some superior space for your men in the lower Main Spine, but Vice Marshal Anko instructed that you should be barracked closer to the Curtain Wall. So this is it. Gavunda Chem Plant Storebarns/Southwest. For what it’s worth.”
Corbec nodded. Lousy chem plant barns for the Tanith Ghosts. He was prepared to bet a month’s pay the Volpone Bluebloods weren’t bedding down in some sooty hangar this night.
“We’ve cleared seven thousand square metres in these sheds for you and I can annex more if you need room to stack supplies.”
“No need,” Corbec said. “We’re only one regiment. We won’t take much space.”
Daur led them both into the main hangar space where most of the Ghosts were preparing their billets. Through an open shutter, Corbec could see into another wide shed where the rest were making camp.
“My men have dug latrines over there and there are a number of worker washrooms and facilities still operational in the sheds to the left.” Daur pointed these features out in turn. “So far, the main water supplies are still on, so the showers work. But I took the liberty of setting up water and fuel bowsers in case the supplies go down.”
Corbec looked where Daur indicated and saw a row of tanker trucks with fuel clamps and standpipes grouped by the western fence.
“Sheds three, four and five are loaded with food and perishable supplies, and munitions orders will arrive by daybreak. House Command has requisitioned another barn over there from House Anko for use as your medical centre.”
Corbec gazed across at the rickety long-shed Daur pointed to. “Get Dorden to check it out, Mkoll,” he said. Mkoll flagged down a passing trooper and sent him off to find the chief medic.
“I’ve also set up primary and secondary vox-links in the side offices here,” said Daur as he led them through a low door into what had once been the factory supervisor’s suite. The rooms were thick with dust and cobwebs, but two deep-gain vox units were mounted on scrubbed benches along one wall, flickering and active, chattering with staccato dribbles of link-talk. There were even fresh paper rolls and lead-sticks laid out near the sets. The thoroughness made Corbec smile. Maybe it was the worker-mentality of the hive.
“I assumed you’d use this as your quarters,” Daur said. He showed Corbec a side office with a cot and a folding desk. Corbec glanced in, nodded and turned back to face the captain.
“I’d say you had made us welcome indeed, Daur, despite the facilities granted us by your hive-masters. Looks like you’ve thought of everything. I won’t forget your trouble in a hurry.”
Daur nodded, pleased.
Corbec stepped out of the offices and raised his voice. “Sergeant Varl!”
Varl stopped what he was doing and came across the hangar space double-time, threading between billeting Tanith. “Colonel?”
“Rejoice. You’ve won the supplies duty. Those sheds there,” Corbec glanced at Daur for confirmation, “are for storage. Raise a detail and get our stuff housed from the trucks.”
Varl nodded and strode off, calling up volunteers.
With Daur and Mkoll beside him, Corbec surveyed the activity in the billet. “Looks like the Ghosts are making themselves at home,” he murmured to no one in particular.
“Ghosts? Why do you call them that? Where are you from?” Daur asked.
“Tanith,” Mkoll said.
Corbec smiled sadly and contradicted the sergeant. “Nowhere, Captain Daur. We’re from nowhere and that’s why we’re ghosts.”
“This is the only space available,” Commissar Langana said flatly.
“Not good enough,” Dorden said, looking around the dimly-lit hangar, taking in the shattered windows, the piles of refuse and the layers of dust. “I can’t make a field hospital in here. The filth will kill more of my regiment than the enemy.”
The VPHC officer looked round sourly at the doctor. “The vice marshal’s orders were quite specific. This area is designated for medical needs.”
“We could clean up,” Trooper Lesp suggested. A thin, hangdog man, Lesp was skulking to one side in the doorway with Chayker and Foskin. The three of them represented Dorden’s medical orderlies, troopers who had been trained for field hospital work by the chief medic himself. Gherran and Mtane, the only other fully qualified medics in the unit, were looking around behind them.
“With what?” Dorden asked. “By the time we’ve scoured this place clean, the war will be over.”
Lesp shrugged.
“You must make do. This is war,” Langana announced. “War levels all stations and makes us work with the bravery in our limbs and the ingenuity in our minds.”
Dorden turned his grizzled face to look directly into the puffy visage of the political officer. “Do you make that crap up yourself, or does someone write it down for you?”
The orderlies behind him tried to cover their sniggers. Gherran and Mtane laughed out loud.
“I could break you for such insolence!” Langana spat. Anger made his cheeks florid.
“Hmm?” Dorden replied, not seeming to hear. “And deprive an Imperial Guard regiment of their chief medic? Your vice marshal wouldn’t be too happy to hear about that, would he?”
Langana was about to retort when a strong, female voice echoed through the dirty space.
“I’m looking for the doctor! Hello?”
Dorden pushed past the seething commissar and went to the door. He was met by a short, slim, young woman in a form-fitting red uniform with embroidered cuffs. She carried a medical pack over one shoulder and was escorted by five more dressed like her: three men and two women.
“Dorden, chief medical officer, Tanith First.”
“Surgeon Ana Curth, Inner Hab Collective Medical Hall 67/mv,” she replied, nodding to him and glancing around the dingy hall. “Captain Daur, your liaison officer, was troubled by the state of the facilities and called my hall for support.”
“As you can see, Ana, it is a long way short of adequate,” said Dorden with a gentle gesture that took in the decay.
She frowned at him briefly. His use of her forename surprised her. Such informalities were rare in the hive. It was discourteous, almost condescending. She’d worked for her status and position as hard as any other hiver.
“That’s Surgeon Curth, medic.”
Dorden looked round at the woman, surprised, clearly hurt that he had offended her in any way. Behind Dorden, Langana smiled.
“My mistake. Surgeon Curth, indeed,” Dorden looked away. “Well, as you can see, this is no place for wounded. Can you possibly… assist us?”
She looked him up and down, still bristling but calming a little. There was something in his tired, avuncular manner that made her almost regret her tone. This was not some bravo trooper trying to hit on her. This was an old man with slumping shoulders. There was a weariness in his manner that no amount of sleep could ease. His lined eyes had seen too much, she realised.
Ana Curth turned to Langana. “I wouldn’t treat cattle in a place like this. I’m issuing an M-notice on it at once.”
“You can’t—” Langana began.