Fourth Archive room/fear
The man Michael Goldenrodhad been addressing as Ibram Gaunt throughout the ceremony was sitting in a make-up chair, deep in the bowels of Headquarters, waiting for the prosthetic skin that lightened his complexion to be safe to remove. "You think I fooled them?"
"They can't exactly say something about it now?"
"I'd still feel better knowing I convinced them, he's a great man."
"Careful what you wish for, every report I hear, it seems he's had another unit loss. He's not having an easy life."
"But he is doing what a commissar is meant to do, drive the troops, motivate them, instruct them."
"And so do you, you're a general-commissar, for cripes sake!"
"Yeah, but duty on terra's political, and rather safe, except if you attract the wrong kind of ally, or enemy... Not like here."
"He's had half his regiment shot out from under him."
"Still, you can't let that stop you, you gotta soldier on. Losses or no, you owe it to the remaining forces, and allied units."
"Hmm, yeah, I'll grant that point. We saw that at the ceremony."
"Yeah, my putative father's most favored protégée."
"Yeah."
"How come you're his executor though?"
"Do you have to ask?"
"Yeah, I actually do."
"Because his will was all routine, waiting, plodding and only a little investigative work. She'd have been wasted at it, she's all about charging at the enemy."
"Hmm, wait, I hear something."
"Sirs, if you're going to be relaxing in this archive room, you're going to be noticed..."
"Marsha?"
"Yes, Commissar Sir."
"You knew I wasn't the real Ibram Gaunt?"
"I suspected, but, I'm sure, you had the best of reasons. And I saw the sash was genuine, so whoever you were, you weren't pretending to be a commissar."
"Err, no, I wasn't." That was probably charitable of her, Verlaine-pretending-to-be-Ibram thought to himself, I've been going through the motions a bit lately... But then, he'd heard of this wunderken from Verlaine Oktar, going through the academy like a mouse through soft cheese, except for anything to do with physical activity, which is why she wasn't Commissar Petit's equal, and Michael's senior. "You're the quartermaster here?"
"Interim Divisional Quartermaster for 22nd Imperial Division-Terra, Sir, yes Sir." For a division? She didn't even look thirty! Oh, but wait, she'd gone to school with Michael and Carmine... Maybe she just looks youthful... Not that a NCO that young with that high rank wasn't already impressive. "We should have kept you in the loop, Sar-Major, my apologies."
That was generous, Michael thought, as the junior commissar here, he was the one who was supposed to be apportioned blame, except for when they were caught red-handed. "How do you even get in here, Marsh, it's a maze!" He didn't want to admit why he hadn't suggested inviting her into the plot, especially since she'd been the one to tell everyone about the event in the first place, if not the subterfuge.
"Being the most petite woman in the regiment helps, gentlemen, also helps me figure out if I've gotten guests..." Both commissar's lanky frames and athletic builds were not made for such cramped quarters, she thought. Hmm, nice view though, she added to herself. "I'd have loved to have been of service, Sirs. This older archive is for very old, insecure files, perfect for your purposes, as long as I don't have to file anything in here because the other archives are full..."
"You've made your point Marsh, obviously, we need you to continue keeping our secret... I don't need to make that an order, do I?"
"I'd just ask you to put it in writing sir..." She dimpled at him, she loved using regulations to her advantage, and few won at this game, against her.
"As a Lord-Commissar, Sargeant-Major, I don't fall under this particular restriction..." He let a bit of frustration in his voice show through.
"I only have your word for that, Sir, and if I knew who you were, that'd only prove that you're not who you're pretending to be..."
"Marsh, can't I just owe you, in exchange for keeping this quiet?"
"Mike... You already owe me a lot..." Finding our commanding officer in your bed had been a shock... Keeping it a secret for morale purposes was pretty obvious, but also pretty grating...
"I'd rather you owe me than you find out if our weapons are real, instead of ceremonial, if you know what I mean? We are under orders, from the Crusade Commissariat office itself, to keep this quiet, with extreme prejudice..." That was a slight exaggeration, maybe, but the details were not for distribution.
Marsha paled. Michael wasn't exaggerating much, he had a tell when he was fibbing, he'd raise his eyebrows, and wriggle them, he couldn't help himself, only, he wasn't doing that now. Maybe going along was in her own best interest...
"Ok, commissars, consider my silence yours."
"They can't exactly say something about it now?"
"I'd still feel better knowing I convinced them, he's a great man."
"Careful what you wish for, every report I hear, it seems he's had another unit loss. He's not having an easy life."
"But he is doing what a commissar is meant to do, drive the troops, motivate them, instruct them."
"And so do you, you're a general-commissar, for cripes sake!"
"Yeah, but duty on terra's political, and rather safe, except if you attract the wrong kind of ally, or enemy... Not like here."
"He's had half his regiment shot out from under him."
"Still, you can't let that stop you, you gotta soldier on. Losses or no, you owe it to the remaining forces, and allied units."
"Hmm, yeah, I'll grant that point. We saw that at the ceremony."
"Yeah, my putative father's most favored protégée."
"Yeah."
"How come you're his executor though?"
"Do you have to ask?"
"Yeah, I actually do."
"Because his will was all routine, waiting, plodding and only a little investigative work. She'd have been wasted at it, she's all about charging at the enemy."
"Hmm, wait, I hear something."
"Sirs, if you're going to be relaxing in this archive room, you're going to be noticed..."
"Marsha?"
"Yes, Commissar Sir."
"You knew I wasn't the real Ibram Gaunt?"
"I suspected, but, I'm sure, you had the best of reasons. And I saw the sash was genuine, so whoever you were, you weren't pretending to be a commissar."
"Err, no, I wasn't." That was probably charitable of her, Verlaine-pretending-to-be-Ibram thought to himself, I've been going through the motions a bit lately... But then, he'd heard of this wunderken from Verlaine Oktar, going through the academy like a mouse through soft cheese, except for anything to do with physical activity, which is why she wasn't Commissar Petit's equal, and Michael's senior. "You're the quartermaster here?"
"Interim Divisional Quartermaster for 22nd Imperial Division-Terra, Sir, yes Sir." For a division? She didn't even look thirty! Oh, but wait, she'd gone to school with Michael and Carmine... Maybe she just looks youthful... Not that a NCO that young with that high rank wasn't already impressive. "We should have kept you in the loop, Sar-Major, my apologies."
That was generous, Michael thought, as the junior commissar here, he was the one who was supposed to be apportioned blame, except for when they were caught red-handed. "How do you even get in here, Marsh, it's a maze!" He didn't want to admit why he hadn't suggested inviting her into the plot, especially since she'd been the one to tell everyone about the event in the first place, if not the subterfuge.
"Being the most petite woman in the regiment helps, gentlemen, also helps me figure out if I've gotten guests..." Both commissar's lanky frames and athletic builds were not made for such cramped quarters, she thought. Hmm, nice view though, she added to herself. "I'd have loved to have been of service, Sirs. This older archive is for very old, insecure files, perfect for your purposes, as long as I don't have to file anything in here because the other archives are full..."
"You've made your point Marsh, obviously, we need you to continue keeping our secret... I don't need to make that an order, do I?"
"I'd just ask you to put it in writing sir..." She dimpled at him, she loved using regulations to her advantage, and few won at this game, against her.
"As a Lord-Commissar, Sargeant-Major, I don't fall under this particular restriction..." He let a bit of frustration in his voice show through.
"I only have your word for that, Sir, and if I knew who you were, that'd only prove that you're not who you're pretending to be..."
"Marsh, can't I just owe you, in exchange for keeping this quiet?"
"Mike... You already owe me a lot..." Finding our commanding officer in your bed had been a shock... Keeping it a secret for morale purposes was pretty obvious, but also pretty grating...
"I'd rather you owe me than you find out if our weapons are real, instead of ceremonial, if you know what I mean? We are under orders, from the Crusade Commissariat office itself, to keep this quiet, with extreme prejudice..." That was a slight exaggeration, maybe, but the details were not for distribution.
Marsha paled. Michael wasn't exaggerating much, he had a tell when he was fibbing, he'd raise his eyebrows, and wriggle them, he couldn't help himself, only, he wasn't doing that now. Maybe going along was in her own best interest...
"Ok, commissars, consider my silence yours."
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