Melting wings

melting wings

Chapter one

“Brothers and sisters,” a voice echoed through the ancient church. “Our day of ascendance is to be upon us.” The preacher a young-looking woman, head shaved stood at the pulpit. “The great beast has heard our prayers, she stirs, and she answers. Soon the world be one with nestlings,” Though slender and fragile in appearance, her presence was awe inspiring. The congregation hung on her every word. The church was large, a desecrated imperial eagle hung on the wall. Its wings replaced by clawed hands. The golden pillars daubed with new hymn and passages. Whichever god was worshipped prior, was dead now in the eyes of the parishioners. “Let us pray.” Everyone’s head bowed as silence now filled the place of worship.

The preacher left the stage, her mind at peace at spreading their god’s word. Retiring to her chambers for a moment to meditate. Her office was spacious, with bookshelves lining the walls. Filled with tomes that some might call heretic. What did the ecclesiarch know? Their god emperor sits dead on his heathen throne. The great beast called to her, to spread words of unity and peace. All non-believers will be consumed and used to great the new world. She picked up her data slate, checking her itinerary for the rest of the day. A meeting with the planetary governor, grok she thought. Yet to be part of her church. Palm greased with gold has kept the arbites away. His son was a devout worshipper, when the old man passes less will have to be given to the greedy bureaucrats.

“Sister Miltred,” a young man dressed in his ceremonial robes. Tall, aesthetically pleasing in the fire light. The preacher looked up from her data slate and smiled. “The governor is raising our tithe again, claiming the adeptus ministorum has risen the planet’s taxes.” It was grox dung and she knew, the governor was leaning on her again. The congregation wasn’t yet big enough if the governor wanted to remove us from Daedalus. She wouldn’t risk the lives of her followers, but it was harder to keep paying. Imperial crowns were running low and she’d be damned if she was going to raise her congregations’ weekly tithe. They were the poor and the outcast of the hive world. Miners, the homeless and the destitute. They came to her pleading for peace and escape from the tyranny of their betters.

The priestess clasped her hands and brought her index fingers tented to her top lip. Contemplating her next move. Too soon for an assassination attempt. “Deacon, we need another recruitment drive in the underhive,” Miltred calmly spoke. Imperial politics was a messy web of lies and power plays. “We cannot allow the governor to starve our people anymore. Once the numbers have risen, we can become more public. Shame the governor into allowing our heretical worship is allowed. He’ll be unable to stop us without the inquisition finding out.” Sitting back, her browed furrowed in worry. “We need to take this hive with minimal bloodshed. ”Miltred knew full well that some of the upper hivers teens would rebel and go to the slums. Hopefully they’d join our holy crusade and be pilgrims to their home spreading the holy word.

The governor’s office was covered in gold, everything gilded. The room almost blinded her. Her stomach clenched, the wealth on display alone could feed the underhive for months if not years. When she took power, it was going to change. The poor would eat proper food, not the recycled filth they pass as edible. A corpulent man, by the name of Gregor von sect, sat behind what seemed to be an expensive marble desk, fresh fruit in a bowl and cooked meat on a platter in front of him. Pulling a chunk of meat of meat from the leg some bovine leg with his teeth, he was holding in his fat hand. Grease and blood ran from his over engorged chins. As he sucked and chewed, the sight sickened the priestess even more.

“Now, my dear. How can help my favourite heretic?” Miltred flinched, repulsed at the obvious flirting. The ball of animated grease, which tried to pass as human smiled. Meat stuck between rotted teeth and bleeding gums. Drool ran down the many chins. He slathered, inhaling more meat. Chewing loudly, mouth open as the flesh was pulverised to a paste in his mouth.

“Our agreed payment,” the priestess managed to mutter through bile and acid reflux. Handing over a sack of golden coins. Holding her breath as the money exchanged. As repulsive as the governor looked, it was nothing compared to the smell. Old sweat, ammonia and faecal matter. Thinly veiled by a mixture of overpriced perfumes and soaps. A chubby hand reached and brushed her cheek.

“You know, there is other ways to pay. Not just financially.” The priestess’ mind flashed with images of strangling the flabby bureaucrat, her hands reaching under the many chins. Fantasies, the crushing sound of his larynx, the final gargling of phlegm and saliva as he made his final death rattle. Miltred struck the hand away, her faced creased with disgust. “that was a mistake you disgusting wench, the tithe has now increased to ten thousand.” He snarled, his purple face turning red with rage.

“I can’t afford that, people will starve. How am I expected to continue aiding your people?” dejection filled her eyes. Her thoughts of the starving populace growing brought sorrow to her heart. Was her body and dignity a fair price. She quickly waved the thoughts away. “I’ll get the money,” biting off the insult. Not to make the situation worse. He had her in a corner and he knew. Anytime he could call the inquisition or the arbites and destroy all the work she had done. Soon the great beast will rise and then those in charge will bow to her.

Storming out the room, her deacon waiting. “How did it go?” oblivious to the frustration on the priestess’ face. She marched on angrily, footsteps filling the corridor.

“That pig, he repulses me.” Snarling through clenched teeth. “Tonight, I am going out on the mission with you. Make sure the church officials are out tonight. The revolution has been brought forward; get some sleep it’ll be a long night.” The venom in her voice was tangible. The zealotry was contagious.

The underhive was miserable and rotten. No human should live here nor animal. Not just by the degrading living spaces, but just survival alone. Gangs were rampant holding up their styles of justice. Corpses littered the street, disease was rampant. The smell was palatable, the air tasted worse than it smelled. People boxed in habcubes like tinned fish, water was black with pollution. Animal waste was everywhere. The populace, dour and beaten down, accepting of their lot in life. Crime was epidemic, thievery, murder and everything else daily routine. A giant rat was gnawing on some poor soul’s chest, they had been dead for days. Never missing, no one ever went missing just forgotten about one less mouth to feed, more food for everyone else. A crowd gathered around, what could be roughly called the town square. Miltred stood in the centre of the throng of bodies, food carts in the background. Food was a great motivator for recruitment.

“Brothers and sisters, the emperor has forsaken you.” The priestess exclaimed, dressed in her finest ceremonial robes. Bright pinks and purple, lined with gilded trim. The great beast winding her frame in silver, the head bisected where the robes separated at the fasteners. “Only this morning, I was asked to meet with your governor,” she paused making sure all eyes were on her. The opening was a massive risk. Her mission could have ended there, with bullet to the skull. She wouldn’t have been declared dead, even in this environment some underhivers were notoriously devout. “He eats on expensive meats, while you all starve. His dogs eat meats flown in from orbit, while your children starve.” She had their undivided attention now. “We have brought food enough for all to have a good meal, not the usual recycled filth you are forced to eat. Sealed military rations. All we ask is to attend our church tomorrow. You will all get a meal, a meal that is freshly cooked.” The food today was for attention, tomorrow people will be willing to accept the great beast. They’ll save tomorrows rations so they can enjoy our feast. Humans like all animals are more compliant when hungry.

The night was going as planned, orderly queues at the food carts. The armed guards mingling and talking to the residents. Medical teams aiding the sick, handing out vaccinations and medicines. Job recruitment having contracts signed. A few scuffles, but that was to be expected, no weapons were drawn and no one was killed. The arbites stayed clear, thanks to high donations to their retirement fund. Miltred knew the coffers were running low, this was the only way to stem any bloodshed. To her surprise there was even some officers here out of uniform taking pamphlets and copies of bestia libro. All of it was risky, only took one to pass on to the authorities. Her whole church would be burned to the ground and that fat bastard would probably actually get up to urinate on the ashes.

Soon morning came, everyone was clearing up including some of the residents. Exhausted, tired and sore, Miltred smiled full of pride. Her whole team had worked beyond what was asked. The town square looked clearer than when they arrived. The residents bustled about tired going to their jobs, some to new employers. She had even hired some new help herself, boasting better pay and accommodation. The militia was forming soon the hive and Daedalus would be hers and the great beast will reward her fondly. She checked her chronometer, there was a couple of hours before the sermon, time enough to get some sleep.

Miltred rose from her cot, grabbed her data slate with the day’s sermon. Bleary eyed headed towards the pulpit. Clearing the last of sleep, she looked out to the congregation expecting a few new faces. The room was full, both sitting and standing. People jostling to get closer. Children were on laps to make room. Men standing making space for the elderly and infirm. Gangers rubbing shoulders with arbites officers, the rich seated next to mutants. She couldn’t have hoped for so much. Exhaling deeply the priestess begun.

“Brothers and sisters, our fair world is under attack. Not by aliens or chaos, but by gluttony and greed.” The words rolled from her mouth, practised a million times since the great beast first spoke to her. “Our governor sits in his gilded palace, while you stand in filth.” The congregation was silent, in awe with every word. “The emperor and his servants get fat, while you hunger. Is this fair?” The crowd roared with enraged displeasure. “The law kills those who just wish to survive. This needs to stop, under the great beast we can all be one in unity.” A roar of cheers crashed into the priestess, like waves hitting a cliff. Almost overpowered by the electricity and joy of parishioners. “what’s the answer you ask, we hit them where it hurts, their coin purses. We down tools, we strike!” She exclaimed slyly smiling towards the arbites standing near the back. They would have to join the strike or they would be killed in the riots. “By the end of month, hive gorgon will be ours, the year all of Daedalus!” The crowd grew louder, everyone applauding, cheering, crying with joyous exclamation. Miltred stood there, soaking in the atmosphere. This is what I have promised the great beast and I shall deliver on to her.

The feast was lively, food was plenty. Dancing and singing, new friends being made. Old enmities being dissolved. Laughter filled the air, Miltred took a sip of her wine. A gift from the chief of the arbites, now sitting to her right. Surprised to see such a high-ranking official joining the congressional party. A welcome one, she had no idea that dissent in the governor had reached such prodigious parties. The priest insisted that he sat next to her, if just to make sure shed kill him if any trap was sprung. Yet she found out the governor had been shifting funds from the law enforcement to other areas. The arbites equipment had suffered and men were being killed in the line of duty. Sub-par armour was being issued, many of more veteran officers had started to forgo it altogether. The extra weight was a hindrance and protected less than a linin shirt. As they talked, the more she learned. Most law officers were already planning a strike and one unified with the miners and factory workers would bring the political elite to their knees. The less blood shed the better she thought.

Planning began the next day, the chief of the arbites, several mine and factory owners met up. Miltred had a map made of parchment laid out on a table. Major factories and mines were marked in red. Planetary defence force ingress and egress points in blue. Turrets and civilian dispersion weapons with access codes written down the sides. Officer names, which would be likely be opposed to the strike were on a separate parchment with new patrol routes. Diverting from the strike zones and away from possible hostilities. Casualties on both sides were to be kept to a minimum. The door swung open with a huge clash a monster of a man smashed the door off its hinges. Followed by a slight woman in leather catsuit.

The arbite’s chief recognised the pair immediately, reaching for his holster. Miltred reached her hand to halt the action. The pair were leaders of the two biggest gangs the underhive. The brute of a man was Jakka of the feudbound, a violent gang whose modus operand was protection and chem trafficking. The slim female was Jane Trinity of the felinum, specialising in thievery and assassination. Making their places at the table, Jakka dumbed a huge canvas bag. With little contempt for the parchment and maps on the table. The bag was open, showing a large collection of weapons, including lasguns and grenades. Other than imperial aquila being removed of the rifles, they looked as if they had just come off the factorum line.

“You’ll need guns, and bodies,” The female gang leader exclaimed. “We are are offering both, for your insurrection.” Miltred and the arbite’s chief looked quizzically at each other. There had to be some catch, some caveat for such generosity. A silence filled the room, buzzing of the lumeglobes was the only sound that filled the room. The uncomforting quiet hung in the air, like a thick oily fog. Noticing the silence was due to their dramatic entrance, the leader of the felinum spoke. “The PDF have been pushing themselves on our businesses and the people we protect.”

“I said this is a peaceful protest, I will not have blood soiling the message.” Shouted Miltred, slamming her hands on the table. Everyone flinched with the sudden outburst. She glared at the gang leader. “If you have a personal grudge with the PDF, may I suggest you take it up with them.

The leather clad ganger stared back, “I’m sure the PDF will absolutely compliant with your policy.” The two women looked daggers at each other. A small cough broke the silence. “WHAT!” They both yelled in unison.

“She has a point,” a small clerk sitting in the dark. “We do need more guards and a few extra guns won’t hurt.” Standing, after being silent throughout the meeting. His face half augments, half pallid torn flesh. “I was in the PDF, for a decade. They will be ordered to kill on sight.” An augmented hand reached out to the map; pushing the bag of weapons out of the way. “We can set up an ambush using these two alleys.” Pointing to a junction a hudred yards in front of the main factorum. “When the PDF start firing, we can flank their rear; cutting off their escape. The workers can use these sewage intakes to escape.” Using his finger quill to mark the escape routes. “Have arbites, wait here and they can be guided to safety.”

The priestess sighed in resignation. As much as she hated the idea of being armed. They were right. Running gun battles would have fewer civilian casualties, than an all-out firefight with the armed soldiers. Using the gangs, would make the arbites less accountable and look more like rescuers. Gang wars are always breaking out, the appearance of a large armed contingent of soldiers; would definitely set of the powder keg that is the underhive.

“Fine, but we do it my way. We’ll make it look the soldiers walked into the middle of a gang dispute,” Miltred was not ecstatic with the idea, minimising civilian deaths would strength her position at the negotiation table. If that fat slob would even allow her a seat. This was a dangerous game. If the inquisition found out. She’d would be burned for heresy, for sure. Her life was second to the lives of the residents of hive gorgon. “Arbites will lead the workers away, while the gangs fight the PDF. Use of smoke and defensive grenades, will be used until everyone is clear.” Everyone nodded in agreement, accepting it as the best compromise.

The day of the strike, morning shift calls over the vox network; to rouse everyone blared. Crowds of people, all with signs proclaiming the unfairness. Standing out their places of employment. Streets full of bodies refusing to move. The great factorum, acrid black smoke bellowing out of its chimneys and furnaces. The great gates opening like the jaws of a beast willing to eat the souls of any that dared enter. Burning red and amber lightning up the windows through the smear of dirt and smoke. Gothic spires reaching to the top of the underhive, scratching the bottom of those better off, dying, screaming to enter. A wounded animal, sensing an earthquake unable to run and safe itself. Picket signs were raised in defiance. Calling for change in leadership. Arbites in full uniform, stood in front riot shields up, shotguns loaded. Belts full of nerve gas and smoke grenades. Gangers laying on rooftops and hiding in alleys. The hive held its breath, the priestess arrived, in full cerimonial robes, like when she was on her recruitment drive. Stopping in front everyone, she closed her eyes, raised her arms and spoke.

“Brothers and sisters, we are here today. To give you back your dignity, your life and your humanity.” The crowd rapt by her presence, listening as though she was in each and everyone’s head. “Today we will make the change for the better, for today we will show our governor; that the people of gorgon hive have had enough.” A slight tremor could be felt beneath her feet. Knowing for well the PDF were on the move and heading towards their direction. A cheer bellowed from the crowd; arms thrown up in joyous defiance.

Marching echoed, in step and ominous. Hundreds of soldiers, in black flak armour and full respirators. Halted, lowered their lasguns, took aim. A single man marched forward. Meeting the priestess, the two in the centre. One small mistake a misheard order a lot of people were going to die. “Miss, order your people back to work or I will open fire, you have ten seconds.” The officer gave his message, as soon as he said it. He returned. “Ten...nine....eight...seven...six...six...four...” He never made it to three a shot rang out, the officer’s head disintegrated in a cloud of pink mist. Smoke covered the workers as they ran for the escape routes. The sniper dissolved into the shadows.

Gangers emerged from their ambush points; the PDF was too far back. Lasguns firing in every direction. Windows opened as shots poured out. The troopers scattered in their respective squads. Taking cover wherever available. Shotgun blasts from the arbites, hitting the running troopers. Lasguns of the gangers, trapping them in choke points. A felinum ganger took a shot to the chest, blod pooled under her body as it twitched. A feudbound, jumped the dumpster they were hiding behind. Smashed the soldier in the head with butt of his lasgun, in a rage he kept striking; not noticing the shots entering his torso until one found his rapidly beating heart killing him.

The PDF were neither out gunned nor outnumbered, they were trapped in an ambush. Some made it away. Reinforcements were called, they never made it. The arbites were already at the ingress points. A sergeant ran at one of the law officers, chainsword roaring, the officer stepped to the side. Causing the soldier to lose his balance. The prone sergeant felt a pistol to the back of his and then nothing. Lasgun shots ringed off the riot shields. Shotguns fired, falling more and more of the PDF. Alleys were filling with the naked bodies of soldiers. As gangers stole their uniforms and weapons. Running with retreating men, only to bring the fight to their barracks and homes. By time night fell, the road was slick with blood. The over empowering stench filled the world. Flies and rats swarmed the red rivers, hoping for something to float by.

The Priestess was rushed away and led to a concealed bunker. The room was dank, water dripped from some hidden faucet. She was sat in a chair, her rescuers in shadows the other side of room. “What the hell was that, who gave the order to kill that officer,” She screamed. The two men stood in absolute silence. “What about the workers, the people, do you know the retribution that this will bring?” Tears were flowing down her face, heartful of sorrow due to letting down the great beast, her god, her deity. Her whole life was for nought, she just wanted death to come and take her away. One of men, placed a bag on her lap. It was wet and heavy.

Miltred, hesitantly opened the hemp bag. Looking up at her, a fat oily face. She gasped bringing her hand to her face. Then throwing up, she recognised the head straight away. It was the corpulent head of the governor. His dead eyes rolled all the way back, his face sagging under the weight of the rolls of fat. The stench was worse than when he was alive. She vomited again then passed out.