The Secundus

[Kravunhive]

This is my first piece of fiction set in the 41st Millennium I've posted anywhere. I usually write a piece of background for each of my armies sometimes developing them into short stories.

This piece however is something I've worked on over the last few day. It's going to be a series of short stories set in one location with a variety of characters who's fates are all intertwined. This is just an introduction to give you a taste of whats to come.

Please check it out and tell me what you think.

The Secundus

For every dozen sectors in the Imperium there are probably four penal colonies. Planets, from the most backwater frontier colonies, to the teeming hive worlds, are breading grounds for the criminally minded. But where better place to house all the murderers, thieves, smugglers and general outlaws. As the Ancient Terran saying goes, “out of sight, out of mind.”

Bale Secundus. Even the very name doesn’t sound inviting. But then no one would really choose to visit such a world. For the condemned it’s a one-way trip. You may even be lucky enough to be rounded up as part of penal legion and leave The Secundus only to face certain death wherever you end up. But until that time, all you’ve got is time. Time to reflect on the choices you’ve made. Time to be driven mad with insanity. There is only one truth in The Secundus, and that is you will die here. Only question is, how?


The chain gang shuffled its way along the causeway leading into the gatehouse of West Sector Sixteen. In complete silence, apart for the constant jangling of chains, the four hundred strong gang made quick time. Tybalt Thorn couldn’t help but be awed and horrified at the sight of the gatehouse that stood before him. It towered at least a hundred meters into the sky and looked more like a defensive bastion than anything else. Teams of hardwired servitors manned heavy bolter turrets built into the structure, while pennants decorated with the Imperial eagle fluttered in the wind. Barbed spikes protruded from the walls, and rows of gibbets lined the causeway, many still occupied.
The thick adamantium doors creaked and moaned as the ancient hydraulic mechanisms opened the mighty gate, welcoming the new inmates. Penal custodians barked orders and hit those who needed encouragement with power mauls and kicks up the ****.

In the courtyard the chain gang was ordered to halt. The main complex stood before them. It was a fortress, a thick multiple tiered stone structure, topped with gothic buttresses and towers. Carried on the wind, the cries from within could be heard. But Tybalt shook it off as a trick of the mind.
The reality of his situation had suddenly hit him. He didn’t deserve to be here, a victim of circumstance, a miscarriage of justice. There was no appeal, no mercy. He had travelled on the prison carrier for four months. The hardships he had endured aboard that vessel were just a taste of what was to come. He could sense it. Looking around at the other convicts he saw many faces, hard, tough faces that spoke volumes about their character. But then he noticed one face that was different. He could just about make out who it was. It was a woman. He hadn’t been aware women were housed with the men. The woman tuned and looked at him. He quickly jerked his head away in another direction. Feeling her eyes burning into the side of his head, he fought the temptation to look back.

A wailing siren broke his concentration. Cheering and whistling could be heard on the wind. Tybalt hadn’t imagined it earlier. The chain gang was standing in front of a raised platform with a lecture in its centre. Tybalt was about six rows back from the front and constantly had to move his head to see what was going on. He could make out a party of custodians coming out of the prison fortress. As the siren began to die out the party ascended the platform and stood to attention looking out at the new arrivals. Another man dressed in ornate Arbite carapace armour took up a place at the lectern. His shaved skull, the left side replaced with metal bionics, including the left eye, scanned the new arrivals. His voice, projected by vox amplifiers, was strong and confident. “Welcome to Bale Secundus. I am Magistrate Maximilian Locke.” He paused and studied his audience some more. “By failing to respect the Emperor's laws, you have been sent here to me. Here you will be punished. Here you will die. May the Emperor have mercy on your souls.”


Inmate number BS41-7216099, Tybalt Thorn. Convicted 899.M41. Former captain of the Corsican 12th, convicted for dereliction of duty, disobeying orders and assault on a superior officer. Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.

[Wolfblade670]

I'm looking foward to more.

[Kravunhive]

So I got over 60 views on the first post. Hopefully thats a full 60 reads, and you didnt get bored half way through. Anyway here's the next part. Please post any feedback you may have.

The Secundus
Survival

Inmate number BS41-7216099, Tybalt Thorn. Convicted 899.M41. Former captain of the Corsican 12th, convicted for dereliction of duty, disobeying orders and assault on a superior officer.
Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.

****

After the Magistrates speech in the courtyard the chain gang had been broken up into smaller groups. A custodian escorted Tybalt and his gang down a series of dirty, poorly lit corridors before arriving at a pair of iron doors. The faded paint read sector west 16, Block 5. Beyond the door the muffled noises of a hundred shouting voices reverberated through the iron exterior. A custodian with a bionic right arm carrying a power maul appeared. His face was particularly gnarled and a grizzly scar covered his throat. He walked up and down the line looking at each convict in turn.
“Convicts, welcome to Block Five. We have one rule here. No fighting. I am Custodian Agrippa and I will have your respect. No exceptions.”
As he said that a member of the chain gang near the front spat on the custodians boots. Without hesitation Agrippa smashed his power maul round the convicts face. The man spun on the spot, his neck broken, then in a crumpled heap he fell to the floor. Agrippa continued to pace the line.
“I will have your respect. Take this **** away.” He ordered a pair of guards to unhook and drag the corpse out. Tybalt watched as they did it with the least respect.

With a clank and a grown the iron doors swung open. Instantly Tybalt was hit with the force of the hot, foul smelling air as it assaulted his senses. The shouting and yelling intensified. Herded into the atrium of block five the gang was unchained. It felt good to have the shackles off their wrists and ankles. Tybalts skin was bruised and sore from where they were too tight. A bundle containing sheets and other items was shoved into his arms before being escorted into the block proper.
Cheering and taunts came from all sides and few sporadic items rained down from the higher levels. As he walked through the main hall, rows of cells lined the walls. Everywhere there were groups of men huddled together. Men from all sorts of backgrounds, hive gangers many of them. The inmates were playing and toying with the new bloods seeing who would break. Hundreds of faces all different sized him up.

The group stop outside a cell, number 22. Tybalts name and number was read out before he was shoved inside. The custodian moved the new inmates on. Suddenly Tybalt felt very alone. The cell was small and cramped. A bunk bed sat on one side of the wall, a dirty basin and toilet on the other. A single ceiling light bathed the room in a warm, dull brown luminance.
A figure lay on the top bunk; it stirred and sat up looking Tybalt, indifferent. The man was lean but his tattooed arms were well defined. He got down from the bunk and squared up with Tybalt.
“This is my cell. It may be where you live, but it’s my cell. Keep yourself to yourself and maybe we’ll get along.”
The man’s face was cold and expressionless. A star tattoo decorated his left temple and a thin scar ran from the right corner of his mouth to the middle of his check. He was young and couldn’t have been older than twenty, Tybalt thought. Without replying He moved around the young hive ganger and placed his bundle on the bottom bunk. The young punk watched as he did so, muttered a phrase in guttural slang, which Tybalt assumed was an insult, before leaving the cell.

****

Sector West Sixteen, Block Five houses two hundred and eighty convicts. Condemned souls, lost in the eyes of the Emperor. In a place full of outcasts and criminals it should come as no surprise that those from similar backgrounds will bond together. Those from the same world, with the same beliefs, or simply for mutual protection will form gangs. These bonds, when broken down and examined come down to two things, power and trust.

The first, power. Having an advantage over the other prisoners is important to maintain a sense of order. This can be measured in a number of ways; gang size, influence, control and distribution of contraband. To hold power amongst the inmates of a prison is more dangerous to the custodians than anyone else. The ability to orchestrate a massed riot at the drop of a word is enough for the guards to turn a blind eye on certain dealings.

The second, trust. If you share a bond with someone no matter how great or small, you have a little bit of their trust and vice versa. Knowing someone is watching your back to the continuous dangers of prison life eases some of the stress. But sometimes the reality is you can never really trust a person completely. Survival is the unwritten rule of The Secundus, a man will do what he has to in order to survive.

****

He wasn’t afraid to leave his cell. He just didn’t have the need to. Tybalt knew that if he didn’t leave soon someone would notice and take this as a sign of weakness. When he did decide to leave he knew it was all about body language. The others would read his manner in an instant. His very survival might come down to the next few minutes.
Sitting on his bunk he took in a few deep breaths. His cell mate hadn’t come back since leaving nearly half an hour ago. Occasionally someone would walk by the cell and throw in few taunts and insults. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to make a move. Scope this place out like a reconnaissance mission.
He walked tall and confident, as if he were on parade. Head up and eyes focused. He took several steps out of the cell. Eyes from different parts of the block met his own and he didn’t flinch from holding there attention. He was alert, scouting for threats. But there weren’t any.
At least so he thought.

Out of nowhere it seemed a group of four large men surrounded him. One grabbed him in a well placed choke hold. Another drew a small blade and held it against his stomach. Everything happened so fast. Tybalt knew he didn’t have long to react. Then the one holding with the blade spoke.
“I recognise your type. You’re Imperial guard, an officer too. Don’t be thinking your better than us. Around here everyone’s the same.”
Tybalt, forced to look at the man’s face, didn’t take in any features except the twin headed snake tattoo on either side of his neck. He had to act.
In one fluid movement Tybalt kneed the bladed man in the groin. He went down hard. Then with a backwards jerk he reverse head butted the man holding him. Tybalt heard the distinct crack of a broken nose.

Released he was rushed by the other two. Knocking the first aside with a parry movement he focused on the last man. The brute was clumsy and not skilled in martial combat techniques. Tybalt grabbed the man’s right arm and with a powerful flat handed palm thrust from his left hand, smashed it into the mans elbow. The force broke the brute’s arm backwards, forearm flopped disturbingly the wrong way and he went down screaming in agony.
By now the cheering and the commotion had attracted attention from the custodian guard tower that stood in the centre of the prison block. Custodians in full riot gear, armed with power mauls and shields rushed towards the scene.
The deflected third man, stood hesitantly. He surveyed the damage Tybalt had done to his comrades. He didn’t wish to end up the same but he didn’t flee. Instead a pair of custodians crushed into him taking him down. Tybalt too was subdued and held against the cell block wall. A buzzing alarm sounded, followed by orders from the custodian tower. It was the signal for a lock down.

The riot-geared custodians took control of the situation. They dispersed the on looking crowd, who peacefully but unhappily returned to their cells. The two badly injured men were taken to the infirmary.

Tybalt was thrown into his cell as the bared doors were slammed behind him. His cell mate, the young hive punk, stood at the other end, arms folded. He didn’t say anything until Tybalt looked at him. For a moment there was a pause. It felt uneasy. But then the ganger broke the silence.
“I saw what you did. You’ve got some moves on you. You smashed those guys up pretty good.”
“I had to do something, they’d have killed me.” Said Tybalt bluntly.
“You did what you had to. I respect that.” The ganger held out his hand. Tybalt took it in a firm grip and shook it.
“Names Kolt. Just Kolt.”
“Tybalt Thorn.”
There was a genuine respect in the gangers eyes and in his hand shake, Tybalt could feel it.
“Those guys you tore up are the Hydra’s. Bastards, all of em. Guess you saw the snake tattoo’s on the leaders neck? He’s known as Venom.
“That’s an interesting name.”
“Yeah, a lot of the hive gangers go by aliases. You’d better watch your back. You disrespected him, and made his guys look weak. They’ll probably kill someone just to look tough again.”
“As I said, I did what I had too. I’ll take him on again if need be.”
Kolt chuckled then lifted himself up onto his bunk.
“I’m sure you can, I don’t doubt that for a second. Just remember; someone’s always out to get you.”

With that Kolt lay down. Tybalt thought about what he had said before sitting himself down on his own bed. He hadn’t even noticed his hands were shaking. The adrenaline was still rushing through his body. He’d only been in the prison an hour and already he’d injured two inmates and humiliated a third.
It’s going to be a long life he thought.

****

Inmate number BS41-1914266, Julius Koltanis, AKA Kolt. Convicted 895.M41. Member of the Death Spiders gang from the capitol hive slums on Carpathia. Convicted for nine counts of murder in gang related activities.
Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.

[Lorcryst]

That was nice ... good story, I really liked the dark and moody atmosphere and the building of respect between Kolt and Tybalt.

Can't wait to read more, subscribed !

[LuckyKa]

This is good, really captivating. Definite subscription material.

Lots of inspiration. And who DOESN'T like prison drama

[Kravunhive]

The Secundus
Sleepless Nights

On the Secundus the night cycle can be just as dangerous as the days. An inmate awake in his cell with no one for company, apart from the vermin and a head full of memories. With so much time to think it’s easy to drive yourself crazy. Constantly replaying the events from your past over and over. Thinking what if you’d done something differently. Memories can become disjointed fragments, twisting together forming nightmares. If the human subconscious can create such terrifying images, what does that say about human nature? You could say that in sleep we are the most vulnerable from our very selves.

****

A Dream.
Foggy and hazy. Vision not entirely clear. A ruined cityscape backlit with bright fires. The screaming. The dead. The dying. Fast forward now. A defensive position overrun. Attackers in all directions, a fierce melee ensuing. A young girl, dark haired and pale. Her face so innocent, her eyes so inviting. She stands in the middle of the chaos. The ground rumbles and blows apart. Artillery shells erupting all around blasting masonry in all directions. A tower block begins to crumble. Back to the girl. Her face emotionless yet her eyes speak volumes. An upward glance sees small fragments raining all around. Pieces getting larger. Rubble falling. Falling.


With an involuntary twitch Tybalt woke sharply. Another nightmare. Always the same one. He was sweating and his vest was quite damp. He lay there on his bunk and exhaled, his heart was pumping. The dreams images, still fresh in his mind were playing over again. He tried not to think about them. But the more he tried not to, the more he actually did.
“Damn.” He whispered.
He got up softly trying not to disturb Kolt as he slept on the top bunk. Tybalt made his way to the basin, turned on the tap and splashed his face with the cool water. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror on the wall above the sink. He didn’t recognise the reflection.
Ever since his sentencing Tybalt had been having nightmares. They had gotten worse during the journey on the penal hulk to The Secundus. Every time he closed his eyes he could picture the war. Acheron. That fated world on which a series of events had transpired that ultimately led him to his incarceration. He thought about it every single day. The injustice was still fresh in his heart.

He moved to the bars. Block Five’s main lights were out. Only the central security tower was running any power. In the towers observation window he could see silhouettes of the guards moving around. The block was deathly silent. There were a few sounds however, most prominent being the heavy dull echo of a patrolling custodians boots whilst doing the rounds. But as he looked out the bars and around at the other cells he began to hear other things.
Nearby he heard sobbing. Someone was crying. A man, he couldn’t tell whom. It was coming from a second tier cell on the floor above. He pictured a weeping man in his cell, the night cycle being the only chance to release the built up emotion in some semblance of privacy. The darkness had a way of breaking people.

Across the floor in a cell almost opposite his own he made out a small dull yellowish light. Like a small firefly. He could make out a pair of cons smoking a tobacco stick, sharing long drags between them before exhaling the fumes. It had been years since he ended his habit but the confines of the prison stirred up cravings he hadn’t felt in years. But such contraband was hard to come by and these two obviously had some inside connections.

He thought more about the dream. That young girl. He had never forgotten what she had looked like. He could see her now. Was this a dream? As his eyes refocused he realised he had be staring while his mind wandered. In a cell directly opposite his, across the way, stood a girl. He recognised her but who was she? It took a few seconds but then he realised it was the girl he had seen on his first day after arriving. She had caught him looking at her in the chain gang.
She stood there for a second, emotionless but then she smiled. Tybalt smiled back. She looked so similar to the girl from his dreams. Her long black hair, slightly pale skin and deep eyes that were as inviting as they were dark. She was beautiful.

For a minute or two they stood there looking at each other as if they were the only two humans left alive. The footsteps of the patrolling custodian grew louder and Tybalt had to break off his engagement and bolt back into his bunk. Lying there he waited as the guard walked past. He waited a good few minutes until the footsteps grew quieter. When he thought it was safe enough he got up again and went to the bars to look for the mysterious raven haired woman opposite.
But she wasn’t there. She was gone. She seemed real enough but the whole moment felt like a dream.
Slowly he went back to bed. He lay there with his eyes shut. The nightmares slowly began to creep back into his head. He drifted off to sleep.


A Dream.
The feeling was different. This wasn’t like the others. He stood in darkness. In the distance a small light began to shine. It grew larger and brighter. He raised his hand to shield his eyes. The intensity began to die away. Stood in front of him floating, a girl. The girl from his dreams. No. The girl from the opposite cell. How? She was angelic, bathed in light. Her hair and her robes blew by some unseen force. She extended an arm and offered him her hand. He looked into her eyes. She smiled. Softly she spoke.
“The Emperor Protects.”

****

Across the floor, shrouded in darkness, the girl hid. The shadows provided her with the perfect sanctuary. To her the darkness was calming. She sat in the corner of the cell where the shadows we darkest. With her eyes closed she could feel the environment around her. She sensed many tortured souls, lost and adrift in an abyss waiting to consume them. She found the one she was after. She smiled.
“The Emperor Protects.”

****

Inmate number BS41 – 1021426, Persephone Moss. Convicted 899.M41. Numerous counts of petty and serious theft, illegal prostitution and dangerous assault on a senior factory foreman.
Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.

[Jihad_Ragsta]

I like the idea of Penal Colonies in 40K, plus of course the random ones you see in sci fi. Also have a soft spot for crime dramas like The Wire and Oz (you seen it?).

This is good stuff so far, you've avoided any soppy rubbish with the girl and I like the criminal records for each person you're putting in.

One thing- post number 6, first paragraph, line 6... You've put venerable instead of vulnerable and it's bugging me

Apart from that, I'm subscribing! Nice work so far, I'll rate this after a few more updates.

[Kravunhive]

Haha so I did. Sorted. Just shows I need someone other than myself as proof reader.

I've not updated in a while but several updates are coming soon. Watch this space.

[Kravunhive]

The Secundus
Old Rivalries

Some old scars just never heal. On the Secundus, inflicted wounds are a daily occurrence. The healing process is slow and painful. Rival gangs live together in a permanent climate of mutual fear and intimidation. Death and distrust lurk around ever corner. Rivalries have complicated histories, each a story with twisting paths seemingly trivial in nature. But if you take a step back and look at the wider picture, you’ll begin to see that these feuds are just mere sub-plots, part of wider play.

****

Inmate number BS41-1914266, Julius Kolt, AKA Kolt. Convicted 895.M41. Member of the Death Spiders gang from the capitol hive slums on Carpathia. Convicted for nine counts of murder in gang related activities.
Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.


It was dawn, just before the prison blocks lights were switched marking the start of the day cycle. Kolt always got up at this time. He didn’t get up for some sentimental reason or to enjoy the moment. No, he had to be ready. In those split seconds when the lights turned on, and the alarm bell rang and the clang clack of the cell doors opened, he needed to be ready. If he was caught napping it could be his undoing. He’d seen it in hisfirst months on the Secundus, gangers rushing another cell and coldly murdering the occupants. Since he witnessed that he had made it his routine to be awake and ready.

Kolt stood over the washbasin, looking in the mirror. He studied his face. The tattoo on his temple, it was starting to fade. Of all his tattoos he regretted that one. Doped up on Drops he had stumbled into an ink artisan’s workshop and walked out with the star design branded into his skin.
His attention turned to his scar. His handsome face was ruined by it. The corner of his mouth had been cut right across to the middle of his left cheek. It was a thin but deep wound. Larna had had to sow it up for him. She had done a good job and it healed quickly. But he would never forget the event. He’d only ever admitted it to Larna but it was the most terrified he had ever been. Those few moments before the knife cut his flesh. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
The wound was the catalyst that eventually ended him up in The Secundus.

The dim lights flickered into life. A dull alarm bell rang followed by the clang clank of hundreds of cell doors opening.
Slowly Sector West 16, Block 5 came to life. The myriad of personalities shuffled into file. It was the morning count. Inmates began lining up outside their cells and waiting to be counted by the passing custodians. Kolt’s new cellmate, Tybalt, joined him out front. He’d been here two weeks but had already won his respect. They nodded to each other. Tybalt had gotten into a scrap with a gang called the Hydras, sending a couple of them to the infirmary. Their leader, Venom, had had his pride wounded. And Tybalt had earned a new enemy.
That didn’t matter; it was one they now shared.

After count it was morning meal. The usual dry bread, stale water and cold gruel were on the menu. The food hall was a buzzing hive of chatter and laughter. A few scuffles broke out and the ever vigilant custodians made short work of restoring order.
Carrying his tray Kolt searched for a place to sit. He spotted his comrades sitting at their usual table over in the corner. He walked down the isles between the tables, rows of hunched backs busy attempting to gulp down for what passed as food. He kept an eye out for any potential threats. There was only one he really needed to look out for.

He couldn’t spot it and he reached his table. Sat around it were his fellow gangers. Back on Carpathia they were all part of the same gang but now they were on the Secundus they took on a new name. The Nine Spiders. Kolt was their de facto leader, the first of them to be sent to the penal colony. At twenty-four he was also the oldest.
He sat his tray down beside Talon, his oldest friend. They clasped hands; their bond of brotherhood was strong.
A seat was made available in the middle of the group, which Kolt slipped into. He took one last look at the unappealing meal and pushed it away. Talon flanked to his left, the short thickset ganger was decorated with scars and tattoos plenty. He bore the gangs crude spider design on his throat.
Opposite were Laggs and Tips, a pick pocketing double act back on Carpathia. Laggs was a tall handsome man who was the duo’s set up guy. He would distract passers by with, card tricks, charming conversation and the like, whilst Tips with his keen eye and fast fingers would make short work of wallets, money bags and other possessions. They were both in their early twenties but had developed a considerable record and reputation in the commercial districts back in the home hive.
On Kolts right sat Breach. Tall, even taller than Lagg, Breach was a tower block of strength. A former bare knuckle scrapper with fists that could easily crush a man, he was the strongest of the group. He earned a living as a fighter starting young, at the age of sixteen. His fights were legendary and he had won several titles in the underworld arenas. He was a quiet giant who rarely spoke.

After they finished their greetings, Talon spoke. “The boss has been asking after you, Kolt, he wants you to go see him.”
“I will. When I’m ready.” Kolt replied sternly.
“He’s worried your slipping.”
“What, are you his messenger boy!?”
There was a silence around the table, Kolt hadn’t realised he had sounded so forceful.
“I’m sorry, Talon. This business with the Hydra’s has gotten out of hand.”
“Your new cellmate,” Tips cut in, “he’s almost taken care of them for us.”
“Yeah, and Venom is doing solitary, which gives us a bit of time.” Talon included.
“We can’t move on them, not yet.” Spat Laggs objectively. “Just because a couple of ‘em got roughed up don’t mean they’re out of the way.”
“He’s right, they out number us. Those guys Tybalt smashed up were only muscle. Venom’s got more boys lurking around, we still have to watch our backs.” Said Kolt.
There was a pause around the table. Nobody knew what to suggest. Then the normally quiet Breach spoke. His voice was low and deep even when trying to conceal it from the wider food hall.
“When wrestling a snake it is best to go for the neck, grab it just behind the head. Holding it there it is disarmed, unable to effectively strike back.”
“Meaning?” Said Tips.
“Cut off the head, take out Venom, and the rest will die away.” Replied Breach.
“It’s a good plan,” answered Kolt, “but we can never get near him. He’s too well protected.”
“You could go to the monarch?” Asked Laggs. “He could arrange something. Maybe with the guards?”
“It’s possible.” Said Talon hopefully. “You need to speak to him, Kolt. One day we’re gonna get jumped.”

Kolt thought on that final sentence. Talon was right. He usually was. He looked round the table at his comrades. He’d die for them in an instant and they’d do the same in return. He was their leader he had to steer them through this storm.
The Nine Spiders’ long running feud with the Hydra’s was notorious. A prolonged cold war had been waged between the gangs over the last six months. Both sides were unwilling to strike the first blow. While the Hydra’s had the advantage of numbers, the Nine Spiders had skill. Breach alone was enough to deter any attacker. The inevitable show down would be bloody. It was just a matter of time.

****

In the dark dingy confinement of a solitary cell a snake lay low on the cold stone surface. With a powerful upward thrust he raised his body supported by his thick toned arms. He held himself there, and then lowered his body to the floor.
The snake’s time in the darkness hadn’t been wasted. He’d honed his body. Preparing it for the fight ahead. He repeated the push-ups each one as precise as the last. Sweat dripped off his forehead and pooled on the floor.
Another five hundred more he thought. He had the time.


Inmate number BS41-1286491, Ius Verra, AKA Venom. Convicted 894.M41. Hive ganger from the capitol slums on Carpathia. Convicted for twelve counts of murder in gang related activities.
Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.

[Inquisitor Kallus]

Loving your work. Can't wait to see more. Its pretty dark and atmospheric in a 'no-hope' kind of way.

[Kravunhive]

Thank you everyone for the kind words. Lets me know this story is still worth doing. That being said I have been a bit rubbish posting updates on this but from now on I'm going to step up. I hope to get one story out a week. So here's the next part. Please, c&c welcome. Thank you for taking the time to read.

Kravunhive

*****

The Secundus
The Old Guard

The inmates of The Secundus are as numerous as there are stars in the galaxy. So too are their backgrounds. You hear many tragic stories of a troubled upbringing that led to a life of crime or pure murderous intent triggered by a psychotic mindset.
But sometimes not all convicts come from typical criminal backgrounds.

****

It was only the start of his third week on The Secundus, but it had felt much longer than that. The daily routine was monotonous and slow, making life here seem to pass as if it was stuck in some kind of time trap. Minutes seemed like hours and days felt like years.
The realisation of Tybalts situation triggered a panic button in his mind and it began a tsunami of a hundreds different thoughts each one crashing home and triggering more waves of conflicting emotions. He began to feel desperate. This place. This dark and dingy cell was his reality.
His home.

After morning count the inmates shuffled alone to the canteen for early nourishment. A single line filed through the dinning call as each inmate collected a tray of what was possibly food. The lumpy oatmeal and cup of water were hardly appetising. He collected his tray and sat at his usual spot. He kept himself to himself, choosing isolation over interaction. His cellmate the hive ganger, Kolt sat with his gang at the far end of the hall. He caught the young offenders gaze and gave him a polite nod. The ganger returned the gesture. The two cellmates weren’t exactly what he’d call friends but they did have a respect for each other. Plus the sharing of a mutual enemy.

On his arrival Tybalt brawled with members of the Hydra gang after they tried to threaten him. He’d come away victorious after inflicting several injuries including some on the gangers leader, Venom. He’d established himself early on and this was probably why no one had interfered with him in the weeks since.

He played with the slop on his tray trying to find the inner stomach strength to eat the alleged food. Just as he had loaded his spoon with oatmeal a shadow enveloped him. Tybalt looked up.
It was Venom. His snakehead tattoos covering the side of his neck, his bullish face. He cut an intimidating figure. But he’d beaten him once.

‘Go on eat up. Builds you up that stuff does.’ The comment was painfully sarcastic.
Tybalt didn’t have to reply. Venom was alone and stood towering over him, arms folded. The ganger was noticeably more solid than when they had first met. The stint in solitary confinement wasn’t completely wasted. Then Tybalt thought at how much weight he had lost in his first three weeks. He was definitely the weaker man. He suddenly felt very vulnerable.

‘Not much to say, eh? Not surprising. I guess you didn’t expect to see me again so quickly? Well I’m back now and I aint forgotten. In my eyes you’re a marked man.’ Venom unfolded his arms, rested them on the tabled and leaned in to Tybalt, matching his eye line. Tybalt was ready to strike a blow. A head butt should do.

Then a low voice cut in, breaking the tension. 'How long did it take you to think up that little performance Ven?' A solid tower of man stood to Tybalt’s left.

‘Why don’t you back off, Major, this don’t concern you.’ Spat Venom as he turned to face the interjector.
The newly identified Major took several steps forward. ‘I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. Or do I have to remind you what I’m capable of?’

Venom took one last look at Tybalt giving a vicious scowl. Without saying another word the hive thug backed away. As he walked off the ganger smashed a poor inmates food tray out of his hands, sending the tray and its contents went flying through the air.

The Major sat down next to Tybalt. ‘You don’t need to worry about him.’

‘Should I be thankful?’ Replied Tybalt quite bluntly. He didn’t like the fact someone had stepped into the situation. Tybalt hated the public display of weakness this “Major” had performed of him for everyone to see.

‘I saw what you did, when you first got here. You know how to handle yourself.’ Said Major ignoring Tybalts frank rudeness. ‘I’d recognise those moves anywhere. Advanced Guard hand to hand training?’
Tybalt nodded.

‘I knew it. What regiment?’

‘Corsican. Twelfth.’

‘See many campaigns?’

‘Several.’

‘You’re a man of few words. Look, I’m just trying to be friendly. Looking out for one of the Old Guard, you know?’

‘So, apparently you were a Major, in the Guard?’ Tybalt said finally making eye contact with the older man.

‘I still am. The bastards can strip me of my official rank but they can’t take away my reputation.’ The Major said sharply. ‘Names Revic, Major Revic.’ He held out a hand.

'Tybalt Thorn.'

Tybalt shook his hand but was struck by a sense of familiarity. He’d heard this name before. He just couldn’t place where.

‘Khunting gangers ruin it in here. They have no respect for discipline. They fight amongst each other for no reason other than to make a name for themselves. I see you’re bunked with one.’ The statement was harsh, but truthful and Tybalt felt real fire in his words.

‘I’ve got no complaints.’

‘Watch your back. These underhive scum will cut your throat as soon as look at you. No respect for discipline. Their days are numbered though. Word of advice, get armed, and get armoured.’
Revic pulled a sharpened blade of metal out under the table, looking round to make sure no one could see. Tybalt looked at the crude weapon. It was a nasty razor looking weapon and going slightly rusty.
‘Best to be prepared. Us Old Guard, we look out for each other, you know?’ Said Revic concealing the blade again.

‘You talk as if this is a battleground. Look at where we are. The place is crawling with armed guards.’

‘Ha! You think these guards can’t be bought. I think you need to open your eyes a little wider, son. A couple of years will see you right.’ The man chuckled

‘Revic, you old war dog,’ came a woman’s voice. ‘Are you boring this guy with tales of your glory days?’
Tybalt and Revic looked up to see a woman standing opposite them. She was a tough looking girl in a black tank top with a kitchens uniform rolled down to the waist. Her frame was curvy and her dark blonde hair earned her the eyes and attention of every man in the room, although they wouldn’t dare voice their desires. They knew better than that. She walked over to them with confidence.

‘Kastra, always a pleasure to see you’re lovely figure around here.’ Said Revic almost sarcastically.

‘Save it, Rev. You maybe able to charm the new bloods with you’re dashing good looks and impressive pocket knife but that don’t wash with me.’ She said with a smile and a wink at Tybalt.

Revic laughed as he got up. ‘Kastra, always a ball breaker.’ He was standing next to her now. They were close as if they were about to embrace in a kiss, although he towered over her frame and she had to look up to see into his eyes. She pulled him close and shoved something down the waist of his trousers.
She slapped his stomach several times, ‘Prison life is taking its toll on you, Rev. Maybe you should cut back a bit or maybe work out some more.’ She smiled and he laughed. Major Revic began to walk off but as he did so he turned to Tybalt performed the Imperial salute.

‘The Emperor protects.’ He said before walking away through the canteen.

Kastra shook her head and sat in a chair opposite Tybalt.

‘So,’ she began. ‘What’s your story? I’m guessing you’re ex-Guard too judging by the way the Major was talking to you. He doesn’t have a lot of time for gangers, plus your face is too pretty.’

‘Why does everybody need to know my business?’

‘Because, this is the Secundus, it’s everybody’s business to know everyone’s business.’

‘Well, my story is my own.’

‘Is that a fact? You didn’t deny you’re ex-Guard, plus I know Venom has it in for you and I’ve hardly seen you eat anything since you showed up. You don’t have to tell me anything. You’re an open book. But its ok, I’ll look out for you. Here.’ She said, stuffing several foil packaged nutrition bars into his hand.

‘Keep those out of sight.’ She instructed. ‘I swiped those from the Custodian’s kitchen. It’ll be our secret.’ She winked at him again.

‘Kastra is it? You work in the kitchens. Couldn’t whip up a decent meal once in a while could you? Said Tybalt, tucking the bars into his pockets.

‘If you want anything, just ask. I want you to know you have at least one friend in here.’ She got up and headed back behind the food counter.

****

Inmate number BS41-1634, Kastra Rayen. Convicted 987.M41. Ganger from the hives of Theta V. Convicted on multiple counts of petty theft and one count of murder.
Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.

****

Later, back in his cell Tybalt bit into one of the nutrition bars. They were standard guard issue, full of the vitamins and protean needed to keep the body working. He’d forgotten how plain they tasted but at this moment he didn’t care. He devoured the bar without pause.
Just like back in the Old Guard. He thought and lay back on his bunk.
He chewed the last of the nutrition bar down thinking about Major Revic and where he’d heard that name before. He seemed to recall an officer named Revic back before his last campaign on Acheron, before his conviction. It took him a few minutes of contemplation. When he remembered he could hardly believe it. He sat up in his bunk.
‘Xenobane.’

****

Inmate number BS41-1964, Decius Revic. Convicted 979.M41. Former Imperial Guard Major and one of the original founding members of the Xenobane faction. Convicted on multiple accounts of terrorism, murder and destruction of Imperial property.
Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.

[Scorpius_78]

Nice to see this is still going.

This story has such a great feel and pace to it, that it would be a shame to see it stop.

Looking forward to the next update, keep up the good work man

[andyg2006]

I'm really enjoying this thread: very atmospheric setting, attention to detail and intriguing characters as well. Thanks for posting this.

[Kravunhive]

The Secundus
Of Monarch’s and Men

Power and respect go hand in hand on the Secundus. The crowded cell blocks are a constant flashpoint for trouble as the various gangs and factions vie for power. While one gang may have the upper hand of another beneath it, in turn, they may have someone else above them to respect and pay “tribute” to. It’s a pyramid system of hierarchy.

In the Secundus the pinnacle of this system are the Monarchies. Powerful crime families from the industrial hive planet, Monarch. On constant lock down within the Secundus, they squabble amongst themselves for control of the penal colonies black market. Narcotics, luxury items, even weapons can be smuggled into a cell. For the right price, of course.

****

Inmate number BS41-1964, Decius Revic. Convicted 979.M41. Former Imperial Guard Major and one of the original founding members of the Xenobane faction. Convicted on multiple accounts of terrorism, murder and destruction of Imperial property.
Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.


On the balcony of tier two of West 16, block 5. The Major, Decius Revic was playing a game of regicide with one of his cronies. He was gushing at the victory he was about to secure in the next movement phase.

‘You see, this is why I am a Major and you were a dog grunt of a trooper.’ He said to his opponent, a stick thin man called Wessun, who cursed at his bad luck.
Revic moved his Castellan piece into position and with a clack, knocked over one of Wessun’s Soldat’s. Revic sat back in his seat and folded his arms, a wide grin formed on his scarred face. Wessun stared at the board trying to figure out a counter attack movement. He couldn’t and surrendered his Empress piece, placing it on its side.

‘You win. You always liked the direct approach.’ Wessun said, disgruntled. He handed over a pair of Iho sticks.
Revic tucked them away and rocked back on his chair chuckling to himself.

‘However, careful observation was my area of expertise and I spy a pair of underhive runts approaching.’ Wessen indicated with a nod of his eyes.

Behind Revic, two members of the Nine Spiders, the leader Kolt and the tower block of a man, Breach, climbed the stairs of the gangway to tier two. He turned in his chair to see the gangers approaching, then looked back at Wessun.

‘I think some tribute is due.’ He said.
Revic, Wessen and the pair of other convicts associated with the Xenobane got up and approached the intruders intent on blocking the path. Kolt and Breach expected a hostile welcome as they made their climb to the third tier. They crossed the walk way feeling the eyes of over a dozen convicts glaring at their seemingly brazen incursion into enemy territory.

‘Isn’t this a little high for you, underhiver?’ Said Revic patronisingly. ‘Don’t you know you can’t just go walking through my tier without paying the toll?’

His cronies laughed. Kolt and Breach stopped as they reached the body blockade. Revic was tall but even he had to raise his head to look at the solid Breach.

‘God-Emperor, he’s an ugly one’ Said Revic trying to goad a reaction out of bigger man. ‘Stinks like a hot pile of Ork crap too.’

The Xenobane cronies laughed. But the pair said nothing. Breach folded his thick arms, while the nimbler Kolt darted his eyes between the four Xenobane, scanning for any potential threaten movements.

‘Hey!’ Said Revic more forcefully. ‘Can you speak dummy? I’ve killed greenskins with more brains than you.’
More laughter.

‘We haven’t got time for this.’ Said Kolt calmly. ‘Just name your price and let us through.’

Revic considered a suitable tribute payment.
‘Four Iho sticks.’ He demanded.

Kolt slowly put his hand in his pocket and produced the goods. Four neatly rolled and sealed Iho narcotic smokes. He held them out for Revic at arms length, who snatched them as quickly as they were offered.
Revic tucked one behind his ear and shared the others out to his comrades. They expressed their pleasure with the offering. Wessun took a long sniff of the smoke under his nose.
‘Hey this stuff aint bad.’ He said to Kolt.

‘I guess we’ll let you through. Be thankful we didn’t mistake the big man here for an Ork and skin the Khunt.’ Said Revic stepping aside.

The gangers stepped passed them making their way for the stairwell to the third tier. They passed the table where the game of Regicide had just finished. Breach studied the board looking at final movement that defeated Wessun’s Empress. He picked up the Castellan piece used to win the game. He rolled it in his hands before calmly turning to Revic.
‘It’s funny. A Castellan can’t make diagonal moves.’

He waited for the comment to sink in before placing the piece back on the board. He carried on after Kolt deliberately not waiting for Revic’s reaction. The Major’s face snarled in anger. Wessun made a brief laugh before stopping himself as the glaring Major shoved him to the floor.


As the pair climbed up the stairwell they emerged onto the third tier, the top floor. From up here some of the most powerful inmate of block West 16 if not the whole Western Wing of the Secundus, resided. It was the only fitting place for a Monarch to reign his subjects below.
Kolt walked round the landing heading for the northern wall to a cell that was heavily guarded by nearly a dozen thuggish men standing outside.
As they approached the cell one of the men, Severus, approached. He tucked one hand into the waistband of his trousers grabbing the hilt of his homemade knife. It was a security precaution in the event of a potential assassin attempting to strike first.
‘He’s home I take it? I request an audience.’ Said Kolt, ignoring the concealed threat.

‘Sorry, Kolt. You know the drill.’ Said Severus.

Kolt emptied his pocket of his own blade handing it to Breach who concealed it and took several steps back declaring his harmless intentions to Severus and the others. One of the other guards frisked Kolt searching for any other undeclared weapons. He nodded his approval to Severus.

‘Alright, follow me.’ Instructed Severus.

Kolt followed the guardian into the cell. It was dimly lit, like all the others but this cell had a warm homely feeling which resembled a crude palace more than a place of detention. Ornate artworks hung from the walls, candles burned in indifferent places around the room and a red carpet gave off the impression of regal authority.
In the corner on an iron chair the ancient figure of Thero Ostina sat reading a leather bound book. His glasses hung from the end of his nose while a finger underlined the words as he read them.

‘Sorry to disturb you, sir. Kolt from the Nine Spiders has requested to see you.’

The old man continued to read for a moment before making his page by folding a corner and closing the book. He rested it on his lap before taking off his glasses, folding them and putting them in his shirt pocket.

‘Thank you Severus, that’ll be all.’

The guardian nodded before backing away out of the cell.

Thero Ostina gestured Kolt to sit on the bunk. Kolt did so. It was soft, almost luxurious. There was a brief silence.

‘I’ve been asking for you to come see me for a while now, Kolt. Haven’t been ignoring me have you? I hope we still see eye to eye.

‘We do. I have a lot of respect for you, Ostina. But I have a concern.
The Monarch nodded for him to continue.

‘Our feud with the Hydra’s is escalating and is becoming problem.’

‘Go on.’

‘The Hydra’s outnumber us. They threaten your operation daily. The ambition of the Sulla Monarchy is growing. The Hydra’s are intimidating our regulars into buying the Drops from them. It’s making tax collections very difficult. We need to strike at them. Send a message to stop stealing you’re business.’

Old Ostina took a deep breath. He got up off his throne and walked to the cell door, still holding onto his book. The old man observed his ‘kingdom’ below.
He’d been incarcerated here for over two decades and he’d held absolute power here for much of that time. It wasn’t until recently with the arrival of an old enemy, in the form of Kato Sulla, had there been any real challenge to his power. As a so-called Monarch, Thero Ostina had great power and wealth and although he wasn’t physically able to rule his Monarchy back home, he was able to provide it with revenue. The Secundus was a gold mine and he’d expanded his families operations into the facility.

‘Supply and demand.’ He said almost sage-like. ‘It’s economics at its basic level. Our customers have a demand for Drops. We supply the Drops to meet that demand and in return taxes are collected. Debts are paid and profits are distributed. Sulla is a small time Monarch and I wouldn’t even call him that. He’s more like a crown prince waiting to inherit his father’s title.’

‘But surely you can see if Sulla takes away our demand you loose out on taxes?’ Said Kolt.

‘Of course.’ Ostina snapped. ‘I am not blind, but it is quantity that counts. Sulla can’t meet the demand, not for a while a least. We have a few months head start on his operations until the next freight shipment arrives.’

‘And if he moves on you before then?’

‘He wont.’

‘What makes you so certain?’

The old man gestured for Kolt to follow him out on the tier landing. Against the railings they both looked onto the prison block below. Ostina filtered through the bodies looking for only one man who he hoped could solve his problem. Someone separate from the politics of the Secundus.

‘See him,’ the Monarch pointed to a loner standing near the security tower on ground level, ‘he’s going to be the key to our problem with the Hydra’s.’

‘What? Tybalt, my new cellmate?’ Said Kolt, confused. ‘He’s just one man, he’s got strength and the Hydra’s have no love for him but I don’t see-‘

Ostina held up his hand cutting Kolt off. ‘He’s ex-guard and out of all the gangs in this place which one is the biggest?’
Kolt shrugged.

‘The Guard; disgraced soldiers; the Xenobane. Professional killers. We need to forge an alliance with them. I’ve been trying for years, Revic and his thickheaded stubboness. I’ve never had the opportunity until now. Your association with him gives us something we’ve never had before.’

‘I’m not sure I follow?’

‘The Old Guard are very protective of there own, the Hydra’s won’t attack someone connected to the Xenobane. We need to get this, Tybalt, to become friendlier with the Major and his lads. That way when the time comes we could call on their muscle to help us. Picture it. You’d ask a favour of Tybalt and he’ll ask the Major.’

‘So you want me to use Tybalt to get to the Xenobane? Those guys aren’t stable, they hate the hive gangs, almost as much as they hate Xeno’s.’

‘A loose alliance with the Xenobane will give us the edge. Your cellmate can help us get that alliance.’ Concluded Ostina before returning to his cell, leaving Kolt at the railings.
The young ganger stood there for a minute looking at the solitary Tybalt below. He’d gotten to know the man quite well since his arrival. Ostina wanted something he wasn’t sure Tybalt would comply with. Tybalt was a loner and chose not to associate himself, even with the ex-guard inmates. Kolt knew his cellmate wasn’t interested in those ignorant Xenobane or what they stood for, but the theory of Ostina’s plan was sound. Now he’d just need spark to kindle a friendship between the two guardsmen.


Walking back down the tiers with Breach, Kolt thought about what Ostina’s was asking of him. He was a little lost in his thoughts. But then Breach cut in.
‘So what did the Monarch have to say?’

‘He’s asking us to forge an alliance.’

‘An alliance, with who?’

Kolt stopped walking and nodded to the group of men ahead of them. Breach followed the gesture and was shocked with where it led to.

‘The Xenobane? You’ve got to be joking.’

‘I wish I were.’ Said Kolt.



In his regal cell, old Thero Ostina sat on his throne thinking to himself. Fate was playing into his hands. The arrival of the guardsman, Tybalt Thorn could be a turning point in his conflict with the Hydra’s. Those hive rats worked for his main rival, Monarch Kato Sulla. Kolt’s friendship with an ex-guard would be advantageous in the long run so long as Tybalt and the Major bonded. He’d need to engineer that friendship. He called for Severus who entered the cell obediently.
‘Add two names to tomorrows work detail. That new guardsman, Tybalt and the Xenobane Major, Revic. Put them in the Pits.’

Severus nodded and departed the cell.
Old Thero Ostina smiled to himself before opening his leather bound book, Bellum et Pax.

He began read to himself, ‘Chapter Four, Peace through Strength…’


Inmate number BS41-1211, Thero Ostina. Convicted 968.M41. Head of the Ostina crime family from Monarch. Convicted on charges of grand racketeering, illegal gambling, money laundering, prostitution, black market trading and the ordering of an undetermined number of execution style murders.
Sentence: Life imprisonment to Bale Secundus.

****

So there it is another chapter. C+C welcome. Just to keep those of you who read this interested, I've got some more chapters coming up that'll start to move the pace of this story really quickly. I think its plodding along a bit slow at the minute but hopefully that'll change. Next post is planned for this monday...

Kravunhive

[andyg2006]

Thanks for continuing with this, I like this pace as it sets the scene and the background and leaves the door open for lost of things to happen with the various characters.

[Shadowlance]

This has been fantastic so far, just want you to know that this story is greatly appreciated.

Keep it up mate!


Cheers
Shadowlance

[Inquisitor Kallus]

Whilst you may see it as 'slow' at the moment it is really setting the scene, in a deep and rich way

[hawo0313]

awesome story man completely different to enything ive read from 40k keep up the good work

[Templar Marshal]

I just found this gem of a story and quite enjoyed reading it. I hope you update this story soon.

[Kravunhive]

Thank you everyone who has left feedback. It is your kind words that keep me going with this story although I apologise for the slowness of my updates.

All I can say is watch this space...

Again, thank you all.
Kravunhive