Chapter 33: Mobilization
Duvette had Evan summon every soldier in the 101st who was currently on the training deck. Over sixteen hundred remained, and when they assembled, they still filled the space in tight, ordered ranks that stretched from one end of the deck to the other.
Duvette climbed to a maintenance platform above the floor and looked down. Upturned faces looked back at him, attentive. He took a moment, looking at the training-stained uniforms, and let the words settle in his mind before he spoke.
"Soldiers."
The word rolled through the open space of the deck. Every spine straightened.
"At the request of a significant authority," Duvette said, "we have been conscripted for a task."
A ripple of unease moved through the ranks below. Soldiers exchanged glances. Confusion on the faces he could see clearly.
He waited for it to settle, then continued. "I need fifty of the most capable and most courageous soldiers in this regiment to accompany me on a mission." His gaze moved across the assembled faces. "A mission with almost no prospect of return."
The training deck went quiet. Only the ventilation system's low murmur continued.
"In all likelihood," Duvette said, his voice steady, "those who leave this ship for this mission will not be coming back."
The words landed. Another ripple went through the formation. He cleared his throat with deliberate weight and it stopped.
"But you need not worry." He spoke before the silence could extend too long. "I will be going with you. And I will always be in front of you."
He paused.
"If I survive it," he said, "I will bring back what remains of the brothers who do not. I will tell every soldier left in this regiment what they did, and how they did it. The Emperor will have witnessed their courage. Their souls will return to the Golden Throne."
He drew one long breath.
"Now," he said. "Those who are willing to come with me — raise your right hand."
He let a beat pass. "Those who are not — there is no shame in it. Wait here and expect our return."
Silence held for approximately three seconds.
Then, from the assembled mass on the floor below, almost every hand went up. Arms rose in a forest of them, orderly and simultaneous. No hesitation. No exchange of glances first. Only the soft sound of cloth moving.
Duvette looked at the raised hands without speaking. He looked at the faces beneath them.
He did not know whether what he was seeing was the product of what Farrak IV had done to his personal reputation, or the System's quiet influence working on the formation, or both. What he knew was that the feeling it produced in him was not simple.
He let out a quiet breath. "Thank you for your trust," he said, and his voice was lower than it had been. "In that case — let me arrange the roster."
A pause.
"Dismissed."
The order spread. Hands came down. The soldiers broke cleanly from their formation, boots finding the metal floor in the organized sound of a disciplined body dispersing. Duvette descended from the platform, the metal steps announcing each footfall.
He had just reached the training deck floor when a large shape came to stand beside him.
Anderson Walker.
The big man stood in front of Duvette with his chest rising and falling, his face wearing an expression of near-stubborn certainty.
"Commissar," Anderson said. His voice was direct. "I have to go."
Duvette looked up at him.
"I wasn't there for the final battle on Farrak IV," Anderson continued. "I couldn't help you when it mattered. But you saved my life." He paused. "I haven't forgotten that. I intend to pay it back. So this time, I have to go."
Duvette held his gaze. "Anderson. The odds of dying on this mission are considerably worse than anything we faced underground against the World Eaters. You understand that."
"The 101st here also needs—"
"This is my duty." Anderson cut across him quietly. "The life I have now — you gave it to me."
Duvette was silent for a few seconds. Then a slight smile found its way onto his face.
"Thank you," he said. He reached up and put a hand briefly on the big man's arm. "You'll have what you came for."
Before the words had finished settling, another voice came from behind Anderson.
"Don't forget me, Commissar."
Stroud pushed through from the dispersing soldiers. The lean, bald man had the familiar expression on his face — that slightly roguish ease, comfortable with itself. He came forward, reached up, and scratched the top of his tattooed head.
"You wouldn't want to go into a place like that without the sharpest eyes in the regiment," Stroud said, pulling one corner of his mouth up. "Trust me — if I had been there for the final battle, it would have been over considerably faster."
Duvette looked at Stroud's yellowed grin and raised one eyebrow.
"Naturally you're coming," he said.
Stroud made a short, satisfied sound and stepped up alongside Anderson. The two of them stood there next to Duvette, mismatched in every physical dimension.
Duvette was about to turn when Evan appeared at his side.
The young adjutant's face was tense. He opened his mouth, seemed to have something he needed to say, and found he couldn't get it out.
Duvette read the expression before Evan managed a single word.
"No," Duvette said. "You stay."
Evan's eyes went wide.
"I'll designate a company commander as acting deputy," Duvette continued. "You'll support him in managing the 101st while I'm gone."
"But—" Evan finally forced something out, his voice carrying urgency. "Commissar, I—"
"No." There was no harshness in it, but no room either. "This is not the right time for you to be following me somewhere like this."
Evan fell quiet.
"And your sister," Duvette added. His voice dropped slightly. "Wait here, both of you. If I make it back, I'll come and find you. Stay here and stay safe."
Evan bit his lip. He looked at Duvette with something in his eyes that was not acceptance and not quite protest either, and held it there for a few seconds. Then he drew a long breath.
"You will come back, Commissar." Evan's voice had steadied. "You'll come back alive." He held Duvette's gaze. "My sister said so. She said you're a genuinely good person — that you'll live for a very long time." A pause. "You know I believe her."
Duvette looked at the boy's face. The absolute seriousness of it. The complete absence of doubt in it.
He said nothing for several seconds.
Then he smiled, and there was something helpless underneath it.
"Tell her I said thank you," Duvette said. He put a hand on Evan's shoulder. "I feel considerably better about this now."
Evan nodded hard. Some of the tension finally left his face.
Duvette withdrew his hand and turned to Anderson and Stroud standing behind him.
"Follow me," he said. "We're going to the armory. Time to get ready."
Both answered at once and fell in step.
Duvette walked ahead. Anderson and Stroud came behind him.
He did not look back. He knew that from this point every step carried him closer to a mission that would in all likelihood kill him. He also knew that behind him were people who had chosen to make that walk with him.
That was enough.
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