Part 1

He knew exactly what he was doing.

For twenty-five years he had lived, oppressed by a lame, rotten and festering High Lords of Tharius. For twenty-five long years he put up with the ruling caste, as they controlled Tharius like harsh Gods – wherever you turned there was Terra law, the Administratums Link organization, a tightening of imperial citizens morals and rights. Hundreds packed into the prisons, innocents caught up in the greedy wiles of an immutable dictatorship, and hundreds – if not thousands – had vanished or been press-ganged into the Link Projectum, whatever that truly was.

No, this would not continue, the true light of the corpse-Emperor would shine in their withered souls. This would make them listen. This would free the world. This would-

Was the security guard looking at him? He furtively looked sideways, lightning fear of being caught flashing in his gut - a furry rat burrowing within him. No, he's looked away. Keep moving.

He held a small, non-descript cylindrical tube within his jacket. His sweaty fingers held it tightly within the pocket. He slowly moved it between his fingers – at once repulsive and electric to the touch.

This would set everyone free.

He edged closer to the entrance of the stadium, and the crowd thickened with every step. He had a Game Pass, one that should have been able to get him into the arena with only a cursory nod from security, if that.

Either way, he would unleash the virus.

But, for maximum effect, he wanted into the Deathball stadium, where thousands of people and families waited for the game to start. He had been told that it had ninety seven percent commutability, so wherever he let it out would cause untold damage. But he was unsure of that fact, and so he wanted it unleashed where people were in close proximity.

Something scratched within him. So many people would – will – die. Was it worth it? Hell yes, it was the only way these days to be heard. When a whole city fell, people would listen.

Maybe even back on Terra they would feel the fallout.

The Guard checked his Pass, and swiftly moved him on. It was so easy!

Soon the virus would be out, attacking everyone within the stadium, and hopefully across the city.

He slipped easily into the larger corridors that wound up to the higher tiers of the stadium, his head low, his feet determined. Once he made it to his seat he would rest easier and prepare for what would follow.

Minutes later, after he had to once more show his pass, he stood within his box looking hundreds of metres above the Deathball field. This was a good seat and a good place to let loose the virus.

Soon the spectators took their seats and the full hundred thousand fans filled the stadium, ready for the coming game – the Huson Battlers there taking on the New Terra Raiders in one of the biggest games of the season. It was a sell out crowd.

He could wait no longer, the fiery hatred (and itching fear) burning in him so deep. He pulled on the top of the tube with his thumb and popped open the lid, unleashing the chemicals containing the virus within.

He was immediately infected and those around his box were also moments later. It took only minutes before the virus spread throughout the stadium, infecting thousands. Within hours, millions across the city carried the plague within their bodies.

And it didn't stop there. He was not the only terrorist that day letting loose one of the most deadly viruses known upon the city. At least four others within scholums, hospilitates and parks opened the deadly canisters, and within the day, the whole city was infected. A billion people as least. Death upon everyone.

Except a few.

*

Carson awoke with a start. His dreams had burnt deep as he slept. He wished his nightmares away with a mental shrug, and sat up from his bed. Faint light pushed its way through the closed window.

Frak, why didn't the God-Emperor just let me sleep longer, he thought. But that would not happen, he knew.

It just wasn't safe.

He moved away from the sweaty covers of the bed, and walked sleepily over to the drinks cabinet, selecting a Glavian wine. He pulled open the bottle cap and took a long swig of the alcohol, savouring the bitter taste, then he put the bottle down and checked his side-arm – dependably clipped to his waist as he slept – a rustic, yet reliable, stub-pistol. Fully loaded, as always.

He walked over to the shuttered window and pulled it open. He warily looked over the city of Tharius, once a sprawling hub of humanity, and he only saw the setting sun as it cast its final rays of the day over the rotting city.

Nothing moved in the cityscape, except a ghostly breeze that swept silently throughout the brittle-looking streets. Dust, detritus and rubbish moved in the wind, but nothing much else.

Vehicles stood still in the main roadways, amidst the crashed ruins of orbital launchers; ore trucks, that used to roar down the avenues each day for the manufactoriums, lay dormant across the roads; and the bodies of dead animals, be it dogs, rats or whatever, lay decomposing in the ceremite pavements. The tall, building sized vid-screens that used to voice the Imperial Creed each day to the populace stood blank and silent, a dark parody of the benevolent God-Emperor Himself.

The final rays of sunshine for the day vanished amidst the desolate city, and night enveloped the city. Moments later a dry moaning echoed throughout the streets, a coarse, haunting sound. The denizens of the city have awoken, he thought.

He moved away from the window and thumbed the activation switch on his pistol on his hip, readying himself for another day, or night rather, in the once great city of Tharius.

The sun vanished and darkness blanketed everything.

*

6