Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Lord Inquisitor Maximilian [Redacted] of the Ordo Astartes

I glared at the man before me, digesting the new information Magos Biologas Tetriach had just imparted onto me. I turned my head then, keeping the red robed machine priest in the corner of my vision and beheld his “success”. Out of the sixteen medical stasis units before me, ten were still active and filled with a clear medical gel and a successful subject each.

My eyes caught on subject number eleven, its bulky form closely resembling that of any other space marine with only two distinguishing details. The more minor one was its height, subject eleven and the rest of this batch were of abnormally low stature for fully augmented Space Marines. Yet that wouldn’t have drawn my scrutiny to this particular batch, no what interested me was the difference in their base material that their naked form revealed. That lunatic Tetriach had made space marines from female base stock and with obviously inferior results to boot! The preliminary test results of these ten by themselves should have been enough to shut this project down and yet the Magos had labelled them a success despite their reduced physical capabilities and over thirty percent implantation failure rate.

“Please explain to me Magos, what possessed you to invest so many resources to solve a manpower problem we don’t have, and with a subpar solution to boot.” I hissed as I turned back towards him, my tone low and dangerous.

Yet the machine priest did not flinch as I addressed him or stutter as he began to answer me. No, the ingrate had the nerve to be outright jolly, his synthesised voice raising an octave in excitement as he began to speak! “Of course, Lord Inquisitor, I will gladly impart the chain of logic that led me to this.” the machine priest gestured towards the frozen forms. “You see, my labour on this, my greatest success, began many years before the 21th founding was even an idea that was discussed in the Senatorum Imperialis.” the man began to explain, seemingly determined to inflict his entire life's story onto me.

This was why I preferred working with Astartes, while they were more often than not uncooperative and exceptionally hardheaded, at least they were straight to the point.

“Magos!” I interrupted him a minute into his tale, cutting him off before rephrasing my earlier question. “I did not ask for your life’s story Tetriach, I asked why you not only chose to pursue this doomed line of research, despite the strain it was inflicting on our already stretched budget, but also labelled these failures as success.” I clarified while gesturing to the unconscious forms of his test subjects, before going on. “Because Magos, I’m going to have you and your research terminated within the next hour, unless you can do the impossible and convince me that this project is indeed worth pursuing.”

That seemed to have some success in impressing on the red robed priest the direness of his situation. “Of course Lord! Please excuse my long winded explanation. To answer your question, I believe I have found a solution to the greatest problem facing our Astartes forces, the scarcity of gene-seed.” That monumental pronouncement made me raise an eyebrow.

“Please tell me you didn’t intend to create a breeding stock for space marines?” I couldn’t help but ask, my right hand inching towards the but of my plasma pistol in case that this was the lunatic’s actual intent. The thought of space marines being born, rather than made, horrified me. The fact of the matter was that Space Marines were weapons to the core and one of the few things that kept them manageable was their reliance on gene-seed to grow their number. If they could just have children like anyone else however, then their population was sure to explode, and while that might have short term benefits, they bitter truth was that the transition of the Astartes from a bioweapon to a proper subspecies would likely provoke another great civil war within the Imperium.

“Oh, Omnissiah preserve, no!” exclaimed the machine priest, making me release a breath and some of the tension in my frame. “What I have done is much simpler, I have managed to manipulate the ovaries of my subject into acting as additional progenoid glands, doubling the gene-seed output of these marines from two to four.” Explained the magos, alleviating my fears and replacing them with honest interest.

The greatest limiting factor of the Astartes recruitment was gene-seed, due to the fact that at most two progenoid glands could be harvested from every marine. Of course, the actual number of successfully retrieved gene-seed samples was much lower, around one point five on average during successful operations, simply because the body of the fallen marine either couldn’t be recovered or was outright destroyed. Add to that the relatively high mortality rate among those implanted with the gene-seed, which could be anywhere between eighteen and twenty-five percent, and it should become clear to anyone, with even the most basic education in math, why most chapters were always struggling to maintain their numbers.

These new marines however, if they followed a similar ratio of gene-seed recovery as their male counterpart, should have a much easier time absorbing losses, even with their implantation failure rate of over thirty percent.

Still, a twelve percent decrease in upper body strength, seven point nine percent decrease in running speed, seven point eight decrease in reaction time was a harsh price to pay for this advantage.

“What do you think, Captain Hector, will their diminished combat capability be worth their increased numbers?” I decided to ask the third person in the room with me and the magos: Watch Captain Hector Toyer.

The Captain and his Watch Company had been attached to the development team to train and evaluate the first generation of new marines, the diverse composition of marines within the unit making them and their commander uniquely suited for the position. I thus left the decision to him.

He didn’t answer me immediately, instead he took a minute to think before he answered me. “I believe the loss in combat effectiveness will be much lower than you think.”

“And why is that?” I couldn’t help but ask. “They have underperformed in nearly every physical evaluation and achieved no distinguishing marks in any other test, with the exception of their tactical and strategic thinking evaluation. But even that success can be traced back to the far above average performance of subject eleven, with the rest of the subjects performing only marginally better or worse than the expected average.”

The Death Watch officer nodded his helmed head. “Yes, I’m aware of these facts and that is why I believe there might be hope to salvage something from this.” he said, before he began to explain. “Their scores in the hand-eye coordination, spatial awareness and visual perception evaluations are no worse than those of most other marines, meaning that they shouldn't be at any disadvantage when it comes to the use of bolters and other ranged weapons. And while it is true that they will always be at a disadvantage in close quarters, at least compared to other marines, that is a weakness that can be compensated for with proper tactics and doctrine.”

I nodded my head in acknowledgment of his point, my eyes moving once more to the ten subjects held in cryogenic sleep. Ten, an entire squad ready to be defrosted and deployed. “Watch Captain, I believe we should put your theory to the test and I know exactly how.” I told the marine before turning towards Tetriarch. “Magos, get these ten ready for transportation onto the Oathbound, I believe a field test is in order.”

“Of course Lord Inquisitor, your will be done.” the tech priest answered me, bowing his head, before he addressed me once more a moment later. “Should my colleagues also prepare ten of their own subjects for this evaluation? I’m certain they would be more than happy at the chance to gather real field data.”

I nodded my head. “Yes, they may send me an application if they have a squad ready for testing. After all, if we commit to a field test then we might as well make the most of it.” I answered the magos, before turning to Hector. “I trust finding them a proper testing ground won’t be too difficult?”

The marine shook his head. “It will be no problem, the foes of our Imperium are numerous enough.” he answered me, his deep baritone voice containing a hint of eagerness. I would guess that he went too long without hunting then. Well that was hardly a surprise I supposed, the good Watch Captain had been stuck here on Inculaba for more than ten years at this point.

“I assume that you plan to perform this evaluation yourself then?” I asked, knowing the answer already.

Chapter Text

Subject 11

I swam in endless darkness, my eyes blind, my ears deaf and limbs cold. Only my mind was somewhat active, reliving memories in a disjointed dream-like fashion. The memories of this life were the vagues, indistinct flashes of surgeries, hypnotic learning, battle simulations, tests and trials without end, the pain of the experiences anchoring them in my memories. What came before that, if there even was a before, was a mystery to me.

I did not know my name, or if I had a family or even where I was from, all I knew of this life was my duty. I was a weapon of the Emperor of Mankind, for the defence of his Imperium would I live and on the blades of his enemies would I die, that was my purpose.
Yet I knew more, for this wasn’t the first life I had lived, or even my second for that matter.

Before this live, I had been Tanya von Degurachaf, Lieutenant-Colonel of the Battlegroup Salamander, soldier in service to Fatherland and Kaiser. Looking back, I suppose my old and new life wouldn’t be so different, war was war after all.

I suppose one could argue that the Imperium of Man had a better justification for its militarism than the Empire. After all, the Imperium’s enemies weren’t other humans that could be reasoned with, but literal aliens with completely different sets of values and ways of thinking. At least if the knowledge they implanted me with on the topic wasn’t pure propaganda, something I would have to assess in time.

But before my life as a soldier, I was someone else. A salaryman with a promising career in Human Resources, a career cut short by the hands of a shortsighted fool. At the time I did not understand the fool. What did he think to gain from my demise? Now I knew he hadn’t thought anything, only felt, not that I could comprehend or even understand that at the time.

Yet without understanding why, I still did the same when Being X confronted me. Looking back, I could admit there was no logic in picking a fight with the thing claiming to be God, and yet I could not bring myself to regret this decision.

I was ripped from my musings by a jolt, an electrical current running through my body. In a single moment, my mind went from sluggish to overdrive, sensation suddenly returning to my limbs and my twin hearts thundered within my chest. I was awakened once more, the sensation of floating within my tank, a breathing mask strapped to my face and a medical blindfold obscuring my sight were all too familiar by now.

But just because I knew what was going on didn’t mean I was calm. I was disoriented, cold and had just received a massive shot of adrenalin, in other words, I was pissed. Moving through the slowly draining gel, I pounded my fists against the glass cylinder containing me. Yet my struggle was pointless as the armoured glass stubbornly held firm, neither warping or breaking as the gel which had engulfed me in my slumber drained away.

Then, with a hiss, the latch of my prison opened and I took the chance and stumbled forward, driven by an eagerness rooted in claustrophobia. I was still unbalanced, blind and covered in slippery gel however, so it was of no surprise that I stumbled over the lip of my container and lost my balance, ending up on all four on a tiled floor.

The pain of my fall, however minor it was, cut through the fog of my blind panic and I held on to that clarity with all I had, willing my hearts to slow their beating and the adrenaline in my blood to dissipate.

I was soon reminded that I wasn’t alone however. “Subject eleven, can you hear me?” a gravelly voice asked from my right, the speaker sounding like he had spent the last fifty years surviving on nothing but cigars and scotch.

Immediately I jumped up into a low crouch and oriented myself towards the voice, ripping the blindfold and breathing mask from my face as I did so while holding out the other arm in a guard position. All this happened in a single moment, the remaining adrenaline in my blood and combat instinct drilled into my body compelling me to face this potential threat with bared teeth. What I saw disarmed me however.

Before me stood a black armoured giant -a space marine, my mind whispered-, his helmless face and piercing sky blue eyes reminding me of my own. “Brother” I gasped before I could even stop to think, my voice hoarse from disuse and the after effects of the suspended state I had just been awoken from.

The marine nodded, his golden locks bounced at the motion and an almost kind smile coming to his features. I said almost because I could still detect a certain degree of warryness from him, his right hand still gripping the handle of his holstered handgun -a bolt pistol, I knew without ever having seen one.

Slowly, I relaxed my frame and straightened my crouched posture, trying to appear calm and unthreatening. The marine relaxed in response and released the bolter’s handle, yet his hand still lingered near it.

“I’m indeed your brother, subject eleven, and…” he began, before I interrupted him.

“Tanya” I spat out with no small degree of anger, I was done just being subject eleven! I was done with being a lab animal, with being reduced to a number. I was human and I had a name!

“My name is Tanya, not Subject eleven.” I declared, my eyes meeting those of the marine and daring him to call me wrong.

The tension following my proclamation was broken by the low chuckle, the marine evidently finding me amusing. My expression darkened and my anger rose in response, as I began to crouch once more, reading myself to tackle the man in front of me if necessary, but then he spoke once more. “Please forgive me Tanya, I mean no offence.” he assured me.

I grimaced but took him at his word for now, instead waiting for him to continue as I straightened my posture once more.

“As I was about to say, I’m indeed your brother, Tanya. I’m Veteran Assault Marine Gabrial, of the Gold Seraphs Chapter and currently in service to Captain Hector’s Watch Company.” he introduced himself. My eyes were drawn to his throat as he spoke, there was a faded scar that ran horizontally across his flesh. Someone had evidently tried to slit his throat once and only succeeded in damaging his voice.

Immediately following his introduction, knowledge gained from the hypnotic conditioning of the past years came to the surface of my mind, giving context to who Gabrial was and what that meant for me. He was part of a space marine chapter, elite formations of genetically engineered super soldiers that operated in autonomous units of one thousand men.

He had introduced himself as a Veteran Assault Marine, denoting that he specialised in close quarters combat and gained enough notoriety to be invited into the first company of his chapter. The Gold Seraphs were a second founding chapter of the Blood Angels, who’s primarch was Sanguinius, who in all likelihood was my gene-father as well, since Gabrial had confirmed that we were siblings. The final piece of information was that he was currently part of a Watch Company, meaning that he currently served in the Death Watch, the Chamber Militant of the Inquisition's Ordo Xenos.

With more and more knowledge coming to my mind, I found that I had two questions. “Why am I a space marine, I was under the impression that only men were recruited? And what am I doing with the Death Watch, where only Veterans are permitted?” I ask, although I suspected I already knew the answer to the first question. After all, it wasn’t difficult to deduce that I was an experiment.

My brother swiftly confirmed my thought. “Normally, you would be correct. You are of a new experimental breed of space marine and you are onboard our vessel because it was decided that you are to be part of a field test to assess your kind's viability, compared to marines made from male stock.”

I nodded my head, this made sense I supposed. Astartes, or Space Marines, like myself were not considered human, we were weapons forged from human stock, and every weapon needed to be tested at some point in development.

The thought made a part of myself want to rage and scream about the unfairness of life and curse Being X for this latest insult, putting me into a new life where I was reduced to a weapon to be used and then discarded with no chance of retirement. But another, newer, part of me bore the revelation with stoic indifference, or perhaps resignation was the better word. The bitter truth was that life simply wasn’t fair and all one could do was play the cards one was dealt with to the best of one's ability.

Besides, while I was reduced to a weapon, at least my purpose was noble. To be a bulwark against terror, a defender of humanity. That was a cause I could get behind, even if I had rather not been here at all.

With my internal crisis over, I addressed Garial once more, the man having patiently waited for me to come to terms with my new lot in life. “I take it you are to be my handler?” I asked him.

“I am, as will I be for your sisters.” he answered me, gesturing back to where my stasis chamber was. There I saw that I hadn’t been alone, nine identical chambers, each housing a single unconscious form, stood beside my now empty one.

Overcome by curiosity, I turned away from Gabrial completely and took a closer look at one of them. While their features were hidden behind the same kind of bulky rebreather and cotton blindfold I had worn moments ago, their hair was the same shade of blond that I and Gabrial shared. Letting my eyes wander lower, I inspected their ridiculously bulky body.

Seriously, they looked like an eighties edgy superhero from my first life with how ridiculously large and bulky their muscles were and how small the head was in comparison to their body.
Now that I was looking for it, the proportions of us Astartes seemed to be all slightly off in general, like someone tried to draw a bodybuilder without ever having seen one.

The overall effect of this was that I could hardly tell that the person in front of me was a woman, their lack of body fat and enlarged frame giving her a very masculine appearance. The only tells were the primary sex, which had neither been obscured or altered outwardly, and perhaps the hip to shoulder ratio, which was still skewed toward the hips by the slightest margin, not that anyone would be able to tell without taking a really close look.

Beyond that, her body was covered in scars and metallic implants. The purpose of the implants came easily to me, they were neuralports with which she would interface with the power-armour, but the scars weren’t so clear. Some of which were so straight and purposeful that they couldn’t be anything but surgical scars, but others were far more uneven or even of a totally different nature, such as what looked like a partially healed burn scar on her right hand. The presence of such scaring made me conclude that at least some of the tests and training exercises I remembered must have been real, not just simulations directly uploaded into my mind. How else would she have acquired such a wound after all?

“They will be reanimated later, for now I was only told to awaken and equip you.” rasped Gabrial, causing me to turn away from the tank and back towards him again. I did so just in time to see a door behind him open and two women enter, the first being an old crone carrying what looked to be a bucket of water and a big sponge, while the second one, who looked to be barely out of her teens, held a large cloth bundle and a second rubber like one. Both of them had dark skin, round faces, wavy black hair and striking green eyes, making me conclude that they were probably related.

“I will be waiting outside for you while you get dressed,” announced Gabrial as he left through the door the women had just entered through.

Once we were alone, the crone stepped forward and set her bucket down before soaking the sponge in her hand. “My Lady, would you kneel for an old woman so we may begin with your head?” she requested, her own head not even reaching my shoulders.

Seeing no reason to make the woman’s job more difficult than it needed to be, I followed her instructions and got on my knees. From there, the old woman started to methodically scrub me down, cleaning me of the slippery film of gel that still clung to my form.

Then, once she was done with that, the old crone began to apply some kind of oil to my body. Why she had done that became clear once she had finished and the younger of the two stepped forward, presenting me with a black rubber like body glove. Putting the thing on was very difficult as the suit seemed to be tailored within a millimetre to my skin and the neural ports on my body and the suit needed to be precisely aligned to fit.

After that I accepted the cloth the younger woman offered me, it turned out to be some kind of loose fitting robe that one simply pulled over one's head and then fastened around the waist with a sash.

Clothed like that, I made for the door but stopped right before it, turning back to the two women. “Thank you for your service.” I simply told them, there was no reason to be rude to service workers after all. In fact, while getting on their good side might seem like a small thing, it was of equally small cost to be polite, and could predispose them to work extra hard for me or put my needs over others if they ever needed to prioritise.

My words seemed to have the desired effect, as both women bowed their heads and crossed their arms in front of their chest to form the Aquila, the older one addressing me. “Of course honoured Lady, we live to serve.”

I acknowledged their answer with a nod and then left the room, meeting Gabriel again in a long corridor with many similar doors. From there we moved on, first entering and then leaving what I guessed was the ship’s primary infirmary, travelling further into the depths of the ship. We passed many members of the crew on our way, allowing me to estimate that if the average man was between one point eight and one point seven metres tall, then my own height was somewhere close to two metres and Gabrial in power armour stood around two point three metres tall, since my head just reached up to his shoulders.

Eventually we reached our destination, the heavily fortified doors of the armoury. Upon entering, he led me to a pre-prepared selection of weapons and two suits of power-armour. “Arm and armour yourself, then we will meet Captain Hector and your fellow squad leaders,” he simply told me.

Looking at the weapons available to me, I noted that the selection before me was quite diverse. There were all kinds of Bolters, from simple bolt pistols to heavy bolters, chain weapons of all make as well as more exotic armaments, like flamer, melta-weapons and rocket launchers were laid out for me to choose from.

It was similar with the armour, even if there were only two choices, but those couldn’t be more different. The first one was Mark III armour, heavy but cumbersome, ideal for environments where dodging or seeking cover wasn’t an option. The other was a Mark VII armour, which was considered the best allrounder set and therefore the most widely used, or so my artificial memories said.

It was a curious feeling seeing all these weapons and then just having a memory I wasn’t aware of just pop into my head and explain what I was looking at. It wasn't overwhelming or accompanied by headaches, no it felt almost natural and yet I could clearly tell that these memories were artificial by how detailed and clinical they were. I suppose if I didn’t have my memories from my first two lives then I wouldn't have been able to tell, but if I had to explain it then these artificial memories compared to real ones the same way a textbook article would compare to a novel. They were pure data, with no traces of emotion or unassociated subject matter attached.

It was an amazing technique, I suppose. Cutting out the need for decades of learning by simply downloading the information straight into one's head. Still, while these implanted memories were very informative, they weren’t enough for me to make a choice.

This was a test, I decided after a moment of thought, the selection of weapons and armour was simply too diverse. The question was, what they were testing, did they just want to see my weapon preference or were they looking for something less obvious?

Turning around, I decided to make use of the only source of information I had, my handler. “Sir, for what kind of mission am I to arm myself? What will my primary objective be, what terrain can I expect, will I be alone or working together with other forces and what enemy will I be facing?” I asked him.

Gabrial gave me a grin in response. “All good questions. You will be facing Orks, the mission objective is to break up various warband on the jungle planet of Verda, you will have the other nine marines of your geneline at your command. The rest will be revealed to you after you armed yourself, during the meeting with Captain Hector.” he informed me.

Nodding my head, I turned back to the selection of weapons before me and considered my options. Orks were simple beast like creatures with only really one objective: to fight. To that end, they clustered around the biggest of their kind who would lead the warband to wherever they thought the best fight was to be had. It followed that the simplest method of breaking up an ork army was to kill its leader and then take advantage of the resulting infighting as his lieutenants, or Nobs as they called themselves, would fight over who would become the new warboss.

With that in mind, I chose to equip myself with the Mark VII power armour because of the higher mobility it would offer me and a Stalker Bolter sniper rivel. I also selected a standard combat knife as a close combat option and utility tool, as well as a smoke grenade and a proximity mine.

I was nearly done with choosing my equipment when my eyes were caught by something else. A jump pack. Traditionally, those were used by assault marines to jump into a fight, but it would likely serve me just as well to reach an elevated potion to snipe from or make a quick exit if I was spotted, so I had one added to my armour.

After the horrific monstrosities that were the armament servitors were done with me, Gabrial approached me. “What colour would you like?” he asked, without giving context, although it wasn’t difficult to guess that he was asking for my armour since it was still an unpainted grey.

“I would guess that a green camo pattern would be best, since we will be fighting in a jungle most likely,” I told him, but he shook his head.

“Not an option I’m afraid, already taken.” he gestured to a table with multiple spray cans on it, the green, bronze and yellow ones already set aside. “Also, I won’t be painting your entire armour, that comes later, only adding your rank.”

I nodded my head and gave the remaining selection a quick look, before choosing. “I will take silver then.” I told him, deciding on it simply out of habit.

A moment later my helmet was decorated with a silver skull, denoting my rank. I couldn’t help but think that it could function equally well as a bulls eye for an enemy sniper.

Chapter Text

Tanya

I and Gabrial were the fourth prototype/handler pair reaching the conference room. The centre of the room was dominated by a large table with a holographic projector at its centre. The display was currently in standby mode, projecting the double headed eagle of the Imperium.

By the table stood five black armoured figures, each wearing their helmet and turned towards each other in silent discussion. As we entered, one of the black armoured marines, Watch Captain Hector by the look of his rank sign, turned his head towards us. “You,” he pointed at me, “join the others and wait.” He gestured towards the wall to my left, where three other grey armoured marines were already standing.

I just nodded my head and complied with his order, taking a closer look at my fellow prototype marines as I took my place alongside them. Two of them had already taken their helmets off and held them in the crook of their arm, so I did the same.

The first marine I took notice of was the one with the yellow rank sign, he too was a son of the ninth legion, judging by his looks. Similar to myself, he had equipped himself with the mark seven power armour and a jump pack, but there ended our similarities. He had equipped himself with a bolt gun and a chain sword, like a typical assault marine, instead of going for range like I was.

Beside him stood a man with quite literally coal black skin and a green rank sign, identifying him as a Salamander successor. He had chosen the mark three armour and armed himself with a heavy flamer, the specialty of his parent legion and a good pick against orks, I noted. Besides that, he had a combat knife and bolt pistol hanging from his belt, alongside two grenades, one krak and the other frag.

The third and final one of them also wore the mark three armour, his rank sign painted in bronze. He was also the odd one out that did wear his helmet and had a storm shield that obscured most of his body, hiding whatever weapons he had aside from a chain axe in his right hand.

It was also noticeable that all of them were a good bit taller than me, with the shortest being the one with the yellow rank sign, who was still a good ten centimetres taller than me, and the tallest being the Salamander successor, who I estimated to be about two point four metres tall.

That trend continued as first a blue marked marine came in, carrying a two handed chain axe, then another with a purple mark that carried a bolter and had both a chain sword and a bolt gun hanging from his belt. Both stood around two point two metres tall by my estimate, which seemed to be the average for space marines.

A minute after those two had joined our line, their handlers and the captain finished their talk. Then they turned towards us, the captain taking off his helmet to reveal a weathered face. His black hair was styled in a buzz cut and his eyes were piercing blue, the structure of his face was best described as hard and boxlike, with three faded scars running parallel alongside each other from the top left to the bottom right of his head.

He scrutinised us for a moment, before speaking. “What is your duty?”

I knew these words and those beside me did too, for we all immediately answered as one. “To serve the Emperor’s will!”

The marine nodded, before continuing. “And what is the Emperor’s will?”

Again, we answered as one. “That we fight and die!”

Which was followed by the captain's next question. “What is death?” he said in a tone that sounded almost like he was pondering the question himself.

“It is our duty!” came our replay, finishing the mantra like the well drilled drones we were.

“Yes, it will be your final duty,” he said, his tone carrying the slightest bit of approval. “But before then, you will hopefully have many more.” He then went on, making eye contact with each of us in turn as he spoke his next words in a pitiless voice. “You all are here because it is in question if your gene-line should be expanded into complete chapters, or if you are just not worth it.”

I couldn’t help but shiver at his words, the weight of the expectation we would have to fulfil becoming clear to me. The men beside me must have felt similarly, the marine with the blue mark in particular growled like a cornered dog.

The captain ignored him however, continuing his speech. “You are all here for different reasons,” he began, “some of you show mutations beyond the norm,” he looked at the green marked marine, “others are experiments,” he looked straight at me, “and some just underperformed.” he looked straight at the blue marked marine, his growling abruptly ceasing as the captain made eye contact with him.

Silence hung in the air for a moment as his proclamation, all of us now aware how much was riding on us doing well in whatever trials they had prepared for us. That being said, I felt pretty good about myself so far. After all, if I was right then I should already have passed the first test in the armoury.

Something that the captain confirmed a moment later. “Out of all of you, only two managed not to disappoint me so far and only one of you actually did well.” he said in a frigged tone, before addressing the green marked marine. “You, what did you ask Emek before you picked your weapon?”

The marine stiffened as he was addressed, but answered without a moment's delay. “I asked what foes I would be facing, sir.”

The captain nodded. “Yes, you did the bare minimum I expected of you. Yet somehow that is praiseworthy because only one other than you thought to do the same before arming themselves.” he growled, before pointing at me. “What did you ask?”

“Sir, I asked what the primary objective would be, what terrain I could expect, if I was to operate alone or with allies and who my enemy would be.” I answered him.

“Yes, that should have been what every last one of you should have asked, but most of you didn’t do that,” he replied in a frustrated voice, before going on, his tone calmer again. “But that is also why you are here. To learn what it truly means to be Astartes, to gather the wisdom necessary to lead your future chapter and to lay the foundation of your chapter’s culture and doctrine.” he lectured, “Each of you will be given a squad to lead and two serfs to support you, as well as a veteran member of your gene-line to guide you and a missions to prove your worth.”

Interesting, he expected an awful lot of us here. Not only did we have to do well on the coming missions to justify our existence, but we had to do so while leading our equally inexperienced siblings into battle, develop our chapters doctrine and learn to coordinate with the support staff. Granted, that wouldn’t be a problem for me since I had been a veteran officer in my past life, but I doubted the others were as lucky.

With his piece said, he then turned to one of his black clad brothers. “With that in mind, sergeant Emek, you have the floor.”

“Thank you Captain Hector,” the addressed marine answered his superior, before beginning to brief us on the mission. “Eleven years ago, our watch company was called upon to defend the planet Verda from an ork incursion. We succeeded in slaying the ork warchief before he was able to make planet fall, but many of his forces still managed to land on the planet in one form or another. The orks on the planet were mostly purged since then, with one notable exception, the western side of Verda Secundus, which had only been sparsely settled before the invasion and hadn’t been worth defending during it.” He explained, his voice sounding grim as he mentioned the need to surrender the region.

Simultainly, the holographic -or hololithic, as it was called in this day and age apparently- projector behind him, on the table, changed to show the planet in question. The western half of the continent he was talking about being highlighted. I could see why the region was left to the orks for so long, Verda Secundus was split from north to south by a large mountain chain, making it very easy to defend either side, and otherwise surrounded by ocean, with the nearest other continent over two and a half thousand kilometres away from it’s coast. Its terrain would have made operating there a challenge too, being mostly covered in rainforest and a bit of desert in the south.

“The orks existence on our world will be remedied in the coming months. As we speak, PDF forces and Imperial Guard Regiments are preparing to retake the region. They only await our arrival to launch their assault, which will be in seventy two hours under the current speed of approach,” the sergeant finished, before stepping back.

Captain Hector took over from there again. “Each of you will use that time to prepare your squad for the mission you are about to receive. You are free to use the training rooms on board for that purpose and you will be given access to the same armoury you have visited before to arm your subordinates. I would suggest that you pick their equipment with more thought than your own. Questions so far?” he asked.

I waited for a moment, not wanting to steal the chance to rehabilitate themselves from my comrades, before I stepped forward. “As we will be directly responsible for equipping our troops, could we be provided with their training records? Because I’m not even sure myself how good I’m with each piece of equipment, relative to everyone else that is, only that I’m proficient with all of them but most comfortable with a bolter.”

“Yes, you will be given records both for yourself and each of your squad members.” he answered, before gesturing for me to step back, which I did.

The green marked marine was the next to step forward. “Should our current loadout not be adequate for the mission, will we be allowed to change it?”

The captain actually seemed to think about that for a moment. “You and silver may, but the rest will have to live with their hasty decision as penance,” he eventually decided, which I wouldn’t have done myself. Punishing a subordinate to drive home the point of a lesson is one thing, but actively handicapping them during a mission is quite another. Yet the punishment might not be as harsh as it first appeared, given that the other nine marines of their squad can be equipped appropriately, making only their leader useless. Still a ten percent loss in effectiveness, in the worst case.

While I thought about that, the other blond marine, with the yellow rank sign, spoke up. “Will we be allowed to train with each other?”

Which I thought was a good idea, building cross unit comradery now would be the perfect opportunity to network with each other, after all, each of our squads were the foundation and future leadership of our chapter, if we survived until then that is. Still, even the short term benefits of having more minds to troubleshoot plans with and the mid term benefits of knowing each other should our squads fight together later would be well worth it.

The captain seemed to agree. “By all means, this is a Death Watch vessel, cross chapter cooperation is the primary purpose of our recruitment strategy” he replied, the ghost of a smile coming to his face as he answered. Well, it seems like yellow had just redeemed himself in his eyes, if I were to judge that exchange.

After that, none raised any other points, so we moved on to the actual mission each of us would receive.

First he addressed the marine with the bronze rank sign. “Since you are already equipped for tunnel fighting, you and your Squad Bronze will be cleaning out Mount Dorn. It’s an ancient bunker network built during the great crusade and the only passage through the central mountain range that the guard and PDF were unable to secure until now.” Captain Hector said, handing the marine what appeared to be an IPad, or a data-slate -as my artificial memories identified it as. Also, the captain giving him a mission appropriate for his chosen equipment did give me pause, seems like the captain wasn’t quite as willing to sabotage them for their failure as I originally thought.

Then he addressed the yellow and blue marked marines. “Your squads Yellow and Blue will be supporting the second armies’s thrust down the Alligator River, towards Feuerstädten.” he told both of them, before turning to the blue marked marine. “Squad Blue’s job will be to scout ahead and kill any ork scouts you come across,” then he nodded to the yellow marked marine, “and your squad Yellow will be working directly with the mortal soldiers.” he said before handing each a data-slate.

Then he turned towards the marine with the purple mark. “Your mission will be similar: support the third armies' advance along the northern coast, until they reach their objective: Green Harbor.”

Then he moved on to the one with the green rank sign and the flamer. “Your Squad Green will be joining the 31th Verda Amphibious-Brigade and the 56th Tallarn Tank Regiment, they will be sailing for Green Harbor ahead of the third army. The reason for that is that the Orks are building a major fleet there, which has to be addressed before they complete their armada and reinfect already cleansed locations with their misbegotten kind. To that end, the task force you are part of will be landing five kilometres to the east of the city and then assault it from land. Simultaneously, two of my Kill Teams will be infiltrating Green Harbour ahead of your landing and move to sabotage the fleet while your assault distracts the orks, before directly aiding your efforts by causing havoc for the ork backline.” He also handed the green marked marine a data-slate once he was finished.

Finally he addressed me. “As for you, Squad Silver will be airdropped near Feuerstädten, ahead of the second army. Aerial reconnaissance indicates that the abandoned hive city now hosts a growing warband with a disproportionate amount of vehicles and that the orks rebuilt the promethium extraction and refinement plants of the city, indicating that this warband is led by a mech-boy. Your objective will be to find and eliminate this creature and thus throw the orks into civil war before the second army reaches the city, which they are expected to do within seven to nine days.” he then gave me my own data-slate.

I obediently took the device, hiding that my mind was racing at a breakneck speed. Why the hell was I given such a difficult mission?! All the other squads were just handed over to friendly units as support elements, which was pretty tame. I, meanwhile, was about to be airdropped into the middle of hostile territory and expected to assassinate the leader of one of the major ork forces on the continent in the middle of his own bloody stronghold!

Perhaps I wasn’t as successful at hiding my confusion as I thought I was, because the captain explained the reason for my assignment further. “I originally planned to personally lead a kill team on this mission, but then you showed that you had the necessary forethought when you picked out our equipment, so I decided to give you this opportunity to prove yourself further with this mission. After all, your gene-line has the most to prove.”

Oh great! My reward for my excellent performance so far is more difficult and dangerous work. Well he did have a point with what he said last, I did have the most to prove, since me and my gene-line were prototypes to evaluate the usefulness of female astartes, so perhaps being given a more risky mission with more glory attached to it might be more beneficial towards proving that we are worth the upfront investment that must have gone into our development. Looking at it from that angle, the need to prove myself could have been very well his primary motivator to give me this mission, regardless of my performance so far, since whatever committee was evaluating us might still terminate the project I’m part of even if I had succeeded in a normal mission, so giving me something extra difficult might have been his only choice if he wanted me to have a fighting chance.

“Thank you sir, I won’t squander the opportunity you granted me,” I gritted out, surprising myself with how sincere I sounded. I also felt a faint sense of deja vu towards my last life’s first meeting with general Hans von Zettour.

Captain Hector was about to answer me, when the bronze marked marine interrupted him. “This war is beneath us,” he spat, gesturing to the data-slate in his hand, his axe hanging from his belt and the storm shield leaning against his side. “The guard and PDF forces on the planet are more than enough to clean up that disorganised rabble, why are we here? This mission is not worthy of Astartes support.”

The Captain’s expression darkened as he listened to the marine’s complaining, the others reading the room and subtly inching away from the man as the captain stomped over to him. “Because you lot aren’t Astartes yet,” he said in a frigid tone, “oh you all have the implants and equipment, with some of you even having shown potential, but none of you have earned those things yet. Make no mistake, Moloc, you are just an overgrown aspirant in my eyes and that means that I don’t care if you think this war is beneath you. Do you understand me!” Captain Hector screamed the last sentence directly into the marines' helmeted face, spittle hitting the face plate as he did so, his eyes burrowing into the eye lenses of the helmet.

To the man’s credit, he didn’t flinch in the slightest as the Watch Captain rebuked him and just stood there like a statue, letting a long moment of silence hang in the air before he answered the captain. “I understand, sir,” he said in a level voice, his helmet making it impossible to divine what he was thinking.

I could already tell that this one would be trouble. I had seen this Moloc’s type before: thinks he is smarter than everyone else, including his more experienced superiors, and isn’t shy about expressing that opinion. Well, I could only be glad that we wouldn’t have to work together in the near future and hope that he would either lose his abrasive attitude or never cross paths with me again.

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

Our handlers took us back towards the medical bays where our squads were still held in suspended animation so we could get started with our duties. While on route, the yellow marked marine decided to act on his idea for cross cooperation and approached me with a friendly smile.

“Greetings, I’m Septimus,” he began by introducing himself, “and I couldn’t help but notice that you too are of the ninth legion, so wanted to ask if you would be interested in some joint training later?”

I mirrored his grin. “Of course brother, I think your idea has great merit. After all, two heads are better than one and it follows that twenty are better than ten,” I answered him, before realising that I had yet to introduce myself. I considered hiding that I was female for a moment, but decided against it, hiding something like that implied that you had a reason to hide it after all, which I didn’t. “I’m Tanya by the way.”

“Tanya? Huh, I assume that was your name from before we were ascended?” he asked, surprising me by being more confused by the name than my gender.

“I assume so, I remember close to nothing from before our training, only that I’m Tanya.” I answered him, omitting my previous lives.

Septimus simply accepted my answer without complaint, nodding his head. “Yes, it is much the same for me too. So when I was awakened, I decided that I might as well name myself Septimus since I was subject seven.”

“Makes sense,” I replied, feeling a faint sense of pity for him. Having lost everything that made him a person, he was forced to fashion a completely new identity from what was essentially his serial number.

I didn’t need to linger on that depressing thought for long however, as another marine decided to join us. “Excuse me, I’m Grenn, as sergeant Emek named me, and I wanted to ask if I would also be welcomed for some joint training?” the red eyed giant asked, his fearsome appearance being at odds with his almost shy expression.

“Well, I don’t have any problem with you joining,” I agreed quite happily, the Salamander successor would surely be an asset after all and had already proven that he knew how to use his head during the equipment test.

“But of course, the more the merrier,” Septimus agreed a moment later, his eyes looking over to the other marines as he said that.

The results of his open invitation were mixed. Moloc continued to build his reputation as a prick by snorting at the suggestion, the marine with the blue rank mark did worse by outright growling at Septimus, which he only stopped once his handler hit him upside the head. The only positive result came from the purple marked marine, who came over after a moment of thought and politely declined. Saying that, while he was interested in the idea, he planned to use the next three days to build as close a bond with his squad as possible and felt that a joint training session wasn’t conducive to this short term goal.

Sadly, we weren’t able to plan much beyond that we would meet up as soon as we had sorted out our squad’s internal affairs by that time we reached the corridor to the chambers where our squads were still stored.

“Until tomorrow then, Septimus, Grenn,” I said, while standing in the door to the chamber I had been first awakened in.

“Yes, until tomorrow brothers,” replied Septimus, “and good luck with your squad until then.”

“Thank you and likewise, brothers,” wished Grenn, before entering his own squad’s chamber.

I didn’t think much about their reply until I had already entered the chamber. Shit, they thought I was a guy! I guess it makes sense in hindsight, Septimus didn’t seem to know the name Tanya and so he wouldn’t know it was a female name. And even if he did, it would have been more rational to assume that Tanya was a male name from where I came from rather than jump to the conclusion that I was some completely new breed of space marine. Regardless of how that misunderstanding came to be, I should probably clear up that misunderstanding at the earliest opportunity, less they think I tried to deceive them on purpose.

But back to the here and now.

Upon entering the room, I could already see that some preparations had been made by the two serfs since I had last seen them. They had brought a bunk trolley on top of which rested nine sets of bodysuits and cotton robes, like the ones I had worn before donning my armour. They had also procured a second sponge, as well as additional buckets of water, to clean up the other, still frozen, marines.

“I wish to thank you for your work once more,” I began, turning my head towards the two women. “I would have your names, as we will be working together for quite some time.” I then went on, which is honestly something I should have asked during our first meeting.

“You honour us, I’m Ana Kahlo and my granddaughter is Frida Kahlo,” answered the crone, her head once more bowed, as if meeting my eyes were some kind of offence. Thinking about that for a moment, maybe it was? The fact that the Watch Captain had referred to them as a Serf spoke volume about the social structure on the vessel, although the meaning of the word might have shifted but the behaviour of the two women spoke against that.

Well that is one thing I would have to change then, Serfdom was a barbaric and outdated system that I had no interest in continuing. After all, it was barely a step above slavery and only served to smother the potential of individuals by locking them into a by birth assigned socal caste, regardless if they are a good fit for that position. Sadly, I had little power to effect change at the moment, but that didn’t mean I could do nothing.

“My name is Tanya, Sergeant of Squad Silver. If there is anything I could do to thank you for your hard work, let me know,” I offered, fully aware how little that actually was, but I suspected the mere fact that I offered would make them feel rewarded beyond measure. It also put the thought in their head that they could turn to me with their problems later on, once I had actual authority.

My thoughts were proven true when the crone’s next words: “Again we thank you, Lady Tanya, but our service to the Death Watch and now your squad is a reward in itself.”

“Very well,” I accepted her words for now, but noted that the granddaughter was giving me a considerate look now, chewing on her lip in thought. Yet she ultimately didn’t speak up, which was disappointing but not unexpected. Maybe she knew that there was a possibility that I wouldn't stick around for long, or thought that whatever she wanted to ask for was too much, or she was just nervous. Regardless, I counted the fact that she was even considering asking me for a reward for her work as a step in the right direction.

“I assume that Mrs and Miss Kahlo will be assigned to me on a permanent basis from now on, since the Watch Captain mentioned that we were laying the foundation of our chapters during this mission in all aspects?” I asked Gabrial, addressing him for the first time since before the meeting with Captain Hector.

“There were only plans to assign them to you and your squad during your stay here on the Oathbound, but I’m sure Captain Hector will agree to assign them and their clan to you on a permanent basis once you succeeded in your mission,” answered Gabrial, his words carrying a subtle rebuke, warning me not to get ahead of myself.

“Fair enough I suppose, first the work then the reward,” I conceded and turned towards the nine cylindrical glass tanks containing my sisters. I considered briefly how to best approach this, remembering my own experience of being awoken just an hour ago, before coming to a decision. “Okay, here is how we are going to do this: Firstly, you two leave the room and wait outside until I call you back in once it’s safe.” I gestured to the two civilian women, “then we are going to awaken them in sequence, one after the other. Then, once they all are awake and out of their fight and flight state, I will call you two back in and you can do your work cleaning them while I brief them on our mission.”

“A workable plan,” Gabrial approved once I was done explaining, the two serfs, no, support personnel already leaving the room.

Once they were gone, Gabrial moved towards one of the cylinders and manipulated a keypad at its base, causing the gel to drain and the reanimation to start.

“So, was my reaction to being awoken typical?” I asked him as the process began, Gabrial moving back to my side, notably positioning himself in such a way that I was between him and the awakening warrior.

“You were on the more aggressive side I’d say, but I won’t deny that some of them can be worse than you,” he answered me, which wasn’t a particularly reassuring answer.

The first woman was pretty tame however. She stumbled out of her container as if a bit tipsy, after she had clumsily pulled off her breathing gear and blindfold. Overall a pretty subdued response, but I guess everyone wakes up at their own pace. So I had her sit on the opposite wall to the other stasis units, behind me and Gabrial, while we awoke the others and had them join her. That way the first person they would see was me, which Gabrial assured me was important since it would lead to them imprinting on me, which would make them more accepting of my authority over them. I was unsure how true that was, but chose not to argue the point since the setup would also insure that I would be the first target of their aggression, rather than my unarmoured and still disoriented sisters.

A good precaution as it turned out, because woman number two awoke and chose violence, jumping at the first thing she saw once she had ripped her blindfold off, which happened to be me. Luckily, a swift punch to the head solved her over aggression problem and she joined her previously awakened sister without complaint after she had calmed down. The other seven followed a similar pattern, with five of them showing some aggression after being awoken but luckily calmed down without violence once they got a good look at me, and the other two behaving more subdued and groggy, with the last one actually needing help to get out of her container and an additional shot of adrenaline to properly wake up.

Which leads to where I’m now, standing in front of nine absurdly muscular women while two other, significantly smaller women, were giving them sponge baths. “Well with you all awakened, I think it is time that I introduce myself. I’m Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver, which you are the other members of,” I began, their expressions spanning the spectrum from almost single minded attentiveness to wide eyed curiosity at everything around them. Well I guess they were pretty much newborns in a sense and their minds must still get bombarded with implanted memories about everything new they were seeing.

“And this is Veteran Assault Marine Gabrial, he fulfils a councillor and guidance role for us on our coming mission,” I gestured to Gabrial, who dutifully waved at them to which some of them responded by waving back. “And those two,” I pointed to our support staff, “are Ana Kahlo and Frida Kahlo, our support staff while we are on this mission and hopefully beyond it.”

One of them, a woman raised their hands, prompting me to stop talking so they could ask their question. “Where did you get your name from, because I don’t remember having one?”

“Good question,” I replied, not surprised that this was the first thing they wished to ask. “I remembered that I was Tanya, if nothing else. But if you don’t remember who you were then you can just name yourself.”

The woman scrunched up her nose and then spoke up again after a moment. “Can’t you name me?”

“What?” slipped out of my mouth in surprise, I hadn’t expected that.

“Can’t you name me, please, I don’t remember much from my old home, but I do remember that our leaders used to be responsible for naming the children of the tribe,” she requested again.

Caught on the spot, I scrutinised her more closely. She had the same blond hair and blue eyes as I and Gabrial, but differentiated herself quite thoroughly from us and her other sisters with her ebony skin tone. “How about Bonny?” I asked, cringing internally as I registered what I had just suggested.

Bonny seemed to like the name however, which was a big relief. Sadly that relief was short lived as the woman beside her also raised her hand. “Can you name me too?” she asked.

“Of course…” I said, my eyes getting caught on the now bluish/purple bruise on her face, where I had hit her when she had tried to attack me. “How about Azura?”

“Oh, because of my blue eyes?” she asked excitedly.

“Sure, that's the reason,” I immediately replied, grateful that none of them had the experience to tell that I was lying through my teeth. “Does anyone else want to be named or do you have your own ideas?” I asked, hoping that they did have their own ideas.

“Well I’m the squad's apothecary, so perhaps Sanatia?” asked one of them, not sounding particularly convinced of her choice.

“We could shorten it to Sana, would you like that better?” I suggested, a bit distracted by the information that someone on my squad had already been assigned a specialist role. I decided that it was a positive surprise, having a field medic in the unit would surely increase our overall chance of success and individual survivability greatly.

“Sana,” the apothecary, tried the name, before nodding her head. “Works for me.”

Immediately after Sana accepted her name, the tallest of us all spoke up, I estimated that she was at least two point two metres tall. “I think that someone used to call me Hiki, can I use that name?”

“Sure, Hiki it is,” I agreed, it sounded like it could be a normal enough name somewhere, I supposed.

The following minutes continued in a similar fashion, with my other five sisters quickly coming up with their own name or getting named in short order, with one exception.

“Absolutely not,” I disagreed, vetoing the name she had just suggested.

“What, why?” replied my sister, her eyes narrowing, “I definitely remember being called that a lot.”

I resisted the urge to sigh, reminding myself that they didn’t have the luxury of two past lives to draw experience from and were essentially children when it came to social experience. No, they were worse off than the average child, those at least got to socialise with other children and adults while my sisters and I spent the last few years as lab subjects with little to no human contact. Quite frankly, it was a wonder that they weren’t more of a mess.

“Because Pimples isn't a proper name and, if I had to make a guess, I would say that it was more than likely a nickname meant to tease you for a skin condition you had, or something of that nature.” I explained my reasoning to her.

“Oh,” she deflated, the anger leaving her face. “Okay, I will concede that your reasoning is sound,” she said before falling silent, her eyes lowering to the floor as her brow greased in thought. Eventually she looked back up, her eyes briefly focusing on something behind me before she addressed me once more. “How about Gabriela?”

I hesitated for a moment, the name by itself was fine but could her naming herself after Gabrial lead to confusion down the line? “Good choice,” I decided eventually, Gabrial and Gabriela sounded different enough, so it should be fine.

“Okay, with the names out of the way, let us move on to our mission,” I declared, pausing for a moment to make sure that all of them were paying attention to me, before I continued. “We will be air dropped into the jungles of Verda in three days time, near a once abandoned hive city. Our primary objective will be to destabilise the ork army that has infested the place by killing their leader before our allies arrive, which would be within seven days to nine days after our arrival. Any questions so far?” I asked, pausing for a moment before continuing when none came.

“Now, to our equipment. I have decided that we will equip ourselves as a tactical squad for this mission, so two devastators for long range support, two assault marines for close support and six line marines with bolters.” I told them, one of them raising a hand. “Yes Azura, what is your question?”

“Can I be one of the close supporters?” asked the woman.

“If no one better has interest,” I answered her, before addressing everyone else. “So who else is interested in being an assault marine?”

Both Bonny and Hiki raised their hands in response, because of course three people would be interested in the position for two. “Okay, let me see your test scores,” I said, taking a look at the data-slate I had received.

Opening Azura’s record, or rather subject number three’s as their new names hadn’t been added yet, I had to suppress a wince. Forty-five out of a hundred points in her close combat evaluation, below average. Well that didn’t look good for Azura, or so I thought until I saw Bonny’s and Hiki’s scores, forty and fourty-two respectively. With dread pooling in my stomach, I quickly checked the rest of our scores. None of us others had a melee score higher than forty…

“Azura and Hiki, you are our two assault marines for now. We will be doing some training in the coming three days though, so I expect you two to do well or I may change my mind,” I decided, contemplating if I should change my plans and form a devastator squad instead of a tactical squad, doubling up on ranged support at the cost of my lacklustre close support. I dismissed the idea for now, seeing how Azura and Hiki’s faces lit up, snatching their success away from them now would only kill their morale.

Thinking of moral, Bonny looked a bit disappointed now. Opening her file again, I spotted that she had a pretty high score in demolitions and with the rocket launcher, both above the sixty points mark. After double checking the other’s files if someone else got similar results, I addressed her. “Bonny, your file says that you are pretty handy with explosives and I want one of our ranged supporters to be an anti-amour option, so would you be interested in a rocket launcher and serving as our designated demolitions expert?”

That seemed to do the trick as Bonny’s face immediately lit up. “You can count on me, sergeant!” she saluted, startling Frida Kahlo, the young support staffer having scrubbed Bonny’s right arm as she suddenly moved it.

It was a bit funny, at first, but Bonny didn’t seem to react to startling the smaller woman at all, while Frida just muttered an apology under her breath and resumed scrubbing. No that wouldn’t do at all. “Aren’t you going to apologise to Frida for startling her?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Oh,” Bonny said dummy, before realising what I was getting at. “I mean, I’m sorry for startling you, I shouldn’t have moved my arm so suddenly while you were cleaning it.” she said to Frida, who for her part just blushed and stampared out a quick “It was no problem and that the fault laid with her for overreacting, so the Lady Bonny shouldn’t have needed to apologise.”

I disagreed with that sentiment however, Bonny casually disregarding Frida like that, even in such a minor way, could very likely escalate over time into a toxic workplace relationship if nobody did something about it. Not that exactly that hadn’t happened already on a large scale, given that the support staff were literal serfs addressing us with lofty titles and honorifics while not daring to look us in the eye. That’s why I choose to aggressively fix that problem now, before that attitude had the chance to creep into my own organisation.

“To make something clear, I expect all of you to treat the support staff with the respect and dignity they deserve. After all, it is their hard work that enables the daily functions of the ship that we might take for granted. They are as much our comrades as the soldiers of the guard or the astartes of other chapters are, so I expect you to treat them as such, is that clear?” I lectured, my voice rising in volume until it was nearly a shout.

In response, my nine sisters before me saluted as one, with the expedition of Sana who’s right arm was currently scrubbed by the older support staffer, and responded. “Yes, ma’am!”

I gave them a smile, “Good. Now with that out of the way, anyone interested in the second devastator position, I hope for someone who is comfortable with a heavy bolter?” I moved on from the topic, but noted that Frida looked at me wide eyed, before suddenly returning to work when she realised I was looking at her. Well it seems like me standing up for her made quite the impression, good, employee trust is important after all.

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

Once Frida and Ana were done scrubbing my sisters down, we moved on to the armoury so everyone could pick out their personal equipment. That went pretty smoothly since everyone had already a combat role assigned to them, so only details needed to be clarified.

Like Hiki first wishing to be equipped with a power-hammer, something I would have supported since it was an anti-armour weapon and we would be facing a disproportionately mechanised force, but Gabrial vetoed that.

Apparently power and plasma weapons, as well as any other difficult to produce equipment, wouldn’t be made available to us until we had proven ourselves worthy of it, which regrettably made sense. I wouldn't have handed an intern the company car for his first coffee run in my first life either, so Hiki chose a two handed chain-axe instead.

I also picked up a bolt pistol for myself, since I had forgotten to get myself a secondary weapon beyond my combat knife, an oversight that I only noticed when I inspected the weapon choice of one of my tactical marines.

Beyond that, I only insisted on three things. Firstly, everyone needed to pick up a combat knife, as a backup weapon and utility tool.
Secondly, everyone needed an anti-armour option, which meant krak grenades for most of them. Complying with my own order, I also picked a krak grande up for myself.
And thirdly, everyone would use the Mark VII armour and have a jump pack for extra mobility.

All important but straightforward decisions so far, until I was asked how I wanted the armours to be painted.

“Here my Lady,” said Ana, offering me a compendium of colour schemes. Most of them seemed rather impractical to me, incorporating various bold colours that would make it very easy to spot the wearer in a combat zone. It was only when I reached the end of the book that I found the camouflage options, hidden away like a red headed step child, which already told me quite a lot about the person who made this.

“That one,” I said, while showing the two women a picture of an armoured figure painted in green and black, the pattern being reminiscent of what modern militaries had used during my first life.

That got a reaction from Gabrial. “Are you certain, it isn’t a particular Blood Angels like heraldry.” he commented, trying to sound impartial and yet failed, his personal dislike for my choice clear in his voice.

“It isn’t about looking good, or Blood Angel like, it is about being practical. We will be going into hostile terrain to assassinate the ork leader, so stealth will be of the utmost importance.” I argued back, which prompted Frida to speak up.

“Excuse my Lady, but I think your choice wouldn’t help you being stealthy,” she said in a timid voice, her grandmother looking rather scandalised by her interrupting my conversation with Gabrial.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked the young woman, who looked like she sincerely regretted speaking up now that she had everyone’s attention.

“Ah, well…” she tried weakly, but then got cut off by her grandmother.

“My Lady, my Lord, please forgive my granddaughter, she did not mean any disrespect.” the old woman said hastily, while giving Frida a loaded look that was equal parts worried and angered.

“No, I want to hear what she had to say,” I replied sternly to the old woman's interruption and then turned to Frida, “Now please explain why you think this colour scheme wouldn’t work, I’m not angry, just curious.” I tried to reassure her, which was half of the truth, the other half was that I wanted to show that I was open to feedback and wouldn’t punish them for trying to warn me of mistakes I might otherwise overlook.

“Well, I have some friends who come from Verda. They were tithed to replace the crew losses sustained during the fighting against the orks eleven years ago,” she began, raising my interest since she had second hand local knowledge. “They told me about their homewold and how all their plants are bone white because their sun shines so bright that it bleaches all the colours away from everything,” she finished her explanation.

“Thank you Frida, you might very well have saved our lives with this piece of information.” I replied after a moment, the young woman looking first relieved and then incredibly proud once my words sunk in. I turned back to Gabrial, the black armoured marine looking rather amused by the exchange.

“So, is there a reason that the planet's abnormal plant life wasn’t mentioned in the briefing?” I asked, trying to sound neutral as anger bubbled up within me. Me and my squad had just come very close to walking into a stealth mission with our armours painted in a way that wasn’t the least bit stealthy and that bastard would not only let me but actually tried to push me into the direction of an even flashier paint job.

Gabrail just shrugged his shoulders. “We were instructed to not give any of you mission specific data unless you asked for it. It was supposed to be a continuation of the first test, teaching you to ask the right questions about your missions, but I suppose you found another way around that challenge. Well done.”

I was unsure for a moment if I should feel frustrated because he withheld mission critical data to test us or pride that my superior personal management had already produced tangible results. In the end, I decided on pride.

“Okay,” I said, returning my attention briefly to the book I was holding until I found a colour scheme more appropriate for the mission. “I want that one then,” I said, pointing to a picture of a marine wearing armour painted in different shades of grey and white, with only a few accents like the rank mark on his helmet being red.

“Just paint the red elements in dull silver instead,” I added on, the two support workers nodding their heads in understanding.

“Of course my Lady, a good choice,” Ana said, before both women went off to retrieve the necessary paints.

With that taken care of, I turned back to Gabrial. “Is there any other information or knowledge related to our mission that I should be aware of or could help me?” I asked him, intentionally phrasing the question as broad as possible.

He cracked a smile, “Now that is a good question,” he approved. “There is indeed a vital detail that you nearly missed, you are allowed to fill and bring along those three supply containers over there,” he pointed to a corner of the room where three metal chests were standing.

“You would have allowed us to go into combat so completely undersupplied?” I asked in shock.

“Not completely undersupplied. Your mission is very much possible with the equipment you all are carrying, but it will be much easier with those extra supplies.” he explained in an unbothered tone. Well, perhaps I should have expected such an underhanded trick, given that the whole reason we were even here was to test us.

Now that I thought about it, the armoury we were in was just big enough for a squad like ours and also only contained weapons and armour we were allowed to use, so it wasn’t a stretch that we could have worked out that those empty chests were also something we could use. I would have to be more vigilant of such details in the future.

“Very well, then let’s take a look at what we can fit in those crates until Ana and Frida return with the paint.” I addressed my squad, half of them already in armour while the others still waited for their turn on the arming servitors.

After a bit of back and forth, we ended up filling the three chests each half with bolter rounds and a third with explosives, which left enough free space in each chest for an extra primary weapon or something of similar size. So chest one held a maintenance kit for our power armour that would enable us to make field repairs, chest two a standard configuration bolter and the last one a second rocket launcher, in case the Bonny’s broke or we needed more anti-armour capabilities.

Shortly before we were done with packing, Frida and Ana returned with the paint, bringing additional support workers to speed up the painting. Which revealed a, in hindsight, obvious mistake on my part. I and my marines already wore the armour, which meant we had to stand there while they painted us, instead of leaving them to their work while we went training without the armour and retrieve it later, once it was painted and dried. The only reason why I didn’t have everyone strip out of their armour was that the painters assured me that the process of taking the armour off and putting it on again would take longer than the painting would, the paint apparently drying at an incredible rate once applied.

True to their words, they were done faster than I would have expected, which was still nearly half an hour.

Now armoured, we left the armoury and made our way to the training facilities, leaving our weapons behind since we would be using the training weapons there either way. On our way, we ran into two squads led by familiar faces.

“Well brothers, it seems like we are all ready for our joint training then,” I greeted them, while eyeing their bright yellow and dark green painted armours respectively. Incidentally, I noted that they chose to make their squad colour their primary colour, rather than retaining it as a secondary colour like I did.

“Yes, it would seem so,” agreed Grenn, who then looked at Septimus.

The other Blood Angels successor shrugged his shoulders. “Of course, no better time than the present.”

Which led me, Grenn and Septimus to stand together in the sparring room with our helmets on, speaking over a private vox channel so our subordinates couldn’t listen in on our talk.

“So, what score did your man have?” I asked, watching as Azura duelled one of the green armoured marines, each wielding a chain sword with dulled teeth.

“Anki scored a below average forty three points,” came his reply, before he asked a question of his own. “Is there a point why you asked us to send our weakest fighter against one of your own?”

I didn’t answer immediately, watching as the two warriors exchanged blows. Enki devanantly having both the reach and strength advantage, while Azura had better footwork and technique, allowing her to keep up with him.

“Yes, you see, Anki might be your worst duelist, but Azura is our best, at least if our test scores can be relied on.” I answered, just as Azura fell for a faint on Enki’s part that cost her the match as his sword caught her armoured stomach in a strike that would have gutted her in a real fight.

“Match!” cried Chaplin Ohtli, Septimus’s handler and self appointed lord of the training halls, before returning to talking with our other handlers. As an aside, I noted that each of us had been assigned a member of the Death Watch that we shared a gene-line with, Sergeant Emek pauldron proudly displaying the dragon head of the Salamanders while Ohtli wore the chapter badge of the Blood Jaguars on his shoulder.

“Uf, my condolences then,” began Septimus, sounding rather shocked by my admission. “I hope your squad is only disadvantaged in close combat?” he asked hesitantly a moment later, while his worst duelist stepped in the ring to challenge Enki.

“I hope so,” I answered him as the two marines engaged, Enki’s challenger moving both faster than Azura had and was closer in strength to his opponent, winning decisively after four exchanges.

“Could you each send one of your best marines into the ring? I would like to see what a fight between them would look like.” I requested next, my two fellow sargents humouring me and each calling out their best man.

The difference between worst and best became immediately obvious as the two men went at each other, each of their weapons a blur of movement and their footwork like a dance. It was only through my own augmentations that I could keep up with their exchanges at all. “And what scores did they have, Azura had forty five?” I asked.

“Icarus had seventy-one points,” answered Septimus first, his voice betraying how proud he was of his man.

“Amek comes close,” said Grenn next, “he had sixty-nine points.”

I nodded my head, noting that my own girls each had at least one score in the sixties, alleviating some of my worries that I might have been completely outmatched in every regard. “Even so, our cross unit sword training might become a moral killer for my girls if they get obliterated by your men in every duel.” I said.

“Girls?” asked Septimus, making me realise that I had yet to dispel the misunderstanding about me.

“Yes, girls,” I began, considering for a moment how to word my explanation before beginning. “I and my chapter are an experiment into making female Astartes.” I simply settled on, putting it into the most basic terms.

Grenn nodded his head as he heard this. “That explains your sisters below average performance, either the gene-seed enhancements don’t work for them quite as well as they should or the enhancements work as a power multiplayer and the lower peak performance of your base bodies didn’t allow for better results.” he speculated, which was as good an explanation as any.

“Yes, well I hope that this won’t damage our work relationship,” I began, but Septimus cut me off.

“Don’t worry sister, I won’t hold you keeping this a secret against you. Only the Emperor knows what trouble that secret could cause you if the wrong person finds out that you are the result of such heavy revisions on his great work.” he said, causing me a moment of confusion before my artificial memories filled the gaps.

To say I was horrified at what I discovered was an understatement. While I was already aware that the Emperor of this state was a god figure, I hadn't given the two cults that worshipped him much thought until now. Both cults were massively powerful and conservative to the extreme, despising everything that posed a threat to their status quo and generally treated innovation as a dirty word.

This was especially worrying since the Cult Mechanicus was apparently responsible for the maintenance and construction of all Imperial technology, holding an unchallenged monopoly over scientific knowledge.

“Yes, I’m grateful for your understanding why I need to keep this on a need to know basis.” I replied while wondering if I should have all my girls rename themselves in the future or if I could just claim that our female sounding names were a quirk of our homeworld’s culture. Either way, I would have to consult with Gabrial on how widespread my secret already was and what the Imperiums official stance on the issue was. After all, my existence implied that at least some very powerful people must have put their support behind the development of my chapter.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us,” assured me Grenn, “To be truthful, my chapter suffers from a mutation that leads to extended bone growth in some of us, like spines, so I know what it’s like to keep a secret.” he explained, the fact that he showed solidarity with me by shared a damming secret of his own was not lost on me.

“My chapter also has a secret, although it isn’t nearly as dangerous as yours. Our gene-seed was altered with the intent to eradicate our gene-lines two flaws, the red thirst and the black rage, but it is in question if the alterations have succeeded in lessening the curse or made it worse, since two of my battle brothers fell to the red thirst during their ascension,” he shared with us. Although his secret was far less damning, I still appreciated the sentiment.

Yes, I thought, those two would make for good allies in the future.

While we spoke, the bout between the two champions of squad green and yellow came to an end at long last as Icarus overwhelmed Amek with a flurry of lightning fast blows.

“Match!” came the shout from Septimus’s handler as it happened.

“Okay, shared burdens aside, how are we going to handle training? Tanya isn’t wrong about her marine’s moral getting crushed if we continue with one on one duels,” asked Grenn, bringing us back on topic.

“How about we switch the format from one on one to two on one fights, that way Tanya’s girls can train fighting a stronger opponent as a team while ours can train fighting numerical superior but individually weaker foes.” suggested Septimus.

“Yes, that is a good idea, and practising team fighting might not only benefit Tanya’s marines. I’m sure there will come times, especially early on, where we and our men will come upon foes that we can’t beat alone and need to rely on teamwork to defeat. Also, Tanya’s girls might also benefit from fighting foes both superior in numbers and strength, if only to learn how to hold out as long as possible.” added Grenn.

“All good ideas, let’s test them,” I agreed with him, considering who to choose for the first bout, before coming to a conclusion. “Bonny and Sana, you are up,” I ordered, choosing them because Bonny was the best of our non-Assault Marine melee fighters and Sana was the worst.

“Samael, you against them,” called out Septimus, clarifying the format.

This time we didn’t talk as the match began. Immediately, Bonny and Sana split up, one going right and the other left. Samael didn’t wait to be pincered however and went on the offensive himself, throwing himself at Bonny, probably in the hopes that he could quickly eliminate one opponent and negate his numerical disadvantage.

His plan nearly worked too, Bonny just barely holding off his fierce offensive long enough for Sana to support her, but that was enough. To his credit, Samael knew his plan had failed as Bonny parried his third strike and quickly turned around as she was reeling, catching Sana’s blade in the nick of time. Sensing an opportunity, he forced a bladelock and leveraged his superior strength to push Sana over.

Samael couldn’t capitalise on his advantage however, as Bonny came at him from behind, forcing him to blindly dodge to the side and then turn to face her once more.

Bonny couldn't sustain her offensive for long however, once she had her opponents full attention, but she didn’t need to as Sana quickly got to her feet and rejoined the fight. This time they didn’t try for a pincer and instead fought shoulder to shoulder, putting heavy pressure on Samael who only survived the first few seconds because the two women got in each other's way at first, but then got overwhelmed once both managed to time their strikes correctly.

“Match,” announced Ohtli as Sana locked blades with Samuel once more, preventing him from defending against Bonny’s killing blow that would have bisected him at the hip.

“Yes, that looks like a success,” I said, turning to Grenn and Septimus, “What are your thoughts?”

“That was a good fight, Samael is my second best fighter and I doubt anyone but Icarus or Amek could have defeated him alone, unless you are hiding some other master swordsman, Grenn” replied Septimus, his last remark carrying the air of a light jab.

“Sadly not brother, Amek is our best duelist by far if the scores are to be believed,” he answered in a lighthearted tone, “So, who are we matching up next?”

“I want to go next and fight two of Tanya’s average marines, I would think that should be an exciting challenge.” said Septimus, before entering the ring himself.

Shrugging my shoulders, I called for Mina and Aurelia to enter the ring, both of them were about average for my squad.

Once more the fighting in the ring started, while silence settled between me and Grenn since our talk about sword training was currently exhausted. Seeing the opportunity, I decided to tell him about what I had discovered in the armoury. “Grenn, while I think of it, I need to warn you and Septimus, once he is back: Our handlers are still withholding information from us if we don’t ask for it, even mission critical details. For example, we are allowed to bring three supply chests with us on the mission, but Gabrial wasn’t about to tell me unless I asked the right question.”

“Thank you Tanya, that is very valuable information.” Grenn replied, sounding a bit surprised by what I just told him, “But should you be telling me this, wouldn’t that be disallowed since it goes against the spirit of the test?”

I shook my head, “I highly doubt it, allies share information with each other all the time after all, so it wouldn't make sense to punish us for doing the same when the whole point of the test is to see how well we do under real life circumstances.” I argued, and even if we weren’t supposed to share information, they hadn’t told us that so I still had plausible deniability.

“A fair point,” Grenn conceded, “I must say, you have quite a affinity for this, no wonder the Watch Captain chose you for the most difficult mission.”

“Yes, lucky me.” I agreed, all too aware that he was probably right. Well at least pulling off this mission would look good on my resume and hopefully buy me some good will with whoever was in charge of our development.

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

Our shared sword training continued for well over four hours, running until our handlers informed us that it was time for the midday meal. So we moved on to the cafeteria, which served something called Ration #5 and recaf, which to my great disappointment wasn’t actual coffee but some kind of bitter tea. The only consultation I had was that the drink was still highly caffeinated.

After a bit of probing, I learned that recaf was apparently an umbrella term for caffeinated drinks in general. However, the cook claimed that he had heard of coffee somewhere but couldn’t remember where, so I knew that I had at least a chance to get my hands on a proper cup of coffee in the future.

“So Sergeant, what do you think? Did we do well during training?” asked Gabriela, distracting me from glowering at my not-coffee. She and the rest of the squad seemed rather nervous while they waited for my reply, especially Azura. They must have picked up on us being at a severe disadvantage during the training and that the format was changed specifically to account for our shortcomings.

“You all did well,” I assured them, their lack of close combat skill wasn’t their fault after all. “And I’m sure the ranged combat training later will go even better.”

My assurances seemed to have the desired effect, Azura and the others visibly relaxing. Among them, Gabriela looked to be the most excited however. “Are we forming pairs again, like during the sword practice?” she asked, “Because I would want to be teamed up with you again.” she then added on, looking at me expectantly.

“Is that so?” I asked back in turn, before taking a long sip of my recaf, buying myself some time to think about my answer.

During the sword training, I and my fellow sergeants had quickly realised that getting our soldiers used to fighting alongside each other and cultivating teamwork between them was the most productive use of our time. The reason for that was that our individual fighting skills weren’t something we could improve upon tremendously within the time we were given, but there was still a lot of potential for easy improvements in team cohesion to be made. So continuing to train in at least pairs, if not bigger units was a definite must. But there was something else I had also considered that I wasn’t quite sure about.

Should I make a permanent buddy system for my squad? On the one hand, having them grow too used to working with a specific partner might end up making them worse at cooperating with the other members of the squad overall. After all, war was chaotic and it couldn’t be guaranteed that the pairs wouldn’t get mixed up at some point.

Yet I remembered the Empire of my past life had used a similar buddy system for its mages and that had worked out pretty well. Perhaps I should try a similar approach during this mission and see if it works?

“Yes, if none of you have any counter points, then we will continue training in pairs and even designate permanent partners,” I allowed, and my girls all voiced their support for my decision before starting to discuss who should fight alongside who.

I allowed them to argue among themselves for a couple of moments to get a feeling of who wanted to be teamed up with who, finishing most of my food during this time, before I interrupted them by clearing my throat. “While I welcome your enthusiasm for deciding who should be paired with who, I already gave some thought for the pairs, both based on who you work best with and what is most practical.”

That took some wind out of their sails, but rather than argue against my decision, they awaited my choices with hopeful eyes. Perhaps they thought that their preferred choice would also align with what I considered the most practical one. That was a notion which might not have been too far off, since people who were friendly with each other also produced better results when working together than people who despised each other.

“The first pair will be Azura and Hiki, since you too are our close support and thus are more likely to fight directly alongside each other.” I told them, the two women nodding their heads at my explanation.

Once I was sure no objection from either of them was coming, I moved on to my heavy support. “Next up are Bonny and Sophia, you too won’t be paired up for the opposite reason Azura and Hiki were. Bonny’s rocket launcher is our ranged anti-armour option and Sophia’s heavy bolter is our heavy anti-infantry solution, so the two of you just don’t have much reason to engage the same group of targets. You two are also both among our biggest targets and the least able to effectively deal with a single low priority threat coming at you, so I chose to pair you two with Aurelia and Mina respectively.”

The four women shared a look, Aurelia and Mina seeming quite disappointed since they wanted to be paired up with each other in the beginning. “So our role will be that of a bodyguard for our devastators?” Aurelia asked after a moment, sounding not particularly fond of the idea.

I nodded my head regardless. “Yes, the two of you will have the important function since your partners both carry a weapon ill suited for short ranged engagements, either due to their ammunition's arming time or the unwieldiness of their gun. As for why I chose you two specifically for this, it was because I noticed that both of you handled yourself exceptionally well when you needed to stall your opponents during the earlier training, be it because you needed to protect your partner while they were vulnerable or because they needed time to get in position.” I repeated my earlier point and then added a bit of praise in the hope that flattery would make them more accepting of the role I chose for them.

“Next,” I moved on when no further backtalk came, “Sana and Joline, you two did work best with each other during the duels, so I chose to pair you with each other.”

Huge smiles came to their faces as I told them this, the two women actually being one of the only three people who were getting their first choice in partners.

Speaking of people getting exactly what they wanted: “As for you Gabriela, it would appear that you get your wish, since I’m the only one left for you to team up with.”

Predictably, Gabriela was fire and flame for the idea. “Thank you sergeant, I will do my utmost not to disappoint you.”

“I will count on it,” I replied to her, a bit amused by her more formal way of speaking. It made me wonder what kind of life she and the others had lived before they were recruited.

Gabriela might have hailed from some form of nobility, explaining why her speech was a bit more formal. I could also guess from the comment Bonny made before I named her that she was part of a tribal society. But the others? I had no idea, which was probably about as much as they knew about their own background.

I put a pin in that train of thought however, when I spied Septimus and his squad returning their used dishes, evidently finished with their meal and about ready to return to training. “Well, enough talking for now, squad yellow is already done eating and squad green can’t be far behind, so we better hurry up and finish our own meal before we are left behind.”

Next, we began training for ranged combat. The range where we practised had enough space for ten people to shoot simultaneously, using practice weapons that shot rubber tipped bolter rounds. Meaning the recoil was the same but the bullets themselves weren’t able to damage the targets.

The training format was also rather straightforward. On the far side of the range, targets would light up and the marines would have to hit them to gain points, but they couldn’t just blast away, no that would be too easy. Each target would light up for exactly one second and the teams would have to hit it in that time frame exactly once, if they double tapped then the points they would have gained were deducted, after all, overkill was just another word for wasted effort.

So the real challenge of the exercise was not to hit the targets but to coordinate with your partner effectively while under stress, since there were always enough targets lighting up that it actually took two people firing non-stop to hit them all before they vanished again, adding an additional element of targeting priority to the exercise.

All in all, we did a lot better in this exercise, our scores being generally comparable to those of the other two squads at first. And later, after the third round, we started beating their scores more often than not, since they chose to rotate their fire teams and ours stayed static. Granted, our scores did dip significantly because of that during the second half of the training, once I had them train alongside people that weren’t their partner to insure they weren’t becoming too dependent on each other, but the gains I got from this method of squad organisation still outdid the loses it produced, so I put it down as a net positive for now.

Six hours after our first meal break, which was apparently the mid-day meal, followed the evening meal, which was also followed by another six-hour training periode. This time, we chose unarmed and knife combat, the results being similar to the earlier duelling practice.

After that, our day finally ended with our armour being taken off us and returned to the armoury while we went to bed for a restful four hours of sleep in our very own sleeping cells. Heavy emphasis on cells, as our rooms were just big enough to contain our bed and a chest half filled with spare robes and some personal hygiene articles.

The following day two was just a repeat of day one, mostly that is. Sword training, then ranged training and then unarmed training, with our marine’s training progress beginning to slow down once we had fixed the big beginner mistakes. Of course, that didn’t mean we were anywhere near perfect by any stretch of the imagination, we still got into each other's way from time to time during sparing or double tapped a target during the firing exercises, but building that kind of seamless cooperation was a goal that required steady and diligent training over months or perhaps even years. Either way, more time than we had available.

With that in mind, wanting to give my sisters a chance to relax before the big day, I asked Gabrial what his chapter did when they had free time on their hands. The enthusiasm he showed for answering my question surprised me a bit, as I had half expected him to disavow the concept of free time as a whole.

“Now, the place I’m going to show you is a bit of an open secret,” Gabrial said, while leading us down the winding passageways of the ship, away from the sections where the training rooms and armouries were and more towards what looked to be the general storage decks. “You see, hundreds of sons of Sanguinius served aboard this strike cruiser, during its many millennia of service, and during this time, they repurposed a certain storage room for their use which they then passed on to those that took the black afterwards.”

I nodded my head as he explained, not quite sure if I should be impressed with the longevity of Imperial engineering or horrified at how stagnant the military I now served was if a millennia old ship was still in service. My implanted memories tipped me towards horrified as they informed me that older ships, and technology in general, were considered to be better since the Imperium’s tends to lose technology over time, rather than gain it.

Luckily for my sanity, we reached our destination sooner rather than later, distracting me from the can of worms I had stumbled upon.

“Now, I originally planned to show you this place after you succeed with your mission, as a reward for good work, but I suppose showing it to you now could be considered as an extra incentive to come back alive. Emperor knows, I had more than one moment during a mission where I only pulled through with the thought that I had yet to finish my latest project,” he joked, opening the door as he did so.

The walls of the room beyond were covered from floor to ceiling in shelves overflowing with all kinds of art supplies, cabinets with name tags at the doors and display cases, containing stunningly beautiful paintings, vases and other pieces of art. The centre of the room was filled with three astartes sized tables, each surrounded by four similarly scaled chairs.

“Welcome to the arts and crafts room of the Oathbound!” announced Gabrial as we filled in after him. “Now for the ground rules: You are free to take everything on the open shelves, those are the common supplies. Everything in the cabinets with a name on it is the private property of another, so don’t even open them without getting permission first. With that being said, every unnamed cabinet and its contents is free to be claimed, so just write your name on one or make a name tag for it, either works. Lastly, art supplies don’t leave this room except if you brought them yourself in the first place, finished art on the other hand is encouraged to be taken with you once you leave the ship for the foreseeable future. Any questions?” asked Gabrial, giving us a moment to think.

A second later, Gabriela raised her hand. “If I may ask, how much time are we allowed to spend here?”

“A good question, in my chapter we usually cut the last training segment short by half and spent those three hours working on our art. But that is just how my chapter handles it, how your chapter approaches this will depend on your leader’s decision.” He essentially deflected the question on to me, my sisters switching their attention to me as he did so.

“Mhm,” I hummed, fifteen hours of work and three hours of free time a day wouldn’t have been a good ratio in my first life, but I supposed it wasn’t too bad for this one. After all, three hours of free time a day was more than most people had once you accounted for things such as chores or children, the former being taken care of for us by our support personnel and the later just not applying to us. Also, we both had more stamina and regained it quicker, as the past two day’s routine of eighteen hour training, two hours eating and four hour sleeping had proven, since it worked just fine from a physical point of view, with just a bit of mental fatigue setting in at the end of the second day.

“I think we will adopt a similar model in the future, but for today I decide that everyone will spend three hours here and then is free to either return to training or continue here for the rest of this day, until it is time for lights out,” I settled on, giving those that rather keep exercising an out if they needed one, before adding a final correction to what I had just said, “Of course, I expect to see everyone during meals regardless of what you chose to do with this day.”

After that, we were given permission to explore the room and start our first project. I personally considered the painting supplies at first, chalks, water colours, oil paint and the like, but dismissed them after a moment's consideration. No artificial memories came to me as I inspected any of them, making me conclude that I would have to rely on my own past experience for this, which was rather sparse when it comes to artistic pursuits.

In my first life, I had considered most art as superficial busy work with no inherent value beyond that it helped some people relax, which was fair enough I supposed. I reevaluated that opinion during my second life however, coming to realise that making art was not only relaxing but an outright balm for my war battered humanity. Poetry in particular had become an occasional hobby of mine during the fighting on the eastern front, not that I was ever any good at it.

In the end, I chose to try my hand at some basic pottery. Making a mug couldn’t be that hard after all, I remembered making a half decent one in elementary school after all. Well turns out that it is a lot more difficult than I remembered, the thickness of the mug’s walls varying wildly from point to point, its overall form being more of an oval than a circle and the rim was very uneven. The worst part was that if I solved one problem, then a new one tended to pop up, with the form of the mug in particular giving me trouble.

With a frustrated sigh, I gave up trying to fix the misshapen thing and crushed it into a ball so I could start from scratch.

“Ah, I see you already found the greatest advantage pottery has over all other art, one can simply take out one's frustration on a failed project without feeling guilty over wasting supplies,” came Garbrial’s voice from behind me, I could practically hear his smile as he spoke, “At least before they were in the furnace.”

“Yes, it’s very easy to recycle mistakes,” I agreed distractaly, already busy with rolling the clay into a ball for a second attempt.

“Well, you picked a good time to start over as the mid-day meal will begin in under an hour, so you might want to get your squad washed up and ready to go back,” he suggested, making me aware just how much time I had wasted on my first attempt at a simple coffee mug.

“Thank you Gabrial, I didn’t notice that this much time had already passed,” I replied while looking around, noting that none of my girls had taken my offer to get some extra training in favour of trying themselves as artists.

Like myself, most of their works were made with more passion than skill and that wasn’t hard to see. There were two exceptions however, both Bonny and Gabriela had apparently some hidden artistic talent or, more likely, past experience from before their transformation that they retained.

With Bonny having chosen pottery too, but being much more successful at it as she was just putting the finishing touches on a water pitcher, carving simple geometrical patterns into its sides with a small knife. Gabriela meanwhile had been embroidering a small piece of red cloth with two mirrored lions roaring at each other, one black and the other white. Well looks like my earlier guess was right, I’m two for two on my adjutants being former nobles then.

“Attention Squad Silver,” I called out once I was done admiring the works of my sisters, “it’s nearly time to eat, so pack away the art supplies for now and get yourself cleaned up!” I ordered, before belatedly asking Gabrial if there is a washroom nearby.

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

If I had to decide which method of battlefield entry was worse, being a passenger on a ballistic missile or being dropped from orbit in a metal box, then I would pick my current predicament. At least during my second life, I had the illusion that I might be able to survive with my mage abilities should the machinery around me fail. Granted, the chances that I would have been able to react quickly enough in such an event was slim to none but at least there had been a chance. Now, as I and the rest of my squad plus Gabrial were falling through the planet's atmosphere at terminal velocity, I didn’t even have that, with our fate hinging on our drop pods working properly.

At least we wouldn’t have to worry about anti air fire, since drop pods were notoriously hard to target and our landing location was a day’s march outside of the ruined hive city where our target was located. Still, my pulse was racing as we landed, the retro thrusters kicking in seconds before we hit the jungle floor, slowing our fall from deadly to bone rattling.

“Throne be praised, we live!” came Bonny’s voice over the vox, sounding as relieved as I felt.

“Vox discipline,” I ordered, while the doors of our drop pods fell open and our crash harnesses released us, “Form a perimeter, double time!”

My squad followed the order well, rushing out of our three drop pods and oriented themselves in every direction, scanning the surrounding tree line for hostiles. Then, one after the other, they called in clear.

“Good, then everyone grab their drop pod’s supply crate and follow me,” I said, the auto senses in my helmet already having located the river which would lead us towards our target. Then, once the supply crates were retrieved, we began our march. Six of us carried the three chests between them while the remaining five stayed vigilant and battle ready.

About an hour in, while we were wading through the shallows of the river, Bonny spoke up. “So Sergeant, could you explain the plan again?”

“Of course,” I replied, the novelty of a night hike through an alien jungle having worn off surprisingly quickly and leaving me bored once more. “First, we have landed near the Alligator river, to the east of the city, next, we follow said river first northward and then towards the west, until we reach Feurstädten. Once there, we will hide our three supply chests in three different fallback locations on the south side of the city. Then we will begin gathering intelligence on the ork’s operation in the region and plan the elimination of their leader.”

“That plan seems rather incomplete to me,” commented Gabriela, pointing out the obvious.

“I’m aware of that, but we simply do not know enough yet to make a more detailed plan,” I explained. “The local forces were only able to gather a few fragmented maps from when this part of the planet was actually inhabited, about five hundred years ago, as well as some satellite pictures of the current situation. It’s not much, but it was enough to conclude that the majority of the orks live in the northern part of the city and that a lot of smoke is coming from their settlement, indicating a lot of heavy industry.”

We marched in silence after that through the alien jungle, our white and grey armours mixing rather well with the bone white foliage. The only exception to this was Gabrial, our mentor not seeing fit to change the pitch black paint job of his armour, having cited Death Watch tradition when I had asked him to do so. As it was, I didn’t want to force the issue since I had no true authority over him and couldn’t afford him to dislike me since his judgement would in part decide my fate and that of my subordinates.

It was during the twilight hours of the following day, about twenty-three hours after we reached the surface, that we came to see the first man made structures. The walls of the hive city, even eroded by age and overgrown by the forest, were still an impressive display of human engineering. They towered over the surrounding land by over twenty metres and were reinforced by a tower every thirty. But age hadn’t been kind to them, the jungle having overgrown most of the wall and torn it down in sections, roots and tree trunks bursting out of the concrete and stone as if they had grown within it.

Once we scaled the wall by use of one such titanic root, the full extent of the city's degradation became clear. Many of the hive's once proud spires had collapsed, with only a few holding out against nature's reconquest of the city, even as vegetation overtook them. The smaller buildings fare slightly better, but not by much, their forms still mostly intact but already in the process of being devoured by the white plant life.

And yet, there were clear signs that this place wasn’t left completely abandoned. Off in the distance, across the Alligator river and further northward, black smoke rose into the sky, disrupting the picturesque image of a city reclaimed by nature. Straining my eyes, I could even make out that the towers in that part of the city had been tampered with, local flora having been burned or hacked away and haphazardous repairs having been made with scrap metal.

“Sergeant, I think I found our first fallback location.” Azura pointed with one hand to a nearby tree. But as I took a closer look, I realised that among the roots of the tree was an opening that looked like an overgrown doorway.

Once we reached the place, our suspicion was confirmed. The tree had seemingly grown over some indiscernible building, the entrance still being accessible and leading into a small basement just big enough for four of our armoured forms, more than enough to store one of our supply chests. “Good find Azura, I designate this place Fallback Point Alpha,” I said and then turned to her, Sana and Joline. “You two, put your chest down there. The rest, gather plant material, we are going to craft a camouflage net for the entrance.”

Crafting our hideout’s camouflage was swiftly done, the surrounding trees being covered in climbing vines that made for excellent material. Both Mina and Aurelia contributed greatly to the net with their knowledge on knot tying. The end result was a tightly bound net that we draped over the entrance of the cave and secured there by tying it to some of the vines that already grew on the tree. The cover wasn’t perfect of course, and probably wouldn't hold up to direct inspection from close up, but it didn’t need to be. It had to be just hidden enough that no passing patrol might see it like we did and decide to take a look.

It was when we were picking our remaining crates up again and made to continue our journey, that was when we heard a loud bang. Immediately, I raised my bolter and scanned the tree line, even as I realised that the sound had originated from further west.

“Your orders?” asked Azura a moment later, but I just raised my fist, signalling her to remain silent. A moment later, a single drop of water fell into my armoured arm, and then another and soon the evening downpour of the jungle had begun, the cooling air no longer able to hold the humidity it had gathered during the hot day.

“Huh, I guess it was just thunder then,” said Sana, the apothecary sounding a bit relieved, lowering the bolter as she did so.

“No,” I decided a moment later, causing her and the rest to tensen again. “If that had been thunder, then where was the lighting? Besides, that didn’t sound quite right for thunder.”

The sound had come from further west, but I wasn't sure of much beyond that. It could have been many things, a gunshot, an engine misfiring or simply a big stone hitting the ground, it had been impossible to tell with the surrounding urban jungle muffling the noise. The question was, what should I do?

Investigating seemed the obvious choice, but we still carried two crates full of supplies with us that were both too valuable and too cumbersome to take directly into a firefight. I could just split the squad I supposed, having one half investigate and the other half hide the remaining crates, but I disliked that idea. Splitting the squads evenly would not only rip apart one combat pairing but also leave the team hiding the crate with only one combat ready marine to guard them while the other four carried the chests. With that in mind, I considered only two choices feasible, either leaving the two supply crates with the first and coming back once the sound had been investigated, or not to investigate the sound until after the crates were hidden, like I originally planned.
I decided on the first option, ordering my sisters to leave our supplies in our cave and then move westwards.

We didn’t have to go far until we found something of note. Not half a kilometre from where Fallback Point Alpha was, we found a recently used road. Although the term road might be a bit too generous for what we found, it was more of a dirt path that someone had made by first burning the plant live away and then driving through the place with heavy vehicles, flattering the terrain.

Regrettably, we didn’t find any footprints or other tracks since the rain had intensified to an outright downpour by that point, leaving us no traces to analyse. Still, the road by itself was a good lead for our investigation, after all, no one builds a road through such inaccessible terrain on a wim. Orienting myself, I noted that the road led from north to south, meaning that the orks either patrolled the surrounding area or that there was something in the south that their main operation needed.

“I found something,” called out Bonny then, drawing my attention to her. Walking over, I saw that she was bent over some puddle. “Look at this Sergeant, that isn’t water.”

I took a closer look and realised that she was right, the surface of the puddle was much darker than the ash and dirt mix that made up the road, it even glittered when I turned my head. “They are transporting fuel, or crude oil,” I said, a broad grin coming to my face. This dirt path was very likely a major transit lane and most likely in regular use, making it a prime ambush point.

Looking up and down the road, I spotted a few still intact houses along the way which could easily be used as cover. One multistory ruin in particular drew my eye, as the building was a good bit away from the road itself with a pretty open field in front of it that could easily serve as a killing ground. It also looked to be in rather good condition, its walls providing plenty of cover and, with a bit of luck, the upper floors might still be stable enough to carry the weight of our armour.

After we had scouted out the road, we returned to our supply drop and retrieved two of the chests and continued to hide them in similar fashion to the first. Fall Back Point Beta became a still intact cellar below a ruined factory building, the tools and metal furniture within having rusted to indistinct orange scraps of metal. The last chest was hidden not far from there, in the ruins of a recently collapsed jungle giant, the gigantic tree trunk housing an enormous cavity that must have served as the nest for a huge bird, the supply chest only just fitting into the hole. Both locations were located on the south side of the city, in what I would call the former suburban area.

During this time, we encountered many signs of the ork presence in the area. More makeshift roads through the jungle, abandoned camps and crashed vehicles were all things we found with some regularity as we hid our supplies. We failed to find a single orkoid however, perhaps because it was night time? It didn’t matter much. By midnight, we had hidden our last supply crate and returned to the road we had found near Point Alpha, laying our ambush.

We didn’t have to wait too long. Just about two hours after sunrise, we started to hear loud engine noises and even louder, deepthroated singing in the distance. Shortly thereafter, I saw the orks convoy appear through my scope. The lead vehicle was a ramshackle tank that looked like it was held together more by its yellow paint job than the rusty bolts and shoddy welding of whoever built it. The buggies and tanker trucks that followed behind weren’t any better, all of them looked like someone stitched them together out of at least three different wrecks and crudely painted them by emptying a bucket of cheap paint over them.

And then there were the orks themselves, at least two hundred hulking green figures, stuffed into their vehicles, clinging to their outside and marching alongside them. All of them wore ragtag clothes made from animal hide and scrap metal, and were armed with crude bladed weapons as well as bulky guns that looked to be as ramshackle as their vehicles. A few among them were slightly better equipped however, carrying flamethrowers or gatling guns for example.

“Enemy spotted, get ready,” I commanded, the seven sisters beside me tensening as they readied their bolters and the rocket launcher. “Okay, we do this as we had planned. Bonny, I want you to start the engagement by taking out their tank, once it reached that half burned tree there. As for the rest, once they know we are here, they will charge us. When they do, first priority will be their vehicles if they try to take them off road, then their ranged fighters and then everyone else by speed, the faster they are the earlier they get shot. But remember, leave their leader alive until phase two and even after that, no headshots against him.”

“Understood,” came their reply seven times, while I looked through the scope of my Stalker Bolter again and searched through their ranks, trying to find their leader. The reason why that one was so important was that without him, I feared the orks might not charge us but instead scatter, so it was important that he didn’t die until they had committed to the assault on our position.

It took me a minute but I found him a few moments before Bonny took her shot. The brutish looking thing sat in the Buggy right behind the tank, fiddling with a mounted machine gun.

“Fire in the hole,” Bonny announced as she sent her anti armour rocket on its way, the projectile crossing the two hundred metres between the tank and our position on the third floor of a former office building in less than a second. A moment later, the tank exploded, the missile striking its turret and provoking a secondary explosion that tore its top half to pieces.

To the orks credit, their reaction to our ambush was swift, their attention and weapons shifting to where from our missile had come. Me and my sisters were still faster however, having held our fire until Bonny had performed the opening strike. My own first shot hitting the ammunition box fixed to the ork leader's machine gun, the detonation of my bolter round igniting the powder within the shells before he could pull the trigger, and the resulting explosion not only dammed the gun beyond use but also reduced his left hand to a bloody stump.

If he had been a human, then he would have probably reacted with shock and then perhaps fear, but he wasn’t human. Instead of clutching his arm and seeking first aid, he simply let loose a bellowing cry of rage that sent his underlings charging towards us, their vehicles being abandoned as they did so, and then he reached to his side and retrieved a crudely made mace from beside him before joining the charge.

My sisters hadn’t been idle during this time however, dutifully executing the driver of vehicles that attempted to join the charge and orks with ranged weapons with disciplined and well coordinated bolter fire. Sophia and her heavy bolter especially made a big impact, her early salvos mowing down dozens of orks before they could scatter. And even after they scattered and her salvos became less deadly, the orks still did dive for cover everytime she opened fire, slowing them down quite a bit.

By the time they had crossed the kill zone, nearly two thirds of their number were dead and among them were all of their ranged fighters, the remaining mob only wielding melee weapons. Just as planned.

“Phase two, jump!” I ordered once I heard the first orks banging their machetes and axes against the makeshift barricades we had built at the entrance of the ground floor. As one, we rose up from our crouched position behind the remaining walls of the building and made a jump pack assisted jump over the heads of the orks, sailing through the air in a wide arc.

Shortly before we were about to land, near the orks abandoned transports, I briefly shut down one of the jump pack’s engines to turn around, re-engaging it once I faced the slack jawed orks. Taking aim while still falling, I attempted to shoot the ork leader in the throat. I missed and hit his surprisingly sturdy armour instead, the bullet failing to penetrate the chest plate and harmlessly detonating, just staggering the ork leader.

Cursing while I landed, I ejected the spent casing from my gun and took aim once more at the now charging ork leader. But I didn’t get the opportunity as Gabriela got him first, a burst of three shells striking his less armoured stomach area, two of them successfully piercing his armour and shredding his organs. “Good shot,” I commented and I turned my aim on a brute duel wielding machetes instead, blowing his head clean off now that I had steady ground beneath me once more.

“It was my honour, Tanya,” Gabriela replied in a cheerful tone, already aiming her bolter at the next group of surviving orks and cutting them down in short order as she spoke. “Something, wrong? It’s unlike you to miss a shot like that?”

I raised my brow at her concerned tone, while putting a bullet through the eye of my next target, “No, I just got the vector of my shot wrong while falling,” I answered, which annoyed me greatly. It was rather embarrassing after all, to be an ace of aces for nearly ten years of aerial war in your past life and then get the trajectory of a simple shot like that wrong. Had I perhaps grown too used to my homing spells in the past, or was it because the flightgear in my past life delivered smoother movement?

“Azura here, not to disrupt your fun, but there are less than thirty orks left by now, requesting permission to engage before there are none,” came the eager voice of Azura over the vox, who was the more outspoken of my two assault marines, I had noticed.

True to her words, the number of orks had dwindled drastically, and I doubted we would actually need our assault team to deal with them. Regardless, I would still give them their chance to join in this fight, both to assess them and to give them a sense of accomplishment. “Permission granted, commence phase three!”

A moment later, the whine of three jump packs could be heard as Azura, Hiki and Gabrial came flying out of the second story window, the trajectory of their jump aimed squarely at the centre of the charging orks. Simultainly, my girls shifted aim, putting their fire at the orks at the flanks of the charge, away from where the assault marines would land.

And land they did, Hiki was the first to claim a kill, using the momentum of her fall to drive her chain axe through the back of a ork before she even touched the ground, bisecting him shoulder to hip in one savage strike. Azura landed a moment later, on top of an unlucky ork and drove him into the dirt, her bolt pistol already raised to shoot two orks turning to face her while she lashed out with her chain sword at the one she landed on, cutting his head off in one clean stroke.

Gabrial had both of them beat however, his landing cruising a ork skull similar to what Azura had done, but, unlike Azura, he remained in motion, moving from kill to kill with a fluidity born of experience that neither could match. His every strike and shot killed an ork as he advanced, Azura and Hiki following behind him as they claimed kills at a much slower pace.

Now, outflanked and with their leader dead, the morale of the few remaining orks finally broke, but it was far too late for them by now. The few that attempted to flee were simply gunned down like chaff, while most others threw themselves at the three assault marines among them, perhaps hoping to gain at least a single kill in retribution, but died an equally meaningless death as they were hacked to pieces.

“Good job everyone, that went exactly as planned,” I praised my squad as the last enemy was killed and silence returned to this part of the ruined city. “Sophia and Mina, you two have overwatch,” I pointed to the roof of the building from where we had sprung our ambush, “Keep an eye out for hostiles while we finish up here.”

“As you command,” they saluted then departed towards their post.

I paid them little mind, instead locking my bolter to the back of my armour and drawing my combat knife and walking towards the corpse of the killed ork leader.

“If you wish then I could take this burden from you,” offered Gabriela from beside me, her tone sounding sombre, “as our commander, you shouldn’t lower yourself to the use of the omophagea, especially to gain insight into the mind of such a foul beast.”

I turned my head towards my partner, considering her offer briefly before shaking my head and went down onto my knees in front of the killed ork leader. “Thank you, Gabriela, but it is exactly because I’m the leader that I have to do this. After all, what leader would ask something of their subordinates that they themselves are unwilling to do?”

Gabriela looked briefly as if she was about to argue, but stopped when a black gauntlet landed on her shoulder. “She is right. She as the leader must be most aware of these burdens, so she will be able to judge what she can expect those under her command to endure in the future and what is too much to ask,” counselled the Death Watch marine, his tone quite sombre.

Yes, that was one reason why I did this, but not the only one or even the most important one to me. Truthfully, I wasn’t eager for what would come next and I would have happily taken Gabriela’s offer if it were just about gaining information for this mission, but that wasn’t all I hoped to learn.

Since I had awoken to this new life, in the moments before sleep or the brief moments of calm and silence during the day, I had considered if the artificial memories I had were trustworthy. The regime I now served wasn’t shy about what it was, a totalitarian state built on religious dogma and xenophobic hatred. The orks, for example, were portrayed as simple minded barbarians with the singular goal to wage war and destroy whatever they encountered. If they were truly like that, then I would accept that their total annihilation would be a blessing, but that was the crux of the issue: if that was true.

As it stood, I saw only one way to find out how true the information about them was and that was to gain first hand information on them. So I raised my knife and cut into the neck of the dead greenskin, first decapitating it, before opening the skull by simply holding the hellishly sharp knife against its head and then cutting in a circle by rotating the decapitated head. Once I had done that, I could simply lift the top of its head off, revealing the brain all of its disgusting glory.

Taking in a last breath of clean air, I took off my helmet. Immediately, the smell of spilled blood, raw meat and spent munitions assaulted my senses, yet my body didn’t react as I anticipated. Instead of getting sick, the smell made my mouth water and my teeth ache in a weirdly pleasant way, the revulsion I expected to feel from the prospect of eating another sapient being’s brain existing only within my mind and wasn’t shared by my body.

With that fresh realisation on my mind, I bit into the alien grey matter and was immediately assaulted by a deluge of memories that weren’t my own. But these memories were unlike the artificial memories I had dealt with before, they were the opposite in fact. They were overwhelming, disjointed and oh so alien! If normal memories were a novel and the artificial memories a manual, then these ork memories were like listening to an audiobook at double speed while someone was throwing a horrifyingly diverse arsenal of stink and glitter bombs in your face.

“Sergeant, are you alright? Please Tanya, wake up,” I heard after a moment, the storm of smells, sounds and sights falling away as my consciousness returned to the present.

“It’s alright, I’m back,” I said, turning towards the person who had been calling me. “How long have I been occupied with this, Gabriela?” I asked my partner, gesturing to the ork head in my hands, finding to my shock that I had not only taken one bite but consumed the entire brain without any memory of doing so.

“About five minutes, Sergeant,” came her reply, sounding still a bit choked. Guess she had been worried for me, good, that meant I had done a good job as her superior to gain her loyalty by endearing myself to her.

“Good,” I replied absentmindedly, once I had steadied myself, my eyes falling on the empty skull in my hands as I reflected on what his memories had shown me. “These orks truly are a blight unworthy of existence,” I couldn’t help but say aloud, pure hate transfusing my words. “It’s only concern was war and destruction, it cared for nothing else. They make no art, they build no civilization, they don’t even try to better themselves in any way that has nothing to do with killing. They disgust me.”

“A just assessment of this filth, but have you learned anything useful concerning your mission?” asked Gabrial, the Death Watch marine’s face hidden behind his helmet, judging me from behind the red lenses of his helmet.

I nodded my head. “Yes, their leader’s lair is indeed in the northern part of the city, as we had suspected, but we are too few for a direct assault.” I said, before grabbing the decapitated ork’s corpse in front of me and turning it on its back, my combat knife cutting into the leather buckles of its breast plate a moment later, revealing its chest. “Everyone, go get some thick branches and carve them into stakes, it's time to make some art.”

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

“Yes, that should do it,” said, as I took a step back to admire our work. The macabre sight of over a hundred corpses impaled in various positions greeted me. Most were just impaled upon stakes, some crucified and a handful were artfully arranged as if they were playing some ball game, with one decapitated ork propped up as if he was about to kick his own severed head at another ork who stood crouched in front of a goal made from severed ork limbs.

“Very well done Ladies, that should draw their attention,” I praised them.

“Thank you Sarge, but what is the point of this?” asked Azura, “Not that I haven’t enjoyed this, but how will this advance the mission?”

I grinned and pointed to the former leader of the pack we had decimated, reading the orkish words I had carved into its chest and belly. “Come and get us if you ain’t a pansy, you gitt!”

That a good few laughs from my squad, and even Gabrial. “Yeah, that will definitely get their boss on our case. So, I would guess that you will prepare an ambush for him next?” asked the Death Watch marine.

“Yes, we will,” I answered him curtly before contacting Mina on a direct vox channel. “New orders, you and Sophia stay where you are and keep watch over our art show. Do not engage and don’t be spotted, if you are then retreat. Regardless, once a ork patrol has found this place or the sun sets come to fallback point Beta, that’s where we will reconvene this evening.”

Then I turned to the rest of my squad, “Bonny, Aurelia and Gabriela are with me. The second group will be led by Azura and be made up of Sana, Joline and Hiki, you will bring the supplies from fall back point Alpha to fallback point Beta and then go to and do the same with the explosive from fall back point Gamma. We will meet you there in the evening at the latest. Any questions?”

They didn’t have any, so I ordered them to get going and made myself on the way too, following the road the orks had come on, Gabrial choosing to follow my group. We walked the better part of four hours until we reached our destination, the closest entrance into the ork controlled north of the city, which was a bridge that spanned an enormous chasm at least two hundred metres wide that continued for multiple kilometres to the east and west. The bridge in question had been a hive spire that had collapsed to the side and fallen across the canyon, somehow maintaining its structural integrity.

Once more, we climbed a nearby dilapidated building and surveyed the ork encampment on our side of the bridge. The orks had realised the enormous value of this place and garrisoned both sides with an fortified outpost, although it couldn’t be said that the orks were guarding the place per say, it was just that so many of them hung around there that reaching the bridge without being spotted would be close to impossible on an direct approach.

I turned to Bonny, our demolition expert, and pointed to the bridge. “Tell me, do we have enough explosives to take down that bridge on command?”

My sister nodded. “There should be plenty of weak points to exploit,” she answered confidently, “I’d say we probably will need only half of our supply if you can get me enough time to inspect its entire length.” she then went on, the question of how I would get her there remaining unspoken.

Once more, I let my eyes roam the bridge and its surroundings. The direct approach was simply not viable, as I had already noted. I suppose we could try to claim the bridge in a surprise attack, as I counted only sixty orks on our side of the canyon, but my plan relied on the ork war boss to use the bridge and that could only be guaranteed if he thought that he was in complete control of it.

Well, I would just have to find another way of approach then. “Gabriela, stay here and keep an eye on the orks. I want to know if any of them leave their camp or get agitated the moment they do. The rest, follow me.” I ordered and then jumped back down to ground level.

From there, I moved through the jungle shrubbery for a few hundred metres to the east and then turned north towards the canyon, always making sure that there was plenty of vegetation between me and the ork camp.

Looking over the edge of the chasm, I was floored at what I saw. The space below us wasn’t just a canyon but a enormous cavern -a underhive, my artificial memories told me- and I suddenly realised that the ground I was standing on, as well as most of the city, was most likely undermined in the same manner, relying on skyscraper sized pillars to hold up the ‘ground’.

Pillars that hadn’t been maintained for literal centuries if not longer. I quickly stomped down on that realisation, if most of the city hadn’t collapsed into that underhive by now then those pillars would probably hold until my business here was done. With that out of the way, I took a second look over the edge, this time focusing on what was directly below the ledge.

I saw that directly below us was a support pillar, the massive construct holding up an arch that connected to the ceiling that was the ground we were standing on. I first considered climbing down the pillar and approaching the bridge from below, but I had to dismiss that plan as soon as I turned my head towards the bridge and saw that it just so happened that the bridge was nearly exactly in between the pillar below me and the next one further west, which meant we would have to climb sideways along the ceiling all the way.

That was still a viable plan however, the ceiling having a thickness of nearly twenty metres and being overgrown with plenty of roots and vines that could be used as handholds. We would have to do this unarmoured however, since the plants would more than likely just snap under the extra weight of our armour.

Satisfied with my findings, I turn back to my companions. I then moved away from the chasm and scouted the surrounding area for a good secondary ambush point, no reason not to make a plan B after all.

We looked around for about an hour until we found an overgrown arena, or perhaps a sports stadium of some kind, that would serve us well. The building was still relatively intact, except for a collapsed section on its north side, and about a ten minute run away from the ork controlled bridge. The place was perfect for trapping and ambushing a pursuing ork force since its interior wall was low enough to be easily scaled with our jump packs but too high for the green skins to climb quickly.

The overgrown spectator stands also offered plenty of cover in the form of rubble and plants where we could set up firing positions. The only thing we would have to do in preparation would be to clear out the bushes within the arena ground so the orks wouldn’t have any cover themselves.

With those things done and no news from Gabriela about ork movement, we linked back up with my partner and then we all headed to point Beta. The reason for why I had chosen our second fall back location for our meeting point was simple, I had learned from the ork’s memories that point Beta was only a bit more than an hour away from the chasm and the bridge, making it close enough to be convenient but far enough away as to not be risky.

The first to return were Sophia and Mina, they came back just before nightfall to report that the orks we had killed today had yet to be found. I had already suspected as much, since I knew from the memories of the ork I had eaten that his convoy usually returned after dark, so the earliest search party could be expected to be sent out tomorrow, but it was good to have them confirm this since we would still need at least this night to prepare. Azura’s team came back an hour later with the explosives and second rocket launcher I had ordered them to retrieve.

With all of us here, I explained my plan to mine the bridge north of us, knowing the ork warboss would most likely cross it once he learned of our attack on his convoy and the challenge I carved into their skin. I also had a fallback plan, should the mines not work, where we would instead goad the warboss into chasing us through the jungle, skirmishing with him and his forces until we could lure him into the old stadium and finish him off.

“So, any questions or suggestions?” I finished, awaiting what my sisters thought of my plan.

Azura was the first to speak up, “Okay, I understand what you are going for and I think it isn’t a bad idea, but isn’t this whole mission a test to prove ourselves? Wouldn’t it be a better showing for us if we took out the ork warchief in a head on confrontation?”

“A valid concern,” I allowed, “but an unfounded one I would think. This isn’t a test to determine our combat prowess directly, because they already know in detail how we compare to other marines, but to determine if we are combat effective despite our comparative deficits to other marines. Isn’t that right, Gabrial?”

The addressed marine nodded his head, “Yes, while I was also charged with observing your direct combat performance, Captain Hector made it clear that he would be most interested in if and how you would choose to compensate for your disadvantages.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answers she received, Azura nodded her head in acceptance. As soon as she had done so, Aurelia spoke up. “And how will we get under that bridge? Both sides were pretty well guarded and the vegetation that grew on the cliff walls didn’t look sturdy enough for us to climb along them.”

I nodded my head, “I agree, we can’t climb along the walls as we are now, but only because we are in full armour.” I reached into one of the nearby crates as I said that and pulled out the power armour maintenance kit we brought along, “But we have all the tools we need to take off our armour and then put it back on again.”

Aurelia furrowed her brow in thought for a moment before nodding her head, “Yes, that might work,” she agreed and then fell silent, giving someone else an opportunity to speak.

At first I thought we had addressed all concerns, as none spoke up for a couple of moments, and I was about to bring this feedback session to an end and order the execution of the plan just as Gabriela decided to speak. “Sergeant, with all do respect, I have to speak out against this plan. I do so not because I find it impractical, but because I find it dishonourable. We are meant to be his wrath, angels of Sanguinius, we should conduct ourselves with more honour than wayward saboteurs or highway robbers. Sergeant, Tanya, I beg of you to reconsider, allow us to fight in a more noble manner befitting of what we are meant to be. Let us face this foe in honourable combat instead of conducting ignoble ambushes and traps,” begged Gabriela, her voice having grown ever more pleading as her argument progressed.

I had to exercise a great amount of restraint during her speech to stop myself from cutting her off as soon as she started to moan about honour and all that other bullshit that had no place on the battlefield.

Casting a quick glance around, I was pleased to see that the rest of my sisters didn’t seem too taken with Gabriela’s argument either.
Exhaling deeply, I ordered my thoughts before turning my attention back to my partner who had put on a resolute demeanour at my continued silence as I thought how best to rebuke her plea.

“Gabriela, you came from nobility, didn’t you?” I asked her, the unexpected question taking her off guard for a moment before she answered me.

“I think I did,” she said after a moment of hesitation, “I remember my father I think, how he taught me and my siblings the importance of honour and integrity. How it was more often than not just as important how a battle was won as the victory itself, because no honourable man would ever submit to a lord who gained his victory by trickery and lies,” she revealed, surprising me with just how much she seemed to have retained from her past when I remembered nothing of this live before my augmentations. But that was beside the point, as her admission had provided me with all I needed to know.

“There is wisdom in your father’s words, conquering a people with methods that are distasteful to them or make it look like you won by luck would bring no permanent peace, as they would just rise against you at the first opportunity. Either because they feel morally obligated to or simply because they think you couldn’t win against them a second time now that they know your tricks.” I agreed with her, watching as hope blossomed in her eyes just before I crushed that hope with my next word, “But we are not fighting here to conquer our fellow men. No, our purpose here is to exterminate these beasts. Honour and noble values have their place as they can reduce the barbarity and suffering in war considerably, if your enemy respects them just as much as you do, but these animals know no such ideals. They see no horror in carnage and know nothing of compassion for their foes, or even each other, and that is why we must not show them a shred of mercy or consideration in turn.”

For a moment I thought Gabriela would try to make a counter argument, but then she broke eye contact with me and looked to our sisters for support, none stepping forward to support her. With that, her resolute posture grumbled away, leaving her looking defeated and guilty. “You are right my Sergeant, I accept that and whatever punishment you see fit to bestow upon me, I meant no disrespect and beg your forgiveness for questioning your honour,” she then said, bowing her head low in shame.

Well shit, from deviant to guilt ridden in one moment to the next, it was probably a good idea that I chose her as my partner, that way I could keep an eye on her. Stepping towards her I put my hand on her shoulder in a show of support and put on a smile. “Raise your head sister, I won’t punish you or anyone else for council after having explicitly asked for it.”

Raising her head, she mirrored my smile, tension bleeding from her as she did so. “By your will, Sergeant.”

I nodded my head once at her words, before I removed my hand from her pauldron and turned back to the rest of the squad, noting with satisfaction that Gabrial looked rather impressed with me.

“Now, any other questions?” I asked, but all remained silent. “Good, then it’s time to put the plan into action. Bonny, Aurelia, Azura and Hiki, you four are going to be our bomb squad…”

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

Looking through the scope of my stalker pattern bolter, I watched the ork camp by the chasm as Bonny and her team mined the bridge under the cover of darkness. I continued to watch throughout the night and the following morning as the orks sent out a search party for the convoy we had destroyed yesterday and also watched them return again only hours later.

At some point during that time, Bonny and Aurelia had returned and taken positions next to me, Gabriela and Gabrial. The others had set up at a nearby location on my orders, preparing an ambush in case plan A failed.

“I think I see movement,” reported Aurelia about an hour after the ork scouts had returned, pointing at the far side of the chasm.

And indeed she was right, at first I only saw a big cloud of smoke and dust rising from the opposite side of the divide, indicating that the orks were on the march, but soon I saw what could only be the enemy leader's vehicle.

“By the Throne,” cursed Gabriela in an uncharacteristic display of crudeness, not that I wasn’t sharing the sentiment. I had known from the briefing with Hector and the memories of the ork I ate that the boss of this tribe was a mechanic, but I hadn’t expected that!

There at the front of a large column of ramshackle tanks marched a nearly seven metre tall humanoid figure, its every step shaking the ground as it lumbered forward. “How in the warp did those animals get their hands on a fracking knight?” asked Bonny, the word she used “knight” triggering another set of memories.

“I don’t think they did,” came Aurelia’s voice, “Look at that thing, it's as crudely built as the rest of their machinery. Chances are they build it themselves after finding a pic of a proper knight somewhere in the hive.”

Taking a closer look at the thing as it approached the bridge, I couldn’t help but agree with Aurelia’s assessment. The thing looked like it had been built from scrap metal and painted by throwing buckets of paint at it, but that didn’t mean it was harmless.

Its right hand was a sturdy looking three fingered crane claw that looked like it would be more than able to crush one of us in full armour. Its left hand meanwhile looked like someone had taken a dozen guns of various kinds and calibres, tapped them all together and then mounted the result on the end of the walker’s arm. Lastly, the thing had two gun emplacements mounted directly to the left and right of it’s grinning head, but only the right looked functional while the other one looked like work on it had ceased mid assembly, which was probably what had happened given how quickly the orks had mobilised. Hopefully that meant that this ork knight wasn’t completely finished yet and didn’t have ion shields, or we would be in big trouble if the mines failed for some reason.

“Bonny, get ready to detonate the mines, I want you to send the signal once that walker is right in the middle of the bridge,” I ordered the demolitions expert.

“As you say, sarge, although I would give it good odds that the bridge collapses from that monstrosity alone,” quipped the dark skinned woman, drawing a chuckle from me and the others.

“Gabriela, vox Azura and tell her to get her team ready in case we are forced to come in hot, also do tell her about the knight,” I commanded, watching as the walker made its first steps on the bridge.

To my amazement, not only did the bridge manage to bear the weight of the ginormous ork walker but also the tank column and mob of heavily armed and armoured infantry that followed it. I counted at least seventy tanks and guessed that at least a thousand orks marched alongside them, each of them a hulking mountain of muscle armoured with heavy looking steel plates and armed to the teeth. I saw belt fed machine guns, flamethrowers, chain weapons and even some although stranger contraptions that I couldn’t identify.

“They really pulled out all the stops, didn’t they? How considerate of them to mobilise all their elite fighters with their best gear for use like that,” mussed Bonny as she raised her remote detonator and flicked off the glass panel protecting the trigger.

The ork knight made another step, crossing the halfway point of the bridge, just as the last of the following ork army reached the beginning of the bridge. For a moment I was tempted to have Bonny wait until they too had reached a point of no return but decided against it, we could deal with them later, but their leader and, more pressingly, his walker were an altogether more serious threat.

“Fire in the hole,” came Bonny’s eager voice over the vox link as she pressed the trigger down.

The four thermic charges detonated almost at once, suddenly superheated air generating an ear shattering loud bang as the metal where the bridge met its support structure glowed briefly white like a star before melting away completely, flowing down into the abyss moments before the bridge's support struts followed.

Yet, to my horror, I saw the bridge didn't collapse in on itself immediately, like I had hopped, the ancient spire still holding firm despite laying on its side and the ork army standing atop it.

“Bonny, get your rocket launcher ready, plan A has failed,” I said a moment before a deep groan could be heard from the bridge, something that didn’t escape the, until now disoriented, orks who suddenly realised what we had tried to do to them and could still happen.

Those in the back tried to flee backwards from where they had come, others charged straight ahead, those in vehicles mercilessly running over their comrades on foot, blind panic consuming the ork mob as they scrambled for safer ground. I paid those no mind however, my attention fixed on the ork leader as he piloted his walker forward, each step now shaking the already fragile bridge beneath him. For a moment I thought he would make it to the other side as he came within ten metres of solid ground, barely a handful of steps for the giant machine, but then a second louder groan sounded as the whole bridge broke apart in the middle and the two pieces started to slide into the chasm.

I let out a relieved sigh as I watched the ork knight being dragged backwards faster than it could walk, before it fell into the dark below. “Well, looks like plan A worked after all. Good work Bonny, even though this turned out more dramatic than I would have liked,” I commented, my eyes first moving towards the orks on the far side of the divide, noting that about a tenth of the ork army had managed to reach safety before it was too late for them, and then to those on our side. It looked like what passed for public order amongst their misbegotten kind had already broken down in the wake of their leader's death as the orks started killing each other over who had the right to take his place.

“Thanks sister, I-” Bonny began to answer me, but was cut off by the deafening roar of a rocket. Then, a moment later, something shot out of the canyon in a high arc, trailing fire and smoke in its wake.

“I can’t believe it, where was that thing hiding a bloody rocket booster?!” I heard myself screeching, in a rare moment of lost composure, at the sight of the flying knight, who by now had reached the apex of his flight and was now transitioning into a controlled descent, its rocket engine slowly powering down as the warmachine was returning to solid ground.

“They pulled it right out of their ass, or so it would seem,” observed Aurelia in a deadpan tone, snapping me out of my stupor as I took a closer look at the descending knight and noted that yes, there was a rocket exhaust in between the machine’s legs.

“Okay, listen up and listen well,” I snapped, trying to regain control of the situation, “Plan A failed but plan B is still viable and we won’t get a better opportunity than now anytime soon.” I gestured towards the ork knight, who by now had finished landing and was performing some sort of victory dance by the looks of it. “The ork warlord is cut off from his elite troops and only has some sixty badly equipped orks with him.”

I paused for a moment, allowing my sisters to digest my words before continuing, “Bonny, you will draw it’s attention with an armour piercing shot at my command, try aiming at the head cockpit of the thing, that might even be enough to take our target out. The rest of you, get ready to run as soon as we have their attention.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came four different voices from my sisters and an “understood” from Gabrial, all of them, with the exception of Bonny, holstering their weapons and turning away from the ork mob, ready to flee towards our allies.

“Bonny, fire at will,” I ordered, my sister firing her rocket launcher a moment later and then immediately strapped the weapon to her back, not even waiting for her shot to connect, turning away from the orks as she did so.

It was now I alone who watched the rocket connect with its target. The shot sadly failed in ending the war boss's life here and now, luckily because Bonny had missed the cockpit rather than because of an ion shield. Her rocket instead hit the functional looking turret next to the knight’s head and destroyed the weapon emplacement, leaving the walker with only its arm mounted weapons.

The knight's head then snapping into our direction, the eyes of the ramshackle machine meeting my own, leaving no doubt in my mind that it knew where that shot had come from.

“Run!” I commanded and instantly followed my own order, the others following it just as quickly. It was good that they did so, as a storm of solid munitions and las-bolts shot through where our backs had been a heartbeat before we jumped off the building we had perched on.

From there on out, things went pretty well all things considered, we zigzagged through the forest at what my armour said where very nearly forty kilometres an hour while the ork warboss followed us like a good lamb to the slaughter, trampling the underbrush and obliterating trees as it went, every now and again providing us with motivation to move faster via it’s gun arm. Truely, I should hate my rotten luck for putting me into this situation, and yet I could feel that I was grinning like a loon. Adrenaline was something beautiful, wasn’t it?

Then the foliage of the jungle opened up and the old stadium came into view. Activating my vox unit, I send a quick message to Azura’s half of the squad. “Be ready to stand and fight, the target is about to enter the kill zone.”

Azura replied almost immediately, “Copy that sergeant, turn sharp right once you enter the arena and head for cover there,” she advised me, sounding rather eager for the coming confrontation.

“You all heard her, to the right we go,” I echoed her, making it clear to the rest of my squad that I would take Azura’s advice.

Then, when we were about to reach the breach in the old building's wall, I reached down to my belt and drew out my smoke grenade, throwing the device into the gap between the building’s massive walls. I did this because the breach was neither very wide or had any cover, meaning the ork could have easily gunned us down there, especially since we couldn’t even spread out much since the passage was so narrow, but thanks to my smoke grenade the ork could at the very least not target us directly and had to guess where we were.

Sadly that didn’t mean none of us were hit, just that we managed to minimise the number of hits we received. I myself suffered a minor wound on my right leg where a few stuber rounds and las bolts managed to crack my armour, Bonny meanwhile loudly cursed letting me know that she was both alive but had been hit.

“Keep going,” I ordered as I turned right, bringing the wall of the stadium between me and the pursuing enemy, swiftly spotting several big pieces of rubble in the old spectator area that had been arranged as cover.

Kindling our jump packs, I and my sisters propelled ourselves into the air and managed to land behind cover just in time for the ork walker to lumber into the arena, its bulk scraping against the edges of the breach as it entered. Its head then turned towards us, bellowing a thunderous “Waaagh” before losing another barrage from its gun-arm.

“Bonny, ready another krak missile!” I ordered while cowering behind our cover as las-bolts and solid shots hammered into it, hearing the ork knight’s steps as it stomped closer.

Then I heard Azura’s voice, “Joline, fire now!”, through our vox connection. Not a second later, I heard a rocket fly shortly followed by a frustrated scream of the ork and a loud thump as its barrage of small arms fire veered off and then seized. That proved to be only a short reprieve however, as the sound of gunfire returned, but this time it wasn’t directed at us.

Taking a quick peek over our cover, I saw why. Joline, being the one who had taken to wielding the second rocket launcher we had brought along, had successfully hit the knight from behind in its knee joint, forcing it to kneel on its arms and legs. However, the walker hadn’t remained like that, having shifted its weight onto its claw arm and right leg, freeing up his left gun arm to fire behind it. Following its line of fire, I saw that Azura and her fire team had also built a fortification on the other side of the stadium, presumably now cowering behind their cover like we had before.

“Missile ready, where do you want it?” asked Bonny then, popping out of cover beside me as she got ready to shoot. I noted that she had disregarded her helmet, a line of burned hair and flesh running along the left side of her head answering why she had done so.

I considered her question for only a very short moment before answering her. “Aim for its claw arm, I want it to crash into the dirt where it belongs.”

A savage smile came to her lips, before she wordlessly adjusted her aim and fired. The rocket flew true, striking the elbow joint of the walker, severing the arm. Then, with an almighty crash, the thing hit the dirt, first landing on its side before rolling over and coming to rest on its back.

I was about to congratulate Bonny on her shot, when Sophia spoke up instead, her words being closely followed by the thundering of her heavy bolter. “Additional hostiles incoming from the jungle.”

I cursed and turned my head, locating Sophia and her partner Mina at the top of the stadium, right at the edge of the breach, firing down into the jungle from where we and the ork walker had come from moments ago.
Then I heard Bonny curse beside me, causing me to turn my head back to the ork walker just in time to see its cockpit open up and a heavily armoured ork crawl out, its right gauntlet being unmistakably a orkish power fist while the other one had long claw like fingers between which green lightning danced, marking it too as a power weapon.

Thinking fast, I decided on my next course of action and took aim with my bolter, aiming a single shot at the unprotected head of the ork warleader. My reasoning was that if I was able to kill the ork just like that, then we could retreat right away, a hope that was dashed as my shot failed to kill the beast, instead it collided with a shimmering energy field that came into being about a metre away from the ork.

Refraining from cursing the blasted things preparedness, I instead made to issue new orders. “Azura and Hiki, you two get down there and finish the warlord off in close combat. As for the rest, get up to Sophia and support her, let not a single hostile enter the arena.” I commanded, but did not go up myself. The only ork force that could have already arrived was the garrison who had protected our side of the bridge, which had been less than a hundred orks, which was not really a threat that required more than half our squad to deal with, given our superior firing positions atop the old stadium.

So I choose to stay and watch the fight with the ork warboss, Gabrial and, curiously enough, Gabriela doing the same despite my orders. Now Gabriel doing so I could understand, he wasn’t part of my unit after all and charged with his own mission, but Gabriela staying made me raise an eyebrow.

“Gabriela, is there a reason you ignore my direct order?” I asked her, just as Azura and Hiki clashed with the warboss, making her flinch.

“I’m sorry, but I thought that I was meant to stay by your side, given that I’m your partner,” she replied, which wasn't a completely baseless assumption given that I had never split up combat pairs before during a firefight. I considered how I should deal with this situation as I watched Azura and Hiki fight the armoured ork, the beast proving to be deceptively light footed for how heavy its red suit of power armour looked.

“Gabriela, your transgression is forgiven as it was caused by the miscommunication of procedure on my part.” I told her, while mentally making a note to codify combat language and procedures such as these for the future.

Then Azura managed to land a direct hit on the ork and it became apparent to me that they wouldn’t be able to win that fight, at least not reliably. Azura’s chain-sword had just ineffectually bounced off the ork’s armour, only producing a few sparks as it made contect, before she had to doge backwards as the ork tried to take her head off with his claw gauntlet, something he very nearly succeeded at.

Reaching down to my weapons belt, I took out my krak grenade and gestured for Gabriela to do the same. Then I spoke into my vox, addressing the squad vox channel. “Azura and Hiki, keep his attention but be ready to disengage at my mark. Gabriela, follow me.”

With these words I took off, jumping down from the spectator area into the arena and charged at the ork, Gabriela just behind me. Once I was about four metres away from the beast, I came to a stop and screamed “mark” into the vox and readied myself to throw. At my command, both assault marines fell back which left the ork free to turn around as it had heard my approach. That didn’t matter however, as I and Gabriela pitched our grenades as soon as our sisters were in the clear.

To the ork’s credit, he managed to intercept Gabriela’s grande with his powerfist, the disrupter field of the weapon disintegrating the explosive harmlessly, but my own grenade hit it’s target and attached itself to his hip via an inbuilt magnet, before ripping the ork’s leg off in a violent explosion.

Like his knight before him, he fell but managed to land on his three remaining limbs, but unlike his knight he wouldn't get a chance to briefly get up again. Instead he was crushed flat into the dirt as Azura landed on his shoulders, the woman having used her jump pack to savagely pounce at the ork as soon as he had begun to fall. Then she struck downward with her chain-sword, sawing off his head in one clean stroke before he could even try to dislodge.

Picking up the head of the alien warchief, I once again addressed the squad. “Everyone, the primary target is dead. Disengage and fall back to the south side of the stadium, we are leaving.”

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

I think it was fair to say that our mission was a complete success, seeing how the ork warchief was now dead and his horde leaderless. I was especially pleased at the fact that we had managed that with zero casualties, only I and Bonny sustaining minor injuries that Sana easily patched up once we made it back to fallback point Beta.

I also made a point of praising Azura for how well she had set up the ambush in the stadium, something that pleased the woman immensely, judging by how proud she looked. Which made me consider if I should train her as a second in command, she had the necessary self confidence and charisma to make for an effective leader at the very least. The question was: Did she have the mind for it?

She did set up the ambush position in the stadium rather well, which showed that she had at least an aptitude for tactics, and she had shown consideration for the bigger picture after I had first explained my plan to the squad, questioning if a more conventual assault wouldn’t be the better choice to achieve our strategic goal of proving our worth.

Well I guess those thoughts were all theoretical for now anyway, seeing that my own command only extended to a single squad, but it was still something to keep in mind for the future.

The next few days were less noteworthy but confirmed that our mission was a success, seeing how the ork horde fell into civil war and splintered into a hundred small tribes that constantly warred with each other. Seeing it as the opportunity that this was, I and my squad started a campaign of ambush attacks and further assassinations, picking off weakened tribes and eliminating warchiefs in ascension before they could become a serious threat.

It was during this time that I also learned that, while the ork’s moral couldn’t be broken in the traditional sense, utilising terror tactics against them such as random hit and run attacks, poisoning their supplies, boobytraping their latrines and turning the corpses of their patrols into art pieces still had an effect on them. Terrorising them in such a way kicked their flight response into overdrive and thus led to plenty of infighting, since we never gave them a chance to take their frustrations out on us, which turned out to be a very good tactic to break up some of the larger tribes we encountered.

Which brings me to now, six days after the elimination of the ork warboss and nine after we first made planetfall.

“Bonny, how many rockets do you have left?” I asked our demolitions expert while keeping an eye on the battle below us. We had been stalking this warband since yesterday, following them for hours at a distance until an opportunity such as this one presented itself.

“Two fragmentation and no more krak, sergeant,” Bonny answered after only a moment, sounding rather unhappy with that, for which I couldn’t blame her. We had almost completely exhausted our ammunition stockpile in the last week, with what we carried now with us being all that was left of the three chests worth we had brought when we had first arrived.

“Good enough,” I decided after a moment, watching as the two rival warbosses spotted each other across the battlefield and moved to get into melee, intending to slay their opposite number in a duel and subsume their fighters into their own force.

“See the brute with the burning club in the red armour and the one with the two machetes dressed in animal pelts?” I asked her, waiting for her to signal that she had before continuing, “Put a frag right between them as soon as they start crossing blades, I want both of them to die at the same moment,” I ordered, the thought being that if both of them died at the same time then their armies would further splinter as all their lieutenants would try to seize the leadership position.

“Understood,” she answered me and prepared her weapon, while I turned my attention to the rest of the squad.

“Azura, take your and Sophia’s combat pair to that hill and set up a firing position. Then, once Bony takes out their leaders and the horde charges us, you will be in the perfect position to catch them in your crossfire,” I instructed, pointing at what might have been the remains of a collapsed building halfway to where the orks were fighting.

“With pleasure,” answered Azura, as she and the three other marines forming her fire team rose from their crochet positions among the jungle giants we were hiding between.

Yet they didn’t move out, freezing in place as a low whistling sound cut through the air. It took me only a moment to figure out what that heralded. “Get to cover, artillery strike!” I screamed into the vox, flinging myself to the ground behind a particularly sturdy looking tree.

It was only a moment after I hit the dirt that I felt a heavy tremor run through the ground as the noise dampeners in my helmet jumped to maximum suppression, protecting me from being deafened by the artillery barrage.

The bombardment lasted for fifteen seconds and I stayed down for another five until I was certain that it was over before I dared to get up and take a look at the aftermath. What I saw was utter carnage, once great trees and the orks who had fought among them having been reduced to nothing in the barrage, the splintered white wood and the red and black gore mixing into what could almost be considered as a piece of art.

I shook my head, banishing the vapid thought before reassessing the tactical situation. The bulk of the ork forces had been whipped out, only a handful of stragglers who had been at the very edge of the battleground remained.

“Gabriela, scan the vox channels, I think the second army has arrived,” I ordered my sister, only a second before my guess was confirmed.

With a mighty roar, seven warriors in familiar looking yellow power armour flew out of the jungle and fell upon the still disorganised greenskins, butchering them with savage efficiency.

“New orders, full frontal assault on the remaining rabble, don’t let our brothers have all the fun,” I commanded, earning an eager cheer from my subordinates as they rose from their cover and charged in guns blazing and chain weapons screaming.

I supposed I could have waited for Aurelia to find the vox channel they were using and made contact that way, but I doubted the effort would be necessary. There wouldn’t be any further heavy weapons deployment with squad yellow engaging in close quarters combat and I doubted they could mistake us for orks, so friendly fire was an almost nonexistent risk. Furthermore, I didn’t want to come off as cowardly or lazy to my allies by having them do all the work while we sat around and watched them.

So it was that our two squads reunited, ankle deep in blood and guts. “Greetings, squad silver, it gladdens me to see you all hail,” greeted the apparent leader, who I recognised by his voice as Samael’s, sergeant Septimus’s second best duelist.That he was leading them was concerning.

Taking a closer look at the members of squad yellow before me, I noted that all of their suits of armour looked far more damaged than those of my own squad. Granted, they were equipped as close combat specialists while we had predominantly fought at range, but their damaged armour combined with the fact that three of their members weren't present wasn’t reassuring.

Infact, their handler, chaplain Ohtli, seemed to be missing as well, which boded ill. I also noticed that they hadn’t sheaved their blades yet, despite the last hostile on the field already having been dispatched. Normally, I would attribute this to us still being in contested territory, but the fact that all of them had turned to face us, instead of looking outward for further approaching orks, made me think it was something else.

“The feeling is mutual, but may I ask where Septimus is?” I decided to ask, partially out of curiosity and more importantly because not doing so could easily be misconstrued as callousness on my part, which would damage our squads fledgling alliance.

Samael didn’t answer my question immediately, that wasn’t unexpected given the topic, but what drew my concern was just how his body language shifted. Samael and everyone in his squad tensened upon my question, some even briefly raising their weapons before lowering them again. Shit, I had accidentally hit a nerve there, hadn’t I?

“Sadly we lament his passing, along with brother Icarus and brother Haniel,” Samael said just before I could think to backpadle, “Given the friendship of our squads, would you be averse to join us in their remembrance once we return to the Oathbound?” he asked me then, stretching the definition of the word friend a bit, given that we had trained together for about three days. And yet…

“Of course, once the mission is done,” I answered without hestion, since turning down what was essentially an invitation to a funeral would be the height of rudeness and kill our alliance for sure.

“About that, we were sent to collect you and your squad. You see, everyone else has already fulfilled their objective and the guard seems to have things well in hand, so our evaluation is coming to an end and we are being pulled out,” he explained, which was welcome news for me since I was rather confident about the performance of my team.

“Of course brother, lead the way then,” I answered him, admittedly very eager for a chance to shower after a week of trekking and fighting in a sealed suit of armour.

With that we left the battle ground behind and followed our brothers towards the Imperial Guard’s forward base, which was located near our original fallback location Alpha. I had to hand it to the guard, they couldn’t have been here yesterday and yet they had already built a well fortified camp, complete with command post, artillery positions and makeshift air field. The latter of which being our destination.

While we walked, I couldn’t help but go over the short conversation we just had in my head. Three marines of squad yellow were dead, with their handler no longer accompanying them, that hinted at a number of dire and less dire scenarios. The simplest was that they just got unlucky and encountered a pack of particularly strong or cunning greenskins, with their handler having been injured and remaining behind while they continued the mission.

Yet I suspected there was more to it, their reaction to me asking what happened being just too strong. As we neared the shuttle, I couldn’t help but ask myself where squad blue was? They had been designated as the scout element of this push and squad yellow had been the support element for the guard, so shouldn’t they have been the ones sent to retrieve us?

The flight up to the Oathbound was a sombre but otherwise uneventful affair. Once we reached the ship, we were split up. The battle brothers and sisters were sent to the apothecarion for an after action medical check up. Meanwhile I, Samael and Gabrial were summoned by the Watch Captain for debriefing.

Once we reached where our debriefing would take place, I and Gabrial were made to wait outside while Samael entered. The next hour was rather boring but peaceful, giving me time to order my thoughts and mentally prepare myself.

Then Samael emerged and told us we were to enter next, before departing in the direction of the apothecarion for his own after action check up.

Entering the room, my eyes were immediately drawn to the four thrones at the far side of it. There, raised above the ground on a pedestal, sat Watch Captain Hector, Chaplain Ohtli, Sergeant Emek and a Blakshield Apothecary I didn’t recognise. Okay, Ohtli was still alive then, that was good I supposed. Perhaps he left squad yellow while they retrieved us because his presence was needed while debriefing the other squads?

Unsure what the protocol was, I followed Gabrial’s lead, following him as he approached the steps leading up the pedestal to the thrones before kneeling straight back with one knee on the ground. The posture reminded me of how knights would kneel before their King.

“Gabrial, Tanya, it is good to see both of you return,” greeted the Watch Captain in a formal voice, the way he projected his words lending some more gravitas than strictly necessary.

“It is good to be back, my captain, and even better to bring news of our victory. Squad Silver achieved their objective, the ork warlord in Feuerstätten is dead and his army scattered,” replied Gabrial, his words sounding practised. Granted, he was a veteran, so this wouldn’t be his first time in a mission debriefing, but even so, I couldn’t help but think his word choice was rather too dramatic for a formal report.

“Is that so brother, then tell us of their victory,” commanded the captain, again making this whole interaction sound less like a military debrief and more like a theatre production.

Luckily for my sanity, the tone of the conversation grew more formal once Gabrial started to recount what happened after we were deployed, retelling the mission from his perspective.

Once we reached the point where Gabrial mentioned me consuming an ork's brain to gain information, the blackshield Apothecary spoke up. “Pause the report, Gabrial. Sergeant Tanya, elaborate on what it was like for you to use the Omophagea.”

“Of course sir,” I answered to buy time to formulate a reply. I wasn’t quite sure how to describe the experience at first, but settled on an objective retelling delivered in a manner that revealed just the right emotions on the subject.

“The process of gaining its memories had been disorienting and I fell into some sort of trance while I did consume the ork’s brain. As for what I learned, well the ork’s memories came to me in a disjointed rushed manner, with his thoughts, experiences and fantasies all mixed together. It was still enough to give me a pretty good idea of who the ork had been and what it knew. Objectively speaking, I learned about the relative military strength of the warband, the layout of their fortress city and what passes for their operational apparatus,” I reported, only shortly pausing to catch my breath, before I continued.

“On the more esoteric side, I also learned about its thoughts and desires, how it wished to fight and kill and wanted for nothing else. It was a barbarous monstrous thing, an engine of destruction,” I finished, the tattered memories and alien feelings that still lingered in my mind coming back to me as I told of them, the tale end of my report being transfused with barely withheld contempt, just as I had planned.

As I had thought, that little display of righteous hate for the orks earned me a round of satisfied nods from the four Astartes judging my actions.

“Excellent, it sounds like your Omophagea works as intended, sadly a rarity in some chapters,” the Apothecary said, which boded well for me.

With that, Garbriel returned to giving his report, describing how we had sent up the bridge collapse and the nearby ambush location. He noted my leadership skills in particular, going into detail about how I dealt with the feedback of my subordinates, which elicited the particular interest of squad yellow’s handler, the Chaplain from the Blood Jaguars.

“That was quite a masterful deconstruction and rejection of your subordinates honour code, Tanya. I’m impressed, if you weren’t the leader of your unit already then I would have petitioned for you to be trained as a chaplain under me,” told me the skull masked marine, his approval clear in his voice.

That brought a smile to my face, it seemed like I had managed to bring one of them already to my side! I was about to thank him when we went on however, his tone becoming more intense. “Of course, the question now is if you actually believed your own words or if you just said them to get her back in line?” he asked, leaning forward slightly in anticipation of my answer.

Okay, seems like he wasn’t completely done with me after all. The question now was: What did he want to hear? He had praised my ability to argue, but hadn’t actually commented on whether or not he thought I was right or wrong. My artificial memories were similarly unhelpful on the subject, only informing me that his chapter was infamous for their brutality in melee combat which didn’t answer if they adhered to a code of honour themselves. I would have to take a calculated risk then.

“I believed in what I told her. In fact, I softened my argument’s blow when I talked with Gabriela so I wouldn’t alienate her,” I said, hoping to intrigue the chaplain. The reason why I did so was that if he agreed with me then doubling down would be the right answer and if he didn’t then the mystery of what I had meant by softening my blow would hopefully intrigue him enough to at least hear out my argument.

“Oh, is that so? Tell me then, what are your full unfiltered thoughts on the topic?” he asked, sounding intrigued but still didn’t show whether or not he agreed with me. I had to wonder, did he perhaps not care for the topic at all and was just interested in my train of thought?

“War is devastatingly costly, both in terms of material as well as human lives, and degrades those who experience it on a deep spiritual level. War takes people and turns them either into corpses, shell shocked survivors or insane monsters. To commit to war is to embrace the very worst that lives in the heart of man, to cast reason and logic aside in favour of more base emotions,” I began, briefly pausing to catch my breath before I continued, fully aware that if I didn’t have the full attention of this council before then I had it now.

“As such, I believe one should only commit to war if there is no other choice. For once it is unleashed the kindest thing one can do is to end it as quickly and decisively as feasible. For war at its root never changes, it will always be a destructive corrupting thing that only ever degrades those it touches and no amount of high minded ideas like honour or chivalry will change that,” I finished, my eyes seeking the red lenses of the Chaplins skull faced helmet as I waited for his judgement.

The silence that followed my assertion was perhaps the longest and tensest moment of my existence, giving me plenty of time to wonder if I had gone too far and condemned myself and my sisters to an inglorious end because I misjudged my audience.

The silence was eventually broken by the chaplain, and, while I couldn’t see his face, I was certain he was smiling by the tone of his voice. “A bold assertion that many of our brothers and cousins would take umbrage with, but your words are not without wisdom. I will grant you that you are at the very least right about the wars we Astartes are called upon to fight, for we are only called to battle against the most wicked of the Emperor’s enemies in the most dire of circumstances. As such, we simply can’t afford to grant our opponents a fair fight for the sake of our pride or discard tactics because they are underhanded, for the price of our failure would be the extinction of our species.”

Tension drained from my frame as I heard the words of the chaplain, I was sure now that I had his mark of approval at the very least.

Taking my eyes off him, I turned to look at the other three seated marines present. Sadly, both the captain and the apothecary just sat there unmoving, their thoughts hidden behind their helmets, only the salamander gave me a firm nod as I looked into his direction. Outright approval from two out of four then, that wasn’t too bad.

Gabrial then continued to report how the rest of the mission went, the mention of the ork warboss having built a knight eliciting some surprise, as did the fact that we had dealt with it as effectively as we did. The report soon wrapped up with a swift summation of the guerilla campaign we wagged against the splintered ork army, Gabrial switching his focus to what tactics we used rather than recounting the following seven days in detail.

“An exceptional performance,” praised the watch captain, although the way he said it made me think that he wasn’t completely happy with how I had done things either.

“But I still have some questions for you,” he added then on, “Firstly, about your conduct with the serfs. Gabrial reports that you repeatedly made a point of thanking them for their work, impressed upon your sisters to show them respect and referred to them as support personnel rather than serfs, why?”

I kept my face carefully blank as he asked his first question and considered how I should answer him. As I did so, I glanced at his chapter badge: A black skull with a white, four pointed star on a brown field. He was a Brazen Consul then, a chapter who had famously inherited their primarch’s love for logistics and efficiency, that suited me just fine.

“It is a simple matter of efficiency. Workers that feel like they can trust and are appreciated by their leader will work harder, are more willing to speak up if they made a mistake or oneself is about to make one and are less likely to betray you. For example: During the squad armouring process, I was about to pick a generic jungle camouflage pattern for our armour if Frida, one of my support workers, hadn’t spoken up and informed me that the plants on Verda were all bone white, saving me from choosing a completely ineffective camouflage pattern.” I recounted, feeling pretty good about my reasoning. Morals and values were subjective after all, but one simply can’t argue with results.

“Fair enough, I can see the wisdom in that approach,” he agreed with me, moving on to his second question. “Why did you take the tactical approach that you did?”

That was a pretty broad question, but also a very straightforward one. So I began to explained that I originally chose to deploy as a tactical squad in order to test out every astartes combat role during the deployment, how I soon realised that my squad’s close combat capabilities were far below average which made me choose to focus on ranged combat instead and that my guerilla tactics were born out of the fact that I had to split up the ork army into smaller units that my squad could swiftly overpower if I didn’t want to get overwhelmed.

The Watch Captain remained silent during this, patiently listening to my explanation without any indication if I did well or not. Given the lack of feedback from him, I was stuck between having to choose how much detail was too much by myself, so I chose what I hoped to be a middle ground approach that was informative while not boring him by stating the obvious.

Then he asked me what would be his final question. “And if you were asked to go on the exact mission again, would you do anything differently?”

I couldn't help but grin as he asked this, having asked the very same question, although in a very different context, numerous times during my first live. In my experience, asking this kind of question was more to test if the questioned individual could identify, admit and correct their mistakes without someone holding their hand, a critical skill when it came to any leadership position.

“Of course, firstly I would deploy as a devastator squad now that I know how rarely I had needed my close support. Secondly, I would have told Bonny to be ready to fire her rocket launcher earlier, with the goal to cripple the knight when it had looked like it would outrun the bridge collapse or when it came flying out of the underhive, rather than when the knight was erratically jumping around because of its victory dance,” I answered confidently.

“A reasonable response, your marine’s close combat capabilities are lacking, so concentrating on your relative strengths is logical. However, I would caution you against going too far in the opposite direction,” Captain Hector replied, adopting a lecturing tone. “You can’t expect to always be in control of the engagements you will find yourself in. Your foes will surprise you, battlefield conditions may render long range combat ineffective or objectives will force you into situations where you are forced to stand your ground, even as the enemy crosses over into melee range. So, with that in mind, I would suggest that you put it into standard practice that your tactical marines carry a chain-weapon as a secondary weapon instead of a bolt pistol.”

“Thank you for your advice, captain,” I replied as I considered his suggestion. It wasn’t a bad one, I decided. My sisters had rarely if ever made use of their bolt pistols during our missions, there simply wasn’t any reason for them to do so while they still had their bolters, so replacing those with a dedicated close quarters combat weapon was sensible.

“Very well, that would be the end of your evaluation for now. You are free to reunite with your squad,” Captain Hector announced, causing my handler to rise beside me, I didn’t however.

“Honoured Captain,” I began, all too aware that I might be breaking protocol, “if I may ask two questions of my own?”

The captain nodded his head, “Yes, but be swift about it.”

Wasting no time, I asked both questions at once. “Firstly, I have to know how secret my chapter's preference in recruits is? And secondly, I would like to ask why my squad received such a challenging mission while all others were just handed over to friendly units?”

“Those are reasonable questions,” he allowed, “Firstly, your chapter being all female is on a need to know basis, but the information isn’t any more classified than information on any other chapter’s recruitment pools. The Lord Inquisitor felt that trying to hide what you are and failing would invite more condemnation than outright admitting it to the right people. As such, the Lord Inquisitor will aim to create a document sanctioning your chapters recruitment practices that will be co-signed by the other High Lords and added into your founding charter,” he answered me, the Lord Inquisitor’s thoughts on the subject mirroring my own. Then my mind stalled for a moment as I realised what he had just implied about the person overseeing the founding.

“And as for why I chose you for the deep strike infiltration mission? Well I already told you why when I first assigned you, you impressed me. Fast grown marines like you and your compatriots are usually uncreative, unobservant and lack initiative, but you broke the mould in that regard. So, taking into consideration that you also have the highest tactical and strategic thinking score out of all the Astartes created during the twenty-first founding to date, I decided that you deserved the chance to distinguish yourself beyond what the others would be able to achieve,” he explained calmly, bringing my thoughts back to the present.

Having received my answers, I gave my thanks and got up, leaving the Death Watch members behind as I made my way towards the infirmary to reunite with my sisters.

Watch Captain Hector Toyer

The chamber grew silent as brother Gabrial and founding Sergeant Tanya left, leaving me alone with my councillors to contemplate her report. She and her sisters had done well, extremely so, their execution of their missions without any fatalities or even serious injuries despite the difficulties of their task and the unexpected presence of the ‘Ork Knight’ could only be a portant of their future greatness. Not only that, but their interactions with both the mortal crew and their fellow founding marines had also shown their character to be both noble and benevolent.

By right, I should have been exuberant, and yet I wasn’t. Dark thoughts having started to creep in as I beheld their work and tactics. I had only ever seen terror tactics like those utilised by one other group of Astartes, the memories of such things reigniting fantome pains in centuries old scars. Yet I didn’t dare to voice my suspicions, fearing my own past would lead me to unfairly judge them. Gracefully, I didn't have to.

“Is it just me or do their tactics remind you of the Night Lords too?” ask Emek in a puzzled voice, daring to speak aloud what I didn’t.

“They do look the part of the ninth and their attitude has more in common with that of the eighteenth, but their tactics do strike me like the usual brand of savagery the sons of the Night Haunter deploy. It’s more morbid and self indulgent than anything I have seen in a Blood Angel successor to date,” agreed the Nameless, the old Blackshield too sounding rather puzzled by the contrasting aspects of their behaviour.

With two of my fellow officers having confirmed my own thoughts of their own accord, I was about to order an investigation and preparations for a possible termination of their nascent chapter to be undertaken when Chaplin Ohtli spoke up. “And pray tell, Nameless, what would you know of the great Angel’s darkness? By what right or expertise would you judge their tactics, Salamander?” he asked in a sharp tone, challenging them to dare answer him.

He continued once it became clear that neither would dare to take his challenge, “Must I remind you that I have served for over nine hundred years at this point, half of that time alongside my own and the other half while standing the Long Vigil. During those long centuries, I had plenty of time to learn all about the different shades of madness and slaughter lust that can grip an Astarte’s heart, to differentiate and judge them. So trust me when I say they are of the ninth, even if they don’t employ the usual brand of savagery we are known for, as the Nameless one put it.”

That made me pause, “And what exactly makes you think,” I sent him a picture of one of their flesh sculptures over our armour’s shared network, “that this is in keeping with the Blood Angels’s usual bloodlust? As the Nameless pointed out, it’s usually more of a heat of battle phenomenon with your brothers, rather than such morbid displays.”

“It is not as unusual as you think,” began the ancient marine. ”Art has always been part of the ninth traditions, ever since we reunited with our father, and they are hardly the first marines to play around with some corpses. As for their tactics, well she explained why she chose those instead of a more straightforward approach already, so I shall not waste time repeating her words. And lastly, the biggest difference between the mongrel sons of Curze and her methods was the way they approach killing. The Night Lords like to play with their prey, tormenting them and drawing out the fight to extend their suffering, but she didn’t do that. Tanya and her marines went in all of their engagements straight for the jugular, aiming to kill as quickly as possible, as any good son of Sanguineous would do.”

I nodded my head along as Ohtli spoke, his words reassuring me somewhat. It was true that neither Tanya or her squad mates had shown even the tiniest hint of sadism during their mission. Yes, now that I considered their actions, I felt reminded of how the Ravenguard was said to operate. Although their corps art was probably still a vestige of their Blood Angle heritage.

“Well, that settles it then, we are all in agreement that they passed their test and should be allowed to enter the next phase of development?” I asked, receiving no contradictions.

I was about to call an end to our conclave then, already drafting my report to the Lord Inquisitor within my mind, when the Nameless one spoke up.

“Say brother captain, does their batch already have a name?” he asked.

“No, they usually receive one only after their chapter enters stage three of the founding process,” that was after all when the infant chapter would be allowed to venture forth into the galaxy and gather real experience, under Inquisitorial supervision of course, once they had a hundred marines to their name. “Why do you ask?”

“I think I have a good name in mind for them, Silver Shrikes? I think even Ohtli would agree that it would fit them,” answered the Nameless.

I couldn’t help but grimace, having no idea what a Shrike was, but to my surprise found that Ohtli nodded his head at the suggestion. “Oh I like that one, a very fitting name. But perhaps calling them Butcher Birds would be more practical, since I doubt many enemies of mankind engage in ornithology?”

“And what is a Shrike?” I asked, “Keep in mind that I do not engage in ornithology either.”

Something horrible happened next, something I hadn’t paid witness to in two centuries since I first joined the long watch, Othtli chortled in glee. “Oh they are but the most amusing little pets you can keep. Why I used to own one during my time as recruitment master of my chapter,” he reminisced.

It was then that the Nameless cleared his throat, bringing my attention to him. “You see, the Shrikes just appear to be ordinary small birds that hunt beetles, mice and small lizards at first glance. But that isn’t all they are, you see, they are also known as the Butcher Birds because of how they eat their prey. Like butchers suspend meat on hooks while working on it, so do the Shrikes impale their prey on thorns, sharp twigs or razor wire before tearing bite-sized pieces out of them,” explained the blackshield.

“Yes, it is a very amusing habit of theirs that results in quite a bit of interesting corpse art,” agreed Othtli, “Some of the bushes that host multiple of them can look like a Night Lord warband came through and did something useful for once and dealt with the vermin.”

So the name of a small bird that didn’t look particularly special or fearsome and yet had a morbid way of dealing with their kills. “Yes brothers, I agree it would be a fitting name. I will partition the Inquisitor to name them after these birds.”

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

The way to the Apothecarium was uneventful, with even Gabrial leaving me to carry out his own post battle rituals, evidently no longer seeing the need to shadow me at this point, only the whine of the engines and a soft shaking of the ship as we broke away from Verda’s gravity well intruded upon my thoughts. I had done well, of that I had no doubt, my mission was a complete success and it had been achieved without any fatalities or even serious wounds.

Even still, I could feel myself grow more exhausted with every step I took. I haven't slept in the past nine days, I had only irregularly eaten in that time and had spent most of it either in combat or performing other strainouse tasks. Quite frankly, the fact that I hadn’t felt any strain until now spoke quite well of the augmentations I had received. In fact, I was quite sure that if needed I could have gone on like that for another week or two. Even now I suspected that should something warrant it, then clarity of mind and strength of body were only a heartbeat away until my body could release combat stimuli.

On a related note, I also felt a stinging sensation from my leg where a stubber round had penetrated my armour. Sana had of course taken a look at the wound after we had killed the ork leader, but had been unable to extract all the bullet and armour fragments that had buried themselves in my leg.

“Well, it’s lucky that I’m on my way to a medical check up then,” I thought as I arrived at the door of the Apothecarium, entering without hesitation.

This wasn’t the first time I had been here, but this was the first time I had seen the place this busy. Both my squad silver and squad yellow were here, having been partially or completely striped out of their armour as needed and being the subject to the attention of a whole swarm of base human physicians and a couple of space marine apothecaries.

They were so focused with them in fact, that my own entrance was largely ignored. I say largely because one familiar face noticed me right as I entered the room. “Tanya, I’m glad to see you in one piece!” greeted me Grenn, giving me a brought smile.

Turning my head towards him, I was about to answer his greeting but paused when I got a good look at him, finding his smile had changed quite a bit since we had last seen each other. For starters, his lips were a mess of scar tissue and stitches, and secondly, several of his front teeth had been replaced by metal studs. “Likewise Grenn, although you seem to have suffered quite a nasty wound.”

Grenn let out a hearty laugh at my blunt words, although it sounded strained, as if he didn’t quite feel like laughing. “I have indeed, although not during our first mission, that one went off without so much as a single scratch. I got this,” he gestured to his tattered lips, “from an ork with a shotgun when I and my squad stormed the walls of Fort Steiner a day later. Luckily for me, my helmet took the worst of the blast or I wouldn’t have gotten away with just a couple broken teeth.”

“Yes, quite lucky indeed,” I agreed, taking a quick look around the Apothecarium and confirming that yes, he was the only one of his squad here. I briefly considered if that meant he was the sole survivor of his unit but dismissed that notion quickly. While Grenn’s good mood seemed to be a mask to a point, I didn’t get the feeling that whatever grief he was hidding was nearly as bad as what losing his entire squad would provoke either.

His stitches also looked to be a couple of days old and ready to be removed, which was likely the reason why he was here alone, or at least so I hopped. “So, how is the rest of your unit? I do hope your flawless smile was the only casualty.”

Grenn’s expression changed then, becoming a bit more serious but not quite sombre. “Sadly no, but it could also have gone a lot worse. Enki stepped on a landmine and got his right leg blown off, broke his left one in three places and fractured his hip. But he will be back in combat shape after a couple of days of rest and with a prosthetic leg, the apothecaries assured me of that.”

“That's good news then,” I said, relieved that his squad wasn’t mauled as badly as Septi- squad yellow. Thinking of them, I made sure to take a look around to insure we were still being ignored by the rest of the room before I took a step closer to Grenn and addressed him in a low voice. “Speaking of things going badly, have you already heard what happened to Septimus and his squad?”

Grenn’s expression finally grew grim then, the remnants of his false smile vanishing as I finished my question, his previous cheer sliding away completely as if it had never been there. “Samael told me just an hour ago, he invited me to the remembrance ritual,” he answered, his gaze slipping away from me and then grew unfocused as silence fell between us.

The news of Septimus's death must have been hard for Grenn, I and Septimus having been his oldest friends despite only spending three days together. Grenn had likely been starved for genuine human connections, since the hypno-conditioning would have robbed him of any past memory, and thus connected with us deeply despite the short time. Or perhaps he suffers from survivor's guilt?

Either way, for the sake of supporting a significantly younger co-worker going through a harrowing live event, I reached out to him and put my armoured hand on his shoulder to show support.

A moment passed like that where I considered if I should say something like ‘We will get through this together’ or another equally trite phrase when someone finally took notice of me being here.

“You there, founding sergeant in the grey armour, get over here! I have been told you ran around with a foot full of shrapnel the last couple of days!” called out an apothecary with the chapter insignia of the Gold Seraphas.

“Sounds like you didn’t finish your mission without getting a souvenir of your own,” commented Grenn with a fresh grin.

“Evidently,” I replied dryly, giving Grenn a sardonic grin of my own before leaving him behind before the apothecary who had called out to me felt the need to repeat himself.

What followed were another good three hours of treatment, blood drawing and other medical tests until I and my squad were finally let go with a clear bill of health. With that out of the way, I and my sisters visited the armoury and immediately after the wash rooms, nearly one and a half weeks of near constant exercise having produced quite a bit of grime we were all too eager to wash off.

Once that was done, we first visited the cafeteria where the evening meal was currently served and then we would go straight to bed. Given how little sleep any of us had gotten on our mission, I found it appropriate to prescribe my squad ten hours of sleep. That way their bodies would have plenty of time to recover and we could pick up our previous routine straight away.

That was the plan at least. What happened instead was that a runner informed us that the funeral for the members of squad yellow would be held in less than an hour. Luckily, the ritual wouldn’t require us to show up in power armour, so we still had enough time to finish our meal.

Then we followed the runner towards where the ritual would be held, an isolated stone chamber within the Oathbound’s Reclusiam that was dimly eliminated by coal braziers. I had to give the designer of the room credit for the atmosphere, the dark grey stone of the chamber in combination with the lighting of the braziers and the obsidian black altars at the front created a dark and mysterious atmosphere. But then I would have to revoke that credit again for the fact that the air quality in the chamber was terrible, the fumes of the braziers being the primary offenders.

It was also cold and the stone floor was rather uncomfortable to kneel on, but I had the supposition that those were features rather than problems to the person who commissioned the chamber.

Speaking of that, the ritual had begun shortly after our arrival, once Grenn’s squad had joined us. Once we were all there, Chaplain Ohtli ordered us to kneel in front of the obsidian altars. Then the doors to the chambers opened once more and a procession of base humans dressed in black robes led by an apothecary who wore a blood red robe over his armour entered. With them were the mortal remains of squad yellow, each of the three corpses being carried on a stretcher by four of the robed figures, who were deposited on top of three of the altars.

Once that was done, Ohtli stepped forward. “Mourners, we have come together today to lament the passing of three of our brothers, Sergeant Septimus, Brother Icarus and Brother Haniel. They died like true sons of Sanguinius, with a blade in hand bringing the Emperor’s wrath upon the unworthy.”

While he was speaking, I observed that the red robed apothecary and his black clad aids weren’t idle. They seemed to be preparing the corpses for something, injecting some unknown chemical into the dead veins of the fallen marines.

“Normally this ceremony would only be shared with those of the blood, but Samael vouched for you and your squad, Grenn, so you will be granted the privilege to participate in this ancient tradition of the ninth,” explained the chaplain.

“I and my brothers are grateful for the honour to mourn our comrades's deaths alongside you and all of us vow to repay this honour with secrecy,” replied Grenn, satisfying the chaplain who gave him a stiff nod before turning around to face the dead marines.

Then he drew an obsidian dagger from his belt before taking the hand of the first dead marine. Simultaneously, one of the robed servants stepped forwards, carrying a big golden goblet. Then, without much preamble or fanfare we watched as the wrist of the dead marine was slit open and his blood flowed as if he was still alive.

The chemicals they had injected him with must have been quite potent blood thinners. Once more, that weird tingle in my teeth returned and my mouth watered at the metallic smell.

“Behold, the blood of our fallen brother,” exclaimed Chaplain Ohtli once the goblet was filled to the brim, holding the vessel full of blood over his head for all of us to see.

Then he stepped forward, offering the cup first to Samael who, without any hesitation, drank a mouthful from it before freezing mid-motion with a far away look in his eyes.

Othili meanwhile withdrew the goblet from Samael as if nothing was wrong, which might very well be the case if I interpreted the purpose of the blood drinking correctly, and just offered the blood to the next marine in line.

Before long it was my turn to drink, so I took a careful sip from the offered blood, hoping that I wouldn’t lose control here like I had before and empty the goblet by accident. But those worries faded away, together with the rest of the room, as soon as the first drops of blood hit my tongue.

“Brothers, with me!” commanded Septimus before sprinting into the direction from where I heard bolter fire coming from. Naturally, I and the rest of my brothers followed him all too eager to bring the Emperor’s wrath to the green skins. The only wrinkle in the plan was that we would have to fight alongside the brutes from squad blue to do so.

Those fraks had been nothing but uncooperative and hard to work with, with the exemption of their handler who seemed to be the only thing that kept those bastards on their task. But I shouldn't complain, I supposed, they were still our comrades after all.

“Onward right ahead brothers, we are in the perfect position to flank the orks,” ordered Septimus once he reached the clearing where the skirmish took place. True to his words, squad blue had formed a battle line deeper in the clearing against which the orks flung themselves, allowing us to fall into their right flank.

Following my sergeant’s example, I threw myself into the melee. It wasn’t long before I came into contact with one of the blue armoured marines, the orks that confronted me barely registering as a challenge as I tore through them, the poor man had lost his footing and some of the green beasts had taken advantage of that and tackled him to the ground.

Luckily for him, I was close enough to intervene before he was completely overwhelmed. With a single swipe of my chain-sword, three heads came loose and the bodies they had been attached to lost their strength atop the blue armoured marine. “Careful friend, that could have been quite the inglorious end,” I told him then, before kicking the heaviest looking corpse off him and turned back towards the melee.

I had just disembowelled another ork, when I heard heavy footsteps behind me and the growl of a chain weapon. Thinking nothing of it, I finished the somehow still living beast with a quick slash across its throat and aimed my boltgun at another ork who was about to engage Septimus when a sudden flash of pain shot through my legs.

I couldn’t help but cry out in shock as I landed face first in the gore soaked dirt. By the poisoned sands, what had just happened! There hadn’t been any orks behind me just then, and even if there were any, I should have heard them when they engaged the marine from the blue squad I had just saved.

I tried to push myself up and onto my side, hoping to at least get the chance to retaliate with my side arm, when a heavy boot came down on my back, pushing me back into the dirt.

There had been barely any delay between that and the chain weapon from before being triggered again, when I realised that the boot impacting my armour made the sound of ceramite hitting ceramite. Then there was only a brief, all encompassing flash of pain before the world grew dark.

I awoke from my vision with a gasp, eagerly drawing in breath as my heart thundered within my chest and my muscles tensed in anticipation of violence. That despicable traitor, Icarus had saved his life and that was how he chose to repay him! It was with great effort that I took a second deep breath of air and unclenched my fists, my nails leaving a shallow cut in my hand palms. I would have to cut them at the next opportunity, I noted to myself in a detached manner while I tried to calm down.

I was distracted from my own thoughts when I heard Ohtli’s voice, the chaplain having returned to the obsidian altars. “Brothers and sisters of the blood, what you have witnessed were Icarus’s final moments. It was an unworthy end for such a promising young warrior, yet his death also contains a lesson for you all: Betrayal can strike from even the unlikeliest of sources. As such we must practise eternal vigilance, less we find ourselves betrayed by those who we would have called friend or even brother.”

It was a bitter lesson the chaplain preached, but I couldn’t deny its validity. After all, such a betrayal, albeit a far less intimate one, had ended my first life. That made me wonder though, why had the marine done what he did? Was it wounded pride over having to be saved or something else?

Seeing how Ohtli was already turning towards the second marine with his blade in hand, I suspected that we would learn more in just a few moments.

Once more my turn to drink came and the world vanished in the mists of borrowed memories.

I came to an abrupt stop as a short vox message came over the squad command channel. “Squad yellow, get your asses… Damns you sons of whores! I-” the transmission suddenly cut off, with the vox-id denoting that the message was sent by Wolfpriest Magner. Near simultaneously, I heard the sounds of distant battle not too far from our position.

Squad Blue must be in trouble! “Brothers, with me!” I commanded and then sprinted towards the sound of bolter fire in the distance, knowing my men would only be a step behind me.

Soon enough, I reached the edge of a clearing and briefly took stock of the situation while my brothers caught up with me before deciding on a course of action. The first thing that grabbed my attention was the running battle between seven of squad blue’s marines and a horde of orks. Scanning the rest of the clearing, I spotted the corpses of three blue armoured marines alongside the black armoured Magner further to my right.

I briefly got the feeling that something was wrong with their corpses but then dismissed that instinct and focused on the battle. “Onward right ahead brothers, we are in the perfect position to flank the orks,” I commanded, leading my men into the melee.

The number of the orks dwindled rapidly once we engaged, I myself cutting down no viewer than nine of the beast before I heard a cry over our squad’s vox channel. Immediately afterwards, the rune indicating Icarus’s status flashed an urgent red, signalling that the marine was grievously wounded.

Turning my head towards him, my heart skipped a beat as I saw one of the marines of squad blue towering over him, one foot squarely placed on my brother's back while his chain blade arced down towards Icarus’s neck.
Suddenly I realised what had been wrong with this situation: the corpses of the four dead marines lay alone, with not a single greenskin between them.

Then came rage. “Betrayal! Brothers, we are betrayed!” I bellowed as I kindled my jump pack and shot towards my brother's killer, my own blade biting into the traitor’s neck before he even had the chance to raise his sword again.

Yet as he fell, two of his own brothers came to face me. I couldn’t help but scoff at their amateurish charge as the first didn’t even slow down to allow his sergeant to catch up with him, squandering their numerical advantage at least temporarily.

Still, I didn’t risk underestimating them, so I met the first marine’s charge while slightly circling clockwise so he would be in between me and his brother. Then we met and I was briefly surprised by the level of savage aggression the marine brought to bear, seemingly trying to batter through my guard and bisect me in a single overhead swing.

Yet my instincts were sharp as ever and I was able to quickly sidestep his chain-axe, the weapon burying itself in the remains of a dead ork. Taking advantage of his blunder, I brought my own raised blade down on his helmet, burying it in his skull before he could free his own weapon, and then gave the corpse a strong kick which freed my blade.

The sergeant proved more cautious than the marine I had just dealt with, stopping his charge just a few steps away from me. Also unlike his brother, he didn’t wear a helmet, which allowed me to see his crazed bloodshot eyes and barred foam covered teeth. Buried memories of hunting feral and diseased dogs that had threatened my family's livestock returned to me unbidden, strengthening my resolve to do what must be done.

“It will be a mercy,” I whispered to myself, the mad marine not showing any indication that he had heard my words. Instead the beast raised his axe, gunning the chain-blade’s motor in anticipation of what would come next.

Then pain flashed through my left calf and I lashed out blindly towards the source of the pain. One of the orks that littered the ground hadn’t been completely dead as it turns out and the beast had taken advantage of my mistake by ramming a claw-like prosthetic into my leg before I buried my own sword in its chest.

Yet my revenge was short lived, my adversary shamelessly taking advantage of my distraction to close the distance between us and bury his axe in my breastplate. I only lived long enough to learn what it felt like to have your hearts and lungs torn apart by adamantium teeth.

I awoke from the death memories of my former college with phantom pains in my chest, knowing his final moments were pure agony. Looking around, I saw that I wasn’t the only one who was shaken by what we had just witnessed. Balled fists, heavy breathing and shaking shoulders all around.

“Again, let this death be a lesson to you all. Sergeant Septimus died because he was too focused on his opponent, distracting him from the other dangers present on the battlefield,” lectured us Ohtli, before turning to draw the blood of the final fallen marine.

I supposed Ohtli had a point and yet I couldn’t help but think Septimus’s death had just been bad luck. After all, he was right to focus on the crazed, axe wielding warrior in front of him instead of, what he thought, was a corpse like any other on the field.

A few moments later, Ohtli presented me with the goblet for the third and final time. So I steeled myself and drank, allowing myself to experience death a third time.

“For the Emperor,” I cried as I cleaved a ork in two, splitting the beast shoulder to hip in a single two handed swipe before sidestepping the next ork’s mace.

“Too slow,” I admonished the brute before swinging at it, taking off its right arm before letting go of my blade with one hand and hitting the ork across the face, stunning it. In the same moment, I drew back my sword and then rammed it forward, straight into the greenskin’s chest before it could recover.

I could feel my smile widening as another gaggle of five orks approached me, perhaps hoping that they could overwhelm me with numbers. They would have no such luck, I had learned to deal with groups of tougher opponents than them.

Yet before I could engage them, I heard the voice of my sergeant, his tone conveying a depth of rage that I would have thought beyond him. “Betrayal! Brothers, we are betrayed!”

Against my own better judgement, I turned my head away from the charging orks to look into his direction, seeing one of my brothers dead at our supposed allie’s feet while the bastard’s blade was still stuck in his neck.

Oh how I wished to punish the betrayer myself, but present circumstances wouldn't allow it. I barely managed to parry the first ork’s blade in time, cursing as I realised how close I had come to a death through negligence as I backpaddled to avoid another beast’s axe.

Still, an amber of a terrible rage had been kindled within my heart and I intended to make use of it. So I returned to the offensive, surprising the leftmost ork of the bunch with a lightning fast assault, burying my chain-blade within it’s hip and using the stuck weapon as leverage to send the wounded beast into the ork beside it.

Wasting no time, I then drew my sidearm and put a bolt round into the skulls of the two nearest orks, reducing them to three.

“Pathetic,” I murmured as I ripped my weapon free, gunning its trigger as I charged the right most of the orks this time. I locked blades with it as a distraction, allowing me to put a boltround into its stomach, the explosive munition tearing its organs apart in less than a second.

Turning to face the remaining two I was once more on the defencive, my blade dancing faster than it ever had to keep up with both of their relentless assaults. I was wasting time here, I realised as I saw my sergeant about to engage a traitor with a chain-axe out of the corner of my vision.

So I took a gamble and allowed myself to get hit, one of the ork’s primitive blades biting into my armour but failing to inflict more than a flesh wound on my chest, in turn my blade took off his head.

The last remaining ork died in a similar manner to the third, with a bolt round tearing its skull apart while my blade pinned down its own.

Finally free of these distractions, I turned towards my sergeant just in time to see him die.

“BETRAYER, YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!!!” I screamed as the spark of rage within my chest exploded into an inferno. Crossing the distance in a heartbeat via my jump pack, I thought to kill the murderer of my brother in a single decisive sword blow.

Yet it wasn’t to be, the traitor’s chain-axe intercepted my attack. But I remained undeterred, hammering my blade against his axe, seeking to hack the bastard and his weapon apart with brute force.

“Betrayer, why did you turn!” I demanded to know after every blow that saw our weapons meet in a shower of sparks as they tore at each other, adamantium teeth flying free with every collision.

Distantly, I heard more of my brothers and our minder breaking away from the orks and coming to engage the other members of squad blue. It should have been a relive and yet something in my snarled at the thought that one of them might steal my revenge, so I put even more of my pain and rage into each blow, each attack growing more and more savage as I hopped to overpower my hated foe before one of my brothers could come to my aid.

Six, seven, eight times our blades met before I realised my mistake. My opponent, evidently more in control of himself than me, fainted to meet my strike once more but instead dodge the blow at the last moment.

My rage fled in a singular moment as my strike left me completely overstretched and unbalanced, easy prey for the traitor.

“Forgive me bro-” I didn’t get further than that before my head flew free of my body, my last memory being the image of brother Samael charging my killer before my head hit the dirt and I knew no more…

Once more I returned to the present, the echo of my brother’s final emotions biting into my soul, regret. Why, just why had the fool abandoned all reason and given himself over to blind rage so completely? Punishing the guilty was one thing, but justice would have been better served with a cooler head, his loss of control serving only to add himself to the butcher's bill.

“At last, the final lesson to be learned today: Rage is a powerful blade, but like any blade it requires a firm hand to wield,” said Ohtli, the finality in his tone making me think that he thought this to be the most vital lesson to be learned. That was something I could easily agree with as well, as Haniel’s death was by far the most preventable out of the three.

“Now, Sergeant Samael, I believe you wanted to say a few words before we continue with the funeral dirges,” Ohtli addressed squad yellow’s new sergeant, the marine joining him in front of the altars.

“Brothers, sisters, cousins,” he began, looking completely drained from the experiences of the past few days, deep bags under his eyes making his exhaustion clear for all to see. “The skirmish with squad blue you all just witnessed inflicted terrible losses on us. Sergeant Septimus was an inspiring leader, Brother Icarus had been our greatest champion and Brother Haniel had been our kindest soul. To have lost any one of them is a grievous blow, but to lose all of them is a loss beyond measure. So to commemorate them, those brightest of us who were torn from us too early, I hereby announce that our chapter will be known as the Lamenters. For as long as our chapter lives, we shall remember and mourn their and all of our future brothers's sacrifices to come. But don’t think their legacy shall only be one of grief, no, for they died for something greater, something they cherished, and we shall follow in their example. ‘For those we cherish, we shall die in glory!’”

“For those we cherish, we shall die in glory!” echoed his brothers, his speech evidently giving them new purpose, judging from the intensity with which they shouted his words back at him.

Well looks like their squad is in good hands with him, I decided, relieved knowing that my allies wouldn’t flounder after such a disastrous loss.

And with that, Samael returned to our line of mournes and the ritual continued with a dirge for the fallen, the words coming to me and my siblings of their own accord as soon as Ohtli sang the first verse.

Exhausted beyond measure, I simply surrendered myself to the solemn harmony of the choir.

Chapter Text

???

“Keep moving, witch,” growled the man next to me, his grip on my bound arms tightening as he dragged me along unfamiliar corridors, the cloth bag covering my head making it difficult to tell where we were going.

I didn’t want to be with the man, he was scary and felt wrong, like he shouldn’t exist. Despite that I pressed on, the fear of being punished for disobedience outweighing the wrongness that the man exuded. Still, I couldn’t suppress a silent whimper, it was like his presence alone was stealing all warmth from me, leaving only a freezing cold void behind.

I was at the edge of collapse once I got a chance to rest, the man leading me coming to an abrupt stop in a loud room that smelled of smoke and oil. There were also a lot of people here, judging by the noise of hundreds of feet stomping over metal floors and power tools like the ones from daddies garage being used.

“Shuttle three, ready for boarding by the Emperor’s grace,” a static filled voice said and the man at my side began to move again.

Was I going home? We had arrived here on the day they had taken me, so if we left the same way then I must be going back, right?

Silently, I ascended a ramp and was made to sit down before being strapped in with a thick harness. Yet the man still did not leave me, one of his hands always being locked around one of my arms.

Then the machine we had entered began to shake and vibrate. “I want my mommy,” I begged then, nauseating memories of my first flight returning to the fore.

“Silence Witch,” barked the man in response, his hold on me going from firm to painful. Biting back another whine, I bit my tongue until it was bloody and forced my eyes shut, trying to repress my current situation and instead force my old memories from home to the front of my mind.

It didn’t work, the memories of the garden behind my parent’s townhouse feeling hollow, the colours I once so vividly knew having been drained from my recollection and I couldn’t recall what the warmth of the sun felt like. Instead, visions of my cell shot through my head, the grey stone walls and black iron door having been my world for what felt like a small eternity.

“Holy Emperor, fair and just, hear your child call upon your grace,” I began to pray with a wobbly voice, trying to stay quiet to avoid the wrath of the man beside me. “Holy father to all mankind, through your protection we are preserved and through your grace we are nourished, no evil shall befall us under your eyes and no misfortune shall come to the righteous,” I recited the words of my mother, pretending that it was her voice that spoke the prayer.

“Touch down in T minus three minutes, praise the Emperor,” came the static filled voice once more. Remembering what those words had heralded all that time ago, I wasn’t too surprised when a great tremor ran through the machine before the shaking stopped completely.

Almost immediately, the man next to me began to move, first freeing himself before doing the same to me. Then my journey continued as we walked towards the descending ramp. Tears came to my eyes then as the sound of birds came to my ears and fresh air greeted me, was I truly home?

My hopes were dashed however as firm concrete met my feet and I felt like screaming when the scary man dragged me away from the birds and fresh air into a big house. Like my old cell, this house felt wrong. Yet it was a different wrong from the man dragging me through its cold corridors and up three flights of stairs.

It was as if one was really deep underwater, so deep that the pressure made it almost feel like your ears were about to pop and your head might split in two. Again, I bit my lip and tried to pretend like I was anywhere else.

Then, after a much shorter walk than before, we reached our destination. “On your knees, witch, do not move before the door is closed,” barked the man as he pushed me down onto the stone floor.

It was then that he finally let go of my arm, the void like cold receding almost immediately. Yet no warmth came, the pressure smothering it just as effectively as the man had. Regardless, I was grateful as he took off my bindings and pulled the sack from my head, revealing a small cell not unlike my old one with one exception.

It was only when I heard the door behind me close that I dared to rise, my shaky legs caring as fast as they could towards the tiny window in the wall. This time I cried in earnest, I had lived so long in the dark that I felt almost like the most blessed person in the Imperium to have this.

I could see the sky and the sun, Emperor be praised for your generosity!

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

I awoke from my sleep with a wet face, tears still slowly trickling from my eyes as I returned to wakefulness. What the hell?

I dimly remembered that I had dreamed of something, being a young girl and getting imprisoned as far as I could remember. Had that been my own memories from the beginning of my third life? If they were then I couldn’t have had my other memories, the child in my dreams seeming far too emotional and religious to be me. Still, that possibility didn’t feel quite right either.

Turning my head, I checked the digital clock over my cell door. Two in the morning, so I slept about five hours then. That wasn’t much longer than I usually slept and yet I felt perfectly awake and rested. Strange, I would have thought my body would need significantly more rest after such a physically active week.

I briefly considered if I should try to fall back asleep but dismissed that notion and got silently up instead. Putting on a fresh change of clothes, I peeked out of my cell and listened for a moment, hearing only the silent humming of the ship's engines that travelled throughout the whole of the vessel.

Being mindful of my sisters, I tiptoed past their cells and entered the entrance hall of our quarters. This chamber was a hub of sorts, connecting to the common rooms my squad were afforded as well as to the rest of the ship.

That being said, we had only two common rooms and out of those only the wash room had seen use so far, the second room being a mystery to me. During the first three days of training, I had only taken a short look inside once and found it completely barren. My best guess was that it didn’t have a purpose yet and that it was meant to be an empty place that could be customised for whatever use the squad desired.

So ignoring both the exit and the empty room, I walked straight ahead and slipped into the washroom. It was while brushing my teeth that I heard someone enter our chambers and then, a second later, open the door to the empty room.

Intrigued, I hastily rinsed my mouth and went to have a look. As before, I moved as silently as possible, remaining unnoticed as I peeked into the once empty chamber. What I saw was Frida hard at work, the young woman having used a pallet truck to bring in a marble pedestal that now stood at the centre of the far wall.

But that wasn’t all, I had just come in time to see her place a red velvet pillow on top of the pedestal before depositing a large skull on said pillow. It took me only a short moment to realise that this was the skull of the ork warlord we had killed.

Looking back, I had originally taken the decapitated head along as a trophy, intending to show captain Hector once we were back. Yet I hadn’t actually done that and instead handed the thing over to one of the support personnel that greeted us in the hangar when we came back. I had meant for them to dispose of the thing, the skull having begun to smell quite badly despite our best efforts to boil away the meat in between engagements. And yet it was here now, bleached white and smelling faintly of varnish.

I was about to speak up and start a conversation when I thought better of it. Instead I silently went back to the washroom door and noisily opened and closed it, making sure that I was loud enough to be heard by Frida.

“Good morning Frida, I see you are already hard at work,” I greeted her then, the young woman having already turned around by the time I spoke to her.

“Good morning to you as well, honoured Lady,” she replied, making the sign of the aquila but meeting my eyes without being prompted. Good, the lesson stuck then.

Moving next to her and the pedestal, I made a show of examining the skull. “Excellent work with that, it is masterfully done,” I praised her, which was probably deserved as I couldn’t find any flaw with the skull.

“Thank you, I worked hard on it,” she said, before pausing briefly in hesitation before continuing, “That being said, you once mentioned we could ask for rewards?”

“Yes, I remember,” I said, hoping to sound as nonchalant as possible, like what she had asked was not a big deal.

“Well, I had hoped I could be allowed to accompany you into the ship library if it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle for you,” she said, looking at me full of hope.

It was a rather simple demand, at least from my perspective, but given that she asked for it as a reward I could guess that it was anything but. Well I wasn’t surprised, the Imperium had shown more than once that it was rather backwards and more than a bit anti-intellectual. Still, if a simple visit to the library was prohibited then things must have been worse than I feared, that was something I should investigate post haste.

“Oh do not worry, it wouldn’t be a bother at all. In fact, I had planned to visit the library before today's breakfast anyhow, so you can come along right away if you have the time,” I offered, lying shamelessly about my plans for today so Frida wouldn’t feel like she was imposing.

My plan went without a hitch as the young woman happily led me to the twisting corridors of the Oathbound, leaving the pallet truck in the trophy room at my insistence after I made it an order so she couldn’t get in trouble with her grandmother.

Counting my steps, I estimated that we walked for about seven hundred and eighty-two metres until we reached the door of the library. And what doors that were, they were at least four metres tall and richly decorated with brass filigree. However, most prominently of all were the words written in black iron letters above the door: ‘Knowledge is power, guard it well’.

They most certainly do, I thought as we approached, Frida slowing down until I overtook her and then continued to follow me a step to the left and two behind. The reason for her doing so was probably the squad of grim looking armsmen guarding the door, the ten men going from groggy to straight backed in a heartbeat as soon as they spotted me.

“Good morning soldiers, I wish entrance into for myself and my aid,” I told them bluntly once I was in easy conversation distance.

“Of course sir, at once,” said one with sergeant stripes before turning around and inserting a key into a corresponding lock, prompting the door to open.

The inside was about what I had expected, high bookshelves that reached up to meet the ceiling with a few tables between them and the door. But to my surprise, some of these tables were occupied. I counted about eight individuals, five of which looked like regular officers who I could probably discard, but the remaining three were definitely marines.

One of them, a bald man with two augmented eyes and three silver service studs, briefly took his eyes off the book he was reading as we came in. Falling back into etiquette I had learned during my second life’s war college days, I crossed my hands to form the Imperial Aquila in salute.

The marine acknowledged the gesture with a stiff nod before turning his attention back to the book he was reading.

With that out of the way, I took a quick look around before moving towards what looked like the library's counter. “Greetings, I’m looking for a primer on the Imperial state,” told the hooded figure sitting behind the counter and had to suppress a shudder as their reply came.

“There are fifty-three books discussing the Imperium’s general organisation within the Bibliotheca Publica and an additional seventy-three texts reserved for space marine clearance alone, please specify,” the figure raps, revealing itself to be a servitor. How the hell was it more practical to install one of these undead monstrosities instead of a trained service worker with a computer terminal? The risk of them spreading diseases alone should have barred these cyborgs from any task where they would interact with anyone. And while I was thinking about it, why wasn’t that thing just a brain in a jar?

“Out of the texts reserved for space marines, which of them is read most often?” I asked despite my misgivings.

The thing twitch for a moment before answering me: “The dissertation 'Functions of the Adeptus Terra’, written by Amulius Decimanus, Chapter Master of the Ultramarines from 983M35 to 9M36, was read sixty times and borrowed for more than a week seven times in the last fifty years.”

Well that did sound promising. “Very well, I will read that then, where is it stored?” I asked, but needn't have bothered.

As soon as the words left my mouth, a Servo-Skull took flight from a shelf behind the hooded cyborg. “Retrieval is in progress, estimated time of retrieval: One minute and twenty six seconds,” it announced before falling silent.

As it had said, the skull returned shortly thereafter with a thick leather bound book held in one of its claws.

With my book in hand, I made my way to a nearby table, pretending I wasn’t interested in what book Frida would be looking for. “Are there any generally accessible travel guides available?” I heard her ask, which was an innocent enough topic for her to want to read about. So I ceased paying attention to her and got started on my book instead. I was somewhat under time pressure after all, having less than two hours left before breakfast.

Luckily for me, the first chapter was exactly what I had been looking for, a top level overview of the individual organisations that made up the Imperial government.

According to Amulius, the different organisations could be grouped together into five overarching groups.

The first group was traditional government organs, which were the Adeptus Administratum, the Estate Imperium and Adeptus Arbites, in short the imperial bureaucracy and law enforcement. They were by far the most straightforward ones, doing what states had done since their conception, collecting taxes, keeping records and enforcing laws. Although Amulius heavily implied that they suffered from some serious bureaucratic rot and were in dire need of a strict auditing.

The next group were the military, their components being the Imperial Guard and Navy along with some other related groups like the Ordo Tempestus. Again, nothing completely unexpected or shocking about them, with the only interesting titbit being that the Guard and Navy’s chain of command was intentionally separated to minimise the damage a single rogue commander could do. Again, Amulius commented on the organisations in question, highlighting a serious flaw within them: That commissions could be bought by affluent and well connected nobles, necessitating only a token amount of qualifications for the position.

Luckily for my sanity, Amulius added that such methods weren’t universal, usually occurring only in relatively stable sectors, but the fact that such a practice was permitted at all was sickening. Advancement within any organisation should come from displayed merit, otherwise those with an advantage in money or status would simply rest on their laurels, knowing a high rank will be theirs either way, while those without such advantages would be disheartened to even try.

Turning the page, the third group were listed as special interests. Grouped together were the Astra Telepathica, the Navigator Houses, the Merchant Fleet and Officio Assassinorum. Those organisations were significantly narrower in scope than those that came before, only concerning themselves with a single thing like training assassins or representing the financial interests of their members. Again, Amulius wasn’t too shy to criticise them, calling for more oversight from the Inquisition for the Officio Assassinorum in particular.

Now I didn’t really like the thought of giving an organisation calling themselves ‘the Inquisition’ authority over trained hitmen, but I also wouldn’t have granted either group a seat on the executive council of a state, so what did I know?

Group number four were the Imperium's espionage and counter espionage organisations. The more straightforward of the two was the Synopticon, being a straight up secret police like the Stasi of east germany, primarily concerned with internal threats like radical political movements or private power blocks that threaten state rule. The second one, the previously named Inquisition, being in theory the external intelligence service. I say in theory because their remit seems to touch pretty much anything they say it does, the decree that empowers them naming the Inquisition only accountable to the Emperor himself.

I had to wonder why the Inquisition didn’t rule the Imperium by now if their only check had been out of the game for the last five thousand years. The answer to that question came swiftly. Amulius noted that there existed only a very loose hierarchy within the Inquisition and even less trust, making any attempt to focus the full might of the organisation like herding cats if the cats were given a carte blanche to kill and chronic paranoia.

With that I moved on to the twin churches, the final group. Amulius first discussed the Adeptus Mechanicus, a cult of machine worshippers that claimed to operate on pure logic while simultaneously being some of the most superstitious people around. They were also the Imperium’s only holders of scientific and industrial higher learning, so attempting to point out their own hypocrisy was usually a bad idea that resulted in nominally unrelated production delays for whoever tried.

Amulius advised to either bribe the machine priests with old technology or, if that wasn’t an option, to try playing rival forge worlds against each other in hopes that their competition resulted in a positive outcome. The key word was trying, since the politics of the Mechanicus were apparently as byzantine as they come, especially for outsiders.

Again, I found myself rather concerned. Those nutcases seemed to have an unchallenged monopoly on pretty much the entire industrial base of the Imperium. Although Amulius’s tangent on their factionalism implied that this monopoly existed largely in theory, the separate groups within the Mechanicum competed enough with each other that their individual negotiating power was merely strong, rather than absolute.

Still, their relationship with the rest of the Imperium was rather strange. They seemed to have their own culture, planets and military completely separate from the rest of the Imperium. The only thing that tied them to the Imperium being that their religion also placed the Emperor in high regard, beyond that there was nothing the wider Imperium could offer them that they couldn’t provide themselves if they wanted to.

Last but not least came the Adeptus Ministorum, more commonly known as the Ecclesiarchy. And wow, if Amulius was mildly critical of the other organisation then he was baying for the Ecclesiarchy’s blood. He outright called them parasites and thieves, accusing them of overstepping their bounds by trying to subvert the functions of other government branches in a cynical bid for state power, using their faith as a thin excuse to distract from their own insatiable greed.

The more I read, the more I was amazed by the fact that he not only got this printed but also managed to spread the book as far as it had in the first place. Then again, the book was placed in the Marines only section, so maybe his writing had managed to remain undetected because of that. Which made me aware of another oddity: Space Marines seemingly being the only secular organisation within the Imperium.

Yes, we had chaplains but my artificial memories were quick to point out that they didn’t have to be religious figures, or even spiritual ones, their primary duty being the upkeep of morale within the chapter and to discharge ceremonial duties. While on the topic, the same technology used to implant my artificial memories could have quite handily served as a propaganda tool as well by simply implanting blind zealotry into newly made marines. Yet here I was, free of any religious beliefs that would suggest the Emperor was anything but an exceptionally capable political leader and rightful ruler of humanity.

I narrowed my eyes, re-examining what I had just thought of, some part of it having tripped me up for some reason. I tried to re-examined the thought from multiple different angles but failed to find what I was looking for, feeling as if I was trying to catch fog with my bare hands.

Eventually, I gave up when the group of marines from the other table got up, making me aware that it was nearly time for the morning meal. So I took a last look at the book, memorising on what page I had stopped reading, and got up to collect Frida.

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

Once I returned from the library, I was pleased to find my sisters already up and ready for breakfast. Given the opportunity, I also showed them our ‘new’ trophy room and the ork skull there, which led to a slight delay. Azura took it upon herself to commission Frida to add a plaque to the display, which got her into a small bickering match with Gabriela about what the inscription should be.

I allowed them to hold us up for exactly five minutes like that, before I inserted myself into the discussion and brought it to an end. “Skull of the Warlord of Feuerstätten, slain by Squad Silver during their first deployment,” would the plaque say, followed by a list with our names.

Speaking on the topic of names, having considered my talk with Captain Hector from yesterday, I ordered my girls to come up with second names for themselves. I argued that we each needed a name we could give freely to outsiders without revealing that we recruited women, so coming up with a surname for each of us seemed like an obvious solution.

The idea, perhaps unsurprisingly, was met with great excitement by my squad, who began to brainstorm immediately while we were on our way to and throughout breakfast. As for myself, I decided to repurpose one of the names I got from my second life and name myself Tanya Argent. I figured calling myself silver, after our squad colour, wouldn’t raise any suspicions.

The only other member of my squad that didn’t have to think long on her name was Gabriela, choosing the name Drakon.

Following that, we then visited the armoury to get suited up for training. It was there that I met a new face, a stoutly built man in his mid forties with hazelnut brown hair and dark skin similar to Frida and Ana. Said man wore a single piece jump suit covered in oil stains and a heavy looking tool belt.

“Greetings honoured ones, if I may introduce myself, I’m Konstantin Kahlo” he greeted us once we entered, lowering his eyes while making the sign of the Aquila.

“Greetings to you too, Mr. Kahlo, I presume that you are part of our new support staff, an artisan by the looks of it,” I replied, gesturing for my girls to begin suiting up while I talked.

“Yes, that would indeed be the case. I’m the senior artisan of Clan Kahlo and more specifically your head armourer,” he explained, before pressing on. “That is also one of the reasons why I’m here, I and my relatives spent the last night performing maintenance and repairing battle damages on your wargear. Most of it could be restored with minimal effort or just required standard maintenance rites. There was one exception however, we were unable to repair the damaged helmet you brought back and your armoury doesn’t contain any spare helmets of the same pattern at the moment, so I ask your permission to replace the helmet with one of the Mark V, ” he said, gesturing to what I had thought were Mark III armours.

“Those look like Mark III armours to me,” I told him, watching as confusion and then understanding flashed across his face in the blink of an eye.

“Yes, I suppose they would,” he nodded, before adopting a lecturing tone. “It’s an easy mistake to make. You see, the Liskov pattern’s armour plates and helmet are of the same make as the Mark III’s, while the internal components are mostly taken from the Mark IV. You see, legends say that the forge world of Barnassus was supposed to receive schematics of both patterns in the fabled days of the great crusade. However, saboteurs infiltrated the Ark Mechanicus which transported them, infecting the ship's data core with scrap code that deleted much of the sacred knowledge it carried. It was only thanks to the wise Data Smith Liskov-39 that they were able to salvage parts of both patterns. Taking this miracle as a sign of providence, they combined the rescued knowledge into one suit of armour, dubbing it the Mark V Liskov pattern.”

“I see,” I replied, reassessing my view of the Mechanicum a bit. They were evidently okay with some innovations as long as they could dress in up as divine will and capable enough to combine incomplete plans for two different types of power armour into one functional design, that was no small feat. Working with them might not be so bad then, if they had retained that expertise. “And how does this Liskov pattern compare to the Mark III then?”

The craftsman’s brow creased in thought for a moment, before he answered me. “Honoured one, I plead ignorance on what you have just asked of me, for I have never worked with Mark III armour. However, I can draw comparison to the Mark IV, Mark VII, Mark VIII and other Mark V patterns,” he said, evidently worried about my reaction to his ignorance.

“That will do plenty, but keep it brief, my time is limited,” I replied, seeing that half my sisters were in armour already.

“Of course, I shall keep to the essentials then. The main benefit of this pattern are its reinforced front facing ceramite plates and helmet, but those are also the source of its main drawbacks. The servos of the armour are the same used for much lighter plates, which means they have to draw more heavily on the armour's power pack and are worn down faster. Beyond that, I would also point out that their helmet mounted rangefinder is significantly worse than those of the Mark VII,” he quickly explained, giving me a good idea of what I was dealing with.

With that knowledge, I addressed my sisters: “Azura, Bonny, you two switch helmets,” I ordered.

“But why,” whined Azura, even as she handed Bonny her Mark VII helmet without hesitation.

“Because the new helmet has a worse range finder but better armour,” I told her, inspiration striking me as I did so, “And Hiki, you also get a Liskov pattern helmet, a worse range finder is a good trade of for better head protection for you two close combat specialists,” I reasoned, the argumentation satisfying them.

Then I addressed Mr. Kahlo for a final time: “One last thing, you said the issue with the helmet was one of the topics you came here to talk about, what is the other one?”

“Ah forgive me, I had nearly forgotten,” he replied before opening one of the pouches on his belt, retrieving a letter. “This was given to us for you,” he said as I took the letter.

As I took a closer look at the letter, I was a bit amused that someone had actually gone through the effort to seal the letter with genuine wax, rather than just glueing it shut. Breaking the seal, I quickly scanned the message. Well, wasn't that intriguing… “Gabriela, it's for you,” I said as I gave my confused looking sister the paper and made my way over to the armouring servitors, it was my turn.

Junior Serf Frida of Squad Silver

With a spring in my step, I walked down the familiar corridors of the Oathbound’s servant quarters towards my clan’s sector. Today had been the best day ever, I actually got in! Oh by the throne, nothing could ruin my good mood.

“Frida, where have you been, young lady? Setting up that trophy shouldn't have taken this long, please tell me you didn’t pester the arms men again?” greeted me the sharp voice of my grandmother, just as I entered my clan’s common room.

I winced, reminded that going off with Lady Tanya for two hours without warning might have consequences. Turning my head towards my grandmother, I saw her sitting next to our clan’s biggest loom with both my aunts. The two younger women were still hard at work, likely fearing to draw my grandmother's wrath if they stopped their work in favour of listening to our drama, but I had no illusion that the two women were still intently listening and would turn this conversation into another piece of gossip if given half the chance.

“Well, I’m waiting for an answer, Frida, where were you?” grandmother Ana repeated herself, her tone growing a note frostier.

“I was in the ship's library,” I blurted out, causing my grandmother’s expression to go from frosty to shocked before transitioning into an angry red.

“You did what?” she hissed, rising from her sitting position with a grace one wouldn’t have expected from such an old woman.

Faced with my grandmother’s anger, I realised I had let out an important detail. “It was on the orders of Lady Tanya, she needed a guide and took me along, I swear!” I hastily added, letting out a sigh of relief as the anger of my grandmother receded.

“Is that so?” she asked, sounding rather suspicious of my explanation. “The Lady just so happened to need a guide to the place you were trying to get in since you were a little girl and took you along?”

“Yep, that is what happened,” I agreed, technically telling the truth. After all, Lady Tanya had said that she had already planned to go to the library and I had shown her the way, nothing about this was untrue.

Still, my grandmother studied my face for another few moments before she nodded her head, accepting my words. “Well I suppose I can’t fault you for obeying orders, go grab a ration pack from the kitchen and then join us here, we could use another nimble pair of hands,” she ordered, letting me off the hook for now.

“Yes grandma, thank you,” I said, as I slipped out of the room, entering the kitchen area.

Although calling it a kitchen was a bit of an overstatement as the room only contained a couple of cupboards, a single water cooker, a sink and a low table with a dozen worn out pillows arranged around it.

Still, I and my clan were fortunate to have this much, most others exclusively lived off cold ration bars and nutrition past. The perk of being the direct servants of the angels I supposed.

Opening one of the old metal cupboards, I found it stuffed full with prepackaged rations. Huh, we were resupplied early in the morning then, I concluded before taking out one of them. Opening the sealed bag, I found that it contained another three bags within itself. Picking up the first one, I opened it and found three fibre cookies the size of my palm within.

Retrieving a plate from another cupboard, I placed the three cookies on the plate before tearing open the second bag, which was labelled as glucose jelly, and spread out the sticky mixture over the three cookies.

Finally, I got myself a cup of boiling water and opened the final bag which contained pale green tea powder that I mixed with my water. With my meal prepared, I spoke a quick prayer, thanking the Emperor for this meal, before taking the fist bite.

As always, the fibre cookies were as hard, dust dry and bland as ever, while the jelly was disgustingly sweet, the two foods somewhat balancing out their worst aspects with each other. Regardless, it was a filling meal that would give me the strength to perform my duties to the angels, and that was all that mattered.

Thinking of the angels, my thoughts were drawn to my clan’s newest masters. Intellectually, I knew that the strangest thing about them was that they were women, the orders from the older angels to keep this fact a secret confirming that this was truly something exceptional among their ranks, and yet I couldn’t help but get stuck on a different detail, their leader was genuinely kind.

The angels my clan had served before had always been aloof and stoic figures that kept their commands curt and never offered praise. Having talked with serfs from other clans, I knew that most angels were like this, with some being quite a bit harsher task masters and others being a bit gentler. But one thing always stayed the same, even the kindest angels expected unconditional subservience from our kind and met disobedience with unyielding wrath.

The most poignant example of this had been the Bleeding of Insolence. The event had occurred shortly after the Oathbound had first visited Verda, ten years ago, having tithed three thousand refugees from the planet to replace crew losses. Most of these new crew members acclimated quickly, having lived similar lives of service back on their home planet.

Yet some hadn’t. They had spoken of treachery, that they were deserving of better working and living conditions, that they should be shown more respect for their labour and that the Astartes shouldn't take their service for granted. Of course, these ideas got them in plenty of trouble with the shift managers and arms men, but these tensions were nothing compared to what had followed.

Six weeks after coming on board, about a month after my sixth birthday, they conspired to lay down their work and instead meet at the central supply corridor that connects the servants and astartes quarters. They barricaded an intersection and cried out demands and protests there, refusing to allow any serfs attempting to do their duty passage.

More than eight hundred of them had taken part in this dereliction of duty, seven hundred of them having been from Verda while the remaining hundred had been malcontents from the lower decks who had been enthralled by the tall tales and empty promises of the mob agitators. Oh how drunk on pride they must have been, to believe the Emperor’s angels would be moved by the woes of mortals.

And so the angels came forth and met the disruptive malcontents who insolently dared to besiege their quarters and menace their loyal servants, meeting their arrogant demands with bolter and blade, scattering them like vermin and killing half their number within only a few short minutes.

Of course, those who were allowed to escape the initial slaughter were hunted down by the ship’s arms men and dragged to the workshops of the machine priests. Within the next seven days, more than three hundred new servetors walked the decks of the Oathbound.

The lesson from this day was clear, do not rise above your station or presume to make demands of the Angels, they will cast you down for it. So I kept my head down as I grew into my role, knowing that a step out of bounds would draw the wrath of my masters.

Yet Tanya provided me with an unexpected opportunity I would have never dared imagine, she freely offered me a boon for service I owed her anyhow. Was it perhaps because of her youth? I knew the Angels that usually served aboard the Oathbound were veterans of their exalted orders, so they were likely set in their ways like elders usually were, but Tanya and her squad were here on their first assignment.

The why didn’t matter in the end, I decided after a moment of thought as I took another bite, what mattered was how I made the most of this opportunity. Tanya had already taken me with her to the library once, so it stood to reason that she would do so again. All I had to find out when she planned to go there next and arrange for me to be nearby so I can ask to be taken along again.

Yet I was uncertain if this plan had longevity, Lady Tanya visit to the library might have been a one time thing after all. And even if it wasn’t, she might not visit the place regularly or frequently enough for me to take advantage. No, I needed a way to go there myself.

I knew there were three types of servants that were permitted in the library on their own, personal aides, library staff and savants. The last one was out from the get go, savants were trained from a much younger age than me, I knew this because I had tried and failed to get trained as one years ago. Becoming part of the library staff was also a dead end, as the library was tended to by a dedicated clan that only intermarried with members the Medicae and Calculus Logi clans, the indbreed jerks.

That left becoming a personal aide, which had suddenly become very possible. Tanya must have been satisfied with my work so far, otherwise she wouldn't have offered me a boon, so all I would have to do is stay close and continue to impress. That way, once she required a personal aide, I would be the first person that would come to mind.

With these thoughts in my mind, I finished my meal and cleaned up the kitchen before returning to the common room where my grandmother and aunts still laboured. As I joined them, I took a look at the chalkboard on the wall.

The drawing on it depicted a bird with white and grey feathers that perched on a thorny branch. Impaled upon those thorns were the heads of multiple orks, some already skeletal while others still had flesh and droplets of blood falling from their severed necks.
Above the bird was a simple grail drawn in silver, and on the side of the grail stood the high gothic letter for the number one, I, in pure white. The grail was also framed on both sides by two angelic white wings, the same white as the number within the grail.
Below the bird stood a single phrase in high gothic, ‘Venimus paratus’, written in silver letters.
As for the background, it was indicated that the backdrop of the banner was supposed to be done in a uniform black.

After having memorised the outline and proportions of the sketch, I picked up a spindle of white thread and joined my elders in their labour. Still, even with all of us working on it, the loom was two metres tall and half as wide, I was under no illusion that we would finish our master’s new banner today or even tomorrow even if we had the time to work nonstop on it.

That reminded me, “Grandmother, the Angels also commissioned us to make a plaque for their first trophy…”

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

“Enemy sighted, ten metres and closing rapidly, ranks of five, brace for impact!” Azura called out, our frontrank obeying her orders instantly, ceasing their advance and holsting their pistols in favour of blades.

“Second rank, prepare manoeuvre one, mark Azura and Hiki,” I gave my own orders, watching as Bonny and Sophia lifted their melta-guns in anticipation while I, Sana and Joline readied our bolters.

Our battleground was a dimly lit corridor of the Oathbound’s lower decks, just broad enough that our front rank of five marines could form a shield wall, our objective being to search and destroy an enemy that had boarded our ship before they could do any damage.

“Two metres,” Azura then called out a moment later as she crouched down behind her shield, Hiki doing the same, giving my second rank a clear shot at the marines charging us. They too had formed a line of five and had armed themselves with rectangular storm shields, not that this would matter.

Without needing to be told, Bonny and Sophia fired their weapons as soon as their sisters were out of the way. The results were almost instantaneous, waves of superheated air colliding with the enemy front rank, burning their shields into uselessness.

A moment later, just as the two struck marines had discarded their shields, we opened fire with our bolters. My own bolt hit the left marine’s eye lens while Sana and her partner unleashed a semi-automatic barrage upon the second marine, both going to the ground in a heartbeat.

Their comrades didn’t stop their advance however, crashing into our line only a moment later with a thunderous impact. Still, they failed to break us and that gave us an opportunity Azura capitalised on without hesitation. “No second rank, encircle,” she ordered, her proclamation sending shivers down my spine.

While she and Hiki got up and pushed into the gap where the two downed marines should have been, I turned around, being proven right about my suspicion. “We are outflanked,” I managed to say just as the four marines behind us opened fire, each pair focusing on one of my devastators, taking them out before they even had the chance to turn around.

“Sup-” I didn’t get further with my order as their next salvo was aimed at me, forcing me to dodge with all hast. Yet they still hit something, Azura’s rune flashing red in my helmet display, signalling she was taken out.

I didn’t have time to think long about this however, as the enemy hadn’t stopped advancing while they fired, bearing their storm shields like battering rams. Discarding my bolter, I drew my chain-sword, before sidestepping the charging marine in front of me, intending to skewer him from behind as if he were a bull and I a torero.

Yet that plan was swiftly discarded too as one of his comrades drew my focus instead, the second marine having slowed down to come up behind his brother, moving at a much more controlled pace.

What followed was a completely unfair fight, both marines regrouping before advancing on me, using their shield liberally as an offensive weapon as they pinned me against the wall, any attempt at breaking out being met with a bone rattling shield bash.

Penned in like that, I was helpless as one after another the runes inside my helmet flashed red, denoting my sisters being taken out of the fight. Still, it wasn’t all bad, I also only counted five enemy marines by the end of it, meaning we had taken down four with us. That wasn’t too bad considering tunnel fighting was our weakest and their strongest subject.

“So upstart,” their sergeant addressed me, “we can do this the short or the long way depending how cooperative you are. Where are the Lamenters?”

My lip curled into a smile at his question, which he couldn't see of course. “Where they need to be,” I answered him, my tone flippant and as disrespectful as I could manage as I braced myself for what would come next.

“Fine, have it your way,” he said before the four advanced, their first strike bashing my sword out of my hand before another struck me with the flat of his axe, the impact of that knocking me to the ground.

They didn’t get further than that however, as our trap snapped shut.

“For those we cherish, we shall die in glory!” came a cry as four bolter pistols opened fire, taking out two of the enemies before they had a chance to turn around. I couldn’t help but smirk, they should have posted a sentry while interrogating a prisoner.

Seeking to further stack the odds, I capitalised on my opponents surprise by drawing my combat knife from its thigh holster, making them regret not further disarming me by ramming it into their sergeant’s knee joint.

The fight didn’t last long after that, the Lamenters steamrolling squad bronze in a matter of moments. As the last of them fell, a new voice could be heard all across the overarching vox channel. “All boarders have been neutralised, all squads return to training hall one.”

With that the marines strewn across the floor got up, some with more effort than others. I was sadly among the most sluggish, already feeling a multitude of bruises forming and I suspected I had one or two bone fractures as well.

“You okay there, sarge?” asked Sana, our designated medic giving me a helping hand as I climbed to my feet.

“I will live, but I think you will get a bit of practice treating blunt force trauma,” I told her, before asking a question of my own. “How about the rest, please tell me I’m the worst?”

She instantly nodded her head, although it should have been obvious by the fact that the rest of my squad was already forming up around us. “Bonny has a sore throat from a rubber round ricocheting off her chest and hitting her throat, would have killed her if it was a real round but it wasn’t,” she reported, sounding a bit shaken.

Well I couldn’t blame her, losing a nine to ten fight while only taking down four of them with us wasn’t reassuring. Oh sure, squad bronze had gathered experience in tunnel fighting during their mission and we hadn’t, on top of having an advantage in close combat, but that was a hollow comfort considering what this exercise represented.

I let that silence hang there as we made our way back together with the others. It was at the halfway point that we were joined by the rest of squad yellow, squad green and squad purple. All of them looked rather beat up, with squad green looking like they had rebranded to squad black, the paint of their armour being thickly covered in ash and badly burned in places.

“Rough fight?” I asked them simply, noting that more than a few of them were leaning on each other as they walked.

Grenn was the first to speak, having discarded his helmet to display quite painful looking first and second degree burns around his throat. “Oh yes, Arthur and his squad know how to put up a fight. We thought that we had them flat footed but you wouldn’t believe how quickly they changed formation and made us pay for our overconfidence. On a related note, be careful with the powered down melta-weapons, they still burn hot enough to scorch the flesh under armour joints.”

“What’s the matter, Grenn? I thought you dragons liked fire,” asked the purple armoured sergeant, his tone mocking and yet disarmingly soft.

“Oh we do, but moderation is the mother of all good things in life,” countered Grenn easily, confirming that this was just friendly banter.

“Stop fraternising with the enemy,” cut Moloc in, sounding rather frustrated with his ally.

Arthur scoved in response, and probably also rolled his eyes inside his helmet, before he answered. “Oh don’t be a spoil sport, must I remind you that none of us are enemies in truth? I mean really, I know you are jealous of Silver over there for gathering the most glory during the War on Verda, but showing envy like that makes you just look petty.”

So that was the reason why he didn’t finish me off and instead tried to interrogate me, petty revenge? That wasn’t good, as Arthur had said just a moment ago, we weren’t supposed to be enemies. The question now was what I could do to dispel that enmity?

Well the most straightforward path would probably be to give the guy some wins before his bitterness truly becomes entrenched, allowing him to even out the score so to say. The problem with that being that Moloc seemed to already have internalised his bitterness towards me, so I might already be too late to prevent him from forming a permanent grudge.

I suppose giving him space would be the better option, allowing me to slip from his mind. Yet that wasn’t possible either, since we would both spend quite some time aboard the Oathbound together. And that might not even be the end of it, it was very likely that our squads would be grouped together for training and deployment for a lot longer until we had the numbers to act independently of each other, which might take years.

I ended my contemplation as we reached the training room where captain Hector was waiting for us, this whole exercise being his idea. With him were also two towering marines in terminator armour, they had become a necessary addition after the captain needed to break up a rather heated debate between Samael and Moloc earlier today.

“A good showing from all of you,” he began, “However, mistakes were still made. Now, who can name one of them and how to fix it?” he asked, looking at each squad in turn.

It was Samael who spoke up first, “We squandered the element of surprise against squad purple. I thought announcing our battlefield entry with our battlecry would make them panic or at the very least throw them into greater disorganisation as they tried to adjust. But I underestimated them, giving them the time they needed to turn their formation around to face us.”

Hector nodded his head, “Let that be a lesson to all of you, against most foes such a tactic would have worked. However, we space marines are a breed apart, we do not panic at the sight of a foe or easily fall into disorganisation as squad purple demonstrated.”

Again, silence settled as the captain waited for the next of us to speak up. So I decided to get it out of the way and speak up. “My squad isn’t suited for tunnel fighting, so I and my comrades decided to use my squad as bait while half of Squad Yellow would tail us so they could flank whoever we would end up engaging. However, this plan nearly failed when squad bronze used the same tactic against us.”

“That is true and yet the battle had still been won, your plan still paying off even as your squad suffered greater casualties than you anticipated,” he agreed with me, before turning towards Moloc, “but only because of our opponents’ mistakes,” he finished.

Well if that wasn’t the worst way to play that then I didn’t know what was, putting the man on the spot like that could only serve to nurture his grudge.

“We shouldn't have bothered interrogating our prisoner,” Moloc coldly replied in turn, actually showing more maturity than I would have expected of him by so bluntly attempting his mistake, maybe he wasn’t quite as arrogant as he seemed. I also agreed with his assessment, had he just finished me off and moved on then the Lamenter’s assault would have likely failed, given that the storm shields of squad bronze would have enabled them to weather a ranged assault from the bolt pistols the Lamenters carried and their superior numbers would have likely decided the melee.

It was Grenn who spoke up next: “I failed to commit forces at the right moment. I should have ordered a charge the moment I saw Samael engaging, instead I waited until Arthur had turned his anti-armour weapons around before ordering an assault myself.”

“Hesitance, it is something that I saw kill many good warriors. You and your allies are fortunate that you learn this lesson now, rather than later. Remember, never give your enemy time to reorganise their formation. Strike instead while they attempt to do so, a badly drilled foe will fall into disarray and rout as a result while a disciplined foe will still be unable to exert their full might,” Hector lectured.

All eyes fell on the final sergeant present then, Arthur. “I can’t think of a mistake that I committed myself. I insisted on marching together with Moloc on one objective after the other, guessing correctly that our opponents would try to use their superior numbers to garrison both.”

I raised a brow at that arrogant statement, he couldn’t be seriously trying to push all the responsibility for this defeat onto Moloc. It seemed like the captain Hector agreed with me, his voice becoming significantly louder as he addressed the purple armoured marine. “You can’t think of a mistake of your own? How about your attempt to storm a fortified corridor cross section held by a squad of marines fielding four heavy flamers while their allies were still unaccounted for?”

Arthur shrugged his shoulders, the movement being amplified by his armour’s ginormous shoulderguards. “The cross section was a position of great strategic importance, I had to at least probe their defences,” he started to defend himself, probably still thinking he was in the right, “Besides, my squad managed to take out all three Lamenters coming for me and an additional eight marines from squad green. Had Moloc not fumbled his fight then he would have encountered a single marine guarding the quickest route between both objectives.”

Slowly but surely Arthur started to get on my nerves, trying to pin all responsibility for their loss on Moloc a second time. As for Moloc, well the man’s temper must have hit his boiling point as he drew his sword, which was a rather impotent threat given that the teeth of the training weapon were dulled and made from steel rather than adamantium, but I didn’t think he cared at this point.

He didn’t get further than that however, as the two terminators gunned their chain-fists in warning, reminding us that no matter who started a fight here, they would be the ones to finish it.

“Sergeant Arthur,” thundered captain Hector, evidently done with the man’s shit, “You and your squad have earned yourself remedial lessons with me during the third training period. As for the rest of you, how you spent the time after the evening meal will be the concern of your sergeants. Now get out of my sight.”

With that the lesson ended and we were released to perform our post battle rituals, which meant a briefe visit to the adjacent armoury to store the training weapons and then a visit to the med-bay where Sana would patch us up. As we did so, I voxed my squad on an internal channel. “Okay, ladies, we won’t be doing any practical training during the third periode.”

“Oh, does that mean we get a whole six hours of free time then?” asked Azura, clearly excited.

It was truly a shame that I had to rain on her parade, but duty was duty. “No, the three hours of mandatory training after the evening meal will happen in the library,” I said, the vox link growing quite after that.

“You can’t be serious, sisters back me up here! Please Tanya, our merciful leader, please don’t make me study, I hate it,” pleaded Azura, evidently not pleased that I made reading a mandatory part of our daily routine.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Azura, broadening your horizon won’t kill you,” came the voice of my partner next, but my second didn’t take that lying down.

“Easy for you to say, Gabriela, you already have an excuse not to come,” Azura countered defiantly.

Well time to end this then before their bickering becomes an actual argument, I decided. “Azura, stop being such a drama queen. You will come along and that is final, so I suggest you try making the best of it,” I ordered, my tone making it clear that I didn't want to hear any other answer than ‘yes, ma’am’ or a variation of it, or else. After all, I didn’t intend to be the leader of a band of uneducated muscleheads.

Battle Sister Gabriela of Squad Silver

“The master is just beyond these doors, my Lord,” signed the wrinkly looking man who had greeted me at the entrance to the ship’s Reclusiam, his lack of a ring finger on his right hand making some of his gestures a bit difficult to discern.

“Thank you for showing me the way,” I said, my words of gratitude and me not correcting his incorrect assumption about my gender both already being an ingrained habit by this point, thanks to Lady Tanya’s strict orders.

Truthfully, I didn’t really understand why she would have us thank the peasants for just doing their jobs but I refrained from questioning her wisdom, not after she had already demonstrated it so thoroughly.

“You are too kind, m’lord,” the old man replied with a nimble gesture and then left me behind, presumably returning to some other task.

Turning back towards the simple wooden doors of the meditation chamber, I took a deep breath and pushed them open, finding that they moved without making the slightest sound. The chamber beyond gave me briefly pause. The small room evoked the image of a lush jungle with thick bushes obscuring the walls and rich black earth covering the open ground in the room’s centre. Looking up, I saw deactivated lumens dangling over the artificial clearing.

I didn’t allow my eyes to linger long on the room however, no, what truly drew my eyes was its single occupant, Chaplain Ohtli. I had never seen the handler of squad yellow out of armour before, yet there he sat, meditating in the middle of the chamber while holding a handful of smouldering incense in his cupped hands while only wearing a simple set of black robes similar to the one I wore.

But most striking of all was his face, it was littered with scars of all kinds and twisted into a permanent snarl as a result, even while the man sat perfectly at ease. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and met my own. “Ah Gabriela, do have a seat,” he ordered me in a neutral tone.

“Of-of course” I replied, feeling rather foolish for stuttering but stepped into the room nonetheless, closing the door behind me before sitting down across from him on the floor, mirroring his posture.

With the door closed, darkness descended with the only remaining source of light in the room being the embers of the incense held in the chaplain’s cupped hands. That being the case, I found that Ohtli’s eyes almost appeared to shine with a pale light of their own, the intensity of his gaze growing more apparent in the near blackness of the chamber.

“Can you guess why I summoned you, Gabriela?” he asked me after a moment, nearly making me jump.

“No honoured chaplain, I can’t,” I replied, managing to keep my voice steddy this time.

“Hm,” he hummed, as if my answer had already given him some deep insight into my character, and perhaps that was even the case. “I had a delightful discussion with your sergeant on the topic of honour in war during her debriefing,” he said then, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Am I in trouble, sir?” I dared to ask, feering to incur censor from the veteran. Tanya, being the gracious leader that she was, had forgiven me when I had questioned her command, yet had that been a mistake this marine would seek to rectify?

“No, quite the opposite in fact,” answered Ohtli after a moment, “While your commander spoke with wisdom that should have been beyond her years, I can’t say I find her mindset complete either.”

Excitement gripped my heart then, could it be… “So was I right after all?” I dared to ask, hope kindling within my heart that the lessons of my father were still of some use among these unforgiving stars.

But again those hopes were crushed, “No,” he said simply, but then continued: “The tactics your chapter will employ, the allies you will make and which battles you will join are all the domain of her and her chosen officers,” Ohtli lectured in a hard voice that brooked no contradiction.

“Of course sir, please excuse my presumption,” I begged, lowering my head in deference as shame pooled in my stomach.

“You are forgiven, now raise your head,” he ordered briskly, and so I obeyed, once more meeting his eyes.

“Your sister has a very practical minded philosophy about war, one that makes her very suitable to be an officer. In her eyes, war is an all or nothing game, either you win or you lose, and so she believes one shouldn’t hold anything back in war for the sake of victory,” Ohtli told me.

“And I disagree with that,” I replied, a suspicion sneaking up on me as to what he wanted from me. “You want me to keep an eye on her, so she doesn’t go too far?” I asked, fearing to be wrong once more.

Yet Ohtli nodded his head, “I have been a chaplain for many centuries, and during this time I found that the souls entrusted to my care are much like these embers while the galaxy is much like the darkness in this room,” he said while raising his cupped hands, “They are fragile little specks of humanity surrounded by a galaxy of blood and hate. So it is my duty as a chaplain to protect these embers, to shield them, lest they be extinguished and leave only darkness and ash behind. I would ask you to do the same,” he finished, my breath nearly stolen by what he had asked of me and what that implied.

“You wish for me to take the chaplain’s black,” I whispered, feeling the proverbial weight of the duty he was offering me bearing down on my shoulders. “Why me?” I asked, “I do not have the wisdom for it, how can I hope to protect Tanya when her mind is already so much sharper than my own?”

“Fear not, for I do not expect you to slip into the role of her spiritual guide right away without aid or preparation. No, what I offer you is the chance to learn,” Ohtli replied calmly, alleviating my fears.

It would still be a heavy burden he offered me, I knew, yet I found that I wanted to take his offer regardless. “We von Drakon do not flinch away from our duty, we embrace it,” these were the final words my father had shared with me one the day I had left him and my home behind forever. I remembered this even if I couldn’t remember the face of the man himself, and so I nodded my head. “It would be my honour to study under you.”

Ohtli didn’t smile in response, I doubted he could with how warped his features were, but his tone of voice made me think he would have if he could. “Very good, then go tell your sergeant that from tomorrow onward you will have lessons with me after every evening meal.”

I once again bowed my head, this time in recognition of his dismissal, and got up, leaving my new master behind to his meditations.

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

“Excellent Tanya, I think we are done so far,” Bonny proclaimed after she had helped me with my coffee mug attempt number eight. Unlike the other ones, those I tried to do by myself, this one was evenly round, had straight walls and a solidly attached handle.

“Thank you Bonny, I think I can handle the rest by myself now,” I said to my sister, the woman giving me a broad smile in response.

“No problem Tanya, just call me over once it’s ready to bake it, that part is trickier than one would assume,” she replied before returning to her own project, the water pitcher and cup set she had made before departing. During our absence, someone had baked her finished works in the craftroom’s kiln, meaning they were ready to be glazed and painted.

Returning to my own work, I picked up a dull knife and turned my mug so the handle was on the right side, as if ready to be picked up. “Hmm,” I hummed to myself as I tapped the knife against the tabletop softly, contemplating what design I should attempt.

Looking around, I first spotted Bonny as she worked on her water pitcher. She had chosen simple geometric patterns for her design, triangles and circles mostly. There was a straightforward beauty to her design that appealed to the same part as me that enjoyed solving a mathematical problem. Still, I didn’t like the thought of just copying her idea.

Next I saw Gabrial, the veteran marine holding a spontaneous painting class for Azura and Hiki. They were at the very beginning of their lessons however and their canvases only featured wheels of lighting and darkening colours as Gabrial showed them very basic shading techniques.

It was when I saw Sana’s project that inspiration struck me. Our apothecary was carefully sketching a plant she had seen on the planet, her hand moving steadily across the graph paper she drew the alien organism with surgical precision and in lifelike detail.

Yes, I too would dedicate my project to the planet we had just visited. Raising the knife with intent, I pressed the tip into the wet clay and began to cut shallow scratches into its smooth surface. Soon, the outline of a stylised ork head took form. Once finished, I could admit that the final product had more in common with the skull symbol the orks painted on many of their belongings rather than an actual ork skull. Regardless, I was happy with the final product and drew a second ork head on the opposite side, this one featuring a spanner instead of a lower jaw under the skull to mark that I had faced a mekboy.

I was about to call Bonny over and get the mug into the kiln when Gabriela entered the crafts room, drawing my attention. She looked a bit lost in thought, clearly with her mind still on whatever conversation she had with Ohtli.

“Sister, come over,” I called out to her, gesturing to a chair opposite mine.

That snapped her out of it, her eyes focusing first on me and then the chair I was pointing at. “Oh, of course sergeant,” she replied as she came over.

“So, what did you and Ohtli talk about? Must have been a pretty thorough conversation given that I didn’t see you in the library,” I asked, more than a bit curious why the chaplain wanted to talk with my subordinate. My only guess was that he wanted to hear her side of the ethics discussion we had on the planet.

Gabriela seemed a bit bashful as I asked, “No, our conversation didn’t take that long. As for why I only return now…” she fell silent for a moment, “well I needed time to think about some things,” she admitted guiltily.

I raised my eyebrow at that, the probability that he and her had some profound philosophical discussion rising in my mind. “Is that so? You two must have had a pretty interesting conversation then,” I prompted her again.

“Yes, well he and I talked out the discussion we had on Verda,” she began, confirming my initial assumption, but she wasn’t done yet. “And after that he offered me an apprenticeship as a chaplain under him, which I accepted.”

Okay, that was unexpected, but maybe it shouldn’t have been. Ohtli had mentioned that he would have liked to poach me as his apprentice if I hadn’t already been an officer, implying that he was looking for someone to teach in the first place.

But what did that mean for my command? Recalling the Codex Astartes, I knew that chaplains fulfilled duties similar to political officers and spiritual councillors, so Gabriela was likely going to be the moral centre of our unit. She would also be outside of the chapter’s traditional chain of command, which could be a problem if I didn’t handle that correctly.

Putting on a smile to hide my worries, I addressed her again. “Congratulations Gabriela, I’m sure you will make a fine chaplain,” I praised her, noting that some tension left her frame and she sat a bit straighter.

“Thank you sergeant, I will make you proud,” she replied, clearly happy how well I had taken her promotion.

“I’m sure you will,” I agreed, before deciding to address the practicalities first, “That being said, how will this work in practice? I presume you will still train with us regularly, right?”

Again, Gabriela looked bashful, “Oh, I nearly forgot, I’m supposed to tell you that I will have lessons with Ohtli after every evening meal from tomorrow onward,” she revealed.

“Is that so, well I suppose his lessons will likely involve a lot of theory, so doing self study in the library won’t be so important for you,” I said, before addressing a bigger worry, “But how long will these lessons go? I’d hate for you to miss arts and crafts because he overworks you,” and more importantly, be outside a setting where I could easily integrate her over her daily lessons and do damage control.

After all, the girl had already shown a distaste for ‘dishonourable’ tactics and who knew what other problematic teachings she might receive from her new master. I supposed I could interrogate her over breakfast the next day or while we got armoured, but those occasions were rather hectic affairs and not at all conducive to have a light hearted discussion during which I could influence her way of thinking into the right direction.

“Don’t worry, sergeant, I can take it,” she replied, which wasn’t as reassuring an answer as she probably thought. Yet I still lacked solid grounds to raise a fuss without coming off as controlling.

“Well if you think so then that’s all right then, but keep me apprised of your lessons. I must admit that I’m a bit curious what training to be a chaplain is like,” I eventually said, resolving to just keep an eye on things for now.

Gabriela nodded her head enthusiastically, “Of course, sergeant, I’m sure Ohtli will allow it,” she assured me.

I purposefully kept my expresion neutral as she said that and glanced over to Gabrial, our former handler seeming absorbed in demonstrating some brush technique to Hiki. Satisfied that he wasn’t paying us any attention, I addressed Gabriela once more. “And why, dear sister, would you have to ask him for permission?”

Her expression instantly went from happy to surprised as my words registered. “Sergeant?” she asked, sounding slightly worried.

“I mean the question like I asked it: Why would you have to ask permission? After all, what could he possibly teach you that you couldn’t share with your sisters?” I asked innocently, keeping my tone nonchalant, as if I had stated something that was beyond obvious.

“I mean…” Gabriela started before pausing, her unguarded expression making it clear that she struggled to come up with a counter argument. “I guess you are right,” she admitted after a moment, but she didn’t sound completely sure of that yet.

I would have to further reassure her then. “Besides, trying to teach someone else is a good test to see if you have really understood the subject. After all, everyone can parrot a lesson but it takes true understanding of the subject to effectively teach it.”

That piece of sage advice seemed to do the trick, “You are right, sergeant, that is a great idea,” she said, enthusiasm and admiration having replaced her uncertainty.

“Very good, now what do you think about my project here,” I gestured to my mug.

Gabriela seemed to be a bit taken off guard by my sudden change of topic but dutifully inspected my unfinished mug. “Why did you decorate it with ork iconography?” she asked after a moment, failing to hide the disgust in her voice.

“I wanted something to remember this campaign by,” I began to explain, “Of course we already have the ork skull in the trophy room, but I want a personal keepsake from our first successful mission as well.”

“Makes sense,” she responded, nodding her head as she did so, “Perhaps you should add the planet’s or the city’s name as well? That way you also remember what we fought for rather than just what we fought against,” she added after a moment of thought.

I raised my brow, that was a rather profound piece of advice, perhaps that was what Ohtli saw in the girl when he offered to teach her? “Yes, that is a good idea,” I answered her before raising my knife again, carving a rough side view of the planet into the wall of the mug opposite of the handle, between the two ork symbols, and then added the name of the planet, Verda, underneath.

Satisfied with it, I stood up and I moved with my coffee mug towards the clay kiln, ready to bake it for the first time, gesturing for Bonny to accompany me and Gabriela to pursue her own projects.

While doing so, I passed by Hiki and was briefly stunned by what I saw. The girl had started work on a fresh canvas, and on it she had painted a bloody kanji! Of course, I felt almost like hitting myself, Hiki had both been a female name and the name of a noble clan in my first life!

I guess that I must have simply forgotten that, years of being disconnected from my birth culture having eroded my memories of it. Still, I couldn't help but shiver despite the heat of the kiln as I contemplated what else I might have forgotten from my first life when I realised that I didn’t even know my original name anymore.

???

This place is far nicer than the one I lived before, still not as good as home though. I quickly pushed that thought aside, the memory of my distant home filling me with sadness. No, instead I tried to see the positives of my situation, like my mama told me to: Blessed are those that open their hearts to the fortune that the Emperor grants them, and damned are those that scorn his favour.

So I recounted all the good stuff that had happened to me since I was brought here: the food was better, my cell had its own shower which I was allowed to use once every two days and they gave us books! By the Emperor, mama would be so proud of me if she could see me now, eagerly studying by myself without her or one of my tutors standing over me to stop me from running off before my work was done.

Granted, there wasn’t anything else to do in my cell but it still counted! And besides, the nice lady teaching me and the other children said that we were going to do important work for the Emperor, so I worked extra hard, even if it was boring, so he wouldn’t be disappointed.

Maths was still hard though, but I was getting better at it. I hit resolve on my dataslate and watched as my answers lit up in green and red, indicating what I had gotten right and wrong. To my joy, I found that I got sixty-three out of the seventy problems right.

I was about to get up from my bed and run over to the door so I could show the results to the nice lady when it happened, the pressure vanished. I froze right at the edge of my bed, one of my legs dangling over its side.
For a moment, I was elated as warmth returned to my body, a warmth I hadn’t felt since the bad men had taken me away from home. I couldn't help but giggle to myself as nervous energy flooded my limbs, begging to be used.

But my excitement died a sudden death as soon as I heard the screaming, the wordless cries echoing in my head louder than they had ever before. I fell back onto my bed and grasped my pillow and blanket, before pressing them against my ears as I tried to muffle the horrible noises that assaulted me.

Yet those didn’t help at all, I could still hear the mad laughter and cries of elation from the other cells, and screams of terror from the corridor where the nice lady and the bad men were. Then I heard a loud bang, like papa’s car misfiring but much louder, and the cries of terror from the corridor grew louder before they suddenly ceased.

Whimpering, I turned on my side and pinned my pillow between my head and the mattress, freeing one of my hands to groped at my neck for the pendant there. It was a simple wooden aquila on a strip of leader, a present from the nice lady. “Holy Emperor, fair and just, hear your child call upon your grace,” I began to pray, my voice filled with pain and desperation, “Holy father to all mankind, through your protection we are preserved and through your grace we are nourished, no evil shall befall us under your eyes and no misfortune shall come to the righteous,” I went on, feeling the pain grow more manageable with every word.

Emboldened by the success of my prayer, I let go of my blanket and tried to stand up once more. But again I froze as the cries of joy from the other cells turned to fear, each of them at first crying out in terror before falling silent. Then I felt them move away, leaving their cells behind.

Confused, I felt the sudden instinct to hide and so I did, throwing myself to the ground so I could crawl under my bed, dragging my blanket with me in a mindless panic. As I did so, I could feel the people in the cells nearest to me being silenced, before a noise like metal being crushed came from outside.

I did not have to wait long to find out what had happened to them. At first, one of the shadows in the top corner of my cell grew deeper and blacker, as if the light was suddenly afraid to go near there.

Then something emerged from that shadow, a long black limb, a finger, I instinctively knew. Like the tongue of a snake, it whipped up and down before pausing and then it turned to point at me, a single strand of darkness flying out from its tip like the line of a fishing rod.

My eyes widening in terror, I clutched my pendent tighter and resumed my prayer, watching as the strand of darkness approached me. “Holy Emperor, fair and just, hear your child call upon your grace. Holy father to all mankind, through your protection we are preserved and through your grace we are nourished, no evil shall befall us under your eyes and no misfortune shall come to the righteous.”

As I spoke the two verses, I saw the shadow spasm and heard it produce an ear splitting screech full of pain and hate. As it did so, the line that it had cast in my direction disintegrated into nothingness.

Finding new courage, I continued, reciting the third and final verse of my mothers prayer. “Divine Emperor upon your throne, let your light shine through us to banish the dark. No shadow shall darken your realm or plight the souls of your people, for you are the burning flame that banishes the night and all that haunts it.”

As I spoke the words, I felt the pendant within my hand heat up with every word and the scent of smoke entered my nose. Still, I tried to ignore the growing pain from my hand and continued, watching as the limb struggled against an invisible wind that threatened to disperse it. Then, as I spoke the last words, the heat grew unbearable and I was forced to let go of the wooden aquila, but not before channelling my pain into the last high gothic words that I shouted with all my power at the spectral interloper. “Imperator, per me luceat!”

Then the world around me grew incandescently bright, black spots danced along my vision in the aftermath of the explosion of light, but when I could see again the shadow was gone.

“Emperor be praised,” I murmured in awe, unsure if what I had just witnessed had really happened, before a piercing pain drew my eyes to my hand. An angry red scar in the form of a double headed eagle had been burned into my palm, assuring me that what I had just witnessed had truly happened.

Yet my relief did not last as the thing returned only a few moments later, and this time it wasn’t alone. Two more dark fingers followed the first as they entered my cell through the same shadow again. Like the legs of a spider, they passed their shadowy threads between each other, weaving a web.

Once more I gripped my pendent, ignoring the pain that flared up from my palm, but the prayer caught in my throat as I felt the aquila fall apart, the simple wood it had been made from having been pushed beyond its breaking point as it disintegrated to ash within my hand.

Still, I spoke the prayer, hoping the words alone would be sufficient to ward against this terror, but no light came this time. Sensing my weakness, the fingers cast out their net towards me, the shadowy construct flying through the small space of my cell on ghostly winds.

Yet again providence struck. As suddenly as it had disappeared, the crushing pressure returned and banished the shadow creature and its net, leaving me alone within my cell, the warmth under my skin being suppressed once more.

Afraid and confused, I lay there for many hours, until the light from my window grew dim. Only then, once the natural darkness of the night had replaced the light of the day, did I dare to leave my hiding place.

While I crawled out from under my bed, my hand caught on the edge of my discarded dataslate. Picking it up, I used the pale blue light from its display to eliminate my way to the door. Putting an ear against the cold iron, I held my breath and listened.

There was only silence.

Chapter Text

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

For the second time in seven days, I awoke from a strange dream and, again, I found myself confused about what they meant. Of course, the most likely answer was that these were my own lost memories of this life resurfacing. That explanation felt wrong somehow, but what did that leave?

The motive of a shadow monster being defeated by the power of prayer hinted that Being X had his fingers in this somehow, the message being as subtle as the false god usually was. Yet that didn’t fit perfectly either, the prayer in the dream having been directed at the God Emperor of this Imperium, something I doubted X would approve of, the old charlatan having made an impression on me as someone far too prideful and egotistical to give somebody else the spotlight.

That left me with two explanations, either this had been a normal dream or something beyond my knowledge was happening.

Now the first explanation was most certainly possible, between the horrors of my military service and Being X’s mental manipulations, my subconscious most certainly had enough material to craft a few nightmares. Maybe my dream of being a prisoner reflects my feelings of being trapped in military service again, and the religious aspects of my dream persona might just be remnants of X’s past mental manipulations?

As for the second explanation, that something else is going on, well I can’t exactly disprove this either. My past research claims that my progenitor, Sanguinius, had prophetic visions and that the same ability sometimes appears in the marines of his line. Yet I was inclined to disbelieve these claims, the legends surrounding the primarchs and the Emperor sounding far too unbelievable to take seriously.

After all, legends had a way of growing over time and it had been five thousand years since these individuals had lived. My personal theory was that the primarchs, much like King Arthur, hadn’t been singular individuals but a multitude of historical personalities that had fused over time into one persona.

Perhaps someone named Sanguinouse had been the lead researcher responsible for the Blood Angels legion, which probably led to the original marines calling themselves his sons as a joke. Then, over the years, the context of the joke got lost and was taken literally, with a whole mythology springing up around him with the accomplishments of other, lesser known, historical figures ending up being attributed to him.

Theory crafting aside, I still had no idea what to make of my dream. Looking at my clock, I saw that it was three-forty, twenty minutes before I usually got up. An early start into the day it was then, I decided and got up, making my way silently to the washrooms.

To my surprise, I discovered that I wasn’t the only one who had gotten up early. Standing in front of a washbasin, Hiki stared into the soapy water in the bowl. “Good morning sister, ready for another day?” I called out to her.

Startled, Hiki snapped her head towards me, her bloodshot eyes borrowing into mine, freezing me in place. Holding her gaze, I was suddenly all too aware that I was unarmed and unarmoured.

After what felt like a small eternity, which lasted only a second or two at most, Hiki blinked and gave me an embarrassed smile. “Oh, sergeant, I’m sorry but what did you ask?”

Releasing a slow breath, I took a second closer look at her. Her eyes, as I had already noted, were bloodshot and framed by heavy bags, hinting that she hadn’t slept well. This conclusion was supported by her hair, the mane she had been growing out looking like a ratsnest.

“I asked if you were ready for the day,” I began slowly, carefully choosing my words for my next question. “Are you alright? You look…” I hesitated for a moment, “like you had a bad dream.”

I could tell that I had hit the nail on the head when she flinched at my suggestion and then looked away, rubbing her right arm as she did so. For a moment I considered calling in Gabriela, something like this arguably being her responsibility as Chaplain, but decided against it. As far as I could tell from Gabriela’s reports, the girl hadn’t learned much about the psychological aspect of her new profession yet, being mainly drilled in the use of her new weapon of office, a Crozius Arcanum, and made to memorise books worth of rituals and legion history.

“I had a confusing dream too,” I started, aiming to build comradery by showing her that she wasn’t alone. Her surprised and hopeful look told me that it was working, making me press on. “We have about twenty minutes before the others show up, so do you want to talk about it?”

Hiki hesitated for a moment, before she answered me. “Okay,” she simply said and leaned against the wall, letting herself slide to the floor.

Following her example, I sat down beside her, waiting for her to start. It took her a few moments, long enough that I considered prompting her again, but eventually she began on her own.

“I dreamt of being on a battlefield far grander than any I could have ever imagine,” she began, her voice grim and serious, her tone lending her a gravitas that I didn’t know she possessed, “The air was thick with smoke and ash, the earth trembled under the weight of hundreds of titans marching towards battle and the sky rained fire, it was apocalyptic. But that wasn’t the worst of it, this was only the backdrop.”

Hiki paused, drawing in shuddering breaths as she re-experienced her dream. “The worst were the enemies,” she whispered, looking haunted, “They used to be space marines, they had been noble warriors before they were twisted by rage, obsession, greed and despair into hiddouse abominations. And as I looked them in the eyes, I saw the endless depths of horror and madness that dwelled in their souls, they were coming to destroy all I had fought for, what my brothers had fought for. So I struggled on beyond hope or reason, knowing that I couldn’t falter, that if I did then they would succeed and the dream we had shed so much blood for would die.”

“That sounds terrifying,” I acknowledged, being reminded of the death memories of Sergeant Septimus, which were probably what triggered this dream. Squad blue most certainly fit the definition of a space marine gone mad and feral, although it sounded like Hiki’s mind had done quite a bit to embellish what she had seen. Had she perhaps listened in on Gabriela telling me the legends about the Siege of Terra where our gene-father had supposedly died?

“It was,” she agreed, “but that isn’t all. There are two champions among that sea of monsters I must face, the first is a mountain of pain and suffering while the latter is a monument of pride and fear. I know it has to be me who ends them, that they have to die for the dream to live, but dread and shame fills my heart at the thought, for they had been my brothers once…” Hiki trailed off, her eyes wet with tears as she finished her tail.

“You aren’t alone, sister, I and the rest of our squad are with you,” I said and pulled the girl into a sideways hug.

And like that she came apart, crying freely into my shoulder as heartrending sobs wracked her body. Once more, I considered getting someone else to deal with this, my thoughts falling on Chaplain Ohtli. That man must have been pretty senior if he was on the Watch Captains council, probably a Reclusiarch given that he was training Gabriela in his trade, so he was probably the person most equipped to deal with a young recruit going through their first episodes of shell shock.

With that thought in mind, I let her cry her heart out for another ten or so minutes, before I addressed her again, once I got the sense that she was calming down. “Hiki, our sisters are about to wake,” I warned her, being quite sure that she wouldn't want the others to see her like this.

As I had thought, the girl forced herself to calm down, slowing her breathing and wiping away her tears. “Thank you Rogal, I think I needed this,” she said, confirming that yes, her dream was probably also inspired by the legend Gabriela had told me yesterday about.

I chose not to mention her slip up, embarrassing her over such a small mistake while she was sleep deprived and mentally fragile wouldn't serve any purpose. “It wasn’t a problem, I’m always here for you. However, I want you to accompany Gabriela on her next lessons with Chaplain Ohtli and tell him about your dreams, he can probably help you more than I can,” I ordered her, hoping that she would be able to hold out until this evening.

“By your orders, sergeant,” she replied after a moment, giving me a watery smile before she got up and moved to wash up.

Accepting this as the end of our conversation, I got up as well and started on my morning routine. Predictably, our sisters joined us only a few minutes later, having woken up on time unlike me and Hiki.

Taking a closer look at them, I found that they all seemed well rested and in high spirits, reassuring me that I wouldn’t have to deal with a second traumatised soldier any time soon. Once everyone was done cleaning themselves and brushing their teeth, we moved on to the morning meal. While we ate, I originally planned to talk with Gabriela about her latest lesson, not having had the chance yesterday since Othli had only released her just before lights out.

However, Gabriela was reluctant to do so, claiming that Ohtli had told her about the two gene-flaws of our bloodline and that she wouldn’t discuss the topic where anyone not of the blood could overhear us. I easily agreed with her and didn’t press further, after all, our first gene-flaw, the Red Thirst, was a horrific affliction that turned Blood Angels into blood craving monsters, so the second affliction probably wasn’t any better.

Still, it was kind of strange that my artificial memories didn’t include any knowledge about the Black Rage when they were pretty explicit about the Red Thirst. Perhaps this second flaw was rarer and thus a better hidden secret than the first.

Then, after breakfast, we visited the armoury and equipped ourselves for the battle simulations we thought would be held today, Gabriela putting on her repainted armour and the freshly reworked helmet that were her new uniform as a junior chaplain. Originally, I had been opposed to the proposed changes to her armour since a uniform black paint job wasn’t really suited for camouflage and a skull mask was rather attention grabbing. In the end we compromised, Gabriela would be allowed to keep her skull mask in full but the paint job of her armour was only a shade darker than our standard, whites becoming grey and grey becoming black, and retain the camouflage pattern.

Yet the day didn’t continue as I had expected. The thing was that since we had returned from Verda, a new daily routine had been established by the Watch Captain. On uneven days, like today, we would perform battle simulations and other practical exercises under his personal supervision. And on even days, we would have theoretical lessons that expanded on topics our artificial memories didn’t cover in depth or outright didn’t mention.

So we were a bit surprised when, instead of the Watch Captain, Codicier Galedan came to collect us. What followed was a rather interesting lecture about psykers and the warp.

Originally, I thought that psykers were probably the same as mages from my last life, my artificial memories being rather light on the topic, but I soon came to realise that I was pretty far from the truth actually.

Generally speaking, if one mage could learn a spell then all mages could learn that spell, the only true bottleneck being raw power and the mage’s education. Also, the range of effects a spell could produce were purely physical, like generating explosions or manipulating radio waves.

Psyker abilities meanwhile were both far more diverse and specialised. Diverse because the abilities a psyker could have range from those that were similar to magic, like generating explosions or manipulate the temperature of objects, to those that produced effects that the magic from my past life couldn't possibly replicate, like interrogating the recently dead by performing a seance.

And specialised because most psykers were very limited, only able to learn abilities that tied in with their initial talent. For example: A telepath might only be able to speak with someone in their mind initially and later on learn to dig deeper into a person’s memory to extract information from them, but they will never be able to throw fireballs around or move things with their mind.

However, the key word to this was ‘most’ as psykers were also far more unpredictable than mages in every sense and context.

For one, magic was far from volatile, requiring extensive training and sophisticated equipment to use in any meaningful way. While the same was true for lower level psykers as well, the more powerful ones were literal fountains of energy that they could unleash even by complete accident, especially if they were emotionally compromised. Those more powerful psykers were also likely to have a wider range of abilities, heightening the danger from them as you couldn’t be sure if you would be attacked with a blast of thermal energy or a psychic scream that could cripple your cognitive abilities.

But perhaps the worst danger that came from them wasn’t due to what they could do, but what they were attracting. Psykers drew upon the energies of a parallel energy dimension, called the Warp, to fuel their abilities. The Warp being described as an ocean of psychic energies, and like any ocean it was home to predators.

These warp predators, or Daemons, were described as gestalt entities that formed from and fed on emotionally charged energies, with Psykers being among their favourite meals because they produced the most. But that wasn’t all, what was worse was that psykers could either be possessed by such a creature or open a gateway for them into our plane of existence. Once there, the dumber ones usually went on a rampage with the intent to produce as much psychic energy as possible to feed on, while the more intelligent ones would use the opportunity to start cults that focused on producing specific emotions, creating long term feeding grounds for themselves.

I couldn’t help but draw a connection between those more intelligent warp predators and Being X, the old parasite having been quite focused on people having faith, so the thought that he was one of these entities wasn’t far off. Wasn’t that a terrifying thought, Being X being just one of countless such creatures that swim around in a neighbouring dimension and wait for a psyker to lose control and give them an opening to invade our world.

Quite frankly, I was almost relieved when Galedan told us that all individuals that exhibited notable psyker powers were systematically rounded up and sent back to Terra for proper training. After all, they did present a danger to both themselves and others by just existing, so state intervention was a necessary evil in this case.

Still, the fact that all astropaths were essentially owned by the Astra Telepathica was a bit worrying, both because they were also the only people capable of FTL communication that didn’t involve a warp capable courier ship and because it sounded like they had little to no agency over what they were trained for and where they would end up working.

But the monopoly issue probably wasn’t quite that bad, from my own studies I knew that most Imperial organisations were highly fractious, so the Astra Telepathica was probably more like a big franchise where the staff was trained by the mother company in a central location and then sent to individual licence holders who were in competition with each other.

And on the topic of personal freedom, well it was abundantly clear that the Imperium just didn’t do that. Even I, a member of their most prestigious warrior cast, was viewed as a tool rather than a person. An expensive and thus valuable tool, but a tool all the same.

The lesson eventually ended halfway through the second training periode, with me and the other squad leaders being summoned by Watch Captain Hector.

Again, we met in the meeting room with the holographic table where we were first briefed, a new planet being rendered by the display. However, this time it wasn’t just the planet which was displayed, a rotund man wearing expensive looking robes while sitting in a comfortable looking leader chair was also shown. Given that he turned his head towards us once we entered the room, I would guess that this was a live transmission then.

“I presume these are the warriors that you mentioned, Watch Captain,” asked the holographic man, eyeing each of us in turn, I could tell he wasn’t too convinced. “Forgive me from saying this, but they don’t seem like a cohesive unit.”

“Yes, Governor DeSven, they aren’t one yet,” Hector agreed before turning to me, “Argent, I hereby promote you to the rank of Founding Lieutenant for the duration of this mission and grant you as your command the squads silver, bronze, green, yellow and purple.”

What? “Sir, the rank of lieutenant hasn’t been in use since the great crusade,” I replied more than a bit confused, utilising a private Vox connection to hide my reluctants from the Governor and my fellow marines.

Of course, the rank being tactically no longer in use wasn’t a concern for me because I didn’t even see why the rank was originally discarded, since it offered both greater flexibility when deploying a company and a designated successor if the captain died mid battle.
No, what made me hesitate to just take this promotion was that I didn’t want to actually command our patchwork of squads.
If it had been just Grenn and Samael then yes, I could work with them, but Moloc and Arthur could be trouble.

“Incorrect, the Space Wolves and Black Templars still utilise equivalent ranks, they just refer to it as a Battle Leader or Castelan respectively. That aside, I do not see an issue with reviving the rank for this situation, do you?” he asked me, his tone making it clear that no wasn’t an answer he wanted to her.

Switching from the private channel to my normal helmet speaker, I put one of my fists over my heart in salute and responded openly. “Thank you, Sir, I will not be found wanting.”

Hector nodded, “I don’t believe you will,” then he turned towards Governor DeSven again, “You may brief them now.”

Offence briefly flickered across the man’s face, the governor clearly not being used to being ordered around like that, but he wisely chose to keep that to himself. “Thank you captain, now onto the matter at hand,” he began while reaching for something out of the reach of whatever was capturing his image. In response, the projection of the planet changed, our point of view zooming in on a triangular island in the northern hemisphere.

“This is Runestone, officially a high security prison for individuals awaiting off planet transportation to face justice in the courts of the sector capital or even further beyond. This is a half truth. Truthfully, Runestone is a waystation where the Black Ships of the Astra Telepathica can temporarily offload their cargo,” he explained, the information explaining why we had suddenly received a lecture on psykers.

“What is the reason for this waystation’s existence? I was under the impression that the Black Ships don’t pause their journey until they reach Holy Terra,” interrupted Arthur. I was briefly debating if I should censure him for this, given that he had disrupted our briefing, but decided against it as I was curious myself. After all, the lecture we had just received had indeed stated that the Black Ships didn’t surrender their cargo until they reached Terra.

Once more, annoyance flashed across the face of Governor DeSven, but he answered the question regardless. “I can’t know with certainty, as the records available to me on the topic didn’t discuss the reason why this installation was built, only what my duties are in relation to it. That being said, from my own knowledge of the local warp routes and the conversations I had with passing void masters, I would guess that the risk of attempting the next step of their harvest circuit with a hold full of psykers from the outset was judged as too risky.”

It was Captain Hector who spoke up next, confirming the Governor's words. “The warp route from here into the Lazit Labyrinth sub-sector is known to be exceptionally mentally taxing on the minds of those who travel them, even for those on ships that have been recently warded and are equipped with strong gellar field generators.”

“But back to the topic at hand,” continued DeSven before any follow up questions could be raised, “Ten hours ago, the garrison on the Island went dark. Normally, the office of the prison warden and the command staff of the current garrisoning PDF regiment each send an all clear sign independently of each other every hour. Since then, repeated attempts to reach either group have been unsuccessful, leaving only one possible explanation, a mass break out of the psykers that resulted either in the death or enslavement of the garrison.”

“This is a grave situation indeed,” I said, my mind going through the possibilities of what could have happened. The most likely explanation was indeed that a singular powerful psyker seized control of the island staff, such happenings apparently being plentiful, a skilled Beta class psyker apparently having the potential to enslave an entire city of millions on their own.

The thought of someone with the capability to mentally manipulate people on such a scale revolted me, how thousands might be prisoners in their own bodies while their master puppets them around, or perhaps their perception of reality had been twisted in a way that they willingly served. Unbidden, my memories strayed back to my last life, reminding me of what the corrupting influence the computation orb ninety-five had done to me.

Then I remembered who arranged the creation of the cursed thing in the first place and an although darker thought came to me. What if the entity responsible wasn’t human to begin with?

“What exactly do you expect of us, are we to reestablish control of the island and recapture the psykers or are we to cleans the prison outright?” I asked, hoping it would be option two. While I could admit that option one would be the best outcome from a purely material perspective, I didn’t fancy my chances if our task would force us to hold back in some manner, especially if my suspicions proved to be correct.

The governor shrugged his shoulders, “Normally, protocol would demand that I fire a nuclear missile at Runestone in such a situation as this one, so any end result that leaves the island inhabitable afterwards and doesn’t poison the surrounding waters is a net positive to me.”

“Excellent!” I exclaimed, the smile of relief that had come to my face colouring my words, causing the governor to look slightly unsettled. Did he perhaps think my relief was a sign of weakness and that he would have to nuke the island either way? “Be assured Governor DeSven, we shall bring down the Emperor’s wrath on these witches and reclaim Runestone, in the name of the Emperor and Sanguinius,” I blustered, aiming to play off my earlier relief as excitement for the slaughter to come.

“Cough, cough, and Vulkan,” Grenn added from behind me, perhaps thinking he was funny.

“Yes, and in the name of our other father primarchs as well, thank you for the reminder,” I acknowledged him, my tone making it clear that I wasn’t too happy with him butting in like that. Then I addressed the governor and Captain Hector again, my tone becoming serious. “That being said, what can you tell us about the resistance we are about to face? What were the numbers of wardens and garrisoning PDF soldiers before they went dark, how many psykers were held on Runestone, what equipment and defensive technologies are present on the island? And what resources will be allotted for our use during this mission?”

The governor answered first. “The regiment garrisoning the island was three-thousand men strong, all infantry with no vehicles other than some fifty supply trucks. As for their heavy equipment, there were a great many artillery positions and bunkers built for the purpose of defending the island from outside invaders seeking to raid the prison for the psykers there. They also have a lot of anti-air weapons, again to defend against raiders, but I have some good news in that regard. Someone in the past foresaw this current scenario and arranged for their long range anti-air weapons to be slaved to radar systems on the mainland and in orbit which can be disengaged remotely, so they should be unable to defend against a high altitude bombardment and are generally at a disadvantage against airborne attacks.”

“That is fortunate,” I said as the Governor paused to catch his breath, although I couldn’t help but think that it also had been extremely risky. After all, a raider targeting the island could have just jammed the connection between the targeting system of the air defences and the radar stations.

But then again, that was only if these two systems only communicated over radio, which might not be true. For all I knew there ran a deep sea cable from the mainland to the island, over which the air defences communicated with the ground based radars. Still, latency should also have been an issue regardless of which of the two methods was used.

“As for the prison itself, well the warden that runs the place in the name of the Astra Telepathica didn’t see the need to keep me informed about anything other than their requisition requests, but I can deduce from them that the combined prison staff and inmates number about two thousand people,” the Governor then went on, finishing his report.

“Thank you, Governor DeSven, that should be all,” said Hector, pausing briefly to wait if someone would contradict him, before continuing. “We will contact you again in an hour, when we are about to begin the assault,” the Captain told him, before disconnecting the call, causing the image of the governor to vanish and the depiction of the island to move to the centre of the projection. Then he addressed us once more. “The terminal has been loaded with all the resources you will have at your disposal for this mission and the information provided by the governor regarding Runestone, you have an hour to formulate a plan.”

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Tanya of the 21st founding

Formulating a battle plan went smoother than I anticipated, so I found myself walking back towards my squad’s armoury within the hour. My new subordinate sergeants were doing simulary now, each of them knowing how they should equip themselves and their men to fulfil their role.

Once I reached the armoury, I already saw that my sisters had equipped themselves while I had been planning. Their initiative in this was commendable, but their choice in weaponry wasn’t optimal to the role we would fill in this coming engagement and the enemies we were likely to face.

“Sisters,” I addressed them, “we are about to strike at an island hosting a prison for untrained psykers. Our mission is to secure the location, dispense with any opposition and purge the rogue psykers. The other squads will also be part of this assault, so we won’t field any close combat specialists this time ourselves since they can fulfil this niche better.”

Already, I could see Azura and Hiki wilting as I judged their roles redundant. Well I couldn’t let that stand, keeping up morale now was more important than ever since we were about to fight an enemy that was as great a threat mentally as they were physically. “That being said, as I said before, each of us is going to take a melee sidearm with us since we can’t discount the possibility that we will be cornered and forced to fight hand to hand.”

The reminder that their skills wouldn't be completely useless lifted their spirits somewhat, which had to do for now. “Now, our role in this upcoming operation will be that of mobile ranged support. As such we will again deploy with our jump-packs for extra mobility, but as a devastator squad for the additional firepower. As such, Hiki, you will be armed with a melta-gun, in case we need to cut through fortifications or make our own entrances through roofs and walls. Bonny, you will trade your rocket launcher for a grenade launcher, since the coming fighting will take place over much shorter ranges. Any questions so far?”

Aurelia was the first to raise her hand, so I gave her permission to speak with a quick gesture. “A codex compliant devastator squad has four members with heavy weapons, but you only appointed three,” she said, making more of a statement than asking a question. Still I knew what she was getting at.

“I considered this choice for a while, but decided that three devastator marines would be enough for our purposes,” I replied, having given the subject some thought on the way to the armoury, “We have Sophia’s heavy bolter to lay down some heavy fire, Bonny’s grenade launcher to act as a field artillery and Hiki’s melta to cut through walls and fortifications. I simply don’t see the need for deploying a fourth heavy weapon.”

With Aurelia’s question answered, I moved on to Hiki’s. “So about, Azura’s helmet,” she began to ask, pointing at Azura’s Mark V helmet, “shouldn’t Azura switch back since she will be using a bolter?”

I nodded my head, “Good catch, Aurelia. Azura, switch out your current helmet for one of Mark VII.”

“Will do, Sergeant,” Azura agreed, before asking a question of her own, “So about our deployment, what exactly is the plan? I mean we will act as mobile fire support, but what beyond that?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I and the others decided to keep things basic, since we don’t really know what we are going to be dealing with. So a first wave of bombers from the Oathbound will level known artillery positions and bunkers, then we follow in the second wave, deploying via gunships,” I explained the first phase of the plan, before moving on to the second.

“Squads bronze and green will deploy with land raiders and act as the reserve for the main push once we encounter real resistance, with squad bronze being equipped for close quarters combat and green will deploy for barricade breaking, meaning flamer and melta-weapons,” I told them, which brought us our role.

“We, squad yellow and purple will act as mobile support, doing the scouting, skirmishing and other support work for the main advance. We will be doing so as a devastator squad, as I already said, the Lamenters will deploy as an assault squad and purple as a tactical squad,” I finished explaining the deployment order we would take, leaving only how we would then act.

“We picked the northern edge of the military camp that surrounds the primary prison complex for our initial landing zone, from where we will advance towards the prison proper. Our rationale being, that whoever or whatever took the prison over is probably still there and turned the place into its own stronghold,” I finished explaining the plan.

Azura didn’t seem to be satisfied with that, latching on to something I had said. “Whatever took the prison over?”

I nodded my head, “It is unknown to us if the psykers simply got loose and took over the prison, if a warp-predator is involved, or if a different situation accured. What we do know however is that the prison went dark ten hours ago, with no attempt at communicating with the warden or the garrison commander being successful.”

When no further question from Azura came, Gabriela stepped forward. “What about the Death Watch marines with us, I assume they will lead this mission?” she asked, leading into the next point I wanted to discuss.

“The Death Watch will not take part in the beginning of the operation, however, they gave us a teleportation beacon and promised to keep a squad of terminators on stand-by. As for leadership, well that leads into my next point,” I turned my head towards Azura, “As newly appointed Lieutenant of the twenty first founding, I hereby temporarily promote you, Azura Bataille, to the rank of sergeant and name you leader of squad silver for as long as my own temporary promotion to the rank of lieutenant holds.”

Azura stood there for a moment as if thunderstruck, then she snapped a salute, her fist impacting her breastplate with a loud bang, showing how excited she was. “Thank you Tanya, I swear to you that I shall not be found wanting, by the Blood of Sanguinius, I vow it!”

“I’m pleased with how serious you take this and accept your oath,” I told her, then the rest of our sisters also took the opportunity to express their congratulations and support for their new sergeant. First among them was Hiki, reminding me that there was a secondary issue I had yet to address. Still, I couldn’t blatantly discuss the woman’s psychological issues in front of the squad either, at least if I didn’t want to lose her trust.

So for a second time, I asked if anyone had any questions. None did this time, so I told those that had already equipped themselves appropriately to go to the main landing deck while those that had to rearm themselves stayed behind. Conveniently, that meant me, Azura and Hiki were among the last in the armoury, since the only other marine who needed to rearm was Bonny.

Knowing that I was the one who would take the longest, since I had to both arm myself and apply a new rank mark to my helmet, I only needed to ensure that Hiki would be the second to last to leave.

I pondered how to best go about this while I gathered my equipment for this mission, pausing when my eyes landed on the ration packs next to the munitions rack. Without knowing why, I followed a gut feeling and added one package to my belt. It had nearly been half a day since the prison went dark. Who knows, perhaps some of the psykers are currently trapped in their cells and quite hungry, I rationalised weakly to myself.

Hearing the door open, I turned around just as Bonny left with her grenade launcher, leaving me alone with Hiki and Azura. Taking a look around the armoury for them, I watched as Hiki applied the silver skull rank mark to Azura’s helmet, using a stencil and silver spray can.

I also noted that Hiki had, instead of carrying a one-handed axe on her belt and mag-locking a bolter on her back to swap with her melta, armed herself with her usual double handed axe she mag-locked to her back and holstered a bolt pistol on her belt while carrying the melta on a sling. I considered overruling her choice in loadout as she would have no great long range option, but decided against it. Her melta was a short ranged weapon, which meant that she was the likeliest person to get into close combat anyhow, so equipping herself for close combat made sense. Besides that, her mark five helmet had a bad rangefinder and we only had nine mark seven helmets, so she wouldn’t be amazing at greater ranges than her pistol was effective at anyhow.

Regardless, I think I had found an excuse to have her stay behind.

“Hiki, would you mind helping me add my new rankmark?” I asked her, just as she and Azura were about to leave.

“Of course, sarge, not a problem,” she replied, gesturing for her partner to leave without her, before she turned back to me, “So, what rank mark were you thinking about?”

“I want a broad silver strip on the helmet, about as wide as the skull mark was,” I answered her, being eager to get rid of the skull mark that reminded me far too much of a bullseye, and took my helmet off so we could work on it.
So we stuck two broad stripes of tape to the left and right of the helmet and then sprayed the free centre between them. It was then that I addressed the actual subject I wanted to talk about.

“Hiki, we need to talk about this morning again,” I began, watching as Hiki nodded, her expression neutral.

“I suspected as much, you wouldn't have needed any help for such simple work,” she replied. “So, I assume you want to know if I’m well enough to participate?”

“You are correct, will this be a problem? Because if you aren’t one hundred percent sure then you will stay here,” I said, watching her expression.

Her reaction was minute, indicating that she had gotten her emotions completely under control at least, and her tone remained level. “I won’t flinch from my duty, Tanya, I will not hide away like a frightened child while you and the rest of our sisterhood goes to war.”

“I was never worried about your conviction,” I told her truthfully, “What worries me is your mental stability. We are about to engage psykers and you sat in the same lesson about them as I, you know what they can do to a person's mind,” I said, waiting for her to nod before continuing. “So I asked you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you are you well enough that I can trust you to adequately separate truth from illusion, that your dreams won’t come to haunt us during our mission?”

As I had requested, she made eye contact with me. “Tanya, I swear to you that I’m in full control of myself, I swear that I will not allow my dreams to influence me in the field, I swear to you that I won’t put myself, or any of our sisters and brothers in unnecessary danger,” she vowed.

Giving her a last look over, I noted that, while her voice and expression was calm, her fists were clenched at her side, belying nervousness she tried to hide. For the briefest of moments I considered making her stay and talk with Chaplain Ohtli while we were gone, but dismissed the idea. A bit of nervousness while having a discussion with your superior about your possible exclusion from the unit, no matter how temporarily, was understandable. Besides, her balled fists were simply not enough of a reason to exclude her from a mission where every bolter would count and her calm demeanour spoke well enough of her mental fortitude.

“Very well, I trust you,” I told her after a moment, watching as she fists uncurled.

“Thank you, Lieutenant, you won’t find me wanting,” she promised in response, before looking down at the helmet lying between us on the workbench. With a finger she tapped the edge of the freshly painted stripe, coming away clean. “Looks like your helmet is also done.”

“Good, then let’s get going,” I said, picking up the helmet before leaving the armoury behind, making our way to the hangar deck.

On our way, we actually caught up with Azura, or more accurately, the woman had been purposely slow so would catch up quickly. The reason for her doing so became obvious while we walked, Azura starting a conversation with her partner over a private vox channel soon after we ran into her. I could have listened in on what they were talking about, I had as their superior the necessary codes to override the privacy setting of their vox units, but decided against it.

For one, it would have been an invasion of their privacy, which wasn’t something I was willing to do without good reason. Secondly, I could guess the topic of their conversation. Azura was probably asking Hiki why I held her back, since my excuse wasn’t really subtle.

That made me wonder, was Azura aware of her partner's dreams? I wouldn’t think that the two of them had a chance to talk about it without me noticing, since we spent the entire day together in lessons, but Azura might have noticed Hiki’s changed mood since they were partners. Or perhaps Azura had noticed the build up to the breakdown I witnessed this morning and was now looking into it because me holding Hiki back to talk had made her suspicious?

Urgh, dealing with this was frustrating. Maybe I should have pushed for her to meet with Ohtli earlier, that way I wouldn't have to play the guessing game if my soldier is well enough to participate in combat. One would think I would have more experience with this, given my previous life, but no, the members of the 203rd were surprisingly unaffected by the war. Granted, I wouldn’t have called any of them completely mentally sound either, the pack of reckless jingos, but at least none of them cried their eyes out when I was around.

My ruminations were cut short once we reached the hangar deck, just in time to witness a wing of heavy bombers departing, signalling that the fist part of our assault plan had already begun. Looking around further, I saw that our two thunderhawks and three storm eagles had also been prepared already, with my girls and the marines of the other squads standing nearby. Curiously, they weren’t alone.

“About time the last of you arrived, get over here, I don’t want to do this twice,” commanded Chaplain Ohtli, gesturing for us to join our squad.

Once we had done so, the reason for what he was doing here became clear as he began to hold an impromptu sermon, preaching to us about the dangers of the witch, the virtues of pure hate and the glory of the Emperor. Once that was over, the ritual continued with the reciting of oaths, declaration of intents and prayersongs.

While that was going on, base human support personnel in robes burned incense, pinned wax seals with paper prayer scrolls to our armour and splattered us with enough scented oil and ‘holy water’ to fill a small bathtub.

The whole process was quite clearly a ritual based on faith and superstition, a placebo to make us feel as if we had divine protection. A day ago, I would have called it a farce, yet I wouldn’t do so now. Having received a quick summary of how the warp worked, I had to admit that a placebo might very well be the greatest defence against the foe we were about to face.

After all, psychic domination seemed to be a clash of wills and beliefs, so the dogmatic belief that one was protected from such attacks was a self fulfilling prophecy on some level. Of course that defence could backfire spectacularly if the person being manipulated couldn’t tell if they were and thus do what their enemy wants them to do in the belief that they are doing what their god, honoured ancestor or duty demands.

Still, there had to be some merit to the method if it had become tradition. After all, things only became traditions if they fulfilled their function at some point, otherwise they would have failed to establish themselves in the first place.

Funnily enough, I had done something similar in my past life. During my days at the war college, in the aftermath of my overuse of the Type-95, I had spent hours upon hours in the college’s chapel to meditate on how much I hated Being X in an attempt to clear the lingering effects of the orb’s brainwashing.

“By the Emperor I swear, wrath is my sword, contempt my armour and faith my shield,” I and the rest of the Marines repeated after Chaplain Ohtli, finishing the ritual. And with that we were permitted to board our transports and deploy.

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Tanya of the 21st founding

“Height eight hundred and twenty-two metres, bearing one hundred and eighty-six degrees, current velocity at ninehundred and ninety six kilometres an hour,” announced my servitor co-pilot, leading me to check our flight path. I found that at my current heading, I would miss our previously discussed landing spot. Clicking my tongue, I adjusted course and speed of approach.

“Height seven hundred and sixty three metres, bearing one hundred and eighty one degrees, current velocity at nine hundred and fifty kilometres an hour,” said the servitor, having processed my adjustments.

Again I checked our flight path, finding that I was back on course. Ah flying, it was rather nostalgic even if machine flight wasn’t as liberating as unaided flight had been as a mage. Still, it was gratifying to know that I still got it, having had the highest flight score among my squad. Granted, the experience would have been even better if my co-pilot wasn’t a mechanic corpse, but Hector’s watch company didn’t have any strike craft certified base humans on staff and I couldn’t spare any of my girls just to fly the storm eagle back to the Oathbound, so co-pilot corpse it was.

Still, I put ‘training base human pilots’ on the list of things I would need to get done once I had my first ship. No, this was something I could get done even earlier. I had the whole Clan Kahlo under my command, surely a couple of them would be eager for the chance to fly such a craft?

I would have to ask Frida once this mission was done, the girl had been pretty helpful in the past week, oftentimes offering to help me with my research in the library. The only problem was that she was still rather hesitant when I asked for her subjective opinion, which I couldn’t really blame her for but it still complicated my research somewhat. After all, I needed her perspective as someone who grew up within the Imperium to fully grasp the cultural contexts of what I was reading.

“Height seven hundred and sixty-three metres, bearing one hundred and eighty one degrees, current veloci-” the servitor once more read out the naviganal data as the island of Runestone came into view, before cutting itself off, “Warning! Weapons signature detected,” it screeched, an unusual urgency bleeding into its voice that made me briefly question how much of the person it had once been was still in there before more present matters took my attention.

I pulled my control hard to the right and pressed my nose down, simultaneously I triggered the release of several flares. Not a second later, I saw a trio of missiles coming my way. Thankfully the flares took care of that, none of the three missiles focusing on my craft and instead headed for the slowly falling magnesium torches I had released.

“From Hawk-3 to Hawk-1, I have eyes on the active anti-air battery, permission to destroy?” ask Hazel, one of Samael’s men and his pilot.

“Permission granted,” I allowed while I adjusted my course after being thrown off by the missiles. A second later a chirping noise from my radar informed me that Hawk-3 had fired, his hunter-killer missile swiftly shot past my own craft and flew towards the Runestone where it vanished just as an explosion bloomed on the island and a new pillar of smoke joined the others.

Having come closer, I had to hand it to the previous bombardment wing. The island looked absolutely wrecked, with dozens of smoke columns rising from the destroyed fortifications and air-defence towers of the island. Still I remained vigilant as I made my final approach at the northern beach of the island, the first wave had missed one air-defence position which meant they might have missed more.

“Alright everyone, we are about to deploy in T minus one hundred and twenty seconds, get ready to disembark,” I notified my squad as we made our approach. Sixty seconds before arrival, I relinquished full control of the craft to the co-pilot and got up to join my sisters.

I found myself pleasantly surprised when Azura had already gotten them ready to disembark, proving that she was taking well to her new position. Taking my place in the back, I selected the squad leader vox-channel and followed her example by seeing to my own new duties. “This is Argent to everyone, final check up, are your squads ready?”
I didn’t have to wait long for a reply. “Squad Purple ready, Squad Silver ready, Squad Yellow ready, Squad Green ready, Squad Bronze ready,” came the reply of the sergeants under my command, Moloc's answer coming just as our storm eagle slowed down and the servitor pilot announced that embarkation was imminent.

Then the Hammerstrike missile launcher of our flight discharged their munitions just before the frontal disembarkment ramp opened and the engagement truly began.

“Charge, move to cover while firing, movement at one and eleven o’clock!” Azura ordered as she took a running jump of the ramp and flung herself off our hovering storm eagle while firing her bolter.

We others followed her lead, jumping after her into the smoke cloud the earlier missile barrage had supplied. “Preysight,” I muttered as I jumped off, my display changing from showing a pure visual feed to displaying the world through thermal images.

My vision now clear, I observed with pleasure as my sisters pushed forward towards the garrison’s base and the silhouettes of our enemies fell. Good, no serious resistance so far I judged, finding that our foes were mostly using entirely mundane las-weapons. Still, I would have expected at least one psyker in such a scenario…

“Argent to Arthur and Samael, statues report!” I demanded while crouching behind a convenient chest high wall, taking aim at a sniper on top of a building further down the road.

“Deployed and engaging the enemy, no complications so far,” came the Lamenter sergeant’s voice first, he and his assault squad having deployed further to the east of us, where the buildings were densest, to clear out any flanking forces coming from there.

Then Arthur answered, his squad having deployed to the west of us, “Deployed and engaged, only small arms fire in manageable quantities so far, no heavy weapons or rogue psykers detected.”

Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. “New orders, Squad Silver, hold your advance after securing main street, Squad Purple and Yellow, we are tightening the net, finish up your engagements and then move closer to Squad Silver.”

My new orders were acknowledged and carried out in short order, our three advanced squads forming up around what we had dubbed the main street during our initial planning phase. The road in question ran from the edge of the garrison camp all the way to the prison’s main gate in a spiralling manner, running around the garrison twice before terminating at the prison air field and main gate of the prison. In addition to this, there used to be a lot of heavy bunkers along the road before the bombers had reduced those to rubble.

With no big threat emerging, I judged the landing zone secured and began the next stage of our assault. “Squad Bronze and Green, you have permission to land.”

A couple of seconds later, two thunderhawks carrying land raiders approached, swooping low a few hundred metres behind us to land. This was the most dangerous part of our initial deployment, the thunderhawks carrying our heavy vehicles being both more cumbersome in the air than the storm eagle in which we had deployed and they also had to land to discharge their cargo, forcing them to remain imobile and vulnerable for a short while.

So I let out a sigh of relief when both craft successfully deployed their cargo and then returned to the air, sending a wave of krak missiles into the wall standing between the land raiders and the main road before disappearing. The two armoured transports didn’t remain idle either, making a fast approach as soon as they could. The leading infantry fighting vehicle, the one squad green were riding, used its front mounted prowl and heavy melta to dispose of the rubble in its way.

“Good, everyone is committed. Squad Yellow takes point, Silver provides fire support, Purple acts as rearguard,” I commanded, watching as Azura confidently split our squad into two fire teams, one built around Bonny’s grenade launcher and the other around Sophia’s heavy bolter, that each took the left and right side of the street.

The other squads did similar, splitting themselves to provide further cover for the land raiders as they advanced along the road. “All squads keep within eyesight of each other and report any sighting of heavy resistance or psyker activity at once,” I reminded them, unsettled by how mundane this attack had been so far. Where were the psykers?

Sergeant Uzza of Pack Uzza, untested Bastard Son

Stalking through the corridors of the recently conquered Harvester of Sorrows and seeing its crew tremble as I passed by would normally put me in a pleased mood. Not so today, for the Chosen of Abaddon who commanded it, Gravelord Nito, had called a war council.

So foul was my mood that I nearly missed the mumbled words of a terrified slave I passed. Stopping dead in my tracks, I turned to face the wretched worm. “What did you just say?” I demanded to know of it, but received no answer.

The pathetic creature instead pressed itself deeper into the alcove in which it had tried to hide itself from me, looking as if it was trying to meld with the bulkhead. Further infuriated by the pitiful display, I drew my blade and pointed its tip at the wretch.

That prompted words, along with a loss of control over its body functions. “Please Lord,” it whimpered impotently, clutching at something dangling from its neck tighter.

“Open your hands,” I commanded without raising my voice, my tone alone proofing sufficient to scare the slave into obedience.

It hesitantly lowered its trembling hands, revealing an undesecrated aquila pendant. It was crudely made, punched out from a sheet of steel and hung around the neck of the slave by a scavenged copper wire. Nevertheless, its image and what it represented offended me.

“Take it off,” I spat in disgust, causing the wretch to flinch. Still it obeyed, taking off the symbol of the corpse god and presenting it to me with trembling hands. I couldn’t help but scoff at the display, as if I would sully my hands like that.

“Drop it,” I ordered it next, and again the wretch obeyed, letting the pendant fall to the floor. No sooner had it done so, I gave it my third command. “Spit on it.”

For the first time during this exchange, something passing for conviction flashed through the slave’s eyes, the thing daring to look up and meet my gaze with fury in its eyes. That resolve died quickly when I pressed down on the activation rune of my power sword, the crackling of the weapon’s powerfield robbing the slave of the will to fight.

With haste, the coward spat on the pendent, doing so not only once but twice and thrice, perhaps hoping that the display would erase the earlier transcreation. It was disgusting, how could a people so spiritual frail and afraid to die for their beliefs have survived the galaxy for so long?

Eventually the wretch stopped, probably because it ran out of spit, and just stood there in its alcove, awaiting my judgement.

“Well done,” I praised, my voice thick with mockery as I moved to sheathed my blade, watching as the slave relaxed. How foolish of it.

Quick like a snake, I reignited my bastard sword’s disruptor field and lashed out, watching with perverse glee as the demonic machine spirit of the blade feasted on the wretche’s blood and soul.

Yet my good mood only lasted a single second until it was disrupted by my own blade. With a crack like thunder, the energy field of my weapon collapsed, uselessly spewing sparks before it re-established itself a second later. Sneering, I was about to put away the blade in earnest when I heard heavy footsteps not unlike my own.

“Should you really be wasting time like this, Uzza, the Gravelord hates being left waiting,” came the cold voice of my fellow sergeant, Azza.

“If he hates me being late so much, then perhaps he shouldn’t inform us of war councils deliberately late,” I shot back, turning to face my fellow Bastard Son.

Like myself, Azza wore a worn down, crudely fixed and barely working patchwork set of power armour that he hid under a thick cloak fashioned from rotting raw skins. In contrast to his grisly state of dress, his facial features were regal and his hair well groomed, making him almost look like his gene-sire, Roboute Guilliman.

“Still, I wouldn’t give him a reason to focus his wrath on me if I were in your shoes,” he retorted without pausing his stride.

“If you were in my shoes?” I repeated his words mockingly, falling into step beside him as he was about to pass me by, “You are in my shoes, he hates and fears you as much as me.”

“Fears us, brother?” Azza asked, his tone coloured with cool disbelief.

“Yes, he fears us. After all, it were my ancestors who stalled him and his weakling comrades during the Siege of Terra until your ancestors arrived and scattered them, while they were tied down to the lies of the Corpse God no less. Don’t you think that wouldn’t scare him?” I asked, watching his face intently to see if my words struck a chord.

Yet Azza merely scoffed before he replied. “I think you should keep such thoughts to yourself, less our lord uses you as ritual fodder,” he admonished me, but also implied that he wouldn’t share my words.

Of course I knew he wouldn’t do such a thing before I had even begun to share my thoughts with him, Azza and I being as close to friends as two chaos marines could be. Still, it galled me that he wouldn’t even entertain my words. I knew I could turn Azazel with his support and from there it would only be a matter of waiting for an opportunity to usurp the Gravelord’s position since us Bastard Sons made up the majority of marines in the warband, our three packs adding up to sixty marines in total. Yet these were just immaterial fancies if I couldn’t even count on Azza’s support, my friend remaining too intimidated by our masters seniority.

But regardless, I didn’t have much time to stew on my own thoughts as we reached the gates of the chamber our master had chosen to repurpose as his throne room. Stopping exactly seven steps before the massive double door, I and Azza pulled off one of our gauntlets and held out our now unprotected hands.

We didn’t have to wait long before the gate guardian appeared, the daemon dog materialising in front of the door soundlessly. With its burning yellow eyes focused on us it drew closer to us, pulling up its chops to reveal sword-like yellow teeth and growling threateningly as it did so.

Had either of us shown only a single sign of fear then the beast would have pounced and torn the offender to shreds, yet we didn’t. Instead we remained calm and allowed the massive hound to sniff our hands.

Thus identified, the guardian growled a last time before vanishing again. Then, once it had completely faded away, we put our gauntlets back on and walked towards the now opening doors, entering into the presence of our Lord and the other pack leaders.

“Uzza and Azza, how gracious of you two to join us at last,” greeted us the mocking voice of Gravelord Nito, the black armoured chaos champion lounging on his throne built from plundered Imperial gravestones, that I and my squad had been forced to carry on board a year ago when we were still scouts, the eye lenses of his skull masked helmet firmly fixed on us.

Against the right armrest of his throne leaned his signature weapon, a force greatsword made from the fused bones of an astropathic choir, while his cloak of meticulously rune engraved space marine bones hung from the backrest of his throne. Both items gave off a malicious aura that could even be perceffed by those without any psychic talent as a black smoke, the tormented souls of their original owners having long since been consumed by the daemons that were now in turn trapped within the bones.

“I bid your forgiveness, Grave Lord, we meant no disrespect with our late arrival,” replied Azza for both of us, bowing his head in deference.

“Is that so? Well I suppose you must have inherited your father’s poor sense of punctuality then?” Nito needled, seeking to get a rise out of my compatriot.

Yet Azza disappointed him, remaining his usual level headed self. “That must be it, my lord, truly your wisdom is beyond compare,” he replied dryly without a shred of insincerity to be found in his tone.

I cringed in second hand embarrassment as the other pack leaders snickered at Azza’s submissive behaviour, clearly amused how well he, the thin blooded upstart, knew ‘his place’. There simply wasn’t enough pride in Azza, but that was probably for the best. After all, I didn’t need a second in command who would plot against me once I took command of the warband.

“Well, with all of us gathered here, we can finally begin the briefing,” said Nito, quitting the room with his commanding voice, the untural echo that accompanied his words reminding everyone present of his arcane might.

“Ten hours ago, our agent released the Puppeteer, beginning the third phase of my plan as I had foreseen it,” he began, saying nothing new so far, “yet that is not all. An unsuspected opportunity presents itself to us.”

The gravelord paused briefly before continuing his tale, allowing some suspension to build. “A strike cruiser of the Death Watch had been in transit through the system and reacted to the Governor's distress call,” he revealed to us.

“Does this change the plan?” asked Helos, his tone blunt beyond what anyone else would dare when addressing Lord Nito. But it made sense why the former Iron Warrior could get away with such behaviour, given that both him and his subordinates were wearing relic Cataphractii pattern terminator armour. Adding to that the fact that all nine members of his squad were Veterans of the Heresy and it became clear that he commanded the singular most conventionally powerful pack.

“Yes and no,” replied Lord Nito evenly, playing at being unphased by the blatant disrespect he was shown, “We will have to deal with them, so much is certain, but we are more than capable of that. In fact, I believe we can both secure the psykers we were sent to collect as well as the thin blood’s strike cruiser.”

Stunned silence filled the room as all awaited to hear how he intended to do this. After all, the warriors of the Death Watch were hard bitten veterans one and all, at least by the standards of the Imperium.

“For starters, the marines of the Death Watch never travel in large groups, so we are facing half a company of them at most. Secondly, I predict that they will already have committed a large part of their force to the ground engagement, likely leaving only a single squad of terminators and a handful of apothecaries and tech-marines onboard their vessel,” revealed Nito before he addressed sergeant Helos again, “I trust your terminators will deal with theirs?”

“We are the iron on which they shall break,” replied the terminator sergeant without a shred of doubt. Hopefully the arrogant fool would get himself killed, the man being my single most dangerous rival for Nito’s position.

“Good, I expected nothing less,” said Nito, before he addressed the sergeant beside the former iron warrior. “Achil, while Helos deals with their terminators, I want your squad to subdue the ship's mortal crew, kill the remaining Death Watch specialists and secure the vital decks.”

The addressed sergeant grinded, revealing bejewelled, blood smeared teeth, the gems used to decorate the marine’s teeth having been cut in a manner that left their edges razor sharp. “With pleasure,” the degenerate purred, the scales on his face shifting colour from marble white to a soft pink.

It took me only a moment to realise that he was flushed, which I found deeply disturbing. I suspected Helos thought the same, given how his expression darkened as Nito gave the order for the spawn of Fulgrim to accompany him.

“Now with the Ship taken care off, we can turn our attention to the surface battle and the primary objective,” Lord Nito continued, “Naturally I and the coven will deal with the Daemon and retrieve the psykers it has caught, that leaves you, Unas, and the Bastard Sons with the honour to deal with the Death Watch forces already on the planet.”

A cool chill went down my spine as I processed the words Nito had just spoken, as I turned my head towards the final Veteran marine in the room. Helos was dangerous because of the terminator squad he commanded, the Gravelord and his coven of sorceresses were dangerous because of their knowledge of arcane lore, but I feared none like I feared Unas, or the Butcher as he was most often called. This was due to him being the singular most lethal marine in terms of individual combat prowess and temperament, being considered equal to a veteran ten marine assault squad by himself. Still, the beast wasn’t one to desire power beyond his own strength, so I felt safe not to count him as a rival.

The marine, if such an identification was even still accurate, was just shy of three metres in height and had received an enviable amount of blessings from the blood god. His warplate and body had long since merged into one, the jump pack on his back having transmuted themselves into wide batlike wings, his feet and hands having changed into hoofs and claws respectively, from the base of his spine had grown a broad dog like tail with bristly fur, but most striking of all these changes was those to his head.

His mouth had elongated into a snout filled with wolf-like teeth, his angry yellow eyes had become slitted and permanently bloodshot while his skin had been overgrown with black scales and his hair had been replaced by thin, needlelike spines.

“Khorne will be pleased by the slaughter to come, for it matters not from whence the blood flows, only that it does,” rumbled the Butcher, his voice and words cause enough for my mind to conjure images of slaughter and my heart rate to spiked as rage grew within me.

With great effort, I fought these intrusive feelings down, refocusing on the war council in progress before falling behind. It was good that I succeeded when I did, or I would have missed it when Lord Nito addressed me. “What about you, Uzza, are you eager to test your blade against greater foes than Imperial bolter fodder and alien pirates for the first time? I imagine a proud son of Dorn and knight of Sigismund like you must be quite eager for a real challenge.”

I bared my filled teeth in a bloodthirsty grin at his open mockery, “I care not for my gene-father or his lickspittle son, but I am eager to spill the blood of the false Emperor’s servants, for the glory of the powers,” I proclaimed truthfully, this was a great opportunity for myself after all.

Slaying one of the Death Watch marines would mean that I could claim their equipment, for such was the way of the Warband, allowing me to shed my barely functional hand-me-down suit of armour and my faltering equipment, putting me on equal footing with the veteran pack leaders and their men. But the benefits didn’t end there, no, if I managed to distinguish myself today then I could surely gain Azza’s and Azazel’s support.

Yes, I could see it all coming together.

“And what about the Harvester? We can’t afford to lose her, not if we intend to deliver the witches to the Despoiler halfway sane,” Helos spoke up, bringing a different idea to my mind: If only I and my pack remained onboard the Harvester then we could simply abduct the ship while the rest of the Warband was embattled. The freedom this possibility would offer was tantalizing, but I discarded it. Plotting against Lord Nito was one thing, but deserting him while he enacted Abbadon’s will was quite another.

That aside, my thoughts on the matter didn't matter anyhow since the Gravelord had already an answer to the question. “I planned to leave the ships in the capable hands of Pinwheel,” he gestured to the hunchbacked, black robed, six armed and three headed abomination beside his throne.

I narrowed my eyes, briefly taken aback by the things' presence. Has it always been there? Surely not, I would have taken notice of it if it had stood there from the beginning. Yet that left the question when it had taken its place beside the throne.

“We thank thee for this honour, Lord of Shallow Graves, we won’t disappoint you,” it replied in a voice layered as if a man, a woman and a child spoke at once, the voices each appearing to belong to one of the three masks it wore where it’s head should be. Its arms, each ending in a lantern instead of a hand, lowering themselves in what passed for supplication for it.

Shuddering, I mentally added the thing, whether it was a daemon host or some more excotic abomination, to the list of those that would need to die before I could take control of the warband.

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Tanya of the 21st founding

It became quickly clear that the resistance we were facing wasn’t entirely mundane in nature as we advanced along the main road. The signs were fairly subtle at first but couldn’t be unseen once one took note of them, the enemy soldiers were too quiet.

Not once had I heard a single one of them cry out an order, curse or say anything really. Their radio communications equipment went simulary unused, with not a single vox channel aside from our own seeing traffic. And yet their defence was clearly coordinated, with groups of soldiers constructing multiple barricades along the road while others brought them material or fought us to slow down our advance.

Feeling the need to investigate further, I and Gabriela even split up from our squad and joined squad purple as they breached a house along the main road that the enemy had fortified, capturing the ranking PDF trooper, a platoon sergeant. His interrogation didn’t last for more than a minute and confirmed that these poor soldiers were being puppeteered, our prisoner attempting to claw and bite at my hand in a catatonic frenzy after being disarmed, not showing the slightest hint of emotion or any reaction to my repeated attempts to question him.

It was sickening, seeing someone like him in the prime of his life being reduced to a blind and unthinking weapon, bereft of agency and condemned to die. Whoever was responsible for this injustice would pay, that I vowed to myself and the man within my grip before snapping his neck, ending his enslavement.

After that distraction, I rejoined the main advance as we made our way through the city. Then, just as we reached the road segment that ran next to the prison wall proper, I received a report from squad yellow: “Samael to Argent, Lieutenant, we have reached a breach in the prison wall broad enough to fit our land raiders through, should we assault the prison through there or continue our advance towards the main gate?”

“Location?” I asked in turn, intrigued by the possibility of bypassing the front gate. After all, it was the place where an enemy breakthrough was most expected and prisoners would have to go through if they wanted to escape, thus it was likely the most heavily fortified portion of the prison, even if most of these fortifications were rubble now.

“Sixty metres ahead of the advance, directly facing the southern cell blocks,” Samael replied swiftly before adding to his report. “It is only lightly fortified, even compared to the barricades we faced so far, the breach being far too wide for them to turn it into a choke point, about twenty metres.”

More than enough space to fit our land raiders through three times over and we would be facing the least defensible side of the prison. To explain, from the air we could see that the prison layout was as follows: At the centre of the complex was a long rectangular building running from north to south which looked not unlike a cathedrale minus the towers. The north side where the prison building connects to the main wall surrounding it and where the main shuttle landing platforms are, along with the main entrance. To go into detail, the entrance to the main building leads into a courtyard where the shuttles land and is surrounded by walls to the east and west that connect to the prison building and the main gate house that leads out to the military base. That was where we originally planned to attack.

Now the southern cell blocks were obviously on the completely opposite side of the prison, the nine cell blocks we had counted from aerial photographs connecting into the main building in groups of three. The southern cell blocks took up the entire south side of the prison while the eastern and western blocks only reached halfway up the length of the building.

Surrounding this main building and its connecting prison blocks was a colossal prison wall and a series of air defence towers, with the only opening being the northern gate that was predictably the heaviest fortified position on the island. Even after the earlier bombardment, I expected heavy resistance there.

Yes, that breach was good fortune, I decided, “Argent to all squads, we are breaching through a hole in the prison perimeter wall, prepare yourself to assault the prison proper.”

That order earned me a round of applause, especially from squads green and bronze who had been apart from the action so far and thus spoiled for blood. I had to wonder how many of them would still be cheering at the end of it, once we ran into the psykers.

Soon the breach came into my view as we followed the street, allowing me to take in the situation myself. It was indeed how Samael had described it, a whole segment of the wall had been reduced to rubble by the preliminary bombardment. Beyond it I could see the prison blocks where the defenders had dug in.

They hadn’t even tried to hold the breach itself, having instead chosen to build fortifications between the three prison blocks facing us and positioned themselves on top of the prison too. It was a sound decision on their part, yet something was off. For some reason they had no one stationed on the middle block.

Before I could decide what to make of that, squad purple contacted me. “Arthur to Argent, enemy horde approaching from behind us, approximately five to eight hundred individuals.”

What! “Everyone hold, squad green and bronze be ready for deployment,” I commanded as I activated my jump pack and launched myself onto a nearby building that still stood tall. From this perch I looked back the way we had come from, seeing the horde Arthur had warned me about.

As he had described, there were indeed a few hundred people coming at us in an unorganised mob. The answer to how we could have missed such a force passing through here the first time became clear quickly, we hadn’t. Taking a look through my scope, I witnessed a grisly truth that made my blood boil, these were no fresh enemies but the corpses of the men we had already killed! Such depravity, first they enslave them and now they desecrate their corpses too, disgusting.

Pushing the rage I felt down, I took a moment to think about this logically before issuing new orders. Taking a second look at the approaching enemy, I noted that their movements were far less coordinated than they had been in live and their formation was simulary less sophisticated, indicating that their combat effectiveness had likely significantly degraded to such an extent that they were only good for human wave tactics at this point.

The question now was how to deal with this? The prudent choice would be to simply turn around in full and deal with this new threat before assaulting the prison. Yet another part of me pointed out that the enemy might have made a mistake we could exploit. After all, raising so many dead couldn’t have been easy and, going by what we had learned today, likely necessitated the use of an exhausting ritual.

So if we continued our advance then we might be able to catch the psykers while they were still recovering and vulnerable.

“Argent to squad green, turn your land raider around and disembark. You and squad purple will be dealing with this horde,” I ordered first, reasoning that Grenn’s four heavy flamers plus his land raider’s two sponson mounted flamers and the front mounted melta would be best suited to disperse a large uncoordinated horde throwing themselves at them.

Then I turned my attention back to the prison. “Squad silver, I want two waves of grenades to be readied, the first frag to flush out any hidden explosives and traps that the enemy might have laid in the breach. The second wave is to make a smoke screen to cover the ground squads' attack. Squad bronze and yellow, once we deploy a smoke screen I want your squads to start the attack. Moloc, position your land raider between the two enemy hard points in such a manner that your sponson guns can suppress both ground positions at the same time and then I want your assault marines to charge the left position. Squad yellow, once squad bronze begins suppressing the ground positions I want you to charge the right one. Squad silver, after the grenades are thrown, we will be suppressing the soldiers on the roofs of the prison blocks.”

I received quick affirmatives as my forces moved into position as I and my sisters drew our grenades. “On my mark, we target the breach segment in line with the central prison block,” commanded Azura, before giving her signal a few moments later, sending the first wave of explosives flying.

As I had expected, their detonation was followed by a wave of secondary explosions as mines and tripwire bombs were triggered. “Should we hit it with a second frag wave?” asked Bonny, her hands hovering over her bandelier of grandes as she awaited my orders before reloading her launcher.

I shook my head. “No, I think that should have been sufficient to clear a corridor for squad bronze. Squad silver, proceed with deploying the smoke screen, target the enemy positions.”

Again, our grandes flew and hit the dirt in front of the enemy firing line, disgorging a thick black smoke. Like the smoke our storm eagles had deployed earlier, this smoke screen blocked everything but heat waves, allowing squad bronze and yellow to still target the now blinded enemy thanks to their helmet’s heat vision.

And target them they did, their land raider opening up with all four of its bolter emplacements as soon as they had a line of fire. And it was the same with the fourteen assault marines that followed the land raider, both squads bronze and yellow making use of their bolt pistols as they charged the smoke-covered enemy soldiers.

Yet the enemy's accuracy was still surprisingly high despite that and I had my suspicions that this was because they shared vision with the soldiers on the roofs of the prison. But no matter, their small arms were too weak to overcome our power armour and Moloc and Samael had the good sense to target the enemies heavy weapons right away before they could fire.

With their assault going well, I joined my squad in our own task. Raising my bolter, my first shot took off the head of a man pulling the pin on a grenade. My second killed the man beside him who tried to kick the live grande away, as did my third shot. Finally, the grande exploded and took out both the chest high wall the enemy used as cover as well as half the remaining platoon atop the right prison block. My next two three were simply cleanup, targeting those that survived. And with that, in less than ten seconds the roofs were cleared.

“Good job,” I congratulated my squad as I turned my eye back to the progress of the assault squads. Both of them had also finished their targets and were fixing breaching charges onto the left and right prison blocks.

Turning around the way we had come, I saw that our rear guard was doing well too. Squad green had made good use of their flamers and had turned the street leading to the prison into an inferno. The burning remains of their undead foes had by now formed a steadily growing wall in front of the flamer squad and their tank. Yet still the enemy came on, stubbornly climbing the mountain of charred flesh only to get incinerated in turn once they reached the peak.

Squad purple meanwhile had split into two fire teams and mopped up the errant undead that didn’t end up following the main charge at squad green and instead climbed through the ruined buildings on either side of the street. Predictably, those were much fewer in number as the corpses didn’t have the fine motor control or brain power to effectively move through the difficult terrain. It was still good that those few that tried were taken care of however before they could gather in great enough numbers to flank squad green.

Reassured that the situation was well in hand I issued my next orders. “Squad silver, move up, on top of the central prison block and prepare to breach down. Squad bronze and yellow, you have permission to breach your own prison blocks.”

Even as I spoke, Azura already gave orders to her squad, ordering them to jump on her mark. Less than a second later she gave the order and we soared through the air. Immediately upon landing on the roof of the middle cell block, I felt an unnatural feeling of pressure. It was kind of familiar as a quick descent from extreme height during my second life had brought about a similar feeling, and yet this was all too sudden.

“You all feel that too?” I asked on my squad’s vox channel.

“A sudden feeling as if my ears are about to pop, yes,” answered Azura almost instantly while signing commands with her left hand, our sisters fanning out to secure the roof.

“Yes, the feeling started for me right as I landed on the roof,” added Aurelia, which was particularly interesting since she had brought up our rear, having been the last one to jump towards the roof, and I had been among the first five. So given that we two had started to feel the pressure at the same position meant that whatever caused this was a static and previously active effect that hadn’t come to be in reaction to us, probably.

“Argent to squad bronze and yellow, we feel a sensation of heightened pressure despite the seals of our armours being intact, do you feel the same?” I asked, the two other squads breaching the prison.

“Samael to Argent, negative,” replied the Lamemanter Sergeant first before continuing, “we encounter heightened resistance however. Mutated abominations appearing to be multiple humans merged together, no psykers so far.”

“Moloc to Argent, no such phenomenon detected, just traitors and mutant filth, no help needed,” answered Moloc a moment later, which confirmed that this was a localised phenomenon.

Given that the enemy hadn’t garrisoned this roof, I could almost be sure that this was a psionic suppression field then. That would be something sensible for a installation holding untrained psykers to have and would explain why the enemy avoided their puppets being near this place. Surely their control over their thralls would fail in such a field, like the monster in my dream had failed to ensnare the girl… Damn you BeingX!

“Hiki, get your melta ready to breach the middle of the roof! Azura and Gabriela, sword and crozius at the ready, you two will be the first to breach down as soon as Hiki has made an opening. The rest hold position and be ready to move or reinforce at my order,” I commanded, having a rather good idea what I would encounter below us.

The three marines I called out moved at once, taking up positions around the centre of the roof, weapons in hand. Then I gave my Hiki the go ahead and she pulled the trigger of her melta. The weapon came alive with a roar, sending a wave of superheated gas towards the cement roof that was hot enough to punch a hole through the floor, melting the roof into sludge and gas. Less than a second later Azura jumped down towards the floor below us, facing into the direction of the connecting building, Gabriela was right behind her, facing the opposite direction.

Two cries of “Clear,” came a moment later from the two women, so I followed them below. What I found was a corridor with a row of heavy doors to each side as was expected of a prison. What wasn’t expected was that each door had either been damaged or destroyed completely in a multitude of ways.

“Hiki get down here, I want to go down another floor,” I ordered and events repeated themselves as we breached down into the floor below us. Again, no hostiles were encountered and the cell doors on this floor had been broken open too. But this time something was different, one of the cells was still sealed.

“Hiki and Azura, cover the corridor towards the larger building,” I ordered, glancing towards where the prison block connected to the central building to confirm that the door separating the two had also been ripped off its hinges. “Gabriela, you are with me,” I told her before gesturing towards the last intact door at the far end of the corridor opposite the central building.

With that I moved towards my destination, trusting in the others to follow my orders and cover me. While on my way, I glanced into one of the cells that I had to pass, seeing what I had expected to see: A single child sized bed, a stainless steel toilet, a tiny wet cell with a chrome shower head, a discarded dataslate and a single barred window. I also noted that the prison door had been broken open from within, the metal of the door having burst open like some colossal stinger from within the cell had pierced it.

Upon reaching the last closed door I noticed that it had a hook with a clipboard hanging from it. Fixed to the clipboard was a sheet of paper that probably contained the cell inhabitant’s information. In this case a girl by the name of Julia, a thirteen years old girl who was classified as an Eta-class empath and had reached education level Basic III.

I was about to reach out and take hold of the handle that held the door’s view slit shut when I hesitated. What was I doing!? This could be a trap set by Being X or whoever else might have sent me these visions. By right I should turn away from this and just do my job, let someone else deal with this.

Yet my thoughts were interrupted by an unmistakable young voice beyond the door: “Hello, is someone out there? Please, is anyone there! Please, I’m so scared, please!”

I grit my teeth, I knew I should ignore the girl and let someone else deal with this, and yet the miniscule weight of the food rations at my belt grew heavier with every plea of the girl. Like it or not, there was no denying that she and I were connected somehow, yet what did this mean?

The most logical conclusion was that Being X was screwing with me again, but I had yet to hear from the windbag in this current life. Unbidden, the legends about my mythical gene-father came to me, reminding me that he supposedly had some ability that allowed him to see the future. Was that really so impossible considering that my last life had magic and my current had psychonics? I would have dismissed the possibility that either could exist outright during my first life. And even if it wasn’t future sight, my dreams could have simply been long ranged telepathy. Yet even that didn’t make much sense either, this building was specifically equipped to suppress psychic powers, so neither she nor I should have been able to establish a connection.

“Please, by the Emperor, please, I don’t want to be alone, please,” the girl now pleaded, striking against the door of her cell, producing muffled thuds.

“Tanya?” asked Gabriela then, her tone equal parts concerned and confused.

“Just considering how to best approach this,” I lied, before making a decision. Better to unearth this mystery now than later. So I took the handle of the viewing window and pulled it open. What I saw shocked me.

On the other side of that door stood a marine in full power armour that was painted in the same camouflage pattern as my own with only a minor distinction: Firstly, where my armour was grey, theirs was painted in navy blues. Secondly, they wore a Psychic Hood that bore the mark of an Epistolary.

As if their position and nature wasn’t obvious enough from that, they also held a strange looking spear in their right hand that had a bone white shaft which was covered in an unfamiliar runescript and was crowned by a teardrop shaped red jewel that acted as the spear tip. Strangely enough, the shaft looked like it was made from some kind of bone but I couldn’t spot a single mark that hinted that it was carved. Simulary, the crystal spearhead didn’t seem to have been affixed to the shaft by conventional means, rather it was like the bone-like material had grown around the base of the jewel.

Still, what held my attention most was their face. Their features were familiar, the shape of their eyes and face being much like that of my own or my sisters. Yet that familiarity was shattered by the marine’s jet black eyes and dark blond, almost black, hair.

Then I blinked and the marine was gone, replaced by a small child with watery grey eyes and very short dark brown hair that had probably been shorn off completely a week or so ago. Unbidden, a flash of irritation shot through me. The girl was far too thin and pale, she looked closer to ten than thirteen!

Yet I didn’t have more than a moment to dwell on these feelings. “Are you an angel?” the girl asked, awe and disbelief filling her voice as she gazed upon my helmet from her cell.

“I’m Lieutenant Argent, a scion of Sanguinius,” I answered diplomatically, not that it mattered. The girl's eyes light up regardless, luckily figuratively or I would have had to shoot her, as I answered her question.

“Oh thank the Emperor, I was so scared, there was so much fear and noise so suddenly, and then the shadow monster came, and then it was suddenly gone again and everything went silent and and…” the girl blabbered before descending into sobs as she surged forward and hugged the door, evidently having reached the limit of her mental fortitude.

Still, I suppose I had gotten what I was looking for, confirmation that my dreams had been real events. Granted, I could have interrogated the girl further to find out if something worth knowing had happened in the last couple of hours, but I dismissed the idea. I doubted the girl had witnessed anything worth my time that I hadn’t seen for myself through her. As if to underline that I couldn’t waste more time on the girl, I received reports from squad bronze and yellow saying that they had hit a roadblock and required aid. The way forward deeper into the prison having been sealed and they requested melta support to break through into the main building.

So, having gotten for what I came for, I reached down to my belt and retrieved the rations I carried with me. “Catch girl,” I said before pushing them through the vision slit, my warning giving the girl just enough preparation time to catch the food I had dropped on her head. “Listen Julia, things out here are still dangerous, so stay put and eat these rations while we deal with this mess. Once things are done, we will be coming back to collect you,” I told her, to which the girl nodded.

“Okay, thank you mister Angel, may the Emperor be with you,” answered the girl before I closed the viewing window.

Turning away from the door, I gestured for Gabriela and Azura to return to the roof as I opened a vox channel to squad green. “Grenn, report, what is the status of…” I said before being cut off by an Alpha clearance message.

“Hostile landing forces incoming, memory block removal Astartes Traitorous, authorisation Crimson-Zero-One-Zero-Two.”

Chapter Text

Watch Captain Hector Toyer

Bridge duty was, I reflected, the purest essence of warfare. Most of the time it was a boring tedium filled with chores and routine duties during which the necessary legwork of war was accomplished. The thunderhawks and storm eagles that had delivered the founding marines to Runestone had successfully returned and were in need of refuelling, which I granted. The shift of the mortal bridge crew ended and their replacements came to relieve them, which necessitated a small ritual of its own that I could have performed in my sleep by now. And a small fire in one of the auxiliary storage rooms on deck four broke out, to which I dispatched a fire suppression team.

This shift truly was boring and unremarkable in every aspect, until it suddenly wasn’t.

“Sir, incoming ship detected,” reported the Master of Divination as a red ping appeared on the tactical map in front of my command throne. The markers on the battle map indicated that the new contact had appeared at a distance of forty thousand kilometres, meaning it had managed to get into effective macrocannon range before even being spotted.

“Report, its bearing and status,” I demanded of the officer, before turning towards the helmsman, “Break orbit, I want to be able to manoeuvre if this is an enemy,” which I didn’t doubt it was, no friendly ship would have dared to sneak up on a space marine strike cruiser.

“Sir,” the Vox Officer spoke up next, “the ship transmits the identification code identifying it as the Harvester of Sorrow, a black ship.”

A black ship? That would explain how they managed to approach us without being spotted by us or the SDF, the mysterious and dreaded dungeon ships of the Astra Telepathica being equipped with rare technologies that enabled them, among other things, to travel the void mostly unseen. Still, I had a bad feeling about this.

“I can confirm this, Captain, the ship profile matches previously encountered black ships and their heading indicates that they seek to enter a high orbit over Runestone,” reported the Master of Divination.

Tracking the ships movement on the tactical map, I saw that he spoke the truth. The Harvester of Sorrow was indeed on a course towards our position. And yet…

“Vox Officer, sent them a message informing them that the Runestone installation has been compromised and is currently being cleansed,” I ordered while tracking the ship's path.

While the officer did as I had ordered, the Master of Divination added some details to the tactical map, such as the size and sensor readings of the Harvester. The ship was six kilometres in length and what little sensory data we could obtain despite the sensor bafflers of the other ship indicated that it carried far greater firepower than us, which wasn’t unexpected. What was surprising was the minor course correction it made.

It was a minute change and yet one that carried significant meaning. The vector they were on now wouldn’t bring them into orbit, but it would bring them close enough to the planet to launch shuttles and have the Harvester travel at the perfect angle to launch torpedoes at us. A grim smile came to my face because of this revelation, I had been right.

“All officers, battle station!” I bellowed, surprising the crew but found to my pleasure that they still obeyed promptly despite their confusion. “Raise void shields and turn us around, I want us to get behind them as fast as possible.”

While the bridge crew laboured to fulfil my orders, I muted my armour’s vox caster and instead activated my inter squad vox. “Watch Captain Hector to all kill teams, be ready for boarding and counter boarding action, a hostile ship is engaging us.”

I briefly listened to my sergeants reporting the statues of their squads before turning my attention back to the bridge. Much had happened in the brief time since I issued my orders, the officers surrounding me having roused the ancient machines of the Oathbound for the void war to come and broken from the planets gravity well in full, bringing us on an escape trajectory that would enable us to circle around the approaching Harvester of Sorrows.

Yet the enemy didn’t remain idle, as soon as they realised that we had seen through their ruse they powered up their weapons, a brief build up of energy being the only warning we got before they fired their lances. The ship shook as they impacted the void shields, the hull groaning as the enemy barrage was deflected into the warp.

“Shields are buckling but have held, no structural damage,” reported the Master of the Arsenal a moment later.

“Sir, they deployed a jamming beacon”, came the voice from the Vox Master. “And released a wing of transports. They are launching torpedoes and preparing another lance salvo,” added the Master of Divination, sounding slightly panicked.

“Keep our course steady, bring us into their shadow,” I commanded, knowing that we wouldn’t survive them in a straight up fight. All things considered, taking a salvo of torpedoes so we get out of the line of fire quicker was a worthwhile trade.

Still, I would have to do something about those landing craft. The recruits had to be warned, there was only one enemy of the Imperium that could both procure a black ship and be confident enough to deploy limited ground forces against an island full of psykers and space marines. “The jammer, can we overpower it?” I asked the Vox Master.

The man briefly consulted his console before replying: “Our Vox unit should be able to overpower the jamming signal, but they won’t be able to answer.”

I nodded my head just as the second salvo hit and our starboard shields collapsed momentarily. Immediately the boarding alarm began to shrill, which could only mean one thing: Teleportation Boarding. This was confirmed a second later when the Master of the Watch brought up the footage of a security servo skull, showing a squad of black armoured terminators bearing the heraldry of the hated Black Legion.

“Emek, take your terminators to deck three section two, we have been boarded by ten enemies in tactical dreadnought armour. Kill team Kastelin and Valentine, support Emek’s terminators in their counter boarding action,” I commanded, choosing to err at the side of caution and send two full squads along with our own eight terminators to tip the scale firmly in our favour. “The enemy is moving towards the bridge, intercept them with all possible haste.”

With that done, I eyed the torpedoes coming our way next. If the enemy was sending precious terminators to board us then surely they wouldn't seek to destroy us. “Sergeants David and Rory, keep your squads on stand-by to repel boarders inbound in our ship's starboard side. Their boarding torpedoes will reach us in T minus seven minutes and sixteen seconds.”

With that taken care of, I turned my attention back to the situation on the ground. “Vox Master, send the ground forces the following message: Hostile landing forces incoming, memory block removal Astartes Traitorous, authorisation Crimson Zero-One-Zero-Two.”

Lieutenant Tanya of the 21st founding

Damn you Being X!

“Argent to everyone, your status now!” I commanded as I jumped back onto the roof of the prison block, rejoining the rest of my squad.

“Sergeant Samael here, as I just said, we reached an adamantium door we can’t breach, but our prison block is secured with no threats present,” came the reply of the Lamenters first.

“Same,” came Moloc’s reply a moment later.

Meanwhile I and the rest of the squad searched the sky, keeping look out for our approaching foes. Not that we could do much more than seek cover once we spotted them as none of us were armed with anti-air weapons.

“Arthur to Argent, the horde is nearly dealt with…” he began, before I interrupted him as my helmet display highlighted two groups of fast approaching black dots in the distance. Much to my horror, one group was far faster, smaller and more numerous than the other.

“All squads, enemy gunships inbound, seek cover and be prepared to engage traitor marines as they disembark! We can’t let them organise,” I ordered, even as I jumped back down into the deserted prison I had just exited, this time my entire squad followed me. Yet I was aware that this might not be enough. “Sisters, we go further down,” I said while pointing at the second hole that led down to the floor on which Julia was.

This proved to be a wise choice, because as soon as all of us managed to get down there the building shook under a heavy missile barrage, a thick cloud of dust and rubble following us through the hole in the ceiling. Distantly, I could hear Julia cry out in fright from her cell, not that I paid her much thought.

I gritted my teeth, contemplating if it was worth the risk for one of my girls to stick her head out to see in what state the floor above us was and if we could get a sense of what was going on outside when a more pressing concern came to mind. “Grenn and Arthur, report, did you two and your squads make it to cover before the barrage hit us?”

There was a brief tense silence then, during which I feared the worst, before I got an answer to my utmost relief. “Grenn here, most of us got away and sheltered in the surrounding buildings with squad purple, but we lost our land raider along with brother Zillo,” he reported.

Good, only one casualty so far, that could have been a whole lot worse. Thinking it over, we had nineteen marines in the street outside the prison and another twenty six in the prison proper.

“Moloc here, our land raider was also lost but the driver and gunner evacuated beforehand. We stand ready near our initial entry point,” announced the sergeant of squad bronze.

“Samael to Argent, the enemy bombardment has opened a breach on our prison block’s roof. Do you want us to get ready to deploy from there once the enemy lands or should we engage from our entrypoint on the ground floor?” he asked.

I considered briefly, before answering him. “If you still have your jump packs then use the roof exit, otherwise exit from the ground floor,” I told Samael before making a general announcement again. “To all squads, does someone have eyes on the enemy, report if you do.”

I didn’t have to wait long for an answer. “Brother Lancel of squad purple to Argent, I do. I count two thunderhawks, three storm eagles and two larger troop transport shuttles. The two thunderhawks are heading right for us while the two storm eagles are heading for your position, the third eagle approaches slower than the other attack craft and seems to aim for an approach trajectory between the other storm eagles and the thunderhawks. The two troop transports aim for the prison's air field. I’d say twenty seconds until the first of them are in deployment range,” the marine reported, giving a thorough account.

“Argent speaking, Grenn and Arthur, fight defensively to the best of your ability and try to hold out as long as possible. Samael, do your men still have their jump packs?” I asked, waiting briefly for him to confirm before continuing. “Good, then get ready to reinforce my squad as I believe that we are the targets of the storm eagle coming our way. Moloc, be prepared to move to reinforce Grenn and Arthur as soon as you see an opportunity,” with that I closed the vox link and turned to my squad. “As for us,” I said as the engine noise of the enemy aircraft grew louder and louder, “we are going to counter charge them as soon as they deploy.”

“Yes ma’am, for the Emperor,” they replied as one, before Azura then began to issue orders, preparing our countercharge.

All the while I listened to the engine roar of the enemy craft, waiting until they were on top of us. Truthfully, counter charging them might very well be a mistake since they would both outnumber us if both enemy squads were heading directly for us, which was likely since we had been the only squad in the prison perimeter that had been out in the open, and because of our comparative disadvantage in close combat. Yet I didn’t dare to fight defensively or at range, not when the enemy had air superiority.

Then the sound of the enemy craft changed, growing quieter and more steady. “They are hovering over us, now!” Azura screamed and the squad jumped into action.

Bonny was the first to act, stepping forward and firing three grenades upwards. Immediately following this, Hiki kindled her jump pack and jump after the thrown explosives with her metla braced. Then the rest followed behind, their bolters holstered and their chain-swords ready.

Finally it was my turn, with a mental command I activated my jump pack and followed behind Gabriela and emerged into the floor above us. Unsurprisingly, the earlier missile barrage and Bonny’s grenades had reduced the ceiling and many walls of the top floor to rubble. I also noted that the feeling of pressure ebbed significantly as I ascended to the floor above, hinting that the bombardment had probably destroyed whatever machinery had maintained that effect on the top floor.

I didn’t have much time to take in my surroundings however, my attention being drawn by the bloody melee going on around me. Immediately upon emerging, I had to dodge to the side as a stray bolter round sailed past me. Thinking fast, I dove to get behind a half demolished cell wall and brought up my bolter, trying to get a clearer picture of what was going on.

Surprisingly enough, it didn’t seem like we were as much at a disadvantage as I had feared. For one, it seemed like only ten traitor marines had come down directly on top of us and it looked like three of those had fallen victim to Hiki’s melta right at the start of the fight, tipping the numbers in our favour. Secondly, we were far better equipped than our foes, most of whom didn’t even have a complete set of power armour. And thirdly, the enemy gunships didn’t linger, instead flying off towards the shuttle landing pad in front of the prison.

I grinned a savage grin as I raised my bolter with murderous intent then, my first shot catching a traitor just above their left ear. He died on the spot, having worn a arbites helmet for some reason which had been better than nothing but was still not good enough to resist a bolter, freeing up Joline who immediately moved to help her partner, Sana, with her fight. Good thing too as our medic was nearing the edge of the building with alarming speed as her opponent forced her to give more and more ground with every strike.

My second shot hit the right arm of a chain-axe wielding marine in scarlet carapace armour, giving Azura an easy opening to take his head off his shoulders before ganging up on a marine in full power armour together with Aurelia and Bonny. That one must be their sergeant, I thought as I contemplated aiming for him before dismissing the idea. Three of my sisters were already engaged with him, making it both very unlikely that this one would survive long and difficult to shoot at him without endangering one of my girls.

So, with none of my girls struggling at the moment, I instead looked outward to figure out what had happened to the other squad that was coming our way. The answer nearly made me laugh as I caught sight of them.

The second squad had landed on the neighbouring prison block, where the Lamenters had laid in wait, and set up heavy weapons to act as fire support for the first squad only to be surprised by squad yellow who burst out of the ruin.

My good mood turned to ashes a moment later however, when I spotted the last enemy storm eagle. There, a good hundred metres over the ground, the enemy craft hovered over the battlefield with its deployment ramp wide open. Surveying the carnage below it, a single menacing figure that radiated bloodlust and hate stood there while cradling a greatsword that looked like it was cut from a single massive piece of obsidian glass.
Their appearance was demonic, for the lack of a better word, with its batlike wings, a scaly body that seemed to have merged with its armour and the head of a black dog.

As if irritated by me witnessing it, the thing turned its head towards me and the ongoing fights on the prison roofs, before unfurling its wings while crouching low, undoubtedly intending to take flight. My thoughts ran a mile a minute as I raised my bolter and considered how of my marines I would need to peel off the current engagement to stop this juggernaut. More than I have, I knew instinctively just by looking at the enemy champion, all of us put together wouldn’t be enough to stop this horror.

My mind briefly went to the teleportation beacon on my back, but then disregarded it. Our radio connection with the Oathbound was being jammed and even if it wasn’t, I doubted the Watch Captain could spare us terminator support while he himself was undoubtedly also under attack. We were going to die and there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it.

Yet these thoughts were disrupted as someone else spotted our approaching doom.

“ANGRON!!!" Hiki cried out to the approaching enemy, her voice thick with grief and bitter furry. "FACE ME TRAITOR, I SHALL END YOUR RAMPAGE, BROTHER!!!" my sister screeched with all the might of her three augmented lungs, her voice being transformed into a banshee’s wail that echoed unnaturally across the battlefield as she kindled her jump pack and took flight to meet her adversary.

Almost at once, the fighting on the roofs stopped as the combatants were staggered by the horrible noise. Still, despite her wail bringing me to my knees, I forced myself to keep my eyes on the sky as a great angel and an avatar of hate flew towards each other.

The enemy champion made the first move of their duel, opening his maw wide, he breathed out a great cloud of malevolent red and black flames that shot down towards Hiki. My sister retaliated with her melta in response, meeting the baleful flames with a stream of pure thermal energy.

Predictably, those two attacks reacted violently with each other once they came into contact, exploding into a cloud of thick black smoke that hid the two enemies from each other. Yet despite this Hiki continued onward, discarding her melta as she did so in favour of her axe which she swung blindly at the fog. Amazingly, this decision saved her life as the black sword of the enemy champion burst through the cloud, Hiki’s axe catching the flat of the approaching blade and diverted it past her. She followed this parry then with an immediate backswing, catching her opponent's snout and tearing out two of his fangs which drew out a cry of pure rage in response.

And that first exchange set the pattern how their duel continued as they spiralled down to the ground, the enemy champion would attack and Hiki would parry or dodge and then punish his aggression, fighting with more skill and speed than she had ever shown before.

I would have probably continued to watch their fight slack jawed until one of them was victorious if the voice of my partner hadn’t cut through my mental paralysis. “Sisters rise, now is our chance while the enemy falters, for Sanguinius!”

Once more reminded that there was still more than one enemy present, I turned around just in time to see Gabriela follow what she preached and bury her power mace in the skull of a still disoriented traitor marine. The rest of my sisters joined her a heartbeat later, falling upon the still dazed enemies in front of them, the traitors seeming to be far more affected by Hiki’s scream than us.

While they slaughtered the remaining enemies, I turned towards the roof where the Lamenters had been fighting, only to see that the fighting there had stopped too. “Argent to Lamenters, attack! For Sanguinius, for the Emperor, for those we cherish, slaughter them now!” I screamed into the Vox, hoping to shake them out of their daze the same way Gabriela had done for me and our sisters.

I was swiftly rewarded for my efforts as the Lamenters rose and fell upon their few remaining enemies, finishing up their own engagement with cries of “For those we cherish!” before their opponents had a chance to gather their wits.

I was about to ask Samael for a status report, hoping the man was still alive and active, when an explosion nearly threw me off the edge of the building. Simultaneously, my helmet display lit up as three runes flashed across my vision, two yellow and one red. “Shit, Sana, get to Bonny now!” I commanded even as briefly engaged the right engine of my jump pack to right myself, enabling me to turn around just in time to see what had happened as the dust settled.

It would seem that the sergeant Bonny, Aurelia and Azura had been fighting was a particularly spiteful bastard that had installed a deadman’s switch in his armour that triggered an explosive once he died. I could already see that Bonny likely wouldn’t make it, some of her own grenades having cooked off and added to the damage the first explosive had done to her, reducing her from the stomach down to a bloody mess.

Aurelia and Azura thankfully were in better condition, but I still doubted they would rejoin the fighting today. Their armours were cracked all over and scorched black from head to foot, with more than one crack leaking thick astartes blood. The sight of them, bloody and unmoving, made my blood boil and my hands tighten around my bolter more firmly while a red haze threatened to descend upon my vision. How dare they! How dare these traitors take my sisters, they had to pay for that!

“Sana, Joline, you two do triage. The rest, form up at the edge of the roof and prepare for new orders,” I barked while turning back towards the ongoing fight below me, eying the enemy champion, watching as Hiki danced around his aggression and added a new cut to the beast everytime he failed to catch her, inflicting a death by a thousand cuts. I would seek a way to expedite that.

“Samael to Argent, the enemy has been subdued, I and four of my brothers await further orders,” the Lamenter sergeant reported, prompting me to mentally add his forces to my own.

“Argent to Samael, acknowledged, stand by for orders,” I answered him before contacting the third squad on prison grounds. “Argent to Moloc, report.”

It took Moloc nearly a full second to respond, during which Gabriela had organised our remaining sisters into a firing line. “Moloc here, what in the warp was that scream? It knocked us right out and half of my men are still affected,” he reported, souring my mood further. It would seem like the quick recovery of my own squad and that of squad yellow hadn’t been universal. Perhaps we recovered faster because we were all Blood Angels?

Regardless as to why, losing half of squad bronze was unfortunate. But what was perhaps worse was that I didn’t have a good answer for his question. What did just happen? Hiki wasn’t a psyker to the best of my knowledge and she didn’t have half of the skill or speed she was now fighting with during our last training session. Something was demonstrably wrong here.

“Lieutenant, permission to speak, I believe I know what is happening with Hiki,” cut in Gabriela on a private vox channel.

I gave her a sideways glance before addressing Moloc once more. “Unimportant for now, mobilise the remainder of your squad and be prepared to engage the enemy on my mark.”

With that done, I gestured for Gabriela to go on while also keeping an eye on the fight below. I was all too aware that the duel between Hiki and the enemy champion rested on a knife's edge, with my sisters being only one misstep away from being carved apart by that ginormous blade. Secondly, I had to also keep in mind that squad green and purple were still under assault by as many as three times their number, so I had to finish this engagement up quickly so I could reinforce them before they were overwhelmed.

Truthfully, I was very tempted to give into the impulse of commanding all three of my squads to assault the enemy champion at once in hopes that raw numbers would carry the day. But I fought that urge back for now, knowing that acting on my bloodlust while not fully aware of every detail could lead to a catastrophe.

“I believe Hiki has fallen to the Black Rage,” Gabriela began to explain, reminding me that we had already made plans to talk about the geneflaw today, “It is a psychic echo of our gene-father’s final moments that every Blood Angel carries within them. The affected warrior will first have visions of our fathers memories,” she carried on, my mind being drawn to the memory of Hiki telling me about her dreams, “until they can no longer distinguish between reality and the visions. In this state they believe themselves to be Sanguinius fighting during the Siege of Terra and are imbued by his rage and skill for it, bringing his wrath upon all that stand before them, seeing them either as Horus or as one of his traitorous sons.”

I was torn between rage and gratitude once Gabriela had finished explaining. First my own dreams about Julia which lead me straight to the girl, then Hiki’s dream about the Siege of Terra and now her fall to the Black Rage just in time to save us from the traitor champion, that all felt far too perfectly timed not to be orchestrated by someone. Yet who were they and what was their angle? Not important for now, I decided.

“Argent to Samael, Moloc and squad silver, be ready to engage the enemy champion on my mark and then immediately move on to reinforce squads green and purple. But beware that the marine currently engaged with the enemy champion was the source of the psychic scream earlier and has fallen into a berserker rage,” I instructed, just in time for the duel below to enter its finale.

Sidestepping an upwards swing of the glasslike greatsword, Hiki then lunged forward while raising her axe above her head before bringing it down in an overhead strike, missing the head of the enemy champion and burying the weapon in her opponent’s right shoulder instead, the hungry adamantium teeth of the axe biting deeply into the flesh of her foe, spraying Hiki with gore and bone shards as they dug deeply into the shoulder joint, nearly severing the limb outright.

Yet even as his arm was savaged, the dog headed monstrosity didn’t flinch back, instead the monster used the chance to bring the pommel of his sword down on Hiki with enough force to shatter her helmet and send her sprawling, probably killing her outright.

“Now, squad silver, open fire!” I commanded as I saw my sister go to the ground, raising my own bolter to add to the barrage.

But I quickly found that even all four of us unleashing our bolters wasn’t more than an annoyance to the thing, the hail of explosive munitions only tearing shallow craters into the hide of the beast. Still, it was enough for it to take its eyes off Hiki's prone form as it glared at us, “Honourless interlopers, I shall shatter your skulls!”

That proclamation sent a chill down my spine as I didn’t doubt that it would be capable of making good on its threat, even one armed and bleeding from dozens of cuts and shallow craters.

“Squad silver, scatter while maintaining fire. Yellow and bronze swarm him and…” I began to order, as the thing bent its knees, ready to jump into the air, when it happened. Hiki, although bleeding intensely from the head, wasn't dead or out of the fight. Instead she had used the brief time our barrage had bought her to recover enough to draw her combat knife before jumping up and ramming said knife into the throat of the enemy champion as he crouched low, driving the blade in up to the hilt.

At once, everyone froze and an eerie silence fell that was only disturbed by the sound of distant gunfire. Then Hiki tore the blade sideways, half decapitating the enemy as she ripped the weapon from his throat, the motion breaking whatever balance the beast still retained as it collapsed backwards. Hiki wasn’t done however and jumped onto the thing's chest before driving her knife into the skull of the creature, planting it right between its eyes.

“Orders,” hissed Moloc then through the vox, sounding deeply frustrated with the situation, probably unhappy that my squad was hogging all the glory for bringing down this monster or something.

Regardless, our next objective was clear: reinforcing Grenn and Arthur. The only question now was if Hiki would be an obstacle to that and attack us or if we could move safely past her?

That question resolved itself quickly however as Hiki got up, tore her axe free from the shoulder of the corpse she was standing on and turned towards the sound of gunfire beyond the prison’s perimeter wall.

“With me, loyal legionaries, Horus shall be the next to fall!” she called before kindling her jump pack and shooting off towards the next engagement.

“Everyone, follow her, we are linking up with squad green and purple after which we will circle around to the airfield where the enemy craft landed. Treat the berserk marine as an ally for now but stay wary of them,” I ordered even as I jumped off the ledge of the building and made to follow Hiki, my girls only a single step behind. Only then did I give into the rage, eager to avenge the death of my brothers and sister, they would pay for what they did to them!

Uzza of the Bastard Sons, Sergeant of pack Uzza

“Die corpse worshipper!” I screamed as I stepped into my enemy's guard and thrust my sword towards the chest of the purple armoured sergeant in front of me, a broad smile blooming on my face as I finally caught the slippery craven.

And yet my moment of triumph was stolen from me, the powerfield of my sword bursting just before the tip of my blade came into contact with the enemy's armoured chest and was thus deflected towards the side by the chestplate’s curvature.

“The emperor protects, traitor scum,” replied my foe in a mocking tone as he hammered the crossguard of his sword into my helmet, forcing me to fall back and adapt a defensive posture as the display of my helmet glitched out and obscured my vision for a second.

Yet instead of pressing his advantage, the coward fled, again, as he and his craven brothers had ever since we first engaged them. This had been the third time they engaged us in close combat, slowing us down so their brethren in green could retreat, only to disengage and flee behind the fresh fortifications their allies had raised, turning what should have been a quick victory for me and Azza into a meat grinder. We were still winning however, their total numbers having dwindled to less than ten fighting men while we still retained nearly thirty warriors.

“Men advance, follow the cowards, for the glory of the powers!” I commanded the others to pursue, not intending to grant the loyalist dogs a head start.

Yet before I could even take the first step in pursuit, a horrific cry stopped me dead in my tracks as their words pierced my ears and stabbed into my mind, inflicting horrific agony upon me for the briefest of moments. “Mongrel sons of Horus, face your death, face me, Sanguinius!”

Turning to face this new foe, I was greeted by the sight of an axe wielding marine in grey and white armour flying towards our formation’s rear on wings of fire. They were a grisly sight, their helmet having been shattered, revealing a bloodied face, teeth barred like fangs and eyes that were featureless jet-black pools. Moreover, their armour and weapons were covered in thick transhuman blood and gore, dying them in the colours of slaughter. Yet that sight didn’t scare me, for my armour too was covered in astartes blood, and none of it was my own.

This new enemy wasn’t alone however, marines in yellow, bronze and grey charging alongside them, cries of retribution and scorn on their lips. I counted about twelve at a glance, although there might have been more as most of the grey ones had sought cover as soon as they had a line of sight. Yet these new arrivals didn’t scare me either, for our foes were still in the minority even with these marines joining the battle, our forces outnumbering them three to two.

No, what scared me was the fact that I had earlier seen the Butcher engage a force in the direction from which they came. They didn’t appear to be under pursuit however, their bearing that of avengers rather than of hunted prey. Yet even if they managed to bring him down, whatever champions accomplished such a feat must have surely perished as well, the grey armoured berserker leading them probably being the last of their elite that finished the Butcher off. After all, Unas had been nearly unequalled in strength and skill within the Black Legion, so surely none of the Imperial dogs could have been capable of facing him on their own?

But I began to doubt as I watched the grey armoured berserker engage three of our rearguards. Purson and Balam were the most eager to engage, dropping their nearly spent bolters in favour of their double headed chain-axe and twin gladiuses respectively, seeking to meet the enemy blade to blade. Yet it was Vine who died first despite the marine’s intent to stay at range as he reloaded his bolter while following a few paces behind Purson.

Having seen the reckless advance of Purson, the enemy champion threw their combat knife at him, or at least so it appeared. While Purson dodged the attack easily, Vine wasn’t so lucky, having seen his approaching doom too late because of his position behind the other marine, the knife borrowing itself in his eye instead of Purson's, killing him instantly.

Then Purson and the champion’s blades meet, the enemy champion easily parrying Purson’s opening strike before taking his head off with the backstroke, sending the skull flying towards Balam’s face. Balam in turn was forced to pause his charge briefly and sidestep the unconventional projectile if he didn’t want to get hit, dodging right into the path of a stray bolter round fired by one of the marines following the grey berserker, dying instantly as the micro-missile ripped out his throat.

All this occurred in less than a second after I had turned to face the grey armoured marine and his cohort, my instincts telling me that their every action was moving at the speed of prophecy and with the strength of inevitability.

“All men of squad Uzza and Azza, retreat, we fall back! Follow me to the extraction point,” I decided then, giving my orders as I turned to run, aware that some would deride me as a coward for this, but I didn’t care. They would either obey me and live to challenge me to leadership duels later, where I would reassert my dominance, or they would disobey me and slow the death at my heels down, either suited me just fine.

So I ran as death approached from behind while the prey I had hunted just moments before realised that the tide of war had turned and rallied to join their allies. Risking a quick glance backwards, I saw Azza joined my retreat, as did most of our men. Only eight of our most bloodthirsty had chosen to stay behind, their slaughter lust blinding them to the folly of such an action.

But just because we began to retreat didn’t mean we were already safe, a bolter round that grazed my helmet proved that the enemy wouldn’t be satisfied with just running us off. Cursing, I began to run in an uneven zigzag pattern, hoping to throw off the enemy’s aim as I fled, being all too aware that the grey berserker couldn’t be far behind me.

Still, I didn’t regret my choice as I saw the mortis runes of two of my brothers light up, both of them having chosen to prioritise their speed and paid for it with a bullet in their back.

So I ran through the bombed out remains of the Imperial garrison towards the extraction zone, determined to leave one way or another. Our flight didn’t go unnoticed however, as the voice of the Gravelord came through my vox unit. “Uzza, why are you running?”

I gritted my teeth at my Warlord's bored tone. Did that bastard think so low of me that he didn’t even bother getting angry at me for running away from a fight? “The enemy marines Azazel had engaged, they killed the Butcher and are now in pursuit of us,” I reported just as I reached the edge of the landing field.

Without slowing down, I scanned the activity before me. Between me and the imperial prison stood the landing craft we had arrived in, their ramps turned away from me and towards the prison as our targets, the formerly imprisoned psykers, goose marched into the passenger holds, the warlocks of Nito’s coven leading them towards their destination. The reason for their docile state was quickly discerned as soon as I spotted Nito.

Standing in the centre of the blank faced psykers, I saw him holding a faceless wooden puppet over his head. Engraved upon the puppet were runes that made my head hurt and my eyes water just by looking at them, but that wasn’t what grabbed my attention. No, that honour went to the thing which was connected to the puppet by a shadow like chain, its lower body was like that of a caterpillar, the upper body that of a eldar, and from that upper body nine arms with far too many fingers sprouted, each finger being connected to a shadow like string that in turn lead to one of the dazed psykers.

“Good, that means we don’t have to make any return trips. Get into one of the shuttles, we are leaving,” came Nito’s cold reply, gesturing to one of the thunderhawks with his greatsword.

Yet no sooner had I reached the ramp, I heard the voice of the berserker again. “Horus, traitor brother, face me and die!” Against my better judgement, I turned around just in time to see the insane marine come into view as he reached the edge of the landing area, and he wasn't alone. The other loyalist marines had kept pace, warriors in purple, yellow and bronze armour charging alongside their champion with blades barred.

It wasn’t them who nearly claimed Nito’s life however, that honour went to a group of marines who had instead set up sniper positions on multiple nearby buildings and synchronised their shots for maximum impact. Yet while their aim was excellent, it also wasn’t enough. Their first wave of shots would have struck Nito’s head, which would have likely killed him, and the second barrage was aimed at the puppet like artefact he held, the loyalist snipers likely identifying it as what allowed the daemon to stay in reality, not one bullet hit their mark. Instead the bolter rounds exploded ineffectually against a barrier of psionic-energy that surrounded Nito. Everytime the loyalist struck, the runes on his bone mantle flared as the artefact deflected the enemy bolterfire.

Nito clearly wasn’t impressed by either group of marines however. “Bloodcrazed mongrels and craven cowards, die like your misbegotten father,” he spat back as he raised his force sword high above his head, contemptuously ignoring a third wave of bolter shells that exploded against his psychic barrier as he did so, the blade emitting a pulse of baleful red light, before plunging it into the ground in front of him. What followed was an indescribable sound as the barrier between realspace and the warp was torn apart by a score of phantom blades that erupted from the ground near or below the approaching group of marines.

Sadly, only three of the charging marines got impaled, one of the purple ones and two of the bronze armoured ones, but that wasn’t all that happened. While the phantom swords disappeared quickly, the rifts in reality that they came from didn’t and through them hundreds of wraith like shades poured into reality and mobbed the loyalists. Like a tidal wave, they threw themselves at the loyalist marines, stalling their advance by sheer weight of numbers alone. Even that bloodstained berserker was driven back, despite their axe scything through scores of shades with each swing, the spectors flooding into reality faster than the loyalist could kill them.

“I said we were leaving, thin blood, move it,” Lord Nito then reminded me, snapping me back to reality. For a moment I didn’t move, my eyes instead turning towards the black armoured chaos champion, drinking in his appearance as if I had just seen him for the first time.

The Grave Lord cut an imposing figure, his one hand holding his greatsword that still bleed black and red mist, the backwash energy of a spell that Nito had so casually cast to stall an enemy that had sent me and my pack running, while the other leashed a daemon who single handedly subdued half a thousand psykers. All the while, Nito casually maintained his psychic barrier even as the enemy snipers continued their barrage undeterred, casually undoing their efforts even as they grew more frantic in their attempts and abandoned accuracy for volume of fire. How had I ever thought that I was ready to overthrow such a being?

“Yes, my lord,” I answered breathlessly and turned to ascend the ramp of the shuttle that would take me back to the Harvester. “Azza?” I asked absentmindedly, suddenly aware that I didn’t know if my friend was still alive or if he had been one of the marines who had died in the retreat.

“Yes Uzza,” he replied a moment later, evidently still alive.

“I think you were right and I had been too blind to see this until now,” I told him, the clarity of the moment making me disregard any notion of pride.

A long moment passed then, during which the shuttle shook while it lifted itself into the air and began the journey back into orbit, until Uzza answered me. “Good, now we can start planning in truth, brother.”

Chapter Text

Watch Captain Hector Toyer

“Lord, the enemy have adjusted their bearing by one point two degrees starboard,” reported the Master of Divination as he updated the tactical map, his voice having grown scratchy from the constant updates he had to provide since the beginning of the engagement.

“Helmsman, correct our course, keep us in their shadow,” I ordered before turning to the Master of the Arsenal, “What is the status of our lances and strike craft?”

“The Lances are ready to fire again in twenty seconds, Lord, and the strike craft will have finished refuelling and rearming in ten minutes,” he replied promptly.

“Fire at will then,” I ordered as I turned my attention back to the tactical map. The void battle was going as well for us as it could, the Oathbound speed and comparatively small turn radius enabling us to stay in our enemy’s wake, meaning they couldn’t target us with their broadsides or their forward facing weapons. Of course, this also meant that we couldn’t make use of our broadsides either and were restricted to our strike craft and lances to do damage, which had proven insufficient to break their shields or do any meaningful damage so far. In short, the void war was currently a stalemate.

“Captain,” called out the Master of Divination, “enemy landing craft returning from the surface, the Harvester of Sorrows is again adjusting her course to rendezvous.”

Frak, our time is running out. Surely the traitor scum had achieved the objective they came for and were leaving, likely having decimated the founding marines in the process. Thinking frantically, I considered if I could at least intercept the traitor shuttles, but was forced to admit that we couldn’t. Our strike craft had just made an attack run and were still refuelling and the shuttles were actually ahead of the Harvester, meaning they could slip into her flight deck long before we could target them with our point defence guns. There was only one other option left…

And as if summoned by the thought, Sergeant Emek's voice came through the Vox. “Watch Captain, the enemy space marines have been terminated and their accompanying mutant-militia has been scattered, orders?”

Perfect timing, “Sergeant, report, are our forces ready for a follow up boarding assault?” I asked, hoping that he would say yes. While we didn’t have enough firepower or to collapse their shields so we could launch a terminator teleportation assault, we still had the option to launch assault boats.

“We could, but I wouldn’t advise it, the traitors didn’t go down without a fight. Of the terminators, only I and brother Galedan remain alive and combat ready. As for the kill teams Kastelin and Valentine, half of them are dead, including both sergeants Kastelin and Valentine,” my second reported, giving me a grim overview of our situation. “The only good news is that kill teams David and Rory are mostly intact, each of them lost only one of their men to the boarding torpedo assault, although four of them still sustained moderate injuries.”

That meant out of the forty-eight marines I had originally under my command, eighteen were either dead or crippled while another four were weakened, that left me with thirty marines for a counterboarding operation. Now was the question of if I dared?

On the one hand, the traitors had likely played their best hand with the initial terminator assault and lost. Simulary, whatever forces they sent planet side would have been at least softened up by the founding marines and the rogue psykers.

Yet on the other hand, the Codex Astartes mandated at the very least half a company and an additional squad of at least five terminators for an assault against a rogue black ship. I didn’t have those resources anymore and the Harvester of Sorrows had been under the control of traitor marines for only the Emperor knows how long, making an assault against the dungeon ship even more perilous.

So I swallowed my pride and discarded the notion of mounting a counter boarding assault, the traitors had won today and they would get away with it. “Helmsman, keep behind them but lengthen the range of our pursuit, we will be shadowing them out of the system. Vox Master, contact the navigator and have him keep his third eye peeled. I want to know in what direction that filth is fleeing. And notify the astropathic choir to get ready to transmit a warning message about the rogue black ship to all astropathic relays in the area,” I commanded the bridge crew before addressing Emek again. “Sergeant, organises a unit to investigate Runestone and salvage what is left of the founding squads, with a bit of luck we might be able to salvage some equipment and biological samples.”

With my orders given, I went back to watching the traitor cruiser collect its shuttles before breaking away from the planet. Yet unexpectedly, the vox master spoke up. “My Lord, the enemy has disengaged their jamming and we have incoming transmissions from Runestone, their codes are valid!”

By the throne, had those crazy neophytes actually won? “What are the contents of these transmissions?” I immediately asked, eager to know if they would need our aid immediately or if we could afford to pursue the traitor ship.

“Lord, one transmission is emergency coded and has been automatically forwarded to Reclusiarch Ohtli. The second message is a general call for urgent medical assistance and extraction. The final message is from Sergeant Moloc, he reports that one of the squad silver members had been under the influence of- and caused a psychic phenomenon, with their leader behaving suspiciously by…”

Lieutenant Tanya of the 21st founding

Does any random asshole in this galaxy have a force field generator? Why couldn’t they just die when you shot a barrage of bolter shells at their head? Oh that bastard better hope we aren’t gonna cross paths a second time, because next time I won’t be bothering with a rifle to shoot him. Oh no, I’m going to have him shot with a bombardment cannon, let's see if his fancy force field can withstand a magma bomb!

Having just finished the debriefing of my sergeants, I indulged my left over murderous impulses for a quick second as I imagined the pack of murders and their edgelord leader as they were annihilated by an orbital bombardment. Imaginary revenge complete, I forced myself back to reality as I surveyed the triage area we had set up in the basement of the prison once the enemy had left. Unbidden, the smell of blood in the air caught my attention, making my mouth water…

I viciously stomped down at those desires and banished them to the darkest depths of my mind, forcing my thoughts back to the matter at hand, taking stock of my situation. Now free of immediate dangers and having organised the remains of my forces for now, I had finally time to think and evaluate my position.

Damn it all, this mission turned into a fucking shitshow at the drop of a hat and with barely any warning. We had only avoided total defeat and annihilation by a hair! Having taken stock of the squads under my command, it had quickly become clear that I and my sisters had gotten off lightly, and even that much hurt terribly.

First of all there was Bonny, our demolitions expert. Despite Sana’s best efforts, Bonny hadn’t survived the horrific injuries she had sustained.
While the loss of any one of my girls would have been terrible, losing Bonny proved to be especially troublesome as she had been our most social member, the woman having gone out of her way to befriend each member of our squad as much as she was able to in the short time that we had known each other, so losing her was a bitter blow to squad morale. The only silver lining was that the progenoid-gland at Bonny’s neck had been undamaged and mature enough to harvest, much to Sana’s surprise as it should have taken at least five years for the organ to mature.

Then there was Hiki, who had first fallen into a berserker rage before passing out once there were no more enemies left for her to fight, the ghost-like apparitions that had covered the enemies retreat having gone up in smoke as soon as the enemy crafts were out of sight. According to Apothecary Gawain, the medic from Arthur’s squad, it was nearly a miracle that she was alive at all, much less been able to fight, the pommel strike from the enemy champion apparently having cracked her skull and given her what should have been the mother of all concussions. Hearing his report, I was only glad that Hiki had still worn the reinforced Mark V helmet, or she would have probably died outright, Black Rage or not.

Aside from those two, there were Azura and Aurelia who Sana had been able to stabilise for now. They were still in a coma however and it was unclear if they would sustain long term damage from the explosion they got caught up in.

Then there was squad purple who had suffered the worst during this battle, losing a total of eight marines. Yet these fatalities didn’t surprise me as Arthur and Grenn briefed me on how the battle went for them, squad purple apparently counter charging their opponents no less than three times to buy squad green time to withdraw and find a new defensive position. Quite frankly, it was more surprising that Arthur’s squad hadn’t been wiped out by their numerical far superior enemy during their first charge, even if their foes had been as under equipped as our own. But honour where it was due, they pulled it off despite the odds and probably spared squad green the same fate. I guess Arthur’s pride fueled stubbornness was useful for something after all.

Thinking of squad green, they too had still suffered heavily despite squad purple’s sacrifice. First they had lost one of their own during the initial bombardment, the driver of their land raider having driven the vehicle into the remaining undead to draw the enemy bombardment towards the horde. After that, during the fighting, four of them died and one others suffered crippling injuries that made him combat ineffective. Luckily for that guy, his injuries had actually been so bad that our enemies had mistaken him for dead and didn’t finish him off, leading to squad green’s apothecary, Drusus, to discover him in the aftermath of the battle.

Moving on, squad bronze had lost two brothers, both being impaled by that final psyker attack before the enemy withdrew. As for the four marines that were incapacitated by Hiki’s scream, they were still out of it but didn’t seem to have anything physically wrong with them. I could only hope they would soon recover, not only, but perhaps most pressingly, because I was pretty sure Moloc was already contemplating my murder and I didn’t want to find out what it would take to push him over the edge.

Last were the Lamenters who, as opposed to their first mission, hadn’t actually lost a single marine this time. Their only casualties were two moderately injured battle brothers who both sustained temporarily debilitating leg injuries during the rooftop fighting from which they would fully recover from.

So to sum up, sixteen dead, nine currently injured beyond combat capability and one injured as well as possessed by the memories of our fabled progenitor. That was more than half of my initial forty-six marines wiped out and my only consolation was that we had done worse to our foe. Out of the initial mix of, what I assume were, sixty traitor marine scouts and newly ascended marines who had attacked us, forty two of them were now dead by our hands. Not to mention the dog-headed champion Hiki had slain, that one had to be a pretty important member of their warband.

“Lieutenant, vox frequencies are free again,” called Grenn, pulling me out of my dark thoughts.

“Excellent, contact the Oathbound and call for medical support and extraction,” I commanded, relief flooding my veins at the news that our superiors had survived their own battle in the void. Looking at it from hindsight, their victory was probably the reason for our foes choosing to retreat with all haste rather than stay a bit longer and wipe us out from the air with their strike craft.

It was then that Sana and Gabriela arrived back with the final person I had ordered them to fetch and the mood soured.

“Why is it still alive,” demanded Moloc to know, meaning without a doubt the sedated psyker girl, Julia, that Sana carried on her shoulder while Gabriela followed behind them, her crozius held ready in case the girl awoke earlier than we expected.

Having heard his outburst, most of the other marines present stopped what they were doing and turned to see what was going on, quickly catching on to what caused his outburst. And while Moloc remained the most agitated by the new arrival, the others also showed signs of wariness, their postures noticeably stiffing as they saw the sleeping psyker.

“We found this psyker just before the arrival of the traitor marines within a section of the prison where the null field generators were still functional, so they remained unaffected by what was going on here. Given that the prison staff is dead, our best option is to take them back to the Oathbound so the librarians can take a look at whether or not they have been corrupted,” I explained calmly, although I had my own reasons for wanting to bring that girl back.

“I have a better idea, why don’t we just kill it and let the Emperor sort it out? After all, this could be a trap. Don’t you think it is suspicious that all psykers of this prison were successfully kidnapped except that one? For all we know, you taking that back to the Oathbound might play into the traitors hands,” countered Moloc, making a very solid argument.

As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for my dreams and the vision of the girl as one of my own then I would have thought similarly and either left the girl behind for whatever agents of the Astra Telepathica were still on the planet or terminated her like Moloc suggested. However, I did have these visions and that complicated things.

There was no doubt in my mind that my dream visions of the girl and Hiki falling to the Black Rage just in time just in time to save us during this mission were connected. No, this whole series of events had been orchestrated by someone and I was pretty sure I knew who, Sanguinius. Of course I didn’t mean the original one, if there ever had been an original one, but the one the Blood Angels had probably prayed into existence.

After all, Codicier Galedan had taught us that that the entities living in the Warp were essentially Tulpas, mental constructs shaped by the emotions and beliefs of us beings in the material universe, so if one combined that fact with the ancestor worship the Imperium engages in then it wasn’t a stretch to assume a being based on the legends of Sanguinius had formed in the last few thousand years.

Now the question was only if this being could be trusted? Surprisingly, I was leaning towards yes at the moment, despite Being X souring the concept of a benevolent god for me. The reason for this was simple: self interest. This Warp Sanguinius, or Being S, had every reason to help us out since the people of the Imperium, and more specifically those directly exposed to us, were likely its primary food source, so keeping us alive and grateful towards it was likely its primary motivation. And depending on how much or how little the beliefs of us material beings influenced the personalities of these warp-constructs, then it might even be that Being S believed itself to be as our loving father and its actions were not only self interested but outright benevolent.

Either way, I considered it an upgrade over Being X for the simple reason that it hadn’t even tried to extort me for its help and instead provided its aid freely. Granted, its capabilities seemed to be a lot more limited compared to Being X if how it chose to aid us today was the full extent of its abilities, but I wasn’t about to complain about the quality of a free service that had saved my life not even an hour ago.

Of course, I could also be very wrong about all of this. But the few interactions I had with it so far, Being S showing me a valuable recruit and investing Hiki with the strength to save our lives during a critical juncture of our mission, were enough evidence for my theory that I was willing to extend some trust and risk trying to induct Julia into my chapter. After all, not doing so would likely be a death sentence for the girl and that would be a terrible waste if what my vision showed me was the truth.

But I couldn’t exactly use that reasoning to convince Moloc and the others, which was why I had to take some creative liberties. “I agree with you that killing her would be the safest path,” I started, slowly but purposefully striding towards Sana and the sleeping girl, “However, I do not believe it is the right path.”

“And pray tell, why not!” demanded Moloc to know, his fist closing around the handle of his bolt gun as I moved next to the sleeping psyker.

What I would say next would be a gamble, but there was no safe way to get them to agree to this from what I could see. “In the days before arriving here, I had a dream of an epistolary wearing the colours of my chapter with a burn mark in the form of the Aquila on their right hand,” I told him, my words visibly giving him pause.

“What, have you…” he began, but I didn’t let him finish.

“And behold,” I called out, taking the hand of the sleeping girl and raising her arm so her burned palm could be seen by everyone, “the mark I dreamed of. This can only mean one thing brothers, my dream was not merely a dream but a vision sent by the Emperor and Sangunius to guide me!”

“What? Are you truly mad enough to believe this prophecy grox-shit, Argent?” exclaimed Moloc almost instantly, reacting to my proclamation as I would have if someone had tried to pull the same thing on me, the irony not being lost on me.

“I’m not mad, no. But what about you, are you truly faithless enough to ignore this sign,” I gestured to the burn mark again. While I did so, I briefly took my eyes of Moloc to survey the mood of the other marines present. I didn’t like what I saw.

Most marines wore their helmets and were thus hard to read, but those that didn’t looked torn and tense, more than one looking at their own sergeants for leadership who looked just as uncertain as their men. Why weren’t they falling into line? My story had everything needed to sway a superstitious mind, a holy sign, claims of divine guidance through prophecy and a challenge towards their own faithfulness.

In the end, the deciding factor for this conversation came from an unexpected source. “Lieutenant Argent,” I heard Gabriela’s voice behind me just before the cold muzzle of a bolt pistol touched the back of my head. “As chaplain apprentice of Reclusiarch Ohtli, I hereby relieve you of command and put you under arrest until such a time as a senior member of the Reclusiam can confirm your innocence. Do not resist or make any sudden movements.”

Well, I think I might have miscalculated.

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Tanya of the 21st founding

Things could have gone worse, but not by much. On the bright side, I got what I wanted as Gabriela had upheld my decision to let Julia live until one of the librarians on the Oathbound could look her over. Of course, Moloc continued to be unhappy about it, but he actually backed down once Gabriela made her judgement. Either her arresting me had earned Gabriela his respect or he feared she would do the same to him.

On the not so bright side, me, Hiki, Julia and Gabriela were now having a very awkward flight back up to the Oathbound. Well, I and Gabriela had an awkward flight, the other two were unconscious. Still, Gabriela was very high strung regardless, her bolt-gun coming up every time one of us three so much as twitched, probably expecting the worst of any of us. That thought kind of hurt actually, being equated by my partner with a literal berserker and an untrained, and thus unpredictable, psyker.

Not that I could blame her overly much. After all, just earlier this day, we had been taught that psykers could open gateways for warp predators to enter reality and manipulate or outright mind control people, which we then saw for ourselves during this mission. So me suddenly behaving very out of character by dismissing the very real risks that came from taking the only psyker to be left behind by our enemies back to the Oathbound because of prophetic dreams I had told noone about until then had been a major blunder on my part.

In fact, it was such an obvious mistake in hindsight that I had to wonder if I had actually been brainwashed without noticing. However, I suspected the truth was far simpler, I had tunnel visioned onto how I could secure Julia for my unit which had blinded me to the reality of the situation and led me to misjudge the mindset of my fellow marines based on my past lives’ experiences.

Simply put, I had assumed that, like the people in my past live, my fellow space marines had been conditioned to uncritically accept and support acts outwardly motivated by faith or patriotism, something I assumed I had avoided due to my first lives memories giving me enough of an outsiders point of view to protect me from such indoctrination. What I hadn’t considered was that, unlike the totalitarian states of my first two lives, the Imperium of Man would have to allow or even foster a certain amount of scepticism and critical thinking in order to protect itself against malicious actors motivated and supported by warp predators.

But my past blunders aside, I had to think of what to do next. The fact of the matter was that I had miscalculated badly and was now at the mercy of my partner and her teacher. Now I’d like to think that the chances of me coming out of this relatively intact were high, but I also thought that the gambit that brought me into this situation had a good chance of success, so I clearly couldn’t rely on my judgement of the situation at the moment.

Worst case, Julia actually was an enemy trap and I was about to be executed because I had advocated for bringing her aboard. Best case, Julia would be judged as uncorrupted and my story of prophecy would find a more receptive audience with Ohtli than with my fellow founding marines, saving my life and my authority.

Most realistic scenario, Julia was probably clean but Ohtli would still skin me for the prophecy bullshit I pulled, hopefully only figuratively. After that, well perhaps I would be demoted to the rank of Battle Sister while Azura would retain her rank of Sergeant and continue to lead our squad once she had recovered? I could make that work, Azura respected me, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to position myself as an adviser to her and continue to shape the chapter through her…

I dismissed that line of thought for now, it was a hypothetical at the moment anyhow. No, what I should focus on was my defence. Yet there wasn’t much I could really do about it now, aside from hoping that I would be believed on the subject of my dreams and that I hadn’t fallen for some enemy trick.

Eventually, we reached the Oathbound and disembarked. I was the first out, with the unconscious Julia being balanced on my right shoulder pauldron so Gabriela, who was following just behind us, could keep both of us in range of her crozius.

Our greeting wasn’t what I had expected. Both Chaplain Ohtli and Captain Hector were here, which wasn’t a surprise, but what I didn’t expect was them arguing in the middle of the flight deck.

“This is a matter of ship security, so I would ask you again, Reclusiarch, that Codicier Galedan be allowed to inspect the affected marines,” Captain Hector demanded, gesturing to the terminator standing beside him.

“This is irrelevant, Watch Captain, this entire affair still falls into my jurisdiction as the most senior member of the reclusiam and the most senior Blood Angels successor present, so it is my right to deny your request. But if it is a consolation to you, I intend for Codicier Abul to aid me during their trial,” Ohtli replied, gesturing to one of the marines standing behind him, the man wearing the insignia of the Blood Drinkers on his pauldron.

Taking a second look at the other marines present, I noted a concerning split, with those marines of the Blood standing behind the chaplain while an equal number of marines from different bloodlines stood behind the captain. Among the marines of the Blood I recognised were the Gilded Wings Apothecary that had treated me after my first mission, a man named Raffael, and Gabrial, our handler. Those who I knew and stood in support of the Watch Captain were the Codicier who had taught us about the warp just before the mission, Galedan, and the Blackshield apothecary who had sat on Hector’s council during the debriefing of my first mission.

There was only one conclusion I could draw from this bit of drama, Ohtli was trying to cover up Hiki’s fall to the Black Rage and my own blunder with my prophecies. This could either be good for me, since Ohtli was obviously invested in our squad doing well if him picking Gabriela as his student was anything to go by, or it could be very bad for me, since his priority could be to cover up the Black Rage and I might very well be a loose end that he intended to get rid of because my claims of prophecy had drawn more attention to an already abnormal deployment than necessary.

It was then that their attention moved towards us. “Chaplain-apprentice Drakon,” Ohtli addressed Gabriela, "bring your detained sergeant to the reclusiam chapel for interrogation. Brother Abul, Raffael, retrieve the psyker and the berserker, we are leaving.”

“By your will, master,” answered Gabriela, trying to sound confident even as nervousness bleed into her voice, and gave me a gentle push into the direction of the hangar exit.

We didn’t manage to take a single step before Hector spoke up. “Belay that order, brothers. Ohtli, the circumstances of that one marine falling into a berserker rage could hint at a yet unknown gene-flaw or a psychic malady. Either way, their case falls into the jurisdiction of the Librarius and the Apothecarium who’s senior most members aboard are Codicier Galedan and the Nameless One. Similarly, the Argent’s case also hints at psyker manipulation, so they should be examined by Galedan as well before they are turned over to you. And finally, you don’t have any claim on the psyker they dragged along instead of granting them the Emperor’s mercy.”

Again, Ohtli’s attention returned to Hector. “Captain, may I remind you of Death Watch provision number ten, which states that the most senior member of a specialist branch can be overruled in matters concerning a marine not of their bloodline by the most senior specialist of the same bloodline as the marine in question. So in light of this, I would point out that the Nameless One is a exile of unknown blood and Codicier Galedan a son of the Lion, as such Apothecary Raffael and Codicier Abul have the finally word in this matter, and both of them support my proposed course of action.”

“This regulation doesn’t apply in this case as the marines in question aren’t part of the Death Watch, they are part of the twenty-first founding,” argued the Watch Captain back, his tone frustrated.

“I disagree, we are on board a Death Watch vessel so the provision applies,” replied Ohtli simply, his tone making it clear that he was adamant.

What followed was a rather intense stare down as both marines sizing each other up. The tension on deck being thick enough to cut with a knife, that was when the terminator librarian spoke up. “If I may give my perspective on this matter, Captain, Reclusiarch?”

At once the attention of the two feuding marine officers shifted to Galedan who, without waiting for them to give him permission, continued to speak. “As the most senior librarian aboard the Oathbound by years of service, I can vouch for Abul’s skill in detecting the machinations of the arch-enemy and his integrity. Besides, I already have plenty of work with the still affected members of squad bronze, so I would have asked for Abul’s help with the anomalous marines of squad silver regardless.”

At once the balance of the debate shifted as the Watch Captain’s own choice in librarian sided against him. Granted, it was a small betrayal but more wasn’t needed as Hector finally capitulated. “Fine, you may take the marines, but Galedan will be the one to examine the psyker from the island.”

Ohtli nodded his skull-face helmet exactly once. “Acceptable,” he simply said, before gesturing for everyone to get moving.

So Galedan came forward and retrieved the still sleeping Julia from my pauldron before Gabriela and I began to move towards the hangar exit again, this time without anyone stopping us. As we walked, Codicier Abul and Reclusiarch Ohtli fell into step on the left and right side of Gabriela while Apothecary Raffael and Gabrial retrieved Hiki, wheeling her on a mobile sick bed behind us towards the reclusiam’s medical deck that it apparently had.

Like the flight back to the Oathbound, our march towards the reclusiam was a silent and tense affair. So much so that I was nearly thankful when we reached the chapel where my interrogation was apparently to be held. Curiously enough, outside the entrance of the chapel stood a black robed serf that held a astartes sized training chain-sword.

“Gabriela, take off your sister’s bindings and her helmet,” Ohtli instructed, once Gabriela had led me into the cavernous chamber.

Taking a quick look around while my sister complied with his order, I noted that Abul had positioned himself in front of the heavy oak doors of the room, which were the only exit. Opposite of these doors stood an enormous double headed eagle statue in front of the far wall atop a raised altar. Its wingspan was easily twenty metres wide and almost reached from wall to wall. Beside the statue, the room’s interior was held rather spartan, not unlike the funeral hall, with light grey stone floor and walls. The only other thing in the room that could be considered decorations were the five cast iron chandeliers that hung in regular ten metre intervals from the centre of the vaulted ceiling, hundreds of light-blue tinted electronic candles eliminating the room in a pale light.

“Tanya,” addressed me Ohtli, once Gabriela had finished undoing my bindings before backing away and taking up a post beside the doors.

Turning to face him, I noted that Ohtli held his crozius ready in his right while the training chain-sword from earlier was in his left. “Sir, what…” I began, but was cut off, the chaplain throwing the training weapon at me.

While I caught the sword out of instinct, I felt a foreign presence probe my mental defences. I didn’t get a chance to focus on that intrusion however as Ohtli was coming right at me a moment after he had thrown the sword, his mace already raised for an overhead strike. “Defend yourself!” he demanded, the speakers of his helmet boosting his voice to a volume that transformed his words into a sonic attack of their own.

Driven by instinct, my body reacted to the threat of the attacking chaplain by raising my sword just in time to block the crozius, yet Ohtli’s offensive didn’t end there. Again and again he swung his mace at a frenzied pace, the winged-skull head of his weapon moving at a speed I could only barely follow. More than once did one of his attacks make it past my guard and it was only thanks to the fact that Ohtli hadn’t activated the disrupter field of his weapon that I survived those.

It was during this sudden assault that my mental defences buckled and the foreign presence probing them slipped in. Panicked, I tried to expel the intruder but I couldn’t spare the focus to do so as Ohtli’s assault suddenly gained in intensity, the chaplain demanding all of my attention. “Explain yourself, fresh blood, from the start!” he bellowed in my face, the volume of his speakers still stunningly loud.

“Seven days ago,...” I began, rushing each word out in between the collisions of our weapons. “I dreamed of the psyker girl for the first time,” I continued, noting that Ohtli’s pace had dropped ever so slightly, making it minutely easier for me to parry his blows.
“Looking back at it,” I then went on, trying to use the turn of phrase to buy myself time to think how to continue this story, when Ohtli suddenly sped up again.

“I said explain yourself, not waffle around,” he bellowed into my face, his words being punctuated by a blow that made it past my guard and struck my chest, driving the wind out of my lungs and shattering my chest plate.

Suddenly aware of what he was doing, I forced air into my lungs and continued my story, before Ohtli decided to repeat his point. “The first dream wasn’t worth mentioning, I only saw Julia, the psyker girl, being transferred. I didn’t know what to make of it at the time, my best guess being that those were my own memories before the induction.”

“Why didn’t you report this dream?” asked Ohtli then, his pace again slightly relaxed and the volume of his question much lower.

“I simply didn’t think much of it,” I replied truthfully, elisting a snort from the chaplain.

Yet despite my, apparently, unsatisfying answer, the tempo of his attacks didn’t increase this time. “Continue,” he simply demanded.

Sidestepping a strike that could have caved in my skull, I hastley did so. “My next dream happened this morning, I saw how the girl got her scar fighting something.”

“Explain in more detail,” Ohtli interrupted me once more while hooking my sword with a wing of his weapon’s head and then pulled me off balance, right into an off hand strike.

“Gah,” I cried as I felt a sharp pain in my chest and a coppery taste invaded my mouth, the bastard had broken my ribs and punctured one of my lungs! “I saw through her eyes as she did some school work, then the null-field went down and a shadowy thing invaded the cell…” I forced out regardless, describing the scene in as much detail as the pace of our duel allowed.

“Why didn’t you report this dream?” Ohtli asked when I was done, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

I hesitate to answer, my mind running a mile a minute to find a suitable explanation, that was a mistake. Before I could really gather my thoughts, Ohtli forced my guard open with an especially heavy blow of his mace before ramming his off hand into my face, breaking my nose and scattering my thoughts.

“Stop thinking, just spit it out,” he screamed into my face as I staggered back, only my duelling instincts saving me from his follow up attack as I raised up my sword in a warding stance on reflex.

“I forgot about it because I encountered Hiki in the washroom and learned that she too had weird dreams,” I admitted before I had a chance to think, which was probably how Ohtli liked it.

“More detail,” he demanded as he parried one of my counter attacks with contemptuous ease, before punishing my attack with a brutal kick to my left knee.

Staggering, I fell back as I continued my tale, while Ohtli ruthlessly pursued me, not giving me a single moment of rest. “She described what I now know is the first symptom of the Black Rage, talking about a titanic battle and how she knew that she had to fight two of her brothers to save her dream,” I gritted out, sweat stinging my eyes but I dared not blink, less I missed a single detail of Ohtli’s stance.

“Why didn’t you report this incident,” he once again asked as our weapons locked, before surprising me by yielding the block before I could pull away, letting me stumble forward.

Panicked, I turned my stumble into a forward tumble, rolling under Ohtli’s follow up strike before jumping to my feet just in time to block a blow that forced me another step back and nearly tore the sword from my hand. “I told her to meet you in the evening, she was supposed to go when Gabriela had her lesson for the day, but then the mission happened.”

Bang, bang, bang, three times his mace and my sword crashed into each other in quick succession, each blow straining my wrists with the weight behind them. “Why didn’t you report this after the mission was issued!” Once more, the volume of Ohtli’s helmet speakers were turned up to their maximum.

Fighting through the pain, I answered as swiftly as I was able to. “I considered it, but Hiki seemed fine when I spoke to her after we were given the mission. She and I talked about it and she assured me she could handle it.”

“Go on then, after your ‘talk’”, he asked next, sounding distinctly unhappy with me. Still, he refrained from raising the tempo of his blows again, so I counted that as a silver lining.

“Immediately afterwards, we deployed and everything seemed fine until we reached the prison proper,” I began, briefly pausing to defend myself against a particular savage overhead strike, before I realised my mistake and continued before he punished my delay. “Then I suddenly had a sense of déjà-vu when we landed atop a prison block with a still active null-field, so I went to investigate. There we found the girl, but I didn’t see her at first, instead I saw an epistolary with jet-black eyes and dark blonde hair that I instinctively knew to be my sister.”

Even as I said it, I regretted including her appearance. Now that the memory block concerning traitor marines had been removed, I know that jet-black eyes weren’t just an attribute of the loyalist Raven Guard but also the traitor Night Lords, and only one of those groups favoured the same terror tactics I employed during our campaign on Verda.

But no condemnation came, much to my surprise, my interrogator's blows continuing to rain down on me at a quick but still manageable speed. “Continue!” he just demanded, apparently unconcerned by what I had just revealed.

“Then we got Captain Hector’s call about the traitor marines, so I ordered everyone to hunker down and prepare,” I continued, sidestepping a strike that could have broken my left wrist only to realise that I had manoeuvred myself into a corner, literally.

“When did Hiki fall to the Rage?” Ohtli asked next while I tried to push past him, back into the open room. To my surprise, he actually let me pass him, just not without cost. That cost being a hard kick aimed at my bruised left leg, the attack hitting the back of my knee. Gritting my teeth, I fought through the pain and forced myself to remain standing despite my probably cracked knee-joint.

“One of the enemy marines wasn’t like the others, he was much bigger and had mutations that made him look more like a beast than a man, when I saw him I instantly knew he would slaughter us all,” I answered him, feeling a chill run down my spine as I remembered the bestial form of the enemy champion and the dreadful aura he radiated, “But then Hiki saw him as well and cried out that horrible scream, it was unlike anything I had ever heard. Everyone in the immediate area was affected, aside from Hiki herself and the mutated marine, those two went straight at each other while everyone else was staggered.”

“Satisfactory answer, anything else worth mentioning?” Ohtli asked, the momentum of his attacks ebbing ever so slightly. Was he perhaps in thought himself?

No sooner had I thought that did his attack speed increase again, ending the reprieve periode he had granted me a second after it had begun. “Not much, she managed to kill the enemy champion with some help and after taking a pommel strike to the head. After that she went off towards the nearest source of gunfire, calling for all loyal legionaries to accompany her and claiming that Horus would be the next to fall. After that, we pincered the traitor forces that were engaged with squad purple and green who ran as soon as they saw us and pursued them to their landing zone.”

“Describe their landing zone,” Ohtli demanded at once before I had a chance to do so. At the same time, he revealed his latest attack to be a faint, once more hitting me with an off hand strike, this time aiming for my stomach.

It was only blind luck that my left leg buckled when it did and forced me to sway aside, allowing me to dodge the blow without seeing the attack coming. “Their strike craft and shuttles were landed on the airfield in front of the prison’s main entrance, their cargo ramps facing the prison. I witnessed the tail end of the traitors and the captured psykers boarding their transports while I and my squad set up firing positions and the others continued to charge. Then the presumed leader of this warband, a marine in black power armour wearing a cloak and wielding a sword made from bones that gave off black smoke, did something by ramming his weapon into the ground, summoning phantom blades that impaled three of my men and opened a path for a horde of ghost like figures to come into reality and mob us, covering their retreat.”

As I spoke, Ohtli’s attacks came on slower and slower until he stopped attacking completely. For the first time since the beginning of the interrogation, I had a moment to think. Breathing heavily and with some difficulty, I took stock of the wounds he had inflicted: A broken nose, bruised left upper leg, probably cracked or broken left knee joint, broken rib plate, a punctured lung and two sprained wrists. It was bloodchilling to think Ohtli had done all of this while holding back and without activating his weapon.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my mind and was at once reminded of the foreign presence that had forced its way inside my head at the start of the interrogation as said presence departed my mind. Now with time to think, I immediately realised that the presence had been Abul, the librarian probably having read my thoughts in real time while I fought with Ohtli.

A chill ran down my spine as I grasp the implications of that revelation, of what he could have discovered… No!” I cut off that thought, not her and not now.

While I had worked through my thoughts in the aftermath of our duel, Ohtli meanwhile had turned his back to me and moved towards Gabriela. Once he stood right in front of her, he turned sideways so he had me in his peripheral vision while addressing her. “Gabriela, your sister stands accused of infringing upon matters in the jurisdiction of the chaplaincy and acting on a vision of dubious origin without consulting the Librarius or the Reclusiam. What is your judgement?”

A chill went down my spine as Ohtli laid my fate at the feet of my partner. By right, this should have been a relief, and yet I couldn’t help but dread her verdict. After all, she had been the one who had seen fit to arrest me in the first place.

“I would ask the Brother Librarian Abul for his verdict first, is my sister touched by the arch-enemy?” she asked after a moment of thought, a note of uncertainty in her voice, which granted me a sliver of hope that she hadn’t yet made up her mind about me.

“Abul,” Ohtli addressed the other marine, his voice sounding pleased. Seems like Gabriela had just passed a hidden test.

“She is clean, I detected not a single stain upon her soul,” the librarian responded, which was welcome news for me, although I had to wonder how he had missed my... No, not now, concentrate!

Fixing my attention back onto Gabriela, I waited with ever growing anticipation for her verdict. My sister meanwhile remained silent, her skull-faced helmet providing her with an unreadable expression. Then, after seconds that felt like hours, she spoke up. “Guilty of an intermediate transgression and guilty but not damned.”

It took me a moment to take in her judgement, but the relief that followed me doing so nearly brought me to my knees. I didn’t know what exactly the wording of her judgement meant, but I could tell that I had avoided the worst of it. Still, I held my tongue and forced myself to stay upright as I was all too aware that Ohtli could very well overwrite my partner’s judgement.

“Explain your judgment,” Ohtli commanded Gabriela a second after her verdict, his tone carefully neutral, carrying neither approval nor rebuke.

“Of course, master,” Gabriela began, sounding the slightest touch nervous but resolute at the same time. “For the charge of infringing upon matters in the jurisdiction of the chaplaincy. While Tanya did withhold the fact that Hiki was emotionally compromised and took it upon herself to investigate our sister's mental state when she had easy access to a chaplain, I want to note that she couldn't have grasp the full extent of how bad the situation actually was, so I would be inclined to mercy. After all, she thought that our sister was just dealing with a bad dream and couldn’t have known any better, which robs this transgression of its severity in my mind. Of course she still deserves punishment for this as she still overstepped her remit, but a measured one,” Gabriela said before pausing, before continuing, “On that note, I can’t say that I’m blameless in how Hiki’s fall to the Rage played out. I should have informed Tanya about the symptoms of the Black Rage as soon as I learned about the mission parameters, but I hesitated out of fear of being overheard and didn’t even try to find a way to tell her safely, putting it of in the misguided hope that nothing would go wrong.”

If Ohtli was surprised by Gabriela’s self incrimination then he didn’t show it, his voice remaining level and neutral as he answered her. “Your transgression is noted, continue with your assessment.”

“Yes, master,” Gabriela answer, before picking up where she left of, “Finally, while it was foolish of her to interpret the visions she had by herself and without consulting specialists, I’m inclined to agree with her assessment and thus motion that…” she tried to say but was cut off by Ohtli.

“Go into deeper detail, why do you agree with her interpretation of her prophecy,” he demanded, again with a perfectly neutral voice.

“Well,” Gabriela began, gathering her thoughts for a moment before continuing. “Our father is known for his foresight and the aquila on the girl's hand has the makings of an omen. Furthermore, the Black Rage appearing in Hiki during her second deployment just in time to save us from a foe that would have slaughtered us all, that couldn’t have been coincidence. Both the visions and the auspicious appearance of the Rage tougher do suggest strongly that our gene-father or the Emperor had their eyes on us.”

Ohtli stayed silent for a long moment then, before addressing Abul. “Your verdict?”

I was momentarily confused, until the librarian answered Ohtli’s question. “Your apprentice is also clean, her thoughts are her own and her soul is untouched.”

Well would you look at that, seems like I wasn’t the only one under scrutiny.

“And what punishment would you suggest,” Ohtli asked Gabriela, pointedly not saying anything about whether or not he agreed with her assessment.

Gabriela didn’t seem to care though, giving her next answer with more confidence than the one before. “For the crime of overstepping her mandate by investigating and assessing Hiki’s mental condition by herself I would suggest an exhaustive lecture on where the jurisdiction of each chapter branche begins and ends as well as twenty-four hours of meditation in a sub-zero isolation chamber. For the crime of interpreting her dreams as prophecy without the aid of a librarian and the guidance of a chaplain, I would suggest an additional one hundred and twenty hours of meditation added onto the already given twenty four hours.”

Okay, I could understand and support the lecture, it was very reasonable punishment, but six days of solitary confinement in a freezer, that had to be cruel and unusual!

“An adequately proportioned if very merciful punishment for the crimes committed,” Ohtli agreed, sounding a bit reluctant even as he gave his approval, much to my horror. Then my dread doubled when Ohtli turned towards me, the tone of his next words ice cold and cutting. “However, make no mistake, Tanya, this whole series of events could have gone much worse for everyone involved and may still sour if the psyker you hedged your bets on proves to be corrupted. So mark my words carefully, never again overstep your mandate like this you prideful brat. You might be a talented tactician and you do have quite a bit of charisma, but you aren’t half as wise as you fancy yourself to be. So remind yourself every day of this debacle and the lessons you will learn from it and you might just live long enough to gain the wisdom you thought you had today. Is that understood or should I spare myself the trouble and execute you here and now?”

I swallowed heavily as Ohtli’s ire bore down on me, suddenly all too aware how lightly I had gotten off with just six days of solitary confinement in a freezer. “Yes sir, thank you sir, I won’t waste this second chance, sir!” I replied, feeling like a fresh recruit at boot camp under the baleful gaze of the black armoured chaplain.

Ohtli for his part regarded me for a few moments longer, before he turned away and made a dismissive gesture. “You better not, now get out of my sight and begin your penance before I revise your sentence after all.”

Still a bit shaken, I saluted and gave a final “Yes, sir,” before I limped over to the door where Gabriela and Abul stood.

While I did that, Ohtli turned his attention towards Gabriela, “As for your part in this, given the comparability between your sister’s first transgressions and your own, I sentence you to twenty-four hours of meditation in a sub-zero meditation chamber.”

Gabriela too answered his judgement with a salute and a, “Yes, sir,” just before I reached her. Then she dropped the salute once I came into arms reach and took the dented and deformed training sword out of my hand. Then she surprised me by taking my left arm and pulling it over her shoulder, allowing me to put some of my weight onto her, easing the burden of my wounded knee.

And like that we walked through the darkened corridors of the Oathbound, a heavy silence between us as we left Ohtli’s chapel behind. After a couple of minutes, Gabriela chose to speak up, breaking the silence with a rather loaded question. “Why didn’t you trust me?” she asked me with no small amount of hurt in her voice.

My heart skipped a beat, I really didn’t want to have this conversation, yet I was also aware that I was on very thin ice right now and couldn’t afford to alienate her by avoiding the topic. That of course left me with how I was to answer her? I briefly entertained the idea of feeding her a comforting lie that would make her back off, but decided against that course of action almost instantaneously. Loathed as I was to admit it, keeping her in the dark was what got me into this disaster and so a lie wouldn’t fix this.

“It isn’t so much that I didn’t trust you and more so that I trusted myself too much,” I began, pausing shortly to order my thoughts before pressing on, “You see, I like staying in control and on top of things so I can make sure they are done properly. I figured that, since you hadn’t received any training in comforting someone in the middle of a breakdown yet, you wouldn’t have any insight that I didn’t, which was arrogant of me. I see now that I was wrong, and not only because of the specific knowledge you had happened to have learned just as it would have become relevant. No, not telling you about Hiki’s situation would have been wrong of me regardless, I should have told you simply out of trust. I should have trusted you to do your duty the same way you and the others trust me to do mine, withholding this from you had been arrogant of me and I’m sorry.”

I felt a bit lightheaded after I finished my explanation, and not only because of my internal bleeding. Quite frankly, putting these things into words made me realise just how much I had fucked up because I was being a control freak. While I had more knowledge about how to deal with something like this than Gabriela had now, doing so wasn’t my job, it is her’s and this would have been an excellent opportunity for her to learn. After all, I thought Hiki was just dealing with some bad dreams, so what would have been the harm in bringing Gabriela into this? No, instead I robbed her of this opportunity to learn her work by making a decision over her head and undercut her authority by keeping matters of importance to her position from her. The same went doubly for Ohtli, who actually had the necessary training to assess Hiki’s mental state accurately, unlike me.

Damn it, I had truly become what I once despised: A middle manager that hides their personnel problems from HR until the issues can no longer be hidden and come out at the worst moment possible.

“I understand Tanya, everything you did made sense. You came across Hiki in distress and thought you could handle it, so you did. After all, you could have hardly turned your back on her to fetch me while she needed you, I understand that,” Gabriela replied very reasonably, which was a bit of a surprise since I had expected at least a little bit of anger from her. But maybe it shouldn't have been, Gabriela had actively downplayed the severity of my transgressions, admitted to her own failings unprompted and outright supported my assessment of my prophetic dreams during her sentencing, which did show that she could put aside her own hurt feelings and look at the situation objectively.

“Thank you for your understanding, Gabriela, I…” I began to say but she cut me off, evidently not finished speaking yet.

Raising her free hand, Gabriela pulled off her skull faced helmet, before she turned her head towards me, her eyes meeting my own. “However, you are also right in that you were mistaken. I won’t lie to you sister, you hurt me with how thoughtlessly you put us all at risk for your need to be in control of everything and how little your word means. You told me that I had your trust and that I would make a fine chaplain, only for your actions to prove your words false.”

That made me cringe, Gabriela words being closer to the truth than she probably knew since I had complimented her like that in order to manipulate her because I didn’t trust she wouldn’t try to use her new position to infringe upon my authority if I didn’t keep a close eye on her. The irony that I had done exactly what I feared she would do at the first opportunity without giving it a second thought wasn’t lost on me, kindling the embers of an emotion I hadn’t felt very often, guilt.

“I believe that you held no ill intent, sister, but something like this can also never happen again if our fledgling chapter is not to be torn apart by strife from within,” she told me and I was about to agree with her, but she still wasn’t done yet, “Let this be a new beginning, no more lies, manipulations or subversions, Tanya. I’m your sister, so trust in me as I trust in you. When you have concerns or doubts, share them with me without fear of ridicule and in the knowledge that I shall keep your trust. If you have counsel for me, give it knowing I shall be grateful for your advice. And should there ever come discord between us, then let us speak of the reason for our dispute openly and without malice so we may resolve it and strengthen our sisterhood through it,” Gabriela demanded with a stern expression and a solemn voice, the bombastic declaration surprisingly putting me somewhat at ease as I had expected something like this to come from Gabriela since the start of our conversation and the longer she held of the more I had doubted my read on the girl.

“Very well sister, I swear it shall be as you propose. No more lies and manipulation, only honest truth and trust,” I agreed easily but took care to infuse my words with sincerity, after all, I simply couldn’t afford to turn down such an obvious olive branch. The bigger question was now how furrowly I would embrace this oath? Surprisingly enough I leaned towards actually embracing the spirit of what Gabriela offered in full.

After all, the two most striking lessons I took away from this day were that the memories from my past lives, while a blessing in most situations, also skewed my perception to a dangerous degree and that the days of my second life where I could run my unit with near total authority weren’t something I could or perhaps should recreate. The fact of the matter was that my current circumstances were very different from what I had experienced before, so I needed someone who I could trust with my thoughts and who wouldn’t be afraid to give me honest feedback or tell me if I got something wrong.

Gabriela could fit this description easily. We were partners for one, which meant that we were already spending a lot of time around each other.
Secondly, if Gabriela was willing to put a gun to my head in an extreme situation then she probably wouldn’t hesitate to tell me uncomfortable truths because of a misguided fear of hurting my feelings or drawing my ire in a more controlled setting.
Thirdly, her duties as chaplain already meant that it was her job to pick my brain if I struggled with uncertainty and provide spiritual guidance, so I might as well make full use of her service.
Fourthly, Gabriela was on the path to become one of my chapter’s head officers, the Master of Sanctity or whatever we would end up calling our head chaplain, making a good working relationship with her extremely valuable.
And finally, her being part of a different chapter branch meant that she was no longer my direct subordinate which made her the closest thing to a peer I could get. Granted, the last point also applied to Sana, since she was an apothecary and thus also a specialist, but I also wasn’t as close to her as I was with Gabriela.

The only wrinkle in this was that I didn’t like having someone around with the authority to arrest me at gunpoint like I had been today, which was perhaps a bit unreadable considering the circumstances. After all, mind control and demonic possession were a legitimate worry for us space marines, curse you Being X, so having someone around to watch out for such things wasn’t a bad idea. As for how she arrested me, well the fact that Gabiela had given me a chance to peacefully surrender when it would have been justified and perhaps even prudent to take no chances and execute me on the spot, which I suspected Moloc was about to try, inclined me to concede that if I had to have a watchdog scrutinising me then I would like it to be her.

Ignorant to my thoughts, Gabriela's stern expression broke, softening into a warm smile. “Thank you Tanya, this means much to me. Now come on, the reclusiam’s armoury is just down this corridor.”

I perked up at that. “Weren’t we going to the meditation chambers?”

Gabriela didn’t answer me immediately, first putting on her skull faced helmet again. “Well yes, but we have to get out of our armours first. After all, the dress code for penal meditation like that is a set of long deck pants, a standard set of underwear and a pair of deck boots.”

“Makes sense,” I agreed, thankful that I wouldn’t have to do this naked but also a bit disappointed that I wouldn’t be doing this in armour. Even damaged like this, I was quite sure that the heating system of my suit was still mostly functional. “Can we also make a detour to the medical deck and get my wounds fixed?” I asked after a moment.

“I’m sorry Tanya,” Gabriela begann, sounding indeed quite apologetic, “but the wounds sustained during interrogation are only to be healed after the punishment, unless specified by the most senior chaplain present during the sentencing.”

Well so much for that hope…

Chapter Text

So as you all can probably tell by my year long absence, I have hit a block with the story and writing in general. I have tried to get going again a handful of times but things didn’t go far, so I decided to post the stuff I held in reserve over the next few weeks for those interested as a send off.

The upload schedule will be pretty similar to how I handled arcs, just a bit speed up, once every two days I will drop a chapter sized update as follows until I run out of stuff to post:
What should have been chapter 3.1 and finished future chapters that would have come after Arc 3 will go into the threatmarks, cut scenes will be added to the apocrypha and some world building stuff I put aside for future bonus chapters will go into the sidestory category.

Feel also free to ask any question regarding the story you might have, I will try answering as many as possible.

[QUOTE="MaidenSoliloquy, post: 116231743, member: 508836"]
Honestly don't really know what to ask, I guess something is,
What were the big plans that you had for Tanya? Like a general overview
[/QUOTE]

Okay, what big plans did I have for Tanya and the Chapter?

Well I had broadly the idea for Tanya to get a chapter homeworld in rogue trader territory (information on that in a sidestory lore update). From there she would have been working with the rogue traders in the region to establish Imperial control, dealing with a local Xeno race based on the Mindlayers from DnD. During that campaign Tanya would make allies with the local Eldar Craftworld (either Arach-Qin or Kaelor) from whom Julia would have gotten the spear Tanya saw in her vision (whether or not the spear was taken after the Eldar backstabbed them or as a present would have depended if I wanted to write Tanya on Eldar war).

After that, I had the vague idea for the Blood Angels to invite Tanya and the Lamenters to join them in a campaign to both mentor and assess them.

During one of these two arcs, George Vandire would have taken power on Terra and the Age of Apostasy stars. Tanya would at first only notice supplies slowly drying up which would transition into refugees and news of atrocities as Vandire’s reign grew more tyrannical. Eventually Tanya would fight a mini-civil war against a Cardinal trying to take over the rogue trader territory turned sector Tanya is in, after which she would join up with the coalition of space marine chapters that toppled Vandire in cannon.

Then during the fighting on Terra, Tanya would wound but not kill Alysia Dominica, being able to brag that the scar on her face was her doing and she would have finished the job if she was able to.
During the peace settlement afterwards, Tanya would unsuccessfully argue against the founding of the Adeptus Sororitas, from then on only referring to them as “Vandire’s mistakes”.

As a sidenote: I had an idea for a scene I never wrote out because how far in the future it was about a group of sisters on board a Silver Shrikes ship. Basically the sisters traverse the ship and one of them bodychecks a worker to the ground without breaking stride, said worker then gets up and demands an apology or shouts something rude about looking where they walk. Naturally, the sisters take exception to that and are about to punish the worker when a Silver Shrike intervenes, calling them out for being just as self-righteous and callous as they were under Vandire, dressing them down thoroughly and effectively.

Then after the Age of Apostasy, the story would have made a massive time jump to “present day” with a couple of chapters of Tanya meeting people like Ciaphas Cain, Dante and Guilliman, discussing goings on as relevant to the characters.

As for Gabriela, I had a very basic idea for a subplot for her where she rediscovers her family during a strategic briefing, them being Imperial knight pilots. https://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/House_Drakon

[QUOTE="Devarain, post: 116233063, member: 672020"]
So, what normal procedure of someone who coma from Black Rage in Blood Angel? (which is non exist)
[/QUOTE]

As for Hiki’s black rage, well I had plans for a scene with her Gabriela and Tanya talking where she would mistake Tanya for Dorn, Gabriela for the Khan and the medic tending to her for one of her sons. She would basically be in the headspace of “the siege of Terra is still ongoing, I need to get back to fighting,” with Tanya and Gabriela being able to talk her down successfully, claiming that the traitors have temporarily withdrawn after she killed Angron and that she had time to rest.

After that Chaplain Ohtli would express surprise that this worked and that this was the most lucid he had ever seen a marine suffering from the Black Rage. (The next part I’m not sure of, might have done it or might not have) Just as they were about to leave Hiki wakes up again, but not really, Konrad freaking Curze invited himself into her body, darkly amused that someone was not only audacious enough to make female space marines but also use cross Blood Angel and Night Lord gene-seed to do so. That unexpected visit would however last only briefly, with Hiki falling unconscious before again and later resuming the standard, if a touch more lucid Black Rage behaviour. Her ultimate fate is to fight and die at the hands of Gravelord Nito, giving Tanya an opening to kill him.

So yeah, the obvious elephant in the room, Tanya and co. being part Night Lords. Not sure if I would have gone through with that but I was leaning towards yes. That’s why Julia in Tanya’s vision is described with Dark hair and solid Black eyes, the librarians of the Shrikes would have all looked like Nightlords.

[QUOTE="Devarain, post: 116233063, member: 672020"]
but.....
You master of cliffhanger 😑😑😑
[/QUOTE]

Ups that was unintentional, I forgot that is where I ended it. Basically squad yellow comes around while Tanya is locked up, their sergeant actually being present in their quarters because Bonny is kept there in a stasis field until the unconscious members of Squad Silver wake up and attend the funeral. They would have had a talk, during which he explains everyone else's view. Basically none Bloodangels Death Watch marines are suspicious but appeased as both the Watch Captain and Ohtli seem to have found an accord. Grenn is also okay with Tanya but griefing as so many of his brothers died, same with what remains of Squad Purple.

Chapter Text

Watch Captain Hector Toyer

“Are you absolutely certain, Galedan, not even a trace of corruption?” I had to ask the librarian, my tone betraying my scepticism.

Alas, Galedan didn’t change his verdict. “Captain, the girl’s soul still shines with the light of the Astronomican and her memories match Subject 11’s interrogation record. Furthermore, Codicier Abul reports neither warp corruption nor psychic potential within Subject 11. I can only conclude that she did indeed receive a vision from either the Emperor or her primarch and then proceed to act on them, recklessly so, I might add, but not out of malice. And while rare, such premonitions are not an unknown thing, especially for the children of Sanguinius.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I turned half away from Galedan, keeping the first Legion marine in my peripheral vision as I paced the length of my office. This didn’t make any sense! What should have been a clear case of warp corruption just wasn’t, the psyker girl was clean, the visions tentatively confirmed to be authentic and yet something gnawed on me still. “What about their berserker, Subject Nine, what is its status?”

Unlike before, Galedan didn’t sound quite as confident as he began to give his report. “Medicae Raffael and Codicier Abul claimed that she hasn’t awoken from her coma, a skull fracture and concussion by their report, but her medical and psychic profile is within expectations.”

I narrowed my eyes at the phrasing. “Within expectations? What expectations?” I asked in an almost scandalised tone. “According to reports from the other founding squads, the subject was the source of a psychic shockwave, loudly claimed to be Sanguinius, mistook the chaos champion for Angron and was loudly screaming about hunting down Horus! What expectations could they have held for her?”

Galedan remained silent for a long moment, long enough that I was about to dismiss him, before he spoke up again. “Captain, permission to speak freely and off the record?”

That was unexpected. Turning around, I reached across my writing desk and hit the power-rune of my auto-quill, and turned back around. “You may.”

“My friend, I suspect we stumbled upon something we were never meant to know, a legion secret,” Galedan said, clearly unsettled by his own theory. “It would explain how Reclusiarch Ohtli was able to mobilise the other Blood Angel descendents so quickly. Furthermore, the Red Thirst is an open secret to everyone who served alongside a child of the blood for more than a decade, this berserk rage coupled with delusions about their primarch might just be another less widespread gene-flaw.”

“Another gene-flaw,” I said tonelessly, that would explain a lot. Turning the events of the last few hours over in my mind, I couldn’t find a single piece of contradictory information. However, that begged a different question. “What now?”

I hadn’t realised that I had asked the question aloud until Galedan answered me. “Nothing.”

I was briefly taken aback by his tone, the conviction with which he said it stunning me for a moment. Turning my full attention back to Galedan, I found that any trace of earlier uncertainty had left the librarian, leaving behind an ironclad resolve to follow through on what he had decided on. Taken aback by his change in demeanour, I gestured for him to explain.

“I would recommend we keep this to ourselves, legion secrets like these aren’t meant to be shared. Let’s just put the members of Squad Silver on parole until we reach Watchfortress Stalwart and give the matter over to Watch Commander Ezio. After all, Commander Ezio is both of the blood and has the trust of the Lord Inquisitor, who better to judge this than him?” asked Galedan.

I considered his words for a few moments, going over the situation for one last time before nodding my head in acceptance. “Very well, I will do as you suggest and leave squad silver and chaplain Ohtli to be judged by Commander Ezio, seeing as the situation is currently under control and no concrete evidence of chaos corruption was found. As for the psyker girl, I will leave her in your care. If squad silver gets exonerated then they may have her, if not then hand her over to the Astra Telepathica or the Inquisition."

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

Being locked up in a freezer for three days, without light, food or water, several fractured and a punktured lung would have been a death sentence for a normal persona. Luckily for me, I wasn’t a normal person anymore, so my time in the freezer felt less like torture and more like an anoince.

In fact, I would even go as far as to call it relaxing. For the first time since awakening from stasis, I had actually time to truly pause and take stock of my situation without looming deadlines or training exercises distracting me. So with nothing better to do I did exactly that and went over everything that I learned in the past two weeks, my conclusion being that Being X had well and truly screwed me over this time.

For starters, the Imperium of Man was a totalitarian nightmare state that had somehow managed to combine the classism of feudalism, the inefficiency of communism and the bigotry of fascism into one incoherent package while sprinkling in a lot of religious bullshit, doubtlessly diverging greatly from the original design of the Emperor. Quite frankly, it was almost impressive in a morbid sort of way, my primary question being how the hell the Imperium had survived for more than five thousand years at this point?

The answer, or at least part of it, came to me when I considered my past two assignments and what they taught me about the galaxy I lived in now. The Imperium might be evil but they were most certainly the lesser evil compared to the Orks or the Archenemy, with their militarism and closeminded doctrine likely having evolved to counter these outside threats. After all, there was nothing like an outside enemy to justify tyranny, doubly so if the enemy was really as evil as the propaganda made them out to be.

Of course, that argument could be countered by pointing out that the choice between living in a totalitarian state and destruction by outside forces was a false dilemma, but I suspected that anyone who did point that out got shot.

Which brought me to my current problem, where do I go from here? The way the Imperium operated was objectively immoral and inefficient, but their end goal, the preservation of mankind as a species, was still a noble endeavour worth supporting. After all, there was a good chance that we could live through this dark age and reach a new golden age as long as we survived as a species.

And on a more practical level, I couldn’t really leave my service at the moment, which left me with only one choice in the short and midterm: Continuing my service while trying to better the Imperium from within or, failing that, securing the means to escape it.

As for how to get there? Well that was an easy question with a very straightforward answerer, continue business as usual without drawing further disciplinary action. It literally was that easy, my starting position as the first officer of a completely new chapter of space marines being the perfect starting off point for my future goals. After all, a space marine chapter master was a position of significant influence from where I could start to gather allies and push for reforms on the sector level at the very least, and should that not work then I could just take my chapter and leave the Imperium behind by declaring that we would seek to destroy the enemies of mankind before they ever reached its borders.

However, just because the answer was simple didn’t mean it would be easy. Being a space marine meant that I would be deployed to the worst warzones to perform the most difficult of missions while being expected to lead from the front to justify my rank and position. I couldn’t help but grin at that thought, it was almost nostalgic.

Yet there was also another issue, my vision and what it implied. After giving it some thought I came to the same two conclusions I had come to during the prison raid: Either I had the fabled prophetic powers of our mythical primarch or a warp entity either born off or feeding on the legend of him had sent them. If it was the former then I just had a useful ability, if it was the latter then I had a superior who I couldn’t outrun or hide from.

Knowing my luck it was most certainly the second option, which added a second objective to my future plans: Keeping the sentient legend of my primach happy. In other words, I had to protect the common masses of the Imperium so they would continue to feed it their faith and prayers. Not ideal, but still an upgrade over being Being X’s whipping girl, at least the Sanguinus tulpa, or Being S, didn’t seem to be a vainglorious narcissist.

Granted, the two dreams and that vision of an older Julia couldn’t really be counted as meaningful interactions, but I gladly took an absentee boss I barely know and who sporadically sent me useful information over a sadistic stalker any day of the week.

Drawing in another breath of frozen air, I noted that the burning in my lungs had subsided, leaving only a slight ache behind as they expanded and contracted. I had to hand it to whoever designed us space marines, be it the Emperor or the mythical primarchs, my self healing capabilities were top notch. My bruises had vanished in a matter of hours, my bones had stopped aching in less than a day and now my lung had almost repaired itself in less than three.

I corrected that to almost exactly three days as the door to my cell opened, the thin layer of ice that had formed around the seal of the door snapping with a sharp crack, revealing the form of Gabriela’s beyond the freshhold. Although I noted that she was neither in power armour or carrying her Crucius. Instead she wore a set of simple black robes and a silver skull mask that was bound to her head by three leather straps.

“Seventy-two hours have passed, your penance is over,” declared my sister in a formal voice before softening her tone and offering me a hand, “good to have you back Sergeant.”

Taking the offered limb, I allowed her to help me up. “Likewise sister, although I fear the last three days haven’t been much of a punishment as chaplain Othli intended. In fact, three days of self reflection turned out to be rather relaxing.”

“Really now,” asked another familiar voice, “should I perhaps advise the good chaplain to issue you additional punishments? I wager it would lighten his mood to be able to blow off some steam.”

Hastily turning towards the voice, I came face to face with Sergeant Emek, the minder of squad green, and founding sergeant Grenn, one of my colleagues. Unlike Gabriela and myself, both were armed and armoured.

Snapping an aquila salute towards the older Sergeant, I did my best impression of a suitably culled cadet. “No sir, I didn’t mean to imply that, sir. I have reflected upon my conduct during the prison raid and seen the error of my ways. I will most certainly not repeat my mistake and seek the counsel of those more experienced and more learned in the future instead, not doing so before had been arrogant of me.”

Sweeting bullets as the seconds ticked by, I released a tense breath as Emek nodded his head sharply. “Good enough I suppose, but I would advise you to keep such flipped remarks to yourself in the future, especially the near future.”

With these words he gestured for us to get going, Gabriela leading the way and the power armoured marines following behind.

“So,” I began, breaking the tense silence, “Gabriela, status report, how is the squad?”

“The squad status is largely unchanged, with Sana, Mina, Joline and Sophia having only sustained minor injuries during our last deployment that have since healed. Azura and Joline have both been stabilised and are expected to awaken from their healing coma in the coming days with a clean bill of health, no lasting damages are expected,” she reported, confirming that our squad had sustained no further fatalities.

I briefly considered asking for Hiki’s status, but the heavy footsteps behind us convinced me to put that off for now.

“Furthermore, in light of the circumstances around our last deployment, Captain Hector and Reclusiarch Othli came to a compromise regarding ship security,...” Gabriela went on, explaining that every member of squad silver was on probation, which meant that we had to have a marine escort from a none Blood Angel bloodline accompany us while moving through the ship and that Julia, the psyker girl I had recruited, was still kept under lock and key by Codicier Galedan on Watch Captain Hector’s orders.

“..., but Codicier Abul assured me she is well and judged to be uncorrupted. However, they still are an unchained psyker so they don’t want to take any risks with them,” finished Gabriela, as we neared the medical deck.

I couldn’t help but grimace by the time she was done, it was quite sobering to hear about the privileges and freedoms my actions had cost my squad. The loss of trust and the damage to our repudiation would likely haunt us for a long time to come. I really had made quite a mess of things, hadn’t I.

Glanzing back over my shoulder, I wondered what Grenn thought of me and my squad now? We had quite a good relationship before I got myself arrested, and the charge that Hiki had led against the chaos marines had saved his life, not to mention that I had been more or less exonerated, so maybe we were fine? Mulling that thought over, I considered if I should try to strike up a conversation but decided against it until I had a chance to speak with Gabriela in private and get her assessment of the situation before I managed to stick a foot in my mouth.

We reached the medical bay not long after and I was immediately met by Raffael, the apothecary from the Gilded Wings chapter and the minder of squad purple, who performed a number of tests on me before giving me a clean bill of health. As I had earlier noted, the injuries from my interrogation had healed by themselves during my brief imprisonment.

With that done, me and Gabriela were finally returning to our squad dormitory. While navigating the twisting halls of the Oathbound, I noticed quite a bit of activity from the base-human crew, notably more than before our deployment to Runestone. The answer to why revealed itself in short order when we came across an almost completely destroyed intersection.

Large patches of deckplating were missing, shattered lamps hung in their alcoves and the unmistakable smell of blood, bleach and gunpowder hung in the air. “Was the Oathbound boarded?” I couldn’t resist asking, my eyes scanning the destroyed intersection as we passed it.

“Indeed, the traitors likely assumed that the majority of our forces were committed planetside, so they attempted to capture the Oathbound only to be surprised when they met actual resistance,” answered Emek, the old Sergeant sounding grimly amused as he did so. I was about to ask a follow up question when we turned the corner and were met by another, far less cordial Sergeant.

“You,” growled Moloc, the sergeant of squad bronze, as he saw me, and he wasn’t alone. The corridor where our dorm door was had been heavily fortified with steel barricades, a twin-linked heavy bolter turret and staffed by the five remaining marines of squad bronze and two Death Watch marines, one of whom was the minder of Squad Bronze.

“Moloc,” I acknowledged him as I took in the scene before me. Wasn’t all of this a bit overkill? I could understand posting guards but was the bolter turret really necessary when we didn’t even have power armour or weapons of our own?

Either oblivious or uncaring about my thoughts on their position, Moloc stalked towards me, shaking with rage as he stomped right up to me. “So it is true, you got off easy, madman,” he hissed, not bothering at all to hide the venom in his voice. “Tell me, how is it fair that three of my brothers lie as good as dead in the Apothecarion while you still draw breath?

What? “I had nothing to do with this,” I immediately shot back, before I realised that this wasn’t what he had asked.

“What does it matter, you have shown your true colours Argent, you are a deluded madwoman and yet it is you who walks these halls while they can’t because of your warp tainted brother,” he accused, “So tell me…”

“Enough of this farce, Moloc, get back into line. The Argent has been punished for her arrogance and her brother is no better off than yours,” cut in Emek from behind.

For a moment, I thought Moloc might argue, but then he just stepped aside, gesturing silently for me to pass. Doing so, I couldn’t help but watch him warily as I stepped past him, feeling his gaze following me until I finally reached the entrance to my squad's chambers.

Entering the halfway connecting the common rooms and sleeping cells, I was immediately met by the sound of a funeral dirge. It took me less than a heartbeat to notice two things, firstly the sound came out of our trophy room and two, it wasn’t just my sisters singing but also the seven remaining members of squad yellow.

“Gabriela, tell me, how did the others react to my imprisonment,” I asked after hearing Gabriela close the door to our quarters, keeping my voice low so they wouldn’t be heard in the neighbouring room.

“It was mixed,” my sister began, “As you just noticed, Moloc and his squad took it the worst, with three of their brothers still in a coma after they were exposed to Hiki’s… scream. As for our sisters, well they still grief our losses and were rather most unsettled in the aftermath of our deployment and your arrest. Squad yellow was similarly suspicious of us at first but

Bonus:

First Attempt at chapter: 3.1 New Home (Start is flawed, likely has to be rewritten in full) (Posted)

Sergeant Tanya of Squad Silver

My mood and that of my sisters was sombre as we returned from the smoky funeral hall of the Watch Fortress Stalwart, as it had been ever since our catastrophic second mission almost six months ago.

Unsurprisingly, it was Azura who appeared to be the most affected by the mission. Granted, she had been the last of our injured marines to awaken, having awoken from her healing coma a day ago and a week after we had been transferred from the Oathbound to the Watch Fortress, but Aurelia woke up only a few days earlier and she had been partnered with Bonny.

Perhaps it was Hiki’s fate that made the death memory so difficult for Azura? Yes, that was probably it. Azura was probably still struggling with the fate that befell her partner, Ohtli and Gabriela having already explained to her what happened to Hiki, how Hiki had first fallen to the Black Rage and then fallen unconscious with no sign of waking up since then, that probably only added to the stress she had to endure. Worse, Hiki’s fate was probably a worse stressor than her dying would have been for Azura, because she didn’t get any closure since Hiki was still alive and could theoretically be fine once she awoke.

Of course the chances for that were miniscule to nonexistent but they were there. Looking back, I really wished I had sided with Ohtli instead of Gabriela when we discussed if we should declare Hiki dead, as was standard procedure, or be honest and tell our sisters the full truth. But there was no use crying over spilled milk now, we had argued for telling them the truth and Ohtli allowed it, the experience likely being intended as a lesson for us to learn from.

Chapter Text

Watch Captain Hector Toyer

It had been quite some time since I walked the halls of Watch Fortress Stalwart, the ancient stronghold having served as the primary base of operation for the Death Watch and the Ordo Xeno in the Donorian Sector ever since their founding in the aftermath of the War of the Beast. But the fortresse's history stretched even further into the past, having originally been built for the Stalwart Sons, a third founding chapter of the Imperial Fists that tragically didn't survive the first battle of Ullanor.

Sometimes I would just allow myself to get lost in these halls, knowing that some of the truest heroes of the Imperium had walked them before me. Still, that was an indulgence that I couldn't allow myself today for I had been summoned by Maximilian and I knew the old Inquisitor was not one to be left waiting.

Walking the familiar paths of the fortress, I eventually reached a heavy door that opened into a narrow corridor only broad enough for one marine in armour, or perhaps two baseline humans, to walk through at a time. That corridor led in turn into the entrance hall of Maximilian's office, a platoon of inquisitorial stormtroopers greeting me as I emerged from the tunnel and walked straight into their kill zone, multi-melta and hellguns arranged in a simple but undeniably effective crossfire formation.

I calmly scanned the assembled crowd of black armoured faceless men until I found who I was looking for. "Greetings Jack, your master summoned me," I called out to the newest arch militant of the Lord Inquisitor, the identity of the catachan man being obvious from the fact that he was a good head taller than all of his subordinates.

"Aye, he told me, but ya know the drill, cap," he called back in response, his tone bored and yet I detected a slight edge in his voice, as if he half expected me to burst into violence at any moment. I sometimes wondered if his wariness stemmed from the transhuman dread mortals like him experienced in my presence or if the expectation of sudden violence was his baseline mood. Either scenario was equally likely but I tended to lean towards option number two because of the stories I heard about his homeworld.

"Of course I do," I answered and undid my weapons belt, handing it to a servitor that came forward.

Following behind the cyborg came a servo skull who had been equipped with a number of scanners and medical implements. Already familiar with the security protocol, I took off my helmet and allowed the drone to scan my face and take a blood sample from my cheek, the machine eyes of the skull changing colour from red to green as it identified me in a clipped mechanical voice. "Subject facial features recognised as subject-0037, Watch Captain Hector, chance of error smaller than zero point zero three percent. DNA sample matches, chance of error smaller than zero point zero zero zero four percent."

My identity thus confirmed, the storm troopers lowered their guns and parted for me, revealing the entrance to Maximilian's office. "Ya can go right ahead, cap, the old man told us to just send you right through," said the arch militant, gesturing towards the door as he did so.

I nodded my head in response and did as he told me, leaving him and his men behind as I entered Maximilian's office. Nostalgie gripped me as I entered the room, the office still being as lavishly furnished as I remembered it. High bookcases made out of lumber imported from half the galaxy away hid every wall in the room from floor to ceiling. The floor was made from real Nocturne marble and Maximilian still used that monstrosity of a writing desk he carved himself out of a solid chunk of jade.

Thinking of the man I had been summoned by, Maximilian sat behind his desk and appeared to be deeply absorbed by whatever he was reading on his cogitator screen. It was rare to see the man so unguarded as he was now, the set of power armour he usually wore being nowhere in sight. Dressed as he was now, wearing a simple black and red robe and half moon spectacles, he almost looked just like an old harmless scribe.

It filled me with great pride to know how much he trusted me enough to let me see him like this, but it also filled me with equal melancholy every time I had to confront just how ravaged by age Maximilian was.

His head looked almost skull-like due to how sunken his eyes were, his lack of any head hair and with how tightly stretched his too pale skin was. The rest of his body wasn't in a better state, his once muscular frame reminded me now of a gnarled tree and his bony hands trembled ever so slightly, belying his nervous system's progressing degeneration. The only saving grace was that his mind had remained sharp despite the passing centuries, emperor willing it would remain so until his dying day.

"Take a seat Hector, we have much to discuss," he greeted me after a moment, gesturing towards a reinforced chair in front of his desk. I nodded my head in agreement and took the offered chair, not because I needed it or for my own comfort, but because I knew that Maximilian despised talking to standing people while he himself sat.

"So Max, I presume that you want to discuss the unexpected complications during the second part of the training run?" I asked, eager myself to discuss the topic with him.

"Yes, although I would prefer to first discuss the uncomplicated conclusions from this test run before we discuss the grox in the room," Maximilian replied evenly. "For example, I think we can both agree that batch six-one was a failure. It is a shame, the Great Wolf Magner and High Wolf Priest Ulrich will be disappointed that this didn't work."

"Yes, I suppose they would be," I answered, having neither met or corresponded with either of the two. Still, the plight of the Space Wolves was well known, their gene-line being forever shackled to their legion's original homeworld, making it impossible for them to found successor chapters.

However, Maximilian's next words surprised me. "At least we caught their flaw early and at a fortunate time to boot."

I raised a brow before asking the obvious question. "And what is fortunate about this timing?"

"Oh you see, we finally found the Tiger Claws and they are in dire need of resupply, supplies which we can now draw from the equipment and ships that were earmarked for Batch six-one," Maximilian answered me, the news he just revealed to me filling me with great joy. After all, the Tiger Claws had been the first chapter of the twenty-first founding to be completed, so their disappearance on route to their first crusade against Ur-Council loyalist in the Veiled Region had both been a tragedy and a dark omen if one believed in such things, some even whispering that this was a sign of the Emperor to abort the founding.

"That is indeed fortunate, but may I ask where they had been and in what state they are now?" I asked eagerly and a bit concerned.

"To be concise, the reason for their disappearance was that they diverted from their travel route to the Damazius Crusade because they received a distress call from the Angels of Wrath's third and ninth companies, who were defending the capital world of the Nippon Sector from the Ork Waaagh of Warboss Ironbasher at the time," Maximilian explained, answering one part of my question.

"And they were then cut off from the rest of the Imperium by the sudden appearance of a warp-storm," I finished his sentence for him, the Nippon Sector having been one of three sectors who had gone dark four years ago when the warp routes leading into the region suddenly grew too hazardous to navigate.

Maximilian nodded his head, "Correct, but this isn't all. While they have been lost to us for four years from our perspective, for them, and the people of the Nippon Sector, it has been four hundred years. During that time, the Tiger Claws were fighting to defend the isolated worlds of the sector, repelling countless Eldar raids and suppressing numerous chaos uprisings."

"They have managed to survive for that long without support, no wonder they are in dire need of resupply," I said, feeling rather impressed with the Tiger Claws. "How dire is their situation exactly, are we talking about them being on the verge of extinction or are they just extremely short on supplies?"

Maximilian briefly consulted his cogitator in response to my question, his answer following swiftly. "They currently have three full companies, with their ninth, eighth, seventh and sixth all being at quarter strength and the third, fourth and fifth companies currently being defunct. Furthermore, they lost their secondary battle barge, the Shield of Honour, and a quarter of their escorts as well as the equipment stored onboard at the time."

"Heavy losses, but nothing from which they won't recover," I judged after a moment of thought. Granted, that recovery might take as long as a century or more, if their supply of gene-seed was limited, since the Tiger Claws would have to rebuild half their chapter strength, but that was still better than their outright destruction or worse, desertion.

"Yes, but moving on, batch NK-nine, or squad bronze. They did rather well, or so it would seem from your report?" asked Maximilian next, returning our discussion back to its original topic.

"Yes they handle themselves rather well in the field," I began, "that being said, they have shown an abrasive temper. This is especially true for their leader, Sergeant Moloc, who their handler noted might be the source of their attitude."

That got Maximilian's attention, my original report downplaying the brazen nature of the bronze sergeant somewhat. "Will this be a problem for the founding?"

"I don't think so. While Moloc's bad temper is something he will have to work on or learn to work around, he is also an able tactician and the kind of strong leader a unit like his squad needs. So I would recommend keeping him as their leader and to train one of his subordinates to act as a spokesperson for him," I suggested, making it clear that I thought his attitude wasn't a big enough problem to get rid of him. That being said, I could only hope for their sake that Moloc's harsh attitude wouldn't be shared by all his future brothers, which I couldn't rule out because of the unknown gene-seed that had been used in his chapter's creation.

"I suppose that could work," Maximilian allowed, "Very well, and batch nine-four, the Lamenters?"

"They did well all things considered, having shown themselves to be competent in combat and displayed an even temper. I see no reason not to go ahead with their founding," I reported.

"Very good," Maximilian replied, a pleased smile coming to his face, before he moved on, "Next batch eighteen-five, squad green. Were their mutations a problem and have you found any other defects?"

"No new mutations could be detected during their deployment and the already known ones were easy enough to handle. I say go ahead with the founding of their chapter too," I said without hesitation, before remembering something else, "As a side note, they recently asked me to suggest the name 'Black Dragons' for their future chapter."

"Black Dragons?" Maximilian repeated in a slightly confused tone, "I thought they chose their primary colour to be green?"

I nodded my head, "This was initially the case, but they changed that once they noticed after their second mission that their armour had ended up black as ash because of the soot from their flamer weapons clinging to them, so they decided to embrace that and changed their primary colour to black and their secondary colour to white."

"Very well, Black Dragons it is then," he agreed after a moment of thought. "Second to last of them, batch nine-six or squad purple. I understand their leader is quite arrogant and stubborn, leading to his unit sustaining eighty percent fatalities during their second deployment. Your thoughts on the matter, Hector?"

"To start with, their individual and group combat performance of the marines in question was excellent, with the attitude of their sergeant not being totally indicative of the temper of his men. That being said, while Arthur's is without a doubt quite stubborn and has displayed arrogance unbecoming of an astartes, I won't advise against holding his last mission's casualties against him. His tactics, while extreme, did buy them enough time to hold out against a numerical superior foe until the other squads could reinforce them," I argued, "Besides that, I want to mention that he has become more careful in the tactical exercises after the assault on Runestone, indicating that he has indeed learned from the experience."

Maximilian didn't reply immediately this time, instead taking his time to think my argument over. "So you would suggest that we keep him in charge of his squad then. Tell me, do you think he has what it takes to be a good officer?" he asked eventually.

"Yes, I do believe he has the potential for it. Besides, there is hardly anyone else left who could lead, given that the only other survivor was his apothecary," I answered my friend, being a bit confused at what he was getting at.

"Well, the Magos who made Arthur and his squad does still have eight others of his new gene-line on ice. Granted, those initial ten you took for testing were the better half but the test scores of the remaining eight weren't far behind," Max answered me, reminding me that an initial test batch usually produced between fifteen and eighteen marines. "Also," he then went on while picking up a note from his desk, "their handler passed on a request to me, asking me to name them 'The Remnants'".

"It's a fitting name, I suppose," I answered neutrality, having not been aware that Apothecary Raffael had made such a petition, which reminded me of the final batch to discuss. "I suppose that only leaves batch nine-eight then."

"Yes, I suppose that is true," replied Maximilian, the Inquisitor picking up on my unhappiness about the subject, mirroring my tone of voice which signalled nothing good for me. He did so only if we were about to disagree on a subject.

Regardless, I pressed on. "Ohtli's handling of the aftermath of the second deployment was totally out of line, infringing on the rights of the Librarius and the Apothecarium, and exposed his clear favouritism towards squad silver."

Maximilian didn't answer me right away, the Inquisitor just sat there behind his desk in silence as he dissected me with his gaze. "Hector," he then addressed me when I was about to speak up again, "I want you to forget this event ever happened. Subject four of batch nine-eight died during the battle on Runestone."

What? "Lord Inquisitor, this…" I tried to argue, but Maximilian just silenced me with a gesture.

"No, you witnessed something you shouldn't have and Ohtli took care of it, that is all you need to know," he said, his tone allowing for no disagreement. Then a second later, his expression and tone softened as he addressed me again. "My friend, if it's a constellation to you then know that I know exactly what happened, so trust me when I tell you that the situation is under control."

For a moment I considered pushing Maximilian further, but dismissed the idea. After all, this wasn't the first time we had a conversation like this and I had never successfully pried a single secret out of him in the past so I knew there was no point in trying now. "Very well, Ohtli overstepping the bounds of his office is somehow fine," I allowed, adding this disagreement to the countless others that had come before it. "But may I at least know if how and if this event that never happened will impact the founding going forward?"

"At the current juncture? Not at all, our sample size is simply too small to make a proper judgement, so I will push for batch nine-eight to receive their founding charter and after that we will have to monitor them closely as they expand in numbers," Maximilian informed me, his mention of the founding charter reminding me of something else.

"Speaking of their recruitment, what should I do with the psyker girl their leader claimed to have prophetic visions about?" I asked next.

"What is Codicier Galedan's assessment of the girl? I assume she is untainted if she hasn't been given the Emperor's mercy yet," Maximilian replied with a question of his own.

"It is indeed so, Codicier Galedan has confirmed the girl to be clean of chaotic touch and agrees with the salvaged assessment from the prison complex. The girl is indeed a Eta-class psyker with a innate talent for empathy, which hints at an affinity for the telepathy discipline in general, and some talent for warding given her testimony how she banished some apparition from her cell, which is supported by the fact that Galedan found traces of the Astronomicon's light within the girl's soul," I reported my brother's assessment of the girl.

"That sounds like the girl would be an excellent candidate to become either an Astropath, an Inquisitorial psyker or the first librarian of batch nine-eight," Maximilian surmised, which I couldn't dispute no matter from what angle I looked at the girl's situation.

"It would appear so," I had to agree, "So what will her fate be?"

Maximilian gave that question some thought, much to my surprise given how permissive he was towards squad silver and Ohtli so far, before he answered my question. "Have the girl tested for compatibility for the gene-seed of the female marines. If she is compatible then have the apothecaries and librarian's lay the groundwork for her induction until I return from terra and if she isn't then hand her over to Senior Interrogator Dresden for training as an Inquisitorial psyker."

"Very well, Lord Inquisitor, it will be done," I agreed, picking up on a detail in his last answer. "Does that mean the High Lords have summoned you again?" I asked him, aware that Maximilian was in frequent communication with the elusive Inquisitorial Representative who had summoned him more than once to the throne world in order to report the progress of the twenty-first founding.

"It is indeed so," Maximilian confirmed my question, "I will be gone for a couple of months, most likely half a year and perhaps even a full year if the warp complicates my journey from and to Terra."

I nodded my head at his words, his past visits to the throne world having taken him away from the founding for similar lengths of time. But that reminded me of something. "Speaking of visiting Terra and presenting the progress of the founding, my post mission one report mentioned two possible names for their chapter. What are your thoughts on them?" I asked, my motivation being that I had promised both Ohtli and the Nameless One to champion their suggestion, and I was a man of my word no matter the circumstances.

"Yes, I have indeed given it some thought and come to the conclusion that the name 'Silver Shrikes' has merit, unlike the second suggestion. A guardsman receiving the message that a company of marines from the Butcher Birds Chapter are inbound would likely draw the wrong conclusion from the name and assume hostiles rather than reinforcements," he answered me, echoing my own thoughts on the matter even if the title of 'Butcher Birds' was very well earned by those marines.

Speaking of things that concern me. "A final question from me, has there been any new developments concerning the Harvester of Sorrow?"

"Nothing much yet," Maximilian replied, "Last I heard, the Space Wolves and Brazen Claws responded to your initial warning in force and mobilised a total of six companies to hunt down the Harvester alongside the navy. Emperor willing, their search will bear fruit sooner rather than later."

Bonus: Discarded old take on this chapter from before Arc 2 was written, same POV

. "We have indeed much to talk about, but I have a question before we begin the debrief." I stated, Maximilian just raised an almost non-existent eyebrow but made no move to interrupt me. "Why change our base of operation, has Inculaba been compromised?"

"Nearly," he responded, his face twisting into a sneer, "I had one of my junior acolytes perform a background check on some of the already cleared merchant captains, it was intended as a harmless training exercise, but instead they uncovered that one of the captains was under the influence of a witch and had been so for over a year."

"What did the captain already know, how big was that leak?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"There is no leak, thank the Emperor for that. The captain had yet to be informed where he was to take his cargo, so Inculaba's location remains a secret for now, but the fact that this slipped past our initial screening is alarming in the extreme. So, seeing how we still need to expand our transport capacity for phase three of the founding, I decide to transfer all operations, except the modification of gene-seed, to the Atlas system and Watch Fortress Stalwart in particular," he explained his decision. I nodded my head in approval as he did so, if we could no longer rely on secrecy to protect our operation then we had to rely on more conventional protections instead.

"Now with that out of the way," Maximilian continued, returning our conversation to its purpose, "how did the test go, found any duds in the samples?"

I frowned at his word choice but made no mention of it, instead ordered my thoughts for a moment before speaking. "Most of them did well enough during their mission, performing as expected of freshly enhanced and hypno-trained marines, but we had two outliers in each direction. Batch nine-fifteen, who were requested to be named the Silver Shrikes by their handler, performed beyond what we could have expected of them or indeed any freshly enhanced marines. And batch six-two, who sadly went feral and had to be put down."

"Batch nine-fifteen, wasn't that Tetriach's little experiment?" asked Maximilian in a surprised tone.

"Yes they are, their leader Tanya, or subject eleven going by designation, demonstrated forethought, leadership skills and talent for strategy far in excess of what could have been expected of her." I told him, making no effort to hide how pleased I was by her performance. The truth was that Tanya had performed even beyond what I would have expected of most Sergeants, her leadership skills in particular.

"High praise coming from you," observed Maximilian, "and what of the rest of them? One marine, no matter how talented or brilliant, can make up for a weak unit."

"They performed as I had expected. While they are deficient when it comes to close combat, their skills with the bolter make up for it and they found a way to compensate for their relative weakness by sparring in pairs against other marines, focusing on improving their teamwork so they can effectively overwhelm individual stronger opponents with their numbers," I reported what their handlers told me. It wasn't a bad work around all things considered, as long as they could maintain numerical superiority during their engagement that was.

"Very well, they get the go ahead then. What about the rest, you said one went feral?" Maximilian asked next, sounding almost eager.

"Yes, all members of batch six-two had to be purged after degenerating into beast, both mentally and physically," I explained, willing the machine spirit of my armour to connect with that of his cogitator and to send him a pic captured by wolf priest Olaf Woe Maker. "I wouldn't recommend recruiting more of them."

Maximilian's attention briefly flickered to the monitor in front of him, before returning to me. "Yes, I quite agree with you. Well as grim as their fate might be, their batch proving to be a dead end might be a blessing in disguise," he told me, his assertion making my hackles rise.

"And why is that?" I asked with perhaps more heat than appropriate, "What possible reason is there to praise the ignoble death of these ten brave souls?"

If Maximilian was bothered by my angry tone then he didn't show it, instead he just answered me, his explanation taking the wind out of my sails. "Because I have to terminate two chapters due to budget cuts and I would rather decommission such obvious failures, rather than having to pick from more promising candidates."

"That… is understandable, please forgive my shameful lack of self control," I replied after a moment, a rare blush creeped up my neck as I realised just how pointless my outburst was.

"All forgiven," he dismissed my outburst in a rather blaze manner. "Truth be told, I find it rather reassuring that you still care enough to but heads with me over such moral trifles. Emperor knows I have grown to be a jaded old bastard," he mused, his last words more directed at himself than me. "But be that as it may, rising pirate activity in the Segmentum Tempestus has forced the High Lords to reallocate some of our resources towards the reinforcement of local sector fleets, most damning among them shipbuilding capacity. Meaning that I had to cut two chapter fleets outright and the remaining ones will have to make due with twenty escorts instead of thirty and four strike cruisers instead of five."

I grimaced, those were over a hundred strike cruisers and more than a thousand escorts we had just lost to the fleets of Segmentum Tempestus. Still, those losses were workable as long as we wouldn't be required to relinquish even more of the ships we were originally promised. "What other cut backs are there, will every chapter still get two battle barges or will those be under threat too?"

"No, luckily for us, pirate hunting doesn't require battleships, so our battle barges are mostly safe for now at least, by which I mean they still cancelled the construction of three because they needed the labour and resources elsewhere, which means we technically have a spare battle barge now that I had to dissolved two chapter fleets. As for other cutbacks…" Maximilian glanced at his cogitator before returning his attention to me. "Fifteen percent of the ship crew and officers that were trained for us will go to the navy instead, as will a lot of navigators and astropaths, but these would have been needed for the ships we are missing so their loss won't haunt us."

I let out a relieved breath, "Good news then, or rather no additional bad news. What about the other chapter we will have to dissolve?"

"About that, rather than outright dissolving one of them I thought about merging two similar chapters," Maximilian proposed, "What would you think about batch nine-seven and nine-eight? They have a lot in common according to their evaluations so far."

I hesitated for a moment, before nodding. "Yes, I suppose they do," both of them were about as bloodthirsty as sons of Sanquinuse come and I had no doubt that fusing them wouldn't change that. "Yes, I think combining them would be for the best," I agreed, that way we would have only one additional chapter of Flesh Tearer successors instead of two.

"Good, then batch nine-seven and eight will be combined into the Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun," Maximilian proclaimed, typing out the order on his cogitator for a moment, before continuing our conversation. "Now, both batches already had about seventy finished marines, which brings me to the next item I wished to discuss with you. Your idea of field testing inspired me to consider something similar with our chapters that enter phase three. Why not, instead of just letting them off the chain on their own, have them apprentice under an already established chapter for a century?"

"It is not a bad idea," I told him honestly, "and I guess that you want to start that experiment with the Scarlet Accipiters?" I asked with some trepidation, my tone making it clear what I thought about that.

Maximilian nodded his head, "Yes, I thought about sending them to the Gilded Seraphs."

I considered it, the Gilded Seraphs could work, since their chapter managed to embody the very best aspects of their primarch since their founding, so if anyone could correct the Scarlet Accipiter's lust for blood then it would be them. And yet, "If I may make a different suggestion?" I asked, waiting a moment for Maximilian to nod his head before continuing. "How about the Crimson Harpies?"

The expression of surprise on his face was almost comical and I feared that my suggestion might have given the old man a heart attack before he regained his composure enough to speak. "What?" he asked, clearly still baffled by my choice.

"Let me explain," I began, fully aware just how outrageous it sounded to entrust the Blood Jaguars with the mentoring of these new marines. "While I agree that the Gold Seraphas might curb the bloodlust of the Scarlet Accipiters, I don't think it likely. In my experience, chapters descended from the ninth legion usually either naturally grow to embody the best characteristics of their parent legion or the worst, but both variants still serve with loyalty. So rather than try to change their nature, I would suggest giving them mentors that understand what it means to walk the path of carnage while staying true to the Imperium."

Maximilian was silent for a long while, his expression seeming almost blank, except for a minor twitch of his lips every now and again. I knew from long years of working together with him that he was deep in thought, a good sign as it meant that he was considering my proposal. He eventually nodded his head, "Bloodthirsty as the Jaguars may be, they are loyal beyond approach despite it. Very well, I will contact them and offer them the role, but should they deny the offer then I will contact the Gilded Seraphs next."

"A fair compromise," I conceded, before thinking of something else. "Speaking of arranging for our new chapters to gather more practical experience, could I request for the members of my original test to get a similar chance?" I asked.

Maximilian raised his eyebrow at that, "Do you have something in mind for them?" he asked me, guessing right.

Chapter Text

Lord Inquisitor Maximilian [Redacted] of the Ordo Astartes

"And with that, I hereby call the council of High Lords to order, so we can discuss the progress of the twenty-first founding. But first a roll call: the Representative of the Inquisition," rasp the 360th Master of the Administratum, George Blackwood.

He was the second oldest of us twelfe Lords and it showed, his beard having long gone past grey and become snow white while his pale skin was wrinkled to an almost ludacris degree. Yet everyone knew not to underestimate the old fox, his cloudy eyes still retaining the same glimmer of ruthless cunning that had seen to the revival of the Administratum's political supremacy in the Adeptus Terra and shepherded the Imperium through the war against the Ur-Council more or less intact.

"I'm present and empowered to speak with the full authority of the Ordos," I said and pressed my office's signatory ring into a table mounted scanner to confirm that I truly held the title, the vox inside the helmet of my custom built stealth suit, the Black Veil, recording my words before repeating them to the other High Lords in a distorted monotone voice, hiding my true identity. Of course a simple voice changer wasn't my only counterintelligence measure, the suit I was wearing contained dozens of individual archeotech pieces, most of them serving to hide the identity of the wearer from both mundane and psychic probing.

"The Ecclesiarch of the Adeptus Ministorum, his Holiness Clement the third," Blackwood called next.

"Present to represent the emperor's most faithful," said the head of the Ecclesiarchy, self satisfied pride clear in his voice. Yet pride wasn't his only failing, his expensive robes and tasteless jewellery making it very clear that the man was no stranger to greed and his obscene body weight could only be explained by a combination of gluttony and sloth. Truely, how the man had convinced himself and half of all cardinals that he was somehow the most faithful of the Emperor's subjects was the only miracle that could be attributed to him.

Out of all the High Lords, he was the most outspoken opponent of the twenty first founding, voting against nearly all chapters about to be raised. The reason for this was simple, the man hated the fact that most marines refused to practise the Imperial creed, preferring instead to practise their traditions and those passed down from their parent legion. Luckily, his influence in this chamber was limited, Blackwood having done much to cripple the church's ability to gather allies inside the other major institutions of the Imperium during his long reign.

"The Fabricator-General of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the Most Logical Gastaph Hedriatix," came the next call.

"I'm present," rumbled the enormous tech priest, their form having long since left behind any resemblance to a base human. Instead, Hedrix had built themselves up to become a mountain of arcane machinery the size of a Dreadnought, probably carrying enough Dark Age weapons and defensive technologies that any assassin lesser than an Imperial Knight would be nothing but a minor irritation. Yet to think the tech priest had purly turned themself into a weapon of war would also be wrong, their augmented body having managed to accumulate a truly staggering number of capabilities over the years.

They were also rather liberal when it came to genetic modification and genecraft, believing that biology was inherently ever changing and thus purposely changing and experimenting on it was permissible in his sensors.

This contrasted with their rather conservative views when it came to any other kind of technology, believing machine lore to be a static thing that could only be added to by rediscovering lost knowledge.

Overall, I counted them as the most important ally to the founding and myself at the table. After all, it was Mechanicus that built the fleets and wargear of the newly established chapters, the shipyards of Mars and Jupiter having gone above the call of duty on Hedriatix's orders and dedicated their entire capacity to the construction of the needed ships. That being said, I doubted that his overwhelming support for the founding was rooted in anything other than self interest. After all, the memory of the Moirae Schism was still fresh and Mars was desperate for allies, so it was only local for the Fabricator-General to endear himself to both the Inquisition and the one hundred fresh chapters to be created during the founding in order to secure his power.

"The Grand Provost Marshal of the Adeptus Arbites, the Unquestionably Just Sophia Steel," was the next to be called out.

"Yes, I'm present," came her reply, the woman answering promptly. Unlike many present, Steel didn't come clocked in archeotech or dressed in expensive garments. No, she instead wore a simple, if expertly crafted, suit of Arbites armour not unlike those given to senior street judges. She was also the most in shape person present, having a body that would make any underhive pit fighter green with envy and probably a similar number of scars as one.

The reason for this was simple: Steel wasn't a career politician by choice but because of necessity, the complete opposite of her former superior whom she had replaced after successfully prosecuting the man for over eight hundred thousand counts of dereliction of duty, corruption and criminal negligence.

This commitment to the ideals of her organisation was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because under her rule, the Adeptus Arbites once more returned to their former selves as stalwart guardians of Imperial law, the corruption that had settled in during past Grand Provost Marshals being purged with relentless zeal. A curse because the same traits that made her a incorruptible law enforcer also crippled her effectiveness as a political agent, her uncompromising nature and tendency view the universe through a lens of lawful and not lawful leading her to quickly form a stance and not deviate from it no matter what.

She too had become an obstacle to the twenty-first founding a couple of times, voting against any and all uses of traitor gene-seed and generally integrated the legality of almost any decision. Of course she couldn't be blamed for doing so, but she remained an obstacle in my path all the same.

"The Paternoval Envoy of the Navigators, Adelbert Greyhawk," was called upon next.

"Also here in service to our glories an eternal Imperium," answered the unnatural pale man.

Greyhawk was the head of a minor navigator house, as was common for the Paternoval Envoy since the major houses would never allow one of their own to achieve such a potent position.

Still, even among the minor navigator houses there were those considered greater and smaller, with House Greyhawk having been considered on the smaller side. Yet Lord Greyhawk had somehow managed to snatch the position from those considered his betters by carefully arranging the right political marriages for the members of his house to forge some truly powerful alliances.

He was also an ally of Master Blackwood, with the two of them having succeeded in putting two of their own allies on the three temporary seats at the High Lord's table.

"The Master of the Astronomican, Regina Grim," was the next to be called by Blackwood.

"I'm present as well," she answered, briefly taking her pipe out of her mouth to speak before putting it right back in. Rumour had it that Grim had a nasty opium addiction, which was true, but not for the reason most thought.

While most held the Psykers's addiction against her, seeing it as a dangerous spiritual weakness in a woman of such high authority as her, I and most of my colleagues who had looked into the matter were inclined to agree that her heavy use of the drug was justified.

The reason for her constant consumption of opiates was simple, she was suffering from constant chronic pain. Master Grim's primary task in the Adeptus Astronomica was to dominate the will of unwilling psykers in order to force them to enter the psy-furnaces of the Hollow Mountain, oftentimes suffering an echo of the pain they felt when they entered the flames of the Astronomican.

It was a harrowing task that could only be undertaken by a psyker of unparalleled will and iron resolve. It was also a task which put the Master of the Astronomican into direct contact with the Emperor's own holy power, regularly purifying the woman's soul of any influences that my colleagues in the Ordo Malleus would find objectionable.

For the purposes of the founding, I considered Master Grim an ally, as she almost always voted for whatever the Master of the Astra Telepathica voted for.

Speaking of him, "The Master of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, Sebastion Phaedrus," Blackwood called out next, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance.

"Present and able to perform my duty," came his reply, Phaedrus' thin voice carrying through the room with near unnatural clarity. He was an unnaturally thin and pale man, looking almost like a sickly grandfather on his deathbed. Yet the cables running from his scalp and his staff of office shattered that thin illusion, marking him as a potent Astropath.

He was also the Inquisition's most reliable ally among the High Lords, having been raised by the Ordos and then sent to infiltrate the Astra Telepathica, succeeding beyond his teacher's wildest dreams.

"The Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum, Koro-sensei," was called on next, his body double dutifully answering in his place.

Out of all the High Lords, the Grand Master of the Assassinorum was the biggest wildcard, the Ordos having no reliable information on the man. Some in our ranks even questioned if he truly existed or if the assassin temples were in truth ruled by a committee of masters that spoke through a puppet, not unlike we preferred to handle our seat at the High Lords table.

"Lord High Admiral of the Imperial Navy, Lupa Lamertine," came the next call of Lord Black, addressing a woman wearing a navy uniform that was nearly completely covered in medals and had a hawk-like face that held piercing amber eyes which almost appeared golden in the right light.

"Also present," answered the uncrowned queen of the navy. Admiral Lamertine was the daughter of the recently deceased Steffon von Lamertine, the perhaps most powerful and influential rogue trader of recent history. Although to think Lupa Lamertine's success was purely the result of her family name would be a mistake, the woman having spent the last two centuries at the front of two major crusades and leading the void elements of a third, contributing heavily to the reclamation of multiple sectors of the Segmentum Pacificus from the secessionist Ur-council and earning a reputation as a peerless strategist and fleet administrator while doing so.

Truely, the Lamertine dynasty had suffered a great loss the day she chose to join the navy instead of pursuing the Umbral Crown, the sister that ended up inheriting the Lamertine dynasty having proven herself to be far less capable.

"Chancellor of the Estate Imperium, Abd Haq," Master Blackwood addressed the second to last of us twelve, a middle aged appearing gentleman with greying black hair and olive brown skin.

When Abd Haq first gained his seat fifty years ago, many people believed him to be a puppet of Master Blackwood, the Estate Imperium being a division of the Administratum that specialised in record keeping, with the man's mild disposition not helping this first impression.

This soon changed however when Chancellor Haq unexpectedly voted with the Fabricator General against one of Blackwood's proposals, costing the Master of the Administratum quite a bit of political capital as the proposal failed to gain majority support by one vote and was rejected. This behaviour led to a number of theories, only two of which I considered to have merit.

The first was that Blackwood had lost control of his pawn, having underestimated the ambition of his mild mannered subordinate. The second theory was that the Chancellor had never been a pawn at all, but Blackwood's chosen successor, with the Master of the Administratum having ordered Haq to vote against the proposal in order to establish himself as an independent political figure so he could inherit Blackwood's current position from a position of strength when the time was right.

Either way, I could count the man as an ally to my cause as long as the Fabricator General continued to support me, the alliance between the two Lords being a well established fact by this point.

"The Speaker for the Chartist Captains, Heiress Thalia Draik," Master Blackwood called out the final and news member of our council, the Heiress having recently replaced Lord Constable Feliks Dzerzhinsky of the Synopticon after said man died of heavy metal poisoning.

"Yes, I'm present," the young woman answered, the chalk white porcelain mask she wore muffling the sound of her voice.

Beyond the mask, she wore an expensive, both in volume and price, grey Baroque Dress and an elaborate powdered wig in the shape of a sailing ship of all things. All in all, she looked like most Imperial noble courtiers, overdressed to the point of tastelessness.

But back to political consideration. The Draik Heiress was, as her name implied, the Heir to Duke Draik, a very rich and influential man whose family line stretched all the way back to the unification wars. The Draik family had, like most nobles from that time, built a trade empire during the days of the Great Crusade, growing fat on every new conquest that allowed them to tap new markets.

Those trade empires had, of course, waxed and waned during the millennia since, with some even outright disappearing. Luckily for the Drakes, the Emperor had seen fit to bless their family with a series of Dukes who had proven themselves to be unusually competent, making them one of the richest noble houses on terra.

That being said, House Draik was still far from influential or prestigious enough to put one of their own at the High Lord's table by themselves, which implied that the Heiress was either a compromise candidate multiple trade dynasties could agree on or a deliberate choice of a powerful patreon that had chosen her as a pawn.

The most likely candidates for the latter opinion being Blackwood and Greyhawk, both men having great influence over the merchant fleet and the political power to all but guarantee the Chartist Captains one of the three temporary seats at the table.

"Now with all of us present, the Representative of the Inquisition has the floor," announced Master Blackwood finally, the council of the High Lords now beginning in truth.

"Thank you Master Blackwood. Now, to the topic of today's council: I bring you the latest reports of Lord Inquisitor Maximilian, so we may judge if his latest batches of Astartes are worthy of receiving a founding charter," I announced the topic, having done the same five times before since the beginning of the twenty first founding. The reason why I had done so was due to practicality, because the original one hundred commissioned chapters couldn't all be developed at the same time.

No, the new chapters were instead split into six groups who were staggered in such a manner that they would hit their development milestones and deadlines ten years from each other, the chapters of the current group having been the last ones to come out of development while those that had been in the first group had already finished the founding process and attained full chapter status not too long ago.

So one last time into the flames, I thought as I pulled out the first set of folders. "The first prospective chapter I like to represent is batch nine-six, petitioned to be named 'The Remnants', a chimaera chapter made from Soul Drinker and Blood Angel gene-seed, currently designated as squad purple," I announced, intentionally starting off with a chapter that was immensely controversial due to one of their parent chapters probably being secret descendents of the Emperor's Children. That being said, I wasn't actually worried for them. After all, other chimaera chapters openly using traitor gene-seed who also suffered from obvious but minor mutations had received their founding charter during my past visits to this chamber. Compared to the Lionguard and those like them, the Remnants were an easy sell by comparison due to their lack of mutations and the plausible deniability the Soul Drinkers maintained about their own parent legion.

No, there was only one chapter I truly worried about not receiving a founding charter today, batch 9-8 or Silver Shrikes, but I had a plan.

As expected, after a lot of back and forth, arguing over this and that, comparing test records and political horse trading, they were granted a founding charter, ten out of twelve voting for them. Predictably, only the Ecclesiarch and Grand Provost Marshal voted against them.

And like that I introduced the next chapter, batch 18-5 or the Black Dragons as they had taken to calling themselves. They were a Salamander chapter with a pretty tame mutation, so the discussion over them ended significantly faster than the one before.

They were followed by batch NK-nine, call sign squad bronze, a pure Iron Warriors successor, causing fresh outrage.

And like that I had established a pattern which I continued to follow, introducing a controversial chapter first before following them up with a less controversial one.

With time, our arguments over the Chapters I introduced grew shorter and shorter as most of us grew tired. It was then, with the second to last batch, that my true play began.

"Now the next batch is 6-1, or squad Blue. As you can see from the documentation provided, they too were part of Maximilian's little test run on Verda. Yet unlike the other chapters that were tested there, they proved to be a massive disappointment, going feral and killing for other marines before they could be put down. It is my and Maximilian's belief that they shouldn't receive a founding charter, with the remaining marines still held in crysleep being cleared for termination," I said, for the first time today, championing the termination of a batch.

That would have likely been the end of it for squad blue, me judging them defective would probably convince most at the table to terminate them outright without further looking into them. That would have been too quick for my purposes however, I wanted a debate on the topic, so I had made preparations.

"Now wait a minute, as a relative of House Belisarius through my mother's side of the family, I believe it is my duty to demand further clarification on the topic before we come to a conclusion of these sons of Russ," Greyhawk said, delaying the vote that would have seen them destroyed and giving me a chance to go into detail with just how horrible they were, just as I had instructed him to.

"Very well, Lord Greyhawk, let's start from the beginning then…" I began to report, going into detail how their mental capabilities had been lacking from the start, how anti-social they were and that both of these problems got worse the longer they were in combat, leading up to them killing their handler before getting into a skirmish with squad yellow.

Every now and again, Lord Greyhawk would ask for clarification on a topic, allowing me to really get into detail how horrible they had performed. All in all, I would say that had earned the price he had asked for, this little bit of theatre earning fifteen of his relatives the privilege to guide a Battlebarge or Strike Cruiser of the newly established chapters.

By the end of it, the first unanimous vote of the day was reached, all of us voting against granting them a charter.

Now for the moment of truth. "And with that we reach the final chapter of the founding, batch 9-8 or Silver Shrikes, who were also part of the Verda field test," I began, as a servo-skull distributed a copy of the documents to each of the High Lords, "They are a Blood Angel, Night Lord chimaera chapter who's members physically performance are comparatively lesser than that of other Astartes but make up for it by having double the number of progenoid glands."

I began my pitch, already seeing how Steel's lips twisted into a sneer as she heard that traitor gene-seed was used, which was expected.

What I hadn't expected was for the probable puppet of the assassin masters to speak up first. "I will be forthright, I don't think this is a good trade. Astartes are elite troops, meant to fight and win battles where a victory through numbers isn't an option, diluting their strength in favour of greater numbers runs contrary to that," protested the man, breaking with his previous behaviour by speaking out against a chapter that didn't have any critical flaws.

Still, he made a good point, luckily for me and the Shrikes, a point that I had foreseen. "Yes, Inquisitor Maximilian thought along similar lines at first, but he has since changed his mind. You see, one of the marine trainers pointed out that their weaknesses mainly deduct from their prowess in melee but don't impact their ranged capabilities. He then proposed that they would likely perform as well as normal marines if they followed a doctrine focused on avoiding close combat. To test this assertion, he ordered the life combat test on Verda. And if you would look at page thirty two, I think you will agree that the results speak for themselves."

What followed was the sound of rustling paper as they had a look at the page I pointed out, which contained a summary of their activities during their mission.

Lamertine spoke up next, the woman having digested the report the fastest, probably due to her military background. "While their performance is impressive, the Watch Captain in charge of them noted that their sergeant, Subject 13, is arguably the sharpest mind the twenty-first founding has produced to date. Not to gain say you Inquisitor, but their outstanding performance might just be the result of their exceptional leader."

Ah, another good point, one that was harder to counter. "It is very much possible, but I doubt this outright disproves the result. No genius, no matter how brilliant, can gain victory with incapable subordinates. While the squad's outstanding tactics can be attributed to their leader, the fact that they were able to carry out their plan as well as they did still proves that they are combat effective," I argued.

The admiral didn't reply immediately, choosing instead to wait for a moment, before nodding her head, "I can see what you are getting at. Very well, I won't question their capabilities again," she said, pointedly not saying whether or not she actually agreed with me.

As soon as Lamertine was done, the Draik Heiress spoke up: "I too have a question. Why are these marines weaker and how come they have twice the amount of gene-seed?" she asked, the answer to this question being more loaded than she realised.

I bit back a curse as I constructed my answer, I had hoped to reveal this later in the conversation. "The reason for this lies with their source of recruits. You see, the Magos Biologis who created them found a way to change their ovaries into additional progenoid glands," I explained, my words being followed by a loaded silence as everyone processed the words I had just so casually spoken.

As I had expected, it was Clement who reacted first to my words. "You made female marines!" the old man thundered, "Who do you think you are to desecrate the Emperor's work like that? I have endured much from this founding, accepted the blasphemous experiments you have performed so far on the work of the Emperor, but this is too far. Tell me, Inquisitor, do you think yourself his equal that you would blasphemously twist his work so, do you not think he had a good reason for not creating female marines?!" demanded the enraged priest to know, his wrathful voice carrying well in the chamber.

I was about to rebuke him, but Fabricator-General Hedriatix was faster. "The will of the Omnissiah can only be speculated on, but logically, I believe he intended to maximise combat prowess do to the fact that he could always gain more gene-seed from his primarch sons, thus he didn't need to improve upon the gene-seed production of individual marines," Hedriatix rebuked Clement, before turning to me, "However, this still represents a major change from the Omnissiah's work. A change that needs to be judged, Inquisitor."

I nodded my head and reached into the depths of my cloak and retrieved a vial of genetic material for them to inspect. A singular mechadendrite snaked out from under Hedriatix's robes and snatched the sample, sliding back beneath the priest's robes as soon as they had it. Personally, I was near certain that this was just for show and that the Fabricator General had already been aware of the Shrikes. After all, the Magos Tetriach and his fellow researchers were all members of the Cult Mechanicus, each of them owing their loyalty first to the Omnissiah and then the Fabricator General of Mars. That being said, it was also entirely possible that Hedriatix had a built-in DNA sequencer hidden in his robed form, there was certainly enough space, but I doubted that.

While Hedriatix judged my words, Greyhawk spoke up. "Interesting," he murmured as he scanned the files with an intense gaze. "I won't deny that they are fine warriors, but they are still lesser than normal Astartes by your own admission. So I have to ask, are they really worth it? Even if they could replace losses faster, wouldn't that attrition not further decimate their combat effectiveness compared to other Astartes since they would have on average less time to gather experience. And on the topic of losses, every dead marine also represents a material loss, so maintaining them could be quite expensive if they lean into attrition warfare strategies. So my question is, wouldn't it be more cost effective to keep with male marines?"

I was about to answer, but Blackwood cut me off, the old man's interest having been piqued. "Yes, that is a good point," he said as soon as Greyhawk had finished speaking, before the old man grabbed a piece of blank paper from a pile next to him and went to work compiling a cost benefit analysis, erratically adding up numbers while occasionally pausing to consult the documents I provided or a secondary data sources.

This behaviour wasn't unusual for Master Blackwood, his career being rumoured to have started as an analyst tasked to calculate at what point defending a planet would become unprofitable. I had to wonder how many billions, if not trillions, had died because he had judged them not worth saving.

I didn't dwell long on that thought however, as Steel chose to speak up. "Tell me, why has the Magos used traitor gene-seed for them?" she demanded to know in a harsh and accusing voice, the same tone probably having been used to extract quite a few confessions in her time.

"An excellent question, one that I had asked as well, you see: Magos Tetriarch had to use secondary genetic material because certain gene-sequences of the Blood Angels gene-seed had to be triggered by the Y-chromosome. So he looked into the genetic makeup of the other lesions in search of potential donors and found that the same gene-sequences were triggered by the X-chromosome for the Night Lord, making them the obvious choice for his work," I explained, repeating what Tetriarch had told me when I had integrated him on why he not only made female marines, a controversial choice in it's own right, but also chose to add a traitor bloodline to the mix.

Steel didn't look convinced by my answer, but I hadn't expected her to, something she made clear with her next words. "I agree with his holiness, Clement, these marines are an abomination much like all the other traitor spawn you presented us with. And while I will respect the decision of this council on the matter, I will not support their creation myself."

I refrained from trying to argue against her, her voting against them was a given.

What wasn't a given, or even expected, was the message from Hedriatix that popped up in my helmet display a moment later. "Offer: My agreement for this price, see file#1"

I blink-clicked the file, taking a look at what he wanted me to do before I agreed, not that I had much of a choice if I wanted this to work out. After all, the Fabricator General had more than one way to kill a chapter, either by pressuring me into getting rid of them by threatening to withdraw Mechanicus support from the whole founding or labelling them a tech-heresy directly. No, the real question was if I was prepared to pay the price he would demand.

So I skimmed the file and was at first surprised and then confused. Why would he send me to hunt down some minor pirate group operating in the far galactic north? I came upon the answer when I saw the name of their leader, ex-Arch Magos Koros Zul. Oh how the mighty have fallen, I remembered the name from my days as a fresh faced acolyte, the Arch Magos had been among the top contenders for the title of Fabricator General when Hedriatix's predecessor died.

This was personal then, I decided, Hedriatix wanted me to settle an old grudge for him. So I closed the dossier and sent back a "Confirm". All things considered, dealing with the disgraced Magos should be a minor matter well worth the Fabricator General's continued support.

A moment after I had sent my reply, Hedriatix spoke up, having 'finished' his inspection of the sample I had given him a few moments ago. "I have finished my analysis and made a judgement," he announced, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, "I find the Silver Shrikes to be in compliance with Mechanicus doctrine, their gene-modifications being within established margins. With this in mind, I cast the first vote to see their creation done," he finished, before a green light on the desk before him came to live, signalling that he had cast his vote.

And with that the voting started, earlier than I had intended but I couldn't complain, it was Hedriatix's right as the second most senior High Lord to cast the first vote by costume of our council, like it had been Blackwood's right to formally open the council as the oldest titleholder.

So I cast my vote in favour of the Shrikes, my own allies, Master Phaedrus and Grim, as well as Chancellor Haq doing the same. Brining the initial count of those in favour to five out of twelve, just two short of the necessary majority.

Simultaneously, Ecclesiarch Clement, Grand Provost Marshal Steel and the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum voted against the ratification of the Silver Shrikes, no surprises so far.

With that I turned towards the block of undecided High Lords, taking a look at each of them in turn as I contemplated why they stayed neutral so far and how I would get them on my side.

Why the Draik Heiress hadn't voted so far was obvious, neither the Lord High Admiral, the Paternoval Envoy or the Master of the Administratum had yet made their stance on the topic clear and were likely to vote in the same direction. So casting her vote before them and ending up opposed to them would have been an easy way to get on their bad side and lose her office. After all, no Merchant would support their speaker antagonising the navy they depended on for protection, the navigators which they needed to guide their ships and the Administratum who could tax them into poverty if provoked.

Admiral Lamertine was in a similar position, with her also depending on the support of the navigators and requiring good working relations with Master Blackwood to keep her ships supplied. That being said, she was also heavily dependent on the Mechanicus, so I guessed that she would only vote against the Shrikes if both Master Blackwood and Lord Greyhawk both decided to vote against them.

Which brought me to Lord Greyhawk. The man's earlier doubts about the cost to equip the Shrikes had prompted Master Blackwood's cost benefit analysis, which suggested that he wasn't too taken with the idea but not ideological opposed to it either. I considered offering him a bribe but decided against it, offering him a second bribe so shortly after the first one would come off as desperate.

With that my eyes wandered to the likely fulcrum of the vote, Master Blackwood. Every yet undecided Lord had connections with him and would likely follow his lead, meaning I had to turn him.

There were two options for how I could approach this, the first being to simply let him finish his cost benefit analysis and allow him to come to his own conclusion. This could work, my own adepts having run the numbers before and found the Shrikes to be a worthwhile investment.

The second option was far safer, if also more expensive for myself, to offer him a bribe. I had come prepared for such an eventuality of course, having already prepared a number of minor and major bribes for each of the Lords before even entering the chamber. Still, doing so needlessly now could cost me down the line if I needed to get a favour later on.

I made my choice when I saw a frown come to Blackwood's face as he briefly paused his calculations to inspect some reference material. Better safe than sorry I decided and opened a covert channel between my Black Veil and his cerebral implants. "If you support my vote, then I will make the planet Kalasutra, in the Bastion Sector, a Chapter Homeworld," I offered.

It was nearly imperceptible, but Blackwood's mouth twitched slightly as he received my offer. Then he resumed his calculations, either to obscure that he had been bribed or because my offer hadn't been convincing enough.

That being said, I believe it was the former. After all, Master Blackwood's youngest and, if the word of the Master of the Astra Telepathica was to be believed, favourite child, Octavia Blackwood, had made that request. The woman had recently been confirmed as the new Governor of the newly reclaimed Narbound sub-sector, her first act of office having been to petition me for a chapter to garrison the region.

She had argued that there was a dire need for it, citing that the Sector had been raided more than once by chaos warbands and former Ur-council forces turned petty pirates. Addinaly, she was convinced that the tribes living in the scorching hot wastes of Kalasutra would be excellent base material for space marines, having sent a thousand youths from the world along with her petition, allowing me to test her claim.

The results of those tests had spoken for themselves, with more than half of the boys making it through the initial tests of spirit and body before beginning the ascension process. Four hundred and twenty-two of them survived and then went on to become the current rank and file of the Blood Gorgons chapter. Of course, I had kept this quiet in the knowledge that agreeing to this request at the right time would become useful in a situation like this.

Before long, Master Blackwood finished his calculations and set his writing feather down. Then, slowly and deliberately, his hand moved to cast his vote, a green light lighting up in front of him as he did so.

I let out a breath of relief as he cast his vote, watching as the remaining Lords followed his example and gave their agreement. And with that the vote was decided, nine against three, I had won.

With that out of the way, we only had to write their founding charter. Normally, this would be a simple matter as we had already agreed on a template charter at the beginning of the founding, with only the chapters identifying features and abnormalities needing to be added.
Sadly, this proved to be exceptionally time consuming this time, despite most of us having grown visibly tired by now. Still, duty prevailed over exhaustion.

Firstly, we obviously had to add a section that explicitly sanctioned the chapter's recruitment of female base stock, but that was the easy part as there wasn't much to debate about this topic since there couldn't be anything done to change this.

The next point proved to be more contentious. It was the question how high their gene-seed tax should be. It took us longer to come to a conclusion than I had originally thought, since simply doubling the tax to ten percent had seemed the obvious choice to me. Master Blackwood had disagreed, arguing for a higher quota to curb their potential growth, pointing out that a fifteen percent gene-tax would still allow them to make one and a half marines per average casualty by his calculations, which was still far above the one point two marine average of normal chapters.

Given that both his maths were right and the Fabricator General agreed with him, I didn't bother fighting this change. It simply wasn't worth fighting two of the most powerful men in the Imperium over such a minor point of contention, so I decided to let them have this and vote with them to set their gene-tax to fifteen percent.

The second point was if they should be a fleet based or a planet based chapter. Now that was where the council was truly divided. Grand Marshall Steel, Clement the third and the assassin body double argued that giving them a chapter homeworld would make it easier to keep an eye on them, since their primary base of operation would have a known fixed location.

Opposed to this, Master Blackwood and his supporters, Lord Greyhawk and the Heiress Draik, argued that they should remain fleet based. Their point being that the Shrikes's ability to quickly build up numbers made them perfect for crusading, making it a waste to tie them down in the name of security.

Personally, I wanted to agree with Master Blackwood, both out of political considerations and because his argumentation held more weight, but the fact that neither Hedriatix nor Lamertine had spoken up yet made me suspicious. I would have assumed that at least Lamertine would have moved to support Blackwood by now, both because of her political ties to him and because a fleet based chapter should have benefited her own ambitions.

Looking closer, I spotted Lamertine's throat spasming, indicating that she used a Larynx implant to send someone a voice message without speaking aloud. What was the woman up to now and with whom was she talking?

I doubted that she was negotiating with Clement or Steel, since allying with the former was undesirable and the latter didn't do alliances or feuds, prevering to vote on a case to case basis. Simulary, the Assassinorum preferred to play the wild card in most cases that didn't impact them directly.

Taking another look at the yet neutral players, I noted that Chancellor Haq hands moving as if he was writing something down without actually holding an writing implement. But this wasn't unusual for him, only indicating that he was deep in thought and nothing else, which meant he was either undecided or listening to whatever Lamertine was saying.

The Fabricator General was also an option, perhaps even the likeliest one, but the priest had no readable tells for me to guess at his thoughts, making this pure speculation on my part.

So I resolved to wait until the Admiral showed her hand, being fully aware that no matter what side she would pick, I and my faction could force a tie by supporting Blackwood's faction. Plus, if my support ended up being the deciding factor then I and my faction could extract some concessions and favours from the other High Lords in exchange for our vote. Yet I found that I had underestimated the Lord High Admiral, once she spoke up.

"My honoured Lords, if I may suggest a compromise that would address both of your concerns?" she said, interrupting the by now bitter argument between Master Blackwood and His Holiness, Clement the third, "As it so happened, I know of a world in the Ixaniad Expanse that would be fit to host an Astartes chapter and is only a short flight away from several regions that are slated as targets for future crusades."

"An interesting proposal, Admiral," answered Clement after a moment, his tone suggesting that he would be rather happy with such a compromise, which wasn't a surprise since it would get him exactly what he wanted. Steel would more than likely also agree to this as well for the same reason.

Yet the most important actor now was Master Blackwood, who looked like he actually considered the suggestion, probably because we had already spent the last eight hours at this table and he was getting worn down, which would in all likelihood mean that his power block would follow, meaning the motion was as good as through.

"If I may interject," I spoke up, trying to regain some control of the situation, "Could you please expand on what world you have in mind, Admiral Lamertine, I'm afraid that I'm unfamiliar with the Ixaniad Expanse."

In response to my question, Lamertine's smile grew a fraction sharper and a flicker of worry kindled in her eyes, yet she still answered me politely. "Of course Inquisitor, the Ixaniad Expanse is, as the name implies, a rogue trader territory bordering the west of the Finial sector in the far north of the Segmentum Obscurus. Now the particular planet I have in mind is called Neverwinter, which happens to be a feudal world dominated by a culture ruled by warrior women, which fits an Astartes chapter raised from female stock rather well."

I remained silent after the Admiral had finished her explanation, making her and the other High Lords wait for my verdict. On the one hand, the brief description of the planet sounded rather promising, female dominated warrior cultures being rather rare due to humanities sexual dimorphism favouring men in matters of war because of their, statistically speaking, better physical fitness and them being more expandable in terms of population sustainability.

Of course, there was also Lamertine's motive to consider. After all, I doubted she had suggested a world that was located in rogue trader territory by accident, the fact that she knew the obscure planet making it obvious that her family had significant holdings nearby.

I was interrupted in my considerations by an unexpected message, "If you agree to my suggestion, then I will loan you battlegroup Mercyless Dawn for as long as I'm in office," Lamertine offered, the woman not speaking allowed but using her implant to make the offer, the transmission coming through my suit's connection with Fabricator General Hedriatix, suggesting that he supported her compromise.

Again, my estimate of the woman's capabilities rose a notch, her bribe was well chosen and the condition on the length of the loan would make me want to keep her in power, securing her the support of the Ordo to an extent.

"It does sound like your suggestion would be an ideal compromise," I began, watching as the admiral's smile grew a bit more relaxed and then tencent once I continued to speak. "However, I would suggest we put a pin in this debate until the Ordo Astartes had a chance to inspect the planet. After all, choosing a chapter homeworld is a decision with far reaching consequences that can't be made lightly."

Having read between the lines of my answer, Master Blackwood spoke up next. "Well said, I would suggest that we put it to a vote then. The first option being that the planet of Neverwinter should become the chapter homeworld of the Silver Shrikes, if the Ordo finds it suitable, and the second option being them becoming a fleet based chapter instead."

"I concur, all in favour of leaving this matter in the hands of the Ordo Astartes, please vote now," agreed the Fabricator General, once more casting the first vote in favour of what he had just announced.

Without hesitation, I signalled my agreement, all other High Lords doing the same, and with that the founding charter of the Silver Shrikes was agreed upon.

Taking stock, it had cost me only two minor favours and potentially gaining the Ordo a naval battlegroup for however long the Lord High Admiral would manage to stay in power. The Emperor must have smiled on me, that could have gone a lot worse.

Bonus lore I cut out of the chapter because it was pointless exposition:

Backstory, Black Veil and Crowned Eye

Lord Inquisitor Maximilian [Redacted] of the Ordo Astartes

The reason why I attended the High Lords anonymously using the archeotech armour known as the Black Veil was simple: I wasn't the only representative of the Inquisition, but one of five who shared the post, with the Inquisitor most suited to the topic to be discussed taking up the mantle as needed.

We had operated like this for the last two hundred years, but the Black Veil had only been forged a hundred years ago. The reason for its creation was that the High Lords tried to play the members of our cabal against each other in an attempt to weaken our position. Knowing that they would someday succeed if nothing was done, our predecessors pooled their resources and forged the Black Veil, pretending that the Cabal of the Crowned Eye had been overthrown by one of its members who now sought refuge in anonymity.

Of course, the other High Lords quickly figured out that both the tradition of sharing the Inquisition's seat at the High Lord's table and the Cabal of the Crowned Eye were still alive and well. Yet the Black Veil still fulfilled its purpose, making it near impossible to tell who the current wearer was and thus making it impossible to effectively play the individual representatives of the Inquisition against each other, preserving the strength and unity of the Inquisition in the affairs of the Adeptus Terra.

Chapter Text

Battle Sister Azura, former Sergeant of Squad Silver (Red Rage)

“Another one!” I barked as the training servitor hit the sand, my blood roaring within my ears and my teeth aching as I awaited my next challenger.

I didn’t have to wait long as a bulky servitor armed with a mace and a shield entered the arena. Without hesitation I charged the cybernetic gladiator with a bestial battlecry as my vision turned red and the roar of my blood within my veins drowned out the humming of the electro torches dangling from the ceiling.

Undeterred by my frenzied display, my opponent raised their mace and fearlessly met my charge with a punishing overhead blow. The smart thing would have been to dodge the attack, I distantly thought even as I parried the strike with my naked left hand, numb to the pain that bloomed as I batted the weapon aside.

The way thus cleared, I didn’t see a reason to stop my charge and ran straight into the servitor, tackling the machine to the ground. With its body and shield pinned under me, it tried again to strike at me with its mace, but I had none of it.

This time I caught the weapon with my throbbing left hand at the shaft, holding it in place so I could bury my fangs in the wrist of the thing. The taste of stale blood and motor oil hit my tongue as I did so, my betcher’s gland coming alive and flooding my mouth with acid in response. Disgusted but undeterred, I bit down harder until I felt wrist bones shatter and its hand came free.

Thus disarmed, I spat out the mix of gore and corrosive saliva into its face, watching its flesh liquefy and slide of its skull in response. I wasn’t done with it however, so I scooped back and grabbed the until now trapped shield, tearing it free from the servitor’s arm with a singular tug that was accompanied by a wet tearing sound. Then I brought it down again, ramming its edge into the exposed throat of my, probably already dead, opponent.

The first strike crushed its windpipe, the second shattered bone, the third cut through the last strings of skin and muscle that connected the skull to the rest of the body.

It wasn’t enough, nothing could be! “Next one!” I screamed as I rose, my eyes catching a flicker of movement in the corner of my vision.

I immediately turned to face them, my bloodshot eyes meeting azur ones. “What do you want,” I demanded to know, barring my bloodstained fangs in clear challenge to the intruder.

“I and the others worried for you, Azura, so I followed you in case something like this would happen,” she replied, gesturing to the corpses of the servitors I had slain in the pit, her words making my blood boil.

“You worried for me!” I bellowed before charging at my sister, intending to make her bleed. “It’s too late to worry!”

Yet unlike the servitor, she didn’t meet my blow head on, sidestepping the reckless charge before grabbing my leading right as I was about to pass her instead. Caught in my own momentum, I was powerless to stop her as she pirouetted, dragging me along by the wrist. Thus overstretched, all she needed to do to bring me down was to kick at my legs, seeding me to the sandy floor.

“What was that sister? I wouldn't have thought you capable of such a sloppy assault,” she said, enraging me further. Jumping back up, I lunge for her again, my arms wide with the intent to catch her and drag her down into the sand with me for a brawl.

Yet again she denied me, having drawn her crozius while I had gone to the ground she simply held it pointed at me as I jumped at her, the additional reach of her weapon’s shaft ment that my head hit her mace before she came into arms reach.

“I could have killed you, all I would have needed to do was to activate the power field,” she scolded, “Tell me, should I?”

The coldness in her tone combined with the pain of my self-inflicted head injury gave me pause, enough so that my vision lost its red tinge. At once, injuries sustained from a dozen reckless brawls with the training servitors flared up, forcing me to my knees as my body finally succeeded in forcing the consequences of my actions onto me.

“Why?” I demanded to know, my voice a tortured rasp, “Why are you worried now and not sooner when we could have saved her? You and Tanya could have prevented this, my sister could still be alive!”

Gabriela lowered her mace in response, her stern expression softening in a heartbeat. “Sister, Hiki’s fate is a tragedy, but not one Tanya could have prevented. It was the will of Sanguinius that she would fall to the rage.”

“No,” I denied, feeling hot tears running down my cheeks, “How could any of this be ordained by our father, where is the justice in this? Hiki deserved more than to be reduced to a maddened beast and be forgotten until it's convenient to unleash her like some feral attack dog!”

“I don’t deny this, sister, but with her sacrifice she saved us all. Without her we would have been slaughtered, overwhelmed by our foes and butchered to the last,” rebuked Gabriela, her soft tone carrying an undercurrent of steel.

“We could have found another way, I should have found another way,” I answered her, yet I knew this to be a lie. All our forces had been tied up in battle and the winged butcher Hiki had brought low had been beyond the skill of any one of us.

“There was no other way, had our father not sent the rage then we would have met our end. As tragic as it was, her fate had been woven by the Emperor and our Sanguinius, none of us could have changed their works without calamitous cost,” Gabriela asserted again, pity thick in her voice, “It was neither your or anybody's fault.”

“How convenient,” I spat back, poison dripping from my every word, “You fail to see the signs, Tanya fails to make the right decision and I fail to be trusted by my own partner, yet none of us are to blame for her wretched state, how is this just?” I asked again, my vision growing blurry.

“It isn’t, but it is what happened. All that we can do now is honour her, so I ask you sister: Are you honouring her memory by losing yourself in your own pain, do you think that would make her proud?” Gabriela shot back, her expression and tone once more accusing.

Shame pooled within my stomach as I contemplated her words. Hiki wouldn’t have wanted this, she would have wanted me to push onward, to seek justice! I raised my head and my bloodshot eyes met those of my sister. “Sister, Hiki deserved more, she deserved to be a legend, spoken of across the Imperium with awe and admiration, so I vow to make it so! From this day onward, I deny my own glories so they might be added to hers, I forsake my own name so hers my rise.”

Confusion flashed briefly across my sister's face, followed by shock and then awe. “Very well, then rise, Battle Sister Hiki the Vindicator, and claim the justice you seek.”

(Fun fact, this was supposed to be the start of Arc 2 and then Arc 3, before I realised that this setup was a bit too ambitious for me and scrapped it.)
Would could have been

Inquisitor Konrad von Marburg

“Emperor preserve me,” I thought as I was once more forced to contact my former acolytes via hololith. Each of them had been a pristine tool in the Emperor’s hand not too long ago, and in a way they still served him, but necessity had forced me to sully them. Seeing them as they were now, twisted mockeries of their once noble selves, I briefly felt horror and regret for my actions, before crushing those feelings just as quickly. If this sacrifice was what the Emperor required of them then it had to be done, and feeling sorrow for it would serve no purpose, worse, it would sully their sacrifice. “Despair not for the martyred dead, for they are with him.” I reminded myself.

“My loyal servants,” I addressed the three projections in front of me, “the time of waiting is over, my spies within the Todor sub-sector informed that the time is ripe to strike.”

“Good, Khorn demands bloodshed and he shall not be denied,” growled rogue trader Heinrich von Zuch, he had once been the very picture of the military nobility. I had originally recruited him for his reputation as an impeccable tactician and fierce defender of humanity, qualities I had intended to put to good use during my campaign into the Styks Expanse. Now, little of that noble man remained and in his place sat a bloodthirsty monster instead, mutation in the form of armour like bone plates and savage claws having accompanied the mental changes. The poor fool had truly become the perfect monster in my service, a shame I would have to direct that against the Imperium.

“How joyous, the time to spread the blessings of the seven fold omnishia has come,” exclaimed Magos Explorator Bella Ramsey, before being shaken by a wave of spasms, the rusted vox that had replaced her mouth producing strange screeching sounds. The Magos was perhaps the most unchanged among my followers, the only thing setting her apart from how she had been a decade ago was how run down she looked, her robes having become ragged and discoloured while the once pristine metal of her augmentics had begun to rust. Yet I knew very well that she was just as damned as the other two of my former allies, her genius having turned to darker subjects ever since she and her followers had been infected with the Cordyceps fungi.

“Yes, most joyous indeed, for I and my friars find ourselves eager for fresh test subjects to continue our studies, like you have promised us,” agreed Paul Gregory, his words carrying a not too subtle threat with them.

Displeased, I shot the former evangelist a sharp glare, his black eyes meeting mine unafraid. Out of all of them, he was by far the most loathsome of the bunch and the one who’s fall shamed me most. Once a pious and pure hearted preacher of the ecclesiarchy, Gregory and his following had accompanied my expedition in hopes of spreading the creed of the God Emperor to his subjects yet to be saved by his truth. Yet that which was pure stains the deepest, and so it was with him too. Now he and his order of deranged flagellants worshipped and spread only one thing, pain. The extent of the priest's madness was plain for all to see in the grid of scars that had been carved into the flesh of his head and the nails that were hammered into his skull wherever his scars crossed.

“Indeed, for my spies tell me that Commodore Hunt has taken the bait and dedicated his every ship to the hunt for the Magog’s worldship, leaving the sub-sector undefended,” I continued my speech, explaining the nuances of my plan even though I suspected that they would be wasted on my audience, still it brought me comfort to pretend like my former compatriots weren’t irrevocably mad.

“Heinrich, you will take your host to Todor’s Crossroad with all haste and see to the destruction of its military infrastructure and the death of Lord General Anasazi,” I ordered him, receiving a beastly grin in response, the former rogue trader looking like a feral beast that had caught the scent of prey. For the briefest of moments I contemplated warning him not to underestimate the Lord General, the man having accumulated a fierce reputation, but decided against it.

It ultimately didn’t matter if Heinrich succeeded or not, all that mattered was that he devastated the shipyards and the garrison world in the system, the death of the General would only be a bonus. “No, not a bonus but a shameful necessity,” I mentally rebuked myself for the shameful thought that had briefly slipped into my mind.

“Magos, I want you to bring your blessings upon the Hepat system,” I instructed the rusted priestess, receiving an enthusiastic nod in affirmation. She was no doubt eager to despoil the two agri worlds there, which was exactly what I wanted her to do. Both Hepat-two and three were of extreme importance to the survival of the subsector, the two planets producing an enormous surplus of food that was needed to sustain Rigga Prime, the capital world of the subsector. Without them, famine would either force a withdrawal from the world or lead to its depopultion, both outcomes ultimately achieving my goal.

“As for you Gregory,” I deliberately addressed the scarred priest last, “I want you and your congregation to accompany me to Todor’s Grave.”

I had to suppress a shudder of horror as I saw the expression of the fallen priest, something at which I was luckily very adept, mad delight having come to his face in a mockery of religious rapture. “I thank you master, I’m most grateful that you would impart this chance upon me to share my discoveries with my former brothers in faith,” he told me with disturbing sincerity, no doubt meaning every word.

Oh how lamented that I had to bring this madman upon the blessed shrine world where the sainted warmaster rested, but it had to be done. Todor’s Grave held the key to my plans, the relic there would insure that the Imperium could never reclaim the subsector.

With a final hand gesture, I dismissed my subordinates to their tasks. Once the last of them had disappeared, their projections gone and the vox link cut between our ships, did I allow myself to relax, tears streaming down my face as shameful weakness overcame me.

I wasn’t totally alone however, “Do not weep Konrad,” came a voice from behind me, shortly followed by heavy footsteps. Soon enough my patron came into my field of vision, Uscar the Enlightened, wearing his scarlet red power armour, one of his pauldrons depicting a demon head which was being consumed in righteous flames. This, he had told me, was the sigil of his chapter, the Imperial Heralds.

“Of course, enlightened one, forgive me my sinful weakness,” I excused myself, using my sleeve to clear my eyes of tears that still stubbornly flowed. “It’s just, all this loss, all this sacrifice, is it truly worth it?” I dared to ask, hoping against reason that his answer would change.

The expression of the marine changed then, first to unfiltered disgust at my weakness and then resignation. “Yes Konrad, the Imperium must be driven from the worlds Todor conquered and their return forever forestalled, thus is divine will,” the marine lectured, before his words became milder, “But despair not for the people in our path who will burn, think of them as martyrs instead, and doesn’t the Emperor love all of his martyrs?”

Deeply ashamed I nodded my head, yes the Emperor loves his martyrs for they are his most dedicated servants. The people of Todor would be no different, they would die in his service and be elevated for it in his eyes, for they had perished doing his will serving his design.

This segment was originally part of Frida’s pov segment in Arc 2, but I cut it because I felt it bloated the chapter without adding anything to the main story. For those struggling to remember, the Bleeding of Insolence was a massacre where newly recruited serfs staged a protest for better living conditions and got butchered by the Death Watch marines in response.

Bleeding of Insolence, Backstory

Junior Serf Frida of Squad Silver

A few years later, when I had grown old enough to question why things happen, I asked an old seamstress from Verda why so many people of her homeworld had committed to such a foolish cause, why they had believed they could force the hand of angels, what made them think they deserved better than the Emperor granted them.

The old woman had just given me an indulgent smile and told me that those had been Sonky, a spoiled and hypocritical population that lived in the northernmost continent of Verda.

She explained to me that the Sonky had always been the richest people on their planet, their working in the most advanced manufactorums on the planet that necessitated highly educated artisans and alchemists to turn the base resources produced on the other continents into more refined products.

In time, this state of affairs made the Sonky believe that the privileges they were granted, because of their importance, weren’t privileges at all but their rights instead. They continued to push the envelope, pressuring the planetary government into granting the Sonky limited self-governments and unequalled freedoms within their territory. They got away with this because they knew the Governors that ruled Verda couldn’t simply suppress them, not without crippling the planet's productivity that relied on the Sonky expertise.

Of course, then came the orks and the Sonky were driven from their cities like everyone else. Then when the Death Watch came and ordered a tithe of people to replenish their crew losses during the battle for Verda, the governor simply handed over those who had just lost their home, among them Sonky, to the Death Watch.