Disclaimer: I do not own warhammer. If I did, we'd be seeing the Lost Priamrchs (2nd and 13th legions) brought in NOW. There'd be a big ass Eye of Terror style Campaign in which these Old Guard Legions tried to take the Imperium into their own hands, to remake it into what the Emperor really wanted. But I don't own squat, so we're all S.O.L
THE JOY OF SECT
Deep in the Hive, Med Worker (5th Rank) Jelaad Varrn smiled.
Objectively speaking, Jelaad had little to smile about. For all the importance of his title, he was essentially a custodial worker within the main hospital in Hive Primaris on Tajken IX. His quarters within the hive were spartan, not because of any philosophical or religious inclination to asceticism, but simply because his wages allowed him no more than the bare necessities. He had no wife, having lost his beloved Luddmylaa to the great plague that had ravaged the Hive's lower levels last year. They had had no children. He had few friends, and had lost almost all of them since the accident, which they said had broken him. Objectively speaking, Jelaad should be miserable, even suicidal.
But he wasn't. Jelaad, you see, had found solace in faith.
Not in the Imperial Faith. The God-Emperor had provided Jelaad with little to encourage his devotion, and his meager wages were consistantly docked to pay the Imperial Tithes. The local preacher constantly lambasted his flock for their myriad supposed failings and sins, holding them to an impossiblely high standard. Anyway, he had always thought of the Emperor as far too distant, aloof from the problems of the little people of His Imperium. Never mind that it was the little people, the miners and custodians and factory workers and farmers and the like, that kept the Imperium of Man a going concern.
No, Jelaad had found a much better object of veneration. A God who not only accepted Jelaad as he was, but LOVED him for it, and cared for him as He did for all His followers. This God did not exhort his believers to war, to endless battle in the name of lofty and vague ideals. He did not crush His subjects beneath oppressive laws, brutal punishments and exorbitant taxes. He loved His people, and would never do such things to them.
He was a just God. The Emperor always seemed to stand by those in power, no matter how they abused that power. His Church championed the Space Marines as the stalwart defenders of Humanity, the best the race had to offer. Yet Space Marine Chapters often seized ontrol of planets, essentially reducing the population to slavery. Hadn't he heard something on the datanet about the Terror Tigers taking Tajkent V as their new Homeworld? According to reports the populace was 'joyous to have a chance to serve such heroes', and in the next sentence spoke of insurrection on the planet 'by traitorous scum'.
In contrast, his God stood by the poor, the weak, and the frail. He looked with sorrow upon those poor lost souls who clung to war as the be all and end all of existence. He elevated the lowly and abased the proud. He brought JUSTICE to the Universe, not mere order.
But better, and far more personal, than all this, his Lord was caring for the one person in the universe who truly mattered to him. Jelaad was comforted in the knowledge that Luddmylaa was now with his Lord, her pain over, blissful and waiting for him. In exchange for all these blessings, the God asked only that His follower spread His worship in whatever small way he could. It was the least he could do, really.
Indeed, the hospital was the perfect place to begin this noble work. So many there were blinded by the problems that had brought them here, ravaged by pains which were so very unneccessary. It saddened Jelaad greatly to see their misery, and he was made joyous by the knowledge that he would help the Lord save these poor lost sheep. It made him feel good, to know that he would do one thing in his otherwise unremarkable life that would truly matter.
Through the High Priest (Whose face he'd never seen- after all, the Inquisition was everywhere)the God had told him what he should do, but not how he should do it. That He had left to Jelaad, a sign of the faith He placed in His servant. Jelaad had nearly burst with pride; in his entire life no one had ever trusted him with anything of importance. It felt wonderful. Jelaad had kissed the High Priest's ring, as was custom, taken communion, and left. He had taken the ommunion drink with him, as the instrument of his plan.
The way he saw it, the communion drink was a gift from God. Surely if it were shared with the entire hospital, his Lord would work a miracle through it. The High Priest confirmed that He would, and the High Priest was infallible. But how to do so? Jelaad had puzzled over that for days, but now he believed he had a solution. He knew he could not actually get the entire population of the hospital to drink the sacred stuff. He would be caught within minutes, and the Emperor's minions were not known for their gentleness with those who abandoned their faith.
But Jelaad had access to the hospital ventilation system. If he could turn the communion drink to a gas, he could pump it through the entire building, maybe even the entire Quarter. The High Priest was delighted with this idea, and had blessed Jelaad's endeavour. He had said it was a stroke of brilliance, and the High Priest WAS infallible, so it must be true.
On the chosen day, Jelaad came to work early. This pleased his supervisor Med Worker (3rd rank) Drang, a longtime friend of his. Drang had been worried about Jelaad for a long time. Ludmylaa's death had crushed his friend's spirit. The once cheerful and hardworking man had become morose and shiftless, not that Drang blamed him. Jelaad and Lyudmylaa had been very close, much closer than most couples. But now Jelaad seemed to be returning to his old self, smiling and laughing. He worked hard, and his hallmark perfectionism had returned. Drang told Jelaad that he looked forward to recommending him for promotion.
Jelaad smile broadened, if that was possible. Truly the Lord rewarded faithful servants. Cheerily he waved to Drang and continued to the ventilation center. Once there he took a small vial of the communion drink out. It was in a highly concentrated form, but when mixed with the chemicals in the ventilation system, it would be as just like each patient was receiving communion.
He was as happy as he could ever remember being. He had it all: A better future, assurance of an eternity with his beloved, an important task to perform, and the warming love of his God.
As he worked, he thought up with a perfect aphorism for his God: Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the world. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they shall see God. Admittedly, he had never heard the hidden priests of his faith proclaim such a thing, but he felt it was in keeping with his Lord's view of things.