"I will not be around forever, you know that."
Puzzlement struck the face of the small girl sitting atop her father's shoulders in the vast crowd of Imperial citizens lining the main street of Azura, capital of Ioni III.
"What do you mean, father?"
The girl's voice could barely be heard above the sounds of celebration. Bands marched and dancers leapt and cavorted in front of them in brilliant colours. It was the festival of the Settling, commemorating the first landing of the Great Crusade on the Ionian system. The crowds cheered and whooped in elation. It had been a long time since they had had anything to celebrate.
"I mean that one day I will leave you, and you and your sister must learn to fend for yourselves. We all disappear someday."
The Planetary Governor's motorcade began to drive by. Surrounded by an sturdy bodyguard of crack Imperial PDF troops, and mounted on one of the few hovering vehicles the Ionians could manufacture, Governor Lanetar Julian waved to the crowds. His weary form smiling meekly, but his eyes showed far less joy. A weight seemed to be on his shoulders. Possibly he could not forget as easily as the populace.
"But Father, you will always be here, you always have."
The girl's father turned his head so he could look into his child's eyes.
"Whatever happens, I want you to promise me something."
"Of course, Father."
"We need light in this world. Will you promise to me that you will help light the way when you grow up? I fear that things can only get darker."
The child could not see the intensity in her father's eyes.
"You make very odd riddles, Father."
She giggled and turned her attention to the parade again. The father was silent, turning back to the parade in time as well.
It was only a scant few seconds after the Governor passed the Adeptus Arbites Central Precinct Headquarters near where the father and child stood that the shots rang out. A flash of energy flared around the Governor as a bullet struck the invisible field around him. Several more shots struck some of the PDF guards dead before they could retaliate. The bands silenced, the dancers fled, diving for the ruins of the hab-blocks on either side of the street. The cheering crowd dispersed with some shrieks of panic, but mostly silence. This was routine now. The motorcade sped off with the Governor and soon the street was empty, with nothing but dust and the rubble of some hundred years of war.