816.M41
Segmentum Obscurus
Scarus sector, Antimar sub-sector
onboard the Xerxes, Imperial space station and naval installation

His vision was blurred, then suddenly crystal clear. Looking down at his hands, he found a chainsword in his left and a bolt pistol in his right. A thought flitted through the fog in his head. Emperor, give me the opportunity to return these to Commissar Commette. A shriek interrupted his thoughts. Without looking, his hand snapped into position and he pulled the trigger. The screaming traitor's head exploded in a cloud of blood and bone. The body collapsed at his feet on the cobblestone floor of the cavern.

More cries echoed in the cavern. A host of rag dressed traitors scurried toward him. They carried no weapons but he could see they were armed with enough hatred to tear out his throat with their bare hands. He looked over his left shoulder at the shorter grim-faced man standing behind him with a bolt pistol in hand. My faithful Overseer, Mathis. He will have one bolt saved for me, the Ultimate Sanction, he quickly added.

"For the Emperor!" His finger pulled the trigger and another dropped. Then another and another. The traitors fell, but kept coming. Finally, his finger pulled the trigger but nothing happened. Out of ammo. No matter. He fluidly holstered his pistol and raced toward the throng, drawing a combat knife as he did. Anger filled him and he swore aloud, "Death to his foes!" as he met the mad traitors. Chainsword removed an arm. Ragged hands grabbed for his throat but found only air. Combat knife put out an eye. One dove for his legs, only to have a boot stove into its shoulder. The chainsword removed its head. Three more threw themselves into him but he was already gone, the combat knife slitting one's throat as he spun away from the three. The dance continued until the traitors broke and fled. Those who did not, lost their limbs or heads and died.

He heard a soft and distinctly feminine voice, then everything turned black.

He opened his eyes and could feel the cold sweat on his brow and the soaked sheets beneath him. I remember the chainsword and bolt pistol as I remember the first traitor. The following onslaught this time is something new. Her voice has always been there. He tried to clear his head and focus but couldn't. There is something missing…He snapped into focus and raised up, grabbing a neatly arranged set of clothing by his bed. Mathis was standing in his small clothes, bolt pistol in hand.

"You were restless," the Overseer spoke bluntly.

He glanced toward the chronometer on the wall, then quickly back to Mathis and began to dress. "We are required to present ourselves to Command within the Grand Hall in three hours. There, we will learn why we have been removed from the Spinward Front warzone and the nature of our next assignment. We will spend one hour practicing the presentation requirements." He then continued with a slight nod toward two uniforms hanging from a post with folded sheets on the table beside it. "Ten minutes to make our quarters presentable and twenty to make ourselves presentable. Twenty minutes transit time to the Hall and one half-hour for security check-down. That leaves ten minutes in case of unforeseen circumstances ahead of the required half-hour wait period before we are presented to the Command." He paused for a moment to allow his instructions to Mathis to sink in and then continued. "Any questions?"

"None, Sanctioned-Psyker Vitus," came the sharp reply from Mathis.

"Good. As always, we will begin with our devotions to the Emperor."