Chapter 32: Parades and Pageantry
Whatever would've been said next was cut off when the rest of the squad showed up.
It was a very radical change in appearances for some of them. All of them looked healthier and energetic then I'd ever seen them, smiling and laughing among themselves. Egeers, now clean shaven and with his unruly mop of hair shaved short, looked much like any teenager would. Burtrus, without his shaggy hair, looked weird, by which I mean normal. Oleev, all tidied up and with her red hair in a ponytail, looked as though she would be off to college. Evet looked incredibly different with her curly afro straightened into a simple ponytail, almost unrecognisable. Based on the looks Prassus and Clauda gave her, I wasn't alone.
"Well, well, well, look at this, Prassus in fancy clothes, never thought I'd see the day," Temond laughed, slapping Prassus on the arm.
"Yeah, and you don't look like shit for once," Prassus smirked. Temond and Burtrus roared with laughter.
"Hmm, nice haircut," Egeers said, stepping over to me. I nodded.
"Liking the uniform?" I asked him, and he smiled widely.
"Yeah, it's the best thing ever. I look so good in it!"
"Don't mess it up, or the sergeant will kill you," I whispered jovially. Egeers grimaced, shaking his head vigorously.
"Oh, no, no, no, won't be doing that," he shot back, smiling. He nudged me in the ribs and nodded towards the three girls, who had gathered into a little group.
"The ponytail suits you, Clauda," Oleev said politely. The taller girl just frowned and huffed.
"I don't like it," Evet said. Oleev smirked.
"We can tell. You look…weird."
"I look stupid," Evet insisted. Clauda rolled her eyes.
"You look fine. C'mon, stop complaining."
"Ha, Egeers, looking good," Prassus said, strutting over to us and slapping him on the back. Egeers nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah, damn fine," Egeers said, puffing out his chest. Prassus grinned and nodded. The girls drifted over.
"Um, you look…good," Oleev said meekly to Prassus, who just smiled and nodded, as if he she hadn't said anything. No one else seemed to pay attention. Was obliviousness just rooted into their culture or something? Come on, it was so goddamn obvious!
"Evet, wow, what a difference," Prassus said, stepping around Oleev, much to her disappointment, to laugh at Evet. Clauda stood by her and said nothing the whole time.
"How do you like the uniform?" I said to Oleev. She looked up, as if surprised I was speaking to her. Her face went through several different emotions as she tried to decide if I was making fun of her or not, before she sighed and said nothing.
"That bad, huh?"
"Nah, you look good, no need to worry," Egeers said, completely missing the subtext. Maybe dating was a very different deal on Practica because all the guys here seemed as dense as a bloody boulder. Or maybe it was just these two.
"I can't complain," Oleev said, looking over at Prassus, who was laughing with Evet and Clauda. Egeers didn't seem to notice the way she stared, because he kept on grinning, nodding and joking. Eventually, Temond and Burtrus swung by and he peeled away.
"Don't go," Oleev whispered, not moving away. She was still looking over at Prassus.
"Hmm?" I asked her, not sure I heard correctly. Oleev asking me to stay?
"Desmond won't bother me if I'm with you," she said.
Ah, right. That explains it. Looking around, I could see him flitting between conversations, roaming around the room with a cocksure stride. Goddamn, how had he not been broken down yet?
Thankfully, I didn't have to endure the awkward silence of standing with Oleev for too long, since Alexei, who grew tired of us having too much fun, barked at us to fall in line. We obeyed swiftly. After filling out some paperwork, we were back off to our barracks, where we would wait to be called to the parade.
The trip back to our room was uneventful, and I admired the soaring architecture and artistry of the Imperium as we travelled through the ships vast labyrinthine interior. Back in our barracks, Alexei told us to sit on our beds and stay put, disappearing off to wherever he went when he wasn't with us.
He came half an hour later, dressed in full ceremonial gear himself, looking like some sort of WW1 officer, his dark hair neatly combed back, a lasgun slung over his shoulder. Makes sense he would also look the part. There were some gasps of surprise and excitement to see the sergeant kitted out like this, but his stern gaze shut us up before anyone could speak.
"You will stand. I will make sure you haven't ruined your uniforms already," he said, giving us a thorough look over before he nodded, and told us to follow him. This time, he led us towards the training bay, but rather then take the usual routes, we began to climb the stairs, which were packed with other squads, all similarly dressed. It was hot and stuffy in the cramped stairwell, the lights dim, and the general hubbub was grating on our ears.
We moved on, slowly, painfully slowly, but eventually, we climbed until we could step out into an atrium, much like the ones leading into the training bay. These atriums were decorated with weapons and plaques, everything from lasguns to chainswords, each one belonging to a soldier of great renown in the 417th's history. The chainswords mounted on the wall were big and blocky, intimidating weapons even when they were on display like this was a museum, cruel metal barbs glinting in the light of the atrium lamps. Some of them were ancient, dating back three or four thousand years. Given how long ships stayed in service in the Imperium, it wouldn't surprise me if they had been hanging there all that time. This ship probably had a longer history then most civilisations did back on Earth in my time. Four thousand years…that was the difference between the modern world and the civilisations of Assyria, and Minoa, and Egypt. Four thousand years…and that was a little more then a third of the Imperium's total history. Ten thousand years…ten thousand years was the difference between modern society and the very foundations of civilisation.
It was such a staggering length of time it boggled the mind to think about. It's easy to read about time periods that long when its words written on paper, the fictional history for a story, but here…now…it was real. It was real. All that history, all that time…it had actually happened. Ten thousand years. Ten thousand years…and even then, that was just the Imperium. Humanity had been a spacefaring civilisation for forty thousand years. Forty thousand.
Forty thousand years ago back on Earth would've been…the dawn of humanity. We were just stretching our legs, moving across the world, exploring, settling, hunting. The first steps towards developing society and culture were being made. Painting, carving, engraving, all of that were things humanity was only just beginning to learn. Forty thousand years ago, humans were just beginning to carve out their space in the world.
Here and now, however, that was eighty thousand years ago. The difference between me and modern Earth was forty thousand years. I was separated from my home by the same span of time that separated modern humans from the very roots of our species.
It was mind boggling. Incomprehensible. Migraine inducing. All this standing around and waiting was doing things to my head.
"You're not going to collapse, are you?" Clauda whispered, behind me in line.
"No, no. I'm just…I hate standing around," I replied. I realised I'd been frowning deeply.
"Well, buck up, eyes forward, we've got a lot more to go," she grunted. I nodded glumly.
The line crept forward slowly, agonisingly slowly. Sergeants shouted commands. Other squads shuffled by. Lines split, drifted apart. We went along with whatever Alexei told us to do. Eventually, we made it into the hangar proper, and it was a sight to behold, as much as one could.
This hangar was practically barren compared to the training hangar, all sparse floors and wide-open space. In this cavernous space, the size of many football fields, was a gathering of tens of thousand of soldiers and tanks. Lined up in huge formations like a giant medieval army, with columns of armoured vehicles in between each huge block of infantry, the parade filled up a significant chunk of the hangar. Banners were raised high above the head and shoulders of the massed ranks, and the clamour of tens of thousands of people milling about was almost defeaning.
Alexei led us to one block of soldiers already forming up, following the shouted commands of Commissars, each of them glaring at everyone who walked by, gazing at them so sternly they could likely bend steel with a harsh look.
The block of men and women we were guided to was a group of about one hundred, arrayed in rows, with their sergeant at the fore. This must be our platoon, then. I was somewhat delighted to see Andermark and his squad ahead of us, and was eager (and somewhat dreading) the opportunity to see who else we would be fighting alongside.
Alas, I did not get the chance to see them clearly, and saw only a few ranks of soldiers, some of whom were in full flak gear, and must therefore be Cadians, alongside many Practican's as was evident by our uniforms.
Once in formation, another block of soldiers formed up around us, and we were surrounded on all sides by a sea of green cloth and armour. I had no idea who any of these people were, but the ratio of Practican to Cadian seemed to be about seventy-thirty.
That seemed to suggest that the Cadian 417th had suffered some rather severe losses recently. That did not particularly bode well.
We had to stand still in this formation for quite some time before we marched forward, with Alexei leading us by example, standing ahead of, and apart from, the squad as he led us in a forward march in lockstep with those in front of, around us, and behind us. We were quite rubbish at the timing of it, but lost in the sea of green and beige and grey, no one seemed to notice. It was hard to hear the commands over the thunderous footfall of thousands of people moving in lockstep with one another.
Servo-skulls drifted overhead, clutching speakers in digital talons, blaring the zealous shouts of Imperial propaganda. You are the Imperial Guard. You are unstoppable. You are invincible. The enemies of Mankind fear you. Fear your power. Hate the mutant. Purge the unclean. Burn the witch. Smite the alien, and the heretic, and the mutant. Kill all those who would betray humanity. Kill all those who would oppose us. Burn the enemies of Mankind to ash. Defend the Imperium. Love the Imperium. Praise the Emperor. Hate the mutant. Purge the unclean. Burn the witch. On and on it went, the zealous ramblings of fanatical men blasting in our ears as Alexei shouted at us to follow suite, the thunderous march of tens of thousands of boots, the screaming prayers of the faithful intermixed in the endless torrent of hateful speeches.
This was my first taste of the Imperium's true colour. It's true, ugly, face. It was off-putting, to say the least. Uncomfortable, abhorrent. None of it sat right with me. Everything I had ever read about the Imperiums fanaticism and devotion stopped seeming so…abstract. It was real. Deadly real. And it was everywhere.
No one else seemed to be off-put by it. Indeed, the squad was standing tall and proud, serious looks etched on their faces, their heads held high. I resolved to keep up my appearance. The ramblings on the speakers eventually gave way to an orderly, commanding tone, one that spoke with a stern assurance derived from years of experience.
This could only be the Lord General himself.
"Rejoice, brothers and sisters!" He cried out, his voice amplified a thousandfold by all the speakers across the hangar. From a raised platform looking out over the hangar he spoke, surrounded by a slew of staff of illustrious ranks and battle honours, accompanied by a whole platoon of armed guards, and innumerable general staff. Huge, gold and green banners bearing the icons of the Cadian 417th, 615th and 883rd fluttered behind him, and dozens of robed priests waved holy icons around his pulpit, shrouding him in golden light.
This was the assemblage of power gathered here today. This was the fighting force martialled. Three Regiments of Cadian Shock Troopers. That could easily be several million soldiers right there. With the Imperial Guard, pinning down the exact numbers was never really easy.
"Rejoice, for we are remade with flesh and blood!"
There were cheers from the assembled ranks, mostly from the Cadians, with the Practican's following closely behind.
"After much glorious hardship in the name of the Emperor, our loyalty has been rewarded, with the flesh and blood of Mankind!" The Lord General bellowed. I could see the angle he was going for. He was putting a positive spin on things. If Alexei's and Andermarks opinions were of any indications, the Cadian's likely weren't too happy about having to take in a bunch of poor bloody farmers to reinforce their ranks directly, but here, the Lord General, whoever he was, was speaking as though this were the best thing ever, a gift from the Emperor himself. His public speaking skills were definitely exceptional, but then again, how could they not be?"
"This flesh and blood, this callow flesh, shall be born anew in the fires of war and the furnace of Cadian discipline! This callow flesh shall be moulded by the skill and the sweat and the steel of Cadian men and women! This callow flesh shall be remade, rebuilt, reshaped, into the greatness that is the Imperial Guard! Rejoice, men and women of Practica! Rejoice, my brothers and sisters, separated by nought other then the lonely void that is space, for you have found salvation! Salvation in our arms, salvation in the arms of the Imperial Guard! Gone are your days of doubt and fear, for now, you stand, shoulder to shoulder, as one of us!"
The crowds cheered, shouting their adoration from the massed ranks up to the stage from which he spoke. Damn, he had them wrapped around his finger. He was really good at riling everyone up. Even Alexei seemed to be swept up in the heat of passion.
"You have been saved, saved by I, Lord General Militant Flavius Titus, and saved by the fine men and women of the Cadian Shock!"
More cheers, louder than ever before. The roar was deafening.
"You have come to us, come to us for salvation, come to us for purpose, and here, we shall grant it to you. Rejoice, for you are saved! Rejoice, for your service in the God-Emperors glorious Imperial Guard begins now! Your life is now in the hands of he who rules from Terra! Your life now belongs to the God-Emperor, and to him, you must swear absolute fealty! Do you swear to serve him? Do you swear to lay down your life to keep the Imperium safe? Do you swear to lay down you life to shield humanity? Say it, say it to me, say it to me now, say that you are the shield of humanity! You are the shield! YOU…ARE…THE…SHIELD!"
"WE ARE THE SHIELD! WE ARE THE SHEILD! WE ARE THE SHIELD!" The entire room shook from the reply. The very air seemed alive with the passion of millions of zealous men. The entire ship seemed to shake with the roar of the voices.
It was there that I realised just how insane the Imperium truly was.