Chapter 45: Aftermath

I awoke strapped to a bed in the medical ward.

My arms and legs were bound to the bed by thick leather cuffs, and there was no way I was going to worm my way free. As I strained my arms against the bindings, I noticed there was a medicae sitting next to the bed, watching me bemusedly.

"You won't get out without someone helping you," he said, reaching for a phone on his desk. He told me to sit still and wait while he got the others.

Others?

What others?

Why was I even here?
Wincing at the pain across my body, I managed to sit up and take stock of my surroundings. White walls, floor, ceiling, and curtains surrounded me. Yep, this was definitely the medical ward. The medicae at the desk was a grizzled looking man with a rough cut of hair and a weathered face. His desk was covered in books and medical apparatus. He didn't look particularly concerned.

"Yes…he's awake. Yes, just now. No, no, he doesn't seem to be anything more than stressed. Hmm? No, he's not said anything. No, he looks fine. Test are fine. Little anxious, it seems. Medical stress and sleep deprivation, I'd say. No, no, no sign of that. Yes, the commissar can come down now," he said, speaking into the phone. It was a clunky dial-up phone, tarnished with age.

What was that about the commissar? Why was he coming down here? I'd done nothing wrong.

Unless…unless they think I did. Who was there to say what really happened? My teammates? But most of them were knocked unconscious, and Burtrus had been…

"Burtrus, my teammate, is he ok? What happened to him, is he alright? He was stabbed!" I said suddenly. The medicae glanced at me and told me to sit down.

"He's been treated, but I don't know how he's doing. Why don't you just lie here and think about what you're going to tell the commissar, yeah?"

The commissar. What did the commissar want with me?

Ugh, and why had Alexei knocked me out, I had just been defending myself!

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I got the sense they didn't have the full picture yet. They didn't know what really went down. They just saw me fighting a Cadian, and the only reason we were fighting them in the first place was because we'd left the rest of the squad to intercept them, on my suggestion…

Perhaps this was my fault. Maybe they were going to blame me, even if I'd done nothing wrong. Everything I'd done was in accordance with the rules and Alexei's orders. I would've kept my mouth shut if it wasn't. I'd been here four months and managed not to fuck things up, and yet it turned out I might get done in for something entirely out of my control. It wasn't my fault that that man went insane and tried to murder me! All the other Cadian's kept themselves in control, even if they were assholes about it, it was just that one guy that went completely batshit mad. That wasn't my fault! All I did was defend myself!

They couldn't really blame that on me, could they?

"The commissar will be here shortly. I'm going to go file away these reports, so you just sit here and stay put. Don't try to get free, it'll only make things worse for you," the medicae said, standing up.

"And whatever you do, tell him the bloody truth. They can smell a liar, you know," he told me as he disappeared behind the curtains. I had no choice but to sit there and contemplate my actions, and what to do next. What could I do?

Breaking free wasn't an option, there was nowhere to go and nothing to do. Staying here meant facing the commissar, and that was a rather unpleasant prospect, but there really wasn't an alternative. It'd have to tell him the truth, and be clear that everything I did was permissible, and hope that he wasn't just looking for someone easy and expendable to blame. If he was…well, if that was the case, why keep me alive at all? Why not just kill me when I was unconscious?

If I was still here, there had to be a reason for it.

A few minutes passed before I saw the shape of a tall figure on the either side of the curtains. There were some hushed discussions, a low murmur between three individuals. One had the distinctive cap of the commissariat, the other looked to be the medicae who was treating me, and the third I could barely make out. The Lieutenant, perhaps, or the sergeant?

The curtains were pushed aside and Commissar Alexandov stepped up to my bed, gazing down at me with his icy cold eyes. The golden threads in his uniform glinted in the light of the ward. His bolt pistol and power-sword were attached to his waist, just as they were the first time I saw him.

"Private Sent, son of Temond Brown, of Bathurst Farm, disciplined by Sergeant Slate on arrival to the Victorious Sword, training under Sergeant Alexei of the Cadian 417th. You've caused quite the stir," he said in his gravelly voice. I felt compelled to speak up and begin clearing my name immediately, but I kept my mouth shut until he told me to speak. I believed my life depended on it.

"I want you to tell me everything that happened in the training arena, everything. Spare no detail," he said. So I did. I told him everything that happened, from my arrival to the first round, the abuse from the Cadian's, Alexei's lecture, our fight in the pillbox, my decision to pursue the squad in accordance with the Imperial Guards rules of engagement, our fight with the Cadian's, their counter-ambush, the melee that ensued and the man's descent into madness. Alexandov listened to the whole speech with pursed lips, saying nothing, his face hinting at nothing. He never interrupted me once, and never once gave away what he was feeling. When I said everything I felt was needed, the commissar nodded gravely.

"And you swear that that is what truly transpired?"

"It is, sir," I said honestly. The commissar stared me in the eyes for a few moments before he nodded again.

"You have brought undue attention to yourself and the platoon, Private Sent. There are people who have called for a much more thorough and punitive investigation into all parties involved. Incidents like this just don't happen unprovoked. It is only because of the good word of your fellow soldiers that I was persuaded not to pursue such a route. However, the authorities demand a punishment be handed out, and so it must be."

Oh, fuck, I was going to get punished for this after all? But I wasn't too blame, I did nothing wrong! This was such bullshit, it was so unfair!

As if sensing my indignation, the commissar shot me a meaningful look, a coded warning. Shut up and listen, or else things will be worse for you. Through supreme effort of will I managed to keep my mouth shut.

"You will have a mark against your name for instigating conflict, Private Sent. I was pressured to apply two marks against you, with one additional charge for reckless insubordination, but was told you were only acting under the behest of your teachings by Sergeant Alexei. As such, he, too, has a mark against his name for negligence of responsibility and duty, as does the sergeant of the squad responsible for the conflict. This minimal punishment will be served in the form of cleaning detail, served for the next six months. Is that understood?"

Six months? Holy fuck, that was a long time, but…it was certainly better than a lot of other punishments the Imperium had in store for those who stepped out of line. Six months of cleaning detail was a slap on the wrist by their standards. I wasn't at all happy with that decision, but I wasn't going to complain about it. No matter how unjust the decision may actually be.

"I understand, sir," I told him. Alexandov nodded again.

"You've been lucky to be treated so well. There are considerably harsher punishments to be meted out on the other parties involved. You should be more thankful for your sentence, it is as light as can be," he said, looking down at me.

"I am thankful, sir," I said slowly. It pained me to have to grovel to him. It was all such bullshit. I didn't do anything wrong, and yet here I was being chewed out for defending myself and my friends.

"Yes, you can say those words but you don't really mean them," Alexandov said. "I've read reports you're known to speak out of line at times, Private Sent."

He has? Reports from whom? That was rather ominous. It'd have to be Alexei, who else would be writing reports on me, and who else was I even speaking to, to warrant such reports? And even then, I barely said anything unless spoken to! What was Alexei recording about us…what was he saying about us without us knowing?

"Does that surprise you? You think you're part of the crowd, blending in with everyone else? Let me tell you, no one is without scrutiny. I can only say that the reason why you're getting such light punishments is because everyone else can only say good things about your character. The reports I've read from the interrogators paints the picture of someone who likes to think a little too freely, but the accounts from your squad, your sergeant and your lieutenant stress that you're a diligent individual, so I am forced to concede I have no reasonable grounds to deliver a more serious verdict. But know this. If you ever find yourself in the midst of another incident, if you ever get tangled up in anything suspect again, my scrutiny and my judgement will be far more harsh…and far less inclined to be swayed by the good word of others. One more incident, just one, and I'll have you face serious punitive action. You may think you're free of any wrongdoing, but you don't need to be the wrongdoer to be held accountable. There is no such thing as innocence, only varying degrees of guilt."

Well, that was fucking harsh, and incredibly alarming. Was I really on such thin ice? He really had it in for me. I'd done barely anything wrong in my entire time in the Guard, yet here he was acting like I was constantly pushing the line, a troublemaker, someone who was about to go wrong any day now. And he wanted me to know that. Any screw up, however slight, he'd probably hear about it. Goddamn, what reports had he been reading to make him say this? Was he even reading the right reports? He didn't accidentally have Desmond's or something, did he?

The commissar stood up, and I flinched. He seemed a lot more ominous now then he did before, if such a thing were possible. He towered over me, his ice-cold eyes boring into my own. I realised he didn't have the same eyes as the rest of the Cadian's, icy-blue instead of bright purple.

"For what its worth, I will say you conducted yourself well," he told me, "in your place, a lesser man would've run."

"I…thank you, sir," I said. He just shook his head.

"Don't thank me. If I ever have to talk to you again like this, I'll have you off to a penal division faster than you can blink," he said. I nodded. That was incredibly harsh, but I was thankful in that moment that all I ended up with was 6 months of cleaning duty. That meant I had to do all the squads dirty work…literally. Gah. Six months of scrubbing toilets?

Ugh, it turned my stomach. But I was otherwise…fine. I was alive, which was the most important thing, and I was still with the squad, so the four months spent making connections hadn't gone to waste. And, scarily, we were due to arrive at our destination, wherever that may be, within two weeks. That made me feel real fear.

Two weeks or less. It had seemed so distant and abstract before. It was hard to really rationalise…in four months, you'd be off to war. Fighting in a real battle, against a real enemy, with real weapons. The training had been long and harsh, and I barely ever thought about the future beyond my own immediate survival. But now…it was coming, so, so soon. The thought filled me anxious dread. A real battle…a real war. It seemed inescapable, the sheer, desperate desire to avoid it almost overwhelming. I dreaded ever being a part of it, but I knew there was no way out. Certainly not now. I was stuck here. Committed to it. There was no alternative, no alternative beyond death.

"I hope you learn your lesson," the Commissar said, and then left me where I was, strapped to the bed.

There wasn't really a lesson to learn, I thought. After all, I'd done nothing wrong, and even by his own admission I was only being punished to make it looked like something had been done about this tragic incident. Alexei had also been punished, as had the other Cadian sergeant. Oh, they'd probably hate me now. I can't imagine things are going to be pleasant for me, when I get back to the squad. Whenever that may be.

I could hear movement outside the ward and see the outline of another figure behind the curtain. There was a clattering sound, like someone banging something together, and the smell of incense. I was rather surprised when a priest, no, a confessor, walked in and took a seat next to my bed, smiling kindly all the while.

I recognised him, after a moment's recollection, he was one of the confessors from the chapel. But what was he doing here?

"How do you feel, my child?" He asked, and I could only manage a small shrug.

"I've been…better," I replied slowly, wincing. I got a glimpse of my face in the polished metal of the table next to me. I did have a rather ugly bruise across my face. Oh boy, that'd be a bitch to heal.
"Haven't we all," the confessor agreed, "oh, look at this, they haven't even given you a glass of water, how impolite!"

"I couldn't drink it anyway," I said, gesturing to my bindings, then wincing when I saw the long scar running across my arms, where the knife had cut me. A horizontal slash, halfway up my forearm, running across both arms, a nasty red slash that looked like someone had ran red paint across them. Ugh, a horrible bruise and a terrible scar. Really, this fucking sucked.

"Ah, how overreactive of them," the confessor said warmly, reaching over to undo them. I hesitated.

"Are you…allowed to do that? I don't want to get into any more trouble," I said, thinking about what the Commissar told me. The confessor just shook his head.
"You will not get into any trouble, I have been authorised to do this," he said kindly. I nodded in thanks when he undid the bindings. He smiled back.

"Please, drink," he said, offering me a glass of water. I took it cautiously, hesitating before I drank it. He smiled at me the whole time. If this was poisoned or something…well, if it was poisoned, I guess there wasn't anything I could do about it.

"Do you know who I am?" He said, taking the glass from me when I was finished.
"I recognise you, but I don't know who you are," I said. He nodded sagely.

"I am Confessor Ventori, and I am here to ensure your mind is at ease after your uh…experience."

"You mean where a man went insane and tried to kill me?" I said bluntly. Whoops. I probably should reign myself in and speak a little more respectfully, especially since the commissar had just given me a warning about that sort of thing, but thankfully Ventori didn't seem to mind.

"Ah…yes, that would be the incident. How did it make you feel?"

"Pretty damn upset, I'll say that much," I muttered. A man had tried to kill me, damn it! Who wouldn't be upset by that?

"Yes, yes, it is only natural for you to feel that way. Tell me, do you understand what happened?"

I see what's going on here. He was asking me if I was aware he was possessed, trying to gauge how much I knew, and how much of a threat I posed for knowing this stuff. They wanted to know just what I knew. Best keep those things to myself, and play dumb.

"He had a nervous breakdown, it seems," I said eventually. Ventori nodded.

"A nervous breakdown, you say? Yes, I imagine that is one way of looking at it. Do you understand why it happened?"

"It seems he was just fed up with what was going on and kind of…snapped," I told him. Honestly, I was getting a little fed up now as well. I just wanted to be free of this stupid mess!

"Yes, he…had the most unfortunate of afflictions, but do you understand why his affliction was so bad in the eyes of the Emperor?"

So, he was going to lecture me on religion was he? Very well.

"I'd imagine the Emperor frowns up those who try to kill other people," I said diplomatically. Ventori nodded, bemused.

"Yes, that is one way of putting it. The Emperor…frowns…upon murder. Quite so, quite so," he smiled. "What I am asking is different, though. Do you understand the difference between his rage and the fervour the Emperor expects of us?"

"His rage was directed at me, an ally, when it should've been directed at the enemies of mankind?" I replied. Ventori hummed in agreement.

"You are correct. The Emperor inspires in us fervour, and calls on us to great acts of faith in his name. The hatred for the mutant, the alien, the heretic, that is a pour emotion, as pure as love for family or the one whom you are married. It is as pure as joy or sorrow, it is a human emotion, clear, distinct, purposeful. It inspires us, fuels us, to purge the enemies of mankind. Hate is a glorious emotion, when met with purpose. Hate without function, that is a terrible thing. Hate for your fellow man, he who walks and lives as you do, he who shares the struggles and the burdens and the strain of life, that is a dangerous thing. Hate for those who are alike you, that is an evil. Hate is for the enemy, those who hate you in return and would see you dead, not out of any grand design, but because they loathe and fear you. The mutants who envy your proper humanity. The heretics who hate your devotion and salvation in the light of the Emperor. The aliens who loathe humanity for its grandeur and glory. Hatred such as he showed you, hatred for your fellow man, is a wretched thing, and it is not at all what the Emperor envisioned for us."

If you really knew what the Emperor envisioned for humanity, you'd be on your hands and feet begging for his forgiveness, I thought. He never wanted humanity to be anything like this. Paranoid, delusional, zealous, savage. This was the sort of stuff the Emperor despised. This was the sort of stuff he sought to eradicate from humanity. To see this confessor celebrate so openly such things as a virtue, to hear him talk as if the Emperor wanted humanity to ever laud hate as a virtue, and celebrate hatred as strongly as love, it was so ridiculously ironic it was hard not to laugh at his speech.

"I understand," was all I said. Ventori nodded.

"I see you are not clouded by doubt," he smiled, "come, let us pray."

"I don't know what to say," I said, but he just kept smiling.

"Then I shall lead us in prayer. Tell me, what is it you fear?"

"Failure," I said honestly, "I fear failure…and disappointing those who count on me, letting them down, failing them."

"Yes, a common fear, that is. I myself have grappled with it on more then one occasion, especially in my youth. It is only natural to want to do the best you can. When I was in the monastery, earning my robes, I had a teacher, a terribly strict man. He would insist I must learn every verse, every letter, of our prayers by memory. It was not enough to know them off by heart, to know the stories of the sermons, and the messages they held. What did it matter if the grammar or punctuation was perfect? It was the story, the message, the lesson that mattered. The people I preached to, did they care whether or not the story begun with 'where' or 'there', or if the saints spoke two lines instead of one? They were here for the message, the lesson, not the composition.

But my teacher, oh, he insisted so badly that I learn it all perfectly. Not a letter out of place, he'd say. Everything must be perfect, he'd insist. What did that matter, when the lesson was what everyone really took away from it? I could not understand why he insisted so strong and could only resent him when he sentenced me to beatings for failing to live up to his expectations.

I learnt, as he told me to, every writing perfectly, but not because I wanted to, but because I didn't want to be beat anymore. It was a terrible motivation, and even when he was no longer my teacher, I resented him every day, but I never failed to learn anything perfectly. But the story, the message, that is what really matters. I knew what I had to do, and that is what I did. I saw my duty as clearly as anyone else and did it as good as anyone else. I knew in my heart what I was doing was right.

"It is important not to lose sight of that. You may be in the Imperial Guard, where orders reign supreme, and so it should. The only thing a worker should crave should be the satisfaction of his master, for that is its own reward, and the only reward he shall need. But you must remember there are two duties you must uphold. One to your superiors, to follow their orders, and do as you are told.

Obedience is a virtue, loyalty is its own reward. But you have a second duty, a duty to shield humanity. You must stay true to your humanity, and remember that while the Imperium is built on the blood of martyrs, someone needs to stay alive to lay those bricks. Protecting humanity…that should always be your true duty. That is the message of the Imperial Guard, that is its fundamental duty.

You may be asked to fight our enemies and lay waste to their cities, but you only do so to keep our people safe and our cities standing. That is the message that the Guard represents. They are the shield of humanity…they are meant to be human. Obedience, unflinching loyalty, are deserving of the utmost respect and commendation, your dedication your truest indicator of character, but the highest loyalty you have is and always will be to humanity. Remember that. Humanity needs you, and you need it," Ventori sighed, his expression forlorn, but he perked up again with a smile.

"Now come, let us pray for his guidance. The Emperor has a plan for everyone. It is important to know what he requires of us. Let us pray for the guidance of Him on Terra."

Authors notes:

There we have it, the training arc concludes, and not on the note you may have expected, I'd wager.

45 chapters long, covering 4 months, it represents the start of a journey into the Warhammer 40,000 universe. We've seen how the Imperial Guard operates, how they train, act and think, what sort of philosophy reigns supreme, the sort of culture that surrounds them, the attitude of the Imperium, and a look behind the scenes at elements normally overlooked by the lore.

Starting on Monday, following the usual release schedule, will begin the second arc, the first deployment. It's been a rough journey so far, but what we've seen so far will be nothing compared to what comes next.