A Guardsman's Purpose
(Part 1)
What the hell was this universe? This existential nightmare that he existed in? Lost, trapped in an endless war, stagnant and unforgiving. This was the world, no, the reality, that Argus was born into. Despite not even realizing it, not until… how long ago had it been? He was born on a planet, deep within the realm of space known as the Frontier of the Imperium of Man. Ruled over by a galactic government of epic scale. Things he didn't come to understand until he was whisked away, and dragged into the maw. His life was simple once, calm and peaceful too. He had friends, work and safety. Things he didn't know lacked literally everywhere else in the galaxy. Sure, he knew they lived in a universe that was bigger than his own planet. But not much else was important, so he thought. He lived in what was one of the saner worlds, a colony of only several thousand years far away from the Imperium's capital. The cities were simple, the space port the most unique thing of any building on world. Sure, he belonged to an empire known as the Imperium of man, a galaxy wide empire or whatever it was, but that was far as it went back then, that's all he and everyone else needed to know.
On his home world, that was as far as it went. They served under the glory of The Emperor of Man, a mysterious and godly figure presented to them with massive statues and by the authority of their government. They traded with local planets for resources, communicated with the greater Imperium, and understood the ludicrous history of their empire. But it was his home world's government that handled all of that, not the normal citizenry like himself. His history more about his world than that of the greater Imperium in which he lived. It was just simpler to learn, he figured, than an entire galaxies worth. He was born and raised by caring parents, brought into their trade as warehouse workers. He didn't need to know anything else.
Overall, it was a simple world, and a simple god damned life! But he was forced to come to realize that he really was just a bug, no, something even smaller, when compared to everything else. His planet was just a single fucking dot on a map full of the bastards. Enemies at all sides, including traitors, aliens, monsters, and whatever the hell daemons were supposed to be. All of these things, he never knew about, should never have had to. His home world's government handled all that, were the ones who had to know about it. The people needn't worry themselves with such existential horror. No, live your lives in god-damned complacency. But he liked his complacency! He liked his simple job, working as a warehouse worker. He liked his friends in his housing block. He liked that everything was so simple and didn't have the threat of death at every turn. As it did now. His whole world was upended, and he didn't even know how long it had been since. Yet he still remembered the day he was torn away so clearly.
A massive ship, larger than he had ever seen before descended from the sky and came down. It drew everyone's attention, everyone outside their homes to gaze up into the sky. The local authorities started in high alert almost immediately. Nobody knew what was going on, well, save for their government. Their world was nothing more than a warehouse. On a planetary scale, its people seen as nothing more than the workers who maintained it. All the stores, the eateries, the housing complexes, the entertainment venues, their monetary system, were secondary to keep the populace going. The Imperial Guard, they were told, had arrived. The Imperial Guard were here, the Government officials said. They had come back.
Yet, who the fuck were the Imperial Guard? Nobody knew. Well, save the government. It was a surprise as they were told they were the soldiers who fought on behalf of the whole Imperium. Glorious figures full of praise. Such an army was on a scale that he couldn't comprehend at first. Something, he damn well would come to. The government had their planetary military line everyone up, in such a drastic change of authority that he had never seen before. Overnight his world was shattered as it became dystopic. Many were pulled from their homes, and lined along the streets going towards the space dock. Escorted by soldiers the entire way. Those of the older generation, woman and children all forced to remain behind as all the young men were funneled out into long lines. Nobody knew what was going on. How could they have known? How could he have known?
He talked with those ahead of him, those behind him. Nobody understood. No one knew what was happening. But they had faith it was ok. They would be ok. They had to have that faith. They just had to. But such faith eroded away as they got nearer and fear spread. Fear of the unknown. Even he himself became a worried mess as his heart pounded. Soon they saw men in greatcoats and strange hats. The Aquila displayed proudly all over their person, on badges, on buttons, on their boots, everywhere. They saw strange robotic men, moving from one place to another, lifeless as if the walking dead. Men in white robes atop pedestals as they prayed loudly over the procession. And then finally, when enough people were crowded into the building the doors shut.
Argus was at the very back of the group, he saw the doors shut behind him as the light from the outside faded. He could have escaped, continued his simple content life, but he didn't. As the doors shut, he was pushed to watch a massive stage, where their planetary governor and his associates stood. They wore cloaks and attire strange to them, entirely different than what they usually saw them in. Besides them were more men in bigger flashier outfits, headed by another taller man with a pointed hat, a Commissar he would later learn. A sword in his hand as he held it high in the air. The reality was, he was being drafted.
Yes. Argus found himself born in one of the unluckiest times of his planets history. It certainly was a world designed to store mass products and goods, but it held a secondary, darker purpose. Every thousand years a ship would come, and then a tithe would be payed, a tithe to the Imperium of Man, made with bodies. This was all hidden by the government, some sick twisted deal to keep his home world's way of life as it was. Or was it always so grim and dark? He didn't know.
From that day onward, they no longer belonged to themselves. They were all soldiers now, in the glorious emperors unending war to hold the tide. They were told of the truth, the reality of the Imperium at large, of the monsters and horrors that sought to destroy humanity. As if it was a gospel. A gospel! A prayer! Oh, how glorious it was that they were expected to sacrifice their lives for the good of a galactic empire, for an emperor none of them had even seen or truly knew. To fight things that they didn't know existed up until then. Sure, some tried to escape, Argus thought about it too. But then the Commissar, he started shooting. He made it clear, all who ran would be labelled traitor, and shot. They didn't belong to themselves anymore. They were the emperors. So through fear it was, that Argus stayed. He only now wished he had run, tried to escape and be killed.
Perhaps it would have spared him from all this. But, what bothered him even now was how it was all hidden away, the truth concealed by the government he knew. The Imperium seemed like such a better place, but he now knew it as nothing but lies and propaganda. The thoughts of a traitor, sure, definitely. But he didn't ask to be born into that world, at this time, end up in this place. No. This was not what he wanted at all, but the universe didn't care, and never had.
It all happened in a single night. He and the others were loaded onto the ship, provided their flak armor, helmet and other equipment. Including Lasguns, the weapons he had spent hours on end stocking before, now in his hand for a different purpose. Perhaps he should have questioned why he had to stack so many of them in the warehouse he worked. But he knew it was because he could choose to ignore it. No, he was dressed as a soldier in all but one night. The veterans who still remained aboard the ship all but stared through them as they were paraded onboard. They were all hardened, cold and cheerless. Some laughed, some seemed sympathetic, but most only stared lifeless. They weren't provided rooms, only sectors of the ship in which to stay. He was assigned to a company, the 101st Silver Company, and told to remain on a certain part of the ship. As it turned out, his home world had already provided enough bodies to fill a hundred before this one, and they all were wiped to the last man. Good luck for the 101st, the veterans said, they never lasted long. They were the human shields, the ones they sent out to plug the enemy's weapons with blood they chided. That first night was a long one, as he found himself wander the strange, cold, oppressive and unusual spaces of the ship. He and all of his fellows lost in their own depressed states. They simply laid along the halls and empty compartment rooms, where strange hoses and pipes and wires strewn all about them. Watched by the men who were assigned as their commanders, trained and prepared elsewhere as professional killers. Leaders of men, they toted themselves. Still did, the bastards.
Have your one night to feel sorry for yourself, they said. Tomorrow we train you into proper soldiers. Tomorrow, you become the emperor's anvil. No one knew what that meant, but they would find out. Though the night was full of gunshots, bursts of violent red that illuminated the darkened walls, as those who could not handle it killed themselves with their newfound weapons. I overheard a veteran say it was the ritual aboard the ship, a recruitment vessel, to give all the recruits lasguns on their first night. So the weak would kill themselves before they disappointed their company. The next day nothing but hell, hell, as they were grouped into squads of ten men and ordered by their slave masters who called themselves officers and commanders. Every day after they were the only ones who stayed the same, as new members would come and go into the squad with every exercise and with every routine. It was clockwork at first, every day, as the squads were rounded up by their officers and drilled. Argus learned quickly, the insane loyalty that the officers held towards the Imperium, towards their god emperor, how hardened and stoic they were. Killers with authority, zealous and vindictive. Every day, they repeated sermons for he and the others to repeat. They told tales of humanities fight against the enemy. Kill the xeno, burn the heretic, suffer not the traitor. For the good of humanity, we were nothing but weapons to hold the line. To die for our emperor, fight horrors we could not imagine and simply accept death. Death. Death! Death!
Argus was on the verge of breaking. He saw many others lose themselves to their duties their spirits broken and their personalities wiped away. Others became zealots themselves and joined the commanders. They prayed and announced openly the cause of their great newfound purpose! Oh how disgustingly glorious they saw themselves. Others could not hold their minds together and were promptly disposed. The 101st Silver Company were not meant to be logisticians that was the 85th Iron Division. They were not to crew vehicles and planes that was another division. They were not to be turned into servitors to replenish the ships stock that was another division. They were not to become commanders that was yet another division. They were the rank and file, whose only job was to take orders and die when they were told. The illustrious Imperial Guard, members of the Patchwork Regiment of the Recruitment Ship called simply The Maw.
He watched as it picked up tithes of soldiers from worlds all across the imperium to be made into a single force, acting as if it was a unified whole. Like a parasite that latched itself to worlds to bleed it of its people. Later he found out, The Maw got its name because those whom it recruited were never actual soldiers themselves, they were always bottom of the barrel, completely untrained citizens to be molded by the ships own regime, touting itself as its own regiment separate from the worlds that he learned only produced soldiers. They provided the bulk to protect those who were more important. It was all too much, and at some point he wanted to kill himself too.
If it wasn't until he saw a glimmer of hope, a single ray of light that he found he allowed himself. In a training exercise they were placed in competition with guardsmen of an entirely different regiment, who temporarily stayed aboard their ship before deployment. They called themselves the Faceless Legion. They were different than all he had come to know and expect. Scary and imposing, they didn't say a word. All of them wore masks that covered their entire heads, with long coats fixed with gear. Even their commanders were different, one of them having an arm replaced with a mechanical one, and all of them mercifully silent. They were trained killers yes, but they seemed to at least regard their own lives with sanctity in how they treated one another. The exercise lasted less than a few minutes, with his side on the floor in spasms from the low power setting of the lasguns. The real kicker was what he heard afterwards.
The Faceless Legion got the privilege of going home. The lucky bastards! He was as envious as the veterans he overheard it from. Those faceless bastards, emotionless drones, walking puppets, all the bad names they could think of they called them. It seemed like many of the veterans despised the Faceless Legion, save for the commanders who adored them. Argus understood exactly why, the jealousy hard to contain and redirected into anger towards them. They had other privileges too, but he didn't care to listen about that. He learned all he needed to know. Instead of being jealous however, he wanted to join them, get away from The Maw.
As he had come to expect however, he learned that was not to come to be. Not long after the exercise, the members of the Faceless Legion were deployed on some world and The Maw continued on its merry way towards its destination through the warp. To think it literally dived into hell to travel. It still freaked him out, as he could barely sleep whenever they did so. He knew that space travel was a thing of course, everyone did, but he wasn't aware of the severe… measures it took to accomplish that. Not that he even attempted to understand it. They were always en-route to their destination. Always en-route to the battle they trained for. Always, always. Every day they were told they were en-route to their glorious battlefield. Every day they prepped and trained for it. Every day they were told of it, but eventually Argus started to believe it may never come to be.
That was, of course, until today. The day they finally did arrive to their battlefield. Only, he could barely believe his eyes as he looked out the window of the docking bay. None of his fellows could. The world they had come to fight for was destroyed, nothing but barren rock and dust, floating through the emptiness of space. It was here that he recalled everything, everything that led up to this moment. Dumbfounded, and unable to speak as he looked out into the desolate space. He firmly held onto his lasgun as had become his custom. He tried to hold onto the sanity which he gripped so tightly throughout all this time, but it was hard. He didn't know how long it had been since this all started, and now it didn't seem to matter at all. He was pulled away from his life, from his world and from any semblance of peace, for this. His purpose was nothing now, and though the cause for war was one forced upon him, it was at least something. Here, in this moment there was nothing. After all his time staring, he managed to form words out of his mouth.
"It's destroyed. The world we…"
All of the guardsmen in the bay turned as they heard the familiar thumps of their commanders behind them. They all stood in attention as had been drilled into them, and formed in line. Argus definitely didn't expect to see the Commissar walk behind the commanding officers. He hadn't seen him since the day he was drafted, and it didn't seem like he aged a day.
The man walked to the center of the procession, his head tilted up as he inspected the crowd around him. In a loud, proud and pompous voice he announced the reality to all of them.
"I apologize, guardsmen, but it seems your chance to fight on behest of the Emperor will be forestalled. Yes… but worry not! This battle has already been won by the Imperium, and our service is not needed here. We intercepted a vox comm. set adrift in space, and learned that this world was infested by the plague of chaos forces. The likes of which you need not know for now. The world was then awarded with Exterminatus by an Inquisitor, a holy agent of the Emperor himself. A mercy that denied the world to fully succumb to heresy. It was a worthy punishment for such treason as to turn against the Imperium, against our holy Emperor. Now, I am sure that you all have been eager for your chance to serve our illustrious Imperium, but do not fret. We will be assigned another assignment soon, and you shall get your chance. For now, disperse, return to your duties and prepare for when you are needed. That is all. Carry on, guardsmen."
As quick as he came, he was gone, the commanders with him. The guardsmen simply left in attention as they stood there. Exterminatus, he had said. An order to destroy entire worlds? There was such a thing? Inquisitors? Who they hell were they? The Commissar so easily said those things, but Argus did not understand. He had no reference, no idea what those things were. Though as he gazed back to the window, to the broken and shattered planet, he could only imagine. He could only imagine… The Commissar likely knew that most of them wouldn't understand. They were beneath him, and he made that clear in all but a few sentences. Argus couldn't help but chuckle, softly, and to himself. He couldn't risk angering the others, the zealots among them. It was all so funny. This universe just… why did it have to be so complicated? So cold and unforgiving?
He took a deep breath.
"Where is my purpose now…?"
One of the other guardsmen, whose name Argus didn't care to memorize, overheard him. He turned to look at the gazing guardsman, with a head full of desires for glory. He didn't understand Argus plight, how could he?
"Hey, don't worry mate. You an' I will get our chance, don't ya' worry. Soon we'll be the ones breaken' heads an' serving out the emperors righteous anger."
Argus smiled. The fool sounded so enthused, so unfazed at the horror literally outside. The world they came to save, to fight on, was gone. Nothing, eradicated, erased. And it wasn't by the enemies will, it was by the Imperium's own hand. And it was called a victory. But he would keep these thoughts to himself. He would play the part.
"Y-yes. Of course we will. The Guardsmen will get their chance."
His comrade seemed content, patted Argus on his shoulder pad and walked away. All of the guardsmen dispersed not long after as they returned to their normal life. It was assumed, as it always was, that when they weren't given orders it was free time. Argus didn't move however, simply transfixed on the sight outside. The crewmen walked around him, ignored his presence entirely. He was back to being but a cog in a machine, one that didn't matter whether he turned or stopped.
He was fully dressed in his uniform, as he almost always was. No use taking it off unless it was to sleep. No way to wash himself or his clothes, only the officers and those guardsmen zealot enough to kiss their literal asses got such privileges. This ship ran like a logistical nightmare when it came to the guard. The ship's crew knew what they were doing, were cared for and provided for, the entirety of them allowed their own sectors of the ship with actual facilities. They mattered more, were worthy of being kept alive. The vast majority of the guardsmen weren't, allowed to simply roam the halls and given quarters in large storage rooms for that is what they were, cargo to be delivered and used. Food handed out at specific points, at specific times, but rarely was there enough and the moment they opened, if you weren't there, it would run out. Not that it was great, slop designed to fulfill all the basic needs of the body and nothing more. No need for taste when it was given to dying soldiers. They only needed the guardsmen healthy enough to fight. When it came to the guardsmen aboard The Maw that was life.
Argus shakily managed to force himself away. To escape the awful sight as he marched back into the darkened halls of the ship once more. He followed his usual route, watched around him and made sure none followed. Not that anyone need worry about a single guardsman. The cameras aboard this section of the ship no longer functional, for he knew what working ones looked like. They always watched him in his warehouse way back when. Things were always run so much smoother on his home world, so much cleaner and logical back then. Here it was uncertainty every day. His one single grace was the place he managed to find, secluded from everywhere else.
"Hello."
He looked at the servitor as it snuck up behind him. The things were always patrolling the halls, as they repaired everything. Some sick bastard managed to convince this one to greet everyone. He just couldn't see how some thought it was funny to have a corpse talk. It was horrific enough just having it rove about and act as a slave.
Argus put his hand onto the cold metal shoulder of the abomination. He wanted to shove it away, express his anger on something, but he didn't. Simply, he let go and sighed.
"Hello…"
The servitor's motors churned as its half human head tilted to the side.
"S-S-Signs of depression and i-i-i-immenent suicide detected. A-A-A-Administering emotion suppressants."
Argus flinched as he forgot about their secondary purpose. Not that it mattered, the damn things rarely even had the drugs they hoped to inject. He should know, already tried with several. The servitor raised its arm with a pointed needle, ready to provide its treatment, but Argus only walked away. The servitor didn't follow him, confused probably, as it merely turned back to its route and continued along. Yet, as Argus walked away from it, he couldn't help but feel jealous of that roving, mindless corpse. For while it had no will of its own, it had something Argus did not. A purpose. Every day, it had its tasks to look forward to, and its existence mattered because of it. What did he have? Nothing. Nothing but a hope one day the fight would come and he could finally die. He was, after all, too much of a coward to ever kill himself.
The walk took as long as it always did, though he didn't have a way to tell time. There were no clocks, there was no sunlight; there was only the unsettling patches of light and dark. But, he had wondered the ship for so long that he knew where he was headed, and time stopped to matter. At a dead end, near the darkest part of the ship, where the lights were no longer functional and only the servitors could see, he clambered on. None followed him, and none needed follow. Why see where a single lone guardsman spent his time? He only pushed through the darkness until he found the stray pipe along the wall, in its usual place. He shoved it up, crouched under and then found himself in a thinner hallway. A dim light ahead, that shined through the mess of wires and parts of the ships organs. He maneuvered his way through as he always had, and found himself in the square room he called his own. His one, single escape from it all.
It was a simple room, lit up by the light in its center. The pipes provided heat as whatever ran through them was hot. Here he had his few belongings, those things not assigned to him by the Imperium. On the floor was a cloth he had taken off one of the walking corpses, a crude metal chair on top of it, devised out of spare pipes he managed to find. A bag, hardly standard issue, on the side full of odds and ends he managed to collect on his aimless walks along the corridors. Novelties from screws and bolts, to little figures carved out of scrap. This was his home, where he was likely to die, and he only really left to get food. Coincidentally, that was where and when the commanders would find their squads. A guardsman eats, less they wanted to starve and avoid them forever on this behemoth. A crudely simple system. Argus merely walked over, and laid down as he removed his armor. Carefully he set it aside as he looked up to the ceiling. The light that shined brightly from above was bright enough to keep the room fully illuminated always. He wondered where it came from, why it was here, and how long it could possibly last. But it the end, it didn't really matter. Hopefully, some day he would find his purpose. Something more than this. But he wasn't sure, if that day would ever come. Resigned to this, he closed his eyes and slept.
Thankfully for him, it was soon approaching…
Hey all, been a while. So, first of all, hope everyone is doing all-right with all the craziness of current times. Since I find myself with so much time lately, figured I would add to my fan-fiction. That and, admittedly I feel a bit bad for not posting anything for such a long while, so I decided to put out some extra content while I work on my bigger fic. As for this one, ever wonder where the Imperial Guard ships mentioned at the beginning of chapter 1 went? Well, I did as well and so here this fic came to be. Though as for my main fic, the sequel to my main story is still a long ways in the distance. Got a lot of work left on that one, and a lot of other projects to worry about.
This fic is more of a side story to flesh out the Frontier, the sector of space all my Warhammer 4ok stories take place in. Something interesting, and world-buildingy. Unfortunately, haven't been able to actually play a match of the tabletop with my Faceless Legion for a while, but writing stories in the universe is just as fun. This story's concept has been something of an interest to me for a while now, thinking about things through the eyes of your average ordinary citizen turned soldier in the Imperium. Rather than the high action, stakes battle of before, here we have something more intimate and tragic I suppose. Either way, I hope you find it interesting and I would be curious to know how you think the average citizen of the Imperium feels, their perspective on the world at large. I mean, really some people will live and die not even knowing that aliens exist or much anything of the greater Imperium as a whole. While I really like the bigger scope and epic scale most 40k stories deal with, I do also enjoy thinking about the small things where maybe its not about a war or the fate of a whole sector (or more often the Imperium as a whole), but on a single guardsman who clambers to stay sane in an insane universe, wondering why. Oh well. This story should be only 3 parts give or take, and I am not putting myself on a schedule for it. More like I will work on it when I can and then post each part when its done and has been looked over a few times. After this, or maybe interspersed between (not sure yet) I also want to do a short mini-fic regarding the Freebootas who live in the Schola Sector and raid the Frontier; another 3 parter probably. These fics will likely tie into the bigger one in a lot of ways, expanding on some events and the ramifications of things that happened previously. Perhaps it will have impact on the sequel as well, though well see. Got these stories plotted out already, but things are always prone to change. Wow, I've rambled a lot. Sorry bout that.
Anyhow, I hope you all are doing well. I hope to provide at least some content to help stem the tide of boredom for you, and I hope you enjoy. As always feel free to leave a comment or not. If the actual writing aspect isn't up to par with what I've put out before, let me know, tell me where I can fix some things and I will. Alright, take care all, stay safe and take time to relax, occupy the mind with what you enjoy. Also, get some painting done if your into the tabletop. We all know we have stuff to paint to build and all that.
