A/N: A nice long chapter to make up for the shorter one!
Book Two: Corruption's End
Chapter 81: Any That Name You Friend
"If you only knew in your own heart how many hardships you were fated to undergo…" - Ancient Terran literature, title unknown.
Their final days on the Void-Whisper passed in relative peace. The wounded did not recover swiftly, and Yang learned that it would be a long time before Maion and Obsidian held a chainsword again. If ever. Amat refused treatment from the eldar - he would not accept anything less than a replacement or one of Magos Tyrham's works. He'd packed his belongings quickly and furtively, so much so that Yang decided to give him some space.
Garnet helped him come to terms with his new power, though the former assassin was hesitant at first. Yang's decision had been rash and impulsive, after all. It would have been kinder to kill Amat outright, but she knew that she could never pull the trigger unless he was moments away from total corruption.
Unlocking his aura had also weakened Weiss' seals, but Yang kept the nightmares and violent impulses in check, grinding them to dust with an iron, contemptuous will. They would subside in due time.
Only when Captain Ellamár notified them that they would shortly be arriving at Gartenwald did Yang reach a decision. She waited for an hour outside Pyrrha's chambers at Caelus' insistence. The ancient Champion was having great difficulty rousing herself, and her lucid moments were growing sparse. Her battle with Ahriman had cost her greatly.
It had cost her everything.
But Yang refused to feel guilty. If she felt guilty, she'd spiral again. I made my decision. I will live with it. Learn from it. I can't do anything else.
Pyrrha emerged in due time, bound to her wheelchair. A bag of intravenous fluid hung from one of the handles, a bundle of bandages tied around her wrist.
"Yang," she said, her eyes looking well past her friend.
"Hey Pyrrha," Yang said. "Caelus?"
The eldar patriarch nodded, stepping aside gracefully. "Do be careful, Yang," he said, unable to keep a hint of concern from his voice. Given the eldar proclivity for concealing emotion, that must have been the equivalent of a desperate shout.
Pyrrha patted her husband's hand. "Yang may be clumsy," she said, "but I have yet to see her tip a wheelchair. On accident," she clarified with a small and withered grin.
Yang tried to swallow, but couldn't get past the lump of grief in her throat. "Where do you want to go?" She asked.
"Let us get some fresh air," Pyrrha said. "My quarters have felt so awfully cramped recently."
Nodding, Yang took the handles for her wheelchair, taking great care to maintain a smooth and steady walk - Pyrrha looked frail enough to shatter at the slightest disturbance.
"You have an answer," the old woman said.
"I do," Yang said as they passed a large window. Outside the Void-Whisper, the Webway hurtled by, golden and pulsing. "I'm sorry, but I can't accept. Not that it wasn't tempting."
"I had hoped for that much, at least," Pyrrha said. "But I suppose I already knew the answer when I asked. Too many ties to the Imperium. Or the people within it."
"Yeah," Yang said. She paused. 'Yeah' was noncommittal, a coward's answer. "Yes," she said. "Humanity might be in a pretty bad shape, but I can't just… bail. There's people that count on me. That I count on. There's something waiting for me in the Imperium. A purpose," she added. "I'm close. I can feel it."
"And I would have an easier time fighting Ahriman again than tearing you from that," Pyrrha said, grinning once more.
"You fought Ahriman," Yang said, gently clapping her friend's shoulder. Her frame felt like wet tissue paper, but she ignored that. Had to. "That was awesome."
Pyrrha frowned. "At the time, it felt like madness. But there was no other option." Her voice grew cold. "I have never known such fear."
Yang blinked. "You seemed in control to me."
"No Yang. Not at all." She grasped at Yang's arm, and she saw her knuckles were as white as bone. "Imagine the endless void of space. Imagine the nothing. All-encompassing, endless, suffocating. In those moments, I was a prisoner of Ahriman's personal void, a vault of boundless rage and grief and terror and desperation. I've never been so scared in my life. Not even Salem roused such a primal response from me. I felt like a useless, ignorant animal wriggling in a trap. A mote of dust drifting through infinity, forgotten and insignificant. I ensured that we escaped, but that was all I managed. Take care never to meet him again."
"I will," Yang said. "Thanks, by the way."
"I would have done the same for Caelus," Pyrrha said instantly. "Or any of my children. Had I been there with… had I been there with…" her lip quivered. "If I had stood beside Rhona, she would not have fallen. You rushing to save Amat felt inevitable, really. Was the Harlequins' plan truly to capture Ahriman in the Webway? Was our narrow escape really so narrow?" She sighed. "I digress. I am often given over to wandering these days."
"It's okay," Yang said. They passed the Dire Avengers, and were quiet for a time. "I appreciate the offer. I really do."
"It stands, Yang," Pyrrha said. "It always will. I have already informed Caelus. Anyone that names you 'friend' is welcome within our walls."
"You're not... leaving?"
"We are, but it will be some time before we are able. Countless variables. Will the council allow it? What of Il-Kaithe as a whole? What if what I discovered is some elaborate ploy by the Changer of Ways?" She shuddered as the title crawled past her lips. "Regardless, I will not live to see the answer." Once more, a pause. "I am so tired, Yang. Whatever end my soul reaches, I pray it is one of rest."
Yang didn't have an answer for her friend. 'I'm sorry to hear that' didn't seem appropriate. "I think at least one person from our class deserves a peaceful death." She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but Pyrrha chuckled weakly. It sounded like gasping.
"I suppose so." Her hand closed around Yang's. "Thank you, Yang. For everything. You always knew how to make us laugh. Even as the darkness descended on Remnant, you were there for us."
"Simpler times," Yang said.
"Oh, indeed. I miss them dearly." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Whatever ends we reach," Pyrrha said, "I hope our souls will meet again one day. Wouldn't that be something?"
"It would," Yang said. "Would you at least like to see Weiss? I know she won't be long."
"I would very much like to see her again," Pyrrha allowed. "But I am afraid I will see too much Inquisitor, and too little Heiress. I fear that she will only see the pointed tips of my ears, and deafen herself to what I have to say." She took a long, shaky breath. "I would rather her memories of me be fond ones, memories untainted by this galaxy. Can you carry a message for me, however?"
"Of course," Yang said.
"Tell her I miss her dearly. That I regret we could not meet. That I loved her like a sister, and wish for her to find happiness."
"I'll tell her that," Yang said. "Word for word."
Pyrrha's features fell. "I know. Does it surprise you to learn that tales of Weiss were Obsidian's favorite?"
"It doesn't," Yang said. "You've done a lot in your time here, you know. And that whole business with the Chariot… thanks, Pyrrha. You might not be around to see what happens, but I'll make sure your faith in humanity isn't misplaced. I won't forget it. Neither will Weiss."
"I am glad to hear that, Yang. So very glad."
They said their final goodbyes two days later. The Void-Whisper had arrived at the periphery of Gartenwald's system to find a host of Imperial craft awaiting them. In order to avoid conflict with the growing armada, Captain Ellamár decided that they would not leave stealth protocols, and instead drop the humans off on the surface to be picked up by Imperial vessels later. An inconvenience, sure, but Yang knew it was unavoidable. With all that firepower, the slightest miscommunication would mean death.
The shuttle bay that held the remaining lander was dimly lit, with only two rows of floor lights guiding the humans towards the craft. Quickly fading into the heights of the bay, the lights looked lonely to Yang, the lander even more so. She'd never gotten used to the Void-Whisper's aesthetics, the pale wraithbone walls, the red jewels that studded the ship.
The kasrkin boarded the lander immediately, skipping any pretense of a farewell to their allies of convenience. Only Chera hesitated, unspoken questions on her face. In the end, she bit them down and sat next to her husband. Yang and Amat remained behind for a moment, the former assassin leaning heavily on a foldable crutch.
Garnet spoke first. "Thank you," he said. "Without your help, we would not have returned."
"Without me rushing off to save Amat, you all would have been fine in the first place," Yang replied. Garnet scoffed, and Caelus patted her shoulder. A gesture he must have learned from Pyrrha, she realized.
"You are too harsh on yourself," the former Tou'Her patriarch replied. Pyrrha nodded, still bound to her wheelchair. She looked like a corpse in the sparse lighting, a skeleton clinging to the last vestiges of its skin.
"It was better to see you be true to yourself," Pyrrha concurred. "At whatever cost. It was… refreshing. A vision of Remnant."
Yang grinned sheepishly. "I guess so." She faltered on what to say next. - goodbyes were never her specialty. After all, her final farewell to her best friend was a drunken, rambling scroll-call.
And then silence.
The alien warlock made up for her deficiency, clasping her in a warm yet frail embrace. "You were an... adequate student," Garnet said, struggling - and failing - to keep a smile off his face. She returned the hug, squeezing him until he went bug-eyed.
"And you were an adequate teacher. Thanks, man." She punched his shoulder, hard enough to bruise.
"Easy," he said, rubbing the wound. "Whatever would my wife-to-be say if she saw such grievous injuries? The things she would accuse me of…"
"Nothing inaccurate," Maion called, shambling into view. Leaning on the door frame that led into the hangar bay, she was a shadow of her former self, a spitting image of her decrepit grandmother. The Striking Scorpion had thinned significantly, a look that ill-suited an eldar frame. She wore nothing but blood-spotted bandages and a loose-fitting healer's robe. Dark bags hung from her eyes, black circles that weighed down her entire face and sunk her vibrant eyes deep into their sockets.
It was the first time Yang had seen her conscious in the weeks following the Battle of Niurvenah.
"Maion!" She said.
"Yang," she replied, limping forwards. "Assassin."
"Assassin no longer," Amat said.
"So I heard," Maion countered. Caelus caught her, helping her along so that she could say her farewells. "A stunt, but one ever so fitting for the Golden Dragon," she added. "Fortune favors you still."
"Apparently," Yang acknowledged. She embraced Maion, this time with far more care than she had shown Garnet. "I'm glad I met you. You guys kick serious ass."
Maion laughed, a pitiful wheezing sound. "I suppose… I suppose so. Perhaps you will fight alongside us once more."
"I'd like that," Yang said.
"As… would I," Amat said hesitantly. His words earned him a few startled blinks that melted into subdued grins. Maion leaned forward, beckoning the assassin closer. Cupping her hand around his ear, she whispered something inaudible to him, her fingers bound tight in the fur of his jacket. His face was a mask. "Understood," he said eventually.
"Keeping secrets are we?" Yang asked, eying the wounded aspect warrior.
"Not quite," Maion said.
Amat opened his mouth. Hesitated. "Thank you," he told her eventually. "This has been an enlightening experience," he said to them all.
"I am glad," Caelus said, beaming. "'Enlightening a Vindicare is not something eldar often accomplish. I may be the only one to perform such a strange and prodigious deed."
Garnet's hand met his face. "Dad…" he said. "You are giving yourself too much credit."
"Only what is fair."
"You'll say goodbye to Obsidian for us, won't you?" Yang asked. The Exarch - also severely wounded - would not attend their farewell. "Lossamdir was an asshole, but they seemed to work well together."
"They try," Garnet muttered.
"We will," Pyrrha assured her. "I will also extend your well-wishes to every member of the Tou'Her."
"Tell them I'm sorry I couldn't visit," Yang said. It would have been nice to meet Pyrrha's family, aliens or otherwise. She sighed, and felt a now-familiar lump of emotion sticking in her throat. "Well, Pyrrha… I'm…" The words wouldn't come. What can I even say? Instead, she gave Pyrrha a careful hug. Ancient and decrepit, her old friend could only lay an arm on her back in response. It was so light, it barely registered.
"I'm…" Yang struggled, choking on her words once more. "I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye last time. On Remnant." A weak, watery chuckle. "Feels weird now. Knowing I'll never see you again."
"Who is to say you won't?" Pyrrha returned, disengaging. "Death has proven to bring transitive properties to one's soul, no?" She smiled, and for a moment, Yang saw the Champion of Mistral. "Worry not, Yang. I will remember you, no matter what state my soul reaches. I have done so before, after all."
"I won't forget you either," Yang said. They broke apart. "I promise. I wish we had more time to spend together. I love you, Pyrrha. You're one of the best people I've ever met."
Pyrrha nodded solemnly. "I was afraid you would say something like that," she said, tears caressing her wrinkled face. "I would have liked to spend more time with you." Her lip attempted a smile but failed, instead trembling in place, weak and wavering. "I love you too. Goodbye, Yang."
"Goodbye, Pyrrha." Yang hugged her one last time before turning on her heel and boarding the landing craft. She didn't look back.
She didn't weep until they were halfway to Gartenwald. Amat placed a hand on her back, a small show of support, comforting and so very typical of the former assassin. Yang leaned into him and cried in silence, feeling like she had just torn a part of her soul from her breast and burnt it to ashes.
Boarding the Ascendant Dawn after nearly a month away from its halls was a surreal experience. Where the Void-Whisper was open, elegant, and organic, the halls of the old transport ship were cramped, brute-force, and wonderfully familiar. It felt like coming home. Memories of Ros returned, mostly absent after the shock of the the Tou'Her and the Black Library. Against Yang's expectations, they restored her mood somewhat, a stark reminder of what mattered in the galaxy and the frailty of all things precious.
Amat hobbled beside her, clearly uncomfortable despite his ever-placid expression. She hadn't told him of her realization yet - it didn't feel like the right time. Not so soon after saying farewell to Pyrrha and the Tou'Her. A raw, open wound. I'll tell him before we drop again, Yang decided. For maximum dramatic impact, she added, smiling for the first time since leaving the Void-Whisper.
Flashes of trashy war-dramas and huntsmen romances played through her mind, each one cheesier than the last. Emperor, how she had loved them. Watching the worst offenders with RWBY and JNPR had been one of Yang's favorite team-building exercises. Even when war loomed outside the walls of Vale, they still gathered in their dorm to laugh at amateur acting and zero-budget special effects.
"You're smiling," Amat noted.
"Memories of Remnant," Yang said. "Also, excited to see Gamma again. I miss those tiny fuckers."
Amat did not smile. Hurt weighed heavily upon him, plain as day. After Yang had severed his leg, his stealth suit's invisibility was non-functional, and he'd lost an integral part of himself. He could no longer walk, no longer prowl, no longer utilize the body that was built to perfection, each fiber of his body that was constructed for a singular purpose.
To say nothing of his new abilities.
"Hey, cheer up buddy," she said. "You'll be back in action in no time. Prexius will get you new leg. Maybe a new set of organs, while she's at it."
"Perhaps," Amat allowed.
"So you and Maion keep secrets now?" She teased, prodding him with her elbow. "Did she ask you on a date?"
"No," Amat said, confusion peeking through his features. "She… she said 'a warrior born is not a warrior made. She will find safety, succor, and a moonlit spear in the halls of the everlasting.'"
Yang blinked. "Cryptic bullshit from Maion?" She shook her head. "I expected that from the other eldar, but not her. I thought she was above all that nonsense."
Amat shrugged. "She seemed… perturbed. I doubt her painful rest brought easy dreams."
"Look at you," Yang said, elbowing him again. "Talking all fancy and shit. I think the xenos rubbed off on you. Or wanted to at least." She threw him a wink, but his thoughtful grimace caught none of her meaning. Good.
"I suppose," he said, his mind on other matters. Yang didn't need Weiss talents to know which.
"Your aura," she began, "I know you're worried about it. But we'll work on it. Me and you." She bit her lip, stumbling on Amat's non-reaction and sullen eyes. "For now, take a break. Paint some paintings, read a book or two. Pray. Pray a lot. Focusing on positive stuff makes all this shit," she said, waving a hand around her head, "easier to deal with. Did Weiss give you the basics on aura?"
"Only the basics. No specifics," he answered. "Garnet also covered general concepts."
"General concepts will be fine for now. Weiss'll pitch a fit once she sees my handiwork, but for now, be glad you're not possessed."
"I praise the Emperor for my good fortune," he said.
"Humor helps too," Yang said, clapping his shoulder. She let her hand rest there a moment before throwing caution to the wind and giving it a hearty squeeze. "We're a team, Amat. A good one. I won't let petty things like losing a leg and suddenly becoming a psyker get in the way of that."
Amat said nothing, but a hint of levity shone through his demeanor.
"There you go," she said. "Now, just to make sure you won't blow your brains out, why don't you bunk with me?"
He raised an eyebrow, and Yang pushed down the warmth that rose to her cheeks with a violent, unsparing will. "Top bunk, dude." Ros' bunk. "I know how much you like being perched up somewhere high." It had lain empty since Ros' abduction, a silent tribute to her missing friend. Yang would not give it away lightly. In fact, she would give it to no one else.
"I'll... pass," Amat said.
"Alright," she said. "You're gonna be okay though, right? I'm worried about you." She realized she was still touching him, and released her grip reluctantly.
"I will… survive," Amat allowed. "If you need me, I'll be in one of the empty barracks." After months of campaigning, most were empty of Woadians. None of the camp followers were allowed occupancy either, given their already barely-tolerated status.
"Alright," Yang said. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him, and held him tight, her hand resting gently atop the nape of his neck. "Despite all that shit," she whispered, "I think our whole Black Library escapade was kinda fun. Thanks for having my back."
"Of course." Amat returned her hug, his embrace no longer awkward or distant, now full of warmth and comfort.
Yang leaned into him and savored the sensation. Easy, girl. "I'll see you in a bit, okay?"
Amat nodded.
"Awesome." She pulled away and headed towards Gamma's old haunts, a smile on her face. Today has been a fucking roller coaster. Before long, she stood before the most familiar bulkhead of them all, a simple gunmetal slab with the symbol for 'Gamma' stenciled on it. Gently, her fingers caressed the symbol. They're mine now. Everyone else is gone.
A sobering thought. Yang was no leader, she wasn't Sergeant Jorvis, she wasn't Vadiik, she wasn't Ros. She wasn't Jaune and she was certainly no Ruby. Where do I even start? Unbidden, the sergeant's beret found its way into her hands. It looked good on her, but that's all it did. Affixing it to the crown of her head, she found no surge of confidence, no sudden reaffirment.
Will I get them killed? What if I can't do it? What do I even say to them?
The bulkhead flew open to reveal Caolin, his dark, tattooed cheeks flush with excitement. His eyes went wide, and his lip quivered for a moment before he made a small 'wha' noise.
"What's wrong, Caolin?" Asgeg called from within. "Didja-" She stopped once Yang stepped into the room.
"I'm back," Yang said. The room exploded into cheers, and once more, the Woadians rushed her, accosting her warmly, cajoling her with jabs and well-wishes.
Caolin threw his arm around her shoulders, beaming like an idiot. "You keep disappearing on us, Yang," he said, clicking his tongue. "It's becoming a bad habit. Any new wounds to show us?"
"Yeah, gonna flash Caolin again?" Asgeg teased, joining him at her side.
"This familiarity is unbecoming of you," Yang said, her face as stolid as Amat's. "I am your Sergeant now, your superior. I will be treated as such."
Dead silence.
"Nah, I'm just fucking with you," She said, elbowing Caolin in the gut. Peals of laughter echoed through the barracks, and she enveloped her closest friends in a hug. "C'mon! You guys didn't seriously fall for that, did you?"
"You hang out with an I-Inquisitor," Lana said. "We're not gonna take chances."
"Hey, your stutter's better," Yang said, tousling her hair. It had grown long in her month away, with side-braids reaching the bottom of her chin. Lana reddened, shrinking within herself. "And to answer your question, the only wounds sustained were to my pride. Oh, and this," she said, leaning down and pulling her cheek back to reveal her missing molars. That earned her a few sympathetic winces from her comrades.
"But compared to my adventures on Uriel," she continued, "I'm basically the picture of health. What about you guys? Did I miss anything while I was away?" She looked beyond the circle of Woadians, and found a handful of strangers lurking in the back of the barracks, wary of the sudden rush of activity. Some bore the traits typical of Ranshan natives - oil-black hair and golden eyes - while others were paler, and more diverse in their appearance. "Gartenwalders?" She guessed.
"Yup," Asgeg confirmed.
"Replacements?" Yang guessed. "Or camp followers?" She leaned in, wearing a salacious grin. "I didn't interrupt something… untoward, did I?"
"Your mind's always in the gutter," Caolin said. "No matter what they put on top of it," he added, nodding at her beret.
"Bah, look who's talking," Asgeg said. "And to answer your questions Yang, they're Gamma's fresh blood. These are the brighter ones that got through R.I.P. without the Commissars pounding them into a pulp. Oh, and on that note-"
Yang threw the newbies a sly smile and a half-wave. "Welcome to the Guard," she called to them. "We got all the best toys." She paused. "Wait a second, where's Mael?"
"At a checkup with Soo," Caolin answered. "In the medbay. Dumbass went and got her pregnant."
"No shit," Yang hissed. "That was fast."
"The first Woadian-Ranshan baby… ever," Asgeg said. "They were at it so often, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner."
"We'll throw him a party," Yang said, clapping her on the back. "But just him. The way you guys fuck, we'll drink the Dawn dry in a month." She meant it as a joke, but the mutterings of weary agreement unsettled her. Deeply. "Oh Emperor, you're serious."
"As I was saying," Asgeg said, chuffed, "a few other things changed in your absence."
Yang tripped over her tone. There was a tinge of worry to it, something she wanted as far away as possible from Gamma as possible. "What?" She asked, before realizing. "Golden Throne, they gave us the standard, didn't they?"
A solemn nod from Lorl. "I'm the new standard bearer for the regiment," he said. "We're the mascots now."
"Lyrasson, that fucker," Yang growled, kneading the bridge of her nose. "I told him I didn't want it!"
"Yes," Asgeg said, holding up a single mechanical digit, "and he said, specifically, 'now that she's not here, I'm going to get away with everything I can'." She coughed weakly. "He also gave us some support staff."
"Like…?" Yang asked.
"Like me," a new voice said. An odd voice, rough and flaky, like it was hewn from a charred lasgun barrel. Behind them stood a Commissar, a tall, broadly-built man with sharp features and an aquiline nose. A shock of unkempt black hair sat beneath the feared comissar's cap, and his rigid posture bespoke a practiced and centuries-old nobility. The only part of his uniform that was non-standard was a pair of pristine white-and-gold tankers' gloves.
"A suitably dramatic introduction, I pray," he said, wearing a taut half-smile. "Commissar Neuhoff, from the Gartenwald PDF. Graciously appointed to the Emperor's service in this hour of dire need. Well met, First Sergeant Yang Xiao Long."
Yang blinked. There was only the barest trace of contempt in his voice, and the slightest stilt that indicated this particular line had been rehearsed. Is this guy even a real Commissar? Also, did he call me First Sergeant?
"You hesitate," Neuhoff said. "Understandably so. I am under no delusions regarding Gamma's importance to this regiment, nor its reputation. I think we are in agreement that my addition to this platoon is rather unnecessary, but I pray you will at least appreciate some added firepower," he said, patting his bolt pistol. "As I understand it, we are in for quite a battle."
Yang blinked again. Young, polite, handsome, well-spoken, and not wantonly waving his bolt pistol around… there's no way this guy is for real. Though she was taken aback, she wasn't so stunned as to miss the attempted dig for information.
"I believe so," she replied. If Maion is telling the truth.
"Excellent," Neuhoff said. "Though I was forged in the fires of the Schola Progenium, I found my talents to be woefully neglected on my homeworld, and my veterancy similarly lacking when compared to other members of the Lady Inquisitor's task force."
"I think you'll fit in well here," Yang said, extending her hand. The Commissar shook it, his solid-iron grip concealed by his fancy gloves. "I appreciate you being so forthright. I might be the regiment's favorite poster girl, but…" She paused, shifting her weight. "I'm not an experienced leader. I know the maneuvers and the orders, but actual leadership was my sister's specialty."
"I see," he replied. If you require assistance, I will help you as best I can. I ask that you see me as a resource in the years to come, so that we may guide the 111th to even greater glory in the name of the Emperor. You will, however, respect my office and the brutal necessity of its existence. With that being said, I eagerly await our next deployment." With a nod, he spun on his heel and departed, his shoulder cape flapping as he beat a hasty retreat.
"Huh."
"Yeah, that was our reaction," Asgeg said. "He gave us a similar sermon. Seems the alright sort... for a Commissar, of course. Smart guy."
"Oh?" Yang asked, waggling her eyebrows at her. "Have a weakness for the nobility, do we?"
Caolin laughed. "We dirt-fucking Woadians are too simple for a man like him, Asgeg. You'd be better off seducing a Sister."
"I think eating my lasgun would be safer," Asgeg whispered, aghast.
"Speaking of safety," Caolin said, "You mentioned some action, Yang?"
"I did," Yang said, the brief moment of levity drifting away. "We're going after Josephus." And an artifact of incomparable power. "We're gonna be in the real shit now," she added. "We have the standard, and a personal Commissar. That means the tip of the spear."
"Àuh!" Caolin barked, his foot ringing against the floor. Every Woadian copied him, their rallying cry filling the barracks. "That's what I like to hear."
"Now, here's the part you won't like," Yang said. "I am your Sergeant now, so I'm gonna do my best to make sure you all make it through whatever we face next. I want all of you to double any PT you've been on, and we'll be running drills at thirteen hundred standard every day. Like I told the Commissar… well, hell, you've seen me in action. I wreck shit and leave you guys behind in the process. So until we're all in perfect synch, drills every day."
"You got it Yang," Caolin said, snapping a quick salute. The hint of flippancy to the gesture helped to blunt her reaction at being saluted. "I'm your second and your marksman. I…" his grin died. "I can't be Ros. But I'll try."
"No one can be her, man," Yang said, punching his shoulder. "But I appreciate it. Other things to be aware of…" She stalled for a second, racking her brain to find other important things to say. "No fragging the Commissar without my explicit permission," she added with a grin. "Asgeg will be very upset otherwise."
"Yang!" She cried, indignant. "I said one nice thing about him. You're such an asshole."
"Yeah, but I'm also your Sergeant now. The fancy hat says so," Yang said, pointing to Jorvis' - her - beret. Her friends chuckled, but the rest of the Woadians looked at her with unabashed reverence. It used to turn her stomach, but now it stirred a fire within her. These were her people now, well and truly.
"So," she barked, clapping. "Booty-busting PT starts tomorrow. Tonight, we're celebrating! Remember ladies, in observance of the upcoming deployment, all sexual partners must pull out. Can't risk getting getting pregnant, otherwise you'll be replaced with someone who can't tell which end of a lasgun is which." That got a few laughs. "Now, while I go requisition some lho and amasec, someone go fetch that mute moron and his blushing bride!"
A cheer met her declaration. It wasn't as loud as the ones Ros garnered, nor as fervent, but it would do for now. They still love me. But more importantly, they trusted her, and she trusted them. Yang shook her head, smiling. She had worried for naught. She was going to do everything she could to keep them alive.
She owed them nothing less.
A/N: Tearful goodbyes to ancient friends and pull-out jokes all in the same chapter - some real groundbreaking stuff in AWoBE, huh?
Only joking. Hoped you enjoyed the chapter! I have to admit, writing the Woadians again felt really good. I don't think it's a secret at this point that the Guard is my favorite. I also managed to acquire a 3rd Edition IG codex (the era around which I discovered and fell in love with 40k) on the cheap, which feels incredible.
Next time, we're going to see how Amat's been processing things. See you then!