Fourteen
"These heretics refute the Emperor's holy right to rule. Let them argue with the barrel of a gun."
-Canoness Sabine Santorus, Order of Our Martyred Lady
Hano was busying himself with cleaning his lasrifle in his makeshift "office", he was singing an ancient Lybim song as he did so. It was a rather silly song about a woman who wanted to marry a strapping soldier lad and so developed a clever plan to snare and wed one of them. His father, a toymaker by trade, used to sing it while he was engrossed in his work mending or inventing something that would bring delight to a child. It brought back fond memories of his far away home. Every time he sung it he felt a slight connection to his father and he wondered if the old man was still making and selling his toys. The thought brought a happy smile to his lips as he remembered the hab block where he grew up and the streets in which he and his sisters had played, with no care greater than what would be waiting for them on the dinner table when they got home.
'I never did get that song.' A feminine voice said behind him, causing him to nearly jump out of his chair.
He looked behind him into the grinning face of Yasha.
'By Tanit's tits!' Hano exploded. 'Have you ever heard of knocking? No wait, have you ever heard about respecting someone's privacy?'
'I'm terribly sorry I breached the sanctity of your little mancave here, Saint.' Yasha said. 'Has anyone ever told you you're really jumpy? You might want to have doctor Asherah take a look at that. I heard she knows how to settle your nerves, must be the magic she works with those soft hands of her.'
'I'm supposing you're not going to leave when I ask nicely?' Hano sighed. A shake from Yasha's head caused him to sigh again and place his lasrifle reverently on his cot. He indicated a closed crate stamped with the Munitorum symbol for foodstuff. 'Then by all means, take a seat.'
Yasha gave him a contented half smile and gave the crate a slight nudge with her boot. The contents clinked, which was a weird way for ration packs to sound. She looked at Hano with a raised eyebrow.
'Don't mind all that.' Hano said quickly. 'That's just, uhm, you know, why are you here again?'
'Just checking on my favourite adjutant to the colonel.'
'I'm the only adjutant to the colonel.' Hano remarked dryly.
'Yes, which makes me you my favourite one by default.' Yasha winked.
'Uhu, if you came here to shower me in weird compliments then your mission has succeeded.' He turned away from Yasha and made to reach for his lasrifle again.
'Actually, there is one thing.' Yasha said.
Hano sighed and rolled his eyes as his hands retreated from his lasrifle.
'And that would be?' Hano prompted. 'I don't have all day to stay and chat, I'm a busy man.'
Yasha looked at the crate of contraband and then back to Hano. 'Yes, I can see that.'
'I would very much appreciate that you get on with it.'
'I wanted to talk to you about that local kid.' Yasha said, with a slightly worried look creeping into her eyes.
'You mean, Mira?' Hano asked.
'Yeah, that's the one.' Yasha said. 'Me and my squad, Hyrum especially, wanted to know how she's doing? That kid looked she had been through a lot. She had the sort of look in her eyes you expect to see in Guard veterans, not in the eyes of someone so young.'
'Sergeant, that child had a family only a few days ago. Now she is the only one left, from what I heard she hid in a cellar while above her everyone she ever knew and loved was being butchered by xenos.'
Yasha looked away from Hano's hard gaze.
'Look, me and the lads just want to know if she's alright or if there's anything she needs.' She muttered.
'Why Yasha, daughter of Imashtart,' Hano began with a sly smile. 'If I didn't know any better I would say you actually care for the kid. Have you finally found your heart again? I thought it was in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust.'
'Frig you.' Yasha snarled. 'We all lost people since we swore our oaths before the Sacred Fire, we knew what to expect. We were trained to handle whatever shit the galaxy flings at us or die trying. But this kid? She didn't ask for any of this and she sure as shit didn't deserve any of this. She's an innocent, and in this messed up galaxy that makes her a rare sight indeed. And if thinking that innocence isn't worth protecting well then Saint, I don't frigging know what is.'
'Shit.' Hano mouthed as he looked at the genuinely hurt look on Yasha's face. He realised he had gone too far and hit a sensitive spot. 'Look, I'm sorry.'
Yasha gave a snort. 'I think that's the first I ever heard you say the word sorry.'
'Better savour the moment then.' Hano remarked.
'You know, my mother used to tell me that regret was just wisdom that arrived too late.' Yasha said, her good humour returning.
'Don't push it.' Hano growled. 'Look I can see this kid means something to your squad. I'll try to get your and your mob assigned into the watch rotation to make sure she stays safe. I'll talk to Hamilcar and see what I can do.'
'It must be nice to be friends with the heroic commander in charge of this dysfunctional family we call a regiment.' Yasha replied with only a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice.
'It has it's advantages.' Hano conceded. 'But he has this annoying ability to lead from the front. I could do with a slightly more cowardly commanding officer. It would be a nice change of pace to watch a battle unfold from the safety of a bunker for once.'
…
Commissar Chenkov moved into the room filled with vox equipment and long range scanners, his black stormcoat trailed behind him. Manning this machinery was a mixed crew of Cordubans and Qart-Hadashtim operators, neatly divided from each other by nests of cables. Each side casting wary glances at the others.
'Any word of the Valkyrie?' He demanded of the nearest operator, a nervous Corduban corporal who was terrified of the tall and brooding offworlder with his hard stare and, scariest of all, his bolt pistol that was just visible underneath his long coat.
'Uhm.' The poor corporal stammered. 'I haven't, that is to say, we, haven-'
'Uhu.' Chenkov said and turned to the next operator, a Corduban of the rank of sergeant in a rumpled uniform. 'Do you have any updates?'
'Still crashed,' the man said, not even bothering to look up from the screen he was monitoring.
'Oh, still crashed is it?' Chenkov said in voice that dripped with faked sentiment.
Several Qart-Hadashtim operators now looked up from their screens. They knew Chenkov was in all fairness a reasonable man who was far removed from the stereotype of the trigger happy Imperial commissar, not the sort to put a bolt round between your eyes because the buttons of your dress uniform weren't properly polished. But they also knew he was not the sort of man who tolerated fools.
'That's what my cogitator says, at any rate.' The Corduban said.
Chenkov's response was to move behind the man's chair and tap his shoulder. The operator swivelled around with his chair and his face paled has he came face to face with the Rostovian commissar. He froze when he saw that the commissar's bolt pistol was no longer in it's holster. It had taken up residence in Chenkov's left hand.
'What is your name, sergeant?'
'Juan,' The Corduban said, his eyes darting from Chenkov's eyes to the bolt pistol and back. 'Juan Morales.'
'Tell me, Juan, do you know what this is?' Chenkov asked, indicating the bolt pistol he held almost casually in his hand.
By now Horus himself could have risen from the dead and invaded this corner of Corduba and no one would have known as all the eyes that were supposed to be monitoring comm-chatter and enemy movements were glued on the grim commissar.
'Uhm.' The Corduban stammered. 'A- a gun?'
'Yes, it would appear to be, wouldn't it?' Chenkov said to the squirming Corduban operator. 'But you are mistaken. This is not merely a gun. No, it is a divine instrument. A means by which the galaxy is cleansed of the Imperium's enemies. Aliens, traitors, mutants, incompetent fools, they all stand in the way of mankind's unquestionable right to rule the stars.'
Juan stared wide-eyed at the commissar's face, his mind frozen in place out of sheer terror.
'Are you an enemy of the Imperium, Juan?' Chenkov asked.
'N-no, sir.' Juan managed to say.
'No, I didn't think so.' Chenkov said, though he did not holster his bolt pistol. 'You are just a bumbling idiot who managed to hide himself away behind his desk to avoid any real fighting and grew fat and complacent.'
'I-I…'
'Silence.' Chenkov barked. 'I have seen your type on a dozen worlds. You may praise the Emperor and whatever Saints you hold close to your heart that I consider cretins like you a waste of the labour of the honest worker who forged the rounds for this weapon.'
A sigh of relief escaped from Juan's mouth.
It was cut short by Chenkov's wicked grin. 'No, you may count yourself lucky indeed that I believe in rehabilitation.' The commissar said. 'You will no doubt feel honoured that you will be able to join the defence of your world, with a lasrifle in your hands and a prayer to the God-Emperor, Lord of All, on your lips.'
Juan opened his mouth to protest but Chenkov cut him off again.
'There is no need to thank me.' Chenkov said and indicated two Qart-Hadashtim Guardsmen. 'Take him out of my sight.'
As Juan's terrified protests slowly faded from the hallway as he was dragged to the life he had worked so hard to avoid, Chenkov turned his attention back to the assembled operators.
'Now then. Third time is the charm, as they say. So let's try that again. Any word of the Valkyrie?"
…
In the dead of the night a lone Thunderhawk set down in the middle of the courtyard of the fortress. It was silver and gold and proudly bore the heraldic sign of a black dragon, the Chapter badge of the Silver Knights.
Several Corduban soldiers and Qart-Hadashtim Guardsmen stared in open mouthed wonder at the brutal aircraft, even though it was the second to land there in as many days. The Angels of Death never lost their allure on the mortal soldiers of the Imperium.
With a hiss of hydraulics the ramp of the Thunderhawk opened and from it marched a squad of Astartes, resplendent in their silver armour trimmed with gold. At their front strode a Silver Knight with a red cloak trailing behind him, a massive two handed power sword strapped to the backpack that powered his armour.
Behind the squad of Astartes came a motley band of Corduban PDF troopers and Sacred Band soldiers. Their armour was gouged and their uniforms were nearly all torn, some had bandaged limbs and others had to be supported by their more fortunate comrades as they walked down the ramp.
The squad of Space Marines with their red-cloaked leader turned on their heels and faced the Imperial soldiers in a perfect semicircle.
A hushed silence fell over the assembled crowd as they waited to see what would happen next.
The voice of the Silver Knight boomed across the courtyard, no doubt further amplified by the vox grille built into his helmet.
'Soldiers of the Imperium,' The Astartes began. 'Before you stand true warriors of the Emperor. Men and women who came face to face with the worst an uncaring galaxy has to offer. Know that they did not falter, know that they did their duty, some even unto death. As long as soldiers like this,' the Silver Knight said and took in the crowd with a sweeping gesture of his armoured hand before continuing, 'soldiers like you still draw breath this world will not fall.' At his words the Silver Knights behind him hammered their right fists on their breastplates in unison, a Mephistan mark of honour to show respect from one warrior to another.
The Silver Knight removed his helmet and held it in the crook of his arm. Revealing a face that bore a neatly trimmed beard and was crowned by pitch black hair, his emerald eyes seemed to blaze with righteous fury.
'I am Brother-Captain Artelius Pendrahir, commander of the Silver Knights third company.' The Silver Knight continued. 'We have come to the aid of the people of this world in their hour of need. Let it be known that we consider it an honour to fight alongside heroes such as you. Together we will purge this alien filth from this place and see this world restored to what it once was.'
The crowd of Imperial soldiers began to cheer, those with lasrifles raised them in the air while those who were unarmed raised their fists.
Artelius drew his massive sword and ignited the force field so it was wreathed in crackling blue lighting, he raised it high over his head for all to see.
'Every innocent who died, every child left without parents will be avenged!' Artelius roared. 'This I swear to you! Now I ask you, will you stand with us and burn these animals to ash in the fires of vengeance?'
The Imperial reply was deafening.
