Armorum Fidei Chapter 8
"So, I can assume it didn't go well?" Eparch Tyreck scoffed.
"We were intercepted and turned back," Phantea icily admitted, "The Space Marines refused to acknowledge our Holy mission and citied ancient mandates to establish their rights."
"There's a phrase that's oddly fitting. What was it... oh yes... I told you so," Tyreck giggled.
Justini fought hard to keep a sneer of contempt off her face at the Eparch's slouched demeanour. The chief of Fraters was slumped in a tattered leather armchair, robes piled up around his frame and clutching an empty bottle in one hand. The smell of rotgut hung heavy upon him, declaring he had not long finished it off and was still under the influence. The man was a pathetic, a torpid waste of skin and bones, from his drunkenness to his apathetic behaviour. His quarters were similarly dishevelled, mouldering paintings on the walls submitting to the ravages of time. Heavy curtains covered glassic windows, turning it into a pit of shades and the tables and desks were piled high with unread missives and reports left to gather dust. There was a nasty smell filling the suite, rank and sour, like spoiled milk and Justini had to breathe through her mouth not to gag.
Phantea glared down at the man and snapped, "They rebuffed our advance but I am not defeated. I have detailed orbital satellites to monitor their base, if they set one foot outside their proving grounds, I will consider it a hostile act and move to punish them."
"It's cute that you think you can," Tyreck chuckled, "They're Space Marines, if you stand in their way they will roll over you and barely notice doing so."
"Your lack of faith in His protection is offensive," Phantea growled.
But Tyreck sat up and barked, "You don't matter anymore, none of us do! Don't you see, nothing we do on Suna matters. This planet is a dumping ground for failures and those too stupid to avoid the assignment. You think anyone cares what you do, that you can make a difference?! No, you have become an irrelevance, you will spend your life here, achieving nothing, while the galaxy spins on without you. The Storm Heralds will do whatever they damn well please and depart, but you won't, you'll be here till your bones turn to dust. We all will."
The outburst seemed to drain what little energy Tyreck still owned and he sank back into a pathetic slump. Justini looked upon the man and found his despondency disgusting. In her time she had seen power mad cardinals and scheming Confessors, bombastic preachers and sadistic torturers, crusading potentates and frothing martyrs. The Ecclesiarchy spawned the ambitious and the mad but all of them shared fiery energy and drive, a conviction to take their creed to the stars no matter the cost. Never had she seen someone so defeated in spirit, a soul so broken they couldn't even fight back.
Phantea glared at the man and hissed, "How did you come to be so lax, Friar?"
"One failure at a time," Tyreck lamented, "I came to this world so filled with passion, so convinced I would succeed where all others had failed. I was just like you, but failure and time ground me down. It will break you too, you'll see."
"Not while I have breath in my body."
With that Phantea turned away and strode out. The Celestians followed on, silent but fuming. Deep into Currens Ecclesia they strode, passing the various adepts and friars that made up its crew and congregation. This deep the ringing of bells was drowned out by grinding machinery but there was a faint rocking to the floor, as mechanical feet carried the walking church across Suna. Justini wanted to ask what their plan was, but Phantea seemed in no mood for chit chat. The Canoness led them on with a stern stride, brooking none to stand in their way. Justini suspected her leader was as troubled as they were by Tyreck's words, but surely she must have a way to overcome the obstacles. Justini clung to that notion, the alternative was too disturbing to contemplate.
Finally Phantea came to their arming chamber and said, "Return your plate to its deserved rest, then get some sleep. I will expect you for morning vespers at first light."
"Should we..." Justini began to ask but the Canonness had already strode off, leaving the Celestians behind.
With nothing else to do they slumped into the arming chamber, where grey-skinned servitors awaited them. Bare metal walls and lockers met them, and a cog/skull icon on the wall, a concession to the Machine Cult for their efforts keeping this convent moving. They set relic weapons into racks, then stepped forward with their arms spread. Responding the servitors trundled forward, drills and callipers extending on metal arms to reach clasps and unscrew bolts. Justini lifted her head as the monotask creations laboured, unconcerned for her modesty, the servitors were incapable of anything other than the task they had been assigned to.
Her backpack came free with a creak and she sagged under the dead weight of her limbs but the servitors quickly attended her distress. Gorget and pauldrons were freed, the breastplate was removed and her greaves lifted away. Connective cables were unplugged her arms felt eerily light, as if she weighed nothing at all. The fibre-bundle undersheath was peeled off, leaving her naked in the chamber as cold air bit extremities.
In a dead drawl the servitors intoned, "Praise the Machine Spirits."
"We give thanks for our armour's service," the squad chorused, "Rest and dream of war."
Rituals complete the servitors withdrew, taking each piece away to be blessed and consecrated for the next time they would be required. Able to move again the Sisters hurried to lockers and pulled out coarse robes, shrugging them on with hasty motions. "Phoowee," Praxi exclaimed, "I stink!"
"Is that smell you?" Lexia chuckled, "I thought something had died inside your armour."
"It's possible, sometimes I reckon if I died the sweat caked into my joints would keep me upright for a week."
Justini rolled her eyes as she pulled thick robes over her head. As she tugged downwards the coarse material yanked on her neck and with a twang the string holding her ring snapped. "Crap!" Justini blasphemed as she grabbed at her chest, feeling the small metal circle slipping down her sternum, "Crap, crap, crap." Clumsily she grabbed at her belly, then her knees, trying to keep the ring from slipping away but she failed to stop it from hitting the floor. With a grimace she stooped to pick it up before it was lost, clutching it tightly in her hands.
She straightened up and found Praxi grinning at her, "You look a state."
Lexia added, "Still, clinging to that old ring. Why do you keep it?"
"It's all I have of my mother," Justini snapped, "Would you throw away your mother's last token?"
"You never met my mother," Lexia snorted, "I was glad to be shot of her."
"Couldn't be worse than mine," Praxi retorted, "Her fists made an Ork look gentle."
"You try being raised to be married off to the highest bidder," Lexia sniffed, "A mere commodity to increase the family fortune."
"You never told us you came from money," Praxi started, "How did you end up joining the Order?"
Lexia snorted, "Caused a real stink, they had agreed to sell me off to the Sultana of Bhreule, she had wealth and power enough to make her ugly face irrelevant. Well, I wasn't going to join her Harem and be a nineteenth wife, not to the ugliest woman on the planet, so I slipped out my window in the night, down a drainpipe and ran off to join a Convent. My father brought his goons after me, but the Order is not to be crossed, one look at the line of boltguns awaiting his gang was enough to send them fleeing. He disowned me of course, but I hardly cared, I thank the God-Emperor daily for getting me out of there."
Resita frowned as she asked, "Bhreule practices a strict interpretation of the Creed, does that world allow polyandry?"
"It does if you're rich," Lexia snorted, "Things like moral codes were for the peasants, anyone with money did as they pleased."
Justini snorted, "Sounds like we should be there, and not here. The Sisters would put the fear of the God-Emperor into those debauched fops."
Praxi grinned as she spread her arms and declared, "I'd cleanse that world single-handed, give me a flamer and..." Unfortunately as she did so her balance tilted, her muscles cramping after many days in plate. She stumbled backwards and bumped into Heleyna, who had been silently dressing behind them. As they collided the Sister's eyes went wild and her lips drew back as she snarled, "Don't touch me!"
"I didn't mean to..." Praxi started but suddenly Heleyna's fist was flying into her midriff. Praxi was a bruiser of a woman, heavily built and barely able to fit into power armour, but Heleyna's scarred knuckles doubled her over with a gasp of expelled air. Praxi went down and Heleyna drew back a foot to kick her, but Lexia reacted on instinct, leaping to tackle the enraged sister. Heleyna was caught off guard but twisted like a snake, grabbing shoulders and pulling them both down. They fell to the ground, wrestling for supremacy, brunette and red-hair flying at they grappled. Lexia drove her elbow into the soft gut but Heleyna sank her teeth into a shoulder blade, drawing blood.
"Stop it!" Resita barked, "Stop it now!"
Justini was stunned but yelled, "Help me separate them!"
Together the pair grabbed the wrestling sisters, yanking them away from each other. The fight was close and vicious but they were all conditioned fighters and managed to heave the pair apart. Resita pulled Lexia to her feet as Justini shoved Heleyna back onto her rear. Surprisingly Heleyna didn't pursue, so Justini stepped back and let her be.
Lexia was holding her bleeding shoulder and hissed, "She's insane, what's wrong with you?!"
"Don't touch me," Heleyna hissed, "Not ever."
Justini faced her squarely and growled, "Heleyna we are not your enemies and you must atone for losing control. Confine yourself to your cell and spend the next three hours flagellating. Pray for forgiveness as you do and think before you act next time."
Heleyna stood and stalked off, not looking back. Lexia however protested, "You can't let her get away with that!"
Praxi however climbed to her feet and said, "Don't hold it against her, she's troubled."
"I hardly see..." Lexia began.
Justini faced her and snapped, "You're new among us, you don't understand. Heleyna came to the convent broken and violated, a tortured spirit. She grew up in the worst kind of slum, used bodily since she could barely walk. Anyone and everyone had their way with her, the kind of depravity that left a mark on her soul. If the Sisterhood hadn't accepted her, she'd be long dead."
"That's no excuse!" Lexia spat.
But Justini jabbed her finger into her chest and growled, "You got out in time, Heleyna didn't. You can't imagine the things that plague her nightmares. Give thanks to the God-Emperor you can't. Don't touch her and there will be no issue."
Praxi slapped her on the shoulder and said, "You'll thank us when you see Heleyna in a real fight. There's no one like her in a brawl. Put her in power armour and she's a fiend. Kills Heretics like a frag round in a sealed room."
"Truly, her ferocity is admirable," Resita added, "Just not her personality."
"That's enough," Justini declared, "We're all exhausted and filthy. Get cleaned up, then we say prayers and evening repast before we hit our bunks. Put this behind us and look to tomorrow. There's the God-Emperor's work yet to be done on Suna."
