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Chapter 8: The calm before the storm
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Part 3
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1st Kronus Regiment Barracks
Victory Bay
Kronus
Just a few hours after the bloodbath of a battle, Lieutenant Felicia Pickos found herself stuck at her desk, neck-deep in paperwork, which did include reams of incensed and blessed parchment among other things, Mechanicus blessed digital records included. She was one of the lucky ones who made it intact both through the Inquisitor's crazy rescue mission and the following battles. Her Platoon, along with most of Alpha Company, weren't so lucky. They handled the Orks with minimal losses, only for the fucking blue-faces to hammer them hard until they could retreat to a new set of defense lines. Afterward, after the briefest of respites, Command threw the whole Battalion in the grinding fighting against the Eldar within Victory Bay itself and that led to a butchery the likes of which Felicia had thankfully seldom witnessed.
She lost half her Platoon in moments against just a handful of screaming Xeno, whose voices turned soldier's insides to a bloody mess, moved almost faster than the eye could track, and had swords, which cut through proper Carapace Armor as if it wasn't there much less Flack Vests. If it wasn't for a bunch of those mechanical Xenos arriving in the heart of sinister green lighting, Pickos' whole Platoon and the Lieutenant herself would have perished then and there.
That might have been for the best really because just a few minutes later, a Xeno sniper picked off a third of the survivors before someone either killed the damn thing or it had to displace. Felicia dearly hoped it was the former, it would be if there was any justice left in the galaxy!
She forced herself to push those maudlin thoughts aside, took a sip of Amasec – the good stuff kept for special occasions like this one, and returned her attention to the breeding mountain of paperwork. Even with the Platoon combat ineffective for the time being and the few hale survivors under the sharp eyes of Sergeant Graves, the LT's work was never done.
Felicia picked up the next data-slate and swore. It was yet another reminder of how many people she lost lately – a requisition related, about special weapons; a request for her to confirm how many of those her Platoon would need. The answer was obvious – preferably at least as many as she had warm bodies to carry them, however, unless Command in their infinite wisdom, designated her Platoon as either heavy or special weapons unit, then they were set through one of the requisition forms she already filled in and signed.
An excited commotion broke Pickos' train of thought and she narrowed her eyes at the barely open door of her office. Graves should have had everyone under control, any and all issues locked down, tight. The last thing they needed was trouble with a passing irritated Commissar, or worse… Felicia got up, pushing her chair back with an unpleasant scrape on the stone floor, and marched into the barracks proper to see what was the issue and if she had to shut it down, hard.
"Ah, Lieutenant Pickos, just the woman I wanted to speak with!" A jovial, somewhat familiar voice greeted her, revealing itself to be the source of the commotion. It took Felicia's tired brain a few moments to place it and recognize it's source – the scarred, tired-looking man in officer's field dress without insignia was a far cry from the Inquisitorial Agent they had to escort just a few days ago, the Inquisitor now.
"My Lord!" Felicia snapped at attention, barely containing her shock at this uncalled for visit and the unacceptable conduct of her soldiers. This was worse than a Commissar with a chip on his shoulder walking in!
"At ease. I see that the recent engagements haven been kind for your Platoon. My condolences." Shockingly enough, he sounded genuine.
"Thank you, My Lord!" Pickos hurried to answer.
"Unfortunately, I'm not here to announce that all of the Imperium's enemies turned tail and ran from us."
A couple of troopers snorted at that, and Pickos pointedly didn't glare and thus make more of a scene in front of the Inquisitor, though perhaps she should have. She didn't have experience in dealing with things like these! Give her an enemy to kill, a position to take or defend, she was your woman! On the other hand dealing with the brass, especially this kind, she was frankly out of her depth.
"I don't bite you know?" The Inquisitor, Veil was it, spoke in a tone full of exasperation. "I do have a job for you and your Platoon if you're up to it, Lieutenant." He looked critically over the remaining combat effective troopers.
"We're ready for whatever you require, My Lord!" Pickos answered on reflex.
"That's the spirit. I'm building myself a proper retinue and need the core of a combat and bodyguard element. Are you up to it, Lieutenant?" The Inquisitor stared intently at her and the thought to disagree politely, or otherwise, never even crossed her mind.
"It's an honor to serve, My Lord! We'll do our utmost!"
"That's the spirit!" The Inquisitor happily clapped hands. "Then we have a bit of paperwork to cover to make your transfer into my service official and avoid complications with your chain of command. While we're doing that, you and the Sergeant here can tell me what equipment and replacements you might require. Additional Squad or two, I believe?"
"We'll need two more Squads in order to get the Platoon to a semblance of proper combat shape, sir!" Sergeant Graves chipped in.
"Two Squads it is then. And an additional Stormtrooper section if I can convince the General to let us have a few of those boys and girls…" The Inquisitor thought aloud.
More paperwork? That statement by the Inquisitor eventually caught up with Felicia through the shock of the current crazy situation. What did she just agree to anyway?!
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General Alexander's HQ
Victory Bay
Kronus
With a diminished Platoon on board as the first official part of my retinue I recruited on my own initiative, I found myself in an audience with General Alexander, who was in his office, reading through a detailed report for our losses to date, especially among the heavy equipment.
"You've begun to poach competent personnel in a typical Inquisitorial fashion." He stated, without looking from the data-slate in his hands.
"Having a proper retinue will increase my odds of survival in the battles to come, not to mention with me around it would be easier to explain to Segmentum Command why you and Captain Thule ceased shooting at each other, providing that your conflicting orders weren't a mistake."
The aging man put down the data-slate and looked me in the eyes. His heavy stare contained weariness I hoped I won't be experiencing anytime soon.
"No matter what, there would be elements who would like to sweep this mess under the carpet and forget about it, and us. Punishing us for disobeying what is frankly insane orders, would fit the bill." He admitted quietly. "Or everything might turn all right if we don't get ourselves killed in the days to come. What do you require of me, Inquisitor? This isn't a social call, we both know it."
"First the obvious, I would like to requisition a few of your Stormtroopers, the bodyguard you assigned to my protection to find out Inquisitor Requista if they're available."
"You can have a Stormtrooper Fire-Team, the same one if they're still alive and able to fight. I can't spare anything more right now, Inquisitor, we'll need them all in the fighting to come. And you shouldn't be on point this time." He looked pointedly at my scars.
"I did figure out that charging Orks wasn't been the brightest of ideas. Thank you for your support."
"It's my duty, nothing more, nothing else. At least it would make for a great story and an amusing video to watch in the future. Is there anything else you need, Inquisitor?"
"Mechanized transport for my retinue while we're operating on Kronus and thus within your area of responsibility. If I believed that it was available, I would have requested air transport and a pilot as well, however, I'm aware that our Aeronautica assets took crippling losses."
"They aren't combat effective any longer and we can put just a handful of bombers and fighters in the air. We'll have to rely on integrated AA units and our… allies to deal with any Heretic air power. Because of that, I believe I can authorize you to get a pilot and transport, however, obviously, I can't provide you with fighter escort so going anywhere by given the security situation, would be a great way to commit an expensive suicide. I'll advise against doing so, Inquisitor."
"That's great news. I might see what available pilots we have for future reference if nothing else. I won't take up more of your time, General. Once we've dealt with the heretics, we should talk about the source of your orders, those of Captain Thule's as well."
"I'll see to it that we do." If we are still alive was left tactfully unsaid.
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Part4
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Victory Bay
Kronus
A few hours of inquiries finally led me to a field hospital on the outskirts of Victory Bay. It was hastily set up after the battle and currently chock full with wounded and the people who tended them. Heavy guard too, because after the Tau practically overran our outer positions earlier, no one felt like taking chances, even if the uppity bastards shouldn't be in a position to launch another assault.
If I had any illusions about getting through the battle lightly, the visit to the hospital would have dispersed it. It further drove home just how lucky we got and how invaluable the Necron's assistance was. The place was packed with wounded, many high up on drugs and it was obvious that some of them won't be making it despite the best efforts of the available Medicaes.
Needless to say, this wasn't the only hospital packed to bursting – there were at least three other field ones, and the Guard began using it only after all the proper hospitals in Victory Bay got packed up with our wounded first.
As bad as the sight and smell was, it further drove my determination to seek a proper medical experts for my retinue, whose primary job would be keeping yours truly, and my bodyguards, in that order, alive if at all possible.
My vague memories of being wounded told me that Inquisitor or not, trying to interrupt my next two targets for recruitment while they still had patients to tend and it wasn't a life or death situation, wouldn't be a good idea. That's why, instead of barging in, I merely made sure they were working at this particular hospital and left messages for them to contact me at their first convenience.
That's how I ended up awoken shortly before dawn by very distinct and irate streams of Binary coming from just outside of my quarter's door. My training kicked in, I pulled out the Las-pistol from under my pillow, removed the safety and was about to cautiously draw on the Immaterium, before I figured where and when I was supposed to be. The first though that rant through my mind was that this wasn't some mind of weirdly realistic and particularly unpleasant nightmare, the second one was that I better go see what the Martian wanted before they cut through the door or something.
"I'm coming." I kept my voice to a quiet growl, got up properly, took a position to the side of the door just in case and opened it, revealing a tall figure almost completely hidden by fresh red robes and a half-skull, half-cog mix between a helmet and a gas-mask. I could glimpse at least four mechadendrites waving reflexively behind the cyborg.
"Finally!" A mechanical voice grumbled. "Magos Biologis Karom-Beta-31, at your service, Inquisitor." The tall Cog-boy introduced himself. "You demanded my presence when prudent. Lieutenant-Medicae Vough will be here shortly. What is the medical issue you're suffering from this time?" He asked while carefully observing me for any more missing limbs or something.
"None right now. It's future medical emergencies that concern me, Magos Biologis. I have request for you and the surgeon who did such an excellent job of treating me initially and thus keeping me alive. Will you be open to the possibility of joining my retinue on a trial basis? I can assure you, when time and resources permit, I won't be adverse to you and the good Doctor pursuing your own interests as well."
"This is an unexpected development, Inquisitor. I'll have to compute my options and perhaps try and commute with the Omnissiah before giving you an answer. If this is indeed a request instead of a politely worded demand?"
"It is a request, Magos Biologis." I added, hopefully in not too hurried a fashion. I already pissed off enough of our resident Techno-Cultists, no need to do so with any more of them. Then there were the others, who stared at me in almost star-struck manner, when they had eyes which could still express such emotions anyway.
The less said about the third group – full up cyborgs in appearance, who chanted in Binary every time they saw me and I was never sure if it was prayers or curses they were sending my way, perhaps both…
While we were talking, a man in his late twenties appeared next to Karom-whatever my prospective Tech-priest doctor was. He had short brown hair, a burn scar disfiguring his left temple and lacked eyebrow, which had been seared away along with the skin of the rest of his forehead, which was an angry red color and gleamed with some kind of transparent balm.
"Martin, the Inquisitor wants us as a part of his retinue. This is Lieutenant-Medicae Martin Vough, Inquisitor." The Cog-boy introduced us.
"Oh. That's nice, I think?" The no-nonsense reassuring voice I clearly recalled, suddenly faltered. "Details, please, My Lord?"
I repeated what I told Karom, adding that they could continue to heal other people if it took their fancy, as long as me and my retinue took absolute priority, especially if it was life or death.
"A much more sensible recruitment pitch that I would have expected. From what I hear, provided we don't all die in the coming days or get shot as heretics, you might actually get the resources to keep us happy…" The Lieutenant trailed off.
"I can't possibly comment." I stated flatly, while my tired mind spun, trying to figure out what the Medicae meant. What I knew about my future, if there was one, was that I would have to keep proving myself for years to come to ensure whoever decides not to shoot me for dealing with Xenos for example, wouldn't have second thoughts.
"I understand completely." The Martian buzzed in what vaguely resembled a conspiratorial tone. Kind of, it was hard to tell with his mechanical inflection.
"What tall and red said." The Medicae added hurriedly.
"It's good that we're all on the same page." I muttered. "I'll appreciate if you give me your answer tonight at the latest, I'll need to straighten up the basic membership of my retinue before the coming battle."
"We'll do so, Omnissiah be praised!" The Cog-boy declared reverently.
"Yeah, that." Vough awkwardly made the sign of the Aquila, which in turn made me wonder what kind of people I just tried to recruit…
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Blood Raven's complex
Victory Bay
Kronus
In the battle's aftermath, the Blood Ravens deployed planet-side, separated in three groups. One went for a brief rest period, a second policed, maintained and prayed over their gear, with the third either providing security or they were out scouting various known and suspected enemy position.
Devastator-Sergeant Avitus was in the first group, yet even a brief moment of sleep evaded him that night. For as long as he could remember, burning Hatred, has been his greatest weapon against the enemy, especially traitors. The orders they had to follow on Kronus and the refusal of General Alexander to stand down and leave, painted the Guard Regiments on the planet as the next best thing; or worst as the case may be.
It was just skirmishes initially, with the Guard obviously taking the brunt of the casualties, however everyone knew, that wouldn't last. It had been just a matter of time before a direct, full force-on-force confrontation ensured, and the Blood Ravens on Kronus simply lacked the numbers and firepower to win such a battle without suffering a number of permanent casualties. It couldn't be helped, it was something Avitus steeled himself against, stroking the fires of his ever-burning Hatred… then the Inquisitor arrived and changed everything, throwing the Astartes for a loop. Not only did Inquisitor Veil broker a cease-fire, even before being promoted to his current exalted rank, he made it stuck and in the process. More importantly, along with a group of those wretched Guardsmen, he saved the skins of When and the brothers under his command, who were all Avitus' friends.
Then the Inquisitor distinguished himself in the fighting, proving for everyone to see that he wasn't like some cowardly members of his organization, which was good thing indeed. Yet, after that, the bloody man had to go and broker a deal with Xenos, one which might have been useful, but still, those were never sufficiently cursed aliens, who were good only when properly dead.
Avitus didn't know what to think of the Inquisitor and his actions, he didn't know how to handle his faltering hatred, which has always been his shield, yet now threatened to become a liability. This was the worst possible time for such doubts! By the Emperor, they were about to engage Chaos and assorted traitor forces soon! He needed his hatred burning hotter than ever so it could reinforce the shield of his faith and resolve!
He did his best to clear his mind and began muttering soothing prayers and litanies, hoping for an answer.
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