Sedreth smiled gravely. It was done. He checked the workmanship one last time, finally satisfied. He picked up the heavy flat metal and carefully wrapped it in a battle flag recovered from a long-abandoned locker room. Flicking on his comm-unit he spoke quietly.
"Sara, Janey, would you both meet me in the chapel?"
Two puzzled acknowledgements came back and he felt his mouth twist in a grimace. He did not want to hurt his two companions more than they had been already, but necessity was sometimes a harsh taskmaster. He pulled on his formal armour-robe and walked quietly along the corridor to the gleaming wooden doors, opening them both wide and walking up to the plain altar. Unlike more modern vessels, Phoenix's chapel was designed as a place of remembrance rather than of worship, the long rows of marble columns and tattered battle banners a tangible reminder of the warriors who had long ago fought and died for their Emperor either as part of the Legion or alongside it.
He placed his burden on the altar-piece, turned and waited, his keen hearing noting the faint sounds of the lift and soft footsteps in the wide corridor.
"Hi, Mr Morgan. What's up?" said Janey as she bounced in beside her mother. "Why d'you have your robe on?"
He nodded formally. "It is past time that we, that I, did something to ensure that you have more than a simple memory of your father, Janey. If you would both take a seat?"
They both looked puzzled, and he noted how Janey's brightness faded at the mention of her father. He stepped to the small raised platform and looked down at the two people he had come to consider companions.
"We are here in this honoured place to make recognisance of Kanret Smitsen, who gave his life gallantly to protect his comrades and his world. I, Morgan Sedreth, never met this man, yet I see before me the truth of him. He must have been a loving father and husband, else his wife and daughter would not be as strong and loving as they are; I know that he was a loyal and true friend, for his companions of the Imperial Guard were aggrieved at his death. I see before me a wife and daughter in whom the virtues of humanity are self-evident, and I know that Kanret Smitsen could not engender the grief of his family were he any less than they. I bear witness to the words of his captain who stated that without his warning – a warning given at the cost of his own life – none of his companions would have survived. I state before these witnesses that Kanret Smitsen gave his life for his Emperor, for his world and most of all to protect his family from evil. He was not astartes, but faced enemies sufficient to give astartes pause without flinching, his last action to stand against traitors to the Emperor and give warning to his brethren of the Guard. I state that he is worthy of remembrance in this place, that he fought and died as bravely as any of the warriors likewise remembered here, and that in their company he will not be found wanting."
He stepped down and lifted the wrapped package from its place in the centre of the silver altar-block, unwrapping it slowly and carrying it to the two crying quietly in the front pew. They stared in wonderment at the golden plaque. 'Kanret Smitsen, private, Imperial Guard, Canth system, 3719672M41, 672-09-08' it read, inlaid black beneath an incised Imperial aquila. Sedreth let them look at it for a few moments, then walked over to an empty arch and knelt, pressing the metal to the marble column and rewarded with a bright silver light as the reactive substances fixed it forever in place. He stepped back and gave a formal salute, then, gently touching the bowed heads of his ship-mates, he walked out of the chapel.
He was running scans when two small arms wrapped round his leg. He looked down at an upturned face, eyes still slightly puffy despite the shy half-smile.
"Janey?"
"Mummy and me spoke a bit. I wanted to say thank you."
"It was my honour and privilege, Janey. Your father saved many lives. Long before mankind left Terra for the first time, a very wise man once said, 'Greater love hath no man than he place his mortal body between his home and war's destruction.' Your father's last act was to try and protect the world and family he loved. That is worthy of honour from much better men than I."
"I miss him," the small voice trembled on the verge of tears. Sedreth gently lifted the tiny form into his chair.
Grey-blue eyes met brown as he spoke gently and seriously. "Janey, the people we love never really leave us. They're always right with us, in our memories and our hearts."
"Do you miss your friends?"
He nodded. "Very much. I miss Ethaniel more than I can say; he and I were as close as brothers for a hundred centuries. But it's hard; I have to try and remember the good things, rather than the evil things we did. I wonder – now, I never did before – about my brothers who died when Horus betrayed his own men – who fought on what side. I think, I hope, that most of my company fought and died bravely with Captain Tarvitz. I have searched the databanks for the drop assignments, but cannot find them, only the traces of a deletion."
"What's 'deleeshun'?"
"It means the records were destroyed. It was standard practice to have a back-up copy, but that has been removed, shortly before the drop, I think. Why, I do not know."
"Maybe someone hid it?"
He smiled gravely. "It is possible, but where? On a ship this size there are many places to hide something small, like a data record."
She nodded. "I s'pose. Mr Morgan, can we work on our project today?"
"Yes, Janey. I think we can." He set her down gently, more grateful than he would have considered possible to see the smile on her face.
"Good morning, Janey," said Sedreth as he casually served up three plates – one rather larger and fuller than the other two – of yellow and white scrambled eggs, pink and brown and spicy-smelling bacon, and fat sizzling brown sausages. He helped himself to four slices of toast with butter and took a long drink from his very large goblet of fruit juice.
"Wow, Mr Morgan. You've got loads."
"I have a proper astartes appetite this morning. Besides which I rather enjoy an occasional cooked breakfast," he replied, loading his plate with popping black and grey fungi. "Marine rations are all very well, but a change is welcome. It is not necessary to have special mineral supplements every day, even for someone as old as me."
She giggled and pulled a face. "Marine rations are pooey."
He chuckled softly. "They do tend to taste rather like box-board. Eat up, little one. We have a lot to do today."
Sara smiled. "Yes. I'm still not entirely sure what you mean by 'a lot' but I suspect it's rather more than a few chores."
He smiled silently, chewing in a satisfied manner. Sara's eyes held amused suspicion to which his expression showed bland innocence.
"Sara, could you come to the armoury, please? I need your help." Sedreth's voice gave no hints about the kind of help, but Sara sighed inwardly. Another session of drudge work, probably; they'd done more than a few of those over the past couple of days while waiting for the nav computer to determine their location with enough accuracy to dare the Warp. She levered herself out of her chair and took up the remote alarm/command wand, then headed for the lift.
Sedreth was fussing with yet another suit of power armour when she walked in. He looked round and smiled. "Ah, there you are. I have a problem with this."
She looked unamused. "Morgan, you have forgotten more about marine armour than I will ever know."
He nodded. "True. But I still need your help with this set," he said as she approached. "What do you think of it?"
She looked at the armour more closely. It looked quite like the other suits, although more modern, somehow. "Uhm, mark VI?"
He nodded again. "An adaptation of it, yes. I removed the cross-strapped front cabling; that can be vulnerable in action. More to the point, it hides the aquila."
"I thought you didn't serve the Imperium?" She knew her voice was teasing and smiled slightly.
"I don't. The aquila is the Emperor's sigil, not the Imperium's."
"I like the cloak. Is that another adaptation?"
He lifted the heavy, fine, black fabric with its silvery flame-like edging. "Yes, I do too. Janey did a good job on it. And of course, it's ballistic cloth, so it will absorb impact from behind."
She nodded, pleased that Janey had been able to help the astartes. "It's impressive. Beautiful, even. So how can I help you with it? I presume not just with my opinion?"
He gave a wicked smile and nodded to Janey who sat on a bench with her 'I have a secret' smile. She bounced up. "No, mummy. We want you to try it on."
Sara looked at her daughter stupidly. "What?"
"Try it on," said the marine. "It's taken us a couple of months to make a suit that would fit you, and we'd rather like to know that it's a good match."
Sara blinked. "This is for me?"
They nodded. "Don't you like it, mummy?" came the small voice from her waist.
She looked at the armour again. More closely. The shoulder-plate, the right one, bore a name. 'Sara', was written, no, carved into the gold in Imperial Gothic script, inked in a black so deep she could almost have drowned in it. The left shoulder-plate bore the same taloned wing that Morgan's armour bore, also done in solid golden metal. "Oh, Emperor. This is for me? To wear? To fight in?"
"You said you did not feel comfortable in Sister Agnetha's armour. This will not fight you; this is marine armour. Even if the marine in question is rather smaller than most. It is fighting armour; Emperor's Children armour. For my battle-sister." The deep voice held a certain emotion she'd not heard before. Janey tugged at her hand.
"Come on, mummy. You need to try on the under-armour, first."
Sara let herself be led through into the changing room she and Janey used. On a stand hung a body-suit of black material, the Emperor's aquila glinting gold on the left breast. She looked at the anxious little girl and suddenly smiled.
"This was what you and Morgan were working on, isn't it?"
The dark curls nodded, briefly hiding big anxious eyes. "Do you like it, mummy?"
"It's beautiful, darling. Come on, help me get into it."
Janey's answering smile was the widest she'd seen in more than a year.
Sedreth was waiting for them when she walked out in the skin-tight outfit. He nodded and walked around her.
"Excellent. The opening is precisely where it ought to be."
"Uhm, yes. Why is there an opening there?"
He touched the skin of her back gently. "Marine armour has internal fittings designed to inject a mixture of endorphins, clotting agents and adrenaline into the wearer. This enables an astartes to fight on even through major injury. I know of marines who were able to fight on despite having lost limbs. While I would not expect you to do so, and trust you will never need to, your armour includes a similar device, so that you will not be disabled quickly through shock or bleed-out. In a similar manner, the cloth you are wearing is the same anti-ballistic and flame-retardant material used by Sisters of Battle where they are not protected by armour. Where I have several genetic and physiological modifications, you do not. This will provide you with additional protection to make up for some of that lack. Your cloak is of the same material."
She looked at him.
"What that means is that when you get in to your armour, you will feel a small prick in your back as you power up. That is the anti-shock injector. It will keep you conscious so that you can teleport out safely even if badly injured."
"Oh," she replied faintly, "I see."
It was like something out of a dream, or a fable, she thought. She, Sara Smitsen, a woman of no special talents or background, had her own set of powered battle armour. She couldn't stop looking at herself in the mirror. The Emperor's aquila, two-headed and proud, shone gold on her chest-plate, enhanced by the glossy purple background. She looked down at her merrily grinning daughter. "It's wonderful, darling. Really it is. I feel … special, and so blessed."
Sedreth chuckled. "You do now. You will feel differently once we have begun fitting it properly to you. Without a techmarine's specialised enhancements, nor the neural implants of an astartes marine, the calibrations will have to be done manually in order for you to get the full benefit of the armour's capabilities. That will not be a short or simple process. I suspect you will be tired and grumpy quite quickly."
She smiled at the big marine. "I can manage a little discomfort."
Sedreth only smiled silently, knowingly, back at her.
"Better," she said, sweeping her arm up to an offensive guard. "That feels right."
Sedreth nodded, and swung at her fast, his chainsword barely parried. Emperor! Even without his armour to enhance it, the power in the blow nearly drove her own blade from her hand; she leapt back, knocking his follow-up cut aside and down with enough force to scar the decking. He grinned, coming on guard again more cautiously.
This was their seventeenth session with blades in the last two days, each carefully recorded by Janey from multiple angles. And still Sedreth wasn't satisfied. It had taken them three weeks to fit the armour to a level he called acceptable, and since then it had been one combat practice after another, usually followed by more, though finer, adjustments. Blades, bolters, even heavy bolters, which were bigger than she was. Although she had to admit to a feeling of solidity when leaning back with the massive weapon on full auto and her armour semi-locked. Still, she was exhausted, tired and irritable, and prone to being very short with both Sedreth and her daughter.
She moved into a standard attack sequence, deviating suddenly and, she thought, without warning. It wasn't good enough. The astartes slid aside as her lightning-edged weapon split the air so close he must have felt the electricity of the energy field and his riposte slammed into her under the right arm, knocking her to her knees.
He stepped back. She glared at him as she rose again, wincing slightly. "How did you read that?"
"Experience. I have been doing this a long long time. Your move was good, but I had seen it before. And unlike many I am faster without armour than in it. You would have gutted a lesser swordsman."
She returned his salute, bringing the blade vertical for a fraction of stillness before sheathing it. "Are all space marines as good as you?" She tried not to let the doubt into her tone.
The big man shook his head. "Not at all. In all honesty there are no more than a handful of warriors who I would expect to lose to one on one. Lucius, Khârn, Abaddon, amongst the chaos legions, maybe a few others, perhaps a few of the better Imperial chapter champions, certain of the Eldar exarchs, the ork warboss Uruk Ghâzkul mak Thrakka, perhaps some other of the more powerful ork leaders. Very few, even in a galaxy as full of war and warriors as this one. Of course, against some types of opponent skill alone is not enough. No mortal could ever hope to defeat some of the most powerful tyranid types, for example."
"You killed a carnifex."
"With a bolter, while it was engaged with someone else and disoriented from a teleport. I would not wish to face one with only a blade."
"I'm never going to be as good as you, am I?"
He met her worried gaze with a casual smile. "Not unless you live to be several hundred years old. But do not let it worry you. You are already as good as any astartes scout. Better. If you were astartes your officers would be looking at you for promotion to the regular battle companies."
She looked down, uncomfortable with the praise. "It's strange. Sometimes I feel as if I'm not so much learning what you teach as remembering it."
Sedreth chuckled. "Perhaps you are doing exactly that. Sara, you were part of a miracle; the Emperor Himself touched your mind. He may not be a god, but He is far beyond any human. On the other hand." He hesitated, a faint smile on his face.
"On the other hand, what?"
"On the other hand you may simply be a natural warrior. It is not entirely unheard of, even amongst women. The ancient saying about the female of the species being more deadly than the male has rung true more often than not. Ah, there you are, Janey. Did you get good recordings?"
The tiny girl grinned up at him. "Yes, Mr Morgan."
"Excellent. Then I think it is time we ate."
a/n I rarely put notes in my fics, but, for those familiar the phrase, I would just like to point out that the awful song with the chorus 'the female of the species is more deadlier than than the male' a) plagiarises Rudyard Kipling, and b) fails to get the basics of English grammar correct. 'Deadlier' means 'more deadly', so 'more deadlier' despite being typical of certain regional English dialects is in effect saying 'more more deadly'. Kipling, of course, used 'more deadly'. Which is one reason why he won the Nobel prize for literature and the morons who wrote and sang the song in question never will.
Of course it is also true; the female of the species - especially the human species - is much more deadly than the male. As anyone who has ever truly angered a woman can attest.