The Commissar's Lesson in Humility

++++ Another week or so has passed and I am feeling much better. I am back to my normal self and am eating well and back to physical training. Most of the others are back on their feet as well and the commissar is making sure that we are not idle. We have many chores and work out routines, but I must admit that it is sparring time that is my personal favorite.

Even after a word of caution from Weston, I am still mostly undefeated, I see that the commissar itches to take me on and I would take great pleasure in it. I glance at him after every victory, wondering if he will take the challenge.

I am a tall woman, I look most men in the eyes when I am not in power armor and I take great pride in my martial prowess. I am not the cleverest or even the wisest Inquisitor, but I am one of the better fighters. Not many have taken on as many daemons and great foes of mankind as I have.

I stand tall and my athletic build only has a few scars. The others have faded with rejuvenat treatments. Thanks to those, I look to be in my 30's although I am about double that. It is because of my encounters with the beings of the warp that my hair is naturally white. It happened when I was an interrogator, but I was proven clean of mind and spirit. Most people think it is dyed as a throwback to my days with the sororitas. Let them think what they will. However, when I go undercover, I make sure it is black and cut even shorter than usual. I do not want to risk being recognized. Not that I would expect anyone here to know my face, but it is better to be safe than sorry.+++++

The sparring ring had been set up for the day, much to Verna's delight. Finding Weston in the crowd, she came of behind him and put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Who do you think I get to spar today?" she chuckled in his ear.

"If you had any sense, Verna, you would lose a couple more. You're awfully tough for a spiritual leader." He grunted.

"In the Imperium we value strength, why shouldn't I be able to kick some ass?" she said.

"You've attracted the commissar's attention." He growled under his breath.

"Good, I bet he needs a little humility." She whispered back.

"He is not the only one, Viktoria. Be careful." His voice was a whisper but his tone was grave.

They watched as several of the others sparred, there were close calls as well as sweeping victories.

++++ Sparring started out enjoyable, today. The commissar watched me very carefully and was glaring at my every move. As normal, when we finished a spar I would cast a glance at him. A light and playful challenge. Once again, I made it to the final round, but instead of the other victor, the commissar called another in.++++

"Captain?" he asked, lightly. "Would you be so kind as to spar the chaplain?"

The captain nodded and stepped into the ring with me, casting a smirk over at the commissar.

+++I had thought that if I defeated the captain that finally the commissar would take my challenge. The captain was good, he landed a few solid hits on me, and I only let the first one in. He hit hard and fast, like I do. I landed a fair number as well. We were both panting with bloody noses by the time we were grappling, it was a brilliant fight. Finally I managed to get the rubber knife at his neck and win the match. My victory did not last long though…+++

Verna and the captain untangled and nodded to each other. She had offered a hand to help him up, but he looked away and scrambled out of the ring. Verna looked to the commissar and raised an eyebrow with a smirk. This just made him even more angry.

"Sergeant Verna Ray, what does the primer say about striking an officer?"

Verna froze, not quite able to comprehend if the commissar was joking or not.

"Answer my question, Sergeant."

"Flogging then execution." She said quietly.

"That is correct." He said stalking around her like a hawk, his heels clicking on the floor.

Verna rolled the possibilities over in her head as she listened for him to draw his bolt pistol. She was ready to spring and defend herself. Cover be damned, she was not going to die for the mission like this.

"Now being as this was a sparring match, you will not be shot, however…." He let the word hang in the air. "You did not hesitate to hit your commanding officer."

"I did no—"

"I did not give you permission to speak sergeant!" the commissar snapped.

"You are a fine fighter, but you are arrogant and disrespectful. For this, you will be lashed."

++++ Apparently my meeting the commissar's eyes every time we looked at one another had been taken as a different kind of challenge.

Had this been forty years ago, I would have whirled around and decked the commissar for such an act of what felt like treachery. But as hands seized me and drug me over to the whipping pole, I reconsidered. This mission was important, and I was not being shot.

I was livid though, my ears were hot with the fury of the emperor and my pride was being wrenched at as they prepared me for the lashings. This is not my first lashing. I was a hot headed youth as a sister of battle and my temper got me in trouble more than once. The Canoness still hates me to this day.

As when I was with the sisters, I let each lash count for a sin that actually deserved the purifying pain. I am no stranger to pain and I am no stranger to sin. Over forty years without a lashing left me much to be penitent about.

I did not yell, I only counted. Occasionally my willpower would fail me and a grunt would escape my gritted teeth. I have taken wounds that would kill most men and have felt the poisons of the dark eldar so I have been in much worse pain. But this was humiliating and still hurt like hell. Used to pain or not, I could still tell when a shard of glass would grab my skin and tear it as it withdrew.

When it was over, the commissar said something, but I refused to hear it. I did hear him call for a medic. Samuel was at my side in an instant, his hands gently grabbed to help me up, but I pulled away.

"Don't. Not yet." Was all I said, it was an order and he followed it despite being my senior in his hellhole.

They handed me my clothes back and I put them on like normal. My back was hot and sticky with blood, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they had hurt me. I stood and turned to everyone. I had several spectators and they were all silent in awe. That, that was my victory. I strutted like I always do past the crowd and back towards the bunks. Samuel took my arm and steered me into a 'clean room' that he had constructed in part of the cargo bay with sheets and a table.+++

Yet again, I am splitting the chapter into another part. This was supposed to be one chapter, it is now three. Next chapter will be out soon, maybe also tonight. Verna and Weston have a heart to heart and the commissar has a few words as well.