"No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness,"- Aristotle
Endurholdgun... the mere thought of the burnt cinder that was once a planet left a foul shoal over his mind as he went through his various findings acquired from said dead rock. Inquisitor Dauntless was beside himself with anger at Georgii, the heretical fanatic had been a thorn in his side for quite some time. So much so that he had transferred ordos just to get away from his shenanigans, how in the Emperor blessed galaxy he managed to acquire the resources and contacts necessary to complete his anarchic plots had become a great subject of interest to the Ordo Hereticus.
He ground his teeth at the thought, he was supposed to have left that mad witch behind. But for some reason since his first run in with him in years on Tartarius Dauntless had been neck deep in the hunt for him, his fellow Inquisitors of the Ordo Hereticus in the sector seeking his help because of his previous run-ins and knowledge on the scoundrel. He shook his head again, the bastard had known about the STC, that was certain. It definitely explained why he had orchestrated the chaos incursion, to bring any chance of the Imperium salvaging such a great advantage crashing down into oblivion.
He sighed banishing the thoughts from his mind as he switched focus back to the subject at hand, namely an intact and fully working enemy 'arc-gun' as it had been labelled. Truly a design crafted by the ancients during mankind's golden age, some of his compatriots and even history may call that bygone era the dark age of technology, but not Dauntless, no to him it was an era of unequal scientific advance.
Throughout his career shift into the hunting and study of xenos he had come across evidence of ancient technology crafted by his race that simply left all other current technology in the dust, even the highly advanced tau would be envious of humanity's technological achievements were they still around and operational today.
The only xenos race he had come into contact with that could give ancient human tech a run for its thrones was the Eldar... and the Necrons. He had the good fortune to speak to an Eldar on the subject once, many years ago. Of course he had to take the xenos' words and testimony with a grain of salt, but he had been very old, claimed to have been around for the fall. Said he was around for humanity's early ventures and feats, witnessed their fall from grace just before his own race.
What stuck with Dauntless though was the awe with which the Eldar had spoken of human technological prowess during the dark age of technology. The xenos had said it had been crude compared to his own races admittedly graceful equivalents, but he had also said that had mankind's hubris not overtaken him with the men of iron that they had stood a good chance of surpassing even his own people within mere decades. And this was coming from a member of a race of xenos known for their superiority complex.
Decades, that was the time-frame it would have taken... now, now Dauntless would be lucky to see a minor jump in human technology within his own lifetime. What struck him most about the weapon was its seeming simplicity, and yet it had the power to take down a fully armoured Astartes in one shot and it could be wielded by a baseline human. According to the Magos the weapon seemed to utilize a very directed protonic current to do the deed, it was incredibly powerful. Even the tau particle weapons would be hard-pressed to outperform it on the battlefield, and that was to say nothing of the havoc it could wreak on their highly prized crisis-suits.
Unfortunately the deadly weapon of the ancients before him may as well have been a paper weight, it had a full charge according to its indicators, but as soon as it ran out there was no known way to re-charge it. He could give it over to the Mechanicus but that would be a waste as they would either destroy it for being heretical, or lock it away never to be seen again because of its value. There would be no attempt to research the intricacies of how it worked and how to build more because the STC for it had not been recovered, and so to the Mechanicus it was a dead end.
Instead he supposed he'd give it to Magos Chevel, she had a bit of a rebellious streak in her, always modifying and tinkering with things. Had it not been for his influence she may very well have been declared excommunicatae, but her inquisitive nature had far too many benefits for him to let her be summarily executed.
"Oh the joys of leadership," he sighed out loud. Putting the arc-gun aside to give the Magos later he moved on instead to the various personnel files spread on his desk. His new acquisitions as it were would be very useful to him, the Watchmaster had a very sharp mind on him. Though the Korps had done its best—and Dauntless knew that was saying quite a bit—to turn the Baurin refugee into the perfect carbon copy of their ideal trooper there was still a tenacious resolve on B-63's part to keep his former identity. That kind of strength of character made him both very dangerous and promising, a good candidate for an acolyte.
Though Dauntless had a feeling it would take quite a bit to work B-63 into proper form to unlock his full potential. The others were all of very high interest to him as well, the second most obvious asset was the blank, S-1049, or rather Jericus. With the Witch Georgii's reappearance Dauntless felt Jericus would be a good trump card to have. Though he would have to be careful of how he played the game, the witch seemed to have taken an interest in the Surrin as well and anytime in the past that lunatic had taken an interest in something or someone it had turned out very bad for all involved.
Still the others, they were of interest as well, and not only for their obvious talents gained on the battlefield, no it seemed the Surrins for the most part were rather on the dull side. That is to say very few of them have any particularly high presence in the warp, he had noticed when they had liberated Surris, and the planets history supported the facts.
Practically no psykers had been found in the population, of course there were bound to be one or two, but such a lack of psyker potential was an anomaly. Most planets usually had a modicum psyker potential within its gene-pool, but it seemed the Surrins had developed along a different path. By the calculations of the data Dauntless had acquired during that campaign there had to be thousands of psychic nulls living within the Surrin population, something unprecedented in his experience. In contrast if there were any at all the psykers populating the world had to be extremely weak. He of course kept such a thing a secret, no it wouldn't do for such a valuable resource to be set upon by those of a more... puritan stance on such matters.
After all planets had been the victim of Exterminatus for less in the past, yes there were quite a few in the ordos who would like to see such a deviation from humanity wiped from the galaxy. Ironic considering the tactical advantage such individuals posed in the fight against chaos, and if those on the puritan side of the fence failed then those on the radical side may end up doing much worse to the planet. Dauntless had heard of some of the unfortunate, twisted, and ultimately fruitless experiments done in order to improve humanity, he wouldn't have it for Surris.
Most Inquisitors seemed to forget that it was their job to ensure the survival of humanity, not utilize it for their own purposes. So in the meantime the information would remain buried, at least to most of the larger ordos, he would at the least use his own discretion and contacts to study the evolutionary phenomenon occurring on the backwater planet. Who knew, within a few decades perhaps there might be a significant breakthrough.
B-52 wasn't having a good day... though that could describe most of his days in general but still it seemed that today was going exceptionally bad for him. Looking over the casualty reports for the Endurholdgun campaign brought about a migraine to his frazzled head, it had been abysmally terrible overall. The 82nd alone was looking at nigh on twenty-eight percent total loss of manpower because of the debacle of a campaign, though admittedly that was quite a feat in and of itself considering all of the handicaps they had been subject to during the fighting.
The worst part though was that they hadn't even been able to replenish any losses due to Endurholdguns population status as excommunicatae from the Imperium. Planets full of heretics and xenos lovers were hardly verdant grounds for conscription, sure they had taken quite a few prisoners for interrogation and study, but that didn't help their depleted manpower any.
As it was he was stuck still training the conscripts taken from Tartarius, at least those that had survived combat. The Tartarians could still use a little sprucing up seeing as they comprised most of the casualties the 82nd had taken, granted that was expected given that they were new troopers, but really B-52 blamed the fact that there simply hadn't been ample time to train the new conscripts.
It had earned him and the other Watchmasters responsible for training black marks on their records from those higher-up in the 82nd which understandably hadn't sat well with the few Watchmasters left who were actual Kriegers. Some of his fellows were still subtly breathing down his neck for the failure, well his and any other conscript Watchmaster. He supposed he couldn't fault them, Watchmasters such as K-3385, and K-2001's own batches of trainees had done quite well in comparison to his own. It opened up an old wound if he was honest with himself, ever since Baurin he had been nothing but the exemplary Korpsman for this regiment of otherworlders.
B-52 had wholeheartedly poured himself into the role they wanted him to fill and had done so to great effect. It still hadn't helped him when he needed it though, as much as he'd rather not admit it he wasn't like the Kriegers, no those men and women were just another breed all their own. He was simply a broken man trying to futility avenge his lost homeworld in the only way he could.
To top off these dark thoughts he had to contend with the fact that his only friend left was now being transferred somewhere else, and the other was dead. B-63 had been mum on the exact details, only elaborating that he'd have no need for replacements for B-80 and F-920 over drinks. B-52 had declined his friend's invitation to watch another world burn after he had received the news. He had dual purposes for doing so, one because he wanted to think about the change a reassignment would bring to their relationship, and two because he didn't want to be reminded of Baurin anymore than he already was every day.
Sure the transfer didn't mean they would never see each other again, but from the way B-63 spoke of it in dull tones B-52 got the feeling that his friend's new assignment would be eating away at his time and psyche like never before. Granted B-63 had just lost two people he had been close with for a long time, one of them a mutual friend of theirs in B-80, but B-52 had never seen the lively man as down as he had been when telling him the news of his transfer.
The only bright spot in the whole Emperor damned mess was that at least their next destination was a mere layover for whatever campaign their fleet would be apart of next. Some little backwater planet called Headstone which was covered in vast and large jungles juxtaposed with open dusty flatlands. Its population dealt with only a few minor dissenters, really mostly just a few rather large bandit clans and outlaws who didn't want Imperial rule. During the fleets stay they would essentially be helping with what amounted to trade route protection for the spaced out cities and other more peacekeeping oriented roles than those traditionally taken up by the Imperial Guard.
In-between those duties however they were actually being allowed leave for a little bit, organized so that each company would get equal time of course. Save for obeying local customs it would hopefully be a relaxing experience for the Guardsmen after quite a few trying campaigns. B-52 would be using the time for recruiting though, the 82nd wanted to get a few volunteers for the cause. Headstone paid off its tithe to the Imperium in valuable natural materials found in its rich jungles and so the planetary council that ran the world had brokered an agreement that its population not be conscripted from by the Imperial Guard.
However, the 82nd was going to exploit a loophole in the agreement, and a rather simple one at that. The planet overall was actually very liberal in its practices, thus anyone who volunteered for service as a citizen of the Imperium could not be denied by anyone. B-52 was actually very surprised at the amount of thought that was going into the recruitment campaign, at least what little of it had been revealed to him and the other Watchmasters.
One thing was certain, it would be an interesting few months.
Ever since arriving back onboard the Nosce Te Ipsum Raltia had been subject to may a strange and odd custom by her fellow Randon troopers. Apparently living through ones second campaign was cause for celebration, sure on Tartarius she had been blooded and accepted into the ranks so to speak, but now... now she was being undeniably treated as though she had been born on the Randon homeworld.
There had always been a bit of a distance between her and her fellow troopers because of her being conscripted from a different world. Not purposely, at least it hadn't seemed so, but more because she hadn't understood most of their strange customs, for instance nearly none of the men in the regiment would meet her eyes when they spoke to her in general conversation. A leftover of their days living on their homeworld before they were either conscripted, or as nearly all of the men in the Randon Droptroopers volunteered for the guard.
She recalled her previous interactions and conversations with others within the regiment, Corporal Barach to be specific, and so she knew about the dual citizenship her new friends had grown up with. It was because of that that she found herself among the company of Sunra more often than not, the only man in the regiment she could really call a friend being Barach.
Other than him she found herself among the company of Xavier, Cain, Eli, and Hack from the Hoarfell, them being fellow Surrin conscripts helped matters tremendously simply because she could relate better to them and understand the slang and dialect they used naturally instead of constantly having to ask Sunra about what in the keck her fellow Droptroopers were saying in some situations, usually when they were having drinks.
Currently she found herself having drinks with said Hoarfell troopers and Sunra at one of the few bars found on the Ipsum that general Guardsmen were allowed to go to in their off hours. Her first trip on the Ipsum had been very carefully controlled by her higher-ups, in-fact all conscripts got the same treatment on their first voyage. Helped with training and focus on their first campaign, or so said the officers, anyway, on their second voyage to Endurholdgun they had all been allowed to explore the ship, obviously navy crew and restricted areas were off-limits.
However that hadn't stopped Sunra from showing her around the veritable city within the guts of the ship, until that first trip her entire world had been the trooper, training, and mess decks. There were actually whole businesses set-up in the ships underbelly, anything from diners and bars, to brothels and gambling halls, though the latter was kept more low-key as they weren't particularly sanctioned. Sunra had told her that the higher-ups really couldn't do anything about it though, lest they want to start a mutiny. Provided these areas and businesses didn't do anything heretical and thus invite terrible consequences upon the ship then they were left alone, otherwise the naval armsmen would swiftly take care of transgressors.
"You know first time I heard that there were bars, and other places to go on this ship other than the troop decks I have to say I was dumbstruck by it," Eli said as he took a sip from his rather tall glass of ale.
"It's true, his face was frozen for about a full minute, Cain counted," Hack confirmed as he ate his grox steak only for the offended party to elbow him under the table causing him to almost cough up his food.
"Don't listen to him it was just a figure of speech," Eli amended addressing the two women in their company.
"I'm sure it was," Sunra said humouring the frazzled man, though her tone was playful and obviously teasing.
"No, gotta back Hack up on this one, made a good amount of coin because of his bet, so fair is fair I'll return the courtesy," Cain said solidifying his comrades embarrassment even further.
"Oh to keck with you two I'm never sharing rations with you again," Eli growled out to the laughter of all those around the table as he proceeded to elbow Hack on his right and throw a balled up napkin at Cain who was sitting away from him beside Xavier.
"So you guys looking forward to the shore leave on our next stop?" Raltia spoke up as the laughter began to die down. It had become common knowledge to all guard on the ship about their next destination, officers had broken the usual vows of silence regarding mission details on the next particular campaign because of its status as a simple layover before their next serious campaign.
"Warp yeah I know I am!" Sunra exclaimed loudly, "We should all get together for a night on the town if our company's get the same time slots, and seeing as we're gonna be there for a few months its bound to happen at least once."
"I don't see why we can't, besides the way our squads have been running into each other since we all got conscripted I wouldn't be surprised if we do get time off together," Xavier put in as he smiled broadly at the thought, a little bit more normality was just what he wanted to counter all the strangeness in his life currently.
"Wonder what kind of food they have down there?" Eli added absently his discomfort for before forgotten.
"Is that all you think about? For all we know the food on Headstone won't agree with our stomachs, it might be better to stick with ship rations," Hack dead-panned.
"Where's your spirit of adventure Hack," Cain exclaimed boisterously. "Isn't that why we joined the guard? Go to new planets, meet interesting new cultures, and kill them... among sampling the local delicacies and customs of course." His comment started up another round of laughter around the table.
"A friend of mine was poisoned sampling a local delicacy once, we thought the local was a rebel so we shot her," Sunra stated plainly abruptly stopping the laughing Surrins in their tracks as they all stared at the calm and unblinking woman, Raltia was the first to respond.
"Sunra we're sorr-" but the Randons own laughter cut off the apology before her friend could fully form it.
"Y-y-you otherworlders are too easy to mess with sometimes I swear," she blurted out between attacks of giddiness. The first to snap out of the shock was Raltia who gave her friend a playful elbow before joining in on the laughter again, it was the type of humour she had to get used to so she didn't find it as terrible anymore. Everyone else followed suit taking to the Randon woman's morbid humour easily once they were in on the joke themselves.
"Oh Emperor someone get shots over here!" Sunra shouted out over the laughing group.
"You sure that'll be a good idea?" Raltia asked with some concern, there were at least a few regulations to follow with regards to alcohol and they all had been drinking so far so many of them were not quite at one-hundred-percent.
"I say it's a good idea what'll be the worst that could happen?" Eli proposed backing up the Randon woman.
"See he knows what he's talking about, I like him," Sunra prodded even further as the server, a pretty young girl came over with the tray of libations and set them down on the table in-front of her.
"What's the worst that could happen he asks, too many things to count when it comes to you Eli need I remind you of our last day on Surris?" Hack feebly argued as he was passed his own shot and stared at the amber, powerful smelling liquid. "What the keck is this anyway?"
"Normally I'd agree with you Hack, but right now I think I could use a stronger drink," Xavier said cutting his friend's inspection of the liquid short.
"I think they distil it from some kind of cactus they grow in the hydroponics bay down here, but I could be wrong and they just get it from the ship crew who get it from the Hoarfell's fungus," Sunra commented as she finished passing out the drinks.
"Neither of those options sound very comforting, but what the keck, cheers," Cain stated lifting up his glass. Sunra and Eli were the first to raise theirs to his own, Xavier wasn't far behind leaving Hack and Raltia the reluctant members of the group. Hack seemed to raise his own resignedly followed by an even more reluctant Raltia. With a resounding clink the group downed their respective drinks with various levels of success, the obvious drinkers were Sunra and Cain who hardly flinched at the burn sliding down their throats and settling in their stomachs. Xavier gave a slight grimace while Hack scrunched his eyes shut to stop tears.
Raltia and Eli faired the worst each coughing as their drinks went down, though each managed to keep it down after extended battle with the fiery liquid.
"Whoa, now that is some strong stuff," Sunra commented appreciatively as she motioned for the serving girl to bring about another round.
"Yeah, not bad," Cain agreed as he tried to get the remaining drops from his own glass.
"Keck, that stuff is probably what they use to clean the build-up out the fuel valves," Hack stated sourly as he looked at his empty glass.
"Just what the doctor ordered," Xavier put in a satisfied look on his face.
"I think I'll have another," Eli slurred obviously already feeling the effects more potently than the others.
The serving girl deposited the second round at the table before Sunra who began passing out the drinks yet again. "Oh you're a light-weight huh? You're gonna be a lot of fun tonight," Sunra said casting her glance at Eli as she passed the smiling man his second drink.
"I'm not so sure about a second round..." Raltia put in as she took in her friend's tone and looked around at the state of the table.
"No ruing the party Ral, now drink up yeah? Cheers," Sunra stated clinking her glass with her reluctant friend and prompting the others to do the same thus triggering everyone to down their second drink of the night. Raltia felt the same burn as before, perhaps even worse than the first, though it did at least go down easier. Afterwards she felt the pleasant fuzziness that usually accompanied the imbibing of alcohol and vaguely noticed her Randon friend motioning for another round of drinks and shifting around to get closer to the now noticeably drunk Eli.
The rest of the night kind of became fuzzy and unfocused after that...
Some hours later...
The first thing Raltia noticed when she woke up was that she wasn't in her own bunk, in-fact she wasn't in the Randon billets at all. Her head hurt and she was starting to get the feeling that she had done something she would regret once she found out what it was. Looking around she found herself in a small two bed room, the other bed was occupied by a snoring Hack haphazardly thrown onto his bunk still dressed in his uniform from the night before.
Sitting up she caught herself on the edge before she tottered over and sat for a few moments to get her wits back, her last clear memory was of Eli doing some kind of dance on the table to the cheers of quite a few patrons of the bar and the slight amusement of the owner. After that image the rest of the night kind of turned black. Inspecting herself she noted that she was still in her own uniform, though it looked rumpled and, and... had that stain always been there? Shaking her head she decided she didn't want to know given the color of the spot in question.
The hatch to the room opened to admit an Xavier who was looking too put together for someone who had drank as much as he had the night before. He was holding two steaming mugs of something, one of which he offered to her which she accepted. Smelling it she flinched a bit at the unfamiliar and powerful scent that assaulted her nostrils, whatever it was it was not recaff.
"Yeah it smells terrible, but trust me the Hoarfell know how to make a hangover cure, plus it actually doesn't taste half bad," Xavier assure her as he took a sip of his own concoction.
Looking down at the greenish liquid in the mug she turned back to meet his eyes. "What is it?"
He stopped his sip midway carefully lowering his own mug and looking at the contents himself. "I've learned not to ask such questions when eating or drinking anything Sergeant Grimes gives us that originated on his homeworld, let's just stick to the fact that it works, trust me."
Grimacing a bit at the answer Raltia nonetheless took her fellow Surrins advice and closing her eyes and her nostrils she took a long draught of the warm, thick, strangely sweet/bitter concoction. She continued until she had downed half of the large mess-mug, letting out a long sigh once she was down with the effort.
After a few moments passed her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open a little, her headache was practically gone, just a very dull ache left of the painful migraine. Plus her stomach felt immensely better than it had previously, so much so that she finished the rest of the strange drink within seconds, letting out another satisfied sigh as the rest of her hangover was nearly ebbed away.
"So... I don't supposed you could tell me what happened last night? I mean... I didn't... well do anything with anyone right?" Raltia mumbled out uncomfortably. Xavier was thankfully quick to allay any of her fears his widened eyes and apologetic demeanour comforting.
"Oh, uh no, nothing like that, just sleep is all," he paused sheepishly. "Your friend Sunra, well she dragged Eli away when we left the bar and asked us to look after you for her since she was looking after him. Anyway, Cain and I were the only other one sober enough to get back here so we took you and Hack over there," he pointed to the still heavily snoring man. "We took you both back here and well, tucked you in I guess."
Raltia nodded looking around at the space around her bunk. "So, this is Eli's bunk then?"
"Yeah, but don't worry believe it or not he's actually very clean," Xavier joked trying to lighten the mood.
Raltia gave a small giggle. "You know, I should've known this was her plan. Looking back on it this is typical Sunra really." She paused, "Be thankful you got conscripted into the only seemingly normal regiment on this ship Xavier."
He snorted. "Besides the food I guess you're right about that," he said breaking into a smile.
"So, this isn't an issue with your officers or anything like that then?" Raltia questioned as she shifted over to the end of the bunk allowing Xavier to sit down beside her.
"Nah, Sergeant Grimes was actually really understanding about the whole thing. You think it'll be a problem over on your end?" He shot right back.
"To be honest from what I've seen this sort of thing happens a lot in the 145th so I don't think it'll be an issue with anyone. Though I have to say I feel really sorry for Eli," Raltia shrugged.
Xavier flinched at the last bit. "She's that bad huh?"
"You have no-" but the hatch opening up cut her response off as it admitted a rather ragged looking Eli who seemed to be half awake at best. Looking around the bunk room his sightless eyes seemed to look right through the pair sitting on the end of his bunk.
"Hey champ, how'd your night go?" Xavier asked as his friend continued to stare through him at the beckoning of the bunk. He shuffled over careful to avoid them as he simply face-planted into the sweet comfort of his own bedding, a muffled string of speech emanated from his mouth as it pressed into his pillow.
"What was that buddy?" Xavier prompted with amusement.
Eli turned his head so he could be heard clearly. "I said I don't want to talk about it, too sore..." he then petered off into unconsciousness. Xavier and Raltia each stared at the man for a bit before turning to look at each other, Xavier with a questioning look on his face, Raltia with a knowing one.
"Like I was saying, you have no idea..." her statement was punctuated by Hack who began to laugh having been awake for the preceding conversation and subsequent entrance of his ragged friend.
"Never gonna let him live this one down are you Hack?" Xavier asked his still cackling friend.
"Keck no, are you?" the man asked between laughter and gasps for air, then his own hangover hit and he was hissing in pain.
Xavier looked at the now snoring Eli back to Hack and then finally at Raltia. "You know I don't think I will either, you with us Ral?"
"Sure, why not," she said cracking her own smile.
A/N: Apologies for the lateness and I do hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It contains bits of in my opinion the hardest of genres to write... comedy. I honestly wanted the last bit to be funny, not sure how it turned out, probably pretty bad, but I wanted to make the attempt anyway. I know not a lot seems to be happening right now but worry not the next few chapters will be moving the plot along. As always please kindly review/critique/whatever you want to call it... feedback ladies and gentlemen, feedback if you please.
Shout-outs:(I really outta just p.m. you lovely people, but sadly time doesn't permit me to... sorry. Maybe in the future! :) )
Imperial Servant- Glad you enjoyed the morbid tone, that was what I was going for and I'm glad that scene featuring the denizens of the warp did not disappoint, hope you can get behind this chapter as well being that it's a bit more day in the life focused. Thanks for the review as always.
gwb99- Worry not this story still has at least one final arc left to it. As for where it'll go from here again worry not I have the details all nailed down, it's just a matter of transcribing them onto my writing program and posting them. Apologies as this chapter doesn't really explain too much or further the plot overtly, but as said before the next few will at least set things up and get them going.
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And a thank you to all of my readers who have read, faved, alerted, and reviewed who I have not listed. Your support, patronage, and advice is all very much appreciated. To conclude sorry for the abyssmally long A/N, and I shall see you all soon, the usual time schedule.
300-709.