“Forgive me, Inquisitor, but you want me to…run at them?” Sergeant Santinus Astal, of the Red Hunters, asked me, confusion on his voice. I smirked, aware of the absurdity of the request, but nodded all the same. Before I could vocalize my confirmation, however, a Tempestus Scion spoke of similar confusion.
“And you just want us to stay here and, what, stay where we are? Is that all there is to this training?” the Scion asked. These Scions were not mine, but rather a regiment stationed on Quintus itself. It was not uncommon for Inquisitors to train and, on occasion, take Scions to meet their own needs. As my needs were the defense of Quintus and the Sector, I could do what I wanted with them without any other Inquisitors asking questions.
“Yes, to both of you,” I confirmed at last, nodding again. “Empty-handed at first, Sergeant, and quiet as you can, but full-sprint all the same. We’ll start as simple as reasonable,” I ordered of Santinus. “Form ranks!” I shouted to the Scions, and they did so, albeit begrudgingly and dismissively. I knew that would not last, so did not waste time chastising them for their reluctance. “At your ready, Sergeant Astal.”
The Red Hunters Astartes Sergeant was ever-ready, and sprang forth.
In a moment, the Scions’ eyes widened. Some instinctively tried to raise their weapons against an allied target out of sheer fear of the titanic, angry red mass barreling toward them. Some of our most disciplined Scions had the wherewithal to turn tail and break ranks, others cowering and quivering at the sight of something so large moving so fast. It was, for human beings, not possible to imagine. Perhaps for a beast on all fours, maybe such speeds could be reached. But for a humanoid, weighed down by such heavy armor as the ceramite and adamantium shell the Astartes donned? No, it defied reason. And yet it charged toward them at a horrifying pace all the same.
When Santinus reached what used to be their lines, there were not all that many of the Scions remaining. Most had fled. Some had left the scene altogether, and may have needed to be processed for psychological trauma. As Santinus turned back to face me, leaving the quivering Scions in his wake, I leaned to my right, bumping shoulders with Mirena. She had been with me the whole time, and had been standing with her arms crossed over her chest up until the point at which Santinus made his charge. Upon seeing his sprint from the less-terrifying rear view, Mirena’s composure had broken too. “Still want a field post?” I whispered to her.
“Shut up, Cal,” she replied, certainly loud enough for the hall to hear. I grinned.
“I assume that’s a no,” I whispered, still smiling, and then waved Santinus back to us. From a brief pause and tension in his movements, I think he may have initially intended to run back our way. But he thought better of that, for our sake, and instead marched toward us normally. “Form ranks!” I called to the broken Scions. “Can hardly fault you for what you’re feeling now, Mirena,” I whispered to her in the meantime, aware that it would take a while for the Scions to recompose themselves.
“We’ll speak of it later, Cal,” she murmured.
“Fair enough. I expect we’ll be waiting a while for them, though,” I shrugged, nodding toward the Scions’ lines. “If you want to leave—”
“Shut up.”
“Right,” I grinned again. I then reached for her left hand with my right, and while the spark of independence saw it twitch in a recoil away from me, she accepted and returned my grasp all the same. As I spoke to the still-shaken Scions, then, Mirena leaned against me, still holding my hand. “Is that all?” I called to them, quoting an earlier Scion’s query, and then scoffed out a laugh. “Transhuman Dread. It’s real. It’ll kill you if you let it. The Astartes are incredible warriors, all of them. I would besmirch the foe we are about to face a thousand times, but I cannot deny their abilities; that sort of negligence would cost lives, yours and mine. Those of you that ran would die quickly and on the spot, as the Astartes could not risk you getting away and possibly reinforcing later lines. Those of you that fell to base preservation instincts and collapsed on the spot would die moments later, after the foe had secured the area in your presence, like the cleansing of cattle from a camp. Those few foolish enough to remain holding your ground, congratulations, you are heroes of the Imperium. Of course, this was the easy test.”
“It’s not right,” one Scion muttered of Santinus’s movements.
“No, it isn’t. But it’s real. You need to recognize that, because you’ll need to kill it,” I replied. “And they are killable. For two centuries I have claimed I was up to the task, but in truth I never faced a true Astartes until only recently. But I’m still here. And I killed a number of them. They can die. It’ll take everything you have, and many will suffer in bringing even one down, but it can and must happen for the good of the Imperium of Man. But how can you kill something if you cannot even aim at it? I said form ranks! We try again! Sergeant, brandish your chainsword this time. Let it sing a song to lull those crybabies to compliance!”
“Yes, Inquisitor,” Sergeant Astal nodded, and drew his chainsword. It was about the size of Lucene’s Eviscerator, but looked, in his hands, like an ordinary blade. “At your command.”
“Go,” I ordered, and then squeezed at Mirena’s grip as Sergeant Astal ran forth again, revving his chainsword in the air. Mirena, likewise, squeezed my hand at the sight and sound of his charge. The Scions’ lines tore asunder much more quickly. “I expect I’ll be at this a while,” I whispered to Mirena. “In all seriousness, are you sure you want to stay?”
“I said I’d be by your side until the end of days, Cal,” she reminded me, and then rose her head up despite her terror. “I meant it.”
“You impress in ways you cannot know, Mirena,” I assured her. “You and I will need a vacation, not merely a flight, if we get through this one.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she replied, and managed a gentle, uneasy smirk.
“I hope you will,” I nodded, and then waved Sergeant Astal back. “Form ranks!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, as the Scions were quite separated by then.
“I’ve never doubted you, Cal, but did you actually kill traitor Astartes with Lucene on New Cealis?” Mirena asked in subtle amazement.
“We did.”
“Then you impress in ways you cannot know, likewise, Callant,” she answered. “I must say, you know how to keep a girl interested,” she added with a grin.
“Had a few years to practice that,” I replied, also grinning.
“It may pay off,” she giggled, squeezing at my hand some more.
“Too many insinuations there for a married man like myself,” I noted, earning another chuckle from her. I then addressed the Scions again. “Well? What then, hm? What’ll it take for you lot to hold your ground rather than pissing in the Imperium’s garments? I’ve seen braver men of reduced discipline than you sorry bastards claim to wield. I’ve seen them live. I’ve seen them die. When you die, will you be remembered as something to look up to or…as whatever the pitiful excuse of a man this is? I said form ranks! Dorn’s taint! Do I need to come over there?” I turned to Mirena. “I think I need to go over there.”
“Then go over there,” she grinned. I leaned toward her, kissed one of her endlessly-beautiful bronze cheeks, and then left her side to march toward the Scions.
“Alright you sniveling runts, form up on me,” I shouted to them when I neared. Now with a leader to follow, they at last began to come together. “There are only three places I want your eyes, now: my backside, that Astartes, or the scope of your rifles. Don’t look at the woman—she’s not mine and she’s sure as Dorn’s Left Hand not yours either. Hold. This. Line! Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir!” they shouted back.
“That’s more like it,” I sneered, and then turned to Santinus and Mirena. “Sergeant Astal, try to kill me!” I shouted to him, catching the pair of them off guard.
“Excuse me, Inquisitor?” he replied, again seeking clarification.
“Well I’d prefer if you not actually do it, but try to,” I answered. I then raised my left arm, brandishing the augmetic before him. “If it’d make compliance simpler for you, attack in a way that this arm could defend, as it’d best match your strength. Chainsword only, I don’t want Bolts flying around these halls yet. But at your ready, Sergeant.”
“I am ready, Inquisitor,” he nodded to me.
“Good. End me, then,” I ordered, and he shot forth. How many times had I seen it then, the view of being the target of a sprint from an Astartes? More than a dozen times, I think, between my enemies and allies. Yet still, it unnerved me. But the experience had hardened me all the same, and while I paused for what would have been an invaluable moment in the heat of battle, in this training it was only that moment. After the fear passed, I left the Scions’ ranks and charged toward Santinus to meet him head on, each of us, Inquisitor and Astartes, shouting furious cries of war.
When we met, power sword met chainsword, and the revving of the chain weapon sizzled and stammered against the crackle of electrified adamantium. My augmetic arm sparked and creaked against the might of Santinus’s overwhelmingly enhanced strength, but that did not deter me from holding my own, looking into the jade eyes of his red and gold helmet. As his strength weighed against me, though, and my footing slid against the plascrete floors below, I knew I needed to change gears. My other arm shot to a laspistol on my waist and drew it forth, but Santinus smacked it aside as soon as I pointed the weapon toward him.
In practice, in a true life-or-death scenario, I of course had my mind to wield. But none of the Scions were psykers of my caliber (or at all), so that would have ruined the demonstration.
So I instead relinquished my footing and my position against Santinus’s blade, stepping back and parrying a pair of similar attacks he made. Then, when his movements had shown a moment of overextension, I drew Drepane fast as I could and pointed it to his neck with my free hand. That was all. That was enough. We held there for a moment, chainsword still revving and power weapons still humming, while in the meantime the result of the battle sunk in to those involved and those viewing.
+You held back.+
You’re a fine warrior, Inquisitor.
+You held back.+
We can spar again if needed, my apologies.
+No. Thank you, Sergeant.+
Finally I broke away from the Astartes and turned to face the Scions. “You held your ground,” I noted to them, and their then-awe faded to a brief glimmer of happiness for themselves. I crushed it in an instant. “You did not hold the line,” I scowled, then used my blades to gesture to the gap in space between us. “Why have I charged this Marine on my own? Where were you when his weapons went for my neck? Easy to hold one’s ground when someone else rushes forth suicidally to meet the odds ahead. It’s far harder to be that someone. When the true battle is fought, I will not be here by your sides. Will you hold your ground then? Will you meet and kill the true enemy? Look at him!” I roared, and—weapons now sheathed—raised a hand to Santinus. “Take a good long look! He is not impossible! He is right there before you! And when a half dozen Astartes march upon you, Bolters ablaze and chain weapons screaming, they will be as real as Sergeant Astal! I said hold this line! They can be killed, I have shown it and I will show it again! But the time is coming for you to prove it too. Throne Almighty!” I exclaimed, aghast, and returned to Mirena’s side, taking Santinus with me. “Again! Form ranks! Sergeant Astal, chainsword, battlecries, Bolter in hand—but don’t shoot them, of course. We’ll be here until the will of man exceeds the terror of their designs, even if it takes all day and night!”
I turned to Mirena to warn her that I meant it, but she already knew, and answered, “What did I say, Cal?”
“Right. When you’re ready, Sergeant,” I told him, and after another nod, he ran forth for the Scions’ lines once more, shattering them in an instant. “Going to be a while,” I sighed.
“I expect so. But hey, some quality time together for you and me,” she smiled.
“Form ranks! So, how’re things with Castecael?” I asked her, waving Santinus back.
“Good enough. She’s still as beautiful as the day you hired her. One can only hope she feels the same about me.”
“I do,” I admitted.
“Thanks,” she grinned. “Still, we’ve been together for 170 years. It’s quite the time for a relationship. She…there was a time when I was the more…adventurous one. When I was the polygamous one. Still am, if you’re curious. But she’s been experimenting now too.”
“Is that strenuous on a relationship?” I asked.
“Probably was for her when I was sleeping on top of you only a few years into our relationship,” she acknowledged with a nod and a grin fueled by the whimsy of the past. “But now? After so long? No, not really. You and Lucene have been together a while. Do you not branch out?”
“Not beyond flirtatious interactions such as these,” I replied. “Again, same as before, Santinus.”
“‘Flirtatious interactions.’ Is this your idea of a date, Cal?” she laughed.
“Depends. Is it a good one so far?”
“I’ve had better,” she smiled. “Bit noisy, all this. I’m more of a quiet, cuddly gal in private. Perhaps on our vacation, hm? We should start planning.”
“I’ll leave that planning to you,” I grinned. “Form ranks! Don’t tell me you sorry lot are praying to the Holy Throne right now! The Throne cares not for your combat drills, busy Him with nothing beyond your actual battles!”