Thirty minutes before the Sororitas made their first contact with the heretics inside the scholastica, it was still bustling at the mess hall as lunch time was coming to a close.
Welminah was just about to dig in when someone sat down across the table. While the place was of a communal setup and table sharing was the norm, the fact that there were plenty of empty seats around made Welminah look up from her tray of food. She relaxed upon recognising who had come to share her table.
‘Hey, if it isn’t the scholar thrice blessed by the Throne. How are you doing?’ teased the newcomer, a young brunette in power armour with a friendly smile, a rare expression to be found on a battle sister.
‘Mireya. It has been a while,’ Welminah said to her old friend.
‘Indeed. Look at you, who could have guessed the meekest girl in the dorm back then could one day be slapping a high confessor?’ Mireya said teasingly, putting her standard issue Sabbat pattern helmet down on the table before asking another question.
‘So, what made you so bold?’
‘I…’ Welminah stumbled for a second, finding it hard to explain herself. ‘I was caught up in the moment, after witnessing the events up close it was hard not to get angry.’
‘Really?’ Mireya asked.
‘I swear by the Throne.’
‘Huh, it does feel like you have somehow changed.’
‘Surely you are just pulling my leg again,’ Welminah scoffed, but found the tease not unwelcoming. Being bunkmates back at the old novitiate days meant that Mireya was one of the few associates she could comfortably lessen formalities with.
Mireya’s smile broadened before she bent over to whisper her next question. ‘So, how many miracles have you personally witnessed? And how was it?’ Witnessed miracles? The questions triggered Welminah’s recent memories of the vision. As the visage of the Master of Mankind abruptly flashed before her mind, Welminah found herself overwhelmed by intense emotions.
So divine, SUCH GLORY! I have seen-
Welminah so very much wanted to tell her friend and the rest of the world of what she saw before sharply remembering her promise to keep it a secret. Lost in memory of the Emperor’s divine grandeur, it took a while before she finally replied, ‘it was… glorious.’
By then Welminah finally noticed the unusual quietness that had settled on the mess hall, more alarmingly Mireya was looking at her with a strange expression.
‘What?’ Welminah asked.
‘Is everything alright?’ Mireya asked with a hint of concern.
Welminah suddenly became aware that tears were running down from her eyes and everyone around was looking at her.
Embarrassed, she quickly wiped her tears off. Before their conversation could continue a siren sounded, at the same time vox messages crackled out from most of the helmets in the mess hall, shattering the brief tranquillity. Even without listening to the full messages, Welminah knew the battle sisters were being summoned.
‘Got to go. Catch up with you later,’ Mireya said before grabbing her helmet and hurriedly left. Welminah watched as her friend stormed out with the others, their armoured boots cracking sharply on the monastery’s marble floor before fading into the distance.
Sensing the unusually tense atmosphere, Welminah’s gut told her that this was not a drill before a pang of hunger reminded her why she was in the mess hall.
Turning her attention back to her food, Welminah had just started drinking her soup when she was again interrupted by a buzz. Annoyed, the scholar took out her communicator and looked at the caller’s identity. Upon seeing the displayed name, she quickly accepted the call.
‘Welminah speaking.’
‘Sister Welminah,’ Palatine Dominae’s voice came through with her signature pitch. ‘Join us immediately at the primary staging area, we have an emergency mission and will be moving out soon.’
‘Huh? But my duty…’
‘Sister, listen to me,’ the normally courteous Dominae interrupted, hinting at the seriousness of the situation, ‘your “charge” left a moment ago on a gunship. We will be heading to the same area.’
It took a moment for Welminah to understand what the palatine meant and she stood up in shock, the sound of her spoon hitting the floor reverberating throughout the hall.
* * *
We finally made contact with the hostiles.
The enemy combatants were armed men in flak armour covered by makeshift combat fatigues, and their movements suggested having received a decent amount of military training.
Unfortunately for these guys, their standard issue armour offered little to no protection against bolt rounds, they might as well have been naked when pitted against the Sororitas and their bolters.
The sisters on the other hand had more than proven their status as elite shock troops. As an avid gamer who had spent thousands of hours on first person shooters, I was confident from the start that our advantage was overwhelming in a standard shootout. The sisters had bigger guns, power armour, better training, nerves of steel, and best of all, were provided with literal “wall hacks” by my abilities.
How these advantages panned out in real life though far exceeded my expectations. Superior in almost every metric against our opponents, the sisters gunned our way through the grim corridors of the scholastica, barely breaking stride as we proceeded towards the thickest concentration of enemies in the lower levels.
We soon established a routine: I would hear random heretics approaching from a distance away and drop a warning, and after confirming their positions with short bursts of my detection waves, I instantly updated the tactical system and the sisters would handle the rest. It was brutal, like watching a group of seasoned diamond league elite players mercilessly steamrolling newbies in a shooter game’s team deathmatch.
More than once some random armed heretics would turn a corner only to have their brains and innards splattered on the walls, and the rest of their comrades hardly had the time to react before being overwhelmed by the Sororitas.
I witnessed first hand how the battle sisters fully exploited their advantage by walking straight in, bolters blazing at near point blank range, shouting praises to the God-Emperor. The surprised cultists usually returned few if any shots, and those lucky enough to hit bounced harmlessly off the sisters’ power armour.
Watching the Sororitas doing their work from a relatively safe distance behind, I almost pitied the cultists. The sisters on the other hand relished in their systematic destruction of the heretics and were seemingly joyous when dishing out their lethal retributions.
The two leading Dominion squads with their expert usage of storm bolters especially impressed me. The sights and sounds of them rapidly laying down massive amounts of bolt rounds with such accuracy was horrifying to behold, equally terrifying was the mess they left behind. Their gruesome work painted the drab interiors of the place with blood, human remains and miniature craters. Through it all, Alicya was exemplary as a field commander, leading from the front while dropping sharp and clear instructions to her sisters.
With the Sororitas doing a great job with sanctioned violence, Thaberus rarely used his weapon. Though I noted that every time the inquisitor fired his master crafted bolt pistol, a random head would burst on the other side. His fighting style was as cold and meticulous as his personality.
I was walking past another pile of dead cultists when my shoe almost stepped into a rapidly forming pool of blood. Like breaking from a trance, for the first time a realisation came to me about how knee deep I was in this bloody business of homicide.
No sir. This is not a video game.
People did not turn into a loot box or disappear after they got taken out. Dying cultists twitched and squirmed on the floor, lying in a puddle of their own blood, piss and innards while desperately holding on to their fading life.
Looking at the sheer savagery of violence on display, a part of me who was still a pacifist normie was starting to freak out. In stark contrast Thaberus and the Sororitas spared no extra glance on the fallen after making sure they were no longer a threat.
I feel…out of place.
But there was no going back now, I asked for this after all. Recalling my reason being here, I steeled my resolve and pressed forwards.
Halfway through the motion, my attention was pulled towards a particular transmission in the air and automatically tuned into it with my earpiece. After a brief wash of static, voices started popping in my ear.
‘Captain Mokitarr, can you hear me?’ asked a man, his voice harsh and hard. A heartbeat later an even harsher voice replied amidst background sounds of fierce firefights.
‘I hear you, go ahead.’
‘A gunship did a strafing run on our position a moment ago. Contact seems to have been lost with the topside overwatch teams.’
‘What? How long ago was that and why are you only informing me now?’ Mokitarr asked.
‘My apologies, it was a few minutes ago. The main vox operator and some people were killed, we held firm and are still now pushing back the imperial dogs. I have sent people to check on the top side and we will know what happened soon.’ The first voice replied.
There were a few deep breaths before Mokitarr spoke again. ‘Did you get a good look at what type of gunship it was? Am I to assume the corpse worshippers had inserted troops from the top of the building?’
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Corpse worshippers was a standard derogatory term used by followers of Chaos for the imperials, due to the Emperor of Mankind being a literal corpse since the end of Horus heresy. I had come across the term many times in stories about this universe, to hear it in real life with such a hateful tone added a layer of indescribable context.
‘No idea of the gunship model, it went by too fast to be identified,’ the first voice responded.
Judging from the two samples here, having a harsh deep voice that made you sound like a typical B-movies bad guy might be a prerequisite to climb the heretical leadership ladder. That said, this Mokitarr guy was really quick on the uptake.
They will soon know we are here.
With a flick of my mind, I jammed the channel with static noise like it was the most natural thing. A bit stumped by my own reflexive action, I turned to Thaberus and tried to pick up signs if he noticed what just transpired, only to receive a questioning look from the inquisitor.
I spoke into the command channel that connected me, Thaberus and Alicya. ‘The heretic commander outside just contacted their main leader in the building. They are aware of our possible insertion.’ The palatine paused slightly upon hearing what I said but quickly resumed her stride.
‘What did they say?’ Thaberus asked. I noted the inquisitor did not even bother to inquire about how the information was acquired.
‘They are sending people to check on their roof teams, so our advantage of surprise should expire soon. I have jammed their channel for now.’ I answered just as another transmission flared up, prompting me to join in automatically again .
‘My captain, can you hear me?’ The first voice came through again, instinctively I knew this was a different channel, probably a backup. My mind turned and I realised a lot more could be done.
I first jammed the new channel before unjamming the previous channel, in the process connecting myself to Mokitarr. Activating thought acceleration, I synthesised the voice of the first heretic in my head before playing the result on the other side.
‘My captain, can you hear me?’ I even used the same line.
‘You broke off for a while, speak!’ Mokitarr who had stayed on the first channel replied, sounding impatient with echoes of a heavy gun battle still raging around him.
Thinking fast, I started to bullshit Mokitarr. ‘My men have reached the roof, the topside teams are badly mauled by the gunship but there are survivors. They reported no troop insertion. I repeat, no troops…’ then I trailed off, jammed the channel again and left it at that.
Ending the call, the absurdity of me pranking a cultist leader almost made me laugh out loud despite the fact I just witnessed some highly unpleasant and gruesome events up close.
Is this a coping mechanism?
I noticed Thaberus was giving me his “what’s up?” look. I shrugged and said, ‘I bought us some time, but it won’t be long.’ Just as that statement was made, my mind picked up yet another transmission flaring up on a new and different channel.
Bastards are persistent, too bad I will just jam it again.
‘Can anyone hear me?’ Against my expectation, a new voice came through. Similar to the heretic leader, sounds of gunshots were cracking in the background of this newcomer.
‘Thorn here, I hear you.’ To my surprise, Thaberus responded to it.
‘He lit the way forward for humanity,’ the new voice said without any context.
‘Without Him, we are damned and will be lost in eternal darkness.’ The inquisitor replied without skipping a beat.
What the? Thaberus has contacts inside this place?
‘By the Throne! Thorn, is that really you?’ the voice asked with barely concealed emotion.
‘Yes Kael, I am close. The cavalry is on its way. What happened and what is your situation?’
‘These heretics appeared suddenly out of nowhere! We are currently barricaded in the reinforced section before the plasma generators. How close are you?’ Asked Kael, whoever this person was.
‘Very close. How long can you hold?’
There was another round of intense exchange of gunfire before Kael’s voice came through again. ‘Not for long, we are pinned hard.’
‘Hold on just a little longer, help is on the way. Thorn out.’ Thaberus finished his conversation before speaking into the command channel, ‘move faster, we have people in dire need of our aid.’
Before long we reached a junction where constant gunshots could be heard and I sensed a lot of people in front. It was the main event. I ordered the team to hold before sending out a wide detection wave to scan the area.
Immediately a detailed three dimensional image of the area solidified in my mind and enemy positions lit up like angry rashes on an infected skin. There were more than four dozen heretics between us and the besieged imperials. The way forward was narrowed down into a long corridor about fifty metres in length leading into another wider area.
The corridor was guarded by two small squads of cultists, rear guards to watch their backs. Mokitarr was not taking any chances despite my attempts at misdirection. As I updated the tactical information and shared it to my team, the opposition’s numerical advantage made even Thaberus pause.
‘So many, we need a plan.’ The inquisitor whispered.
‘You got any suggestions?’ I asked.
‘It would be nice if we could have a few grenades exploding in their midst.’ Thaberus said almost jokingly before asking, ‘do you still intend to attempt capturing the leader in this situation?’
Earlier that day to make my case to tag along, I had reasoned with Thaberus that it would be quite safe as the enemies would not expect me to show up.
While the inquisitor conceded on that point, he still saw no reason for me to take the risk. Needing a push, I upped the ante and offered to attempt capturing the enemy leader alive with my unconventional abilities if permitted to go.
That notion of being able to retrieve valuable information greatly tempted Thaberus, and in response he threw an inquisitive side glance at Niandra. The imperial assassin was silent for a while before shrugging and dropped her verdict, ‘if she is serious, there might be no better qualified person on this planet for the task. Looking at the enemy composition, it would be a low risk combat experience for her.’
With Niandra vouching for me, Thaberus finally conceded to let me join the mission. Now it was time to prove the value of my words. Activating thought acceleration, everything around me slowed down as I studied the situation in greater detail.
There were a myriad of dead bodies scattered across the area, hinting at the intensity of battle that had been raging for a while now. What caught my attention was some unusual figures with distinctive, sinister looking armour amongst the fallen.
Who are these? Chaos elite troopers?
At a loss of what I was seeing, my attention shifted back to the situation at hand. Currently the heretic main force was focusing on the entrenched imperials with two small squads watching their back.
Now that I think about it, since our opponents were all unaugmented humans, Thaberus’ casual mention of grenades attack was not a bad idea. Grenades being a standard wargear for the well armed Sororitas, I could get a few from them, then go in shrouded for the attack. Crude but effective.
With the idea in place, I double checked my readings on the individuals guarding the corridor, carefully examined each and every one of them for advanced optics or eye implants that might spoil my plan.
I found nothing that seemed capable of bypassing my stealth field. This could work. Now I just needed to locate and capture Mokitarr alive to complete all my objectives.
Looking at my readings, I noticed an individual in the middle of the main heretic ranks that might be the leader. Unlike his comrades, this person wore a proper set of carapace armour complete with shoulder pads decorated with extra spikes.
Going by my meta knowledge regarding the forces of Chaos, being extra spiky was definitely a mark of status. My gut feelings informed me this was Mokitarr, but I had to be sure. I sent out a short sensor wave targeting this individual before connecting myself to the first channel the heretics had used.
‘Captain, do you read me?’ I masqueraded as his subordinate again. In real time, I witnessed the prime suspect touching his earpiece before a familiar harsh voice came through on my side. ‘Speak!’
Bingo. That’s the heretic captain right here. I dropped and jammed the channel again, it was time to execute my plan.
‘Alicya.’ I called out, beckoning her.
‘Yes?’ The palatine came over respectfully.
‘Two frag grenades please.’ I requested with my hands out.
Alicya hesitated for a half a second before dutifully taking off two of those deadly devices from her pouch and offered them to me. The grenades felt cold and hard to the touch. For a second I was about to remark about them being surprisingly light-weight before remembering my transhuman strength.
‘What is the fuse time and the effective ranges for these?’ I asked, needing the details to plan my attack.
‘Four to five seconds after the safety pin is removed. Resulting blast is lethal within a radius of five metres, incapacitating up to about fifteen metres for standard humans.’ Alicya answered smoothly.
While I expected an informative answer, until this moment it never crossed my mind that a pretty young lady like her could be so well versed on details for such horrible stuff. It felt… wrong.
That aside, there was still a final hurdle that proved to be a headache: how was I supposed to pull this off without exposing my stealth ability?
I was still confirming with Alicya about how to properly pull grenade pins when Thaberus who was watching from the side voiced his concerns. ‘For real? And how do you plan to deliver these?’ Before I could say anything there was a sudden loud explosion in the front.
As everyone instinctively turned to look, in slow motion I realised this was my chance. Pushing thought acceleration to the max, I activated my shadow walk ability and dashed out with all my strength. In the blink of an eye, I passed by the sisters in front of us. None reacted.
No one saw I ran out.
My hearts were racing, for I was about to do something that would either be very awesome or very stupid. It was the moment of truth as I rushed into the corridor with a grenade in each hand. My hearts pumped faster as I was half expecting rounds to be cracking at me by this point.
No shots came.
In the long corridor some of the heretic rear guards were looking back at their main force, checking on the commotion. As for the others who were still watching the corridor, none reacted to my entry. It worked!
Exerting myself, I crossed over fifty metres of the enemy defensive line in less than three seconds. While dashing over many dead bodies I got a good look at the unusual figures from earlier, their armour was jet black and looked even more sinister up close, but weirdly these did not feel like they belonged to the enemy.
Still totally clueless of these mysterious figures, I pushed them out of my head and focused back on the mission. Uncontested, I reached the end of the corridor and slipped into the main heretic crowd.
This was by far the most horrible place of what I had seen in the scholastica. The air was dusty with a persistent smell of gunpowder, sweat, blood and bodily waste. Debris, dead bodies and countless spent bullet casings littered the whole place while angry men with desperate energy were moving about, shooting and cursing.
Making a beeline towards my target, I avoided colliding with a few random heretics due to my pseudo invisibility and soon found myself standing beside the heretic leader.
Mokitarr was an intimidating figure. Tall and muscular, he had the face of a seasoned fighter that hinted of crawling out from some ghetto hellhole to become its champion. Standing close to six feet tall, he radiated an exceedingly cruel aura, the type of person that would make past life me flinch by his mere attention.
The heretic leader’s imposing quality was further amplified by his choice of fashion; he wore a set of dark carapace armour, both his helmet and his shoulder pads were decorated with sharp looking large spikes. A huge Chaos symbol was painted proudly in blood red over his chest piece while another metallic emblem of Chaos hung from his neck, as if anyone could misidentify his allegiance.
Marking Mokitarr’s individualism further, he was carrying a large decorated combat shotgun instead of an autogun like the rest. The whole fearsome appearance was completed with some freshly cut human ears hanging on his belt, trophies that were still dripping blood.
Not pleasant at all.
While Mokitarr barked orders to his underlings, I surveyed the area and soon identified two prime spots for maximum carnage. After running a few quick simulations inside my head on grenades throwing to ensure accuracy, it was time for action.
Still shrouded, I pulled the safety pins off my grenades, and then counted two seconds before tossing one to each side. As the primed grenades bounced into their respective positions with deadly precision, I dismissed my shroud and dropped my greetings.
‘Hello, Mokitarr.’
My abrupt appearance made all the cultists turn to me in shock. Even the heretic leader himself flinched at the sudden development, but it was too late for them to react.
Going psychically active, I unleashed my power like that misfiring incident at the monastery, but this time done on purpose. My halo blasted out in blinding radiance with a powerful psychic message: REPENT!
And then the grenades exploded.