Chapter 28: Legionaries and Sisters

Penal legions always had a way of making me feel better about myself. Not about my immediate well being, I slept with my hellgun so long as I was in a hundred kilometers of a penal legion, but they made me feel better as a person. Sometimes I had moments where I doubted myself, where I wondered if I had failed as a servant of the Emperor. Where I wasn't worthy to walk the path he had left for us. And then I took one look at a pack of animals that had been sent to fight in his name and think to myself "oh right, THAT'S what a failure looks like. I actually raised a kid in this shit stain of an Imperium, I doubt any of these people could do it without turning their kid into a drug mule."

Millions upon millions of penal legionaries were being discouraged from transport ships onto Wasteland, as if the planet wasn't ugly enough without them. The entire 23rd EDR had been deployed to oversee this, along with hundreds of other units. We were all armed, keeping an eye on the lines of convicts that were slowly marching off of ships and towards the countless bases set up around Wasteland's capital city.

They were all dressed in shabby prison uniforms, greenish brown in color, and all of them had rough, hardened faces. All of them were in chain gangs, linked from leg to leg, reducing them to a rather slow shuffle. All of them glared at everyone they passed, no doubt feeling angry that they had been deemed more expendable than everyone on this planet. Let the pricks be angry. I wanted them here just as much as they wanted to be here, if not more so, but I hadn't gotten stuck here because I had blown up an orphanage.

For every five of them, there was an Arbites, power maul in one hand, bolt pistol in the other. They all seemed to have around the same opinion of the legionaries as I did. Thirty seconds couldn't seem to go by without a power maul being swung. The crowd of bodies was too thick for me to tell if there were countless disobedient legionaries or if the Arbites just felt like the convicts turned soldiers deserved it. If it was the latter, I certainly wasn't going to judge. Arbites on more bloated worlds could be corrupt fucks that abused the underclass, but these Arbites had dedicated their lives to guarding the worst of the worst. On their planets, they could unload a bolter into a crowd and walk away with positive karma. I'd have probably had done the same.

"Look on the bright side," Zamora said. She and my wife were manning a checkpoint along with a couple of other 23rd EDR troopers, one of them being my vox caster. I had hoped that I would be allowed to keep the compact ear vox I had been given for my assassination mission, but I hadn't been so lucky. Once again, we were forced to make due with the heavy model that the girl was lugging on her back. "When things go to shit, they'll be thrown at the enemy first. Soften them up for the rest of us. Plus you get to watch them all die."

I let out a laugh before I could stop myself. I got to watch all of this pricks die. I had to admit, there was a great deal of appeal in that one. All the shit I had done and I was still considered more valuable than these guys. "Maybe we should just slap bombs to most of them, make them go off when they die," I said. "They're all gonna die anyway, might as well maximize the use." Some part of me wondered if I was a hypocrite for suggesting, even as a joke, to do something Chenkov would had done. Then I remembered that these people were all murderers and rapists and no one fucking cared about them. Chenkov could've had a lot less people hating him if he had just worked with penal legionaries. Besides, my ideas got more returns than just a bridge for a million dead troopers.

My vox caster looked up, looking shocked. "Sir?"

"A joke, trooper, a joke," I said. "Bit of advice from a veteran. Humor keeps you from going insane. Trust me, I know. And trust me, these people," I gestured at a passing line of penal legionaries, all chained leg to leg, "don't deserve any sympathy." One of them stopped and glared at me, about to open her mouth, before she let out a cry of anguish.

"KEEP IT MOVING!" an Arbities shouted, giving the legionary another blow with her power maul. The legionary shot me one final glare before moving on with the rest of her chain gang. I gave her a mocking wave as she went. I hoped a Daemon ate that one whole. Though I would settle for her being ripped in half. I was kind of a sick fuck when I stopped and thought about it. But, like I had said to my caster, she deserved it. Was probably a child serial killer. I had read the reports. The penal worlds we were drawing these units from weren't the type you got sent to for not paying your taxes.

"Checkpoint 42-DR reporting in, no problems," my vox caster said into her speaker. "Slight delay, local Arbites handled it." A confirmation rang out through the static.

"Not exactly my prefered kind of reinforcement," my wife said, scanning the crowd of convicts with her heavy bolter. "I'd honestly take more of the you know whats. At least they can actually fight, and they've proven to be helpful." You'd have to rip my fingernails out to get me to admit it, but I really was glad that the Harlequins were here. I had described in my book that the Harlequins were Eldar that could actually be trusted to keep their word, particularly when their word included fighting Chaos. I could never and would never see them as anything more than allies of convenience. But until this alliance fell apart, it would be for the best to keep them close.

"Just hope they don't bring their extended families along for the ride," I said sourly. "They're dependable, the rest not so much. I don't need spiky, drug dealing sex offenders, and the same goes for pretentious, holier than thou twats. Just more of what we have and nothing else please." Craftworld Eldar were a mixed bag that you should never show your back to, and the Dark Eldar were classified with Chaos, Orks, Tyranids, and Necrons in my "shoot on sight in all circumstances," category. We had an awkward but dependable alliance the way things were, more Eldar showing up would destabilize it. I was sure the Harlequins knew about this, but I made a mental note to make sure the Shadowseer understood that. Even the Harlequins thought humans were under evolved beasts, the smug pricks. They might not dedicate enough time to care about what we think. They might not, but I wasn't taking chances.

"So what are they getting for kits?" I asked. "I hope they brought weapons along with them, we don't have millions of spare lasguns lying around."

"Looks like it's going to be a mix of las and autoguns," Zamora said, eyeing the last chain gang as they went by. "Mostly lasguns, but it looks like the Arbites have less quality equipment for those with particularly heavy sentences. These are the type of people who rebelled against the Imperium, who are heretics who haven't descended to Chaos. Or crossed lines even the cruelest of hive gangers wouldn't cross. Even their fellow prisoners probably hate them."

"Any way to separate them from the others?" I asked. "I mean, if these are the types to set orphanages on fire, I'd like to know." Another chain gang crossed through the choke point we were guarded. I eyed them closely. The Arbites weren't the Administratum, they wouldn't mark their most dangerous prisoners with a stupidly long legger. They would do something to the prisoner directly, either via a tattoo or a brand. They would want to be able to identify the prisoner on sight, as well as make it clear to all the other prisoners what the marked one had done.

"Like what you see handsome?" A woman in the back of the chain gang stopped, smiling toothily at me. She had a buzz cut, standard affair for penal legionaries, and had an average face with a few scars. All of that was backdrop for her cruel and sadistic smile. I had seen that smile far too many times, the smile of a predator. I raised my hellgun, aiming it directly at her face.

"You have five seconds to start walking again," I growled. I was not bluffing, part of me was hoping this woman wouldn't move so that I would have an excuse to put a las bolt through her face. Everyone else at the checkpoint had their weapons trained on her door. Even my vox caster had her rifle raised, almost fumbling it in her rush to take aim. "Five. Four."

The chain gang had come to a stop, the woman's halt causing a chain reaction of stumbles that spread up the line. The woman ignored it, taking a step close to me. I fired a warning shot, just grazing her cheek. "Last chance," I hissed. "One more step and the next one goes through your eyes. Three. Two."

"I think I met a couple of boys like you before," she continued, clearly not expecting me to actually kill her. "Granted, they were a bit younger, but I think I can get used to someone your age. Maybe I'll come looking for you sometime when you're all al-" she was cut off as her head exploded. A dozen separate bolts tore through her cranium, reducing her face to red mush. The second she had mentioned younger men, I had switched my hellgun setting to full auto. And when she had kept talking after that, I had decided that we would be better without her.

"Ah, that finally happened." A bored looking Arbites had advanced from the chain gang that was waiting for a chance to move through the choke point. She idly poked the corpse with her power maul. "Thought I was going to have to put a bolt through her skull. Kept pulling that little, 'I'm not the type of person that looks around school playgrounds" act with anyone she could."

"I'm glad you didn't, a bolt shell deserves to be used on something a bit less pathetic," I said in disgust. Taking a step forward, I took a closer look at the body. The neck, or rather what was left of the neck, had a blood red tattoo at the base of it. A skull with blood pouring out of the eye sockets. There was a strong chance that was a pretentious hive gang symbol, or the mark I had been looking for. Honestly, sometimes official symbols and try hardy gang signs were rather interchangeable.

"Well, this was going to happen one way or another. Threatening a local office?" The Arbites tutted. "That's a no-no." Flicking a switch on her maul, she swung it down, shattering the shackles that connected the corpse to the rest of the prisoners. "The dead weight's gone, get your asses moving!" she barked, and the chain gang surged forward, fear flickering on all their faces. "Do me a favor, would you? Leave this body here. And if anyone asks what happened to her, tell them something more brutal than what actually happened."

"Can and will do," I said, saluting the Arbites, a gesture that she returned with a wry smile, before following after the chain gang.

"If we're coming up with fake stories, we could always say I grabbed her, beat her to a bloody pulp, grabbed her head, ripped it off and crushed it between my palms," my wife said. "Or crushed it and then ripped it off. Zamora, which would you say is more brutal?"

"Hm," the noblewoman said, pursing her lips. "Well, I obviously can't say from experience, but I'd say crushing it and then ripping it off. The spinal cord being severed would cause instant death. With a crushed skull, there would be some suffering. Plus, there's something primal about ripping off a crushed head. Something utterly cruel and barbaric."

"Just asking. Mainly because, if anyone who comes by talks to my husband like that again, they're not getting off with a quick headshot," my wife said, flashing a smile at me. "Course, I may just do a reenactment of the first time they met." It had been some time since I had seen her rip someone's heart out. That might improve my mood.

"Well, keep an eye out for anyone with a tattoo of a skull that's crying blood. She's got one, she's probably one of the, 'bad even by penal legion standards,' lot." I pointed at the tattoo as I spoke.

Zamora stepped forward, blinking as she took the tattoo in. "Are you sure that's blood? It might just be normal tears."

I paused, looking at Zamora. She didn't seem to be being coy, she was focusing on the tattoo with a scrutinizing eye. "I mean, yeah," I said, looking at it more closely. "It is red, after all."

"The whole tattoo is red," Zamora countered. "I mean, if it was green, would you assume it was Ork blood?"

"Why else would the tattoo be red?" I asked. "I mean, red can mean a couple of things, when it comes to bodily fluids, it tends to be blood. Unless you know anyone who ejaculates red."

Zamora's counter-argument was drowned as she started to laugh. "Ejaculates-are you-oh come on now," she said, choking out words through her laughter. "Why, did that happen to you once or twice? I don't think the misses would've appreciated that."

Now it was my turn to laugh, my wife joining in not long after. In that moment, I was able to forget it all. I forgot that I was on a dry, cracked and devastated planet, I forgot about the billions of cultists who were preparing to invade, and I forgot that I was at the top of a Chaos Lord's shit list. For that moment, it was just me, my best friend, and the best friend I had married. Enjoying a moment of nice, stupid humor. Even the vox caster was letting out a nervous laugh.

So of course some cunt just had to go and ruin it.

Around a kilometer away from our chokepoint, an explosion rocked a nearby building. Our laughter died faster than a Gretchin in a Hive Tyrant's mouth. Everyone at our checkpoint had weapons raised in the direction of the explosion. The legionaries were starting to shout, some of them charging away from the explosion, others back towards it. Arbites roared orders, swinging their mauls viciously, but the previously orderly prisoners had become an unruly mob.

"Cultists?" Zamora asked, glancing at me. "Doesn't seem likely."

"Agreed, we've got plenty of assholes here that don't want to be here," I said. "You three, with me," I said, pointing at my wife, Zamora, and the vox caster. "We're going to investigate. Everyone else, stay here. We may be dealing with a penal legionary uprising. Do NOT let anyone who has come through move to support it."

"Checkpoint 42-DR reporting in, we have an explosion a kilometer south from our position," my vox caster spluttered into her microphone. "Possibly rebel activity. We are moving to assist with suppression." Assistance certainly seemed needed. Countless legionaries had no idea what was going on, but seemed to be attempting to taking advantage of the situation. Many of them were throwing themselves at their Arbites handlers, trying to overwhelm them through sheer numbers. Power mauls swung with renewed vigor and increased settings, the sound of breaking bones filling the air. More than a few Arbites simply drew their bolt pistols and began executions of the legionaries who were attempting to escape. Some of the would be rebels attempted to throw themselves forward, only to find themselves coming to a sudden halt as their chains ran out of slack, still attached to now dead comrades.

But the legionaries outnumbered the Arbites five to one, and it was taking everything they had to keep the prisoners under control. They had no time to respond to the site of the explosion itself. So, that's where I was heading. "Fuck off!" I shouted, slamming the butt of my rifle into the face of aprisoner who had lunged for it. His nose shattered under the impact and he tumbled to the ground. An Arbites took advantage of the opening I had made and brought his maul down on the prisoner's legs. Both of his femurs burst out of the beg of his legs as he roared in pain.

I barely paid any attention to it, focusing on flitting through points in the chaotic mess where the mass of bodies was thin. Eventually after a lot of pushing, shoving, and a fair bit of punching, I could see where the explosion had happened personally. An Arbites Chimera had been destroyed in front of a hab block, smoke and fire billowing out of it. I had no idea what had happened, but a few things very quickly became clear to me. Dozens of chains were lying broken on the ground, along with just as many dead Arbites. Penal legionaries were swarming into the hab block and had taken up positions around it. And they were aiming weapons.

"Take cover!" I shouted. Firing a few snap shots at the nearest rebel legionary, I slid behind the a nearby concrete traffic barrier, my three companions following my example. "Anyone get a good look at what we're dealing with?" I asked.

"I'd say a couple hundred rebels, stolen weapons, digging in for a seige," Zamora said. "I don't think they have any heavy weapons, but I'd play it safe."

"Right, stay outside the building until the Arbites can bring in the heavy support," I said. "We don't have anywhere near the strength to storm it, so just pick them off where you can. Honey? Some suppressing fire please."

"Please always helps." My wife heaved her heavy bolter over the traffic barriers, spraying fire at the legionaries that had not taken cover inside the hab block. The pillars and cars they were crouching behind cracked and crumbled under the pressure of the suppressing fire, barely holding. Many of the legionaries cowered behind their disintegrating cover. Too afraid to fire, or to move to better cover.

"Grenades!" I shouted, tossing one of my fragmentation grenades, a few more joining it as it flew through the air. Explosion rocked the outskirts of the hab, engulfing half a dozen of the traitors in its blast. But that had drawn attention from the other legionaries, who began opening fire in our direction. I hit one with a burst to the torso before bending down to avoid being shot. The top of the barrier was riddled with bullets that blew tiny chunks of it off. I heard the pulsing sound of Zamora's plasma rifle being fire, and I hoped the scream that followed was her hitting someone.

"Ok, less than ideal situation," I said, keeping my face pressed against the concrete. As I was still rather pinned, I took a good look around. Dozens of Arbites were surrounding the building now, a few local soldiers assisting them. Fire was being traded from pockets all over, one man even shooting off a rocket at the hab block.

Then, a pair of engines roared. Two more Chimeras burst through the crowds, running a couple of legionaries over, and charged towards the building. These were Arbites Chimeras, meant for policing and not frontline combat. They had heavy stubbers instead of bolters, but they still had forward mounted las cannons. Both cannons blared as the heavy stubbers opened fire. The shrieks of legionaries were unmistakable, quite a few of them were dead and dying. Even better, bullets had stopped streaking a few centimeters above my head.

Poking my head back up, I took aim. Most of the legionaries were more concerned with the multi-ton vehicles that were pressing down on them. By itself, far from a senseless move. But it gave them a bit of tunnel vision when there were plenty of other threats nearby. I put a las round right through the head of a legionary that had been going for a grenade. Sadly, the grenade's pin was clearly still in it as it rolled away. Bolter rounds and plasma shots tore into the sides of the legionaries as they attempted to respond to the Chimeras. Barely any of them had armor, and they few they did could have been wearing nothing for all the difference that it made. They were torn apart under the vicious assault of some of the finest weapons the Imperium made for the Guard.

The Chimeras swept back, not wanting to stop too close to the building, their gunners firing as they went. One of them was an Arbites with a look of fury on her face, screaming words that I couldn't make out but could very much recognize the mouth movements of words that I had not been allowed to say around my daughter for her first eighteen years. Despite being in the depths of a rage, she and the other gunner were doing an excellent job. Among the legionaries that were still outside, the dead were starting to outnumber the living. She had racked up an excellent kill count, firing until her stubber ran dry.

"TRAITORS! FUCKING TRAITORS!" she screamed, her voice somewhat audible now that her stubber wasn't firing. My stomach dropped. Why wasn't she reloading her stubber? That was the prudent thing to be doing in this situation. "DEATH! EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU IS SENTENCED TO DEATH! A DEATH I WILL PERSONALLY DELIVER TO YOU!" Oh Emperor, she was deep in a rage, it had completely over ridden her common sense. "YOU WILL SUFFER! YOU WILL DIE! YOU WILL-" whatever she had planned to do to the rebels, no one ever found out. Because she was killed mid-sentence as a makeshift bomb bounced off the top of the Chimera and into her face. The only consolation was that she probably didn't suffer. Her lifeless body looked like it had died instantly as it fell.

The legionaries gave a roar of triumph at the death of the gunner, and focused most of their fire on the one still fully crewed Chimera. Looted grenades and hand crafted bombs were tossed at the APC as it attempted to twist and weave away from the storm of fire. Explosions buffeted against the vehicle and it began to smoke, the gunner still firing desperately.

"Shit," I swore, taking aim at one of the men in the windows and managing to get him in the throat.

"HEY!" I turned to see the undamaged but gunnerless Chimera backing up towards our position, the rear door swinging open. "I need a new gunner!" I took one look at my companions, gave a small nod to my wife, then charged into the Chimera, slamming the door shut behind me. The interior of the squad carrier was empty, minus a crate of ammunition for the stubber and the driver. "Stupid asshole just had to run her mouth," the driver hissed, spinning her wheel wildly. "Ok, I'm gonna take us for another pass, just kill as many of those fuckers as you can."

"Got it!" I barked, grabbing a fresh case of ammo from the crate. Climbing up the ladder to the gun, I removed the empty case, slapped in the fresh one, and cocked the gun before fully stepping up into the gunner's position. The Chimera swarmed and began to make a second run on the hab block.

Almost at once, las bolts and bullets started flying in my direction, the driver swerving in an attempt to make sure that I didn't share the same fate as the last gunner. Firing an automatic weapon on top of a speeding vehicle while it changed direction at random and I was being shot at was not an easy thing to do. Still, two centuries of combat experience had given me some degree of talent at adapting to intense situations.

Jamming my finger down on the trigger, the stubber roared to the life. It had a nice and meaty kick to it, that felt damn satisfying to aim at these pricks. The ones still out in front were easier targets, so with some difficulty, I brought the weapon to bear on them. Three of them went down in seconds, the mounted weapon tearing open massive holes in their side. "Missiles in the windows!" the driver shouted. Sure enough, I could see at least two rocket launchers being aimed at the Chimera from the upper windows. Bringing the stubber up, I started to spray the upper windows.

The first legionary with a rocket launcher stumbled back, his rocket firing off into the air as he went. Praying that it wouldn't hit any friendlies on the way down, I then turned my attention to the second convict, only to have her duck down before so much as a single slug moved in her direction. To be frank though, I was content with that outcome. If I was keeping her suppressed, I was keeping her from turning the vehicle I was in to slag, which was a win as far as I was concerned.

"Wait-SHIT!" my driver shouted. "Rocket dead ah-" but she had barely gotten the words out when a third rebel with a rocket launcher had appeared in the main entrance to the hab block, firing off almost at once. The Krak missile tore into the front of the armored vehicle, tearing it to shreds. I heard a wet, gurgling noise from the direction of the driver, and had a bad feeling she wasn't long for this world. But, for whatever reason, the Chimera wasn't slowly down. If anything, it was speeding up, heading right towards the hab block.

I was buffeted forward as it slammed into the front of the hab block, the front of the vehicle flattening against the Ferrocrete walls. I nearly had the wind knocked out of me as I was slammed flat against the heavy stubber, which was knocked loose and sent clattering off. Hissing in pain, I looked around, getting a bearing for my situation. I found myself looking eye to eye with the convict I had suppressed moments before, her jaw slack as she held her rocket launcher in hand. The top of the crashed Chimera was only two feet below the window she had been firing from.

With no time to go for my hellgun as the legionary hastily dropped her rocket launcher and went for a pistol, I hurled myself forward. Privately, I wondered how I kept getting into situations where throwing myself at the enemy was the most logical thing to do. You think I'd read my own fucking book. I'd like nothing more than to shoot her, but my hellgun was dangling down by my side, the heavy stubber was gone, and someone who had probably been a third rate factorum worker until she had murdered her entire work shift was smarter than the Chaos Lord's son. He would've monologued at me, or maybe shot me with the rocket at point blank range and have been killed in the backwash. This woman was going for the much more reliable and less self destructive pistol.

It was halfway up when I smashed into her, knocking us both back into the hab block and onto the ground. I probably would've sliced my leg open on the already broken window if it wasn't for my armor. Half baked thoughts of going for my weapons now filled my head, only to be broken by a fist colliding with my face. Within seconds, I was on my back, awkwardly balanced on my power pack, and the convict on top of me. Hate was plastered in every inch of hey face as she fastened her hands around my throat, squeezing tight.

Trying to wrest her hands off would've been an exercise in futility, doubly so as oxygen stopped making it to my brain, so I went on the offensive. Wrapping my arms around her back, I drove my knee hard into her stomach. With me holding her down, she stayed still and took the full impact of the blow, which I repeated three more times for good effect. A knee to the gut hurt at the best of times, the pain was doubtless agonizing when the knee was armored.

The fingers around my neck loosened, and I rolled out from underneath the convict, who was gasping for air. Scrambling to my feet, I aimed a kick with my bionic foot, and caught the legionary square in the face as she attempted to right herself. Blood spattered the far wall and a tooth clattered across the ground, the convict falling to the ground. Spotting my hellgun lying not too far away, still connected to my power back, I made to dive for it.

I had barely taken a step when I felt a tight grip on my ankle, and the next thing I know I had been tripped and landed face first on the ground. Craning my neck over my shoulder, I saw the convict with a grip around my organic ankle. I blinked. She had figured out, no doubt from the solid impact with her face and the several cracked teeth she doubtless now had, that one of my feet was cybernetic and she had gone for the more grippable organic one. Or maybe I was just overthinking things.

Her free hand reached towards a sheath on her back, drawing a large knife. Having a good feeling that she was going to try and cut my foot off, either that or slice open my femoral artery, I kicked out again with my cybernetic foot. There was another loud crack and she howled in pain, letting go of my foot. Maybe I really was overthinking the foot thing. Actually, if someone had a cybernetic foot and you could only grab one, which one were you supposed to go for? Grabbing the organic one gave you a softer target, but grabbing the cybernetic one kept the enemy from kicking out with a much harder leg. Actually, considering the artery would still be present in the leg the cybernetic foot was attached to, it'd probably be smarter to go for the leg with the cybernetic foot. A rather niche field that very few would have experience in, but Emperor willing, if I survived this fight I'd probably find a way to spin this into making the woman make look like a drooling idiot. Probably.

Forcing myself back to my feet, I saw the woman rising up along with me. Her teeth were bared in a growl. Half of her teeth were missing by this point, and the rest were either broken or hanging loosely. Hissing viciously, she lunged at me with her knife. My hand was halfway to my power sword before I had to dodge to the side, sparks flying as the knife bounced off the wall.

With careful timing, I darted back in, grabbing her by the wrist with one hand and viciously twisting. With a grunt of pain, the woman dropped the knife. For a moment, I thought I finally had the situation under control, only for a knee to drive straight into my sternum. Even through armor, I almost doubled over. For half a second I wondered if this woman was on Frenzon, before another blow came in my direction.

I barely ducked to the side in time, but I wasn't so lucky when she followed up with a brutal right rook. It slammed into the side of my helmet, ratling my skull inside of it. There was a loud cracking sound as it happened, no doubt she had broken her knuckles. Despite that, I could feel a noticeable dent in the side of my helmet. This woman was no doubt abusing Frenzon, it was common in penal legions. There was no other way an unaugmented human was doing that kind of damage.

Staggering, everything swimming in front of me, I saw another fist coming my way. Ducking down, I rushed forward, throwing an uppercut that landed squarely on the chin of the legionary. She yelped, doubling over, blood spurting out of her mouth. Grabbing her by the head with both hands, I charged at the nearest wall, slamming her into it head first. There was a pair of cracks and the convict slid to the floor, leaving a red stream on the wall as she went. She wasn't getting up again.

"Frakking hell," I swore, my head still throbbing as I knelt down and finally picked up my hellgun again. Leveling it at the rebel legionary, I fired a laser bolt straight into her head, which exploded like a blood sausage. Better safe than sorry. Right, where was I again? Oh right. In the first floor of an enemy controlled building. Fuck. Spinning on the spot, I saw the rocket launcher that had been dropped earlier. Holstering my hellgun, I grabbed it, hoisting it over my shoulder, before slowly edging along the hallway. An explosion from an anti-tank missile in quarters these tight would reduce any hostiles to mulch. But I had to be careful, lest I get caught in the blast.

Edging along the bland, gray corridors of the hab block, I paused near a stairwell. Gunfire was echoing from both the lower and upper levels. It was hard to tell whether it was aimed outwards or if Guardsmen had started to storm the hab block. Though, if they had, they'd be coming in at the base level, which made it safer for me to aim my ordinance upward. Peeking around the the edge of the stairwell, I aimed the rocket up. Heavy gunfire was coming from up there, and it was getting closer. Patience. Patience.

After a minute of waiting, a trio of legionaries, one woman and two men, came into view. My finger tensed on the trigger, but before I could do anything, a blur of a dozen different colors appeared right behind the legionaries. Within five seconds, the blur had torn through all of them, arms severed, torsos bisected, and heads cleaved in half. My jaw dropped as the mess of body parts and blood that had once been a trio of human bodies splattered all over the ground, the blur stopping in front of me. "Bit odd, we've already experienced the peak of the second act, it's far too soon for the climax," the Shadowseeker said. "Perhaps some entertainment for the intermission?"

"What the FUCK are you doing here?" I roared. "You're in the middle of a combat zone! I don't know if you've been around the filthy Mon'Keigh long enough to figure it out, but we don't like Xenos, and no one is going to make a friendly fire check if its you! Most of the Guard on this planet don't even know that we're working with you! And what the shit do you mean intermission?"

"A private joke," the Shadowseeker said. "And it's fortunate that I have you to inform your comrades that you have an ally within here."

"You-" I said, my mind reaching for something fowl and venomous to say, but I was so overwhelmed with hatred and frustration with the entire situation that I experienced a minor overload. "Fucking fine." Putting my finger to my bead, I said "attention all units. There is an Eldar within the hab block. It is a momentary ally, please do not fire on it." I made to lower my finger, when a bunch of panicked squabbling filled my ear.

"What the-" I said. "What's going on out there? Someone, give me a status update!" I could vaguely hear my wife's voice somewhere in the midst of the chaos, but the line was thoroughly clogged with chatter. "Something's going on out there," I said, poking my head out the nearest window. Hundreds of Guardsmen had surrounded the hab block now, all of them dug in around it. Oddly enough though, none of them were moving to take it. Instead, they were looking at each other and shouting in a panicked manner.

I had half a mind to shout at them to get their asses in gear when I heard a loud coughing noise behind me. Turning around, I saw the Shadowseeker kneeling over, mask off, hacking up blood on the ground. "Oh come the fuck on, don't tell me you got gutshot by a bunch of dipshit penal legionaries. Hey, I need you alive for the plan we have! That was part of the fucking deal!"

"They did not so much as scratch me," the Shadowseeker said, his mask falling to the floor. "I don't know what this is. Something is wrong here." His smile had finally slid off his face, replaced with a grimace of intense discomfort. I'd enjoy that look if it wasn't for the fact that I was deeply concerned whatever was causing it might kill me. My stomach was starting to churn, even as I looked at the Shadowseeker, and a cold sweat was breaking out across my forehead. I took a deep breath. What the hell was wrong with me? I felt like I was coming down with a fever.

The Shadowseeker wretched, coating the ground with blood. "Bottom floor," he said. "Whatever it is, it comes." Without a word, I took up position at the mouth of the staircase, aiming my captured weapon down. I felt worse with every passing second. My eyes were twitching uncontrollably and I felt ill. Had someone released some kind of chemical weapon into the block? No, that couldn't be it, I'd be dead by now. But then what was it?

The screams broke my line of thought. Screams echoing from the ground floor, broken up by scattered gunfire. Gunfire that was slowly growing less and less frequent. For what felt like an eternity, I stood there, a krak missile at the ready. My body trembled, my insides trembling, my hands shaking, part of me wanted to fire the missle just to break the tension. Then, a lone legionary rounded the corner, scrambling on all fores up the stairs. He didn't even make it halfway up. There was a loud bang, and his head exploded, tumbling back down the stairs. I took aim with my rocket launcher.

"Lower your weapon Guardsman." I blinked. Then did it again. My jaw slid open and the rocket launcher hit the floor as my grip went slack. No way. No fucking way. Two women in golden armor were at the base of the staircase, each of them with a sword in one hand and a bolter in the other. One had a helmet with a bright red plume in the back. The other was helmetless, but her hair was done up in a plume that was nearly identical, though the rest of her head was clean shaven. I had had heard that they were active again, but to see them in person was something else entirely.

"S-sisters of Silence?" I stuttered out. The helmeted one nodded. I had heard stories on what their presence did to people, but they paled in comparison to the reality of it. Then a horrible thought occurred to me. Two Sisters of Silence in the same room as a powerful alien psyker. Oh Emperor's sphincter. "Get out of here," I hissed to the Eldar. "They could kill you by accident."

"I think I will stay," the Shadowseeker said, sliding his mask back on and stepping forward to view the Sisters of Silence. "Greetings friend. I am a humble servant of the Laughing God. To what do we owe the pleasure?" I couldn't believe this jackass. Humans that could kill him with their minds and he wanted to chit-chat?

"Greetings," the helmetless Sister said, her voice soft, yet strong. "I am a novice-sister of the Sisters of Silence. My companion is my mentor, an Oblivion Knight of the order. She has taken our sacred oath of silence, and as such the duty falls to me to speak for her." Novices were Sisters that hadn't taken the oath of silence then. "We arrived to provide aid for this planet, and it seems it was needed earlier than expected."

"It's appreciated," I said as they began to climb the stairs. Emperor on his Throne, it was actually getting worse as they got closer. My stomach was churning so violently that I was deeply concerned I was going to vomit, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye contact with the Sisters. "Personally I never found penal legions to be worth the second rate flak armor they're issued."

The helmeted Sister made a complicated set of gestures that made use of her whole arms. "My mentor agrees, their loyalty is too deeply in question." More gestures. "However, this was merely an unexpected complication. We came to this planet in order to to assist with the defeat of the approaching champion of the Ruinous Powers." The novice-sister glanced at the 23rd EDR mark on my shoulder. "Ah, this helps. We request to be shown to your commanding officer. There is a soldier in your unit that we wish to speak to personally. The author of this book." Reaching into a pouch, she produced something that made the churning in my stomach stop. A copy of Avoiding Stupid Deaths in the 41st Millenium.

I froze. Oh Emperor help me. They had read that? The best witch hunters of the Emperor? I was fucked. I was so utterly fucked that even the local whores were giving it to me doggy style. Everything that I had written in that book had been enough to secure my execution ten times over. A hundred if the person arranging my execution was stubborn enough to ensure I was charged for all of the more minor offenses. Well, on the plus side, it would be a quick decapitation and then it'd all be over. It was preferable to what the Inquisition or the Chaos Lord would have in mind.

My breathing became a little faster. The Shadowseeker noticed. Looking back and forth between me and the Sisters, he seemed to understand what my concern was. He stepped forward, positioning himself between me and the sisters. A move that was doubtless supposed to look impressive and was rather ruined by the fact that he was now shaking like a leaf. Whatever the Sisters were doing to him, it looked like it was ten time worse than what I was going through.

"I have read the same work as you, I am well aware that this man has proven to be a less than ideal warrior," the alien said. Oh just fuck off. If I was going to die, let me die with some dignity. I didn't need a Xeno defending me in a manner that was so half assed it felt more like condemnation. I'm pretty sure more of that would get me upgraded from decapitation to slowly being disemboweled, and who knows where we go from there. "However, he has found himself playing an important role that benefits both of our races. One that require him to be alive." The Shadowseer raised his sword in a guard, but made no move forward. I wasn't sure if he was physically capable of doing so at this point.

The helmeted sister tightened her grip on her weapons, but she didn't attack. She instead made more gestures. "Be at ease. So, this is the author of this work? We have no intentions of killing him. We do not find many of the actions he describes to be particularly to our taste, but his deeds outweigh his crimes. And, as you say, he has an important role to play. We received an Astropath message, highest priority, of the plan you have to deal with the Chaos Lord. The Sisters of Silence are here to help." She bowed her head. "Forgive us both for not announcing our coming. We did not want to risk the enemy learning of our movements."

"No need to apologize," I said, feeling more revelived that they weren't here to kill me than anything else. Though the relief was quickly swallowed up by the sickening and nauseating feeling that their presence caused. And I couldn't help but notice that the Oblivion Knight was staring coldly at me. I had a bad feeling that, while she wouldn't kill me now, one foot out of line would be all it took. I made a mental note to be on my best behavior around her.

The Shadowseeker nodded, slowly sheathing his sword. As he did, blood began to drip out from underneath his mask, splattering on the floor below. "Come on," I said, hissing into his ear. "Stop playing the fucking tough guy. I've got drafts for the next chapter back in my quarters and I really can't afford you earning a spot in it. Go back and wait for me there. Find the colonel and tell her what's going on if you have to do something. Your god isn't going to value you more if you die because you wouldn't get away from the women that are toxic to you." Giving a hasty nod, the Shadowseeker turned and dove out of the window. A rather painful grunt followed. I stared in disbelief. I knew that the Sisters were in the stairwell, but really?

Shaking my head, I turned back to both of the Sisters. "I'll take you to my commanding officer then," I said uncertainty. The helmeted one's gaze was still locked on me, and my stomach gave another violently surge. It was getting rather taxing to stand up straight around these two. I wondered if it would be rude to ask them to follow at a distance. Most certainly. But it might be worth it. I noticed the helmeted one again. Scratch that thought.

"We thank you," the novice said. "But first, you have done a great deal for the Imperium, some transgressions aside. And we have a general idea of your enjoyments. We have brought a small gift for you." With a flourish, she produced a pure white bottle that seemed to sparkle with its own light, placing it at the top of the stairwell before backing up. "I'd hand it to you, but in my experience, most soldiers collapse or wretch if they touch me. Even though armor."

I had no trouble believing that. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if it could kill lesser men. Blanks were supposed to target psykers, and these women were so powerful they had reduced me to this state just by being in my general vicinity. "Thank you," I said, picking up the bottle and looking at it. "I think I'll save it for a family dinner."

"Enjoy, it was bottled on Holy Terra itself," the novice-sister said gently. "Now then, your colonel. She may or may not know that we were sent. I suppose we shall soon learn." I nodded, holding the bottle in one hand and my hellgun in the other.

"Are there any other Sisters coming?" I asked hesitantly. "Things are bad on this front. And I mean really bad. This Lord almost caused a Black Crusade last time, we needed the Old Wolf and all of the Space Wolves to turn her back. We'll need every last Sister of Silence we can get."

The helmeted Sister made more gestures, her gaze not wavering for even a second. "No," the novice-sister translated. "Our sisters in arms are needed elsewhere, as are the Custodians we now fight alongside her. We were the only ones that could be spared. Everywhere else in the Imperium is worse. Many of us are dealing with the forces of Magnus the Red himself."

Well that's gotta bring back all the old memories. "I see. Well, I pray you two will be enough." They would have to be. These two showing up was a small miracle. I had a very bad feeling it was the only miracle we were going to be getting.

The novice-sister nodded. "Now then, your commanding officer please. We must know everything we can if we are to be vicious." I nodded, passing by the two of them, using every last urge of self control to not scream or break out into a run as their presence hit me, I led the way. The two best hopes that I had right behind me.