No Guts, No ED
"They came to
take our land and lifes
To terminate our
race
All across the
galaxy
They leave a
deadly trace"
--Excerpt of Iron Savior's Predators
(NOTE: There are two character names in here, which aren't my own (except the Yarricks), and these are Colonel-commissar Ibram Gaunt and Commissar General Delane Oktar. These are the (c) Copyright of Dan Abnett and GW Publishing Ltd. Other names that are (c) copyright of Games Workshop Ltd are; the Berzerkers, the Thousand Sons, the Plague Marines, the Noise Marines, the Night Lords, the Word Bearers, the Alpha Legion and the Black Legion)
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On the planet
Secondus (to be more exact, it's a giant moon around a gas-planet), the heart
of the Galactic Imperium of Mankind is situated. Secondus surface is more or
less completely given over to institutions, libraries and the like. Examples to
be given are the Adeptus Ministorum, or the Ecclesiarch as it's commonly known,
the Departomento Munitorum, the Imperial Palace itself and, one of its more
well-known and both feared and revered institutions: The Commissarius Imperia
(the Imperial Commissariat). This institution is relatively young, compared to
the others, and it has strong links with the Ecclesiarch and the Munitorum, as
well as the Imperial high politics too.
Now, its
history of creation is a quite interesting one, a fairytale almost. It might
seem odd, that an institution as influential and important as the Commissariat
begun its being in a revolution. Strange? Perhaps. It depends on how you see
it. All Imperial Commissars are known to be fiercely loyal to the Imperial
Cause, devout followers of the Imperial Cult and good politicians and warriors
to boot. A commissar leads from the front, using his charisma and fiery zeal to
urge his fellow soldiers onwards, to defeat the enemies of Mankind. If a
commissar isn't at the front, you can most surely find him attending duties
such as making sure of the soldiers' well being, the purity of their faith,
deal punishment to those who break the Law etc. A commissar rarely attends to
staff-work, if he can avoid it. However, there are those few who enjoy an easy
life along with good living in abundance. And it was this type of indulgent
humans that born the opposite: the zealous political officers that are with the
Guardsmen at the front.
It happened on
the desolate industrial world of Moskva, a planet renowned for its fine
steel-craftsmanship, oil findings and liquor. However, the system that governed
Moskva was corrupt, to the core. By this time, which was around 235.000
Imperial Years (about 500.000 years ago, our counting), the Imperium had
so-called political commissars situated on each planet, but they were far from
the modern-day Imperium's zealous warriors. On Moskva, these
"polkoms", as they got known by the local people, lived in abundance
and luxury, while the people was starving. And they seemed oblivious to the
fact, the local politicians and governors backing them up. They could easily
hide any proof from the High Lords, and they thought themselves invulnerable
were they sat. However, they had slight problems with increasing crime. One of
the polkoms suggested the introducing of what he called "naroddny
komissars": People's Commissars. His idea was that you took the hardest
working man from each district, trained him in politics and Law, gave him a
slight raise, a mark to show his new status and inserted him to work together
with the local Arbiters. He would also make sure the workers in his district
followed the Imperial and Moskvanian Laws. A brilliant idea all else thought in
the council. Little did they know, that two hundred years after they'd clubbed
through this plan, it would spell the doom of the High Polkom Council, and mark
the start of a new era, both for Moskva and for the Imperium. And it would come
in the shape of one man: Narkom Michailovitch Mischkin.
There are,
both on Moskva and the Imperial Commissariat on Secondus, statues of Mischkin
that depicts him as a tall man, well over two metres, of a strong and athletic
build, with the distinct heavy nose of his people. What the statues can't
depict is that he had emerald, piercing eyes and red-blond hair. There are few
surviving records of Mischkin's past, but a few, tattered pergaments state that
he was a common worker who'd proven himself worthy of narkom training. He'd
passed the training and received the coat and cap and the insignia. But, what
they don't state is that he never thought himself as more than a worker.
Mischkin came to see the rifts in the society with the clearness like the light
that a sun emits. He soon gathered the narkoms of the surrounding districts,
and they formed into smaller councils themselves, consulting what to do, to
prevent crime in their districts at first, but later, and to plan the
revolution. Now, the Moskvanian word for council was "soviet", but
the narkoms didn't calls themselves soviets. They instead stripped off the "naroddny"
from their ranks, simply calling themselves Commissars.
The interest
in Mischkin's council grew, as the news spread around Moskva, from industry
district to district. Mischkin and his closest friends had to work undercover
for many years, until the final result of their efforts came to day. And it
truly came. Mischkin had welded together an army from nothing, his connections
throughout Moskva making it possible to initiate a general strike all over
Moskva. The hours that passed as the High Council tried to figure out the
reasons to the strike was all Mischkin needed. His ragtag force of workers and
Commissars stormed the seat of the High Council, the Winter Palace. It is said
Mischkin led the attack himself, leading from the front, laying down a legacy
that would carry throughout the years. It is also said that it was here that
the insignia of the Imperial Commissariat was made, although there are no proof
of it. The legend goes that Mischkin had struck down a PDF soldier, and had
picked off the man's silver mark on his forage cap. Mischkin had stuck the
winged skull upon his peaked cap, and continued his attack. His comrades had
soon followed his example.
As the army
breached the Outer Walls, it was easy to get to the centre of it all. Mischkin,
with a company of seven friends of his, stormed the main council hall. Needless
to say, Mischkin and his friends took no prisoners. The polkoms had managed to
send out a distress signal, but when the Imperial forces arrived, months later,
they found that it was no idea. Mischkin and his friends now controlled Moskva,
and they did it good. In a few years, Moskva was changed to the better for all.
The Imperial High Lords, having heard of the efficiency of the Commissars of
Moskva, voiced their interest in founding the Imperial Commissariat. They
didn't mention the fact that the dangerously increasing treason of Imperial
Guard demanded something like this to be done, but Mischkin understood the
point. Together with his three closest friends: Vassily Timoschenko, Ivanovitch
Lorganov and Pytor Vonov, he made up the founding principles of the Imperial
Commissariat. They also picked out a uniform to use, sticking with the coats
and caps they knew. Little did Mischkin know what awaited him the week after
the message was sent.
Mischkin never
would live to see his work come to fruition, i.e. he never saw the Imperial
Commissariat born. He fell suddenly ill after the message to the Imperium had
been sent, and the diagnostic was clear: malign cancer in his heart-muscles,
incurable in the Imperium but also very rare. The powerful man that Mischkin
had been withered away in a matter of months. He became a tall, gaunt skeleton,
his eyes sunken and weary. This was only a bi-effect of his weakened state. His
weakening heart meant that he couldn't walk in the end, lame on both legs and
one arm. He became completely bed-bound. His dear friend Timoschenko was the
last one to see the legendary man alive. Timoschenko himself was a short,
stocky man with brown hair and a build that suggested a massive physical
strength and a natural rotundity. He wrote in his memoirs that he'd admired
Mischkin very much, and was very pained to see him die as slowly as he did.
It was
Timoschenko who reported that Mischkin was dead. He'd died while Timoschenko had
gone out to get a message that had arrived, and to bring his dying his friend
something to drink. Timoschenko wrote in his book that: "Nothing has
pained me so, as to step into that room, seeing a life-long friend dead. And I,
a coming Commissar General of the Imperium, could do nothing but watch. And it
pained me even more, when I understood what it was that was in the data-slate
I'd received. Mischkin had known. He'd willed himself to live long enough to
make sure I got the message... It's my belief he'd thought so. His Will also
declared that he wanted me to take over. I remember at that time, that I'd
wanted Lorganov to have fetched the message, instead of me..."
And
Timoschenko had fulfilled his friend's will. He made the final fixing and
twirking with the Commissariat. He'd settled for a uniform: black greatcoat and
peaked cap with red trimmings and silver winged skull insignia adorning the
peaked cap. He'd also, with help from the original hundred commissars,
completed the huge volume that contains the Edicts and Dogmas of an Imperial
Commissar. It had been mastodont work, but in the end, Timoschenko had pulled
it off. He'd personally trained the first batch of commissars, and the Imperial
High Lords had made him Commissar General. The Imperial Commissars weren't
intended to have actual command of the forces they served with, but the High
Lords thought it fitting that a select few could attain military rank. And so
it was. Timoschenko's stocky shape can be found as a statue in the innermost
sanctum of the Imperial Commissariat, standing together with his tall friend:
Michail Mischkin.
This brings up
to date with what a Commissar stands for. Mischkin wanted it clear that a
Commissar led by example and from the front. "Don't ever tell soldiers
what to do, unless you would do it yourself," is one of the first things a
Cadet Commissar learns. He also learns many other things: to pull off a great,
pompous phrase, guide those faltering in faith and much, much more. To make it
simple: An Imperial Commissar is faith, courage and power impersonated. None is
above his scrutiny. A commissar rarely thinks of humans as beings, but as tools
in the Emperor's Service. This may earn them the enmity of many soldiers and
officers, but it is needed, because unlike military officers, a commissar
always acts with the Imperium's interests in mind, not the safety of the men
he's commanding. With Commissar Generals, this is different, of course.
A Commissar
has one more thing with him: Fear. Unruly soldiers and, indeed, officers, have
many times faced the wrath of a Commissar. Soldiers can be put back in line
with a simple punch, but officers are a different matter. More often than not,
summary execution might be the only solution for a Commissar. Therefore,
Imperial Guardsmen have learned just to fear and respect the very uniform of a
Commissar. Summary executions are a rarity, but as soon as a colonel, captain
or even a general wants to leave the battle behind and flee, the ever-present
Commissar steps up and delivers the Emperor's Wrath.
Violence,
however, is rarely a Commissar's first choice of action. If he/she can, the
Commissar will use his/her pull and final say in a question. If that doesn't
work, they switch on the charisma and lure them to act, as the Imperium wants.
Female Commissars have an extra hand on this point. The last way is always
summary execution.
Commissars are
almost always the son or daughter of a deceased Imperial Official, i.e. a
Imperial Guard officer, Administratum clerk, Planetary Governor's offspring
etc. These orphans are sent to the spiritual school called the Schola Progenum,
where they get trained in the Imperial Creed, Religion and the use of weapons.
They also learn history and many other things, some of their own choice. They
are trained by so-called Drill Abbots. The vast majority of the boys might
become Navy Officers, Clerks, Preachers or Drill Abbots themselves. Relatively
few chose to become Commissars, knowing what kind of life awaits them. As for
the girls, a great many become Sisters of Battle. Only a handful of girls, on
about fifty boys, chose to become Commissar. I.e. if fifty boys become
Commissars, a maximum of five girls become it as well, and the training is
years long and hard. On the contrary to what one might think, female Commissars
are often more popular than their male counterparts, they succeed better in the
Guard, and 96% of the girls who are picked out as Cadets finish their training
(they don't get killed or fail in any other way), on the contrary to 54%
amongst the boys. Imperial Statistics are still confused over why this is...
The Roll of
Honour for the Commissars is long, very long. Over a billion names adorns the
pages in the Book of Fallen Comrades in the Commissariat. This book is
currently four volumes big, and it grows for every day, as ten names are added
each day, at a minimum. Some of the greatest Commissars get statues erected
after them. Notable Commissars, that should be common knowledge to many
Imperial Commissars, are: Commissar Michail Mischkin (counted as one as he
founded the Commissariat), Commissar General Vassily Timoschenko, Commissar
General Karl Reichard, Commissar Hans Wiedelmann, Commissar Elisabeth Hawkins,
Colonel-commissar Ibram Gaunt, Commissar General Delane Oktar, Commissar Jean Bournemouth,
Commissar Kiima Halonen, Commissar General Amadeus Chomaki, Commissar General
Rolf Yarrick and his grand-son Commissar Sebastian Yarrick. These twelve
Commissars all stand as statues in the Main Hallway of the Commissariat on
Secondus.
The two lastly
mentioned bring us to our heroes, who now are stranded on Secondus, in a not
too pleasant situation.
The collection
of twelve men, boys and girls looked at the Guardsmen and women before them.
McKenzie was still staring down the barrel of the hellpistol the commissar
cadet was wielding. McGranth and Charleston seemed to study the surrounding men
and women, obviously judging their chances to escape from them, if it called
for it. The odds came out hopelessly low...
From the
distance, the distinct and pleasurable rumbling of a four-stroke, two cylinder
motor could be heard. It came closer and closer. The black and red trimmed
motorbike pulled up a few metres from the group. A man in a black greatcoat was
sitting upon it. He seemed oblivious to the twelve warriors by the demolated
Thunderhawk. The cadet commissar stepped away from McKenzie, lowering the
hellpistol, but not holstering it.
"What the
frekk is this?" the man growled. The Guardsmen and women turned to him and
stood into attention. The cadet commissar ripped off a salute. The man on the
bike got off and steadied it on the ground. As he walked up, the Eds saw
immediately that he was a commissar. Black greatcoats were common, but the
peaked caps with the silver winged skull weren't. The man wasn't big, just
around 1m60, but he was well built. He wasn't fat, just too muscly for such a
small body. He seemed to be in his mid-forties. He had dark hair, heavy
features and piercing dark green eyes. He had an overall look that gave the
impression he'd been forced to wear the commissars' uniform.
"Here I
take you down to this valley, Cadet Jorun, for training exercises. Then I leave
you for just an hour to report where you'll be training, and when I come back I
find that you've taken off from the training site and-" The commissar
turned to look at McKenzie, who'd coughed politely. "What in the name of
the Emperor?"
Now the
commissar finally noticed the Eds and company, the destroyed Thunderhawk
transport and a lot of mud. It was a both tragic and insane scene. How had this
happened? The commissar looked at the people before the upside-down
Thunderhawk; two Terminator armoured Marines (which looked very much alike each
other), two Marines in power armour and wearing jump packs (they also looked very
much alike), three Marines in ordinary power armour, of which two looked alike
and both wore the insignia of the Adeptus Astartes Librarium. There were also
four girls in the power armour of the Sisters of Battle and a young boy wearing
the shimmering and sickening alien armour of an Eldar psyker-witch. The only
thing missing is a commissar, he thought darkly to himself.
The commissar
was silent for a long while until he spoke, and it was with shock-blended
fascination. "What in the blazes is all this? And who are you
people?"
McGranth
stepped forward, pushing back McKenzie gently. "Excuse me. I'm Grand
Commander Eddie McGranth of the Death Angel Legio Astartes and these
are..."
The short
commissar cut him off. "You're a legendary Space Marine commander, who
disappeared hundreds of years ago? Right, and I am Ghazghkull Thraka. You're
most probably a bunch of renegades!" The short man pulled out a bolt
pistol and aimed it at McGranth. "Give me one good reason not to deal you
the Emperor's Grace."
Now McKenzie
and Charleston stepped forward as well, to back their commander up. McKenzie's
force sword glowed slightly as he touched it.
"Excuse
me?" McGranth said and cocked an eyebrow as he looked down the bolt
pistol's barrel.
"What is
all this?" a familiar voice said from behind. Everybody present turned to
look at the tall, lean shape of Rolf standing at the entrance of the
Thunderhawk. Rolf's greatcoat had gotten caught in between the chairs inside,
and he'd stayed behind to free himself properly. He'd heard the commotion
outside, and had come out of the ship with his sword drawn. At least he had
tried to pull it out, but the ancient blade had gotten stuck in its sheath and
as Rolf pulled and tugged at it, he forgot that the 'Hawk was upside-down. When
the sword finally came free, Rolf stepped out in mid-air, made a somersault and
landed on his back on the ground. The sword dug itself into the ground beside
his head.
"Rolf is
not having a good day..." Rolf said weakly to himself as he lay on the ground.
The burly
commissar saw Rolf in the commissar's uniform and was taken off guard. The coat
was camouflaged, but there was no mistaking with the cap insignia. A golden
Imperial Eagle, the modified insignia that had been used by the commissars
serving in the armies from Callidus and Ichar.
"What
the... Who is..." the short commissar stuttered forth. He turned suddenly
silent when he saw the glittering adamantium sword with the golden parrying bar
shaped like an Imperial Eagle sticking out of the ground next to Rolf.
"What in
the name of the Emperor of Mankind?" the short commissar whispered. He
turned and eyed over the soldiers before talking to the cadet commissar.
"Take them to their transports. We're going back to base camp." Then
he turned to the thirteen by the Thunderhawk.
"You lot,
follow them to the Chimeras." he said and motioned to the armoured
personnel carriers nearby. With that, he walked back to his motorbike and with
the aid of two guardsmen they moved it into one of the Chimera APCs.
Meanwhile, the
Eds helped Rolf up. Eddy looked at the short commissar with contempt in his
eyes. "Well," he said simply. "The commissars are as charming as
ever."
Rolf glared at
Eddy, but didn't speak.
Putting on,
what he hoped, was a charming smile, Eddy replied, "No offence,
Rolfie-boy."
As they got to
the Chimera APC, the commissar got his motorbike loaded up and walked in, his
eyes glaring at the thirteen Terrans. Inside, he sat down in a corner, by
himself. Charleston, McGranth and McKenzie and the girls went into the same
Chimera as him. The Eds, Rolf, Kevin and Johnny moved into a second Chimera,
along with the nervous looking cadet commissar and five guardsmen. As the six
Terrans moved up to the Chimera, Edd and Eddy got in and seated. Ed, on the
other hand, didn't want to go into the cramped, dark APC.
"It's
dark in there," Ed stated simply.
Rolf lost his
temper. "Ed, get inside, or you'll hurt... much!"
Ed scrambled
inside, followed by Rolf, Johnny, Kevin, the cadet commissar named Jorun and
the five guardsmen. Inside, Edd gave Eddy a look that said that all was not
well with Rolf.
The drivers of
the Chimeras received order to leave via vox-link with their commanding
commissar. They ignited the enormous diesel engines of the APCs, the roaring of
them deafened a bit by the armour plating on the tanks, and turning round,
churning mud, the total of five Chimera transports turned and headed due east.
The ride back
to what the short commissar referred to as 'base camp', was long and bumpy.
McKenzie estimated it had took them 2 hours to travel, and he thought himself
never to be able to sit properly again. As the Terrans got out of the Chimeras,
they found themselves at a large compound. It was a huge base. It contained
barracks, motor pool, machine shops and even a start and landing platform for
interstellar ships. Everywhere there was Imperial Guardsmen milling around, but
also many clerks in their stiff robes and red-robed members of the Adeptus
Mechanicus. There was a few Sisters of Battle wandering around too, but they
wandered in groups of their own and didn't mingle with the others.
The short
commissar directed some guardsmen to get his bike off the Chimera and roll it
off to a machine shop. After that, he gestured to the cadet commissar and spoke
to him silently for a while. After that, the younger man left at a jog towards
one of the barracks. McGranth had had about enough of this now. He wanted
answers and he wanted them now!
He grabbed the
short commissar by the arm and spun him round abruptly. The short man glared
contemptuously up at McGranth, as if the Marine just would dare to handle him
like that!
"Look
here Mac, who the frekk are you?" McGranth asked.
The short
commissar shook himself free from McGranth's grip. "Commissar Colonel
Tomas Masterson, that's who."
"Commissar colonel?"
"Is there
a problem with that? I'm in charge of this planet's security." Masterson
paused a moment. "And you just don't drop a Thunderhawk like that unto
Secondus' surface without me knowing, right?"
"Right..." McGranth sighed. This was not good. He'd had
his fair share of commissars' stubbornness in the past, Yarrick being a good
example.
"Tomas,
what is all this? What's going on?" Another commissar had joined them. He
was taller, just under 1m80, with blond hair, hooded blue eyes, a powerful jaw
and equally powerful build. There was something aristocratic about him,
something that oozed out from him telling everyone else that he was a commissar
and proud of it. It could've been charisma, if it hadn't been a tad repelling.
He seemed to be in his late thirties.
"These
people just crash-landed a Thunderhawk by the training site. Y'know, the thing
we thought was an asteroid?" Masterson said to his comrade.
"Yes, I
remember now. So?" The new commissar was silent for a while, then he spoke
again. "Maybe I should present myself: I am Commissar Colonel Alexander
Demontfurt. I'm second ranking of this here planet's Commissariat. Judging by
the looks of your faces, I shall explain; the Imperium is not its glorious
self, therefore the Commissariat is divided into groups, due to the constant
deterioration of our com-nets." Here, Demontfurt threw a glance at
Masterson. Masterson threw an acidic glance back. Then the shorter commissar
left, attending to other duties.
"Ladies
and gentlemen, I think it best you were dealt with by the Commissar General,
don't you think so too?"
Demontfurt
gestured the Terrans to follow him.
They entered
one of the larger buildings in the compound. Its gate was adorned by a gilt,
double-headed aquila, and Demontfurt opened the doors inwards, leading the way
for the thirteen Terrans. A pair of Guardsmen in carapace armour closed the
doors behind them.
Once inside,
one couldn't believe that the Imperium of Man was deteriorating. There were
marble pillars and floors, small, crystal plants and shrubs in pots. McKenzie
was the first to notice the pictures: Fine oil paintings, depicting nothing
less than the Liberation of Armageddon, the destruction of Juijaeg, the
Gathalamor Uprising and even the Fall of Kharn. They passed a huge bronze
statue of the Emperor too. Everywhere, there was political officers and
ordinary Guard officers. There were also a few Canonesses from the Adepta
Sororita and, McKenzie thought, even a lone Inquisitor, though he wasn't
entirely sure.
The thirteen,
along with Demontfurt, walked up two flights of stairs before the
colonel-commissar stopped them. They were now in some sort of meeting chamber.
There were oil paintings of famous Guard officers on the walls. The rest of the
room was largely dominated by a mahogany table and a hololithic map projector.
"Wait
here," Demontfurt told them before sneaking out through a door at the end
of the room. The thirteen looked around, awed.
"One
wouldn't believe the Imperium was falling apart, y'know." Charleston
whispered.
McKenzie
walked over to the projector. "In very fine condition. Maybe the
Tech-adepts have learned something in the last two hundred years?"
"Like not
relying in chants and such voodoo?" Charleston replied caustically.
McKenzie was
just to reply with a very rude remark, when Demontfurt came back. But this time
he wasn't alone.
"May I
present," Demontfurt said and gestured to the accompanying figure.
"Commissar General Yarrick."
Everyone
stared at Demontfurt first, and then at the smaller figure by his side. A look
of disbelief entered the face of every Terran. The commissar general was a
woman, but still carrying the black, red-trimmed commissar's uniform with
dignity. She was smaller than Demontfurt, just above 1m70, in her mid-forties,
but still with a youthful looking face under the black, peaked cap. Her hair
was bluish-black, just as Rolf's, and her eyes were an emerald green colour. But
still, everyone present had problems with the fact that she was a woman.
"That'll
be all, Alex. Excuse us." she said gently to Demontfurt, her voice having
a tiny tint of Rolf's lilt dialect.
"Yes,
sir," Demontfurt replied without thinking.
"Ma'am,
Alex." the commissar general corrected.
"Yes,
ma'am." And with that, Demontfurt left.
After
Demontfurt had left, the female commissar general sadly shook her head.
"He just can't get used to the fact that the Commissar General is a
woman." She looked at the fish-faced group of Terrans. "And I see
he's not the only one. Alex only introduced me formally, but most people around
here know me either as Ma'am Yarrick, the Commissar General, or more
familiarly: Tanya Yarrick."
A shocked
silence followed, which was broken by McGranth. "What the fr..." He
reminded himself he was in female company. "What is going on around here?
I demand an explanation!"
"You'll
get your explaination soon enough. You're Grand Commander McGranth, no? As you
see, I know my history." Tanya looked at the sword sheathed on Rolf's
back. "And that is-"
"Yes," Rolf interrupted. "The Yarrickian Family
Sword, the Deamonslayer Sword." He knew the mantra.
"I almost
didn't believe it when Tomas voxed me. Our precious family heirloom, intact and
back in the Imperium. But, who might all you people be? I only know you
three." Tanya gestured to McGranth, McKenzie and Charleston.
"Bit of a
long story," Rolf sighed.
"I have
time." Tanya replied with a charming smile. So Rolf, with the help of the
others, told Tanya the entire story of how they got there. There was also a
smaller introduction, with Tanya getting to know them all. She seemed a bit
reluctant with Johnny, but she put up a good face none-the-less. They all had
sat down by the mahogany conference table and talked for how long they didn't
know. Tanya had ordered in something to drink and to eat. When they finished,
the sun had already set on Secondus.
"So," Tanya said, putting down her glass of water.
"The legend is true after all. The three Space Marine Commanders did
survive Kharn's assault upon Secondus and escape through the Warp. It is
wonderful to hear you've gathered more Heroes, and this will be a day to be
long remembered, but I'm afraid you may have come too late."
"What do
you mean?" McGranth asked, sounding worried, not very usual for him.
"I will
explain." Tanya said. She picked out a tiny laser-disc from her pocket and
put it in the data-reader of the hololithic projector. A golden aquila hovered
in the air above the projector as Tanya pressed in her authorisation code. She
took a remote and pressed a few buttons on it.
A picture of
Guardsmen battling Deamons of Khorne came up. She showed it to them while she
spoke. "After the defeat of Kharn, the Imperium settled into a relatively
peaceful time. Many communication links and Warp-jump points had been severed,
but we still remained somewhat intact. Of course, we were still harassed by
stray warbands of Deamons," Tanya changed a picture to that of a charging
horde of Hormagaunts. "And the Hive Mind occasionally. But all in all, it
was a quiet time."
Tanya didn't
change to a battle scene now; it was a sad picture showing a Space Marine
without his gear, holding a small boy in his massive arms. Not quite what the
group had expected. "Now, in an attempt to make sure no more renegades as
powerful as Kevlinn would ever come back, the Imperial Government made the big
mistake of disbanding the Space Marine Legions. Most Marines accepted their
fates, and some settled back quietly as farmers. Ichar's Death Angels were
those that went most quietly. They accepted without question, but this almost
killed Ichar as a planet. Without the Marines, Ichar was nothing. And this
wasn't the only problem." Tanya showed a picture of an extremely spiky
Marine, carrying the eight-pointed star of Chaos on its left shoulder pad. Its
armour was dark blue with brass trimmings. "There were many Marines that
turned from the Imperium entirely. Too many. The Imperial Government hadn't
thought of this, being newly formed and untrained in this sort of politics. The
only disbanded (mark that), Legions that remained loyal was the Death Angels,
the Salamanders, the Iron hands and the Imperial Fists. All others turned
renegade. They enslaved their home-planets and a few even took surrounding
systems. These new Chaos Legions joined up along with the original four; the
Berzerkers (leaderless), the Thousand Sons, the Plague Marines and the Noise
Marines. Some of the renegade Legions took new names like the Night Lords, the
Word Bearers, the Alpha Legion and the Black Legion. The Inquisition, or what
can be called the Neo-Inquisition perhaps, carried out rapid punishment and
bombed the planets with anti-matter bombs. However, there are still stray
warbands of these renegades out in the space of this once glorious Imperium.
That explains Tomas' reaction upon you, my power armoured friends."
Tanya changed
picture again. The hol-projector showed Thunderhawks landing in the bays of a
battleship.
"That's
when refugees started to swarm in from the rim worlds like Fraonn, Moskva,
Niiwar and Alantie. They first fled to the central systems, carrying tales of
monstrous robotic men, mechanoids that thought, that were destructively well
organised, almost like Hive Fleets. They assaulted worlds, killing or abducting
entire populations. Nothing living stood in their way. The Magos Xenos dubbed
them the Necrons, after an old text he'd found. It was in fact a report from
Commander Charleston here."
Tanya changed
picture to a huge footage of the Necrontyr. "Judging by your story, you've
encountered the Necrons already, and know what the refugees had faced. And as
time passed, more and more refugees poured in from the rim worlds, and later
even from central systems like Sabal, Cathay and Amaith. When the new threat of
Iron Men reached Ronan and former Space Marine home-world Nocturne, a huge
fleet was gathered, along with million Guardsmen and two whole Orders of
Sisters of Battle. They were to intercept this new threat and stop it. At least
that was the plan."
Tanya now
showed a battlefield footage taken at a scene of battle between Necrontyr and
Imperial forces. "This crusade force found something far worse than we
could ever have expected. The Necrontyr, as we got verified their designation
was, had captured the entire northern border, and was on good way with the
southern. They left charred, lifeless rock behind themselves, reminding us in a
horrible way of the Hive Fleets, who used much the same method. Though, judging
by the footage we have of some of the Necrontyr mechanoids, not even the Hive
Fleet proved a problem to them. Anyway, the entire crusade force intercepted
this new threat on the Hive World Ronan.
"The
Necrontyr fell upon them as ravenous deamons, but this was deamons of steel. At
first, the huge Imperial force was able to hold off its assailants, despite
horrendous causalities. That's when the Necrons started to deploy a strange
sort of high-energy laser-weapon, a sort of cannon that cut straight through
our strongest adamantine plates. Baneblade super-heavy tanks were incinerated
by a single beam!"
Tanya sighed,
and changed picture again. This time it was a roll of causalities. "Within
a matter of weeks since the deployment of that new weapon, eighty per cent of
the Imperial Guard, and sixty per cent of the Sister Sororitas in that task
force had been wiped out. The Inquisitors that had accompanied it had been
captured or killed. Commissar-colonel Tomas Masterson was one of the survivors
in the Imperial Guard force, so I hope that explains his grumpy behaviour
somewhat.
"Refugees
come in by the millions, day by day... those that make it, that is. Many say
they've been attacked by the renegade Legions as well. Most of the Imperium's
population is stationed out to the west and east. We try to clear a path for
the Necrons, hope they'll just pass straight through, but it appears they seek
us out. Minarth, Babel and Arborkar are huge refugee camps now, sixty percent
of the remaining Imperial Guard stationed there. We've even recalled a few
squads of Space Marines, but not too many, should they be tempted to side with
their renegade brethren. So, most of the Imperium's population is located to
the Galactic West and South now. Our food and supplies runs shorter every day.
You've seen Armageddon; deserted and arid. But that was long before the
Necrons. The Deamons did that."
Tanya turned
of the hololithic projector and sat down on a chair and rested her head in her
hands. She was so tired of this. Rolf, who was sitting beside her, leant
forward and patted her on the shoulder. He was a bit surprised when she leaned
over to him, resting her head against his shoulder instead.
McGranth
looked bewildered. "But, judging by this place, it doesn't seem like
supplies are running short."
Tanya looked
up. "This used to be the original Imperial Commissariat. We have dug it
out of the dust. This was once one of the higher spires of it, so you can
imagine how much dust has accumulated. Everything was incredibly
well-preserved."
McKenzie
looked thoughtful. A building five hundred metres tall wasn't that easily
covered in dust. Didn't make sense. "How could it be covered in dust in
just four hundred years?" he asked. "I mean, such violent dust-storms
or what?"
"Yes," Tanya replied. "The mere fact that an entity
as Kharn was present here was enough to shake the eco-system a bit, see?"
McKenzie
nodded.
"Does the
Necron's have any leader?" Charleston asked.
"We have
had several reports of a huge mechanoid leading the Necrons on their assaults.
We've given him the name Metallix for simplicity." Tanya saw their faces.
"Don't blame me, I didn't name him. However, he is a frightening opponent.
Standing well over six metres tall, he is quite capable of tearing a Leman Russ
apart with his bare hands. Here, I'll show you."
Tanya pulled
out a data-slate from somewhere, tapped a few keys and handed it round. Each
and every Terran got a shocked look in their faces, including McKenzie,
Charleston and McGranth. The picture showed General Metallix in his whole
glory, charging straight at the unit containing the pict-taker. The stern,
emotionless, half-metallic face made the picture so much worse. Metallix had a
jump-pack like device mounted on his back. His arms were powerful, and
literally corded with muscle, bionic muscles. His hands were three digit and
his forearms encased in powerful gauntlet-like armour. On each arm a weapon was
mounted. On the left a hefty gatling-like cannon, on the right a twin-barrelled
beam-gun, the kind that ordinary Necrons used. His feet were digit ones with
three "toes", and his legs looked like a bi-pedal dinosaur's. They
also saw the tiny flash from the pistol size laser weapon mounted by the side
of his metallic, right face-half.
"That is
the only footage we have of him. He left the pict-taker for dead, God-Emperor
be blessed. See, the human outpost was there to stave off an assault by Ork
Warlord Thraka, I believe the three of you are familiar with him," Tanya
said and gestured to McGranth and his two friends. "Here's another strange
thing. When the Imperial relief force came, nothing was left of the Orks:
nothing. There were no Warp-traces from Orkoid ships either. Our simple
conclusion was that Metallix slew one of the mightiest Ork Warlord without
greater effort."
Charleston let
out a low whistle. "I battled against him on Armageddon just before the
fall. Dirt-bag survived, then? Anyway, it was him or Seb."
"Seb?" Tanya queried.
"Sebastian Yarrick."
"The
Saviour of Hades Hive? You knew the Saviour of Hades Hive?"
"Personally," Charleston replied with a smile. "We
all did, ain't that so, Eddie? Edward?"
The other two
nodded. Tanya looked impressed.
"Tanya,
you said this was the former Imperial Commissariat, no? Have you dug out the...
hm... basements?" Rolf asked.
"Yes, of
course. The Book of Fallen Comrades is back in our hands. No worries."
McKenzie
looked thoughtful. "Can we see the sub-levels, please? I never got time to
visit the Commissariat and I've heard that it was quite something."
"Of
course!" Tanya smiled. "This way ladies and gentlemen." Tanya
led them out and towards an elevator. Rolf walked up beside Eddy.
"You were
right Ed-boy, the commissars are as charming as ever." Rolf said and
smiled. Eddy just rolled his eyes.
"After
this," Tanya said as they went with the elevator down. "I think it
would be a good idea for you to find somewhere to sleep, no?"
As to mark her
words, Ed yawned. "Bed... How good that word sounds." he mumbled.
Everyone
present laughed at this remark.