The training barracks were cramped and the air was heavy from the 5 squads who lived there, but Fawro Giltwit loved it. This was like heaven compared to the work camp back home and the earlier indentured servitude on the ship. He had free time between training and guard duty, and there was plenty of food, so much so that he felt full most nights when going to bed. He received pay which, at first, he didn't quite understand. He had never been paid for work before. He had grown strong and tough with the training and feeding, generously provided by the master of masters.
He had even met a woman with whom he now shared kinship, the ceremony performed by the high confessor himself, the one who spoke to the Lord Captain, the almost mythical figure that was the master of masters. They were expecting their first child soon, a child that would never know the beatings of the work camp or the indignity of servitude.
He still remembered the day when everything was turned upside down. During his 3rd year as an indentured servant, there had been a growing group among his peers that isolated themselves from the rest of the servants and kept sticking their heads together and always disappearing off to places unknown and coming back with emboldened attitudes and secret smiles on their faces. They started whispering with new people and even dared approach him with strange talk of going against the Emperor. But Fawro knew better than to listen to such things, he had the scars on his back for such a transgression from his youth, back when he thought he could change the universe. He sent them away and told them to throw themselves at the mercy of the masters and admit their transgressions, lest they bring all of them in danger.
And they kept working in secret, convincing more and more people that they should go against the Emperor, that they could take a better life than the one they had been given. Fawro knew it to be a lie, only the masters could give you a better life!
As with all things, it came to a point where the servants ended up divided. Word came down that the masters were sending people to interrogate everyone, and accusations flew between the leaders of each group. A brawl ensued, where Fawro and his loyal friends managed to subdue the radical servants and sat down to wait for the masters. The masters arrived, with many armed men, and took them away to a large hangar where they would huddle together, praying for leniency for their just and right action of overpowering the radicals before they could do any damage. They were interrogated individually and answered honestly every question they were asked. They knew that secret eyes would have seen everything anyway, and they had no shame to hide.
Then, he arrived. The master of masters, flanked by a very stern and angry-looking man wearing the uniform of the executioners, the ones that could kill the guards without consequence, and a woman with the fire of holy zeal burning in her very soul, if the manic look in her eyes were anything to go by. They spoke together, out of earshot of the servants, but Fawro could see the advice of both people flanking the master of masters. One desired a swift death for them all, unceremoniously and finished within the hour. The other wished for a far worse fate, her fiery eyes sweeping across their group as she smiled menacingly. Then the master of masters spoke, and both of his advisors looked as if he had struck them. There was some back and forth between them, and Fawro realized he couldn't read the master of masters like he could everyone else, but both advisors seemed, if not convinced, then at least satisfied. Then the master of masters stepped forward, and addressed them directly! Them, lowly servants not fit for being seen by proper people, He spoke of swift action, of acting like proper Imperials. And he thanked them, personally, before offering to become more than a servant, more than a shadow in the ship's dark. A chance to become one of the sacred voidsmen, those that safeguarded the ship from all unwelcome intruders and dangers from the deep hull chambers.
Fawro had seen them when they were brought on the ship the first time, the burly men and women in their armor, wielding heavy weapons which they carried with a confidence Fawro envied. And now he was training to become one himself. He was only a few weeks from the ceremonial bonding ritual, where he would consume incense-laced oil to bind his soul and service to the ship and the master of masters, the great commander of the ship, for the rest of his mortal life. He would swear the oath of Shielding, promising to kill without hesitation, remorse, or question, anyone that threatened the ship and its crew. He would swear the oath of Defence, to protect the agents and guests that might use the ship for passage. And most assuredly of all, Fawro knew that he would kill anyone and anything that dared threaten the master of masters, the one who had uplifted him and so many of his unworthy ilk. It was their duty to honor this uplifting with devoted service to the Emperor and the master of masters!
"Hey Fawro, you coming? Sarge put us on guard duty tonight. But it ain't so bad, that only means we are among those with extended leave later. No way your old lady will let go of an opportunity to be taken to the theatre, so you are already accounted for anyway. I'll be going to the movies, they got that new holo out 'Heroic Dozen 17', I heard they are sent to fight a heretical hive city!" Fawro's friend Kreigan rambled on as he put his arm around Fawro and led him over to the table where they had to go over their gear before reporting for duty, Sarge would assign them extra guard duty until graduation if a single thing was out of place. While they made preparations, Fawro kept thinking about the same things. He would die for the Master of masters. He would kill for him. And anyone that stood against him, would find themselves enemies with the entire ship!
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Neela was lighting candles in an alcove with a small shrine to the Emperor, outside of his small cathedral. It was not the most important of duties, but many of the less fortunate were not allowed within the cathedral, which is the reason he had these small shrines set up for those Imperials who were filled with piety and love for the Emperor but could not access the holiest of sites. These small shrines were always packed full, which is why Neela took great care in making sure they were properly maintained. Everyone deserved a chance to walk in the Emperor's light.
When he was done, he retreated to his room to enjoy a cup of Tai tea and reflect on these past months since he found and said goodbye to, Bj?rk. He had been keeping up to date on him when he could, the strong off-worlder had made quite an impression on Neela. Dutiful in his faith, eager to serve the Imperium, surprisingly insightful when it came to interpreting the will of the Emperor. Ever since he saw him stare down an Ogryn without fear or hesitation, and then heard the explanation that he trusted whatever would happen, in the hands of the Emperor. It had been an eye-opening experience, that made him realize how much his own ego and wishes had played into his behavior as a servant of the Emperor and the Imperial faith. That day had changed him, made him milder and less judgemental. He had rediscovered the love of the Emperor in those words.
And what an experience it had been. He had met people with such devout faith, that the nobles and powerful seemed almost heretical by comparison to the sad existences and broken lives of the common people. There was the dockworker, Tilly, who was missing an arm and had lost her family to a fire in the lower levels. She showed up every day, praying fervently and sincerely to the Emperor, thanking him for all her blessings in life.
Balphus, the administorum clerk who spent all his meager pay on medicine for his ailing mother, and food for his younger siblings who were still in school. He came by every 3 days, with packaged food he handed out to the less fortunate.
Natti, the PDF trooper who went to the shrines when her unit went to the bar. She was an angry, bitter woman, hurt by years of losing friends and loved ones to accidents and bad leadership in battle. She prayed with hatred and malice, to be granted the chance to inflict righteous retribution on the enemies of mankind.
Neela had even found himself praying at the small shrines, praying for the Emperor to protect the common people and Bj?rk. From what little he had been able to learn, the man had been promoted, but to what and how was unknown. He hoped they would meet again someday, he considered the deathworlder a friend. They had not known each other for long, but there was something about him that made it easy to exist in his presence. If possible, he should like to share a cup of recaf with him once more in this life. That would be as fine as any blessing by the Emperor.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
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Fabricator warehouse operator designation E-F N0Q/S5R was humming quietly to himself as he pressed the correct buttons and pulled the handle that made the machinery load the massive hauler trains with ore and raw materials for transport further into the ship for processing. Life had changed to an extraordinary degree in the past months.
Half a year ago, he was caught and imprisoned on Slud as a thief. Which he was, he was not denying it. And he was a good thief that just got unlucky, the city guards had changed their patrol routes, leading to his capture.
He had been locked in a cold and damp cell in the local city prison. Bad food and worse beatings. Then, out of the blue, strange men with stranger voices and red robes showed up and handed official-looking documents to the guards who immediately started unlocking cells and handing prisoners over to the robed strangers. Someone tried to escape but an arm shot out from one of the red robes and pinned him in place. He was shocked that the red-robed stranger could hold the prisoner with what looked like little to no effort, but then he saw the hand and forearm. All metal, and of much finer quality make than any blacksmith's work he had seen before. After that, no one tried to run.
When they left the prison, they did so in an unusual silence. Usually, guards told tales and boasts of their exploits to each other as they walked, but not these red robes. They walked in silence and perfect synchronization, seemingly towards a random and empty forest. There, the sky chariot came to pick them up, and life had changed to something infinitely better. He woke up every morning and rose from the stone slab he had been assigned for sleeping. Then, he would walk in silence with the warehouse operators to the dining hall where they would be given a plentiful meal of porridge before they left for prayers. An hour of praying to the Omnissiah, the great machine spirit, and then off to work. Work for a solid 12 hours, one more hour of prayer, more food, and then to bed.
It was a simple and predictable life, and he found a peace he never knew he craved before. He didn't have to worry about where the next meal came from, or where he would sleep in peace and safety. He didn't have to worry about getting clothes for his body or warmth to stay alive. All he had to was pray and work. And after some careful and discreet digging among the scribes and other workers, he found out that the reason he had been given this life, was because of the figure known only as 'the new rogue trader' by people. He had no idea what a rogue trader was, or how they could order around nobles and governors, but he was eternally thankful. He had found purpose and peace, and that was more than he could have ever dreamed of. If serving here, among the half-mechanical priests of the Omnissiah on the ship of the rogue trader, meant that he could live like this for the rest of his life, then he paid the price willingly.
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Kanarain swore for the 1000th time since they had entered this cursed mountain. He was a voidsman, born and raised on the ship, and the fact that he was not on the ship, but on a planet, was unnerving to him. Sure, he was inside of a mountain, but it was still different. Silent. He hated being here, he missed the groans and sighs of the ship around him. To most Imperials, they were sounds that instilled fear and worry. To Voidborn, they were as comforting as anything you could think of. The ship spoke to them and told them what was strong and what needed attention. It guided them with a gentle hand to the areas where it desired their attention. Here, on a planet, he constantly had to remind himself that he did not need a voidsuit to be safe, that he could breathe without worry of perishing for not being inside, and that he had to fulfill his duty despite his body screaming in agony over the pressure of the gravity.
That was the worst part of this experience, the crushing gravity that never relented. But, his Lord Captain desired he fight the mutants inside this mountain, so that was what he was going to do. Ever since they arrived, the engineers had been hard at work, and they had finally finished the heavy lifting, creating the series of blockhouses. Guard duty there was nice, the small enclosed space almost felt like being back on the ship and it was the only thing that made this trip slightly tolerable. He hadn't even gotten a supply of rotgut with him before they departed for the planet, so there wasn't even a drink to look forward to unless his friends felt generous, which they usually didn't. That day he had been on one of the hell marches around the mountain that the sergeants seemed to have fallen in love with. Sure, he was in better shape than he had ever been before, and with the added close-combat training he was a better soldier than ever. But did they have to do it every second day?
He sighed and rubbed his shoulders as he waited for the cardinal to finish speaking with the Lord Captain. They were gathered for mass prayer and blessing of the Ecclesiarchy, so the spirit of the soldiers was decent. However, the sight of the Lord Captain himself standing near the podium was not a comforting one, the Lords and Ladies of the nobility usually only came down among the rank and file when punishment or extra duties were to be handed out.
Though to be fair, the Lord Captain had been a far cry from the usual noble. He fought alongside them, always at the front where he led by example. He was nothing spectacular on the battlefield beyond his almost stupid luck and bravery, but he also cared about the soldiers serving him, if rumors were to be believed. The few survivors from the sneak attack on the mutant warp contraption had said that the Lord Captain had been the first to leave the safety of the tunnel to start the attack, and the last the leave, resulting in an injury that would have claimed the life of a regular voidsman otherwise. It was a rare thing, to find the soldiers bond among the leaders of the Imperium. But more scarce and quiet rumors claimed that the Lord Captain had been a simple PDF trooper before he was given this command.
But surely, this could not be the case, it was only wishful thinking to give hope to those who thought there was a better life out there. And who was he to deny them hope if they wanted to hope? He mumbled his prayers while deep in his thoughts, and he almost started walking away at the end of the familiar ritual. He was stopped by his squadmates who were all staring intently toward the platform that had been raised for the cardinal. The Lord Captain himself had stepped forward and started speaking. The small vox beads near him and vox casters spread out among the gathered soldiers and carried his voice easily.
"Soldiers. Men and women in the service of the Imperium. I stand before you now to inform you that I am content. You have done your duty, and done it well, but the biggest task lies ahead of us. Tomorrow, we begin our assault on the mutant city inside this cursed mountain with the intent of purging the unclean, the heretical, and the mutated that reside in that filthy imitation of true civilization!" Kanarain roared with the others in approval of these words. He wanted nothing more than to kill the damnable mutants and heretics inside so he could go back to the ship and be comfortable once more.
"But before we get to do our job, there is something I must do!" And here it came, the inevitable grox shit that was bound to be handed down from the higher-ups, just when they were getting into a slightly less uncomfortable routine.
"I must provide a token of gratitude to all of you. You, the soldiers of the Imperium, that safeguard its worlds and people. You, that embody the spirit and tenacity that has seen the Imperium stand strong for the past 10.000 years! You, that gladly kill the enemies of humanity so that we all may sleep a little safer!" Kanarain was stunned, this could not be real. The Lords and Ladies never thanked, never even thought, of the rank-and-file soldiers like him. It was unthinkable. A couple of his fellow soldiers came up behind the Lord Captain carrying a large crate which they sat down in front of him before giving him a prybar. He cracked the lid off and held up what looked to be a bottle of amasec, and the good stuff as well.
"Which is why I have ordered enough amasec to be sent down here for all of you! Consider it my gift to you, my way of thanking you for the sacrifices I demand to be made in the Imperium's name! Consider yourselves relieved of duty until tomorrow morning." Kanarain couldn't believe it but he was cheering his heart out along with the entirety of the gathered troops. This party and the story that followed would be one to tell for generations! They would be the envy of every ship in the Imperial fleet, every voidsman would want to serve under such a Lord. And Kanarain would do anything to protect a man who had risen so high and still kept enough humanity to think about the little guy.
"Now go have fun, get drunk and live! Just make sure there is no trouble tonight, I will not tolerate anyone tarnishing the festivities with fighting or anything else that might ruin the fun!" After these words, the Lord Captain turned away and Kanarain hurried to get in line for his bottle of amasec, intent on carrying out his Lord's will and desire. He would indeed get drunk, live, and keep the peace. After all, who would want to disappoint such a fine and generous man? Perhaps this was not such a bad place to be after all.
