Warhammer 40k: Ours Journey

Chapter 18: You Should Be Thankful I Am Not You

Alexei stared silently at the Emperor's Angel, his gaze meeting a stare as sharp as a sword, one that seemed capable of piercing through anything.

He did not blink.

"I believe you, Commissar."

The terrifying pressure vanished. The brief standoff ended. Arthur raised his head, his eyes meeting those of every soldier present.

He suddenly felt that there was still hope for this world.

Perhaps that hope would one day be extinguished in the endless fires of war and suspicion. But now, in this moment—

Arthur sincerely hoped it could live on, carried forward with the lives of these men.

"I believe in all of you," he declared, his voice ringing out. "And so, the Emperor will not allow His warriors to die at a victory celebration, nor on the road to their next triumph."

The Imperium's policy of annihilating any being that had, or may have had, contact with Chaos—a paranoia so extreme it bordered on madness—was something Arthur could neither understand nor accept.

"The road of sacrifice for Mankind may be short, or it may be long."

"But—"

Arthur removed his helmet. His face was unnaturally young, framed by slightly long, golden hair. His emerald eyes swept over everyone present.

Every person there held their breath. Through those deep, piercing eyes, they felt as if they were looking at a great red dragon that had sheathed its claws and flames.

"However long it may last, I, Arthur Pendragon,"—he balled his right fist and struck it against the spot over his heart—"will walk it with you, to witness a glorious death."

Arthur's thoughts were simple. He did not want these soldiers to die like this, to have their souls fall into the Warp and become fodder for daemons. He wanted them to live, to fulfill the duty they had dedicated their lives to, and then to go to the final destination that was rightfully theirs.

"For the Emperor, and for Mankind."

"For the Emperor, and for Mankind!" the soldiers roared back.

"Now that's loyalty," Karna muttered under his breath. The faith these Guardsmen had in the Emperor was truly unshakeable. As for their own group of Warhammer nerds... he gnawed on a chicken wing and glanced over at the two figures crouched in front of the astrolabe, fiddling with something. They all claimed to be loyal, but if you called them for duty, they'd probably ghost you.

"So, is your prayer working or not?" In a dark corner, Romulus smacked Ramesses on the back of the head. "And can't you study these mutations slowly? Who just comes up with a plan and goes for it? We should have given them surgery first, replaced the mutated parts with bionics to save their lives!"

"Don't you think the atmosphere is perfect for it?" Ramesses said, adjusting his slightly crooked helmet. "Besides, it's not a conflict. It's a good opportunity to gather everyone together and give it a try."

"By the way, how is Arthur so good at this?" he asked. "I've been meaning to ask since the meeting. Where did he learn to talk so coolly?"

"Focus," Romulus said, smacking the helmet again.

Thanks to the psychic dampening field around them, no one noticed the comical scene unfolding in the corner.

"They're about to finish up over there."

"Relax, it should be fine," Ramesses said, holding the astrolabe he was using to observe the Warp, brimming with a mysterious self-confidence. "The worst that can happen is that the Emperor doesn't show up. It's not like anyone's going to die. At my current power level in the Warp, anything short of a Greater Daemon that comes at me is getting vaporized."

"'Should be'?" Romulus repeated, ignoring the boastful statement that followed.

"It's my first time trying this, how can I be certain? I'd say eighty-twenty odds. Eighty percent chance it works." Ramesses carefully observed the stirrings in the Warp, trying to add more "Emperor-related" elements to his ritual. From a practical standpoint, even though the Great Rift hadn't opened yet and the various horrors hadn't fully revealed themselves to the Imperium's citizens, the Emperor's influence on realspace surely wasn't any weaker than the Four Gods'. The Imperial Cult, which was everywhere, wasn't just for show.

"Chaos rituals can attract the Four Gods, so why can't a prayer ritual attract the Emperor? It doesn't make sense otherwise. It's discrimination against the Emperor!"

"I hope so," Romulus said. He wasn't a fan of these "surprise attacks." While it was important to trust his comrades—and they weren't the type to get instantly headshot and then scream "he's one-shot!"—the feeling of being unprepared was deeply unsettling. He glanced resentfully at Arthur, who was now surrounded by the crowd, half-afraid that a few of the Guardsmen would suddenly explode into a pile of daemons.

And Arthur, too. He actually let Ramesses go through with this.

Arthur, for his part, was rather indifferent. If Ramesses wanted to pray, let him pray. If it summoned the Emperor, great. If not, were they just going to abandon these Guardsmen? Of course not. They had to help regardless. The Emperor's response would just give them more confidence; without it, they'd just have to do their best on their own.

Arthur wasn't about to pretend he could solve everything. Most of the Guardsmen were severely mutated, many to the point where they could barely stand. If Karna hadn't scanned the bionics data from the Tech-Priests he passed earlier, Arthur wouldn't have been nearly so confident.

'At the very least, we can try. Do what we can,' he thought.

He turned and asked the Commissar and the Colonel to take the wounded to the Sisters for triage, to examine and categorize the areas that would need amputation ahead of time. Then, Arthur sought out the regiment's attached Tech-Priest. These orange-robed priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus, worshippers of the Omnissiah, were another pillar of the Imperium's strength. From the weapons of every military branch to the starships that prowled the void, nearly everything came from the Forge Worlds under their control.

"I would not advise this, my Lord," the Tech-Priest demurred after hearing Arthur's request for modifications. "The vast majority of these individuals are not elite units designated as worthy of bionic limbs. And from a statistical standpoint, even for the elite, the majority will not be able to repay the Omnissiah's blessing of machinery before their expiration."

"Of course, I am not suggesting the complete disposal of these assets," the priest continued. "From a more economical perspective, they should be converted into servitors, to continue their service to the Omnissiah..."

How can such cold words come from a human mouth?

Arthur took a deep breath, telling himself over and over that this was just a feature of Warhammer, that this was how the Mechanicus viewed humanity, and that he still needed these people to perform the cybernetic surgeries. He managed to restrain the urge to punch the priest's head off and send him to meet the Omnissiah personally.

The Tech-Priest, sensing the shift in mood, wisely fell silent.

"You should be thankful," Arthur said, his gaze fixed on the priest, whose lower body had been replaced with a spider-like mechanical chassis, "that I am not you."

"I still retain a reverence for human life and dignity. That is why you are still standing here, whole."

"At the same time, I would not wish for certain anomalous factors to cause me to classify a priest of Mars as a xenos, or some other entity that can no longer be called human."

The Tech-Priest remained silent, but the soft whirring of his overclocked heat sinks betrayed his nervousness.

"We will provide the mechanical components for the modifications," Romulus said, his deep voice rumbling from behind Arthur. "You need only follow orders."

The Tech-Priest immediately nodded.

(End of Chapter)