Chapter One
“Bell, commence new entry in personal data-logs.”
“COMPLIANCE?”
“By the compliance of Lady Commissar Yamira Kalov, of the Commissariat of the Astra Militarum, by the glory of the Imperium of Man and the will of the God Emperor of Mankind.”
“COMPLIANCE ACCEPTED, COMMENCE ORATION.”
“The battle on Hiveworld Karthag was a pyrrhic victory, even in the eyes of the Emperor. While the Xenos forces were purged from the system and all traces of their existence expunged from the planet itself, the staggering losses we faced were greater than imagined. Of the regiment of fifteen-thousand strong, only seven… including myself… were amongst the survivors. In spite of this, Karthag has been reclaimed by the Astra Militarum, and re-colonization efforts to establish a new Hive have already begun. And yet, the scars of the Tyranid invasion remain on the surface, as well as the mass graves of the fallen under my command. I have been recalled from my services with the Cadians, and have been ordered to return to speak with my fellow Lord Commissars, in regards to a recent development with the Astra Militarum’s… growing association with the other-worldly visitors the Emperor so fervently dotes upon. Perhaps it will be a simple committee overview, consolidating our forces for another strike against the foes of the Imperium. For now, I will conclude this personal entry with a silent prayer to the Emperor, and wait for further instructions. End entry.”
Chapter One
The halls of the Penitent Oath were abuzz with activity. The flagship in the Imperial Navy had been in orbit over the semi-barren planet for some odd days now, joined by other ships under purview of the Adeptus Ministorum and the Adeptus Arbites to set up the new Hive-Cities for the world. Though it had come along for protective purposes, the proud ship of the Commissariat was there for more official business. A meeting between the Lords, the high elite of the Imperium’s most honored taskmasters of the Guard. And yet, this was no pleasantry to congratulate the defeat of another Xenos threat. This was far more… volatile. In a private meeting room, Commissar Yamira Kalov had taken a stand before her fellow Commissars of the board, seven men in fine red and black raiments adorned in the finest golden tassels and medals for decades of service. Yet even these men, trained to bring forth obedience and stoicism in the Militarum, flinched under the duress of Yamira’s words.
“Transference?!” She shouted, fingers digging into the sides of the metal podium. “I understand that the loss of the 947th was a grievous matter, but to transfer me to such, such, such…” Her gloved hands twitched to find the appropriate words. “Such a pandering political position is beyond my status! An insult, even!” The Commissars flinched a bit from their shadowy seats, but held firm before the screams of the relieved militant.
“Our word is final, Commissar Kalov.” One of the Commissars said, a rigid man bearing many scars of battle on his face. “While yes, the overall conflict on Karthag was a success, with the visiting representatives and their outlook on the expenditure of forces, we will need to make this move in order to save face.” The other to his side immediately elbowed him in the side. “Oh! No offense intended, of course.” Yamira sighed, but kept her composure, despite the obviousness of the statement. At one point, Yamira Kalov had been a beautiful woman. Blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, and skin as smooth as the acquilla pinned to her breast; she truly was a captivating woman. Was. Shame how an incendiary explosive detonating at point-blank to the left side can marr that beauty with burnt flesh, partial blindness, and a lacking cheek. The half-and-half appearance has both been a prime motivator for her to lead troops in the field of battle, and a detriment to her social life amongst other members of the Astra Militarum.
“None taken, Lord Commissar,” Yamira said. “In regards to the face comment, not on my transference to this glorified meet-and-greet with a bunch of outsiders and Xenos sympathisers!” She slammed her gloved fist against the podium, causing the other Commissars to flinch once more.
“Yes, yes, we are well aware of your standing on our new allies,” The Commissar said. “But it is as the High Lords dictate, and their word is that of the Emperor’s himself.” At the invocation, Yamira withered slightly and backed down. “You are subject to the Emperor’s word as are we. That is our compliance on the matter. Is that clear, Lady Commissar?”
“I will-”
“Is that clear, Lady Commissar?” The silence of the meeting room was only met with the hum of ancient machinery and the occasional creak of metal. The Commissar slowly stood from his seat, while the others rose in suit. “This tribunal is adjourned. You are to meet with the representative in the hangar in 0200 hours. You will be limited to two personal accompaniments during your time with the representative until authorized otherwise. Go forth, and show the might and wit of the Imperium to the Xenos from beyond. Emperor bless.” The mantra was repeated amongst the Commissars, including Yamira herself, albeit under a ragged breath. The tribunal had already left by the time Yamira even registered the door had closed, leaving her isolated in the dark room. She wanted to remain there for an eternity, gripping onto the podium until either her fingers broke or she had to be pried off by menials to remove the bits of metal wrapped around her hands. But she couldn’t.
She let off a ragged sigh and reluctantly released her grip on the podium, walking out the open door and into the gothic corridors of the Penitent Oath with the grace and authority her uniform represented. Though slightly brighter than the tribunal room, the auspex lamps and corridor’s glow only served to keep things easy to navigate, idle observations were pointless overall. Why gawk at the architecture when you could be serving your best for the Emperor and the Imperium? As Yamira walked, she passed by several of the Navy and Guard alike, all dropping to salute her with still faces and stony stances, while Menials hauling equipment, guns and armor alike in large metal boxes averted their gaze from the fierce flayed face. Were she more focused on her looks, she would have spared a sneer for those who looked upon her with disgust, but she was a prouder woman than that. She rounded a corner, and came face to face with a detachment of familiar faces in tanned duster uniforms. The one leading the bunch, a man with a scruff of a beard and a pair of matching scars running down his lips, gave a rather lackluster salute accompanied by a smug grin.
“Evening to ya, Commissar,” the Guardsman said, voice hoarse from one too many lho-sticks during off-time. “What’s with that look? Other than the bloody usual, eh?” A few of the younger Guardsmen gave wary looks to each other, some downright terrified at their CO’s brazen insult to a Commissar. Yamira, however, sighed and shook her head.
“Still the same tactless slag as always, Captain?” she half-heartedly asked. The Guardsman just chuckled and knocked the side of his helmet with two fingers. Yamira, in return, grabbed him by the ear and yanked him down the corridor, causing the Captain to yelp under protest with every tug. The two ducked around a corner and Yamira released her grip, while the Guardsman rubbed his now very sore ear.
“Corr, you almost tore my ear off!” He whined.
“Daven Mangonel, if you read a battlefield as you do the room, I pray for the survivability of your troops.” Yamira huffed. Captain Daven winced from the accusation, standing at proper attention with a concerned look, while Yamira deflated a bit with a sigh. “That was uncalled-for. I’m just a bit wound up from a meeting with the Tribunal.”
“Wound up is an understatement, Lady Kalov.” Captain Daven said. He patted the decorated shoulder of Yamira to rouse her a bit. “I’ve got some amasec to loosen things up, if you need.” Yamira lightly batted the hand aside, while her undamaged lips curled into a faint smile.
“As much as I feel a need to drink myself into such a stupor to think you were a Living Saint, I unfortunately can’t.” Yamira said. “It’s good to see you again, Daven. It seems the 805th remains in good hands in my absence.” Daven eased up a bit and smirked as his hand fell back to his side.
“Doubting the persistence of Armageddon Steel again, eh, Commissar?” He nudged her elbow playfully with his own. “Are we going to have another row like on Caledon, eh? Eh?”
“You mean back when you were a Corporal, and I didn’t look like I had partially lain in a Prometheum vat?” The two shared a rare laugh, despite the brief onlooking of a menial passing by. In these days, laughter was a rarity, often more valuable than the gold that decorated the Imperium’s mightiest strongholds, and treasured as greatly as was possible. The two slowed their laughter as Yamira straightened herself up, taking on a more serious demeanor. “Actually, Captain, our meeting could not come at a more opportune time. Follow me.” Daven followed the Lady Commissar without hesitation, despite his platoon still likely waiting in the halls. Someone else would take command while he accompanied Yamira. “I presume you are aware of the visitors aboard the Penitent Oath, correct?”
“Yes ma’am. Even right saw one just as they left that oddball ship of theirs.”
“Eldar craftworlds have more subtlety with their ships than those Xenos.” A few more Guardsmen stopped to salute the Lady Commissar and the Captain as they hurried along the corridors. “Planetary Defense Forces would blow those floating limbs from the sky were it not for this damned armistice.” Daven tucked his hands into the pockets of his cloak, clicking his tongue a bit.
“They are strange, I’ll give ‘em that.”
“And I have the pleasure of acting as the Astra Militarum’s representative for them, on behalf of the Commissariat.” Daven almost stopped in his tracks at the practical sneer in her voice at the statement. “And you’re coming with me as one of my wards.”
“Excuse me?!” Daven had to hurry along to catch up with Yamira, bustling along. “Lady Commissar, with all due respect, but don’t I get a few days’ notice before getting assigned a transfer?”
“If this is policy, then I wasn’t privy to it until now.” Yamira grumbled under her breath.
“What was that, ma’am?”
“I said I’m invoking my authority as Lady Commissar and ordering you to do so.” Daven sighed in defeat. A commissar’s word was law in the Militarum, and to violate it would be under pain of death. And it wouldn’t be a quick death, either. “Besides, for this, I’ll be needing a close confidant while in an unknown territory, dealing with…” Daven could practically hear Yamira’s teeth gritting. “Aliens, mutants, and heretics!” All eyes in the hall fell upon the two, a chill passing over as though the icy hand of death brushed across their collective shoulders. Daven quickly pressed his hands to Yamira’s back and scooted her along the hall by the heels of her boots until he was sure they were out of sight of the accusatory eyes of the crew. They ended up in a supply closet, Daven shutting the door behind them and planting both his hands on Yamira’s shoulders.
“Yamira! Emperor’s sake, calm yourself!” Daven harshly whispered. “You’re a Commissar of the Astra Militarum, you command the respect of thousands with a harsh glare and the wave of a gun. Act like it.” Yamira blinked, albeit with one functioning eye, out of both confusion and surprise. It took her a moment to register that she had just been told to act her position by a Guardsman. Naturally, she resatablished her authority by furrowing her brow and putting on her trademark scowl.
“Captain Devon Mangonel, I am going to ask you this question and want you to think very hard about it,” she said. “How much do you value both of your hands?” The hands came off, and Devon stepped back a good foot for safety. “Thank you for answering honestly, Captain.” She softened her expression slightly. “And for the albeit brief pep talk.”
Devon brightened up a bit. “So can I go back to my platoon and enjoy what little shore leave I’ve got left?”
“Absolutely not,” Yamira brushed past Devon and opened up the door. The captain sighed and sagged his shoulders as he followed Yamira out of the room. “I’ll need your level-headedness to get me through this new mission.” A muttered ‘yes ma’am’ brought the spring back into the Commissar’s steps as she and her ward walked down the hall. “Now, head off to the hangar and keep an eye out for the representatives. I need to go and retrieve Bell.” As Yamira walked down the halls, Devon found himself a bit surprised at the notion of a secondary companion. Though he did end up asking himself...
“Who the bloody hell is Bell?”
“Keep up the pace, Captain,” Yamira called, marching through the corridors once again. “Our hours are up, the time to meet the representatives is at hand.” Devon huffed as he hurried behind the Lady Commissar, only to stop slightly when he had to glance at Bell rumbling behind her, feeling a bit queasy looking at the thing that Yamira considered an aide. Devon may have kept his cool in the battlefield and before his troopers, but Servitors always gave him a bit of a lurch in his gut. The machine wearing the skin and organs of the deceased clattered behind Yamira like a puppy on six mechanical insectoid legs, hissing steam escaping the exhausts while those half-dead eyes blinked ghoulish lights. Bones and muscle intertwined with wires and metal made what was once a living person into a nightmarish simulacrum of a human. He hated the way it moved; the sound of a beating heart should not be accompanied by the pumping of machinery. Even the nickname Yamira gave the thing didn’t help, calling it ‘Bell’ because of the way it rocked back and forth as it scrimped around.
“So any idea which blokes we’re going to be meeting, Lady Commissar?” Devon asked.
“I am certain we will know them when we see them.” Yamira said, grumbling under her breath. “I pray to the Emperor that they’re at least easy on the eyes.”
“They’re Xenos, you might as well be asking for a golden tower on Holy Terra.” Yamira held her response as she, the Captain, and her Servitor entered into the spacious hangar bay. Guardsmen and menials alike marched in rank and file, carting crates of weapons and explosives from Valkyrie Gunships and storage bays alike. Merely one aspect of the Imperium’s war machine at work, a beautiful thing. Yamira frowned at the notion of that beauty being marred by the appearance of that hideous thing they called a vessel docked between the Thunderhawks. A crescent-shaped thing of shining metal that seemed more fitting of a Necron Dynasty amongst the Imperium’s finest attack ships. Looking at the thing made Yamira’s eye burn. Waiting just below were the representatives, an equally motley crew of rabble that the rest of the ship seemed to actively stay away from. A pair of large, purple-skinned humanoid creatures with messes of white hair spoke with an average-looking human who seemed to be currently smoking from a lho-stick of some kind. Yamira marched forward, clenching her gloved hands as tight as the leather would allow before any tears could form, with Devon and Bell bringing up the rear (reluctantly, in Devon’s case).
“You are the representatives of Merodi Universalis, correct?” Yamira called. The two hulking purple things turned with proper military discipline, though one seemed to have flinched slightly upon seeing the Commissar’s grisly visage. ‘Good to see that these new Xenos can show fear.’ She thought. ‘It will make things much easier to work with.’ The human was slower to react, only now giving Yamira a good look at the apparent liaison from another world. He seemed a civilian, with loose and baggy clothes not even the most desperate of Hive-Dwellers would wear. What further caught Yamira’s eye was this man’s apparent decor: two bandoliers draped across his chest, with small boxes in place of ammunition, while between his lips sat three lit lho-sticks. The apparent disinterest on his face was somewhat hidden by the black shades concealing his eyes.
“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah we are,” the man said. It was odd: despite the apparent addiction to the substances that he dressed himself with, the visitor lacked the rasp most lho-stick users commonly have. A relief for Yamira, though the smell of smoke and whatever herbs were in the concoction was getting into her nostrils. “You the captain-lady that’s coming with us back to CC, right?”
“That’s Lady Commissar to you,” Devon interjected, stepping forth as his brow furrowed. One gesture from Yamira caused the captain to stay his hand.
“Yes, I am Lady Commissar Yamira Kalov,” she said, tone neutral. “With me is Captain Devon Mangonel of the Armageddon 805th, and my personal Servitor, Bell.” Devon gave only a slight nod, while Bell said nothing, save for the dead eyes of the thing flashing in recognition. The purple things clearly had some discomfort looking at Bell, Yamira could tell by the way they averted their eyes. She bowed slightly towards the smoking man. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador.”
“Psssh, Ambassador?” he said. The way he smirked looked like Yamira had just told him a particularly funny joke, and she didn’t know the punchline. “That’s a good one. Like hell I’d want a job like that. Too much work. I’m Ms. Dust’s bodyguard,” He jabbed a thumb to his chest as he curled his sticks between his teeth, trailing smoke above his head.
“Name’s Cage Jameson, from Earth Stand.” He stuck his thumb behind his back to the two purple ones. “These two are Amethysts, from the Gem Vein. The Ambassador is using the ladies’ room on the Skiff, she’ll be out in a second.” Yamira took a slight step back, her good eye twitching a bit.
“You… aren’t the Ambassador?”
“Nope.” Cage shrugged and spat one of the burnt-out sticks onto the floor and stamped his boot down to smother it.
“Just security.” He lazily glanced between Yamira and the servitor as he produced another stick from his bandolier. “So, uh… you donate some of you to pretty up that hunk of junk?” He lit a match to the stick as he placed it up to his mouth. “Seems like a downgrade to me. Thing looks already plenty ugly.” Yamira’s blood went from still to boiling in seconds.
“How dare you!” she shouted. Her hand flew to the hilt of her sword, only stopped from lopping this daft idiot’s head clean off his shoulders by Devon latching onto Yamira and yanking her back. The two Amethysts also yanked Cage back, glaring at him for his apparent apathy.
“What? It’s a legit question,” Cage innocently said. “Not my fault these guys don’t have a sense of humor.” All that got him was a bop on the head from one of the Amethysts. Yamira finally broke off from Devon’s grasp and let go of her sword, though her anger still remained. Any chance at further problems was halted when the sound of running came from the lowered platform of the Skiff. Yamira and Devon turned and saw, speeding down the metal platform with the urgency of her rear end on fire… was a horse. Not a majestic beast of speed and ferocity, like the ones raised by the Attilans or the Chogorisians, but a smaller thing with a dull orange coat, dirt-brown mane and hair, and the biggest green eyes Yamira had ever seen. She trotted down the platform and hurried her way over to Yamira and her coterie, panting and heaving.
“I am super-duper sorry I wasn’t here!” She exclaimed. “I had lunch before jumping and travel is always super rough on me, but I wasn’t thinking!” She clonked the side of her head with a hoof. “Amber, you big dumb-dumb, you’re supposed to make a good impression! YOU’RE NOT DOING THAT!” She stopped her little berating and cleared her throat, putting on a polite-as-can-be smile for the humans. “Right, from the top: Hi, I’m Ambassador Amber Dust, Merodi Relations,” She looked up and extended a hoof to Yamira in friendship. “A pleasure to meet you-wahAHAYAHAHAYEE!” One look at Yamira’s half-melted face and the little pony had practically jumped two meters in the air with her fur on end. She came to an abrupt landing in Cage’s arms, scared out of her wits and clinging like a pterra-squirrel to a tree.
It almost made Yamira crack a smile.
“Here’s the Ambassador.” Cage tiredly said. “Can I put you down now, Ambs?” Amber shakily shook her head as Cage unceremoniously dropped her back onto the floor. Yamira raised an eyebrow while Devon barely contained a stifled laugh. She turned to Bell and cleared her throat.
“Bell, record est verbo.” She instructed in High Gothic. The Servitor’s eyes lit up as a lengthy roll of parchment fed through a slot on the machine’s chest cavity, several small prongs ejecting with ink-filled tips onto the page.
“DIALOGUM MEMORIA, COMMISSAR.” Bell screeched. The horrid once-feminine voice coming from the voxes built within the throat cavity grated on the ears, the Merodi representatives shrinking as the thing practically screamed in their ears, while Yamira and Devon hardly bat an eye.
“On behalf of the Commissariat, the Astra Militarum and the governing body of the Imperium of Man,” Yamira said. As she spoke, Bell rapidly scribbled away on the parchment verbatim in Low Gothic. “I, Lady Commissar Yamira Kalov, accompanied by Captain Devon Mangonel of the Armageddon 805th Regiment, will now commence new service as a representative of the Imperium with the outsider allies, Merodi Universalis. This will be a documentation of my services as representative and will be updated as is seen fit. God-Emperor protects.” She turned back to Bell and cleared her throat. “Memoria finem, Bell.”
“RECORDATIO FINEM, COMMISSAR.” Bell concluded, tearing off the completed strip of parchment with numerous small mechanical pinsers. Yamira clasped her hands behind her back and turned to Devon.
“Captain, secure us a seat on board this vessel,” she instructed.
“Yes ma’am.” One crisp salute and Devon was already on the move. “You there, smokey, show me where we’re going to be sitting.”
“Wah-huh? Oh yeah, sure.” Cage and Devon walked sidelong up the boarding platform, with the two Amethysts following shortly behind them. Amber chuckled nervously and trotted back up to Yamira as she began to move.
“R-right, let’s get you situated, miss,” she said. “It’ll be such an honor to have an esteemed member of your military working alongside us in harmo-” Yamira’s pace picked up as soon as Amber tried to offer her hoof again.
“Don’t touch me,” Yamira quickly said. Amber’s ears lilted and her eyes fell downcast while Yamira entered the ship properly with Bell rolling behind. ‘Xenos in command, humans as secondaries and compliant to this?’ Yamira bitterly thought. ‘The Commissariat expects much of me to do this. Too much, perhaps…’ She sat herself down in a vacant seat adjacent the cockpit, alongside the currently seated Devon, while Bell just situated itself in a corner of the ship. The Amethysts still refused to look at her scarred face, Cage continued his absent-minded smoking while still staring at her. Yamira closed her good eye and quietly sighed. This was her duty now. And she was loath to be part of it any longer than she needed to be.
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Well, guess one of us had to start posting eventually.
Revisiting this sequence again is interesting. Mostly reinforcing how little basically everyone involved in this situation wants to do with it. I'd mostly paid attention to Yamira and the 40k when I'd read the drafts but Amber and Cage are out of their element here too. If not for the Emperor himself I doubt that either Merodi or the Imperium would be willing to come to the table.
“Warhammer”
“Diplomat”
A setting drowning in grimdark meeting one that radiates noblebright from its every pore. Consider this followed!
Typo. Galaxa Immaterium is explicitly the Text-to-Speech-verse. That should be Man-Emperor of Mankind.
Of course, Yamira appears to be where Bruva Alfabusa stored all the grimdark he siphoned out of the rest of the setting. For good or for ill, this will certainly be a diplomatic mission to remember. Looking forward to it. (Though I was kind of hoping the diplomat would be Lightning Dust. Of course, someone probably would've end up shot of they went that route.)