Compliance

by Mal Masque

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

---

Bandaged fingers hovered over the door handle, hesitant to touch. Windmind and her guards had brought Yamira to the Overhead’s office, and she could already hear the sounds of heated discussion inside. Three voices, though muffled, could still be heard: Eve, General O’Neill, and the Ecclesiarch. All heated, displeased, and near ready to burst. She had yet to make out what was being said, although she could tell the conversation was far from pleasant. Still, no point in keeping the bandage on any longer. Yamira took a deep breath, raised her hand, and opened the door.

“All I’m saying is that hat’s weighing your brain down if you think we’re going to agree to this, Ecclesiarch.” O’Neill said.

“Stop talking about my hat and focus on the issue at hand here!” Decius snapped, pushing up his aforementioned hat with a boney finger. Eve just sighed and rubbed the side of her head as the two older men bickered amongst themselves. Judging by the redness on Decius’ face, the furrowed brow on O’Neill’s forehead, and a few errant hairs poking out of Eve’s mane, this had been going on for a while. The alicorn princess reopened her eyes and saw Yamira standing outside of her office, accompanied by Ambassador Windmind.

“Yamira!” Eve exclaimed. Decius and O’Neill broke their glares and followed Eve’s stare, watching as Yamira walked into the room, half dressed in bandages. Decius seemed mildly relieved, but O’Neill’s fists started to clench. Windmind was about to follow, but the door closed before she could cross the threshold. “People have been looking all over for you!”

“Most of them with a warrant for arrest.” O’Neill curtly said. “Have you come to turn yourself in for assaulting Captain Mangonel and civil unrest?”

“Calling for the Lady Commissar’s arrest is ludicrous,” Decius retorted. “We’ve been over this before. You would not arrest a winemaker for brewing alcohol or imprison a serf for polishing boots, why should this be any different?” Yamira opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by O’Neill’s interruption.

“She attacked a man in broad daylight after vandalizing a local shop!” O’Neill reiterated. “It doesn’t matter if she’s “doing her job” like you say she is.”

“I may be a man of the Ministorum, but I have some understanding of the Militarum’s methods,” Decius said. “And a Commissar disciplining Guardsmen for ill-gotten behavior is not only expected, but encouraged!” Yamira tried to speak again, but O’Neill’s hand slammed onto the desk and silenced her again.

“It’s reasons like THAT that give people justification to be terrified of you lunatics!”

“Good! Fear is a powerful motivator alongside hatred! A necessity for our galaxy, as decreed by the Man-Emperor of Mankind!”

“Can you even hear what you are saying under that giant striped eyesore on top of your head?!”

“STOP MAKING FUN OF MY HAT!”

“BOTH OF YOU BE QUIET!” The sudden loudness of Eve’s voice rattled everyone and everything in the room, even shaking a few bits of decorations and books on the shelves. O’Neill and Decius promptly went quiet as Eve adjusted her mechanical earpieces. “This has been going on for an hour, and it went past the point of getting old fifty minutes ago.” With a deep breath, Eve turned her attention to Yamira, who had remained standing patiently in the middle of the room throughout the whole argument. “Yamira, while it’s good to see you’re alright, you’ve stirred up something big with your… episode at the Boomshop. Amber gave us a mostly straightforward play-by-play on what happened before taking Devon to the hospital.”

“How is he?” Yamira asked. The three looked surprised at the apparent calm in Yamira’s voice. “Captain Mangonel. How is he?”

“He’s… stable.” O’Neill slowly said. “Mostly a fair bit of head trauma, a concussion, and in need of stitches in his cheek, but he’ll live.” Yamira closed her eye and breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“I am surprised at how lenient you were with him, Commissar.” Decius said. “Given what that crying pony told us transpired between you two, I would have expected a far more vicious response to such flagrant heresy.” O’Neill returned his prior glare to Decius, a vein throbbing against his temple.

“Decius, diplomatic immunity can only get you so far.” he growled. Decius looked back towards O’Neill, slightly perplexed.

“Commissar Kalov has diplomatic immunity?” he asked. “Then why is this whole debacle an issue to begin with?” O’Neill’s screams of frustration were muffled by a throw pillow Eve had shoved in his face with her magic.

“Back to matter at hoof,” Eve said. “You’ve been missing for hours, nobody knows what happened after you ran off and what was going through your mind when you did… all that you did?” Yamira took another deep breath and carefully reflected on her answer. She had to word everything very carefully, and not disclose any information regarding the Inquisitor. There was always a chance that he was listening from the shadows, utilizing whatever hidden technologies and tricks that his ilk often possessed. So, she exhaled and gave her answer as best she could.

“I will be truthful with you, Ecclesiarch, General… Overhead.” Yamira said. “I do not like Merodi Universalis. It is different. From a very young age, I have been taught to fear and hate that which is different from the Imperial Truth. My sector of birth, Piamen, has been continuously beset by Xenos and heretics, from as early as before the Horus Heresy itself, when bodies rained from the skies of our capital and drove our negligent ancestors to madness. I used that fear and hatred to guide my life to where I am now: Commissar of the Astra Militarum. My duty is to spread compliance through the ranks of the Guardsmen under my command. Hatred and fear are who I am.” Judging by O’Neill’s growing displeased look, the talk was not progressing well, but Yamira was far from done.

“When I had been given this duty after my… mistake at Karthag nearly cost an entire regiment of Guardsmen,” she continued. “I had been outraged. Word may not spread as fast across the galaxy as it once did, but hearing of a new power that has turned the Orks into weapons against Chaos, earned the ear of the Eldar, Tau, and even consideration by the… upper echelons of the Imperium,” Decius seemed to brighten a little, a smile appearing on his aged face. “It was to be expected. I knew who you were. You were different. And I hated it. Hated because that is what I have always been expected to, despite the apparent acceptance you have been receiving across the galaxy. I have been so steadfast in my hatred that I rendered myself incapable of comprehending how others may see it. Captain Mangonel saw it. And in my blindness, I saw a heretic and treated him as such.” She lowered her head, feeling her grip on her gloves slightly loosen. “It was rash. Captain Mangonel simply was seeing what… the Emperor and His magnanimous gaze have also seen. I could not. So, I reacted as I always have: Treat that which is different as a threat.”

“I was blinded, only able to see after I saw him on the ground and his blood over my hands. Panic had overtaken me, I fled, and collapsed in an alley after several of my scars had opened up and my sinews had torn.” Her hand had graced her bandages again, fingertips faintly feeling the gauze and felt that preserved her body. “Were it not for the aid I received, I perhaps might have died then and there, stewing in my loathing and contempt.”

“It’s a relief to know you’re well, physically speaking.” Eve said. “But… who was this person that helped you?” Yamira internally cursed. She could not tell them of the Inquisitor or his orders. Vagaries and deception were required here.

“... A kindly old soul who knew I could do better.” Yamira replied. “He found me, patched up my wounds, and sent me back here to right the wrongs that I caused. He gave no name, just a request that I do what is best for all.” She concluded with placing her hand upon her breast. “And… what I believe is best is to…” Yamira’s features hardened, straining to give her answer. “To ask for f…” Her teeth bit down onto her lip, catching her words in her mouth. “F-f-f-f…” The sounds coming from her mouth mostly resulted in spittle marking the bandages around half of her mouth. “F-F-F-F-F-F…” Her face was starting to go red, attempting to force just one word from her mouth.

“Forgiveness?” Decius spoke up. Yamira gasped and slightly slumped over, pointing to the Ecclesiarch.

“Yes. That.” she said. “Thank you, your Grace.” Yamira straightened herself upright, clasping her hands behind her back and looking onwards. “If I am permitted that, then I will promise to cause no further trouble, and do my duties as I am required to.” Her eye flitted between the three officials in the room, gauging their reactions. Eve was clearly contemplating Yamira’s words, while Decius wore an unreadable mask. O’Neill, on the other hand…

“And if it happens again?” he asked.

Yamira glanced over to Decius, then back to O’Neill. “Then I will submit myself to the Adeptus Arbites and declare myself guilty of the crime of treason, for disobeying the commands of the High Lords.” Decius gave a slight gasp, but composed himself quickly. O’Neill still seemed to regard her with suspicion, but made no claims to refute or challenge her. The word of the High Lords served well enough. Finally, Eve pushed herself away from her seat and stood.

“I understand that you have been struggling here, Yamira,” Eve said. She trotted around her desk, approaching the Commissar with a sympathetic look in her big violet eyes. “But I know that, with the right help and friends, we’ll be able to achieve great things in this universe, for everyone.” She smiled sweetly and extended her hoof. “Thank you for coming forth on this.” Yamira looked down at the lavender pony for a moment, her own stony face staring back into those big, expressive eyes. Slowly, the corners of her mouth twitched, cracking and shaping into a smile so forced it may have been surgically implanted onto her face. She slightly leaned over and grasped Eve’s hoof and gave a light shake. “I’m glad this has been resolved.”

“As am I!” Decius chuckled, clapping his hands in relief. “If this went on any further, the departure to Erdun V would have been delayed!” Yamira relinquished her grip on Eve’s hoof and refocused her attention to the holy man.

“We are still on course for arriving there?” Yamira asked.

“We are, indeed.” Eve said, trotting back to her desk. “Celestia City should be arriving in orbit in about a day, accounting for drift and the Warp anomalies. It’s surprisingly... really difficult to travel around in your galaxy because of it.” Yamira and Decius both gave knowing nods. “We’re just working on putting a security detail for the Ecclesiarch-”

“Mancclesiarch.” Decius corrected. “Reforms, as the Emperor dictated.”

“Right, Mancclesiarch.” Eve said, trying to stifle a giggle at the name. “While you’re still going to remain on watch for the time being, you are the most qualified to act as security detail for the operation. If,” she glanced over to Decius. “You would still allow it.”

“Of course,” Decius said. “I would be glad to have a capable member of the Militarum overseeing my protection.” Yamira’s forced smile shifted to something a bit more natural as she bowed towards the Ecclesiarch.

“Thank you, your Grace,” she said. “It will be an honor.” Decius lightly gestured and Yamira stood upright once again.

“Looks like everything is all settled, then!” Eve chirped. “Yamira, you’re free to head home for the remainder of the day. We’re going to finish things up here, someone will let you know when you and the others will be departing.”

“Thank you, Overhead.” Yamira walked towards the door, but before she could open it herself, the door fell open and dropped an eavesdropping Tau right onto the floor. Windmind hurriedly got up and dusted her robes off, muttering all manner of apologies under her breath, concluding with a meek smile. Yamira just rolled her eye and strode on past her. After all that had occurred today, she needed a rest more than ever. And to retrieve Bell. And maybe get a cup of coffee. All three of those things, and maybe some snacks.

---

Yamira may have liked the bed in Indellum’s quarters significantly more, but the one provided to her at the Dome was still significantly more satisfactory than a military cot. She laid herself atop the blankets, the sheer exhaustion of the past few hours finally having caught up with her. Her body ached immensely, every bone and muscle locked up tight and refusing to allow her to move. It was fortunate that Bell was carrying her edible acquisitions, otherwise they would have ended up spilled upon the floor.

“By the Emperor’s gilded tongue,” Yamira muttered into her pillow. “These Xenos are either too forgiving or have an inability to see through a bold faced lie.” She rolled onto her back and ran her fingers through her hair. “Stress and rage, thy name is Yamira Drovich Kalov.” Bell creaked as it scuttled over into the corner and rested itself, the internal systems chugging within its flesh-yet-mechanical bodice like ragged and diseased organs. “Bell, new directive: Record no information regarding anything I speak within this room. Beta Priorus. Confirm Priorus.”

“PRIORUS CONFIRMED.” Bell replied, a few beeps accompanying the confirmation. Yamira sighed again and rubbed her face, her fingers brushing against the bandages that still consumed her left half. Memories of her encounter with Boris Indellum returned to her in force. She scrambled off the bed and retrieved the data chip from her jacket, clutching the small thing tightly in her grip.

“Bell, dataslate.” Yamira ordered. The Servitor hurried over and presented the inactive dataslate to her. She wasted no time in swiping it out of Bell’s claws and hastily inserted the chip into the vacant slot on the dataslate. In but a few moments, the inactive screen lit up, greeting Yamira with the welcoming visage of the two-headed eagle of the Imperium. It faded away, replacing itself with numerous lines of encoded documents and files, all seemingly locked from registry. All except for one, simply detailed ‘Introduction’. One press of a finger and the file was open, leading to a surprisingly brief message encrypted in High Gothic.

‘Commissar Kalov.’ It read. ‘If you are reading this, you have accepted my offer to become my acolyte and take up an instrumental role in protecting our glorious Imperium from the oncoming End Times. Enclosed on this chip are detailed instructions and information about your mission. For reasons of the highest security, they will not reveal themselves to you until certain parameters have been met. To access the next file on this chip, you must remove the medical bandages encasing the left side of your body. The Emperor protects.’ The message ended there, no further queries or information whatsoever.

Yamira thumbed her bandages again. They felt rough on the edge of her burns, but still managed to hold tightly onto her body. Though something didn’t sound exactly right about that. Yamira handed the dataslate back to Bell with explicit orders to alert her for any changes in the dataslate’s available files. She marched towards the mirror in her room and stared intently at it, her half-bandaged face staring back with the same level of intensity. Yamira was no stranger to removing bandages from her body, especially after the first incident destroyed her, making her into the Flayed Face of the Astra Militarum. Still, there was a hesitancy to this. Her wounds were still fresh from earlier in the day, supposedly. How long had she actually been unconscious after blacking out in that alley? Hours? Would her wounds have even healed by now? What did Indellum do?

No time for such thoughts now, Yamira had an order to follow. She cast aside her coat and hat upon the bed and felt about the lining of her bandages. There, the end bandage, right at the base of her wrist. Yamira lightly tugged, feeling the medical wrappings come loose around her arm. Slowly but surely, she looped the bandages around her fingers, feeling the fresh air grace her body as she undid the work that put her together. As she wrapped around and around, Yamira glanced down at her wrist and saw… a patch of tan, in the palm of her hand. Yamira stared at the patch in silence, unsure of whether or not it was just another portion of slightly dulled bandage. She continued to unwrap, exposing more and more skin that should not be there. When her hand was freed, Yamira found herself staring at a hand that did not belong on a scarred body. Untouched, undamaged, pristine and delicate. No cracked and blackened skin, no browned and boiled muscle, no bleached bones that peeked between tissue, Yamira’s hand was untouched as the day she first joined the Schola Progenium nearly three centuries ago. She continued the unwrapping, sure of it being just a trick of the light. But the she unravelled, the more untouched skin she saw. By the time her entire arm was freed from the bandages, Yamira had found herself staring at flesh and skin she had thought lost years ago.

“Bell,” Yamira breathlessly said. “There are no hallucinogenic drugs being filtered into this room, correct?”
“AFFIRMATIVE, COMMISSAR.” Bell beeped. “THE AIR IS UNCONTAMINATED.” Yamira stared down at her arm, the familiar yet hardly recognizable limb that had once been a horrendous mess of burned flesh and sinew. She held up both hands and found herself glancing between them, trying to find some sort of difference that would break this illusion. No, they were virtually identical. Even the shape of her fingernails was immaculate and mirroring her.

“Emperor’s bones…” Yamira muttered. If her arm had turned out like this… She hastily got to work in undoing the remaining bandages around her body, aiming to have every bit of her skin exposed to see what sort of miracles Indellum had gifted upon her. In minutes, soon all but her face was free of the bandages, and like her arm, her skin and flesh was no longer a seared mess of scar tissue and ash-caked bones. The entire left-hand side of her body had been restored, brought back to normalcy from the peak of ruination. Her arm, her leg, her toned abdomen, her chest, all of it had been returned to the way it once was. All that remained was the face, and yet with so few bandages left, it gave Yamira a sense of pause. When the accident first happened, Yamira had refused to be in the presence of any mirrors. She had grown resistant to vanity, but Yamira’s face was something immaculate before the flames took it from her. If this was truly just a dream, Yamira worried that the bandages would be but her tearing the blanket off herself in fit of awakening. “No point in holding back now, Yamira.”

Yamira’s fingers grasped the final strip of bandage and gave a gentle tug. With the remainder of the bandages holding her together already strewn about the floor, it came off with ease. She had expected to wake up from the dream now, stirring awake in her bed and set to take on another day with disappointment rumbling about within her mind. She had been wrong many times before, now was no exception. She could hardly believe it. The woman in the mirror who stared back had a full face, beautiful as the surface of a Paradise World and just as untouched. Yamira felt her face, feeling no hole in her cheek, no chipped bone along the jawline, the true warmth of flesh and blood rushing through her features. The only thing unchanged was her eye, still grey and dead in its socket, but Yamira didn’t care. The Flayed Face was gone.

“I’m… back.” she breathlessly said. Bell appeared in the mirror behind her, clutching the dataslate in its metallic pincers.

“LADY COMMISSAR,” Bell said. “A NEW FILE HAS OPENED ON THE SLATE.” Yamira wasted no time in snatching the slate from Bell and opening up the newest file, marked as ‘Explanations’. Text feed appeared, detailed and concise as could be, again from the generous and mysterious Inquisitor.

‘If you are reading this, then you have removed the bandages and activated the chip that is now housed within your body.’ It read. ‘Consider this being the first instance of trust I wish to impart upon you as my acolyte, Yamira Kalov. This has not been a full transplant to replace your skin with that of a donor’s. Instead, your scar tissue has been layered with polymorphine. I’m sure you are familiar with this particular chemical, it is rather popular amongst the Temple Calixis and its shapeshifting assassins. Consider it to be a twofold gift: an advanced durable layer atop your fragile scar tissue, and a chameleonic shift to allow you to look at your beautiful face for the first time in years and turn back to hide the truth from those who would suspect otherwise.’ Yamira looked down from the slate and felt at her face again. She hadn’t noticed when looking in the mirror, but she felt a faint line running through the center of her face, a barely noticeable scar that blended her current face with the polymorphine facsimile. As her hand graced the scar, her skin on her left side shifted, bubbling away like dough ready to rise. Pale white gave way to dull red, a hole formed in her cheek, lips vanished to exposed chipped teeth, and the Flayed Face had returned in full. Once Yamira’s shock subsided, she sighed and let her hand drop.

“Good things can only last for so long, it seems.” she said in resignation. She went back to examining the slate for further information.

‘Shifting between your desired appearances is a matter of concentration, but I believe that you will be able to master this quickly.’ It continued. ‘For now, I shall impart onto you your first official mission: Protecting the Ecclesiarch. Though you may disagree with his ideals, he is still of high import to the High Lords of Terra, and a key component in saving our universe from the End Times. Protect him with your life until relieved of protectorate duties. Redundant yes, but more time will be needed to ensure your part in this holiest of missions. I believe in you, Yamira Kalov. Good luck, and the Emperor protects.’ Nothing else came after, save for the marked ‘I’ of the Inquisition. Yamira set the slate aside and sighed. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

“The Emperor protects, indeed.” she said. She looked back towards her mirror, her scarred face staring back at her as it did for many a decade prior. Polymorphine was no secret among the Imperium, it had become a rather favorite drug of the aristocracy looking to make themselves look far younger than they should, but never to the level that the Calixis have been able to utilize. All she needed to apparently do was think it and her appearance would change, according to Indellum’s message. She concentrated, picturing the beautiful face that she saw when she removed the bandages. Again, her skin bubbled and shifted, like hundreds of microscopic panels flipping in a wave of motion. Burned red gave to snowy white, hollow cheeks were full and rosy, and Yamira Kalov was beautiful once again. She felt her face once more, hardly able to fathom this power that was bestowed upon her. The Inquisition had given her this. Given her the past back, and a chance to prove herself true to the Imperium. It was a gift she would not squander, lest she take it with her to the grave.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

Captain Mangonel simply was seeing what… the Emperor and His magnanimous gaze have also seen.

Yeah, that's the thing. Does it count as heresy if it got the Emperor's tacit approval?

“By the Emperor’s gilded tongue,” Yamira muttered into her pillow. “These Xenos are either too forgiving or have an inability to see through a bold faced lie.”

Or at least the courtesy to not call her on that lie to her face without evidence of it. I imagine O'Neill's going to want to investigate this.

Protecting the Ecclesiarch.

Mancclesiarch.

And so the Inquisition—or something like it—buys Yamira's loyalty. To be fair, I can hardly blame her, but I can see where this is going. Fulfill her dreams and assign her a task she'd do anyway. Then slowly guide her along ever more questionable assignments until she's an eager saboteur.

Or it could go completely sideways from here. Who knows? Looking forward to finding out.

[Black Hoof]

I was hoping to see Eve accompany them to the surface of the first planet of their trip.