Guard fic 3.5.1
An interlude from Lord Commissar Rossaria Bharti's point of view.
-=-=-
The last thing Rossaria remembered, she was fighting in the snow, back to back with Aloysius. A familiar situation, but in this case it had been a precarious one. The small Guard force was heavily outnumbered and she did have to acknowledge the rashness in her decision to accompany the drop troops: it was not a mistake in any way, she and Aloysius had added considerably to the damage they dealt, but as she saw the forces arraigned against them she had known they would never hold them long enough.
“Sir, should we abort?” Aloysius had shouted above the sound of the motor, the only one able to give voice to the feelings that no doubt the guardsmen shared. Rossaria however shook her head.
“Not a chance Commissar, those men down there need us!” She shouted back. He knew she was right - Aloysius could occasionally have an overinflated view of the Commisariat’s worth that could lead to a distressing reluctance to sacrifice himself. He sometimes seemed to forget that they were only two of literally millions upon billions of Commissars across the galaxy and their lives were not more rare or precious than any guardsman. Their training was better, their standards higher, their dedication greater, their courage stronger, but ultimately they were just like any guardsman and would die forgotten and alone buying a few more minutes of peace for a troubled galaxy. Forgotten by all save Him.
Aloysius had thrown open the sliding side door and dived through it without a second’s pause, looking to redeem himself for his earlier question. Rossaria stood back, waving each soldier through with her bolt pistol, her stance showing that she was noting each hesitation. There certainly were hesitations, but only one that required her to intervene. As one soldier stood at the edge of the door, wind whipping across his face, hand trembling on the edge as he looked down at the hordes of Tau below. Rossaria had raised her gun.
“We need every man down there, now. Don’t make me waste one by killing you here.”
She remembered that as he looked up trembling into her cool grey eyes, she could see that his nerve had broken. She readied the pistol but before she could fire his mate behind him barrelled into him, throwing them both out the Valkyrie and into the battle. The rest followed with barely a second glance and Rossaria swung herself through the hatch the moment it cleared, her own courage never in question. Her coat billowed around her and her long braid flew in the air rushing past as she shot towards the surface. She counted the seconds until she could flick on her chute, the jolt of changing speed knocking the breath for her lungs as she pelted groundwards in the barely-controlled descent of a grav chute.
On the ground the soldier had recovered sufficiently to at least make a show of fighting, sufficient at least that the unit would be better served by his death against the enemy than his death as an example, given the circumstances. Cowardice was an insidious disease that spread like from soldier to soldier like nurgle’s rot, but it had been obvious then that if they were to have any chance of salvaging victory she would need every man, and every bolt she had.
She had bunched them into a tight squad, taking over command from the sergeant who had happily relinquished to her, and she and Aloysius had led by example in carving their way towards the rest of the friendly lines. They had made it, taking a few wounds on the way and she remembered that the soldier she had nearly shot had tumbled dead at her feet in the end, but after that it had largely been a blur of hand to hand fighting and buying what time they could.
Thinking through it all, she could remember the moment when she fell. She was fighting closely with three fire warriors in front of her, the chainsword making swift work of their minimal armour, but as she sliced through the final one then the unit of warriors behind them, the ones she had expected to come in next to close combat, had instead levelled their pulse rifles and shot a concentrated barrage directly towards her. Her refractor field had dealt with a few hits but the damage was so concentrated it didn’t have time to recharge between blasts. She had taken a shot to the stomach, and a burning pain in her leg told her that was not the only shot that had hit home. She had dropped to one knee, unable to stay standing, and the last thing she remembered was blasted off several rounds of bolter fire in the direction of the Tau before her vision blurred and everything had gone black.
Her assumption had been that if her eyes opened again it would be before the Golden Throne as the final judgement was passed, but instead she found herself lying on a cold metal table in what was obviously a Xeno environment. A bright light shone down at her, stinging her eyes and blocking her ability to see much around her, but what she could make out was a strange mix of metals and ceramite. She tried to sit up but found that she was immobilised, bands around her waist and legs. No, she realised, it was leg singular, just her right was encased. Her hair had been taken out of its usual plait, which accounted for the ability to lie flat without developing a screaming headache. Also a good number of her clothes were missing: she still had her shirt, buttoned at the top and then ruched up above the ceramite restraint, but almost everything else was gone. Reaching down with her hand she established that she still had pants, and she understood suddenly what had happened: this was a Xenos medical facility! They weren’t restraints, they were medical supports. She didn’t know why they had chosen to take her alive, but she wasn’t prepared to submit without a fight.
Turning her head, she shut her eyes until the afterburn of the light finally faded. Thank the Emperor her hands and arms were still free and so shielding her eyes, she looked around for anything in range she might use as a weapon. Nothing immediately presented itself, and checking the restraint on her torso there was no way she would be able to wriggle free even if she was fighting fit.
One of the Tau noticed the movement and spoke to her. She didn’t understand a word of their language but the tone was clearly intended to be soothing, and it gently put its rough, three-fingered hand on top of hers, directing her back into the bed and away from fiddling with the medical device. So not openly hostile and Rossaria recognised the comforting intent behind its actions, but she was still a captive of an enemy power and that was not something that was ever going to sit easy with someone like her. There seemed no point in saying anything to the medic, it clearly didn’t speak Gothic, but her options were looking low at this point.
She gestured to the light and then to her eyes, pulling a face to indicate her discomfort. It said something again and turned the luminator down to a dimmer glow, making it far easier for her to think without wondering if her eyes were going to be permanently damaged. The room was filled with around a dozen medics, all but her one working on wounded Tau rather than humans, and looking at the slabs around her hers seemed to have had the medical tools, the blades and needles and potential weapons, put at a deliberate remove compared to the others. So it was safe to assume they recognised who she was, or at least the significance of her uniform, and had captured her deliberately. Her medic spoke to someone else in the room - the Tau equivalent of an orderly? Or a military presence keeping an eye on her? - and the other left, obviously off on some errand.
“Where are my clothes?” she demanded, keen to find out what interest they had in keeping her happy as well as alive. It responded, which was a good sign, though the lack of language or even the same number of digits made communication difficult. Miming as best she could despite the restraints, she named each item in turn as she gestured.
“Hat. Badge. Sash. Coat. Boots, trousers, baldrick, waistcoat, clothes! Where are my clothes!”
It looked confused, almost hurt, and then brightened. It said something then left her sphere of vision, despite her craning round till a stabbing pain in her torso made it plain that she was overstretching a very recent wound. She began instead to count. When it reappeared one minute 36 seconds later it was with her clothes folded in a neat pile in one hand, and her boots in the other. It showed them to her to demonstrate their existence though she could see even from this angle that her scabbard and holster were missing, then put them on the floor below her. So they weren’t looking for a show of force, and were keen to make her at ease as well as healthy, but they weren’t trusting her entirely.
“Thank you.” Rossaria told it, hoping the tone conveyed the meaning. It didn’t hurt to be polite even to Xeno heretics, and she could see herself being in need of all the potential allies she could get. It responded by starting to sing softly, a low slow crooning voice, and she realised it was singing her a soothing lullaby. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, as if a children’s song would somehow make everything ok, but she couldn’t forget her situation. What had happened to the others, that they had let her be carried off like this? Presumably that meant Antonius and Aloysius were dead along with the rest of the advance force, but what of Trevanus and the rest of the Guard? She had confidence that if the Tau could have wiped them all out in one go they would have done so long before she had ever been dispatched to this frozen planet, so there must be some survivors, but how many? Was the tunnel discovered, or had the plan been saved? She needed to work out what she could do from here to ensure the Imperial victory, despite her situation, but for now there seemed to be little option beyond lying still and waiting.
The doors opened and she again craned her neck to see what was happening, propping herself up on her elbows as much as possible but the restraint on her waist prevented her from getting a better view. She was fairly sure the shorter one that had just walked in was the one that her medic had sent on an errand, and the one that accompanied it was wearing the robes and regalia of the water caste. From the briefings she’d received en route to Sargas that meant it was most likely of any to speak human languages, and she presumed that was why it was here. She braced herself for interrogation, but instead the door slid open again. In came two fire warriors in full battle dress, pulse rifles armed, helmets glinting in the bright lights of the medical ward, who placed themselves either side of the doorway. They were followed in short order by four more, surrounding a slightly shorter figure that she couldn’t see clearly. It wasn’t until the entourage approached closer that she saw it was Commander Antonius King.
-=-=-
The last thing Rossaria remembered, she was fighting in the snow, back to back with Aloysius. A familiar situation, but in this case it had been a precarious one. The small Guard force was heavily outnumbered and she did have to acknowledge the rashness in her decision to accompany the drop troops: it was not a mistake in any way, she and Aloysius had added considerably to the damage they dealt, but as she saw the forces arraigned against them she had known they would never hold them long enough.
“Sir, should we abort?” Aloysius had shouted above the sound of the motor, the only one able to give voice to the feelings that no doubt the guardsmen shared. Rossaria however shook her head.
“Not a chance Commissar, those men down there need us!” She shouted back. He knew she was right - Aloysius could occasionally have an overinflated view of the Commisariat’s worth that could lead to a distressing reluctance to sacrifice himself. He sometimes seemed to forget that they were only two of literally millions upon billions of Commissars across the galaxy and their lives were not more rare or precious than any guardsman. Their training was better, their standards higher, their dedication greater, their courage stronger, but ultimately they were just like any guardsman and would die forgotten and alone buying a few more minutes of peace for a troubled galaxy. Forgotten by all save Him.
Aloysius had thrown open the sliding side door and dived through it without a second’s pause, looking to redeem himself for his earlier question. Rossaria stood back, waving each soldier through with her bolt pistol, her stance showing that she was noting each hesitation. There certainly were hesitations, but only one that required her to intervene. As one soldier stood at the edge of the door, wind whipping across his face, hand trembling on the edge as he looked down at the hordes of Tau below. Rossaria had raised her gun.
“We need every man down there, now. Don’t make me waste one by killing you here.”
She remembered that as he looked up trembling into her cool grey eyes, she could see that his nerve had broken. She readied the pistol but before she could fire his mate behind him barrelled into him, throwing them both out the Valkyrie and into the battle. The rest followed with barely a second glance and Rossaria swung herself through the hatch the moment it cleared, her own courage never in question. Her coat billowed around her and her long braid flew in the air rushing past as she shot towards the surface. She counted the seconds until she could flick on her chute, the jolt of changing speed knocking the breath for her lungs as she pelted groundwards in the barely-controlled descent of a grav chute.
On the ground the soldier had recovered sufficiently to at least make a show of fighting, sufficient at least that the unit would be better served by his death against the enemy than his death as an example, given the circumstances. Cowardice was an insidious disease that spread like from soldier to soldier like nurgle’s rot, but it had been obvious then that if they were to have any chance of salvaging victory she would need every man, and every bolt she had.
She had bunched them into a tight squad, taking over command from the sergeant who had happily relinquished to her, and she and Aloysius had led by example in carving their way towards the rest of the friendly lines. They had made it, taking a few wounds on the way and she remembered that the soldier she had nearly shot had tumbled dead at her feet in the end, but after that it had largely been a blur of hand to hand fighting and buying what time they could.
Thinking through it all, she could remember the moment when she fell. She was fighting closely with three fire warriors in front of her, the chainsword making swift work of their minimal armour, but as she sliced through the final one then the unit of warriors behind them, the ones she had expected to come in next to close combat, had instead levelled their pulse rifles and shot a concentrated barrage directly towards her. Her refractor field had dealt with a few hits but the damage was so concentrated it didn’t have time to recharge between blasts. She had taken a shot to the stomach, and a burning pain in her leg told her that was not the only shot that had hit home. She had dropped to one knee, unable to stay standing, and the last thing she remembered was blasted off several rounds of bolter fire in the direction of the Tau before her vision blurred and everything had gone black.
Her assumption had been that if her eyes opened again it would be before the Golden Throne as the final judgement was passed, but instead she found herself lying on a cold metal table in what was obviously a Xeno environment. A bright light shone down at her, stinging her eyes and blocking her ability to see much around her, but what she could make out was a strange mix of metals and ceramite. She tried to sit up but found that she was immobilised, bands around her waist and legs. No, she realised, it was leg singular, just her right was encased. Her hair had been taken out of its usual plait, which accounted for the ability to lie flat without developing a screaming headache. Also a good number of her clothes were missing: she still had her shirt, buttoned at the top and then ruched up above the ceramite restraint, but almost everything else was gone. Reaching down with her hand she established that she still had pants, and she understood suddenly what had happened: this was a Xenos medical facility! They weren’t restraints, they were medical supports. She didn’t know why they had chosen to take her alive, but she wasn’t prepared to submit without a fight.
Turning her head, she shut her eyes until the afterburn of the light finally faded. Thank the Emperor her hands and arms were still free and so shielding her eyes, she looked around for anything in range she might use as a weapon. Nothing immediately presented itself, and checking the restraint on her torso there was no way she would be able to wriggle free even if she was fighting fit.
One of the Tau noticed the movement and spoke to her. She didn’t understand a word of their language but the tone was clearly intended to be soothing, and it gently put its rough, three-fingered hand on top of hers, directing her back into the bed and away from fiddling with the medical device. So not openly hostile and Rossaria recognised the comforting intent behind its actions, but she was still a captive of an enemy power and that was not something that was ever going to sit easy with someone like her. There seemed no point in saying anything to the medic, it clearly didn’t speak Gothic, but her options were looking low at this point.
She gestured to the light and then to her eyes, pulling a face to indicate her discomfort. It said something again and turned the luminator down to a dimmer glow, making it far easier for her to think without wondering if her eyes were going to be permanently damaged. The room was filled with around a dozen medics, all but her one working on wounded Tau rather than humans, and looking at the slabs around her hers seemed to have had the medical tools, the blades and needles and potential weapons, put at a deliberate remove compared to the others. So it was safe to assume they recognised who she was, or at least the significance of her uniform, and had captured her deliberately. Her medic spoke to someone else in the room - the Tau equivalent of an orderly? Or a military presence keeping an eye on her? - and the other left, obviously off on some errand.
“Where are my clothes?” she demanded, keen to find out what interest they had in keeping her happy as well as alive. It responded, which was a good sign, though the lack of language or even the same number of digits made communication difficult. Miming as best she could despite the restraints, she named each item in turn as she gestured.
“Hat. Badge. Sash. Coat. Boots, trousers, baldrick, waistcoat, clothes! Where are my clothes!”
It looked confused, almost hurt, and then brightened. It said something then left her sphere of vision, despite her craning round till a stabbing pain in her torso made it plain that she was overstretching a very recent wound. She began instead to count. When it reappeared one minute 36 seconds later it was with her clothes folded in a neat pile in one hand, and her boots in the other. It showed them to her to demonstrate their existence though she could see even from this angle that her scabbard and holster were missing, then put them on the floor below her. So they weren’t looking for a show of force, and were keen to make her at ease as well as healthy, but they weren’t trusting her entirely.
“Thank you.” Rossaria told it, hoping the tone conveyed the meaning. It didn’t hurt to be polite even to Xeno heretics, and she could see herself being in need of all the potential allies she could get. It responded by starting to sing softly, a low slow crooning voice, and she realised it was singing her a soothing lullaby. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, as if a children’s song would somehow make everything ok, but she couldn’t forget her situation. What had happened to the others, that they had let her be carried off like this? Presumably that meant Antonius and Aloysius were dead along with the rest of the advance force, but what of Trevanus and the rest of the Guard? She had confidence that if the Tau could have wiped them all out in one go they would have done so long before she had ever been dispatched to this frozen planet, so there must be some survivors, but how many? Was the tunnel discovered, or had the plan been saved? She needed to work out what she could do from here to ensure the Imperial victory, despite her situation, but for now there seemed to be little option beyond lying still and waiting.
The doors opened and she again craned her neck to see what was happening, propping herself up on her elbows as much as possible but the restraint on her waist prevented her from getting a better view. She was fairly sure the shorter one that had just walked in was the one that her medic had sent on an errand, and the one that accompanied it was wearing the robes and regalia of the water caste. From the briefings she’d received en route to Sargas that meant it was most likely of any to speak human languages, and she presumed that was why it was here. She braced herself for interrogation, but instead the door slid open again. In came two fire warriors in full battle dress, pulse rifles armed, helmets glinting in the bright lights of the medical ward, who placed themselves either side of the doorway. They were followed in short order by four more, surrounding a slightly shorter figure that she couldn’t see clearly. It wasn’t until the entourage approached closer that she saw it was Commander Antonius King.