One Day

Once again, Corporal 76-3474-Theta woke an hour too early. Instinctively, his hands went to the rebreather unit that laid just below his chin and he moved his arms and legs to make sure everything was functioning. Once that was accomplished he reached down to the bottom of the cot to make sure all of his gear was in order. Only once all was accomplished did he look around the room.

In the dim light he could make out the rows of cots that his brothers slept or pretended to sleep on. Like him they were wrapped up in their greatcoats and held their masks to their chests. Others slept with masks still on, their muffled breaths the only noise in the room. Not that they were in any danger, they were all lying below the earth with an atmospheric seal protecting the entrance. This did nothing to make Theta feel better, he had grown to despise these early moments. Inactivity made the thoughts come back.

"this infantryman is corporal now, this infantryman is in line company A, this infantryman is besieging Soest Prime..." he kept repeating basic facts in his mind but eventually nothing else could be said. All gear was checked again, a prayer was murmured, all gear was checked again but still morning would never come. Staring at the shadows, Theta noted that he never figured out what happened to the former corporal of his squad. The fate of the man Theta replaced did not matter to him but in these predawn moments memories of the former corporal resurfaced. Theta even thought he saw the deceased man walking up and down the rows of his prone brothers. With that came more memories. Fragments of prior campaigns rushed back to him.

A space marine untangling himself from a collapsed set of stairs, an intoxicated penal guardsman offering him iho-sticks if he took the mask off, being blinded by an alien sun on a world he called home, a ditch filled with naked bodies. All these things rushed to the surface and Theta struggled to push them away. He wondered if he should report his problem to someone in charge but immediately thought better. The humiliation of being declared mentally incompetent was something that Theta would not and could not face. After all, this was just an involuntary reaction of the brain, something to be overcome.

Once all these memories were banished Theta saw the face of the abomination that had made it's home among the officers of his regiment hovering over his face. She smiled at him before slipping away.

Theta shut his eyes and pulled his greatcoat over his head. Morning could not come soon enough.

A rush of air flew in and the sentries from last night arrived. Dim lights were turned on to show a mob of bodies in various states of dress rising to their feet. Theta moved through the swarm of guardsmen and managed to find his Watchmaster.

"Updates sir?" if there was anything worth knowing Watchmaster Phaesta would be the first to be in the loop.

"There will be no actions taken against the local population, we will actually respond to their inquiries and not interfere with their activities. We must be a good example for them" he watched Theta blink in confusion and then added, "the commissar's words."

Everything made sense then. It was just like Commissar Crostadt to make that kind of call, even if every single peasant living near the regiment could be a collaborator. The commissar cared too much about appearances. After all, what use would the admiration of feudal worlders be? As his superior officer left Theta noted that the watchmaster seemed tired. The corporal started to form a question but silenced himself before anything could come out. He shoved his mask on, joined his squad and marched out.

The fog enveloped everything, only the walls of the trench and faint figures on the fire step could be made out. Theta held his hands out and had difficulty seeing beyond them. The corporal had heard rumors of geographic anomalies known as oceans. Maybe this was what it was like being under one.

The low visibility did not stop Theta's squad from falling into the daily grind. Walls of trench were reinforced, sandbags filled and performance reviews conducted. By the time it was his turn on the fire step the fog had cleared. A field of black sand flecked with grey ponds stretched out below him. The hill the traitors were encamped could be vaguely made out. Past the hill was the pass that lead out of the mountains, where the city of Soest Prime lay. Eventually he stepped off of the fire step and attended to the digging of a latrine. Their was peace in drudgery, Theta forgot the waking dreams and carried on his work as if in a daze. No memories or doubts assailed him.

It was only natural that this would not last.
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Theta’s midday meal was interrupted by the arrival of the Captain.

“On me.” was the Captain’s greeting and the pair departed for headquarters. It was necessary for the Captain to have an escort, especially since headquarters was surrounded by a small peasant village. As they walked down the main road faces appeared in dark doorways. Theta examined the shelters and the people that dwelled in them. The peasants wore animal skins and some of them spat in his direction. It was no surprise that they allowed the traitors into their homes before the 76th Infantry arrived. Now the peasants stayed in the cover of their dwellings which were composed of granite slabs leaning on each other. Pictures made in chalk portraying the God Emperor were on the walls but the show of piety was undermined by the abundance of alien glyphs that covered every other inch. The village was filled with ignorance and a lack of devotion. Theta prayed that his commissar would rescind the policy of amnesty.

A sad tune stopped the pair in their tracks. The two turned to the source of the music and discovered a number of black robed figures clustered on a vacant lot. A large group of people with questionable loyalty could mean only one thing.

“Inspect that area,” the Captain ordered and Theta, as ever, complied.

A sustained wailing was the first thing that unnerved Theta. The corporal scaled an outcropping of rock and looked down on the crowd from his elevated position. The black robed figures stood around a hole where a fully clothed man lay along with a number of tools, scrolls and other useless objects. The people around the were going into hysterics except for a nun that played a harp. Their faces were contorted and they sobbed over the deceased man. One woman in a shawl was even on her knees, her children clutching her rather large waist. Theta found the whole situation to be not only harmless but absurd.

“Why have you not stripped the body? Why are you so distressed?,” were the questions Theta wanted to ask. Theta eyed the deceased man’s boots and realized that he could use a new pair himself. It was when the hole began to be filled in that the situation truly turned tragic. A fine pair of boots were going to be wasted on a corpse.
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Theta leapt down from his perch and ran to the crowd. He pushed his way through but the crowd turned against him and it took every effort not to be pushed to the ground. Soon the only people on the lot were the guardsman and the woman with the shawl.

The woman lifted her head and walked to towards him. Her children followed her.  As Theta turned away the woman caught his sleeve.

“What are you doing here? Did you of all people come to mourn my husband?”

Theta looked over her shoulder and was disappointed to find the hole filled in.

“My name is Liza,” when that got no reply she added “there are two bars sown on your collar. Are you an important person?”

Theta tensed but remembered what the commissar had said about being a good example.

“It signifies the rank of corporal, it has certain privileges.”

Her eyes beamed up at him. She pushed the two children towards him.

“Salina, Marco, say hello to your new father!”

“I liked the old one better.” was Marco’s reply.

Theta tried to flee but Liza caught him again.

“No one will remarry me now but you, you're an outlander. You think differently and you could use a woman at your camp. You will agree to this?”

“No”

“I will you give you a goat, two goats! I am alone now, I cannot go back to my parents.”

Theta laid a hand on her chest to push her away and received a surprising response.

“Do I disgust you?” She took of the shawl and revealed an abundance of smooth red hair. She slid the hand on her chest to her thigh.

“Should the kinder be seeing this?”

“My… my children!” she cried. “Who will put food on the table for them now?” She pulled Theta close and stared into the eyepieces.
“Have you considered getting a job?”

Liza yelled and marched away with her children at her heels. Theta shook his head in grave disapproval and returned to his Captain.
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Captain and Corporal arrived at regimental headquarters together. They were escorted to a smoking room by an officer’s aide where the commissar already sat. Blowing smoke at the ceiling.

“Sir, one of the insolent villagers accosted me.”

The commissar’s eyes were bloodshot, a bottle was poking out his coat. He rubbed his forehead and groaned.

“Please don’t talk to me.”

They sat in silence for a while. Eventually the commissar shifted and grinned at Theta.

“Your girlfriend is here.”

Officially, the transfer of the Witch to the 76th was an act of goodwill from the Lord General. This did not conceal anything, everyone knew the real reason behind it. If a leader could not know the hearts of his men a psyker could always peer into them. The Witch had regal features. High cheekbones, smooth skin and orderly hair pulled back. Rumor was she was part of the Lord General’s aristocratic family, the two did share a resemblance. Theta did not know what color her eyes were. He did not need to look into them to know she was repulsive.

Psykers were supposed to be gibbering lunatics. The presence of a strong and confident one was a threat but refusing the Lord General’s gift would have been an outrage. Theta once brought up the possibility to his commissar of the Witch suffering an accident by way of a new after dark grenade tossing drill but had curses and a glass thrown at him in response. This was not an uncommon occurrence.

To Theta’s silent horror the Witch sat down opposite to him. Nothing new there. Whenever he was at headquarters the Witch sought him out, an unavoidable fact of life. Maul halten und weiter dienen.

The corporal looked to the other two men for help but it was no use. One man was busy considering his transfer request and the other wanted to die more than usual. A sensation of cold fingers running down his neck overwhelmed him.

“I’m glad I caught you in a good mood corporal.” She was smiling.

The corporal pretended not to notice her, nonchalantly brushing imaginary dust off his dark green coat. She had the warp but he could endure. The sensation on the back of his neck began to spread to his face.

“You know my name corporal, I am not trying to steal your soul.” Her frustration was clear as day.

Theta always prided himself in being vigilant. Something many people, armed and unarmed, were surprised to learn. He would not be deceived.
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“You are unbelievable...do you think I am just going to disappear?”

“Don’t let it bother you,” the commissar offered her an iho-stick, “they all do the same thing to me.”

The Witch leaned back and regarded Theta. The man across from her examined his gloves, wondering how many hands had worn them and who would get them next. The whispers made him sit up and the voice nearly made him shoot out of his chair. “You're sick,” the voice had said, “you’ve been sick for a long time.”

Theta looked at the Witch but her lips were not moving.

“You can tell me everything, unless you want me to pry. I know that sounds unpleasant but you might enjoy it.” Her smile threatened to split her face.

Before Theta could turn the room into a charnel house the colonel’s aide entered and escorted them to the command room. Colonel 76, a small man in a battered cuirass as old as the regiment, was examining a stack of picts taken from orbit. A bust of Colonel Jurten the only decoration on his desk. He waved the Captain and the commissar over. Theta and the Witch watching them from a respectful distance.

Theta did not hear the opening remarks, he was too busy staring at the colonel’s bust. “Are you hearing this?” the Witch hissed, “we are leaving!” She was right.

“The wilden from Catachan discovered a gap we can exploit in the eastern sector. We will join the rest of the division and attempt a breakthrough there.” The colonel sounded bored. Then: “But you have a special task Captain. If the breakthrough is going to succeed we need their reinforcements to be drawn somewhere else. Your company will launch an assault on the opposing trenchline tonight. You will hold their ground and try to repel all counterattacks.” The colonel leaned back, satisfied.

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“I… don’t think this is possible Colonel.” The commissar had gone pale. “They do not have the manpower to hold and without supp-”

“It is not a matter of holding land it is about drawing the enemy away from the rest of the regiment. If you have doubts about this action you can join company A on their excursion.”

“That will not be necessary.”

Theta watched impassively as his death sentence was argued over by a drunk and a fanatic. A model guardsman if there ever was one. Eventually the commissar ended his objections and resigned himself to defeat.

“Reaching the objective will be difficult in the dark but the psyker will aid in navigation.” Colonel 76 turned to the Witch, who had gone pale.

She stammered. “My br... The Lord General did not not send me here to be invol-”

“A message arrived this morning putting you under my jurisdiction. A copy of it was sent to you but it appears it never arrived. Most unfortunate. You will receive a vox bead and a uniform as soon as possible.”

“I want to…I need to have a word with everyone in company A… before they go. I would like to bring priests from the village...” The commissar seemed more weary than usual.

“Don’t delay them. The priests are unnecessary, the last sermon given to the company will not be heresy. Dismissed.”

The Witch trembled beside Theta but he did not spare her a glance. For the first time in his life Theta felt relief. The mornings, the backward villagers, the prying Witch, the drunk political officer, the all pervading guilt, all of it would be swept away in blood. The only thing the corporal hoped for was that he would reach the objective before… Now that the permanent end of his career faced him it was hard to comprehend it.

The corporal looked into the eyes of the bust. He squirmed under their gaze.
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Commissar Crostadt spent the evening talking to men in Company A. He squeezed his large frame through the winding dirt corridors and cornered the guardsmen. He assured them that they would all survive the assault, lectured them on the righteousness of their cause, distributed Administratum approved literature and promised them that all their sins would be forgiven. The commissar smiled at the men and clapped their backs but his heart ached. He made offers that were refused. Even more distressing, the commissar found himself handing out pornoslates from his special collection to the doomed men. They needed some happiness. The slates were accepted and examined by the guardsmen out of politeness, many thinking that they were looking at images of fine art.

Theta was wrapping his lower legs with puttees on a stool when the commissar found him. The larger man tried to give his usual spiel but broke down in front of the skeptical corporal.

“This was not my idea. You know that don’t you? I…” He looked up at the darkening sky, his transfer request was floating around somewhere in that void. At last he looked down. “We never saw eye to eye. I know I… acted unbecoming towards you several times but it wasn’t your fault. It was...”

The men sat in silence. Both of them unable to say what they felt. Theta wanted to say that everything was alright. That all the times the commissar called him a “deranged bastard” or a “four eyed lunatic” did not matter. That everything could be right again if something, anything happened. Theta did not know the words.

“There is a way out, I need an aide. Die for the Emperor somewhere else.” The commissar looked at him pleadingly but the corporal shook his head. He took a deep breath and continued:

“When I first came here I wanted things to be better. I am not ordering you to forgive me but you have to believe this.” The commissar dropped a pornoslate onto Theta’s lap and left.

“Me too, sir.” the corporal whispered.
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As the commissar left Theta began to examine the slate. Images of outlandish scenarios flew past his eyes, many of them involving respectable women in not so respectable positions. One image resonated with him. On a velvet blanket stretching across a marble floor lay several ladies in waiting who surrounded a planetary governess, all in various states of depravity. One woman with auburn hair pulled back appeared to look at Theta. Her look was filled with contempt but there was something that made Theta feel lightheaded. It was not the psyker but the resemblance was strong enough to make the man’s mind churn. He gave a message to a private and stored the slate in his greatcoat.

When the Witch arrived Theta had his mask on his lap and he was polishing the lenses. He regarded her with eyes that were too large for his face and too dark. Doll’s eyes.”You will be part of my squad. If anything goes wrong I will know it,” he pursed his thin lips, “you will be in front of me. If you feel the warp you won’t feel it for long.” Theta’s threats were clumsily delivered and he tried too hard to imitate the tone of the commissar. He absent mindedly ran a hand through poorly cut hair. The Witch laughed.

“That whore looked nothing like me, you know you can’t hide everything.” She frowned and leaned towards him, there heads nearly touching. “Why can’t you be honest with yourself? It’s not about me being a psyker.”

He stared at the lenses.

“You cower on your cot every morning but in the day you turn your back on a grieving widow. It’s not about the Emperor or your fellow man. You see your memories and me and you know that you are not the man you pretend to be. But it's alright because you will die for your regiment. Our chances are not looking good so stop fooling yourself.” The corporal ignored her and checked his chronometer.

“Time to advance, you first.” Together they departed.
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In the twilight hours Company A arrayed themselves for the assault. On the fire step stood the first wave, composed of the verlorene haufen. If asked what the verlorene haufen was, Theta would have explained that it was a kind of improvised officer school unique for requiring its students to do one thing: survive. The members of this group were volunteers who were eager to be commissioned as officers and their purpose was to open breaches in the enemy line. To aid mobility they only wore field jackets and were weighed down with bandoliers of grenades. They were armed with knives, wire cutters, clubs, chainswords, bolt pistols, entrenching tools with sharpened edges and whatever else they got their hands on. It was from the few survivors of these groups that new generations of officers of the 76th arose.

Behind them stood the second wave composed of grenadiers and regular infantry. The third wave was composed of the most valuable guardsmen which were the quartermasters, engineers and officers. A quartermaster carried an antiquated chest filled with the ashes of the former company captains between the waves of guardsmen. The masked men chanted a hymn in their local dialect and reached their hands out towards, but never touched, the chest. “A wholesome and healthy practice,” Theta thought, “unlike what the villagers were doing earlier today.” The Witch stirred uneasily beside him. When the ceremony was done the company descended into the fog.

Thanks to the inebriated commissar’s many nocturnal rants, Theta’s knowledge of the galaxy was immense and encyclopedic. He knew that it was undeniable that Krieg produced the best regiments, that the blue skinned xenos put chemicals in the water that made men and animals homosexuals, that abhumans known as squats lived on the eastern fringes, but for the life of him Theta could not figure out why the fog was leaving droplets of water on his lenses. Fog was supposed to be toxic and radioactive.
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“Its condensation.” The feeling of cold fingers caressed Theta’s neck. The voice was everywhere and nowhere. “The fog is made of water, did they ever teach you anything useful?” The Witch, dressed in a stained greatcoat given to her that was several sizes too large, walked ahead of him. Theta grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. Theta addressed her but deliberately looked at the fog as he spoke instead of looking at her eyes. Theta was smart, it was well known that one could lose their soul by looking into the eyes of a psyker.

“Keep giving directions on the vox and don’t say anything to me. Verbally or mentally.” Theta looked around until he was pleased that none of his comrades saw the exchange and pushed her away. The Witch’s smiling face seemed to be luminous in the fog, she turned away and disappeared in the haze. Theta could now see no one else around him.

As he continued walking he became uncomfortably aware of just how alone he was. The rest of the regiment was long gone now, taking part in an operation that would dominate the future conversations of the Lord General’s mess. Theta wondered if what Company A was going to do tonight would even be remembered once the campaign was over. The regiment would certainly remember but probably no one else. And if he were to stray off course and walk off a cliff? Would anyone notice? Theta grew increasingly worried.

“First platoon turn a little to your left...Private Gamma you are going to get tangled in razor wire… turn around and retrace your steps...third platoon…” The fog did not limit her senses, her voice was confident and, oddly enough, soothing. When the voice stopped Theta began to grow anxious in spite of himself but when all seemed lost her voice picked up on the vox again.
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For the longest time her voice and his breathing were the only things that seemed to exist. During the long transit to Soest a tech priest had endeavored to lecture the 76th on the many physical properties of the universe. Most of it seemed nonsense but one lecture always lurked in the corners of Theta’s mind.

“Do you know what the void is?” The giant in red had stood on a raised platform. “It is the darkness in between the stars. You see black because there is nothing there. I have been asked many times whether this void ends or keeps expanding outwards. Both questions are false. Only a thing that exists can end or expand but the void is nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Can you comprehend this?” The giant stood still for a long time and the vaulted room had filled with electronic echoes as the figure imitated breathing. Unable to see a foot in front of him and following an unseen voice, Theta could safely say that he knew what nothing was.

“Fifth platoon walk twenty paces to the left...Private Zeta turn left, you're turning right I said left…Theta!”
Theta swung his arms and jumped away from the ditch’s edge, falling into the Witch’s arms. “If you need me to hold your hand just say so.” She helped Theta right himself. “Anything you want to tell me?” She stared at him expectantly. “No,” was his reply

Theta continued his courageous advance. All the times he bumped into Sargeant Phaesta, tripped on rocks and walked in the wrong direction and needed the aid of the Witch were just minor mishaps. The Witch found him again and helped him climb out of a traitorous hole. .

“Throne dammit get off your ass!” She hissed at him as she lifted him up. “I don’t have time to babysit you.” She held him in place to prevent him from walking away, she was surprisingly strong. “There is only one solution for this,” she sighed, “I need you inside me.”
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“What.” Theta nearly choked on the word. Once, during the trip to Soest, he was woken in middle of the sleep cycle by the commissar who had randomly decided to give him a long and enthusiastic speech about these sorts of things. Theta really did not want to know why that happened. The Witch violently shook the corporal.

“There really is something wrong with you. My mind corporal! My mind! We can form a mental bond, only temporary. We both want the same thing, your will can bond with mine. This means you will see what I see so you won’t be falling down all the frakking time.” When Theta hesitated she dragged him over to her face. Theta could not turn away now. He saw that her eyes were green, that fine wires ran along her neck to the base of her skull, that there were marks on her throat. “You do know what the Captain will do to you if he finds out you’ve been slowing our progress.” She let the fact sink into Theta. “Will you let me do this or not? They will find out something is happening if we wait here any longer.”

He had a second choice. A choice that meant trying to make it look like an accident. But without her the company would never be able to escape the fog. Theta silently begged for forgiveness. It amazed him that there were always new lows to sink too. He slowly nodded.

A flash. The sensation of drowning in an ocean of heated knives. He heard screaming and realized it belonged to him. Then back to reality. He looked around, half expecting a firing squad but he was now alone. Theta marched to the hill. He never fell, never staggered, never got lost. Hopes, fears and dreams that were not his coursed through him. He found the Witch waiting for him at the bottom of the traitor occupied hill.

“The bond is no longer needed. End it,” he thought. There was no need to speak, they shared their thoughts.
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He saw her smile sadly in the dark. “Breaking the bond would be a traumatic experience. It would leave us exhausted and we need to be ready for the assault.” She waved at the hill.

Theta’s clenched his fists and he struggled to control his breathing. His throat became sore. Now he would not only go to the Emperor carrying his ancestor’s crimes but also the blight of a mutant. He finally admitted to himself that he was not the guardsman he was meant to be. He was weak. The visions in the mornings, his relationship with the psyker and his agreement to the bond were all evidence of this. He had to prove himself all over again, he had to think of something.

“You ruined me.” He thought.

“I'm sorry,” the voice was filled with regret.  The Witch reached out to him but he retreated. Theta’s squad arrived and he crawled off to join them.

The verlorene haufen arrived and began their climb up the hill. The crawled up slowly, cutting gaps in the razor wire and moving to the parapet of the enemy trench. The fog remained strong and they soon disappeared from the sight of those crouched on the bottom. The men of the second wave fixed their bayonets and held their breaths. Theta whispered a final prayer of forgiveness.

The hill screamed. Spears of flame shot up through the fog and they revealed a black horde rushing up the hill. Heavy stubbers roared and the noise consumed all of Theta’s attention. The Witch was now only a figment in the back of his mind. A member of the first wave signaled Theta’s squad and they headed towards him.

“Verletzung festgestellt!” The guardsman cried and helped Theta’s squad into the trench. Theta clasped the man’s hand but was blinded by a red spray and the two guardsmen tumbled down the hill. It wasn’t until they reached the foot of a quartermaster that Theta managed to heave the ruined corpse off of him.
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Quartermaster 76-6435-Epsilon was laying comfortably on his back behind his servitor and was grabbing the bodies that rolled down the hill at a leisurely pace. He looked down distastefully at the struggling corporal. “The body is appreciated but you were not granted permission to come down here. Go away.” Theta rubbed the blood away from his lenses, pushed himself up and began crawling up the hill.

The first wave was not clearing the trench fast enough, the slope was becoming littered with human debris. The roar of the heavy stubbers had transformed into a repetitive groan in the background that was only punctuated by the cracks of las shots and the moaning of the wounded. Theta shoved his body into the ground and clawed his way up the hill. During his ascent he bumped into a bleeding figure. The man cried out as he pushed himself away on bloody hands. The rest were not so obliging and they grunted as Theta climbed over them.

Near the parapet Theta noticed that he was not the only one of his squad to not make it into the trench. Private Beta, weighed down by a flamer, was trying to tear himself away from a fence of razor wire.

“You're only making it worse by struggling.” Theta untangled the private. “Clear them out. Covering fire will be provided.” Theta lobbed grenades over the parapet as the private advanced. He reached the parapet and promptly exploded. Theta’s right sleeve ignited and he desperately began rolling on the dirt. The ground quaked and Theta slid down the hill to Quartermaster Epsilon.

The quartermaster stopped stacking bodies to chastise the wayward corporal. “Your negligence has resulted in your Munitorum issued uniform being damaged.” Epsilon’s servitor chattered away as it soaked up obscene amounts of las fire. “You will be flogged. Also your complimentary subscription to the Eagle & Bolter is now cancelled. Out!”
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Theta crawled up the hill again, tucking his chin into his chest as if he could brace himself against the enemy fire. Before he could lay his hand on the parapet someone emerged and hauled him up by his air hose. Theta gasped and fired.

 The flash of the lasgun illuminated a tattooed face rushing towards Theta. The two men rolled down the hill and were warmly welcomed by Quartermaster Epsilon. He was sitting crossed legged in what appeared to Theta a playhouse made of corpses.

“Fooling around now?  Behavior like this has never been seen in the company.” The servitor had become a burning torch which Epsilon used to illuminate the contents of a manicure kit he was inspecting. “You will be reported as a malingerer to the commissar and brought before a court of inquiry. If you are incapacitated you will be tried posthumously. Also your noncom freeze cream privileges have been revoked. Away with you!”

Theta half crawled, half walked around the hill, seeking out someone very important to him. He found her lying near a cluster of fallen sand bags. Her hair had gone loose and it stuck to her pale face. Her green eyes seemed to glow. Theta felt her fear but ignored it. Mentally, he reached out to her.

“Try to do something useful. The first wave are not doing their jobs, get me in there.” He pointed to the hill. “The bond goes both ways. You can use me as a guide.” He lowered himself to the ground and he felt her follow.

He escorted her to the top of the hill, covering her body with his whenever a stubber went off too close. She was a tall woman but she felt so small beneath him. At the parapet he prodded her forward.

“You lied to me, now make it up. Flush them out.”

“Some of your friends are in there.”

“Do it”

“Close your eyes.”

Lightning exploded between the psyker and the trench. When Theta opened his eyes he saw a burning scar in the earth. He jumped into it.
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The noise reached a deafening pitch in the trench. Flames illuminated guardsmen running down the trench and tossing grenades into dugouts. Screaming traitors were dragged out of the rubble and beaten with entrenching tools. Theta found it all very nostalgic.

He tried to vox his sergeant but only heard yelling. No one had any idea what was going on. “Kampf. Kampf. Kampf.” A monotone voice kept repeating on the vox. Figures were streaking through the darkness and demolishing the trench. Wooden frames were taken apart and sandbags were emptied.

“The stubbers! The stubbers!” No matter how hard he yelled they would not listen, each one busy fighting their own private battles.

 A small crowd of blinded men in strange vestments approached Theta. Their faces were burned and they groped desperately in the dark. “My eyes, help me! My eyes. Co’orn grant me visio-” They were all gunned down in seconds. Theta began to meticulously stab the fallen bodies. Wondering why one of them was mentioning a plant. He approached a figure covered in ritual scars and lifted his bayonet. The scarred man swore and pulled the lasgun towards him, grabbing a surprised Theta and bringing him to the ground.

The two men blindly rained blows and kicks on each other. The guardsman tried to strike the traitor’s stomach but his fists were grabbed. Theta wrapped a leg around the traitor and brought him close. The scarred man took advantage of this and began strangling his opponent. The guardsman smothered the scarred face with freed gloved hands and launched his thumbs into the wide eyes.

The man shrieked and pushed Theta away. The corporal grabbed his entrenching tool and loomed over him.

“Uhnesh...la...sss”

Theta could not make out what he was saying but his head began to throb. He started swinging his entrenching tool down on the man’s neck and groin until he was silent. Picking up his lasgun and moving down the trench, Theta could not help but wonder how strange other people were.
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Moving down the trench was a battle in itself. The walls of the trench were collapsed in many areas and a slick mess of blood, mud and other fluids coated the ground. The vox was a storm of contradictory orders and only certain things could even be made out.

“We are attacking...counterattacking….attacking...reforming.” A muffled voice persistently said over the noise. “First platoon meet up with second at...stay clear of...everything satisfactory.” Another voice was less confident. “Status report? Who is in here? Not responding is...Is the support wave here?”

Theta picked his way through a corpse filled corner and came into a section of the trench containing several entrances to smaller communication trenches. Traitors in bright clothing covered in crude markings poured in from the entrances only to be met by incoming waves of guardsmen. A roaring man in flak armor spotted Theta and turning around, realized he did not have enough room to move. Theta thrust a leg out and tripped him, bringing the bayonet down on his fallen form. He went after the others.

Blinding muzzle flashes broke out in the darkness, revealing scarred and masked faces. Theta stabbed everyone who did not have a mask. Flanking them from the corner gave him the advantage. The narrow confines of the trench packed the traitors together and they were unable to move away when they noticed the corporal. Theta stabbed, twisted, pulled and moved on to the next. It really was a nostalgic experience.

A man in carapace armor and plumed helmet forced his way towards Theta. A poorly painted star painted on his chest. A lasgun barrel appeared over Theta’s right shoulder and fired, hitting the man in the shoulder. The armored man became more enraged.

“Kill the masks! Kill the marked ones! Kill! Kill! Kill!” The man began cutting down his comrades with a chainsword which pleased Theta. Theta was not pleased when the berserker roared a challenge and charged towards him.
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The guardsmen closest to the mad one charged and grabbed onto him, trying to hold him down so the others could fire but he only roared louder. He could not be weighed down. The “masks” as he called them, were thrown off in every direction. Theta quickly, but steadily, aimed his lasgun.

“Hold your breath, look down the sights and fire,” Theta thought to himself. The fact that an average sized man was tossing fully equipped guardsmen around and ranting about a skeleton chair caused the corporal no distress. The shot hit the madman in the chest and he locked eyes with Theta.

“OUT! MASKS GET OUT OF MY TRENCH! OUT!” Emitting a high pitched scream he hit his wound with one hand and used the other that held the chainsaw to bisect several unfortunate guardsmen. They tried to distance themselves but were being pushed forwards by newly arrived waves of men. A massacre was in the making, the corporal dropped his lasgun and acted quickly.
He dived beneath the swinging chainsword and held onto the man's ankles. As the madman was looking down at him an NCO’s chainsword took an arm off. This was only a small victory, one arm still held a chainsword.

“GIVE IT BACK!” He buried his chainsword to the hilt into the NCO’s chest. The noncom’s vibrating body fell next to Theta and covered his eyepieces with gore. The blinded guardsman began rolling away but was stopped by savage kicks to the chest. Then nothing, a second of silence and then the sensation of being lifted by the neck. He heard a whispering voice. “Is there a person in there? Or are you another vision?” Large fingers delicately wiped the blood away. “You're different, do you hear the voices too? Please don’t be like the others.” Inquiring eyes searched his face. This was his chance, if he could keep the traitor distracted someone could shoot him in the back. Theta mustered his interpersonal skills and spoke:

“Why?”

A poor choice of words he realized. The hand squeezed before he could say anything else.
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As his vision began to fade Theta could make out dozens of red beams stabbing into his attacker but they had no effect “Must be combat chems,” Theta calmly thought to himself. He stopped struggling, he only hoped the Emperor would accept his sacrifice and forgive him, for everything.

The arm seemed to grow weaker, Theta opened his eyes to discover it was dissolving. It looked like white ashes coated the arm at first, but then they spread and lit on fire. Fire that produced no heat. Theta used his legs to push himself away and the burning arm came with him. From the ground he watched the marked one run around the trench, his comrades fleeing from him as if he were diseased. The armless man, now covered in white patches and flames, fell to his knees. After what seemed an eternity he imploded and there only remained a pile of ash. The noises of fighting died down. Muffled breathing filled the trench, the survivors stood in a ring around the ashes.

+Missed me?+

He almost did not mind hearing the voice, the voice he only heard. She was standing among a squad of grenadiers who shifted uneasily beside her. She gestured towards them. “They destroyed the stubber nests but they won’t admit that I helped. You're a real gentleman compared to them.”

“Danke frau psyker.” Theta tried to convince himself that he did not mean it. That not enough oxygen was going to his brain. The survivors behind Theta halfheartedly mumbled their thanks, they were still transfixed by the pile of ashes.

The support wave arrived and engineers began repairing the trench. Quartermasters sorted through the fallen, separating the living and dead. The Captain hopped in the trench and began issuing orders. He spotted Theta.

“Where is your squad corporal?”

“I am looking for them, sir.”

“Don’t stand there with your Gattin then.” He began to walk away but turned to face Theta again. “Disgusting behavior.”
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The Witch started cackling. A real ghastly sight, Theta thought. In the dark her face was all teeth and gleaming green eyes. Her dark hair was loose and it flowed over her grimy coat. The wires were easy to see.

“I will escort the little corporal to his squad. Don’t worry, I won’t distract him.” She would not stop laughing.

Theta really wanted to whip someone, it was a shame Private Beta was gone. The Witch took his hand and escorted him down the trench. Engineers were excavating fallen dugouts and the quartermasters were laying the wounded out on canvas sheets. Other sheets were occupied by exhausted guardsmen who staggered to them and collapsed. Others simply lay in the dirt. Theta saw little difference between them and the bodies.

+The Captain thinks we are lovers.+ Theta risked a glance and saw that her face was practically shoved against his mask. +Such a dirty mind, he imagines us rutting in your cot like animals while all the others sleep. He has no way to prove it. That's why it keeps him up at night.+  The corporal was nauseated. He changed the subject.

“There will be a counter-attack. The probability of survival is very slow.” Several masked faces in the trench turned to Theta, wondering why he was talking to himself. The Witch made a face at him.

+This is why you see things every morning. Being in a regiment that has “Death Korps” in its title is not good for the nerves apparently.+

“Give me a status update on my watchmaster,” Theta was hissing at her, “How is the rest of my squad?”

She suddenly became serious. +Watchmaster Phaesta is in a nearby dugout and he’s not doing very well.+

“Wounded?”

+A mental breakdown is a more accurate description+

In that moment Theta finally realized why drinking was the favored pastime of the Imperial Guard. On Krieg he was taught that every problem could be solved if enough force was applied. They never mentioned any of this nonsense happening.The Witch squeezed his hand reassuringly.
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Moving down the cramped corridor Theta felt a profound weariness, but it did not belong to him. The Witch had let go of his hand and was slumped against the wall. A promising project began forming in Theta’s mind but he forced himself to think of something else. He could not risk having the Witch detect anything.

“You are tired.” He hoped he didn't sound too excited.

“Amazing observation.”

Theta saw the opportunity and took it. “Follow me.” He supported her with an arm and led her to one of the canvas sheets. “We really need to talk. I mean having an actual conversation without you staring at yourself,” She was slurring her words, “It wasn't always like this…”
“Rambling. Be quiet now.” Theta could tell she was beginning to realize what he was doing but thankfully she said nothing. He crammed her between a row of resting bodies and waited. Soon enough alien dreams filled his head, a side effect of the mental bond. The Witch dreamed of grand receptions in lavish palaces filled with smiling faces, but there were no friends in the crowd. An image of the Witch carefully inspecting a wine glass floated before him like a mirage. Theta shook it away.

He waved his hand close to her face and pinched her cheeks. No response, she was dead to the world. Most importantly, she was out of his head, Theta’s thoughts were alone now. He scanned his surroundings. Quartermaster Epsilon was occupied with an amputation. He quietly unfixed his bayonet and crouched near the psyker.

He weighed it in his hands, a small item for such an important task. The Witch had said breaking the bond would hurt him but this was definitely another lie. Theta looked up and slowly turned his head side to side, repeating the process every few seconds. Stretcher bearers suddenly arrived and Epsilon turned to them. They all saw Theta.

The corporal apologized for loitering and left. He did not understand why he was relieved.
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Private Omega looked like he had been run over by a Gorgon. A bloodied arm hung in a sling and an eyepiece was cracked. He gave the corporal an awkward salute. “The watchmaster is in the dugout,” he gestured to a dark tunnel, “there are documents in there. He won’t leave them alone, sir.”

“Has anyone seen him like this?”

“No, sir”

“Keep it that way.”

Theta descended the tunnel and found himself in a kind of library. Candles shown on crimson carpets covering the walls and floor. Everything seemed to be infused with a maroon glow. Watchmaster Phaesta paced quickly back and forth between two shelves. Sometimes he would stop and pick a book at random, carefully examine it, yell and tear it apart.

“Verdammt noch mal.” He muttered at regular intervals, “Verdammt noch mal.” The watchmaster’s display embarrassed the corporal. Phaesta eventually stopped and spoke to his underling.

“You were accused of being a malingerer. Are you one?” Phaesta’s eyepieces glinted red in the gloom.

“No, sir.”

“You're alright.” Phaesta said in a calm voice. Theta sat down on a pew and watched.

Phaesta lunged at a bookcase and pushed it over. Books covered in leather of unknown origin spilled across the floor. Phaesta gingerly picked one up and brought it to the corporal.

“You recognize this?” Phaesta showed a random page filled with obscene scenes involving priests.

“Possibly heretical.” Was Theta’s reply.

“Possibly? We saw this before at Cyriaca.”

Theta shook his head slowly. He tried to be sensible. “There was the epidemic, our squad was quarantined most of the campaign.”

Phaesta took a seat. “This conversation will not leave this room.” Theta nodded. Phaesta began his tale in earnest. “The epidemic was caused by the Archenemy. While the rest were kept isolated a special strike team left for the underhive, this included me. Things you wouldn't believe existed were down there.
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“We were led by an inquisitor to a cave system under the city. It was not natural, the walls were alive. Faces…” Phaesta began swaying back and forth.

“There is no mention of this in the regimental logs, sir.” Theta pointed out.

“They were censored, the designations of the korpsmen wiped. The inquisition made people disappear. You are listening to the last piece of evidence,” Phaesta clenched his fists then relaxed, “Light…the color…things came out. They were giant...they tore into my head... all our minds.”

“Are you suffering from a head injury, sir?”

“The inquisitor said she only wanted to reach out. She began to turn and we had to do it. It was her fault. When the three of us were on the surface they locked us away. Two disappeared and one was left. They should of made us all disappear. The regiment tried so hard to forget but now it is happening again.”  Phaesta stared at his boots.

 Theta persisted. “We have received no confirmation from any of the ordos. These are just heathens. Your corporal has recommended to the commissar several tim-”

“It will start with the psykers. The Witch will turn and ruin the regiment bef-.”

“Do you want me to kill the Witch? Would that put you at ease, sir?” Phaesta looked up to Theta in surprise. “We have done something...regrettable...but there is something your corporal can exploit. She wears herself out and this leaves her vulnerable. She rests now, she cannot detect our words, sir.”

Theta leaned in and whispered. “The commissar is gone, most likely on his way to a third rate PDF regiment. The Lord General has forsaken her, it can be done. Stray shots happen all the time in the dark. When this Archenemy comes our regiment will have no internal weakness.”

Phaesta breathed heavily as he took it all in. “What was seen on Cyriaca cannot be forgotten. Your watchmaster is unfit for duty.”

“Humbly report sir, all decisions can be made by me.”
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“Can they?”
Theta grew nervous. The watchmaster kept speaking. “You have always discussed having the Witch perish in an accident. Only now does it sound like you will go through with it.”

There was an edge in the watchmaster’s voice that Theta did not appreciate. “The commissar would not give his consent, sir,” Theta replied calmly. He decided he liked his superior better when he was panicking.

“You did not request my consent when you attached the psyker to our squad.” Phaesta stood up and it was Theta’s turn to worry now. “There have been rumors about you and the psyker. These have been dismissed but recent evidence is forcing me to reconsider.”

Theta gripped the edge of the pew, took deep breaths, and relaxed. “Your corporal does not understand. The commissar has made inappropriate comments about us but he is unreliable and is being transferred. Anything else you've heard is baseless slander, sir.”

More silence. Theta began paying attention to the small details of the room. More and more wax dripped from the candles, it grew dark.

“There must be reasons why she is so fond of you. Your behavior has not helped matters.”

Theta gripped the pew again, anger was turning to fear. “Pardon, sir?”

“You have been acting very erratic lately. You talk about the Witch in your sleep, sometimes you cry. Every morning you look at the shadows, terrified.”

Theta nearly fainted. The watchmaster had been watching him, he knew it immediately.

“You are halfway competent. You have my permission to lead the squad and to deal with the Witch. But…” there was something in Phaesta’s voice Theta could not recognize, “If we live to see the rest of the regiment it will be necessary for you to go to a penal legion. Your behavior sets a bad example. You will die for the emperor but not with us. Does this affect your judgement?”

“Of course not. A watchmaster can always trust his corporal, sir.”

Theta took a look at the entranceway behind him. Empty.
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Phaesta cocked his head and listened to the vox. “The Captain needs me. We will meet as soon as possible.” Phaesta left and the corporal sat alone.

Theta could not think, move or breath. He had spent the entire day meeting the demands made of him and he failed. He could no longer prove himself to the regiment now. Even if he ended the Witch’s life he would be doomed to a penal legion.

He remembered that long ago he had promised himself that he would never be humiliated in front of the regiment. A remarkable thing happened in the dark. Out of his own free will Theta made a decision. When he died he would not be tainted by the mental bond and he would not be wearing an explosive collar. Something welled up inside him and the plan took shape. It was outrageous, it broke every rule and regulation. But it was the only way.

A memory. It was not until Theta was twelve years old that he was presented with an image of the Emperor. He was terrified, he had never seen something so bright or a man so confident. Eventually a new desire emerged. The desire to be pure, to be a pleasing sacrifice for Him. Theta did not want to approach the Golden Throne wearing rags and a collar, with the Witch whispering to him about how things used to be between them. He wanted to be seen by the Emperor as the korpsman he was supposed to be, with the eyepieces peering up at Him.. Not the dark eyes on a thin face.

The Witch dreamed of power plays made over glasses of amasec and he knew Phaesta had no idea what was going to happen. The plan would succeed, it had too.

Private Omega was still at attention when Theta emerged. “Important materials are down there private, guard them with your life. Under no circumstances will you leave.” The words came out too slowly but Omega failed to notice.

“Yes, sir”

Theta watched him descend the tunnel. The private did not fit into Theta’s plan. The corporal was going to be a hero.

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He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly did not hear the whistling. He dove to cover just as the ground erupted a few yards a way. An unimpressed voice came over the vox, “mortar fire, just rangefinding.” Theta rose and pressed his hand against a trickle of blood pouring from his shoulder. Only a fleshwound.

“The Emperor has preserved my life,” he thought, “the mission has His blessing.” He was overwhelmed with ecstasy, something that only happened to him during certain worship services.

Guardsmen rushed past Theta to the fire step, their lenses illuminated by flares and mortar impacts. Theta appreciated the spectacle. He felt strange, it occurred to him that by deciding his end he was, in a way, free. He took advantage of the pandemonium and helped himself to the supplies in an abandoned dugout.

Theta transformed himself into an arsenal. He shoved knives down his boots, loaded his greatcoat with grenades, lasgun magazines, a laspistol and enough chems to fuel a hive gang. He wrapped up his preparations by making a gift for the watchmaster. He took a field jacket, made incisions on the inside and slipped demolition packs into them. He sewed the incisions shut with sutures and used chalk to decorate the outside of the jacket with a childlike image of Saint Celestine. He placed the detonator in the breast pocket. It did not surprise Theta that the first gift he would ever give to anyone was a bomb.

There was no way he could carry the stuffed jacket around without anyone noticing. Theta reluctantly switched his field jacket with the modified one and wore it under the greatcoat. Phaesta was a liar, the corporal could not imagine himself crying or mentioning the Witch and it wasn't like the visions scared him. Wearing the bomb was the least Phaesta deserved. Theta was shoving a bolt pistol down a pocket when he was interrupted.

+Hobby of yours?+
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+I told you that I wanted to talk+

The Witch was standing in the entrance, no smiles now, just her green eyes in the dark staring him down. There was no use lying, he could only take comfort in the fact that she was unaware of that…one conversation. “My bones will rest with my kameraden, we will face the Throne together...” Theta began cautiously, “if the plan fails…”

+A golden boot will go up your ass. I know all about it.+

“You do not understand.” He was worried, the mocking smiles were not so bad now.

As she stepped into the light he had to admit she wasn't like that one peasant woman. Covered in sweat and grime, wearing a torn coat several sizes too large, she managed not to look too repulsive. He took half steps toward her. “Remove the bond.”

+I am leaving. Horrible things are going to wipe out your company and I am not going to be around when it happens. The bond was a mistake but I won’t weaken myself by breaking it for you.+

This tied in perfectly with the plan. “Wait for me,” he hated how he was pleading, “we will leave together. You stand a better chance that way.”

Of course they both knew she was the least of his concern. It was painfully obvious to them how meaningless the exchange was but Theta knew she would wait. She softened and used her real voice. “I tried to talk to you this morning, I wanted to tell you that I still am the same person.” In the dim light her face was the same one he always saw each morning.

She offered a delicate hand and Theta surprised himself by holding onto it with his own bloodstained one. He kissed it with his rebreather, an imitation of an event that he was always trying to forget. Eventually he lowered the hand, let go and left.

“I won’t let you shoot me in the back.” Theta jumped and turned back to her. He felt her emotions but they were unfamiliar. It could've been pity or disappointment, either way he couldn’t stand it. Theta hurried off for the fire step where would all begin again.
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Theta hastily explained to the watchmaster that Omega had collapsed out of exhaustion. Phaesta did not mind, he was busy complaining about the music. “Do you hear it,” he was rasping, “Regentropfen.”

“There is not an orchestra out there, sir.” That comment would have got him flogged a day ago but Phaesta had long since lost his edge. He breathed rapidly and stared down the slope where the traitors were amassing. Flares illuminated tattooed men and women in bright armor who were filling the air with their singing.

Engineers set up stubbers on the walls and tried to set up some cover. Mortar fire forced some of them back and destroyed their works. “The regiment has broken through and will be joining us soon,” the Captain announced on the vox, “hold the line.” Phaesta kept swaying back and forth, stopping when the ranks chorused the yell of alarm. A rising howl erupted from the mob as they began their ascent.

The first waves drowned in las fire before even making it to the slope, heavy weapon operators restrained their fire. The marked ones faltered but robed figures urged them forwards. Theta was amused to see a robed man shooting a deserter. The stream of fire continued and was only interrupted when the korpsmen backed off from the parapet when the mortar fire grew too fierce. The process slowly destroyed the sandbags and trench walls, the marked ones got ever closer.

Theta leapt onto the fire step and fired at the closest ones. Biding his time, the moment had not yet arrived. The marked ones suddenly became silhouetted against flashes that appeared in the distance and a booming noise echoed down the pass. The korpsmen’s response was automatic, the masked crowd jumped off and hit the ground.

Theta flew before being buried alive. As he sank down he tore against the dirt until a hand pulled him to safety. Stunned, he saw that swathes of the trench were simply gone. A victorious roar shook the earth beneath the company’s feet.
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Groups of korpsmen clustered around the lips of the craters and continued their fire as if nothing had happened. An outstretched hand protruding from the dirt beckoned to Theta and he pulled it free, only to find nothing attached to it. Quartermaster Epsilon was sifting through the dirt when Theta approached him.

“Anybody missing a hand quartermaster?”

“Still present? Stop bothering me.”

Theta dropped the hand and dejectedly went prone against a mound of dirt where he poured more fire into the traitors. The marked ones were getting too close now, he could clearly see the ritual scarring on their faces. Plasma bolts fired over his head and bursts of flame ignited the ones who got too close. Burning shapes falling into the dark revealed more oncoming waves.

Waves of heat washed over Theta, the mortar strikes were becoming too accurate. Several times Theta heard blasts accompanied by muffled shouts. Every time this happened he thought of the field jacket he wore and uttered a prayer. A passing quartermaster commended him for his piety.

A giant that looked too much much like the one that nearly strangled him come into view. He charged through the las beams and trampled over the prone corporal. He heard cries behind him. Korpsmen turned around to handle the threat and more traitors managed to get up the hill. For a few seconds it appeared that it was over, Theta was about to grab Phaesta and move when he heard the staccato roar of hellguns. A grenadier squad announced the intruders demise.

The company redoubled their efforts. Korpsmen handed off their emptied lasguns to the injured and received loaded ones in turn. The wounded who could still use their arms hurled debris down at the traitors while some charged the mob and tackled the larger members. The box containing the ashes of former captains was paraded again. The Captain’s voice came over the vox.

“We are never alone, our captains lead us again, we will be together soon.”
Practically running up and down up and down what little cover remained, the Captain aided the korpsmen who were hardest pressed. His voice rang in Theta’s ear. “Focus on the light ones, allow the armored ones to come through to the grenadiers in the rear. We are winning.”

The Captain surveyed each of his troops and nodded in approval, he found Phaesta and Theta leaning and firing over an earth wall. The right side of Theta’s great coat was burned beyond recognition and the rest of it was covered in dust. Something under the ruined coat seemed to be bursting. Phaesta was humming. The Captain was not pleased.

“Squad status?”

Phaesta was the last person the Captain needed to hear from. Theta reported. “Two operating, one impaired and the rest deceased. Watchmaster suffering from shock, sir.” Theta hoped that was enough.

“Unexpected, the thing you attached to the squad is missing. Where is she?

“Visual contact was lost after the assault. Apologies, sir.” Theta turned his attention back to the defense.

“This will not be forgotten.” The Captain stated and left. Theta did not reply, there was nothing to say.

The attack was faltering, the traitors who made it up the hill were baited inside the company’s ranks, isolated and eliminated. The rest were sent rolling back down. Then the most unexpected happened, silence. The singing was replaced by muffled breathing, a roll call that mostly went unanswered began.

Theta was disappointed, everything was going too well. He would not get his chance. A new presence entered his thoughts. Slow at first but then overwhelming. He gasped when he recognized it, everyone did.

“Regentropfen.” Phaesta sighed.

Lights appeared in the sky. Violet, ochre, gold and unrecognized colors pulsed before the eyes of the company. Theta could not decide on whether it was extremely close or too far away.

Uncertainty on the vox. “Flares?...technical interference?...atmospheric phenomena?”

The light descended and the company’s questions were answered.
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The soft notes of Regentropfen grew discordant and then menacing. Something was singing. Theta stared at bursts of violet that swirled around in an endless stream. The noise became something physical, he clutched his head and allowed his lax body to slide down into a ditch. The panting watchmaster followed him. “Do you see? The Archenemy. Are they still only heathens?

Miraculously the vox was still operational. “All squads occupy the dugouts. Anom-” Abrupt silence, desperate voices filled its absence.

“Captain is deceased.”

“False. Have visual confirmation of the Captain.”
“Lieutenant Eta is in command now.”

“False!”

A korpsman only identifying himself as the Lieutenant ordered everyone to the dugouts. This went unheeded by many. Some clawed at their rebreathers and collapsed. Others blindly charged the lights.

Discordant laughter filled the vox, the corporal tried to breath but he felt like an invisible force was pushing him into the ground. “Th...th...bea…” he could hardly breath now. Phaesta tossed Theta’s vox bead away. He could breath but his mind was still being tossed around like a ball. This did not stop him, it was time.

“My field jacket, it nullifies the effects of the warp, the traitors must have been hiding it here. Put it on, sir.”

Phaesta unquestioningly obeyed. No doubt mentally scrambled like his corporal. Theta did not notice the trembling hands undressing him. He thought of Liza, not the woman in the shawl who mourned her goatherd husband while two brats gripped her. No, he thought of the woman with loose red hair and generous hips. He would of never married her. But he could of… Theta was intoxicated with visions.

The Witch entered his mind unbidden. The bond told him of his wife’s many affairs and they now enraged him. He fantasized. “They will be flogged until their ribs can be seen. My unfaithful wife…” He saw husband and wife on red velvet in a marble room. The image jolted him into lucidity.

“She lives. Follow me, sir.”
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The pair cautiously peeked out of the ditch and watched their company die. A grenadier blindly firing into haze spotted the pair and angrily gestured for them to come forward. Phaesta eagerly began climbing out and Theta put a hand on the ledge. He was almost out when he saw the pincer.

Phaesta dove into his corporal and in seconds both lay in a heap at the bottom of the trench. Theta peeped out again, women with pincers danced through the haze, cutting down anyone that was still out in the open. They moved at a leisurely pace, almost carelessly but they always found their prey. A nightmare. Theta knelt down beside his hyperventilating watchmaster.

“Females with some sort of crustacean pincer, the traitors are so desperate that they employ impure abhumans to do what they can’t. They are desperate. Satisfactory.” Theta peered again and estimated the distances between various craters. He sensed that the Witch was not far away, they could make it unnoticed.

“Demons...not again...not…” Theta looked at the watchmaster and raised a finger. He gingerly stood him up and they sprinted to the nearest crater. Theta peered out again, the so called demons were searching the dugouts. Most were empty but some were barricaded and these attracted the most attention. He glanced at a small hole and sprinted their with the watchmaster. They continued the process.

“We will counterattack the enemy position.” Theta quietly explained between sprints. “We should get their easily, the enemy is distracted.” Phaesta mumbled something that Theta told himself was approval.

Theta slid down into a small hole and came face to face with a demon. His reacted instantly, shoving a knee into the stomach and clasping his hand to its mouth. Theta nearly lost his grip when it brought up the pincer. “Sir!” He hissed. “Sir!”

Phaesta arrived and plunged a knife into its heart. It struggled, died and faded away. Theta leaned back, shaken.

“This is distressing.” He admitted.

-----------------------------------

Theta led his watchmaster to a narrow passageway that could've easily been missed. “Steady now, sir.” He pushed aside a hanging piece of cloth with his lasgun barrel. “The psyker will lead us to the enemy position, sir.”

Phaesta clutched the corporal’s arm. “You said you would deal with her, aren't you going to do it now?”

“All in good time, sir.” Theta turned and watched the watchmaster sway uneasily. The older man had made a mistake revealing his weakness and perhaps he was realizing it. Something was stirring inside Theta. In another regiment, in another life, Theta might have admitted to feeling guilt. In this moment Theta could only shake his head. Flesh was a tool the corporal was trained to use and if that tool was his watchmaster that was how it had to be. “My soul is at stake.” Theta thought to himself.

+Yours and no one else's.+

The Witch invited the pair in. She held a bloody rag to her nose and grabbed a wall for support. The eyes stabbed into Theta. “I found a hidden passageway that will take us through their base and out to freedom. What you two do is none of my business. I am leaving.”

Theta nodded. “The traitors will be focused on their assault, we will silently advance. You first, sir. The jacket will protect you.” Phaesta rapidly nodded his head and began to enter the passageway. The Witch gave Theta an accusatory glance. The corporal cocked his head slightly, silently challenging her to say something.

+Long ago I could have forgiven you but there is no excuse for this. This goes beyond a hard upbringing, this is wrong and you know it.+

“We finally understand each other, psyker.”

There was a time when the corporal would not look into the Witch’s eyes out of respect, then he saw the wires. Theta had turned a baronetess into a witch before his eyes.

“Go.”

+Gentlemanly as always.+

They entered the passageway.
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 The passageway was too small, Witch and corporal walked abreast and jostled each other for space. Phaesta stopped and looked back at them every once and while, then moved on. Theta stepped on the Witch’s foot and she finally snapped.

+You belong to a regiment of curs but you, you are special. You were the only one decent to me but you tossed me away when you really started to know me. You acted like I ceased to exist. Now look at you, another guardsman is going to pay the price so you can have a good death. They trained you to be a bastard but you have gone beyond the call.+

The thing that was breaking inside Theta began crumbling faster. He hissed at her.

“The bond has revealed much. You were to be made an offering for the Emperor at Terra but your father was a planetary governor. He bribed the right people, his inquisitor cousin looked after you while the illegitimate daughter was taken by a black ship. Your sister. If only the mother was the same.” He knew he hurt her, Theta prided himself with another triumph but the Witch only smiled.

+Corporal Theta has taken a break from his suicide mission to complain about family values in the Imperium. That one peasant family is going hungry because of you.+

“The well-being of peasants is not my problem.”

+Do korpsmen celebrate Pater’s Day or do you all stand around and get confused?+

“Nepotism does not corrupt the 76th. You made your living playing your connections off one another. You seduced and destroyed them, entire careers ruined. You even had one colonel abducted by the inquisition. No wonder why your brother abandoned you.”

+It is a wonder how you're here. You were the runt of the landwehr regiment but you were clever. You stole rations from other trainees and watched them grow weak while you grew strong enough to leave Krieg. That is why you will never fit in and that's why you will always amuse me. They purged the deviants but you slipped through the cracks, corporal.+
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was not going to let her off, not after hearing that.  “Every member of the 76th is pure. This corporal is pure. You will never be.”

+Pure? Do you know where you come from or do they not tell you? Your mother was a tube and you don’t want to know who your father is.+

“Who are you talking too, corporal?” Phaesta was glancing back. Theta waved him away as if the watchmaster was a pestering child. Insubordination did not bother Theta anymore. A lifetime of training was collapsing in seconds.

The pair passed the time away insulting each other. The bond provided them with an endless supply of comebacks. Theta became increasingly petty.

“Don’t tell me it was resting in your account. You and the governor were embezzling from the tithes. Then you gave him a heart attack in the bed chamber. He was inbred, freaks attract freaks.”

+Is that why you came to me?+

“It was an accident.”

+You told the Hospitaller it was an accident after you robbed all of her patients blind. You were so polite to her while she threatened you with a beating. But something on the inside called her a Fotze.+

“It's not robbery, its material acquisition on behalf of regimental quartermasters. The functioning cannot waste resources on the impaired. Also, that word is a term of endearment.”

+You took their freeze cream away.+

Theta ignored the remark and made comments about her past relationship with a disgraced bishop. The Witch reminded Theta of how he instigated an inter-regimental riot while retrieving his commissar from a brothel. Phaesta watched his corporal whisper heatedly to the Witch in dismay, he should of sent off his subordinate to the penal legions sooner. He quickened his pace.

The Witch fell to her knees and coughed blood into a rag. Theta knelt down and supported her. “Fine?”

“Will be better once I’m out of here.” She used her real voice. Theta did not let go of her. “Remember how we first met?” A rhetorical question.

He did.

They exited the passage.
----------------------------------------

Theta peered around the corner and was satisfied to see that his prediction was correct. Most of the marked ones were focused on the assault, the bomb could be detonated safely. Something bothered him, he felt like he was forgetting an important part of the plan. The Witch sneered at him.

+You are a true Macharius, corporal. There are not too many here, I will lead the way.+ They stuck to the walls and advanced cautiously. Whenever the Witch announced that someone was arriving the two korpsmen would move up to a chokepoint and silence the traitor with unfixed bayonets. Theta was tempted to interrogate them but there was not enough time. He would have to find what he was looking for himself.

He spotted an entrance that lead into a natural cave to the side and several other dugouts that looked promising. He could not destroy them all but he could cripple them, Phaesta and his jacket would see to that. The Witch grabbed Theta for support and began praying. It was the first time Theta saw her show any piety.

“Do not pray too loudly, He might not hear you,” he chided. Theta was beginning to sound like his commissar. It felt good. The Witch swore at him and collapsed. “Watch the corner, sir.” Theta scooped her up. When the watchmaster did not respond he took a look himself.

She was draped in scarlet with an assortment of glyphs embroidered on the sleeves. Her singing made Theta forget about her long nails, her red eyes and sharp teeth. She sang to Theta about how they were all alone in the universe and that she needed someone, anyone. Theta wanted to make her happy, he decided the Witch would be a nice present.

“You degenerate. You like witches don’t you?” Phaesta whispered. This snapped the corporal out of the trance and they retreated into the cave. A very poor decision.

They noticed the faces first. They were in between the stalactites, illuminated by swirling lights somewhere in the distance.
--------------------------

The faces were locked in every variety of human expression. Some were locked in screams of pain, cries of pleasure and contortions of laughter. The worst were the ones that only watched with knowing looks on their faces. “Don’t look, sir.” The watchmaster had trouble breathing and his silhouetted form shook uncontrollably. He had to be restrained but Theta was not willing to let go of the woman in his arms.

The watchmaster moaned, laughed softly, whimpered and begged. He was trying the corporal’s patience. “Be quiet, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

Theta turned and saw the Shape. Mouths and...eyes? It was beyond comprehension. It lurched like a slug just a few feet away. It did not notice the group. The Witch opened her eyes, was about to say something to Theta then opened her mouth to scream. Theta clamped a hand over her mouth.

+The void is not empty, corporal. This is what lives out there.+

The Shape gave Theta a headache and caused the Witch’s nose to bleed, but it was the watchmaster who was truly affected. “Inquisitor, help me!” He shouted at Theta. The Shape moved slowly towards him. He yelled, fired at it with the laspistol and ran off with the Shape in pursuit.

Ever the optimist, Theta was pleased by the situation. “The creature is sluggish, not used to the materium. No doubt the watchmaster will outmaneuver it and rejoin us. Show me the exit.” He stood the Witch on her feet and she guided him to a latter. With a foot on a rung she turned to Theta.

+Why don’t you forget this whole thing. We can run away together.+

“Climb.” He felt her anger and he knew he had failed a test. She felt something else too.

The Witch was the first one out. Her face peered down at him, she was pale but not in a sickly way like so many of Theta’s peers. Her loose hair nearly touched Theta’s eyepieces.

+I won’t let you hurt me, goodbye.+

He knew why she was doing this but it still hurt.

“Cor-”

She pushed the ladder and he crashed down on the stone floor.
--------

He writhed in the wreckage of the latter like a wounded animal. He was positive one or more ribs were broken and his left foot was not responding. He called for Phaesta but only the Shape came. The entity defied any description. It’s surface was swimming with endless features. A mouth there, an eye to the left, but Theta could not bear looking at it in it’s entirety. The thing was maddening. He took off a glove and threw it over the Shape, it lurched off in the gloves direction. Someone else’s breathing grew louder in the dark.

“Inquisitor?”

What appeared to be chemical burns coated Phaesta’s field jacket. The greatcoat was nowhere to be found. Theta nearly reprimanded him for disgracing his uniform.

“Did it catch you? Hold your position here, sir.” Theta dug out syringes that looked promising and stabbed them into his exposed wrist. The pain slowly receded. Phaesta began swaying for the final time.

“Affirmative, will investigate the lights inquisitor.”

Theta started to rise but the pain in his chest doubled him over. Phaesta receded. Theta yelled after him. “Ignore that order! The corporal needs aid!” A response echoed back. The voice trembling and shaking.

“The beacon will be set up at the foot of the anomaly.”

What beacon? Theta was stumped for a moment and then it came to him. The detonator.

“Fick mich,” Theta thought. “That's what was forgotten.”

He struggled to his feet and shouted again. “This is your inquisitor! Hold position!, si… Hold!” He ran towards the lights.

“My anti-warp armor will protect me...the faces have no hold on me…the watchmaster is helping.” The voiced echoed from every direction. Theta ran left and slammed into a wall. He shouted and ran to the right and tripped. His yells turned hysterical.

“A bomb! You're wearing a bomb! Drop the detonator! Now is not the time!”

A sound of bemusement issued from the faces on the walls but it came from a muffled face.

“Don’t worry inquisitor, am setting up the beacon now.”
----

The thing that carried Theta through Krieg was finally eviscerated. The corporal held a hand over his heart, as if he could physically feel it. “The corporal deceived you into wearing a bomb! You were supposed to destroy the enemy headquarters! I...I?” The use of that final word was new for Theta. “I couldn't let you send me to a penal legion! I deserve the firing squad!”

All the years of repressed emotions, all the restrained urges, all the nocturnal fears poured out. The faces were long in the shadows of the violet light, they looked as if they were laughing at the corporal’s confessions.

“The image of the blessed saint will protect me, thank you corporal.” Relieving, Phaesta was regaining lucidity.

Theta spotted Phaesta’s profile highlighted by the lights, women with pincers emerged around him. He sprinted down a slope and was nearly caught by the Shape. He whirled and fell behind cover. His chest burned and his foot was throbbing, he struggled through the pain and rose to take a final look at the watchmaster.

“The beacon has been triggered, awaiting orders.” He was scared, Theta shouted to him.

“The regimental records will always remember you!” The pain stopped Theta from saying more.

“You mean, I won’t disappear, inquisitor?” Theta thought that maybe it was a mercy he lost his mind again in the final moments.

“Your sacrifice will be remembered! The Emperor is proud!” He could not continue and this time it was not due to the pain.

“The watchmaster ends his service with a joyful heart.”

A new light overcame the violet and a split second later Theta was deafened by a cascading roar. The Shape hissed in agony.

“Auf wiedersehen kameraden.” Theta spoke the words in a nearly inaudible voice.

There was no light in the cavern now. He slumped down to the floor, pulled his knees to his chest and hugged his legs. He was alone now, he realized. The Witch had left him to die and Phaesta suffered a death that should have belonged to the corporal.
-----

The plain had failed, Theta could have cried in frustration. The Emperor would find a deserter cowering in a cavern, facing him in the rags of a penal legionnaire would have been better. Phaesta’s detonation left behind flames that reflected on puddles of water and the Shape. Theta gave the warp beast a longing glance.

“Would it hurt?” He wondered.

Why did he make Phaesta wear the jacket? Couldn't he have worn it? Theta asked himself these questions. “Because I wanted to watch him die,” he admitted to the darkness, “I wanted to make him pay for his accusation.” He halfheartedly moved out of the Shape’s way. He wanted to blame someone, to point an accusing finger at a random wretch and give the victim the nastiest flogging the Imperial Guard ever saw. But it was no use, he knew that it was all his fault. Following the Witch’s earlier advice, he gave himself an honest appraisal.

“I,” Theta felt even stranger saying the world out loud. “I have lied, I have known the psyker, I have murdered a superior officer, I have stolen, I have abandoned my post...” Starting from his earliest known memories, he listed all of his sins out loud for the Emperor to hear. Theta could not understand what he was feeling, this caused him to confess everything more urgently.

“I cheated my way off Krieg, I stole their rations, I planted contraband in their bunks, I did not deserve to leave.” Those were things he never even thought about in the past.

At last, he sat down and injected more chems. He repeated a phrase the commissar was fond of saying when he was first attached to the 76th. Before his morale was compromised.

“Whatever will be, will be.” Theta stated. He calmed down and thought some more. “The commissar called us kriegers at first. This corporal must be the worst one there ever was.” He checked his chronometer and saw that it was nearly dawn.
----
This was bad news, by then the marked ones would probably be done wiping out the company and they would return to their base. It would also be difficult to creep around with the sun shining. A patrol might even enter the cave... Theta took deep breaths. He felt like an invisible force was deliberately yanking the chair out from under him for its own amusement. Maybe it was the Emperor punishing him.

He remembered that there were emotion nullifiers in his rebreather, he could turn those on and patiently try and find a way out of the cavern. It would be impossible to do in the dark but it was better than nothing. He slipped a hand under his mask and felt the switch.

He thought about Phaesta, he never turned his nullifiers on because that would've made the watchmaster harder to manipulate. More regret and even envy. Phaesta had died more gloriously than his corporal ever would. Theta allowed his hand to slip away from the switch. If Phaesta went without it he would too.

He waited for the Shape in the dark. He was not optimistic about the Emperor’s impending judgement but whatever will be, will be. He was ready to suffer anything the Emperor threw his way.

Rays of light entered the room. Theta saw that Phaesta’s explosion had caused narrow cracks to form in the top of the cavern. A way out.
-----

“There is hope for the corporal yet.”

He looked at the Shape and found that even in the light it was more inexplicable. For some reason he imagined himself doing heretical things with the Witch whenever he looked at the pulsing entity. The imagery of him holding her hand and procreating with the lights off made him shudder. He bid the Shape farewell just as it closed on him and scurried to the wall. Carefully grabbing onto the ledges he climbed out to the surface.

A scarlet sun was rising on the horizon and the boom of artillery echoed across the plain. The 76th was on the way. Too late to save the company but that was no matter. Theta would finish his business shortly. He entered a narrow trench and paused. He resumed his thoughts.

“Why continue? Why not go to the regiment and say you were the only survivor?”

It was a good plan, the suspicious Captain and the accusing watchmaster were deceased. The Witch would also be gone. He could return to the 76th and be one of many. He could confess everything anonymously to a priest from the Ecclesiarchy and that would be the end of it. Colonel 76 did not have to know.

These thoughts would have continued but the shame ended this train of thought. Phaesta did not die so his corporal could just scurry away. There was also the task of ending the bond to consider.

If he had a chance this was it. He heard voices up ahead and he crept forwards with his laspistol drawn. The explosion in the cavern had alarmed the marked ones and they stood in front of a large bunker where an officer in an ornate headdress gave orders. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the Witch peering out from the shadows.

He aimed his laspistol, she turned back and her became frozen with terror. Theta always wondered how a human face could be so expressive. Theta’s shot hit the officer square in the temple. The crowd brandished their arms and turned to the trench.

“Better stop them Witch.”

+Bastard+
-----

Men and women in colorful costumes charged and were funneled into the tight passage. They grunted as they pushed against each other and screamed when they turned to flames. The Witch retreated but a fist sent her sprawling forward. Theta allowed her to fall into his arms and fired at the crowd. They hissed and sank back.

“Do the thing with lightning.” He insisted.

+I don’t…+

Courteous as always, Theta finished her sentence. “Have a choice.”

+You are awful.+

Theta merely nodded and reloaded.

The lightning transformed the passage into an oven. The laspistol glowed and distorted in his hands. He tossed it away and drew out the bolt pistol. He easily put down the few that still struggled to escape the haze. He felt the Witch’s exhaustion and it threatened to overwhelm him. “The bond.” He thought. He injected chems that made his vision swim and hands shake.

He tossed an endless stream of grenades into the clearing outside the passage. Even when the shouting stopped he never ceased throwing. Oddly enough, he was reminded of Private Beta. He had to physically restrain his throwing arm from moving when his supply ended. He injected more chems.

A feeling of aggression overcame him and it was not the chems. Theta looked at the Witch. She was snarling, something very unbecoming of a woman of her station. It was the colors he focused on. The black hair, the green eyes and the red blood on a white face. She was beautiful and she wanted to kill him. He allowed her anger to wash over him and never stopped admiring her. Again there was the feeling she had when he refused to flee, the one he could not recognize. She relented.

“There are still uses for you.” He prodded her forwards into the open. They emerged into a small clearing and met the Sorceress. The woman that sang to Theta outside the cavern. “Take her!” Theta threw the Witch as if she were a sandbag and toppled the marked one over.
----

It was a spectacle. The two psykers rained what appeared to be signal flares at each other. Flowing webs of color surrounded them. A stray beam of aquamarine nearly fried Theta as it soared past.  With the hairs standing on the back of his head, Theta dropped the empty bolt pistol and crept forward with furtive steps. His skin was burning, he realized that the sensation belonged to the Witch, she was in agony. A new voice echoed in his skull.

-Too late.-

Her back was still exposed to him. He charged and became tangled by his own legs. One leg was grabbed by an invisible and was being pulled away. He saw a crystal clear image of himself having his limbs torn away. The laughter without lips resounded around him.

He rolled over and spotted the Witch. She was on the ground but still desperately fighting. No lights now. The Witch raised hands thick with swollen veins and swore in an inhuman voice. The heretic balled her hands into fists and rolled her eyes back. Like the Witch’s hands, her neck grew corded with swollen veins that bled.

The Witch brought down both hands and the ground shook. Pressure, small rocks imploded and Theta brought his hands to his head. The air around it was tightening, being forced inwards. He thought he heard his helmet crack. The heretic did likewise, then pushed her hands outwards and the pressure stopped. The Witch gasped.

He...the Witch, someone was dying. He could not distinguish his senses and hers. He struggled against the straining leg and carefully lifted the unfixed bayonet. His hand was waving too much, he bit his lip until it bled and willed it to be still.

It started as a low insect droning and turned into a heavy sigh that nearly caused him to blackout. He saw the heretic clutching the bayonet embedded in her stomach. Freed from the invisible grip, Theta rose and tackled her to the ground. She was ready. She straddled him and Theta felt a force inside his head threatening to burst outwards.
-----

He brought his knees up and upset the psyker’s balance for a second. That was all the time he needed. He pulled a knife from his now nearby boot and slashed it upwards, she slid off. Even with a slashed throat she lived. She slashed Theta’s thigh with a ceremonial dagger and he broke the hand holding it with chem induced strength.  She gave Theta a look that would've made plants wither.

-You are a child wearing a stranger’s uniform.-

The telepathic message stabbed Theta better than any knife could. He brought out his feldspaten and frantically brought it down on the heretic’s head. When his arms grew too tired he fell to his knees, took off his helmet and brought that down on what was left.

Soon he was panting. He pulled of his rebreather and vomited as the chems left his system. Now there was only a dull pain aching on every part of his body. After every injury and trial he was still, inexplicably, excited. He knew who was responsible for that feeling.

He did not know what was happening to her but he treated it like a seizure. He forced a wad of cloth between her teeth and held her limbs down. She was no longer there. All of her higher senses were overtaken by a primal fear.

There was an older mind in there too, it had left the darkness in between the stars and it hated. Hated Theta, the Witch, all of mankind. The Warp. Theta was paralyzed. He had seen naval ratings succumb to madness during warp jumps but they were only illiterated laborers.

A psyker succumbing to the warp… Theta had heard the nightmare stories.

Inspiration overtook him. He took off his rebreather, turned on the emotion nullifiers and gingerly placed it over the Witch’s face. The worst of the spasming stopped and she only trembled. Not even the nullifiers could block out all her distress but at least the ancient thing was gone. Shouts of alarm reached his ears, he carried the Witch into the bunker.
---

What he saw inside exceeded his expectations. Rows of explosive shells of all sizes lined dozens of shelves. “The stockpile,” his thoughts came rapidly, feverishly, “not headquarters but it will satisfy.”

He leaned the Witch on a wall and gazed at the rows of explosives in wonder. He had won.

Phaesta wanted him to go to a penal legion. The Captain suspected the worst. The Witch had trapped tricked him into entering a heretical union. Even Commissar Crostadt had poked fun at his weakness for the Witch. The corporal defied them.

Isolated from his regiment, suffering from multiple injuries and stripped of his mask. The corporal began rationalizing his actions. He knew he was worthy of only contempt. He possessed a spark that was never beaten out of him on Krieg. It had driven him to do terrible things. Made him wake up an hour too early with fear in his heart but it also drove him to do the unexplainable, it allowed him to survive.

This was his and the Emperor’s secret. Surely the Emperor would see his devotion, understand why he did these despicable things. It was confusing, every crime he committed, he committed for Him. The others just could not see this.

+Liar. You are a man, a scared and insecure man trying to be someone else.+

The dissenting voice was weak but it made itself heard.

It was time to end the bond. There were dozens of ways he could do it but he could not decide on one. He told himself he was too weak to do anything.

Ignored by the corporal, the Witch prepared to make his heart burst. Suddenly, her eyes widened in realization. She smiled and allowed herself to pass out.

At last, Theta decided on setting off a demolition charge in the stockpile. There were plenty of charges laying around after all. He set the timer on a charge and gave the Witch a parting glance. She looked so tranquil in her sleep. She dreamed of the corporal escorting her to the 76th. An eternity ago. Theta began his climb up.
---

The influence of the chems faded away and the pain returned stronger than ever. This was worse than the time time he fell down the grand staircase at the governor’s palace. Theta stopped, something was wrong, he remembered the timer and kept moving. His cousin would be disappointed if he was late, the inquisitor was not someone to trifle with. Theta stopped again and allowed herself to take deep breaths.

“The corporal seemed so nice at first,” he thought, “who would have guessed he was such a prick.”

Her...his...her? Theta rubbed her temples. The Witch must have lost control of his...her part of the bond and it was effecting h-, the corporal. It was no matter the corporal would be on his way to his cous-, regiment.

“My brother should've just killed me instead of sending me to this regiment of…” Theta frantically shook his head and staggered on.

Theta was oppressed by the Witch’s memories. She…he! He wondered if it was the same for her in the final moments. Were his memories troubling her? Definitely. The corporal was a conflicted man but he was definitely morbid. She really wanted to help him. Or was that her? Other way around? Theta ignored the pain and fled to the entrance.

At the entranceway they reminiscenced together. At the beginning of the campaign the corporal was tasked with escorting a noblewoman to the regiment. He complied unquestioningly, he did not think back then. When they met he kissed her hand and did not look into her eyes. The dataslates the commissar distributed to the company had told him this was how to treat the aristocracy.
---

The trip back was long but not long enough. She pointed out the names of different types of plants and animals and all the men and women of significance that she knew. Theta never spoke but he always listened. He enjoyed her voice. When they were forced to stop for the night they gazed at the stars together. She pointed out the names of different planets and Theta opened up by saying which ones he had served on. He never touched her but he knew he was crossing a line. He did not care and the cracks grew.

It all crashed down back at the regiment. The Colonel was furious when he learned who and what she really was. He was angrier at the corporal for his tardiness. Accusations were leveled at Theta and words such as “penal legion,” “deviancy,” “firing squad” and “lashings” filled the air. The commissar’s intervention saved the corporal but he never forgot their words.

She knew all of this and taunted him at headquarters, she saw the scared young man underneath the mask.

Recommendations of a “friendly fire accident” followed. The commissar was appalled by the corporal’s duplicity. He rejected the Witch by day and saw her face at night. She had become a permanent member of his predawn audience.

She was the Baronetess Corinne and he loved her. He fought through the pain and returned to her.

+I knew you would.+

His chest exploded when he knelt down. He fought the urge to faint and inch by agonizing inch, lifted her from the ground. Not much time left. He took long strides to the doorway. He missed a step and the Witch began to slide out of his arms. He embraced her and ran the last few steps to the entrance and beyond.

He tossed her just as the shockwave erupted from the entrance. He was only pushed forwards a little bit. He was reassured to find Corinne lying unharmed a few yards away. He was not so pleased when he examined himself.
--
A wooden splinter poked out of his stomach. It must have came from the entrance. Slowly, carefully, Theta grasped the piece of wood and eased it out of her. He wanted to laugh, he had gone through so much only for a piece of debris to be her undoing.

He went under.

Fragments of memories. In a subterranean room he was instructed to “liquidate” the trainee opposite of him, she was touched by the Warp. She looked fine to him but there was no questioning on the world they were on. “If you truly love the Emperor,” the older man was saying, “you will do this.”

He complied with his bare hands and resented the instructors in the dark. They did not notice and gifted him with the designation of “Theta” years later. They thought he was blessed, how else would such a weak young man make it through the aptitude exercises.

Now he was questioning his cousin on another world. “If you really care about my wellbeing, of your house, you will go to Soest and keep an eye on your brother. For me.” Other things were said but he was too busy wondering where he had gotten such a nice dress.

She was lashing a young street urchin for escaping his assigned quarantine zone. She was interrupted by Watchmaster Phaesta who told her that she was corporal now. “Do not ask about the former one.” He was swaying.

The corporal’s monotone voice ended her daydreaming. “...Mutations in the plant life.” He was holding a rose, keeping it away from his body as if it were a rat. They were pulled over at the side of the road so she could stretch her legs. Upon leaving the driver's seat he had wasted no time in criticizing the wildlife. In rapid order he identified a lizard as a “deformed canine” and a sloth as a “cynocephali.” He was endearing that way.

“It is a rose, corporal. You give it to an admirer.” The look he gave told her she would have to use different words.

“You give to someone you...respect.”
----

The corporal thrust the rose at her.

She finally accepted it when she realized she was blushing. She said nothing to him for the rest of the way back. They both knew they had done something terrible.

He opened his eyes to find himself in a long, dark chamber. Figures wrapped head to toe in bandages rested on rows upon rows of cots. He knew he wasn’t dreaming when he spotted Corinne on the cot next to him. He passed out trying to turn over. When he came to again she was bleeding from the nose again. He watched helplessly.

+Be still.+

That was the first time he ever used the bond to reach out to her. He laid a hand on her shoulder.

Theta never did anything halfway, what came next was more drastic. He eased his mind open, thinking of different patrol routes and how the roads were less used at night. Technically, he wasn’t breaking any rules. Self mutilation was a crime in the Imperial Guard and he would not allow his regiment to hurt a part of him. Someone inside him was thankful.

It was a strange sensation he felt in the morning. She was gone but still there at the same time. The others did not know, a quartermaster attending him noted the absence and that was the end of it. She was gone. They believed their regiment was pure again.

Through careful observation Theta managed to put together what happened last night. Company A was decimated. Out of two hundred fifty korpsmen only a score remained. Private Omega, Quartermaster Epsilon and the Lieutenant were notable survivors.

Private Omega was promoted to lieutenant and was currently serving as an aide to the Colonel. Quartermaster Epsilon was made chief quartermaster and the Lieutenant was now the Captain of a depleted company. Others were supposed to be promoted but they were taken away by officers in unmarked uniforms. One of them had inspected Theta but left him alone when a quartermaster stated that the patient’s chances were slim.

--
As for the breakthrough, it would not be the beginning of the grand offensive the Lord General was hoping for. Official reports cited “primary threats” as being responsible for inflicting major casualties. A fleet was blockading the planet and more regiments were on the way. An officer acting as a liaison to the Lord General's staff mentioned the Inquisition. The attachment of a permanent chaplain to the 76th was not a coincidence.

The greatest loss was suffered by Commissar Crostadt. Now that the theatre of operations had escalated, his transfer to a PDF regiment on some hiveworld called Bavavi was cancelled. He vented his frustration to the corporal.

“The slatewipers have it out for us, corporal. If I had it my way there would be a man with a bolt pistol in every Administratum office.” He pulled up a chair beside Theta and tried to flash a reassuring smile. He failed it came out as a pained grimace.

“You may find this amusing. It’s not something to laugh at but your... “ He waved his hand dismissively.

“The Colonel loves nothing more than sacrifice and that's the problem. What you did was extraordinary but it is very inconvenient that you're hanging in there.” He leaned in and whispered. “They are suspicious, I have no idea what you did and I don’t want to know. You’ve made a lot of enemies. Be thankful that I am around.”

Theta nodded.

Crostadt talked normally now. “You're still obligated to some recognition for what you’ve done. That is why you have been made lieutenant and… commissar’s aide.”

Now that was funny. What was not funny was the unspoken meaning of this. By making him an aide to a commissar, the regiment had washed their hands of the problematic Theta. The delinquent korpsman would no longer interfere with the rank and file. He would no longer move up the ranks. He was the commissar’s problem now.

Crostadt smiled apologetically.
---.

The days were uneventful and flew by quickly. The quartermasters handled him like a leper. Every day they would roll him over to a new position to prevent sores and change his bandages. They also gave him a special tag and took the liberty of cataloging his meagre possessions for future acquisition.

The only meaningful exchange took place between him and Omega one afternoon. It only lasted a few seconds but it was enough. “What they are saying about you is unsubstantiated.” He said it as he walked by the cot. Theta was glad he did not have to look at him.

Being a non-entity had its benefits. Using his officer’s rank Theta did what any sane man would do. He had the quartermasters give him large quantities of freeze cream and plenty of injections of painkillers. His sleep cycle began whenever he passed out.

Crostadt was disappointed. “You keep doing that and you’re going to end up like me. You need a hobby.”

One day they woke up an hour too soon. They, he felt Corinne’s presence. He could not see her but he felt the wires digging into his neck and her breath against his face. He saw his mother stalking up and down the rows of broken bodies, looking as sad as she was when they took his half-sister away to the black ship.

+You are full of memories. Release them.+

Theta began his new project as soon as he opened his eyes. Writing on Administratum stationery, loose paper, toilet paper and the backs of old requisition forms, Theta began writing an account of yesterday's events. At first it began as a standard report but she thought it did not accurately portray what happened.
Theta agreed.

On his polite request, Crostadt gave him dataslates containing trashy romances and “based on a true story” stories of over the top heroics. These served as his inspiration. He wrote feverishly and only stopped when weakness forced him to pass out.
---

It was difficult at first, nearly impossible. It was hard enough for Theta express himself in speech, expressing himself in words was a whole new challenge. Still, the dataslates helped him and he even examined pornoslates in search of inspiration. Sometimes, when he faced a mental block, she came and the words poured anew.

The next day it was as if a dam broke open. He could not put the pen down. He found it to be very cathartic. By putting down his experiences on paper he purged his mind, he started to sleep soundly until the end of the sleep cycles.

The quartermasters shook their heads and took his temperature. He was running a high fever. Days passed and he never grew any stronger.

Theta dedicated every waking hour to his project. He always referred to himself in the third person in his writing. That made it easier to distance himself from… those actions. The narrative was a mess, Theta could not decide on whether he wanted to defend or condemn himself. He nearly gave up.

She awakened after a long blackout. Taking the notes in with her piercing eyes she saw that what had happened was rendered unrecognizable by countless misunderstandings and biases. She edited what she could and added some more writing with a dedicated hand.

Theta is a bore, only focusing on meaningless details and violence. Too many phrases of that guttural Low Gothic dialect were used. She made mentions of their relationship and the seedier aspects of Theta’s personality. Lewd remarks were also added.

The quartermasters noted that the fever was making him delusional. Crostadt stared at his aide in horror.

He tried his best to relate what happened faithfully and accurately. He was even tempted to write down that tricking the corporal into entering the mental bond was her plan all along. It was the only way to understand him and to protect him.

The strange man would always have her love, whether he wanted it or not.
--

Theta was disappointed to find that his masterpiece was a contradictory mess. Disturbingly, some sentences did not appear to be his. He badly wanted to edit it but his life was slipping away.

There was no time. His record would be given to the Emperor. The Lord of Terra would see his writing and be able to give him a fair judgement. The Emperor had to understand and if he did not…

Whatever will be, will be.


Not being the Imperium’s most imaginative subject, he gave his account a bland title and handed it off to the Archivist. He ordered the korpsman that his account would be made part of the 76th’s records but only on certain conditions. The account would be released until after his death or disappearance.

The Archivist reluctantly agreed. He glanced over the writing but found it impossible to read. Parts of it were written in the Krieg dialect and other parts of it were written in the High Gothic used by the aristocracy. To make it even more confusing, sentences and even entire paragraphs appeared to have been written by two different hands.

Once that was done Theta kept writing.

“For my health.” He told himself.

A new offensive was announced, the regiment prepared to move. Chimeras and pack animals were loaded with supplies. The wounded were forced on their feet and the quartermasters impatiently attended the ones that were still infirm.

Quartermasters spent the next day removing equipment and empty cots from the infirmary. In the night the worst of the wounded were taken away and given mercy. Theta struggled to keep the darkness out of his vision. He wanted to see it happen.

+Stay alive. You will ask for my forgiveness in person.+

Peace settled over him.

+I want you. We will meet again.+

Theta allowed the tide to wash over.

He and Corinne held hands in a quiet meadow and gazed at the stars.

(DOCUMENTS ARE PROPERTY OF THE ORDO MALLEUS)
(ALL MENTIONS OF INTERROGATOR CORINNE TO BE REMOVED)
(CENSORED EDITION WILL BE RETURNED TO 76. INFANTRY REGIMENT)