Alex drew a deep breath and pressed a hand to his chest.
Once I get back I will apply to the Munitorum for retirement.
Maybe he was fated never to earn the glorious death he wanted. Maybe he would die shamefully in a bed with a catheter.
So thought Alex, bleakly. He decided to lie down and think about how to have a physical conversation with the Munitorum when an untimely knocking sounded in the corridor.
It was the Broken Swords' emergency assembly signal.
Before Alex could move, Kovek had already opened the door.
"Lieutenant, what is it?"
"The Astartes Chaplain requests you."
The lieutenant reported.
"Also, five minutes ago, my lord ordered all available warriors to assemble on the plaza by the central lift shaft."
Alex's heart lurched. Weariness vanished. Memories of Armageddon from two centuries ago rose in his mind.
"The Astartes summoned me?"
"He ordered the whole regiment to gather all warriors who can still assemble."
"Take us there."
Alex turned back into the room. Thirty seconds later he came out with a few more medals on his chest and addressed the lieutenant with a grave face.
The lieutenant's gaze fell on the steel Aquila and winged skull on the Commissar's chest, and on the star-shaped medal that gleamed. He straightened instinctively.
"Yes, Commissar."
Alex tidied his uniform, set the Commissar's cap squarely on his head, and strode after the lieutenant.
Those whose bodies had already twisted were beyond saving. The remaining one hundred and sixty-nine veterans who had survived such fighting were the precious capital every Imperial Guard regiment needs.
They were the hope for rebuilding the Broken Swords.
Alex wanted to protect them as much as possible, even if in the Emperor's eyes their worth could not compare to an Astartes.
His urgency seemed to infect the lieutenant. The man remembered sudden musters like this and the regiments that vanished after certain wars.
The lieutenant's steps faltered.
"Do not overthink it."
Alex lightly patted the guide's shoulder.
"You are loyal warriors tested by the God-Emperor."
"But we…"
The lieutenant started to speak, then swallowed the words. After a moment's struggle he nodded. "We are all loyal warriors of the God-Emperor."
Alex withdrew his hand in silence and moved quickly with Kovek toward the lift plaza.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
"What is our duty?"
"To give our lives for the Emperor's will."
By the time he followed the lieutenant onto the plaza, the answer was already echoing from the ranks.
"What is the Emperor's will?"
In the vast central plaza large enough for a full Cadian armored regiment, a towering knight in black armor asked the question.
He walked slowly among the soldiers, passing each one by. He moved like a beast in the woods, sniffing for the fear that leaks from the weak.
The Commissar looked across the plaza. The soldiers had been split into two groups of uneven size.
Of note, the larger group looked far more exhausted and frail.
They were arranged in twenty-six files, and their condition was dire.
Some had twisted limbs, rotting flesh visible where skin was exposed, with unnatural growths pushing through their wounds.
Some had faces where the skin had almost fused together, a sickly dark purple. Their mouths and eyes had been cut open by crude surgery, barely restoring a human appearance.
"Fight to the death."
All voices answered as one.
Alex took a few steps forward and a heavy stench reached him.
It was not a bodily smell. It was the human soul's innate revulsion for mutation.
"Why fight to the death?"
The knight reached the rear of the formation. Thirteen Sisters chosen from the Order of the Sacred Rose were chanting the Ecclesiarchy's prayers. Among the soldiers, devout Imperial Creed believers followed in low voice.
Cold white light fell from the ceiling and seemed to coat the warriors in a golden sheen.
"For the Emperor."
The knight noticed the Commissar's arrival.
He steadied a soldier who was listing from weakness. Once the man stood firm, the knight walked straight toward Alex.
"Can you fight for the Emperor?"
His austere voice rolled through the plaza.
"We can."
The shout was ragged and full-throated.
Clang. Clang.
"Commissar Alex."
The towering figure blocked the lights so that shadow fell across him.
At this distance, with every slight shift of the knight's gaze, Alex could see the restrained yet luxurious patterns beneath the gray robe and the reliefs that would make artists hold their breath.
Most striking was the red glow across the faceplate and the line of sight that locked onto him like a regal drake.
The knight asked his question.
"Do you believe they can fight for the Emperor?"
"…"
Alex did not rush to answer. He was taken aback.
He had thought he had come to witness a terrible execution.
He looked around at the young men he could barely recognize.
These poor soldiers had suffered lethal Warp exposure. Contact with that blasphemous realm has only one end.
Mutation. Then a painful death in mutation. Even the soul cannot be redeemed.
They would die regardless. They were instability. Seeds of disaster. Mutants touched by the Warp's evil power. The very threat the Imperium can never tolerate.
Back on Armageddon, an Astra Militarum regiment on the far side of the continent had been abandoned. Gathered together, they waited not for medals but for lances of light from the sky to send them to the Emperor's side.
Alex had thought he had made peace with that day. In this universe, a clean death can sometimes be mercy.
Yet now.
He met the eyes gathering on him. They were eyes of torn flesh.
Even with blood spilling from the corners, they stared wide.
Even as their roars ripped open wounds and blood ran down their trousers to pool on the deck, they did not fall.
They refused the hands of comrades. In front of the Emperor's Angels, in front of the Commissar and the Colonel, any hint of weakness was degeneracy.
Can you open your mouth and say such soldiers cannot fight for the Emperor?
Who can say such soldiers cannot fight for the Emperor?
Alex froze for a heartbeat.
He now understood why the Emperor's Angel stood before him.
He now understood that the soldiers would be given a better end.
"They can, my lord."
Alex lifted his head, raised both hands, and offered a formal Aquila salute to the Emperor's Angel.
"They can."
__________________________________________________________
To read more advanced chapters and support me, go to:
patreon.com/ArchSovereign