[IC] The Pavonis Campaign - Warhammer 40000

[Penny]

“Tell me that one more time,” Katiya Petrovska demanded through gritted teeth. The newly appointed Regimental Commissar of the 112th Kandari rifles glared at the Administratium drone who stood in her commandeered office somehow contriving to look nervous despite being equipped with two augmetic eyes. The office had at one point been part of a scholam but the juvies had been given an unexpected holiday when a regiment of the Imperial Guard had arrived on Pavonis. Well, part of a regiment anyway.

“The astropathic message was very clear Commissar,” the administratium official reported, looking at the ground to avoid Katiya’s icy blue gaze.

“The Omniscience Light and the Lord Cardinal Catemek were both swept of course by the warp storm, they report their position as the Katarn system and they are making for Pavonis at best speed,” the adminstratium adept repeated in the sing song tone of someone repeating a memorized message.

“Katarn is six months from here at least,” Katiya snapped, though truthfully her being irritated about it wasn’t going to change the fact that two thirds of her regiment was stuck months of warp travel away. The storm had come up during the last few weeks of the voyage, just in time to separate their own transport, The Judgment of Atrino, from the rest of its fleet. Only three of the nine companies of the 112th had been on the Judgement, worse only one company was front line troopers, the other two companies were sappers and logistics, and they had no armor beyond their chimeras. That wasn’t going to be enough to calm the riots and unrest they had been sent to deal with, worse yet it might be just enough to provoke the very trouble they had been sent to quell. Katiya stalked over to the window and peered out onto the scrumball fields where the guardsmen were busily carrying supplies and munitions from a trio of massive armored shuttles. She made quite the picture, dressed in great coat and wearing the distinctively beaked cap of commissar perched on her dark braided hair and the crimson sash of office wrapped around her slender waist, partially covering the polished black belt from which depended a bolt pistol and a power sword in a black and silver scabbard. She turned back to look at the Adept and was momentarily distracted by the children's drawings that were pinned to the far wall. They were obviously a class project, depictions of Pyro the Promethum Flame, some of the depictions of burning heretics were actually quite artistically rendered.

“Who else knows about this? She asked after a moment, her sudden decisive turn causing the adept to flinch and drop an ink bottle he apparently had been clutching beneath his dark gray robes. The bottle bounced on the cork floor but didn’t break.

“Well there is the sstropath, myself, the governor and the prelate of the governor’s guard, I suppose the two soldiers on duty?”

“Are they still on duty?” she asked. The adept blinked like a stunned fish.

“Yes… I mean I assume… I came straight here, but captain Raloc wasn’t in his office and...”

Katiya strode passed the flunky and threw open the door into the central hallway of the scholam. A corporal she didn’t know looked up in startelement as the door bounced off the wall with a sharp crack. To her approval he was in his full battle rattle, which was what Raloc had ordered and the regimental standard operating procedure after landfall in a possibly hostile planet. She really needed Raloc but the captain was a newly promoted officer and had yet to learn to delegate tasks to subordinates, he was out liaising with the local arbities, getting what insight they could provide on the insurgents. In fairness this wouldn’t have normally been a problem, but with the Colonel and Major stranded at least six months away, if, and that was a big if, the warp storm subsided.

“You,” she ordered the guardsmen, “take ten men to the palace, round up the prelate of the governors guard and the men on duty at the astropath sanctum this morning. The astropath is to be confined to the sanctum. Bring the rest of them here until I figure out what to do with them. I’ll have a note for the governor with a commissariat seal in five minutes.”

It was important that the news that the Imperial Guard had arrived badly understrength not spread, or at least that word didn’t spread quickly. It wouldn’t be possible to keep that fact underwraps forever, but they needed to gain as much time as they could.

“What… what about me?” the Administratium Adept blurted, his augmetic eyes whirring wide in shock at the sudden and unexpected development. Katiya looked back at him as though startled he was still there.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

"Ma'am!" The Zeb barked, giving the sign of the Aquila as a salute and sincerely hoping that was the correct way to address her. The corporal did not think of himself as a coward, but he did stiffen when the new Commissar threw open the doors and singled him out. He had heard a rumor or two on her, if she was the officer the others spoke about. A junior rising through the ranks. Someone had even called the powersword at her hip fake, but he knew that was bluster, and he wasn't intent on finding out. Not about to stand idle when given a direct command, he hustled out of the scholam without hesitating, taking two steps at a time down the central staircase of the ornamented building. His time on Lorn V had given him enough experience to know to never test a commissar, recalling when Gerald had been shot in the head for what the previous commissar called insubordination. Ironically enough, the man had promoted Zeb on the spot since he needed a new corporal that followed orders to the letter. Despite the horrors enacted on his regiment, he didn't feel any satisfaction when the officer had been hacked to pieces by one of the vile green xenos mere weeks later.

Squinting in the sun, he didn't halt his quick pace. The central square teaming with what was left of his regiment and groups of arbites marching in uniform contingents. A Chimera thrummed, as if the machine spirit within ached to enter battle as its hull opened up to allow one of the groups of arbites inside. The smoke and shouts of the recent mobilization was strange and familiar all at once to Corporal Connors. The Capital reminded him of Gudrun, truth be told. Beautiful mountains in the distance and thriving green trees lining most of the stone streets that now carried small transports of munitions and dispatches.

Zeb turned right, passing a bumbling adept as he made his way to the warehouse where he figured he could scrounge up a handful of lads to do the task that was set for him. Turns out he didn't have to run that far, nearly getting in the path of two dozen guardsmen moving with a purpose. The sergeant up front was too busy with his sound off to look ahead and ran straight into Zeb, who by happenstance of being slightly more stable on his feet kept his ground when the bald sergeant hit the dirt. The platoon halted.

"Who the fuck!?" The officer barked, looking up at Zeb. Immediately he saw the corporal tag on his uniform. "What company are you in? I will personally shove my foot up your ass!"

"I'm here to take ten of your men." Zeb said.

The sergeant looked at him for a long moment before laughing incredulously, getting to his feet. "Oh really? He asked, his nose nearly touching Zeb's. "On whose authority?"

"On-"

The sergeant threw a punch, aiming for Zeb's midsection. Zeb didn't see it coming and was nearly lifted off his feet. Luckily, it wasn't as bad as when he had played 'Gut punch' with the Ogryn on Lorn V. It wasn't as physical of a game as it sounded (in fact it was a drinking game with an already very inebriated Ogryn). But as congratulations for winning the game, the Ogryn congratulated him with a small backhanded pat that did send him flying.

Here, Zeb recovered quickly and retaliated by kicking the sergeant's foot, unbalancing him for a moment. The sergeant threw another punch, but this time Zeb had distance and warning. He easily ducked and socked the officer in the jaw before kicking at his other foot, grabbing his head and throwing it down to meet his knee. The sergeant collapsed at that point, not out cold but dazed. Zeb didn't stop to think, pointing at his subordinates. "Commissars orders. The front ten of you come with me, now!"

They didn't need to be told a third time, looking to each other for a split second before stepping out of line and hustling to his position. The sergeant wiped the blood from his nose, glaring daggers at Zeb. Zeb tried not to grin. "Watch that left sir." Before rounding them men around him to get in line behind him.

The eleven of them, three corporals and seven privates made it to the palace gates framed by the vast whitestone curtain wall. By the emperor's Grace, they were open and no one halted them until they made it past the lavish bailey and up the huge central steps. Large pillars with corbels carved into the shape of terran lions held the barbican that led into the main hall. Truth be told by this point, Zebulon didn't know where to go.

He saw ducal guards in bright uniforms standing tall, halberds held on their lefts at attention. He nor any of the other guard knew if they were mere set pieces or if they would fight if the time came, but at least they were useful for something now. As servants passed the vast hall furnished with extravagant furniture and busts of planetary governor's past, Zeb pointed at a guard.

"You! We're looking for your prelate. Where is he?"

He had a feeling the guards would not usually answer, but seeing Zebulon at the head of a small squadron and speaking of their superior, he answered clumsily. "Erm, third hall upstairs, at the end of the corridor."

"My thanks." Zeb told him, waving his men to follow him.

"You're not allowed in here so armed!" The guard called. "You need to leave your lasweaponry at the door! Hey!"

Zeb didn't respond. He and his men gave any cabinet or table a wide berth, servant women squealing and nearly falling over to get out of their way as they jogged up to where they were indicated. Zebulon kept the men at the foot of the door so as not to crowd the prelate, who stood within his decorated office looking out the window, watching the eastern part of the city. Smoke plumes of the riots rose, but they were far away. Everything looked tip top, though a crease on his face bespoke of worry. At his desk, a Calligraphus Servitor scrawled on three sheets of paper simultaneously. Miraculously, Zeb saw they were three different languages of what was probably the same manuscript.

"What can I help you with, soldier?" The prelate asked. Grey of hair and large of paunch, he nevertheless seemed very decorated. He must have a lot of experience. The sign of the gilded Aquila was nestled upon his collar next to his accolades. He had a military saber at his hip, as if he expected to be called to answer to the governor. He wasn't too far from the truth.

"I've been ordered by the Commissar of the 112th to escort you and your guard to the scholam to be briefed. We also need the astropath confined to his sanctum with what men you can spare."

The prelate snorted, turning to him. "What Commissar?" He voiced, blinking. "The woman!? We do not take orders from her or the 112th regiment." Even as he spoke, the guard that had been pursuing them had now blocked the exit corridor. Zeb could see there were barrels atop the poleweapons, meaning they were some sort of unique lasweapon. He would be impressed at any other time, but he felt the tension rising. Zeb stepped forward, wondering how far he could take this authority.

"Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist."

"Boy..." the prelate said, drawing his sword. "If you do not get...-"

The door to the right opened, and outstepped a stately woman in an ornate garb and fine boots. Her hair was graying, but the energy of youth and intelligence were in her eyes. Immediately the prelate cleared his throat, sheathing his sword. At first Zeb thought this was his wife, but another look at her had him dumbstruck.

"G-Governess?" He asked.

"Why are there eleven Imperial Guardsmen in my palace, Sebastian?" She asked the prelate, eyeing Zeb. The fellow opened his mouth but Zeb beat him to the punch. He knew this could end very good or very terribly for him, but he acted on instinct.

"We have been ordered to escort him to see the 112th Regiment's Commissar. I am simply trying to follow orders, your grace. He...elected not to accompany us, as a woman gave the command."

"That's preposterous!" The prelate babbled, eyes suddenly wide and nervous. The servitor was continuing to write his every word, Zeb realized. The governess peeked at one of the sheets, eyes then whipping at Sebastian with a look that could curdle milk, raising an eyebrow at him. She likely knew the man far too well to not entertain such a notion being true, and with it written there.

"Did he now?..."

Another hour later, Zeb and his men along with a large contingent of of the ducal guard and the prelate were at the Scholam's doorstep. The ten men had started to whisper about Zeb's "afternoon at the palace" when he hit a superior officer, stormed the palace, argued with a prelate, and gained the governor's favor. Zeb knew he likely wouldn't hear the end of it for years, but he was just following orders. As he waited for an audience with her, he hoped the Commissar appreciated the effort.
@Penny

[Penny]

“You will put me through to him, and now,” Katiya all but snarled at the tech priest on the other end of the vox link.

“The Omnissiah has provided no vox links commissar,” the synthesised mechanical voice of the tech priest replied, sounding calm even if its owner wasn’t. Katiya resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. Executing a cog boy wasn’t out of the question, but it would cause alot of trouble and it sounded like this one really was trying. All of her efforts to reach Captain Raloch had thus far failed. The Captain was consulting the local Adeptus Arbities and their citadel in the center of the city. That was just Raloch attempting to be a good junior officer, doing a job that would bring him to the attention of Colonel Bradstreet. That was well and good, what Raloch didn’t know was that he was the senior guard officer on Pavonis right now and that the fragment of the regiment was all they were going to have for six months at least. The at least part grated on Katiya’s mind as well. Most warp storms passed within a matter of weeks, but there had been times when they had lasted for months or even years. The companies they had to hand would be alone for all that time and only Third Company was really a line unit. The logistical companies had all, in theory, been trained but most of them had not fired their weapons in earnest since they completed their training. Worse still, most of thirds officers were fairly junior, having been promoted to replace casualties during their last deployment. Until a few months ago Raloch had been in command of the regiments heavy weapons platoons and wouldn’t have been due to earn his captaincy for several years.

“He is at an Arbities citadel, are you telling me we cannot get in touch with an Arbities unit?” Katiya asked mildly.

“Apologies Commissar, we have not yet had time to sync the machine spirits of our vox equipment with theirs, the ritual is…” Katiya cut the link in frustration and rested her head in her hands for a moment. The office was unpleasantly hot, but then everywhere she went seemed that way. She had only lived on Valhalla, an ice covered world of massive glaciers and ferocious winters for five years before her parents, both senior naval officers, had been killed when the Heretic fleet broke through at Absalam. After that she had been sent to the Schola Progenium, a reward for the children of Imperial Officials who died in the line of duty. Even at such a young age however the cold of Valhalla had never really left her bones. A knock on the door interrupted her bitter musings and the corporal she had sent to the palace poked his head through.

“Corporal…” she paused for a moment to dredge up the man’s name. She had only been with the regiment for six months and most of that had been in transit. That had been more than enough time to get to know the troublemakers and hard cases of which this man was neither.

“Connors isn't it?" she asked, dredging the name from one of the dozens of promotions she had certified. Katiya was already grabbing her great coat and settling her peaked hat on her head, and fastening her weapons belt around her slender waist.

"Tell me about the palace on the way, can you drive a ground car? We need to get to the Arbities Citadel immediately."

[POOHEAD189]

"Ma'am," He acknowledged when she spoke his name correctly, giving a curt salute with one hand whilst the other held his powered down lasgun. This wasn't exactly a planet at war, but he intended to carry his weapon on hand at all opportunities where he was not one hundred percent certain he wouldn't have to deal with an adversary, or if a commanding officer told him to put it away of course. The rebellion on the world was cropping up in unexpected places. Why would the capital be exempt from such dangers?

"I can, Commisar. I learned how on my last drop." He informed her, letting her lead the way so as to know exactly which car they were going to take. Despite the million worlds under the Imperium's control, there was not a lot of variation when it came to civilian or non-combat vehicles. It was a good thing, else they would need to hitch a ride on one of the Chimeras, assuming any of them were going that direction. Briefly he wondered if he knew where to go, but an image of the sanctum popped into his head and he recalled having been by there two weeks ago with his squadron on a patrol detail.

Stepping out into the sunlight, the wind was recognizably cool on their skin. Zeb had grown up on Gudrun with obviously moderate temperatures, but after Lorn V and the wintry assault his regiment had fought he knew he would never complain about being 'too cold' again. As if by divine credence, a ground vehicle was waiting for them at the curb. An open-air four wheeler with ample space in the back for supplies and munitions. Zeb set his lasgun in the backseat just behind him, right in easy reach.

The car cranked, thrumming beautifully. Guardsman Conners was no stranger to engines, having learned how to fix ground cars a full decade before he learned how to drive one from his father. Not that it was what he wanted to do with his life. All he wanted to do was rise above the lowly station of his family and find meaning in something; the idealistic notions of an idiot kid. Joining the PDF was his genius solution, but after graduating basic training with flying colors, the Emperor saw fit to place him and twelve thousand other 'exemplary' recruits as the planetary tithe to the Imperial Guard.

The Commissar leaped onto the seat next to him and he pulled the car out to turn into the main street. He fixed his rearview mirror to suddenly see the sergeant he had hit glaring at him from across the way. Zebulon smirked, placing his left hand behind the outer car door and giving the finger so the Commissar wouldn't notice. Katiya cleared her throat, and though it was likely exactly that, he decided to take no chances.

"The Palace, right. It's what you'd expect from any Governor's palace, ma'am, or at least what I'd expect. Large, pretty, a lot of rooms used for nothing important." They exited out of the outerwall of the Capital in short order, the military 'occupation' forces and bases were at the edge of the important settlement to be the first line of defense in case any of the heretics or rebels grew the balls to go assail the walls. "I saw many cartel members. I'd be the last person to know anything of the politics of the planet, but the senate chamber had a lot of yelling when I passed it. I think the governess is worried about her position if the rebellion continues or if any of the cartel owners gets any heretical ideas. But the palace itself seems stocked, protected, and there were plenty of gun batteries on the inner curtain wall."

No one would ever claim Zeb was verbose, but any sane guardsman was a little wary when speaking freely around a commissar when asked a very broad question.

The road was bumpy, left with a bit of weathering from the lack of maintenance the past year. Lush grasslands spread outward around them and small copses of trees dotted the landscape until the ground grew into mountains not three kilometers away. "And before you hear it from someone else, I... hit a sergeant who wouldn't let me apprehend his men under your orders. I wanted to say it in case you got a report and didn't know the context of the fight, ma'am."
@Penny

[Penny]

Katiya considered it for a long moment. Her teachers at the scholam would have said that she had an admission of guilt and she ought to make a judgment on the spot. Of course that was easy for the Drill Abotts to say as they would probably never find themselves on a hostile world surrounded by troopers who were both scared and heavily armed.

"Well I suppose, if it were reported, I would have to have you flogged," she said, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"Of course I would also have to have the sergeant shot for impeding an order of the Commissariat, so it is probably better if the incident is never reported to me," she concluded. Gripping the dashboard of the ground car as a heavy delivery truck roared passed them in a cloud of promethium fumes. Katiya scowled at the vehicle as it pulled away, where were the praetors when you needed them. Ahead of them the Adeptus Arbities Sanctum rose into view, it was a five story tapered spire, faced with the traditional black granite to demonstrate the implacability of Imperial Judgment. Positions in the Arbities were sought after in the scholams, safer than the Commissariat or the Stormtroopers but still promising action and glory in His name. Katiya hadn't been tempted, having viewed even the Commissariat as a consolation for not being assigned to the Navy. The Emperor of Mankind had his reasons she was sure, and she would serve Him in whatever capacity.

Low buildings, administrative complexes and habs, surrounded the citadel like the roots of a great plant. Stalls and kiosks lined the road, hawking cheap goods and food of various quality. A preacher stood atop one of them, screaming about the end times and the emperors coming, unfavorable judgment. Ahead of them the delivery truck swerved suddenly disappearing down a ramp below the spire. There was a sudden crash and spatter of gunfire before the scream of rending metal. A moment later there was tremendous flash and a concussion that hit the ground car and flipped it like a tiddly wink. Katiya's word was a callidiscope of confused images and colors as she was whipped against her restraints and a vast cloud of dust rushed out to obscure the sky. With a crash that was barely audible after the roar of the explosion the roof of the ground car hit the pavement, the blast of the explosion diving them several more meters in a shower of sparks before they came to a stop.

Katiya could taste blood in her mouth as she blinked the dust from her eyes, suspended by her seat belt upside down. The peaked hat had fallen to the floor and her long blond hair, gathered into a tight braid hung downwards. Dust chocked her mouth and eyes and she struggled to breath as her weight pressed down against the belts. It was probably only the flak armor she wore beneath her great coat that had prevented her from breaking her ribs. Outside in the swirling dust came the familiar crack, crack of stubber fire and she tried to order her thoughts. Someone had set off a bomb in the basement of the Arbities citadel. Instinctively she thumbed her palm in the Valhallan gesture of a half-aquilla. A moment later there was a screaming sound of disintegrating masonry as the tower itself, cloaked in the dust, collapsed into the void created by the blast below it. Shouts of victory and stubber fire increased, close enough now that Katiya could see the orange star of the muzzle flash. A figure in miners coveralls resolved out of the fog, holding a stubber in one hand and shouting in triumph.

"Death to the Oppressors!" he howled, oblivious to overturned car and its passengers. Katiya pulled her bolt pistol from its holster and fired. The round detonated in the joint between leg and pelvis and the bursting bolt flung the rebel aside in a gout of blood. He howeled in pain for a few seconts before the massive bloodloss quieted him. Another figure emerged beside the first and triggered a burst of stubber fire at the car, it raked the top section in a spray of sparks before Katiya's bolt struck him in the throat, decapitating him neatly. More figures began to converge on the firing, clearly the rebels had been in position to sweep up any surviving Arbities. Katiya's pulse thundered in her head as she dropped another of the rebels. This wasn't going to end well.

[POOHEAD189]

Chunks of masonry the size of their ground car's wheels rained from above, crunching into the pavement on in a cacophony of noise that merely served as a backdrop to the droning sound of cries and the rat-at-at of gunfire. Debris and dust swallowed the square in an apocalyptic swirl of despair. A wave of roaring triumph echoed from somewhere to their north, Zeb unable to comprehend more than that to his shocked sensibilities. His body was hanging by his car straps, ears ringing and the coppery taste of blood on his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to fall into nerveless oblivion, but he was too stubborn for that. As reality came rushing back, he started to cough violently, his lungs filled with smoke and soot. Blindly he groped for his strap's lock, undoing it after a moment and falling heavily onto the pavement.

He saw the Commissar just getting her bearings, firing her bolt pistol as her long blonde hair billowed even as it was covered in tiny debris from the explosion. Had she been anyone else, he would have barked at her to stop shooting. As far as he knew, no arbites within a hundred meters was alive to aid them and her bolt pistol drew attention to their isolated position in an ever increasing sea of enemies. But with a will he quelled that act of cowardice and insubordination, grabbing his lasgun and rolling into the cover of the fallen car. In his position on his back, he saw a final chunk of masonry falling rapidly toward them. He kicked out at Katiya on instinct, shoving her to the left of the car as the debris hit the ground between them like a cannon ball from an industrial world. It was near the size of one too.

"Ma'am," he croaked to her in acknowledgement. He groaned and got to his feet as quickly as he could, looking down the sights of his weapon from behind the fallen car. He half expected her to execute him for daring to shove her, but when he heard her bolt pistol discharging and he wasn't dead, he thanked the Emperor. Along his lasgun's barrel, a rebel ran screaming out of the dust with a live grenade. Zeb didn't hesitate, his Triplex Pattern Lasgun making a 'crack' as it superheated the air and sent the focalized laser into the rebel's screaming face, punching a clean hole through the heretic's skull even as it cauterized the wound. The body fell heavily and the grenade rolled out of his dead hand, blowing up the next man to run out in almost comical timing. Zeb didn't have time to appreciate the hilarity as autogun fire began to riddle their position, a round hitting Zeb in the upper chest and driving him on his ass. Groping for the hole, he was relieved to realize his flak jacket had kept it from reaching him. A small group of rebels assailed their position from the right, hiding behind the remnants of a large stone fountain.

Suddenly wind hit Zeb and Katiya in the back as another concussive force reached them, the roaring sound following suit not a second later. Zeb hit his jaw on the door of the ground car, cursing ferociously. The guardsman turned and saw another plume of smoke rising from behind them. Flames leaped into the air, and for a moment he was afraid the rebels had bombed the capital itself. It was when one lone Chimera roamed into view from the smoke did Zeb realize they had attempted to block off any reinforcements from the capital. Luckily a Hellhound had made it past before their bomb had detonated, the massive vehicle's treds rolling loudly as it neared their position, its two autocannons swiveling and unleashing a torrent of slugs at the crowd of rebels sweeping into the square, but it's main weapon didn't fire until it rolled very close to them. A stream of liquid prometheum launched out of its inferno-gun cannon, melting the rebels behind the fountain within two agonizing heartbeats. Zeb could feel the heat from twenty meters away as if he was five feet from an open flame.

A missile streaked out of the crowd, leaving a trail of smoke as it whirled past the chimera harmlessly. The autocannons roared in response, and Zeb knew even if the Chimera didn't get destroyed, the crowd was about to fling whatever explosive they had at it, and at them.

"Orders ma'am!? We need to reposition!" He yelled over the chaotic tumult, switching to burst fire and discharging into the crowd at anyone who got close.
@Penny

[Penny]

Katiya swept up her peaked cap as it blew against her feet, she snatched it up and shoved it down on her head, dumping a handful of dust over her face as she did so. All was chaos and confusion. She could only assume that Captain Raloc had summoned the vehicles to retrieve him, shortly before the rebel bomb had killed him and leveled the Arbities Sanctum. Another rebel appeared out of the smoke and Katiya shot him in the head, her bolt pistol clicking dry.

"Armored units, this is Commissar Petrovska, cease fire we have friendlies in the AO. You are to withdraw half a klom to the south," she called over the vox. There was a moments hesitation before a pair of 'yes ma'ams' sounded in the vox bead in her ear. There was clear dissapointment in the troopers voices but if the blundered around in the smoke and dust the rebels would have them for sure.

"Once you reach there hold for my command," she continued, methodically reloading her pistol. There was still firing going on in the smoke, though Katiya didn't imagine there could be any Arbites survivors. She could hear rounds whining of the chimera and the hell hound but both vehicles were already backing at full speed, tracks throwing up torn pavement and keeping their thick frontal armor pointed at the enemy. There wasn't any practical way to cross to the vehicles without being cut down so Katiya turned instead to the cinder block wall which had sectioned off what had been a vehicle park. She shrugged off her great coat and passed it to Connors.

"Shield me," she directed. The corporal clearly didn't understand but he held the greatcoat up as she directed. Katiya drew the powersword from its scabbard, lit the blade and then plunged it into the wall in a downward slash. The powere blade hissed as it parted rockrete, teh bluish glow hopefully hidden from the half blind rebels by the coat. She made two more cuts and a triangular section of the wall tumbled free. Extinguishing the sword she climbed through to the other side. Connors followed handing her the coat as he clambered through. A few shots struck the wall on the far side but that was probably more random chance.

"Open fire," she directed the tanks which had by now pulled back out of the concealing smoke. Autocannons and multilasers howled immediately, ripping through the smoke. The whine of ricochets was loud and nauseating as the heavy weapons chopped through the plaza sweeping down the rebels who hadn't yet gone to ground.

"What are we shooting at ma'am?" one of the armored commanders asked. Katiya was gratified that he had opened fire before wasting time asking such a question.

"Area target, anyone alive in that smoke is to be presumed a rebel," she responded.

"Are you in communications with base?" she asked, knowing that the chimera would have much better vox equipment than the short range bead she was using.

"Yes ma'am, they say they have demonstrators in the streets, no fighting yet though," the unknown sergeant replied. Katiya looked at Connors, there was no way they were going to be able to rejoin the vehicles, not without bringing them back into missile range, and they just didn't have enough armor to take the risk.

"Tell Lieutenant... Owens, that he is in command and he is to hold his position, dig in as best he can. He is not to open fire without provocation, but respond if fired upon. Under no circumstances is he to take troops into the streets. Also we have seen the rebels use one vehicle bomb already, tell him to frag anything that gets too close."

There was a long pause, doubtless the vehicle commander would have preferred the Commissar deliver the orders herself, but that wasn't going to be practical. After a moment he called a confirmation.

"Cease fire and return to base," she directed, "if you find your way blocked or unsafe, rally to the palace until I can get through to you," she added.

"Yes ma'am? What about you?" came the reply a heartbeat before the roar of autocannons ceased. Katiya could hear the cries of wounded rebels from the plaza but there was no point in keeping the tanks there to be outflanked. The commissar looked up at the sky, the sun was hazy and blood red as it sank through the smoke towards the horizon.

"We will have to make our own way back," she replied and turned to her companion.

"Well Corporal, I suggest we get moving, I suspect the streets are going to be full of these 'demonstrators' tonight," her tone was cold. Whatever was happening on Pavonis, it was no simple civil unrest. Protesting workers didn't usually go for suicide bombings. And it seemed awfully convenient that it had managed to knock out both the senior Arbities Adept, and the senior Guard officer in one blow.

[POOHEAD189]

The guardsman sighed, hefting his lasgun as the cold commissar turned and lead their two man team. The day was turning into a real shitshow, and he and the commissar looked to be walking into a meat grinder. Somehow, he didn't feel disillusioned following her, likely because she had proven she wasn't a stranger to a firefight at least. Still, if it was he and another guardsman they could vote on matters or agree on what worked best for the both of them. As it stood his best chance of doing that was sneaking off or shooting her in the back, but he knew the former was unlikely and the latter would never happen. Connors was a lot of things, but he wasn't a traitor. In the parking deck, the odd ground car was parked. He briefly wondered if they should commandeer one, but that would likely give them too much undue attention unless they had a clear way back to the capital. Maybe they could make for the mountains and take the long way round, but he hadn't exactly packed any survival gear.

The two passed the vast deck and halted at the archway leading out. A toll booth and a broken sign on a swivel were the only signs anyone had been through the last few days. A large street surrounded by huge buildings at least 20 stories high lay before them, but as far as they knew it was all quiet. Quickly the two half crouched, half ran across the street into another parking deck, the building above used by the Departmento Munitorum. Not exactly defensible in a seige, but a good place to hold up and hide if the Commissar felt it necessary.

"It's weird fighting in civilization." He thought outloud as he followed her, glancing behind him to make sure no one pursued. "On Lorn, we had to face the Orks and the heretics in abandoned factories and snow covered complexes. I'm just not used to killing on long-standing Imperial soil."

It made him feel less a soldier and more of a murderer, he realized. Even if the rebels would kill him in a heartbeat were they to get the better of him, they were just disabused Imperial citizens. He knew it in his mind, but he had to shake that notion. On Lorn he had seen heretical flagellants; men with skin peeled and iron hooks and rods embedded in their skin. All of them had once been normal Imperial citizens, before they let corruption taint them. What separated them from these rebels, who had forsaken the Imperium of Man?

He reached behind his back, unbuttoning his sheath and pulling out his combat knife. A bevel and a screwed in area to set the knife onto his lasgun was fit on neatly not a second later. He didn't know why, but putting the bayonet on made him feel a bit more secure.
"Is this your first command? ...Ma'am?"
@Penny

[Penny]

"Command," Katiya mused as the started down the wall, keeping in the shadows of it as the sun sank below the horizon. The cries of rage and the screams of enemy wounded faded behind them. It pricked her soul to leave, while there were enemies standing and possibly, though unlikely, Arbities still alive in the ruin of their headquarters. If that were true the best thing she could do for them was to leave the area, give the mob a chance to fizzle out.

"It is not a Commissar's duty to command," she told Connors as they reached a small stone wall which ran out from the larger one. She nodded at the soldier who made a stirrup of his hands and boosted her up, she caught the top of the wall and scanned the far side of a moment for danger. It seemed to be a mix of habs and small businesses, but after the bomb blast and the gunfire people were keeping themselves inside, she pivoted and reached a gloved hand down for Connors who took it and leaped upwards, she let herself fall off the far side, her weight lifting the trooper up while his mass slowed her own decent.

"I am here only to advise, and right now, I advise that you follow me," she told him with a wintery Valhallan smile. The moved forward through the gathering darkness, sticking close to the wall to conceal themselves in its shadows. After a few hundred meters they came to a wide boulevard and Katiya waved Connors to a stop. A throng of people was marching down the boulevard towards the school. White robed ministorum priests were in the lead swinging censors, behind them came burly miners and manufactorum workers, holding banners aloft. The banners read: Him on Terra, Not Her in the Palace, and other protests against the governor. One of them was a fairly artistic rendering of the governor drinking the blood of a pale miner who had already been drained. Behind them followed a crowd chanting and holding torches aloft. Katiya flattened herself against the wall pleased for her dark coat to conceal her from view.

"It is going to be hard to get back to the school with this lot blocking the streets," Katiya said to Connors, the distant roar of other crowds could be heard, assuring her that it wasn't the only rally out in the streets tonight. There was a sense of wrongness about it that nagged at her.

[POOHEAD189]

The Corporal had his back pressed to the wall beside her, the passing torches shifting Connor's face from shadow to light every moment, making his features seem both chiseled and grim. He felt the Commissar was very unlike the other he had known on Lorn V, and he found that was fortunate. Maybe he could feel good about being 'advised' by her rather than being made to out of the chain of command. That is, if they lived to see any days past this one. The column of rebels not ten meters away walked in a rough fashion, clearly untrained, but there was a rhythm to their march that made him uncomfortable. They wouldn't be the mindless peasant uprising some had said. Their experiences earlier today had proved that much.

"Sewer systems?" He whispered aloud, but he knew before she even disavowed it. They didn't know the layout. They just knew the general direction based on where they had fled from.

Connors peeked around the corner once more, watching the men and women yelling and raising their fists in their air through the street. The line must have been half a kilometer long and that wouldn't be the last of them. The corporal blinked in surprise when he saw an Ogryn, or what he assumed was an Ogryn walking beside the citizenry, wielding a flamer and sniffing the air. It's tree-trunk thick arms and ugly face would be enough to intimidate any imperial soldier save for an Adeptus Astartes. A low flame flickered at the edge of its barrel, the unwieldy gun connected to a backpack behind the beast. Flamers weren't as volatile as melta weapons, but they were prone to accidents every now and then.

Connor suddenly had an idea, and he had to keep a smile from his lips when he thought of it.

"I have a thought, ma'am. But we need to hurry." He whispered, clearing his throat. "Take off your hat and jacket. Give me your jacket and keep your hat hidden..."

She looked at him hard, and he realized it was an odd request. "Do it." He said. "Punish me later, but I can't explain in time. Do it!"

As she did so, he took off his helmet and hid it in his pack. She handed him her jacket, and he turned it inside out and slid it on himself, the coloring and threading making it very much like a wool jacket a poor man might wear. He grabbed his gun and eased up out of the wall just a hair, his barrel steadying and his finger on the trigger. He was about to take matters into his own hands when he realized how stupid it was. Any survivor would see the laser and what direction it had come from. Not only that, but he had no idea if such a tactic would work with lasweaponry. He set the weapon down and looked to the Commissar. "Bolt pistol." He whispered. He did not doubt she had reservations of handing him the pistol, but reluctantly she acquiesced and handed to him. Connors took it and aimed carefully, right hand on the trigger and left hand steadying the weapon as he held his breath for the shot.

POP. FFFWOOOOMP

The bolt slug hit the gas tank behind the Ogryn, and the reaction was instantaneous. The sheer force of the explosion sent Connor flying back, knocking him on top of the Commissar in a very unbecoming position as the street ignited in the hellfire of the emperor's wrath, incinerating dozens of men and women and knocking back twice that many. Screams and cries erupted in the street and the odd gunshot rang out in the confusion. No doubt any rebel would come swarming to their position soon, but Connor didn't expect them to stay here for any length of time.

He pushed himself off of her, embarrassingly clearing his throat and handing her the pistol back. "Let's go." he said, straightening her inside-out jacket and walked out of cover, his flak vest covered by the jacket and Katiya's messy blonde hair and hard set visage akin to someone who worked long hours.

"Free Pavonis! Down with the government!" Connors screamed wildly as the crowd surged and cried out similar sentiments, some desperately looking for an enemy whilst others simply wanted to get away from the flames as quickly as they could. Connors shouldered past a one-eyed man with a strange, eldritch sign caved into his forehead and nearly bowled over a young couple, the woman holding a baby. It surprised him how full of rage and the lack of self preservation they exuded. The mass of bodies was so thick, even scattered, that Connors nearly had to hold his breath until he and Katiya stumbled out of the throng. In all likelihood the explosion was deemed an accident, and as they made it across the street and into the next, darkened alleyway, they heard more guns barking ammunition, either at one another or into the sky.

5 minutes later...

Their foots softly banged along an aluminum, industrial walkway as they entered an abandoned factory. Now they had little to worry on regular marching and contingents as the whole of the rebel forces this side of the city would be converging at their last location. Now they just had the odd criminal or wayward patrol to worry on, at least if they made good time. Now in the darkened chamber of the factory, Connor stripped off Katiya's jacket, holding it out to her.

"Apologies ma'am."
@Penny

[Penny]

Katiya took her jacket wordlessly and pulled it on, feeling the familiar sense of purpose and resolve that it conveyed flow through her. If she was going do die now, she would at least be dressed to meet the Emperor. The interior of the maunfactorum was dark, scafolding and gangways reached up into the shadowed night and a soft red glow was cast from a dilipidated stained glass window depicting the Omissiah. The window was missing more glass than it still had, giving it a dappled and skeletal appearence. The air outside had a faintly frenzied quality to it, the energy and excitment of the mob lingered somehow in a sharp tang at the back of the throat.

"Well lets see what we can see," she said and swung herself up onto a gangway, clambering upwards into the superstructure with Connor behind her. As they rose more and more of the darkened city came into view. Electric luminators were rare, the grid having been disrupted, here and there a promethum lamp glowed, but the majority of light came from torches and small fires what had been set in the course of looting and arson. When they reached the fifth and final story she could make out the scholam where the regiment was billeted. It was surrounded by a ring of torch bearing protestors whose shouts mingled into a dull and distant rumble. Wordlessly Connors proffered a battered amplivisor, which she lifted to her eyes.

"Well they aren't shooting yet," she observed, "that is something."

The guardsmen at the scholam were drawn up between the buildings, chimeras had been turned into improvised cover, their side armor pointed at the mob so that one of the sponsons and the multilazer could bear on the crowd like miniature pillboxes. Sandbags and furniture had been piled on the roofs to create improvised parapets behind which guardsmen crouched with lasguns pointed. Even so they were outnumbered several hundred to one. If anything popped the standoff might turn into a bloody massacre within heartbeats. Whether the rioters had the stomach to overrun the tiny Imperial force really depended on how willing they were to take casualties.

"No way we can get through that without getting torn to pieces," Connors observed delicately. He might rightly be concerned that the question could be considered cowardice.

"Agreed," Katiya said, "and if we stay here someone will stumble on us eventually, we cant allow that. Tearing us apart might be the trigger for this all going to frak."

"Well we can't get there, and we cant stay here, so...?" Connors asked with a shrug of his shoulders. Katiya's white teeth glittered in the darkness.

"So, I think we best go visit your friend the Governor."

[POOHEAD189]

Two hours later...

Zeb Connor's bit the cloth and tore it around the point of meter in length, hastily wrapping it around his arm. Katiya had been lucky, taking no damage in the gas explosion, but the corporal knew he had been fortunate too. For a good few minutes there, he and the Commissar had thought they were dead; torn apart by a mob of rebels and mutants that had spotted them making their sojourn across the city. The Emperor willed them to live with a well placed gas tank and a high powered shot from his lasgun, thankfully. Now they found themselves merely beyond the curtain wall of the Governor's sector. The wall itself was thick and clearly made to last a siege, but it was obviously decorated. The designer never having foreseen it would have to face any kind of real attack until the unmaking of the galaxy.

Crouching as they moved, Katiya kept Connor's head down with a gesture even as friendly Chimeras passed them by. The quieter their advance, the better. The red tape might not be able to halt a Commissar, even a Junior one, but it could certainly slow things down. Connors didn't understand why Katiya wanted to see the Governer, but he wasn't going to ask. Better alive than curious one of his comrades on Lorn IV had said, and as far as he recalled Jenkins had made it off-planet in one piece.

Now the two stumbled onto the mulch of a small row of bushes before the wall, the only showing of their passage the bristling of the foliage. The two hit the wall with their backs, Zeb sliding down it to land on his ass. "How do we get over?" He asked her breathlessly, checking his bandage. It wasn't a ferocious cut, but he'd need the bandage for a bit longer. The metal peice that had sliced him had embedded into the rockcrete wall like butter, he recalled. "I don't suppose you got something in that-"

He turned and saw she was already fastening a bit of rope to a deployment grappling hook. Immediately the tiredness gave way to duty, and as she twirled the grappling hook and tossed it, he got back onto his feet and watched the item sail overhead to fasten about the top of the wall. Thankfully it was took thin to be a manned wall.

"I'll go. I'll slow you down if I'm last." He told her. The Commissar nodded approvingly, stepping back so he could grab the rope. Connors wasn't herculean in anyway, but he kept himself fit. Even as the bloodflow caused his bandage to redden further, his muscles expanded from the exertion and he pulled himself up the eighteen feet of wall to the top. As he crested it, he looked out over the estate and saw it was relatively unguarded, save for the building itself. Four patrols jobbed half a click away to the eastern side of the fortified manner even as a fat dignitary was out lounging in the gardens. Zeb let out a breath and slipped his back foot over, sliding down to hold the wall as his feet dangled. It helped him if his feet were merely a dozen feet above the ground than eighteen at the top of the wall. He dropped down into a thicket, getting lightly cut up from scrapes but otherwise unharmed, and he waited for his superior.

[Penny]

Scaling the wall was curiously like being back at the scholam progenium, going through one of the endless rounds of assault courses. Cape flapping and boots clicking on the ceramite wall she went up and over in a few quick pulls, vaulting down to land beside Connors in a three point landing which kept her hand free for her bolt pistol.

"Alright, follow me," she directed and stood up, walking through the forest towards the main house without apparent concern. It took almost a quater hour but they emerged onto a broad terrace of ornamental gardens which fronted the palace. A large vaulted door of ceramite and amorcrys looked out over the garden and servitors, their hands replaced with gardening tools and their faces masks which seemed to be faces made of leaves went about the business of tending the plants.

"Halt!" a palace guardsman declared. He wore a polished cuirass of bronze and a black on gold check pattern. A gold chased but functional looking las gun pointed at them.

"I am Commissar Petrovska of the 112th Gudrin," she declared as though showing up on the palace lawn in the middle of the night were completely normal.

"The Governor wants to see me," she declared. The guard hesitated, reaching for a vox bead. Katiya stalked up the steps towards the house, ignoring the threat of the rifle. The guard's face twisted with consternation.

"You need to wait till I..." he began but Katiya was already pressing passed and into the house. The interior of the palace was decorated with the splendid oppulence one came to expect of the Imperial Nobillity. Even as a Commissar Katiya didn't move in those circles, though she had been to her share of banquets on shipboard. The palace itself was vast and there was little chance of her finding the governor unaided. She solved the problem by simply ceasing the first servant she came across. Ignoring the increasingly frantic protests of the house guard. By now she had already come too far to shoot and by default he became part of her escort.

They found the Governor, awake as Katiya had predicted, and in a large office space which had been fitted out with a series of flickering holoprojectors. All of them showed feeds of the confrontation at the school. Dug in Gudranites facing the torch wielding mob. Some of the screens had the greenish hue of light enhancement though there was enough light from fires and torches to see the stream of hurled bottles and stones that lashed the unyielding guard position. Robed tech-adepts moved between the projectors, making adjustments with their mechadendrites or chanting rituals of focus in scratchy mechanical voices. The governor herself was dressed in a black body glove with a broad sash of cloth of gold. She moved amid the displays with a purpose, talking softly to the vox operators and technicians. She looked fit and healthy for someone in her position, and had an obvious energy about her.

"Commissar...Petrovska is it?" she asked when Katiya stepped into the room, the hint in dreging up Katiya's name impressively short.

"And Corpral Connors!" she exclaimed, sounding delighted, "come to arrest any more of my household?" Her voice was mischiveous. The obvious lack of concern caused the guards to relax and then bow and withdraw.

"We were just discussing why the Imperial Guard haven't opened fire on this... rabble," she went on, voice dripping with distaste as she gestured to the holos. A heavyset man in an uniform that seemed to be mostly composed of gold lace pushed himself to his feet with an audible huff. He had huge drooping mustaches and innumerable chins.

"Cowards," the man huffed, fixing Katiya was a baleful stare. The commissar eyed him for a moment in a deliberately netural way and then turned to the governor.

"They aren't firing, because I ordered them not to," she expalined. In truth it was remarkable that the troops were still holding fire. Perhaps the junior officers were just too nervous of crossing a Commissar's direct orders. More seasoned veterans might have taken their chances.

"Well thank goodness someone has the brains the Emperor gave a grox," the Governor replied with a touch of acid.

"Commissar, Corporal, this is General Hetad, the head of the Palace Guard," she said. Katiya noticed it wasn't 'my' palace guard and recalled from the briefing slate that the noble families insisted on involving themselves in such matters so that the Governor couldn't use the Guard as her own personal army. Clearly there was little love lost here.

"We should sweep these rabble away," he snapped, "If the Imperial Guard is as good as they say, it should be a simple matter."

"And then what?" the Governor asked, her voice tired as though she had argued this point too many times to count.

"Half the city will burn down and the rest of the planet might well rise in rebellion as soon as picts of imperial troops killing unarmed civilians get out."

[POOHEAD189]

Zebulon was entirely at a loss at what to do. It was common knowledge that guardsmen tended to be woefully unprepared for the various horrors they faced in the galaxy, even among the guards themselves. Their field manual was used for toilet paper or wadding of different sorts, more often than not. However, he had faced Orks and traitors before, and now cultists in the streets. What he never thought he would have to deal with was speaking amongst high ranking imperial officials, a commissar, and a planetary governess who apparently adored him. It made him a tad apprehensive, which likely amused both of the women in his present company, likely for different reasons.

What COULD they do, without wholesale opening fire on the populace and letting the Emperor save his own? He guessed any inquisitor or someone in the administratum would suggest it, regardless of loss of life. He had to learn the hard way when he left his home that the Imperium was a 'big picture' sort of state.

As the 'council' of the planet was debating amongst themselves, Zebulon was lost in thought and mostly ignored until the governess called upon him to speak.

"Corporal, you have been awfully quiet." She commented, watching him.

The general barked a laugh, unable to help himself. "Because he's not allowed to speak unless spoken to."

"Well, I am speaking to him." She shot back, her tone now cold and firm. "And he may speak freely here. If these cultists overrun the palace, we'll all be dead, rank or no."

"Which is why we should kill them all!" The general growled, trying and failing to appear intimidating. The governess, attractive though she was, was much better at the game than he and rose out of her seat.

"I said I was speaking to the corporal," she warned, her tiredness and agitation evident in her voice, making it clear her next warning wasn't an idle threat. "Speak again out of turn and you will be forcefully ejected from the palace grounds, general."

That made the man button his lip begrudgingly, and all eyes turned to Zeb. He swallowed and cleared his throat, speaking his mind with a question first.

"Do we know how the rebels coordinated their movements?" He asked. The governess waved her hand so the general may speak. He acted as if he didn't notice the permission.

"No, if we knew that we would have stopped them." He sighed. "Besides, they're a mindless rabble."

"So all voxx channels are secure?"

"Well...As far as we know." He replied, likely unsure himself but confident his subordinates had already checked.

"Are you telling me you are uncertain?" The governess asked, venomously.

"I have not been briefed on it!"

"See to it you are," Zeb interrupted, immediately regretting the tone he gave the man who could ruin his life a dozen times over in a thought. "These are mostly mindless rabble, but there must be some sort of intelligence behind it. Even Orks have a rough heirarchy. Speaking of which, my time on Lorn IV did show me that killing the leader generally solved a problem as well. If we can take out whatever communications they have and kill whoever leads them, it might not decimate the threat but it will reduce it significantly. At that point, I think we can go on the offensive."

[Penny]

It took about thirty minutes to find an answer. Robed tech adepts poked and prodded at arcane equipment and incanted litanies of consecration to the Machine God as the manipulated one of the vox stations with their mechadendrites. General Hetad gave up grumbling that it was a waste of time after the first couple of venomous looks from the Governor.

"We have something," the lead techpriest, declared, his voice a synthetic buzz from the speaker which replaced his mouth. Like many of the Mechanicus he was heavily augmented, lumps and bumps beneath his red robes testament to further augmentation beneath. Like most Valhallan's Katiya had a slight revulstion for the practice of replacing flesh with mechanical replacements. Many officers and troops in the Imperial Guard used augments to repair battle damage of course, but the Cult of Mechanicus seemed to revel in voluntarily augmentation.

"What is it?" the Governor demanded impatiently. The techpriest touched a control and crackling audio sprang into life.

"Three, seven, fourteen, twenty one, six..." a monotone female voice intoned. It began to repeat after twenty numbers, clearly playing on a loop.

"This is the only unauthorized vox traffic we have been able to detect," the tech-priest reported.

"But this is just numbers, obviously its not important," General Hetard blustered.

"No doubt Corporal Vomer, is very brave but his..." the general continued. The Governor silenced him with a wave of her hand.

"It's Connors," she corrected idly though her mind was clearly focused on the transmission.

"It is a numbers station," Katiya declared, drawing all eyes to her.

"A what?" the Governor demanded, eyes bright and intent.

"Its an automated broadcast of coded instructions, the numbers correspond to a certain course of action," she explained.

"Can you tell us when this began?" Katiya asked the tech priest.

"Seventeen hundred hours thirty seven minutes and sixteen seconds local time," the tech priests mechanical voice droned.

"Just before the Arbities building was bombed," Katiya mused. That wasn't alot of time to mobilize the kind of crowd that was in the streets. Not unless they had been preped in advance anyway.

"Where is it transmitting from?" the Governor asked.

"There is an eighty six percent match to a disused PDF vox station in the hills north of the city," the tech priest supplied.

[POOHEAD189]

Zebulon was realizing just why Guardsmen were not permitted to speak as he spat the mud out of his mouth. Blood mingled with the watered dirt he now crouched in, cursing his luck that it had rained just before they'd left. Katiya slid down the hillock in a far more graceful fashion, as her subordinate guardsman had pitched forward right in front of her, the brush hiding the sudden drop off that fed into a gulley. Zeb had managed to make the fall into a controlled roll, but that didn't help him when he hit the small mud pond at the very bottom.

The Governess's forces were spread thin, on constant alert picking off any mutant or rioter that made it past the 'picket' line of ruined buildings and piled corpses that bisected the capital city. Zeb hadn't expected a lot of help, but he had been hoping for a chimera escort or a few muscled arbites in carapace armor. Instead, Katiya had volunteered herself and Zeb without hesitation. He wouldn't miss it, because deep down he was proud to be one of the emperor's finest. But fuck, he hadn't planned on a suicide mission!

Fortunately the Governess had let them restock from her guards personal armory. The Corporal had found an Accatran Pattern, Mark XI Combat Shotgun stowed away in a box, having been saved for the old twice replaced arbites commander who never claimed it. It could fire a variety of slugs, and Zeb had been greedy in gathering ammunition for the weapon. He had also recharged his laspack, grabbed four grenades, an incendiary demolition charge, and did well to don some Judge Pattern Carapace armor. Little good that all did him at the moment, as they still had another two miles to trek before they got in sight of the communications facility.

Strangely, he found he was embarrassed that he had tripped and tumbled down the hill, even if Katiya was the only one around. He had shaken off the suspicion she was going to execute him for sneezing too loudly like some commissars. He guessed he respected the woman, and he hoped she shared the sentiment with him. With his luck with women, he doubted it. The thought made him smile, reminding him of how his friend Frakon would joke with him over a glass of beer back home. He missed him.

The two climbed up the other slope quietly, finding a small path made by some native beast to reduce the sound of their boots and pick up the pace. The mountains of Pavonis were gorgeous to look at, but they were a bitch to climb. The 'small hill' the facility was perched upon was small, but only compared to the peaks that rose above it. The moon had dipped behind them less than an hour ago, but the system's sun wasn't yet peeking across the horizon. They had time to make it up without it showing itself if they hurried.

Soon they found an access road for maintenance and military use. Needless to say, the two of them scrambled across as quickly as possible and took the more difficult path. Their attack, if it was even needed at all since the base could still be abandoned, would rely on audacity and surprise. They couldn't just waltz in through the front door. Even a Governess or a Commissar wasn't that bullheaded, much to Zeb's relief.

[Penny]

Katiya was beginning to regret not insisting on troops from the Governor. That worthy would have refused on the basis that troops moving out of the palace in any numbers might have provoked a response. She might have been right on that score also which is why Katiya had conceded the point more or less gracefully. It would have been possible to scare up a few PDF troopers for the duty, but the prescence of PDF issue las guns and flamers in the mob earlier hadn't been lost on the commissar. She wouldn't be depending on the PDF until she had more time to feel out the loyalty of the troops, both enlisted and officers both. The exact nature of the problem here on Pavonis was yet to be clarified. It could just be normal manuevering among the noble families of course, but if that was the case someone had miscaulculated badly enough that a guard regiment had been deployed. There were other things it could be though, and they started bad and got worse rapidly. In the scholam Katiya had learned more about the Ruinous powers than any save for the inquisition and the fear of Chaos and its minions was very real. This kind of internal dissent was a classic tactic of the minions of the Great Enemy.

The Vox station was a simple building, consisting of a large rectangular ferocrete base and then a trio of great metal antennae which thrust skyward like cathedral spires. The approach to it was steep, a narrow dirt road that was deeply rutted and wide enough only for a single truck to pass in any direction. Rather than approach from the road, they circled around to the side where the view from the main building was obstructed by a chapel dedicated to the Ominissiah, easily identifiable by the rusted cogwheel icon which perched above its roof. The pair crept to the tree line and peered out, Katiya pulling an amplivisor down over her eyes to increase her vision in the moonlight. The black on grey pattern she had took to be camouflage turned out to be graffiti scrawled by local juvies, but the place wasn't abandoned.

A pair of battered looking civilian ground cars were pulled up infront of the main building and lights winked through the tall narrow windows of the place. A trio of heavyset guards carrying autostubbers sat on the hoods of the cars, smoking lo-sticks and looking bored.

"Somebody is home," she observed quietly.

[POOHEAD189]

Zebulon didn't curse, though he wanted to. He didn't expect they would have the option for stealth, at least so soon. But right now it seemed plausible they had a chance here, though he didn't know how they could take it. They had the cover of darkness, and if there were two men he would think it was no problem. But even if they killed two of them instantly, there was still one left to cry out or potentially harm one of them. Still, either they announced themselves or they didn't, which meant they would kill all of them singularly and silently, or in one large explosion. He didn't grab for a grenade, rather he pulled out his serrated combat knife. A foot long, it had a clip point and a dark grey to its steel blade.

She nodded, unsheathing her powersword...

---

Grayburn took a drag from his cigar, blowing out the smoke as he felt a buzz take hold of him. His autogun leaning against the car beside his left leg, he chuckled at the joke one of his fellows said; a man called Franks who was supposedly a beast with his catachan fang he'd got from somewhere in his past. Grayburn was told by Hergen that Franks he was a deserter from the Catachan fighters, but Grayburn wasn't sure if that was true.

"And they were mad at his wife for sunbathing nude, and I says to him, me? I'm on the fence."

The three chuckled, shaking their heads and taking more drags from their stogies. Franks made a smoke ring, the bit flying toward the moon. Hergen sipped from his flask. Tzeentch, this was an easy job but he wished they were in the capital breaking skulls. The great planner did not look favorably on those that were complacent for their place in life. The city would fall soon, he told himself, and then they would get a new chance at a different position.

The last thing they expected was an Imperial Commissar of the bloody God Emperor stepping out from the trees, sword out and eyes on each of them. Even more surprising was she was a woman! A pretty thing at that, even with that grim look.

"The hell?" Franks started, reaching for his autogun. Hergen said nothing from behind him, likely as stunned as Grayburn was. He saw the Commissar smile, and there was a 'thud' behind him. He didn't look back, but he should have. A knife blade was stabbed into his kidney, and he tried to cry out, but his throat was slit not a moment later. Franks turned around to see his two comrades cut open by Zeb, and before he could remark more than a "Bastard!" Katiyah ignited her blade and decapitated him with hesitation or remorse. His headless body stayed upright for a brief moment, and then toppled onto the dirt, staining the ground with blood.

Katiyah needn't clean her blade for such a clean cut; the cells power disintegrating the blood off the blade. All she did was sheathe it and stride over, reaching down and picking up a strange, large knife. Zeb recognized it from promotional logs. A Catachan Fang!

"Good job," she said, tossing it to him. Zeb caught it, surprised at the praise and the prize. She walked past him and spoke once more before they entered.

"Sheathe it and take out that shotgun. We're about to get into a bloody mess."

[Penny]

"I think we'd better get..." Katiya began only to be interupted by a flurry of las bolts errupting from the main building. One of the shots struck her crapace armor spinning her to the ground but not penetrating the weave. The shot probably saved her life as a half dozen energized bolts tore into the side panel of the ground car above her. The paint work bubbled and burned and the metal glowed cherry red under the strikes. Katiya rolled onto her side, pulled her bolt pistol from her holster and fired three rounds into the door frame where the majority the fire appeared to be coming from. It was too dark, in the dazzling aftermath of the las fire, to be sure she hit anything though she thought she heard a scream of pain from the door way. Zeb's shot gun roared and pellets sparkled of the alumaloy of the door frame. This time there were definitely screams as well as curses. Well that answered the question as to whether this was a hostile installation. Katiya came up in a crouch, putting the groundcars engine between herself and the irregular stuttering lasfire that flickered from the windows of the main building.

"The Emperor Protects," she said in quiet prayer for protection as she reached into her great coat and withdrew a frag grenade. Thumbing the activator she stood up.

"Fire in the hole!" she yelled and tossed the bomb through the doorway. With a shout she jumped onto the hood of the ground car and then dove across the intervening distance to land against the wall. The grenade detonated with an angry orange flash and a concussive wave that she felt in her chest even through the ferocrete wall. Wasting no time she leaped to her feet and darted through the door. Two of the enemy, normally looking men in what might have been gray miners uniforms were already dead. Another was on his knees clutching at his face with blood spurting between his fingers. Katiya shot him through the head as she rushed past. The room was a large reception annex, with a utilitarian counter bolted to the floor and lockers of some kind against the walls. A pair of enemy stood on a metal stairwell that rose up to the second level, both were half dressed, evidently having been roused from sleep, but both had autostubbers. One of them ripped out a burst that would have killed Kaitya if she had been a second later clearing the door, but as it was they missed her by four feet. She heard Zeb's shotgun roar again but either he wasn't shooting at her attackers or he had missed. The angle was bad for her bolt pistol so instead she swept her powersword through the corroded metal supports in a glittering arc. Metal screamed as the stairway buckled and gave, both men lost their feet, one pitching over the rail the other rolling down the collapsing stairwell. The first man hit the ground in two pieces as the commissar's sword described a figure eight which bisected his torso, but the second man was good. He turned the momentum of his fall into a diving tackle that hit Katiya across the chest sending her powersword clattering to the ground. Her bolt pistol cracked but the shot wasn't aimed at anything and the thug drove a fist down into her wrist to try and shake the pistol free, his other hand going for a knife at his belt. Katiya kicked off the reception bench and pitched them into a roll, aiming an elbow as her attackers face but her greatcoat tangled the strike and robbed it of much of its power. They hit the glowing base of the stairwell and Katiya shoved her opponent hard against the smouldering metal. His fatigues blistered but were apparently heat resistant because they didn't burn. They rolled away from each other and regained their feet, Katiya dropping into a fighting stance and the battered man drawing a wicked looking curved knife.

"Nice try bi..." The boom of the shotgun blast smashed the mans pulped body against the nearest lockers, smearing the gray metal with blood and vicera. Zeb lowered the smoking weapon, looking battered but alive. Above them they could hear the sound of boots ringing on the metal flooring.

"We need to figure out what is going on here," Katiya told him, stooping to retrive her blade and her pistol, replacing the magazine even though she had only fired a few rounds.

"Before they can get organized."

[POOHEAD189]

"This can't be that big of a bunker," He said, flipping his Mark XI shotgun upside-down so the loading port was facing him as he dual-loaded the weapon, sliding in two slugs at a time before cocking the weapon. He knew these installations would delve further underground, but unless it was a forge world or a hive world, there would be no real need behind it. That still left a good few areas to delve into, however. Hopefully the action would drive out all of the foes so they could take them out without having to do a room-by-room operation. Zeb preferred a squad for that kind of work.

Bootsteps could be heard across the way upstairs, but it was a door on their level that opened up, drawing their attention. A technician stepped out, or a man who was dressed as a technician. Zeb would have believed it too, had the man not had two diminutive hands jutting from his chest and a horn with a third eye on it protruding from his crown. Despite his fearsome appearance, he looked spooked when he saw Katiyah and Zeb, gurgling a yelp of fear before both Imperials shot him dead.

"Mutants..." Zeb spat, disgusted. Katiyah looked even more disturbed, scowling.

Lasers scorched the ground around them, the two slamming into the wall for cover and blindfiring potshots at a 45 degree angle, hoping to score a hit. So far a lot of lasers and ammunition on both sides was being expended for little effort.

"Grenade!" Katiyah ordered Zeb.

"I only have Krak grenades!"

"All the better!" She cried, and finally managed to strike one of the four men, blowing a chunk of his shoulder off. Zeb realized then and there she intended for the second floor of the building to be demoted to the first floor, and that would certain solve a few of their issues. He pulled out the curious looking grenade and primed it, before throwing it right under the ruined stairway. Both Katiyah and Zeb hugged the corner of the rockcrete wall as the explosive detonated, shaking the entirety of the building as that half of the station collapsed with the men along with it.