The Ritual - 40k Story
Sakana 3, agri world of the Imperium of Man, 0.101.482.M41 - From The Journal of Hapax Legomenon, Alpha Legion
Sakana 3 wasn’t an important world. Brought peacefully back into the fold of humanity during the Great Crusade, it had stayed far from the horrors of war for longer than anyone could remember. The third planet in orbit of a nondescript sun was decorated with few islands scattered across emerald seas. Its lay at the end of known warp tunnels, on the way from nowhere to nowhere. The forces of the Imperium had crowded its seas with fisheries and its scant surface islands with worker housing, but its inhabitants considered Sakana a paradise. The heavy hives and thick pollution of other Imperial worlds was absent, with steady sea breezes and sandy beaches the norm for its inhabitants. For centuries these bountiful oceans had helped feed the armies of the Imperium at the other ends of its single navigable Warp lane. My brothers in the Scattered Legions had ignored it, seeing no great glory or prize here. It had been spared from the eternal war that made up the galaxy because no one fighting on any side had truly cared about it. This had changed, as me and my team turned into a battlefront for the first time.
The Grand Commander of the sector had decreed that Sakana would raise its first regiments of Astra Militarum. Fifty thousand new troops to march to war in the endless life of combat and bloodshed that is the galaxy in the year Forty Thousand and some. This was always a cause for celebration; a world taking its first steps into the apparatus of the Imperium’s war machine with the community united in veneration of the God-Emperor and planet wide celebrations lasting for weeks. The beaches and avenues were crowded from sun up to sun down, workers and nobles alike celebrating in the streets below floating barges bearing new regimental flags and blasting martial music. The fisheries’ quotas were turned into delicacies served on every corner as the crowd celebrated the greatness of their world.
The Ministorum had decreed that these regiments would reinforce some war halfway across the segmentum, allowing those veteran troops to pull out and be sent to hold some obscure planet that was potentially able to attack supply lines that our forces would rely on during the assault on Cadia itself. This meant that the Warmaster would have to divert resources there to protect his logistical support through constantly shifting and changing battle plans that required more effort than sending my team and I here to halt the deployment of these new troops, by any means necessary.
If this seems a mission too great for just four Astartes and a double handful of mortal specialists, do not worry. This breed of warfare is exactly what the Alpha Legion was trained for, and our specialties would allow us far more options than a brute force assault on the hundreds of thousands of new troopers and support personnel. The fact that this also afforded us the opportunity to support the true task we were working on was not far from our minds as we carefully laid our plans. These were rapidly coming to a head, and the next several days would be crucial for both the galactic war efforts and our warband’s own, personal mission.
It became too late to halt any of our clandestine plans when an alert rune started flashing on my helmet’s display, causing me to glance at the vidscreen I had propped against the bare rockrete wall. The security camera covering the long hall outside showed a commissariat squad of one of the new regiments emerging from the elevator one hundred meters away. Five of them moved down the narrow hallway single file giving each door a cursory inspection as they walked past. The small team would almost certainly have orders for this specific door, but their recent training told them an enemy could lie behind every shadow even in the safest of enclaves. Laspistols remained holstered, but the shock truncheons they carried were energized and ready to go. The chronometer in my helmet told me my visitors were earlier than expected, but still within the time frame planned for. They were too late to stop what I had begun here in this habblock bedroom. I smiled in the red light of my helm, a momentary flash of mirth, then turned back to the work before me. This hab was tightly packed with rooms in narrow corridors. The planet’s one true city was thick with people, most working in the local space port, and homes were at a premium. It would take them almost two minutes to reach us at the pace they were going, enough time to finish.
I kept glancing at the monitor even as my hands continued the work almost without my attention. The squad’s movement down the hallway showed a lack of experience in tactical situations. They moved through potential lines of fire from unsecured cover without noticing the threat, and the trooper monitoring their rear kept jerking back to check behind them as he remembered it was his responsibility to keep his eyes back there. The fete the planetary governor had announced to celebrate the raising of the new regiments were just winding down, and these newly raised soldiers have not been tested in combat yet. The mass personnel carriers were beginning to launch that very day to carry troopers just like these to some far flung battlefield, throwing more and more bodies into the gaps the Imperium fought to preserve everyday. Unless our plan worked, of course. It would almost be a blessing for these poorly trained, backwater bumpkins if it did.
My marking of the last few arcane symbols onto the bare floor stopped just as the pounding on the outer door began. The glyphs and circles were complete enough for my purpose. The dark energy of the warp lay thick about the room. Angles that twisted the eye and curves that seemed to bend in the wrong direction marked every surface, turning the bedroom into one massive ritual chamber. I put the chalk away and turned to the rear of the room, eyeing the people tied to chairs against the wall one by one. The Astra Militarum uniforms they had put on at the start of their three day leave four days ago were rumpled and filthy. The medal marking their graduation from training was the only decoration on their chest. The Imperial aquila on their shoulders looked so lonesome and fragile compared to the arcane symbols painted on their flesh, the horrific shapes unmarred by the sweat dripping down their faces. The commissar squad knocked again, accompanied this time by a muffled shout.
“Private Gervin and any associates! You are wanted for the crime of being absent from maneuvers without leave! In the name of the God-Emperor and the officers appointed above you, open this door and surrender yourself for discipline!” The hacked security feed showed them bunched outside the door, unconcerned in their commonplace duty. None currently carried lethal weapons, they did not watch their rear for ambush or attack. New recruits celebrating after their graduation from training missing their muster was not anything surprising. They felt no suspicion that there was something larger going on. A few lashes and back to the line for all the absent troopers. I shook my head, almost chuckling at what would unfold when they finally forced their way in. The front door was nothing more than a perfunctory barricade, and this room had only the bed leaned up against its door to clear floor space for my work. None of it would not keep out the discipline squad long. I had planned my timing out well to meet my goals.
It had taken me a full day to cover the walls, floors, and ceiling with the barbed, eye twisting lines and symbols to form a cage for the power I was raising. I felt the weight of the Warp pressing against my mind as I gave one last look at this creation, checking every last intersection for the mathematical accuracy required. The only place unmarked by my work was the area around my prisoners. The lines of force drawn on the floor directed energy from their seats over to where I would be standing when the ritual was completed. Acrid smoke from incense and candles filled the air, circulating around the disabled fire alarm in the center of the room. The whispering of the daemons on the other side of reality was at a fever pitch. Only my centuries of training and experience kept me from succumbing to their calls. My prisoners were not so lucky. Not being gifted with the power to perceive the warp, they could still feel something pushing into the world, clawing at their very souls. Their ignorance of the science behind my work did nothing to calm their nerves. I moved over to them. The twisted vox grille of my helm offered no comfort as my glowing red lenses met the eyes of the woman who was first of my prisoner line.
“Are you ready Private Gervin, currently wanted for being absent from maneuvers without leave? The power is built; we cannot go back now.” She looked up at me, wide eyes peering over her gag colored by her lack of sleep. The black and gold panoply of my armour was reflected in them. I saw the terror causing visage of my helm, its crown of many horns adding to my gene enhanced height. I rose up completely. Her shorn head would not reach the top of my shoulder pad. I could easily have removed her head with a single blow, and she knew it. Snapping her bonds with my hands, I lifted her to her feet and drew a wickedly curved knife from the small of my back. I leaned in close and cut her gag away. She coughed, spitting it out and looked back up at me. I held the knife in close, the runes carved into its length shining light into her eyes. I asked her again, “Are you ready?” She looked at me, terrified but certain. The warp was felt as a pressure in the room, pushing to burst forth in our world, ready to respond to my will.
“I am ready, my lord. It’s too late to stop.” Her voice was strong and deep, resonating in the small room. My eyes moved down the line of still bound prisoners, each exhausted gaze meeting the eye lenses of my helm in turn. Eye contact with Astartes in his armour is difficult, but I tried to meet all their gazes. They all snapped out a curt nod, one after another. The creatures of the warp exalted in their emotions, their defiance and hope pulsing through the Immaterium. Their psionic howling reached a fever pitch. “We know our duty and must complete it.”
“Are you sure? Are you all sure?” I pressed her. I placed my heavy gauntlet on her shoulder, but I do not think there was comfort to be found in the weight of my cold ceramite touch. The wicked barbs on the back of my gauntlet caught the light of the candles and reflected back the colors of an oil spill. “We can withdraw now, and none of you will have to suffer what is to come.” She shook her head once sharply and turned her back to me. I placed the edge of my blade high on her shoulder, at the base of her neck.
“We are sure, lord. We all have our duties to bear in the grand struggle.” Gervin drew a deep breath, her back straightening and shoulders squaring as she came to attention as much as her tired frame could. “For the Emperor.” I am glad my helm hid my face from them as the pure strength and resilience of the human spirit moved both my hearts. I closed my eyes as the energy Gervin projected into the Warp charged the room with potent power. So many of my brothers think of humans as little more than animals, tools at best, but I swore I would never forget that theirs was the spirit that battled in a universe that hated them and wanted them dead, and they still persevered. We were forged to protect them, to take up the weight of wars so they could grow and progress. There was a bedrock of strength in each one that we must acknowledge and respect if we were to achieve victory.
“For the Emperor, “ I repeated back to her. I began to cut the runes of power into her skin. Gervin started screaming before the first symbol was complete. I wish I could have spared her the pain, but it was part of the ritual. The daemons on the other side of reality were drawn to strong emotions, pain and fear chief among them. For the plan to work, I needed the power her agony bought me. I hated it, but we needed her to suffer.
My attention could no longer stray from my work to the vidscreen showing the hallway, but I heard the squad outside scrambling as her cries rose in volume. Soon the hollow booms of their attempt to breach the door managed to reach us here in the back room. I had moved on to the next symbol as they managed to break down the hallway door, moving quickly to secure the entrance. If they were following standard protocol they were radioing for Arbites assistance. With only a door and small barricade between us, it was only a matter of moments before they would enter and reach us in here.
I could imagine the military police flooding into the room, securing the corners, checking the other doors in the small apartment to find only the one to the bedroom blocked. The outside room displayed only the aftermath of a party. The celebration of young adults who had spent the last few months in the harsh training of the Astra Militarum may leave mayhem behind, but it was trivial compared to what the power we had raised here. I completed the next symbol etched into Gervin’s back as they bounced against the door to this room. She screamed again and I felt the convulsing of the warp spirits rejoicing in her pain.
“Hold to the plan,” I whispered as low as I could. The distortion of my helmet speakers made my words into a harsh buzz. There was little comfort to be found in the deep rumble of an Astartes voice, but I hoped it would provide some small strength in the trials to come. I began the next symbol, the appearance of a chain forge of runes beginning to take shape around Gervin’s neck. The blood that flowed from the first one already steamed in the air, the latent energy of the warp bleeding through the wounds. I allowed my psionic presence to slip from my material form for just a moment. Viewing my work in the realm of the warp I saw how the whole room shone like a beacon. Terrors stalked outside the bounds of my wards, repulsed and attracted in turn by my work. What I was building here was a delicate balancing act, pitting my will and knowledge against the power of the warp.
The whining of las weapons firing sounded and the hinges on the door evaporated. I turned back to the entryway as they pulled the door away. They shoved the thin bed acting as a lone barricade back and stepped up to enter forcefully, but the sight of me froze them. I rose to my full height and turned to face them, spreading my arms and letting them see the totality of my presence. Gervin fell to her knees as I released her, gasping and retching. The fetishes and trophies covering this black and gold armour spoke of triumphs and treacheries, told of centuries of victories against their Imperium. The hooks, barbs, and horns of my war gear seemed prepared to rend and tear the flesh of anyone who got close. A freshly bleeding victim in the same uniform they wore was falling to the floor at my feet as I raised a glistening knife that looked like cruelty made manifest. Seeing a fully armoured Astartes is to see war personified, and the legends of our heresies stunned them for a crucial moment.
“It is too late, you are doomed!” I blasted over my helmet’s speakers and drew my bolt pistol. Two cracks pounded in the room as the rounds burst forth. My first shot took the center trooper directly in the chest, blowing him to a pulp and throwing him back into the troopers behind him. Blood and torn flesh splashed everywhere as the mass reactive round snapped stunned troopers aware again. My second shot found the frame of the bed in front of them and blew it completely clear of the door. The remaining troopers dived into the cover of the walls, away from the empty door frame. One responded quicker than the others and a stun grenade bounced into the room. My autosenses dulled the blast to levels I could easily stand, but sadly my bound prisoners were not so protected and collapsed, unconscious in their bonds.
The trooper’s entry following the grenade was straight out of a textbook. The first stepped through with his weapon already firing while the second and third through the doorway spun to quickly check any other entryways and secure the corners. They would then provide enfilading fire to their first compatriot who, had things worked out, pinned me beneath a barrage of small arms fire. The last one would enter low to fill the doorway and prevent me from escaping that way. No matter how well it was drilled into them, a perfectly executed tactical entry was not a match for what we had in place.
The first trooper only managed to squeeze off two hurried, unaimed shots as he breached the room before his advance brought him across one of my diagrams. He shuddered to a sudden stop as all the warp energy that had been building grounded itself in his soul like a lightning bolt. The metaphysical pressure in the room changed in an instant as he became a nexus for the forces I had been building for over a day. With a shriek that could only be heard with a sixth sense, all the daemons waiting on the other side poured into him. He collapsed to the ground as his eyes burned. Thin wisps of smoke emerged from all over his skin as the rapid expansion of warp energy began to cook him from the inside out. His body failed as his spirit was pulled into the realm of torment to become the plaything of the entities I had attracted.
The conditioned emotionless detachment of combat settled over me, but I still had a moment to feel a flash of pity for him. His death would serve my purpose, though I hated that I needed it. He had volunteered to fight his enemies on the battlefield and fall a hero to a mortal death. I consigned his soul to unimaginable torment in the pursuit of my goals. He was far from the first that I had sacrificed, and would almost certainly be far from the last, but this waste was always what I hated the most of my mission.
I moved to engage the others as soon as I saw he was no longer a threat. One had already turned to fire upon me but stopped when she saw her compatriot smoking on the floor. The other was tangled in some bedding that had scattered and fallen, laying out fully. His laspistol had spun from his hand and slid across the slick floor until it came to rest against the unconscious body of Gervin. The final trooper was kneeling down, peering around the doorframe to fire upon me now that his compatriots were no longer blocking his line of fire. Past him I could hear activity in the hallway as neighbors came out to investigate the fire fight.
The only exit remaining was the door against the back wall, opening onto a small balcony. I had chosen this room for the ritual to afford me this escape. It was the height of luxury in a habblock to have a way to access the outdoors this easily, even if we were several hundred feet up. Without looking I fired at the open door. The blast of a mass reactive bolt round echoed through the room again, and the trooper in the doorframe leapt out of the line of fire. I turned and sprinted towards the balcony. The sight of an armoured Astartes at full speed locks up the mind of most mortal humans as they are not able to comprehend something that large moving that quickly, and I knew that few troopers on this backwater world could quickly overcome that transhuman dread. As I emerged out into the sunlight, a laspistol shot pinged off my pauldrons, then another. The thick armour was designed to turn stronger weapons than these paltry things could muster so I wasn’t concerned. Another followed, blasting past my head.
Across from me was another habblock, a mirror of this one. The gap between the buildings was filled with bunting and banners. Streamers in regimental colours hung on every balcony, showing which regiment they or their kin had joined. Below, I could still hear merriment as the news of my attack had not yet spread. I knew that I could easily make it down and across, allowing me to flee through that building. I placed one foot on the balcony railing, gripping one of the bunting lines above me. This one, instead of the common fishing twine traditionally used for the others, was thick braided steel, and mounted to the wall with bolts as large as my armoured thumb. As I leaned forward, a lasround smashed into the railing beside me, blowing it to dust and throwing me off balance just as I began to leap into the gap.
I stumbled and fell forward. I dangled by one hand with nothing between me and the ground several hundred feet below except bunting and my heavy armour.
