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The Rose by Chris Cook, Part 8 @->--
We returned to Delva Four only once, a little over a year after
we left as novices. We didn't see the buildings of the Schola
Progenium, for we landed instead at the separate port attached to the
Convent itself, the base of operations for our Order. Four of us had
returned to become Sisters of Battle. The fifth had achieved that rank
by tradition, a month earlier - her ashes were returned to the Convent
to join the tens of thousands of Sisters who had already given their
lives in the service of the Emperor. The service which gave her the
title of Sororitas was performed by Sister Superior Monikka on the
desert world Horizon. She had earned the title, and would greet the
Emperor with humble pride.
The ceremony for us was longer, and it didn't strike the same
note for me as that little group of fourteen standing in the open
desert, around the funeral pyre of our friend. This ceremony was long
and tedious, consisting for the most part of people preaching sermons
that we had heard a hundred times already. Our only involvement was to
stand at the appointed time before the great statue of the Emperor atop
his great eagle steed, recite a litany we knew by heart, and be marked
as Sisters. This was done by Sister Superior Monikka herself - she
knelt by our side as each of us stood at the altar, and pressed a tiny
sphere to our skin, just below the ankle on the outside of the right
leg. It was instantaneous, leaving a tiny fleur-de-lys atop an equally
tiny rose - the Sisterhood and the Order of Our Lady of the Rose. I had
expected it to hurt, but it didn't, rather it was like touching ice, and
a chill ran up my leg. Then more sermons, and we stood patiently in
line as the words washed over us. I, and I think the other novices
also, we remembering other words from the past year.
It had been noted by Celestian Theresa that Serena and I worked
well when placed in the same squad - we had a way of knowing what the
other was doing, a sort of unspoken communication that is worth gold to
a fighting unit. She presumably passed this observation on to Sister
Superior Monikka, and from there it went to the Order's administration
staff, for we were both assigned to the Saint Valkyrie, a vessel much
like the Holy Sentinel except that it was not currently home to any
novices. Its duties were much the same also, but as we carried more
fully-trained Sisters - twenty-four in total - we were more often sent
to combat zones. The other difference was that, as Sisters, we were
entitled to wear battle armour. When I first saw my suit it gleamed
with the same light that my child's eyes had given the old armour among
the relics at Clearsky City. By the time we reached our first port of
call, an asteroid colony a week's journey from the Delva system, our
armour was fully calibrated and ready for action. But it was three
weeks later, on Oriax Prime, that we first fought.
The battle bore no relation to our usual task of ensuring purity
among His servants - a band of Orks had crash-landed and were raising
hell in the technologically-backward provinces on the planet's smaller
inhabited continent. We were the closest ship, so along with an
Imperial Guard transport that had been ferrying new troops to a front
line several systems distant, we were diverted to contain and eliminate
the aliens.
This proved none too difficult, for initial reports had
overestimated the number of survivors from the crash - the Ork ship had
been a big one, but had landed badly even by Ork standards and killed
the majority of the troops on board. When we arrived almost
simultaneously with the Sword of Faith, the Guard ship, the Orks were
instantly fighting a losing battle. We moved in from the south while
the Guard deployed east and north, using their greater numbers to
prevent the Orks from moving away from the coast to the west, while our
greater mobility and endurance allowed us to strike directly at the
surviving leaders, breaking the army into scattered fugitives who were
easily disposed of. The fighting might have been intense, but our
battle plan had fortunately been ideal for the situation, and the Orks
behaved exactly as we had expected them to. Our firepower hit them
right where it hurt, and they never managed to mount an effective
defence. The leaders were killed leading a weak counterattack, and all
that remained was to cleanse by fire the area the Orks had occupied for
any length of time.
Something happened on Oriax Prime, though, that struck me as
odd. It was after the end of the cleanse, when we were returning to the
nearest landing facility to rejoin our shuttles. We rode in three Rhino
transports, with two of us on the running boards of each vehicle, one on
each side. With no enemy left there was no reason for this, but it was
important that the villagers we passed, who had lived in fear of the
Orks, could see the faces of the people who had fought for them.
Vehicles were just things, and not really enough to instill confidence,
but seeing a human like yourself, knowing they have fought your enemy
and defeated him, does a lot to restore the confidence of a community,
even if that sight is only a glimpse as the Rhinos passed through on the
main road.
There were small crowds on either side of the road as we passed
through the villages, cheering and singing hymns. One figure caught my
attention, though, in a small township only a few klicks from the base
where the shuttles were waiting. He wasn't really distinctive in any
way, but his expression marked him as different to the crowd - they were
relieved, but he was merely watching us. I noticed, after this caught
my attention, that he was wearing as different style of clothing to the
people around him, and I wondered if he was not a local. His right arm
was raised - most of the crowd were waving and so on, so this was not
unusual, but there was something on his hand that glittered in the
sunlight. As we passed I got a closer look, when it caught the light at
just the right angle - it was an Imperial eagle, hanging from a chain
which he held in his hand. I watched him, curious, as we left him and
the rest of the crowd behind, and at that moment he saw me, and turned
slightly as my vehicle passed. His eyes widened, and he began to gently
push his way through the crowd, weaving between the people in front of
him. He broke through the front line as we left, still looking at me,
and although I couldn't hear his voice over the noise of the engines, I
was almost sure his lips framed the syllables of my name. I tried to
place him in my memory, but so far as I knew I had never seen him
before. This effort of recollection had caused me to look down for a
moment, and when I looked back he was gone, hidden in the dust thrown up
by the tracks of the Rhinos. I wondered who he was, and if I had
imagined the shape of his mouth as he called out. I told Serena of it
later, but she was on the other side of the Rhino in front, and had
seen
nothing.
@->--
To be continued...
--
TRANSLATOR: Chris Cook
TRANSMITTED: Alliance Heavy Cruiser Artemis
CROSSFILE: http://www.netspace.net.au/~alia/
AUTHOR: Sister Antonia
THOUGHT: To every life a light that shines.
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