Author Notes:
First of all, salutations to Private Conor Mccann, who's been the one to support me on this journey for more than a year. Private, good luck on your house moving!
Now then, I basically run through this new GSS chapter with a bit of a grin on my face. Hopefully, you all will enjoy it just as I have.
Finally, less than two days remain of the 35% discount for newcomers on my Patreon! If you want to read ahead, then do check my Patreon page out and support my Mom and I in the process!
Bon Voyage~!
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After the elimination of the Rubrik Marine and the subsequent restoration of Vox communication, I joined the unit on the ground floor in holding off the heretics that have yet to stop coming. They throw themselves at our bayonets and las bolts with reckless abandon, having yet to get the memo that their so-called Lord has just perished without much fanfare. Fortunately, without the risk of welcoming a foul bolt round to the face, nearly all of us, down below and above, are able to retake prime firing points by the windows and barricades. This subsequently allows us all to unleash much more firepower than before, giving us significant breathing room despite the occasional close calls from smart cultists who know how to use Frag Grenades.
Still, being a punching bag doesn't sit right with me, Johnson, the Priest, and his group of veteran Cadians.
"Rookie! ETA on that help!?" I can hear Johnson shouting on the floors above.
Las bolts, some of which are coming out of my two Laspistols, continue to rain on the messy lot of cultists near our building as we all await the eventual confirmation. Coincidentally, I have opted out of using my Long-las when the killing is close, and cultists die just the same to the unsuspecting Laspistol. Honestly, if I could, I would only bring my Laspistols with me, but appearances need to be kept up, and all that.
Weiss, who has yet to accompany down here, rushes a reply. "They're already here!"
Her words are punctuated by the tell-tale hums of VTOl engines, many of them, from a place out of view. This is soon followed by the crackling of Vox-link connecting to our channel, Multi-las, and Heavy Bolters blazing at anything that moves toward our front.
"This is Roughneck Section, Flight of two Valkyries on station... Froggers, we're here to assist." Comes the voice of Blake, pilot of the leading Valkyrie that is now circling over our building at low altitude.
A quick peek outside gives me the sight of Roughneck 1-1's side doors are opened, and the Heavy Bolters and Kasrkin are unleashing streams of firepower with deadly precision.
"Roughneck 1-1, good timing!" Comes the voice of Sergeant Johnson over Vox. "Have you brought reincforment!?"
"I brought the Colonel." Blake answers briefly, followed immediately by a Flight of Vulture Gunships that zip past the airspace in front of the building.
"And I brought enough bombs for everybody." Surprisingly, Colonel Mustahim interjects into the Vox network.
High-explosive ordnance is discharged from the bomb racks of the Vultures, and after deploying their retarding wings, fall in a near-gentle manner against the rows of suppressed cultists. After multiple big explosions, a safe LZ is created for more Valkyries to come to a hover near us. With the door-gunners manning Heavy Bolters of the Valkyries to provide overwatch, Kasrkin jumps out of the hovering Valkyries, their grav-chutes activating to slow down their falls, and to provide them with some additional stabilization in case they need to bring their Hellguns to bear midair. That said, not many things survived the bombing. The things that are still crawling about are even less humanoid than before, having lost limbs and even half of their bodies to the chain of explosions.
That's what you get for having air superiority, even though said air is soaring right beneath an enclosed metal ceiling. Goes to say how massive the internal volume of Installation 08 truly is for Valkyries and Vultures to be flying about.
When the Kasrkin touch down in droves, things are well and truly over, causing even some of the Cadian veterans around me to let out a breath they have been holding as they slump down right in their covers. Even I find myself relaxing somewhat when my instincts aren't ringing and my senses are not detecting anything out of place. I move back to the stairs, now sporting a few more bullet holes and scorch marks. Midway, I pick up the Long-las I have discarded previously, thinking of replacing its power pack with a fresh one, only to realize that I have none that are on a full tank on my vest. I sigh as I sit down on the steps of the staircase with my Long-las on my lap.
At least the scope on it is not damaged despite the rough treatment I gave it today.
A bit surprisingly, I am joined at the stairs by none other than the Priest, who is lugging his Eviscerator with a certain degree of weariness at last.
"Long day for all of us, huh?" The Priest starts as he slowly sits down on a step, his Eviscerator propped against the stair railing.
Reaching into the inner side of his priestly garment, the Priest pulls out not an Imperium's equivalent of the Holy Bible, but an object that is a delectable craving to any Imperial Guards worth their salt.
A cigar box, more specifically, a Lho-Stub container.
That is some fine stuff to smoke, indeed.
I then see the Priest bring out a lighter from a pocket. Subsequently, he brings out a Lho-Stub and puts it into his mouth. Yet, the aged man is unable to light it up due to the lighter failing on him.
"The Promethium container on it is cracked, Sir." I say helpfully, eyeing the minute crack on the lighter's body.
"Is it now?" The Priest, still holding the Lho-Stub in his mouth, mumbles as he takes a look at the flaw on an otherwise artisanly-crafted object. "Huh... I am lucky it didn't catch fire inside my tunic. I was wondering why it felt damp some time ago..."
"How about you use mine, Sir?" I offer, bringing out of my vest pocket a lighter of my own. Unlike his, mine is standard Imperial Guard equipment, rugged and inelegantly faced, saved for the Aquila symbol on its body.
"Don't mind if I do then." Says the Priest as he puts his lighter away.
The Priest then leans down, his Lho-Stub hovering over the flame I sparked with my lighter. Soon, he has a burning Warhammer cigar to enjoy.
"Thanks, young lady." The Priest says with a contented smile as he puffs his smoke.
Surprisingly, he takes out a Lho-Stub from his expensive-looking container and offers it to me.
"Let it not be said that I am stingy with a heroine of the Imperium." The Priest adds.
Well, you never say no to the Priest, especially one who has just fought side by side with you. "My gratitude, Sir."
I accept the gift, before unhesitantly licking it and putting it into my mouth as well.
"Good stuff." I comment, as I enjoy the clarity the high-grade Lho-Stub offers, without suffering from any of its potential toxins.
By the Emperor, I love Debuff Immunity.
[Emperor of Man: Smoking is not something you should be thanking me for, but I'll take it anyway.]
[Jingwei: ... Please do it in moderation.]
I will, Sister Hua.
The Priest, hearing my compliment and seeing me handle the Lho-Stub with finesse, chuckles good-naturedly. "I see, you're a lady of culture as well."
"Only on rare occasion, Sir." I smile back as I hold the cigar between my fingers. "Given how the whole day has been going, a bit of harmless toxin is fitting to soothe the strained nerves."
"Harmless toxin, hah!" The Priest laughs. "It describes the Lho-Stub perfectly. At the very least, it's a death of our own choosing."
It's a bit of harmless banter, now that the flow of Adrenaline has started to dwindle. A part of me appreciates how down to the Terra the Priest is when he doesn't need to quote the scriptures to maintain an iron grip on morale. Goes to say that, at the end of the day, even the people of the Adeptus Ministorum can be humans like the rest of us.
And speaking of the Ecclesiarchy, I wonder just what sorts of things the Emperor has cooked from its bloated corpse. She teased me about Jeanne d'Arc, yet She has refused to elaborate on it further. It will take a while for such changes to reach Cadia, I presume.
Eventually, we see the Valkyrie bearing the markings of Roughneck 1-1 touching down in front of our building when the Kasrkin has secured the perimeter. From the ramp, Colonel Mustahim steps out with full Kasrkin escorts. I have to note that the Colonel of the Cadian 8th comes fully armed with a Laspistol and a Power Sword. The Laspistol is a bit of an eclectic choice, considering high-ranking officers of the Imperial Guards tend to favor the harder-hitting Bolt Pistol. But then again, the benefits of the Laspistol are quite evident in its more handy nature and plentiful shot count.
After a brief exchange with an officer of the Kasrkin, the Colonel nods before walking inside the building. Behind me, I can hear the footsteps of Sergeant Johnson, Weiss, and a couple of others. Since it's gonna be a meeting between the brasses, I nod at the Priest before standing up and moving to the side with the Long-las in my hand. Understanding my action, the Priest smiles, but does not do much else other than continuing to smoke.
It's only when Colonel Mustahim comes close to the staircase, and Sergeant Johnson's group comes down the stairs that the Priest slowly stands up.
"Colonel Mustahim." The Priest greets.
"Priest von Jon." Colonel Mustahim replies with a terse nod. "I see you have fought bravely." The Colonel eyes the battered Eviscerator to the side.
"All in good service to the God Emperor of Mankind, of course." The Priest smiles. "That said, my effort is inconsequential when compared to the sheer sacrifices and devotions shown by the brave Guardsmen and Guardswomen around me."
It comes as a surprise when the Priest suddenly nods in my direction. "Her, especially. She basically took on a Traitorous Astartes all by herself, and lived to tell the tale, preventing much losses to us in the process."
"Did she now?" Colonel Mustahim, and by extension Sergeant Johnson and Weiss, turn at me with varying degrees of incredulity.
The Colonel then goes on to say with a frown. "Why is it always you and your Platoon, Corporal?"
Hearing the question, I snap a salute, replying loud and clear. "Reporting, Colonel! It's because we're the first to jump to where the trouble is, Colonel!"
I can swear that Johnson turns a smidge prouder at what I said, but Weiss is biting back a very, very exhausted sigh.
"Right..." The Colonel drawls. "That's your whole reason to exist, ain't it? Something needs to be done about that soon enough..."
Before Colonel Mustahim turns to address Sergeant Johnson and the surviving veterans, however, the Colonel adds. "On a personal note, Corporal Ein, I will prepare myself for when the reports of what you did reach your adopted mother's ears. And you better loose that Lho-Stub."
I chuckle wryly at that. "Hahaha... Yes, Colonel."
Great, way to end a battle, me.