Chapter 24: Green Tide
A dark-green display screen flickered with scrolling data. It had been a month since Dos obtained the rosarius.
[P-0869: Under attack by Orks, requesting permission to deploy Exterminatus.]
[Denied. A "God-class" Titan is sealed within this Forge World; strategic value absolute.]
[P-0869: Requesting deployment of Titan.]
[Denied. The "God-class" Titan must not be lost; strategic value absolute.]
[P-0869: Requesting Astartes Chapter support.]
[Approved. An Ultramarines Chapter and Blood Ravens Chapter have been requested.]
[P-0869: Requesting Astra Militarum support.]
[Approved. Krieg 64th Army Group... Cadian 759th Infantry Regiment, Cadian 672nd Armored Regiment, and Tempest Scions 94th Company have been mobilized.]
....
A Month of Recovery
Dos felt his wounds had mostly healed, probably thanks to his Psyker abilities. Such miraculous power existed, and yet the Imperium kept it under wraps.
Why didn't they promote it? Train official Psykers, for instance?
He'd never heard of anything like it back in the 2K era. Of course, his rank might be too low to access such information.
This month, the 946th Regiment had replenished its losses, and Dos had roughly grasped how the rosarius worked: it converted psychic energy into a shielding field that protected the wearer and sensed psychic phenomena.
But something didn't sit right. Why did psychic power pervade the Imperium while the High Lords previously suppressed any news of it? Without the Eye of Terror's influence, the Imperium wouldn't have released even the current scraps of information.
If a mere commissar like him didn't deserve to know such secrets, that was fine. But even House White lacked detailed intel on Psykers, and they were a ten-thousand-year-old dynasty from the Great Crusade era that still carried weight in this sector.
Either they truly didn't know, or they were hiding it.
The rosarius could store psychic energy and, when danger struck, form a protective shield. When Dos had asked Mongot what happened to depleted rosarii, the answer had silenced him: they were returned to the Ecclesiarchy, and the wearer would apply for a new one.
Yet Dos's own tests showed a rosarius could be recharged with psychic energy and reused indefinitely.
The Ecclesiarchy kept that quiet, it seemed. Perhaps these were secrets he shouldn't probe, at least not now.
Dos clipped the rosarius at his waist and went to fetch his power sword from the Tech-Priest.
Normally, he'd apply through the Departmento Munitorum, but the approval process took forever.
Fortunately, Dos had connections. One Priest in the 946th was a disciple of a Magos, and Dos had told him some 2K-era names for "sacred machines", including air-conditioners, tricycles, and rice-cookers. Delighted by this revelation, the Priest had given him a Mars-pattern power sword, which was better than his old Lucius-pattern blade.
He'd replaced everything he wore. His uniform had been torn, so he'd gotten a new set. Afterward, Dos collected this month's bolter shells and stipend.
All in all, a payday.
If only there were no new mission...
"So there is a new mission?"
Dos howled to the sky: "Noooooooooooo!!!"
He wanted to survive this month, and he had already done that? Time to crack open a can and celebrate! No, wait, why was he thinking about that now?
...
0361 handed Dos a sheet: "Have a look at the mission brief."
Dos read it, then read it again. Why?
Because he didn't want to believe it.
"Two Astartes Chapters, seventy-two Astra Militarum Regiments, one Krieg army group, Cadians, Tempest Scions. What the Hell!"
"Were they insane? Who was the target? The infamous greenskin warlord—Grom Ironjaw. That lunatic of an Ork!"
Dos glanced again at the seventy-two regiments. All elite-level Astra Militarum. Aside from the Krieg, each regiment fielded at least one super-heavy tank. These were true war-winners, mechanical beasts second only to Titans. Even Bloodthirsters thought twice before facing them.
Then there were the Tempest Scions, the finest of the Astra Militarum. Even Cadian shock troops couldn't compare with them. Every one of them was a Schola Progenium troublemaker, equipped with the best gear a mortal could carry.
If this was just to fight some greenskins, the lineup was extravagant beyond reason, so extravagant that Dos couldn't believe it.
Something is off. Could this be an Apocalypse-grade battlefield?
Could he refuse? Probably not. An emergency conscription order from the Departmento Munitorum was impossible to reject.
"Sigh..." Dos gave up resisting.
"Hey, come to think of it, why wasn't there a brief for that heresy-related mission last time?" Dos asked, remembering.
0361 tilted her head, pretending to fiddle with the documents. Why pretending? Dos could see she was holding them upside-down.
A dozen seconds passed before her movements froze. Mechanically, she flipped the pages right-side up.
"Forget it, probably nothing good." Dos was speechless. He pulled a small tin from his pocket and pressed it into 0361's hand.
"Th—ank—you—" 0361's pronunciation was clumsy; she rarely used the word.
"What was that?" Dos cupped his ear theatrically. "Say it again?"
She set the can on the table, ignoring him.
Dos didn't dare tease her further. Last time he'd walked in vertical and been carried out horizontal. Why did he bring the rosarius when coming to see 0361? Take a guess.
...
Just as Dos was about to leave, the lieutenant-colonels arrived, twenty of them, the 946th's senior command.
Dos received them with an Aquilla salute, and they greeted Dos in turn.
"You son of a—Oh, it's you, Commissar Dos! Fuk you, how may we be of service?" Memories rushed back as one of them spoke. That day when Dos had dominated him seemed to haunt him still.
Doss didn't reply; instead, he turned to look at 0361, who sat beside him.
"You taught them?" He glanced at 0361.
Last time he'd forgotten to mention it, and now it had already spread through the ranks. He had to stop this!
0361 nodded, her right forefinger tapping the desk edge.
Seriously, you're proud of this? Dos raised both eyebrows, baffled, seeing her agreeing while drumming a finger on the table, and grumbled internally.
After spending time with 0361, he'd learned a few of her cues. Tilting her head meant she wouldn't answer. A slight rightward tilt meant curiosity. Tapping the desk with her right forefinger meant she was in a good mood.
But right now, that wasn't the point. He was fighting to save his own mother tongue!
"Er... really, no need for such deep courtesy, just say a normal good morning or something," Dos pleaded. "I beg you, my dear comrade."
Doss didn't want to imagine the scene of one day Rouboute Guilliman walking up to the Emperor and saying, "Fuck you, Father," wouldn't the Emperor smack him out of existence for that? Nope, he had to nip this 2k slang in the bud, starting with the 0361, who is too interested in 2k slang.
"Mm... understood," 0361 replied.
YESS! Victory! Finally, Oh, yeah, bless the Emperor, bless his stupid sons too, Oh~ today will definitely be a good day.
[End of Chapter]