Tales from the Aprior Sector

The following article is a /tg/ related story or fanfic. Should you continue, expect to find tl;dr and an occasional amount of awesome.

A series of short stories starring the Knights Inductor and other residents of the Aprior Sector.

The Emperasque's Verdict

By Not LongPoster.

The Knights Inductor stood assembled in the cavernous hangar underneath their fortress-monastery. Before them stood the Emperor Himself, in the form of the mighty Tarrasque daemon which He had summoned and possessed, there to pass judgment on the Knights and the Aprior Sector. Even the Silencers could feel the raw power embodied in Him, and everyone could sense that He was displeased.

“INQUISITOR RIGHTINA'S REPORT WAS EXTREMELY THOROUGH, AND EXTREMELY DAMNING. YOU HAVE CONSORTED WITH XENOS, HERETICS, AND MUTANTS OF EVERY VARIETY, ENGAGED IN GROSS DEVIATIONS FROM THE STC CANON, INCLUDING THE STUDY OF XENOTECHNOLOGY, AND FLAGRANTLY VIOLATED THE SPIRIT AND LETTER OF THE CODEX ASTARTES. HONESTLY, ANY ONE OF THOSE OFFENSES WOULD BE ENOUGH TO DECLARE YOU TRAITORS AND HAVE THE WHOLE SECTOR PURGED. WHAT HAVE YOU TO SAY IN YOUR DEFENSE?”

Chapter Master Zakis Randi stepped forward. “My liege, we –”

He was interrupted by a clamor and clattering from under the hangar floor. Panels slid aside, revealing an elevator rising from the depths of the Torch. A fully enrobed Artisan, with a synthesized, vaguely Vostroyan or Valhallan accent, was swearing profusely over an oblong, enshrouded object, alternately pleading with and cajoling the machine spirit of whatever rested under the shroud. The Emperor's eyebrow-ridges rose in amusement at the sight, when the Artisan looked up, and saw Him for the first time.

“Oh – Omnissiah preserve me – Chapter Master Randi, I had no idea – you never said He would be here!” Zora gasped, her eye-lights wide and round.

“Just show him what your Workshop made,” Randi whispered gently.

“Oh – the device – yes!” And with a flourish, Zora whipped the shroud aside, revealing a massive weapon that looked like it had come from a Titan. As she chattered about it, Zora's confidence buoyed, and her voice became stronger. “This, Your Eminence, is our Unity-pattern gravity-manipulation mass driver. It has three barrels, so that each one has time to cool between shots, allowing us a rate of fire of two hundred rounds per second, and an underslung chainsaw bayonet if the enemy gets too close. We originally designed it for Titans and super-heavy tanks, but we built this one with a stock and external trigger for you!”

“IS IT BASED ON AN STC PATTERN?”

“No, Your Eminence!” Zora declared proudly.

“DOES IT CONTAIN REVERSE-ENGINEERED XENOTECHNOLOGY?”

“Yes, Your Eminance! The barrels are based on Tau railguns for their heat-resistance, the projectiles are based on Eldar shuriken and Tyranid borer beetles for aerodynamics, adaptive armor-piercing ability, and limited homing capacity, the moving parts are painted red so that they go faster, and the chainsaw bayonet's blades are based on Necron phase technology for superior cutting power.”

The Emperor stared dumbfounded at the weapon. “IS THERE ANYTHING OF HUMAN ORIGIN IN THIS MACHINE?”

“The accelerators are based on knowledge we gained from our study of the STC canon, the chainsaw track is based on the treads from the Land Raider, it fits on a Titan, and it was human diplomacy and ingenuity which led to its creation – I guarantee, there is no other species in the galaxy which could have built this weapon.”

The Emperor hefted the weapon, and raised it to His shoulder, sighting down the length, finally asking, “IS THERE ANY AMMUNITION?” Zora indicated a drum the size of a Crusader torso, which the Emperor took, and then vanished with a puff of purple smoke and a CRACK of displaced air. After the longest ten minutes of Randi's life, the Emperor reappeared, with a grin which stretched from ear to ear. “JUST TESTED IT IN THE EYE OF TERROR,” He explained. “LET'S JUST SAY...YOUR UNORTHODOXIES DO HAVE THEIR USES.”

Randi took that as a good sign.

Training Day

By Not LongPoster.

Kaptin Feegul generally liked his job. Humies never seemed to grow big enough to fight properly, but until they did, he would stand between them and the big nasties of the universe, and this “Aprior Sector” never seemed short of big nasties – from buggy Tyranid boys, to metal Necron boys, to spiky Chaos boys, there was always plenty for an Ork to do.

Still, there were some unpleasant duties which every Warboss had to face, sooner or later, like Deff, and paying Teef to your Bigger Boss, and, most frustrating of all, breaking in the new Boys. It seemed that, wherever his Shhh! went, there were more Orks willing to join him, and, somehow, he had to mold them to fit in.

And the most frustrating task of all was drilling. Orks had genetic memories of how to fight and build, but they had no idea of how to move or sneak around – that had to be taught.

Feegul surveyed the assembled Boys; every one of them eager to fight, but without discip – dissap – doing what he told them, his force would be worse than useless. “DETAIL!” he bellowed, “LEFT FACE!” And sure enough, no two boys faced the same direction when they were done. “NAW, YA GITZ – YER UVVER LEFT!” That didn't help matters – Orks had no instinct for “left” and “right,” it seemed, so he had to beat it into them. This was complicated by the fact that, sometimes, he got them mixed up himself, which meant that some of his Boys knew them one way, and the others had them the other way, and all of them were firmly convinced that they were right.

Finally, in desperation, he howled, “DETAIL! FACE DIS WAY!” And, by Gork and Mork, they did! They knew it – right out of the ground! Feegul was overjoyed. “DETAIL! FACE DAT WAY!” And they all turned back to face him – exactly the same angle and direction. Indeed, if he were asked, he would be unable to define “dis way” and “dat way,” but he somehow knew which way they ought to go – and apparently, so did his Boys! Of course, this raised the question of how he got them turned around. Perhaps...“DETAIL! FACE DA UVVER WAY!” Sure enough, he found himself facing three dozen Ork backsides.

Perhaps training the new Boys would be more enjoyable from now on.

Shadows in the Forest

By Not LongPoster.

Inquisitorial Stormtrooper Team Dagger Alpha Three advanced invisibly through the forests of Aprior Quartus Delta. Their goal: Wells Defense Works, the largest munitions manufacturer in the Sector, nicknamed “the Arsenal of Freedom” by the Apriori. Task Force Dagger was powerful enough to overwhelm any system, but a determined foe – and the Apriori were nothing if not determined – would exact a heavy penalty in return, unless this manufactorum could be destroyed. With D-Day only three weeks away, time was running out.

The team's leader, a man known only as 'Chief' by his squad-mates, called for a status update: “Specs, distance to target?” He and his team knew, thanks to the machine spirits in their goggles – specially gifted by one of Inquisitor Lord Damnos' Forge World contacts – but it was protocol to confirm with the electronics specialist.

“Two klicks, ETA forty-five minutes at this pace,” a severe woman's voice replied. “Estimated five hundred meters to detection perimeter.”

“Final status check. Charges?”

The team's lead demolition specialist checked his demo charges – again – and confirmed that they were in working order. “Green.”

“Weapons? Stealth systems?” Green status lights winked on his visor as each team member confirmed. “Commencing final approach to target. Commence vox silence.” The familiar hiss of the vox-caster bead ceased, and the team continued their advance.

Suddenly, the team's point-man raised his hand to halt his comrades. Pointing, he indicated a scrap barrel that – now that Chief thought about it – hadn't been there a moment ago. Chief signaled Scope to flank to the barrel's left, while he flanked to the right – was it a trap? A sensor post? Their stealth systems should keep them hidden, but it couldn't hurt to check – and it could hurt a lot to remain ignorant.

The moment of flanking the barrel proved rather anticlimactic, as there seemed to be nothing in it. Chief signaled his team to regroup, when deep, throaty laughter echoed among the trees. As one, the team turned to see a massive Ork Nob lazily sitting on a log that they had passed moments before – as if he had appeared from thin air!

“Ya get points fer observation, but yer speed needs work – whoever left dat barrel dere was a sloppy git, and ya coulda caught 'im,” the Nob said conversationally.

Specs signed, 'shall we attack?'

“Wouldn't try it if Oi was you lot,” the Nob answered – so he knew Cadian battle-sign! – “on account of dere bein' six of you, an' a dozen of us.” As he spoke, eleven Orks appeared from the undergrowth, heavily camouflaged, larger than any of the stormtroopers, and very, very well armed. “Now, technic'lly, we 'aven't seen ya do anyfing wrong, but I got da feeling dat ya ain't here ta sell Eatin' Squigs. If Oi was you, Bitty Boss, Oi'd call it a day, and ferget why ya came.” The Orks started vanishing into the forest once more, until only their Nob was left. “Remember, Da Green Shadow's always watchin' from da – er – shadows, roight? Oi dun wanna see yer mugs 'round 'ere again, or we'z gonna put yer skulls on a pointy stik ta warn da next lot of ya.”

With little choice, Chief signaled his team to abort, and they trudged away from the manufactorum, but not before he asked: “How?”

The Nob laughed again. “Yer tek-boyz are good, but they 'aven't figured out a way ta hide yer stink!” Winking at Chief, he, too, vanished, leaving the team apparently alone in the forest.

Except for the shadows, of course.

A Pacification Tale, or the Real Story of The Riotous Rebellion

Alright so my story begins in the Aprior Sector, I was born here and raised here, and did pretty damn good in school, though that last bit was because my dad was a maths teacher, and he made sure I did good. Anyway as it turns out my genes were compatible with the gene-seed, but I couldn't handle the training, so I'm now an assistant with the chapter. As it turns out a friend of mine from way back in the day also was inducted, name's Saul Alinsky, oh yeah see his dad was a history teacher, which is how his dad knew my dad and anyway so he's named for this guy back on Holy Terra who did something important with protesting and housing rights and whatever about 38,000 years ago.

Anyway back to the important part, see this was back in the day before Aprior was fully settled, and we were about to go and pacify one of the planets, I always forget which one, that was under the control of those chaos cults. So we're in orbit on our battle barge sitting there thinking what are we going to do? This planet is controlled by a small group of very rich nobles who wouldn't let us land if we had permission from the Emperor himself. The same small group who were worshiping all four of the chaos “gods.” So we're looking at the statistics for the planet and we notice about 80-90 percent of the people on this planet are living in the kinda poverty you don't see on the worst imperial planets, but they're all strangely loyal. Anyway after arguing about it for a couple of hours, one of the younger battle brothers, Nix I think his name was, ends it by slamming his hand down on the table and yells out, “if we openly invade they're gonna riot and we can't handle it” And that point we figure things have gotten a bit nuts so we all take a breather and calm down, I go get a cup of recaf, and we meet back about half an hour later. Saul starts things out real nice by asking a question very quietly, “what if they were already rioting?” we all look at each other and think about it. I'm the first one with a question, “How, by the emperor’s left bollock, are you going to swing something like that?” I said.

He says back to me, “I'll work something out, could we restore order so long as both sides wanted us there?”

“Sure” I said immediately, then thinking it out, “as long as both sides thought we were there to help them, we'd be welcomed as liberators”

“Alright then, I'll get the people good and stirred up, while Nix here can convince the nobility that we aren't there to kill them.”

“We're not going to kill them?”

“Not if we don't have to.” So the meeting's adjourned and I go back to my quarters on the ship to plan out where and how to land for best effect when I get a knock on the door, kinda quite, but I get up and answer it. I open the ten foot door designed for someone way bigger than me to see a rather lost-looking woman in power armor. “Can I help you, sister?”

“I'm not one of the Adepta Sororitias, but could you direct me to Captain Alinsky?”

“Oh yeah, he should still be on the bridge”

“Thank you”

“Not a problem” I went back to my planing and number crunching, then got some shut eye, nine hours later, I wake up, shower, shave, and get my report together. I walk onto the bridge to see that it's become a recording studio. Just as I'm about to go check and make sure I didn't make a wrong turn, I notice the woman from last night is sleeping in a makeshift hammock strung up behind one of the walls. I then notice Saul's currently at the mike giving a speech about the freedoms entrusted to the citizens of the Aprior Subsector, how basic these rights are, how transparency is needed from businesses, all good stuff, but these are things my 12 year old nephew could explain. I waited until he finished and put on some old music files recently recovered from Holy Terra. It had a nice beat and an angry tune about revolution, but I was still a bit confused. Saul, thankfully seeing the confused look on my face, turns off the mike and says, “I've been recording and broadcasting since you went to sleep, we've already started and based on what the scanners pick up we are on our way to being the most wanted men on this rock.”

“Good news, then?”

“Yup”

“Who's your new best friend?”

“Her name's Serano, She's a member of the Order of Reason's Light.”

“That's weird, when I talked to her last night, she said she wasn't a sister.”

“She isn't, she one of their mechanics, and a damn good one from I hear.”

“So why is she helping you?”

“She also holds a degree in music theory, and she knew some songs and movements that would be useful, she is also a powerful speaker.”

“Huh. That's handy.”

“Yeah, but you know what that means”

“Yeah” I replied recalling our time as kids, “We aren't going to get any more lucky breaks.” We then set about our assigned tasks for the day. I was on comm duty and got to listen as some of our men were assigned to stand guard over a meeting between a very weak, almost token, trade union and the nobility who owned the factories. It was interesting, and I could tell just by listening that what was once an organization with little to no power had been given a substantial amount of leverage by our new music channel. It wasn't enough for the nobility to agree to anything, they just repeat arguments that had been knocked over centuries ago. And then something happened which almost ended our plan. One of the noble's, in his infinite hubris, used a certain word which I won't repeat but suffice to say every marine in the company then did the best they could not to strangle the bastard. I think I might have stopped breathing to listen. After a full minute of absolute silence the meeting was adjourned, and I exhaled and looked over to see both Saul and Serano shaking with anger. I knew Saul was pissed, but he'd be fine. Serano, on the other hand, looked like she was about to turn whoever said that into a sack of meat inside a body-bag. Anyway I get to giving the orders and we regroup. The broadcasts had continued throughout the next day-night cycle, and it's at this point I'm growing worried. I had arranged to have a servitor monitor all the communications channels and then try to get some shut-eye.

Good thing I'd set up those servitors though, because that idiot from the negotiations decided to take his little band of mercenaries and do the usual privileged, “preserve higher culture” BS you've seen too many times. And the moment he'd gathered up enough troops to be a problem, I'd been woken up my a servo-skull. As I fumbled into my pants and robes, I managed to rally a fire team to slow him down. I knew though that a slow gradual take over was now out of the question. I reached the bridge as fast as I could. On the plus side his timing lined up with the shift change, so I now had several fire teams. I decided the best thing to do was to try to end this before the noble idiot reached the nearest bunkhouse. On the downside there were three routes over an incredibly toxic river he could take and I had exactly three fire teams. If I did the smart play and divided things up evenly, it would put each team at risk, as that guy had a really well equipped army. Luck me, the fire team from before had retreated to one of the three bridges and had managed to call reinforcements. I was about to deploy all our forces there to end the fight before it got too ugly, and then what became know as the riotous rebellion happened. Yeah that one, the one everybody in Aprior knows by heart, or at least they think they know. You see the popular idea is that it was just the sight of all these people waving signs in protest that got what's-his-face to back down. In reality he was just about to order his men to shoot to kill when he sees three things. Thing one: Our marines drawing a bead on him. Thing two: Every single person under his control currently holding anything they can use as a weapon, seriously I have never seen a bottle of rotgut look so deadly. Thing three: Serano and Saul about 40 yards away from his front line troops armed with a flamer and two bolt pistols respectively about to wreck him like a det-charge. Also spray-painted on the flag attached to Serano's armor “T***y and proud.” I'm watching this from both the tac-map and a shoulder mounted camera feed from a marine, and I'm busting up laughing. The look on his face was the perfect mix of confusion, defeat, and stark raving terror. After that, the chaos cults were taken care of via a combination of hatred for the old ways and our new policies on religious freedoms. We were heroes and it's always nice to give bullies what's coming to 'em.