Love and Krieg Spinoffs: Difference between revisions
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That's when I realized something. His officer bar was gold. The little bar that was on my 'uniform' is silver. I'm the 1st lieutenant...he made me HIS superior. | That's when I realized something. His officer bar was gold. The little bar that was on my 'uniform' is silver. I'm the 1st lieutenant...he made me HIS superior. | ||
===#1713 reassignmented=== | ===#1713's reassignmented=== | ||
I never really considered myself a violent person. Passionate perhaps, but not violent. All I know is that if I ever find the dick that made that dating website, I will make sure that they suffer. I was running the Basilisk like normal (I changed the name, I mean, the cannon on my roof is rather distinctive.) and #1713 is playing some light Vostroya songs. In comes this woman, and she walks up to #1713 and give him a paper. She claimed that she had gone to that dating website, and had been 'assigned' to him. He nodded, and took the woman's hand. I...umm...well I may have lost my temper and called her some rather unflattering (but true) names, and then...I might have grabbed the lasrifle #1713 put under the bar, lept over the counter and tried to assault her. Thankfully, I didn't get far as #1713 grabbed me, disarmed me, and sat me down at the piano. He had his mask off, and they always look like that but...I think he was frowning for real. He left with the woman. I guess that's good in the long run. No more waking up to see rations laid out for breakfast, no more trenching or fortification of my home, no more seeing his grey eyes...or hearing Regentropfen the way he plays it. | I never really considered myself a violent person. Passionate perhaps, but not violent. All I know is that if I ever find the dick that made that dating website, I will make sure that they suffer. I was running the Basilisk like normal (I changed the name, I mean, the cannon on my roof is rather distinctive.) and #1713 is playing some light Vostroya songs. In comes this woman, and she walks up to #1713 and give him a paper. She claimed that she had gone to that dating website, and had been 'assigned' to him. He nodded, and took the woman's hand. I...umm...well I may have lost my temper and called her some rather unflattering (but true) names, and then...I might have grabbed the lasrifle #1713 put under the bar, lept over the counter and tried to assault her. Thankfully, I didn't get far as #1713 grabbed me, disarmed me, and sat me down at the piano. He had his mask off, and they always look like that but...I think he was frowning for real. He left with the woman. I guess that's good in the long run. No more waking up to see rations laid out for breakfast, no more trenching or fortification of my home, no more seeing his grey eyes...or hearing Regentropfen the way he plays it. | ||
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It's such a pretty song. | It's such a pretty song. | ||
===Grandaughter=== | ===Grandaughter=== | ||
This was going to be complicated. Probably the most complicated thing ever. Oh, there had been manipulations before, and originally this was just for a quick laugh. Now, however...now there was a new option for an old problem. | This was going to be complicated. Probably the most complicated thing ever. Oh, there had been manipulations before, and originally this was just for a quick laugh. Now, however...now there was a new option for an old problem. |
Revision as of 02:53, 21 August 2010
Inspired by the first stories in Love and Krieg other writers took it upon themselves to create side stories about Krieger Female Model 68b #6345's sisters and their own romantic adventures. Notable is Krieger Female Model 68b #6346 who gets involved with another nameless civilian in a similar manner to the original stories and Krieger Female model 68c #6345 who ends up with a Commissar in the regiment.
The Krieger and I
Stare
So these Kriegers landed here some months ago and set up their main camp outside town, nobody really knows why, but the news say it is an ongoing progress to reinforce the planet in perilous times and to promote intra-world relations. At the beginning we were all a bit worried of how this would change our society and so, but it turned out that the Kriegers were more than happy to mainly keep to themselves and fortify their camp, so we didn’t have much problem. After a while though they popped up in town, often moving in small groups, or squads, of five or so in full trenchcoat, combat gear and always the gasmask, but this we got used to as well, I mean, we have a pretty diverse ethnicity here in town, what was some more? Only thing that was a bit unnerving was that they pretty much never spoke, but they managed to communicate with body language and notes, so it all worked out. In fact one of my friends happened to get into a relationship with one of them, and although I’ve understood there have been some cultural barriers it seems to work out fine.
Sometimes me and the guys would see some of the Kriegers try to pick up girls at the bar, but I guess a combination of the ever-present gasmask and the non-verbal communication made them look like creeps and pretty much always got the cold shoulder. I guess that I could put in a joke here about getting women isn’t the kind of prolonged siege the Kriegers are used to, but I’ll refrain, I’m past that stage by now.
See the cause of that is because among the Krieger-guys there were also a couple of Krieger-girls. At the beginning it was hard to pick them out because of their similar clothing, but after a couple of months many Kriegers started removing the masks inside bars and similar. I had already seen one when I had dinner at my friend’s, he mentioned something about “facial recognition”, so I suppose it has something to do with that. Anyway, this was the first time I had seen others, other than the one my friend is living with, and Emperor was I surprised to see that these ones were so similar. I could hardly tell them apart, even from my friend’s Krieger.
So there I sat, staring at the Krieger-girls like some kind of weirdo when I suddenly meet with eye-contact with one of them. I get that funny feeling that happens and try to look away, but somehow something inside me tells me to go for it. In an attempt to salvage the situation I keep eye-contact and walk up to her and ask her if the place beside her is taken, to which she only nods and I sit down. I offer her a drink (now that I think about it I never saw her drink from it, but the level constantly sank, so I guess she did when I looked away) and all that normal pick-up-a-girl stuff, start talking with her, and while I can’t remember exactly what I said I soon noticed that she never talked, but simply nodded, or shook her head when she disagreed, with what I said.
Most people would have found it creepy and odd, and I have to admit, so did I, but I found that it was oddly relaxing. No matter what I said she always had her attention focused on me and it really felt like she was listening to everything I said. In fact I kept talking through the night about everything possible, about my life, about the planet, about what I thought of the Kriegers and wondered about them (this lead to a lot of nodding and shaking as she answered my questions). I think I got her to smile a bit, so it seemed like it worked out pretty ok.
So we sat there until closing time before we had to leave, and while I turned around to get my jacket she donned her combat gear, mask and shouldered her lasgun (which had to be stored with the coat after an incident in a nearby bar my friend might or might not have been involved in). I don’t know how she managed, because I only turned away for a split sec and didn’t hear more than a quiet shuffle, but nonetheless she was all dressed up when I turned around. I have to admit that I wondered if it really was my Krieger for a second, because there were a number of them moving out at the same time, but I could feel her blue eyes fixed on me through the lenses of the mask, so I assumed it was her.
The walk home was pretty uneventful, I told her where I lived (which was on the way to the encampment) and she gestured that she lived in the encampment and some sign that told me to wait. She went up to one Krieger that was currently boarding a Chimera and I assume they communicated somehow, because he nodded and the two saluted before she returned to my side. I kept on talking as we walked, it was a pretty nice night, not too chilly, so I noted that she could remove the mask. I dunno if she was shy about something, but she just shook her head when I asked her, so I let it go.
We arrived at my door after a while, and I was contemplating if I should ask her up (I was also trying to come up with a good way to do it, I didn’t know her interests and I hardly had any earthworks or bayonet collection for “inspection”), when she saluted me. I was stunned for a second before I followed in suit, upon which she handed over a note to me, then returned to attention and started marching down the street. I watched her until she turned around the corner, and then looked at the paper. It said the following:
XXXX Private Krieger Female Model 68b #6346 68th Krieg Regiment, Company XXII, Platoon Gamma Vox Channel: 445X6 XXXX
I guess this was the Krieger equivalent of getting a girl’s phone number. All in all a pretty good evening I guess.
Communicate
I’ve always had this problem with calling girls, how long should one wait? What should one say? When on the day should I call? Now, when I was going to call a Krieger-girl this anxiety became doubled. I called my previously mentioned friend about it and I guess he congratulated me and gave me some tips, although he admitted that his situation had been a bit different. Anyway, I decided to follow the word of the old and wise and waited three days before I picked up the phone and asked the operator to hook me up to the vox-net. The receiver was picked up barely after the first signal had rung through and I heard heavy breathing through what I presumed was a gasmask, it sounded like a guy, but I couldn’t be sure since the receiver was silent. It felt like minutes passed, but it was probably only a couple of seconds, before I decided to speak.
“Ahem, is this Platoon Gamma? I would like to speak with… Krieger Female Model 68b #6346. Is she there?”
It was silent for a couple of seconds before I heard some mumble. I couldn’t hear what he said, but since he left it on and the breathing disappeared I presume he went to get her. After a while someone new picked up the receiver, a lighter breathing, so I guessed it was Krieg Female Model 68b #6346. As with the one who picked up the phone I assumed it was best that I took the initiative.
“Uhm, it’s me from the bar the other day, I was… uh thinking perhaps you want to go out again?”
I’m not sure, but I think I heard a happy squeal from her side and a lot of shuffling around, as if the whole platoon was standing behind her and listening in.
“I uh, take that as a yes? So should we meet tomorrow and watch a movie? There’s one starting at seven in town tomorrow.”
The breathing got faster and somehow I could see her in front of me nodding. Then everything happened so fast I barely remember in what order. I heard a large boom and some shouting in the background, then a lot of shuffling before the phone hung up. I think I heard a mumble similar to “sorry” but I’m not sure.
I was a bit worried, since we didn’t set up a time to meet, but when I tried to call back I didn’t get a reply. Tomorrow came anyway, and I decided to prepare myself to wait outside the theater at seven. I didn’t need to though, because at six the doorbell rang and my Krieger was waiting outside in a freshly cleaned and pressed trenchcoat and full combat gear. I did spot some dried dirt on her boots and the shovel on her back, so I assumed she had been on drill since the call.
I finished my preparations and we walked downtown to the theater. On the way I heeded my friend’s advice and told her that the movie was about how the insidious Xenos and Hereteks together worked to try and restrict the development of humans. I also pointed out that the movie is just a work of fiction, and nothing to get overly riled up over. I think she understood most of what I said, and I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t, because I could see her glaring at the blue faces on the posters through her mask already when we were approaching the cinema.
Anyway, I paid for the tickets, bought some popcorn and soda and we got two seats. The movie had run for a while, but was still pretty popular, so it was perhaps half-full. As it begun I wondered if I should have chosen a romantic movie instead to increase my chances, but it seemed to work out anyway. I have to admit that I did feel a bit of sympathy for the blue aliens in the movie, but Krieger Female Model 68b #6346 was all on the humans, she even cried a tear when the colonel died towards the end, so I tried to keep my face as much as possible. When we were walking out I could feel her glaring at the others who had more openly shown their feelings for the Xenos, but I think she tried her hardest to behave.
When we were walking away from the theater and was pretty alone from the street I suddenly felt her grip my arm and press it against her, I looked at her and she met my gaze through the polished lenses on her gasmask. She didn’t speak, but it felt like she was trying to convey her fears for similar things happening right now in the Imperium and that she wanted us to stay true to the Emperor forever. Or I dunno, perhaps I’m just imagining things, I smiled at her anyway, and it seemed to calm her down, although she kept the grip on my arm. Not that I minded, though.
I waited until we were sitting down at a nearby fast-food restaurant (not so flashy I know, but I was in a bit of money trouble and considering the speed the burger disappeared in front of her I don’t think she disagreed with my choice) before I started talking about the movie. I was pretty careful with what I said, not to seem like a Xenos-lover, and I praised the humans for their work in the movie. We (I) slipped into religion after that and I happened to mention I hadn’t been that religious before, just praying to the Emperor from time to time to help me out. I totally forgot how fanatical Kriegers could be and was afraid I would scare her away. First a borderline heretical movie and now this.
I swallowed and had focused on my dwindling soda as I had spoken to get away for a bit, but when I looked up I could only see mercy in her eyes, she took it better than I had expected. She gripped my hand and I felt in her gaze how she wanted to restore my faith in the Emperor and in that moment I felt that for her I would do just that. Despite the recovery I decided to stay silent for the rest of the meal, which now for once felt a bit awkward.
We stayed silent on the way back home to my place as well, although she took my hand as we walked, so I thought my chances weren’t all blown. This time she kept her mask off however, and after a while the silence didn’t feel so awkward after all. In the end I actually felt that it would just be nice if we could continue to walk like this forever. Alas, that could not be, so we soon found ourselves in front of my door. I decided to take my chances and inhaled as I was about to ask her up.
Before I had time to say anything, however, she shook her head and indicated at her shovel, so assumed she had exercises early tomorrow. She then smiled and made her hand into a phone, as to tell me to call her. I was so relieved that I didn’t notice me snapping to attention in reaction to her saluting (I worked at a convenience store at the time, and the Kriegers often saluted when they were checking out their things, so it had become a reflex) and before I had time to react she had given me a kiss on the cheek. I found myself again watching after her as she disappeared down the road. At that point I think I realized I was in love.
Grant
While the last incident went smoothly I decided to call my friend again for a couple of tips the next day. We talked for a while and he revealed to me that he was planning to propose to his girlfriend that very day and that he was in the middle of preparations, so we had to cut it short, but he suggested a couple of places for me to go with my own Krieger-girl that had worked for him. I could swear I heard fighting in the background and when I asked about it he just dismissed it as a “distraction” before he told me he had to hang up.
After waiting a while I called back to Gamma Platoon to see if I could get a hold of Krieg Female Model 68b #6346. Again it was the same silent heavy gasmask breathing that answered, but this time I took the initiative faster and asked pretty much as soon as he had picked up. I could hear him shuffle away and then come back again before I got a dismissive mumble which I interpreted as “She’s out” as he hung up on me.
I wasn’t worried though, as she had indicated she had things to do that day, so I decided I’d take an easy night and watched television. Around nine PM I heard my doorbell ring, I hadn’t expected anyone so I was quite surprised to discover Krieg Female Model 68b #6346 to stand on the other side. She saluted me in greeting and handed over a piece of paper. I saluted back and took the paper and was about to offer her to go in as she pointed at the paper, wanting me to read it.
It was hand written, probably in haste, and notably not very official (first time I’ve ever seen such a thing with a Krieger). It had her as the ‘from’ and me as the ‘to’ and one single line of text after that.
“Requesting permission to speak.”
I looked up at her, puzzled, wondering if this really was regulations, and if I was one to grant her (I didn’t hold any military rank, the closest was my brother who is a corporal in the PDF fighting insurgents in the desert regions), but I could hardly deny her.
“Permission granted,” I said in the most military-wise tone I could muster.
She snapped into a new salute in response, grinning broadly as she spoke. Her voice was light, fitting her fair skin, blue eyes and light hair perfectly, with a touch of off-worlder accent.
“Requesting permission to express feelings!” She practically shouted at me.
“Granted,” I replied quickly, partly because I wanted it, but also to speed up the progress of getting her inside, as I was sure my neighbours would soon show up and wonder what was happening.
Before I had time to usher her in though, she leaped at me, tackling me down on the floor and planting her lips on mine. It felt like an eternity that we just laid there, pressing our bodies against eachother and kissing. I think I heard one of my neighbours opening and quickly closing their door again as we were sprawled on my doormat. After a while (during which I had managed to sneak my hands in under her greatcoat, but not yet penetrated her clothing under it) we separated our faces and she looked into my eyes with that same old solid stare.
“I love you.” We both said at the same time, I guess it sounds cliché but it actually was that way. Ok, I did see her move her lips to speak and I guess what she was going to say, so I took the chance. We kissed again, before we got up and I closed the door as she got her pack off. I cooked up some recaf and we sat down in front of the television. I have to admit that we didn’t do much drinking or watching, but a lot of cuddling and talking instead. While I had enjoyed talking to her earlier it was nothing against having a real conversation with her. I wondered about the seemingly sudden change and she told me that she had been inspired by seeing her sister’s boyfriend propose to her (it was now I remembered that the Krieger-girl my friend was with was 68b #6345 and that she was 68b #6346) and that she didn’t want to go through the long process her sister had (including a visit to their father, 68, one that I guessed would show up for me too sooner or later) but wanted to be with me now.
We continued the night in the same manner, talking, cuddling and eventually sleeping together. The next day she was gone by the time I woke up (although I faintly remember a bayonet-poke in my half-sleep), but a note in the kitchen said she would be back. I considered calling my friend to say I was dating his fiancée’s sister, but I decided not to, leaving them to enjoy the day for themselves. Nonetheless Krieger Female Model 68b #6346 (she asked me to call her Sibylle when were just us two together from that day forward) showed up a couple of hours later with a permission to take up residence with the civilian populace, namely me, and we have lived together since.
The Logs of 68th Krieg Field Artillery Regimental Commissar's Communications with the Commissariat
Administratum Note: The following transmissions were received from a Commissar attached to the 68th Krieg Regiment on a prior deployment, the desert world Saghalain.
Entry One
Sir,
Throne willing, this reaches you in the best of health. You were absolutely right sir. My tenure in the Segmentum’s Propeganda Ministry was too long. I find myself disgracefully out of practice for my duties as a Regimental Commissar. I believe I understand your reasons for assigning me here to the 68th Krieger field artillery. The regiment is impeccably well disciplined. I took to heart your advice, that a good commissar should announce himself with a field execution within four hours of his arrival on post, but sir, in spite of my most rigorous scrutiny, I could find no breach of regulation anywhere.
Sir, I understand how unusual this may sound, but I’m not sure the 68th Krieger require a Commissar. I’m not sure what I am expected to do here. My duties seem vestigial, ceremonial, and Sir, there’s something else. They’re watching me, always watching. I know the sight of a guardsman at attention should fill any Imperial citizen with the warmth of the Emperor's confidence, but by the saints these people make me shiver; the glint on their lenses, the hiss of their respirators. Sir, I want my old assignment back. Please Sir, I’m sorry that your assistant and I… Sir it will never happen again. If you’d put me behind a desk again––Oh saints I can't send this. Delete that last part. Stop scribing. Oh, what was the command? Cease. Terminate. Desist. End. Hey, you there, Ensign, find the Enginseer. I’m having trouble with my servitor.
Recorded 4105988.M41
68th Krieg Field Artillery – Saghalain
Autoscribe Servitor #303440288
Meanwhile, at the Commissariat
"Commissar, the reason you were assigned to the 68th Krieg Field Artillery Regiment... was primarily to deal with any issues that may arise between your charges and the local civilians. And to give them something resembling a normal human being to practice their social skills on."
- unintelligible*
"...you do realize that hysterical laughter followed by uncontrollable sobbing puts enough demerits on your record to lose Commissariat Ice Cream Privileges for a period of no less than one month?"
- unintelligible*
"No, I'm not...no, I'm not going to- WOULD YOU LET ME FINISH?!"
- throat-clearing noise, followed by exasperated sigh*
"No, I'm not going to take Mr. Buttons away. Teddy Bear Deployment Rights don't come under review unless you've done something like, say, suffer the Xenos to live."
- unintelligible*
"...What do you mean "the head of the PTA is a Lictor?"
- unintelligible*
"No, I don't care that it makes cookies."
- unintelligible*
"...wait, did you just say "Inverted Key Lime Double Fudge Chunk? That can't be possible, nobody's seen that STC in-"
- unintelligible*
"...I'll call you back."
- disconnection*
"Amberley?"
"Yes, Ciaphas?"
"Do you think I'm drinking too much amasec, or not enough?"
"...I'll pour each of us a double."
Entry Two
I’ve just completed the inspection of today’s muster. There isn’t really anything to log, as usual. The 68th continue to adhere to every directive in the primer, to the letter. Morale in the regiment is hard to gauge. I haven’t heard them saying anything seditious or heretical. I haven’t heard them saying anything. No executions yet. No reprimands to give, formal or informal.
The Astropath handed me the strangest communiqué from the Lord-Commissar. There was a lot of warp interference, but it sounded like––It’s better not to think of things at the old office. It doesn’t sound like he’ll take me back anyway that son of a––When did you get here? What are you doing in my tent? Well, say something. Who are you? Let me see your dogtags. Come on, I’ll take your number even if I have to read them myself.
Oh my throne, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were a––I didn’t realize this was a mixed gender regiment. I didn’t know Kriegers were ever, you know, girls. There button that back up, that’s better. I can read it just fine from here. Six Eight C Six Three Four Five. Yes, um, that will be all, dismissed. Go. There’s no reason for you to be in my sleeping quarters. Just, fine, I’ll go.
Recorded 4106988.M41
68th Krieg Field Artillery – Saghalain
Autoscribe #303440288
Intercept
"Speaking of poetry. While I was in the middle rubbing sacred unguents on my autoscribe to get it working again I found this note.
Rosen sind Rot, Mohne sind zu, Ich werde gehen nach Lebensborn und Schlafen mit Du
I think 68c left it. But I don't speak Kriegermanish. Anybody got a clue what she's trying to tell me?"
"Ah yes, I recognize the beginning. It appears to be an archaic Terran verse, one known for its many variations. Pre-Unification certainly, in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it dates even further back than that. Let's see.
"Roses are red, Violets are blue. I will go to Lebensborn and"
Oh. Oh my. Well then, I'll just take that from you and send you on your way. No lad, do not question your superiors. Back to work with you."
Entry Three
Sir,
I hope the Astropath doesn’t have any trouble understanding my penmanship. Forgive me if it causes any problems. I was wrong to assume these guardsman had nothing to hide behind their respirators. They’re up to something, I’m sure of it. I used to think they didn’t speak at all, but I suspect they’re only playing dumb. It’s a ruse! I swear, sir, I’ve heard them mumbling to each other when they think I’m not listening. They’re coordinating something behind my back.
They’ve left someone to keep tabs on me every moment of the day. She’s there when I wake up. She follows me on my morning inspection. When the troop is on parade, their eyes are on her not me, at least I think they are. It’s hard to tell. I’m not sure how to proceed sir, she never leaves my side. I can’t even use my autoscribe for letters anymore. She’ll hear every word. She’s behind me now. I hardly ever see her move when she’s in my tent, but I swear she seems a step closer to me every time I turn around. Every day, she watches me until I sleep. She’s there when I wake up. I think it’s the same one every day, Six Eight C. I haven’t changed out of my uniform in three days. If I don’t think of something soon I’ll have to file a formal reprimand against my self for failing to pass inspection, Article 4733/67y.
4108988.M41
68th Krieg Field Artillery – Saghalain
Entry Four
It is the same one, watching me every day. I’m certain of it. I had my eye on her last night, and an idea came to me. As I was pacing my tent, writing my last letter, I bumped into her intentionally. I knew instantly that it was at the very least another female because of the soft, yielding feel of her chest, but that wasn’t the point of my plan. My pen left a stain on her right breast, just between the second and third buttons of her greatcoat. When I woke up this morning, the stain was still there.
I’m not sure what to make of it. I was certain my minder would leave when I slept, to report change shifts with a replacement for the next day. Something else must be going on. When does she find a moment to tell them everything I’m doing? When does she sleep? If she isn’t spying on me, then why, for the sake of everything that’s holy in the Imperium is she still in my tent. What on Terra could she want?
4109988.M41
68th Krieg Field Artillery – Saghalain
Entry Five
Commence. Begin. Initiate. Oh, It’s started already. Delete. Erase. Nevermind. I might have been a bit hasty to jump to the conclusion that Six Eight C was informing on my actions. As certain I may be that I have never left her sight, I’m nearly as sure that she hasn’t been more than a pace or two away from me this whole week. As such, I have resumed the use of my autoscribe. Also, I am out of ink.
It’s awkward, I’ll admit, to talk about her in the third person. She’s right over there. She always is. I presume she knows whom the pronoun I keep dropping refers to. Or to whom it refers, or whatever. Why can’t my autoscribe have an editing cogitator. Anyway I suppose I’m beginning to get used to having her around. Yes, to having you around, Six Eight C Six Three Four Four. Or was it Six Eight C Six Three Four Seven? No. No, you don’t need to show me again it really doesn’t––Oh, Six Three Four Five, that’s uh, a very pretty, uh, number.
Recorded 4110988.M41
68th Krieg Field Artillery – Saghalain
Autoscribe #303440288
Entry Six
This afternoon I finally changed into a new uniform. It feels wonderful. I can’t believe it took me so long to think of a way to get rid of Six Eight C. It was so simple, I could have done it days ago. This morning I was inspecting the troops, as I always do. I was thinking of what a waste of time it always is, nothing to report, when I noticed my chance. The ink stain was still there where I’d made it, on her chest.
I prodded it roughly with my finger and said, “Guardswoman, are you aware of Article 4733/67y? That’s Ill-Treatment or Neglect of Accoutrements. Take her away” And that was all it took. I heard her make a sharp gasp in her respirator and then the sergeant was dragging her away. She kept staring at me, what a look.
Now I’m alone. What a feeling. It’s wonderful I can lounge in here in my shirtsleeves. I can say anything I want to my autoscribe, and tonight, oh tonight I can sleep alone. Tomorrow I can roll out of my cot and take my time slipping into a nice fresh uniform. All I have to do in the morning is heft my bolt pistol to the parade ground and––Throne on Terra She’s going to be shot! Sweet Sanguinius what do I do?
Recorded 4111988.M41
68th Krieg Field Artillery – Saghalain
Autoscribe #303440288
Entry Seven
Administratum Note: The following transmissions were received independently with distinct identification markers, all apparently following the events of the previous transmission. For the sake of completeness, all three have been archived here and an investigation of their authenticity is ongoing.
Entry Seven A
She died in front of me.
I don't know how it happened, but somehow, one of the enemies of the Imperium managed to get an artillery strike on the parade grounds. They must have managed to raid a supply dump for the shells, they were standard Krieg toxic gas. Apparently they found a makeshift launcher near the Hive covered in Chaos runes. I don't, I don't..
I was going to pardon her. Let her off with a lecture and restricted rations. But the shells hit before I had got to her, and, and, and
I don't know what - whoever it was who launched the attack - was thinking. All the Kriegers were wearing their masks. The only one at risk was me, of course, I didn't have mine on me. It was a parade, dammit! It was supposed to be safe territory!
She saved my life. It...it was the first time I saw her eyes when she wrestled her mask onto my face. It was the same look that my sister gave to me back before the days at the Schola, just a concerned look of someone not wanting to see someone they cared for hurt. Someone that they lo- they lo-
They're shelling the Hive. I don't have the heart to stop them. End. Stop. Get out. Get-
Recorded 4112988.M41
68th Krieg Field Artillery – Saghalain
Autoscribe #303440288
Entry Seven B
How did it come to this. I wasn’t a bad student in the Schola. Those posters I wrote in the Ministry ended up on walls all through the Segmentum. I’m sure I could have had my old, safe job back if I’d just kept my head down a little longer. That face, though, that haunting face would never leave my head. Those eyes, imploring me through the lenses were just––what could I have done.
I could spend the rest of my life, however short that may be, pondering about how I could have played it differently, if I hadn’t acted like a fool, or if I hadn’t had to be the hero. Funny that the bravest thing I’ve ever done is the blackest mark I’ll ever have on my career. I had to make a choice, a stand.
Throne, imagine the look on my old instructor's face when he heard I’d ended up with a Penal Legion. What a waste, a good name, with a good record. But, you know, I think I made the right choice. There’s only one face I care if I’ll see or not for the rest of my life, and the funny thing is I didn’t even see it for the first time until yesterday. Now at least I’ll get to see it until the very end. I told Six Eight C that the explosive collar brought out her eyes, and you know, I meant it. That’s when I knew it was all worth it. That’s when I saw her smile.
Recorded 4112988.M41
4th Penal Legion – Saghalain
Entry Seven C
Start scribing or whatever your activation code is, blasted Enginseer said he can't come have a look at you for another week, they're re-sanctifying all the Russes this week.
I did it, I saved her. It was awkward, it was unprofessional, and it's going to be even worse, but I used her as an example of wasting the Emperor's resources. They bought it. Every last one of them gave a solemn nod as I finished explaining that executing her would waste vital resources that the Imperium needs to continue fighting the Heretic, the Xenos and the Traitor.
However, after pouring over my dataslates, the only way I could commute the sentence was to assign her to myself personally, to ensure no more infractions are committed. When this was announced, I could have sworn I saw them all smile, or whatever passes as a smile under those masks.
By time I made it back to my quarters, she had already set up a spare bunk, had brewed a pot of recaf, and was tidying my desk.
It was then that it occurred to me, I had a Kreiger for a maid.
Recorded 4112988.M41
68th Krieg Field Artillery – Saghalain
Autoscribe #303440288
A Bar girl and The Krieger
The Beginning
So, Terranis used to be a nice place, now we're up to our eyeballs in these Emperor-damned Krieg soldiers. At first it wasn't so bad, they'd stay in their camp, or you'd see them digging trenches or fortifying some building, and they'd ignore you. It was even great for business at the bar, they drink a lot, pay up front, and don't make trouble. However, it turns out that apparently there were some girl Kriegers among them and for some reason the boys can't get enough of them.
For example, there was this really cute guy who used to come into the bar after work, always made eyes at me. I was playing him along a little, but then one day he walks in with one of those gas mask wearing bitches. I decided to make a move, and that little freak jumps the bar, assaults me, and beaks my nose by smashing it with her pistol.
The really infuriating thing is that they don't react the way they should. I mean, after that incident, I put up a policy sign that said all weapons had to be checked at the door. No one complained or anything. They just did it.
Also, I swear there's this one Krieg who just comes in every night that creeps the hell out of me. I know it's impossible to tell them apart, but I swear. It's the same guy. He just comes in, sits down at a table near the back, orders one bottle of amasec and just stares out into space the whole time. I swear I think he's watching me, he's here right now actually...you know what? I'm gonna go ask what his deal is....
Argh, I hate these people! He didn't say anything, just nodded at my questions and insults. The only response I got when I asked him his name, was to take out his dog tag and show it to me. Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713...damnit, he's STILL staring at me. What does he want?
68a #1713 playing the piano
Ugh, today is just one of those pain in the ass days. That guy and the Krieg girl who broke my nose came in today. Apparently they're getting married and are on a pub crawl to celebrate. Maybe, I don't know. Either way, rounds for the whole bar, lots of quietly clinking glasses, and whatever passes for mirth for these people. Everyone's asking for refils, and I don't know who's tab it's going on at this point. At least some of them took off their gas masks. Although, the bride-to-be gave me such a vicious look when she did.
Wait, is that piano music? Is someone playing that busted piano in the corner? Hold on.
Well...that was interesting. There was someone playing the piano. It was Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713. I asked him if he was the one who fixed it. He nodded. Also he had taken off his gas mask. I thought he would be just another blonde and blue eyed copy of all the others. He actually has very dark brown hair and these pale grey eyes.
He's really good at playing the piano. People were giving him requests, either calling them out or in the Krieger's case writing them out, and he knew nearly all of them.
I...invited him to come back if he wanted. I mean...a little piano music here wouldn't hurt. He nodded, and I think I saw a slight twitch around those grey eyes of his.
Regentropfen
Okay, weird day. Nice...but weird. #1713 came back again today, he didn't order a bottle like he always does, but instead sat down at the piano and looked at me. He did that for five minutes before I went over and asked him what he was doing. He just gestured towards the piano with a tilted head. Finally, I realized he was asking what he was supposed to play. I told him to play anything and he shook his head. Then I just mentioned the first song that came to mind and then I went back to work. Ten minutes later, I noticed that I was hearing the same song. He had been playing that tune over and over again. I went over to him and told him to stop. He instantly got up from the piano, and I swear, closed his eyes, and got on his knees as if he was about to be executed. I pulled him back up and explained to him that he needed to play more than one song. I asked him to write down all the songs he knew...he's sitting at the bar right now, still writing.
Alright, he's finished, and there's three pages of this stuff. I haven't even heard of half of these. He's even sorted them by origin. Well, some Valhallan some drinking songs would be fun. That's odd. There's just three songs from Krieg. There's the national anthem, a marching song, and this last one... Regentropfen. Well, I'll make him play it at closing, when there's just the Kriegers here.
Oh...oh my. That was...when he started to play that song. That very pretty song. All the other Kriegers got up from their seats and stood at attention. There was another one of those Krieger girls with her boyfriend (not the one who broke my face) and she didn't have her mask on like the others. She was crying. He finished, and then the Kriegers all left. I grabbed the boyfriend and asked him what that was all about. He said that apparently, that's the last song that had been written on Kreig. After they bombed the place to the ground, it rained radioactive sludge for months. That song was written by one of the sons of the Loyalists. Apparently it reminds them of their home before it went to hell. Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 is still here, he's tuning the piano. I have to thank him.
I think I did something stupid. I went to thank him for the evening of music (seriously, I made a ton more tonight than I have in a week.) He had his mask off, and there were tear stains on his face. His grey eyes...they were so sad. I kissed him on the cheek and asked if he would play here regularly. He nodded and left. I continued to close the bar, and I'm just finishing up when I see Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713, he has a duffle bag and a mattress roll with him, and then he goes into my back storage room and sets up camp! Apparently, he feels that his new assignment is here, in MY bar! Still...well, if he's here I don't have to worry about theft...so I guess it's okay.
Problems
Ugh, just when I think I have some control over this situation something like this happens. I put out a tip jar for Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 when he plays the piano. First, I have to explain to him that it's not his amasec glass. Then I have to say that he doesn't have to return the tip to the person who gave it to him. After that, one of those 'Cute Kreig Couples' (By the Emperor, I loathe them) explains what a tip is. Apparently, the guy didn't do it well enough, because the girls are then putting in money for every song that they like, and then removing money for every song that they don't like. Two of them even got into a fight, as they both wanted to dance (if you can call it dancing) with their partners and they each wanted 'their' song to be played. I think I may need another sign. I have this horrible vision of the future...my bar plastered with instructions on every surface, detailing how to do every little thing. All from ordering a drink, to having a quickie in the bathroom. Ugh...more trouble than it's worth.
Oh, Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 is playing Regentropfen again. Is it closing time already? That's such a pretty song...
Redecoration
Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 has turned...my bar...into...a bunker. I told him I would be gone for the day to visit my parents, and he needed to watch over the place while I was gone. He nodded. Apparently, baby brother has also found himself a girlfriend...no guesses as to what accessories she likes to wear over her face. I swear, if I ever find that dick who started that dating website...
Anyway, I get back, and my bar? Well, there's a trench around the entire place, and not just one of those little things you see around houses of people dating Kreigs, I mean a trench that looks like the one around the PDF base. The outside of the bar is now reinforced steel plating and concrete, and there's a basilisk on my roof. There is a FRAKKING CANNON on the roof of my BAR. Also, because there is now a basilisk on my roof, the inside of my bar is now revamped. There's eight times the support pillars, all the wood has been replaced with steel, and apparently my tables can now convert into cover shields, at the press of a button. The low lighting is gone, replaced with utility lamps and flood lights. The only positive, if you can call it that, is that there are now many more mirrors in my bar. Mirrors that allow anyone sitting in any seat, or table, to see everyone else. It's a nightmare...and the biggest joke? I'm getting more Kreig and Kreig-Daters than ever. I asked one of the guys why the influx.
"Well, they feel really comfortable here, it's a nice place to relax."
I'd consider starting to serve food, but knowing them, all I would have to do is put some MRE'S on some nice plates and I could charge triple...you know...that's not a bad idea...
68a #1713 and money
If Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 wasn't so damn useful in making me money, I swear I would kill him with my bare hands. Alright, the bar...well...I should say restaurant now shouldn't I? My place is now getting a steady stream of customers, and well...it was getting awkward. The Kerig Daters always end up dressing like their partners. (I've seen XX and YY couples but I don't know if they're 'couples' I honestly don't WANT to know) So, here's me, walking around the place, serving up 'food' and pouring drinks among a sea of black coats and gas masks. I stuck out so much it went past being awkward, past weird, past being so-weird-its-fine, past heretical, and then back to just awkward. So I made the mistake of asking Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 for some help. The next day he has a full uniform laid out on the bar for me. It's not a Kreig uniform, the fabric's too soft and there's not much 'coverage' but it fit perfectly. When and how did he get my measurements? All that time he spent, staring at me with those grey eyes...I swear. If it didn't feel so nice, I'd smash his tip jar over his head.
It's closing time, and always he plays Regentropfen. I'm going to ask him how to play that song.
Playing the Regentropfen
Ummm...yeah.
Apparently, Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 had the sheet music for Regentropfen. I sat down and played the piece. It had been a while, but those years of torture at the schola still came back to me. Turns out he wasn't playing it right, there were several different movements he skips. It's no surprise, they're very complicated parts, but I managed to work my way through them. I still butchered the song pretty badly though, my teacher would be ashamed of me.
When I was done I looked at him. Tears were running down his face and his shoulders were shaking. I...I looked at his grey eyes, and I hugged him. He actually returned it. His shoulders heaving, and his breath stuttered. We just held it there for a while, and then he started to go to the back room. I stopped him, and told him to get his things and to get into the car with me. He's sleeping on my couch now. I'm...I'm not sure what's going to happen next. I think...I think I need to practice the piano some more.
A Trench
It's been really quiet the last two days. I mean more so than normal for here. The Kriegers never talk and the Krieg Daters, the longer they get into their relationship, get quieter as well. Either way, all the Kriegers got called back to the base. Apparently there's some more fortification that needs to be done, like either on top of a mountain, or at one of the poles, I don't know. The only thing I do know is that there's going to be some blessed, blessed days without the sight of any gas masks.
The only irksome thing is that Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 got the relocation order when he was in the middle of digging a trench around my house. So there's a half-trench in front of my house, and it honestly looks a little embarrassing compared to the others. I don't want to just fill it in. I think I could even get shot for that...but I don't want to just leave it...it bothered me all day yesterday. I'll call my little brother and ask him what to do.
I really should never ask my little brother what to do. I called him, told him of the situation, and the next thing I know he's called some of his friends and today they're here trying to complete Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713's trench. They're not doing a good job, a far cry from the style the girls that they date have. Problem is that they don't really have any structure...hmmm.
Alright, that was...different. I just wanted the damn tench to be finished and those idiots off my lawn. I put on my 'uniform' and marched out there and started to bark out orders to those idiots. As soon as I started, those boys snapped to attention and followed my commands to the letter. Just how whipped do their girlfriends have them anyway? Either way, they finished, and it looked pretty good. I got out of the trench and Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 is just standing there. I was still into it, so I shouted, "Attention! Superior present, prepare for inspection!" All the boys snapped to attention and saluted Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713. He then took a while to inspect the new addition to his trench. He was less than thrilled, shaking his head and pointing at several places, but he nodded a few times as well. Then he went inside the house, and came back out with sheets of paper, which he distributed, the boys all smiled at the paper, and then nodded and left. Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 then got to work fixing the rest of the trench to his specifications. He's still out there now. It's late though. I'm still in my uniform though...maybe I should order him back inside to sleep so we can be able to work tomorrow.
Huh...it worked.
Speaking
I can't help but think that someone is playing an elaborate joke on us all. Every day it seems that either the Kreigers get more accustomed to us, or we get more accustomed to the Kreig. I drove to work, Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 sitting in the back seat like always (I've invited him from to the front, but he shook his head and gestured that this was a more defnsable position...ugh I'm even able to read their hand signals). Nearly every other house has a trench and every building now has a little fortification. I head into town, and there are pillboxes and sniper towers on every block, and I swear they are building a hellcannon on top of the library. Thing is...there are these little touches that make me think that the Kreigers aren't...well...soulless cloned automatons. One of the new Civil Defense Bunkers has a mural painted on the side. It's of a baneblade, and I swear I saw one of the Kreig put finishing touches on it. The sniper tower on the same block as my bar...has a flower box planter along the side at the top. I swear, I looked at it through some binoculars Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713 handed me when I asked what that thing sticking off the tower's railing was. There were actual buds!
Normal day, with two little hiccups. Now, whenever a Krieger walks into my bar, and I'm in 'uniform' they give me a salute. A formal one, not the usual one they seem to give the civilians. I know there doesn't seem to be a difference, but there is. Secondly...well...I played Regentropfen at closing, that's getting to be a tradition apparently. There was just me, Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713, and the couple that started this mess. They were slow dancing to the song. I finished, and the Kreig girl comes up to me. I flinch away, thinking she might want to break my face again, and she salutes me.
"Thank you, Ma'am. You play it well."
She spoke! She actually talked. I didn't know they COULD talk. The girl had to use the facilities then, so I asked the guy what the deal was. Apparently, all they need is permission to speak. Huh. Makes sense...in a Kreig kind of way. So the couple left, and I'm here cleaning up with Lieutenant Krieg Male Model 68a #1713, and I look at him. He just looked at me and nods. His face was neutral as always, but those grey eyes...you can see the difference in them between the Krieg that have just left the base, and the ones that have been out here for a while. There's something soft inside them...anyway I asked him something that had been bothering me.
"What were those papers you gave to the boys who helped with the trench? Permission to speak, granted."
"Commendations of duty." He said. His voice is not as deep as I thought it would be.
"Why were they so happy to get those? Permission to speak granted."
"When their...associates...see that a 2nd and 1st lieutenant have give them commendation. They tend to...reciprocate with...umm...fraternization." He said, and I swear, he was blushing.
That's when I realized something. His officer bar was gold. The little bar that was on my 'uniform' is silver. I'm the 1st lieutenant...he made me HIS superior.
#1713's reassignmented
I never really considered myself a violent person. Passionate perhaps, but not violent. All I know is that if I ever find the dick that made that dating website, I will make sure that they suffer. I was running the Basilisk like normal (I changed the name, I mean, the cannon on my roof is rather distinctive.) and #1713 is playing some light Vostroya songs. In comes this woman, and she walks up to #1713 and give him a paper. She claimed that she had gone to that dating website, and had been 'assigned' to him. He nodded, and took the woman's hand. I...umm...well I may have lost my temper and called her some rather unflattering (but true) names, and then...I might have grabbed the lasrifle #1713 put under the bar, lept over the counter and tried to assault her. Thankfully, I didn't get far as #1713 grabbed me, disarmed me, and sat me down at the piano. He had his mask off, and they always look like that but...I think he was frowning for real. He left with the woman. I guess that's good in the long run. No more waking up to see rations laid out for breakfast, no more trenching or fortification of my home, no more seeing his grey eyes...or hearing Regentropfen the way he plays it.
I miss him. I...I want him around. I...I...oh...damnit!
It was stupid but...I didn't know what else to do. I went onto that dating website and I put my profile up there. It asked me for preferences...dark brown hair, knows the piano is a plus, hard worker...grey eyes. I didn't realize it until after it showed me my completed profile...#1713. Oh, man...I have to apologize to baby brother, now don't I? Anyway, I completed that stupid form and the site thanked me for my help and said that they'd be in touch. The next day...#1713 is there in the bar like nothing happened. He hands me a piece of paper. It's from the website, it's an apology to #1713, for pairing him with a 'less that optimal' partner, and a 'new, more fitting position' has opened up and he was to be immediately re-assigned. It also said that if he was still unsatisfied with his new position, a new assignment could be made at anytime, as 'We feel that these assignments should be the best possible, and no person should ever have to settle for anything less. Shouldn't YOU be with your PERFECT assignment?' The dick that designed this website better never show their smug-ass face here or I will shove it down my basilisk and then fire.
Regardless, my #1713 is back, and I'm happy. Also, I keep finding new things about the Regentropfen...it can also be played as a duet.
It's such a pretty song.
Grandaughter
This was going to be complicated. Probably the most complicated thing ever. Oh, there had been manipulations before, and originally this was just for a quick laugh. Now, however...now there was a new option for an old problem.
The Chaos Gods interfering was a complete shock. He would never admit it, but it took him totally by surprise. Not that he didn't welcome getting three more years to fiddle with Terranis. However, there was no way that it would happen again, and She Who Thirsts wouldn't just be satisfied with the slow sweet subversion of the soldiers.
The only problem was that there were so many thin little threads holding this whole thing together. He supposed that this is what happens when he actually focused on something that was originally just a little something he put together to keep him amused one night. Also, this was one of the first times in his life he wasn't being a complete and total...oh! That was it! He smiled, perfect. Yes, that would work nicely. First however, he had to do probably the most important step.
"So, you're to be on your best behavior. Also, you're not to talk about Mommy or Daddy. You got a bump on your head, and lost your memory. Okay?"
"Yes, grandpa."
"Also, don't pick at your ears. I know it stings a little, but they have to look right. Now, the people who are going to look after you are nice people...but you will listen to them until Mommy or myself come to get you. Okay?"
"Yes, grandpa."
"Alright, now. Give Grandpa a hug, and then I'll send you down. You remember the story you're supposed to tell?"
Of course she would remember it. He hated messing around her mind, shuffling away memories and making new ones, but he couldn't risk anyone finding out what she was. She had fallen asleep when they arrived on the planet. He decided to leave her on the doorstep of the very first pair. The oversized basket he had left her sleeping in was a little much, but the picture was just too funny and too cute for him to pass up.
He would make sure that things went fine for another ten years or so. But for now, he was content that he had actually found a decent set of babysitters for his Granddaughter for a few years. Honestly, things were getting a little crazy and it would be nice to just have some peace and quiet for a while.
Kreig Commander 68 and Cloning
Kreig Commander 68 stared at the piece of paper on his desk. It was the nightmare missive that every Krieg commander feared to receive. The Vitae Womb wasn't functioning right. He just vaguely listened to the Enginseer as he droned on about how the machine spirit was weak, how this was the Emperor's will, that the Krieg had gone so long using this borderline blasphemous technology was a blessing given by the Omnimessiah, and just as easily taken away. All he saw in his mind was the front line of Kreig soldiers, slowly dwindling away, until the great and honored Death Korps of Kreig were just a memory...and soon that would fade, and then the only thing people world remember Kreig for was the betrayal to the Emperor.
No. He would not allow that to happen. He looked again at the papers. Trying to see if there was something he could do, some problem that didn't involve banging on a console and praying. He noticed one line coming up again and again. 'Loss of Genetic Cohesion.' It seemed to be the main issue, that in turn caused all these other issues. He looked at his Enginseer and pointed at the phrase, wanting to know the meaning.
The Enginseer explained that after all the years of replication, and reuse, the genetic material of the Kreig models wasn't working anymore. Not totally. The Machine Spirits just weren't able to take hold of the spirit of the Krieg flesh and create new life from it. They had tried other methods, feeding newly made models and older models into the system to try and regain it. However, it jsut wasn't working. The great line of Kreig was fading, and there seemed to be no way to fix it.
68 walked into town to clear his head. It made him feel better to walk down a street and see a properly fortified city. Every day it improved a little, and the citizenry had been more than helpful. He was glad for that. He remembered serving on planets where they were viewed with mistrust, or even hostility by the 'common rabble' here, the citizens were actually welcoming, and helpful. Not to mention that a few of his 'daughters' found suitable individuals to...fraternize with.
Kreig Commander Model 68 entered a restaurant called the Basilisk. Named after the fully working, and well maintained cannon on the roof. He approved of that. Functionality and a pleasing ascetic.
He walked in and sat down at a table. The woman in charge, a 'First Lieutenant' saluted him and showed him to a table and gave him an option of MREs. He felt the need to torture himself further, due to the bad news, so he asked for a Tallarn and a bottle of Amasec. She nodded and went into the back to bring him his food.
As he ate and drank, mostly drank. He just sat and watched the people come and go. There was 68b #6345, her husband, and the foundling they had discovered. Quietly eating, and sharing notes with each other, smiling. 68b #6346 was dancing with her 'associate.' 68a #1713 was playing the piano, some Cadian song. There were others here too, his people and civilians, although as the bottle slowly emptied, he found himself almost unable to instantly tell the difference between the two.
The night went on, Krieg Commander found himself lost in his thoughts, and his bottle. He knew that soon his 'daughters' would vanish, followed by one set of sons, then another, and soon...Krieg itself.
That's when he heard it. The first soft stanza of the song he knew from the moment he first had emerged from the Vitae Womb. Regentropfen. There Shall Come Soft Rains...he stood up and looked around.
The place was nearly empty, people were heading towards the door. #1713 and the '1st Lieutenant' were sitting at a piano, playing the song together. He was glad he was still wearing the gas mask. It hid his tears. They played it so wonderfully. The woman especially, doing the complicated trills that spoke of how those quiet waters slowly washed away the beautiful buildings that once covered Krieg. He had only heard it played that well, and as a duet, once before. When he was at home and 'Mother' had played it the night before his battalion was to go off and face the Emperor's enemies. This girl played Regentropfen just like a true Kreiger. It was so painful to think of home, and how his people would...slowly...disappear...
The idea came to him in a flash. The entire night played out before him. Walking a city filled with proper fortifications and weaponry. Sitting in a place filled with people who looked just like his soldiers...and now...emosone who had never seen his homeworld was playing the song that spoke of its soul.
He had a solution. It was wild, near heretical, and he would have to do many things to get it right...but if he could do this. He would save Krieg.
Krieg Commander 68 ran back to the camp...he needed some medical staff, and enginseer, and a WHOLE lot of paperwork.
Commander 68's solution
They were not happy about it. No, that's not accurate. NO ONE was happy about it. Not the Enginseers, not the Commissar (even though he kept looking at his 'personal aide' with concern each time the subject of the Krieg ending came up), not his superiors, and the Tech Priest from the Adeptus Mechanicus Biologis nearly ordered him executed for heresy on the spot the moment the vox reached him.
However, no one could argue with the obvious evidence. It was try this, or sound the death knell of the Krieg. The Enginseer and the Tech Priest argued with the Commissar, with each other, his superiors made remarks, and around and around it went. Krieg Commander 68 rolled his eyes, he had seen Administratum meetings that had been less productive than this...but not many. The key argument was determining what exactly was the Emperor's will. Was it His Will that the Krieg slowly die off, or was it His Will that the Krieg had come to Terranis and discovered its people?
68 sighed and stared at his collection of war trophies and other junk. He knew that when the splinter fleet of xenos arrived Terranis would fall. Not all at once, but there was too much biomass unprotected, the oceans themselves were a buffet for the Tyranids. The cities would hold for a while, he was proud of that fact that he, his brethren, and the people of Terranis had done such a fine job in preparation. However, it would be a losing battle. Too much open ground, too much biomass for the 'nids to consume and repurpose, too many fronts. An evacuation was possible, but it would have to be started soon...and even then it would be a tight race. This place was doomed, the Krieg were doomed...unless...
He would need to call in some favors, and give some out as well. May the Emperor forgive him. He was going to do this anyway.
Collecting the material was easy enough. Mandatory health inspections that included blood, hair, saliva, bone marrow and...other fluids were a snap to set up, and the Terranis citizenry rose to the occasion. Anyway, if anyone refused...well...then they chose their own fate. It took time though, precious time that Krieg Commander 68 knew that he didn't truly have.
Not if he wanted to complete his mad mission. No, that he would be able to complete.
It was just that...even if his timetable was early...he would not be able to say goodbye.
The Vitae Wombs were on Krieg. The Adeptus Mechanicus Biologis would not allow it to be anywhere else. He would need to take the materials with him. He would not leave it out of his sight for an instant. He would be the one who would supervise the...augmentation of the Vitae Wombs, and he would be the one to deal with the consequences.
But, unless the Warp showed him a kindness that wasn't even comprehensible, by the time he arrived at Krieg, sent a message to Terranis, and received one back, at least ten years would have passed.
He would have to leave them here. All of them. The people, his 'sons' and 'daughters,' the Commissar and his maid, all of them. Maybe a few of them would get off on their own, but if he did this then there would be no chance for evacuation, no effort made to divert Astartes to help, nothing. It was take this gamble...or stay here and try to hold back the Unstoppable.
Krieg soldiers are only allowed to cry when they hear Regentropfen, as part of their training. 68 did not cry now. However, he found he had difficulty breathing, even with his gas mask on.
Emperor forgive him, he would miss this place. But he was a decorated Krieg soldier, a Commander, a man who was supposed to make these hard decisions, and really there was no decision, just a fact.
However, it made his heart ache when he informed his 'children' that he would be leaving...and they would not be following.
And this cold fact kept him up at night, if this didn't work...then he would have ended the existence of the Krieg 68th Siege Regiment, for nothing.
68's solution part II
Krieg Commander 68 didn't ask for any news about Terranis. He forbade anyone to tell him anything about that...that...brief paradise. He spent all his time with the Tech Priests in the Vitae Womb chambers. They were a little awed by his dedication. Those long nights staring at countless Gs, As, Ts, and Cs on a screen, praying to the Emperor when he could, and just being an actual help, was impressive.
Also they appreciated the fact that he was the only one who was trying to FIX the problem, rather than just argue in circles about it. Apparently, the policy of the Adeptus Mechanicus Biologis had become 'If it works we'll claim credit, but we're going to keep arguing anyway so that if it doesn't we'll execute 68 and claim he was working alone...possibly tainted if need be.'
It was the longest two years of 68's life. This included the four years he spent in an extended siege in a hive that had lost all forms of plumbing and waste removal. Two years of work, prayer, and watching Krieg companies grow quietly desperate.
The only odd thing was that one day he noticed that his personal account had a large amount of credits added to it, and a private message. It didn't have a date on it. 'For your outstanding babysitting service! Thanks!'
Some dick was obviously playing a joke on him. 68 ignored it and went back to work.
It was raining on the day of judgement. Krieg Commander 68 stood outside the facility, in full protective gear, looking up at the grey sky and seeing the quiet, burning, water drip from the sky. An old song played through his head. He took a deep breath through his filters and walked inside the cloning facility...he was considering wether it would be better to be executed or to do it himself.
The enginseers and Tech Priests used complicated words and terms as they busied about. Talking part in gothic, part in those clicks and buzzes. Krieg Commander 68 had a better idea of what was going on using more simple terms.
Basically, the Machine Spirit of the Vitae Wombs, and possibly the Emperor himself, were looking upon the genetic coup of the people of Terranis. Gazing deep into its essence and even their soul. Holding it up to comparison against the glorious spirit of the Krieg. Measuring it, testing it, and seeing if the soul of Terranis could be used to strengthen the soul of Krieg. That Terranis was worthy enough to infuse Krieg with enough spirit to enable these old relics to create new life.
68 closed his eyes, not that anyone could tell with his mask on, and placed his hand on the egg-like bulge on the machine. He believed in Terranis. He knew that they were worthy. They had never faulted in their faith in the Emperor, they built up their cities as fortresses, equal to the ones here. He had stared into the eyes of his 'son-in-law' and saw a quiet determination, a strength that said that here was a man that would stand and hold...if not for the Emperor, if not for his home, if not for his life, not even for the girl he loved with his entire being...but that he would hold...because that was what a human did.
He wished he could tell the Machine Spirit of the battle they must have faced. How every man and woman on Terranis did face the Tyranid horde and not a one of them shirked in fear. How they made those bastard xenos pay for every inch, and for the years...yes years...they held their cities while around them the xeno horde shrieked for their souls.
He begged the machine to accept Terranis. That is was worthy. That being on that planet hadn't made him and his soldier soft, or made the Terranis hard, but had made them both greater. This was the Emperor's will. Krieg had stood on its own for so long, and now its strength was faltering...but the Emperor had shown them Terranis, shown them the strength there, and Krieg Commander 68 had sacrificed everything, and would even sacrifice more, just to ensure that in some way...in some form...both Kreig and Terranis would still stand.
Meanwhile, in the Warp
Somewhere beyond the veil of reality, in a realm far outside of the bounds of human ability to comprehend it, four beings of phenomenal power watched the scene unfold in silence.
Finally, after what could have been an eternity, or a nanosecond, or quite possibly both at once, one of the beings spoke.
"WELL, THIS WAS BORING. GUESS I'D BETTER CALL KHARN, TELL HIM HE'S GOT A WEDDING TO CRASH-"
Without so much as turning their heads, Slaanesh and Tzeentch simultaneously punched Khorne in the dick.
As the Blood God opened his mouth to scream an eldritch wail of indescribable suffering, a vaguely hand-shaped mass extruded itself from Nurgle's bloated form and securely fastened itself over the mouth and nose of Khorne.
While of course the sound of the festering pustules all over the body of Nurgle rhythmically oozing and contracting would be completely impossible to render accurately for mortal ears (not without destroying the unfortunate listener's soul down to the last fragment of their broken psyche), the noise it made while its hideous appendage muffled Khorne's fading cries of agony was remarkably similar to the words "Ssshhh, you're ruining the moment."
The three entities still conscious returned to watching in contented silence.