Editing Exterminatus High (section)

==Chapter One==
Cadet Nayren was 19. He was a Commissar cadet, and it had been 13 years since his father was sent to Armageddon as a front-line Lieutenant. Apparently he and his unit had blasted through a bunch of Orks with flamers and ran screaming into Ghazghkull Thraka himself. A couple of years later, he got the news and was shipped off to the Schola with a Missionary constantly reminding him that it was his turn to make a difference in the Imperium, before moving off to another mewling orphan and telling him the exact same thing. Nayren was past such childishness by now, however. In a few years he would be a junior Commissar in the glorious armies of the Imperium of-
“FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”
A few fellow Commissar cadets and a crowd of Stormtrooper cadets followed the noise into the sparring chambers, where to nobody’s great surprise but to everybody’s great amusement, a brawl was going on.
Teeth flew as a Sororitas cadet dressed in sparring robes delivered a roundhouse kick to the face of a Stormtrooper who was busy pounding another Sister into the floor with a bloody fist. Another male cadet grabbed the woman from behind and received a broken nose and crushed toes for his trouble. Cadet Zane, a 20 year old Stormtrooper cadet who specialized in hand-to-hand combat and bigotry, slammed his outstretched fingers into the Sister’s throat and kicked her to the floor before two more Sisters tackled him to the ground. The three of them furiously traded blows, with Zane taking the worst of it, before the Schola Confessor came into the room roaring furiously about discipline and weakness in service of the Emperor, and berating both the males and females for sloppy combat techniques. In respect of his position, the fight stopped and nursing staff rushed forward to collect the six most injured students.

Nayren couldn’t help but laugh as Zane screamed something about “-ing dry-as-a-bone bitches!” as he was dragged off to the infirmary. The infirmary was staffed by the women of the Order Hospitaller who had a history of dispensing painful treatment to Zane, and only Nayren knew Zane’s insults were probably directed towards the nurses themselves.

About an hour later, Nayren was allowed in to see Zane, who sat up with his ribs, right hand and head bandaged was smirked as Nayren entered. 
“You see that hit I got on their queen-bitch?”
“Yeah, I bet she’ll be breathing funny for a while after that.”
“I’d prefer if it stopped her breathing completely, or at least from talking about the Emperor all the time”. Nayren frowned.
“We are Imperial servants, if she wants to talk about the Emper-“
“Not that, you know what I mean. Bla bla bla, swearing is a disgrace to the Emperor’s ears, bla bla bla sexual activity is a distraction to our eternal service, etcetera”. Zane growled. He was the kind of man who said what was on his mind, and that didn’t rub well with the Sisters in training. Even Nayren, who in several years would probably be a fanatical no-nonsense Commissar (at least when in front of the men), found their devotion tiresome sometimes.
“Well, what about the scrumball championship? The Sisters are pretty damn fanatical about our Schola’s sports.” Zane rubbed his head in response.
“Pretty fucking fanatical about their sparring sessions as well”
“From what I hear, you called Kyandra ‘the Emperor’s taste-tester’. No wonder she got so pissed.”
“Yeah, well she’s always fasting so I bet when she gets to the Golden Throne she’ll be fucking hungry”.

Meanwhile, cadet Kyandra, in the female section of the infirmary, discussed the borderline-heresy of Zane and his fellow Stormtroopers with the woman who was widely accepted as the female version of Zane, 20 year old cadet Cyrene.
“Did you hear what he called me!? That sort of language has no place in the mouth of an Imperial servant!” Kyandra sounded genuinely scandalized, and if it were not for the mass of bruises on her face and knuckles one would be forgiven for thinking she was simply an offended teenager. Cyrene sneered savagely, a movement which hurt her throat. She rubbed it as she spoke carefully.
“He’s a real bastard,” Kyandra frowned as Cyrene spoke, not appreciating her language but accepting it by now “, but don’t worry. The scrumball championships are in a few days, and we’ll destroy them. If we can’t show them the error of their way with our fists, we’ll beat them at their own game.”
“Their team is very strong though, ever since Zane took command and that Nayren guy became his playmaker, they’ve been better than us. Two years in a row!” Cyrene spat, inhaling sharply as the movement hurt her throat once more.
“We have a new team. We’ve replaced our weaknesses with strengths. Last year may have been rough on both teams, but this time, we’ll have both the Commissar and Stormtrooper students afraid to play us for a decade.” Kyandra giggled.
“I like that Nayren fellow, actually. I think I’ll break his arm.”

Zane and Nayren, between lessons in Imperial History (the parts they were allowed to know), Imperial Technology (the parts they were allowed to know) and Imperial Doctrine (all of it), spent a lot of time in the exercise chambers with the rest of the guys from the scrumball team, talking about anything from the next prank they were going to pull on the sisters to who was going to win the Klysus IV Astartes-aspirant decathlon. The Star Fangs Space Marine chapter recruited from Klysus IV every few years, and some of the exhaustive tests the aspirants were put through were heavily holo-vised. Apparently the Chapter Master was some sort of public relations genius, because it was the most watched event of any year it was on.

“Shit son, you’d best be joking if you think he’s going to beat Jenson. Did you see him in the darkbear wrestling event? He ripped that thing’s throat out with his bare hands!” The largest member of the senior Stormtrooper cadet classes and the heavy hitter of the scrumball team, Grent was a veritable bastion of muscle, noise and dedication the Emperor. It was just like him to go for the strongest member of the Astartes aspirants, and Zane rolled his eyes.
“Emperor’s bones,” words that earned a glare from a passing Sister, “but you’re an idiot. Being a Space Marine isn’t just about STRENGTH, didn’t you see the guy that won in 993? He was the smallest one there, and now he’s 8 feet tall!” 
Grent disagreed: “But imagine if a guy like Jensen won! He could be 10 foot tall, and-“. The last words of Grent’s sentence were blocked out by both Zane’s palm striking his forehead in frustration, and the demanding voice of one of the Commissar-lecturers:
“Swine of the Emperor, we have a gift for you! Report to the main courtyard for a surprise sermon!”
Most of the Stormtroopers groaned, about half of the Commissar’s dutifully marched off to the courtyard without a word, and smiles broke out on the faces of all the Sisters as they headed to the courtyard with joy in the hearts and a song on their lips. Zane sneered and said loudly:
“Damn you girls like to use those mouths for everything but what they’re best for”.
Zane, Grent, and a few other Stormtroopers who moved to support Zane were set upon by forty-odd absolutely livid Sisters. The Commissar-lecturer broke it up promptly, but was delayed by his attempts to appear stoic in the face of a situation he found absolutely hilarious.

Nursing bruises and ignoring Nayren’s amusement, the three scrumball players listened to what was actually a pretty good sermon. It wasn’t the usual “the Emperor protects those who get shot in the face and die” stuff, but a more applicable version of the Imperial creed. It was proving unpopular with a few of the Sisters, but there was just no pleasing some of them unless everybody walked around in brown robes singing chants to the Emperor while holding a candle and scourging themselves with their free hand.
“-and how did Saint Celestine become a saint? By simply BELIEVING? No, it was not that simple! Belief is simply an ELEMENT of proper service. What were the other elements you say? Well I have talked with the Saint myself, and while she seems convinced it all happened by chance, I know that she is simply being humble and laying the kudos at the foot of the Emperor. Vigorous exercise, three square meals a day, constant training and constant fighting, and CONSTANT FAITH, is how she ended up how she is today!
Another issue I sometimes come across in the Emperor’s service is the issue of sex. Should a loyal servant of the Emperor engage in carnal relations? I say there is no reason why not UNLESS it proves distracting! The Emperor comes first!”
A troublemaking Stormtrooper yelled out:
“DEPENDS ON THE SISTER!”
A wave of shock, rage, and carefully concealed amusement passed through the crowd. A group of Sisters grabbed the man and dragged him off struggling to present him to the Sister-Superior. The priest chuckled.
“A joke in bad taste, but evidence of a sharp wit. This is another good example of how one’s gifts must be channeled toward service of the Emperor-“
The sermon then became more mundane, and Nayren didn’t remember the rest of it.

As night fell, Nayren retired from his companions and allowed them to gamble and cuss the night away with the other Stormtroopers. Commissars were very different students to Stormtroopers: the latter may be heavily indoctrinated and educated, but when it came down to it, they were killers and tools, pure and simple. A Commissar must lead, must know more, must do more, must be better than the men under him. Night was when Nayren engaged in extra-curricular reading and service to the Emperor.

Having read a few chapters of “Pulling the grenade and throwing the pin: a detailed Imperial guide to correct martyrdom procedure”, Nayren headed off to a chapel for a late night prayer session. The chapel he chose was deserted except for a single robed sister, whom he recognized from the brawl earlier in the day. Kyandra, that was her name.

Kyandra saw him, and smiled. Nayren inwardly raised an eyebrow. He could swear she liked him, but she was a Sister-in-training, would she even think of a man like that? Except for the Emperor of course. Ugh, he’d been spending too much time with Zane. And of course, the Emperor was not just a man. Anyway, sister Kyandra. She was quite attractive, her face young and soft and unscarred (though still bruised despite her treatment), her skin olive, lips pronounced, eyes a remarkable shade of-

Emperor-damn it. Now he was distracted. He moved to one of the smaller statues of the Emperor in front of the main one, and kneeled to pray. Kyandra spoke:
“I notice you do not seem to approve of your friend’s blasphemy.” Nayren started, the chapel being completely silent before.
“I wouldn’t call it blasphemy. Just a loose tongue”.
“A loose tongue is one of the many steps toward damnation”.
“Perhaps. But Stormtroopers are different from you Sisters, why do you hold them to the same standards?” Nayren instantly regretted it as foolish thing to say.
“Why? Why!? We are all the Emperor’s servants, we should all be held to the same standard!” Nayren quickly tried to change the subject before he ended up on the receiving end of one of the famed Sororitas tirades.
“Yes, true. If you don’t mind me asking, how are you? You took quite a beating this morning”. 
Kyandra opened her mouth and quickly closed it in surprise at Nayren’s sudden concern, and they both blushed. What in the Emperor’s na-
“W-well, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.” The Sister then hastily retreated from the chapel, leaving Nayren to his thoughts and prayers.

The next couple of days passed rather uneventfully as the scrumball championships approached, and both Zane and Cyrene drilled their teams mercilessly. The players of each team in peak condition, highly motivated, and ready to unleash some merciless aggression, they were absolutely ready when the game day arrived. Nayren woke up covered in sweat and shaking with nerves, Zane was rather silent, and Grent wouldn’t shut up about how many skulls he was going to crack. Despite himself, Nayren hoped Grent wouldn’t hurt Kyandra.

But if it came down to hurting her or winning, he admitted, he would probably hurt her too.

Kyandra thought the same, and Cyrene just wanted an excuse to kick Zane senseless.