Warhammer 40k: Ours Journey

Chapter 24: Some Things Are Not for Us to Question

"So what's the plan? Are we doing this 'safe house' thing or not?"

After leaving the hangar, the four of them found a quiet corner to begin their final preparations.

"I think, expensive as it is, it's ultimately a way to protect people," Arthur said. "Until we find a more cost-effective method, we should use it." Just like many public works projects from their old world, the construction cost was a loss, but it had to be built for the sake of the people, because life cannot be measured purely in terms of value.

Romulus thought for a moment. "How about this: from now on, we'll allocate five percent of the souls we acquire to expanding the safe house, until it can accommodate the natural death rate of an entire hive world."

They were ambitious. After securing their initial capital, the next step was to solve their identity problem. And once that was settled, they would find themselves a recruiting world to build up their strength. With their abilities, they wouldn't lack for equipment or production capacity, but they would need massive assets like a void fleet and the personnel to operate them. Therefore, a stable world, free from the harassment of Chaos, was a necessity.

"Sounds good. You're in charge of the books anyway," Ramesses said, having no objections.

"Then I'll head to the Warp to monitor the astropathic communications," he continued. "I'll handle harassing Old Man Gold, and I'll find a new spot to set up my daemon-fishing hole. Even if I can't contact the Emperor, we can try stuffing daemons into our constructs later. I'll also work on filling out the blueprint library... man, I feel like I have a lot to do."

"Yes, Ramesses, your tasks are quite heavy. We'll be counting on you."

"No problem, I'm actually happy to do it."

For now, Ramesses was the only one with direct contact with the Warp. Until they could ascertain the degree of danger the Immaterium posed to them, there was no need for a second transmigrator to share the risk. This was a consensus they all shared.

"I'll be responsible for internal operations and diplomacy, as well as familiarizing myself with battlefield command," Romulus said, then turned to Arthur. "You'll be in charge of frontline combat, small unit command, and studying Astartes professional knowledge. Also, focus on developing your talent for combat. Theoretically, we'll handle the risky stuff. Your job is to keep an eye on each of us at all times."

Arthur had always been the steady one, and he took winning seriously. His thinking wasn't as wild as the others. When they used to play games together, Arthur was usually the one who cleaned up the mess when the others were busy memeing. And now... Romulus glanced at Ramesses, who already seemed to be brimming with a new set of strange ideas. It was more necessary than ever.

"Got it," Arthur nodded. The hidden risks for them right now were their own abilities and contact with the Warp. Until the safety of both could be verified, he had no interest in getting involved. He really couldn't learn Ramesses's wild methods.

"So, I just wander around?" Karna asked, seeing that he had no assigned task.

"It's fine, you wander," Romulus said nonchalantly. Karna wasn't just doing nothing. As an observer, his role was to gather information from perspectives others might miss and then participate in the after-action debriefs. Back when they were all acting as military advisors to help their roommate chase a girl, it was always Karna, who had gathered intel from the outside, who would point out their blind spots.

"Alright, we have thirty minutes to familiarize ourselves with our roles, then we officially get to work," Romulus said, clapping his hands after assigning their tasks. "Alright, dismissed!"

"Roger that."

The four of them dispersed, quickly falling into their new roles with a surprising degree of professionalism. In truth, this wasn't difficult for them. In the past, they had done this to make their lives better.

Now, they were doing it to survive.

In a spacious hangar, the three Imperial officers, having finally calmed down, began to carefully inspect the weapons. They felt no shame in prioritizing the selection of armaments; Imperial law clearly stipulated that commanders at the regimental level and above had the right to dispose of spoils of war in the absence of orders from a superior. Everyone knew how reliable Munitorum logistics were. Without this right, half the Astra Militarum would starve to death, and the other half would likely be fighting with bayonets.

But after a careful inspection, they were overcome with a profound sense of self-doubt.

Were they truly worthy of such wargear?

"These weapons... they are not ordinary," Colonel Kovek said, swallowing hard as he picked up a power weapon. Though it lacked the religious iconography that had become widespread in the Imperium since the Age of Apostasy, its exquisite classical ornamentation and intricate patterns... even the wealthy planetary governors who came to seek an audience with him rarely carried such a sword.

"Not ordinary? To call them such is, in itself, a blasphemy," Canoness Arabella corrected.

"My apologies, Canoness."

"It is of no consequence." Arabella shook her head. She was not one of the fanatical relic-keepers of the Order of the Hallowed Sepulchre; she simply intended to correct the error in terminology. The loyalty and bravery of the Cadians deserved her respect. Not just any mortal could react so quickly to a surprise attack by xenos and daemons after losing all their heavy weapons, tearing open a breach between the two enemy forces and holding the central transit hub until Astartes support arrived. The Savlar Chem-Dogs, whose weakness had now made them little more than decorations on the lower decks, were a testament to that.

"They are relics," she said, approaching the supplies the Angels had prepared for the Sisters. "Legacies from the most glorious age of the Imperium, left for the present." She recognized the armor, which was similar to the Battle-Sisters' own power armor. She knelt in pious prayer, her voice recounting the history of the equipment.

"Before the God-Emperor stood the gold-clad Custodian Guard, but few know that at their side, the Silent Sisterhood stood in quiet vigil, ready to drag any approaching specter into the abyss of silence."

"But I have never seen them," the Commissar said, recalling his memories of reporting back to Holy Terra. The Emperor's Custodians were not difficult to see; one could often witness their noble, imposing figures before the gates of the Imperial Palace. It was just... the Commissar's expression turned strange. To be honest, he had very complex feelings about the Custodian who had made him recite his full name for a Terran hour at the palace gates.

"Of course. Of course you have not seen them," Arabella said, caressing the argent-silver armor. Her usually rational and calm eyes now held a rare, fervent gleam. "When they fought for the Imperium, He still walked among men."

Hearing the Canoness's words, Kovek seemed to realize something. He walked up to a suit of armor and began to inspect it closely, only to find that any information that could indicate its age had been scrubbed clean.

His eyes widened.

"Kovek. Do not think too much," a hand rested on his shoulder, and Alexei's steady voice reached him. "Our mission is to take the equipment, follow orders, and fight until death."

The Commissar drew a master-crafted power sword from the armory. Noticing the deliberately erased serial number, Alexei Cain unceremoniously buckled it to his waist.

"Some things," he said, "are not for us to question."

(End of Chapter)