Tia torres teeth

Almost 9MO on 3/3/4 since 6.5 months (dropped the third nap herself) has been waking up between 5-530 for the past week. Will do a feed thinking she’s hungry and and afterwards can’t get herself back to sleep. I’ve tried not doing the feed and it results in the same. Her naps are capped at 3 hours total for the day (normally more like 2.75ish on her own will). Bedtime always 730 and my DWT is ideally 630 but that is definitely not happening.
Is there anyway I can fix this? Independent sleeper. No sleep crutches. No new teeth about to break through. Doesn’t wake up throughout the night except for this very very irritating 5am wake up call.
TIA.

Just started my first overcorrection set this morning and OW. My bottom teeth are throbbing. Any advice on how to reduce the pain? Is Tylenol still the pain med of choice?
TIA

Hi!
My 2.5 year old cat lost one of his 6 bottom incisor teeth within the past week (I check his teeth often). When I noticed it was gone, the area was just a little red but not really irritated at all. He has a vet appointment upcoming on 6/9. I’m unsure of how it happened, but he does like to chew on things (example, we have caught him chewing on our sink faucet handle). When I called to set up the appointment, they let me know that they will examine it and potentially need to schedule an X-ray of his mouth to determine if there is a root still stuck in his gums. I am absolutely terrified of putting him under anesthesia. But obviously I want to do everything to make sure he’s healthy. My questions are 1.) how safe is anesthesia for a 2.5 year old healthy neutered male cat? And 2.) is it common for cats to lose their incisors at such a young age from playing/chewing? Vet has always said his teeth look great and I’ve recently tried to start brushing them at least once per week. Here’s the info below:
TIA!
Species: cat Age: 2.5 years Sex/Neuter status: neutered male Breed: Siamese Body weight: 10.7lbs History: n/a otherwise healthy Clinical signs: missing incisor tooth (bottom) Duration: 3 days to 1 week Your general location: USA Links to test results, vet reports, X-rays etc

First off, before I even start, I have a dentist appointment set up for mid June I couldn't get in sooner, amd i do plan to ask my dentist about it then as well. I'm looking for like confirmation or personal experiences or whatnot.
My son (19 months) got his first tooth in at the end of December, and right now he has the two front top and two front lower ones in. He's getting in 2 teeth right now- ones is to the right of the front lower tooth, but the other one is a top left molar. Which is odd. I first saw it yesterday before bed, and I thought it mightve been something he ate with dinner but I was brushing his teeth today and realized it's a whole ass molar popping through. He's been quite the grump this week- I guess this explains it.
My husband had delayed teething when he was younger, but I'm not sure about tooth order. I'm not sure for myself either. Has this happened to anyone else's child or should I be concerned? Other teeth he has are pretty normal, the top ones are pretty big but that's it. TIA!

My little one has developed a bit of a biting habit. The first few times he did it, he was teething and redirected him to a teether and no more issues were had. Now he seems to do it when I'm having a conversation with dad or if my attention is elsewhere for a moment so I believe it's behavioural now and he gets my attention by doing it.
He bites hard and it freaking hurts. I usually am caught by surprise and say "OUCH. That hurts mommy!" I put him down immediately if I'm holding him. He goes to play groups often and hasn't bit another kid yet but has bitten dad a bit as well. Looking for advice on how to address sooner than later before he starts doing it to other people.
Redirection doesn't seem to be working and I don't want him to think this is a viable way to get my attention, or he will keep doing it.
TIA

Male
36
5’9
98kg
No meds
No allergies
No current diagnosis
I’m gonna type my history into here while I’m feeling ok incase I forget anything
January experienced pre syncope / confusion was assessed for chemical exposure - many many tests came back ok
Repeat symptoms weeks later led me to be seen by Tia clinic - Doppler ok MRI ok - low folate detected 5mg folate prescribed for 3 months course completed
Increased clumsiness feeling marginally weaker than previous
Aurora type sensation before events have brought me back to hospital 3 times - blood tests indicated decreasing kidney function but an ultrasound and increased water intake seemed to resolve those results
Increasing muscle cramps / stiffness specifically back of neck
Today woke up after 2 hours asleep, asked my wife repeatedly what day it was where I was how I got there, drank a coffee demanded my tooth brush then was confused why I had my Toothbrush then scrubbed my teeth
Wife called 999 doctor recommended but due to repeat nature of incident my wife brought me to a&e
Focal seizure Ms and Parkinson’s come up in my healthcare symptom checker
My MRI should capture a brain tumour ? Even if it was for a TIA
Each urgent care visit suggest I’m not in danger but symptoms keep getting worse I’m just looking for some sort of closure or pinpoint in right direction
I’ve been referred to Neurologist but it’s slow process
I’m scared and alone waiting urgent care sorry to ramble
I have experienced anxiety in the past and understand that feeling this is definitely not it it’s a seizure type feeling not a worry

TLDR; I WFH and I’m constantly exhausted, and can’t motivate myself to do my skincare routine, no matter how minimal. TIA! Any advice is helpful.
long version: I WFH and have since March 2020. I used to be so good at doing my skincare day and night, but since I moved houses I’ve been constantly exhausted and can’t push myself to do my skincare since I barely leave the house.
I have depression but it’s nothing new (I’m medicated and in therapy), I’ve been able to maintain a routine in the past. Usually by the time I’m getting ready for bed, it’s more like I’m dragging myself to bed and too tired to do much more than brush my teeth. Something about getting cold water on my face and all the steps after is really daunting.
How can I motivate myself to just do the most minimal routine?
EDIT: thank you all so much for all of your advice. So helpful, especially knowing I’m not alone

This is kinda a long shot, but there was a public playlist on Spotify that was called “Israel ‘Izzy’ Hands”, and the icon was a picture of him in the rowboat, looking up and doing his iconic one handed flip-off.
Some of the songs I remember are “smoking section” by st. Vincent, a lot of Depeche Mode and nine inch nails, “ever fallen in love” by the buzzcocks, “shoulder blade” by the teeth, “gay thoughts” by the growlers, “the sailor song” by autoheart, “you told the drunks I knew karate” by Zoey van goey, and “Brutus” by the buttress.
I accidentally stopped following that playlist, and now I can’t find it again, which fills my heart with sadness. My guess is the creator made it private, but just in case anyone knows what I’m talking about, I would love to find it again! TIA

Feeling a little frustrated and looking for advice. For background my son is 13 months and we sleep trained at 9.5 months doing FerbeCIO. He took to ST really quick and easily and we went from 2-3 wakeups a night to 12 hours in his room without intervention, it was glorious.
Things were going well until about 2 months ago. That’s when he started daycare which has led to multiple sicknesses and funky naps. And he’s gotten more teeth and learned to walk in this time. All of this has led to a lot more inconsistencies at night. He might have 2-3 nights of great sleep followed by 2-3 nights where he stands in the corner of his crib screaming until he come hold him. And he’ll only fall back asleep on our chests. There’s definitely been some Tylenol use as well.
I guess I’m just looking to understand how normal this is. Should we expect every illness/tooth to completely derail the night? Or does this mean ST wasn’t effective and we need to do it again. For context, we’ve been on one nap for about a month. He’s usually up for the day at 7 (sometimes 6), nap 12-2 and down for the night at 7. I have to cap his nap at 2 hours otherwise the night is hell.
TIA for your help!

Looking to hopefully get some direction on how to help my cat. We adopted our boy in March, he turned 4 in April. His previous family surrendered him and his brother to our local humane society for reasons that are unknown to us. They did provide us with all of his medical documentation and really the only thing we know is that they unfortunately declawed him years ago.
Anyways, the entire time we’ve had our boy he hasn’t exactly had firm poops. They have always been on the soft & smelly side in my opinion. Mid April I noticed blood in his stool. I took photos of it and debated calling the vet but I had already had his first checkup exam scheduled a couple weeks later so I ended up not calling. Fast forward to his first check up, everything went well he appears healthy, good weight, good teeth etc. I let the Dr. know about the blood in his stool and she provided me with a container in case it happened again. Not even a week later he began having diarrhea and bloody stools again. The diarrhea was so bad that he began dragging it out of the litter box several times and would even drag smears of poop all over the house. I took a sample of the stool to the vet & it came back that he had no parasites. I insisted with the vet that there is something wrong and just telling me there’s no parasites isn’t really helpful. They prescribed him with Metronidazole. He did well taking the medication twice a day, however within 3 days he had a relapse and began having diarrhea, dragging it out of the box and he began to pee out of the box. I immediately called the vet and got him an appointment same day. They did blood work & a urinalysis and prescribed him with probiotics. The next day the results came back and the blood work was normal however, he had a UTI and his kidney levels are “high”. The doctor explained that they are not abnormal but they are high for his age. She assumed he may have some sort of chronic kidney injury and recommended to get him started on prescription urinary food. He was also prescribed Clavamox. I immediately got him wet and dry Purina Pro Plan Veterinary UR food. Throughout the time he was on the clavamox, metronidazole and the probiotics as well as going through a diet change, the diarrhea continued but he was going pee in the box. I assumed the diarrhea could’ve been due to the antibiotics and diet change so i wasn’t too worried about it. March 25th he officially finished all of his medications and has fully transitioned to the Urinary food and we are still continuing to give him a daily probiotic. This past weekend his poop was a dark color and firm! Not super firm or anything but it looked the best i’ve ever seen it since we’ve had him. But, that only lasted a day.. This morning I was awakened literally but the smell of his poop. It smelled like weed/skunk. He has had stinky poops but never like this, I thought there was some sort of problem in my house, I never would’ve imagined his poop smelling like this. Not only did it have a strange smell, we are back to loose, soft diarrhea. And then tonight, he had literally explosive diarrhea in the box. So much so that while he was trying to move his litter to go to the bathroom, he unexpectedly sharted and it went all over the wall and outside of the litter box. This made him jump out of the box and run away. He came back a second time and I happened to be in the bathroom still cleaning up his mess, he hopped in the box and sharted just straight liquid poop. Again, it smelled like skunk and i noticed like tiny black / dark brown dots in the poop. We have a follow up appointment this Thrusday at the vet to make sure the UTI cleared up so i will be sure to let the doctor know about all of this.
I’m just curious, what could this be and is there any advice on how to go about helping my boy? He seems completely normal outside of the bathroom issues. He eats, drinks, plays and is not low energy by any means. I just want him to get better, TIA!

Hello, FTM here! How safe and effective is this medicine? Do I need a pediatrician’s okay first? My LO is 4 months and his teething has been horrible! I feel really bad because he’s always irritated/crying from the pain 😩 I would like to do those chilled washcloths but I’m worried about the water he might drink since his pedia hasn’t talked to us about solids/water intake yet. TIA!!!!!

Alright guys, I have two really cheap Nintendo DS Lites that I intend to cut my teeth on, just to see what it's like to get up close to components.
I watched some teardown videos and took note of what was used. I either have the following already at home or in my wishlist:

1. Nintendo screwdriver set, which also comes with two plastic prying tools, one triangular and one pen-shaped
2. Cotton swabs and Isopropyl alcohol (?%)
3. Ceramic tip tweezers, a big pair and a fine curved tip pair

Less important, but I'm definitely getting one of those blue anti-static mats with magnets everyone and their mother uses and something sharp to take the sticky parts off each other. Seems like these "X-ACTO" brand knives are popular. I know next to nothing about them. First timer tips welcome.
Lastly I wanted to ask: I'm kinda mystified by the two shiny and very narrow pieces of tape beneath the top screen present inside the DSs. Is it some special ESD tape I can find in case I need more or want/need to replace it? TIA!

My daughter (6mo) recently cut her first two teeth. The first cut on the 17th and the second cut on the 23rd. Her pediatrician suggested to give her acetaminophen and nurse on demand at night. I asked for how long and her response was to stop when she's "done teething".
So like, wtf does that mean? I asked for more specifics and the ped looked at me like I grew a second head and just reiterated "when it's done".
For context my daughter is a biter and has acted like she's teething since she was born. I noticed her new tooth before noticing a major change in daytime behavior. She been fussier, sure, but my daughter is always going through waves of fussiness, she's just a spicy baby by nature. The biggest change since this started is her waking up more frequently at night. We had her down to only two wakes a night and now it's 3-4 again.
I'm worried about making these comfort nursing sessions a habit but don't know when to stop. So when is teething "done". Is it done when the tooth is completely cut? Or when it's fully grown in? How long does this typically take and when do you cut off the medication?
I'm not asking for a chart on when each tooth appears, I've got that. TIA

I recently got my wisdom teeth extracted and got prescribed Tylenol 3’s as painkillers. I usually take one pill every 6 hours for the past two days but took two tonight since the pain has been pretty bad. I’ve been taking them with ibuprofen. I’ve never used opiates before and don’t have any diagnosed sleep issues (I am not 100% sure and have never gotten a sleep test or notice any symptoms other than teeth grinding).
I have been noticing random interruptions in my sleep as if I could not breathe and I wake up in a panic. I’m having a bit of anxiety about this now thinking that I may not even realize I can’t breathe in my sleep. Its been a little shy of four hours since I last took a dose and am now too anxious to fall back asleep so im on reddit looking for some advice, common anxiety response lol - TIA! Is this a normal reaction to the painkillers, or is this something I should be worried about?

My Dragon Flame made short work of most of the demons close to me, but they were clearly accumulating in that village. Perhaps this was meant to be the vanguard of their attack, or the fall-back base. And as more and more demons poured out, I quickly learned that when all four types are present, they gain some serious synergy. Ghouls would use ranged weapons instead of running dick first into final death, Decoms would attempt to trap me with their magic rather than kill me outright, Seducers would constantly surround me, because they could heal from damage and were far more resilient. Faced with a small army, I suddenly understood what Curt Connors felt. It's like my mind briefly split into two, probably from stress... of blue balls most likely. One part was focused on the fight, enraged and primal, and the other... the other kept noticing random stuff. For example, the primal part of my mind kept a demon between me and Oni, and after he cut down a ghoul and a decom the other part noticed that Oni seemed to avoid getting into a scuffle with Seducers specifically. Like the synergy relied on them. But as I dodged another attack, said seducer vaped her pink mist into my face, and I started coughing. Now that I no longer had gold to calm me down, the mist worked... just not as intended. Instead of turning me into a drooling idiot, my sense of smell seemed to be kicked into overdrive, while my instincts and reaction have dulled instead. The mist did nothing to excite me, but it did give me a strangely familiar taste in my mouth. Like a taste of gelatin capsules filled with yohimbine. That observant part of my mind noted that perhaps her pink energy wasn't potent enough to affect me, who had endured the Heat for so long. However, my reaction made other demons feel as if I was incapacitated, and they swarmed me again.
There was a distinct stench of chlorine from the plaza, or is it ammonia? Not really a surprise there, considering how many demons spilled themselves there. I failed to dodge an attack from the same Seducer's daggers, and now I had a huge gash across my back, which hurt a lot more than usual. But at least it was still healing.
There was the pleasant smell of medicinal herbs from somewhere behind me in the forest, and I assumed that it was either Radius or mage escort trying to recover from the pink mist. Considering what that mist was doing to people, perhaps they had some sort of Horny Bonk medicine? Decom's fireball nearly burned my face off, I barely avoided it, and only because I was busy dodging another attack. It ended with a few killed ghouls.
A combination of brimstone, curled milk and a revoltingly rancid odor of toxic plastic, the kind that bad knock-off toys with a bloody red torch in the chest are made of. That smell signaled the approach of Oni as he counterattacked, but I was too slow to react, and his fist landed squarely on my face. The hit was so strong it felt like my consciousness was knocked out of my body! Well, at least a part of my consciousness, the part that was distracted. As a result, I was watching myself in third person, feeling pain, and taste of my own blood, but unable to act. And the heat, in my blood, was rising again. But that hit, it did some good too. Because now, Dragon's instincts took over fully, shaking off whatever the mist was.
I watched my hand let go of the sword, as the fingers turned to claws, and lashed out at the demons in front of me. Oni dodged, leaving Seducer in the way of an attack - It tore out her throat, and she gurgled briefly before collapsing. Her regeneration was unable to keep up? That did nothing to dissuade others. But I noticed a strange expression on Oni's face. I watched as my other hand parried an attack and responded with a thrust of my clawed hand, breaking through the chest of another demon, piercing her heart by the feeling of it. Decom flung another fireball at me, but when it hit my face, I felt no pain, only irritation. My blood was boiling by this point. I saw smoke leaking out of my mouth, then I took a deep breath, but instead of fire I let out a mighty dragon roar from frustration. There was so much power behind it, the wall closest to me had collapsed, my whole body shook so hard that my consciousness rubber-banded back into my body, which was rather painful. However, it did clear my head, knocking all nonsense out.
Seducers got blown away (but they survived this again), few remaining decoms dropped dead, last ghoul was blown to bits, but Oni... Oni just staggered and only briefly. Good thing he did, though, because I needed a moment to recover too, and we both returned to the fight at the same time. I balled up my clawed fist and hit his face just as he hit mine, my head snapping back. I am sure it looked much less awesome and cinematic compared to similar scenes in anime. Pain in my face was nothing compared to pain in my hand, as claws actually dug into my own flesh. However, this time, probably because he was still reeling from the roar, the hit connected property. And while I couldn't see much damage, his reaction looked similar to mine the first time his hit landed. I recovered quickly and brought up my weapons, this time, properly parrying his counterattack. Seducers launched at me, their durability was getting to me. Worse still, because I now had only one sword. The other was laying there, out of my reach, and while I could fight in these odds, figuring out my claws NOW, was out of the question. I didn't think I was flexible enough. That's when Tia stepped in. Stealthy Rogue skewered one of the demons and threw ice potions at the same time. It gave me a breather I needed, helped by the fact that both Radius and the mage escort (I swear I'll ask his name when we get through this) finally rejoined me. They took on the bitches while I faced the medium bad.
I was briefly distracted, but it was long enough for Oni to knock the other sword out of my hand, and run me through with the bone blade. "Shit!" I coughed as he pinned me to the tree. "Said, as I. For me, no match," Oni was getting smug. "You first. After them." He pulled out a bone from his body, turned it into a sword and raised it to strike me down. But now that both my hands were free, my other hand also sprouted claws and I yanked the bone sword out... at least I thought I did. Claws actually shattered the bone! As his sword slashed at me, without thinking, I raised both my hands in defensive stance... and watched as the sword snapped against them. Only then did I realized that my hands weren't just clawed but also now covered in scales, and heavier than before. I had little time to contemplate the new discovery. I heard a scream of warning from Radius as Seducers surrounded me and one managed to bite me! "You dare hit a lady?!" one of them exclaimed. "Hammer of justice is unisex!" I think I muttered, before punching the biter. To my shock, her teeth remained lodged in my arm, while the rest of her body pulverized. "The hell?!" This finally got them to pause, but now I was on the offensive. My fists punched through the remaining Seducers until only one was left. Oni actually got in the way, as I tried to finish that bitch off. Even my heavy punch did nothing to really hurt the bastard, but my scales had no problem stopping his bone sword. I feigned the attack, while throwing an icicle at the demon... And I heard a sound of something snapping. Oni let out a pained snarl and swung his fist, I did the same. His fist socked me in the jaw, but my head didn't get foggy this time. My punch, on the other hand, actually caved his face in! There was a clear indent in the shape of my fist, and as he took a step back, bluish blood burst out. I expected him to heal from that, to snap his face back into place and attack again. But Oni collapsed, grabbed onto his face and started howling. My three companions approached the demon, weapons drawn. Tia's hand was bleeding, but he looked okay. Radius was covered in some suspicious goo, and the mage looked worse for the wear, too. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, shivers were running down my back. Something was wrong. His howl was getting higher and higher pitched, and his body started to glow...
I don't know what happened next. One moment - I was staring at the glowing demon, some sort of thought forming in the back of my head, the next - I was clutching Tia with one hand, Radius with the other and the Escort mage was holding onto my back for dear life, deep in the forest, kneeling amidst the burned out circle the size of the village plaza. The remnant of some defensive spell fell apart around me, but I've never actually learned one, so maybe it's the escort mage? All three of my companions looked shaken and confused. There was heat coming from the direction of the village, and a subtle smell of fire. There were broken and burned trees in that direction too. And a horrible realization struck me, my brain threw up the scene from the end of Predator. I ran back towards the village, skipping over toppled trees. And stared at an enormous crater, where a village used to be, the sides were rapidly cooling, cracking the stone. "Holy shit..." The only thing left of the village, were occupied pillories, and a weird twisted structure beneath them. With a bit of aerial movement, I landed by the pillories, but as soon as I did, the structure they were perched on began collapsing. I managed to leap back just in time, but the pillories puffed into smoke and disintegrated.

I got my wisdom teeth removed (not impacted) about a month ago. I did end up getting dry socket on my lower left which finally healed but now on my lower right, there seems to be a bone sticking out laterally from the extraction site. It’s really irritating my tongue rubbing on it all day . Will this heal on its own or should I go back to the dentist? TIA!

Hello everyone!
Just wanted to share a story I wrote and has been picked up by the good people at Cold Open Stories.
Hope you enjoy!
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++ Do not look to us for kindness. Do not look to us for hope. We are not the kind children of this new age. We are the rocks of its foundation. ++
Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the VII
A flash of light burned in the black of space.
Is this it? thought Cassian Torr, Captain of the 117th Company, VII Legion. Has Horus come?
His twin hearts beat faster at the thought, even as the more logical parts of his mind ran through a thousand other possibilities. Yet ultimately he knew what he had seen: a ship. A ship tearing its way into real space. Into the Sol System. Into the heart of the Imperium.
He scanned the endless void, eyes scouring the debris and detritus that littered the outer regions of Terra’s system. Searching for more flashes. For more ships. For any sign that this was the first pebble in an avalanche of violence that would crash against the walls of Sol.
Yet none came.
‘Speak to me, Captain Narsus,’ he said, turning to look back at the Oath of Unity’s mortal commander. His golden-yellow armour purred with even that slight movement, the sound lost in the cacophony that was the bridge. Astartes, mortal crew, Tech Priests and servitors bustled in constant motion, the ordered and smooth running of the Gladius Frigate hidden amongst the apparent anarchy. ‘What is it we face today?’
‘A single ship, my lord,’ replied Narsus, voice heavy with exhaustion. ‘Not military class. A merchant trader; its code identifies it as the Destiny’s Daughter. I am picking up no shields or weapons signals. Their engines are practically dead. They’re simply drifting.’
Torr knew the long hours and endless days being demanded of the man were unfair, that no unaugmented human could hope to keep up such work for long. Yet it was what Dorn and the Sigillite deemed necessary. It was what victory in the name of Unity and the Imperial Truth deemed necessary.
And Torr would not have the Oath of Unity found wanting. When this madness was over, when Horus was defeated, the Imperium would be rebuilt as it should have been. As the Emperor willed it. As a bastion of truth, science, reason and hope.
What has Horus sent against us? Torr asked himself as he looked back into space. Is this some new trickery? Some new lie?
He had patrolled the edges of the Sol System for years. Ever since the Eisenstein had brought the impossible news of Horus’s betrayal to Dorn and the Imperial Fists. In the intervening years, the entirety of the system had been transformed into a fortress – patrols like his, its first and furthest line of defence.
But it was a line yet to be tested.
Nothing had reached the Sol System. Not since the Eisenstein. It was as if silence had engulfed the galaxy. Yet Torr knew this could not be true. All eighteen Legions – loyal and treacherous – could not have just gone silent. Something out there, beyond the cold of the void, had changed.
He saw this also in the Oath of Unity’s Astropath. In her whispered mutterings. In her nervous glances towards the open void.
Summons had been sent to those Legions, Expeditionary Forces and Forge Worlds known to be loyal, a tsunami of astropathic messages to sweep through the galaxy. Yet nothing came back. No ships reached them. No messages. Are we alone? Have all our brother Legions turned their backs on the dream of the Imperium? On their oaths and vows? On Terra?
Something unfamiliar wormed its way through him at the thought. Is this fear? That emotion was all but unknown, ever since he had been plucked from the ice hives of Inwit and raised to the ranks of the Legiones Astartes. And yet, he pondered, perhaps its echo still exists somewhere within.
‘Are we receiving any communication from them?’ he asked, his voice flat and hard, masking his thoughts and fears. ‘Does anything live aboard?’
‘No communications, my lord,’ answered Narsus. ‘But we are picking up life signs. Not many, but undeniably human.’
Torr nodded. ‘Very good, Captain. Make full speed to intercept. Have weapons ready to fire, but hold until commanded.’
‘Your will, my lord,’ said Narsus. He paused for a heartbeat. ‘Should I alert Lord Falkar? The Sigillite’s orders may pertain to this.’
Torr rubbed his armoured gauntlet across his closely shaven scalp, feeling the iron of his centenary mark of service riven into his thick, transhuman brow. The mark of over a century of service to the ideals of Truth and Unity. It reminded him of the campaigns he had fought. Of the brothers he had lost. Of the horrors he had seen. He shook his head. ‘No. Lord Falkar’s involvement is to be a last resort.’
He opened his Legion vox link. ‘ Sergeant Haster, prepare a boarding party.’
+++
Shadows and silence filled the Destiny’s Daughter. Torr and Breacher Squad Haster moved through her corridors in purposeful unity, methodical and thorough. Their shields overlapped to create an impenetrable wall of ceramite and iron. The golden yellow of their thick MKIII armour was bathed crimson as emergency lumens flashed endlessly throughout the seemingly deserted ship.
Torr heard a click in his helm, followed instantly by another, as he had every five minutes since the boarding operation had begun nearly an hour ago. The signals told him that Breacher Squads Solon and Carr were moving through the ship on schedule, having met no resistance or signs of life. He suspected he’d receive the same ‘all clears’ again in five minutes.
He clicked back in reply, then let out a growl of frustration. His trigger finger itched, aching to feel the kick of his bolter, to hear its roar.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm, and silently chided himself for the moment of laxity. He remembered the words of his father and Primarch, Lord Dorn: Discipline. Duty. Unyielding Will. These are the measures by which every warrior is judged.
Am I bored? he asked himself. If he was being honest, he’d half hoped to find an ambush aboard the Destiny’s Daughter. To see his traitorous brothers advancing towards him, bolters roaring their madness. The colours of those Legions he had once fought beside – the regal purple of the Emperor’s Children, the sea-green of the Sons of Horus, the blood-splattered white and blue of the World Eaters – flashed through his mind and he ground his teeth. He wanted to kill.
Astartes, he reflected, were not built for such lengthy periods of inactivity. For long years of patrol and garrison. For what was now demanded of him and his brothers.
‘Is all well, Captain?’ asked Haster, the Veteran Sergeant’s gravel voice filling his helm’s private comm-link.
‘All is well, Brother-Sergeant,’ Torr replied. ‘I was distracted. Thank you for drawing my attention back to the duty at hand.’
He heard Haster’s grunt of laughter in his vox-link. ‘Some things never change, it seems. I’ve been watching your back since we were Initiates. What would you do without me?’
Torr felt the corners of his mouth tug into the beginnings of a smile as he checked their position against the ship’s schematics on his retinal display. They were not far from the centre of the ship and the cargo hold. Where, according to Captain Narsus, the only signs of life could be detected. ‘Not long now,’ he whispered to himself as the rhythmic clang of their armoured boots echoed throughout the labyrinthine corridors.
+++
Explosions ripped open the cargo hold’s blast doors, filling the hallways with smoke and fire and a storm of metal shards. Even through his helm’s environmental dampeners, Torr felt his ears ring.
Then the screams started.
‘Only fire on my command,’ he ordered as he raised his breacher shield and began to advance alongside Squad Haster. Smoke enveloped them for the briefest second, before they emerged into the cargo hold of the Destiny’s Daughter.
Torr finally saw something from beyond the Sol System, from the chaos that had engulfed the galaxy.
Ragged humanity filled the cargo hold, stretching out into the dark corners of the vast room. Men, women and children huddled together, their clothes hanging loosely from bone-thin limbs as wide, terror-stricken eyes stared back at him from faces too thin with hunger. Pleas for mercy, prayers for help, and screams of panic filled the air. Most shied away from the approaching astartes, hunching over in small groups, as if they could disappear into the gloom.
One man, braver or stupider than the rest, stepped out from the crowd. He clutched an autogun in his shaking hands, the weapon rusted almost beyond repair.
Do it.
The words rushed unbidden into Torr’s mind as he felt the increasingly familiar itch in his trigger finger. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his eyes settled on the barrel of the gun.
Do it.
‘Begone, foul daemons!’ screamed the man, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeak. ‘The Emperor protects!’
His final words were taken up by others amongst the crowd. It rallied them, as it echoed in the open cavern of the hold. Torr grimaced. At what those words implied. At a belief in the divine, so at odds with the enlightened ideals of the Imperium. Yet also of loyalty.
His hand shot out, too fast for a mortal’s eye to follow, and snatched the gun from the refugee’s hands with a savage twist. He felt the man resist for the briefest moment, before giving way with a pained cry.
Torr looked down at the man – on his knees, a grimace across his face, cradling one shoulder. He felt a moment’s satisfaction at the release of violence, before he crushed it with a force of will. These are citizens of the Imperium. They deserve our protection.
He dropped the gun. It clattered to the ground, the metallic ring echoing from the walls. Almost deafening in the silence of the hold.
Something behind the man flinched at the sound. A muffled cry reached Torr’s ears.
A girl, he thought as his eyes settled on the crouched figure. Perhaps four or five years old, Terran Standard. Though, he had to admit to finding estimates of age hard with such young mortals. Her hair had been crudely shorn to the scalp, but small tufts stuck out from amid the stubble. She clung tightly to the man’s back, keeping herself in his shadow, even as she stared up at him. Her eyes, wide and dark, met Torr’s. Yet she didn’t look away.
Brave, Torr thought, for a mortal. For one so young.
‘Stand down, civilians,’ he said, voice amplified by the vox in his armour. ‘You are safe now. You are in the custody of the Seventh.’
He noticed the girl wince at the sound of his voice, pressing her hands to her ears and looking down at the floor. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he dimly remembered the first time he had seen an astartes. The sheer size. The aura of violence. It had been overwhelming.
Torr dropped to one knee, bringing himself as close to the girl’s level as possible. He removed his helm, remembering a treatise written by Guilliman on first interactions between astartes and mortals. Such simple measures, the lord of the Thirteenth argued, lessened the shock when interacting with members of the Legions. It humanised them in the eyes of the unaugmented.
Torr almost laughed at the idea. As if I have not given up my humanity to become what they need me to be. To become a shield for their kind. To become a weapon against the horrors of this universe.
He reached forward slowly, resting his gauntleted hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘What is your name, child?’ he asked, doing his best to keep his voice light and the hint of a smile on his lips. He knew such verbal and physical cues were important to the unenhanced.
‘Patti,’ whispered the girl, bringing her gaze up to meet his once more. ‘Is… Is Mama here? Papa said she would be, even though she couldn’t get the same ship as us.’ Sobs began to wrack the little girl’s body and she hurled herself back against her father’s body, burying her face in his thin shirt.
Torr felt the temperature drop, permafrost creeping across the floor. Radiating out from the girl. Crawling up his arm. Psyker. He pulled back and turned to meet the father’s eyes.
‘We’re from the Lastrati System,’ said the man, his voice edged with hope, yet tinged with fear. ‘When the traitors came… There was such chaos. We got separated.’
Torr shook his head.
‘Yohanna,’ continued the man, his words tumbling out too quickly. ‘Yohanna Taraf. That’s her name. I am Emil. Her husband. There must be news.’
‘No,’ said Torr, his voice now stone and brooking no argument. ‘Yours is the first ship to have reached Sol in nearly two years.’
Emil fell silent, his jaw working wordlessly. The buzz of chatter filled the air, spreading like wildfire throughout the refugees as Torr’s words reached the ears of others.
‘The first?’ Emil asked eventually as he clasped his daughter’s hands. ‘But there were so many.’
Torr stared back for a moment, seeing the tears begin to trickle from Emil’s eyes. ‘I am sorry.’
He stood and turned his back on the man, looking over the silent wall of ceramite that Breacher Squad Haster had formed behind him. His eyes met Haster’s, seeing his old friend had also removed his helmet. ‘These people are not to leave this hall.’ He paused. ‘But do not harm them. They are loyal citizens of the Imperium.’
He turned his focus back to Emil and Patti once more. They were on their knees, arms wrapped tight around each other. The halo of frost around them crept ever further across the floor with each second. Their bodies rose and fell with choked sobs, tears streaming down their faces. Torr’s transhuman senses heard Emil whisper reassurances to his daughter as he stroked her hair. He told her that her mother would be okay. That she would find a way. That the Emperor was watching them. To have faith.
Superstition. Torr looked away in anger. Primitive. Illogical. He felt sick at the irony of it. That the Legions had spent two centuries crusading across the stars, destroying such beliefs and bringing the Truth to the galaxy. But, here it was. At the very heart of the Imperium itself.
Yet it is these people that stand loyal. Unlike my brother Legions. Unlike those I fought with. Unlike those I shed blood with. The thought soured in Torr’s mind, his mask of stone slipping to anger.
He saw the faces of those he had once fought beside from the Traitor Legions in his mind. The faces of those he had called once Brothers. Sar Krael of the Sons of Horus, his olive skin in stark contrast to the once brilliant white of their old Legion. Varon of the Emperor’s Children, his porcelain features marred by the occasional faint duelling scar. Kargur of the World Eaters, his brutish features only accentuated by a myriad of criss-crossing scars and his permanently broken nose.
Torr clicked his vox-link open, drawing himself back to the present. ‘Captain Narsus, do you hear me?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ came the reply, static scratching in Torr’s ears.
‘Inform Lord Dorn and First Captain Sigismund that we have made contact with refugees from the war.’ He paused. ‘Then prepare several parties of your mortal crew to board the Destiny’s Daughter. They are to bring food and water. Medicine too.’
‘Your will, my lord,’ replied Narsus. ‘I will see to it at once.’
Torr watched Patti and Emil for a second more. Their cries were hushed and lost in the vastness of the hold, their prayers faint, yet distinct. Other refugees shuffled away from them. Away from the creeping frost and the aura of cold. Away from the girl. From the psyker.
His stomach churned at what he had to do next.
‘Captain Narsus,’ he said once more. ‘Inform the Lord Falkar and the Sigillite’s agents too.’
+++
Torr watched black figures move through the crowd. Each bore the stylised I of Malcador, the Sigillite and the Emperor’s right hand, upon their chests. A symbol that conferred upon them nigh-on unlimited power.
He watched them methodically approach each group, dataslates in hand, recording each story – and he saw the fear and confusion in each refugee’s eyes. These men were something new, something unknown. And despite being just ordinary men and women – no, Torr corrected himself, Malcador’s people would never be ordinary – they seemingly commanded greater fear than the astartes of the VII Legion.
Disquiet filled Torr at their presence. At the nature of their work.
He glanced behind to Squad Haster. Each stood immobile, a fortress of ceramite and gene-enhanced flesh in their own right. Each proudly bore the black fist of the Seventh, declaring their allegiance for all to see. The Sigillite’s people could not be more different than the Sons of Dorn. What do they portend for the Imperium?
Sensing movement in the periphery of his vision, Torr looked towards the cargo hold’s doors. His eyes settled on a lone figure in burnished gold armour, a great blade at her waist, a crimson top knot tumbling down her back.
A member of the Silent Sisterhood.
Revulsion flooded through him at the sight. His twin hearts beat faster. Adrenaline began to pump through his gene-enhanced body. His hands clenched into tight fists.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply. To calm himself.
Opening his eyes, he found his gaze drawn to a group of the Sigillite’s agents. They were dragging a pair of refugees towards the Sister. Emil and Patti. Torr felt anger rise hot inside his chest at the realisation.
Tears stained the father’s cheeks, a look of weary defeat written across Emil’s face. The face of a broken man. Patti screamed. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her father’s hands, his shirt, his arms. Her legs kicked wildly, her movements more frantic as she grew closer to the Witchseeker.
Torr’s eyes met hers. They were bloodshot and puffy, a river of tears flooding from them. Help me! Please! Help me! The words – Patti’s words – screamed in his mind. He shuddered. A ripple of terror ran through him, her own fear and anguish shared for just an instant.
His eidetic memory ran through her story. He remembered the way her father had described the terror and confusion as drop pods had rained from the sky above Lastrani. He could almost picture the mad scramble amid the ruins and smoke of the space port. The feel of fingers slipping apart as Patti’s mother was dragged away by the current of the crowd. He could almost smell the stench of sweat and piss as they had huddled in the dark of the Destiny’s Daughter, as it shuddered beneath the onslaught of cannon fire.
More superstitious minds might call it a miracle, he thought, pondering the immensity of the refugee’s luck. And this is the greeting they find from the Imperium? From those supposed to protect them? To be torn from each other’s arms after all they have suffered?
Something inside Torr snapped. His fingers curled involuntarily around the grip of his sword and he felt the blade slide just a fraction from its sheath as he strode towards the diorama of misery. Refugees stumbled from his path as the heavy tread of Squad Haster following echoed in his ears. As he had known they would, even without orders. They were his Brothers.
Is this the Imperium we fight for? Is this the future of humanity? The future my brothers died for? One of secrets and shadows? One where innocent people disappear in the night?
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Torr thundered as he neared the agents.
The closest flinched before turning to face him, his eyes wide as he took an involuntary step back. Torr heard the man swear under his breath as the chemical smell of fear filled his gene-enhanced nostrils.
‘Lord captain,’ the man started, ‘my orders are-’
‘I did not ask for your orders, Chosen of Malcador,’ growled Torr. ‘They are plainly clear. I asked for your reasons.’
The click of light footsteps sounded nearby. He glanced towards the sound, seeing the Sister had turned towards them, her face a passionless mask. He felt cold, an unnatural sense of dread filling him, as her eyes settled on him. He looked away quickly, returning to the mortal before him.
‘These people,’ began the agent again, straightening his back and meeting Torr’s gaze. ‘These people are to be transferred to-’
‘Silence,’ snarled Torr. He punched a finger in the direction of Patti and Emil. ‘Their only crime is fleeing the atrocities of the Traitor Legions. This girl could be trained. Her talents could benefit the Imperium. Instead, you drag her away into the shadows. Does your master fear little girls so much?’
The agent’s eyes flared angrily for a second, before flickering to the space behind Torr. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile.
‘Is our presence so distasteful to you, Captain Torr?’
Torr remained silent as he turned to face this new speaker. Ice-blue eyes stared back at him from a hawkish face of ghostly skin. Silence settled between the two, stretching out for long, pregnant seconds.
‘I am always astounded by your kind’s aptitude for petty behaviour, Captain,’ continued the man, turning his own gaze upon the sight of Patti’s father. ‘It could be argued that such pettiness is the cause of all this madness.’
‘Indeed, Chosen Falkar,’ replied Torr after a moment.
He studied the Sigillite’s man. Falkar was painfully thin, with the typically near-emaciated and elongated form of those born and raised in the low gravity of space. Yet, despite the sheer difference in size and bulk that the astartes carried, the man weathered Torr’s gaze as if made of stone.
An impressive feat of mental strength, conceded Torr as he repressed the now familiar itch to draw his weapon. At the mortal’s display of defiance.
Torr ground his teeth as Patti’s pleas for help, her prayers to the Emperor, moved further away. He heard the scuff of her feet dragged across the floor. He heard a body slump to the floor, Emil’s sobs joining his daughter’s cacophony. The desire to draw his sword, to hear the bark of his bolter, swelled inside, near overwhelming.
You have failed them.
‘You speak of pettiness,’ snarled Torr, ‘yet you are not the one who has fought across the length and breadth of the galaxy. You are not the one who has seen his Brothers die. You are not the one who has sacrificed their very humanity. All this, I have done with the ideals of Unity and Truth in my hearts.’
Torr gestured across the hall, pointing at each of the Sigillite’s agents with a sharp jab of a finger.
‘You and your kind threaten those ideals. You sink this war into shadows and secrets. You are a poison that stains the Imperium.’ Torr spat. ‘What was the purpose of those sacrifices – my brothers’ sacrifices – if we throw our ideals away? We must hold ourselves to a higher standard.’
Falkar met the astartes’ tirade with a surprising calmness, his ice-blue eyes almost blazing in the gloom of the ship’s hold as they met Torr’s stare. ‘And what, lord captain,’ he replied, ‘would be the purpose of those sacrifices should we lose this war?’ Falkar let the question sit for a second. ‘We are a new weapon, Captain – or a new poison, as you say – because this is a new war.’
Silence hung for an eternity between the two of them. Eventually the mortal turned to look across the mass of humanity that filled the room. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back.
‘Our enemy is insidious, Lord Captain. They will not just come for us with bolter and chainsword. They will not just come to tear down our walls. They will come to tear down our very purpose. They will come to destroy everything we believe in. They will come from the shadows and dark. We are the shield against these threats. That is why the Sigillite created our order.’
‘Then you have already failed,’ Torr said after a moment. ‘You cannot defend the ideals of Truth and Unity with lies and deceit.’
Falkar shook his head and pulled out a dataslate, fingers flicking through its contents. When he’d finished, he looked up and met Torr’s eyes once more.
There is something different in him now, noticed the astartes. The hard edge is gone. There is sadness there. An exhaustion of the soul.
‘Then I am sorry, Lord Torr,’ started Falkar. ‘For what I must ask of you now.’
He held out the dataslate. Runes of the highest authority flashed across its surface. Torr read the orders, even as his stomach tightened. As his trigger finger itched once more. As the desire to rip his sword free filled him.
‘No.’ He growled the word through clenched teeth.
‘No?’
Falkar’s eyes momentarily flashed in surprise. Just for an instant, but Torr saw it. He did not expect resistance, he realised. Not from a Son of the Seventh. They think us cold. Made of stone. They do not understand the fire that burns within. The drive. The Purpose. The ideals.
‘No,’ Torr growled once more.
‘There is no refusal here, Captain Torr,’ replied Falkar, his voice now clipped with an icy steel. ‘These orders come from the Sigillite himself. And co-signed by your father. Would you deny Lord Dorn’s command?’
Torr froze. Co-signed by your father. The words haunted him. To see Lord Dorn and the Seventh dragged down into the mire of shadows. That was what they meant.
Would you deny Lord Dorn’s command? The words flittered through his head as he thought of what was being asked of him. Of how they had treated those fleeing for safety.
What kind of monsters have we become? he asked himself.
He thought of Patti and her father’s story. He thought of all he had heard from the refugees. He ran through every detail. He knew, as sure as if he was there himself, what happened in the Lastrati System. He knew what happened when the Sixteenth had come.
Anger swelled inside by what his erstwhile cousins had done. By what the once proud scions of Horus had become. Disgust filled him at the thought of those warriors he was once proud to have served alongside. By how far they had fallen.
What kind of monsters have they become?
He looked down at the dataslate again. He read the words again.
+ Immediate transfer of all non-psykers to the internment prisons of Titan for processing and interrogation. +
‘Why?’
Falkar breathed deeply and nodded, a look of relief washing across his face. ‘Because of what they have seen. Because of what they know. Because their tales of daemons and gods and monsters cannot be allowed to spread throughout Terra’s defenders. Because these stories, and those that would spread them, are a weapon for our enemy. As sure as any bolter.’
Falkar fell silent and looked back across the refugees. Torr turned with him a second later.
Is this the future you fought for? The question whispered in the back of Torr’s mind. Is this the Imperium you would be a part of? But what is the alternative?
He thought of the defenders of Terra. Of the fear he has seen in their eyes already. He thought of what he had heard today, of the tales of gods and daemons, and what it would do to their fear. He knew Falkar’s words to be true.
Images of Terra burning filled his mind. Of its walls cast down. Of his brothers broken. Of its citizens slaughtered. Of its ideals ground into dust.
Will you do what is necessary to prevent that future?
With that question echoing through his thoughts, Torr clicked open his Legion-coded vox channels.
‘Squad Haster, make ready.’
He heard the thud of ceramite boots on the floor as they moved to attention beside him. He heard the click of boltguns loading. He smelled the tang of fear in the air.
He glanced sideways towards Haster. His old friend’s face was a grim mask, unreadable save a fury blazing in his eyes. A fury at me? pondered Torr. Or at what we must do? What have we become?
But Torr knew such anger was irrelevant. He knew what must be done. What duty demanded. He looked back across the refugees arrayed before him.
‘Citizens of the Imperium,’ he said, his gene-enhanced voice carrying easily throughout the hanger. ‘You will accompany us back to the Oath of Unity. There you will be processed and sent for internment on Titan. These are the orders of Lord Dorn and Malcador the Sigillite. Do not resist.’
Anger filled the air almost immediately after his pronouncement. Questions and shouts spread like wildfire through the crowd as something snapped in their collective minds. The sight of the astartes warriors before them, once a promise of salvation and deliverance, now the face of repression and danger.
One woman stepped out from the crowd. Her face, painfully thin from malnutrition, was a contorted mask of rage. She held a broken piece of piping tight in two hands.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she screamed. ‘What crime have we committed? You should be protecting us! Helping us!’
‘Stand down, citizen,’ commanded Torr. The fury in the woman’s voice was a spark to his own base instincts. He fought to keep his voice calm. He fought to stop his hands from reaching for the bolt pistol at his belt.
‘You are monsters!’ screamed the woman. ‘You oppress us! For what crime? Have we not suffered enough?’
‘Stand down,’ said Torr once more. A warm heat began to spread through his muscles as they loosened. He felt his hearts thump faster. His trigger finger itched once more. He found he had drawn his bolt pistol.
Her cry was taken up by the rest of the crowd. They pressed forward, towards Torr and the other Imperial Fists. Torr made to step in front of Falkar, but noticed the Sigillite’s agent had disappeared.
A howl of pain split the air. One of the black armoured figures tumbled from the horde of refugees, kicked to the ground. Their throat had been slit. Their face was a mass of bruising radiating out from caved-in eye sockets. Blood wept from stab wounds across their body. Torr’s eyes settled on their empty holster.
A gunshot rang out. Torr felt its force against his pauldron. Heard it ricochet against the dull steel of the cargo hold’s roof.
He raised his pistol. Squad Haster appeared in his periphery, shields locked together, bolters ready. There was no need to open the vox channel this time. Not with his brothers so close.
‘Fire.’
+++
Dead bodies littered the cargo hold. It was an abattoir. Blood coated the floor and splattered the walls. Bodies – of men, women and children – lay at unnatural angles, their limbs torn like petals from a flower by the explosive power of bolt rounds. The stench of shit and piss and gunsmoke filled his nostrils.
Accusing eyes stared back at him. Over six hundred dead. He had made the count himself. His eyes met the dead gaze of Patti’s father.
Why? they asked. In Torr’s own voice. It is the question he asked Falkar. Now it is the question he asks himself.
Torr opened his eyes, bringing his mind back from the slaughter in the cargo hold of the Destiny’s Daughter. Agony shot through his arm. He bit down, grinding his teeth and tasting the iron tang of his own blood as he shut out the effects of the Pain Glove.
Discipline and unyielding will, he reminded himself, but the question remained. It echoed through his mind.
Why?
But Torr knew the answer.
Because you are a weapon. A monster.
Because it is what you need to be. Because it is your purpose to be the rock upon which the Imperium can be built. To find victory, so that those that come after you can build a better world.
Torr knew this in his hearts. He had heard his father speak on it. He remembered giving his oath aboard the Phalanx. He remembered kneeling before his Lord Dorn, hand thrust into a brazier of fire, and swearing to be the weapon that the Imperium needed. To never give in. To find victory. No matter the cost.
No matter the cost.
He thought once more of the refugees. He thought of Patti and her father, Emil. Of what they suffered at the hands of his treacherous cousins. Of the danger they posed to the Imperium’s victory. Of what they had suffered at the hands of the Imperium.
He thought of Falkar’s words. ‘And what, lord captain, would be the purpose of your sacrifices should we lose this war?’
And he vowed anew that he would not lose. That he would find victory. He vowed to do whatever was necessary. He vowed to be that monster now, so that the Imperium and its dream could live on.
For that was his duty. And duty is all.
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Hello everyone!
Just wanted to share a story I wrote and has been picked up by the good people at Cold Open Stories.
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Hope you enjoy!
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++ Do not look to us for kindness. Do not look to us for hope. We are not the kind children of this new age. We are the rocks of its foundation. ++
Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the VII
A flash of light burned in the black of space.
Is this it? thought Cassian Torr, Captain of the 117th Company, VII Legion. Has Horus come?
His twin hearts beat faster at the thought, even as the more logical parts of his mind ran through a thousand other possibilities. Yet ultimately he knew what he had seen: a ship. A ship tearing its way into real space. Into the Sol System. Into the heart of the Imperium.
He scanned the endless void, eyes scouring the debris and detritus that littered the outer regions of Terra’s system. Searching for more flashes. For more ships. For any sign that this was the first pebble in an avalanche of violence that would crash against the walls of Sol.
Yet none came.
‘Speak to me, Captain Narsus,’ he said, turning to look back at the Oath of Unity’s mortal commander. His golden-yellow armour purred with even that slight movement, the sound lost in the cacophony that was the bridge. Astartes, mortal crew, Tech Priests and servitors bustled in constant motion, the ordered and smooth running of the Gladius Frigate hidden amongst the apparent anarchy. ‘What is it we face today?’
‘A single ship, my lord,’ replied Narsus, voice heavy with exhaustion. ‘Not military class. A merchant trader; its code identifies it as the Destiny’s Daughter. I am picking up no shields or weapons signals. Their engines are practically dead. They’re simply drifting.’
Torr knew the long hours and endless days being demanded of the man were unfair, that no unaugmented human could hope to keep up such work for long. Yet it was what Dorn and the Sigillite deemed necessary. It was what victory in the name of Unity and the Imperial Truth deemed necessary.
And Torr would not have the Oath of Unity found wanting. When this madness was over, when Horus was defeated, the Imperium would be rebuilt as it should have been. As the Emperor willed it. As a bastion of truth, science, reason and hope.
What has Horus sent against us? Torr asked himself as he looked back into space. Is this some new trickery? Some new lie?
He had patrolled the edges of the Sol System for years. Ever since the Eisenstein had brought the impossible news of Horus’s betrayal to Dorn and the Imperial Fists. In the intervening years, the entirety of the system had been transformed into a fortress – patrols like his, its first and furthest line of defence.
But it was a line yet to be tested.
Nothing had reached the Sol System. Not since the Eisenstein. It was as if silence had engulfed the galaxy. Yet Torr knew this could not be true. All eighteen Legions – loyal and treacherous – could not have just gone silent. Something out there, beyond the cold of the void, had changed.
He saw this also in the Oath of Unity’s Astropath. In her whispered mutterings. In her nervous glances towards the open void.
Summons had been sent to those Legions, Expeditionary Forces and Forge Worlds known to be loyal, a tsunami of astropathic messages to sweep through the galaxy. Yet nothing came back. No ships reached them. No messages. Are we alone? Have all our brother Legions turned their backs on the dream of the Imperium? On their oaths and vows? On Terra?
Something unfamiliar wormed its way through him at the thought. Is this fear? That emotion was all but unknown, ever since he had been plucked from the ice hives of Inwit and raised to the ranks of the Legiones Astartes. And yet, he pondered, perhaps its echo still exists somewhere within.
‘Are we receiving any communication from them?’ he asked, his voice flat and hard, masking his thoughts and fears. ‘Does anything live aboard?’
‘No communications, my lord,’ answered Narsus. ‘But we are picking up life signs. Not many, but undeniably human.’
Torr nodded. ‘Very good, Captain. Make full speed to intercept. Have weapons ready to fire, but hold until commanded.’
‘Your will, my lord,’ said Narsus. He paused for a heartbeat. ‘Should I alert Lord Falkar? The Sigillite’s orders may pertain to this.’
Torr rubbed his armoured gauntlet across his closely shaven scalp, feeling the iron of his centenary mark of service riven into his thick, transhuman brow. The mark of over a century of service to the ideals of Truth and Unity. It reminded him of the campaigns he had fought. Of the brothers he had lost. Of the horrors he had seen. He shook his head. ‘No. Lord Falkar’s involvement is to be a last resort.’
He opened his Legion vox link. ‘ Sergeant Haster, prepare a boarding party.’
+++
Shadows and silence filled the Destiny’s Daughter. Torr and Breacher Squad Haster moved through her corridors in purposeful unity, methodical and thorough. Their shields overlapped to create an impenetrable wall of ceramite and iron. The golden yellow of their thick MKIII armour was bathed crimson as emergency lumens flashed endlessly throughout the seemingly deserted ship.
Torr heard a click in his helm, followed instantly by another, as he had every five minutes since the boarding operation had begun nearly an hour ago. The signals told him that Breacher Squads Solon and Carr were moving through the ship on schedule, having met no resistance or signs of life. He suspected he’d receive the same ‘all clears’ again in five minutes.
He clicked back in reply, then let out a growl of frustration. His trigger finger itched, aching to feel the kick of his bolter, to hear its roar.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm, and silently chided himself for the moment of laxity. He remembered the words of his father and Primarch, Lord Dorn: Discipline. Duty. Unyielding Will. These are the measures by which every warrior is judged.
Am I bored? he asked himself. If he was being honest, he’d half hoped to find an ambush aboard the Destiny’s Daughter. To see his traitorous brothers advancing towards him, bolters roaring their madness. The colours of those Legions he had once fought beside – the regal purple of the Emperor’s Children, the sea-green of the Sons of Horus, the blood-splattered white and blue of the World Eaters – flashed through his mind and he ground his teeth. He wanted to kill.
Astartes, he reflected, were not built for such lengthy periods of inactivity. For long years of patrol and garrison. For what was now demanded of him and his brothers.
‘Is all well, Captain?’ asked Haster, the Veteran Sergeant’s gravel voice filling his helm’s private comm-link.
‘All is well, Brother-Sergeant,’ Torr replied. ‘I was distracted. Thank you for drawing my attention back to the duty at hand.’
He heard Haster’s grunt of laughter in his vox-link. ‘Some things never change, it seems. I’ve been watching your back since we were Initiates. What would you do without me?’
Torr felt the corners of his mouth tug into the beginnings of a smile as he checked their position against the ship’s schematics on his retinal display. They were not far from the centre of the ship and the cargo hold. Where, according to Captain Narsus, the only signs of life could be detected. ‘Not long now,’ he whispered to himself as the rhythmic clang of their armoured boots echoed throughout the labyrinthine corridors.
+++
Explosions ripped open the cargo hold’s blast doors, filling the hallways with smoke and fire and a storm of metal shards. Even through his helm’s environmental dampeners, Torr felt his ears ring.
Then the screams started.
‘Only fire on my command,’ he ordered as he raised his breacher shield and began to advance alongside Squad Haster. Smoke enveloped them for the briefest second, before they emerged into the cargo hold of the Destiny’s Daughter.
Torr finally saw something from beyond the Sol System, from the chaos that had engulfed the galaxy.
Ragged humanity filled the cargo hold, stretching out into the dark corners of the vast room. Men, women and children huddled together, their clothes hanging loosely from bone-thin limbs as wide, terror-stricken eyes stared back at him from faces too thin with hunger. Pleas for mercy, prayers for help, and screams of panic filled the air. Most shied away from the approaching astartes, hunching over in small groups, as if they could disappear into the gloom.
One man, braver or stupider than the rest, stepped out from the crowd. He clutched an autogun in his shaking hands, the weapon rusted almost beyond repair.
Do it.
The words rushed unbidden into Torr’s mind as he felt the increasingly familiar itch in his trigger finger. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his eyes settled on the barrel of the gun.
Do it.
‘Begone, foul daemons!’ screamed the man, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeak. ‘The Emperor protects!’
His final words were taken up by others amongst the crowd. It rallied them, as it echoed in the open cavern of the hold. Torr grimaced. At what those words implied. At a belief in the divine, so at odds with the enlightened ideals of the Imperium. Yet also of loyalty.
His hand shot out, too fast for a mortal’s eye to follow, and snatched the gun from the refugee’s hands with a savage twist. He felt the man resist for the briefest moment, before giving way with a pained cry.
Torr looked down at the man – on his knees, a grimace across his face, cradling one shoulder. He felt a moment’s satisfaction at the release of violence, before he crushed it with a force of will. These are citizens of the Imperium. They deserve our protection.
He dropped the gun. It clattered to the ground, the metallic ring echoing from the walls. Almost deafening in the silence of the hold.
Something behind the man flinched at the sound. A muffled cry reached Torr’s ears.
A girl, he thought as his eyes settled on the crouched figure. Perhaps four or five years old, Terran Standard. Though, he had to admit to finding estimates of age hard with such young mortals. Her hair had been crudely shorn to the scalp, but small tufts stuck out from amid the stubble. She clung tightly to the man’s back, keeping herself in his shadow, even as she stared up at him. Her eyes, wide and dark, met Torr’s. Yet she didn’t look away.
Brave, Torr thought, for a mortal. For one so young.
‘Stand down, civilians,’ he said, voice amplified by the vox in his armour. ‘You are safe now. You are in the custody of the Seventh.’
He noticed the girl wince at the sound of his voice, pressing her hands to her ears and looking down at the floor. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he dimly remembered the first time he had seen an astartes. The sheer size. The aura of violence. It had been overwhelming.
Torr dropped to one knee, bringing himself as close to the girl’s level as possible. He removed his helm, remembering a treatise written by Guilliman on first interactions between astartes and mortals. Such simple measures, the lord of the Thirteenth argued, lessened the shock when interacting with members of the Legions. It humanised them in the eyes of the unaugmented.
Torr almost laughed at the idea. As if I have not given up my humanity to become what they need me to be. To become a shield for their kind. To become a weapon against the horrors of this universe.
He reached forward slowly, resting his gauntleted hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘What is your name, child?’ he asked, doing his best to keep his voice light and the hint of a smile on his lips. He knew such verbal and physical cues were important to the unenhanced.
‘Patti,’ whispered the girl, bringing her gaze up to meet his once more. ‘Is… Is Mama here? Papa said she would be, even though she couldn’t get the same ship as us.’ Sobs began to wrack the little girl’s body and she hurled herself back against her father’s body, burying her face in his thin shirt.
Torr felt the temperature drop, permafrost creeping across the floor. Radiating out from the girl. Crawling up his arm. Psyker. He pulled back and turned to meet the father’s eyes.
‘We’re from the Lastrati System,’ said the man, his voice edged with hope, yet tinged with fear. ‘When the traitors came… There was such chaos. We got separated.’
Torr shook his head.
‘Yohanna,’ continued the man, his words tumbling out too quickly. ‘Yohanna Taraf. That’s her name. I am Emil. Her husband. There must be news.’
‘No,’ said Torr, his voice now stone and brooking no argument. ‘Yours is the first ship to have reached Sol in nearly two years.’
Emil fell silent, his jaw working wordlessly. The buzz of chatter filled the air, spreading like wildfire throughout the refugees as Torr’s words reached the ears of others.
‘The first?’ Emil asked eventually as he clasped his daughter’s hands. ‘But there were so many.’
Torr stared back for a moment, seeing the tears begin to trickle from Emil’s eyes. ‘I am sorry.’
He stood and turned his back on the man, looking over the silent wall of ceramite that Breacher Squad Haster had formed behind him. His eyes met Haster’s, seeing his old friend had also removed his helmet. ‘These people are not to leave this hall.’ He paused. ‘But do not harm them. They are loyal citizens of the Imperium.’
He turned his focus back to Emil and Patti once more. They were on their knees, arms wrapped tight around each other. The halo of frost around them crept ever further across the floor with each second. Their bodies rose and fell with choked sobs, tears streaming down their faces. Torr’s transhuman senses heard Emil whisper reassurances to his daughter as he stroked her hair. He told her that her mother would be okay. That she would find a way. That the Emperor was watching them. To have faith.
Superstition. Torr looked away in anger. Primitive. Illogical. He felt sick at the irony of it. That the Legions had spent two centuries crusading across the stars, destroying such beliefs and bringing the Truth to the galaxy. But, here it was. At the very heart of the Imperium itself.
Yet it is these people that stand loyal. Unlike my brother Legions. Unlike those I fought with. Unlike those I shed blood with. The thought soured in Torr’s mind, his mask of stone slipping to anger.
He saw the faces of those he had once fought beside from the Traitor Legions in his mind. The faces of those he had called once Brothers. Sar Krael of the Sons of Horus, his olive skin in stark contrast to the once brilliant white of their old Legion. Varon of the Emperor’s Children, his porcelain features marred by the occasional faint duelling scar. Kargur of the World Eaters, his brutish features only accentuated by a myriad of criss-crossing scars and his permanently broken nose.
Torr clicked his vox-link open, drawing himself back to the present. ‘Captain Narsus, do you hear me?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ came the reply, static scratching in Torr’s ears.
‘Inform Lord Dorn and First Captain Sigismund that we have made contact with refugees from the war.’ He paused. ‘Then prepare several parties of your mortal crew to board the Destiny’s Daughter. They are to bring food and water. Medicine too.’
‘Your will, my lord,’ replied Narsus. ‘I will see to it at once.’
Torr watched Patti and Emil for a second more. Their cries were hushed and lost in the vastness of the hold, their prayers faint, yet distinct. Other refugees shuffled away from them. Away from the creeping frost and the aura of cold. Away from the girl. From the psyker.
His stomach churned at what he had to do next.
‘Captain Narsus,’ he said once more. ‘Inform the Lord Falkar and the Sigillite’s agents too.’
+++
Torr watched black figures move through the crowd. Each bore the stylised I of Malcador, the Sigillite and the Emperor’s right hand, upon their chests. A symbol that conferred upon them nigh-on unlimited power.
He watched them methodically approach each group, dataslates in hand, recording each story – and he saw the fear and confusion in each refugee’s eyes. These men were something new, something unknown. And despite being just ordinary men and women – no, Torr corrected himself, Malcador’s people would never be ordinary – they seemingly commanded greater fear than the astartes of the VII Legion.
Disquiet filled Torr at their presence. At the nature of their work.
He glanced behind to Squad Haster. Each stood immobile, a fortress of ceramite and gene-enhanced flesh in their own right. Each proudly bore the black fist of the Seventh, declaring their allegiance for all to see. The Sigillite’s people could not be more different than the Sons of Dorn. What do they portend for the Imperium?
Sensing movement in the periphery of his vision, Torr looked towards the cargo hold’s doors. His eyes settled on a lone figure in burnished gold armour, a great blade at her waist, a crimson top knot tumbling down her back.
A member of the Silent Sisterhood.
Revulsion flooded through him at the sight. His twin hearts beat faster. Adrenaline began to pump through his gene-enhanced body. His hands clenched into tight fists.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply. To calm himself.
Opening his eyes, he found his gaze drawn to a group of the Sigillite’s agents. They were dragging a pair of refugees towards the Sister. Emil and Patti. Torr felt anger rise hot inside his chest at the realisation.
Tears stained the father’s cheeks, a look of weary defeat written across Emil’s face. The face of a broken man. Patti screamed. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her father’s hands, his shirt, his arms. Her legs kicked wildly, her movements more frantic as she grew closer to the Witchseeker.
Torr’s eyes met hers. They were bloodshot and puffy, a river of tears flooding from them. Help me! Please! Help me! The words – Patti’s words – screamed in his mind. He shuddered. A ripple of terror ran through him, her own fear and anguish shared for just an instant.
His eidetic memory ran through her story. He remembered the way her father had described the terror and confusion as drop pods had rained from the sky above Lastrani. He could almost picture the mad scramble amid the ruins and smoke of the space port. The feel of fingers slipping apart as Patti’s mother was dragged away by the current of the crowd. He could almost smell the stench of sweat and piss as they had huddled in the dark of the Destiny’s Daughter, as it shuddered beneath the onslaught of cannon fire.
More superstitious minds might call it a miracle, he thought, pondering the immensity of the refugee’s luck. And this is the greeting they find from the Imperium? From those supposed to protect them? To be torn from each other’s arms after all they have suffered?
Something inside Torr snapped. His fingers curled involuntarily around the grip of his sword and he felt the blade slide just a fraction from its sheath as he strode towards the diorama of misery. Refugees stumbled from his path as the heavy tread of Squad Haster following echoed in his ears. As he had known they would, even without orders. They were his Brothers.
Is this the Imperium we fight for? Is this the future of humanity? The future my brothers died for? One of secrets and shadows? One where innocent people disappear in the night?
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Torr thundered as he neared the agents.
The closest flinched before turning to face him, his eyes wide as he took an involuntary step back. Torr heard the man swear under his breath as the chemical smell of fear filled his gene-enhanced nostrils.
‘Lord captain,’ the man started, ‘my orders are-’
‘I did not ask for your orders, Chosen of Malcador,’ growled Torr. ‘They are plainly clear. I asked for your reasons.’
The click of light footsteps sounded nearby. He glanced towards the sound, seeing the Sister had turned towards them, her face a passionless mask. He felt cold, an unnatural sense of dread filling him, as her eyes settled on him. He looked away quickly, returning to the mortal before him.
‘These people,’ began the agent again, straightening his back and meeting Torr’s gaze. ‘These people are to be transferred to-’
‘Silence,’ snarled Torr. He punched a finger in the direction of Patti and Emil. ‘Their only crime is fleeing the atrocities of the Traitor Legions. This girl could be trained. Her talents could benefit the Imperium. Instead, you drag her away into the shadows. Does your master fear little girls so much?’
The agent’s eyes flared angrily for a second, before flickering to the space behind Torr. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile.
‘Is our presence so distasteful to you, Captain Torr?’
Torr remained silent as he turned to face this new speaker. Ice-blue eyes stared back at him from a hawkish face of ghostly skin. Silence settled between the two, stretching out for long, pregnant seconds.
‘I am always astounded by your kind’s aptitude for petty behaviour, Captain,’ continued the man, turning his own gaze upon the sight of Patti’s father. ‘It could be argued that such pettiness is the cause of all this madness.’
‘Indeed, Chosen Falkar,’ replied Torr after a moment.
He studied the Sigillite’s man. Falkar was painfully thin, with the typically near-emaciated and elongated form of those born and raised in the low gravity of space. Yet, despite the sheer difference in size and bulk that the astartes carried, the man weathered Torr’s gaze as if made of stone.
An impressive feat of mental strength, conceded Torr as he repressed the now familiar itch to draw his weapon. At the mortal’s display of defiance.
Torr ground his teeth as Patti’s pleas for help, her prayers to the Emperor, moved further away. He heard the scuff of her feet dragged across the floor. He heard a body slump to the floor, Emil’s sobs joining his daughter’s cacophony. The desire to draw his sword, to hear the bark of his bolter, swelled inside, near overwhelming.
You have failed them.
‘You speak of pettiness,’ snarled Torr, ‘yet you are not the one who has fought across the length and breadth of the galaxy. You are not the one who has seen his Brothers die. You are not the one who has sacrificed their very humanity. All this, I have done with the ideals of Unity and Truth in my hearts.’
Torr gestured across the hall, pointing at each of the Sigillite’s agents with a sharp jab of a finger.
‘You and your kind threaten those ideals. You sink this war into shadows and secrets. You are a poison that stains the Imperium.’ Torr spat. ‘What was the purpose of those sacrifices – my brothers’ sacrifices – if we throw our ideals away? We must hold ourselves to a higher standard.’
Falkar met the astartes’ tirade with a surprising calmness, his ice-blue eyes almost blazing in the gloom of the ship’s hold as they met Torr’s stare. ‘And what, lord captain,’ he replied, ‘would be the purpose of those sacrifices should we lose this war?’ Falkar let the question sit for a second. ‘We are a new weapon, Captain – or a new poison, as you say – because this is a new war.’
Silence hung for an eternity between the two of them. Eventually the mortal turned to look across the mass of humanity that filled the room. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back.
‘Our enemy is insidious, Lord Captain. They will not just come for us with bolter and chainsword. They will not just come to tear down our walls. They will come to tear down our very purpose. They will come to destroy everything we believe in. They will come from the shadows and dark. We are the shield against these threats. That is why the Sigillite created our order.’
‘Then you have already failed,’ Torr said after a moment. ‘You cannot defend the ideals of Truth and Unity with lies and deceit.’
Falkar shook his head and pulled out a dataslate, fingers flicking through its contents. When he’d finished, he looked up and met Torr’s eyes once more.
There is something different in him now, noticed the astartes. The hard edge is gone. There is sadness there. An exhaustion of the soul.
‘Then I am sorry, Lord Torr,’ started Falkar. ‘For what I must ask of you now.’
He held out the dataslate. Runes of the highest authority flashed across its surface. Torr read the orders, even as his stomach tightened. As his trigger finger itched once more. As the desire to rip his sword free filled him.
‘No.’ He growled the word through clenched teeth.
‘No?’
Falkar’s eyes momentarily flashed in surprise. Just for an instant, but Torr saw it. He did not expect resistance, he realised. Not from a Son of the Seventh. They think us cold. Made of stone. They do not understand the fire that burns within. The drive. The Purpose. The ideals.
‘No,’ Torr growled once more.
‘There is no refusal here, Captain Torr,’ replied Falkar, his voice now clipped with an icy steel. ‘These orders come from the Sigillite himself. And co-signed by your father. Would you deny Lord Dorn’s command?’
Torr froze. Co-signed by your father. The words haunted him. To see Lord Dorn and the Seventh dragged down into the mire of shadows. That was what they meant.
Would you deny Lord Dorn’s command? The words flittered through his head as he thought of what was being asked of him. Of how they had treated those fleeing for safety.
What kind of monsters have we become? he asked himself.
He thought of Patti and her father’s story. He thought of all he had heard from the refugees. He ran through every detail. He knew, as sure as if he was there himself, what happened in the Lastrati System. He knew what happened when the Sixteenth had come.
Anger swelled inside by what his erstwhile cousins had done. By what the once proud scions of Horus had become. Disgust filled him at the thought of those warriors he was once proud to have served alongside. By how far they had fallen.
What kind of monsters have they become?
He looked down at the dataslate again. He read the words again.
+ Immediate transfer of all non-psykers to the internment prisons of Titan for processing and interrogation. +
‘Why?’
Falkar breathed deeply and nodded, a look of relief washing across his face. ‘Because of what they have seen. Because of what they know. Because their tales of daemons and gods and monsters cannot be allowed to spread throughout Terra’s defenders. Because these stories, and those that would spread them, are a weapon for our enemy. As sure as any bolter.’
Falkar fell silent and looked back across the refugees. Torr turned with him a second later.
Is this the future you fought for? The question whispered in the back of Torr’s mind. Is this the Imperium you would be a part of? But what is the alternative?
He thought of the defenders of Terra. Of the fear he has seen in their eyes already. He thought of what he had heard today, of the tales of gods and daemons, and what it would do to their fear. He knew Falkar’s words to be true.
Images of Terra burning filled his mind. Of its walls cast down. Of his brothers broken. Of its citizens slaughtered. Of its ideals ground into dust.
Will you do what is necessary to prevent that future?
With that question echoing through his thoughts, Torr clicked open his Legion-coded vox channels.
‘Squad Haster, make ready.’
He heard the thud of ceramite boots on the floor as they moved to attention beside him. He heard the click of boltguns loading. He smelled the tang of fear in the air.
He glanced sideways towards Haster. His old friend’s face was a grim mask, unreadable save a fury blazing in his eyes. A fury at me? pondered Torr. Or at what we must do? What have we become?
But Torr knew such anger was irrelevant. He knew what must be done. What duty demanded. He looked back across the refugees arrayed before him.
‘Citizens of the Imperium,’ he said, his gene-enhanced voice carrying easily throughout the hanger. ‘You will accompany us back to the Oath of Unity. There you will be processed and sent for internment on Titan. These are the orders of Lord Dorn and Malcador the Sigillite. Do not resist.’
Anger filled the air almost immediately after his pronouncement. Questions and shouts spread like wildfire through the crowd as something snapped in their collective minds. The sight of the astartes warriors before them, once a promise of salvation and deliverance, now the face of repression and danger.
One woman stepped out from the crowd. Her face, painfully thin from malnutrition, was a contorted mask of rage. She held a broken piece of piping tight in two hands.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she screamed. ‘What crime have we committed? You should be protecting us! Helping us!’
‘Stand down, citizen,’ commanded Torr. The fury in the woman’s voice was a spark to his own base instincts. He fought to keep his voice calm. He fought to stop his hands from reaching for the bolt pistol at his belt.
‘You are monsters!’ screamed the woman. ‘You oppress us! For what crime? Have we not suffered enough?’
‘Stand down,’ said Torr once more. A warm heat began to spread through his muscles as they loosened. He felt his hearts thump faster. His trigger finger itched once more. He found he had drawn his bolt pistol.
Her cry was taken up by the rest of the crowd. They pressed forward, towards Torr and the other Imperial Fists. Torr made to step in front of Falkar, but noticed the Sigillite’s agent had disappeared.
A howl of pain split the air. One of the black armoured figures tumbled from the horde of refugees, kicked to the ground. Their throat had been slit. Their face was a mass of bruising radiating out from caved-in eye sockets. Blood wept from stab wounds across their body. Torr’s eyes settled on their empty holster.
A gunshot rang out. Torr felt its force against his pauldron. Heard it ricochet against the dull steel of the cargo hold’s roof.
He raised his pistol. Squad Haster appeared in his periphery, shields locked together, bolters ready. There was no need to open the vox channel this time. Not with his brothers so close.
‘Fire.’
+++
Dead bodies littered the cargo hold. It was an abattoir. Blood coated the floor and splattered the walls. Bodies – of men, women and children – lay at unnatural angles, their limbs torn like petals from a flower by the explosive power of bolt rounds. The stench of shit and piss and gunsmoke filled his nostrils.
Accusing eyes stared back at him. Over six hundred dead. He had made the count himself. His eyes met the dead gaze of Patti’s father.
Why? they asked. In Torr’s own voice. It is the question he asked Falkar. Now it is the question he asks himself.
Torr opened his eyes, bringing his mind back from the slaughter in the cargo hold of the Destiny’s Daughter. Agony shot through his arm. He bit down, grinding his teeth and tasting the iron tang of his own blood as he shut out the effects of the Pain Glove.
Discipline and unyielding will, he reminded himself, but the question remained. It echoed through his mind.
Why?
But Torr knew the answer.
Because you are a weapon. A monster.
Because it is what you need to be. Because it is your purpose to be the rock upon which the Imperium can be built. To find victory, so that those that come after you can build a better world.
Torr knew this in his hearts. He had heard his father speak on it. He remembered giving his oath aboard the Phalanx. He remembered kneeling before his Lord Dorn, hand thrust into a brazier of fire, and swearing to be the weapon that the Imperium needed. To never give in. To find victory. No matter the cost.
No matter the cost.
He thought once more of the refugees. He thought of Patti and her father, Emil. Of what they suffered at the hands of his treacherous cousins. Of the danger they posed to the Imperium’s victory. Of what they had suffered at the hands of the Imperium.
He thought of Falkar’s words. ‘And what, lord captain, would be the purpose of your sacrifices should we lose this war?’
And he vowed anew that he would lose. That he would find victory. He vowed to do whatever was necessary. He vowed to be that monster now, so that the Imperium and its dream could live on.
For that was his duty. And duty is all.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
If you you enjoyed that, please give it a rating over on the website, and check out the other stories in that anthology!
https://40k.coldopenstories.com/dutys-burden/
https://40k.coldopenstories.com/category/short-fiction/anthology-xii/

I need something quick and easy that I can make my son for dinner tonight that's healthy.
He's currently teething and it's making him gag on things more easily so something soft is ideal.
TIA!

eu vim contar umas historias ruins da minha vida.
e lembrando que eu adoro fazer piada sem graça esse desabafo vai ter muita piadinha.
a historia é de quando eu estudava numa escola estadual, e la era uma merda.
não! não to brincando la era literalmente ruim,la era tipo assim.
tinha professor que nem ia pra sala de aula dar aula,acontecia aula vaga,dai os aluno ficava fazendo suruba dentro da sala,os muleki faziam umas macumba da brava...
brincadeira os alunos da minha classe ficava era usando o celular...fazendo dancinha no teco teco.
tinha vezes que os muleki saiam da sala pra ficar zanzando pelo corredor.
eu sempre fui sozinho,sou acostumado a ficar andando sozinho escutando musica triste e sozinho mas com um pouco de medo de me socializar sabe porquê?
bom,naquela escola tinha um negocio estranho que eu nunca entendi,todos la...
cara todos quando eu estudava la não gostavam de mim,me odeiam dum geito que só de sentir eu por perto ja era o suficiente pra ficarem putos,teve uma vez que eu fui num canto la com sombra pra me proteger do sol do nada uma garota começou a me xingar.
dai todos naquele canto começaram a me xingar também sai de la por causa do medo,cara pra que isso?o que eu fiz pra aquele bando de nojentos pra me tratarem assim?
e vocês acham que eu comecei a zuar tudo e todos de graça?não meu amigo eu comecei a zuar todos ja naquela escola pra me defender daquela merda,não podia falar pra diretora pq a diretora e a cordenadora de la tão pouco se fudendo pra mim, teve um dia que uma professora que é carioca comedora de munição de AK-47 e os alunos da minha antiga classe tavam me chamando de autista,fiquei puto dai tive que ir na cordenadora,a cordenanora falou.
"que que tem??autista são pessoas tão inteligentes".
mano autista é deficiente mental,meu proprio primo que é autista ja provaigu isso
bom voltando ao assunto naquela escola eu zuava pra caralho. logo depois da pandemia eu me sentia o proprio pica pau biruta e o erick cartman,eu me apelidei de o rei da zueira eu era a propria encarnação da maldade eu olhava pro aleijado e fazia igual o megatron "é um aleijado kkkkkkkkkkekkk" eu desamarrava o cadarço dos outros,fazia piada de humor negro,desenhava rola na cadeira pros outros sentarem,teve um dia que eu peguei o a apostila dum cara que largou na sala dai eu desenhei pica,buceta,hentai,desenhei as torres gemeas,desenhei muita coisa errada,eu mijava no chão do banheiro de proposito pras tia da limpeza se fuderem também,batia punheta no banheiro só de sacanagem,atrapalhava os teco teco das mina colocando a mão na frente da camera,eu ja quis colocar tachinha e prego nas cadeiras pra todos se fuderem.
e todos la eram chatos,chatos pra carai os cara mechia dai se revidar todos me ameaçava alem disso acontecia coisas horriveis comigo que pra mim foi equivalente a ser estu...
isso mesmo o que acontecia é que umas garotas me acusavam falsamente de abuso,eu nunca escostei nelas e não tenho nem intimidade com essas jaguranhas,foi 3 meninas que fizeram isso comigo a terceira que é crente foi a que mais me fudeu.
o que aconteceu foi o seguinte era junho e tava tendo festa de indio dai tava la fiz uma arte sobre o deus indigena tupã,jaci e guaraci,dai a tarde umas 3 e cinquenta chamaram pra tirar ft dai eu fui inventar de fazer chifrinho no professor de educação física e não consegui por causa do tamanho daquele monstro,dai chamaram denovo e fui fazer chifrinho na menina ai,dai eu coloquei minhas mãos em cima da cabeça dela e fiz uma bela par de chifres que até o bambi ficaria com inveja,foi do caralho mas em um piscar de olhos a crente virou olhando pra mim igual aquele meme do cachorrinho olhando pra camera,ela tava me olhando dum geito que parecia que ela estava olhando minha alma,senti o olhar dela penetrando nos meus olhos dai ela falou que se eu encostar um dedo nela ela ia me bater,fiquei sem entender nada e quando eu fui perguntar como que ela sabia que eu tava fazendo chifrinho nela a crente do cu quente tava espalhando pra todos que eu encochei ela,eu nem encostei nela e ela falando que eu colei atras dela ahhhh
Bom😣 o que aconteceu em seguida foi os professores me ameaçando de me linxar,professor uma semana depois se juntando com alunos da minha antiga classe pra me chama de estuprador pedofilo sendo que eu tenho nojo dessas coisas,a mãe dela que é fanatica religiosa falando coisas horriveis e eu que sou de menor,todos naquela escola falando coisas erradas que não é verdade sobre mim foi muita coisa ruim,essa menina foi pra cima de mim numa hora e me chamou de assediador na frente de um monte de mlk era horrível,dai eu mudei de escola pq não aguentava mais,roubaram minhas coisas e eu surtei,não da,essa escola que eu to é melhor que a que eu tava,só que esse ano sabe quem ta na minha escola agr? A crente é claro...dããrs
Tomanesseseucu menor tomanocu eu me transferi de escola pra fugir de uma garota nojenta e ela me aparece na escola que eu to,bom eu ja chorei duas vezes por causa do medo que eu tenho do que ela faria cmg não desabafei aqui pq eu irritei os sigmas dum geito que fui expulso de 2 grupos que podia zuar até deficiente,pois é dai quando meu pai descobriu isso ele começou a defender a menina falando que eu to caçando ela,eu só fico na minha e balanço,nem falo com essa filaputa,só dela passar perto de mim ja fecha não entra nem WIFI,e mano meu pai falando que eu To caçando a menina? Havai pa putaque te pariu vai sua crente do caralho deus não consegue nem aparecer pra proteger uma criança do padre imagina dum menino indio emo ateu duma crente magrela perna de grilo

Hi everyone,
Excuse the format. I am on mobile. I have 2 cats.
Cat 1:
Age: 6 years old
Sex: male (neutered)
Weight: 15-18lbs
Breed: Feline-shorthair (long boi with cow patch pattern fur)
Cat 2:
Age: 3 years old
Sex: male (neutered)
Weight: 10lbs
Breed: feline-shorthair (black/white tuxedo mix)
Location: Southern US
Cat 1, I adopted from a shelter as a kitten-perfectly healthy. Cat 2, was a rescue as a stray. At the time the vet estimated Cat 2 to be about 5-7 months old. It matched up because Cat 2 did grow in size and stopped after about 6 months of having him. Both cats are strictly indoors. Cat 1 has never been outside without being in his carrier as the only time he’s outside is to go to the vet. Cat 2 was found outside, but since rescuing is strictly indoors like Cat 1.
Since taking Cat 2 in, he has always had consistent problems with cracked paws (no blood just flakey dry looking skin on the pads) and the pads sometimes would swell, he always seemed to have allergies but we are live in Southern US and allergies made sense. His breath always smelled, and I would clean his teeth the best I could because he’s always fought that-recently it has been worse (which I addressed at this recent vet visit later on in this post). However, one of the most persistent symptoms would be constipation/gas which leads to Cat 2 not wanting to eat (and my bf had a previous cat with renal failure (age related) that we treated. Making sure cats eat regularly and no go longer than 24 hours is a huge deal) . After trying so many different vet recommended foods (high fiber, hairball control, senior cat food, easy digestible, etc.) and prescribed medications, I finally had enough of sticking bandaids on the symptoms (I’ve owned several cats before and none of them had issues like Cat 2). So cat 2 having these many problems started to concern me. Addressing my concerns about wanting to get to the bottom of all the symptoms -the vet recommended that we could do an abdominal X-ray instead of just the rectal exam. Well the X-Ray displayed some arthritis in Cat 2’s back legs, heart is slightly enlarged, and the lungs’ bronchial tubes slightly more open indicating either asthma or some kind of infection (like bronchitis).
In addition to the mouth concerns, one of Cat 2’s molars are rotten and we’ve set Cat 2 up for dental cleaning and extraction of the tooth after the infection clears. Currently Cat 2 is on some antibiotics.
The vet was concerned for Cat 2 after seeing the X-ray because if he had not known Cat 2-he would have suspected Cat 2 to be over 10 years old. The vet recommended a triple T (I think?) test for FIV and FeLV.
Side note: I was under the impression that this was done previously when my bf and I first rescued cat 2. The initial vet appointment after keeping Cat 2 was something my bf brought him to because I was working. However, this test was not done then and because it had been so long we had misremembered. So I’m pretty upset with myself over this.
Anyways, Cat 2 tested positive for FeLV and FIV. The vet wasn’t super helpful with explaining these conditions other than it being like having an autoimmune condition and that Cat 2 will live a normal quality of life with the right support when he gets sick because he can’t recover as well as other cats. The vet stated he wasn’t super concerned about the slight enlargement of the heart, but wanted to focus on clearing up whatever infection is happening and then we would fix up his teeth. Which I agree to be a solid plan.
On top of that, we have to get Cat 1 tested now. It’s expected he will test positive for FeLV because both cats love to cuddle. Cat 1 is a chonk monster and if not monitored he will steal food from Cat 2’s food dish. They do not share water sources though as Cat 1 prefers the fountain and Cat 2 prefers an ordinary water bowl. According to my vet, it’s a possibility for Cat 1 to test negative for FIV because neither cat has fought before or drawn blood through bites-they are cuddle bugs/inseparable (but we are treating it as Cat 1 is positive for both until we do testing). So I just feel horrible about exposing Cat 1 to this.
However Cat 1 has never shown symptoms anywhere similar to Cat 2. The last vet visit Cat 1 had due to illness was about a year ago due to a UTI which was treated and cleared up. Vet told me this was normal for male cats when they reach 5 years old. In addition, Cat 1’s recent X-ray from last year appeared completely normal looking. It was first suspected that he was constipated before finding out he wasn’t trying to poop but trying to pee. And since Cat 1 has been exposed to Cat 2 for about 3 years now-wouldn’t it have shown on the X-Ray last year? It seemed like the X-Ray was the biggest indicator to my vet to have this tested. So to have Cat 1, be exposed this long and not show any physical changes seems off to me-unless it has something to do with being asymptomatic.
I’m just super concerned for both cats as I’ve never had a cat that is FeLV and/or FIV positive. I get that they will be forever just the two of them, I’m sure they prefer it that way. Not to let them outside (which was never done since adopting/rescuing them). But Dr. Google is pretty scary which led me to Reddit.
I’ve seen posts on here talking about anemia, upper respiratory infections, and how their cats do not bounce back and pass after 1-3 years of diagnosis. But then I see posts of others who talk about their cat living 15-18 years old with this condition. I’ve read articles where it describes the symptoms at their worst w/high mortality, and then there were other articles that state it has a bad taboo associated with it and now most shelters do not test for it because it’s not beneficial to the cat (because of the taboo a lot of shelters administer euthanasia).
Cat 2 has had consistent chronic symptoms that just seem to go through flares. Whereas Cat 1-if positive is completely asymptomatic. So I’m not sure if it’s just the extremes with this conditions and I have both sides?
Sorry for the rant. I just needed to make sure I provide a clear picture. I’m looking for educational resources that are reasonable for what to expect with FeLV and FIV + cats. If there are any suggestions on what I can do to provide an high quality of living for the cats is appreciated.
TIA