By Nikholas Svajlenka Warm engines gently hum with life while assorted members of the crew make sure they are running at full capacity for the coming voyage. An enginseer, one of many loyal members of the Cult of Mars, walks around while their robotic voice rambles on lines of data only they understand. I lean against a metal banister, my helmet gently hanging off my belt while I write in my old notebook. My pencil glides across the paper that, from assorted rumors passed by our regiment, came from one of the few trees our Hive-World had. Not like I even believe them since our world has been almost barren for years after a civil war broke out between some major cities. I remember the times my father came back from his patrol around the city, face hidden behind his respirator unit with dust caking his entire body. He never spoke about what he saw deep down in those lower hive levels, saying they were meant to be not considered as anything more than trouble.
Before I can dig too deep into my memories, a servo-skull gently flutters past with a characteristic whirring of the anti-grav systems it has. A sudden feeling of fear shoots up my spine, causing me to stand up straight while seeing it turn back around. The skull floats directly above the shoulder of Inquisitor Martel Val, the head of this warband of assorted vessels. He looks at me with a wolfish grin, causing me to shiver while hairs stand up straight all across my body. He approaches me slowly, his synthleather boots letting out gentle squeaks which are muffled by the metallic clacks of the floor. His rosarius swaying side to side while hanging on his belt as hollowed eyes of its silver skull stare into my soul. Despite staring directly at it, my eyes soon shift to his rosette sitting gently on his right lapel. Made from a beautiful rose gold, it symbolizes nothing more than destruction of a thousand worlds. “Guardsman, I had some hopes you would be around here. Please, come follow me so we can discuss your ‘dreams.’” His face twists into a further sickening grin, teeth going from ear to ear similar to that of a daemon. No longer do I focus on that rosette, but into those flaming caverns he calls eyes. Each one flickers with a furious life to uphold all the judgment that our God Emperor wishes to bestow upon those hidden in the dark. “We wouldn’t want to waste any more time than necessary. Considering we have a number of worrying matters at hand to cover.” He begins to walk, his servo floating behind soon after while I hesitantly follow. Palms begin to form with deep piles of sweat underneath the once cool gauntlets of my uniform. “Now tell me, guardsman, how long have you been serving with your regiment? Your young face doesn’t exactly give me any ideas of you being a veteran.” I’m taken aback by him giving such a pleasantry to start this conversation, especially considering how fearsome he is. Reports all across the firing line have said he’s sentenced entire platoons of regiments to decimation. Only because they didn’t meet his high standards of trying to uphold justice amongst frontier space. “3 years now sir…I joined after my hive world had a draft amongst the young men from the medium levels down.” The fear I once had controlling my body dissipates into quiet air to merge with billowing steam to keep our systems cool. My stiff posture relaxes into one of comfort while we head down one of the many hallways of this ship. His wolfish grin calms down into that of a more fox-like smirk, looking at me in the corner of his eyes. “I’ve read all the reports about you, guardsman. The child of a veteran PDF and regimental soldier born in the middle levels with training as an auxiliary PDF in case the hive called for you. I must say, for how desolate Baktra is, the planet has a beautiful forest that only a Paradise World could beat.” Hearing him say the name of my home, Baktra, is always an interesting time for me to remember how long it’s been since I truly was home. How much has changed on it since I was shipped off with the 85th? Only the God Emperor could tell me what… The further we go, the more sounds of the crew wandering around the vessel are heard amongst standard noises of this ship. A pair of voidsmen stand on a corner, smoking a pair of cheap lho-sticks we get in our monthly “entertainment rations.” One of them has a las-carbine gently swaying below his hips while staying connected via a sling. Upon seeing the inquisitor, one quickly taps the other on the chest to stand at attention. His friend delays for a few seconds, processing what he was told before following the other’s example soon after. Inquisitor Val walks over to them, that same grin from earlier displayed across his face while both men begin to shake. Both seem to be muttering prayers to the God Emperor under their breaths before he lets out a hearty laugh. It reverberates deep from within his chest, taking one of the lho-sticks for himself to see what us lower soldiers have to smoke. He takes a long sniff of that arid smoke, that grin seemingly becoming wider as he places it back into the man’s lips. One chest pat later, he returns to me as we head back down along our pathway. One of them is stuck staring at me while we walk away, dumbfounded while his lho-stick falls down onto the floor beneath him. We head deeper into the metallic bowels of the ship with familiar sounds filling the air. Lower members of the crew shuffled around, yelling to each other to prepare for this continuous journey. Some forced labor workers walk past, holding onto whatever they have while armsmen prevent them from going anywhere. One faces the inquisitor with a face only chaos whelps could ever consider loving. He is quickly socked in the stomach by a breacher, barking at him to keep moving while a cyber-mastiff growls. Neither of us say anything as we decide to have better things to do for our time. What feels like days of walking, we stop behind a techpriest currently praying to one of our cogitators. Holy incense smoke surrounds him while praying gently to the Machine God in streams of code I can only dream to understand. We stand there, listening to continuous prayers while Inquisitor Val has a smile on his face as he hums a worker song. It is easily recognizable due to me constantly hearing it from my old job back on Baktra Prime. “The sounds of the machines are that of the God Emperor. Meant to forever be the beat to our holy work…” I mumble the lyrics while Inquisitor Val hums, smiling a little at the comforting song to hear. It was something that we had to hear day in, day out when working at the old factotum to prepare tools for other worlds near us. Penal worlds, lumber worlds, whatever general worlds meant for vast amounts of work towards helping the Imperium. There were always fears that the local penal world, more of a penal moon if anything, Baktra Secundum would have traitors of the Imperium replace us. Luckily- My internal thoughts are quickly stopped when hearing talking between the Inquisitor and Tech Priest. It seems that I only ended up hearing the end of the conversation before the tech priest faces me. He doesn’t look to be a veteran with most of his biological body still there for all to see. A lower respiratory unit is attached to half of his face, hiding it from the world while the rest is seen. His skin is an almost copper brown, pieces of plasteel exposed from his body while wires run throughout his back. He motions for me to follow, using his large Omnissian Axe as an improvised walking stick. It seems like another infinite walk as we head across a bridge that stands above rows of them. Looking over the banister, I see the same sights that came before our current destination. Members of the ship’s crew heading to their stations or just enjoying some leisurely time. Especially since we will have to be working hours upon hours soon to prepare for our jump. Not much information was given to us about our job other than the Adeptus Administratum ordered this expedition. A cold shiver shoots down my spine, eyes shooting around while seeing cold steel pulse with life. Tentacles of abominations grip onto members of the crew, dragging them into the abyss while hearing their screams. My heartbeat begins to sound like that of a drum with it filling my ears as a sickening back beat. Those dreams, dreams of grand ruination, have finally become true. I take quick, shallow breaths before feeling my legs give out from underneath me. I land on the cold steel floor, feeling an almost welcoming embrace similar to death before soon passing out on the floor. The last thing I hear before darkness engulfs my vision is the voice of Inquisitor Val. “He truly is a psyker…” Comments are closed.
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LRHS Literary Magazine StaffEditor-in-Chief:
Alejandra Jones Senior Editors: Sariah Meeker Lee McCormack (fall) Artistic Editor: Bryson I. White (senior) Instagram Editor: Rania Brown (senior) Editors & Staff: Sophia George Blase Harriss Meaghan Kelly Chloe Meeker Adrian McCall Liliana Palermo Estefania Quintino(spring) Katelyn Ranheim Maria Rodriguez (spring) Mario Rodriguez (spring) Livia Weekley Spring 2024 Table of ContentsArtworkPoetryFictionFall 2023 Table of ContentsArtwork~"Jellies" by William Lemaster
~"Mini Landscape" by Richard Bui ~"Leesville Lion" by Bryson White ~"Zuzus bday 4 skool" by Rose Van den Troost ~"A Study in Winter" by Chloe Meeker ~"Les Plaines Liminales et Étranges" by Bryson White ~"Night Sky" by Richard Bui ~"Sunrise" by Elizabeth Cawley Fiction~"Retribution Through Strife" by Nikholas Svajlenka
~"To a New Frontier" by Nikholas Svajlenka ~The Storm's Echo" by Meaghan Kelly ~"Lines" by Meaghan Kelly Poetry~"Sailor" by Caitlyn Kiefer
~"Walk-on" by Caitlyn Kiefer ~"Connection" by Riley Butler ~"The Sun Rises in the West for it Falls in The East on Many" by Nikholas Svajlenka ~"What if" by Sariah Meeker ~"Dark Cold Alone" by Jeanne Baker ~"Deceiving Heart" by Jayana Russell ~"The Life of a Wave" by Sophia George ~"The Melting Snow" by Sophia George |