[4]

110.738.M41

09:40 Local Time

I still remember the dream I had just before I woke. I was still a child, still in the Schola Progenium. The bells were ringing for change of period. Thousands of us—orphan girls of every age in identical gray uniforms—were rushing through the corridors. I was with my friend Sariah, and we were almost late for Sacred History class.

"Come on, we'll miss the beginning!" I said, dragging on her hand. But she wouldn't move. She just stood there, smiling and looking around the hallways, which were suddenly silent and empty and perfectly clean.

She told me that they wouldn't whip us, because we had been good all month, but I didn't care about that. I didn't want to miss any of the stories. Besides, the other girls would know, and they would think I was a stay-in-bed slug, and they would tell the boys at evening meal, and that would be the end of all my hopes forever.

"Come on, come on!" I said. But no: she wanted to stay here with me and just look around one more time. We were always rushing here and there, she said, and we never stopped to look at how beautiful the hallway was.

I was about to tell her that it was just a hallway, and anyway, we aren't always rushing—we scrub the floors twice a week to keep them shining. But then I remembered something terrible.

"You need to let me go to class because you're dead," I said. "Your Arvus was hit and exploded in space. Everybody on it died."

She told me that that was all wrong. She was fine, actually. She just wanted to stay in the hallway and see it one more time, and wouldn't I stay with her?

I was so relieved and so ashamed to have thought she was dead that I had to assent, even though I would miss the best class, and probably get whipped for it, whatever she said.

"I'll stay with you. Thank the Emperor you're safe. I missed you." I stood beside her, holding her hand. She looked around, beaming at the hallway, and I thought it was stupid, but I was so happy to learn she hadn't really died that I didn't care. It was perfectly silent. I could hear the faint fabric sound of her uniform as she turned this way and that.

All the doors flew open at once.

The men from the hab skirmish poured out into the hall, raising their weapons. We needed our guns, we needed to fight—fight, always fight, never quit! But when I looked towards Sariah, my hand was empty, and my friend was gone.

I woke from the dream with my heart pounding and my hands seeking my bolter. It took me a minute to calm myself. Sariah… could she have survived, and I had forgotten? I could almost imagine it, with the dream still vivid in my mind. But no. Always no.

I was thirsty. My broken finger throbbed inside the splint. How had I not even noticed it when it happened? I scanned the room as I got up. Nothing amiss. Verity and Gwen were waking up, responding to my sounds. Tara was still asleep—no longer looking dead, thank the Emperor, but fast asleep from the drugs still in her blood. An old clock ticked in a corner. It showed that we had slept through sunrise and mid-morning prayer. The machines attached to Tara's flesh grumbled and whirred. I prayed a silent Libera Nos.

There was a soft knock at the door and a familiar voice.

"Sisters? Wake up."

"I'm awake," I said. "Come in, Superior."

Sister Superior Isela had a face that could be called arresting—or hideous. I'm not sure what to call the feeling it always gave me. Not aspiration, because I liked being pretty. Not self-satisfaction that I could be pretty and she couldn't, because to me she had a beauty that I will never attain. We knew the wonders the surgeons had done to give her back a face at all. And we knew how she had gotten the wound that had stolen her youth. She was only six years older than me, but compared to her I was like a child.

"Be at ease," she said. "How is Tara?"

"Healing. But Superior, we are forbidden by the Interrogator to speak of last night. Inquisitor Grendel's authority."

"I know. Go on."

"They say she shouldn't walk without help for a few days. And no food for two days, only water and the IV. But they say this is good." I saw permission in her eyes, so I went to the table for some water as we talked.

Stolen story; please report.

"That will have to suffice," Isela said.

"Suffice?" I repeated. I held the glass, frozen, halfway to my lips.

"For your departure."

There was something in that word that I didn't want to hear.

I said, "Back to the convent? Yes, it will be fine—we all know how to change the IV bags and check the sutures."

"No. I'm sorry, Marisa. All of you. I'm sending you away."

I felt like she had struck me. She continued.

"All four of you, as soon as Tara wakes. You go to the far coast, Denma Province."

I grasped at anything but the obvious. "The Orks are attacking? We are deploying for war?"

"No, Marisa. You will guard a remote observation post. The Orks have been quiet."

A dozen thoughts and feelings flooded my mind but I bit them back, trying not to show it. But Verity spoke up anyway and said the words.

"Are we being punished?" Verity said.

Isela took a long time to reply. In the silence, I could almost hear her saying no. No, it wasn't a punishment. No, brave Verity, you were thrust into a terrible situation but you persevered. No, you killed the enemy, defended the innocent, preserved your wargear, upheld the right, accomplished the mission. No, any faults in execution were inconsequential, inevitable in the fog of war.

She would say it, even if it was only with a wink, even if she refused to explain why we had to go away. She would smile and even though I was scared and confused and wanted to go home to talk to the dead, this banishment would be well with my soul. It wasn't a punishment. The answer would be no.

"Yes," said Isela. "Punishment. That is best."

"Best." I felt hollow. I could see hurt in Gwen's eyes and outrage in Verity's.

"I will bring a confessor. He will take general confession. No word of last night, as commanded. I will ask him to assign you this task to expiate any sin."

"Why?" Verity demanded. "How can you think we deserve this? We did all that was asked of us, more than—"

"Stop, Verity," said Isela. "You are commanded. And you will submit to it without knowing why."

She turned and looked me in the eye. I nodded. Somehow the brutal caprice of it all was an icy comfort of its own.

There were a few more words of clarification, and then she left.

Two hours later all four of us were aboard an Aquila Shuttle, flying away without ever seeing our home. Tara was awake, and she insisted that it was a tactical decision, not a real punishment. "If you had failed in any way, she would have explained it. The most likely explanation is that she wants us away. Or she wants us in Denma."

I believed her, mostly. But it felt like punishment.

[4a—Supplementary Note: Armed Institutions of Gaervalt]

• Enforcers

  Civil order, criminal investigation, warrant execution, riot suppression, and judicial enforcement. Maintains limited tactical assets for high-risk law enforcement operations.

• Army of Gaervalt

  Gaervalt's locally raised and coordinated military force. Responsible for territorial defense, internal military security, and sustained ground combat operations. Limited strategic mobility. Strong artillery arm.

• Imperial Guard: Gaervalt 3rd and 8th Regiments

  Expeditionary Imperial military formations, largely composed of Gaervalt natives. Maintains aerospace and interplanetary deployment capability. Under the authority of Departmento Munitorum, Obscurus Segmentum Spinward Theater.

• Imperial Navy: Gaervalt Sector Garrison

  Imperial void forces, composed of a mix of Gaervalt-born and foreign crewmen. Operates warp-incapable patrol vessels suitable for light antipiracy roles. Planetary saturation bombardment limited to 100 sq. km. per day. Under the authority of Battlefleet Obscurus.

• The Church

  Maintains independent armed assets under ecclesiastical authority, including Sisters of Battle, armed clerics, shrine guards, and penitential units seconded from non-Church institutions.