Time passed, and the situation became more and more strange. While the warp was going crazy, our front stopped, strengthened and... continued to stand. We continued to dig trenches, strengthened our positions even better, but now a week has passed and no training battle, no order to take up new positions. It seemed that the exercises really had stopped, at least for us for sure.
One after another, the company captains went to Kreiser, asking for new orders, but they received the same answer, which they then passed on to the sergeants:
"Hold your position," our squad sergeant repeated once again.
And we held it back only because... there was absolutely nothing to do, and there was nowhere to put the unrest in the warp, strange rumors and my own thoughts. And everyone knows that idleness is the essence of heresy. As soon as you are not busy with anything, the forces of Chaos immediately make their move. And now our sergeants were asking to conduct practical demining or mining, to start digging the next echelons of defense, because after all, cadets are obliged to train. But the order was repeated.
"Hold your position," the sergeant repeated a week later.
After that, no one dared to pester Kreiser. And in turn, idleness began to tell on me right from the start. I did what I shouldn't have and thought and thought and thought. Did the commanders understand that the other cadets would start thinking too? Even if only a little. Yes, they did. Did they keep us busy with something? No. Why? Incompetence? Out of the question. A rational reason? Yes. What? What reason could there be for not letting the cadets train when they should be doing it? They should be full of strength and in full combat readiness. For what?
And here the scope for imagination began.
"What do you order me to do?" Krivoruky asked the sergeant, who himself was in some confusion, because life without an order seemed... like death. "No, I can stand and look at the horizon for eternity, but... will that atone for the guilt of our world?"
"It's none of your business what will atone for our guilt and what won't," the sergeant immediately cut Krivoruky off harshly. "I myself know no more than you do. We were told to hold our positions, so we hold them."
"Prepare for another battle in which no one will survive," I muttered, but loudly enough to be heard by the nearby cadets. "We will soon be thrown into the inferno."
"Too much initiative for someone who's not even a guardsman," the sergeant growled, approaching me.
Ironic, since he wasn't a Guardsman either. But I shut up anyway, needing to give my thoughts time to flow. The paranoia was starting to kick in again, every action seemed to sparkle with the rainbow plumage of Tzeentch's daemons.
Krieg was a strategically important world, worth hundreds of other worlds. Its regiments were an eternal thorn in the side of Chaos, xenos and traitors. Something had begun in the warp that was already beginning to affect the entire galaxy, I had no doubt about that. And what was stopping the enemy from trying to strike at Krieg? Yes, it sounds like sheer madness to attack such a world. But… the Imperium has many enemies and many of these enemies will not attack head-on. And one could only hope that Krieg was as indestructible to the enemy within as it was to the enemy without.
At that moment, Kreiser himself began to act, knowing a little more, but overall also in disarray. His instincts screamed non-stop, and the information that was already coming from other worlds... It was the beginning of the end, and the sudden problems inside Krieg were able to even frighten the seasoned colonel.
Kreiser even left the headquarters and personally began to walk along the trenches, arranged unexpected meetings with the personnel, carefully studied each cadet. He knew by heart the personal files of everyone who stood out more than necessary. And now, with his quiet gait, accompanied by five bodyguards and a commissar, he began to walk along our trench. This was not particularly rare, because every Kriegman was once a private and therefore there was no gap between the command and the privates.
It is also worth noting that this commissar, like any other, was not part of the Imperial Guard hierarchy and reported directly to the Commissariat of the Departmento Munitorum. That is, the commissar was not a Kriegman and his presence here could already mean a lot. A lot, like his incredibly tense face.
"Cadet Jurten," Kreiser barked, stopping next to me and addressing me by name.
- I!
- What are you fighting for?
— For the Emperor! For Humanity! For the right to stand at His Throne! For the opportunity to earn forgiveness by death! For the honorable duty to lay down one's life in the name of those who still have something to hope for!
I could feel Kreiser's gaze, as if the colonel was looking straight into my soul. He was probably analyzing every word, as well as the order in which these words were said. He didn't like absolutely everything, and yet after a pause he turned to the commissar.
He in turn did not react at all, he had nothing to say. And Kreiser wheezed discontentedly, turned to me again and asked an extremely unexpected question:
- Why are you here, Cadet Yurten?
- Because we were ordered to hold our positions!
— I don't remember our curriculum ever having an evasion, Jurten! Why are you here?
Kreiser could hardly even see my eyes through his and my gas masks, but he seemed to sense my every emotion. Or maybe it was just a bluff, an attempt to piss off another cadet, but either way Kreiser had too powerful an aura and it was impossible to disobey his order. So the next second I laid out my entire assumption, reassuring myself that this was, one way or another, a direct order from the high command:
- Because there is a problem on our planet that our corps may be needed to solve! We don't waste our energy digging trenches, which means we will be transferred to another area where defenses have already been prepared, or we will be ordered to attack!
At that moment, I was ready to swear that Kreiser would ask the next question, to which my answer was perfectly suited. However, after thinking for two seconds, Kreiser turned and walked further down the trench, interrupting the interrogation as suddenly as he had begun it.
"Even the cadets understand everything already, Commissar Rant," Kreiser said discontentedly, moving towards the next target.
"Your very implied suggestion could be cause for execution on the spot, Colonel," Rant replied, not arguing so much as prompting Kreiser, keeping his thoughts from going down a dangerous path. "Do you really think you'll find the answer here, among your cadets?"
"No, Commissioner Rant, I wish with all my heart that he is not found. However, if there is even the slightest possibility… I will personally check everyone who has somehow fallen under my gaze. Everyone.
"And what is it about this cadet that has caught your attention? If it's not a secret, don't think I'm trying to pry into Krieg's affairs. Just... curiosity," said Rant, who was supposed to simply check out another perfect Death Korps regiment and assist its command in further battles, but suddenly all this madness began, where the upper echelons maintained a grim silence.
- Jurten? - Kreiser made a strange wheezing sound, as if he were snorting under the gas mask that had replaced his face forty-five years ago. - That boy was a real pain from the first day of his training. That's what his mother begged him with tears, trying to reach those who had given up on their hearts. But something still made her take the boy as a cadet, so that he would have the right to deserve to fight for the Emperor and die before he turned twenty. She wanted the best for her child, as any mother would.
Rant felt a little uneasy at these words. Krieg had always been a dark place, but many had no idea just how dark. Even among the hardened Commissars, who could make fleeing youths stand on the defensive with just their appearance, there were rumors that frightened them. Dark times had indeed come, if the Imperium needed such a force.
Krieg had no problems with discipline, they never ran, and that's why the commissars assigned to them understood with horror that they had to fulfill a completely different role. They had to restrain the children of this dead world, because in their rage and hatred for the enemy, in their desire to win and earn the right to return the name, they refused to retreat even when strategy demanded it. While the commissars of other regiments stood behind the guardsmen and did not allow them to run, the commissars assigned to the Death Korps had to stand in front of the Krieg guardsmen so that they did not charge the Titan Legion with bayonets.
Because of this reason, there were practically no Krieg natives in the high command of the entire Imperial Guard. Not only could even the highest officers of the Death Korps sometimes go into attack with the rank and file, which is why the mortality rate was off the charts even among them, but also in the case of survival, with a huge experience, this officer remained simply unsuitable for command of the forces of the Imperial Guard on a galactic scale.
He could be trusted with a regiment, maybe an entire corps, but to give him command of a combined force or make him an advisor during yet another crusade to subdue an arrogant rogue trader... no, even the highest command of Krieg usually fell under the control of more reserved commanders. However, the Krieg men themselves did not care about this at all. In fact, some were even pleased with it, because even the commander of an entire corps dreamed of one day dying in battle with valor and honor, and not becoming some staff rat or, God forbid, a member of the council of lords of Terra, if you look that far ahead.
It was all about fanaticism. And so Rant was frankly frightened by Kreiser's suggestions. His hints could be pulled up to accuse some of the senior officers of treason. Treachery on Krieg! It was impossible to even think about it, let alone say it out loud... such words could make even the Emperor fall from the Golden Throne. However, some facts remained unchanged, just as Kreiser was not crazy. Rant already knew him well and personally made a request for Colonel Kreiser to lead the new regiment and go to the vanished stars. In the end, he deserved it.
And yet, no matter how close Kryzer was to the truth, his hands were tied by the high command and all he could do was secure what was in his power. So did Rant, who, although not a Krieg, knew no bounds in his devotion to Mankind and the Emperor.
Although these boundaries were completely different, as were those of everyone who served for the good of the Imperium.
*
Krieg, one of the secret laboratories under one of the underground cities.
While the incessant exercises thundered on the surface, and cadets ran through the underground tunnels, catching mutant rats to train their agility and stomachs, somewhere at a classified facility the situation got out of control. No one could figure out how exactly the terrible thing happened, but as soon as the higher ranks found out about it, they immediately threw their best forces into isolating the facility, and also began preparing for a total cleanup.
At the same time, the garrisons located there, numbering fifteen thousand guardsmen, were winning time, but with each passing second they increasingly understood that they could not cope with the task even in theory. Time, at the cost of their lives, was the only thing they could give Krieg.
Kriegians were not grown in test tubes, nor was any cloning practiced on Krieg. All this is just a dirty lie of heretics and traitors. And also fools and amateurs who unintentionally harm the spread of such theories. How can one even assume such a thing? The Krieg high command never understood this, because there were much better ways to increase the number of human resources.
The scale of Krieg's genetic research could be discussed at an unimaginably long and arduous pace. A harsh, dead world, poisoned water all around, terrible air quality... a normal person would not survive even in these underground cities. His immune system would give up, he would get sick all the time, suffer from a shortage of clean air, and simply existing would be unimaginably difficult for him.
With a sense of guilt and a belief in redemption, the planet's population bore a heavy burden for five centuries. They quickly began to change, the world demanded it. In turn, the changes were chaotic and sometimes did more harm than good. First there was selection, crude and cruel, even by the standards of the Imperium, which hated mutants. A millimeter of skull shape deviation was already a reason for either disposal and processing into nutritious biomass, or voluntary-forced sending to deadly dangerous industries.
And in those terrible times, when there was sometimes only one lasgun for every two soldiers, almost all production was deadly dangerous. There was no time to think about safety, an unimaginable amount of weapons were needed to continue Colonel Jurten's work.
However, such a system was not effective and gradually more advanced methods began to be introduced. It was possible to influence the child even before conception, through its mother. The process was also controlled during the entire pregnancy. This helped both to save the mother's life even in the case of a difficult birth, and to make the child much stronger, increasing its chances of survival. And all this was cheaper and more effective than some kind of cloning.
And yet the idea of clones still lived inside Krieg. The best genes were selected, they were studied and sometimes scientists boldly and brazenly wedged themselves into the masterpiece given by nature. Cut out one link, replace it with another... sounds simple, but the scientists themselves knew that it was not. No one knew exactly how and what the addition of even a small gene would affect. They knew and did, because the end justified the means. Damn pragmatists.
Everything was complicated by the fact that this was done in secret from the Imperium, which knew very well how such a thing could end. Genetics is a complicated thing, we are not even talking about creating a semblance of Astartes, genetics is simply very complex and requires a huge amount of intellectual resources, technology and equipment. But Krieg tried and went towards his goal, and at some point apparently went beyond the frame... or not... it is difficult to say, because no one really understood what had happened yet.
It was one thing when one of the cadets suddenly became too violent. It happened, even a healthy person born without outside interference could go crazy one day. Or become apathetic. Such people were eliminated, conclusions were drawn, adjustments were made. The scale of such experiments was small, under no circumstances was it allowed for one of such experiments to leave Krieg. Everyone was monitored.
And then the whole laboratory went crazy, from which a stream of violent people poured out. In addition to this, the security demonstrated extremely low efficiency, as well as the garrisons simply bought time. Although everything was designed in such a way that the garrison could destroy everything quickly. In extreme cases, there was even a nuclear charge, but there was a city nearby and detonation would only be caused if it was impossible to take control of the situation.
Something was wrong and the sergeant holding the line with his platoon couldn't figure out what it was. Suddenly, a barrage of fire fell on his position and screams began to be heard. Within moments, return fire was opened and a brutal massacre began. The enemy was trying to get closer and these were clearly not crazy soldiers who sometimes couldn't use their weapons. These were…
A sudden realization dawned on the sergeant. More Krieg soldiers were running straight toward his position at the crossroads of the underground corridor.
- STOP!!! CESS FIRE!!! - the sergeant suddenly roared, unexpectedly even for himself. - STOP!!!
But the battle did not stop and a bayonet meat grinder began. The Krieg men killed each other, they fought as equals, which convinced the sergeant even more that what was happening was wrong. And suddenly, it was as if the Emperor himself had blessed him, or to be more precise, he remembered one of the stories that the ideologist had told. A story from the civil war, when the Archenemy set his comrades against each other, convincing both sides that they had been betrayed by those to whom they had previously turned their backs.
The battle was incredibly brutal and yet the sergeant managed to hold his position. True, he was left alone, bleeding and clutching his sabre. One of the enemies was still breathing, and the sergeant approached him, bending over him:
"What did they tell you? Did they tell you that we were traitors?" the sergeant, who could have become a captain, thanks to his ability to think independently, asked quietly.
"What?" the soldier asked with a strange squelching sound from a punctured lung and began to wheeze, then cough up blood. "Some of the rowdy ones seized the armory, took the uniform... you didn't..."
- Oh, what a shame... - a voice suddenly came from the shadows and an unknown person appeared as if out of thin air, already raising his laspistol. - And yet, any miscalculation is an even greater scope for opportunity.
Two precise shots finished off both the fallen man and the sergeant. And a few moments later the unknown man's appearance began to change, then he cleared his throat and voiced his new voice, carefully studied the reflection on the blade of the saber he had picked up. All that was left was to take the sergeant's uniform and meet the reinforcements that had arrived on time, after which he would notify them of the completion of the assigned task.
The operation failed, but Krieg did draw many conclusions after the civil war. However, the unknown person also drew conclusions, quickly adapting to the rapidly changing situation, from which he had to squeeze the maximum.
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