Imperium Formicarum
Check it out, guys, I wrote some fan fiction. It is Warhammer 40,000 fic, concerning the secret origin of Sister Marie-Axelle Sergeant, and contains some elements from Philip Kobel's 40K setting.
title Imperium Formicarum
author lula_vampiro
fandomWarhammer 40,000
notes origin of Sister Marie-Axelle Sergeant of the Adepta Sororitas; contains some elements of Philip Kobel's setting
characters no one you know; mentions one of Philip Kobel's characters, Warboss Waaazag da Kan't Stoppable
words 3622
rating E for everyone
timestamp the forty-first millennium
summary In the grim darkness of the far future, the Make-a-Wish Foundation proves problematic for the Imperium of Mankind.
"You know I generally don't do this kind of thing," said Mitreus Rake, his toaster-sized gnarled hand engulfing Piton Andragos's as the two men met in friendship for the first time in a decade. "You're Sectoris Minister Veritatis now, and I still haven't forgotten about that one time on Belethus III, so I owe it to you-but I hope you feel sufficiently blessed by the God-Emperor's immortal spirit-may he rest in peace until such time as he sees fit to rise again at his leisure-to know you've dragged a Marshal of the Black Templars away from bashing heads in."
"Mitreus, my friend," said a smiling Minister Andragos, "believe me, the blessing is not mine but theirs." He nodded to the thousand-strong mass of hive denizens huddled in the forum, sweating with the proximity of other humans and the harsh artificial light shining from the distant ceiling. "Thank you a thousand times for coming on such short notice. Your presence, especially because it's not expected in the program, will give MiniVer a glorious opportunity here to reach out and touch the very brains of what would-" here his voice lowered a tone-"otherwise become the most systematically and completely purged hive-city in this sector, and believe me, the trouble and mess of making that happen here is not worth the line on my curriculum vitae."
"I can smell that," said Marshal Rake. He raised the scarred face-crater that substituted for an eyebrow since, well, that one time on Belethus III. "It's just … what … a thousand individuals, here? Including women and children? And I brought two of my men with me," he said, jerking a thumb the size of a very small dog back at the two black-armored warriors standing at his back, who might have seemed to be gargantuan statues if you didn't know what a Space Marine looked like. "It really would have been less trouble for me just to bring a crew-served weapon and have you lock the doors on your way-"
"Mitreus, please," whispered Minister Andragos, gesturing frantically at a little red-headed girl in a voluminous pink dress, wandering towards them with a magnifying glass. "Our honored guest is watching."
Marshal Rake did not move as what from his superhuman height looked like a tangle of red hair with a bit of pink fringe around it wandered up to his left leg and stared at it through the glass. "Well, little lady," he rumbled after a moment, "looks like you're practicing to be a Detective-Arbiter, eh? What've you discovered in my … ah … kneecap?"
"It doesn't catch on fire even when I angle the glass just right," the little girl said, making arcane motions in the air with the glass as if it were a magic wand. "It always works on ants. You must be very cold." The chaplain shot the nervous-looking Minister Andragos a slight smile-a leer, really-that was menacing and inquisitive all at once, as the former knew that the latter must be running through all of the sacramental laws the little girl had just broken, and the sundry tortures and punishments incurred by each, in his head.
Minister Andragos laughed nervously and stepped forward, sweeping the girl up in his arms and raising her to somewhere around Marshal Rake's chest level. "Marshal Rake!" he said, his head bobbing and jerking from side to side like a chicken's as the little girl's magnifying glass orbited his head. "This is Marie-Axelle Sergeant. She's the young lady who single-handedly-with the Emperor's own mandate, of course-held off the Orcish Speed Cult raid on the town of Brickfist long enough for the colonists to escape."
"Who's your friend?" asked the little girl of Minister Andragos, pointing her magnifying glass at Marshal Rake, who was now having a hard time suppressing his laughter as the horrified Minister Veritatis fumbled for an appropriate answer.
"Ah … Miss Sergeant, my friend is Marshal Mitreus Rake of the Black Templars Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes," said Minister Andragos. "He is among the holiest and most blessed defenders of the Imperium of Mankind. Truly the Emperor himself showers his favors upon you, that you might see him and not be dissolved in his radiant, violent piety."
"He's very Black," observed the little girl, causing Minister Andragos to turn very green. She waved at the marshal, then at his two men-at-arms. One of them gave a tiny nod, imperceptible to anyone but the little girl.
"So, my dear," said Marshal Rake, "how was it that you held off so many orcs by yourself? I've fought and slain many greenskins myself, you know, and they were fearsome foes even for me."
"Set my house on fire," said Marie-Axelle.
"Beg pardon?"
"I set my house on fire," said she, pointing to the magnifying glass. "My parents were looking for me when we had to run away, but I was mad at them because they said I couldn't take my toy soldiers to another planet, so I hid. Then they left and the orcs were driving through the town square in big trucks, so I set my house on fire."
"… with a magnifying glass."
"Yup. And matches, and gasoline, and gunpowder from the musket above the fireplace, and firewood from the fireplace, and Daddy's cigars, which Mommy said he couldn't take to another planet either. Like toy soldiers."
"Shame about the cigars," muttered Marshal Rake. He cleared his throat and continued. "And the orcs saw the burning house and …?"
"Some big ones covered in metal went in," she said, "but I was already at my neighbors' house by then, and I did the same thing. I made a big circle around the orcs, made of fire. Then I sat on the water tower with my big sister's rifle and shot orcs in the eyes until they were all gone."
"By the Emperor." The marshal's eyes were wide. "How did you light so many blazes so fast?"
"Oh, I'd already set up all the fire stuff the week before."
"Before you knew any orcs were coming …. Dare I ask why?"
She shrugged. Marshal Rake shot another questioning look at Minister Andragos. "We'll be recounting a slightly … condensed version of the tale for the presentation," explained the minister. Marshal Rake gave a sage nod.
"Well. I'm sure you've got to get ready for your big appearance," said the marshal to the little girl, "but I'd like you to promise me something."
"OK," said the girl. "What is it?"
"I don't want you to kill ants anymore."
"Why not?" She cocked her head to one side. "I thought you said you liked killing things."
"Many things," concurred Marshal Rake without missing a beat, "but not ants. Ants are like us, you see. They live in a society where everyone works together for the common good, but they have many enemies, within and without. From the outside, there are spiders and ground beetles and anteaters-those are like the aliens whom we're taught to hate. There are other colonies of ants-those are like the forces of Chaos, shaped like us but wanting only our deaths. And from within, there are deadly fungi which will infect ants' bodies and minds and turn them into suicidal engines of death that can kill an entire colony-those are like the heretics and mutants who hide amongst us. But ants are organized, so they can fight back.
"There's a queen ant, from whom all the other ants come-she's like the Emperor of Mankind, on his Golden Throne on Terra, and all other ants in the colony exist to serve her. There are winged ants, who are like our Astropaths and Navigators-they guide the ants to faraway places to found new settlements. Most ants are worker ants, and they're like you: they're tireless, devoted, and hard-working, and they give their lives to the Queen's service, just as you were prepared to do for your Emperor when the orcs rolled into town. They may not be big or tough, but if they need to fight, they fight hard, and they fight to the death." The girl opened her mouth to say something, revealing a few missing teeth, then shut it, listening. "And finally there are the soldier ants, who are each as big as three ordinary ants, bigger and stronger and tougher than any other ant in the colony. There may not be as many of them as there are workers, but they're strong enough to turn the tide when the ants are under attack."
"So who are the soldier ants," asked Marie-Axelle, "for humans?"
"Adeptus Astartes. The Space Marines," said Marshal Rake, rapping his knuckles against the gleaming silver cross on his breastplate. "We take it upon ourselves to become devoted to war, to sacrifice ourselves that the Imperium may live on. Because of that, we know no fear."
The girl was silent for a full thirty seconds, her eyes and her mouth moving as if she was about to say something at every moment, but could not quite. At last she said, "Who gets to be a soldier ant-I mean, Space Marine?"
"The strongest, smartest, and most pious of men are chosen to be Space Marines," said Marshal Rake. "We descend from the sky in our thundering ships and choose them to become more than men, so that your life of service to the Emperor may be a little better for their-for our sacrifice."
The girl nodded, slowly at first, then faster, as she understood better. Minister Andragos, sighed and relaxed a bit, lowering the girl to the ground and pointing her towards the podium where she would take her place in the ceremony. He pretended not to notice Marshal Rake mouthing "you owe me" at him. As humans and Marines turned to walk in opposite directions, though, Marie-Axelle shouted a last question at Chaplain Rake. "Do only boy ants get to be soldiers?"
"No," said Marshal Rake, without turning his head back as he walked away. "All soldier ants are female."
•••
"Citizens of the Imperium!" boomed Minister Andragos, the vocal filters and amplifiers linked to his microphone sending his voice echoing proudly (and a note or two deeper-pitched) through the cavernous forum. "May the Emperor bless your efforts and guard you from enemies within and without." The Minister Veritatis's practiced voice fell perfectly into the cadence of the trumpets and drums which one of his younger propaganda technicians, or proptechs, was synthesizing on his headset. "I am pleased to report that the hardy people of Batarr have successfully completed their strategic retreat from that planet! Their speed and ingenuity-with the explicit and notarized approval of the Emperor of Mankind and his various ministerial appendages, submitted through the proper channels to the central authority of their sector-lured the foolish Warboss Wazaag and his orcish horde into an inevitable trap. Now the aliens cower on Batarr, and it is only a matter of time before the Imperium's warriors fall upon them and enrich Batarr's soil with green-skinned corpses!"
Standing behind him, Marshal Rake wondered whether this might not be an appropriate time to point out that a battlefield of dead orcs, given protection from direct sunlight and a bit of moisture, would grow into a bustling orcish settlement within fifty years or so, but Minister Andragos was already on a roll. Besides, Space Marines didn't go places to talk; they went places to kill things, and even his just standing there in his full power armor looking impressively deadly was an exception by both Astartes and propagandist standards. Still, he owed Minister Andragos his life for that time on Belethus III when Genestealer cultists had gotten the drop on him and Minister Andragos had his laser pistol handy. Besides, this appearance was for a good cause. Probably.
On the pedestal, he stood upstage and stage right of the speaker's spotlight, which was overlaid with a holographic aura that caused anyone standing within it to glow a little bit like a hero in a mural. Minister Andragos must be enjoying that effect, thought Marshal Rake, watching the sector's chief propagandist summoning with sweeps of his hand holographic images of determined settlers fighting off numberless bumbling orcs. The sleeves of the man's ornate blue cloak made comet-trails in the air. The marshal mused that his must be what passed for glory amongst mortal men. To his left, nearly invisible beside a row of miscellaneous ministers of district development or morale or whatever the Imperium was wasting desk space on these days, was Marie-Axelle. She looked tense and fidgety-some wise and worried individual had taken away her magnifying glass-but when she caught the Marshal's eyes glancing her way, she lifted a hand and waved furiously, a small but intense motion. The marshal nodded, letting her see the hint of a smile. She settled a little after that.
Marshal Rake tuned out most of the speech. It was all canned Imperial praises and recycled war narrative anyway, the tried and true and time-honored standbys of propagandists the Imperium over. Not that the Marshal didn't enjoy a good sermon, but as a Space Marine he was used to the good stuff: really punchy, fire-and-brimstone-at-three-hundred-rounds-per-minute diatribes from chaplains who could literally compose parables in their sleep, full of unbelievable feats of strength and zealotry, recited in the heat of battle across your helmet commlink while a gibbering mass of Emperor-knows-what rushed into your firing column on the other side of the earthworks. But it wasn't Minister Andragos's job to rile up an already unruly population in which kids learned to shank before they could read. Minister Andragos was there to make sure the status was quo. There were exceptions, like the heroic (really, pyromaniac) tween standing by, but now as always, the status quo would find a way to press the exception into its service; and Marshal Rake was here to support that way.
"… inspiration to all the Imperium's youth, to strive to become your planet's mightiest hero and join the Emperor in legend. Now, I'd like to invite humanity's champion, Marshal Mitreus Rake of the Black Templars, to present this Medal of Distinguished Contribution to the Emperor's Deathless Glory, to Marie-Axelle Sergeant." Still grinning, Minister Andragos gestured frantically for the distracted little girl to step forward. They made an amusing right triangle, descending drastically in height from Marshal Rake's head to Minister Andragos's to Marie-Axelle's. Marshal Rake produced from a belt pouch the bright silver pendant, depicting a power-armored angel of indeterminate gender with a chainsword held high, and placed it gingerly around Marie-Axelle's neck-each of his gauntlets outsized her head-before exchanging salutes with her. The audience brightened and applauded a little as the girl saluted smartly, although their overall lack of focus still gave the impression that they were all just here to pick each others' pockets. "Clearly," continued Minister Andragos, "for her age, this girl is the strongest, the smartest, the most pious scion of Batarr-indeed, of the sector! We would all do well, regardless of our age, to follow her example." Something about that statement provoked a reaction in Marie-Axelle. She looked up, suddenly and directly-not at Minister Andragos, but at Marshal Rake, directly into his old brown eyes. Still the minister kept going: "Miss Sergeant, would you like to say a few words to the crowd? You've done so much for your people and your empire; tell us, what can we do for you?"
Minister Andragos assisted Marie-Axelle in pinning a microphone to her blouse, whispering a reminder to speak clearly and directly. Marshal Rake heard it, even if the mic didn't, but the marine was still a little tuned out at this point, already thinking ahead to his travel plans, determining how soon he could get into the combat which he felt he had neglected in this public-relations sojourn. Marie-Axelle's speech was short, trite, and exhaustively rehearsed; he'd heard the girl going over it backstage, enough times that he could probably recite the bit about wishing only selfless duty to the Emperor in whichever way it might be deman-
"I want to join the Space Marines," said Marie-Axelle.
The little girl's words buzzed from the speakers and flew menacingly close in to every head in the room. As if the words were yellow jackets, the crowd stood still as trees, perhaps fearing that, if they moved, they might be stung. But no one seemed stiller or more horrified than Minister Andragos.
"Hah … ha ha … of course, of course, young lady!" said Minister Andragos, shooting Marshal Rake a wrinkled grimace of panic. "Of course. When you grow older, you may petition the Adepta Sororitas for-"
"Don't wanna be stupid Adept' Soritas." She folded her plump arms and pouted. "Wanna be Space Marines!" Her pale face flushed, lips curling up and nose trembling. Minister Andragos spun to lock eyes with the stoned-looking proptech, pointing to the girl, then to his mic, then making a throat-cutting motion. He turned back and said, over Marie-Axelle's crescendo of whimpers, "Yes, thank you all for turning out and showing your dedication t-"
Then his mic cut out, and Marie-Axelle started crying. Her young voice fed back into the microphone and filled the room with crippling metallic waves of sound. Some of the audience collapsed, moaning in pain. A larger contingent pointed angrily at the podium, pushing and shoving their way forward. Constables standing at the edges of the podium rushed frantically to form up and extend batons, but the crowd was awfully large-appropriately sized for an official propaganda event. Marshal Rake let out a long sigh, motioning to his men to get the civilians to safety. One of them shielded Minister Andragos as the other swept Marie-Axelle up and over his shoulder, while a resigned-looking Marshal Rake unslung his bolter and let off an earsplitting half-clip into the air-that was what you were supposed to do at riots, wasn't it? He glanced backwards, watching a squad of constables ushering officials to safety elsewhere in the hive. The last thing he caught sight of was Marie-Axelle's reddened eyes, peering at him with what could have been heartbreak or hate or both, through a curtain of tangled red hair and tears.
•••
"Well, Piton, I do have some friends in the Chaplaincy," said Marshal Rake to the holo-communicator aboard his flagship. "They should be able to pull some strings for you-it does kind of have to do with us, after all, doesn't it?"
Dressed in prison robes and manacled, ex-Minister Andragos was a far cry from the gloriously robed propaganda minister he'd been just a week ago, although at least this look seemed more in keeping with the long, sad, tired face he wore everywhere when he wasn't in the middle of public speaking. "I suppose it does," he said, after an empty pause. "What do you suppose they'll do with me?"
"You'd know better than I would. Exile, maybe, to some really Emperor-forsaken death world."
"Lovely," said Andragos, rubbing his face with both hands. "Maybe they'll send me home, then. Do you know what happened to the girl?"
"She's in stasis on board this ship, heading for the Sororitas convent on Izdurg," replied Marshal Rake. "The inquisitor to whom I spoke said it was too risky to leave her amidst the hives, but she'd gotten too much press already to disappear entirely. So this is the best they could do." He shrugged, a massive gesture given his power armor's shoulder plates. "As usual, mine not to reason why."
"Right." Andragos let his hands fall at last. "At least I'll never see her again. By the Emperor, I'd like to give her a piece of my mind. The nerve of-"
"Piton, stop," said Marshal Rake. "I'm not in the mood. Besides, maybe she's right."
"What? About what?"
"She believed you. It's your job to make people believe you. You said she was the strongest, smartest, and most pious of her planet. That's what makes a Space Marine."
"Right, well, I seem to recall that you enumerated those conditions to her impressionable little mind, not I. Besides," he said, wagging a finger, "it's strong, smart, pious men who make Space Marines. Not little girls."
Marshal Rake did not speak for a moment. "I don't know, Piton," he said at last. "I don't know. I've seen stronger men than that die in the surgery that makes someone a Space Marine. And me … look at me, and look at you, Piton. You're a man. You're what men look like. I'm eight feet tall and proportioned like a construction robot. I was not born this way. I was made this way. Maybe I'm more than human, but I am not human. The difference between me and you, and the difference between me and Marie-Axelle …." He shook his head.
"Mitreus, you're daft, and yet you think too much," said Andragos, "but I'm glad you're my friend all the same."
"You're just saying that because you want to get out of prison," said Marshal Rake, smiling.
"We may never know the truth," said Andragos, returning the smile with a bit more grimness and a couple fewer teeth. "At least I won't have to be around when they purge that treasonous hive, right? That would have been a headache. There is that."
"Yes," said Marshal Rake, "there is that."
title Imperium Formicarum
author lula_vampiro
fandomWarhammer 40,000
notes origin of Sister Marie-Axelle Sergeant of the Adepta Sororitas; contains some elements of Philip Kobel's setting
characters no one you know; mentions one of Philip Kobel's characters, Warboss Waaazag da Kan't Stoppable
words 3622
rating E for everyone
timestamp the forty-first millennium
summary In the grim darkness of the far future, the Make-a-Wish Foundation proves problematic for the Imperium of Mankind.
"You know I generally don't do this kind of thing," said Mitreus Rake, his toaster-sized gnarled hand engulfing Piton Andragos's as the two men met in friendship for the first time in a decade. "You're Sectoris Minister Veritatis now, and I still haven't forgotten about that one time on Belethus III, so I owe it to you-but I hope you feel sufficiently blessed by the God-Emperor's immortal spirit-may he rest in peace until such time as he sees fit to rise again at his leisure-to know you've dragged a Marshal of the Black Templars away from bashing heads in."
"Mitreus, my friend," said a smiling Minister Andragos, "believe me, the blessing is not mine but theirs." He nodded to the thousand-strong mass of hive denizens huddled in the forum, sweating with the proximity of other humans and the harsh artificial light shining from the distant ceiling. "Thank you a thousand times for coming on such short notice. Your presence, especially because it's not expected in the program, will give MiniVer a glorious opportunity here to reach out and touch the very brains of what would-" here his voice lowered a tone-"otherwise become the most systematically and completely purged hive-city in this sector, and believe me, the trouble and mess of making that happen here is not worth the line on my curriculum vitae."
"I can smell that," said Marshal Rake. He raised the scarred face-crater that substituted for an eyebrow since, well, that one time on Belethus III. "It's just … what … a thousand individuals, here? Including women and children? And I brought two of my men with me," he said, jerking a thumb the size of a very small dog back at the two black-armored warriors standing at his back, who might have seemed to be gargantuan statues if you didn't know what a Space Marine looked like. "It really would have been less trouble for me just to bring a crew-served weapon and have you lock the doors on your way-"
"Mitreus, please," whispered Minister Andragos, gesturing frantically at a little red-headed girl in a voluminous pink dress, wandering towards them with a magnifying glass. "Our honored guest is watching."
Marshal Rake did not move as what from his superhuman height looked like a tangle of red hair with a bit of pink fringe around it wandered up to his left leg and stared at it through the glass. "Well, little lady," he rumbled after a moment, "looks like you're practicing to be a Detective-Arbiter, eh? What've you discovered in my … ah … kneecap?"
"It doesn't catch on fire even when I angle the glass just right," the little girl said, making arcane motions in the air with the glass as if it were a magic wand. "It always works on ants. You must be very cold." The chaplain shot the nervous-looking Minister Andragos a slight smile-a leer, really-that was menacing and inquisitive all at once, as the former knew that the latter must be running through all of the sacramental laws the little girl had just broken, and the sundry tortures and punishments incurred by each, in his head.
Minister Andragos laughed nervously and stepped forward, sweeping the girl up in his arms and raising her to somewhere around Marshal Rake's chest level. "Marshal Rake!" he said, his head bobbing and jerking from side to side like a chicken's as the little girl's magnifying glass orbited his head. "This is Marie-Axelle Sergeant. She's the young lady who single-handedly-with the Emperor's own mandate, of course-held off the Orcish Speed Cult raid on the town of Brickfist long enough for the colonists to escape."
"Who's your friend?" asked the little girl of Minister Andragos, pointing her magnifying glass at Marshal Rake, who was now having a hard time suppressing his laughter as the horrified Minister Veritatis fumbled for an appropriate answer.
"Ah … Miss Sergeant, my friend is Marshal Mitreus Rake of the Black Templars Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes," said Minister Andragos. "He is among the holiest and most blessed defenders of the Imperium of Mankind. Truly the Emperor himself showers his favors upon you, that you might see him and not be dissolved in his radiant, violent piety."
"He's very Black," observed the little girl, causing Minister Andragos to turn very green. She waved at the marshal, then at his two men-at-arms. One of them gave a tiny nod, imperceptible to anyone but the little girl.
"So, my dear," said Marshal Rake, "how was it that you held off so many orcs by yourself? I've fought and slain many greenskins myself, you know, and they were fearsome foes even for me."
"Set my house on fire," said Marie-Axelle.
"Beg pardon?"
"I set my house on fire," said she, pointing to the magnifying glass. "My parents were looking for me when we had to run away, but I was mad at them because they said I couldn't take my toy soldiers to another planet, so I hid. Then they left and the orcs were driving through the town square in big trucks, so I set my house on fire."
"… with a magnifying glass."
"Yup. And matches, and gasoline, and gunpowder from the musket above the fireplace, and firewood from the fireplace, and Daddy's cigars, which Mommy said he couldn't take to another planet either. Like toy soldiers."
"Shame about the cigars," muttered Marshal Rake. He cleared his throat and continued. "And the orcs saw the burning house and …?"
"Some big ones covered in metal went in," she said, "but I was already at my neighbors' house by then, and I did the same thing. I made a big circle around the orcs, made of fire. Then I sat on the water tower with my big sister's rifle and shot orcs in the eyes until they were all gone."
"By the Emperor." The marshal's eyes were wide. "How did you light so many blazes so fast?"
"Oh, I'd already set up all the fire stuff the week before."
"Before you knew any orcs were coming …. Dare I ask why?"
She shrugged. Marshal Rake shot another questioning look at Minister Andragos. "We'll be recounting a slightly … condensed version of the tale for the presentation," explained the minister. Marshal Rake gave a sage nod.
"Well. I'm sure you've got to get ready for your big appearance," said the marshal to the little girl, "but I'd like you to promise me something."
"OK," said the girl. "What is it?"
"I don't want you to kill ants anymore."
"Why not?" She cocked her head to one side. "I thought you said you liked killing things."
"Many things," concurred Marshal Rake without missing a beat, "but not ants. Ants are like us, you see. They live in a society where everyone works together for the common good, but they have many enemies, within and without. From the outside, there are spiders and ground beetles and anteaters-those are like the aliens whom we're taught to hate. There are other colonies of ants-those are like the forces of Chaos, shaped like us but wanting only our deaths. And from within, there are deadly fungi which will infect ants' bodies and minds and turn them into suicidal engines of death that can kill an entire colony-those are like the heretics and mutants who hide amongst us. But ants are organized, so they can fight back.
"There's a queen ant, from whom all the other ants come-she's like the Emperor of Mankind, on his Golden Throne on Terra, and all other ants in the colony exist to serve her. There are winged ants, who are like our Astropaths and Navigators-they guide the ants to faraway places to found new settlements. Most ants are worker ants, and they're like you: they're tireless, devoted, and hard-working, and they give their lives to the Queen's service, just as you were prepared to do for your Emperor when the orcs rolled into town. They may not be big or tough, but if they need to fight, they fight hard, and they fight to the death." The girl opened her mouth to say something, revealing a few missing teeth, then shut it, listening. "And finally there are the soldier ants, who are each as big as three ordinary ants, bigger and stronger and tougher than any other ant in the colony. There may not be as many of them as there are workers, but they're strong enough to turn the tide when the ants are under attack."
"So who are the soldier ants," asked Marie-Axelle, "for humans?"
"Adeptus Astartes. The Space Marines," said Marshal Rake, rapping his knuckles against the gleaming silver cross on his breastplate. "We take it upon ourselves to become devoted to war, to sacrifice ourselves that the Imperium may live on. Because of that, we know no fear."
The girl was silent for a full thirty seconds, her eyes and her mouth moving as if she was about to say something at every moment, but could not quite. At last she said, "Who gets to be a soldier ant-I mean, Space Marine?"
"The strongest, smartest, and most pious of men are chosen to be Space Marines," said Marshal Rake. "We descend from the sky in our thundering ships and choose them to become more than men, so that your life of service to the Emperor may be a little better for their-for our sacrifice."
The girl nodded, slowly at first, then faster, as she understood better. Minister Andragos, sighed and relaxed a bit, lowering the girl to the ground and pointing her towards the podium where she would take her place in the ceremony. He pretended not to notice Marshal Rake mouthing "you owe me" at him. As humans and Marines turned to walk in opposite directions, though, Marie-Axelle shouted a last question at Chaplain Rake. "Do only boy ants get to be soldiers?"
"No," said Marshal Rake, without turning his head back as he walked away. "All soldier ants are female."
•••
"Citizens of the Imperium!" boomed Minister Andragos, the vocal filters and amplifiers linked to his microphone sending his voice echoing proudly (and a note or two deeper-pitched) through the cavernous forum. "May the Emperor bless your efforts and guard you from enemies within and without." The Minister Veritatis's practiced voice fell perfectly into the cadence of the trumpets and drums which one of his younger propaganda technicians, or proptechs, was synthesizing on his headset. "I am pleased to report that the hardy people of Batarr have successfully completed their strategic retreat from that planet! Their speed and ingenuity-with the explicit and notarized approval of the Emperor of Mankind and his various ministerial appendages, submitted through the proper channels to the central authority of their sector-lured the foolish Warboss Wazaag and his orcish horde into an inevitable trap. Now the aliens cower on Batarr, and it is only a matter of time before the Imperium's warriors fall upon them and enrich Batarr's soil with green-skinned corpses!"
Standing behind him, Marshal Rake wondered whether this might not be an appropriate time to point out that a battlefield of dead orcs, given protection from direct sunlight and a bit of moisture, would grow into a bustling orcish settlement within fifty years or so, but Minister Andragos was already on a roll. Besides, Space Marines didn't go places to talk; they went places to kill things, and even his just standing there in his full power armor looking impressively deadly was an exception by both Astartes and propagandist standards. Still, he owed Minister Andragos his life for that time on Belethus III when Genestealer cultists had gotten the drop on him and Minister Andragos had his laser pistol handy. Besides, this appearance was for a good cause. Probably.
On the pedestal, he stood upstage and stage right of the speaker's spotlight, which was overlaid with a holographic aura that caused anyone standing within it to glow a little bit like a hero in a mural. Minister Andragos must be enjoying that effect, thought Marshal Rake, watching the sector's chief propagandist summoning with sweeps of his hand holographic images of determined settlers fighting off numberless bumbling orcs. The sleeves of the man's ornate blue cloak made comet-trails in the air. The marshal mused that his must be what passed for glory amongst mortal men. To his left, nearly invisible beside a row of miscellaneous ministers of district development or morale or whatever the Imperium was wasting desk space on these days, was Marie-Axelle. She looked tense and fidgety-some wise and worried individual had taken away her magnifying glass-but when she caught the Marshal's eyes glancing her way, she lifted a hand and waved furiously, a small but intense motion. The marshal nodded, letting her see the hint of a smile. She settled a little after that.
Marshal Rake tuned out most of the speech. It was all canned Imperial praises and recycled war narrative anyway, the tried and true and time-honored standbys of propagandists the Imperium over. Not that the Marshal didn't enjoy a good sermon, but as a Space Marine he was used to the good stuff: really punchy, fire-and-brimstone-at-three-hundred-rounds-per-minute diatribes from chaplains who could literally compose parables in their sleep, full of unbelievable feats of strength and zealotry, recited in the heat of battle across your helmet commlink while a gibbering mass of Emperor-knows-what rushed into your firing column on the other side of the earthworks. But it wasn't Minister Andragos's job to rile up an already unruly population in which kids learned to shank before they could read. Minister Andragos was there to make sure the status was quo. There were exceptions, like the heroic (really, pyromaniac) tween standing by, but now as always, the status quo would find a way to press the exception into its service; and Marshal Rake was here to support that way.
"… inspiration to all the Imperium's youth, to strive to become your planet's mightiest hero and join the Emperor in legend. Now, I'd like to invite humanity's champion, Marshal Mitreus Rake of the Black Templars, to present this Medal of Distinguished Contribution to the Emperor's Deathless Glory, to Marie-Axelle Sergeant." Still grinning, Minister Andragos gestured frantically for the distracted little girl to step forward. They made an amusing right triangle, descending drastically in height from Marshal Rake's head to Minister Andragos's to Marie-Axelle's. Marshal Rake produced from a belt pouch the bright silver pendant, depicting a power-armored angel of indeterminate gender with a chainsword held high, and placed it gingerly around Marie-Axelle's neck-each of his gauntlets outsized her head-before exchanging salutes with her. The audience brightened and applauded a little as the girl saluted smartly, although their overall lack of focus still gave the impression that they were all just here to pick each others' pockets. "Clearly," continued Minister Andragos, "for her age, this girl is the strongest, the smartest, the most pious scion of Batarr-indeed, of the sector! We would all do well, regardless of our age, to follow her example." Something about that statement provoked a reaction in Marie-Axelle. She looked up, suddenly and directly-not at Minister Andragos, but at Marshal Rake, directly into his old brown eyes. Still the minister kept going: "Miss Sergeant, would you like to say a few words to the crowd? You've done so much for your people and your empire; tell us, what can we do for you?"
Minister Andragos assisted Marie-Axelle in pinning a microphone to her blouse, whispering a reminder to speak clearly and directly. Marshal Rake heard it, even if the mic didn't, but the marine was still a little tuned out at this point, already thinking ahead to his travel plans, determining how soon he could get into the combat which he felt he had neglected in this public-relations sojourn. Marie-Axelle's speech was short, trite, and exhaustively rehearsed; he'd heard the girl going over it backstage, enough times that he could probably recite the bit about wishing only selfless duty to the Emperor in whichever way it might be deman-
"I want to join the Space Marines," said Marie-Axelle.
The little girl's words buzzed from the speakers and flew menacingly close in to every head in the room. As if the words were yellow jackets, the crowd stood still as trees, perhaps fearing that, if they moved, they might be stung. But no one seemed stiller or more horrified than Minister Andragos.
"Hah … ha ha … of course, of course, young lady!" said Minister Andragos, shooting Marshal Rake a wrinkled grimace of panic. "Of course. When you grow older, you may petition the Adepta Sororitas for-"
"Don't wanna be stupid Adept' Soritas." She folded her plump arms and pouted. "Wanna be Space Marines!" Her pale face flushed, lips curling up and nose trembling. Minister Andragos spun to lock eyes with the stoned-looking proptech, pointing to the girl, then to his mic, then making a throat-cutting motion. He turned back and said, over Marie-Axelle's crescendo of whimpers, "Yes, thank you all for turning out and showing your dedication t-"
Then his mic cut out, and Marie-Axelle started crying. Her young voice fed back into the microphone and filled the room with crippling metallic waves of sound. Some of the audience collapsed, moaning in pain. A larger contingent pointed angrily at the podium, pushing and shoving their way forward. Constables standing at the edges of the podium rushed frantically to form up and extend batons, but the crowd was awfully large-appropriately sized for an official propaganda event. Marshal Rake let out a long sigh, motioning to his men to get the civilians to safety. One of them shielded Minister Andragos as the other swept Marie-Axelle up and over his shoulder, while a resigned-looking Marshal Rake unslung his bolter and let off an earsplitting half-clip into the air-that was what you were supposed to do at riots, wasn't it? He glanced backwards, watching a squad of constables ushering officials to safety elsewhere in the hive. The last thing he caught sight of was Marie-Axelle's reddened eyes, peering at him with what could have been heartbreak or hate or both, through a curtain of tangled red hair and tears.
•••
"Well, Piton, I do have some friends in the Chaplaincy," said Marshal Rake to the holo-communicator aboard his flagship. "They should be able to pull some strings for you-it does kind of have to do with us, after all, doesn't it?"
Dressed in prison robes and manacled, ex-Minister Andragos was a far cry from the gloriously robed propaganda minister he'd been just a week ago, although at least this look seemed more in keeping with the long, sad, tired face he wore everywhere when he wasn't in the middle of public speaking. "I suppose it does," he said, after an empty pause. "What do you suppose they'll do with me?"
"You'd know better than I would. Exile, maybe, to some really Emperor-forsaken death world."
"Lovely," said Andragos, rubbing his face with both hands. "Maybe they'll send me home, then. Do you know what happened to the girl?"
"She's in stasis on board this ship, heading for the Sororitas convent on Izdurg," replied Marshal Rake. "The inquisitor to whom I spoke said it was too risky to leave her amidst the hives, but she'd gotten too much press already to disappear entirely. So this is the best they could do." He shrugged, a massive gesture given his power armor's shoulder plates. "As usual, mine not to reason why."
"Right." Andragos let his hands fall at last. "At least I'll never see her again. By the Emperor, I'd like to give her a piece of my mind. The nerve of-"
"Piton, stop," said Marshal Rake. "I'm not in the mood. Besides, maybe she's right."
"What? About what?"
"She believed you. It's your job to make people believe you. You said she was the strongest, smartest, and most pious of her planet. That's what makes a Space Marine."
"Right, well, I seem to recall that you enumerated those conditions to her impressionable little mind, not I. Besides," he said, wagging a finger, "it's strong, smart, pious men who make Space Marines. Not little girls."
Marshal Rake did not speak for a moment. "I don't know, Piton," he said at last. "I don't know. I've seen stronger men than that die in the surgery that makes someone a Space Marine. And me … look at me, and look at you, Piton. You're a man. You're what men look like. I'm eight feet tall and proportioned like a construction robot. I was not born this way. I was made this way. Maybe I'm more than human, but I am not human. The difference between me and you, and the difference between me and Marie-Axelle …." He shook his head.
"Mitreus, you're daft, and yet you think too much," said Andragos, "but I'm glad you're my friend all the same."
"You're just saying that because you want to get out of prison," said Marshal Rake, smiling.
"We may never know the truth," said Andragos, returning the smile with a bit more grimness and a couple fewer teeth. "At least I won't have to be around when they purge that treasonous hive, right? That would have been a headache. There is that."
"Yes," said Marshal Rake, "there is that."