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#before i log off anyone want to take my hand with a fervent prayer that we may live and we may share a love affair to remember 🤪🙈💞??
trainstationgoodbye · 2 years
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It was the nearest thing to heaven. You were there.
An Affair to Remember 1957 dir. Leo McCarey
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Magnificent Scoundrels- Explanation of Caution
Part II of “Pariah”.  Sorry it took so long for me to get this out, but I had to re-write it four times.  The first was too boring, the second too weird, the third too long and too boring and so on.  On to the story!
Aboard the Omen
The marines looked up with barely concealed hatred at Cain.  The man in question barely noticed it.  He watched, impassively, as the Valhallan Guardsmen tore through the marines’ personal possessions, tipping over containers, opening drawers, and searching every inch of their quarters and person.  Teams of Imperials were searching the entire ship, weapons at the ready, bayonets fixed.  For what exactly, Adam Vir and the crew of the Omen didn’t know.  Only that every member of the crew, alien and human alike, were being held at gunpoint as Imperial Guardsmen walked through the ship’s long halls.  
“Nothing on the Captain’s logs, sir,” said one of the Valhallan officers.  Vir looked at her with a frown on his face, arms crossed.  He had allowed them to do what they wanted to avoid any bloodshed or misunderstanding.  He was getting rather fed up, though.  If this continued for long, or if things got violent… he still had the Iron Eye suit on under his clothing.  Kill Cain and the guards, if necessary, get to the armory, take back the ship.  Chaplain Tope walked into the room.
“Nothing, Commissar.  Not even amongst the xenos,” he reported.  Cain turned to face him, black greatcoat swirling.  
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied Tope.  “They can all stand in the presence of Imperial relics and prayers.”  
“Good.”  Cain keyed his comms.  “Colonel?  Major?  Have you found anything?”  
“Nothing.  No signs.  We used their blueprints to search the entire ship.  Everything is clean.”  Vir couldn’t take it anymore.  
“What’s going on, Cain?  What are you looking for?”  Cain turned to him and seemed to be musing things over.  He spun around.
“You.  Marine.  What is the proper procedure if you’re being charged in battle?”  The marine looked at him strangely.  
“Uh… fortify a secure location or take the high ground?  Fight back from defensive positions?”  Cain nodded slowly.  Good.  
No signs of taint.  No mutations.  No psykers except that Emperor-damned xeno.  The marines don’t show any signs of excessive violence or willingness to get into close quarters.  No murders in training.  No odd cliques or groups.  The entire ship is exceptionally sterile and clean.  No strange blights or markings.  No signs of drugs or orgies, thank the Emperor.  No perverse and blasphemous symbols painted in blood or other… fluids.  They can all stand being around Imperial holy relics and Jurgen.  Nothing.  Nothing wrong or out of the ordinary throughout the entire ship.  Trust them or not.  
You are Commissar Ciaphas Cain, noted for his mercy.  Hero to your men for not cleaning house when other Commissars would have.  You have orders to investigate.  You have already trusted xenos.  You have already trusted Vir.  
Innocentia nihil probat.  Innocence proves nothing.  Trust leads to a poor end.  Your life matters the most, above all else.  Hate the xenos.  Cleanse the xenos.  More trust leads to heresy.  That way the path of damnation lays.  
He came to a conclusion.  Compromise.  
“Admiral Vir, I believe this has once again, been another, uh… cultural misunderstanding.  Forgive me for my thoroughness.”  He looked over at the still put-off stare of the Admiral.  “I believe I told you that it’s better to explain too much caution than suffer for not enough.  If you’ll come back to my office, I’ll be happy to explain.”  Nodding slightly, the same expression still on her face, Vir followed him out of the room.  The Imperial Guardsmen stared at the marines for an eternal, awkward moment before their officer snapped at them and they retreated from the room in an orderly fashion.  The officer presented a salute, then turned on her heel and marched after them.  The marines stared at each other.  
“What was that all about?” asked Ramirez to no-one in particular.  The other marines shook their heads with varying degrees of anger and perplexity.  
“I’m not sure.  But I think I know someone who might…” trailed off Maverick pensively.  
In the (Temporary and Borrowed) Office of Commissar Cain 
Vir followed Cain’s billowing greatcoat back into his office, the place where this mess had all started in the first place.  
“Sit down,” offered Cain.  “Want anything to drink?  Tea?  Re- uh, actually… I believe your word for word for it is coffee?”  Vir rubbed his forehead.  
“Yeah, sure.  Coffee is fine.”  Cain nodded.
“Jurgen!  One tanna, one recaf.”  Cain looked back at Vir.  “Tanna leaf tea from Valhalla, recaf is coffee.”
“Recaf, re-caffeinated… makes sense.”
“I suppose,” sighed Cain as the drinks were brought in.  “Now, on to business.”
“Yes.  I would quite like to know what all of that was about.”  It was more of a statement than a question.
“...yes.  Of course.”  Cain rubbed his neck as he tried to find a way to explain.  “Where I come from there exists… a corrupting influence, is probably the best way to put it.  Uh…”  His hand drummed on the side of his mug.  “Now, again, where I come from, there are… some… who have… unnatural abilities.  They can do… strange, strange things, among them telepathy.  However, to access these… abilities puts them into contact with this corrupting influence.  Without the blessings of the Emperor, the havoc these individuals can wreak is enormous.  It is much, much better to be careful in these sort of situations.  I am sorry that this might have been a breach of trust, but if you or anyone else here were actually corrupted and hiding it, the damage to everyone and everything else would have been catastrophic.”  He paused, and offered a sincere smile.  “If there is any way to repair this mistrust, please tell me, and I shall do my utmost.”  Vir waved him off.
“S’alright,” he muttered into his coffee.  Another damn misunderstanding.  He sighed to himself and looked up.  “Now, what about Jurgen?
Maverick entered the Imperial chapel.  The temperature here, in contrast to the rest of the Valhallan quarters, was quite mild.  While she’d known that the Imperials had built a small chapel on board, she’d never been there, instead meeting Chaplain Tope in the sparse grey of one of the Omen’s conference rooms.   She didn't quite know what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.  
The lighting in the room had been toned down.  The normally cheerful white of the rest of the Omen was gone, replaced by a faint yellow glow.  Dripping white candles lit an altar, their flames barely flickering in the ship’s recycled air.  Kneeling before the altar, his head bowed in prayer, was Tope.  A gilded statuette of the golden Imperial eagle was placed reverently on top, next to the candles and a heavy leather bound tome.  The entire room had a dark, almost oppressive, gothic feel to it.  It was such a contrast to the normal Omen it stopped Maverick in her tracks.  
Was that a… skull floating in the corner?  She did a double take.  Yes, indeed, there was a human skull floating in the corner.  Some sort of metal anti-gravity device was placed where the skull normally connected to the vertebrae, and a heavy red prosthetic, glowing an eerie red in the dim light, covered one of its eye sockets.  What the hell…?
Above the altar was a painting of a man.  He wore a suit of strange armor made of gold, carved and gilded to an almost astoundingly impressive degree.  His hair was jet black, and flowed to his shoulders.  A massive flaming sword was held in one hand, and a corona of golden light illuminated his body.  But it was the expression of such utter righteous fury that took her breath away.  This was someone who knew what they were doing was right, and would have no problem utterly annihilating anyone in their way.  This figure could only be one person: the Emperor who the Imperials so fervently worshiped.  
Tope finished his prayers, made some sort of strange symbol with his hands towards the altar, then smiled over at her.  
“Chaplain Maverick.  How can I help you?”  Chaplain.  Not corporal, not just Maverick, chaplain.  Interesting.
“I was wondering… exactly what just happened?  Why was Cain searching the ship?  What was that all about?”  Tope nodded, and smiled again.  
“Ah, yes.”  He paused for a moment, thinking.  “Tell me, chaplain.  What do you believe?”  Maverick looked at him oddly.  
“Uh, well… I’m not with any particular religion.  I’m really just here to attend to any sort of spiritual needs of the crew.”  Tope gave her a strange look.  That’s not what he was asking.  
What do you believe?
“I believe that there are other… things out there.  Spirits, if you will.  I can… feel them, almost.  If that’s… what you mean.”  Tope nodded sagely.  
“Of all the people on this ship, Cain and the Guardsmen included, I feel as if you are the wisest person here.  I think you understand the most.”  Maverick looked at him oddly again.  Tope continued.  “You see, you are a marine.”  He gestured at her physique.  “You are quite strong, quite physically capable.  As a marine, having seen battle, having seen death, I’m sure you are also quite mentally strong as well.  But there is more to that, as you well know.  Spiritual strength.  The strength of faith.  The strength to resist what is beyond.”  He gave a small, kindly, laugh, then a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  
“Faith alone shall save.  I saw your face when I explained our religion to you.  There is a reason we worship the Emperor.  He is the guardian of humanity.  Everything about the Imperial Cult can be summed up with one simple phrase: the Emperor protects.  Always.  And if you have faith in Him, he will protect you as well.”  Maverick nodded.  So, that’s what they were afraid of.  The beyond.  Apparently, it was a lot worse where they came from.  Good to know.  Tope reached over to a side table, barely visible in the dim lighting, and picked up a heavy leather book with (of course) a golden eagle on the cover.  
“If you’re ever interested in learning more, read this.  It might help answer some of your questions.”  Maverick took the book and nodded.  
“Of course.  Thank you for your time, Chaplain.”  He nodded in response.  
“Any time.”  Maverick turned and walked briskly out of the room.  She decided not to ask about the skull.  
Cain pursed his lips.  “Yes, of course.  The reason why this all started in the first place.  Jurgen.”  Vir’s one good eye looked at him expectantly.  Cain sighed.  “Again, if this gets out, I’ll be forced to kill you.  Just a reminder.”  He took a sip of his strong-smelling tea, then began.
“Jurgen is a blank.  The people who I told you about earlier, the ones who can manipulate reality and other such things, are called psykers.  They draw their power from a strange, corrupted place, as I already mentioned.  Jurgen is the opposite of a psyker.  He doesn’t change reality, he anchors it.  Any sort of… things… tricks…” he struggled for the right word, “Things that do not exist in reality, any changes cannot… take effect, if you will, near him.  He shuts down their power, usually with a fair amount of pain for the manipulator.  I’ve seen all sorts of reactions to him, from fear, to pain, to outright secures and unconsciousness.  Usually any psykers cannot bear to be near him,” he finished.  He considered something for a moment, then continued.
“It should also probably be noted that blanks are extremely rare, hence the need to protect what Jurgen actually is.  Also, there isn’t any way to stop this power, so, unless you have any ideas, your alien is just going to have to stay away from him.”  Not that I’m too terribly concerned about it.  
“I understand.  I guess I just have to think of something,” mused Vir.  He stood up.  “It was good to clear things up, Commissar.”
“Of course.  The pleasure’s all mine, Admiral.”  Vir walked out of Cain’s office, nodding to Jurgen as he left.  Wasn’t that interesting?  He’d never heard of anything like that before.  Someone who could block… well, magic.  Knowing some of the things he did, knowing the nature of some threats out there, this was a handy tool indeed.  Yes, this could end quite well if he played his cards right. 
And there we have it.  Unfortunately, Conn is just going to have to stay as far away from Jurgen as possible and/or try not to read the minds of anyone close to him.  As usual, if you have any questions, comments, concerns, criticisms, or requests, feel free to ask!
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