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carnivore428 · 2 months ago

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Faith

This is my first piece of creative writing I've done, created in May of last year. It's probably awful, but if I tried to read through to fix things I'd probably either delete it or attempt to forget it.

Beneath the towering spires of Hive City Libitama, three souls walk among the masses. The first is a man of high renown, who is out of place far beneath the hazy air of the planet’s atmosphere. His eyes are constantly on the lookout for danger, his years of indoctrination and training keeping him always ready for the slightest hint of sedition, of danger. His normally commanding presence is hidden underneath a soiled cloak, and his heavy boots are drowned out by the idle chatter and the off-rhythm marching of the underhive as they go about their day.

The second soul is a woman, who has lived most of her life among the confines of the city. Like many who live down here, she will not be remembered. Born to an unremarkable family in an unremarkable hab block, every day was a struggle to see the next, all with the promise that her work and dedication would please the God-Emperor. Her one chance at leading a different life came when the tithe ships arrived, and by chance her number was called to join the prestigious ranks of the Astra Militarium. For one tour she served, battling the enemies of the Emperor on a far-away world. She had a penchant for command, and was given the opportunity to further her skills under the tutelage of one of the Emperor’s own Commissars. Yet when an accident behind the front lines deprived her of her arms, she was cast out and sent back to her home planet, for the Emperor has no use for cripples; not when there are trillions more souls to call upon when needed.

The third soul is a girl. Barely 6 Terra-revolutions old, she has been living a life similar to her mother’s. She will never know her father, whose lot in life was being recorded as a casualty, one of many to lose their life in the never-ending violence that permeates the lower hive. Since she could first walk, she has been acting partly as her mother’s caretaker, helping her whenever her mother’s mechanical limbs begin to malfunction. She has gone to bed most days hungry, thanking the good Emperor whenever the local priest gives her extra rations on Giving Day. She has seen her family’s dwelling shrink year over year, until they began to have to live out on the streets of city, unsheltered from the waste-rain the comes from the upper levels of the Hive. Her life is destined to be short, unremarkable, and unremembered, if not for her Mother.

They navigate through the cramped streets of the underhive, both experts of the paths to take to avoid any trouble. At this hour, most honest folks have retired to their bunk units, and the streets are filled with the dregs, the hopeless, and those with nothing but hope left.

They turn a corner, and both immediately sight the man. While he is in disguise, his presence sticks out, seemingly walking around in a daze, not used to the enclosed spaces so far under the sky. The woman and girl pick up their pace, wanting to take the man off the street before he can attract and undue attention. As they approach, the man realizes their presence, and takes a guarded stance that is quickly dropped when he recognizes the woman.

She takes his arm. “Follow me.” she says, in a raspy, tired, and mechanical voice. He complies.

The group ducks into a nearby alley between hab block units. Once the woman is sure they are safe from prying eyes, she turns back to the man.

“How did you find me?”

The man looks at her, barely able to recognize the voice of the officer he used to know. “The 488th is on shore leave for some time before we are deployed to the Scipiano sector. I happened to be looking at Arbites records to ensure the men where not getting into trouble when your name came up.” The woman attempted a smirk. Always business with Commissars.

“Normally, I wouldn’t attempt a rendezvous such as this, but I figured you of all people should know what happened.” At this, he produced a letter from underneath his coat, and handed it to the woman. “It details the investigation into your accident. You can read it at your leisure, but know that those responsible for the ammunition sabotage have been found, and have been shown the Light of the Emperor.”

As he talked, she skimmed over the letter. A part of her was glad that she finally had closure, that she could finally rest knowing that the traitors were gone. Another part of her was in pain, the ghostly pain in her arms that reminded her of what she lost, reminded her of the suffering she endured that day and the humiliation that followed. But at the forefront of her mind was not pain or vengeance, but the girl.

The man had been talking while her mind was racing. “. . . and I hope that you, as a former servant of the Emperor, can refrain from getting into conflict with His most Holy of peacekeepers, as it reflects poorly not only on-”. She called out to the girl, who came back from her lookout point further down the alley. It was only now that the man really took notice of the girl. Immediately, he could tell that she had inherited a lot of the looks of her mother, her most prominent being her red hair, a splash of color in an otherwise monotonous setting. “Take her.” said the mother.

The Commissar looked up, puzzled. She repeated “Take her with you.” The man looked down at the girl, who was trying her best to hide a flash of pain from showing on her face. Either she already knew her mother would make the request, or she had figured it out on her own. The man looked back at the woman. The man replied, with a bit of hesitation, “You know that the Militarium has no use for children. If you want her to serve the Emperor, she would be of better use performing air duct work in one of the many . . . prestigious factorums of Libitama.”

She shook her head. Always so dense. “There won’t be a chance for her to serve if you don’t take her” she exclaimed, her vox implant imbedded in her throat struggling to convey the emotion of her words. “I am a dead woman walking, Heskal. I have done all I can to let the both of us survive, and it is not enough. I have had to steal food so my daughter can sleep at least one night a week without being hungry. I have had to sell all I’ve ever had to get bionic limbs made out of scrap and centuries old parts. I have done whatever I can to ensure we can survive until the next day, and I have given everything in my being to keep us safe, but it has been a losing battle. Soon, when I have outlived my usefulness, I will be taken away from my daughter, and she will have nothing. And there isn’t a karking thing your ‘peacekeepers’ will do about it.”

She stared at the man, hatred burning within her soul. The man showed no emotion, and for some time, he was not swayed by the woman’s words. Maybe in some deep, suppressed part of himself, he cared for her well-being. After all, she used to be part of his unit, and it was a Commissar’s job to look after the souls of those in his command. However, he had been trained since he was young that his duty was to see the Emperor’s word carried out, no matter how harsh or unfair it was. It was he who carried out the executions of the cowardly, the heretic, and the useless. If not for him, she wouldn’t have even been taken back to her planet of origin. If the Emperor had decided that her lot in life would be cut short, then so be it.

However, as he met her gaze, he saw something in her. It brought him back to the muddy trenches of an insignificant planet. It was the fire in her eyes as she took command of her unit, barking out orders over the sound of autogun reports and exploding ordnance. It was the confidence in her spirit as she led her unit on a raid behind enemy lines, cutting off vital supplies. It was the ferocity in her fighting during the hab-to-hab combat on the final push into the lower reaches of the hive city. It was the hatred in her that he saw as he was signing the papers sending her back to Libitama. Whatever the hive city did to her since she returned, it had done nothing to diminish her spark.

And when Commissar Heskal looked down at the daughter, he saw something in her that day. Maybe it was the way she hide her pain as she heard the strain in her mother’s pleas. Maybe it was the way she stood, not showing any intimidation. Maybe it was the simple fact that she had survived up until now. Maybe the Emperor himself whispered in his ear what His plans for her were. But he saw it. It was merely a spark compared to the bonfire of her mother, but he could tell it was there. And he knew that if given the proper chance, that spark could become a raging inferno that could overcome anything in its way.

He looked back at the mother and took a deep breath. “I will see what I can do, Julia.”

The woman sat in her tent, alone. Her vox implant had ceased functioning some time ago, and her left arm bionics had disconnected from her nervous system, leaving her mute and with only one good arm. Her legs ached as she had spent the last few days walking the underhive streets almost non-stop, looking for any form of charity she could find. And yet, she was content. For she knew that out there, either above the towering spires of the underhive, or out in the great expanse, was her little girl.

It had been 2 weeks since he took her daughter. The grim face of the Commissar, still looking out of place amongst the dregs of the hive. The hesitation in her daughter, not wanting to leave her for this strange man.

The girl hugged her mother’s leg, and buried her sobbing face into her mother’s skin. Julia waited before kneeling down to be on her level.

“I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me too.”

“Why are you leaving me?”

“Because I want you to succeed.” Julia wiped away the tears from her daughters face.

Julia heard a commotion coming from the other side of the camp. It sounded like some supplies were being thrown around without care.

“I want you to look at me, sweetie.”

The daughter looked to meet her mother’s gaze.

“I know you don’t understand why I’m doing this. And I know that you don’t want to go. But you have to trust me, one more time.”

The child wipes away more tears. “But what if I don’t see you again?”

“Then I want you to remember something.”

More people were running past her tent, and now she heard the voices and action more clearly. They were acting tough, tossing items and knocking over tents in an effort to intimidate those who had nothing left.

“Remember that no matter what happened to us, that I did everything I could to give you a better life than I had.”

“Remember that you are my everything, and I am doing this so you can do things that I would never have the chance to do.”

“Remember that I will always love you, and no matter where the Emperor takes you, I will always think of you, even when I go with the Emperor.”

She could hear shouts from the gangers, asking for her name. With great effort, she reached behind her pillow with her one good arm, took out her handgun, and propped herself up so she would face the entrance to her tent. She knew her time was up, but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“And last of all, remember me.” She moved her head close to let her daughter kiss her, and with that she walked over and took the Commissar’s hand.

The daughter looked over one last time at her mother, as she got off the ground. She looked at the one person she had trusted her whole life up to now, and promised herself that she would remember everything about her mother.

The man looked at the mother. “What is her name?”

The tent flap opened up.

“Faith.”

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #creative writing

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