Fighting With Faith- Thirtieth Entry



Benlian stepped back into the gloomy recess of his company’s tent. He seemed elated, a look on his face which sparked a moments glance from the assembled soldiers in the central area of the tent.

“Where you been, Ben? Seems like you just came out of the Throne Room itself.” chuckled someone from amongst the troops.

“Shut up, stay still.” Benlian managed to answer and fell in line at the head of the company before the lean form of Commissar Leetol and Tactican Abjax who seemed to be forever at his side strode into the tent.

It was pin drop silence as Commissar Leetol and his assistant positioned themselves in front of Benlian, facing the soldiers. Leetol's face was stern and impassive; Abjax was no different. The atmosphere was unnerving.

Leetol cleared his throat and said, “Gentlemen, Operation Tea-Strike II shall commence by oh-eight hundred tomorrow morning you will be briefed tomorrow. Be ready. Also…”

His voice trailed off as he remained in silence to wait for the excited murmuring ahead of him to subside.

“It is of no coincidence that we are fighting against Tyranid cultists that are also human.” Leetol stated nonchalantly.

“Hence it would also be no coincidence that any one of us here would be one of theirs.” Leetol stated again coolly, as a matter-of-factly.

“Thus we have acquired the assistance of several highly trained psykers, complementary from the Navis Nobilites. They will be around you and amongst you. Be warned. Good evening and we shall meet again tomorrow,” Leetol said, before turning on his heels and walking out of the tent along with Abjax, leaving the dazed and surprised soldiers staring inquisitively around them.

Two rows behind Benlian, Marcum issued a whistle.

“Ooh, so it’s another game of psykers and cultists, eh?” Joil Trong, a scout, mused out aloud.

“All right guys, you heard the man; let the psykers and Arbites do their jobs, we need rest now.” Benlian said, gesturing for everyone to return to their bunks. He himself proceeded to his own.

He lay down on his bed, ignoring the shouts, grunts and babble of rumours being said all around him as the soldiers prepared their equipments and some had already went to bed.

Jatherine…something about her just tingles my senses, like how I first discovered sweets. That joy of learning something that will always appear pleasing and comforting about her… Benlian thought to himself.

“Benlian! Starut’s gone!” Marcum’s lean frame and wide eyes suddenly filled Benlian’s view.

“Huh-what? Gone? Where?” Benlian murmured as he groggily got to his feet and shambled to Starut’s bunk. It was empty, save for his backpack and rations.

“Where could he have gone to at this time…”Benlian moaned irritably as he fumbled with his hair. A lot of paper work would have to be done for missing personnel.

“Your company is clean.” A ghostly voice suddenly floated into his ears. It was cold, evident of a deeper meaning to what he/she just said. Benlian couldn’t tell what gender it was coming from.

Benlian turned around to face the figure. It was dressed in standard military attire, just as everyone else within the tent. Benlian hasn’t seen this person before.

It was a male. His face was gaunt, hallowed and thin. His complexion was no darker then white ivory. Compared to the tanned ex-Frazium harvesters around him, he looked like a ghostly apparition.

“I am Phison Feng. Psyker of the Scholastia Psykana. And you are Benlian, are you not?” it inquired. Its eyes seemed dazed and distant, as though reading the thoughts running through Benlian’s mind at the very moment. The feeling felt vaguely familiar.

Sweat drops beaded Benlian’s forehead. A psyker!

“Yes...I am Benlian. Why have Starut disappeared?” Benlian managed to utter, still unable to comprehend his first encounter with a psyker. An intangible aura seemed to envelope Benlian as he spoke.

“As I said, your company is cleansed. Evil has been rooted out of it.” The psyker stated coolly, its calm eyes gazing around the tent. Most of the soldiers were asleep already, their glow globes placed into the acloves above them deactivated.

It hit Benlian. Starut: The leering tattoos. The awry behaviour which he seemed to be putting up since Operation Tea-Strike began. The insane laughter he erupts with whenever mishaps falls upon anyone.

“He’s a cultist.” Benlian whispered, fear and anger both evident in his voice.

“And he has left to report to his true leaders, Benlian.” The psyker whispered back enigmatically.

No no no… Benlian moaned as he sat down onto the ground, already thinking about what he should do next. The psyker looked down upon the sulking figure and shared Benlian’s concern. He thought no longer and strode silently out of the tent, returning to his quarters.

Outside the tents, a trickle of militarily dressed psykers were already walking out of their respectively assigned company tents and heading to the psykers quarters, to report what they had found out and who were tainted.

Psykers and cultists were amongst the Imperialists. The battle has taken on a new turn.