Chapter 156: The Commissar's Audit
Kian Voss froze, his mind shifting into a high-alert tactical state. Throne's blood, why is there a Commissar camping the extraction point?
He scanned the warehouse. It was an industrial-scale logistics hub belonging to House Nightingale, filled with stacks of silver-grade shipping containers. Near the back of the hall, Kian saw something that turned his stomach: a row of nearly a hundred PDF regulars lying face-down in the dirt.
They weren't killed by the Pox-horde. They had been executed. Each one had a massive, charred hole in the back of the skull—the unmistakable signature of a close-range Bolt round.
The 9th "Storm-Tithe" Regiment was modeled after the Astra Militarum. As they were slated for galactic deployment, the Departmento Munitorum had assigned them a Political Officer to ensure their souls remained "Pure."
The Commissar had likely turned this warehouse into a temporary casualty clearing station. But he wasn't interested in triage. He knew that any soldier who fought Nurgle's rot without a sealed environmental suit was already a carrier. He had performed his duty with cold, mechanical efficiency: he had "Purified" his own men to prevent the infection from spreading.
Now, he was staring at a fresh batch of deserters.
The Commissar's eyes were bloodshot, his face a mask of pale, fanatical exhaustion. He pressed the massive muzzle of the Bolt Pistol deeper into the lead soldier's helmet, the metal screeching against the ceramite.
"Explain your presence, Sergeant," the Commissar rasped, his voice sounding like a grinding vox-caster. "Why are you fleeing the front? Why do you carry Spire-tier suppression gear? Speak, or I shall grant you the Emperor's Mercy right now."
Kian squinted, keeping his own Lasgun lowered but his finger on the side-plate. "Orders from the Captain, sir. We were tasked with the priority extraction of Lady Nightingale. We have secured the asset and are moving her to the Mid-Hive transit hub."
The Commissar's gaze didn't waver. "Lies. I am the high-link for this sector. I received the final manifest before the vox-network collapsed. The 9th was ordered to secure Spire-23. There was no 'Asset Extraction' authorized for a PDF squad. You are cowards. You are deserters. You are Traitors."
Kian's squad shifted uncomfortably, their rifles trembling. They knew the weight of that word. In the Imperium, a "Traitor" didn't just die; their entire family was liquidated to ensure the "bad blood" ended.
"Careful, boys," Kian whispered over the squad-vox. "He's got a hair-trigger. But he's alone."
The Commissar heard the hum of the vox. He thumbed the activation rune on his Chainsword. The weapon roared to life, its monomolecular teeth spinning in a high-pitched snarl that filled the warehouse with the scent of oil and ozone.
"Say it again, heretic!" the Commissar shrieked, his face turning a violent shade of red. "Call me a monster! I am the iron will of the Schola Progenium! I have executed better men than you for less! If I had a single squad of loyalists with me, I'd have you all turned into servitor-paste by now!"
Kian realized there was no "Diplomacy" option here. Commissars were indoctrinated from childhood in the Schola—they were human-shaped weapons of dogma. You couldn't bribe them, and you couldn't trick them. You could only kill them.
"Is that right?" Kian mocked, stepping forward. "You're the 'Iron Will'? Funny. To me, you just look like a lonely old vulture who's too afraid to fight the real monsters outside, so you stay in here and murder wounded boys who can't fight back. You've got zero Xenos kills on your record today, haven't you? Just a hundred Imperial brothers. You aren't a warrior. You're a butcher with a fancy hat."
The insult was calculated. Kian was "pulling aggro," trying to draw the Commissar's focus away from the hostage.
"I am the Emperor's Judge!!" the Commissar roared, his arm shaking with fury. "I will cleanse this Hive! I will start with you!!"
The Commissar's logic snapped. He realized he couldn't hold twenty men at bay. He decided to take the leader with him. He whipped the Bolt Pistol away from the soldier's head and leveled it at Kian's chest.
"FALL, TRAITOR!!"
Kian had been waiting for the frame-data. With his Ballistics Proficiency at 161 and his Mental Clarity at 40, he saw the movement in slow motion.
The moment the Commissar's barrel left the hostage, Kian's Lasgun was already up. He didn't use the sights. He didn't even blink.
BIP.
A single, high-intensity ruby beam shrieked through the air, passing through the narrow gap between the soldier's shoulder and Lady Nightingale's head.
The beam hit the Commissar square in the face.
BOOM.
The thermal energy vaporized the man's nose and eyes instantly. The pressure of the expanding steam inside his skull caused the back of his head to explode in a spray of grey matter and bone-shards. The Commissar's body was lifted off its feet and slammed into a shipping container, the peaked cap fluttering to the floor like a dead bird.
The hostage soldier let out a terrified yelp and collapsed, dropping Lady Nightingale into the dirt. He scrambled away, wiping the splash of brain-matter from his visor.
Kian slung his Lasgun over his back and struck a "Victory Pose," holding up two fingers in a 'V' sign toward his stunned men.
"Hell yeah!" Kian cheered. "Not a single casualty in the squad. Three-star mission rating, boys! Let's get the hell out of here before the admins reset the server!"
☆☆☆
-> 20 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you