Chapter 1

Part 1

The things we do today may pave a path for a better tomorrow. If it doesn’t then we a good war is all it takes to correct it. Blood tells everything.

-Sir Nikolay the III, Cult of War

Samael woke up. He was looking at the starry night’s sky, his eyes started stinging. Constant studying had him dozing before he could’ve visited the bathroom. He tried to ignore the pins and needles constantly poking his eyeballs. No good, it constantly reminded him of the thing he was forgetting. Nevertheless, he had to piss badly.

He rose from his bead, still groggy from the sudden urge. The bathroom’s light was set too high and he quickly adjusted it to the lowest setting, enough for Samael to see where he was going. He took out his cock and aimed stream of piss down the toilet. He almost moaned in satisfaction as his bladder finally emptied. He washed his hands and watched his reflection in the mirror.

Samael finally removed the contact lenses. His suddenly purple eyes were staring back at him. He noticed the few strands of hair growing from his face, he thought about doing it in the morning, but he was filthy. He needed a shower.

Finally finished, he placed the box with his contacts in the cabinet and jumped into the shower. The warm water gently bathing his skin, relaxing his mind from the dark thoughts that started invading. He was worried about the series of tests that were about to pave his way into the future. If he did them poorly, well ... he shook despite the warm temperature. The thought of failure was pushed away, fast. Failure wasn’t an option.

Samael looked at the plasma screen as his results were shown. He aced all of his courses that week. Social Studies were resounding success. The only one remaining before he could graduate was one of the hardest, most important, in the life of a Martian. Combat readiness.

Dressed in his most formal suit, that the school allowed, he went to look for the classroom where the test was supposed to be held.

The names of this subject varied from school to school; widely known as Combat 101, as it was necessary to get any person ready for future military service. One would join the military and spend no less than 4 years of service of Her Majesty the Empress.

He moved through the crowd before he was stopped by several people waiting for their turn in front of a closed door. Strangely he was the only one dressed formally. Just as always, he was particular about first impressions. Better safe, than sorry.

Everyone from his class waited for their names to be called, no one exited so far, which further puzzled the small group of people. The classroom assigned for the duty was numbered 100. The furthest in their building and the least used.

He tried to mingle and talk with some of them people, but felt he was being ostracized by them. So he kept to the side. His nerves slowly taking over.

He waited number of minutes between names. Sometimes as long as half an hour. Others as low as 5 minutes. Samael tried to see pattern in the names, but there was none. Alphabetical, numerical or gender. People were being called of all races, sexes and types of names.

Finally, he was the last one out of the group of 30 people, “Samael van Ryn,” he heard a melodic female voice call him over the intercom.

He could feel his heart beat in his throat as he entered the door. A large looking hall with several mats, tables and combat military paraphernalia were lined up.

“God day, sirs,” he managed to say over the constant thumping in his ears.

There were 4 men and 4 women. Their ranks varied from a trooper to largest rank of a captain, held by one patient looking woman. All were dressed lightly. A door on the other end of the vast room closed. He wondered where the others were but proceeded to walk towards the eight people standing in the middle of the room. Samael stood at attention before them. He didn’t dare do anything other than stand firm. Saluting as a civilian, he thought, was frowned upon.

“Hmm, I think you should get dressed in something more informal,” one female stated, she shortly left to dig around a bag and pulled a black T-shirt and pants.

One sergeant glared at Samael, “Why have you dressed so formally?”

Samael’s head lowered, but his voice was firm, “I haven’t asked what I should wear for today. To avoid any ire of my peers I came dressed formally, as usual.”

The sergeant seemed to nod, “Good answer.”

Samael wanted to ask what he meant, but held his tongue. He was handed the clothes and pair of training shoes.

“Get dressed,” a female trooper spat.

Samael took a glance around the room and saw nothing resembling a cover or a room that would allow him to put their clothes on so he started undressing before them. He shrugged his clothes one by one.

His clothes finally off, he took few minutes to fold and press them so they wouldn’t wrinkle. He arranged them; shirt, tie, tux, pants, shoes and socks. The issued clothes were easy to put on. Made out of a stretchy material he calculated there was a chance he would be doing some workouts.

“Why did you took your clothes off in front of us,” the female captain finally asked.

Samael quickly snapped to attention, “Sir – Ma’am, I figured no cover or room and you didn’t tell me where to go to dress, it meant I was to dress right here.”

She said nothing more, however, the sergeant quickly took over, “Grab a pair of gloves that fit you and head guard, there is a clean mouthpiece in the white bin.”

Samael’s hands were shaking; he barely could fit his mouthpiece as he fumbled the object several times trying to place it inside his mouth. His head guard was a bit restricting, but he figured it should be as to protect him from damage.

He turned and saw a young male trooper getting prepared. Samael copied his movements and tried to warm his muscles up.

“Ok, this is just to see what sort of level are you. If you lose in 1 second or 10 minutes means very little. Begin!” The captain said.

The trooper rushed without any thought. Samael quickly put up a guard and tried to endure. He was mercilessly hit from all sides.

He noticed a pattern going on and begun predicting the hits that were going to come. Left hook. Low kick. High kick. Straight jab.

He smiled. A straight jab was coming. He prepared himself to grab that extended hand and throw him over his shoulder.

All of it fell apart as a bomb rocked him to his core. Samael’s whole body stung with the shock as he tried to process what had happened. His arms were limp by his side. Samael was no longer able to lift them up as strange tingling ran up and down his limbs.

The trooper wound his fist for a final knock out.

Samael gritted his teeth and charged the trooper with all his might. His arms limp, but his will was burning bright. The trooper was faster and more trained. Samael prepared for the inevitable defeat when a sudden whistle stopped their fight.

Trooper bowed, “Thank you for this fight.”

Samael dropped to the floor finally exhaling, “Fuck me!”

“Next,” The female captain yelled.

Samael’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, a tiny woman was getting ready. A petite woman that rolled her joints and muscles to warm them. She jumped in place and waited for Samael to get ready. His eyes went wide.

He got up, barely having time to put his guard up, “Let’s go.”

“Start,” the sergeant snapped and waved his hand.

If anything the woman was faster and hit harder than her counterpart. He lost the count of how many hits he had endured, but eventually it stopped. Everything was in pain. Especially his forearms. They couldn’t be felt.

However, the procession continued.

Next, was a burly man 7 feet tall. Only, Samael didn’t last as long, but with mere one strike he found himself bending over and vomiting all over the floor. Somehow the giant’s strength plowed through his guard. He wanted to tap out, to give up and go home. Hide under bed and cry.

Yet, Samael felt he could go on. He rose to his feet, unsteady, but willing to prove he wasn’t about to back down.

“Fuck that,” he spat, careful not to be heard by the giant man.

He wasn’t about to let anyone scare him like that. He wasn’t some babe clutching to his momma’s tits whenever someone sneezed.

As the giant stood in line the sergeant turn was next, he grinned menacingly as he watched Samael’s body shake with exhaustion and pain. The man started cracking his knuckles, watching what Samael might do.

The young man was about to keel over any moment, but he was still standing. The captain watched Samael with a glint in her eye.

Samael watched the older man lunge at him, yet even though he could see him, his arms and legs were useless. A whistle sounded suddenly.

“All right, enough ... We’re done here. You did great Mr. van Ryn,” the captain said as he slowly dropped to the ground.

“Thank God,” he breathed out, “I thought I was about to die.”

The group smiled, “You’ll be an amazing soldier of the Imperium,” the giant grinned and showed his white teeth as the compliment left his mouth.

His deep voice echoed in the room, the captain nodded her head, “You have other tests waiting for you.”

Samael nodded and rose to his shaky feet, “I got it ... Do I change clothes?”

The captain shook her head, “Just follow the path.”

As he left the group behind, and the doors closed, Samael breathed a giant sigh of relief, “Holy fuck that was intense.”

He stepped in the outdoor range where he spent many of his days practicing with a small group of students from his class. Samael remembered targets flying high into the sky and piercing them with his laser pistol. Somehow, someway; Samael had a strange knack for all types of weapons. No matter what they were, old or new, laser guided bolt of super-heated led or a wooden arrow; Samael found the various weapons a joy to operate. The instructors were almost giddy with excitement trying to find ways of making him miss. However, to their horrors, he never did.

Tables were laid in the middle. The walls of the firing range were now removed. He spotted variety of guns, swords, shields, bows and everything from bludgeoning weapons to throwing knives. Weapons were neatly arranged, cleaned and ready for use. He was familiar with most of them, but he felt the most joy operating with laser rifles, blaster guns and hijai – a laser vibro-knife that could cut through toughest of steel. What can a person do when he’s thrown into a well with nothing but his wit.

He saw a short stout man, standing in front of students. He had scars all over his head and face. Once he might’ve looked handsome, but now Samael wondered how he got those scars.

The man nodded towards Samael, “Ah ... The last candidate has joined us. It’s nice to finally see the group has assembled. We’ll about to start our part of the test. These weapons are or were part of the Imperium – at one point or another. We demanded of you, through your curriculum, that you get to know each of them intimately. Now, you shall show us what you can remember. Your targets are inside this maze here...” he hit a wall with his hand and a hidden door opened, “You shall work as a team of 5. Your job is to eliminate everything. The team that wins gets the ultimate prize. What that prize is; well you’ll have to win to find out,” his voice suddenly grew low and menacing.

Before Samael could ask how the groups were formed, several plasma screens appeared and showed list of names on each of them. Several screens later he noticed that the people were grouping in front of the screens; he assumed the people were going towards where their names were shown. Very soon he too spotted his own.

In front of the screen were many of his more intellectual peers who looked bruised and battered. Their combat wounds of the previous test. Samael thought the warriors testing him might’ve pulled their punches on him. The group was a sad sight. He wondered if they could even lift a gun up and fight. Samael shook his head, the thought of scrutinizing his own classmates had never been so important. He’d usually refrain from doing so, but something told him this test was more than the man had said. His words bore a strange hint of danger to them.

“I’m Samael, how’re you doing,” he simply said and watched one of 4 other young men lift his head up.

His eyes were glassy. The young man obviously cried while waiting.

“Yeah, yeah ... Grab a gun and let’s get this over with. I’m going home after this shit,” the young man said and took one of the maces.

Samael noticed the man dragged the mace behind him, unwilling or unable to lift it up fully. The name indicated Samael was to be a mere ‘Trooper’, he swallowed any objection and derision he thought to voice towards the unmotivated man.

He grabbed a laser bolt rifle and draped it over his shoulders, he took the vibro-knife as well and adjusted the harness around his hips. He remembered his instructors would always drill him on and on, what to take, how much and what one might need.

“Preparation, preparation and preparation,” he remembered the three chants his tormentors would always yell as he ran circles around the gym.

“Plenty of weapons. Take what you can carry,” the man menacingly advised in his deep voice.

He grabbed two ammo packs and a bag which he placed the ammo in, a canteen of water and a med kit were on another table and both went into his bag. The bag was slung around his shoulders and he proceeded to wait for his comrades to finish their own inventory.

However, no one took the time to take anything, but their weapons and several ammo packs.

He stood watching as most of the men were bragging about how many kills they will get. The idiocy of youth.

The few women were anxiously looking around for someone to help them. Samael’s leader was busy in his own world slashing away at something ethereal, showing to the crowd how strong he truly is.

“Over here! Take the bag, 2 ammo packs and a med kit,” Samael felt his face burning, but it was better than letting these people killed.

The people swarmed and took the supplies. Some were so frantic that they were taking more than they could carry.

“Easy. Everyone, you only need 2 ammo packs and a med kit. You shouldn’t need more,” Samael advised, but very few listened.

Finally, everyone was ready and waiting for the stout man to start the test. Several men quickly harnessed their swords around their hips.

Several doors opened and he yelled, “Start!”

The students swarmed inside as quickly as they could. Samael stood to the back and waited for his own team to proceed. He followed the last in the line, his gun pointed towards the ground. His finger off the trigger. Like he was taught by his instructors. Most of the large group dispersed in random directions of the maze. Motivated only be their greed.

The walls were wide enough for two people to walk side by side, just barely. Lifting his gun and firing would be another matter altogether. Elbows would mash together making the firing harder for everyone. In these circumstances one would adapt and overcome.

“Right,” the leader barked and he followed.

A low growl could be heard further inside, an unpleasant scent in the air. The leader suddenly stopped and turned away from where the noise was coming from, his actions almost mechanical, “Let’s – let’s head back.”

The leader ran for his life, they followed behind him. As they did several metallic targets jumped from the walls. Samael knelt on the ground, his instructors’ training taking over. He could see their spittle coming from their mouths as they screamed their orders. A mirage that guided his senses. The laser rifle hit dead center on all of the five targets and one by one they retreated back into the wall itself.

The growling continued, eventually it became moaning. The scent of rotting flesh permeated the air. He wondered what else was there with them.

His leader was now searching franticly, “Where’s the exit?!”

As he said that, a bipedal creature emerged from the darkened path. The scent of rotting flesh was almost nauseating. Samael wrinkled his nose and watched the strange monstrosity limp towards them.

“GOD! Let me out,” The young man cried and dropped his weapon on the ground.

Samael dropped to one knee and took aim, whatever this creature was, his bolt rifle was about to test its resilience. The bullet from the rifle was heated to a staggering 5000 degrees Celsius. The strange metal protected his hands from the heat. The supper heated bullet left the barrel at near light speed and finally punctured the creature’s head. The being slumped lifelessly to the floor without further sound. The only trace from the superheated missile was the tiny smoke emanating from the creature’s wound.

The young man finally regained his composure and collapsed to the floor. Piss and shit permeating from the man. Samael wrinkled his nose, but understood. The fear seeing the creature, let alone its smell was enough to drive him insane.

Another young man stood next to the dazed man on the ground, “Good Lord. Psychic attack?”

Samael shook his head, “Doubt it. Most likely nerves. None of us were influenced. Although I might retch almost any minute, the stench is too much.”

He sighed, remembering one of his instructors’ words he stated, “I’m taking command; our leader is unable to give orders. We’re moving on,” he pointed to the two men watching the creature ooze blood from its perforated head, “You two take him and help him walk. We’re leaving no one behind.”

Maze gave all of them a good workout as neither group managed to find the exit. As they advanced Samael’s group managed to take out the most targets that appeared and proceeded to save several members of other groups that were stranded or left behind in the maze. He led a strong force of 20 people before they found a group of 5 females lost inside the maze.

“Are you ok,” Samael asked as he approached closer.

The young woman nodded, “Yeah, got lost and was retracing our steps.”

“Yeah there are two paths that branch out behind us, but all of those were dead ends,” Samael explained.

She nodded yet again, for a moment she seemed hesitant as if judging if Samael was to be trusted, “We’re about to go in this corridor,” she pointed.