WARHAMMER 40,000: A Thousand Tiny Suns (40k/Exalted Crossover!)

You put your fingers against your temples, stepping away from Kit purely so you could think clearly. It was like there was some natural groove of a relationship between you and Cain and Kit, that you had all fallen into without thinking. You'd heard old fireteams were like this, if they had survived a mission or two, and started to operate together. A term floated in your head.

Circle.

You frowned. There were memories that weren't yours, dreams that weren't yours, relationships that...maybe you really had been possessed...but then the thought of what if Kit and you were just from some demon hit you and made you more terrified than you ever, ever, ever wanted to admit. The very idea made your stomach cramp and your throat go dry. You breathed in and out, slowly, carefully. Stay calm, 41. Stay calm. You turned back to face Cain and Kit. Cain was posing pompously and Kit had his hands in his pockets. It felt so...familiar...and almost comforting...it made you want to smile behind your mask.

Instead, you shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest - and Emperor Above, if that wasn't familiar too.

"We have to see the rest of the command staff," you said, firmly. "M-Maybe you can convince them that we're not traitors too?"

"Maybe I can!" Cain said, brightening. "After all, we have served together for months now and they all..." She paused, then nodded. "T-They all were very impressed with my service!"

"Were they, thought?" you asked.

"Yes!" she snapped, in a way you were almost positive meant...no. You grinned behind your mask.

When the three of you stepped into the brig proper, you saw the surviving officers were each in their own cells. There was the Mordian commander - a large, muscular man with a strange growth on his lip that bent sharply upwards at the tips, which he had kept neat despite his current condition. He prowled back and forth in the cell like a caged Kit. Next to him was your officer, 9-19. She sat in her cell, motionless, her mask still tight to her face. Next to her was the commander of the Scintillians who looked the most hard done by. The Fusiliers had had a remarkably fancy uniform, with high hats and red and gold all over them. Well, most of the gold had been ripped off and ragged rents covered his red jacket, revealing the white undershirt beneath, like a weird inversion of a man hit by stubberfire. He was laying flat on his cot, staring up at the ceiling.

The last of them was the Cadian. He had purple eyes, like Kit, and raven black hair, and your brain kept wanting to think he looked like Kit, despite the fact that on closer inspection, he was really nothing alike at all. It was the eyes and the hair, really. You frowned intently, while Cain stepped forward. "Fellow officers, I have returned with good news!"

The men and women all looked at her.

"Who are you?" the Cadian asked.

"I'm Amberly Cain!" she said, puffing up her chest. "Your doughty and dependable Regimental Commissar! I have returned from the depths of despair and darkness to bring news of a glorious dawn of victory and triumph!"

The four officers all glowered at her. 9-19 stood, then walked to her bars. "Our Regimental Commissar died on the first day of the fighting, as a hero. This is a sick joke." She pointed past Cain to you. "41-22, how can you dare to hide your face from your crimes?" Her voice was bitter. "You wearing that sickens me."

"I-I..." you stammered, your stomach tightening as the furious tones crept into your brain, like worms, wriggling.

Kit stepped past Cain. "Well, wait, Commander Quinn, do you recognize me?"

"Hey Kit," the Cadian said.

"Fhew," Kit said. "I think it's just you, Cain. 9-19 recognizes 41-22, and my cuz recognizes me."

"Hurm!" Cain said, rubbing her chin. "Maybe it's because I am not related to any of them, unlike the byzantine family trees of the Cadians, nor the vile machine-vat clone laboratories of fallen Krieg!"

"Hey!" you said. "Uterine Replicators aren't cloning!" They can just be used for cloning, you thought.

Kit sighed. "So, Commander Quinn, I know that this has all been really crazy, none of us has expected this. But...frak it, I'm not gonna mince words, or dance around what I think is going on here." He nodded. "I think I've been chosen by the Emperor. To protect her." He pointed at you - and made your tummy do summersaults and backflips. "And her." He pointed at Cain. "Since they're both important enough. He appeared to me, saved me from the fire at the aid station. He gave me these powers. That's gotta mean something, sir."

His words were firm and intent. The Scintillian had sat up from his torpor, frowning as he listened to this. The Mordian man crossed his arm over his chest, frowning. "Can you prove this Emperor gift?" he asked, his accent very thick.

9-19 shook her head. "They can't," she said.

"Um, I, uh, built a lance battery," you said. "An entire lance battery."

9-19 was silent for a long moment.

"...you did?"

The four officers stood on a hill, looking down on the massive beam weapon, its barrel lifting into the sky, the huge rotary turret it was trussed on surrounded by plasma genratoria and tents for the operating crew. The entire army was entrenched around it, and they had been working on building out the lines of slit trenches and firing lines and sandbags since the day had started. Clamoring voices came from the mess halls, and the faint sound omniatic prayers from the Tech-Priests sang out quietly. 9-19's shoulders were slack in shock, while Commander Quinn whistled slowly.

"Well, damn," he said. "That's a lance battery, alright."

"Technically, it's a single lance weapon," the Mordian said.

"A-Actually it's a quick firing rapid spool lance, on par with a doubled Titanforge, which means it, um..." You trailed off as they all looked at you. You coughed behind your mask.

"I think you might be blessed by the Omnisiah," Commander Quinn said. "Not the Emperor."

"Well, yeah, I am," you said. "Kit never said I was blessed by the Emperor. He just said he was. I'm...important." Saying that made you feel dirty.

9-19 shook her head slowly. "You are not Kreig..." she whispered.

But it wasn't condemnatory anymore. It was...wondering. Awed.

You took a step backwards. "N-No, I am! I just want to serve! I'm not special!" You said, hurriedly.

"No, I see what Kit says," 9-19 said. "You have been blessed by something greater. Emperor? Omnisiah? Maybe both, I don't know theology. But I do know us, as well as you do. You have been lifted from our people. Made...exalted above us." She nodded. "You are not Krieg anymore."

This felt almost worse than the condemnations.

---
As a note, no matter what you choose, the recon force will arrive next update
[ ] "Yes i am! I'm just...gonna...do stuff. Anyway! Looks like the recon forces are."
[ ] Accept that you may not be exactly Kreig anymore...and take off your mask. Of course, it's still very muddy and...there's lots of grit on the wind, so, you'll put these goggles and maybe a cloth cover over your mouth and nose!
[ ] She's right. You're not Krieg anymore. You're...
STATS
Health: Fine
Anima: Dim
Willpower: 5/5
Personal Motes: 13/13 | Peripheral Motes: 28/28 (Committed Motes: 5)
Limit: 1/10 (Trigger: Being stymied by indulges around her)
XP: 2 | Solar XP: 4
Major Projects: 0/5
SXP: 46 | GXP: 15 | WXP: 3