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This story is quite different from the other that I have posted on Dakka. It is more character driven than plot driven. This entire thing started out as an experiment to mix third and first person points of view. I hope you enjoy! Reviews are welcomed and encouraged!

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Cheap Warp Drives

+++++Let me start off by say that if you have captured and are reading this, then you have not only taken it from my cold, dead fingers, you also have managed to translate it using the cipher phrase that I was never dumb enough to leave any clues for. Congratulations and Emperor damn you.

This is the log of a heretic hunt, one that I plan on taking much pleasure in. Some of this log will be deleted for it will also second as a journal.

As a hero of the Imperium, I have been cooped up on my desk for far too long and yearn for the glory of battle again. However, as I look around me, I realize that this might not be a very glorious undertaking. I am undercover in the Imperial guard, to investigate a series of very unfortunate events that fellow inquisitors suspect to be the workings of the Istvaniaans.

They do not know who I am, my image is well known, but my actual face is not. I am disguised as a Scintillan high born who joined the IG after the family went bankrupt. This is not extremely far from the truth. I was a Scintillan high born, my father was an adviser to a family there and my mother is a Sister Famulous. While it was expected to follow in her footsteps, at one point in my life I witnessed an event that convinced me that I wanted to be a witch hunter, and perhaps one day an Inquisitor. I realized that being a sister of battle was a quicker route to that goal and I did indeed achieve it.

I have been very successful in my time with the holy ordos and have taken out many foes and threats to mankind. I have a nose for big fish and large cases. This has made me unpopular at times, so when that happens I will lay low and try undercover missions while things cool down. This is my second time as a guard.

I have brought with me only one acolyte. Weston is the physician, surgeon and well… let's just say I pay him quite a bit to keep me in one piece. We use to rarely get along, he would constantly scold and swear at me for not taking better care of myself. I keep copies of my own organs on stand buy at the manor (it helps to be good friends of a Magos Biologis who owes you favors) and Doc makes constant use of them. Until recently…

This part will come out of the official log, but I must once again remind myself that I am a recovering alcoholic. I was in denial for years, almost a decade. And… my liver gave out. It is terrifying when you can take on the worst daemons of the warp, but your own body caves in on itself. Although I hate myself for letting it get that bad, wallowing in angst will do nothing for it.

I have to be careful now, after so many transplants, by body is starting to reject any additional replacements, even if they are clones of my old ones. If I do not slow it down some, I will forever have to make do with bionics. I do not like them though, the emperor was once a man and needed no bionics to do his will. I am determined to keep that legacy and not rely on them either.

As Doc took care of me, I began to see a softer side of him and… well… let's say we are friends. It could be more but we are two very jaded people. There a reasons I started drinking.

I don't get to write like this, I have too many secrets that could get out. I guess this is looking more like a journal than a mission log. Very well, I will accept it for what it is. Maybe it will help me-+++++

The ship shuttered and several people grunted as they were disturbed from whatever mindless activity they had been occupying themselves with. Doc sat down next to 'Verna' on the cot and scratched his short, salt and pepper beard. "This has been a rough warp trip." He grunted, looking around.

The quarters had been crammed with cots and there was very little personal space. There was some sort of cough and a fever that was going around. It was nothing fatal, but was definitely making the trip more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

Verna cleared her throat and felt something wet rattle around as she did so. The quarters were warm so she was down to her slacks and tank top. "This is no luxury ship." She agreed, her eyes falling on the commissar who was slowly pacing around.

Doc frowned at the cough and put a hand to the side of her face. "You are warm."

Verna shrugged. "It will pass. I'm not really use to being around so many people. I'm not surprised that I have caught it."

He nodded and glanced at the red, leather bound journal. "That's nice." He grunted.

"Mission log. Or if the commissar asks, a journal." She said, offering it to him.

He took it in his rough hands and nimbly ran his fingers over it, paying attention to the details before opening it and looking over the words. "You've encoded it."

"I'd be dumb not too."

Weston nodded and handed it back to her, carefully sliding it under the blankets as the commissar walked past. "I would be careful about letting him see it until we know what type he is."

With a nod, she agreed and pulled out her copy of the Infantryman's Uplifting Lies. Westin insisted she lied down before stalking off.

Grabbing the journal once more, she added.

+++++Blasted cheap warp drives. This is going to be a long journey. Are we there yet?+++++

Awesome , you have a knack for creating some interesting characters. I find myself liking a lot of them , keep it up!

I would warn you that i don't think you've quite got enough in this initial post to hook people in. I try to shy away from unhelpful words like 'boring' but no real drama was introduced, if the fever is a plot-point i don't think it is sold well enough. Down to brass tacks you've got a girl who's got a cold on a spaceship, with an unclear goal and destination. It would have to be Booker prize winning writing to make that scenario exciting or at least something more descriptive/expressive.

As i hope you'll understand it's not really badly written there's just not enough and, arguably, it's not that well paced.

I am not sure how well Sisters using such vernacular language and stripping to their undies flies but then again She's undercover and it's her private journal.

In short, post some more.

Thank you Mithami, I am flattered! I'll get back to Lost Child again, but I tend to have Story ADD!

Perkustin, you have several fine points. This is a story that is slow winding up, but does get there. (I've got a few chapters written already.) I have no idea what you mean by undies, though, since the most undressed anyone had been is a tank top and issued pants. If you'll let me know where the confusion happened, I will be happy to fix it! I do enjoy the feedback, thank you. (Edit: I figured it out!! In the UK pants are what we in the US call underwear! Pants = Trousers. She is in trousers and a tank top!)

Let us continue. I shall post the next two chapter since number two ended up being very short.

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Cheaper Air Scrubbers

+++++ I have completely lost track of time. Chrons appear to be scarce and I can only guess at the date. It has been a week since my last entry and I've still not talked much to the others. I've been sluggish and not been feeling up to even doing some basic exercises, I will blame the low nourished food. I deeply crave the tables full of food that would be waiting for me back at the manor.

A very small part of me wonders why I even volunteered for this, but I am actually thankful for the break in the norm. My scribe, Lanus, will take care of most of my paper work while I am away so I do not even worry about that. (Not that I ever actually worry about paper work.)

There is a thrill, I must admit, to looking the commissar in the eye as he fusses and wondering how much he would grovel if he knew who I was. It is a mental abuse of my power, and I admit to being a slightly petty person for even entertaining the idea but…. There isn't much else to do.+++++

Verna peeled the sheets that clung to her skin back and grunted as she shifted her weight. Her whole body shook and ached. Doc and the one other medical officer had been busy and brutally tasked with caring for all of the sick on their own. Still he found time to visit Verna fairly regularly.

He sat down on the side of her bed and took her temperature with a tenderness that she had not seen since her liver transplant. Opening an eye, she looked up at his rough face and smirked.

"Stoic as ever." She commented.

"Says you. You are still trying to convince me that you are not ill." He smirked and took a washcloth out of his kit and wet it with his own canteen.

"Samuel, you don't have to do that." She grunted, annoyed at the waste.

He didn't answer, but folded it up and laid it over her forehead. It felt cool as it sucked heat from her head causing her to be begrudgingly thankful.

They sat quietly for a moment more as he poured some water from her canteen into a cup.

"Make sure you drink, I'll come back and check on you later." Doc said and left the bedside after running his hand over hers.

++++ When Samuel (Doc) sleeps, he has been sleeping in the bunk above mine, or slumped off reading on the floor beside the bed. He has the immune system of a beast and seems completely unconcerned about getting ill besides wearing his face mask. I found my fingers running through his hair without me directly commanding them to do so. I think I yearn for the company. It has been a long time since I have had a lover.

My dreams are fevered and I wake up tangled in sheets every night. I am not use to being ill like this. It is miserable. I will be well again soon though, this bug has only killed one person and they were of poor health anyways. I am an Imperial Inquisitor of the Emperor's Holy Inquisition. I will not be defeated by a silly bug. ++++

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The Commissar's Lesson in Humility

++++ Another week or so has passed and I am feeling much better. I am back to my normal self and am eating well and back to physical training. Most of the others are back on their feet as well and the commissar is making sure that we are not idle. We have many chores and work out routines, but I must admit that it is sparring time that is my personal favorite.

Even after a word of caution from Weston, I am still mostly undefeated, I see that the commissar itches to take me on and I would take great pleasure in it. I glance at him after every victory, wondering if he will take the challenge.

I am a tall woman, I look most men in the eyes when I am not in power armor and I take great pride in my martial prowess. I am not the cleverest or even the wisest Inquisitor, but I am one of the better fighters. Not many have taken on as many daemons and great foes of mankind as I have.

I stand tall and my athletic build only has a few scars. The others have faded with rejuvenat treatments. Thanks to those, I look to be in my 30's although I am about double that. It is because of my encounters with the beings of the warp that my hair is naturally white. It happened when I was an interrogator, but I was proven clean of mind and spirit. Most people think it is dyed as a throwback to my days with the sororitas. Let them think what they will. However, when I go undercover, I make sure it is black and cut even shorter than usual. I do not want to risk being recognized. Not that I would expect anyone here to know my face, but it is better to be safe than sorry.+++++

The sparring ring had been set up for the day, much to Verna's delight. Finding Weston in the crowd, she came of behind him and put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Who do you think I get to spar today?" she chuckled in his ear.

"If you had any sense, Verna, you would lose a couple more. You're awfully tough for a spiritual leader." He grunted.

"In the Imperium we value strength, why shouldn't I be able to kick some ass?" she said.

"You've attracted the commissar's attention." He growled under his breath.

"Good, I bet he needs a little humility." She whispered back.

"He is not the only one, Viktoria. Be careful." His voice was a whisper but his tone was grave.

They watched as several of the others sparred, there were close calls as well as sweeping victories.

++++ Sparring started out enjoyable, today. The commissar watched me very carefully and was glaring at my every move. As normal, when we finished a spar I would cast a glance at him. A light and playful challenge. Once again, I made it to the final round, but instead of the other victor, the commissar called another in.++++

"Captain?" he asked, lightly. "Would you be so kind as to spar the chaplain?"

The captain nodded and stepped into the ring with me, casting a smirk over at the commissar.

+++I had thought that if I defeated the captain that finally the commissar would take my challenge. The captain was good, he landed a few solid hits on me, and I only let the first one in. He hit hard and fast, like I do. I landed a fair number as well. We were both panting with bloody noses by the time we were grappling, it was a brilliant fight. Finally I managed to get the rubber knife at his neck and win the match. My victory did not last long though…+++

Verna and the captain untangled and nodded to each other. She had offered a hand to help him up, but he looked away and scrambled out of the ring. Verna looked to the commissar and raised an eyebrow with a smirk. This just made him even more angry.

"Sergeant Verna Ray, what does the primer say about striking an officer?"

Verna froze, not quite able to comprehend if the commissar was joking or not.

"Answer my question, Sergeant."

"Flogging then execution." She said quietly.

"That is correct." He said stalking around her like a hawk, his heels clicking on the floor.

Verna rolled the possibilities over in her head as she listened for him to draw his bolt pistol. She was ready to spring and defend herself. Cover be damned, she was not going to die for the mission like this.

"Now being as this was a sparring match, you will not be shot, however…." He let the word hang in the air. "You did not hesitate to hit your commanding officer."

"I did no—"

"I did not give you permission to speak sergeant!" the commissar snapped.

"You are a fine fighter, but you are arrogant and disrespectful. For this, you will be lashed."

++++ Apparently my meeting the commissar's eyes every time we looked at one another had been taken as a different kind of challenge.

Had this been forty years ago, I would have whirled around and decked the commissar for such an act of what felt like treachery. But as hands seized me and drug me over to the whipping pole, I reconsidered. This mission was important, and I was not being shot.

I was livid though, my ears were hot with the fury of the emperor and my pride was being wrenched at as they prepared me for the lashings. This is not my first lashing. I was a hot headed youth as a sister of battle and my temper got me in trouble more than once. The Canoness still hates me to this day.

As when I was with the sisters, I let each lash count for a sin that actually deserved the purifying pain. I am no stranger to pain and I am no stranger to sin. Over forty years without a lashing left me much to be penitent about.

I did not yell, I only counted. Occasionally my willpower would fail me and a grunt would escape my gritted teeth. I have taken wounds that would kill most men and have felt the poisons of the dark eldar so I have been in much worse pain. But this was humiliating and still hurt like hell. Used to pain or not, I could still tell when a shard of glass would grab my skin and tear it as it withdrew.

When it was over, the commissar said something, but I refused to hear it. I did hear him call for a medic. Samuel was at my side in an instant, his hands gently grabbed to help me up, but I pulled away.

"Don't. Not yet." Was all I said, it was an order and he followed it despite being my senior in his hellhole.

They handed me my clothes back and I put them on like normal. My back was hot and sticky with blood, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they had hurt me. I stood and turned to everyone. I had several spectators and they were all silent in awe. That, that was my victory. I strutted like I always do past the crowd and back towards the bunks. Samuel took my arm and steered me into a 'clean room' that he had constructed in part of the cargo bay with sheets and a table.++++

Half Equipped

Doc steered Viktoria (Verna) past the curtain and onto the cold table. They were alone and could talk freely. He peeled the clothes off her torso with a small bit of force. She grunted and grabbed the table.

"It's your own fault for putting them back on. Stupid, is what it was and stupid for pissing off the commissar. " He snapped. Viktoria found herself almost as uncomfortable from his anger as she was from her back.

He pulled the rest of her clothes off and snapped on a pair of gloves. "Stupid. Just what we need, more open wounds for infections. I tell you, we lose more men to infection than the enemy." He barked, any movement he made that was not touching her was sharp and rough.

"This is going to take forever to patch up!" he continued. "Throne knows this is not the worst you have had, but I'm not even as half equipped as I usually am. I'm getting soft with all of your fancy equipment, Viktoria."

"When I found you in the slums you didn't have it. I keep…." She paused. "I pay you for your talent not your ability to use fancy equipment."

"Yeah… well… it sure makes things easier." He grunted. "For example, at home, I would just slap some synth-skin on here and be done with it. Even though you'd turn it down, you masochist, I'd have pain medication for you too."

His fingers moved over her back as he cleaned every open cut carefully. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." He kept repeating. "You'd better let me clean these every day. If you get a serious infection here, we'd have to call off the operation to get you treated properly."

"I took that beating for the operation, having you clean this is a pretty small price now." She grimaced.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a long moment.

"Not too bad. Pain like this reminds me that I'm alive." She said with a smirk.

Doc shook his head. "You're so stubborn, at the end it looked like you were enjoying it. Did you smile?"

"No, I was just letting it whip away forty years of sin."

"Just watching that might have whipped away forty years off of my life."

Viktoria glanced over her shoulder at him, puzzled. His face as stony as ever.

"You might be almost dead to pain, but watching you being torn open like that… they might as well have been flogging me instead."

"Samuel…." Viktoria said, taking his wrist and turning around.

He pulled out of her touch and turned her back around. "Stay still, I have to hand stitch some of these. We've got a job here, if this is the worst thing I've got to see you go through then we should be alright."

"Sorry, Doc, but we're only just getting started. We've still got to fight corrupt members of the inquisition. They are highly trained just like you and I to inflict some serious damage. I'm often lucky, but don't bet this is the worst knick I'll get."

"I've watched you get punctured, gutted and sliced for ten years now. It's nothing I can't handle."

"Yes, but…" Viktoria took a pregnant pause. "..how long have you cared like this?"

Weston might have replied, but the distinct click of heels on the floor interrupted him. Seconds later the commissar flung back the curtain with a smug smirk. "So this is where you limped off to."

"More like I was drug here by the medic." She grunted.

"Yes, he was quite worried through the whole ordeal." The commissar drawled.

Viktoria felt the hand that was steadying the stitching, tighten on her shoulder. She started to turn to look at the commissar but was held very firmly in place by Doc's hand. "Don't move." He ordered.

"There is really no point to it, Doctor." The commissar said with a smirk. "With an attitude like hers she won't last long. Next time my discipline will be more permanent too, seeing as this one didn't even get a single yell out of her."

Doc didn't answer, his grip only tightened further and he leaned in to focus harder on his stitching.

"You know, sergeant, I can't help but feel that you actually wanted to spar me." He said slowly.

"You would have been the best opponent on the ship." Verna agreed.

"Do you honestly think you could have beaten me?" he asked.

"I do. But I now know that it is out of the question." She grimaced again as Doc's needle dug a little deeper.

The commissar chuckled and scratched his short beard. "If you are still so confidant in your abilities, then how about we have at it. Right now, just you and me."

"I would not advise this, Sergeant." Doc said sharply. "There are several reasons why that it is a bad idea that can be added to the fact that I am not yet done stitching you up."

"How about this, I'll even promise not to punish you for hitting a commanding officer. Other than the beating you'll get in the fight." The commissar added. "Or have you had enough?"

"Weston, if you please will close up this stitch, the commissar has a job for me." Verna said, her blood obviously hot.

"Verna…" Doc intoned warningly.

"We can finish after the commissar and I are done." Verna said evenly. "This won't take long."

The commissar chuckled. "No, it won't. You'll get her back shortly."

Weston took his time closing off the last stitch. The second he pulled away Verna re-hooked her bra and threw on her shirt on. Her boots hit the floor with a determined thud and she strutted over to the commissar who lead her into the center of the cargo bay.

"So how are we doing this… sir? Points? First blood? Ring out, though, we are lacking a ring." Verna asked, stretching her arms and testing how far her stitches would let her move. She ached all over and her body just didn't seem as responsive as normal.

"It will be over when I say it is over." He said, starting to unhook his coat. "Quite frankly, you are one of those types that need to be beaten into submission. I could have you shot just for the way you've been looking at me. Like a good stallion I will just have to break you the old fashioned way. You could be a great solider, Verna Ray, but your arrogance and loathe for authority is going to get you killed. You'll be one of the best if you can just learn your place."

Throwing the coat aside he tossed his hat along with it. "So let's get started, solider."

Verna stalked around the commissar, taking a new measure of him. He was willing to risk one hell of a beating just to straighten out one of his men. Was it because he truly cared about his men and their moral or did he see a valuable asset and was just not wanting to shoot it. Perhaps he just got off on this sort of thing.

"What are you waiting for, chaplain? I see the fury of the emperor in your cold eyes and that is what I want to redirect. I'm not sure if you see me as a threat or what, but I intend to assure that I am not your enemy, but merely your superior." The commissar said, coaxing her towards him.

Her eyes narrowed, continuing to assess him. Doc was right, (and watching) she would have to be smart about this. He was actually bigger than her in every way except sheer determination. Rolling up onto the balls of her feet, the chaplain charged for her foe.

When she reached him, they apparently had the same idea, which was to throw the other on the floor. This ended up in the brief grapple that they both dropped for a series of exchanged punches. The commissar was extremely well trained, and blocked almost every hit. The ones that got through were insignificant.

He was swift and strong, Verna found herself pushing to keep up. Normally it would have been easier, but she had fought a lot earlier and years of desk work had made her soft. The fight quickly escalated when the commissar brought his feet into play. Every block of his kicks sent her stepping back.

Getting frustrated, Verna slipped into closer range with him, making effective kicks out of the question. She raised her fist to introduce it to his face when she felt her legs wrenched out from under her. Suddenly she was slammed on her back hard enough to actually make her howl in pain.

As he bent down to do Emperor-knows-what, her boot met his face sharply. He stumbled back, grabbing his face and swearing. Verna got to her feet but her legs were shaking and her back was on fire.

++++ At that point in time, I had no idea if I was going to win or not. I felt like lead and was sure that I had knocked a stitch loose. I was angry at being thrown on my back, but angrier that he had interrupted Samuel. I was an emotional as well as a physical wreck. I didn't know if I could win, but I was going to make damn sure the commissar had more than one mark to remember me by. There was one thing that I knew without a doubt: Samuel was going to give me hell for this.++++

Both panting and in pain, the two circled each other like wild cats.

"You're still standing." He commented, dropping his hand to revel a bloody nose and swollen eye. "Not had enough yet, huh?"

Verna wiped her mouth and shook her head.

"No, of course not." He said and this time took the charge. Verna braced to block, but he took her like a bull. He slammed her into a crate, her head bounced off the side with a snarl. He fought to throw her on the ground but she took him with her.

As dazed as she was, she heard his head hit the floor with a solid thump. Using him as an anchor, she heaved herself up just enough to land another blow to his face.

For a moment he didn't move. She was on top of him with her fist pulled back for another blow and waiting for a sign that he hadn't blacked out.

Quick as a wink, he grabbed her and got control of the grapple and reserved their positions. He pinned her with his knee in her gut and a hand on her shoulder.

Verna smirked. "Not had enough yet?"

His hand was suddenly on her throat and cutting off her wind pipe. "How about you?"

Grabbing his hands, she clawed and pushed to get free, but was not encouraging him to loosen his grip. "How about now?"

The spots that had been in front of her eyes since hitting her head (twice) started to thicken, but the more she pushed him off, the more weight he put on her throat. Trying to nod or say yes, she only managed to do was thrash.

Finally she relaxed, looking him dead in the eyes as the darkness took her.

Outstanding work! Well done and much praise to you!

Excellent . Verna doesn't seem too great at laying low,lol .

Thanks so very much guys! I can not humbly thank you enough! Your encouragement keeps my momentum going!
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Risky Involvement

Verna slowly felt herself slip back into the world, then became immediately aware of an obnoxiously bright light. Weston was over her and peeling her eyelids back to shine his flashlight into them.

"-oria… Viktoria." He said firmly.

Although her arm felt like a thousand pounds she swatted the light away. "I hear ya…."

"Oh good. Now I can start telling you how stupid that was. Can you stand?" he grunted.

"Yeah…" she croaked without moving.

"I'm waiting."

"Don't want to." She grunted.

"Don't want to or can't?" he asked, starting to worm his hands under her.

"Don't…" she protested as he started to lift her.

"Throne on Terra, woman! You're heavy!" he strained as he heaved her up.

"Stop…" she groaned, her dignity being knocked at with every step he took.

"Too late." He growled, kicking back the curtain and depositing her on the table, making sure she was on her side.

Peeling her shirt off again, he started poking and prodding her. "I was ordered to inform you that this was the last lesson and that you are to behave from now on. Something I actually agree with. Throne, you're stubborn as an ass. You just couldn't say no could you!"

"Sam—

"No, you don't get to 'Samuel' me." He grunted. "You get to sit here, in silence, while I chew you out and put you back together because you don't listen. Keeping you alive is a lot harder when you don't even use common sense."

++++It was the same speech I had heard a thousand times, but this time I actually deserved it. Weston served in the Imperial Guard for a long time, he knows about sacrifice and the need to defend others. Most of the time, I am not bringing this kind of thing on myself. Being in powerarmor frequently did make me a walking shield. I also know how to take a hit and keep going. Sometimes I take a hit for an ally out of penitence or simply because I know I can survive the wound a lot better than they can. There are, however, times where I just get myself backed into a corner with someone more skilled than I. I am not a very bright woman, but I am very lucky.

So I sat there listening to my surgeon verbally lash me up and down. He is one of two subordinates who can speak to me like this. (Other than them cheeky acolytes get reminded on their place with a black eye.)

My scribe, unlike my surgeon, does not usually abuse his power. He is my oldest friend but is a slave diver when it comes to paperwork. He has given me a beautiful godson and keeps my operations funded and stocked. I have never heard of an inquisitor being fired before (as in out of the job, I have personally put other inquisitors to the pyre), but without Lanus I am sure I would be the first.

Weston has been tearing into me from day one. I never punished it, I don't know why. Maybe I admired the fact that he had the balls to do so. Either way, he keeps me in one piece and actually gives a damn about my well being.

Before I knew it, I was sitting up and he was sewing my back up again.++++

"So when did you start caring?" Viktoria abruptly asked once he had run out of ways to repeat himself.

"From day one. If you die, I don't get paid." He grunted.

"You know that's not what I mean."

"Viktoria, this is hardly the time to talk about this. I'm so angry that I'm on auto-pilot here."

"Which it exactly why I am asking now. You and are such stoics, occasionally though, passion boils up and we find a fuel to keep going and…." Angry herself, she was unable to speak for a moment. "Basically what I am trying to say is that I am more likely to exhibit signs of self preservation if I have something other than a desk to look forward to when we get back."

His hands came off her and he was silent for a long moment.

"Guilting me isn't fair." He finally said.

"I'm just being frank." She grunted.

"Ever think that maybe I'm not throwing myself into this because I'm not ready?" he said quietly.

"Not ready? You've been in the manor for ten years, I thought I knew who was seeing who." She asked, puzzled.

"It was before I came into all this."

"And you are still holding onto it?"

"It's more complicated than that." He said, picking his tools back up and going back to work. "She died while I was trying to save her."

"Did she love you too?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"I have loved and lost too. My first love basically killed himself for a promotion no matter how much I asked him not to." She said, drumming her fingers on the metal table.

"I don't understand."

"You know Castus?"

"The magos?"

Viktoria nodded. "Yeah. He took the rite of pure thought. He died that day and never loved."

"I had no idea."

"Did you think that the mechanicus does all it does for me because of favors?" she half chuckled. "My point is that we have all loved an lost. It is never easy to get over, but it can be done."

He was silent again. His fingers danced along her back with the great prowess that she paid him for. "You see why I hesitate though? Why getting involved with you is beyond risky."

She smirked. "Usually I hear the same thing for different risks. But…" Viktoria took a deep breath. "… I do understand."

"Good." He grunted.

++++ After that we sat in silence for a very long time. It was pathetic, but even though he was looping a needle through my skin, I sat there and enjoyed the touch. He wanted to talk about stupid? The stupidest thing about the whole day was that his rejection was more painful than the whip. I didn't think it was possible to be friend-zoned by my surgeon.++++

"There." He finally grunted, giving everything one final wipe.

Verna started throwing her clothes back on. Just as she made to stand, he grabbed her shoulder and took a breath to say something.

The ship shuttered and for a second, colors didn't seem to appear right and cold shot straight through to their bones. As soon as it started, the oddity ended.

Viktoria looked at Samuel who was glancing around the room. "That was a gellar field glitch if I ever felt one." She grunted and hopped off the table, stomping for the door.

"Viktoria, you have to wait for orders to go warp hunting. Wait until there is evidence that something got on first." Weston yelled after her.

She paused and looked over her shoulder. "You're right. I'll see you back at the bunk."

++++On my way back to the bunk, I came across the commissar. I stopped and saluted him without making eye contact. I hated myself for the show of submission, but he seemed satisfied and stalked off. When I got back to my bunk to log the day, I had several people come up to me intermittently and commented on the whipping. It was mostly praise for not yelling, but I gained their respect. Others are still very weary, but at least I am getting somewhere with them. Now I wait to hear if anything nasty got in through the field. Throne, please let it. I don't want people to get hurt, but I could really use a challenge that is a little more my style. Let's say there are reasons that Malleus keeps asking for me to change Ordos.++++