40k: Midnight Blade

Pharmacist Kadmeri, sweating heavily, held a pair of silver-white special surgical forceps and used it to twist up a piece of flesh and blood hanging from the bone. A blazing white light lit up from the temporarily installed inspection light on his right shoulder armor, shining on a special injured person.

After a moment of observation and examination, Cadmery realized that as an Astartes Apothecary, he was helpless to deal with the mortal patient in front of him.

He has served within the Dark Angels for forty-six years, which may not sound long, but he has never been far away from the most intense wars of the Order. He has ended the suffering of many brothers and snatched many people back from the hands of death. In every aspect, he is a qualified pharmacist, and he can be called excellent.

But now, he encountered difficulties. He found that the medical knowledge he had learned and practiced in the past was very difficult to apply to the person in front of him.

First of all, number one, this guy wasn't bleeding.

He had blood vessels and blood in them. His heart was still beating, his body was warm, and there was a horrific penetrating wound on his chest. The location and size of this wound determined one thing: he would definitely lose his life within ten seconds.

But he didn't. He didn't even bleed.

Not only did he not, he was even able to lie calmly on the medical chair and chat with Leon El'Jonson - the original body of Cadmery - beside him.

His consciousness was clear, his speech was clear, and he acted very calmly even when a pair of surgical forceps were probing his flesh. He was completely different from the wounded mortals Kadmeri had encountered before.

Kadmeri took a deep breath and cleared his mind.

He had decided that no matter what the cause of this strange situation was, he would treat this special patient in accordance with the standard procedures for rescuing seriously injured patients.

The single-molecule scalpel was held in his hand, and the filling, disinfectant spray, healing spray and sutures were sent to a small platform aside by the medical arm.

Kadmeri held the scalpel tightly and checked whether his fingers were stable as if it was his first operation. Then he cut off some flesh and blood from the wound that would hinder the suture. However, things didn't go as he thought

With a slight crisp sound, the single-molecule scalpel broke.

The pharmacist was stunned. For a few seconds, his mind was running rapidly but his body was extremely stiff. It wasn't until his patient sat up, picked up a can of healing spray from the small platform, and sprayed some medicine on his wound that he regained consciousness.

Leon El'Jonson looked at this scene expressionlessly, and a voice in his head was mocking wantonly.

I told you he was just joking and now look what you did bro! One of your good sons won't be able to sleep tonight!

He didn't need to sleep in the first place, Caliban's knight only meditated! The lion roars in my mind.

But in the real world, he spoke in a gentle tone: ".Kadmeri."

".Yes, Primarch?"

"Well done," said the Lion.

He raised his hand and patted the pharmacist on the shoulder, turned around wordlessly, and left the medical room with him. Kadermeri stared blankly at them and received an apologetic smile from the patient.

A few seconds after the door closed, he lowered his head and looked at the scalpel in his hand. Part of the fragment was lying at his feet, shining slightly.

"Didn't you say you need treatment?" Walking on the deck of the Blade of Reason, the Lion asked in a seemingly normal tone.

"And I was treated - at least examined, and the pharmacist apparently decided that I needed surgery." Khalil shrugged, the gash on his chest still very visible. "So, I do need treatment, unless you think the pharmacist is not good at his skills."

The lion turned away and stopped talking, but after walking for more than ten steps, he suddenly spoke: "You have changed, Khalil."

"Appreciate further details."

The lion was silent for a moment and spoke slowly: "Ruth said he wanted to buy you a drink."

"I don't have a problem with that," Khalil said with a smile. "But I think we'd better go back to Fenris and drink."

The lion took a deep breath, threw the spear in his hand to him, and strode forward. Leman Russ's laughter sounded in Khalil's ears shortly after, it was a kind of wild laughter from the heart.

"Look at that face, Khalil! The old lion won't be able to sleep tonight!"

"But isn't he a knight of Caliban?" Khalil asked back slightly confused. "They have always meditated instead of sleeping."

Ruth's laughter stopped abruptly.

A few seconds later, he said quietly: "Sometimes I really don't understand the sense of humor of you Nostramo people. So do you, Conrad, and that bastard Jago Severtarion, too. Where did you learn this way of speaking?"

Khalil didn't answer the question, just smiled. Ten minutes later, they reached the tenth deck through the descending elevator.

The Lion arranged the offices of the mortal servants and some officials on the Blade of Reason who were responsible for serving the Chapter here. Most of the officials came from within the solar system. The servants are different. They are either the outcasts of the warband or the descendants of Caliban.

They wandered up and down a hall, each one of them, male or female, young or old, looking healthy but also very busy. The empire's most respected method of measuring the weight of stone slabs obviously caused a lot of trouble for their work.

Even with the help of a series of tools such as a wheelbarrow, this task did not become easy. More than one person frowned when looking at the stone slabs, but they did not complain, perhaps because they were used to it, or perhaps because of the arrival of the lion.

This matter made them feel excited and honored. Everyone put down what they were doing and saluted the Lord of Caliban. Even if he had walked past them, these people still saluted silently.

However, it was different for Khalil. Most people ignored him, and a few people looked at him very unfriendly, even full of jealousy.

Khalil was a little confused until Rus told him the reason.

"These people are simple, but also rigid, Khalil. They see serving the Chapter and the Lion as a way to be equally loyal to the Emperor. They are fanatical, and you happen to be holding this spear now."

"They would like to do it for you, you know? Seriously, how about we make a bet? There are at least more than three hundred people here who are willing to carry this spear for you."

Khalil sighed silently, quickened his pace, and caught up with the Lion.

A few minutes later, they turned into a long corridor, which was not very spacious. If the Lion was wearing armor, he would not be able to walk in here.

The walls were made of granite, and many battle flags were hung, but they were not the flags of the Astartes Chapter, but the flags of the mortal legions. The Guards and the Navy, two opposing and disgusting systems, now stay together in harmony.

Khalil slowed down and began to identify them. There were not many flags he could recognize, such as the famous Cadian Assault Corps, the Mordian Iron Guard, etc. However, most of the flags were ones he had never seen or even heard of.

The empire is vast. How many people have fought under these flags and risked their lives? What sacrifices have they made and what glory have they achieved to be able to hang their flags here?

The lion stopped at the end of the corridor and knocked on the wooden door. A voice that was so cold that it was almost not human came from behind the door.

"Come in."

The lion turned around and smiled at Khalil, with an unusual look on his face. It was an expression that belonged to a busybody, and it should appear on Russ, not him.

Khalil raised his eyebrows and watched him push open the door. There was a table behind the door. An officer sat behind the table. His face was as hard as a stone at first, and he was concentrating on a document in his hand.

But he was obviously a very alert, or very vigilant person. In less than a second, he realized that there was no footsteps at the door, so he quickly looked up and saw the lion.

The man immediately stood up and saluted, his uniform was straight, and the sky eagle was shining in the center of his military cap.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Sit down, Shefa." The lion nodded to him. "I have someone to introduce to you."

He did not choose to walk into the office, but turned sideways directly, allowing Khalil to appear in the sight of the officer named Shefa.

The latter was slightly stunned, and his expression suddenly changed, between seriousness and confusion. Then, he raised his hands, as if he wanted to salute

But he didn't do it after all, but pursed his lips, turned his right hand, and a badge suddenly appeared between his fingers.

Khalil glanced at it and couldn't help laughing.

"Judge?" he asked.

Shefa nodded quickly.

Khalil looked up at the lion, threw the spear to the giant who was smiling silently, walked into the office, and even remembered to close the door. But the lion did not leave, and he didn't even feel angry.

His voice sounded outside the door, with a very obvious smile: "See you later, Khalil. Remember to bring the old sailor with you."

"Where do we meet?"

"Find it yourself." The lion said, smiling and walking away.

Khalil turned around and looked at the judge Shefa who was standing upright, and sighed.

"Sit down, Colonel Shefa? Do you also work in the Military Affairs Department?"

"Yes, sir, I have only been in office for a month."

Shefa said, and then sat down meticulously. His voice was steady, and his eyes looked forward, as if he was looking at Khalil, but as if he was not. His eyes were focused, but there was no focus.

"One month?"

"I was assigned a task by the Master. He asked me to gather some capable criminals across the galaxy and recruit them to form a new Penal Legion under my command. For this, I must have a military rank, otherwise I will encounter considerable difficulties in the procedures."

"This task requires me to take those criminals to the most dangerous war zones in various parts of the galaxy and screen them again. The Master hopes to select a group of the strongest scum in this way, and then lead them under my leadership to carry out those almost suicidal missions."

"If they die or complete the mission, they will receive a penance order, and the Emperor will forgive their sins."

Khalil was silent for a few seconds and asked, "Do you have any doubts about this?"

"No, sir." Shefa answered firmly. "All those who can be selected into the Penal Legion deserve it."

I have reservations about this, Khalil thought.

The man named Cage appeared in front of him. Khalil had talked to him for a long time before the guard beat him black and blue.

He was a former soldier who came here because he killed his superior. The reason was complicated, but he killed someone after all, so he was not wronged. But he was traveling with a former sergeant named Frank and a priest named Gabor.

Frank came from an agricultural world and was conscripted for tithes, from a farmer to a soldier, and then to a sergeant. He should have had a bright future until he fought the rebels on a planet called Lucky Two.

In that battle, Frank and his soldiers never had enough to eat during the month-long combat, so he took people to question the officers above, but found that they were eating beef stew and drinking brandy in the tent.

Frank asked them for supplies, and the officers refused again, so his soldiers could no longer bear it, and they robbed everything in the officers' tents.

And Frank did not stop it, because he really couldn't figure out how hungry soldiers could attack the enemy's fortress on the ice field. He was sentenced to enter the Penal Corps for disobeying orders and attacking the superiors.

As for the priest Gabor, he was a bit similar to Frank, both of them disobeyed their superiors, the only difference was that he did it in public and in front of six officers of the Imperial Guard.

He questioned his superior, a bishop, why he executed those who protected his palace during the rebellion, and the answer he got was the bishop's roar.

Because they were not pious enough!

Then, Gabor had his legs broken and was thrown into prison, and was selected into the Penal Corps because of his fighting ability in prison.

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Colonel Shefa." Khalil smiled at him. "Just want to remind you that there are exceptions to everything. Some people are not killers or perverts, but are simply punished because they did the right thing in the wrong environment."

"You are still young, try to understand this earlier."

He stood up and left, the wooden door closed, he stepped into the darkness, and found the old sailor Hayd on the left boarding deck of the Rational Front.

The latter was sitting in a temporary reception room with a cup of flower tea in front of him, and a newspaper and a magazine lying beside him. Hayd did not drink tea, nor did he read newspapers or magazines.

He just sat upright on the sofa, his eyes blank. Khalil appeared at the door, then gently opened the door, pretending to have just walked in, and coughed lightly.

The old sailor turned his head and blurted out a question the moment he saw him: "Sir! Where did you take me?!"

"The Rational Front." Khalil said. "A battleship of the Dark Angels."