Vengeance is mine

From the viewing platform on the bridge of the flagship Mjolnir, Grand Admiral Thokk surveyed the aftermath. The clash with the Imperial fleet had cost him dearly; one ship utterly wrecked and six badly damaged. Mostly Traegan’s ships, though he mused, chuckling to himself.

“M’Lord Admiral,” the voice was that of Captain Graal, a slight man with a lean, hard face. He was Thokk’s trusted right hand and long-time friend, a fellow survivor of the Purge of Loki all those years ago. “We have successfully boarded the loyalist ship Ajax, the few survivors that there were have been executed as you ordered.”

Excellent. “Inform Lord Raziel that the vessel will soon be ready for his warriors, and that he is free to commence the assault on Tarsis. The Loyalists are scattered, they will be unable to re-group before Raziel makes his attack.”

“Very good, Sir.” Graal saluted stiffly, then flashed a wicked grin to his friend. Thokk grinned back.

“Finally, Fjalen, finally…” Thokk trembled with anticipation, “The loyalists will pay in kind for their betrayal. Our kin will be avenged.” She will be avenged. “Nothing can stop us...” He turned back to the view port and stared at the distant stars.

It had been so many years ago, a life-time away. But the memory of the Purge was forever seared into Thokk’s memory. Loki had been a peaceful planet, nestled safely in the Norsefire sector, isolated from the many troubles of the galaxy and the wars of the Imperium. All those years ago Thokk had been the captain of the Emperor’s ship Jormungandr, pride of the Norsefire home fleet.

It had been a cult, nothing more, hardly noticed or acknowledged by the majority of the inhabitants of Loki. A group of a few unhappy individuals who had turned from the Imperium in their time of trouble, disillusioned. They were radicals, but they were just a few, and unheard voice ignored by the rest of the world. That was all. But this was not to be overlooked by the agents of the Emperor.

The Ordo Hereticus, fearful of the spread of new political and social ideas, had reacted the only way they ever did. Loki was condemned, a “danger to the Imperium and a heresy against the Immortal Emperor’s divine rule”. For the sake of a few activists and malcontents Loki was purged, torched by super-atomic weapons launched from near-orbit. The righteous judgement of the Emperor.

Thokk had returned to his home-world from manoeuvres in the Aurelius Deeps to find a dying world. The major urban centres had been obliterated, but a far worse fate had befallen the out-lying townships and villages.

Thokk had searched for her for days, scouring their homeland for any sign. At every turn he found death and slow decay, the unfortunate survivors subjected to a tortuous and agonising demise under the grim shadow of radioactive poisoning. He finally found her at a make-shift refuge where the last of the damned huddled together in their final hours. The medical supplies were all but spent, the only food and water left too polluted to touch.

His wife, once fair and graceful, was slumped alone in a dark corner, a ghastly spectre of the woman he had loved. In her arms Helvetta cradled the tattered rag that was their son. Pale, shrivelled, dead. When he looked at her, Helvetta gazed back with cold, empty eyes. They stared up at him, the only flicker of life that of the pain she endured and the horror she had seen. She spoke no words. Made no sound. She did not have much time left, but another second of her agony was too much for him to bear. Thokk gave his wife the only mercy left to her. The Emperor had shown her none.

After he buried his wife and, Thokk returned to Jormungandr. It was there that Lieutenant Fjalen Graal had won over the fleet captains and persuaded to flee, lest the Emperor’s judgement find them and damn them too, as it had done all the other innocent people of Loki. They scattered amongst the stars, abandoning their home forever. The few remaining survivors of a desiccated world.

Whenever he stopped, paused for too long, the memory would find him again. It always did, and he would never be free of it. They will pay a thousand times over, a million. There will be no respite, no remorse. They will pay dearly for what they did to our home. What they did to my son. What they did to Helvetta. Thokk turned back from the view port on the bridge, his face stony as he spoke to Graal. “…And it will begin with Caitlen Station.”