【战锤40k同人作品翻译】Ennui 第二十二章：对策 Measures
本章概述：
亚历桑德拉崩溃了。
In which Alessandra shatters.
正文：
这不公平。
这是我考虑起我的立场时心中浮现的第一个词。我被撕扯在两个彼此毫不相容的世界之间。一个是我自己的世界，是我向之宣誓并本该对之忠诚如一的帝国；还有另一个世界，似乎越来越被局限于我和伊莎莱生活着的这个小预制房里。
这个银河中无限渺小的点，在短时间内对我产生了如此强大的吸引力。
我对修会和神皇的誓言一度看上去不可动摇，然后伊莎莱就走进了我的人生，护理我直至恢复健康，以好意和爱对待我，而突然之间……
我轻叹着穿上精工动力甲，每一个部位都伴随着一句低声祈祷被咔嚓一声固定到位。等我一回到隐修院，我就会把这件盔甲交由军械师重新祝圣。我对武装仪式了解得够多，因此我有理由相信自己能在不冒犯机魂的情况下着甲，可这件盔甲本身十分古老而尊贵，而且是为一位信仰从未动摇之人所打造的。
不像我。
不像这个小家子气到认为自己的困境是种“不公”的女人。
我被赋予了力量、训练、受祝的装备，以及对帝皇的热爱，却竟敢因为伊莎莱的存续不在其列而对这些馈赠感到愤恨。
我将一个新弹匣拍进我的爆弹枪里，力道可能比本应该的更大了些，然后按下供弹器。计数器显示满弹，我在盔甲上下又装上了另外三个满弹匣，然后将武器磁锁到胯部。
在神圣的伺服系统和这个机器的支撑框架的承载下，这套盔甲的重量本该很轻，可恰恰相反，它压得我几乎窒息。
无论在哪个世界上，我都不配穿着这件盔甲。我没能得体地死在我的姐妹们之间，我没能成功杀死一个异形女巫，取而代之的是……
我……
我抬起手指，摸向自己的嘴唇。
即便自小教堂里的那件事后已经过去了好多天，我依旧能在这里感觉到她。我仍能品味到她的嘴唇的柔软和她怀抱我时双臂的力量。我的内心不存在与之相似的事物，它已经在那里留下了不可磨灭的烙印。尽管我知道这是种罪孽，我却无法确定自己想不想让这种感觉消失。
她那时已经濒临死亡，我便把自己献给了她。我让一个女巫品尝到了我的灵魂的滋味，以将她从正当且应得的诅咒中解救了出来，因为我……
“伊莎莱，”我轻声念出她的名字，接踵而至的是内心的一阵刺痛。
她很快就会回来，自她离开起已经过去了几个小时。除非她想冒险穿过这场暴雨，否则就应该会在短时间内返回。我需要那些时间来鼓起做这件事的勇气，毕竟在她离开后我就只是沮丧地坐在长沙发上，在身旁伸出一只手，好似在等着她加入进来，如往常一样把她的手放在上面。
我已经在这里坐了几个小时，胸口隐隐作痛，我试着不去想象自己的生活在下一个昼夜里会变得多空虚。不到一天内，我的伊莎莱就会永远地离开，我则会回到我的姐妹们中间，用尽余生的日日夜夜来忘记一双紫藤色的眼睛和如三叶草般柔软的嘴唇。
所以我把自己埋进了盔甲里，在长久以来出于罪恶感和耻辱感而避免这么做后，我终于穿上了它。这样一来，等伊莎莱回来后，无论她有没有找到我的姐妹们，我都会告诉她真相，然后我就会重新激活转发器。
也许她会对我发火，抑或会对我的选择感到受宠若惊。无论怎样，这都将是我们在这里为自己创造的这段奇怪生活的终点。
她会离开我以寻死，我打心底里知道自己的一部分也会与她同去。
也许，等回到我的修会后，我会套上赎罪修女的斗篷。
我的死亡将会得到保证，也许这样做的话，我就能为我在这么多天里犯下的罪孽找到某种形式上的赎罪。
而在我内心最深处的阴影中，我想知道是否，或许，我会发现伊莎莱也在等我。
爆弹的声音将我拉回现实，我猛地抬起头来。这声音并不是兽人射击小子制造的不健康的咳嗽声，而是一把帝国的爆弹枪的强力而稳健的怒吼，而且它近得出奇。
我摆脱掉脑海中最后一丝杂乱的思想猛冲向阳台，靠在栏杆上探出身去四处张望，竖起耳朵以此在巢都尖塔群的背景噪声中找出那声音的来源。
另一阵爆炸引起了我的注意，我转身看向下方。在看到战斗的来源时，呼吸凝滞在了喉咙里。
临近尖塔的那个广场，那个伊莎莱曾为兽人布下陷阱却不经意地抓住了一个既受伤又极度困惑的战斗修女的广场，正被枪火照得透亮，而她就在一切的中央。
“伊莎莱，”随着我念出这个名字，恐惧笼罩了我的内心。
她正在旋转、翻滚并俯冲着躲避着开火，而令我恐惧的是，我看到了两个小队的我的姐妹们，正以我一度无比自豪的时钟般的精确举枪瞄准。
在她们之中，伊莎莱正警惕地观察着，她的剃刀连枷的刀柄正被紧攥在手里。伊莎莱正在被包围，被在人数上压倒，被帝国最优秀的凡人战士在火力上压制，而知晓着这些的我无比确信一件事，只有一件事。
我的所有的姐妹们都离死不远了。
我曾见过伊莎莱在几个心跳的时间内将几乎上百个兽人开膛破肚。她快得仿佛能在闪电上行走，能在水面上起舞，尽管我爱着也尊重着我的姐妹们，我也确定在伊莎莱撕裂她们的身体时，她们的子弹不会有哪怕一发擦到伊莎莱。
我颤抖着伸向护甲的储物层并抽出了一个瞄准镜，将之固定到爆弹枪上，然后移动到栏杆的边缘上跪地、举枪，并瞄准。
我瞄准了伊莎莱的心脏。
这是我唯一的选项。
她不知道我在这里，她无比强大，但并非完美无缺，而现在我对她的移动方式了如指掌。如果开枪的是我，我知道自己能打中她……我能在伊莎莱杀死我的任何一个姐妹前打中她。
也许事情就应该是这样。
伊莎莱想要死，这是她在这个世界上的首要也是唯一的目的，而我会是让她如愿以偿的那个人。
一发爆弹，身体的重心。即刻，迅速，干净利落。
我会杀死我挚爱的伊莎莱，而她几乎不会有感觉，也无暇感受我的背叛。这是我能给她的最冷血，最残酷，也是唯一的仁慈。
我艰难着吞咽着空气，双手颤抖，泪水从我的脸上滚下。
其中一个小队的上级修女正在对伊莎莱说着什么，伊莎莱则在回着话。她的脸上露出了讥讽的表情，那种表明她只是在稍稍嘲笑着你的表情。我喜欢那种表情，因为当它冲我而来时总是带有玩笑的意味，可我最爱的是她熟睡时带着的表情。
那看上去仿佛获得了平静般的表情，而我发觉自己希望着那是我杀死她时她脸上带着的表情。
我突发奇想，快速地点了下护甲的内置通讯器，并把它调到了最接近的指挥频率上。
//——撒谎如我族呼吸一般，灵族，我为什么要相信你？//
我皱起了眉头，这话语听起来十分刺耳，我知道我曾在与她见面时说过几乎相同的话。我深切地后悔说出了那句话，可直到现在我才意识到自己从来都没有为之道歉。我本应该告诉她我对我们初见时说的话感到抱歉，我本该告诉她我有多么在乎，她对我是多么的重要。
而伊莎莱曾经告诉过我，就在她离开前。
我这么做是因为视你若珍宝，亚历莎。
//非常好，瞄准吧，姐妹们//
我整个人都僵住了。这就是那个时刻……这就是伊莎莱行动起来的时候。在她们扣下扳机的一瞬间，她就会行动起来，杀戮她们。在那个时候，当她们被自己的爆弹枪的枪口火光部分致盲时，当她们的反应速度仅仅比其他时候稍慢时，她就会终结她们的性命。
//受死吧。//那个姐妹吟诵道。
我做了个深呼吸，稳住双手再次瞄准，强行憋回了泪水。
此时我口中没有在向帝皇祈祷，只有一个名字。
一个名字。
“伊莎莱。”
//屈服于所有胆敢伸手触碰地球之主的神圣领地的异种之命运吧。//
我的瞄准镜的十字准线对准了她的心脏，这次我拒绝祈祷。我拒绝对至高之人提起哪怕一个字。这会是我的罪孽，而我会在余生中背负着它。
我看着伊莎莱举起了剃刀连枷，我绷紧了压在扳机上的手指。
我看着她举起连枷向外抬起，她锐利的绝美双眼在对上上级修女的目光时从未动摇过。我试着把那个景象记在心底，那个无所畏惧的面孔，那绝美的双眼，和日出般的长发。
我看着……她呼出一口气，扔下了她的武器。
即便我离得太远，听不到连枷落地的声音，我也依然能听到它在我的耳朵中回响。分段的刀刃落到石质广场上时的咣当声在我耳中震耳欲聋，哪怕我打心底里知道自己根本不可能听到那个声音。
伊莎莱的嘴唇动了动，即便我听不到她的声音，我也能轻易读出那三个简单的词语。
“那我便屈服。”
语音通讯网络中传来了几声尖锐的吸气声，那是我的姐妹们在一个致命的敌人似乎选择了或是死亡，或是报复，亦或是暴力时发出的震惊的声音。个中缘由当然无从得知……至少对于她们和其他所有没有我那么了解伊莎莱的人来说是不可能的。
//一个知晓她的地位的灵族。//上级修女的声音激起了我的反感，怒火从心底升腾起来。//的确如此，神皇今日为我们降下了奇迹。//
她们不会知道的。
她们不会知道伊莎莱不只是单纯地接受了她的死亡。如果她愿意的话她可以在银河系中的任何地方寻死……而她选择这种死亡是出于一个理由，仅仅一个理由。
看着伊莎莱低下头去，我的双手又一次颤抖起来，羞耻充盈着我的内心。但这一次有所不同，因为在此之前我仅会为我的行为和对神皇和姐妹们的亵渎而感到羞耻，可现在呢？
现在，我的羞耻感因自己背叛了伊莎莱而更加深重。我本选择杀死的美丽的伊莎莱，并没有意识到我施加的威胁，为了我而选择了仁慈地放过我的姐妹们。
随着我读出了她的遗言的唇语，这个想法被进一步巩固。
原谅我。
噢，伊莎莱……没有什么需要原谅的。
她的下一句话是曲折的灵族语，但句子末尾的最后一个词是我所熟知的。
它压根就不是灵族词语。
她的最后一个词是我的名字。
//处决她。//
我来不及思考便行动起来。我立即更改了瞄准的方式，把爆弹枪猛地砸在栏杆上并压上了全身的重量，将开火模式调到了全自动。我几乎听不见自己的怒吼声，把整个弹匣里的爆弹直直地泼向了广场——
——越过了我的姐妹们的头顶。
她们的阵线立刻就破碎了，身边剧烈爆炸着的广场让姐妹们惊恐地四散开来。我的爆弹枪怒吼着直至打空弹药，我随即扔掉了空弹匣，拍上了新的一个，按下供弹器然后再度开火。
另一轮爆弹风暴撕裂了广场，我的姐妹们争先恐后地在巷子里寻找掩体，而在混乱中的某处，我发现伊莎莱利用这阵骚动直接消失了，还带走了自己的剃刀连枷。
我的姐妹们甚至没有费心寻找威胁的方向，她们都忙于跑向掩体。其中几个盲射了几枪，对着我大致所在的方向胡乱地打出几个点射。我打得她们晕头转向，现在她们遵守着反伏击的标准战斗流程：分散开来，重整部队，重新评估情况，然后发起反击。
但当她们重新集合起来时，已经没有什么可反击的事物了。
在将两个满弹匣对着自己的姐妹们打空后，我唯一能当作安慰的是没有一个人在我的射击中倒下。距离太长，散布太大，而她们经受的最坏的情况会是跳弹或者被一片破片打中。
然而，我已经毫无疑问地洒下了鲜血。
修女会的血。
更糟的是，我是用我们自己的一件神圣的武器做出了此等行径。我已经亲手做出了自己曾发誓不允许兽人犯下的每一件事，而且是为了维护一个黑暗灵族的亵渎存在而这么做的。
我踉跄着从阳台边缘返回，在重整旗鼓的姐妹们看不到的地方一头跪了下来。曾经死死地攥着的爆弹枪从麻木的指尖跌落下来，在地上砸出一声闷响。
我的视线变成了一条阴沉的灰色隧道，在我开始摸索教堂甲的扣子时，我的呼吸化作了一声声短促而尖锐的刮擦音。
我已经记不得卸甲祷文的内容，但这已经无关紧要。被些许粗暴地脱下几乎不是这件盔甲经受的最严重的亵渎，而我只得假定：只要我这一文不值的血肉能越早地不受保护，机魂就会越开心。
胫甲、护足具、前臂甲一件件摔落在地上，我几乎是扯下了胸甲和它的扣子，没过多久我就只穿着一件微微磨损的紧身服坐在了阳台上，双膝紧贴着胸口，摇摇晃晃地试图不呕吐在散落一地的盔甲残片和弹壳中间。
这就是伊莎莱在一个小时后找到我时我的样子。
她的步伐很轻柔，但我就算在战斗中也能认出那几乎无声的温和步调。脚步声缓缓地靠近，最终停在了阳台门前，在我身后只有一米左右的地方。
“看来那确实是你，”伊莎莱以我听她用过的最细微的声音说道。
我仍在无神地凝视着巢都的另一边，倾盆大雨已经下大约一个半小时，可在伊莎莱的声音打破了我的发呆前，我一直也没有注意到。
她走到我的身边，盘腿坐了下来。她的手扫过地面，拾起了几个被雨打湿的焦黑的弹壳，然后叹了口气。
“你本该让她们结果我的，Cre’yth，”她说。
“我以为你要杀了她们，”这是我说出的第一句话。我自觉已经背负了太多的罪孽，而我需要放下至少其中几个。“我已经把爆弹枪瞄准了你，就……就瞄在你的心脏上。”
我没有看向她。
我怎么能？
我该怎么看着伊莎莱的眼睛，告诉她我已经准备好要杀了她，因为我曾以为她要杀了我发誓守护的修会的女人们？在忠嗣学院和帝国的教导之外，我找不出任何能证明她会做出那种事的证据，而我自己的经验明确地告诉我她有一颗心，一颗承载了善意的心。
相反，我只是低着头啜泣起来。
“对不起……”这句话支离破碎。
“不要这样，”伊莎莱回答道，弹壳随着她把它们扔向一边，令其滚落阳台而叮当作响。
“你怎么会——？”
“你信守了诺言，”伊莎莱打断我。“你保护了你的姐妹们，而且……而且你也保护了我。”
“我对着自己的姐妹们开枪了，”我空洞地说出这句话。我知道——不管我有没有大声说出来——我的行动是真实的，但把它讲出口令其在某种程度上变得更为恶劣。“我……我攻击了我自己的姐妹！”
伊莎莱的手滑过我的脸颊，轻柔地抓起我的下颚，然后她转过我的头直到我们面对面。
我知道自己正在哭泣。我知道自己的眼睛又红又肿，也知道在雨水中的微量化学成分的刺激下，皮肤上留下了一条条盐渍。
然后，伊莎莱靠近了些，跪在地上，把双臂滑倒我的身下——一只在膝盖下，一只在后背上——然后带着费力的声音把我举了起来，抱着我走进居所，然后是浴室。
她放了一浴池的热水，在放水的过程中小心翼翼地从我身上剥下了紧身服。我顺从了她，我现在已经做得太过出格，以至于无论如何都阻止不了她……我已经怕自己与她靠得太近，怕这么做会诅咒我的灵魂。而尽管有着这样的戒备，我还是设法让伊莎莱靠近了我的心口，直至紧紧地贴在一起，我这么做的时候甚至都意识不到。
这样看来抗拒一次沐浴也太孩子气了。
我让她把我放进热水里，她在脱下了自己的皮衣后也加入进来，然后我便让她像一直以来的那样为我洗漱。伊莎莱对我的触碰是如此的小心。有那么一会儿，尽管还带着自恨的情绪，我还是发现自己靠在了她的身上，轻微地哼出了一声谢意。
啊……就是这样。
在她冲洗我的头发时，我意识到了。我意识到在那里，在那个阳台上，我已经做出了选择。
在帝国和流亡之间，在誓言和本心之间，在姐妹们和……和伊莎莱之间。
我选择了伊莎莱。
“亚历莎？”
我喜欢她叫我的名字的方式。在这之前我从未允许自己有这个想法，可我的确这么做了。我爱她的舌头卷出“s”音的样子，和她的口音对元音的点缀。我喜爱着她每当念及我的名字时嗓音的温柔，无论她心情如何，无论发生着什么事……如果她在对我说话，或者是提及到我，那嗓音还会再温柔几分。
随着伊莎莱把我洗了个干净，我转过身来，自她回归后头一次完全对上她的眼睛。
她看上去十分疲惫……眼睛下出现了之前从未有过的眼袋，我不知道这是因为压力还是因为担忧。
无论是什么，我都会抚慰它。
我从浴池中走上台阶，与此同时我牵起了伊莎莱的手，领着她一起出去。她跟上来了……一直如此，我不得不咽下一声苦笑，因为现在我只会对自己承认那一点，一直都是。
承认早几个小时可能会有些帮助。
伊莎莱——以她的那些咆哮、哂笑，和冷幽默为代价——几乎总是按照我的要求去做，只要我愿意向她提要求。她在几乎每件事上都顺从我，而我直到现在才有所察觉……我竟愚蠢到以为她会伤害我的姐妹们。
毕竟，她几乎已经告诉过我她不会这么做了。
伊莎莱以一种我不应得的尊重擦干了我，但我至少让她这样做了。我知道她喜欢触碰我，而现在我愿意承认：我无比地享受她对我的触碰。
知道她擦干了自己的日出般的长发后，我才再次牵起她的手，把她向我拉去。
“你的紧身服，”她说道，但我摇了摇头。
“不要管它了。”
“亚历莎？”
“跟着我就是了，”我柔声说道，又一次拉起她的手，然后一如既往地，她屈服了，并跟了上了。
我领着她走过住所的书房，两个人都像出生那天一样一丝不挂，然后走过门厅进入卧室，随后我把她拉进来，猛地关上门，转身把双手搭在了她的肩膀上。
“亚历莎？！”她的嗓音里带着一丝惊恐，但她的双臂依旧环抱着我的腰。
亲爱的伊莎莱啊，你可真是相当不擅长对我说“不”，不是吗？
“怎么了，‘莱？”我移得更近了些，直到两人几乎完全齐平，我的嘴唇离她的只有一个指尖的宽度。
“我告诉过你，”伊莎莱说，听上去很担心。“我不会从你那汲取——”
“我没让你从我这汲取，”这次由我打断她，然后我俯身，把我的嘴唇轻柔地贴上了她的。
她整个人都贴在了我的身上，喉咙后面发出了一声低吼。我知道她想要像在小教堂里那样汲取。我能感受到胸腔深处的牵拉感，好像什么人拉错了一根线一样。
这种感觉没有持续下去，我知道它不会的。
伊莎莱无论如何也不会伤害我。
随着我们的分开，伊莎莱以探查的目光注视着我的眼睛。我让她看了下去，并看着她的目光在我的脸上划过，我不知道为什么自己以前从来没有见过这种情况，那目光里带着温暖……不，不只是温暖，还有着什么远比这更深邃的东西。
“什么……你想从我这里得到什么，亚历莎？”她的声线变成了干渴而饥饿的刺声。
我已经在阳台上做出了选择。
我拉开了距离，并有些欣慰地感受到了伊莎莱的抓握中短暂的犹豫。她不想放开我，但她还是放手了，就像一直以来只要我想她就会去做的那样。我走到床边，穿过它直至处在我平常呆着的地方，然后示意她也加入我。
那个瞬间，我学到了黑暗灵族脸红的样子，而我会永远珍藏这个瞬间。
但她还是跟上我了，在她靠得够近的那个瞬间我便蜷缩在她的身旁，用双腿缠绕着她的双腿，又把她拉近到只有一息之隔。
“我想从你那里得到什么？”我重复道，随后俯身，印下了比我认为她所期待的更加热情似火的吻——一阵短暂而狂野的贴合，而当我起身时，我双手捧起了她的脸，然后回答了她：
原文：
Unfair.
It was the first word that sprang to mind as I considered my position. I was torn between two worlds that had no place among one another. There was my world, the Imperium that held my oath and what should have been my unswerving loyalty, and the world that seemed more and more to be contained to this small, prefabricated set of quarters where I lived with Isarae.
This infinitesimal point in the galaxy which had, in short order, become such a powerful draw for me.
My oath to my Order and to the God-Emperor had once felt unshakeable, and then Isarae had come into my life, nursed me back to health, treated me with kindness and affection, and suddenly…
I sighed quietly as I fitted the Artificer Armour to my body, each piece clicking into place with a muttered litany. I would have to have the armourers reconsecrate it as soon as I was back in the priory. I had enough knowledge of the Rites of Armament that I was reasonably sure I could don it without offending the machine spirit, but this armour was ancient, noble, and made for one whose faith had never wavered.
Unlike me.
Unlike the woman who would be so petty as to consider her plight to be ‘unfair’.
I was gifted with strength, training, blessed wargear, and the love of the Emperor, and I had the audacity to resent these gifts because Isarae’s continued presence did not count among them.
And yet, resent them I did.
I slammed a fresh magazine into my bolter, perhaps a bit more harshly than was warranted, and racked the feed. The counter displayed a full count, and I stowed another three more full magazines across my armor before maglocking the weapon to my hip.
The weight of this armour should have been light, carried as it was on the sacred servos and support chassis of the machine, but instead it was almost suffocating.
There was no world in which I deserved to wear this armour. I who had failed to even correctly die amongst my sisters. I who had failed to kill a xeno witch, and instead…
Instead I…
I lifted my fingers to my lips.
Though many cycles had passed since the events of the chapel, I could still feel her there. I could taste the softness of her mouth and the strength of her arms as she cradled me. There was nothing like it in my mind, it had seared itself there indelibly, and I wasn’t sure I wanted it gone even though I knew it was a sin.
She had been dying, and I had offered myself to her. I had let a witch taste of my soul to save her from a rightful and earned damnation because I…
“Isarae,” I whispered her name, and on its heels a splinter of pain entered my heart.
She would return soon, it had been hours since she’d left and she would be back in short order unless she wanted to risk the heavy rainfall. I’d needed those hours to find the strength to do this, because after she’d gone I had simply sat on the long couch despondently with my hand held out beside me as if waiting for her to join me and put her hand in mine like she always did.
I’d spent hours sitting there, a pain aching in my chest as I tried not to imagine how empty my life would be in just another cycle. Less than a cycle and my Isarae would be gone forever, and I would be back among my sisters to spend the rest of my days and nights trying to forget a pair of wisteria eyes and lips like soft clover.
So I’d busied myself with the armour, finally donning it after so long avoiding doing so out of guilt and shame. This way, when Isarae got back, whether she had located my sisters or not, I would tell her the truth, then I would reactivate the transponder.
Maybe she would be angry with me, or perhaps she would be flattered at my choice. Either way, it would be an ending to this strange life we had made for ourselves here.
She would leave me to find her death, and I knew in my heart that a part of me would go out and die with her.
Perhaps after returning to my Order, I would take up the mantle of Repentia.
My death would be assured, and perhaps in that I could find some manner of atonement for my sins over these many cycles.
And in the deepest shadows of my mind I wondered if, maybe, I would find Isarae waiting for me too.
The sound of explosive rounds tore me from my thoughts, and I jerked my head up sharply at the noise. It wasn’t the unhealthy cough of Ork shootas making that sound, but the strong steady bark of an Imperial bolter, and it was incredibly near.
Shaking the last cobwebs from my mind, I dashed out to the balcony and leaned against the railing, hanging to the side and looking back and forth, straining my ears to try and locate the source of the sounds through the acoustic shadows of the Hive spires.
Another explosion caught my eye and I turned and looked down, my breath catching in my throat as I saw the source of the fighting.
The plaza adjacent to the spire, where Isarae had laid her trap for the Orks and instead had inadvertently caught a wounded and overly curious sister of battle, was alight with gunfire, and in the midst of all it was her.
“Isarae,” terror gripped my heart as I said the name.
She was spinning, rolling, and diving to avoid the gunfire and, to my horror, I watched as two squads of my own sisterhood emerged from the shadows of the alleys and narrow streets to surround Isarae, guns leveled and aimed with the clockwork precision I had once been so proud of.
Amidst them, Isarae watched warily, the haft of her razorflail gripped tightly in her hands.
Isarae was surrounded, outnumbered, and outgunned by a dozen of the Imperium’s finest mortal warriors and, with that knowledge, I was absolutely certain of one thing, and one thing only.
All of my sisters below were about to die.
I had watched Isarae eviscerate almost a hundred Orks in the span of heartbeats. She moved like she could walk on lightning and dance across water, and as much as I loved my sisters and respected them I was certain that not a single one of their rounds would so much as touch Isarae as she tore their bodies apart.
Shakily, I reached into the cache of my armour and drew out a scope, locked it to the bolter, and moved to the edge of the rail before kneeling, bracing, and taking aim.
I aimed at Isarae’s heart.
It was the only choice.
She didn’t know I was here. She was powerful, but not perfect, and by now I knew her movements almost as well as I knew my own. If it was me, I knew I could hit her… I could hit Isarae before she killed a single one of my sisters.
Maybe this was how it should be.
Isarae wanted death, it was her first and only purpose on this world, and I would be the one to give it to her.
One bolt, center mass. Instant, quick, and clean.
I would kill my beloved Isarae and she would never even feel it, never have time to feel my betrayal. It was the coldest, cruelest, and only mercy that I could give her.
Tears rolled down my cheeks and my hands shook as I breathed in harsh gulps of air.
The Sister Superior of one of the squads was speaking to Isarae, and Isarae was speaking back. She had that sardonic look on her face, the one that said she was laughing at you just a little. I loved that look because it was always playful when it was aimed at me, but the look I loved best was the one she wore while she was sleeping.
It looked like peace, and I found myself hoping that would be the look she wore when I killed her.
On a whim, I blink-clicked the internal vox of my suit on and tuned it to the nearest command frequency.
//-lie as my kind breathe, Eldar, why should I believe you?//
I winced, the words sounded harsh and I knew I had said almost identical ones to Isarae when we had met. I regretted those words terribly, and only now did I realise I had never apologised for them. I should have told her I was sorry for my words when we first met, I should have told her how much I cared and how much she meant to me.
Isarae had told me, just before she left.
I do this because you are precious to me, Alessa.
//Very well, take aim sisters.//
I went rigid. This was the moment… this was where Isarae would move. In the bare instant of their pulled triggers, she would move and slaughter them. In that moment, when they were partially blinded by the muzzle flash of their own bolters and their reflexes just marginally slower than they might have otherwise been, she would end their lives.
//Submit to death.// The sister intoned.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied my hand, took aim again, and forced back my tears.
There was no prayer to the Emperor on my lips this time, just a name.
One name.
“Isarae.”
//Submit to the fate of all xenobreed who dare lay a single twisted limb upon the holy demesne of Him On Earth.//
The crosshairs of my scope were trained over her heart, and I refused to pray this time. I refused to lift a single word on high. This would be my sin, and I would bear it for the rest of my days.
I watched as Isarae gripped her razorflail, and I tensed my finger over the trigger.
I watched as she raised it outward, her sharp, beautiful eyes never wavering as she met the gaze of the Sister Superior. I tried to fix that image in my mind, that fearless face with its wonderful eyes and sunrise hair.
I watched… as she let out a breath and dropped her weapon.
Even though I was too far distant to hear it strike the ground, I could still feel it echoing in my ears. The clatter of the segmented blades striking the stonework plaza was deafening to me even though I knew in the back of my mind that I could not possibly hear the sound itself.
Isarae’s lips moved, and though I couldn’t hear her voice either I could read the three simple words easily enough.
I so submit.
There were several sharp intakes of breath over the vox network, the sounds of shock and surprise from my sisters as a lethal enemy seemingly chose death or vengeance or violence. It was absolutely impossible to reason the why of it… at least it would be impossible for them, and for anyone else who did not know Isarae as I did.
//An Eldar who knows her place.// The certain tone of the Sister Superior rankled at me, and bile filled my throat. //Truly, the God-Emperor graces us with miracles this day.//
They could not know.
They couldn’t know that Isarae wasn’t simply accepting her death. She could find any death in all the galaxy if she so desired… she was choosing this death for one reason and one reason only.
My hands were shaking again as I watched Isarae bow her head, and shame filled my heart. It was different this time, though, because before this I had known shame only for my actions and my sins against the God-Emperor and my sisters, but now?
Now my shame was so much heavier because I had betrayed Isarae. My wonderful, beautiful Isarae who I had been prepared to kill had, unaware of the threat I posed, chosen to mercifully spare my sisters because of me.
That notion was cemented as I read her last words on her lips.
Forgive me.
Oh, Isarae… there was nothing to forgive.
Her next words were curling Aeldari syllables, but the final word at the end of the sentence was one I knew well.
It wasn’t an Aeldari word after all.
Her final word was my name.
//Execute her.//
I didn’t even think before I moved. I altered my aim in an instant, slammed the bolter against the rail, leaned my weight against it, flipped the setting to fully automatic, and was only dimly aware of my own voice screaming in manifold rage as I unloaded the full magazine straight down into the plaza-
-and across my own sisters’ heads.
Their line shattered instantly, sending my sisters scattering in a panic as the plaza detonated wildly around them. My bolter roared before hammering dry, and I threw the empty magazine, slammed a new one home, racked the feed and fired again.
Another hail of bolts chewed apart the plaza, and my sisters scrambled for the cover of alleyways and, somewhere in the chaos, I noted that Isarae had taken advantage of the tumult to simply vanish, taking her razorflail with her.
My sisters didn’t even bother panning for the threat I posed, they were too busy sprinting for cover. A few of them fired blind, controlled bursts in my vague direction, but it was clear that none of them knew where I was firing from. I had a total drop on them and they were following standard combat protocol against ambushes now which was to splinter, regroup, reassess, and strike back.
There would be nothing to strike back against by the time they rallied, though.
The sole consolation that I could claim after having loosed the contents of two full magazines into a formation of my own sisterhood was that none of them had fallen to my shots. The distance had been too great, the spread too wide, and the worst any of them had suffered was a ricochet or caught a piece of shrapnel.
Still, I had undoubtedly spilled blood.
Sororitas blood.
Worse, I had done so using one of our own sacred armaments. I had done the very thing I had sworn not to permit the Orks to be able to do, and I had done so in defense of the heretical existence of a Dark Eldar.
I stumbled back from the edge of the balcony so none of the rallying sisters would see me as I collapsed to my knees. The bolter I’d been gripping like death fell from numb fingers to strike the ground with a dull thud.
My vision was a dull gray tunnel, and my breathing could only come in short, sharp rasps as I started to scrabble at the catches of the chapel armor.
I couldn’t recall the Litanies of Disarmament, but it didn’t matter. Being removed a little roughly was hardly the worst heresy this suit had suffered, and I could only assume that the sooner it was no longer protecting my unworthy flesh the happier the machine spirit would be.
Greaves, sabatons, and vambraces crashed onto the ground, I nearly tore the catch on the cuirass as I pulled it free as well, and soon enough I was sitting on the balcony wearing only a slightly scuffed bodyglove with my knees pulled tight against my chest as I rocked back and forth and tried not to vomit amidst the shed armour and spent shell casings.
That was how Isarae found me an hour later.
Her footsteps were soft, but I would know that gentle, near-soundless tread even in the heat of battle. The steps approached slowly, terminating at the balcony doors which were only a meter or so behind me.
“So it was you,” Isarae said in the quietest voice I’d ever heard her use.
I was still staring blankly out across the Hive, the rain had been pouring in earnest for about half an hour now but I hadn’t noticed it until Isarae’s voice broke me out of my fugue.
She moved up beside me and sat cross-legged by side. Her hand swept along the floor and lifted up a few charred casings, damp from rainfall, and sighed.
“You should have let them end me, Cre’yth,” she said.
“I thought you were going to kill them,” the words came out before anything else. I think I had too many sins weighing on me, and I needed to unburden at least a few of them. “I had my bolter trained on you, right… right across your heart.”
I didn’t look at her.
How could I?
How could I look Isarae in the eye and tell her I had been prepared to kill her because I had thought she would murder the women of my order that I had sworn to protect? I’d had no proof that she would do something like that beyond the teachings of the Schola and the Imperium, and my own experience told me clearly that she had a heart, and that there was kindness within it.
Instead I just hung my head and sobbed.
“I’m sorry…” the words came out broken and cracked.
“Don’t be,” Isarae replied, the shell casings clattered as she tossed them to the side, sending them rolling off the balcony.
“How can you-?”
“You keep to your oaths,” Isarae cut me off. “You protected your sisters, and then… then you protected me.”
“I fired on my own sisters,” I spoke the words hollowly. I knew that, regardless of whether or not I said it aloud, my actions were real, but saying it somehow made it worse. “I… I attacked my own sisters!”
Isarae’s hand slid around my cheek, grasping my jaw gently, and she turned my head until I was facing her.
I knew I was crying, I knew that my eyes were red and puffy, and there were tracks of salt running down skin that's irritated from the slight chemical composition of the rain.
Then, Isarae moved closer, knelt, slipped her arms under me, one beneath my knees and the other at my back, and picked me up with a noise of effort and strain, before carrying me back into the quarters, then to the bath.
She ran it hot and while it filled she stripped the bodyglove from me carefully. I let her, I was too far gone now to stop her anyway… I had been afraid of getting too close to her, that doing so would damn my soul, and despite that wariness I had managed to bring Isarae so close to my heart that she and it were now impossible to differentiate, and I had done so without even realising it.
So a bath seemed somewhat childish to protest against.
I let her lower me into the hot water, and she followed me a moment after doffing her own leathers, and I let her wash me like she always did. Isarae touched me with such care, and within moments, in spite of my self-hatred, I found myself leaning back against her and making small noises of appreciation.
Ah… that’s it.
I realised it as she was rinsing my hair. I realised that out there, on that balcony, I had made a choice.
Between Imperium and exile, between oath and heart, between sisterhood and… and Isarae.
I had chosen Isarae.
“Alessa?”
I liked how she said my name. I’d never let myself have the thought before, but I truly did. I loved the way her tongue rolled across the ‘s’s, and how her accent colored the vowels. I adored how her voice always softened when she said my name, no matter the mood she was in or what was happening… if she was speaking to me, or of me, it would come out that much softer.
As Isarae finished washing me, I turned and met her eyes fully for the first time since she came back.
She looked tired… there were bags under her eyes that hadn’t been there before, and I wondered if it was stress or worry.
Whatever it was, I would soothe it.
I moved up the steps out of the bath, and as I did I took Isarae’s hand and guided her out with me. She followed… she always did, and I had to hold back a bitter laugh as I only admitted that to myself now, of all times.
Admitting that a few hours earlier might’ve helped.
Isarae, for all her bluster and sardonic smiles and acid humor, nearly always did what I asked so long as I was willing to ask it of her. She caved to me on almost everything, and I’d never even noticed until now… I’d been a fool to think she would ever harm my sisters.
After all, she’d all but told me she wouldn’t.
Isarae dried me with a reverence I did not deserve, but I let her do it anyway. I know that she liked to touch me, and now I was willing to admit that I enjoyed her touching me just as much if not a great deal more.
Only once she was done drying her own long, sunrise hair, did I take her hand again and pull her after me.
“Your bodyglove,” she began, but I shook my head.
“Leave it.”
“Alessa?”
“Just follow me,” I said softly, pulling on her hand again and, as always, she caved and followed.
I led us through the den of the quarters, both naked as the day we were born, then down the hallway and into the bedroom, and as I pulled her inside I shut the door, turned to her, and draped my arms across her shoulders.
“Alessa?!” there was a tone of alarm in her voice, but her arms went around my waist all the same.
Dear Isarae, you truly are terrible at saying no to me, aren’t you?
“Yes, ‘Rae?” I shifted a little closer until we were nearly flush, and my lips were a fingertip’s breadth from hers.
“I told you,” Isarae said, sounding worried. “I will not drink from-”
“I’m not asking you to drink from me,” I cut her off this time, then I lean in and press my lips gently to hers.
She melts against me, and a low growl starts in the back of her throat. I know that she wants to drink the way that she did in the chapel. I can feel the tug somewhere deep behind my ribcage, like someone pulling at an errant string.
It goes no further, just as I knew it would not.
Isarae would never hurt me, after all.
As we parted, Isarae stared into my eyes with a searching gaze. I let her look, and I watched as her eyes traced across my face, and I don’t know why I never saw it before, there was warmth there… no, not just warmth, but something far deeper.
“What… what do you want from me, Alessa?” Her voice was a dry, hungry rasp.
I’d made my choice on the balcony.
Pulling away, I was a little gratified to feel the brief hesitation of Isarae’s grip. She didn’t want to let go of me, but she did, as she always would so long as it was what I wanted. I moved to the bed, slipped across it until I was in my usual place, then gestured for her to join me.
That was the moment I learned what a Druchi looked like when she blushed, and it was a sight I would treasure forever.
But she followed me nonetheless, and I curled up against her the moment she was near enough, twining my legs with hers, then drew her close until we were breaths apart.
“What do I want from you?” I repeated, then I leaned in and kissed her with more passion and fire than I think even she was expecting, a short, furious press of lips, and when I pulled away I took her face in both hands and answered her.
“I want you to make love to me.”
