[Doctor Thunder]

Chapter 2

“I’m going to be an adult today,” Tella thought happily to herself as she sat with the other students in the Librarium Hall. Row upon row of crumbling scrolls and tomes reached up to the vaulted ceiling thousands of feet above them. The torchlight reflected off the heavy incense burning in the air, giving the room a kind of arborous glow.

With her left hand Tella advanced her rosary beads each time she completed The Emperor’s prayer out loud, while with her right hand she transcribed the text on the fading and crumbling scroll onto a fresh one. But, while her hands and mouth could be fully occupied, in her mind she knew she was always free.
“Dutchess Duncall,” she thought to herself, deciding that she quite liked the sound of it.
“Lady Duncall,” that one had a good ring too.
“Madam Duncall.” That one sounded a bit too old for her tastes.

“Hey Tella, watch what you are doing,” came a whisper between prayers from Milliam, the young girl with short auburn hair sitting next to her. Tella broke her stride and looked down. The new scroll now read, “And it came to pass in the seventeenth year of the rein of fire, Lord Solar Macharius lead the conquest against Madam Duncall…”

“Frak,” Tella swore, placing her forehead down onto the wooden desk. “Now I’m gonna’ have to redo the whole scroll.”
“Silence, Focus, Worship!” Sister Tomara warned from the front of the class, holding a pain glaive, ready for use.
“Work is worship,” the students chanted in unison.

After a few more minutes, the hourglass at the front of the room emptied its final grains, and the students breathed audible sighs of relief. Genosha was an oddity among the schola progeniume. Essentially an orphanage for children with wealthy titles and lands to inherit once they reached adulthood, they had certain privileges not afforded elsewhere, such as a 15 minute break every three hours. Of course, the best benefit of all, was that although they constantly threatened to, none of the teachers would dare touch a student.

Tella was an orphan in every sense but the technical one. Without a male heir, her father’s title, merchant fleet, and lands associated with the Navis Nobilite were transferred to her mother’s family, who wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, which is why she had only seen them twice in the last nine years.
“So, you know how the Sisters were talking about that feeling you’re supposed to get during the Salvation Litany?” Milliam asked quietly as she rubbed her sore knuckles.
“Sure, the rapturous confirmation,” Tella acknowledged, adjusting the leather gloves on her hands.
“I finally got it last night.”
“Really? That’s great!” Tella praised, trying to keep the sadness out of her eyes. Though she never admitted it to anyone, she had never had a rapturous confirmation. She had never felt anything at all while praying to The Emperor, and it bothered her more and more with each passing day.

The heavy wooden door was kicked in, and Anthon entered, carrying a basket of fresh bread in one hand and balancing a second on his head.
“Salutations sisters,” he announced. “I bring an offering of The Emperor’s finest sourbread for your consumption.”
“Brother Harks,” Sister Tomara scolded, hands on her fleshy hips, “It is completely inappropriate for you to come into the girl’s librarium like this.”
“I know, right?” Anthon agreed as he tapped his knee onto the bottom of the basket, causing one small loaf to perfectly jump out and land on a student’s desk. “But you know how Sister Enso is. She’s just so slow I was worried these young servants were going to miss the nutrition they need to serve with servicious servitude.”
“I don’t think that’s a real word,” Tella whispered.
“You may be attached to the Duncall Household, but that does not elevate you above the commands of this Schola,” Sister Tomara shouted, the veins on her saggy neck visibly pulsating.
The Schola is mother, the Schola is father,” the students chanted.
“You’re right,” Anthon agreed, swapping baskets for the one on his head. “I submit myself to the pain glaive for one full hour.”
Slowly he knelt before her and raised the small nub which was all that remained of his left arm in a stance of offering.
“You know that the glaive can’t be worn on your right hand,” Tomara stated, heading for the door.
“Really?” Anthon smirked as he rose and continued to distribute the bread, “Then I guess I’ll just pray a bunch.”
Sister Tomara huffed in frustration as she opened the door. “I’ve had enough, I’m coming back with Sister Kender and a neuro-whip!”

“What are you doing?” Tella whispered as the door slammed. She had grown a full five inches taller then him, and liked to stand next to him to remind him of it.
“I had to get her to leave so I could give you your birthday present,” Anthon announced happily. “It’s not everyday a woman turns 16 after all.”
Anthon pulled out one last loaf of bread and tossed it to her. When she broke it in half she caught a glimmer of shiny metal, and removed a crude makeshift bracelet.
“Awww, that’s so nice,” Milliam cooed, along with several others.
So, do you like it?” Anthon inquired, smoothing his coarse robes.
“It’s terrible,” Tella admitted. “Did you make this yourself?”
“Sure did. Smelted the ore myself on top of the plasma furnace downstairs in the catacombs.”
Tella felt the blood rushing into her cheeks and knew that she must be blushing terribly. She fought against her desire to run out of the room.
Anthon smiled warmly, and reached out towards her with what remained of his left arm.
What are you doing?” Tella asked.
“I wanna’ shake your hand to congratulate the Dutchess.”
“Why can’t I shake your right hand?”
“Shaking right hands is for nobles. I’m just a red-blood.”
Tella’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t wanna’ shake your nub.”
“Come one,” Anthon teased. “You know you wanna’ shake the nub. Everyone wants to shake the nub.”
“I’ll shake the nub,” Milliam offered, and shook it heartily.

There was a loud crash followed by an extensive series of expletives in a variety of languages from the corridor beyond. Anthon and Tella ran out to find a curious man struggling on the floor next to a floorlamp, data-slates scattered all around him.
He had a black wide-brimmed hat, a long goatee that stretched down to his belt, and wore a shiny split-back leather coat with matching riding boots.
He reminded Tella of a character from one of the holo dramas they sometimes watched when they snuck into Sister Kender’s cell.

“How did you get stuck like that?” Anthon asked, trying to help the man to his feet.
“You know,” the man said in a thick foreign accent,” I’m not entirely sure, but somehow I’ve managed to get the hilt of my saber caught at the base of this blasted floorlamp.”
“Just unsheathe it,” Tella suggested.
“I would, young lady…”
“Dutchess actually,” Anthon corrected.
“My apologies. I would, but the hilt has a gene-sensitive grip, and the fething thing stopped working this morning. I can’t unsheathe it.”
“I know what to do,” Anthon announced, digging his pinky into his ear.
“That’s gross.” Tella gasped.
“We had the same thing happen to the furnace entrance,” Anthon explained as he dug out a healthy portion of wax and began spreading it onto the hilt. “Turns out that earwax confuses the little guy inside and turns it off.”
“You are the most disgusting person I know,” Tella admitted.

Anthon pulled at the sword and it drew free, allowing the man to stand.
“Well, you’re quite a handy fellow to have around,” the man praised.
“I know, right? You should see me juggle.” Anthon bent down and began tossing up each of the data-slates with his good arm, stacking them in a perfect pile as they landed in the man’s waiting hands.
“You know,” the man warned. “If someone from the mechanicus saw you blinding a gene-auger, you’d probably be executed.”
Anthon shrugged as he handed the man the last data-slate. “The point is it worked, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is,” the man agreed, with a curious smile.

“There he is!” Sister Tomara shouted as she waddled around the corner, pointing a wrinkly finger at Anthon.
Sister Kender followed closely behind, her light grey robes a stark contrast to the black her subordinates wore. Anthon raised his hand in protest, but Sister Kender had already flicked her wrist.
The neuro whip wrapped around his forearm, and purple lightning traveled from the grip and into his body. Anthon seized and convulsed, screaming loudly enough to draw the attention of the rest of the class, who came to the stone doorway just in time to see him collapse on the floor in a puddle of his own urine.

“I thought they didn’t punish students here?” the man asked.
“He’s not a student,” Tella admitted, covering her face in embarrassment.

A few minutes later, after Anthon was carted off for some “special punishment” and the hallway was cleaned up by the other serfs, the students were reseated and addressed by Sister Kender while the man with the goatee setup a holo projector at the front of the room.
“The Celebration of the Emperor’s Ascension is the holiest evening during the winter solstice. Let the hymns of the faithful piece the clouds to reach his holy ear on distant Terra. We have been blessed this evening with a rare visitor. One of our own alumnus, she was the first from Genosha to follow the pilgrim trail in ten generations. She has been to holy Terra herself, and climbed the eternity staircase with her own feet, and touched the doors of The Emperor’s Palace with her own hands. Sister Superior Mary Ekatarina of The Order Famulous.
There was a rush of hushed silence as she entered the room. Her white hood and cloak seemed to flow around her like ivory waterfalls. Her white hair hung on either side of her neck in perfectly formed braids held with silver clasps. Her face was flawless and kind, showing none of the age her hair indicated. She truly seemed to all present like an angel sent from The Emperor’s side.
“I want to be just like her,” Tella whispered out loud, forgetting herself.
Sister Ekatarina walked down each isle, allowing the students to touch her bare hands and feet, offering the Canticle of Adoration to the Emperor as they did so.
She stopped short when she came to Tella’s desk, and did not offer her hands to her as she had the others.
“Sister Duncall, you have applied to enter the Order Famulous,” she said in sweet tones.
“Yes, my lady,” Tella replied without averting her eyes.
“It is rare for one to give up so much. The Duncall Household has great possessions.”
“What are possessions compared to service?” Tella responded sincerely. “I only surrender that which already belongs to Him.”
“Well said, young one,” Ekatarina praised, though her expression was cold.

The silence was broken by the grunts of the goateed man figiting with the holo-projector.
“I had not planned on visiting here today,” the Sister Superior explained as she returned to the front of the hall. “My duties in this system were fulfilled this morning and my superior insisted. May I present…”
“It’s Tad,” the man with the goatee interrupted.
“Tad?” Ekatarina asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Just Tad,” he reassured with a smile.
“My Lord….Tad,” she repeated with a sigh. “When the Emperor ascended to his Golden Throne, to watch over and protect all of mankind from the foul xenos that pollute and defile…”
“Pollution is to be cleansed.” The students chanted.
“…He released his angels of death, the Adeptus Astartes. Immortal, Undefeatable, Unstoppable, these flawless warriors bring The Emperor’s justice to all worlds in the galaxy.”
Tad kicked the holo-projector and it sprung to life, revealing an image of a soldier, no longer human, but superhuman. More then eight feet tall, and unbelievably broad. The Blue armor he wore was fully powered and articulated, protecting him from head to toe.
Upon seeing it, Tella gasped in fear, and her heart began to race.
“…Is something wrong?” Ekatarina asked, looking straight at Tella.
“Nothing, Sister Superior,” she maintained, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
“Speak, Sister,” she insisted.
“Forgive me, I was just surprised, I didn’t know that I had seen a Space Marine already.”
There were subdued snickers throughout the room.
“Don’t be silly, child,” Sister Kender exclaimed, waiving her hand. “No one on Genosha has seen a Space Marine for a millennia.”
“I’m sure I have,” Tella mentioned. “He attacked my father’s ship outside of the Donovan gate.”
The expression on Ekatarina and Tad’s faces became cold as ice.

Tella was whisked out of the hall so quickly that her feet barely touched the ground. She was slammed against the wall, her eyes wide in shock at the strength Ekatarina possessed as she held her by the neck with one hand.
“Now, listen closely child if you want to live,” she snarled, her kind features twisted into a hateful scowl. “The Emperor’s Space Marines destroy His enemies, not his servants. I will not have you defile The Day of Ascention with such lies!”
“I would never lie to you,” Tella gasped.”
Ekatarina brought up her knee and struck Tella in the stomach with such force that her vision exploded in a cascade of lights. Tella fell to the ground and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor.
Tad drew his saber and placed the edge of the blade against Tella’s throat.
“My full name is Taddius Harokai, of The Emperor’s Holy Inquisition,” he explained. “If your superiors had not already decided to accept you into the Order Famulous you would already be dead. Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully. If a Space Marine attacked your father’s ship, then it was because your father had sinned against The Emperor.”
“Do you want your father posthumously declared a heretic?” Ekatarina asked.
“Of course not,” Tella shook her head.
“Then I will do you this one favor, and then you may never ask anything of me again,” Inquisitor Harokai said sternly. “I will leave your father’s name intact if you swear by your own soul to never speak of your encounter again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lord,” Tella whispered, gasping for breath.
“Well then,” he said, resheathing his sword and smiling brightly again, “All is well. Let us continue with the celebration.”


As the twin suns set over the auburn hills outside the Emperor’s Temple of Agatha, Tella knew what she was supposed to be feeling joy. Instead, she felt like her heart was being torn to pieces. Was her father a sinner? Her memories of him were always of a kind and strong man, a man of faith who had taught her the first and second prayers all by himself. And the Space Marine she saw was very different from the one in the holo-projector. Why would an angel from The Emperor appear so twisted and unnatural?

The temple doors that stood before her were tall and wide, worked from the finest alabaster marble and adorned with golden trim and grand copper statues of the saints.
“You will now enter the sanctuary of Agatha, wherein lies the Oracle of His Truth,” Sister Kender explained. “This is your Rite of Acceptance. When you emerge you will be an adult and a member of the order.”
“Till he take me,” Tella chanted.
“Do you abdicate your inheritance?” Kender asked.
“His glory is my inheritance,” Tella chanted.
“What is your fear?”
“To die my work incomplete.”
“What is your joy?”
“To serve every second.”
Sister Kender nodded approvingly and turned to the representatives from the Order Famulous in their white hoods and cloaks. Tella noted that Sister Ekatarina was absent from the group.
The doors opened slowly, revealing a room as bright as the noonday sun. A perfectly flat wall of water fell directly before Tella, acting as a mirror.
“What do you see?”
“I see The Emperor’s handmaiden,” Tella responded.
“One more thing, Kender mentioned. “What you see when you hold the Oracle in your hands is for you and you alone, it is never to be shared. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady.”

Tella passed through the wall of water and the doors closed behind her. The room was stunningly beautiful, with white marble arches and buttresses. Dominating the far end before a pool of water was a massive stained glass window depicting the Emperor in his golden armor, sword aloft, with Saint Agatha at his side.
She removed the leather gloves from her hands, revealing the thick wrinkled scar tissue on her fingers and palms. She ran her fingers through her curly blonde hair one final time, then picked up the waiting vibro-razor and shaved her head bare. Now the deep scar tissue on her neck and back were visible.

She removed her student’s robes, and replaced them with the awaiting white garments, tying them snugly at her waist with a chain of azure rosary beads, followed by the white hood and cloak of the Order. She stepped forward into the still pond of water, creating ripples that extended out in perfect spheres to all corners of the temple. The water was only an inch deep, giving the impression that she glided on top of it as she moved.
There before her, suspended perfectly in mid air, was a sphere of flawless crystal. For the next three hours she chanted all of The Emperor’s prayers, from the first to the thousandth, all perfectly from memory. Her body grew weary, but she refused to slow her pace or show fatigue.

When she finished, she opened her eyes and reached out her hands, but was unable to touch the oracle. Something stopped her. Tella reached out again, but a force pushed her hands away.
Her brow wrinkled in concern, and she tried again, this time with all her strength. For a time, her fingers came closer and closer, but when they were about to touch, she was shoved backwards. Tella stood up, and felt tears begin to well in her eyes.
“Why?” she asked aloud. “Is it because my father was a sinner?”
She ran up to the oracle and reached out again, and was thrown back with even greater force, smashing to the floor on her side. She held her shoulder in pain as she rose. It felt as if she had been kicked by a pterrahorse.
“What does this mean?” she asked to the silence around her. Her tears were flowing freely now. Her fears of rejection were completely overwhelming. Her worst nightmare was coming true.
“Why won’t you accept me?” she screamed. “In what have I failed you?”

This time she ran towards the Oracle, splashing water all around her and nearly tripping over her cloak. She leapt at the crystal sphere with all her might, and was throw back with such force that it threw her against the doors at the far end.
Tella held her side painfully and coughed up blood, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her heart.

In the Temple of Agatha, on the Day of Ascention, during her Rite of Acceptance, Sister Tella Duncall wept bitter tears.