The Helix 2 was probably the best weapon credits could by when it came to taking down a big apex predator. As a weapon for confronting a blood mad group of feral tribesmen, it had severe disadvantages. I fired again, blasting the arm from one of the onrushing natives. It wasn't a great shot, merely the result of a target rich environment. The spent powercell ejected and clattered across the deck of the cargo-10. I fumbled for another shell but the wave of natives was already breaking around the vehicle. Several fetched it blows with axes or clubs, as though it were a great beast. Iducked and pulled my side arm from a holster in my imitation hunter garb. The gun was an Amrak Arms Thousander, a heavy chromed pistol with two barrels, one large and one larger. I gripped the weapon with both hands the way I had been shown in the simulator. Two tribesmen were already trying to clamber over the side, stinking of sweat and the rancid grease they used in their hair.  I leveled the pistol at the nearest but before I could squeeze the heavy trigger, the man was yanked away so violently his shoulders joints popped free. Lucius Raj, smashed the unfortunate tribesman against the side of the cargo 10 like a whip. Bones cracked and blood flew in all directions. The Thunder Warrior dropped the body as two of the enemy, braver or stupider than the rest, hacked at the post-human with weapons that had been old before M1. He crushed the skull of one with a fist and then seized the second with both hands, ripping him in half in a bloody display of strength. I watched in awestruck amazement, captivated by the shocking level of violence that Lucius could summon. A las bolt glanced of the combing beside me, singing the small hairs on my hand. I pulled the trigger on reflex and the gun hammered, the round flying Throne knew where.

Lucius raged through them like a human scythe, his building rage venting itself explosively on the hapless ferals. They came on regardless, shockingly willing to confront the Thunder Warrior and the spatter of gunfire. Their experience of las weapons had obviously stolen their fear of firearms, but that didn’t explain their willingness to die. I fired three rounds from the thousander, dropping one of them, wincing each time as I felt the shock in my wrists. Then I clicked the fire selector to the second chamber and fired. The breaching found roared and cut down three tribesmen as they tried to clamber onto the cargo 10. I saw two of our local guides go down to a raging berserker with a double handed axe, beheading one and then the other with a quick reversed stroke before a las pistol bolt blasted his skull apart. As he fell a dozen men screamed and fell to the dirt, twitching and convulsing. 

A minute later it was over, the last of the raiders pulled down by Lucius who raged off into the woods in search of further victims. That was a better result than him venting his fury on us so I didn’t try to intervene. I climbed down from the back of the cargo 10, shocked at the extent of the carnage.

“Hadrian?” I called out in concern. He emerged from behind cover, smoking weapon in hand. I relaxed when I saw him and remembered my own weapon. I slid the thousander back into its holster, unwilling to risk trying to reload it in a manner that might cast doubt on my supposed expertise.

“Savages with las guns,” Selencia mused. I bent down and picked up the las gun. The weapons are, of course, ubiquitous across the Imperium. This model was pearl white with brass accents, its handle fashioned to look like natural wood.

“Very nice las guns,” I observed. It was far better made than the simple stamped metal models I was familiar with. Nice as it was, it was still rusted from lack of maintenance. I wondered if the locals even knew how to reload them.

“It is an Espair Pattern VII, probably manufactured on the forge world of Memdon or one of the subsidiary manufactorum worlds,” Lazarus supplied, picking up one of the weapons and working the action open to examine some internal detail. He sounded as though he had written a dissertation on the subject, though knowing the Skitarii, it was simply something he had encountered and uploaded into his internal data banks.

“Right, but why is it so nice?” I persisted, setting the gun down on the wheel guard of the transport.

“It is manufactured under limited license for specific clients,” Lazarus explained, without providing any actual information.

“What clients?” I pressed.

“Some noble houses, but primarily for the Eclesiarchy,” Lazarus allowed.

“Of course the Eclesiarchy has no need of las guns,” Hadrian said dryly, “being forbidden from keeping men under arms and all.” Everyone laughed at the notion that the church might abide by the ancient and toothless edict. 

“So why are las guns made for Fraternis Militia in the hands of people who probably worship the Sun and the Great God Goo?” I asked. No one had any ready answer.

“Why did they keep coming like that?” Clara Strong asked, idly feeding shells into the rotating drumb of her weapon.

“If they are savages they ought to have fouled themselves when Lucius went berserk, I know I felt the urge,” she admitted. I turned over one of the corpses with my boot and looked into the dead man’s eyes.

“Mental conditioning,” I said after a moment, “someone used memetic conditioning to make retreat impossible.”

“Warp trickery and smuggled weapons, it sounds like the spor of chaos to me,” Clara mused.