That Time I Got Reincarnate As A Medic In The World Of Warhammer 40k

The acrid smell of promethium and gunpowder hung thick in the air as Colonel Vance Sturnhammer strode purposefully through the command bunker of Fort Hellhound. His weathered face, scarred from countless battles, was set in a grim mask of determination. The latest reports from the frontlines had just come in, and the news was far from good.

As he entered the war room, the buzz of conversation died down. Around the large hololith table stood the other senior officers of the Armageddon Steel Legion, their faces illuminated by the eerie green glow of the tactical display. Major Thaddeus Ironside, a hulking man with a bionic eye, nodded curtly as Sturnhammer took his place at the head of the table.

"Report," Sturnhammer barked, his augmetic hand clenching and unclenching unconsciously.

Major Ironside stepped forward, his voice a low growl. "The greenskins are on the move again, sir. We've detected a massive buildup of Ork forces in the Ashen Wastes, sector Gamma-9. Intel suggests they're massing for a major push towards Hive Helsreach."

A murmur of concern rippled through the assembled officers. Hive Helsreach was one of the most densely populated areas on Armageddon, and its fall would be catastrophic for the planet's defenses.

Colonel Sturnhammer's eyes narrowed as he studied the hololith. "Numbers?"

"Conservative estimates put their force at around 500,000 Orks, sir," Ironside replied, his bionic eye whirring as it focused on the tactical display. "But you know how the greenskins are. Where there's one, there's usually a dozen more hiding in the shadows."

"Emperor's teeth," muttered Captain Alessandra Vex, the regiment's senior medicae officer. "Our field hospitals are already at capacity. If they hit us with those numbers, we'll be overwhelmed in hours."

Sturnhammer's jaw clenched. He'd seen firsthand the devastation wrought by Ork Waaaghs. The xenos were a plague upon the Imperium, an ever-present threat that seemed impossible to fully eradicate. But by the Emperor, they would try.

"What about reinforcements?" he asked, turning to Lieutenant Cassius Thorn, the young officer in charge of logistics.

Thorn shook his head, his face pale. "The Departmento Munitorum is stretched thin, sir. The latest astropathic communique indicates that the nearest available reinforcements are at least three weeks out. We're on our own for now."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Three weeks. Against an Ork horde of that size, three weeks might as well be an eternity.

Colonel Sturnhammer's mind raced, considering and discarding strategies at lightning speed. They needed bodies on the line, and they needed them now. His gaze fell on the section of the hololith representing Fort Hellhound, and a plan began to form in his mind.

"The recruits," he said suddenly, causing the other officers to look at him in surprise. "How many do we have in training right now?"

Major Ironside frowned. "About 5,000, sir. But they're green as grass. Most of them have barely fired a lasgun in anger, let alone faced down a horde of Orks."

"We don't have a choice," Sturnhammer replied, his voice hard. "We need every able body we can get on the frontlines. Captain Vex, how many of the new intake have medical training?"

The medicae officer consulted her data-slate. "We've got about 200 with basic field medic training, sir. And there's that one exceptional case, the young girl from the orphanage. Lilith, I believe her name is. Chief Medicae Helix speaks very highly of her skills."

Sturnhammer nodded. He'd heard whispers about this Lilith; a prodigy, some said, with an almost unnatural aptitude for the medicae arts. In normal times, such talk might have raised suspicions of witchery or worse. But these were not normal times.

"We'll need them all," he declared. "Major Ironside, I want a crash course in combat training for all recruits, effective immediately. Double shifts, live-fire exercises, the works. We've got a week to turn these children into soldiers."

"A week?" Ironside exclaimed, his human eye widening in shock. "Sir, with all due respect, that's impossible. Even with stims and hypno-indoctrination, it takes months to properly train a Guardsman."

"We don't have months," Sturnhammer snapped. "We have a week. Make it happen, Major. The Emperor protects, but He also helps those who help themselves."

The colonel turned to Captain Vex. "I want you to personally oversee the training of the medical recruits. Focus on triage, emergency field surgery, and combat stimm administration. They need to be ready to patch up our boys in the middle of a firefight."

"Yes, sir," Vex replied, her face grim. "I'll have them ready, Emperor willing."

Sturnhammer nodded, then addressed the room at large. "I won't lie to you. The odds are stacked against us. But we are the Steel Legion of Armageddon. We've faced down Ork Waaaghs before, and by the Emperor's grace, we'll do it again. Dismissed."

As the officers filed out of the war room, Sturnhammer remained, his eyes fixed on the hololith. The green mass representing the Ork horde seemed to pulse malevolently, like some cancerous growth threatening to consume all in its path.

"Emperor protect us all," he murmured, making the sign of the Aquila across his chest.

---

Lilith's muscles screamed in protest as she forced herself through another set of push-ups. The pre-dawn chill cut through her sweat-soaked fatigues, but she barely noticed. Her mind was focused entirely on the task at hand, on pushing her body to its limits and beyond.

"Come on, maggot!" Drill Abbot Kaine roared, his augmetic eye glowing an angry red in the dim light. "The Emperor didn't give you those arms for decoration! Move!"

With a final, trembling effort, Lilith completed the set and collapsed onto the ferrocrete parade ground. Her chest heaved as she gulped in lungfuls of the acrid Armageddon air, her limbs feeling like lead weights.

But there was no time for rest. A sharp kick to her ribs jolted her back to alertness.

"On your feet, recruit!" Kaine bellowed. "You think the Orks will give you a breather when you're tired? Get up and give me five laps around the compound! Now!"

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Lilith staggered to her feet and began to run. Her legs felt like they were moving through treacle, each step a monumental effort. But she pushed on, driven by a determination that surprised even her.

As she ran, her mind drifted back to the shocking announcement made the previous day. The rumors had been true that they were being sent to the frontlines. Lilith, who had barely been at Fort Hellhound for a month, was about to face the full fury of an Ork Waaagh.

The thought sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the early morning cold. She had read about Orks in the orphanage's limited library, had even seen one up close during the attack that had brought her to Sister Mercy's care. But facing an entire horde of the green-skinned xenos? The idea was terrifying.

As she completed her final lap, gasping for breath, Lilith caught sight of a familiar face. Chief Medicae Helix stood at the edge of the parade ground, his augmetic eyes whirring as they focused on her. She straightened instinctively, trying to hide her exhaustion.

"Recruit Lilith," Helix called out, his voice as gruff as ever. "With me. Now."

Lilith jogged over, her legs trembling with each step. Drill Abbot Kaine made to protest, but a sharp look from Helix silenced him. Without a word, the Chief Medicae turned and strode towards the medical ward, Lilith hurrying to keep up.

Once inside the familiar confines of the ward, Helix rounded on her. "You've heard the news, I take it?"

Lilith nodded, not trusting her voice.

Helix's mechanical eyes seemed to bore into her. "Good. Then you understand the gravity of the situation. We're about to face the fight of our lives, girl. And I need to know if you're ready."

Lilith swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet Helix's gaze. "I... I don't know, sir. I've never been in real combat before."

To her surprise, Helix's stern expression softened slightly. "None of us were ready for our first battle, girl. But you've got skills that could save a lot of lives out there. I need to know that when the shells start falling and the air is thick with promethium smoke, you'll be able to keep your head and do your duty."

Lilith thought of Sister Mercy, of the kindness she had shown. She thought of Sister Victorine, of the strength and faith she embodied. And she thought of her fellow recruits, many of whom were more frightened than she was.

"I'll do my best, sir," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "For the Emperor and for Armageddon."

---

The week that followed was the most intense of Lilith's young life. Her days were a blur of combat drills, weapons training, and grueling physical conditioning. Her nights were spent in the restricted medical ward with Chief Medicae Helix, absorbing knowledge at a pace that would have broken a lesser mind.

She learned to fire a lasgun with reasonable accuracy, though the weapon felt unwieldy in her small hands. She memorized field tactics and combat formations, struggling to keep up with the older and larger recruits during live-fire exercises. And all the while, she honed her medical skills to a razor's edge.

Helix was a demanding teacher, accepting nothing less than perfection. He drilled Lilith on procedures until she could perform them in her sleep, tested her knowledge with grueling oral exams, and subjected her to simulated combat scenarios that left her physically and mentally exhausted.

But through it all, Lilith persevered. The memory of Sister Mercy's kindness and Sister Victorine's strength sustained her, driving her to push beyond her limits. And slowly, surely, she began to feel a change within herself.

Gone was the scared, confused child who had arrived at Fort Hellhound just a month ago. In her place was a young woman forged in the fires of Imperial training, her mind a repository of medical knowledge and her body honed into a weapon of war.

On the eve of their deployment, Lilith found herself in the chapel of Fort Hellhound, kneeling before the towering statue of the Emperor. The weight of her new responsibilities pressed down on her like a physical force, and she sought solace in prayer.

"Emperor protect us," she whispered, clutching the silver Aquila that Sister Victorine had given her. "Guide my hands in battle, that I might save the lives of Your faithful servants. Grant me the strength to face the horrors that await us, and the wisdom to know Your will."

As she prayed, Lilith felt a presence behind her. She turned to see Sergeant Thorne standing there, his weathered face solemn in the flickering candlelight.

"Thought I might find you here, recruit," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Big day tomorrow."

Lilith nodded, rising to her feet. "Yes, Sergeant. I... I hope I'm ready."

Thorne's expression softened slightly. "No one's ever truly ready for their first battle, girl. But from what I've heard from Chief Medicae Helix, you're as prepared as anyone could be. You've got a gift, and the Emperor willing, it'll save a lot of lives out there and maybe yours too."

He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a small object. "Here. I want you to have this."

Lilith took the object, turning it over in her hands. It was a combat knife, its blade wickedly sharp and etched with prayers to the Machine God. The handle was worn smooth from years of use.

"That knife has seen me through three Ork invasions and more skirmishes than I care to count," Thorne said. "It's saved my life more times than I can remember. Now it's yours."

Lilith looked up at the Sergeant, stunned by the gift. "Sir, I... I can't accept this. It's too valuable."

Thorne shook his head. "You can, and you will. Where we're going, you'll need every edge you can get. And something tells me you'll put it to good use."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm. "Remember your training. Trust in the Emperor. And never, ever give up. The Orks are tough bastards, but we're tougher. We're the Steel Legion of Armageddon, and we don't know how to quit. Understood?"

Lilith straightened, clutching the knife tightly. "Yes, Sergeant. For the Emperor and for Armageddon."

Thorne nodded approvingly. "Good. Now get some rest. Emperor knows you'll need it."

As the Sergeant left, Lilith turned back to the statue of the Emperor. She held up the knife, its blade gleaming in the candlelight.

"Thank you, Emperor, for this gift," she whispered. "I swear by Your divine light, I will use it to defend Your Imperium and heal Your faithful servants. In Your name, I go to war."

With a final prayer, Lilith left the chapel, her steps purposeful. Tomorrow, she would face the green tide of the Ork Waaagh. But she would not face it alone. She carried with her the knowledge imparted by Chief Medicae Helix, the strength instilled by Drill Abbot Kaine, and the faith nurtured by Sister Mercy and Sister Victorine.

As the glow-globes dimmed to simulate night in the barracks of Fort Hellhound, Lilith lay on her cot, her mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. The weight of Sergeant Thorne's combat knife pressed against her side, a constant reminder of the grim reality that awaited her come dawn.

Fear, cold and insidious, coiled in her gut. Anticipation, sharp and electric, thrummed through her veins. Excitement, bright and dangerous, flickered at the edges of her consciousness. But beneath it all, there was something else, something she couldn't quite name.

As Lilith closed her eyes, trying to find the Emperor's peace in sleep, images of Orks flashed before her mind's eye. She saw again the massive greenskin that had nearly ended her life all those years ago in that dilapidated alleyway. But this time, instead of cowering, she imagined herself standing tall before the xenos abomination.

The thought of a mere slip of a girl, barely thirteen Terran years old, facing down one of the galaxy's most brutal races should have filled her with terror. Yet that unnamed feeling surged within her once more, stronger than before.

Was it righteous fury? The burning desire to purge the alien that the Ecclesiarchy preached? No, it was something else entirely.

As sleep finally claimed her, Lilith's last conscious thought was a question: What am I feeling?

The answer, she knew, would only come in the crucible of battle.

Hours before the designated wake-up call, Lilith's eyes snapped open. The barracks were still shrouded in darkness, the only sound the soft snores and occasional muttered prayers of her fellow recruits.

Moving with quiet efficiency, she slipped from her cot and began her preparations. Her las-carbine, cleaned and blessed the night before, stood ready by her bunk. She checked it once more, whispering a prayer to the weapon's machine spirit as she'd been taught.

Next came her flak armor. The plasteel plates were a comforting weight as she donned them, each strap and buckle a familiar ritual. Over this went her Steel Legion uniform, the fabric stiff with protective weaves and fire-retardant treatments.

Lilith paused as she reached for her medicae satchel. Inside, alongside the standard-issue supplies, lay the personal kit Sister Marian had given her. Her fingers brushed the worn leather, drawing strength from the connection to her past.

Around her neck, she placed the silver chain bearing Sister Mercy's flower petal, tucking it safely beneath her armor. The tiny vial rested against her skin, a reminder of beauty in this world of war.

Last came Sister Victorine's Aquila, pinned prominently to her uniform. Its weight was reassuring, a physical manifestation of the Emperor's protection.

As the first stirrings of movement began around her, Lilith stood ready, her gear prepared and her mind focused. That strange, unnamed feeling still burned within her to which she will soon find out what it is.