Second Chances

This story, part of the community effort on the Emperor's Nightmare chapter, reveals a look into the initiation needed to become a Nightmare, and an unusual display of mercy.

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Brother Kalid of the Emperor’s Nightmare knelt down and lifted the small flower so many were dying for. He’d checked the locations and probable routes he’d been given by his brother Techmarines and knew that no one would be coming here. It was a lucky find really, the flower had gotten just enough shade and water to flourish in the harsh wastes. Kalid put the small flower into a padded carrier and clipped it onto his armor out of a sense of nostalgia he thought himself too jaded for. He blinked away various reports and needless updates in his helmet display before continuing to move.

Kalid wondered if this was punishment, to be forced to watch over the aspirants after they’d left Primus Hive. But then again, the restless nomads hadn’t been bold enough to dare attacking him or his kind during those halcyon days. Kalid snorted at the thought. By the Emperor, did he really consider those days where his family starved and begged, where his runty frame had run from bullies, where he’d made his first kill during the initiation as peaceful? This was worrying, at this rate he might have to make a trip down to the chapels and confess to the chaplains of his home. All useless thoughts fled his mind quickly however when a burst of priority vox chatter rang through his ear.

“Redemptionist activity has been spotted Lord,” a chapter Serf informed. “A Thunderhawk has been noted as too loud and unwieldy for use. You are the closest available.”

“How many enemies, and what must I know?” Kalid demanded.

“Unknown numbers, but they can not be more than a dozen. They were hiding beneath a makeshift bunker, using the heat of the world as cover for their bodies. However, they revealed themselves during a routine sweep and the pict-recorders have confirmed the seizure of a lone Aspirant. You are approximately 7.2 kilometers away. There is no truck spotted around the group, it is believed that this is an act of haste judging by the lack of vehicles,” the man intoned emotionlessly as a servitor.

“One last request however, it is desired that the bodies should be treated… harshly as to serve a deterrent.”

“Understood, moving now,” Kalid said before beginning to run. As he did so, his keen mind calculated the best ways to approach the group. Though he was not Dusk, his scout training had been extensive, and his skills should not have rusted so badly. Still, he would have to wait until nighttime to approach if he wanted to keep the taken boy safe.

Time passed quickly, and Kalid found the ragtag group easily. They made little effort to cover their tracks, instead relying on the wind to blow their footsteps away. Very amateur, said Kalid’s clinical mind. Even a squad of PDF would be enough to kill them all at range. Unfortunately Kalid’s bolter, as mighty a weapon it was, did not possess the range to make a series of accurate shot from this distance. He would have to wait until night after all. Most interesting was the captured Aspirant. He kept himself hunched low, as though protecting something. Was the precious gillyflower still intact? Kalid intentionally fell back, knowing the distance and harsh glare of the sun kept the marine out of visual range from the unaugmented Redemptionists. When night fell however, Kalid worked quickly. The fools had set up only a single sentry and had the gall to light a fire. A fire! Did these madmen wish to attract attention?

The sentry just barely got off a muffled yelp before a combat knife punched through the man’s throat and transformed the incoming scream into a gurgle. Kalid’s gauntlets dug deeply into the man’s neck after the kill and dragged lines of blood across his ownarmor as he prayed to it’s machine-spirit for forgiveness. With that done, Kalid let the man drop after discarding the tempting thought of draping the man’s intestines as a grisly trophy for added intimidation. He counted to three then jumped into sight.

“Emperor in-” one got off before a fist punched the man’s face and shattered his skull. The group as one froze, and the bound boy currently wrapped in fetal position grinned at the sight of the Nightmare.

“I have strode across a hundred battlefields and screamed victory into the skies after all of them. Countless heretics and xenos have wept at my passing and learned to fear even the very colors I wear. They were all better armed than you, and you think yourself their betters? To dare even think of taking the protectors of Icelus?” Kalid asked the shocked crowd.

“We do the Emperor’s work! You are nothing more than a foul, depra-”

For the second time that night, a man’s defiance was cut short, this time by a bolt round that erupted in his mouth and sent skull fragments into the now squealing men. Seeing his chance, the captured boy revealed himself not so imprisoned as the rope manacles loosened themselves and he tackled the knees of one of his tormenters. Kalid gave a grunt of approval before holstering his bolter and removing his chainblade. He reveled in the roar of his sword before setting out to do his bloody work, all the while accompanied by the boy he’d set out to rescue.

When all had fallen silent, the Astartes towered over the now subdued boy. Two sets of eyes met and to Kalid’s pleasure, the boy didn’t bother with some inane staring contest and merely looked at him, all the while measuring his surroundings. Good eye and survival instincts really.

“You are not badly wounded?” Kalid asked.

The boy blinked at the words before realizing what the marine meant. “Didn’t do much. Cuts, punch or two. Think they wanted wait until go home,” he said before wincing at the sound of his voice. He lifted dirtied fingers to cracked lips before a swollen tongue flicked out to wet his mouth. He didn’t cry out, but instead let loose a chain of creative swears almost beneath human hearing… but not Astartes hearing.

Kalid analyzed the voice and looks of the child before learning his origins instantly.

“Accent is gutterhive without a doubt, and your use of invectives, those are off-world ones. The quickness of your speech, that’s underhive too, and your jerky movements… you act like someone who needs to be always aware of his surroundings. You’re not just a hive dweller, you’re a port pup. One of those urchins living in warehouses and unused transport shuttles in Hive Secundus,” Kalid concluded.

“How you know all?” the boy asked with a grin.

Kalid said nothing, instead choosing to focus on his handiwork. The boy had favored a sharp shiv but upgraded to a knife after he knocked his first captor on his ass and took hold of his weapon. Astonishingly quick considering his lanky and clumsy looking frame, he’d killed no less that four Redemptionists. Amazing even considering the help he’d gotten. But something was… ah.

“Where’s your gilliflower?”

The boy’s sunburned face paled as he raced back to where he’d lay prone before giving off a groan. There, a single petal had fallen and the stem had bent at an obviously unnatural angle.

Kalid slowly made his way to the boy. To his credit, the boy didn’t bother crying, instead only narrowing his eyes as he judged his chances of finding a new one.

“You still have time,” Kalid said dispassionately. It was true too. The mighty Fortress-Monastery of Betten-Burgen was only three days away even considering the boy’s gait, and there was still a week and a half until the cutoff date. Of course, the chances of actually finding a flower at this stage was roughly one in five hundred, and considering the boy in question was hive-bred with no real clue of the wasteland and its denizens, the chances plummeted even further.

This is not right, Kalid thought to himself. It wasn’t fair that someone so obviously vicious and lethal could be expelled. Not possible that one smart enough to bide his time and outwit his Chapter and captors to come so far be reduced to nothing now. A waste of potential. Unless of course…

“Boy, I would leave if I were you. Time is something you will forever lack, and Icelusian nights are merciless. A Thunderhawk is due to arrive soon and pick these bodies up. We will not aid you. So, make way,” Kalid said callously.

The boy didn’t argue, instead only ripping away waterskins and other needed supplies, not even shooting his lost flower another glance. Again, Kalid approved of the boy’s pragmatism.

Before signaling his Brothers for a pickup detail, Kalid looked down at the boy again.

“What is your name?”

“Thureos.”

A maglock clamp disengaged and a container fell onto the packed earth with a thump.

“Be well Thureos. Find us and grow strong. When the gates of Betten-Burgen open for you, I will be there to welcome my newest Brother,” Kalid pronounced before turning away.

His keen ears heard the hiss of escaping gas and the stifled expressions of joy. Kalid smiled as his armor gave the codes for vox command. He did not look back. He had no need.

Today he’d found enemies and they had fallen. In a week or less, he would meet a new recruit. Nothing more, nothing less.

Category:Emperor's Nightmare