The Initiate

This story, part of the community effort on the Emperor's Nightmare chapter, gives insight into the process by which new Space Marines are initiated into the chapter.

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"It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?" The marine turned the blossom over, surprisingly gentle despite his armored hand. The boy could only nod. Beaten, exhausted, and nursing a broken arm, he had clambered tooth and claw to victory and was the first victor--possibly the only one--this year.

"Like this world. Bright. Beautiful. Something worth fighting for." The aspirant agreed.

The massive battle-brother looked at the flower in his massive hand.

He clenched.

For a moment the shock numbed him. Then, with a wail, began to hammer the marine's leg in tearful fury.

The astartes gazed down on the boy. He couldn't be more than twelve. Let him have this, he decided. It will be his last outburst.

Finally, pain racking the child's form, his blows relented and he sank to the ground, still clutching feebly at the marine's kneeplate.

"Understand," the Nightmare said through the vox, his helmet impassive as stone, "That you could no longer be part of this beautiful world. Understand that you, like this flower, were pulled from your home, and could no longer grow. Understand," he finished, "that you have given your share of this life to protect the whole. This is your sacrifice. Bear it with pride... brother."

---

The Watch-Captain worked the men under his command hard, and they enjoyed the few hours they had to themselves accordingly. A favorite pastime had become the exchanging of stories between each chapter, trading myths and traditions. Tonight's topic was recruitment. Mikhail, a Space Wolf Long Fang, kicked back, listening to his brother-marines speak of their respective homes.

"There are almost no losses in our initiations," said Gordon, the Salamander. "Those who fail the tests still serve proudly in the planetary defense forces."

Mikhail snorted. "Bah, where's the encouragement without the risk? You'll end up with toothless soldiers that way."

"They've done the job so far," Gordon replied evenly. Though things had gone roughly at first, by now they all knew Mikhail's jabs were friendly.

"But what about you, brother Fionnel? You haven't spoken about initiates from... Icelus, was it?" As he typically was, the Emperor's Nightmare sergeant had been silent thus far.

"Aye." Mikhail sat up, always curious about their tacit scout. "Let's hear it."

His voice was as soft as ever as he began. "When the Nightmare recruits, the youth gather at the lowest levels of Icelus Primus. The challenge is to reach the Fortress Monastery."

"So you recruit anyone with legs, then."

"No. The aspirant has to arrive with a token--an intact flower from the--" Mikhail's guffaw echoed off the walls at that. With a sideward glance, Gordon motioned for their companion to continue.

"... A specimen of Night-Scented Gilliflower. It grows around the hive. Some families import them, though the chapter keeps watch to make the challenge difficult for all comers."

"You said 'intact.' What are the rules?"

"There are none. The aspirants may do anything and everything they wish, so long as they arrive with their flower unmarred."

"Unless perhaps you tripped, I don't see that being an issue. How did your trial go, then?" The Wolf still snickered as he asked.

"My flower was lost when another aspirant broke my arm." Mikhail was about to make another jibe when Fionnel continued. "He hit me with a truck."

"...What?"

"A loading truck. He had commandeered it. When he reversed, I jumped onto the hood and strangled him through the window."

The others had gone silent.

"He had started trying to shake me off as he backed up. After he lost consciousness I jumped off before it crashed into a wall. When I landed, it was on my broken arm, and my flower. I had to find another after I made it out of the hive."

Mikhail was the first to speak. "So what did you do with your posie? Frame it?"

The Nightmare was silent for a moment. When he spoke, it was with the faintest trace of emotion in his always gentle tone.

"Brother Laertes crushed it."