Icelus Dreadnought

This story, part of the community effort on the Emperor's Nightmare chapter, takes the point of view of an Emperor's Nightmare newly entombed in an Icelus pattern dreadnought. (by SC Guy)

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Brother Istran lay in his sarcophogus, his ruined body twitching feebly as he strained to feel something, anything outside the damnable blackness they condemned him to. It had taken a tank of the Traitor Legion to keep him down in the end, pulverising his body under its iron treads and splitting his armour, his second skin, the greastest symbol of the Imperium, like so much glass. But he had been recovered. Denied the final rest of death. Given the honour of serving Chapter and Emperor through the ages as an Icelus Dreadnought.

He knew that should bring comfort for him, but right now he didn't care. His senses irritated him in this pathetic silence of his sarcophogus. It wasn't silence at all, but torturous levels of noise. The shallow wheezing of his own shallow breathing, the slow flow of liquids in and out of various tubes in his system, the sound of his brothers outside, preparing for war, even in this soundproof box of steel he could hear it all. For this was not true silence. This was not what he lived for.

Then he felt it. The slow rushing of power through his metal body. His senses expanded beyond that of his crippled form, into the body, the limbs, the weaponry of the Ichelus shell he had so long ago bonded with. Noise returned, deafening and intolerable, making him want to claw himself in torment. Before him stood a techmarine, wiping his pallid brow and gazing at Istran.

"Honoured brother Istran, the time has come once again for you to serve your chapter as you have in times past. We prepare for war even now." He spoke reverently, bowing his head as he spoke. His voice spidered around the room, causing Istran to weakly scowl within the sarcophogus.

"With haste then, Techmarine." Soon, the true silence would fall again. The silence he lived for. The only silence which mattered.