Part III Zeke was young, but his training in the Imperial Cult was thorough, and his Preachers severe. Everyone served the Emperor! Only heretics refused the Imperium. Without realizing it, Zeke moved toward the exit, instantly panicky that he could have grown so close to -- an avowed! -- heretic; what would happen to him when the Confessor found out; he would be stringently punished...! Before he could reach the door, though, before he even knew what he was doing, the Hermit had surged across the floor and taken hold of Zeke by the shoulders. Sudden fear flared in the boy, and he tried to struggle, but the hands that gripped him were like bands of steel. Yet they withheld from crushing him; instead they merely kept him still, while the Hermit gave vent to his newfound intensity. The words came out in a rush, and Zeke found his curiosity battling against his fear. Gradually the former won out. "Do not judge me harshly, boy," the grim-faced man went on. Zeke saw, for the first time, the scar running along the Hermit's jaw; briefly he wondered how he'd gotten it. "You know nothing of the life I've led. I was called by the Finest Man Who Ever Lived" -- his voice capitalized the words -- "to serve the cause of Humanity. But I was misled by another, and for that mistake I have suffered more than any man has a right to bear." "I won't... I won't judge you...." Zeke whispered. At that admission, the Hermit let loose of Zeke's shoulders. Standing slowly, he raised himself to his full towering height. Zeke had never realized just how tall he was; the Hermit must have been a giant among men. He was certainly taller than the Arbites soldiers or Zeke's Preachers. Turning, the Hermit moved to a far wall, pressed a hidden button. A small alcove opened, sliding up into the wall, revealing a shrine to the Emperor. With a gesture towards it, he said, "I had this installed two hundred years ago, when first I came here. I don't really know how to use it. To me, he's still a man, not this dead thing you worship." Again, Zeke's terror caught hold of him, but this time he restrained it from showing. The Hermit was talking about the EMPEROR as if he knew him when He walked among men. How could that be? Everyone knew it had been ten thousand years since the Emperor was mortal in the way of ordinary men. Zeke's confusion made him miss the Hermit's next words. "...to learn to use it. I know he can hear me. He has forgiven me. He understands." The Hermit's tone softened, as though the only thing he valued was the fact of his forgiveness. "I ran because I feared His wrath. Then He forgave me. So I hid, here where I thought I would be safe. I serve Him no longer. How can I? It is millenia since I should have died in battle, millenia since his Grace was a man I knew.... I no longer fit into this world. I cannot serve a dead thing. Yet He knows this, and still He has forgiven me. I would serve if I but could." New hardness entered his voice, "But they will not forgive me. They think I am unrepentant; they think that THEY have the right to determine my guilt or innocence. But THEY ARE WRONG!" This time as he raged, he drove his fists like pistons into the ferro-crete of the walls, punching his anger at the words. Powder flew from the craters he left in the walls, and suddenly Zeke knew what that itch in his brain meant: the Hermit was wearing armored gloves, and armored boots. No one else in the world -- in the universe -- wore armor like that: the Hermit was a Space Marine! Part IV The realization stunned him. He'd only ever heard of Space Marines in books and in stories. They didn't seem like real people: all the stories said there were only a thousand Chapters of them in the whole entire galaxy, and there were a million worlds in the Imperium. How could anyone ever expect to see one in real life? Most people thought them almost legendary, and figured if you did see one, things were probably pretty bad for them to be there in the first place and you would have more important things to do -- like surviving the reason they were there -- than to worry about whether or not they were really Space Marines. "Who- who are you?" Zeke said, barely audible. The Hermit apparently misunderstood him, though, for he didn't proclaim he was a Space Marine. Instead, he kneeled in front of the frightened boy, and said, "My name is Gideon. I've not said that in four hundred years, to keep it secret. Now it matters not. You, Zeke, you are my friend. And you have not judged me as they would. For this, I tell you my name." "But why... what's going... what's happening?" Zeke stammered. "You are Innocent, and shall remain so," Gideon responded. "They shall not have cause to doubt you. You must persevere in your worship of the Emperor, for that is the Truth of today. I am still living in the past; you are Humanity's future. Worship him with all your heart!" Suddenly throwing himself to his feet, Gideon ran about the room, pushing buttons and adjusting controls. Zeke had never seen most of them before, and guessed they were revealed by the opening of the Emperor's shrine. Now phosphor screens glowed into life and multi-colored lights flashed for attention. First dark was just falling outside, but the screens were able to compensate for it somehow. To Zeke's eyes it looked like full daytime. On those screens, figures could be seen moving to and fro. Whatever ability the monitors had to make dark like day also removed all color from what it showed. Thus the men appeared like nightmare visions, with glowing eyes and dark visages. Silently they crept about the hut, at least a score or more of them, toting menacing weapons in their dark-clad hands. With a start, Zeke recognized them as Space Marines in power armor, but the insignia on their shoulders -- what should have told him who they were -- was obscured by the fuzzy view on the monitors. Not that he could have known them by sight: there were over a thousand Chapters of Marines, and he had pictures of only a few. But they were Space Marines! That alone was amazing enough for one boy. It was still more amazing when Gideon reached up with one armored fist, and tore off his tattered robe, revealing a full suit of power armor. Black as night it was, with a winged sword emblazoned on his left shoulder. For a moment as the screens flickered on his form, he looked impossible to defeat: an impregnable fortress of a man, invincible. Then Zeke looked at his face again, and saw that defeat was already there; but Gideon had learned to live with his shame for so long that he had no choice but to keep on fighting. Moving rapidly now, Gideon scooped up his enormous gun in one hand, the other taking up his helmet from a wall sconce. He settled it over his head, locking it onto his armor with a click and a hiss of atmosphere. In the dim and shifting light of the screens, Zeke could tell little about the Space Marine's armor except that it was worn with use. Obviously well-cared for, it nonetheless showed gouges and scars of numberless battles. To Zeke's wondering gaze, it was the epitome of power and strength...and black as an abyss. His helmet secured, Gideon's free hand next turned to Zeke, guiding the boy to a back room in the house. Here he activated another monitor, saying, "I cannot guarantee your safety, young charge, but you have the better of your chances by remaining where I leave you." The Marine's voice was masked by electronic sound, as though it emanated from deep inside his armor. "This is as safe and strong a room as any you'll find in the Governor's palace, or that offensive bastion of cruelty Castra Exercitus, and it is well-shielded. They should not find you if you do not leave this place before they go. On your life, do not follow me out into the night." Rising, he stalked to the door, heavy tread thumping on the floor. Raising his hand to another control panel, he paused, cast a last look at the crouching boy. "Good-bye, Zeke. May the Emperor guide you." |
REDEMPTION By Kelly L'Roy |
TOMES OF VALOUR |
This item has been reproduced without the permission of the author. It's use here is not intended as a challenge to the original authors copyright and is reproduced here for the sole purpose of enhancing the Dark Angel spirrit and the warhammer 40,000 experience. Sadly all attempts at contacting the author have been unsuccessful and the original site where this was published no longer in existence. The story has been too invaluable to the DA community to be simply lost in the warp and therefre been reproduced here. If Kellt L'Roy happens to read these pages, please contact by email. |
