"Vicconius...." Ezekial began. "Brother, you must lead," Vicconius interrupted. "Your men await." With the toe of his armored boot, Ezekial nudged the dead Eldar. Even in death the beautiful aliens looked graceful. Their smoothly proportioned limbs and faces bespoke of their strange and unique culture. "They look so like unto us," Ezekial found himself murmuring. "That is the source of their abomination," Vicconius immediately replied. "They would seek to be human, and yet are not." The Chaplain's armored helmet, molded in the shape of a leering skull, swivelled to face Ezekial. "Do not be fooled by their surface beauty, Brother-Sergeant. They are as much the enemies of our immortal Emperor as any other foul monstrosity." "This is known to me, Brother-Chaplain," Ezekial snapped. The black-clad soldier was beginning to nettle him. "I am familiar with their particular brand of heresy. It was merely an observation. I am no longer a green scout under your care." He was, after all, a two-hundred year veteran Space Marine. His anger continued to rise, forcing his shame to recede. Vicconius matched Ezekial's glare, grinning skull to faceless armor. "Then behave as such, and lead your men." And with a swat of his Crozius against the face of the Eldar, forever marring its perfection, the Chaplain returned to his searching. Biting off a curse, Ezekial watched him leave. After a further moment's consideration, he put all his hesitations aside, turning his back on the disfigured Eldar. "Captain Horatio!" he bellowed. The Imperial Guard Captain, tattered and unkempt, hobbled over from where he had been standing. Wounded on the second day of fighting, he nevertheless had met all challenges, even going so far as to kill traitorous Imperial Guard troopers himself after Commissar Block died. Now the blood-soaked bandages were filthy from dust and dirt, but Horatio made no complaints. It was men like the Captain who restored Ezekial's faith in the humanity he protected. Such a man might have made a fine Space Marine himself. For this small acknowledgement, Ezekial made extra efforts to deal fairly with the soldier. "Captain," he began, "we have little time before the evil spawn come upon us again. Were any of your men able to find entrance to the City of Might?" "Negative, sir," Horatio replied. There was, technically, no need for the Captain to address the Space Marine as "sir." But it was impossible for an ordinary man to talk down to one of them; they towered above the Guardsmen, their black-green armor making them even more imposing, their helmet eye- sockets glowing redly. In one sense Horatio actually outranked the Marine -- he was, after all, a Captain whereas Ezekial was only a Sergeant -- but only a fool in their circumstances would try to take command away from someone with centuries of experience. He even felt that some of the other Space Marines would as soon kill the Guardsmen as the Eldar. All except for the Sergeant, that is; something about the way Ezekial spoke with him hinted that this was a more "human" Space Marine. "We have searched as well as time permitted," the Captain added, "but no door is to be discovered." He punctuated his report with spasms, coughing hard. "It is possible that this building was entered only from below, through tunnels or holes." Blood flecked his lips. Ezekial could see that the Captain's condition, already exacerbated by strenuous fighting, had worsened markedly in the last assault. "Possible, but not likely, Captain," Ezekial answered. "Such beautifully designed defenses are useless if one cannot get inside to defend them." "Could the strange inhabitants of this world yield a clue?" Horatio whispered. Despite his deteriorating condition, he apparently refused to acknowledge it. The Sergeant, intuitively understanding the Guardsmen's pride, respected his decision. Ezekial briefly considered the question. Mraba IV was supposedly a dead planet, but numerous forms of lower life still inhabited its rusted cities. Some of these lifeforms exhibited a remarkable similarity to humans, at least in appearance, and this was not surprising given the number of adventurous traders rumored to have been stranded here in their search for the warp- wrapped world. Yet they were human no longer, for now all the natives had metal skins, weirdly immune to direct applications of psychic energy. They died readily enough to boltgun fire, though, and to Ezekial's mind any creatures capable of wroughting the City of Might would be capable of protecting themselves from smaller guns. "No," he said, firmly, "though they may be the twisted descendants of true humans, these natives are no longer the masters of Mraba. They had as little to do with this building's construction as you or I. No, there must be an entrance if we can but find it." Horatio sighed heavily, closely watching the Marine's faceplate. Like the Sergeant, he gave no indication of his thoughts. "We will begin our search again, sir," he offered. "I need only to rest... a few moments... then we will... will --" His voice trailed off as he died. Ezekial caught the Captain's body before he fell, and effortlessly carried it out of view of the Eldar advance. "Of course, Captain Horatio," Ezekial murmured, "when you have rested. But for now I have more urgent needs." Spinning to his feet, the Space Marine Sergeant began barking orders. "Brother-Chaplain! Brother-Chaplain Vicconius!" Directly the dark-suited figure appeared, stance unreadable. "Yes, Sergeant Ezekial?" "Brother-Chaplain, I wish you to commend Captain Horatio's soul to the Emperor," he answered. Vicconius stopped him as he turned to issue more orders. "Brother-Sergeant," Vicconius rasped, pitching his voice to carry only to the Space Marine, "he is a mere Guardsman, not a Dark Angel. Let one of his own tend to him." Ezekial's temper, already worn raw from fatigue and shame, flared bright at the Chaplain's words. This time he did not restrain his anger. "Brother- Chaplain, you are our lord Emperor's representative here, thus it is your responsibility. This man may have been ordinary in body, but he was a match for any Space Marine in his soul, and I personally found his loyalty beyond question. It would please me greatly if you would send his soul safely to the arms of the Emperor!" Not waiting to see if the troublesome Chaplain obeyed him, Ezekial instead stormed off to the end of the defenders' line. His helmet's auto-senses showed him, however, Vicconius bending low over the fallen Captain. The stares of the remaining troopers -- Guardsmen and Dark Angels alike -- followed his advance. The unsuited humans looked on with surprise and respect. The power-armored Marines' expressions were blank; their emotions were hidden behind thick ceramite plating. Checking his suit's chronometer, Ezekial realized there was not much time left before the Eldar attacked again. Each attack previously had allowed only enough time for the aliens to regroup before pushing forward. |
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. |
