Becoming
The scout held his breath, willed his heart to slow and slowly, so slowly, squeezed the trigger. The long, heavy weapon in his hands functioned as it had been built and a thousand meters away, an enemy Commander fell, his chest in pieces. The scout, his mission accomplished, slunk back into the pipe from which he had accessed the area. He paused as the holographic training area around him -complete down to the smell from the sewer pipe he traversed- faded and he stood up in the holo training room.
"The mission was not done." The scout said quietly. "The test was not complete."
"You hit the target and they never saw you. There were no enemies in position to detect your exfiltration." The voice of one of his trainers spoke from nowhere. He wasn't sure if the speaker was AI or corporeal. It didn't really matter. "One careful shot can do the work of thousands. Continue."
The scout did not bother to reply. He strode to a rack and laid the sniper rifle in it. A servitor approached, another weapon in its mechanical hands. The scout took the Godwyn pattern boltgun and examined it quickly. Fully loaded. The servitor held out a pack of ammunition and the scout slung it without a word. A pouch of grenades was also slung from it. The servitor withdrew and the scout waited.
The room vanished and he stood in the midst of a war torn city. He crouched beside a ruined wall and scanned the area with passive sensors and eyes both.
"Orders?" He asked over the vox channel.
"Enemy forces ahead." The reply was immediate. "They are attempting to access a cogitator that holds classified technology." The scout nodded. That would not stand. "Destroy them."
"Enemy numbers?" That was for planning purposes. Numbers meant little more than that. "And is machine required to be functional?"
"Twenty and yes." The reply was immediate again. The scout nodded. The hard way it was. He couldn't just lob grenades from cover or it would damage or destroy the critical machinery. He had to pull the bulk of them away.
"Moving." The scout said as he slid away from his cover. An icon appeared in his vision and the scout froze, trusting his holographic camouflage to hide him from the enemy's sight. It worked. No fire sought him. He slid into cover a bit closer to the enemy force and his weapon was tracking as a small group of enemies appeared. Five of them. They were...familiar.
Grineer... The thought did not bother the scout. They were enemies of Man. They would be ended. Mankind would be protected. He felt no emotion at all as he took his weapon off 'safe' and took up slack on the trigger.
The five strong patrol of Grineer reacted instantly to the four shot burst as one of their number went down. All sought cover and the shooter. Only one could see where the shots had come from and that one was drawing a bead as a small object fell at his feet. His scream and the explosion of the grenade drew the enemy's attention, but it was too late. Precise four shot bursts tore each and every Grineer apart. Then the scout turned to where... He went still as ten Grineer boiled up and out of the building in question. He slid back into the ruin he was covering in and let them pass. As the last who passed his position at a run, he slid up behind and a razor sharp combat knife slid through even a Heavy Gunners massive plate like it was made of tin foil. The female Grineer fell without a sound, dead before she hit the ground. He could kill these. He reloaded automatically even though he had ammunition left in his magazine. These were not his mission yet.
The scout slid forward at a crouch. He had moments before the enemy realized that their compatriot was not following them, but neutralizing an enemy heavy weapon was rarely a bad thing. He paused in cover at the wall and peered in. Two of the enemy were working on a cogitator system. The others were on guard, but none were looking his way. Made sense. The whole force of Grineer had just run out where he was about to slide in. They had no idea what they were facing. At their base, Grineer were clones of humans. Not quite human, but at the basic level? Still human. Prosthesis and weapons they might have, but they were human. The scout was not.
None of the guards heard anything as the scout slid forward, his knife ready. But then a shout came from outside. The lost patrol member had been found. All eyes turned... to him. They froze. He did not. The combat knife flew, taking one of the stunned Grineer in the eyehole of his helmet. He fell without a sound and the boltgun roared. One, two, three enemies fell before the other could even raise his weapon. The scout dove to the side as flame scorched through where he had been, but his aim was true and the last Grineer fell, a smoking hole where his chest had been. Then the scout spun, hands going to the grenade pouch. He could see movement and fired without aiming cleanly. A high pitched scream sounded and he pulled a grenade from his pouch, arming and throwing it in a single sinuous movement. Several voices gave a cry that was suddenly stilled with the small explosion.
Then it was all fire and fury. The scout took hits to his armor, but none debilitating. Most of the fire missed. His own fire, by contrast, rarely missed and each hit killed. The boltgun was the Space Marine's weapon of choice, firing a .998 caliber round that was a self propelled armor piercing rocket with a charge of high explosive that detonated inside an enemy. Few foes could withstand such firepower. He reloaded once, emptied the magazine, then reloaded again.
Then... it was over. No more fire was coming in. Only a few groans of pain sounded. Nothing more. The scout poked his head up, but no one shot at him. One of the Grineer was pulling herself away, her arm hanging loose from where a bolter round had clipped it and exploded outside. She was crippled, but not dead. The scout reclaimed his knife and rose, boltgun ready. The Grineer stared up at him, fear plain on her face through the faceplate shattered by the bolt's explosion.
"The enemies of Man will fall before us." The scout said firmly as he set his boltgun to 'single shot' and fired a careful round. He did not watch as she fell still, her head a shattered mess. He turned and stalked back to the computer building, shooting two more Grineer as he passed them. "Mission accomplished."
The holographic terrain vanished and he moved to unload his boltgun and rack it as he had been trained. He waited for a servitor to bring him a new weapon, but none came.
"Next scenario?" He asked. But instead of the training systems...
"Training is finished." The voice of one of the training masters came and the scout knelt. "Rise, brother." The scout met the eyes of the huge human form who stood by one wall, eyeing him. But this being was not human. Not in the slightest. Size was the least of his advantages over regular humans. "Have you chosen?"
"I have, Primarch." The scout said quietly as he rose to his feet. "I will destroy the enemies of Man. I will defend Man from all foes."
"This universe's Terra has fallen." The Primarch said quietly. "This world... is not ours. But one truth remains. The Emperor protects."
"The Emperor protects." The scout repeated, bowing his head. "I am honored to have trained under you, Roboute Guilliman. Orders?"
"Our father wishes you in the main chamber." The Primarch of the Ultramarines said with a nod. The scout nodded and started off as the holo of the Primarch faded.
Twenty Primarchs had been created from the Emperor of Mankind's genetic material. Many had been lost mysteriously. Some suspected the Ruinous Powers' work, others the Emperor himself. No one truly knew what had happened. They had been found during a Great Crusade to reunite Mankind under the Emperor's banner. But then disaster had struck. Fully half of the Legions that had comprised the Great Crusade had been swayed by evil and turned against the Emperor, led by Horus, the Emperor's own warmaster. The Horus Heresy had spilt the galaxy, leaving many worlds burnt in its wake. Many evils had risen in the time since the Emperor fell defeating Horus. It was a time of great grim darkness. A time of heroes among vast multitudes. A time of villainy and heroism. It was a time where the only truth was war.
There was only war.
The scout knew this. He had been educated. Listening to Leman Russ, the Primarch of the Space Wolves, tell tales of battle and glory. Training at a forge with Vulkan, the Primarch of the Salamanders. Riding across a dozen world with Jaghatai Khan, the Primarch of the White Scars. Building fortifications with Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists. Tearing fortifications down with Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands. Debating law with Lion El'Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels. Discussing faith with Sanguinius, Primarch of the Blood Angels. Studying science with Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard. He had learned... so much. But he was still young.
He stood tall and strong as he entered the main chamber and the Emperor looked down on him from his golden thrown. The scout knelt as was proper. The Custodes, the Emperor's guards, stood at the base of the pyramid, as always. Solemn, silent and lethal beyond belief.
"You command, I obey, My Emperor." The scout said calmly.
"Rise, my son." The Emperor's voice was not...quite right. Then again, the only thing keeping him alive at all was the golden throne on which he sat. The scout did as ordered. "You have chosen?"
"I have, my Emperor." The scout said with a nod.
"There are allies to be found in this fallen universe." The Emperor said heavily. "Other defenders of Man."
"Orders?" The scout asked quietly.
"Take up your mantle, my son." The Emperor replied. "Defend humanity. You will find allies and enemies. You will serve as the Adeptus Asartes always have. My Angels of Death. What Chapter banner will you fight under?"
"I will be as the Primarch Sanguinius commanded." The scout said as servitors appeared. He did not move as his light Scout armor was removed, leaving him to stand clad only in the Black Carapace that would provide his nervous system with access to his power armor. Other servitors approached, each bearing blood red colored pieces of what would be his new home. "I serve the Sons of Baal. I will rend the enemies of Man, tear them limb from limb. My rage demands surcease. The betrayals we have all suffered demand satisfaction."
"Be wary, my son." The Emperor said heavily. "For your rage and hate will destroy you if you let it. Be true to yourself."
"Be true to the Codex." The voice of Roboute Guilliman spoke from the side, but the scout did not turn as his chest armor was applied and sealed against his flesh. The high collar of the Mark VIII armor hindered him a little, but not much and would provide great protection against enemy fire. The Black Carapace burned. It hurt, but it was needed. He did not cry out. He would not. He was Adeptus Asartes. "For honor and Emperor."
"I will be true." The newly promoted Space Marine said with a tiny nod.
"Be swift. Be strong. Be as the wind." Jaghatai Khan said as the Marine's arm armor was sealed.
"Indeed. Be as the North Wind." Leman Russ, for once solemn, spoke quietly. "Hard and cruel. Blow your enemies from your path." He said as the gauntlets were sealed.
"Be as a rock for your enemies to break upon." Rogal Dorn said in his gravelly voice. "Use what you have learned to be a defender of Mankind." He stated as the pauldrons were attached and sealed in place with their heraldry of a drop of blood and white wings.
"Learn what you can." Corvus Corax spoke quietly as the upper leg armor was applied. "But know your place."
"I am a Space Marine of the Adeptus Asartes." The Marine said calmly. "No more, no less."
"Beware pride." Lion El'Jonson said firmly as the lower leg and boot armor was applied. "It goeth before a fall. Any can fall prey to hubris. Even Primarchs."
"Even an Emperor." Came the voice from the throne.
"Trust your wargear." Ferrus Magnus said with a firmness that might have bent ceramite as the knee protectors were sealed in place. "Take care of your tools and they will take care of you. Flesh is weak."
"Iron is strong." The Marine said with resolve. "I will be as iron."
"Indeed." Vulkar's voice held grim pride as the massive backpack was fitted to the back of the armor. "You will do honor to the Emperor."
"I will do what must be done." The Marine replied as a servitor extended a boltgun to him. Not a standard model. This was larger and had a box magazine, but it was still a boltgun. Symbol of the Imperium and signature weapon of the Imperial Space Marines. Umbra Ferrox pattern, his teaching called it. A rare and precious relic. He would care for it as his life, for it was. Without his bolter, he was nothing.
"You will have no support. Limited tech base and even more limited resources." The Emperor said quietly. "But you will prevail. Sangiunius?"
"Indeed, my father." The Primarch of the Blood Angels stepped forward. "brother, you have chosen to follow my path. It is... a difficult one. The Black Rage can take any of mine. Beware, bother. A powerful weapon, but a deadly danger as well." He held out a blood red helmet as the Marine slung his boltgun. The Marine bowed his head as he took the helmet. "Only one thing remains. "What must we call you, brother?"
"The Enemy called me 'AB', a title meant to denigrate. To show their power over me." The Marine said as he turned the helmet over in his hands. "Now they have none. I am Abrahaim, a battle brother of the Blood Angels Chapter of the Adeptus Asartes." He placed the helmet on his head and it was dark, but only for a moment as the systems came online.
Readouts flashed before his eyes, all in the green. Weapons status changed as other weapons were added to his personal arsenal. Pistol, sword, grenades. Tools. These were mere tools. The true weapon was what resided inside the armor.
"Your mission, battle brother Abrahaim, is to find and protect the remnants of humanity in this fallen universe. Some will fear you. Some will revere you. Do not falter. Do not look aside." The Emperor commanded and Abrahaim knelt again, his armor whining as servo motors took the strain. It felt as if he were kneeling in cloth instead of heavy power armor. "You will find allies and enemies aplenty. What little we can do has been done. Whatever comes, you are my son. My Angel of Death. And I know you will do me and the Imperium proud."
When the Marine looked up, the room was silent. The throne and the Primarchs were gone. He nodded and rose. He had a duty. To formulate any strategy, he would need information.
"Information request." The Marine said as he strode from the room into another. A tiny armory, but sufficient for his needs. "Status of systems?" He asked as he walked to a terminal.
-Armory schematics database at capacity. Further resources needed to build specialized equipment. Ammunition stocks full.- The machine spirit replied calmly.
"Good." The Marine said as he worked the controls, seeking, perusing, discarding plans and strategies. "System has been...changed. Access to transportation?"
-Limited- The machine spirit replied.
"Demographics?" The Marine asked. "What opposition am I facing?"
-The Primary enemy are Grineer. Degenerate clones.- The Marine made a digusted noise and the machine spirit showed an image. It... was familiar. -Traitors, mutants and heretics all.-
"I was one of these before the Emperor found me." The Marine mused. "A traitor... I will redeem my honor. Next?"
-A machine cult.- An image of a boxy headed Corpus crewman appeared. -Weak in body, but strong in technology.-
"Tell me they don't pray to the Ommnissiah..." The Marine groaned. "The Techmarines are bad enough."
-They seek profit and technology equally.- The machine replied. -The last group are...- The Marine reached for his weapons as he saw the image.
"Daemons!" The Marine said flatly, staring at images of Infested. "Foul minions of the Warp. This system needs help indeed." The Ruinous Powers of Chaos and their warpspawn had wrought untold havoc on the Imperium over the millenia. But... "No..." He relaxed. "Not deamons, but close. Beasts of flesh and sinew. Flesh can be torn. Sinew cut. Do they hunger as Tyranids?"
Another deadly threat in the 41st millennia of the Emperor and his Space Marines. Alien monsters that consumed all life they encountered.
-Unknown.- The machine spirit replied.
"Well then, my orders are to help save this system." The Marine said with a shrug. "Time to get to work. Are there any defenders of Man fighting to preserve humanity?"
-Yes. A powerful psyker is among them, the Emperor sensed her.-
"Put me in contact with this psyker. And what are these defenders called?" The Marine asked as he scanned through filed, seeking searching, planning at light speed.
"They are called Tenno."
A little later
What did you say? The Lotus was not normally one to be blindsided. She saw a lot, knew a lot. But this...
We have a problem... Janet also wasn't one to freak, but... He said he is going to attack the Grineer. Asked our assistance. But...I got the feeling he will do it either way.
And why did he contact you? The Lotus wasn't sure of this at all. And what did he say he was?
He said he had been given my contact information by another psyker, whatever that is. He said his name was Brother Abrahaim of the Blood Angels Chapter of the Adeptus Asartes. Janet sounded as dumbfounded as the Lotus felt. Whatever the hell that means. I... was kind of hoping you knew. The Oracle said with a verbal wince. You don't.
No.
Oh... dear...