She was on board the cruiser before most of the company had even left the capitol. She was in one of the training rooms, beating on a sparring dummy with a meteor hammer. The Caedere weapon was a heavy weight on the end of a very long chain. An impractical weapon to be sure, but the crowds loved them, and the skill required to use one made men valuable in the pits. As she spun the chain about, picking up immense amounts of momentum, she grew more and more invested in the strike. She would build and build, adding more tension to the moment and making her want to hit the dummy more. But she never did. Every blow was a near miss, just shy of contact, and it kept her going, kept her hearts pumping, and her adrenaline flowing. She wanted to hit it, to splinter the dummy, but she always pulled back on the chain, reining herself in, to keep the dance going.
There was a knock on the door, and she lost concentration, and the weighted ball of the meteor hammer slammed into the dummy and knocked it to pieces. She looked at the door and said. "Come in." she started to coil the chain for the gladiator weapon, and push the debris to the sides of the small room with her feet. The door opened and three men walked in. She wasn't looking at them. She kept coiling the hammer, and asked, "What is it?" one of them coughed, trying to subtly point something out without speaking. Domitia had no time for fools too polite to speak their minds. She spun to face them, and saw wild anxiety and embarrassment on their faces.
One had a hand over his mouth, the coughing one she supposed, he was Terran. He had skin the color of mahogany and a row of silver and iron studs on his heavy brow. Next to him was a Nucerian with a scalp lock and absolutely no apprehension on his face, and more silver. The last was young, his ethnicity uncertain. Only a single copper stud was hammered above his right eye. The dark man and the young one looked unsure about what to do, but the Nucerian was absolutely unfazed.
The Nucerian spoke, "First Captain ," he gave a slight head bow, "I am Korant, and this is Flederman, the company champion" he gestured at the dark man, "and this is Dakhrin, the standard bearer." He gestured to the younger man. "We are honored to have you lead our host." His voice was level and without flair, she recognized the calloused and resigned tone of a gladiator from the pits of old Nuceria.
Domitia nodded and asked, "You are Nucerian? I didn't know that any of our people joined the legion."
He nodded and replied, "The Primarch isn't very fond of us, and so we serve this in chapter rather than on the important fronts." the comment struck Domitia as odd, but she made no mention of it.
"Then you are the command squad?" the men nodded in agreement, but Flederman and Dakhrin were trying to keep their eyes up. Confused, she glanced down and noticed she wasn't wearing a shirt. She had stripped down to almost nothing while she was sparring without a second thought, she didn't want to feel the cloth sticking to her skin. She had completely forgotten about her nudity, and suddenly felt stupid for not remembering that she was exposed. It didn't matter to her, in the pits, modesty was an ill afforded luxury, which is why Korant cared nothing for her exposed breasts. But the Terran, and the young warrior who had not been raised in those same circumstances were unsure as to how they should act. To keep them off guard, and made no visible notice of her nudity.
Korant responded, "Yes First Captain . We shall be accompanying you into battle at the van." He paused for only a moment to ask, "Where exactly is that going to be Captain ?" the word felt awkward in his mouth, he wasn't sure what title to call her. She cursed herself internally for not thinking to include their destination in the shipping orders. There was no undoing it, but she could take it instride.
Domitia ran a hand through her tangle of sweaty hair, slicking it back. "As soon as everyone is gathered I will give the navigator our destination, and I will brief the assembled war host." She looked right into Korant's eyes as she said it, trying to size him up. He seemed confused by her motives, but not hesitant like his companions.
"Why wait?" asked as simply and plainspoken as a warrior could be.
Domitia paused and wondered that herself, and shrugged with her reply, "I wanted to work out my anger first." She nodded her head towards the destroyed dummy. "As soon as I bathe and don my armor ill head to the bridge." Korant nodded in acknowledgement.
"With respect Captain , you don't need to do everything yourself. We'll convey the information to the navigators while you prepare." His face did not twitch once since he entered the room. He was hard to read, but Domitia thought she knew enough to plan her next move. If he spoke plainly, then so would she.
"I want you to know that this directive is aimed at getting me killed." She said the words with neither mirth nor choler, stating them like they were simple facts. But the three men, they laughed. Korant only snickered for a moment, but Flederman, he had a hard time standing he was laughing so hard. The youth was still apprehensive, so he checked his tongue, but she saw that he understood the source of the levity. "What is so damned funny about a suicide mission?" she bellowed. The laughter died in their throats, and the room was still for many moments.
"First Captain." Flederman offered, "This is not the first time our Primarch has sent us to die, and it won't be the last." This shocked her. They already knew that they were being sent to their graves, and they didn't care. Flederman continued, "This chapter is comprised of every washout, Terran, and Political enemy of the Primarch. He tries to kill us daily." Domitia opened her mouth to respond, but no words came forth, she was stunned into silence.
Korant continued, "Yes mistress, we are every Nucerian, every Terran from before the founding, and every man in the legion who has ever dared to speak against Angron, ever stood in his way, or who survived when they ought not've." He actually seemed to smile at that. "we have been sent to our deaths more times than even the suicidally brave Salamanders, and every time, we survive." his voice started to trail away, but he quickly caught it and stopped.
Domitia responded to this brazen statement of fact with a question to alleviate her confusion, "So, this is not news to you?" She softened her posture, and removed the edge from her voice.
Flederman answered, "when we received orders from you, we thought that our fate may have changed for the better."
"But it hasn't…" Domitia interrupted. "My presence only means the hardening of my father's resolve to kill you all." she felt a deep twisting in her stomach that she was leading hundreds of good men to their deaths, and she was not living up to the standards of a commander, she was not being worthy of leading them to their ultimate ends.
"No." Dakhrin answered this. "this is a change of our fate." he spoke as if suddenly possessed by hope, "We have been given the Carcharodon herself. The only daughter of our Primarch." he looked her right in the eyes as he said his next sentence, "You are our salvation!" at that, Korant put a hand on his shoulder, and reined him in in a fashion that seemed like a practiced motion used by a father on his enthusiastic son.
"First Captain , what Dakhrin is trying to say, is that we are not scared, and with you at the van, we will not lose." His face was still stoic, but his mouth was curled ever so slightly into a smile.
Domitia did not share his confidence, and it was plain upon her face. "How can you be so sure though?" she asked incredulously. "you who have never met me, how can you have so much faith in my abilities." she shifted about, unsure how she liked being their saviour.
Dakhrin answered, "we saw you in the pits!" the shock of hearing that said drained some of the color from her face. her mouth hung open, and words would not come to her mind. she just stood there for many moments, thinking of the hundreds of lives she ended in the fighting pits of old Nuceria. she thought of the tools of killing that she had used, of the steel stained brown with dried blood and viscera, and of the cheers of the crowd. She was born into the morbid fraternity of gladiators, and for most of her life, that was all she knew. it gave her no pleasure, to slay another, but it kept her alive and fed.
But these men, they had seen her before she had truly discovered who she was. they had seen the Carcharodon. A beast from the pits that savaged anything within the reach of its steel jaws, and they thought it would save them. Domitia had spent many years trying to grow past what she had been, to rise above the Carcharodon that made up her soul. she wanted to better than the creature that lived just beneath her skin.
Flederman saw her distress and tried to reassure her, "He meant no offense by that Captain ." he straightened his posture and started using practiced social skills, ones that were utterly alien to the gladiator stock that shared the room. "What he meant to say was that he had seen you fight," that made her distress visibly worse, and he winced but plowed on, "and he thinks highly of your skill." he adjusted the tone of his voice ever so slightly, "Your presence gives us hope."
Domitia looked at each of them in turn. Dakhrin was confused; he wasn't sure how his words had caused so much pain to her, and as they met one another's eyes, he was concerned and sorry and puzzled. Korant knew exactly what she was going through, and it was evident in his eyes. he knew that she wasn't proud of her past, of the years spent as a pet, and he wanted to help her, but her experience was so much worse than his own that he could muster no true empathy. And Flederman, he was a Terran. All he knew about Old Nuceria was what he heard in hushed conversations or in drunken soliloquies made by shell shocked warriors who might have never even seen that world. All of them wanted to help, but she wasn't sure if they could.
"I was once known by the title, 'Carcharodon'." her voice was heavy, and despite her resolve, her superhuman will and presence of self, she was saddened just to think of the words that now spilled from her lips."you know this?" they nodded. "That was because in the pits I was no better than a beast, like one of those ocean predators that my name was taken from." her skin felt cold, and she felt goosebumps spread across her exposed flesh. "As soon as the taste of blood got in my mouth, I…" she stopped as she remembered the bodies of men and beasts she had mangled while the roaring crowd had cheered her on and showered the sandy pit with rose petals and copper coins. "I was a monster once I got a taste." she looked Dakhrin right in the eyes, "Do you think that that monster is going to save this chapter?" before he could collect his wits and answer she asked another question, "How a monster give you hope for a better future?"
Korant straightened his spine, and clasped his hands behind his back. he said simply, "We are all monsters here." he waited for several long moments before adding, "We all carry a sliver of our Primarch's soul within our hearts." he thumped his chest with one heavy fist and proudly added, "But where we have a spark, you have a bright flame." he actually beamed as he said that, much to Domitia's dismay.
She asked him with a bitter question, "Is that such a good thing?"
"Yes." Korant stated with no doubt in his soul. "Your father is a madman, given control of a legion purely because of his genes. He is the Emperor's son, handcrafted for this task, and that alone makes him our leader. Not his merits, not his judgement, and certainly not his sanity." what he just said would have put him on the executioner's block if he were within earshot of Angron. it shocked her that he would be so brazen, but it made sense that he would be among the chapter of doomed men if he ever hinted at those thoughts existing within his head. "You have your father's prowess in battle, and the wisdom that he does not possess." then the bombshell landed, "You are more fit to lead the legion then he."
"I, I am not… I can not…" Domitia stammered. she was shocked by this admission, and by the truth of it. her father was mad. he was a butcher. he did not lead so much as point his men in the direction of slaughter. he was a bloody handed monster that venerated war because he knew nothing else. he was not fit to rule. he should never have been put in charge of anything larger than a cadre of murderers.
But was she fit to take on that mantle? These men, judging by the looks on their faces, believed what Korant said. and if that sentiment was shared among the chapter, hundreds of marines wanted her to sit the brazen throne. but she did not feel worthy of that responsibility. she felt like a mewling babe, hopelessly lost amid a sea of insecure thoughts and high expectations. she felt that she was not worthy of leading the legion, but part of her acknowledged that when her father died, she would be next in line to take control. Even if his death was in part due to the axe she might bury into his neck.
"I am not fit to lead a legion, not now, and not in a thousand years." She said it as confidently as she could. she felt cold now, as the sweat on her skin had cooled, and she wanted to shiver. She pulled her hair back across her scalp, and tried to appear more confident than she was. she was unsure if she was successful in that endeavour.
Flederman joked, "I waited a century to meet my primarch. as soon as i did i was left here." he smirked as he continued, "I waited another fifty years to meet someone worthy of leading the legion. For you mistress, i can wait another thousand years for you to take control of the legion." both of the other men snickered slightly at the meager joke.
Dakhrin said, "First Captain , if you'll excuse us. we must see to the arrangements of bunking the troops and stowing gear." Domitia nodded in agreement. "And when would you like to address the chapter?"
"Two hours after we break orbit. i'll send you a definite time once that's happened." she nodded, and looked straight at the men. "Dismissed." they gave a short bow, and left the training room. once the door slid shut behind them, Domitia fell to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest, trying to be as small as she could manage to be. she wanted to stop existing for a few minutes, and just escape the idea growing in the corners of her mind. She sat there for many minutes, unmoving, an alien feeling came over her. Fear. Fear of what she may become. Fear that she may become what she hates so much, her father.
When next she was seen, the entire chapter was gathered in the port cargo hold, lined up by company and squadron. The ship had fled into the warp some time before, and as per her orders, the command squad had given the order for the chapter to assemble.
She stood outside of the massive room, flanked by Korant and Flederman, behind Dakhrin who was carrying chapter's banner. Both Korant and Flederman were wearing the livery of honor guards, golden torcs and polished bronze crested helmets, with halberds in hand. Domitia by comparison looked drab, wearing no gold, not even the cape that most captains and praetors were never without. just a cotton tunic and breeches, rugged boots. her arms were wrapped in pit fighter's bandages. Her only jewelry was in the form of an adamantium torc that her uncle had given her. it was meticulously polished, and shone like black steel. Each end of the twisted wires was capped with a sharks head, inlaid with silver and platinum. It was the only adornment that she felt was expressive, everything else was just cloth or metal… this though, this was a part of her soul.
Korant looked to Domitia and gestured towards the door. She nodded. Flederman stepped up to the door and opened it. the doors were meant to allow fully armored terminators through, so it took a few moments for the servo motors to pull the slabs of steel inside the walls. as soon as Dakhrin could fit through the gap, he strode into the room, and slammed the banner on the deck three times. The metal butt-cap made a concussive bang with each strike, and all noise inside the massive room died. He then strode up the aisle, carrying the gigantic flag with both hands firmly on the ash pole. Domitia followed a few paces behind him, flanked by the other members of the command element.
Every head followed her progress up the aisle, looking for the first time at the daughter of their master. She looked back, seeing the faces of the men she was leading to the jaws of hell. Many were dressed in the style of Nucerian warriors, same as her. others wore cassocks or other robes like the monkish dark angels. But all had the demeanor of World Eaters. Every visible patch of skin had scars displayed, every brow was studded, and all of their eyes had the dull shine of professional killers.
She walked to the stage that had been erected from cases of bolt shells and spare parts. it was several hundred meters from the doors to the stage. The walk was long, and she felt as if the assembled marines were striping her of her flesh with their gazes. Most had never seen female space marines, fewer had seen a Scion. They looked at every inch of her they could see, and she felt every gaze on her skin as if they were crawling insects. she wanted to knock a few skulls together and scream 'eyes forward', but she resisted the urge. these men did not know her, she had not earned their respect, nor their fear.
Dakhrin reached the stage first, and found a place to stand, holding the banner high for all to see. Domitia followed suit, and climbed to the highest box, and stood there. Korant and Flederman took positions in front of the stage, gilded halberds crossed. Domitia stood there for many moments, thinking of what to say, but the more she thought, the farther her words were from her grasp. so she just started speaking.
"Hammers of Nuceria, your Primarch, my father has ordered us to go to the Imperial world RU12-37 to deal with a warband of the Xenos known as Orks." she spoke from the diaphragm, letting her voice reverberate off of the cavernous steel walls. "He has sent us without permission to request more equipment from the armory, and he has sent us without support." she swallowed, and continued, "He has sent us to our graves." the gathered chapter gave no response. "But I have been told that this is not new to you, and that you have a reputation for surviving when my father would want otherwise." she swelled her voice with confidence that she did not possess, "That is exactly the talent we are going to need. Because as you all know, Orks do not travel in small groups, and for this horde to have taken an entire imperial planet, there must have been millions of them." she paused to catch her breath, and pressed on. "we have been tasked with defeating a superior force, because our master wants us dead."
"Angron, in his malicious politics, placed all of you here because you were Terrans, or Nucerians, because you questioned him, or because he felt that you have not the strength to cut muster in the legion proper. you are the objects of his hate, and so am I." she raised her voice for effect, "We shall not give that bloody-handed tyrant the pleasure of our deaths. We shall endure this trial, and any other he forces upon us, and we shall succeed. We will survive and pour victories at his feet out of spite." she stepped to the edge of box that she stood on and continued, "We will not fail, nor will we yield in the face of impossible odds, because that is not what Astartes do, that is not what World Eaters do." She pounded her chest and yelled, "The blood of old Nuceria flows like a flood through my veins, and it is in all of you too! No matter the shape of your face, the color of your skin, you are World Eaters, and you will slay those Orks! This is our duty as Astartes, and our battle as the rejects of the legion!"
At that they cheered. They stomped their booted feet on the deck and roared their praise. It was energizing for Domitia, a feeling that she had not had since the last time she stood on the red sands. but that was praise for her butchery, this was for her ideals, her motives, for her. she roared with them, and felt a feeling that was utterly alien to her. Something that she knew only for a brief time in the court of the Raven.
She was home.