Promethium in Paradise (40k) (Part 18 posted)

[Academia Nut]

Recently this idea popped into my head, so I figured I might as well share it because I feel it's a story worth sharing. I do apologize in advance if I drift between tenses, it is the most bizarre literary problem I have and it is completely invisible to me. So without further ado...

Promethium and Paradise
Part 1: Descent into Paradise

Kaleb came back to awareness slowly and fitfully, at least by his standards, although to an outward observer he awoke quite quickly after blacking out. The first thing he thought, once he was aware of thought, was if he was dead or not. By all rights he probably should have been dead after that hellish ride. As consciousness returned, he remembered more of the details.

The Chaos raider and his Chapter’s Strike Cruiser locked in battle, trading monumental blows for hours on end until finally both ships began to break apart from the stress and damage of the battle. With a heavy heart they had abandoned their doomed ship, taking whatever they could and heading for the vibrant blue-green planet they had stumbled upon through the unpredictable nature of the Warp. Along with several of his brother, Kaleb had taken an assault drop pod as their emergency means of escape.

Unfortunately the foul Chaos scum had not allowed them escape so easily, the enemy ship firing on the fleeing Marines and crew shortly before the destruction of its own reactor consumed it entirely. Kaleb had watched in grief and horror as enemy fire gutted first the sole remaining Thunderhawk transport and then the other assault pods. Finally it was their turn to suffer such a fate, but by the Emperor’s graces the shot that struck their pod had little power and did not destroy them outright, merely punching a hole in one side of the pod and killing Effiom.

Still, the shot may well have destroyed them, for there was no way they could make atmospheric re-entry with a hole like that in their hull. Despite this, they were Marines, and Salamanders at that, and they refused to give up, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed. They had used what little supplies they had to put a patch over the hole, knowing that it would not hold long enough to save them.

Then Anwar had an idea. Perhaps if one of the two Marines wearing Terminator armour were to use his armour and body as an additional layer of protection for his brothers. As the other marine, Kaleb had insisted that it be him to give his life like that, but as Anwar was the higher ranking of the two, he had overruled Kaleb, stating that it was an officer’s duty to look out for his brothers.

The rest of his memory was still fuzzy, but Kaleb knew that Anwar had held on until the end, screaming his defiance at the atmosphere that would provide salvation for his brothers while it incinerated his body as due. Now fully conscious, Kaleb opened to his eyes to blackness. Turning on his armour mounted headlamps, Kaleb discovered a scene of incredible sadness.

The last missing fragment of his memory jogged by the images before him, Kaleb remembered that while Anwar’s sacrifice had prevented the outright destruction of the pod, much damage was still caused and the braking thrusters only fired fitfully towards the end. With a coastline approaching fast, the pod was coming in too fast and towards the ocean rather than land.

Kaleb knew when he saw the flooded compartment that he was the only survivor, his brothers in standard power armour unable to survive the impact, their still, twisted bodies providing mute testimony to the violence of the landing and his own survival a credit to the intervention of the Emperor and the skill of the artificers that made his armour.

Disengaging from what was left of his crash harness Kaleb knew that he did not have much time left to escape from this watery tomb. He had already expended most of his oxygen supply on the trip to the planet in the depressurized pod. Moving sluggishly, he moved to one of the doors, and when it didn’t open right away, he pulled the emergency release, blowing the explosive bolts and throwing the door off its hinges.

He stepped out into an azure and turquoise world full of bright, vibrantly coloured corals and fish, all bending and swaying and moving in time to the rhythm of the currents and the waves that made the ceiling of this aquatic world. While he felt a bit guilty when trampling the beautiful corals in his trek along the bottom towards the shore and air, he did not allow anything more than a passing glimmer of such emotion to come over him. Survival came first, and if that required the destruction of some beauty, then so be it.

Eventually he exited the reef and began to move along the sandy beach bottom towards the shore, eventually walking out of the surf enough that he can pop the seals on his helmet, releasing the stale, nearly depleted air and allowing in fresh air smelling strongly of sea salt and ozone with a hint of the sweet decay of things from the jungles in-land.

Walking onto the beach proper, a dark shining beach made of fine, black sand composed of volcanic rock and glass ground into powder by millennia of pounding surface, Kaleb finds that he is not alone. Sitting above the tidal zone is a young boy in a loincloth, staring at the titan that has just walked out of the sea, seemingly waiting for him.

Taking off his helmet, Kaleb lets the boy see the human face beneath the imposing green metal mask. The boy lets loose a broad, gap-toothed smile, and Kaleb returns the gesture with equal warmth. Amongst all the chapters of Space Marines, Kaleb feels that the Salamanders are unique in understanding what it means to be a Marine, to be a hero of the Imperium. They had sacrificed their humanity not for power, but so that millions of children they would never meet could smile like that, never fearing the horrors from beyond the stars.

The boy then got up and ran over to Kaleb, barely reaching up to his waist, yet still the boy fearlessly took Kaleb by the hand, tried to wrap his hand around his armoured pinkie finger really, and began to lead the bemused Marine into the jungle. Truly, it was a comical sight to see, a slip of a lad leading three metres of green and black death incarnate by the hand, the impatience of youth giving the impression of the boy dragging the Marine along. Had he not worried that the thundering, barking sound of a Marine’s laughter would frighten the boy, Kaleb would have surely let his mirth get the better of him.

In comparison to the scorching hot beach, the jungle was cool and dark, if equally humid, and the soft wash of the surf was replaced with the cawing of birds and the activities of various animals. The smell also changed from the salt of the ocean to the cloying sweetness of thousands of different plants and flowers all competing for olfactory awareness and the subtle decay of the forest recycling itself, transforming the dead into new life.

Then, after a few minutes of quiet travel, the forest opened up into a large clearing dotted with wooden huts raised up on stilts, campfires, and most of all, people. The appearance of the boy leading the gigantic green behemoth covered in iconography depicting skulls and flame naturally elicited quite the response, and a large group of people soon gathered around.

Kaleb saw fear in their faces, quite natural when unexpectedly meeting an Angel of Death for the first time, but he also saw pride and determination to defend their homes and their loved ones. The boy chattered something in his language, a tongue quite unintelligible to Kaleb’s ears, but the meaning was obvious. He was saying that they did not need to fear Kaleb.

One of the men looked at the boy and said something harsh sounding, no doubt either the village chief or the boy’s father scolding the lad for bringing a monster back home with him. The boy responded rather plaintively, no doubt asking if he could keep Kaleb, seeing as he followed the boy home, but the man took on a look that all fathers have that told his son that there would be no arguing. Hanging his head in shame, the boy lets go of Kaleb’s hand and walks over to the line of people in a sulk until a woman, undoubtedly his mother, pulls him away from the front and uses her own body to shield him.

Highly amused by the exchange, Kaleb does not let his mirth show, but rather adopts a stern yet non-threatening look, and then drops to one knee so that he is more or less eye level with the assembled people. One by one he meets the gaze of everyone in the assembled group, man and woman, protector and protected, young and old, and let’s them know he is not a threat.

He knew that he must look peculiar to them, although in considering aside from the size difference and the armour, not too peculiar. His skin was much darker than theirs, but living in their sun drenched home had not left them as pale as some people, so they were less likely to take his skin tone as a sign of daemonic possession. And while his face was covered in scars and he had metal studs over his right eyebrow, they had their own scars and piercings and tattoos.

In the end, it was the eyes that won out. For all the horrors of war he had seen, for all that he had changed since he was a child on Nocturne, for all that he had lost and gained over the years, his eyes still knew what it meant to be human, still knew what it meant to feel. Deep brown eyes met eyes as green as their jungle home, and despite not sharing a language, they communicated.

The boy’s father, obviously a man of some importance, nodded and said something, causing the crowd to disperse. He then waved Kaleb over to one of the cook pits where a porcine animal slowly roasted over a spit. Taking out a sharp looking stone knife, he slices off a bit of the loin and then hands it to Kaleb. Taking the offering, Kaleb bites into the hot meat, not even wincing at the temperature of the juices that squirt out. Smiling, he pops it into his mouth to show that he appreciates the gift. Then man then sits down and gestures for Kaleb to do the same.

Kaleb smiles again, not because of the food, but because despite all his loss, until someone finds him, he can still perform his duty and protect humanity, however few and however far from the rest of the Imperium. While he prays for his brothers to swiftly find him, there were worse places to be stranded.

[Enigma]

Nice. Now back to In Memoria!!! Chop Chop! You have lots of work to do! j/k

For a moment, I got the impression that Kaleb land on our Earth sometime in our past. Wishful thinking.

[Academia Nut]

While incredibly flattered that you thought that this was Imperial Overlord's work, you'll note that my user name is slightly different.

[Enigma]

While incredibly flattered that you thought that this was Imperial Overlord's work, you'll note that my user name is slightly different.

Gahh!! THe two fics were were so close to each other that I mistook yours for IO.

[Dominus]

I like this. Is there any chance at all that this might be the prelude to a full blown series, or was this merely a one-shot? Nevertheless, it was honestly somewhat refreshing to see a properly humble Space Marine depicted in literature for once. I forgot that the Salamanders often forego the 'holier-than-thou' ubermensch complex that seems to infect most of their brother Astartes -- this is probably why they're one of my favorite chapters. Great work, my friend.

[HSRTG]

Your grammar and spelling were both fine. You have no need to worry in that respect. If I missed something, it's because of the fact that this is good. If you write more, please post it.

[Academia Nut]

Yeah, this is the start of a series, and yeah, the Salamanders are one of my favourite chapters as well, although the dearth of background information on them is somewhat frustrating. I guess they're just not quite grim enough for GW.

I might be able to get the second chapter done by the end of today though. Hooray for bizarre schedules and a professor being out of town!

[Academia Nut]

Part 2: Witch Fires

Much to the relief of the village Kaleb had been ‘adopted’ by he soon removed his Terminator armour and donned the simple robe he carried in one of the compartments for just such occasions. He then set out to making himself useful. Considering how often he had trained without armour or weaponry in primitive conditions like this, he felt mildly insulted by the way that they seemed to patronize him whenever he tried to do something, although it seemed less that he was doing something wrong and more that he was doing it the wrong way. Hunter-gatherer societies tended towards conservatism so he supposed that they probably thought his methods simply wouldn’t work.

Eventually he contented himself with babysitting duty, although that was more because the children were fascinated by him and flocked around him. Kaleb actually laughed inwardly at how ridiculous it looked for him to be sitting serenely while children peered at him intently and eventually even started poking him. Many other Marines would have been insulted, but Kaleb knew better. Maybe it was his presence that the hardest looking men in the village took turns looking after the children, but the fact that they tended to ignore him more often than not seemed to indicate that protecting the children was assigned to the best fighters in rotation. Sensible method and a good way of passing on wisdom, as long as the protectors didn’t abuse their responsibility.

Plus there was another reason Kaleb did not mind the children around him. They were teaching him the language far faster than adults, because where the adults tended to become tight lipped around him the children could not stop talking. Plus, whenever he asked the word for something, they seemed to take great pleasure in explaining it to him slowly and careful, showing off their knowledge and savouring his lack. Children could be so cruel at times, but at least their cruelty served a purpose in this case.

Kaleb wasn’t actually quite sure what they thought about him, seeing as they went from fear to acceptance, damn near familiarity to the point of ignoring him, in rather short order. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of their behaviour, unless Space Marines regularly fell from the sky and were accepted into local villages. The only thing he could think of was that perhaps this world had Ogryns, although somehow he doubted they would trust him so much if they thought he was an Ogryn.

As the day wore down, he noticed them preparing a large bonfire. Probably to welcome him with some sort of feast, but you never could quite tell exactly how people would behave. Kaleb had seen enough of the galaxy to know that people didn’t always behave the way you might expect. Of course, he had seen enough people turn to Chaos, and subsequently charge him with rusty knives, to know that sadly enough stupidity was often the way people behaved. Fortunately these people did not look stupid, so the chances of them trying to lure him into a false sense of security and then roast him seemed rather low.

It would be a pity to have to kill them.

As the sun plunged below the horizon, bathing the village in blood red light, the villagers began to congregate around the as of yet unlit bonfire, bringing with them the food for the night’s meal. It looked like they had switched over from preserving food to make a feast, but it wasn’t like Kaleb could tell them that he needed no ostentation, no ceremony, and that he could get by on perhaps only double their daily rations.

Finally, just as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, one of the men took a burning brand from one of the smaller fires and used it to light the bonfire, banishing the subtle blues and greys of twilight with the fierce yellow-orange of the fire. With the lighting of the fire, some of the villagers also took to playing various flutes and drums.

Letting them lead him to a place in a semi-circle around the bonfire, Kaleb graciously and quietly accepted what food and drink he was given, occasionally displaying his limited but growing knowledge of the various nouns he had picked up during the day, to the amusement of the people serving the food. Mostly the food was a collection of fruits, nuts, and fish, with some pork and poultry for extra meat, and a collection of rather potent spices for seasoning. The primary drink was some sort of potently fermented fruit juice, which Kaleb downed like water, much to the amazement of the villagers. Considering that his superhuman body could filter out far more deadly poisons, alcohol practically was water to him.

As the night started to move towards true dark, the world’s small, greenish primary moon coming into view high above, the background music started to take on a more sinister tone, and a hush went over the gathered crowd. Several of the men stood up and walked off towards the huts, disappearing into the shadows to all but Kaleb, whose eyesight could see through the gloom far better than a normal human’s could.

After a few minutes, the music had degenerated into a low, rhythmic, ominous beating of the drums. Remerging from their huts wearing a variety of menacing costumes, the men began a slow, round-about path back to the fire. Kaleb moved his state of readiness from a relaxed, ‘ready to move at a moment’s notice’ to the more standard ‘panther ready to pounce’. Their costumes looked mostly ceremonial and none were quite what he would call daemonic, so he hoped that they were just going to play the monsters of legend in need of slaying and not the heroes of the story. He really hoped that Chaos had not corrupted whatever tribal beliefs they had in the absence of the Emperor.

Mostly he hoped that they hadn’t turned to Chaos because that would mean he would have to kill them all, just to be safe, rather than just the men if they just tried to kill him on general principles. He rather liked the children and it would be a pity to have to hunt them down and break them.

Watching the ceremony with great interest, he waited as the costumed men took up positions on the far side of the bonfire in the shadows. Approaching at a more or less direct line towards the fire, they would remain out of sight until they left the glare of the fire. At some predetermined time, the drumming suddenly stopped, and silence fell over the clearing, only the crackle and pop of the fire breaking the hushed quiet.

Then, with explosive energy, several of the costumed dancers leapt into view, causing the musicians to pick up again with a weird, cacophonous song lacking rhythm from the drums and punctuated by short, discordant screeches from the pipes, while the dancers spun and danced about chaotically, seemingly without reason to the motions. Now extraordinarily worried, Kaleb moved his alert level up to the visibly noticeable ‘hair trigger grenade about to go off. However, something about the music and dance tickled him with a strange sense of familiarity.

It was the music that finally clued him in. Normally the pipes were short and sharp, but occasionally a high pitched, wailing note would appear, punctuated by a thunderous strike of one of the guns. Artillery! With that piece of the puzzle in place, the entire dance came into sharp focus. The dancers were these people’s interpretation of technologically advanced soldiers fighting, filtered through Emperor-only knew how many hundreds of generations, and the music was the noise of battle.

The dance took him so long to understand the meaning behind because it was incredibly abstract, the people having chosen rather complex ways of trying to express the fighting instead of substituting their own, more primitive tools of war to try and explain what they probably thought of as the war between the gods.

Then they did something that actually shocked Kaleb. Two new figures entered the scene, their costumes making them seem enormous, obvious the head gods in their mythology. It was what the costumes represented though that stunned Kaleb. One was of an enormous, black, raptor headed being, while the other was a somewhat smaller, yellow and gold, double headed eagle.

“The Emperor,” Kaleb whispered beneath his breath. While he doubted that the Emperor himself had ever set foot on this world, the meaning was obvious as the two new comers cleared away all but three of the dancers, obviously ending whatever war had raged across this world. The music gradually changed with each subtraction, becoming more structured and organized.

The three remaining dancers were the least ferocious of the original group, two appearing to represent normal people, while the third wore a stony mask, perhaps to represent the techno-sorcerers that once gave their ancestors magic. Now a peaceful tone, the double eagle man stepped forward to address the remaining dancers. Two of them, one human and the techno-sorcerer, quickly bent their knees, obviously swearing fealty to the Emperor.

But the third man did not, rather he stepped forward and knelt before the raptor headed man. The double headed eagle was shocked by this, and did not have time to respond before the raptor that fought at its side only moments before struck off one of the heads.

“Horus!” Kaleb hissed, now knowing for certain what the second deity represented.

The performance continued, the maimed eagle striking back, the two combatants carried off stage by their fighting. Obviously, the planet had lost contact with the Imperium shortly after the start of the Heresy, as they had no idea what the result was. Meanwhile, the man who had sworn fealty to Horus attacked the other two, quickly striking down the techno-sorcerer before engaging in a vicious sword fight with the other man.

This turn of events actually heartened Kaleb, for from the audience’s reactions and the costumes, it seemed that the loyalist was the hero of the story. The fight continued for several minutes, the music growing faster and more frenzied as their carefully choreographed battle proceeded towards its conclusion. Finally the villain got the upper hand, wounding the hero and driving him back, towards the body of the techno-sorcerer the hero had been protecting.

The techno-sorcerer was obviously not yet quite dead though, for at the last moment when it looked like all hope was lost, he lashed out at the traitor, wounding him deeply and giving the hero the chance to provide the killing blow. Obviously the Loyalists managed to maintain just enough technology to give them the needed advantage in the final battle before losing it all and reverting to this primitive state.

Just when Kaleb thought the performance over, a new character walked on stage, but instead of coming from behind the fire, he came through the ring of people. An old man, bent and stooped with age and the large number of necklaces adoring his neck, he had the air of a shaman or medicine man about him. Kaleb did not like this turn, for the air about the man seemed to carry a certain electric charge, and there was a high probability that the man was a psyker witch.

The shaman began a speech to the crowd, obviously explaining the dance and some of the finer details, but with each new syllable the air became increasingly charged with energy and the man seemed to become increasingly distracted. Now moving to kill the witch before something terrible happened, damn the consequences for his relationship with the people, Kaleb found himself in a rather unusual situation.

While his intent had been to snap the old man’s neck, what he ended up doing was snatching the spear headed for the man’s head out of the air. It was a lucky thing too because had he not done so the old man would not have been able to counter the massive psychic assault launched at the villagers by the true culprit behind the uneasy feeling in the air. The shroud of witch conjured darkness that concealed the enemy war band had dropped right as the moment the enemy witch launched his attack, giving Kaleb a split second to change course and intercept the spear meant to prevent any psychic countering.

And the other Chapters called the Salamanders slow.

Witch fire sparking all around him from the failed attack, Kaleb cut a truly impressive and terrifying figure. Towering over even the tallest of the enemy by a wide margin, and built like a bull, he probably looked like death incarnate to them, his face hidden in a pool of shadow by the hood of his robe and the bonfire back lighting him. Snapping the spear with one hand like it was a dry, brittle twig, Kaleb tosses the pieces contemptuously aside and regards the enemy.

Sneak attacking a village in the middle of a celebration, witchcraft, and what looked like signs of mutation amongst some of the attacking warriors. Kaleb could deal with ambiguity, but he, like all Space Marines, preferred a straight up fight where he knew exactly who was friend and who was foe. Leave the questioning and doubt to the Inquisitors, Kaleb was Vulkan’s hammer, instrument of the Emperor, built to do one thing very, very well.

Smash the enemy.

The enemy outnumbered him by thirty to one and had weapons were he had just his fists and was for all intents and purposes naked. Kaleb considered fighting with only head butts to even the playing field, but discarded that notion as being silly. He would have to attack with feathers to actually give them a sporting chance, so there was really no point trying other than senseless pride.

Ignoring the psychic duel between the two psykers, Kaleb took off with a rush for the enemy positions, and was on top of them before they knew what hit them. The first man Kaleb struck literally didn’t know what hit him, because he died so fast he never had time to understand his situation. Delivering a quick jab, Kaleb’s hammer-like fist stove in the man’s face as surely as if he had been hit by an actual hammer.

They tried to retaliate, but the flint and obsidian edges of their weapons had a tendency to shatter when pitted against his bones and black carapace. Not that they hit him all that often, considering he was faster and far more skilled in combat than them. Mostly he tended to get hit when he had his back turned to a large number of opponents.

After about ten seconds half of the raiders were lying in pieces at his feet and the other half were running, leaving their shaman behind. Casually strolling up to the psyker, Kaleb tapped him on the shoulder, letting the corrupted witch turn around just in time to see the hands that ripped his head off closing about his face.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Kaleb returned to the pile of corpses and found one where he had smashed in the rib cage instead of caving in the skull, and he twisted off the head. Popping out an eyeball with a finger, he pulled until the optic nerve was nice and tight before biting down. With the optic cord as a starting point, he began to suck out the man’s brains, an easy task once he got it started. In a few hours his omophagea implant would absorb the man’s memories, including language, and he would be able to talk to these people.

Returning to the circle of stunned on-lookers, Kaleb gave the shaman a look that said, “I’ll tolerate you for now psyker, but don’t think I won’t kill you whenever I feel it necessary.” The old man seemed to accept this and immediately began to talk to the anxious people, not doubt helping to organize patrols for the night.

That down, Kaleb sat back down as if nothing had happened, still and silent beneath his now blood drenched robe. It was perhaps the calmness that unnerved the people around him the most. They had never seen such a sudden switch from an avatar of violence to a peaceful monk before, and it scared them that beneath his quiet exterior existed a being capable of the things they had seen him do.

Kaleb knew that they were glad that he seemed on their side. If he chose to kill them all, there was literally nothing they could do to stop him, and they knew it.

Surprisingly, it was the children that returned first. To them, everything was big and dangerous, so Kaleb was the same to them as any adult, only more so, and they had not the suspicions of adults. So while their parents went to clean up the slaughter Kaleb had wrought or secure the village from any further attacks, the children re-evaluated their previous inspections of him.

By the time the sun rose in the morning, Kaleb was still in the same place, but he had several small children snuggled up next to him, secure in knowing that their new giant would keep them safe.

Kaleb smiled.

[Dominus]

Bloody hell, that was a great update. A nice combination of grim, 40k-style slaughter -- er, I mean "action" -- mixed with Kaleb's own thoughts, which are, I must admit, rather amusing for an Astartes. Ah, if only the uptight Ultramarines had the same sense of levity, the galaxy would certainly be a better place. For a Terminator, Kaleb is a man I wouldn't mind knowing if I were a 40k denizen myself.

But I digress. Though I've been a fan of the 40k universe for years now, I completely forgot that the omophagea implant even existed, probably because it's so rarely used or even mentioned in fluff -- I suspect that the Black Library authors tend to avoid mention of it for fear of being accused of promoting cannibalism or somesuch nonsense. Anyway, it's good to see that you're putting his abilities to, ahem... good use.

Do keep up the good work. This is a a most promising start, to be sure.

[Academia Nut]

Actually, the omophagea has been mentioned in the following places:

Soul Drinkers (where their name comes from actually)
Bloodquest Trilogy (at the very end aboard the Chaos ship)
Variously in relation to the Blood Angels and their sucessor chapters as to one of the reasons why they often have rumours about blood drinking and flesh eating

And yeah, I'm currently trying to get the balance between the fact that Kaleb is more or less death incarnate to the average human being, yet as a Salamander he has a very different outlook from the standard Marine. From what I've been able to gather, the Salamanders are by far the "nicest" Chapter around, in that they actually care about the people the protect. Where many other Chapters will intentionally keep the populations they recruit from primitive and politically fragmented to encourage the toughest recruits possible and live apart from them, the Salamanders are community leaders who mostly live amongst the population of Nocturne. They also recruit at a very young age, around 7 or 8, with those children aspiring to become Marines apprenticed as smiths under elder Marines, so it sounds less like "the unworthy are judged unfit through death" and more "sorry kid, you don't have what it takes to be a Salamander, but at least you now have a useful skill you can take back to your parents".

[Raj Ahten]

Interesting story. I always apreciate 40k stories that aren't doom and gloom all the time. I'm betting some chaos marines made it to the surface as well. When they meet, Kaleb will then have a real chalenge....

[Academia Nut]

I'm betting some chaos marines made it to the surface as well. When they meet, Kaleb will then have a real chalenge....

Since it's a fairly obvious direction, I will admit that you are correct on that point. There is, however, hints to some of the other things that are happening on this paradise world are in the first two chapter, especially the dance scene. Remember folks, plot holes are just plot points you have yet to fill in

[Dominus]

Indeed, I agree with Raj Ahten -- this and Overlord's 'In Memoria' are the reason why I am beginning to appreciate 40k fanfiction perhaps more so than Black Library literature, if only because it's not so 'doom and gloom' all the damn time.

On that other point, filthy Chaos scum. I trust they will be purged with the appropriate level of prejudice...?

[Academia Nut]

Part 3: Morning Conversations

With the terror of the night attack over, the adults returned to the village and quickly and quietly collected their children, leaving Kaleb alone. When the last one left, the boy who had been on the beach, Kaleb got up and went to the river near the village and began to wash out his robes. There were several crocodilians floating in the water, but even they seemed to know better than to mess with a Space Marine.

Having finished absorbing the memories acquired from the man’s brain, Kaleb was unsurprised by the bits of conversation he overheard while scrubbing the blood out of the fabric. Fortunately, despite their simple appearance, the robes were actually quite sophisticated products of technology and did not allow the blood to seep into the fibres and stain them.

“Did you see what that thing Bane’s son brought home did last night?” One of the women asked while washing out her clothes.

“I saw the results, but not what actually happened. Too dark and too fast,” another replied.

“All I know is that he saved us from Meka and his band,” a third chimes in.

“He ripped Meka’s head off with his bare hands,” the first points out.

“Well he’s big isn’t he? And he’s on our side,” the third replies.

“But for how long? I found that head he picked up before coming back to the fire. It was missing an eye and it was hollow inside,” the third details out.

“So? All of the scum that followed Meka didn’t have much between their ears anyway,” the second woman says mockingly.

“I think he ate the brains,” the first woman accuses. “I don’t like the way all the children keep crowding around him, and I’ve told Peni to stay away from him.”

“Ha! Fat chance of that happening. Peni and Kai are practically joined at the hip, and Kai was the one who said that the stranger was coming in the first place,” the third woman points out.

This perked up Kaleb’s ears. What exactly was meant by that? Actually, now that he considered it, it was rather odd that only one child was waiting on the beach near where his pod had gone down while everyone else seemed unaware that several tons of metal had come screaming out of the sky, trailing smoke and fire, before smiting the water like a thunderbolt. Still, they obviously had a psyker in their village, so perhaps he had warned them ahead of time.

Looking over his robe and deciding that other than the holes where the tribal raiders had tried to stab him last night it was in good condition, Kaleb put it back on and emerged from the shadowy rock outcrop where he had been working and into sight of the chatting women. Smiling he says, “Do not worry about your children, I have already raised three.”

The women are taken aback by his sudden speech, and one even asks, “How…”

“I learn quickly,” Kaleb supplies not particularly wanting to try explaining how he had achieved fluency via ingestion of brain matter. The women seem to accept that, figuring everything else about him seemed strange so one more thing wouldn’t really matter.

“Umm… what do you mean by raised children?” One of the women asks.

Smiling now more at the memories, Kaleb comments, “Amongst my people those that wish to become warriors are apprenticed to a senior warrior for training, and three times have I successfully raised aspiring young boys into fine warrior men like me.”

This was obviously quite a surprise to the women, who probably figured he just fell out of the sky, which while true didn’t really explain anything. Another one asks, “Uh… what became of them?”

“One is still alive today, a leader of men, while the other two fell honourably in battle,” Kaleb says while stepping out of the river.

The calmness in the way he talks about children he helped raise and mould having fallen in battle puts the women off and they shy away from him somewhat. Marching past them, Kaleb can’t help but add on, “The youngest was fifty when he died” before leaving the stunned women behind.

Deciding that he had put off attending to the machine spirits of his Terminator armour and weapons long enough, Kaleb went to the small cairn where he had hidden them. When he had undressed the day before he had removed as much of the sea water as he could, and while the machines were incredibly robust, their spirits could get cranky after an extended exposure to salt water. He also had some spare parchment, ink, and sealing wax, so he could replace the purity seals destroyed by the fiery re-entry and water landing.

Struggling to remove the capstone to his stash, Kaleb drops it on the ground and then begins pulling out his gear, meticulously examining each piece before setting it down and picking up the next. Finally satisfied that all he had to do to appease the machine spirit was scrape off a few salt crystals on the surface and re-oil everything, Kaleb breaks out his maintenance kit. First he sets up a small burner and lights a single stick of incense, technically the ritual called for two sticks but he doubted he would get re-supply anytime soon so he was erring on the side of caution and that the machine spirits would understand.

He then spent several hours cleaning his equipment, the same hands that had crushed skulls and torn out spines the night before deftly working tiny brushes and swabs. Weapons of war that routinely ripped apart things far stronger than men he handled like newborn babes. So absorbed in his work was he that he barely noticed that the boy that had found him the day before was sitting watching him as intently as Kaleb did his work.

Noticing the boy after he finished cleaning the optics of his helmet, Kaleb looked up and said, “Oh, hello.”

“I knew you would be able to talk,” the boy says with a smile.

Chuckling, the sound like the rumble of rocks rolling down the side of a volcano, Kaleb said, “Oh, I already knew how to talk, just not your tongue. That took me a little time to learn.”

“You’re funny,” the boy states with a gap-toothed smile. “I’m Kai.”

“Pleased to finally know your name Kai, I’m Kaleb,” Kaleb says in a friendly tone.

It’s then Kai’s turn to laugh, and he says, “Kaleb? That’s a girl’s name.”

“Not where I come from. If anything, you’re the one with the girl’s name,” Kaleb teases.

“No it’s not! It means ‘honoured son of the ancestors’,” Kai says in the defensive tone that only children can muster.

“Oh really? Seems rather short for all that,” Kaleb says with a smirk while packing up his gear.

“Yes, really. See, I even have the blade of the ancestors as proof,” Kai says, pulling out a small knife.

A small metal knife.

Cocking his head to the side, Kaleb asks in a very serious tone, “Kai, where did you get that?”

“The ancestors gave it to me!” Kai states proudly.

“And who are these ancestors?” Kaleb asks.

“They’re… the ancestors… like in the dance last night. You know, like the heroes Wyome and Tlex?” Kai says, as if Kaleb should know what that means.

Letting out a small sigh of annoyance, Kaleb changes tack and asks, “Okay, where are these ancestors?”

“Umm… I’m not supposed to tell anyone,” Kai replies, stepping nervously from foot to foot.

“I see… it’s just that I make things like this, so I wanted to talk to the creator about such things,” Kaleb states, deciding to go for a more roundabout way.

“No way!” Kai exclaims. “Only ancestors can make stuff like this.”

Pulling his thunder hammer out of its resting place, Kaleb holds it up and shows off the line of script that bears his name, “It says right here that I made this hammer, which has to be at least as good as your knife.”

“You’re making that up, you can’t understand the captured words of the ancestors. And my knife is better,” Kai states.

“Oh? Well what if I am one of the ancestors?” Kaleb says.

“You couldn’t be one of the ancestors,” Kai accuses.

“I bet you that if you showed me where the ancestors are I could prove I know what I’m talking about,” Kaleb suggests.

“What would you bet me?” Kai asks with a hint of juvenile greed in his voice.

“Oh… how about this?” Kaleb says, rummaging about in one of the storage compartments on his armour before pulling out a small gold Imperial Aquila on a chain. Kai’s eyes bug out at the sight of the finely made double headed eagle.

Transfixed for a moment, Kai then recovers and says, “You’re on!” before racing off.

Laughing, Kaleb says, “Wait up just a moment, I need to clean up here.”

Quickly putting everything back in the cairn and hefting the cap stone back on top, Kaleb follows the now over eager Kai into the forest. Heading inland and uphill, the two reach a small rocky cavern where Kaleb’s instincts for danger, honed over centuries of battle, start prickling. There was something wrong, or at least not right, about the cave. There was no immediate danger, but still…

“Kai…” Kaleb begins, growing concerned.

“Shh!” Kai says before heading deeper into the cave.

Following, now more out of concern for the boy than interest in learning who these ‘ancestors’ are, Kaleb soon finds Kai crouched beneath a low rock outcrop, staring up at a large, grinning skull.

The large grinning skull of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

“This is the gatekeeper to the realm of the ancestors. To get past him we have to… have to…” Kai says in a hushed voice before trailing off.

“Kai? Kai!” Kaleb says worriedly as the boy goes into some sort of trance. Grabbing him, only to recoil in surprise when he discovers the boy’s skin ice cold to the touch, Kaleb watches in horror as pale green flames flare to life behind Kai’s pupils.

Shaking out of it, a cold sweat appearing and subsequently freezing on his shivering body, Kai stutters out, “W-w-w-we h-h-ha-have t-t-t-to g-g-g-go b-b-b-ba-ba-back.”

Picking up the shaking boy, Kaleb says, “Of course.”

“N-n-n-no. D-d-d-d-danger,” Kai states as the exit the cave, return to the hot, humid world of the midday jungle.

“Danger?” Kai asks as he begins to move down the hill back to the village.

He then hears something that makes him stop dead in his tracks. A distinctive noise he had heard a hundred thousand times already.

The sharp crack-pop noise of a bolter being fired full auto.

“Danger,” Kai confirms.

[Dominus]

Well, bloody hell. What are the Adeptus Mechanicus doing on such a primitive world? The mystery deepens...

This was another great chapter, by the way. More character development can only be a good thing, especially when applied to an Astartes. And may I be struck down by the Emperor himself if Kaleb isn't an interesting character, it must be said. You usually don't see Marines that are so adept at handling children, especially Terminators. Really, it speaks volumes about the, er, 'humanitarianism' of the Salamanders... (if such a term could ever be applied to any race or faction in 40k, that is)

[Academia Nut]

As I said, there are clues and foreshadowing, especially in the second chapter. All myths and legends have a seed of truth somewhere in them...

Or maybe I'm just throwing you red herrings to make you tear out your hair later

[Academia Nut]

Part 4: High Noon Showdown

In the heat and humidity of a coastal rainforest, with its riotous competition of life, those that fail at the ultimately unwinnable game of life are quickly consumed, the insects and other carrion lords of death coming to claim their due.

The bodies on the ground were already thick with bloat flies, attracted by the stench of spilt blood, making identification near impossible, especially since the bodies were hit by multiple bolter rounds, causing them to disintegrate in a shower of gore. Of course, in such a small village, identification was easily accomplished by simple process of elimination.

Kaleb was glad he had left Kai safely out of harm’s way and out of sight, because he did not want the poor boy to see such sights as these, to know that two people he had known since birth now lay as piles of offal on the ground, waste for the birds and flies to pick clean. He also didn’t want put the boy through suffering witness to any more of his friends and family butchered by the monsters that had rounded them up.

Kaleb had anticipated that there would be survivors from the Chaos ship, but he had not anticipated them landing so close to his position and arriving here so soon. Had they landed so close there should have been more signs of their arrival, more warning, and more reason for Kaleb to don his equipment instead of conserving his ammo and energy supplies.

Still, no reason to cry about the past. He would just have to figure out a way to defeat two Iron Warriors in full combat gear with only what the Emperor had given him. Currently that list included his body, his training, his faith, his robe, and a large fist sized rock. Human sized fist at that.

This was going to take some work.

Emerging from his hiding place, idly tossing the rock up and down in the air, Kaleb says, “You do know that they can’t understand you.”

He was of course forced to dive to the ground by the storm of bolts that answered him, but even after almost two centuries his scout training still remains fresh in his mind, and he easily slips away, appearing from behind a tree, saying mockingly, “Honestly, I thought the Emperor gave you better fire discipline than that before you betrayed him.”

Once again escaping from the furious barrage, Kaleb says from hiding, “Look, you’re wasting ammunition, you might want to cut that out.”

“He’s right you know,” one of the Traitor Marines points out.

“Shut up Uric,” the other replies.

Still in hiding, Kaleb says, “You know, you two are really rather pathetic, don’t you think? I mean, here I am, nothing but a rock, and look what fools I make you two. Sad really.”

The more aggressive one blazes away at the tree line again, this time his bolter clicking empty. Cursing in frustration, he reloads while his comrade considers the villagers. Finally the one called Uric says, “Actually, I think he’s one of those weaklings amongst weaklings, the Salamanders. Cover me.”

Uric then walks over to the assembled villagers and randomly grabs a young girl out of the terrified crowd, shouting out, “Hey slave to a false god, come out where we can see you or I blow this one in two.”

Muttering, “Throne,” Kaleb puts back on his smug, confident face before leaving his cover.

“Ha! Told you Zelig!” Uric crows triumphantly.

“Shut it Uric,” Zelig replies bitterly.

Shaking his head, “Hiding behind little girls? No wonder you turned traitor, no one would want you if this is the best that you could come up with.”

“You, weakling, shut the fuck up!” Zelig screams. “What are you even grinning over? All you have is a fucking rock.”

“Because I know something you don’t know,” Kaleb states smugly.

“What?” Zelig demands in annoyance.

“The Emperor provides,” Kaleb says, still winging it.

“That corpse-” Zelig begins, only to be cut off mind sentence by Kai stumbling into the scene.

“Throne,” Kaleb moans just before all hell breaks loose.

It took the Traitor Marines all of a second to see Kai and dismiss him as a threat. It took Kai all of three seconds to see the corpses, the assembled people, do some quick face counting and come to the right conclusion, and suffer a nervous breakdown. A psyker suffering a nervous breakdown is never a good thing, and an untrained one having a breakdown in your vicinity is about as good as noticing that the timer to the nuclear device just reached T-minus ten seconds.

“Momma! Poppa!” Kai screams in anguish, rushing forward. Despite viewing the boy as inconsequential, Uric turns to blow him away, revealing his hostage to the boy.

“Peni!” Kai screams, his eyes flaring brightly and his voice amplified enormously by the Warp energies he was channelling. Remembering the conversation between the women earlier in the day, Kaleb hopes that Kai will leave the village intact.

When the sound and fury are expended though, nothing has happened.

That is until Uric says, “Uh… Zelig, I don’t feel so…” before trailing off as his body collapses into a dozen chunks, sliced at an atomic level by perfectly flat planes of disruptive force that left Peni completely unharmed.

Vomiting up blood from the release of incredible forces, Kai collapses to the ground in violent spasms, his body and mind obviously unable to take the strain of using the Warp in such a way. To his credit, Zelig quickly turned his gun away from the boy and to the approaching threat of Kaleb barrelling towards him.

Again though, his excess aggression and over eagerness to attack is his undoing, leading him to pull the trigger on his bolter just in time for the first round to impact the rock Kaleb had hurled moments earlier before fully exiting the barrel. The bolt was travelling far faster, but the rock was significantly more massive. Momentum held a coin toss and the rock won. Now moving backwards at almost zero velocity, the detonator in the bolt went off, right as the gun was cycling the next round into the chamber. The rounds did not explode, but the extra stress on the weapon exceeded its tolerances by an order of magnitude.

With his gun now a pile of scrap metal flying through the air or embedded in his gauntlet, Zelig moved to draw his chainsword, but before he could get it fully clear of its harness Kaleb was on him. Salamanders close combat training emphasized heavy, pounding strikes meant to crush the enemy, but there was room for learning softer forms using significantly more finesse.

One hand grabbed the hand bearing the chainsword about the wrist and pushed it safely out of the way while the other grabbed a hold of the long, curving horns on Zelig’s helmet and used one of them as a convenient handhold. Hauling down and practically dropping to get the extra momentum, Kaleb uses his body as a fulcrum and Zelig as the arm of a lever, throwing the armoured Traitor Marine over his back.

Landing with a thud, Zelig scrambles to his feet, chainsword now whirring menacingly, only to find Kaleb standing several metres away, holding out his hand, the smug look on his face returned.

“Emperor provides,” Kaleb replies right as Zelig realizes that Kaleb is wearing dull metal rings where before he hadn’t.

Or more precisely, pins.

“Aw fu-” Zelig begins before the krak grenades at his side detonate, sending his legs, torso, and right arm in three different directions.

Knowing that it takes more to kill a Marine than just a few grenades to the side, Kaleb casually strides forward, scooping up the fallen chainsword before planting a bare foot on Zelig’s armoured chest.

“Okay, this is what you get for practicing improper grenade safety and piss poor target prioritization. Honestly, I thought that the Iron Warriors had higher standards than this,” Kaleb says before slicing off the Traitor’s head with a quick sweep of the sword.

Tossing the Chaos tainted weapon aside for later purification, Kaleb surveys the scene and the insects already starting to migrate from the first corpses to fresher fair just begin its low slow cook in the hot noon day sun, be that the polluted corpses of the traitors or the spastic, bloody face of Kai. When the killing started, the people panicked and ran, but were now coming back hesitantly.

Sighing, Kaleb says, “Well get over here, there are things we need to attend to.”

[A-Wing_Slash]

Great chapter.

[Academia Nut]

Part 5: Sunset of an Era

The last sunset had been a wonder of light, but now the fiery light was like ash in the mouth and the spectacular redness only served to conceal the blood on the ground. Kaleb would never tired of battle, never tire of crushing the enemy, but he had grown weary of the sounds of civilians in anguish since the first time he heard it. The only cure for that though was more war to excise the foul, cancerous rot of the enemies of the Imperium, within and without. That of course meant that more mothers would send their sons off to war, more young women would be deflowered in the most nightmarish way possible, more of the young and old would be crucified to slate some perverse bloodlust, and more bodies would be heaped upon the funeral pyres.

Hefting his thunder hammer to salute the dying embers of the funeral pyre built for Kai’s parents, Kaleb renewed all the oaths he had sworn. He swore obedience to the Emperor, to his Chapter. He swore to fight the enemies of the Imperium wherever they may be, whatever form they might take. And no matter how grim, how dark his future, he swore he would end the war one day. Even if that meant venturing into the Warp and personally killing every last blasphemous monstrosity that lurked there with his bare hands.

Slinging the mighty weapon on his armoured shoulder, Kaleb turns away from the sad thoughts and returns to the village to talk to Kansbar, the psyker shaman about… everything.

Living apart from the rest of the villagers, the old witch had been too far to lend any sort of aid, but was now sitting next to a small campfire, staring intently into the flames.

“How is the boy?” Kaleb asks sombrely as he walks up to the shaman.

“He shall recover or he shall die,” Kansbar replies simply.

“And his mind?” Kaleb asks.

“He shall recover or he shall die,” Kansbar replies simply.

“Good,” Kaleb says with a nod, sitting his enormous armoured frame down next to Kansbar’s frail, thin body.

“You have the same ethic towards witchcraft I see,” Kansbar says, still gazing into the flames.

“It’s the only way to survive. Such powers must be controlled or it will bring ruin to us all,” Kaleb states.

“Indeed. He is lucky the ancestors watch over him, for if they had not then I think that an angry spirit would have attacked him already,” Kansbar says in a tired voice.

Raising an eyebrow at that statement, Kaleb asks, “These ancestors… are they the same ones that gave Kai his knife?”

“Yes. This island is their domain, and they brook no angry spirit into their territory. Scum like Meka and his ilk come from elsewhere,” Kansbar explains.

While not privy to the secrets of psykers, Kaleb certainly knew enough to fight them, so he asks, “So no daemon… err… angry spirits exist on this island?”

“Daemon?” Kansbar says, rolling the Gothic word around in his mouth for a moment before saying, “No… no daemons are here. The presence of the ancestors drives them away. I have seen monstrosities circling the island like sharks at times in the spirit realm, but if they press too close they risk destruction. Of course, the ancestors themselves demand their own costs on witches such as me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, various things, but most of all frustration. Once, during the time of the Golden Eagle there were many who could speak directly to them, many who could ask them for aid. Now… now Kai is the first one in many generations who could talk to them. I was teaching him to controlling his gifts, but he still has many years ahead of him. Still… he was our first hope in a long time for a brighter future,” Kansbar explains somewhat morosely.

“I am going back to that place tonight,” Kaleb states.

“I cannot stop you,” Kansbar replies fatalistically.

“Will you try?” Kaleb asks.

“No. Kai does not understand his gift for peering beyond the veiling of time yet, but I take one look at you and I see our future. Your presence here will either destroy us or bring about greatness the likes of which we have not seen since the ages of myth and legend,” Kansbar says.

“Does your witch eye tell you that?” Kaleb asks.

“No, just the eyes of an old man tired of seeing the young suffer needlessly,” Kansbar states, a smile across his face.

Getting up, Kaleb says, “Well, as one old man to another, I agree with you.”

Moving away from the fire, Kaleb is stopped by a light touch along the forearm. Turning, he finds Moana, the nominal new leader of the tribe after Bane’s death, looking up at him with a plaintive look in his face.

“You intend to leave the village?” The weathered but sturdy man asks.

“I will return,” Kaleb says, patting the man’s arm affectionately with a gauntleted hand that had ripped the hatches off main battle tanks, Kaleb’s control so fine he could have juggled eggs.

“But…” Moana begins.

“Tell me Moana, when your people head out to sea on those little outriggers you use to fish, does everyone always come back?” Kaleb asks, knowing that the man is still shaken by the attack and his sudden promotion to leadership.

“Well… no, but…” Moana begins.

“Listen Moana, just because the sea holds dangers does not mean that you do not go out there, risking your life and the future of your family, right? Well, I must go and risk that more foes that only I can handle will show up, for there is something in those caves that I need to see, just as you need to venture out into dangerous waters,” Kaleb explains.

Hanging his head in defeat, Moana says, “Could you at least talk to the boy? I don’t think he’s fully conscious yet, but he will occasionally respond to words, and he was the only other one to slay one of those monsters. Maybe…”

Smiling, Kaleb says, “I will speak with Kai, so that perhaps my voice will aid to guide him back to the world of the waking.”

“Thank you,” Moana says before heading off to talk with a returning patrol. While perhaps too afraid of his shadow to make a good leader, he had the keen sense of organization to make a fine ruler one day.

Moving through the village to the hut where Kai is being kept, the sun now mostly beneath the horizon, Kaleb waits at the door, his enormous armoured frame too massive for the flimsy wooden construct to support him.

Lying on a cot, Kai strikes Kaleb as a truly pathetic figure, his tiny body sheathed in a coating of cold sweat, all of his muscles locked in rigor, tightening his skin and giving him an unnaturally gaunt look. Only the muscles of his face and head remain unlocked, but instead they spasm and twitch in time to whatever nightmares he is locked in. Occasionally a bit of blood will leak from his eyes or nose, where it will remain until one of the women looking after him wipes it away.

Acknowledging those that nurse the boy with a polite nod, Kaleb turns his attention to Kai and says, “I know you probably can’t hear me Kai, but… well… I know that I told you to stay put, but I thank the Emperor you showed up when you did. I could not have fought those two alone. You saved me, you saved everyone today.”

Inhaling deeply for a moment to think what to say next to the comatose eight year-old, Kaleb continues, “I can’t say that I know what you’re going through… I’m no psyker, and I don’t even remember my parents. But I can tell you something for certain. Don’t give up on life. There are still people in this world that care for you, don’t give up on them. Your heart hurts because you love, well, don’t give up on that. Don’t let despair push out all everything else, turn it into hate and vent it upon the enemy. If you loved your parents, if you love your village, your people, then hate. Hate for them, so that their hearts need not hurt like yours. Hate the enemy and all he stands for, because the only thing he loves is destruction.”

Pulling his helmet off his belt and raising it up to his head, Kaleb finishes, “Hate young boy, hate. So that others can love.” Nodding to those in attendance once more, in particular to the young girl named Peni holding his hand, Kaleb dons his helmet and then walks away, his shape quickly snatched away by the shadows that now clothe the twilit land.

[Academia Nut]

This was a fun chapter to write, and I hope you all enjoy it. An e-cookie to the person who can name the reference I put in this chapter.

Part 6: Ghosts of the Past

The jungle was dark at night, a terrifying landscape of tripping roots, grasping branches, strange noises, and eyes peering out intently, glowing evilly in the dark. Truly a terrify place for a species that left the shadows of the forest millions of years ago.

Unless of course you happen to be a Space Marine, in which case the point is more or less moot because even if you weren’t three metres of flesh and steel killing machine, you don’t feel fear anyway.

Quickly retracing the steps taken earlier that day, Kaleb soon reached the cavern, and once again, his instincts for danger started to prickle, although this time he had something of an idea what could have been causing such a reaction. If his guess was right, then ten thousand years ago the Adeptus Mechanicus had discovered something important here.

Something important enough to leave guardians to protect.

Just before he suffered his premonition, Kai had mentioned something about a gatekeeper. So when Kaleb returned to the chamber with the large Ad Mech icon, he began a broad band sweep of the area with his helmet’s built in auspexes. The results were immediate and in retrospect, unsurprising.

Infrared scans showed large patches of ground bathed in the invisible light, doubtless the targeting sensors of whatever defences had been left behind. He also detected large quantities of lead embedded in the floors and walls, along with evidence of repeated melting and solidification of the rocks in the area consistent with burning promethium patterns.

Activating the shielding unit to his Terminator armour, Kaleb moves cautiously forward, knowing that a young boy had figured out how to get past whatever defences there were, and trusting that his equipment would see him through. Reaching just beneath the icon, he practically bursts out laughing at the simplicity of the solution.

The defences had existed for ten thousand years, and had run out of ammunition long ago, and most of the servitors manning the weapon mounts had doubtlessly decayed away in their armoured metal shells. All that was left were twitching, useless corpses; the mechanical parts sending signals to organic parts that were no longer there. Still, the sight must have been terrifying to primitives, so combined with stories of instant death waiting anyone who ventured in here even now they would serve as an effective deterrent.

Once past the icon, Kaleb finds a large set of blast doors set with the iconography of the Ad Mech, the only visible means of entrance, other than hitting the door repeatedly with his hammer, a small console set off to the side. Walking up to it, Kaleb peers at the symbols for a moment, before he starts entering seemingly random strings of numbers and letters.

After the fifth incorrect string the console buzzes and a green light goes off instead of the red error one. Inside his helmet, Kaleb smiles, glad those centuries of fighting in space hulks had given him a vast number of standard Imperial codes spanning ten thousand years of usage. The fifth code was a somewhat obscure Astartes military override used during the Crusade. Fortunately that was one era where the number of access codes had yet to balloon as there was no great need to protect Imperial assets from Imperial personnel. Oh how the times had changed.

Surprisingly, the great doors did not open quite like he had expected. Instead of rising, lowering, moving off to the side, parting in the middle, or other stand methods of a door opening, the great Ad Mech cogwheel at the centre retracted back about a metre into the door before rolling into a slot to one side of the rest of the door assembly. Shrugging at the strange mechanism, Kaleb continues inside.

His boots ringing on the metal grill of the floor, Kaleb plunges into a completely different world. Gone is the rough volcanic rock, replaced by the smooth, straight lines of a simple artificial and utilitarian hab unit, hastily constructed ten thousand years ago in this place and then just as quickly forgotten. Dust lies thick on every surface, except for the trail left by Kai perhaps months ago. Spirits of the past lie nearly as thick as the dust, and only a few weary machines manage to rouse themselves from their slumber to acknowledge Kaleb’s presence, a few flickering light panels turn on in his wake.

The rooms connected to this hallway are as mundane as they are empty, the most interesting thing being a small, mostly ransacked armoury containing a collection of broken Crusade-era autoguns, decayed away to worthless scrap by the touch of time long ago. The complete looting of the facility leaves its purpose and the reason for being hidden away as mysterious as when Kaleb first saw the icon in the morning.

Following the trail left by Kai’s footsteps, Kaleb arrives at another large set of doors, the path taken by the boy continuing on through to the other side. Once again there was a console for operating the door, but this time Kaleb finds himself drawn to a small hololith sitting off to one side, faintly flickering with the presence of a charge. Kai might not have understood the importance of this place, but Kaleb was damned if he wasn’t going to try and figure out what this place was.

Pressing a rune upon the projector, Kaleb watches as an image appears, static filled and colour washed, but distinctly defined nonetheless as that of a Techpriest, a high ranking one too judging by the number of augmetics upon his hooded body. After a few moments of flicker the image resolves and a tinny, grainy audio clip begins to play, a second out of sync with the visuals. Occasionally breaks in the recording occur, but enough is said that Kaleb can understand.

“…natives showed us this place… immediately began construction… more significant than… sites on planet… wonder of the Golden Age… wondrous… constructor…” the priest explains, causing Kaleb to raise an eyebrow in wonder. Could this site have contained an STC? Would explain the interest the Ad Mech had in keeping it safe.

“…barely finished… told to leave… ‘…being left behind’ he says… gladly stay… last great work of… refuses to listen… promises… will he keep his promise?” The priest continues, obviously referring to whatever caused them to abandon this place, the frown visible beneath the machines showing the priest’s discontent.

The priest then disappears, although the flicker and discolouration of the hologram remains, so it appears that he has moved off screen. The perspective then shifts up, and Kaleb hits the ground in shock, the blood flowing from his head and the strength from his limbs at what he sees.

“I… promise to return… sort this situation out… Warmaster Horus… Isstvan,” the last word falls like guillotine blade upon Kaleb’s heart, inevitable and quick, but cutting with absolute certainty, tearing him apart inside. He screams in defiance, hoping that the Warp will carry his words through time and space to give warning.

The Heresy had been a time of chaos for the entire Imperium, and countless records had been destroyed. This was perhaps most galling of all for the Salamanders, as their activities during the Great Crusade were all but lost in the storm of war Horus kicked up with his treachery.

This hologram had to be the last remaining record before the horrors of the Drop Site Massacre, before the Salamanders were nearly wiped out, their only legacy a few names chiselled onto monuments that would be destroyed by time and the endless wars that had wracked the Imperium since that Traitor had destroyed all that was good and befouled all that was pure.

This hologram contained the last known image of Vulkan, Primarch of the Salamanders.

Even after ten thousand years, Kaleb knew it was Vulkan just by looking at him. The noble sculpt of his features, the proud yet humble bearing, the deep bass rumble of his voice shining through the static, and the look of absolute certainty oh his face… Kaleb knew that he saw his Primarch before him as surely as he knew that he had his Primarch’s blood in his veins.

Kaleb wept. Even the proudest, noblest Ultramarine would have wept if Guilliman’s face had replaced Vulkan’s. Staring at the floor, Kaleb pawed at the dust. His Primarch had once stood on this holy, sacred ground, but now only dust remained. Only dust…

Throwing back his head, Kaleb screamed at the indignity of it all; for this faded, grainy picture to be the last piece of the father of his Chapter that still showed him alive and moving; for this dust on the ground to possibly contain a single flake of his skin, the last physical part of Vulkan in existence. Kaleb screamed for his father, his armour’s speakers taking the noise and carrying it to the outside world. The bare, metal hall of the Ad Mech facility carried the noise to the cave, where it echoed and grew until it escaped to the jungle outside.

For a full minute the forest went silent except for the monstrous, echoing scream of pure, unadulterated rage and anguish, the animals shutting their nightmarish glowing eyes in terror, and the humans cowering in their huts at the hellish noise.

In the Immaterium, the raw emotion streaming off of Kaleb echoed across the planet. Tainted shamans woke in cold sweats, fear unimaginable clawing at their souls, while the righteous felt the fury wash over them like a pure fire, telling of the storm of change coming on the horizon. Down in the village, Kansbar nodded quietly, knowing that Kaleb had found something, while Kai’s eyes snapped open, Kaleb shining like a tiny beacon and giving Kai’s mind the light to return to his body.

Collapsing to the ground, Kaleb watches the world blur as his tears patter against his helmet’s HUD. He is spent for now, but like the volcanoes of Nocturne, that is merely an illusion, for the fury is still there; ready to erupt into a pyroclastic flow that will level all in its path without mercy. At that moment Kaleb was ready to have all the Traitor Primarchs assembled before him so he could fight them. One at a time or all at once, he would have fought them all for the honour of his Chapter, his Primarch.

He was a Salamander. In all the Imperium, none could be said to be more ready to fight than a Salamander. Where other chapters would fall back, worried by numbers, a Salamander was trained to say with a smile, “There is one of me and many of you. Come get some.”

Kaleb would fight for this world. Fight for the people. Fight for the purity of this wondrous paradise. Fight for the memory of his Primarch.

Taking off his helmet to wipe away his tears, Kaleb picked up his weapons, fallen to the ground in his anguish, and turned to the door that hid the secret of this world that Vulkan had sworn to return to.

Opening the great cogwheel with the same code as before, Kaleb strode through, a promise to keep.

[Hawkwings]

Nicely done!

The reference is the door opening the same way that the door to Vault 13 in Fallout opened.

[Academia Nut]

You get an e-cookie Hawkwings. Although technically all of the Vaults in the Fallout universe seem to use that design, not just Vault 13. Yeah, the idea just sort of came to me as I was trying to figure out exactly what I wanted the doors to look like, but it fit really well. Aside from the fact that the cogwheel design fits in perfectly with the Ad Mech, to those familiar with the games it also fits the theme of something being hidden away from the world while everything outside changes. Plus the whole 50s motif of the Fallout series helps give a sense of the archaic yet absurdly powerful I think.

But enough of that, I think I might be able to get the next chapter done either by the end of tomorrow or the end of the day after that, although I'm still torn as to where I want to go with it. On the one hand I could proceed chronologically and show what Kaleb finds on the other side of the second door, but I think that will result in a bit of a data dump and I'm still not quite sure how exactly I want to handle that. On the other hand I have an interesting bit of character development I could do by skipping over what Kaleb finds and having him return to the village. That however would result in me more or less continuing to leave you in the dark over what the hell this thing is down there.

So, since I'm going to do both scenes eventually, to those of you reading, what would you like to see first? Explanations or more characterization?

[Dominus]

Apologies for the delay, but I'm back with this again.

Nice chapter. Good characterization and some tantalizing information the mysterious Mechanicus temple that's been irritating me with its incongruous presence for the last several days.

In regards to your question, much as though I like characterization, I really, really want to find out what's behind that second door and simply cannot stand to leave a good mystery unanswered. So, I'll cast my lot in with those who favor explanation, but if the scene proves unwieldy to write (and I certainly have experience with those!), then just go with the characterization; it would be easy enough to chronicle what was found therein in flashbacks/exposition later on in the storyline.

[Academia Nut]

Thanks for the input. And really, the biggest problem I have right now is that I want to get down on paper (so to speak) what is actually behind door number 2, but the scene isn't quite forming in comparison to the next one, which is essentially the aftermath of the revelation. The thing is that I already sort of have that second scene formed, but one of the consequences with going with the second scene first is that it might take another chapter or two before I can explain what Kaleb actually saw, because there are other, more important things that have to happen first and flashbacks don't quite fit in there. One big thing that has to happen is the recovery of the drop pod, or at least as much as can be salvaged, most notably the bodies of Kaleb's fallen brothers, which will consume a chapter.

But anyway, I think I'll take a crack at writing the revelation scene first. If it doesn't quite pan out at least I already have the other scene mostly written in my head.

[HSRTG]

Don't really care which. Whatever you feel will go better with your story you should do. So, I abstain.