To sleep, perchance to dream.

This story, part of the community effort on the Emperor's Nightmare chapter, shows how a Sleepless lives, fights, and dies.

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I am Brother Panos of the Emperor's Nightmare. Before my true life, I was… the second son of Noble House Karalis who ran away from the Upper Hive at age 5 before falling in with gangers. I was taken to be made into Astartes when… no, no, no that is all wrong. I am Brother Rasmus, a underhiver urchin who crawled his way up to meet the Emperor's Finest. I… my memory is conflicting? Impossible. I am a Space Marine, crafted to be better than mere man, so that I may serve humanity. My memory never fails…

And yet, it has. Perhaps…ah yes, I see now.

I am Dreamer Evangelos. These memories are the thoughts of my Battle Brothers, who gave me their memories, so that in my dreams, they live on at my side.

I have fought, no, I am now fighting… heretics? Their clunky autoguns suggest a primitive sort, perhaps ferals who have made a compact with the Ruinous Powers. They are stronger than I believe they should be. Have these things been mutated by Khorne? My chainsword strains before cutting through the belly of one, but its anguished cries please me. The screams of the faithless means I am doing the Chapter proud, because I…

I am now facing Eldar? Slender forms with peerless grace, they dance around my blows with the inhuman laughs they make. Though my armor is strong, it is a matter of time before I am overtaken. I require the aid of my Brothers. Where are they now? Can they not see my plight? Or am I the only one left? The vox squeals only static. Perhaps I truly am alone.

But no, to my side, I can see a fellow Brother tear into a horde of Tau. The weak xenos flee before his might, but he is cut down by a series of searing Pulse fire from Battlesuits. I tear myself away from the hated Traitor Marines to pierce at its vulnerable side, and the blood… or is this oil? No matter, it is life to them and my target. It falls and I scream in victory. I am unstoppable, the zenith of Human form. My zeal is something worthy of record in the Chapter Annals, and this victory will be hoisted high on our banner. This is…

Pain.

My second heart has been pierced, as have my stomach and liver. What is going… I see.

I am Brother Vasilios of the Emperor's Nightmare. I was the son of a Metalworker of the Mid Hive and a Seamstress. I was sent to take the trials when I was ten, and passed. The men I remembered being earlier were several of my squadmates. My Brothers. I am Three Hundred and Twenty Seven years old. I have seen countless campaigns and the laurels I have won are beyond measure. I have faced Chaos, Tyranid, Eldar, Ork, and all sorts of various threats. And I have been victorious in each battle.

I am a Sleepless. One of the damned of the Chapter, who will only find rest in death. I have not fallen asleep in forty eight years, three months, and four days. My perception is now without match.

My final rest is at hand for I am now dying at the hands of an Ork Warboss.

This planet is Halcyon Secundus, the breadbasket of the entire subsector. If this planet falls, trillions of the Imperium will starve to death, and I will not see that happen.

I am pierced on the Power Klaw of this Warboss, whose name I did not bother to learn. With great effort and pain, I turn my head, and my optics tell me what I have truly done.

Dozens of Orks, with Shootas and Choppas alike are dead. Worthy of note. Amongst them are Nobs and Mekboys. Even a Mad Dok or two. My blood pumps slowly, and my senses tell me of how they leak into my Black Carapace. I ignore it all. Prayer cleanses the soul, but Pain cleanses the body.

"WAHAHAHAH! Lookit 'is boyz. Oi got meself a beakie! Didn’t oi tellz yaz dis waz gonna be a fine scrap?"

"Ork, I believe I would thank you for returning me to my senses were it not for your fetid stench."

"Eh?" the Warboss says as he leans in closer. "Wot's that?"

"Nothing of note Ork," I sneer.

Slowly, I begin to lift myself. His shield generator is sparking and down, and if I can just… ah.

"Gahaha! Youze look real fine down dere beakie. You loike the dirt?"

Only one chance. I grab hold of the single Krak Grenade each Sleepless are aloud. The Warboss leans in closer.

I lift myself and jam my arm down its throat. As it bellows in confusion, I trigger it and watch in satisfaction as the twitching thing goes down sans its lower jaw and most of its throat. Working quickly, I grab hold of a nearby blade and jam it multiple times to make sure it has died. I stagger but I hold myself steady, though I have lost a limb.

"Come! And meet a true Astartes!" I scream.

The crowd that had gathered around their leader look hesitant before they give their answer.

"WAAAGH!"

Not a worthy warcry, so I show them a true one. "TO SLEEP, PERCHANCE TO DREAM!"

We meet, and a few go down, down, down into the blood stained earth. My screams mingle with theirs, and I… I go down.

This is truly my end. But it is a fine death. I have taken out the Horde's leader, and they are now directionless for a time. I have given lifetimes of service, and go now to an eternity of paradise.

This is my final sleep. The one I have waited for decades.

"To… sleep, per…chance to…"