Deathwatch's Nightmare
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This story, part of the community effort on the Emperor's Nightmare chapter, follows a group of Deathwatch marines led by an Emperor's Nightmare captain.
- +++++DESIGNATION: SVX41/66/DVII-12-Z++++++
- Data fragments from the personal log of Battle-Brother Chiron of the Fire Angels, seconded to the Deathwatch during [REDACTED]
- 1. ...the first few weeks on board the ship were trying. Even though I was among my brethren Astartes, I struggled with the unfamiliar rites and ceremonies, habits and routines of the others. I realized that I had taken many of the idiosyncrasies of my home Chapter for granted, assuming our customs and ways of thinking to be shared among all other chapters. How wrong I was!
- It was clear to me on the day of my arrival. When I reported to my assigned lodging, a sole Marine was there to greet me. Brother-Captain Veracian of the Emperor's Nightmares. I had never heard of his chapter, but he had knowledge of mine, which he displayed by discussing the finer points of the Badab campaign. I was impressed to find that he knew of these ancient events, but my astonishment quickly grew when he pointed to my bolt pistol, noting that it was first put to use in the Badab war.
- "It saw action on Cygnax," he mused, "and it was given to you by your mentor, a veteran assault marine of note." I asked him how he could have guessed this, and he replied: "A trifle. The manufacturing date is stamped on the trigger guard. The muzzle and grip, while excellently tended, carry signs of viral corrosion, characteristic of the metal-eating virii from the Astral Claws' heretical arsenal. There is a purity seal attached to the magazine, praising a Captain Madua for his heroic efforts in the taking of Enchis IV, where the Fire Angels participated in a celebrated jump troop assault alongside a unit of Seraphim from the Order of the Fiery Thorn. Customarily, the purity seal is removed when the weapon is passed along to another Marine, but you received both weapon and blessing. Your Captain wanted you to aspire to greater victories, and to gain the benefit of holy protection." "How did you manage to notice all this?" I asked him. Brother-Captain Veracian informed me of his chapter's characteristic: a mutation in the Catalepsian Node that interfered with deep sleep and led to heightened attention. "I was also blessed with another property that made me useful for my chapter," the Captain added. "From birth, I have possessed eidetic memory. I do not forget anything that I have observed or learned. This is why I am in the Deathwatch - to commit to memory all manner of xenos so that my Chapter can learn the ways of fighting them all. Now if you'll excuse me," he looked at me with bloodshot, unblinking eyes, "I must attend to my daily meditation. Thank you for providing me with an interesting diversion."
- As he left the living quarters I attended to my belongings, still stunned and confused...
- 2. ...it was the custom of Captain Veracian to gather the members of his Kill-team during the morning meal and inquire of each of us, in turn, about the dreams we had during the previous night. This revealed to me some interesting information about my brethren: Brother-Sergeant Leonidas of the Minotaurs, for instance, had a recurring dream of standing on the precipice of a huge fiery chasm into which he struggled to keep himself from leaping, whereas Brother Arkan of the Salamanders mostly dreamt of the lush forests of distant planet Luria that had captured his imagination during his time as a Scout. As for Brother Salchiel of the Dark Angels, his answer was always the same when he was asked to tell of his dreams: "I do not dream, Brother-Captain."
- As for the Captain himself, whenever he did sleep (which he did irregularly, sometimes going for weeks without rest), he spent a long time meditating on his dreams and pondering their contents. "Dreams are a gift from the Emperor", he liked to say, "and such gifts should be received with gratitude and studied with care." In his dreams, he often fought Xenos and heretics, reliving battles he had fought in long ago or experiencing wars unrecognized, perhaps fated to occur in the future. He recorded every dream in a catalogue he kept on his personal datapad, meticulously sorted by date, topic and nature. At one time, I witnessed him enter the dining hall with a great smile on his usually scowling, pale face; when I asked him what had occurred to cause his seeming happiness he replied "in my dreams today, I saw a great light. A light that could only be glimpsed from the corner of my eye, that burned the eyes if I turned to look at it. A light that shone with great mercy and love, with great joy and hope. One day, Brother..." His eyes were looking into the distance. "One day I may be granted the privilege of gazing into that light. One day..." He seemed forlorn then...
- 3. ...the Thunderhawk's remaining engines whined under the strain of keeping the machine airborne. As tongues of fire licked the transport bay, Captain Veracian was screaming orders, preparing the team to jump. I would go first; my jump pack allowed me to drop out at comparatively higher altitude. The others would wait until the last moment, leaping out of the craft when it was close to the ground. I kicked off the edge of the drop-off ramp and felt the acid rain hammer my armor. Careful applications of thrust let me descend easily, and I took the time to carefully scan the canopies of the trees below me, but no trace of the heavy weapon that brought down our gunship so suddenly could be found. As the burning Thunderhawk plummeted to the ground, I made my way towards the site of the crash. I gave silent thanks to the Emperor when I confirmed that everyone had made it out without damage or injury. The Captain assembled us quickly. "They'll send a party over to investigate the wreckage. Everyone set your armor to silent running. Arkan, Ferius, Salchiel - set up on that ridge, face north. Rest of you, on me." The Devastator, Techmarine and Apothecary nodded in recognition and set off into the darkness. I followed Leonidas and Captain Veracian deeper into the woods, the rain a solid curtain in the air. The helmet adjusted to the gloom of the forest, infrared and light-amplification systems creating an artificial brightness in my field of vision. It didn't take long to find the scouting party, their heat signatures a bright red against the darkness. Captain Veracian gestured us to halt; we would ambush the armored men. Even though they were equipped with night-vision and auspex, with our armor powered down we would be invisible to them. I crouched behind a great fallen tree while Brother-Sergeant Leonidas knelt behind a stump to my right. Between us, Brother-Captain Veracian simply dropped to the ground, quickly covering himself with moss and leaves.
- The enemy was close now. 18 men in carapace armor, with the curved serpentine mark of the local heresy, a vile Genestealer cult that had taken over the entire planet. They were Imperial Guard, trained veteran stormtroopers, experienced jungle fighters. Even though they were no match for an Astartes, we still had to be cautious and keep the other forces in the area ignorant of our presence, at least until we managed to get to the rendezvous point where Inquisitor Lord Barthelmius was waiting. A vox-transmission from the Captain roused me from my thoughts. "Let them pass, then take out the 2 on the flanks. I'll take the others." "All the others, Brother-Captain?" "Yes." The men had passed us now. I synchronized with Leonidas and powered up the servos in my arms, stabilizing my silenced bolt pistol, aiming steadily for the head of one of the traitors. On a silent count of 3, we fired and the two flanking men went down. At once, the Captain sprung into motion.
- He was a blur of movement, difficult even for my suit's auto-senses to track. A knife in each hand, Captain Veracian slit the throats of the two troopers closest to him while rising from his ambush position. The soldiers dropped to the ground, and one man turned to look at them, but Veracian was already by his side, knives piercing the weak sides of the man's armor, one in the heart, one through the spleen, the left hand quickly rising to mute the traitor's scream. The Captain made no noise as he moved; he simply seemed to appear by the side of each trooper, eliminating them one by one in fluid, graceful movements. Less than two minutes had passed, and he had killed 16 men in quick succession. Wiping off the blood from his knives, he sheathed them and motioned us to rally on him. We moved out in the cover of night. There was much work to be done before the morning dawned; the wretched lair of the Patriarch was somewhere in this jungle, and we were tasked with the work of culling the beast...