"Malachai." Gideon had to shout over the noise of power tools and machinery. "What do you want." Malachai Grumbled. "When will my armor be finished?" Gideon asked. "As soon as I finish it." "I need it in two weeks. Will it be ready?" "Not if you keep interrupting me. But as long as your here, put this on." Gideon grabbed the helmet Malachai threw at him. It felt light, despite the fact it was made of metal. Ruby eyes stared at him from green flesh. Numbers and gauges could be seen faintly through the lenses. A skull with crossbones rested upon the forehead. It was a tight fit he thought while pulling the helmet down over his head. The numbers projected into his upper field of vision were dim. A small light that read 'Energy Status' blinked on and off in the lower right. Three percent was indicated by a numerical digit flashing at the same pace as the icon. Small pictures filled the left field of vision, all followed by an error sign. Gideon removed the helmet and laid it on the ground next to Malachai. The old techmarine ignored it, staying focused on his work. The armor looked as though it were almost finished. Dark green plasteel skin was patched over wires and mechanisms. The servitors were running thin rods down the seams in the armor plating, blue sparks erupted, leaving a smooth and even mold behind them. "Don't worry" Malachai said. "It will be done before you drop. Now get out of here so we can finish our work." "Yes, sir." Gideon yelled. He turned on his heels and left the room. If he ran, he could still make it to the mess hall before prayer started. The air felt cooler than usual on the rock. Though it was still dark and damp. The aroma was overpowering. Standing at the door to the mess hall, Gideon observed the room. Several rectangular tables filled the gigantic room. Smaller rectangles ran down both sides, allowing a place to sit. Two giant holes in the wall at the other end served for food dispensers. A hand waving in the air caught Gideon's eye. Michael was motioning Gideon over to the table. Pushing his way past figures in robes, he made his way to the table. "Go grab a plate and head back, you still have time." Said Michael. "Give me a second." Gideon replied. He walked across the room where all the other marines were awaiting food. The line moved quickly. Soon he was looking at a servitor, who was shoving a tray into his arms. Gideon took it quickly, and hurried back to the table. "It doesn't taste that bad actually" Michael said as Gideon slid down in front of him. He looked down at his tray. A pile of brown, sticky mash was in the center. Water was in a container next to it. Gideon stuck his fork into it. The brown gravy gave way to a thick green mass. Michael was right, It didn't taste so bad. A little sour, but better than nothing. Sergai was next to him on the bench. He pointed at Gideon with his fork. "Asmond is going to familiarize you with power armor after lunch. Your going to like the box. But you wont get to use it until you get your armor." The box Gideon thought to himself. Sounds more like a punishment device than something you would train with. "So why do we have a squad name, while the others don't?" He asked. "For the answer to that, you must travel back to the creation of the Ravenwing. The current Grandmaster, Kaerale, believed that a high altitude strike team could lend a surprise attack element to missions composed entirely of ground troops. The Falcon Blades were born of this idea, and soon the Dark Angels were the most mobile chapter in existence. "He stopped to eat another spoon full of green goop, then continued. "While on the Carbonado campaign, their Thunderhawks were intercepted by Ork fighters. Two of their three transports were destroyed. The last was badly damaged and crashed north of their landing site. Only ten emerged from the wreckage. They reached the extraction point in time, but the Ravenwing took severe casualties because of this. Soon after, the Deathwing was honored, creating an immense sledge hammer to support the swift blade. Today, we are only allowed to grow ten marines in strength, honorary to the marines who died that day. However our exploits are not held in revere to honor the Ravenwing's loss because of our failure." The table was silent. A watcher passed by them slowly, sweeping the stone floor, Red eyes locked on Gideon as it moved across the room. "Hey, Gideon snap out of it." Michael shook Gideon out of the trance. "What's wrong?" Michael asked. "Nothing, just thinking." He rubbed his face and blinked. A chaplain entered the room, followed by several watchers who were chanting and waving various items. Among them were books, saucers of burning incense, and skulls with numbers upon their foreheads. The veteran marines stood, and turned towards the chaplain. "Its time for prayer." Sergai whispered to Gideon. The new marines quickly stood, mimicking the older warriors. Following the chaplain down the hall towards the chapel. Though he had prayed many times before, it was never on the rock. Most of the time he had spent here were blurred memories now, blanketed by the fog of pain. They arrived at large golden doors. Lights illuminated a mural engraved, and laced with white. In the middle, rested Lion El' Johnson. He sat upon a throne, his mighty arm upon his sword. On either side of him were figures bearing shields and swords. Giant wings, like those of birds were stretched behind them. A robed figure knelt before him. The great doors opened, swinging inwards, slowly revealing a podium upon a raised platform. Marines calmly walked through the archway, still chanting prayers. Wooden benches spread across a large expanse, enough to seat over a thousand marines. Incense was burning in pitchers and small torches cast golden beams through the room. Entering with the other marines, Gideon watched them Kneel before the benches. His squad was ushered to a bench near the middle of the stone room. Dropping to his left knee, Gideon clasped his hands together on the bench. Looking about the room, he noticed it was square. Ten columns across, and Ten rows down. Small gaps where a squad had taken losses, and had yet to replace them appeared as marines continued to fill the room. Figures before them had jet black robes, and then white robes as they moved farther to the front. Finally came the grandmasters. Azrael, Ezekiel, and Sapphon walked shoulder to shoulder, with the Supreme Grandmaster in the middle. They were clad in armor and each had their ceremonial weapon. The Sword of Secrets rested in its scabbard at Azrael's side. Ezekiel's force sword was pulsing blue as warp energy cascaded down the blade. An angel with wings rested on Sapphon's crozius arcanum, forming the twin blades. Other Grandmasters such as Gabriel of the deathwing and Gidian of the ravenwing followed Azrael. Asmodai, and other chaplains followed Sapphon. He could not recognize the Librarians that followed Ezekiel down the stone walkway. They also had smaller blades that glowed various colors. The most highest members of the innercircle stood before their loyal warriors. Then, to Gideon's surprise, they knelt as well. Bowing their heads, the marines began to pray silently. Closing his eyes, Gideon began to pray, as he was taught during his induction. The prayer was interrupted by a voice. "Here you sit, praying to my father. These ceremonies have always brought great pain. You ask of us what we cannot do." A male voice said Who are you?" Gideon asked. "The question is, what are you doing?" "I am asking the emperor to guide my soul..." |
OUTSIDE INFLUENCE VOLUME I By Brother Gideon |
TOMES OF VALOUR |
This story has been reproduced with permission from the author. Many terms used in this story (such as Space Marine, Eldar, and others) are Trademarks of Games Workshop, Inc. Their use here is not intended as a challenge to said trademarks. |
