Visions of Darkness
Punctuation key: "Gothic Speech", +Binary Speech+, "Out-of-narrative speech"
The Driver
****
Ponyville - Sugarcube Corner
"So, I never did get what your deal was, Dest. What's your problem with the Company?"
Dest was currently sitting in the attic space of Sugarcube Corner, in what had been made into his temporary sleeping quarters. It was small, stifling, and rather than furniture it was filled with stacks of supplies.
It was just like home, he'd acknowledged wryly when he first slept here.
There was one large, circular window at the front of the room, and it was from here that his rest was disturbed. Tellis hung from the awning on one arm, his legs braced against the outside wall and his visor glaring through the dirty glass of the window.
Dest sat up from the comically undersized cot that served as his bed. His power armor lay in pieces in the corner of the room, and he was clothed only in the skin-tight black bodysuit Astartes normally wore under their armor.
It was some time before Dest actually got around to addressing the Chaos Lord, and when he did it was all he could do to contain his annoyance.
"Lord Tellis, was there something else you needed of me?" the rhino driver grunted.
"Nah, not really," Tellis admitted, "it's just... I was thinking over that stuff you said."
Dest couldn't help but feel surprised at this, but found that the explanation didn't resolve anything.
"What of it, Lord? If is not important, I wish to retire for the evening."
"It's what you said about the way the Company treats you. I didn't get that," Tellis elaborated.
"Our previous conversation was about you, not I," Dest noted.
"Right. But then you said something about how we both have trouble relating to the other Iron Warriors. I didn't really get that," the Khornate confessed, "I mean, I find the other Marines pretty lame because I'm a super-badass and call them out on being cowards and emo daddy's girls. But you're just a grunt with a boring job. You should fit in like... like a... thing that fits really well." Tellis grunted as he failed to come up with an appropriate metaphor, and he placed his hand against the glass. "Anyway, I'm going to come in. The last two ponies that walked by out here gave me weird looks and ran off."
Tellis reared his hand back, but Dest held up his hand to halt him.
"My lord, that window isn't large enough for you," Dest pointed out blithely.
The Raptor tilted his head to one side and then the other, judging how much space he'd need for his flight pack and shoulders.
"So I should break through part of the wall, too?" he asked as he glanced back and forth to gauge how much space he'd need.
"So you should drop down to ground level and walk up the stairs," Dest corrected.
"Oh. Well... okay." Tellis actually looked like he was going to argue the point before he shrugged it off and dropped down.
The heavy whomping noise of metal boots hitting the ground came from outside, and Dest sighed as he hung his head.
"This has the makings of a long and unpleasant evening," the rhino driver grumbled to himself.
"Aw, don't be like that, Desty!" Pinkie said, patting his leg with a hoof. "He just wants to talk to you! You should hear him out!"
Dest looked down at his side, where Pinkie Pie was laying on his bed right next to his pillow.
"Sure, Telly is kind of loony, and he doesn't seem to understand the difference between comedy and horror, but I feel like he's making an effort to connect, here!" the party pony insisted. "I mean, at first he came to you about his own problems, but now this isn't about him! He really wants to know more about you!"
"What are you doing in my bed?" Dest asked as soon as she stopped talking.
"I heard it was story time!" Pinkie chirped. Her pink, fluffy tail was wagging back and forth like a dog's.
"And you heard this falsehood from where?" Dest asked.
"Well, that's what we're building up to, isn't it?" Pinkie asked as she withdrew a paper bag full of kettle corn.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dest said, "but aside from that, how did you get in here without me noticing? There's only one entrance, and it is secure."
Before Pinkie could respond with a silly non-answer, the entrance to the attic burst off its hinges, instantly rendering it non-secure.
"Yo, I'm back," Tellis grunted as he walked into the room. The wings of his flight pack scraped against the doorway, but he managed to get through without carving out part of the wall.
Then he crossed his arms over his chest. "A roach in a Ripper swarm!"
Dest didn't know what to make of the sudden exclamation. "What's that?"
"The thing you fit like! You fit like a roach would in a Ripper swarm!"
"I don't... that wouldn't even-"
"Anyway, like I was saying, you should have this Iron Warrior thing down," Tellis continued, "you're boring, hard-edged, and you seem like you constantly have an adamantium rod shoved up your arse."
"Hey! Desty isn't boring!" Pinkie countered.
Tellis paused. "Wait, why is she-"
"Don't," Dest stopped him, and then let a sigh escape his lips, "you're right in that my mannerisms are sufficiently befitting of an Iron Warrior. And yet I am an Iron Warrior in name only."
"I'm not following," said the other Chaos Marine.
A long pause. "Are you aware that the 38th Company takes in soldiers from other Legions, Lord?"
"Nope. How's that work?" Tellis asked.
Dest briefly wondered why such an important facet of their fleet's composition would be hidden from one of its primary commanders, and then figured that Tellis had been told and had simply forgotten. It didn't seem to be the kind of detail he'd hang on to.
"The Company is reinforced with Astartes assignments to the fleet when it resupplies our planets," Dest explained.
"Right. And the new guys are all a bunch of losers. I know that much," Tellis grunted.
"Some of them, yes. And some are assigned to this fleet for other reasons. One of those reasons is coming from other armies besides the Iron Warriors. This Legion being paranoid as it is, those warriors are treated as a liability and bartered off as soon as possible."
"Is there a point you're getting to?" Tellis grumbled. "This is seriously starting to test my attention span."
"Ooh! I know! You're from another Legion, aren't you Dest?" Pinkie volunteered exuberantly.
"I was taken from a loyalist Chapter, actually, but yes, Pie, you are correct."
"Oh. So that's it? You're fresh from the halls of the hated Imperium so you get treated like crap?" Tellis asked.
The Raptor Lord continued before Dest could reply. "So what Chapter are you from? Can't be Space Wolves, you don't have the hair for it. Plus I'm pretty sure you're literate. You're not crazy enough to be a Blood Angel, and I think that if you were a Dark Angel you wouldn't have told me any of this."
"Blood Ravens?" Pinkie guessed.
"Why, has he been stealing baking supplies?" Tellis asked. "Also, how do you even know about them?"
Dest sighed deeply. "My former Chapter was the Imperial Fists, Lord."
There was a long pause after Dest spoke, disturbed only by the sound of Pinkie munching on her kettle corn.
Then Tellis fell back onto his rear, nearly cracking the floorboards with the impact.
"Well, all right, then," the Raptor said as he got into a sitting position, "I have GOT to hear this."
"Yaaay! Story time!" Pinkie Pie cheered.
Dest groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Must I? I can assure you, the tale is not nearly so... dramatic as you probably expect."
"Hey, if you start boring me, don't worry, I won't stick around for the rest," Tellis assured him, "now out with it."
Dest glanced down at Pinkie Pie, who was grinning eagerly in anticipation.
"Very well. But I imagine Pie requires an explanation to put the tale in context." He cleared his throat. "The Iron Warriors, before they turned to Chaos, used to serve a massive, centralized dictatorship that claimed dominance over all of humanity: the Imperium of Man. Eventually the Iron Warriors and many other Legions of Space Marines turned against the Imperium; some in service to the forces of Chaos, and some for more personal reasons."
He paused. "The reason my former Chapter membership is relevant is because the Imperial Fists fancy themselves the loyalist rivals of the traitor Iron Warriors." He snorted. "Personally, I see that as a laughable conceit on the part of the Fists. Their string of losses at the hands of the Iron Warriors is quite long, and includes some very famous and crippling failures. I would consider the Imperial Fists their practice targets rather than 'rivals'."
"Ha! Oh, man! Even considering you converted, that's pretty harsh!" Tellis laughed.
"It's relevant, however," Dest insisted, "when I was captured from my former Chapter, I was but a Scout, still early in my training and new to my gene-implants. I had not been schooled fully in my Chapter's history, and much of its lore - particularly that of the Heresy, our darkest hour - was unknown to me."
Dest paused to wet his lips. "As such, the first time I saw an Iron Warrior, I had no idea of the storm that was coming."
****
Gallus V - 8 standard solar years ago
"I've sighted something moving," I said as I peered through my monoculars, adjusting the zoom as it autofocused against the glare. It took a moment, as the glare was rather intense; the color scheme of steel and gold reflects light obnoxiously well.
The rest of my squad were spread out in formation, covering all the approaches. We were investigating the landing of an unidentified vessel nearby. It had made planetfall with alarming speed, and there was apparently a larger group of vessels approaching the system patrol fleet, but we didn't yet know what to expect.
Gallus V had a good variety of climates over its surface and some fairly intimidating alpha predators, which allowed for plenty of decent survival and wilderness training. So the Imperial Fists garrison fortress on that world often hosted neophyte Scout teams.
At least, it did back when that garrison still existed.
I hope that didn't spoil the ending for you.
"Is that... That's Astartes power armor," I said. My voice was confused.
"Imperial?" asked my Sergeant.
"Is there any other kind?" I asked. In retrospect, that was a very poor response.
"Do you see Imperial heraldry on that armor or not, Scout?" hissed the Sergeant.
"I... I don't," I mumbled, my confusion growing, "something's wrong. That armor's been heavily modified."
"Colors. Give me colors and an emblem," the Sergeant demanded, the brush shifting under his feet.
"Silver and gold, Sergeant. And the Chapter symbol looks like... a metal skull."
"We have approaching vehicles," Lennol said, spotting exhaust plumes in the distance, "small ones... bikes! Blast!"
"Let's move, Scouts! Back to base!"
We ran, evading the vanguard assault forces searching for us. One of the most difficult aspects of fighting Chaos Space Marines is that they know our tactics as well as we do; they knew that we'd have scouting teams searching for the landing site and trying to get a count of enemy forces, and they knew which spots we'd prefer to cover our approach and spotting site. While that wasn't enough for them to catch us, we weren't able to accomplish much besides identify the foe.
Once we got back to the citadel, it instantly became a frenzy of activity. I managed to get my Sergeant alone long enough to ask what that Space Marine was doing out there and why we had designated him as an enemy agent.
He told me that those Space Marines bearing the Iron Skull were traitors and heretics, and servants to the Great Enemy. I could hardly believe it. I had learned OF Chaos, of course, but without hearing the history of the Horus Heresy first the idea of an Astartes, the penultimate defender and hero of the human race, fighting for the sake of corruption and the destruction of the Imperium was inconceivable to me.
"Oh, you're not that bad! Although I kind of wish Tellis would stop stabbing the flour sacks!"
"What? Oh, sorry. Story's a little light on action for my taste. Let's get to the bloody parts, eh grunt?"
Anyway. Though this revelation was quite disturbing to me, behind the walls of our fortress I knew we would not fall. We were the Emperor's Space Marines, his finest warriors, and we were the sons of Dorn, the masters of fortification and defense. I knew not why these traitors sullied our world with their presence, but I knew that they could not defeat us.
"Wait for it..."
I was wrong.
"And now we get to the bloody part!"
****
Gallus V - Imperial Fists Citadel, two days later
It all began just about as expected.
The advance of siege tanks we predicted and defended against. The artillery we also predicted but could do little against.
They came in waves, perfect formation, diving at a corner of the fortress with mediocre firing lines. They cut into the fortress, not like a hammer, but like a scalpel, hitting the same spot with demolisher cannons and lascannons and earthshakers.
The wall was breached. Once it broke open the Imperial Fists poured into it, filling the breach and the battlements above with adamantium and boltguns. Reinforcements were called from all over from the rest of the fortress to hold the breach against an escalade. Textbook.
A textbook the Iron Warriors knew as well as we did.
The walls shook again. The tempo of vibration was constant, furious, like a hateful, pounding drum beat.
"Steel yourselves, Brothers," said Melkis. A Techpriest, he was busy rummaging through supplies, looking to assemble additional heavy bolter gun positions for the battlements.
"They breached the wall? Already? The siege is barely in its fifth hour and they're already launching an escalade?" I was surprised, and perhaps sounded a little too impressed as well. My Sergeant glared at me.
"They're not launching an escalade yet," mumbled another Scout from another unit. We were all gathered here, as a skeleton crew, while the bulk of our brothers manned the breach. "I don't hear enough bolter fire. I think they're pulling back, actually."
"They fear the cost of an assault this early, as well they should," Melkin mumbled, hoisting a heavy bolter and turning it over, "they will find a wall of our Battle-Brothers far more formidable than mere ferrocrete."
That made sense. It might have even been true.
But it was a moot point.
"To the battlements!" howled a voice from above.
We looked up. It was Lennol, looking more frantic than I'd ever seen him. None of us are exactly prone to panic, but he was definitely panicking.
"They're coming! Land Raiders and... and some sort of of walkers! Approaching fast on the West side!"
"The breach is on the East side," I pointed out obliviously, like an imbecile.
"We need heavy weapons up here! We have to man the battlements!" Lennol repeated desperately. "Let our brothers know that-"
The walls shook again. No distant reverberation this time. This was the reinforcement layers trying to hold back damage.
"To the battlements, Brothers," Melkin said darkly, stepping up and handing the heavy bolter to my squad sergeant, "we shall not falter before the traitor. We shall not relent before the heretic."
It was all very inspiring, but I was really very concerned about the way the sound of pounding and the barking of foreign voices was coming from the other side of the wall behind me.
"We shall not fear, for we are fear incarnate!" Melkin shouted, trying not to seem at all alarmed by the distinct sound of melta weapons discharging close enough for us to hear. "Remember, Brothers, that the Emperor protec-"
And that was when a giant fist ripped through the wall and he got bitten in half by a maulerfiend.
"HAH! Classic."
I don't really remember much of the siege after that, as the second breach of the fortress wall nearly buried me. But that strategic maneuver had always left an impression. After spending hours breaching the wall where we were prepared, they breached a second wall in minutes where we weren't. A hammer raised over our faces, and we're felled by a spear to the back instead. The Iron Warriors' casual contempt for Imperial Fist defensive tactics is always something I've come to admire. Between the Chapter that excels at building fortifications and the Legion that excels at breaking them, they've always had the harder, more dangerous specialty.
My violent introduction to that specialty was something I reflected on at length as I was taken back to the traitor flotilla as a prisoner. Many captives had been taken, and as far as I am aware there was little point to the assault other than to cause minor, if direct harm to the Imperial Fists Chapter of Space Marines.
My Battle-Brothers conspired to escape our imprisonment and arm themselves, but such plans counted for nothing; the Iron Warriors knew all of the abilities of Astartes physiology and knew how to imprison us.
What eventually happened to the others I can only venture a guess, but I'm certain their fate was grisly, long, and fatal. As for me, my destiny split from theirs the day that the Dark Apostle Jeldas came to appraise the prisoners.
"And here we have them, Brothers! Slaves to the False Emperor! Puppets to humanity's liars and cowards!" he spoke grandly, his vox booming like a preacher as he spread his arms wide.
Some of my Brothers spat curses and defiance, but most simply glowered silently.
The new arrival regarded the first cell, an uncommon enthusiasm about him.
"Ah! This one! Decent rank, and an uncommon firmness to him. He will not break." The Dark Apostle stared briefly at a brutally injured Captain, and the Iron Warriors behind him nodded.
"This one is... hmmm. The opposite. Soft. For one of the imbeciles in yellow, anyway," the Apostle said as he looked over another. The Imperial Fist spat at him, but the glob of acid spattered uselessly against an energy field and boiled away.
He went from cell to cell, looking over the Space Marines and judging them after a long glance. I'm guessing he was laying out their fates for the guards to process, but did not do so with simple declarations of "torture" or "sacrifice". He simply laid their spirit bare, and then moved on to let them stew over their immediate future.
Then he reached my cell.
"Hmmm. HMMMMM..." the humming noise was much louder as he stared at me, and I stared back. I was looking over his armor. Not to find weaknesses, but analyzing the differences between it and the power armor I saw on the initiates, trying to find out what it all meant. The horns, the skulls, the spikes.
"There's something missing from this one," the Dark Apostle declared mildly, thinking on the subject for many seconds. "Ah! I've got it! It's contempt!" he tilted his helmet to the side, honestly fascinated. "You don't look down on me, Brother?"
He was right, I realized after a moment. Every other Imperial Fist glared at the Apostle like he was some sub-human worm mocking them from a pit of filth they didn't deign to approach. They had been utterly crushed, humiliated, and dragged into the void to face a grotesque and awful fate, and they stared out of their dank little cells with the pride of kings.
Admirable, I suppose, but as for me, I was filled with curiosity, not hate.
"What are you?" I asked, peering closer to the crackling energy field. "Why are you doing this?"
"WHY!" the Dark Apostle boomed, his head twisting this way and that. He laughed. "This one asks WHY! HAH!"
"Don't listen to the traitor, Brother," rumbles the Captain. I don't know his name. I didn't know any of their names. They were initiates, fully-fledged Space Marines. I was a Scout, and a young one at that. I was the only Scout there. Probably the only Scout that survived.
The Dark Apostle turned toward me again, the bloody-red lenses of his visor boring into my eyes. "The Astartes are constructed to know no fear. To stand in the clutches of the enemy and still defy them takes no particular courage or valor," he told me, "hate is a force we all draw from greedily, and though it empowers us, it can also... blind us."
"Scout! Do. Not. Listen," snapped the Captain, "the traitor speaks only lies! Believe in the Emperor's light!"
The Dark Apostle gestured to the cell where the Captain was held. "Observe. The shining example of the Emperor's Space Marines," he said with an audible sneer, "watch how he hurls hollow insults and useless orders from within his prison, clinging to an obviously futile hope that's been painstakingly carved into his brain matter. How NOBLE." He said the last word with a noisy, vox-distorted snort. I noticed that his escorts seemed to be getting uncomfortable enough that I could see them fidgeting even in full power armor. Clearly this wasn't a normal part of the procedure.
"It is a far greater virtue, I believe, to question. To wonder. To want to peer into the darkness and see what's there, rather than raging at it with blade and bolter." He paused, and his visor pulsed brightly. "Would you like to see into the shadows, young Astartes? Would you like to understand... 'why'?"
"Scout! Don't do this!" howled the Captain furiously. There were other Brothers too, shouting for the Dark Apostle to leave, or beckoning for me not to give in.
Give in to what, I wondered. And what would be the point of refusing? I figured we were all going to die anyway, so why perish with questions that the foe was willing to answer?
"Yes," I said, ignoring the shouts from the other cells, "tell me."
"Can't believe you fell for that, dude. Seriously? Buttering you up like that because you hadn't already heard specifically why you should shoot us on sight?"
"Isn't that a good thing, though? I'm glad Desty became an Iron Warrior!"
If I may continue? Thank you.
I was taken away from the other Imperial Fists after that. I never saw them again. After a day in a slightly larger prison protected by Iron Warriors rather than an energy field, I saw Dark Apostle Jeldas again.
He gave me answers. He explained why.
He told me about the Iron Warriors and their ancient grudge against the Imperial Fists, about the Horus Heresy, and about the ancient powers that lurked in the Warp and sought dominion over humanity. I'm not completely sure, even now, how much of what he said was true. But what lies he may have spoken were not pretty ones. His representation of the grievances against his Legion were no doubt exaggerated, but he offered little reason for me to sympathize. Jeldas and all the Iron Warriors were self-described traitors. They had brought ruin to the Imperium and caused the deaths of untold billions.
"I'll bet most of that was Tellis, huh?"
"Not a technical majority, no. I'm working my way up there, though."
Even with the dark truth of Chaos laid out before me, and the murder of my Chapter's garrison fresh in my mind, I was yet intrigued. From my birth and barely-remembered childhood on some backwater hive world to my training in the Imperial Fists, I have never known of any creed besides the Imperium's. I'd never known Chaos as anything other than a dark, vaguely monstrous THING that threatens humanity. Chaos was not a good path, by any means, but it was a path that I had never known about, locked as I was in my Imperium Chapter in Imperium space and inundated with the Imperium's own brand of "truth". Chaos was different: fractious, seditious, and twisted. And yet entire Legions of Space Marines thrived under the banner of the eight-pointed star.
More to the point, the Imperium's path had been closed to me. Destroyed by renegades who had bested my Chapter on its own planet at its strongest point. Whatever else I could say about the Iron Warriors, I could not doubt their strength. Whether it came from the power of Chaos, or was simply the power of the Iron Warriors Legion sustained by Chaos for ten thousand years, I had no doubt that the the Fourth Legion was the stronger and more cunning when measured against the Sons of Dorn.
Eventually, Jeldas exhausted his supply of relevant lore for me to muse over. I had assumed that my end would come soon after that. Probably as a live sacrifice in some barbaric act of witchcraft.
"Oh, no! I wonder if Desty's going to make it!"
"... You're doing this on purpose, right?"
Pie. Stop.
Again, I was wrong.
Jeldas came to me again, not with an executioner's axe, but an open hand.
"You... want me to join? Join you? A Chaos Legion?" I asked. I was stunned.
He seemed slightly surprised at my surprise. "But of course. You have heard the truth. You have been told 'why'. The shroud of ignorance that has guided you for your short life and - if I may say so - disastrous introduction to the Imperial Fists has been stripped away. The way of Chaos is now open to you."
He was holding out his hand. I stared at it.
"I didn't ask you about Chaos in order to join you," I grunted.
"But you DID ask," Jeldas noted, "the Imperium says: blessed be the mind too small for doubt. They make a virtue of stupidity and ignorance. You, I am afraid, are not very virtuous in their eyes."
I looked away, grimacing, recalling the angry shouts of the other Imperial Fists as I was led out of the brig.
"Why would I betray the Imperium?" I asked.
"Betrayal implies a debt of loyalty owed to the betrayed, Brother. What debt do you owe the Imperium?" the Dark Apostle mused. "They ripped you from your birth world, turned you into a living weapon to serve in their armies, and then placed you in that embarrassingly fragile planetary garrison. You cannot even claim the gift of security so desperately sought by the masses of the hive worlds."
He shook his head. "The Imperium has taken your life, your future, and even your humanity. And what has it given you in return? Not even a suit of powered plate, as far as I can tell."
"How can you possibly trust me?" I grunted, trying to get a better feel for what I was being offered.
Jeldas humored me, as before. "Trust is in very short supply in our Legion," the Dark Apostle chuckled, "but it CAN be earned here. ALL can be earned in service to Chaos. Rank, wealth, power beyond imagining, mutation, suffering, punishment, death beyond man's gravest nightmares."
"Wow, you weren't kidding about him not sugar-coating things. You guys have got a real PR problem in general, you know?"
I went back to staring at his hand. His armored hand with claws that could tear my throat out with a swift movement.
"If you will not serve the Legion, then you will be returned to the main brig with your Battle-Brothers," Jeldas explained patiently, "they will see that you have rejected the Eightfold Path, and will laud you for your fortitude and wisdom." He paused meaningfully. "And then, in your wisdom and buoyed by their praise, you will share their fate."
Another pause. "The choice is yours, Dest."
Choice...
I'd never been given that before.
My servitude to the Chapter was martial slavery. I was taken from an underhive slum, implanted with genetic enhancements, and then indoctrinated. Sure, there had been ways out, but they all involved failure, all led to death, and none had been actually offered to me; success was presumed, and then demanded. Survival instinct and the shrill, hateful creed of the Imperium had spurred me to comply. Choice was a novelty to me.
"I hope I don't regret this," I grumbled as I seized his hand.
Jeldas laughed. "Brother, please. You know what they say about hope."
****
Ponyville - Sugarcube Corner
"And then you joined the Iron Warriors and lived happily ever after, right?!" Pinkie Pie asked, clapping her hooves together.
"No, Pie. There was nothing happy about my new life," Dest admitted, his eyes dim.
"Well, that's your fault, dude," Tellis interrupted, "should've joined a cult. Khorne knows how to party!"
"Khorne parties are actually a little intense for me," Pinkie admitted with unusual seriousness, "I really think it kills the mood when someone dies playing the party games."
"And I think it strangles the mood when they don't. Different strokes, horse."
Dest saw that Pinkie was giving the Chaos Lord a strange look and decided to bring the topic back toward his past.
"I didn't know what to expect when I joined the Iron Warriors, and now that I know more about the Chaos Legions I suppose I got off quite easy. I was not interrogated for information, forced into some arcane ritual, or even branded with new Legion symbols. There was little indoctrination in my new path. Most of my training was in the use of power armor, which I had never actually worn before. Where initiation into the Imperial Fists was a long and painstaking process, becoming an Iron Warrior seemed to require nothing more than saying 'yes'."
Tellis chuckled, and Dest continued ruefully. "Soon I realized the truth of the matter. Although I now wore the colors of the Fourth Legion, I was hardly an Iron Warrior. For the next two years I was assigned to no squad or given any combat detail, merely occupied with trivial guard duties or endless training drills. I never saw Apostle Jeldas again. I was an outsider in the Chaos fleet, and I was treated like one. I will say, however, that I experienced little serious mistreatment due to being from the Imperial Fists specifically. I think most Iron Warriors find the prospect amusing rather than alarming."
"I know I do," Tellis affirmed needlessly.
"Of course. As always, it could have been much worse," Dest admitted, "after the first two years of drudgery, the fleet made port on a fortress world controlled by the Legion to take on supplies and reinforcements. And there I was given some... unexpected news."
****
Sallus VIII - Iron Warriors fortress world
"I'm being reassigned?" my face was impassive, but my mind was racing.
"'Reassigned' is... a nice way of putting it." The Aspiring Champion chuckled darkly. His power fist kept clenching and unclenching its fingers as he stared down at me, as if he were imagining crushing me within his metal palm. "You're being sold, Fist."
That seemed like a pointlessly bleak way of putting the same thing, but I was silent.
"The 38th Company has granted us fresh supplies and weapons, and in return, we grant them bodies. Soldiers. Fresh meat." I briefly wondered if he was listing different names for the same thing, or if they really paid for ammunition in food and corpses. "Congratulations on finally being of service to our Legion, Fist." He sneered at me and walked away.
I suppose it was supposed to be insulting, or demoralizing, but that was hard to do to someone in my position. I was already doing completely menial, needless chores for an army that saw me as little more than an unwanted pet. Would service to this other fleet be worse?
I lined up at the appointed place, along with two dozen other Chaos Space Marines.
I knew none of them, but then I hardly knew anyone in the fleet. I did notice, though, that their armor was largely unadorned. Their plate lacked embellishment, mutation, or customization. It was a crude method for determining accomplishment, but it gave the distinct impression that I was not standing among the fleet's finest warriors.
"Attention, scum!" barked a voice from behind me. "Your new Lord approaches!"
"Ooh! Ooh! I know who that is! I know!"
"Heh. This is going to be great."
Warsmith Solon stepped in front of the line of Iron Warriors, looming over us. I almost flinched. I'd seen Techpriests and Techmarines before, and even a Magos once, but Solon was something else entirely. Twisted fleshmetal, hissing pistons, and acrid smoke surrounded the man that would be my commander, and looked to have walked straight from man's nightmares. For the first time since joining the forces of Chaos, I truly stood in awe at the power of the Dark Gods, and the terrifying majesty that was possible to acquire in their service.
And then Solon started talking.
"Sho you will be the new sholdiersh, then? Allow me to introduce myshelf! I am Warshmith Sholon, commander of the 38th Company! From thish point forward, you will sherve my fleet!"
There may be no other time that I was so glad to be wearing my helmet. My expression was priceless, I'm sure.
"We shall ply this galaxy and take itsh treashuresh for ourshelvesh! And our plunder shall fuel the enginesh of war ash the Dark Godsh shpread their corruption acrosh the shtarsh!"
It wasn't just his voice, although that was what initially snapped me out of my sense of awe. His mannerisms were hardly befitting of a Space Marine Sergeant, much less a Chaos Lord. He's too energetic, too mercurial, and mild-mannered. It felt like he's trying to sell us on our new posting, rather than explain it to us. I was honestly embarrassed, which I hadn't thought possible.
I could see the Aspiring Champion from before walking away with a grin on his face, trying to keep from snickering.
"Hee! Yeah, Shmithy is pretty funny!"
"I've attended some of those transfers just to see the new guys gawk and stumble. It's hilarious!"
Solon says something else, but I'm not listening anymore. I'm confused, to say the least. What is this new posting going to be like? Will I see combat again? Will I be ordered to fight against the Imperium actively this time? Will I be forever consigned to an ignominious role in the ship barracks, even in this new fleet? Would that be for the best?
The pounding of large, metal legs gets closer, and my soldier's instincts force me to attention as Solon wanders by.
He stops in front of me, a hololith screen hovering in front of him. One optic is on the screen, but his helmet is turned toward me.
"Intereshting," he says simply. Then he moves on.
That was the closest I've ever come to holding a conversation with Warsmith Solon. It was the only thing he's ever said to me. "Interesting."
"If it's any consolation, I disagree."
"Aww, that's not true! You're super interesting, Desty! Even if your back story deliberately downplays the dramatic tension and irony of your betrayal rather than exploiting it!"
"... You're a weird little horse, you know that?"
I cannot fault Solon's lack of personal attention. I fault him for plenty of other things, but not that. The bonds of trust, camaraderie, and mentorship have ever been strained in the Chaos Legions. The transfer to the 38th went rather well for me.
My assignment as a Rhino driver is a very subtle act of brilliance by whomever made that decision. It was a front-line role of understated importance, unlikely to draw attention or scorn. I have no need to form any significant bond with my peers, so trust is hardly a problem. And in the task of ferrying soldiers from a muster point into the thick of combat, I've rarely had to take the lives of our Imperial foes directly. Perhaps they fear I'll have an attack of conscience and turn on them if I have to look Imperial troops in the eyes as they die around me.
Conscience has hardly been a problem for me. No. I've had... other issues with my given role.
****
Gelleon II
The treads ground uselessly into the slick, gooey mud below as the Rhino's engine roared. Its machine spirit howled furiously underneath me, incensed by the defiance of nature as it fought for traction.
It seemed to be no use. The ground on this obnoxiously humid planet was a steaming soup, and the tread of the Rhino simply moved mud rather than the transport.
Artillery shells arced overhead, but the barrage was weak; the mud was so bad that sometimes the shells would hit without exploding, sinking into the sludge with a wet slurping noise.
Other Rhinos raced past mine, their dozer blades cutting away a thick layer of water off the top of the mud and allowing the treads to get a better grip. My transport's dozer blade had been shattered by autocannon fire, but I couldn't see how we would get further without one.
"Are there any wrecks nearby?" I demanded of my gunner.
"Wrecks? Friendly or hostile?" he shouted from above.
"Doesn't matter."
"There's a wasted battle cannon turret behind us on the left side."
"Wait here," I grunted as I grabbed a laser torch and pushed up into the main access hatch.
I leapt into the bog, my armor immediately sinking into the muck up to my thighs. I spotted the smoking cannon and started trudging forward, intent on scraping together a dozer blade from the scorched armor plates.
It was miserable, but at the moment I was actually feeling pleased. I was being useful, showing ingenuity and stretching my conventional skills to complete my mission.
More whistling from above. I ignored it, hearing the soft slurps from the shells sinking and the muted splashing noises from them exploding in the mud. Followed by the ear-splitting crash of one hitting durasteel vehicle plating.
I halted, and a few bits of flaming metal flew past my legs. I turned around. My Rhino was gone, along with the squad that had been packed inside it.
****
Corvex Prime
The dust was thick in front of my viewport, but visibility wasn't especially necessary at the time.
The whooping of Ork warriors came from off to the side, being carried along at speed by the rumbling Battlewagon. They were shooting wildly at my vehicle as they went, most of them missing and none of them doing any real damage.
I wasn't really sure what the Ork driver was up to. Were I in his place, I would be trying to get behind me to crush me under the giant spiked roller attached to the front of the battlewagon, but this one seemed like he was trying to race me instead.
The Rhino's top hatch opened, and I heard the sound of bolter fire. That only egged the Orks on, though. Soon I heard them cheering as our passengers fired at each other.
"Drive closer!" barked one of my passengers.
"For the LAST TIME, swords don't work against-"
My gunner cut off my angry rant. "Stop arguing and do it!"
I growled beneath my helmet, but I did as instructed, rolling the transport almost flush with the heaving mess of scrap armor easily twice the size of my Rhino.
Apparently the Ork driver had pulled the window down to make certain gestures at us, my gunner explained after the fact. After I got close enough, one of my passengers threw a frag grenade into the cab.
It exploded, and the Battlewagon swerved away.
Then it swerved back toward us.
The roller-
"Come on, man, say the name. You know what it's called."
... The dethrolla smashed the rear of my Rhino flat, completely pulverizing the passenger bay before the Battlewagon peeled off and sped away out of control.
"Hee hee! Dethrolla. Oh, but it's super sad that the other Marines died, though!"
Yes, well-
"Ooh! Can I do the next one? I'll do the next one!"
What do you mean yo-
****
Planet Pony - AJ's farm of appliciousness
So there was this huge space dinosaur attacking the farm! Gaela had just shot it and it was super mad, but it still had some wounds left. So it started chasing her through the orchard!
It looked like it was going to munch her up when suddenly Desty's like WHAM!! And rams his Rhino into the Spacerannosaurus! He totally saved Gaela!
"That... okay, yes, xeno-terminology aside, that's true so far."
But the aliensaurus makes its armor save! So then it turned around and totally bites the Rhino, chomping it into pieces! Desty's okay in the driver's cab, but a couple of poorly-characterized humans are squished and immediately forgotten!
So then alien rex gets bored or maybe it prefers sauce on its APC or something so it turns away to get back to stomping and chomping!
And then Desty suddenly EXPLODES from the wreck!
"Aw, HELL naw!" Desty said, pulling back the boltgun slide with that awesome "ch-chak" noise they make!
"Okay, no. No, I did not say-"
Wielding dual bolters - because he's a BAWSS - Desty rips into the side of the spacecerotops, which roars in pain and swears revenge in its howling angry space dino language! It sweeps around and tries to bite him, but Desty leaps to the side, bolters blazing as he dodges!
"She is WAY better at this than you are, dude."
"This account is becoming exponentially less accurate. For one thing, it took time for me to extricate myself from the Rhino cab. Didn't those Apple ponies attack-"
And then the tyranospacus rex comes after him again! Roaring with fury and probably making foreign-language jokes about needing more iron in its diet, it leaps forward to sieze Desty in its massive jaws! Desty, in the middle of reloading, spin-kicks the xenosaurus in the FACE, throwing it onto its side!
"Whoa! You KICKED a greater gnarloc in the face?!"
"... No, Lord."
Meanwhile, I was across the orchard, Kung-Fu fighting the kroot from the kill team!
I hit one in the gut, and then did forward, down, down-forward and punch, smashing into him with a wicked uppercut! Then I Karate back-kicked another kroot to get some space, and then pulled out a melta bomb from the stashes I keep all over AJ's farm in case of alien invasion!
"I'm glad SOMEBODY does. It's like that family seriously never even considered the possibility until we showed up."
"... You're not even trying to keep this within the realm of realism anymore, are you?"
"Desty, catch!" I shouted, flinging the bomb to him.
He caught the meltamajigger, but the voidasaurus had already shrugged off the last attack and was coming for him!
"You want a snack?" Desty growled as he armed the bomb. "Watch out for heartburn!" He plunged his hand right into the monster's gaping jaws!
"There's no way-"
"Dest? Shush. Seriously. Let her do this."
The meanie space dinosaur bit down, tearing Dest's arm off, but foolishly swallowed the bomb as well! A second later its eye bugged out, and its stomach bulged, and it was hilarious, but seriously that must have hurt like nothing I've even imagined! It burped up some smoke, whimpered a bit, and then keeled over, dead as a doornail. That had been killed. By some means one would employ to kill doornails. Whatever THAT is.
"Oh, Lord Dest!" Gaela gasped, latching onto Desty's side and staring lustily up into the scary red eyes in his visor, "you SAVED me."
"All in a day's work, Acolyte," Desty grunted, shifting the shoulder that was pretty much just a gross stump at the time, "I only wish I could have saved my other passengers. But such is my curse."
Desty looked up at the sky sadly, a lone oil tear crawling down his helmet.
****
Ponyville - Sugarcube Corner
"And that's the story of how Desty lost the Rhino, saved the day, and ended up with his slick new robot arm!" Pinkie finished, grinning as she slapped a hoof against Dest's entirely non-cybernetic arm.
"I would like to point out that while two of those things did ultimately happen, I do not have any bionic limbs," Dest noted, apparently still devoted to the accuracy of the story.
"Well, have you considered it? Some of them are pretty cool," Tellis said, "in this fleet you only get top-of-the-line augments. Lots of features and stuff."
Dest rolled his eyes.
Then the Raptor Lord scratched at the chin of his helmet. "But getting back on track, here. Your big problem is that your Rhinos keep getting wrecked and your passengers are all killed?"
"Not at all, Lord," Dest said, "I hardly consider that a problem. Countless transports are lost in combat zones, after all, their passengers destroyed in an instant. That I keep surviving for it to happen again is something I consider good luck, not bad." He paused. "Even if the Dark Mechanicus DOES claim that the Rhinos' machine spirits are starting to become nervous in my presence."
Pinkie Pie had apparently laid out over his legs belly-up at some point, and his hands unconsciously moved to stroke her stomach.
"If I have a 'problem' with my service to the 38th, it is a matter of purpose, not luck."
He seemed to fume for a moment, his fingers digging harder into Pinkie's fur. She didn't seem to mind one bit, humming pleasantly.
"I felt that I served no particular purpose to the Imperium or the Imperial Fists. Perhaps I would have had I been able to complete my training, but that did not happen. This is why I could bring myself to turn against them for my own survival. But neither have I found purpose with the Iron Warriors. The 38th Company offers me something useful to do, at least, but..."
He trailed off for a few seconds, silently accommodating Pinkie when she mumbled "More to the right."
"I still feel that my actions and presence lack significance. I departed from Ferrous Dominus in defiance of orders, and yet none have sought me out or tried to contact me. For all I know I may have been written off as a casualty or desertion, and it's quite apparent that no one in the fleet cares. Unlike many of my 'brothers' I don't even have a squad champion to decide between finding me or simply requisitioning a replacement."
Tellis snorted through his vox grille. "Dest, listen up. If you can't find 'purpose' with THIS," he slapped a gauntlet against the Iron Skull painted on his left shoulder pad, "then find it with THIS," he then used his other hand to indicate the Mark of Khorne featured on his right side. "You have your choice of finding purpose in violence, disease, or change. This isn't hard." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Obviously, I recommend violence, because it has the most overlap with what we already do. A lot less reading involved."
"I've considered it," Dest admitted, "but I am hesitant. True Chaos worship has never been especially... appealing to me. I belong to a Chaos Legion thanks to a distinct lack of better options, not devotion. Without the fanatical zeal of the cultist, I imagine that being marked would simply leave me adrift on an even bleaker path than the one I currently roam."
"You're kind of a whiner, aren't you?" Tellis asked. "You ask me, you fit in perfectly with the rest of the grunts. I don't see how anyone could consider YOU an outsider."
Without waiting for Dest to think up an appropriately dry response, Tellis hopped up to his feet.
"Well, it was fun hearing about your rhino blowing up, but unless Pink Horse here can narrate the rest of your life story, I'm sick of hearing about it. Later, scrub."
The Raptor Lord walked out of the room, his wings scratching grooves into the doorway as he left.
Dest didn't watch him go, letting the room sink into a comfortable silence.
He felt Pinkie Pie shift over his legs, but didn't pay the pink mare any particular attention until she spoke again.
"Hey, Dest?"
The Iron Warrior glanced down, surprised to hear Pinkie use his name rather than the very slight modification she used as a nickname.
She was smiling up at him, but it seemed to lack its usual bubbliness.
"I'm really glad you're here," Pinkie said, her voice much lower than normal, "like, not right here, in our attic, which is great though, but like, here on our planet."
"You're glad that a band of brutal and corrupt space pirates landed in your nation and started hunting aliens on your soil?"
"Yuh-huh!" Pinkie said, nodding her head without hesitation. "Because you came with them!"
"You're crazy," Dest pointed out, taking his hand away from the pony.
Pinkie promptly jumped up onto her hind legs and poked a hoof into Dest's nose. "Oh yeah? Well, the Cakes are glad you're here too! Are THEY crazy?"
"They allow you an unconscionable level of discretion and responsibility in caring for their spawn. So their sanity is quite in doubt as well."
Pinkie scrunched up her muzzle. "Huh. Never thought of it that way," she mumbled.
Then she shook her head and poked the Chaos Space Marine in the chest. "Not the point! We really like having you around! And... uh..." her voice trailed off, and her ears fell flat against her head. "And... we'd feel really, really bad if something happened to you, even if the other Iron Warriors don't care."
Dest regarded the pink equine skeptically. "I don't see any reason for your attachment," he admitted after a long moment, "even the Cakes have pointed out that my countenance is cold and unfriendly."
"What, are you kidding?" Pinkie scoffed, climbing up onto the Marine's shoulder. "You're the best! You're like Gummy Mark Two! Except that instead of freaking out my friends and slobbering on my mane, you kill my enemies and do my day job for me!"
"I am enthralled that I compare favorably to your defective pet reptile," Dest deadpanned.
"That's right!" Pinkie grinned and patted the driver's shaved head. "I just want you to know that you're really important to us!"
Then she yawned. "Thanks for the story, Desty! But I think I should get some sleep now."
"Mm. Good night, Pie."
"Good night, Desty!"
"......... Pie."
"Hm?"
"I am not going to let you sleep on my lap. Go back to your quarters."
"Awwwww!"