TALE - The Praetorian of Terra

[simison]

The mother looked down at her son, only two days over twelve, and couldn't stop the concern from showing on her face. Nor could she blot out the noise of the transport arriving. The hum of anti-gravity engines enveloped the scene as she knelt down next to her youngest son. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

 

Her son frowned at her with the sea-green eyes she gave him. "Metera," he whined, "I'm sure! We've already talked about this a hundred times!"

 

A hand rested on her shoulder. She glanced up to her husband, who shared his tan skin and dark hair with the entire family. "He's made his choice," he quietly reminded her.

 

She knew. Oh, she knew. Every since her precious boy had turned ten, he had become obsessed with this path, despite her warnings of how hard it would be, the struggles he would endure. None of her words could dissuade him. The block-like transport landed on the sole landing pad on the tiny isle of Skiros with a thud. After a few seconds, a door opened and a pretty young woman climbed out before calling for passengers. 

 

The father announced, "It's time." 

 

With a heart submerged in ice, the mother stood up, and the family of six made their way to the transport's entrance. Every step sounded like the funeral bell to her. She desperately wanted to hold her son's hand but knew he wouldn't allow it, so eager to prove his masculinity to the unfamiliar faces. With every step, a memory flashed in her mind. His first steps. His first words. The first time he came home with his own caught fish, smiling so proudly as he stood next to his father.

 

All too soon, they were at the transport's entrance. The young woman smiled over them and asked, "Going on a family trip?"

 

The father shook his head. "No, just myself and my son." He looked down with pride. "He's enlisting."

 

The mother could see the logic working in the young woman's eyes, calculating her son's age. While there were exceptions, the Imperial Army had a conscription age limit set at 16 Terran years. The Delian Guard insisted on a higher age limit of 18 Terran years. Given her son's younger age, that could only mean one thing. The young woman gave a sly smile to the boy. "So, you think you have what it takes to become a Son of Salim?"

 

Akylles nodded his head vigorously before pounding his chest in the Imperial salute. "I'm going to become a Halcyon Warden!"

Edited December 1, 2017 by Lord Thørn

[simison]

The recruiter leaned back in his chair as the latest applicant marched toward medical. One-eyed and missing both legs, the recruiter was well-tempered by the fires of war, presenting the ugly side of battle. It was an odd choice to place such a veteran as the first face that any who sought military service, but it was intentional. It was the propaganda's job to bring in the naive and the short-sighted, it was his job to scare some sense into them before they actually agreed to anything. Of course, he wasn't as disabled as his role needed him to be. Beneath his desk were his prosthetic legs, while a mechanical eye hid beneath the patch. Still, the illusion was set and maintained as tradition, dating back to when the Warmaster was known as the Shield-Lord. While VonSalim would never turn away the willing, he wanted honest warriors who weren't blinded by images of battlefield glory. Thus, the recruiter. 

 

It was a strange mix, especially with how the Imperium was constantly sending calls for more soldiers and marines, but the Warmaster insisted on it. The unusual dichotomy included the building where the recruiter worked. 

[simison]

Although the recruiting center was a symbol of the Imperium, it did not feature the high-vaulted ceilings that characterized much of Imperial architecture. Instead VonSalim preferred a more practical style. This recruitment center, located in the city of Volus, was a two-floored complex divided into five wings. Each floor was a standard three metres and eschewed the Imperium's typical stain-glass windows for plain ones. The front hall where the recruiter sat was well lit by the daylight aside, offering a welcoming first sight as recruits walked in. 

 

Thoughts of architecture slipped away as the recruiter noticed a father and son walking towards him.

[simison]

As his position required of, the recruiter analyzed the father for military service. Although he was in the middle of years, he was physically fit, showing only slight weight gain around his torso. Adding in his tanned skin, coarse skin, and his wavy gait, the man was undoubtedly a fisherman of sorts, probably from one of the nearby islands. Obviously too old for become an Angel of Death (though he would've made a fair ally of the Scions and Drowned), it was still possible for the man to volunteer for the Imperial Army. Unlikely he'd qualify for an officer's commission, but with a bit of work, he'd be fit to serve. The recruiter smiled. "Greetings, how may I be of service?"

 

The man instantly deferred to his son. "My boy wishes to join the Wardens."

 

The recruiter's eye swiveled toward the son who stared back with raw determination. The recruiter was surprised, though he hid it. Most Astartes applicants made the longer journey to Salim for the superior facilities and improved credentials. Still, this facility did have the resources needed to examine the boy. He too had the look of a fisherman, probably was needed to help his father whenever he didn't have to attend to his studies. Since the boy couldn't see over his desk, the recruiter directed his chair to move to the side, giving the boy a full view of his missing legs. "And what makes you think you could become a Warden, hm?" The recruiter grunted, one hand placed over a stump of a leg.

[simison]

The boy couldn't help but stare at his stumps. Only the poorest couldn't afford some kind of artificial limb, even if it was merely a plastic replica. As such, it'd be a rare individual who went out in public without disguising their disability. Compared that to the recruiter's brazen act, it was no surprise that the boy would be distracted. To the boy's credit, he tore his eyes away after a few seconds and met the recruiter's eyes. "I believe in the Warmaster's dream."

 

Now it was the recruiter's turn to be caught off-guard. Every recruiter on Delos was given a secret list of priorities when weighing initial applicants, slightly different depending on which of the Imperial armed forces the application was for. The Imperial Army's requirements were simple and focused on physical health to match the incessant demands of the Great Crusade. The Assassinorum, it was rumored, watched recruits who had few ties to the rest of Humanity. Finally, the Warmaster's primary requirement was faith, or, as the recruiter interpreted it, a strong spirit. 

 

The boy's answer echoed with the desires of the Warmaster, but the recruiter wasn't finished yet. "Do you understand what you're applying for? The training to become a space marine will be brutal. They amount of physical training alone has broken men and boys alike. You will run kilometer after kilometer and then will still have to run some more. You will be waking up at the crack of dawn to shouting as you have to get into the right uniform in seconds to do the first set of exercises. By the end of the first week, you'll be more exhausted than you'll have ever been in your life."

 

"I can handle it," the boy insisted.

[bluntblade]

He's recruited when Alex is already Warmaster? Damn, that means I have to really fiddle with the Shrike story

[simison]

He's recruited when Alex is already Warmaster? Damn, that means I have to really fiddle with the Shrike story

 

Yeah, the idea is that Alkylles is one of the first Wardens who's only served under Alex as Warmaster. Since Alex is Warmaster of the Imperium for forty plus years, that's enough time for Alkylles to reach the rank of sergeant and Bastion at the start of the Insurrection. The Insurrection is brutal, but Alkylles is able to distinguish himself during the war to the point where he becomes Ruel's successor at the end of the Insurrection. 

[bluntblade]

(mentally scrambles to start editing) I'll switch his POV to the character Sigi based on the officer among AO's models.

[simison]

Ah, darn. Sorry Al, looks like you just lost some screen time.

[bluntblade]

I'm sure he'll get by :p

[simison]

The recruiter pressed harder. "And don't think it's going to be all about the beating your body's going to take. Space marines will fight any foe or on any battlefield in the entire galaxy. There are beasts that dwarf your dad that'll as soon as step on you or eat you if you look tasty to their freak eyes. Of course, that'll be downright pleasant compared to if you fall into the hands of the twisted Eldar. Did you hear about the torture they used to inflict on us? Not to mention the horrors that come from the Warp. There are evil people who'll try to summon things that ought not to be touched and unleash them upon you. Many men have been driven into madness fighting those things. You think you can handle that?"

 

The boy shifted uncomfortably, his young imagination filling in the details the recruiter chose to leave out. Yet, after a few seconds of shuddering, the boy nodded. 

[bluntblade]

Akylles would be very young for the role he ascends to at the end of the Insurrection. Maybe Ruel's crippling should wait until the Scouring?

[simison]

By the end of the Insurrection, Al has been a Warden for 70 years, compared to Ruel's unusual 270 years. So, he is young, but he's not that young. 

[bluntblade]

Cool, I was just querying as I've no idea what the typical age for a Chapter Master or the equivalent is. And after all, the Insurrection will mean very atypical circumstances.

[simison]

Cool, I was just querying as I've no idea what the typical age for a Chapter Master or the equivalent is. And after all, the Insurrection will mean very atypical circumstances.

 

That's what I was going for. The Insurrection plays havoc with the officer corps but provides plenty of opportunities to prove one's mettle. 

[bluntblade]

Bjorn springs to mind, so I'm fully in agreement now.

[simison]

The recruiter had one last card to play. He jerked his head towards the boy's father. "And you're ready to leave everything behind? I'm not sure if anyone told you this but becoming a space marine means leaving everything behind. Oh sure, there might be an entire brigade watching over Delos, but most of them are sent all over the galaxy, far away from their homes. It's likely you'll never see your family again, or that you'll be gone for so long they'll all have died and been buried while you still look barely a day over twenty. Is that what you want?"

 

The boy stole a glance at his father. To the man's credit, he said nothing and merely looked back. If the boy was to become a man this young, he had to learn to make his own choices and accept the consequences. It didn't take long before the boy faced the recruiter. "No, but they'll be fine."

 

A line was beginning to form behind the pair, so the recruiter directed his chair back to behind his desk. "You're either very brave or very stupid. But that's for you to find out." He grabbed the appropriate datapad and offered it to the father. "Fill this out and return to the desk."

 

With wide eyes of hope, the boy asked, "I'm going to become a Warden?"

 

The recruiter snorted before he jabbed a thumb behind him. "No. The doctors will find out if you have the right body to become a Warden. After that, we'll see."

[simison]

With a ping, the nurse turned her attention away from her studies to her workstation. The screen began to fill with information of a new patient, an applicant to the Legiones Astartes to be precise. After perusing the data for a moment, the nurse hit a few keys, ordering the network to retrieve files pertinent to subject 'Alkylles Kalonimos'. She wished the center had enough funds to install a noosphere nexus and the implants to use them. It would make it so much easier for her to multi-task her work and her studies. Another ping alerted her that the information had arrived. She transferred the data to her dataslate before making her way to one of the offices, where she was to meet the applicant and his guardian.

Edited November 4, 2016 by simison

[simison]

She entered the room only a moment before the patient arrived. She flashed him a warm smile. "Hello, my name is Revaka, I'll be taking care of you today. How are you feeling?" She asked as she reached for the diagnosticator.

 

"Healthy," Alkylles replied. 

 

"Well, that's good. Let's find out how healthy you are, shall we? Now, please stand still." 

 

The father dutifully stepped to the side as Revaka took her place in front of Alkylles. To her amusement, Alkylles came to a position of attention. She thought about warning him not to lock his knees but decided against it. She held the diagnosticator at the same height as the top of his head before beginning the scan. A wonderful piece of technology, it soon started recording information along several different medical axes. Temperature and the status of the brain were the first pieces of information to arrive. Slowly, she tilted the device's downward as it analysed the rest of her patient. Blood pressure, bone structure, organ status and so on were diligently recorded as information slid through the device's small screen. 

Edited November 4, 2016 by simison

[simison]

Blood pressure was a little high but was probably due to his anxiety of this big event than a latent medical issue. A few vertebrae were a few centimeters deformed, potentially in line with a daily heavy workload. She looked away from the screen. "So, Mr. Kalonimos, what is your primary occupation?"

 

"Fisherman," the father dutifully answered. "Third generation."

 

"And do you help out your dad with his fishing?" Revaka directed to her subject. 

 

The boy vigorously nodded. "I help out after school every day. It's why I have strong muscles."

 

Revaka smiled as she clicked a few keys. Everything else was the picture of health. 

[simison]

"Everything looks good, that finishes the general examination," Revaka announced as she reached for a syringe and a vial. "Next, we have to do a complete genetics examination. So, I'm going to have to take some blood." 

 

Her tools traded, she turned back to see Alkylles staring warily at the needle. As she took a couple of steps forward, his body subconsciously assumed a defensive posture. "Do we have to?" He muttered.

[simison]

"If you can't handle this little needle, then you can't be a space marine," Revaka warned.

 

The boy's sea-green eyes widened with alarm as they met her brown eyes. "I can't?"

 

Revaka shook her head, her short black hair swaying with the motion. "To become a legionnaire will involve a lot of injections with needles twice as big as this one. If you're not prepared for that, you might as well as give up now."

 

Alkylles paled at the thought of even bigger needles in his future. But, he closed his eyes and stuck out his arm towards her. Still a child in some ways, Revaka thought to herself, but she walked over to him. Treating him with a gentle touch, she located a vein before jamming the needle in. 

 

Her patient nearly leapt as he yelped. "I find it's helpful if you insert it quickly," Revaka cheerfully explained. A lie, of course. Yet, the injections she mentioned would induce quite a bit of pain. Might as well have him start building a pain tolerance now.

[simison]

With a slow pull on the needle, it filled with the ruby vitae. The moment it was full, Revaka reached for the sanosuma she was required to have on her person at all times. She jerked the needle out of the vein as she sprayed it. The small device immediately healed the small wound after four seconds. Satisfied, Revaka turned to the cogitator built into the room's wall, inserting the blood-filled vial into an indentation. She typed a few commands before addressing her patient. "It will take an hour for the cogitator to do a complete analysis of your genome. While that is happening, you'll be heading to a different wing for more testing, such as hearing and reflexes. By the time you've finished your tests, we'll know if your DNA is compatible with the legion's gene-seed."

[simison]

"This is going to take forever," Alkylles mumbled under this breath.

 

Revaka smiled. "Could be worse. Before we had diagnosticators, the process of taking all of your vitals would take half of a day just to complete, instead of a few minutes." She gave directions to the boy's father before the pair exited the room. She returned to her station, hoping to sneak in more study time. Juggling employment and the universitas left her with precious little free time, and she took advantage of down time she could find to get ahead in her education. Unfortunately, the moment she had sat down, she was called upon to help out with a few more cases. By the time all that was taken care of, the hour was gone as the results began to appear on her cogitator.

 

She sighed before poring over the information. Three genetic disorders had been discovered: a mild case of hemophilia, a recessive case of Familial Medmare Fever, and Type III Spinal Muscular Atrophy. The first two conditions didn't concern Revaka. A cure for hemophilia had been discovered in M24 and had successfully survived Old Night, while FMF would pose no issue as it lay dormant, perhaps it would be cured by the genetic process of becoming a space marine. 

 

It was the Type III SMA that could end her patient's hopes before he had a chance to begin. While currently inactive, this disorder was going to start inflicting symptoms at any point within the next few years. Needless to say, if the disease crippled Alkylles' ability to walk then he had no hope of becoming a Halcyon Warden. Her fingers flew over the keys as she checked the databanks. SMA was a relatively rare disease in the Imperium, and this was the first case she had seen of it so she wasn't sure if a cure was available. She glanced at the time and saw that there was only a few minutes left before they returned to her. She willed the cogitator to cogitate faster.

 

With a bloop, digital readouts hurried across the screen. She relaxed. A cure had been invented and quite recently too. She read through the information and saw that the cure had been created only a few years ago. Its creator was none other than Pionus Santor, Lord Primarch of the XIX^th. She mouthed a silent 'thank you' to the Emperor's son before footsteps grabbed her attention. Looking up, she saw Alkylles returning, idly rubbing his ears. 

 

Probably from the hearing test. She pressed a few more commands before she smiled at him. "I have good news."

Edited December 3, 2016 by simison

[simison]

Alkylles couldn't stop himself from rubbing his back against his chair. As happy as he was that he had cleared the medical process, the treatment had involved several large needles used on his back. The injections had been painful but would prevent his back muscles from degenerating long enough for the genetic treatment to completely eradicate the disease. His back no longer hurt, but it felt tingly that made him want to constantly scratch it. 

 

"Son, stay still, we're almost there," his father quietly said. 

 

With a grimace, Alkylles forced himself to stay still. He tried to distract himself by looking at the stars outside the transport's window. It wasn't night, though it felt like it. No, it was early, early morning. Alkylles was used to waking up at dawn but not before it. If it weren't for the excitement coursing through him, he'd probably feel exhausted. They were leaving a small dormitory owned by the recruitment center for recruits like him, who had successfully passed the initial examinations but needed a day or two for whatever reason before they could get on their way to the castra. No more tests, no more signatures, the moment Alkylles stepped onto that thunderhawk, he was no longer a civilian. He would be a tiro.