Reunion

[Brannick]

I was up and dressed so early on the morning of Saint Stefan's Day. My foster parents had bought the beige blazer especially, so that I could wear it for the evening parade. The blazer matched well with my light brown knee-length shorts and my neatly polished mahogany brown boots. I remember allowing myself a smile as I looked in the full-length mirror, at the same time thinking that I wouldn’t get a beating from Haltek today. The mirror didn’t lie; the left side of my chest was already a gorgeous swirl of black, purple and yellow bruising from the previous evening’s pounding. All that I had done was to spill my drink across the table at dinner. My foster mother, Anna, never stepped in to help despite my tears and screams. The neighbours were just as bad; they must have known what was happening, yet they also did nothing. Still, the bruises had soon gone away, they always did, my body had become accustomed to fighting them and usually they were gone within a week.

 

I brushed off the blazer lapels with the back of my hand as I turned to leave the box that was my room. The wrought iron bed was pushed up against the left wall; my mattress was so old that the khaki thread colouring could be seen through the grey of the white under sheet. As for the wall, well, this was solely decorated by haphazard smatterings of mildew and damp, the main cause for this being the crack in the left-hand window. The two windows were sited three-quarters of the way up the left wall; both were roughly two feet long by one foot high and they hinged outwards and upwards on a single metallic arm with three positional notches in it. I always thought the windows were pretty pointless, firstly because the twin suns never got around to that side of the house and secondly because the windows were so ridiculously small. Haltek and Anna had given me a small oak chest with brass hinges on it as a welcome gift when I had arrived, they said it was for me to keep my treasured possessions in, I had placed the chest at the foot of my bed. It’s probably still there now, if anything could have survived the blaze I bet it was that sturdy old chest, most likely to be covered in cobwebs and dust now. Oh, I also had an in-built cupboard, the door to which was housed at the far end of the right wall. I say far end, it must have been about three or four paces from the doorway entrance. The door to the cupboard was emblazoned in the numerous drawings and etchings from other foster children who had stayed there before me. I am surprised that Haltek ever allowed it to remain so colourful. It was the only thing of real colour in such a dark depressing room. The right wall was exposed plascrete of some form or other simply painted white, the floor was exactly the same, just not painted. On the floor lived an old oval purple rug; not that it did a great deal cosmetically for the floor or the general warmth of the room.

 

The front door buzzer sounded and I raced down the stairs desperately trying not to slip on the carpet that was poorly fastened to the wooden steps. Haltek was such a lazy bastard; he never did anything around the house. He always said that it was my duty to take care of these things because he had to go out and work to be able to support me. “Had to go out and work to be able to support me? what was the point of these people applying to be foster parents? I knew full well what would have happened if I had challenged such a statement back then though. A spaceport engineer at over six feet in height and weighing as much as a bull versus a skin and bones child who was not even in his teen years. There was no contest but that never stopped him most of the time. I can picture him even now. The jet-black cropped hair with a hint of silver creeping through as a clue to a possible age. Dark sunken eyes a result of countless night shifts and drunken bar room antics offset against skin as tough as ceramite and as white as chalk with a square jaw bristling with silver stubble. His forearms were adorned with tattoos just like all the other spaceport dockers and workers. I had met many of my school friends fathers and they all had the tattoos, most had the prominent golden eagle tattoo on the left arm. I had always particularly liked Jonas’ fathers eagle tattoo because he had had small jewels sewn into his skin around the edge of the eagle. Jonas was my best friend and he greeted me with a smile when I opened the front door. His wispy thin blonde hair was a complete mess and his tie was off centre where he had been running. It took him a moment to speak as he gathered his breath.

 

“Are you ready Samuel?"

 

“Let’s go my friend," I remember Anna shouting something about staying clean as I slammed the front door.

 

Jonas and I ran through the streets, buildings and trees flashing past as we sprinted. Every street we ran down being decorated with the banners and flyers for the Saint Stefan’s Day parade. If my memory serves me correctly, Stefan was a local citizen who became a recruit of the Adeptus Astartes and at the same time an instant local hero. I recall looking up at the large bronze statue that stood outside the local librarium as Jonas and I raced past en route to Lake O’Meara. Two school friends making the most of a day where they did not have to attend for studies. Ganthis V was in the prime of summer, it was too hot to be running but we were children seeking adventure. Rushing in and out of people setting up stalls and underneath ladders where people were tying parade banners between buildings. The occasional raised fist or harmless cuss aimed towards us, if anything it made us giggle all the more. Jonas was truly my best friend. He was the only one who never made fun of me for not wanting to play some of the games the other children played. I hated the dare game. Whoever was brave enough to blaspheme against the Emperor would be the hero of the school for a week or so. Most would not dare, myself included, in case we were struck down by his rage. Jonas was always the school hero and we just seemed to hit it off when I arrived. I regularly went to his house after school to play, and whilst we were in the gardens his mother would bake us cakes. In fact, looking back, most of my beatings from Haltek took place after I arrived home from being at Jonas’ house. Grass stained trousers, white school shirt torn as a result of climbing up and down trees, appetite gone after gorging on home made cakes – it was worth it. Jonas had the same icy blue eyes as his mother and her blonde hair too. Francique, Jonas’ mother, had a very off-worldly accent that Jonas had also inherited to an extent. The children at school found it highly amusing but never said anything to his face.

 

The town hall bells sounded for midday as Jonas and I stood at the entrance to the cornfields. We both glanced up at that sign that read “Property of the Governor of Ganthis V. Trespassers and poachers will be shot? Jonas looked back at me and shrugged before proceeding to climb through the gap between the lower two fence panels, I followed. It was not as if this was the first time we had done it. Heads of corn standing twice my height fell as I ran through the field, Jonas by my side broad grin still in place. This is how a Titan Princeps must feel when wading through ranks of crumbling infantry. A feeling of sheer majesty and excitement, a rush to the senses as we ploughed on leaving flattened paths in our wake.

 

Lake O’Meara shimmered in a turquoise splendour under the barrage of midday heat. I remember being absolutely ringing with sweat and having to hang my beige blazer from the branch of the old Okansi tree so that it would dry out before we returned home. As always, Jonas took up his position on the pointy rock that overhung the lake from beneath the shadow of the Okansi tree. Small metallic extendible rod in hand, bait already in place, he laid back chest exposed soaking up the tranquillity. I did likewise but on the grassy bank of the lake. Time drifted by at an almost effortless pace as we relaxed at the lake. The warmth of the twin suns seemed to help with the recovery of my bruises and allowed me to forget how they came to be.

 

A splash from the lake triggered me to sit bolt upright. Jonas let out a whoop of excitement as he held his arm aloft displaying a silver-scaled catch. He started to make his way down off the rocks towards me with his trophy.

 

“You really should keep it down in here Jonas, you remember what happened before?"

 

“And you really worry far too much about things?" Jonas replied throwing his prize catch into my lap soaking my shorts with the gasping fish.

 

“I overheard Tarrell and Zak talking about your real father again today?" Jonas’s tone was sympathetic.

 

“When will they get it through their thick heads that my father is not a heretic, I don’t even know where they are getting this from, I have never even met my father?" Time and time again the children had teased me about this subject.

 

“They have nothing else to make fun of so they are using the fact that you are with a foster family to get at you?. “You really shouldn’t take their bate my friend, just like this little baby shouldn’t have?" Jonas beamed as he again held the fish aloft.

 

“This is private property – Fransen, bring your arms to bear on the two poachers on the far bank?" Jonas and I nearly jumped out of our skins as we caught site of an elderly game keeper with his lasgun armed aide on the other side of the lake. We both scrambled up the bank clutching our garments as we made our break, Jonas tossing his catch back into the lake as he took his first few steps to get away.

 

The pain was excruciating for a child of that age. I have revisited the moment countless times in my head since. My legs just collapsing beneath me like the cliffs being reclaimed by the all-powerful sea. No matter how hard I had tried to move my legs they just would not work. I watched on from my grounded position to see Jonas looking back at me, eyes glistening as he turned and ran back through the cornfields.

 

I know now that a number of days had passed whilst I was in the hospital. I recall the bleary eyed moments as I came around from the operation to gradually look upon the myriad of tubes and wires that seemed to protrude from all manner of places on my body. Anna stood from her seated position at the end of the bed and came and sat closer to me, smoothing my hair with her palm. I had never actually realised how tall Anna was until that time. She must have been close to six feet tall, and this height on a very slender frame with short shoulder-length straight blonde hair gave her a statuesque appeal, a frail elegance of sorts. It’s very strange because even now, on the odd occasion, my sense of smell can still make out a trace of the sweet fragrance that she used to wear, even with my circumstances. These instances are becoming far less frequent though, I could say it was a shame but I would be lying to you. A doctor of some kind adorned from head to toe in what appeared to be a white robe, and with a number of mechanical arms protruding from his back, approached Anna and mumbled something close to her ear. They walked off together after Anna had kissed my cheek, pressured sliding door making way for them as they left my company. I could just about see Anna and the doctor out of the corner of my left eye, as I lay still as the night, a paralysed onlooker so full of drugs as to allow numbness to become my only sensation. The doctor looked as if he was comforting Anna who withdrew from their short embrace to make evident streams of sparkly tears that were picked out by the piercing neon lights of the medical facility. I never did feel the slow-motion grasp of unconsciousness set upon me again.

 

Anna had sat with me almost every day so I understand. Even to the point where I had regained the use of my arms so that I could feed myself and sit myself up in bed. I was even able to rotate my head a little. One of the local foster care co-ordinators had explained to me that the medics had seen my bruising and had put two and two together. Haltek had received a visit from the local Arbites - I just wish I could have sought my own revenge now, no matter. Nearly two full Ganthisean seasons wasted in hospital as a result of one lucky lasgun shot to my lower spine. The shot had basically disintegrated the joint where the spine meets the pelvis, four separate operations could not repair the damage and artificial replacement sections were not fusing with my natural tissues. In other words, I would have to wait for new thought controlled prosthetic legs to be sent from Terra of all places, as Ganthis did not have the technology available for such an injury. In the mean time the hospital had provided me with access to a grav-chair, it was the only one they had to offer, as was the success rate of the surgical team and their technology. At least the grav-chair enabled me to get back home with Anna.

 

Jonas called round after school to see me nearly every day for three whole terms. It was frustrating not being able to go to school; I never really appreciated that the school would not have access for my grav-chair. In any event Jonas dropped off all of my schoolwork to me each day so that I could keep up with things. We used to chat for hours, sometimes we would play board games and sometimes when the weather was fine Anna would carry me into our small garden and Jonas and I would play catch or coins. Over time it dawned on me that Jonas was growing tired of visiting and I knew it would not be long before I didn’t see him at all. There was only so many times you could talk about the same things and play the same games. It became very lonely in my dark bedroom. So little light shone through the two small windows above my bed. It was dark, cold, damp – it had slowly but surely grown to be my life. Throughout most days it was my own thoughts that kept me company within those four walls. I could always hear people talking outside in the street and traffic going passed and general every day life going on without me. Anna always seemed to be out. I had a feeling that she had met another man, which was later confirmed. I guess I cannot criticise her too much, as Haltek had never returned home after he was visited by the Arbites. As time continued to race by I noticed that my legs were withering badly through the lack of movement and exercise. From the young fit legs of a teenage boy, having had my thirteenth birthday whilst in hospital, to thin brittle looking strips of lean sinew where shin bones and thigh bones became gruesomely visible.

 

Depression and despair didn’t take long to rear their glamorous heads. Copious trips back and forth to the hospital over a further two seasons had worn me down ever further. No word from Terra had been forthcoming regarding my prosthetic legs. I could not believe it or accept it. How had the Emperor not heard my prayers? Day and night I had begged the almighty to send my life back to me and not once did he answer. It was such a dark room; my eyes began to dislike even the faintest shards of light. I enjoyed the dark.

 

Pneumonia had infected my lungs, virulent bedsores spread across my back and legs, muscles had withered and wasted. My head felt so heavy, it was truly difficult to breathe. It was a dark room, it was dark and damp – I enjoyed it. Anna knelt on the purple rug by my bed and injected a cocktail of medication into my right arm. The Emperor had long forgotten about me and I knew it. I rolled my eyes across to look at Anna managing to create the smallest of smiles through the sweet agony that the simple facial deed had caused me. Anna wiped the fountain of saliva from mouth, the muscles to which had ceased to work only a few days earlier. Anna’s expression was the picture of pity and sorrow, my amusement to her sadness broken only by the invasion siren that roared into life across the town.

 

The failure of my health pleased me to an almost sickening extent. Immune system defeated, I prized the sensations that my body was now allowing me to be a party to. I loved the darkness of my room, the dampness gave me strength and my ailing skeleton of a body seemed to thrive and nurture from the corruption of mind, body and soul.

 

The smell of smoke filtered into my room, slowly at first, however, it wasn’t long before great grey clouds were belched forth from the windows above where I lay. I waited for what felt like a lifetime for Anna to arrive and carry me to safety; she would be my salvation. Explosions sounded one after the other outside my house, sending rippling shock waves through the masonry, through my bed, through me. I felt alive, my strength had returned as if almost ten fold. I looked down at my body and can only describe what I viewed as decrepit, disease ridden and rancid, but from the inside I felt like a God. A giant impact reverberated from the structure of the house, sending gritty clods of stonework spraying across my room. The wall at the foot of my bed began to shudder before collapsing out onto the street bellow exposing the innards of my domain to Ganthis. Smoke that almost suffocated me had been sucked into the atmosphere by the vacuum created by the sudden subsidence. A sensation that to this day I will never forget then drew upon my senses. It began as a small distant attack on my hearing and it ended with me being sprawled across a stack of masonry that was once my home. My assumption is that the Titan simply clasped the building with its left arm so that it could turn with more efficient ease down the side road to its left. It’s very much a hazy recollection.

 

A whole crescendo of sounds greeted my consciousness, followed by an assault to my sense of smell so overwhelming that I vomited in a convulsive manner all over myself and where I lay. My distorted vision cleared to a scene that in all honesty should have stopped my heart beating. Six marines of the Astartes stood looking over me, those that did not wear helmets had features more or less unrecognisable. Their armour squirmed as if a living suit upon its owner. Every so often one of the hideous pustules within the armour detonated like an erupting volcano, showering anything nearby with a substance so fetid that the surrounding flies momentarily drifted away from their host before dancing back into the open cavities to lay their young. The marines did not emit the aura of humanity, but I felt drawn to them, despite their deformities and their appalling health. I could feel they were not a threat, I felt as if they could understand me, my anguish, my plea. I lay motionless as the marines separated to stand three abreast of me. A figure of immense size approached as I looked down towards my feet. The monstrosity, with a head of human origin, save that half was covered in undisturbed flesh and the other was an open skull, dwarfed the marines surrounding it. Mucus and what seemed like excrement dripped from his form, tiny accompanying creatures fought each other to feast on the essence of this manifestation. He uttered the words that have moulded my existence from that day forth.

 

“Samuel, my son?".

[Brother Cambrius]

Oooh plague marines! :)

 

Very good indeed Brannick. One thing that bugs me though.

 

For starters, could you please break up your pargraphs. I used to write like you did until recently and I've found that breaking up the paragraphs makes reading the story much easier (Look for my Siafu story on this board)

 

I like the idea of what happened to his father. I guess he was a heretic after all...

 

I look forward to more,

 

Cambrius

[Brannick]

Thanks Cambrius.

 

I am glad you liked the story.

 

I know what you mean about the paragraphs though, that's a lazy copy and paste from Word for you :(

 

Brannick

[Brannick]

Would you guys and gals mind giving me some more feedback on this piece, I am currently deciding upon a part 2?

 

Many thanks in advance.

[GooseDaMoose]

Okay this is actually a pretty cool story. Although I was a little bit sceptical about what seemed to be a civilian story in the 40k universe, the twist is an excellent end. Civilian life in 40k is where you can give yourself a lot more liberties in telling your story as nobody really knows what it's like, and it's different from planet to planet.

 

I really don't think you should write a part 2 as that would ruin the impact of the ending. The title might be giving a little too much away as you get closer towards the end you start to have suspicions of what's going on. What I would suggest, is expanding on the part where he turns his back on the Emperor and he becomes more and more a vessel of Nurgle's powers. The first bit until he gets shot seems pretty detailed and then suddenly from when he lands in the hospital till when his father finds him is all like fast forward, which, although it keeps the reader's attention because of the fast moving-ness, Nurgle slowly taking over his body could be explained closer. Maybe he starts getting visions from day to day, or he starts wishing for relief from the bedsoars. Cuz that's apparently how Nurgle gets his followers; they wish and wish and wish for a cure for their ailments, and he offers it. But anyway, well done! :)

 

Oh but one minor thing; half the dialogue sentences end with question marks? It's really annoying to read cuz it makes me think of those girls that talk like this? Where everything is a question? :)

 

Hope this helps!