Start at the end.

[Krakev]

The buzz of the tech-serfs was deafening, there were at least ten, all working in unison, moving from control panel to technical display unit, few wielding servo-tools, electro-spanners and the like. One passed by heading for the main technical display unit that took up the majority of the largest wall within the auditorium, then two in the opposite direction, moving so quickly that it was difficult to catch focus on any of them for more than a split second.

 

All went dark, there was a distinct increase in activity from the techs, their focus had shifted from the technical displays, they were closer, spitting shards could be heard peppering a metallic surface. Two loud clanks and a series of small vibrations followed.

 

Hissing from the bulkhead pistons indicated a door opening somewhere in the background.

 

“Status report?” The voice was authoritative and familiar.

 

“Neural grafting is complete sir, however we’ve got a small problem…” The tech-priest sounded sure of himself, but obviously nervous addressing someone of significantly higher ranking.

 

“What kind of problem?” There was a patient undertone to the superior’s voice, drawing out the sentence in an apprehensive manner.

 

“The subject has regained consciousness prematurely, we can continue with the final stages of the activation, however there may be some…” the techs face tightened, his lips pursed “…discomfort.”

 

The superior’s face turned grim, he straightened himself to his full height and stepped towards the tech-priest with deliberate ferocity.

 

“I want this unit up and running within the hour, no delays and no excuses.”

 

It suddenly struck, the voice belonged to Commander Jameson, but how was this possible, surely there was no way that this could be happening. Silence followed for what seemed like an eternity and then, as if disturbed from a deep hibernation, blinding lights blurred the scuttling shapes fading into the light as they scurried backwards and forwards.

 

A flash of darkness revealed a complete tactical heads-up display, life signals were being presented, Infra-Red sensors overlaying the techs vital organs, indicating exactly how much augmentation had been carried out on each of their soulless carapaces.

 

“All readouts normal.” Shrilled one of the techs.

 

“Checking response.” Another chirped.

 

More lights, more clicking and whirring and then an overwhelming disorientating sensation. Everything became clear, the heads up display had been explained numerous times over the years but nothing could have prepared him for this.

 

“Captain Grazer?” A chilling high-pitched voice echoed. “Your Gene-Seed has been preserved and you have been encased in the repaired Holocaust dreadnought sarcophagus.” The voice explained with monotonous emptiness.

 

Grazer leant forwards, a number of servo-limbs activated, the holding brackets on the techno-station released and the room creaked as the gigantic plasteel armoured shell reacted to the movement of it’s pilot and shifted weight forwards, hinging on two heavy foot-mounts and rising to it’s towering upright stature. Grazer lifted his left hand into view, discovering a huge power fist with four hydraulic digits. The power fist crackled in a lightning covered whirlwind of fury as Grazer engaged the power unit.

 

“By the stars, my peace has been made with the Emperor, but if his wish is for me to continue to extinguish the plight of the heresy then so be it.”

[Incus]

Hm, you have me intruiged! Is this to be a tale focusing on a dreadnought? I haven't really heard of much of the sort, so I shall eagerly await the next installment. Also, just a slight question, I've never come across a holocaust pattern dread, is this of your own creation, or something hidden away in the dark corridors of fluff that pre-dates my entry to the 40k universe?

 

C

[Olis]

This sounds interesting. Is it set during the Scouring perhaps?

[Krakev]

Timeline - hadn't settled on that yet.

 

Holocaust was a name for a dreadnought that Grazer had served beside, plan was for him to witness it being destroyed before being killed himself. The name came from the Melta-Flamer variety of Dreadnought.

 

What I've written here is intended to be the end of the story, the plan was for it to follow Grazer through a battle or a campaign and then end with him making his peace with the Emperor, satisfied that his service had been fulfilled, only to be raised as a dreadnought.

[Incus]

Ah, I had wondered if it was a flamer dread, but melta goes along the same lines. As long as you're heating them up, the Latin won't be too fussy. =P

 

Have you considered the possibility of Grazer having flashbacks of the past whilst aclimatising to his new, dreadnought form? So a possiblew dual narrative? Just a thought.