Waking up - further edited and expanded

[JeffTibbetts]

Xlotl awoke, his heart racing. He pulled at the wet cloth clinging to his heaving chest with a shaking hand. He felt cold, but his sheets smelled like fresh sweat. This was the third night in a row now. His days were swimming together without sleep. He got up off his bed roll and pulled on his robe. He caught his breath, and crept past his mother's and sister's rooms. Muffled snores assured him that he was the only one suffering this affliction.

It was the face again. A demon's face. Like a metal death-mask. But that didn't frighten him. It was almost childish. No, it was… it was the eyes. The light of those green orbs to pierced his soul. He saw himself in the dream, standing naked in that stark green light. His fit, youthful body peeling apart layer by layer. First, the skin came off in sheets, then the muscles, organs, and finally the bones slicing into layers and falling to the floor. A quivering, unrecognizable pile of blood and viscera. That's when he would wake, holding his hands in front of his face. They were always still intact.

On this night, he just didn't want to try sleeping again. He didn't know what to do about it, but he hated feeling like he couldn't do anything at all. So he walked.

Before the door even closed behind him, he knew something was very wrong. His skin was crawling, and the heady musk of the jungle was mixed with the faint smell of smoke. He could hear it now. No wait… That's wasn't right. He noticed that he couldn't hear the jungle. The nocturnal beasts, insects, and bats that make up the white noise of life on Tonatzin was absent. Just as he was thinking about why that was, he became distracted by the color of the sky. It wasn't right, on top of everything else going on. Surely, he thought, he must be having a waking dream from lack of sleep.

The streaked clouds were lit from below, which made them look wrong, like they were upside down. More than that, they were washed with a pale green pallor, like a man who had seen a ghost. He thought he saw flashes of heat lightning but they were coming from the ground, strobing the clouds with livid green.

Xlotl walked towards the light, instead of away from it. There was a part of him that told him to stop, turn back. Hide in his mother's arms like he would have just a few years ago. But now, he was intrigued. The flashes. They were the same color as the eyes of the demon in his dreams. He had to go and confront his fear before he could consider himself a man.

He noticed he was now jogging towards the light, his sleeping robe mixing old sweat with new, clinging to his skin--but he didn't care. Ropey vines lashed his face and twigs and rocks bit through the callouses on his feet, bet he ran on as a boy possessed. As he closed the distance in a full sprint, he began to hear muffled explosions and the roar of open flames through the dead silence of the jungle. He knew that what he was doing was dangerous, but he was no longer thinking about how he would explain his tattered clothes to his mother. He had to see this for himself.

And then, as though it materialized from the darkness itself, he crashed headlong into a cliff face. His vision faded and swirled, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his head. He lay on his back, gasping to put some air back in his lungs, when he saw the blurred curve of the cliff bend and stoop down next to him. His last waking thought was wonder that he had not seen the boulder, and how was it moving?


++ BEGIN TRANSMISSION ++

Captain, I've found a boy that I'd like to submit for testing. Last night, my unit was establishing a cordon around the contact site when I saw him. He looked as though he had run through a mob of orks, so covered in blood and lacerations, he was. His clothes all but shredded, and with a determined glint in his eyes, he showed no trace of fear. The very image of determination. I looked up his dossier in my aerie last night after I brought him to meds. Gene-designation 14.4587.983. Name's Xlotl on the tongue. He's already earned approval for implantation from the gene-techs. Turns out his uncle and father were both inducted. He's been raised by his mother and these last few years has become the man of his house. In fact, his uncle yet now serves in the 10th as a scout, having passed through his testing. His father is a servant attached to the victuallarium. I think he'd make a fine recruit, and if the courage and resolve I saw in him were any indication, he will be eager to cut his teeth in a year or two.

Yours in faultless vigilance, Tactical Sergeant IV, Malokl

++ END TRANSMISSION ++

[Olis]

Interesting read, brother. I don't suppose this is Rainbow Warriors fiction, is it? 

[Son of Carnelian]

Cool read. Lots of "to-be" verbs, but I like the plotline and the subtle misdirection with the green eyes and lightning. I thought for sure this was a Necrons story at first!

[Olis]

I reckon it still is, brother.

[JeffTibbetts]

Xlotl awoke with a start in a cold room. He felt the chill touch of metal on his skin, and realized two things. First, he was naked. Second, he was not dead. The last thing he remembered was a massive shadow moving above him after he had fallen in the forest. He could hear someone speaking in this room, but in an alien tongue that sounded so squishy, he didn't know how the man could hold onto the words. He lifted his head and found that he was in a clean, hard, square room made of some kind of smooth-carved rock. Impossibly slab-sided straight walls, and everything bright white. He saw metal… things… all around, skinny fingers and arms of shining silver moving with no bodies. Glass eyes stared down at him from these alien skeletal dream-demons. 

 

Then, he saw the things talking to each other. One of them, man-sized and clad in robes the color of rusted iron turned its machine head to him, and a metal box on its chest spoke something to a giant in a green tunic next to him. That beast turned towards him and straightened, its green-eyed gaze piercing Xlotl's soul and drinking him in. With heavy steps, Green came over and stood next to him, putting a massive meat-hand on his shoulder. The touch was surprisingly warm. He realized how cold he was then. The callused fingers were rough on his tender boy-skin. The red-robed demon with glowing amber eyes glided over to the table with eerie silence and a long, thin needle of metal unfolded obscenely from the sleeve of his robe. A metal sliver, dripping something that smelled like bitter herbs, stung the skin on his other shoulder and his vision darkened again. He heard Green say, now, in a deep, resonant voice: "Sleep, Xlotl." 

 

The voice in Xlotl's head spoke now, "So it speaks our language… and it knows my name." 

 

--------------------------------------

 

That was nearly a year ago. Xlotl heard the soft morning chime in his cell. He rose from the hip, rubbing away the sleep in his eyes with his unfamiliar knuckles. The scabs and cuts from combat training scratched at the tender flesh around his eyes, and he was awake. He turned and sat up in his bed. His bare feet pressed the cold hardstone. He still didn't completely understand how it was made, but it didn't matter much. 

 

He had passed his first tests. His hands were still clumsy, as though he were wearing the body of a much larger man and hadn't gotten used to the new proportions. But, he was getting better at using them every day. Right now they traced over the fresh scars that laced his chest and abdomen, absent-mindedly scratching away the tightness in the skin as he pulled his body fully upright. His eyes were well adjusted to the dark, and he knew when he opened the door in his cell the light would hurt. He didn't mind the pain. He twisted the door handle and pushed. 19 other man-boys were doing the same and he could see them smiling, scowling, and exchanging quick glances as the double-doors at the end of the hall were thrown open with a boom. There, clad in a black, gleaming beetle-shell with a helmet in the shape of a death's head, was the man they knew as 'sir' and 'Chaplain.' He came by almost every day to tell them many confusing and exciting things, but always he pushed them. 

 

He was one of them, though, somehow. Or rather, maybe they were becoming more like him. Kaloatl was a familiar name in their tongue and he spoke, with no accent, like he was from Tonatzin. But he was larger than anybody Xlotl had ever met. He had never taken off his skull-shaped helmet so nobody knew what he looked like, yet he used analogies that made sense to the boys. He spoke of the Jade Eagle, those terrors of children's nightmares that could tear a man apart or swallow a boy in one bite. He spoke of the jungle, the oceans, and their people. But now, he told them to skip the lecture because they needed more training in wrestling. 

 

They drilled and trained all day, under the tutelage of giant-men. Some young, some older. All scarred. They had strangely pale skin, and wore the same green robes, emblazoned with a white eagle head. Some wore heavy insect-like shell armor like the Chaplain, but painted bright green like their robes. The Chaplain paced, the red crystal eyes of the skull-mask scanning the room as the children toiled and struggled and fell and rose again. It was hot. The floors were hard. Slick with sweat and blood. 

 

Xlotl faced off against Toomie, easily the largest of them but good-natured. Toomie reached out almost lazily with his long arms. Xlotl twisted out of a clumsy hold, and advanced into the boy's reach, keeping a hand around the boy's wrist. He led Toomie, almost gently, as he turned around in a tight embrace while Xlotl planted his feet stably and lowered his center of gravity. The large considerable bulk was now pulled too far forward, and his height became a weakness to exploit. Xlotl simply twisted his waist, powerfully grounded, and Toomie tumbled down as if he was tumbling down a hill. His head hit the ground with a crack that echoed around the rock-walled room. All the other boys stopped to look at them. One of the men, the one who always wore a white sash over his robes, came over looked over the boy, prone and sprawling on the ground. He looked up at the chaplain and nodded. Toomie let out a loud groan and was carried out of the room by the white giant. The chaplain walked over slowly, and said: "Stand up straight, Xlotl. You've done well." He turned away and the boys went back to their combat. 

 

--------------------------------------

 

Life went on like this. During lessons, Xlotl was often distracted by his own thoughts. Somehow, he knew that he was growing and changing to become more like this man and the other giants. The machine-men cut them, did things to them to make them grow stronger and faster. That he would grow so large was both frightening and exhilarating. These green-robed men seemed so strange, but over the last few months he was discovering that they were familiar as well. He told the others that all these giants were probably once boys just like them, and it started a raucous debate that lasted a month and a half. 

 

He thought about his old life sometimes, too. It was already hard to remember what she looked like. His mother. Now she was alone with his little brother. He hoped life wasn't too hard for her. They were heavy in his thoughts as he drifted off to sleep most nights. 

[JeffTibbetts]

Interesting read, brother. I don't suppose this is Rainbow Warriors fiction, is it? 

 

I missed this reply earlier. Weird. No, but not far off. My chapter recruits extensively from a planet that has a lot of Mayan, Aztec and Moche culture infused. It's just for fluff, though, and I don't have nearly as much as some of the RW stuff I've read. I actually started doing mine before I realized anyone had been mining that territory and now I've found quite a few. Thanks for your interest, though. I appreciate it. 

[JeffTibbetts]

He took a deep breath after the heaviest firefight had died down. It was like waking up from a terrible nightmare you have every night. The pain starts to seem comforting, after a while. He knew he had fought, but it was like someone else was in control. His battle instincts took care of most of the work. This was routine. 

 

The air was full of smoke and the pop of flames cooking flesh. Xlotl switched his lenses to a broader spectrum and dropped in the auspex-net for good measure. The few red icons that remained were fully surrounded and winking out quickly. His work in this battle was done. Now he could afford to think about what had happened. He knew this place almost as though it was from a previous life. It was like that, he supposed…

 

He stalked forward, still crouching low with a fresh clip in his  shouldered bolter. One could never expect the enemy to stay down. He remained wary, senses tuned. His boots crunched bone, brick, and the detritus of the shattered village below the weight of his armor. Soft ashes covered everything, muting the echoes and lending an eerie timber to the sounds. The village tried to push up through the blanket of ash and embers. Everything was black and gray. Here a broken jar, food that will never be eaten spilling out to smolder. A bronze cooking pot, cracked and twisted by the heat. Crumbling piles of bricks. The occasional body, flayed, burnt or dissected beyond recognition. Patches of burning promethium still played over what was left. Soon there would be nothing.

 

Movement caught Xlotl's eye over his left shoulder. An old woman, holding the hand of a child that was no longer connected to a body. She had climbed out from under some smoking wreckage and began wailing and pulling her hair. He stopped, straightened up and walked over to her, drawing up his full height. She was covered with soot and ash, and the trails of her tears left brown streaks through the gray as she looked up at him, face twisted in anguish. He stiffened involuntarily as he looked at her. He gazed down at the wretched woman, knowing she could not be allowed to live.

 

He didn't need the facial recognition software to pull up her dossier and name. He didn't need to be reminded in scrolling text in his peripheral vision that her skill-set was limited, and that her usefulness as a serf was negligible. No commander was needed to issue the order that he knew he must comply with. She had seen too much. He reached up with his right hand, and removed his helmet with a hiss. The full stench of the destruction wrinkled his nose. The woman looked up at him and gasped at the pale man, staring down at her with large, deep green eyes.

 

Xlotl's mother gasped, the hot sensation in her chest stealing away her breath and her strength. Her eyes flashed confusion, anger, pain and, impossibly, relief. Her mouth and tongue formed his name, one last time, as her body slid off the edge of the combat blade and fell heavily into the ash. A small cloud rose, and covered her body in a fine grit. The lonely warrior turned around to regroup with his squad, in silence. He did not look back.

[deathspectersgt7]

Wow what an ending I hope this is'nt the last a very good read .

[JeffTibbetts]

Thanks, man! I appreciate the feedback. I may or may not come back to Xlotl. I developed him just for fun. Some day he may end up a veteran sergeant or some such. 

[JeffTibbetts]

Xlotl's eyes snapped open and he jerked with a start. He knew that he had been injured, but the pain always surprised him like some foreign idea pressed into his head. He smelled burnt meat coming from inside his sealed armor, and he sensed that he couldn't move his right leg. His arm also felt hot, but intact. He could tell the battle had moved away by the distant crack of bolter rounds. He took off his helmet and sat up with a grunt. 

 

His weapon lay next to him, powering down, calamity vents steaming. He stared at it distrustfully for a moment before turning to his wound. His leg was badly burned where the plasma had splashed over it, a mess of melting ceramite and snapped fiber bundles. His moved his toes inside his foot and was relieved to discover that he still could. He set to work removing his greaves and thigh plates, and accessed the comms-net to assess the battle's status. 

 

He couldn't have been out more than a few minutes, but his squad was already far away. He informed his sergeant that he was alive. Embarrassed, but alive. The old man chided him for being so soft, and informed him they had taken out a dozen of the reeking skin-wearers even after he had so rudely abandoned them. He smiled at the good-natured ribbing. A rare thing. 

 

--------------------------------------

 

Xlotl awoke in his aerie, the dull ache in his head a small price to pay. He now bore a third service stud over his right eye. He touched the tender flesh and smirked. 300 years of service. He was a little worse for wear after all this time, but nothing he couldn't handle. His skin was noticeably paler now. His eyes darker and the enlarged pupils increasingly dilated with age as he became more sensitive to the light. His mohawk, of which he had been quite proud if he was forced to admit it, was gone. Too many scars made it grow in odd ways, so about 50 years ago he decided to shave it. He thought he might grow a beard at some point. He slowly ran his fingers, which sometimes still felt like they belonged to someone else, across his bare scalp. He could read it like braille, and he remembered every bullet, tooth, claw and blade that had left its mark. He tossed a pinch of incense into a brazier and walked out of the drop pod to his arming chamber. Despite the ceremony last night, this was another day and another battle. His most recent serf, Alma, an old woman in her own right now, helped him into his battle plate. He, in turn, applied his face markings. Today, just a simple band of ash-paint across the eyes to signify the vigilance of the eagles, and a thick chevron from his lower lip to energize his breath. Of course he knew the sun here was strong, and the blackened cheekbones would help keep the glare down if he took off his helmet. He finished by thanking Alma in their shared tongue, and receiving that helmet from from her augmetic hands. 

 

As he put on the helmet, his armor awoke. He could feel it covering him like a second skin. Power surged through his limbs. His consciousness expanded. His eyes found their focus through the displays. How many times had he donned it? He felt old. Of course he had a suit of Tactical Dreadnought Armor as well but this was his real home. The leg armor was new. Wait… No it wasn't… He just couldn't stop thinking that it was even after 100 years. The helmet was ancient, but it was new to him. He had been gifted a new helm when he was granted the honer of leading the 4th Sternguard Squadron of the 1st Company. Xiuhcoatl, the Fire Serpents. They had been working with the 3rd Battle company now for a good while, and Xlotl had become friends with both the Librarian and the Chaplain he served with during this engagement. He strode out into the dimmed light of the assembly room and took his place at the center of his squad mates, grizzled veterans all. 

[deathspectersgt7]

Cool have a cup of coffee and something good to read in the morning.

[JeffTibbetts]

Thanks, man. Good to know you're enjoying it. I think I'll be adding in more short little vignettes of various moments in his career. I'm really most interested in what happens to marines off the battlefield. We kinda already know what happens on them. 

 

This guy is going to be my featured leader in a 40K League I'm starting up soon, though. That means he will probably be involved in lots of battlefield action. I may or may not be inspired to write something based off that. Who knows? 

[deathspectersgt7]

Well you write it I'll read it like I said always like a good read .I never get enough reading in I read about 4to5 books a week.

[JeffTibbetts]

Xlotl shook his head to clear it. He had tuned out, almost falling asleep in the dark observation cell. The flickering green glow of the holo-display's control panel underlit his face as he watched the planet-side feed. He was staring at a young boy, Gene-des 13.8206.005, as he played ball with his friends. He saw that boy's mother call him in for dinner, and observed the grace and power with which he bounced the heavy ball off his hip, returning it to his friend across the glen. This was why he was being groomed. His self-body awareness was excellent.

 

Observing this boy made him ache with nostalgia. But was it really nostalgia? Was the memory of his youth even real? He had understood the world then only as a child does. He had no idea what ravenous creatures clamored even then for his death. No clue what his nightmares really meant. Those eyes that watched him. Were they the eyes of the enemy, somehow invading his psyche, or had they been Eagle Eyes, watching him like he watched this child now. As a boy, he had never known real responsibility. Sacrifice. Hunger. And then he had been recruited into the Eagle Eyes, his youth cut short. He never had a chance to love, to discover for himself that the world was not more than it seemed. To awaken to the fact that his mother was only human, not some demigod. He never formed friendships or broke them. At least, not with real people. All that was stolen from him. 

 

Now he served a higher purpose, he supposed. When he watched the Tonatzin now, it was as though they were the outsiders. The other. Fake. The Eagle Eyes put them on a pedestal, attributing them with the qualities of the noble savage. They saw in them the things they wanted to. They mimicked their rituals and practices without really understanding what they meant. Just like Xlotl, none of them had ever had the chance to truly understand any of that lifestyle from the inside. First as a child they copied their elders, and then much later as overlords they looked down at them like the people of Tonatzin were children. The planet its people were nothing more than a tool, manipulated and controlled by the Eagle Eyes, and mocked and mimicked to justify it. 

 

A part of him knew the people were more than that. Complicated, just like he was. He was haunted by the idea that what they were doing was terrible. Necessary, but gut-wrenching. He simply could not relate to what that mother, Gene-des 13.8245.774, was feeling as she watched her little boy play. He wished he could understand what that was like. 

 

--------------------------------------

 

Xlotl was in one of his moods. His men left him to his thoughts when he got like this, alone in the squad's aerie. There was not a hint of irony in his nickname, "The Dour." He had earned it. Earlier that night he had spoken with chaplain Yaya about their people and shared some of his thoughts. For some reason he compared the boy's mother to his own, and he told his friend what he had done. It was the first time he had told anyone about what happened to his mother nearly 300 years ago. He had never vocalized what he felt when he granted her The Emperor's Mercy down there, in the ruins of his own village. It was like he had destroyed himself. His last link to a humanity that he had dedicated his life to fighting for. 

 

Yayauhqui looked thoughtful, listened, and said he understood, but Xlotl knew he was only trying to be kind. This is why he had never mentioned it before. He suspected that the others never gave room to these thoughts, and he didn't blame them. It wasn't easy. 

 

Once again, he was alone with his dark thoughts. He thought now of his gene-father, Corax. He thought of the old legends about how Corvus had liberated the people who adopted him when he was hardly more than a child himself. How he had dedicated his priceless life to protecting the citizens of not only his own planet, but many others. Delivered them from evil. So what did that make them? His sons, the Eagle Eyes? What would he say to Corax if he arrived here, to deliver the people of Tonatzin from… Themselves? 

 

The life of an astartes is a terrible burden to bear. What must Xlotl become to perform his duty?

[deathspectersgt7]

Hey thats my nickname!!!!. ( The DOUR )  Liked it was hoping for more.                            

[JeffTibbetts]

Hey thats my nickname!!!!. ( The DOUR )  Liked it was hoping for more.                            

 

Is it really? That's awesome. Yeah, I just cranked this out to get it out of my head. I was thinking about how SM never have a chance to grow up. How much of life do we really understand as young kids? You learn all that in adolescence and young adulthood, and they never have that. You know? I can really understand why they feel so aloof and alien from the very people they are sworn to protect. It's an interesting thought. 

[deathspectersgt7]

Seriously my friends call me that .

[Disruptor_fe404]

Yes, yes! More off-battlefield stuff.

 

Because it interests me.

[Green Knight]

 

He took a deep breath after the heaviest firefight had died down. It was like waking up from a terrible nightmare you have every night. The pain starts to seem comforting, after a while. He knew he had fought, but it was like someone else was in control. His battle instincts took care of most of the work. This was routine. 

 

The air was full of smoke and the pop of flames cooking flesh. Xlotl switched his lenses to a broader spectrum and dropped in the auspex-net for good measure. The few red icons that remained were fully surrounded and winking out quickly. His work in this battle was done. Now he could afford to think about what had happened. He knew this place almost as though it was from a previous life. It was like that, he supposed…

 

He stalked forward, still crouching low with a fresh clip in his  shouldered bolter. One could never expect the enemy to stay down. He remained wary, senses tuned. His boots crunched bone, brick, and the detritus of the shattered village below the weight of his armor. Soft ashes covered everything, muting the echoes and lending an eerie timber to the sounds. The village tried to push up through the blanket of ash and embers. Everything was black and gray. Here a broken jar, food that will never be eaten spilling out to smolder. A bronze cooking pot, cracked and twisted by the heat. Crumbling piles of bricks. The occasional body, flayed, burnt or dissected beyond recognition. Patches of burning promethium still played over what was left. Soon there would be nothing.

 

Movement caught Xlotl's eye over his left shoulder. An old woman, holding the hand of a child that was no longer connected to a body. She had climbed out from under some smoking wreckage and began wailing and pulling her hair. He stopped, straightened up and walked over to her, drawing up his full height. She was covered with soot and ash, and the trails of her tears left brown streaks through the gray as she looked up at him, face twisted in anguish. He stiffened involuntarily as he looked at her. He gazed down at the wretched woman, knowing she could not be allowed to live.

 

He didn't need the facial recognition software to pull up her dossier and name. He didn't need to be reminded in scrolling text in his peripheral vision that her skill-set was limited, and that her usefulness as a serf was negligible. No commander was needed to issue the order that he knew he must comply with. She had seen too much. He reached up with his right hand, and removed his helmet with a hiss. The full stench of the destruction wrinkled his nose. The woman looked up at him and gasped at the pale man, staring down at her with large, deep green eyes.

 

Xlotl's mother gasped, the hot sensation in her chest stealing away her breath and her strength. Her eyes flashed confusion, anger, pain and, impossibly, relief. Her mouth and tongue formed his name, one last time, as her body slid off the edge of the combat blade and fell heavily into the ash. A small cloud rose, and covered her body in a fine grit. The lonely warrior turned around to regroup with his squad, in silence. He did not look back.

 

Liked this one in particular!

 

(and you get an extra plus for facial recognition software!)

[JeffTibbetts]

Thanks! The Eagle Eyes have wider access to surveillance tech because of a 'special arrangement' with some unsavory AdMech types. :)

[Argent aquila]

really good stuff, it gives a lot of thought to what happens outside of conflict and paints a good caricature of your marines.

i think it's high time to throw him into the fires of war though, i would love to see how you portray their combat (maybe create a nemesis???)

great work!!!

[JeffTibbetts]

Thanks, man! Oh, they've got a nemesis alright... I've never done much action writing. Maybe my next piece will be that. Probably not with Xlotl, though.