[Epic] More of Kelly's fluff (LONG !) 5th batch

From: Oki Purwanto <oki_at_...>
Date: Mon, 14 Jul 1997 09:19:11 +0800

At 10:11 AM 7/12/97 -0400, you wrote:
>Oki,
>
>Part IX had better be up soon... ;-)
>
>Regards,
>
>- Erik
>
>"Look within. Within is the fountain of good, and it will ever bubble
>up, if you will ever dig."
>- Marcus Aurelius
>
>

Sorry guys, I wanted to come in on Sat to e-mail the remaining, but
something came up. My apologies.... Enjoy

Regards
Oki




"Insurrection"
Part IX

   The world around him dissolved as memories long, long forgotten flooded
back into him. His present day awareness vanished as he disappeared into the
past. He felt his memories wash over him like a tide. With perfect clarity he
recalled...
   ...the smell of the air in the Schola Progenium on his homeworld of Egana
III.
   ...his frequent treks through fields of grain, out away from the cityport
of Belkand, to search out new hideaways.
   ...the lash of the whip from his Preachers to punish his curiosity.
   ...a man known only as the Hermit, who lived in a solitary dwelling away
from all else.
   ...the sad kindness of the Hermit, who became his friend, and who lived a
Spartan existence.
   ...the fateful day when he, as a child, watched the incorruptible
Arbitrators of Judge Salzbry die at the hands of the Dark Angels.
   ...the day his friend, the Hermit, revealed himself to be a Space Marine
of great age, hunted by his fellows.
   ...the crushing helplessness he felt when his friend left him to watch
men die.
   ...the confusion and hopelessness deeply rooted inside him when he
realized he would never see the Hermit again.
   And he recalled the Hermit's name, given to him on that long ago day as a
sign of his trust: Gideon.
   "Gideon," he breathed, relief mingling with disbelief.
   Without conscious transition, he found himself kneeling on the floor,
still alive, not knowing how much time had passed. Gideon -- for it _was_
Gideon -- had retreated a pace or two, a look of pure shock written on his
face. Suddenly things made sense to Ezekial: Gideon's attacks on his men were
not because he was a Traitor, but because they were Dark Angels.
   "Gideon," he said again, more loudly, conflicting emotions sailing wildly
through his voice, "you do not know me now, but I know you."
   Gideon's guard was down; surprise at this Sergeant's behavior had rattled
him more than he thought. All he answered was, "How? Who are you?"
   Chuckling softly, Ezekial raised his eyes to his old friend. "You knew me
once as Young Zeke. Do you not recall your own past?"
   Ezekial could see the Hermit hunting through his memories, rooting through
hundreds of years of life. Then his eyes widened as he remembered. With a
stricken look, he groaned, sagging backwards against the wall. "Ah, but Fate
plays cruel tricks," he murmured disconsolately. "That I should find you
now, of all times, as a Dark Angel...."
   Ezekial's initial rush of gladness was quickly replaced by concern.
Surging to his feet, he moved next to the older man. He still felt immense --
relief?, happiness?, hope? -- at finding Gideon, but he could not say why.
Closer, he studied his friend's face: it was not the face of a Traitor, but
of a sad, noble man. The years had engraved themselves deeply into the lines
of his jaw, but he was as hale and hearty as any of his days on Egana III. He
knew Gideon was no more a Traitor today than he had been on that day of old;
he vividly remembered his trepidation when the Hermit had first confessed to
no longer serving the Emperor as a Space Marine, even though he had assured
Zeke that he was not a heretic.
   Now Ezekial knew many more things about his Chapter than he ever could
have then. Two hundred years of service with his brothers had led him to many
remote parts of the galaxy. Slowly, the Chapter Masters and Interrogator-
Chaplains had doled out bits of information about the Dark Angels' history.
Forgotten lessons suddenly made sense; strong cautionings no longer seemed so
stringent. Once, the Dark Angels wore black armor. Once, the Rock had been a
whole planet.
   Twice before Ezekial had been involved in small assaults on a world. Twice
their targets were sole individuals, of obviously Space Marine origin, but no
longer associated with any specific Chapter. Never would the officer in
command -- always a member of the Deathwing, in one form or another -- give
any information about why the Dark Angels should care what one man did, or
why they were hunted. Each time, the survivor was hustled off to the depths
of the Rock to the arms of the Interrogator-Chaplains, never to emerge. When
Ezekial once asked why -- his curiosity overcoming his training, as it did so
often in his life -- he was severely reprimanded. Told only that if he proved
worthy he would be given knowledge, he had striven to live up to the
standards set by his Masters.
   Now, suddenly, he thought he understood a little. Their reclamations of
unaffiliated Space Marines were the same type of action that he had witnessed
as a boy on Egana III when the Dark Angels had attempted to capture Gideon.
Only Gideon had escaped, and somehow made his way here to Mraba IV. What his
old friend had in common with the other two Marines Ezekial had seen was a
mystery. But he knew his Chapter considered it of the utmost importance; so
important that they would slaughter a complete unit of Arbitrators rather
than take the risk that those servants of the Imperium had discerned their
secret.
   And Gideon wore black power armor and carried red-painted weapons. And he
had been old when Zeke was young. Ezekial's mind whirled with possibilities,
trying to make sense of it all. Somehow Gideon was an original Dark Angel!
   With a shock, Ezekial realized that this explained why Gideon looked so
forlorn: that the boy he had befriended should become one of his hunters. His
own relief at finding a friend from his past was commingled with pain at the
prospect of them killing each other.
   Only a few seconds had passed, and Ezekial, mind still racing, hurried to
reassure the other man that he was no threat. "Gideon, we do not hunt you,"
he said. "We are here by chance, not to seek you. I... understand."
   Slowly, Gideon's sadness receded. Gathering himself up, he faced the
Sergeant squarely. "Zeke, Zeke," he repeated, "there is no going back for us.
That you do not hunt me now means nothing. Others will come. There will
always be others."
   Briefly Ezekial wondered how many times Gideon had escaped capture by his
Chapter. "But I _understand_ now," he reasserted. "You are a Dark Angel, too.
Or you were once. But you do not worship the foul gods of the warp; why do
my brothers seek you now? Why are you not still a Dark Angel?"
   Gideon hesitated for a moment, then pushed past the Sergeant. His head
roved back and forth, questing for answers in the dark corners of the
corridor. Finding none, he instead faced the truth alone. "How long has it
been, Zeke?" he asked, more to himself than not. "A century? Two? You are
still young, and will not yet have earned the secrets you want. I know little
of your Dark Angels. Do you pray to your weapons? Do you pray to the Emperor?
He is but a man" -- Gideon overrode Ezekial's attempt to cut him off -- "a
man, I say! But what a man.
   "Do you remember our last day, Zeke? Do you remember what I told you? I
served with that Man, not out of duty, not out of a desire for gain, but out
of love. All who knew him loved him, a pure love the likes of which no one in
the universe knew could exist." Gideon was pacing now, eyes roaming left and
right, caught up in his thoughts. "We, _all_ of us, would gladly have died
for him. I serve him still, though to your eyes no doubt it does not look it.
But it goes farther than that. I was one of the first Dark Angels. Do you
understand that? I was in the Legion! We reconquered the galaxy under his
command. _That_ is my past. _Those_ were my Dark Angels.
   "Now you think you are impure, and seek to expunge your stain of dishonor
by hunting those who were led astray. I was one of those, swayed by the
oration of Luther. I repented early, but not soon enough to save being cast
into the warp storm caused by Luther's fall. So I have run, for century upon
century, trying only to live my life in peace."
   Ezekial tried to keep up with Gideon's story. His knowledge of Chapter
history conflicted with what the older man was saying. Little was known of
the early days, by official lines: a terrible warp storm had destroyed their
home world of Caliban, leaving only the Rock; their noble Primarch
disappeared at the same time, and no one knew where he had gone. Who were
these others Gideon referred to that were led astray? What dishonor on his
Chapter was he talking about? Who was this Luther? It was over ten thousand
years since those times. Even first generation Space Marines could not live
so long. How could Gideon have served under the Living Emperor?
   Just as he had done once before, Gideon did not stop to let Ezekial catch
up. "But now there is hope in my life once again. There is a purpose. To
those of your ilk it is surely a terrible purpose, for you do not understand.
But I must not speak any more. Zeke, do you truly understand?"

[continued in Part X]


"Insurrection"
Part X

   Events too large for Ezekial to fully grasp were passing him by. He
clutched at smaller issues first. "We did not even know you were here," he
replied, as though it were an answer to the question. "We were not hunting
for you. Why, then, did you attack us? That is what will lead to your being
found. You have given yourself away."
   "Because you killed Spook and Bug!" Gideon suddenly roared, striking his
power sword against the wall, blasting chunks free. "And Tyke! Poor, poor
Tyke. They did nothing to harm any of you, and yet you destroyed them for
destroying's sake!"
   The quick fury of Gideon's accusation dumbfounded Ezekial. His mind reeled
trying to sort out what he meant. Finally, dimly, he realized. "The metal
creatures," he said, "they were your pets. Baronus must have killed them,
thinking they threatened him."
   "They were sent to watch, nothing more!" Gideon raged again. "I know, I
_saw_ them run, trying to get out of your men's way. They were brought down
for sport! And _you_ were their Sergeant, _you_ gave them their orders!"
   A note of disapproval crept into Ezekial's voice as he defended himself.
"I gave them orders, yes, to not fire except in self-defense. Their
disobedience sickens me, and brings yet more shame upon my head."
   Ezekial's easy admission and self-criticism cut Gideon's ready reply off
short. He was too accustomed to enemies who never admitted their wrongs. That
one of them should do so now nonplussed him. Perhaps young Zeke did
understand, at that.
   "They did not fire," Gideon admitted. He felt a grudging respect growing
for the boy; he still thought of Zeke as a boy, even though the two hundred
year old Marine barely resembled the youth he remembered. "They obeyed the
letter of your law, if not its spirit. From their conversation it was
obvious they felt everyone in this building was a danger, even your fine
companions the Stirkans, and wished to rid themselves of some superfluous
waste. I was unable to stop them in time, and killed two in my anger. I had
originally planned to only watch your intrusion into my sanctuary, but...
events transpired differently than I had hoped. But killing zealots is easy,
and not without its rewards."
   An uneasy silence lapsed between the two men. Ezekial had questions --
so many questions! -- to ask that he did not know where to begin. The man he
had known as the Hermit had never balked at answering questions before; he
did not think he would do so now. But now was not the time for questions.
With the force of a blow, their present circumstances returned to the fore of
the Sergeant's attention. His wounds required more care -- his earlier fight
with Gideon had reopened one or more of them -- and the Eldar would surely
kill them both if they found entry to the City of Might. They needed to
secure the building, exactly as before.
   "Gideon," Ezekial began, "how long have you been here?"
   "Time means little when you have lived as long as I have," he replied
obliquely. "Several months, at least."
   "Then you will have learned the ways of this place," the Sergeant pursued.
"If you know that Imperial Guardsmen from Stirka accompanied us into this
building, then you will know why we have come here."
   Gideon permitted himself a small grin. "The Eldar are a formidable foe."
   Ezekial ignored the humor, finding none in the situation himself. "And
they will just as readily slay you as me. One suit of power armor looks much
like another to their alien eyes."
   Gideon made no reply.
   "Will you show me how to completely bar them from entry? And to activate
this bastion's defense mechanisms?"
   The older Dark Angel pondered over Ezekial's request. Without speaking, he
walked past the Sergeant, retrieving the chainsword from where it had been
dropped, and handed it back to the younger man. Then he sheathed his power
sword. Instead of answering directly, he asked a question of his own.
   "Where will you go, Zeke?"
   "I don't understand. What do you mean, where will I go? I am not going
anywhere," Ezekial replied.
   "Your landing forces are all but destroyed. Obliterated," Gideon added.
Ezekial flushed at the hated idea. "The arrival of the Emperor's Light
Chapter is unexpected, but not insurmountable. The Eldar will eventually
control the planet. So... where will you go?"
   "Then I will die in service to the Emperor," Ezekial responded without
hesitation. "I will go nowhere, other than to find Eldar to kill."
   "Hmph!" the other snorted. "You would throw your life away so readily, one
so valuable to the Imperium? How is that service?"
   The words came instantly to his lips. "To die in service to the Emperor is
honorable, and greatly to be desired. I will kill as many of His enemies as
I am able before they kill me. That is the service I render."
   "Would it not be better to serve your Emperor in life rather than in
death?" Gideon posed. "To make better use of your sacrifice?"
   "I am not afraid of death, old Hermit," the Sergeant asserted loudly. "But
to die here, now, in these circumstances would... would not..." He paused.
"It would be yet more shame upon me. To have failed so."
   Gideon suddenly moved closer to Ezekial, face barely a handspan away. With
a tight grimace, he ground out, "Then follow me, and live." Ezekial started
at the controlled urgency he heard in the scarred man's voice. "It is not by
mere coincidence that the Eldar and I are here, together. Come with me and
learn the Truth of the universe, and help me free Humanity."
   Ezekial involuntarily backed away from the fierce features of his friend.
"Take care with what you speak," he cautioned, "I am loyal to my God-Emperor.
You offer the False-Faith of the warp gods, and would see me follow the
living lie of Chaos. I will not permit that."
   "Don't be a fool, Zeke! Does this face look like that of a warp-mutated
fiend? Do these eyes spit gobbets of fire, given by some foul god?" he
demanded. "No! On that day an age ago or more, I told you that I served the
Emperor no longer. And for a long time that was true. I ran from hole to
hole, trying to hide from my fate. Now I _do_ serve the Emperor, but not in
the same way as you. I do not ask you to renounce your faith, only that you
listen with that same open mind you once had."
   The Sergeant permitted himself to relax. He had been right after all, his
old friend was not a heretic. His revelations today sounded the same as those
he had spoken on Egana III, and though frightening, Ezekial did not think
they were quite so dangerous. Events recently had proceeded so quickly that
he felt he was being left behind.
   He had suffered a similar sensation after Gideon escaped the Dark Angels
that day, a feeling of being lost, drifting. He had been unable to speak for
many days, so overcome by the things he had witnessed, and his Confessors and
tutors had not known what to make of it. If anyone ever thought he knew
details of the massacre of the Arbites troopers, they had never tried to
force him to tell of it. But because no one knew why he had withdrawn from
life so much, no one was ever able to help him come out again.
   Gradually, his own mental defenses blocked out the worst of his memories,
allowing him to regain some normalcy. His punishments for not saying the
Emperor's Prayer in religious services stopped when he started speaking
again, but his boyhood outlook was gone. He tried to embrace the Imperial
Cult more fully, but the conflict between what he had seen and what he had
been taught weighed on him. How could two defenders of Humanity so readily
kill one another, and yet both serve the same Emperor? He never renounced his
obligations to the Emperor, but too much had changed. His previous curiosity
had been transformed into a burning desire for physical expression, and he
had grown up stronger and meaner than most of his fellows. He still roamed
the countryside, but now he was seeking ever greater challenges to better
himself against, than to find new things and places.
   So he had drifted aimlessly as he had matured, until that second fateful
day when the Dark Angels returned. He had been terrified beyond expression
that they had come for him, that they somehow knew he had known Gideon. And
in a sense they _had_ come for him. They were recruiting, and Egana III had
been given the rare honor of being selected as a source of manpower for the
Chapter. The green-armored giants strode through the streets as though they
neither knew nor cared what the populace thought of them. And it was as much
a surprise to him as to his mentors in the Schola Progenium when he was taken
to the stars when the Dark Angels left.
   From then on, all he knew was gone. His troublesome memories were buried
beneath an avalanche of new things, new ways of thinking, new planets. The
stern, monastic men of the Dark Angels were pure in their beliefs, and they
offered their own views to him: views of duty, honor, and a subtle underlying
guilt that seemed to drive them to extremes. Their rock-solid faith in the
Emperor was a new twist on an old thorn for him, and he took their ideals to
his heart. He accepted their teachings and was reborn. Because of this, his
inquisitiveness was reawakened, and therein lay many of his problems today.
   And now, this moment, he was faced with the greatest decision he had ever
had to make. On its face, it was a struggle between his curiosity and his
Dark Angels' upbringing to never ask questions. But he knew that his quandry
was far more complex; it was simply a mask for the deeper upset within. Was
it possible to love the Emperor, and yet not follow the precepts he had been
taught? Could the Hermit be telling the truth, and there be a way out of his
shame? Ezekial was so bludgeoned by the merest possiblity that he could not
speak, could not think.
   "You once told me you would not judge me, Zeke," Gideon implored, still
trying to reach him. "Do not start now. _Listen_ to what I have to say." As
though it were singularly important, he added, "I always enjoyed your
visits."
   Ezekial's mind flashed back and forth between past and present, between
Egana III and Mraba IV, between the Hermit's hut and the City of Might. He
compared and thought, but still felt trapped between his dogma and his
desires. He wished desperately to give up the shame of his failures as a
Space Marine, but to do so required him to turn his back on all he had known
as right. The Dark Angels would never accept his abandonment -- for assuredly
they would see it as abandonment -- of their teachings, and he would become
as much a heretic to them as any other renegade. Yet the Emperor was
certainly the focus of his and their devotion, and surely His forgiveness was
more important than the Dark Angels'.
   Wavering on his personal precipice, he finally latched onto the one
thought that made sense to him. He had promised not to judge the Hermit once,
and had been set upon the path he had followed ever since. Perhaps it was
time to follow a new path. More, in exchange for his trust, Gideon had told
him his name, a thing no one had known for centuries or longer. All for a
small boy's open-mindedness.
   When he realized that he would never _not_ believe anything the older man
might tell him, Ezekial knew he had committed himself more fully to this
course than to any other ever before. And somewhere deep inside himself, he
knew he had already made the decision long ago.
   Gideon, watching him closely, saw the turmoil fade from his eyes. A look
of glad relief washed over his own face, and he heard Ezekial's words, "Tell
me what you wish me to know," with a light heart.
   "Then hear me, Ezekial," he began, "for great things are coming.

[continued in Part XI]
Received on Mon Jul 14 1997 - 01:19:11 UTC