The Chapter Keep of the Doom Eagles stretches nearly two kilometers into the sky, and descends over two kilometers into the rocky terrain beneath. Fully two kilometers below ground level, underneath even the vehicle bays that house the various tanks and transports, lays the vaults containing the precious stores of gene seed and the adjacent Neophyte Apothecarion. Harsh chemical lighting illuminated the hellish scene of Apothecary, Serf, and Servo-skull working in unison on the restrained neophytes.
Captain Kompanier, Commander of Doom Eagles 7th company, watched stoically as the young men bound to the operating tables writhed and screamed. He felt neither pity or disdain, the agony of the process the aspirants were undergoing was immense but so was the reward. To become more than a man, to serve the Emperor of Mankind as one of his loyal space marines, was an honor reserved for only the luckiest few in the whole of the universe.
Kompanier glanced at the robed figure standing to his right. Chapter Master Domin Warder, Supreme Commander of the Doom Eagles and Kompanier's lord, watched the process intently. The Company Captain was here at his request, and he was puzzled as to the reasoning. Certainly what took place in this room was important, the Doom Eagles would cease to be an effective fighting force without new marines to replace casualties, but this batch of neophytes still had years of training, hypno-induction, and more zygote implantation before they would even qualify to serve as scouts in the 10th company.
Perhaps sensing Kompanier's confusion or having simply seen enough, Chapter Master Warder strode across the operating room into a corner not lit by the otherwise omnipresent lights. The Chapter Master beckoned the Captain to follow, and Kompanier swiftly joined his Lord. The apothercaries, serfs, and servo-skulls all carefully ignored them. A hidden door opened with a hiss of hydraulics, and the Chapter Master led the way down rough granite steps into a further chamber likewise filled with subjects on restraining tables. The differences were stark though. This reclusiam, as it obviously was, had dim lighting. Rather than the bustle of numerous servitors, only a lone Apothecary dressed in his full power armor patrolled the gloom. And the neophytes, they evoked a reaction from Captain Kompanier.
“Now you see,†growled the deep baritone of Chapter Master Warder. “No one else can see this and live. Our Chapter's very existence depends on this.â€
“Yes,†gasped the Captain, despite his horror and distress. “Yes, of course.â€
***Thirty years later.***
Captain Kompanier sneered down at his dead foe. The ork, like most of its kind, was massively muscular and completely smelly. As the ranking Doom Eagle on planet, Kompanier went into battle without his helmet to reassure the planetary defense force of this little backwater world that the Doom Eagles were human. As the Doom Eagles, like all space marines, towered over mortal men even before they suited up in their power armor it was often necessary to have a human-shaped face to remind them that the space marines were men. Once. With his enhanced skeletal structure, Kompanier's head was still adequately protected and his centuries of experience let him ignore the stench of the battlefield. Mostly.
Around him, all he could see standing was the silver and black figures of the Doom Eagles as they checked the alien bodies for any sign of life. The Captain looked around the battlefield for the PDF officer attached to his unit for this fight. The PDF General had been rather keen on accompanying Kompanier's command squad in this battle, until he realized that the Doom Eagle Command Squad was going to be using the jump jets mounted on their backs to air-drop into the teeth of an ork charge and engage them in hand-to-hand combat. Lieutenant Peters had accompanied them instead. Although most of his stormtrooper bodyguards had been slain, Kompanier had lost track of the officer himself.
“What happened to the Lieutenant?†he queried his Company Sergeant.
'Early on in the fight he got knocked over and did not get up,' Sgt Merson replied over the vox network. It was shameful to hide from a fight, but it was not surprising. This planet had only rarely been raided despite it's close proximity to Ork-held space, and most of the PDF was inexperienced.
The Captain nodded and sent out a company-wide vox. 'Sgt Merson will lead me to the location of our attache', prepare for immediate return to the Eagle's Talon and meet me there,' he ordered, naming their Strike Cruiser in orbit over the planet.
Merson led the way back to officer's last known location, and they quickly found their lost officer stumbling around the field of battle, trying to avoid the ork corpses. The roar of jump packs alerted him to their arrival, and the lone human backed away for a moment before tripping on a severed ork arm and falling ass over tea kettle. Sgt Merson helped the flustered young man up, while Kompanier wasted no time in reporting.
“With the Emperor's blessings, we have succeeded,†he boomed. “The ork warlord and most of his army have been slaughtered. Get all of these corpses burned as quickly as possible, otherwise ork spores will take root here. Doubtless, some survivors have fled the field and will take refuge in nearby forests or swamps. You'll need to patrol those areas permanently, to keep the ork numbers down and prevent them from ever becoming a real threat. We are leaving.â€
“What? Can't you you help us kill them all?†Lt. Peters asked dumbly.
“We are leaving now,†Kompanier repeated. “I suggest you call for extraction of your own.â€
As they spoke, the other Doom Eagles returned to them by squad. The dead and wounded were carried in, both receiving attention from Apothecary Carn in the command squad. Peters watched in shock as the white-armored apothecary used his reductor to remove the progenoid glands from the dead marines.
“He is recovering our sacred gene-seed,†Merson explained. “Without it, we could not train future space marines.â€
The Lieutenant nodded, obviously not understanding but unwilling to argue with the superhuman. Suddenly he frowned and leaned closer to one of the dead marines. “Why is his skin black?â€
“That is our black carapace, it allows us to control our powered armor,†Merson patiently answered.
Peters nodded again, and smiled. He had always dreamed of being a space marine, and now he had gotten to meet some. Sure he hadn't distinguished himself in the fight, but now he was talking to one of Imperium's greatest heroes. Maybe they would let him join them. “And these things, they look like feathers. What do they do?â€
When no answer was forthcoming, Peters looked up. Sgt Merson's helmeted face was still directly pointed at him, but he was still. The other Doom Eagles were also looking at him now, even the apothecary had stopped his work and watched in silence. Peters turned and looked at Captain Kompanier, but his face now looked as harsh and alien as an ork's would.
A clanging sound made Lt Peters turn. Sgt Merson had removed his chainsword from its maglock on his back. The teeth, covered in orkish blood and intestines, suddenly blurred as the chainsword screamed into life. Peters reached instinctively for his holstered hell pistol, but he would never make it in time.
***Two Hours Later***
As the Eagle's Talon prepared to leave the system, Captain Kompanier entered the bridge and took the main command chair. He exchanged nods with Commander Denm, the human captain of the Eagle's Talon.
“Captain, the PDF wishes to know where their observers are,†Denm reported.
“Tell them all of the observers were killed in battle,†Kompanier said simply. “Now, let's leave this system.â€
Captain Kompanier, Commander of Doom Eagles 7th company, watched stoically as the young men bound to the operating tables writhed and screamed. He felt neither pity or disdain, the agony of the process the aspirants were undergoing was immense but so was the reward. To become more than a man, to serve the Emperor of Mankind as one of his loyal space marines, was an honor reserved for only the luckiest few in the whole of the universe.
Kompanier glanced at the robed figure standing to his right. Chapter Master Domin Warder, Supreme Commander of the Doom Eagles and Kompanier's lord, watched the process intently. The Company Captain was here at his request, and he was puzzled as to the reasoning. Certainly what took place in this room was important, the Doom Eagles would cease to be an effective fighting force without new marines to replace casualties, but this batch of neophytes still had years of training, hypno-induction, and more zygote implantation before they would even qualify to serve as scouts in the 10th company.
Perhaps sensing Kompanier's confusion or having simply seen enough, Chapter Master Warder strode across the operating room into a corner not lit by the otherwise omnipresent lights. The Chapter Master beckoned the Captain to follow, and Kompanier swiftly joined his Lord. The apothercaries, serfs, and servo-skulls all carefully ignored them. A hidden door opened with a hiss of hydraulics, and the Chapter Master led the way down rough granite steps into a further chamber likewise filled with subjects on restraining tables. The differences were stark though. This reclusiam, as it obviously was, had dim lighting. Rather than the bustle of numerous servitors, only a lone Apothecary dressed in his full power armor patrolled the gloom. And the neophytes, they evoked a reaction from Captain Kompanier.
“Now you see,†growled the deep baritone of Chapter Master Warder. “No one else can see this and live. Our Chapter's very existence depends on this.â€
“Yes,†gasped the Captain, despite his horror and distress. “Yes, of course.â€
***Thirty years later.***
Captain Kompanier sneered down at his dead foe. The ork, like most of its kind, was massively muscular and completely smelly. As the ranking Doom Eagle on planet, Kompanier went into battle without his helmet to reassure the planetary defense force of this little backwater world that the Doom Eagles were human. As the Doom Eagles, like all space marines, towered over mortal men even before they suited up in their power armor it was often necessary to have a human-shaped face to remind them that the space marines were men. Once. With his enhanced skeletal structure, Kompanier's head was still adequately protected and his centuries of experience let him ignore the stench of the battlefield. Mostly.
Around him, all he could see standing was the silver and black figures of the Doom Eagles as they checked the alien bodies for any sign of life. The Captain looked around the battlefield for the PDF officer attached to his unit for this fight. The PDF General had been rather keen on accompanying Kompanier's command squad in this battle, until he realized that the Doom Eagle Command Squad was going to be using the jump jets mounted on their backs to air-drop into the teeth of an ork charge and engage them in hand-to-hand combat. Lieutenant Peters had accompanied them instead. Although most of his stormtrooper bodyguards had been slain, Kompanier had lost track of the officer himself.
“What happened to the Lieutenant?†he queried his Company Sergeant.
'Early on in the fight he got knocked over and did not get up,' Sgt Merson replied over the vox network. It was shameful to hide from a fight, but it was not surprising. This planet had only rarely been raided despite it's close proximity to Ork-held space, and most of the PDF was inexperienced.
The Captain nodded and sent out a company-wide vox. 'Sgt Merson will lead me to the location of our attache', prepare for immediate return to the Eagle's Talon and meet me there,' he ordered, naming their Strike Cruiser in orbit over the planet.
Merson led the way back to officer's last known location, and they quickly found their lost officer stumbling around the field of battle, trying to avoid the ork corpses. The roar of jump packs alerted him to their arrival, and the lone human backed away for a moment before tripping on a severed ork arm and falling ass over tea kettle. Sgt Merson helped the flustered young man up, while Kompanier wasted no time in reporting.
“With the Emperor's blessings, we have succeeded,†he boomed. “The ork warlord and most of his army have been slaughtered. Get all of these corpses burned as quickly as possible, otherwise ork spores will take root here. Doubtless, some survivors have fled the field and will take refuge in nearby forests or swamps. You'll need to patrol those areas permanently, to keep the ork numbers down and prevent them from ever becoming a real threat. We are leaving.â€
“What? Can't you you help us kill them all?†Lt. Peters asked dumbly.
“We are leaving now,†Kompanier repeated. “I suggest you call for extraction of your own.â€
As they spoke, the other Doom Eagles returned to them by squad. The dead and wounded were carried in, both receiving attention from Apothecary Carn in the command squad. Peters watched in shock as the white-armored apothecary used his reductor to remove the progenoid glands from the dead marines.
“He is recovering our sacred gene-seed,†Merson explained. “Without it, we could not train future space marines.â€
The Lieutenant nodded, obviously not understanding but unwilling to argue with the superhuman. Suddenly he frowned and leaned closer to one of the dead marines. “Why is his skin black?â€
“That is our black carapace, it allows us to control our powered armor,†Merson patiently answered.
Peters nodded again, and smiled. He had always dreamed of being a space marine, and now he had gotten to meet some. Sure he hadn't distinguished himself in the fight, but now he was talking to one of Imperium's greatest heroes. Maybe they would let him join them. “And these things, they look like feathers. What do they do?â€
When no answer was forthcoming, Peters looked up. Sgt Merson's helmeted face was still directly pointed at him, but he was still. The other Doom Eagles were also looking at him now, even the apothecary had stopped his work and watched in silence. Peters turned and looked at Captain Kompanier, but his face now looked as harsh and alien as an ork's would.
A clanging sound made Lt Peters turn. Sgt Merson had removed his chainsword from its maglock on his back. The teeth, covered in orkish blood and intestines, suddenly blurred as the chainsword screamed into life. Peters reached instinctively for his holstered hell pistol, but he would never make it in time.
***Two Hours Later***
As the Eagle's Talon prepared to leave the system, Captain Kompanier entered the bridge and took the main command chair. He exchanged nods with Commander Denm, the human captain of the Eagle's Talon.
“Captain, the PDF wishes to know where their observers are,†Denm reported.
“Tell them all of the observers were killed in battle,†Kompanier said simply. “Now, let's leave this system.â€
