Thursday, February 2, 2012

Awakening

I have wanted to write something for a while now. Thanks to Tim Hayes and Jason Davey whose stories I read and have helped me to remove my writers block slightly. Also thanks to Suzanne Rogers for continually pushing me to do things that I want do. I like Warhammer 40k so here is a short story. For the Emperor!

It was dark. Not like a dark night or a dark alleyway in some scum ridden gang slum. The darkness was utter, complete, absolute. It was as if the universe had been snuffed out like a candle. The Consciousness drifted slowly through the darkness. It had been someone once. Who? When? Yesterday? But what was yesterday when you'd existed for eternity? Confused, alone, abandoned in the darkness it drifted, for a second or for a billion years. What was the difference?

A light. Such a simple, tiny thing at first. A million, trillion light years distant. The Consciousness had known light once. Pure and white it came closer, slowly, becoming brighter and larger. The Consciousness turned its corporeal form to wonder at the marvel unfolding before it. A light in the darkness. A beacon shining from another world, another dimension. The darkness burned away from its touch with a shriek as if it were alive, unravelling around the edges and streaming back on itself as the light unfolded and spread. The Consciousness watched as the light streamed past it. Engulfing it. Wrapping it in serenity and peace like it had not known since it died. Died? It thought. I died.

Suddenly The Consciousness was aware of a choral upwelling of noise. Like a million choirs all praising their maker with sublime song. The Consciousness thought it caught snatches of hymns and devotional prayers all intermigling in a beautful symphony of hope that seemed to match the intensity of the light. The darkness was gone now and The Consciousness drifted in a sea of pure white. A voice spoke from the light, powerful and all encompassing. This voice could ignite stars. This voice could create worlds and spin the fabric of time and space to suit its own needs. This voice could create universes. “It is not your time." Were the words had anyone been there to hear. Instead The Consciousness simply knew. It is not my time. Then the world turned red.

Aeons passed. The Consciousness was aware of the red and the choral voices and nothing else. Knowledge flooded back through neural pathways that hadn't seen thought in months. The Consciousness remembered. It remembered dying. The last thought through its mind a benediction to The Emperor of Man for allowing him to die in glorious battle. Him. Allowing him to die. Is this death? He thought to himself.
"Relax Captain Tyrus." A voice said as the red slowly began to fade away and resolve.

Tyrus. 
He was in a room. A large workshop it seemed. Tools and various instruments adorned racks around the walls. In front of him stood a Techmarine. 
Tyrus. He thought. Yes, I was Tyrus once.
Knowledge continued to flow through him like electricity. Speak.
"W...What... Where?" His voice was deep and resonant; no trace of his original accent or speech remained.
"You are aboard the Hand of Castigation Sir. In the Sanctum Technicae." the Techmarine said. Readouts began to scroll across Tyrus' vision. Data reams, weapon specifications, power levels, hull integrity. He took a breath out of habit and realised that it was not necessary to breathe anymore.
“I... feel..." His voice a deep robotic purr.
"Rest Captain. The interring will leave you feeling slow for a while until you get used to your new body." A snaking mechadendrite which sprouted from the Techmarines back made some adjustments to a panel in the front of Tyrus' armour. Tyrus felt the power surge within his frame. Such huge energy sparking within him, bringing him back to life. His memories flooded back. The drop from the Hand of Castigation to the surface of Militane IV had been brutal. The battle through the Halls of Misery against Archon Daetor's heretics. Finally confronting the vile Archon in his filthy sanctum. The fight had been a thing of legend. A battle which would decorate the Chapters records for millennia. He had struck down the daemons which Daetor had summoned with his Thunderhammer and crushed the arch heretic's skull just as a bolt round had detonated deep within his sternum ending his life. With a whine of servos Tyrus raised his hand. A huge Powerfist replaced his left hand and he could feel the fearsome power of the assault cannon on his right.
"You have been brought back from death Captain, to continue your service to The Imperium of Mankind and The God-Emperor." The Techmarine said as the mighty Dreadnaught took his first ground shaking step.
"For The Emperor." Intoned Captain Tyrus.


                                





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