Home Fires – Chapter Three: Tabula Rasa
Chapter Selection
Intro 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 Epilogue
“Welcome to the Azure Flames Chapter.” Antonius said as his voice echoed through the hangar bay. Before him, the assembled grayshields that had been added to the 4th Company stood in neat rows, their unadorned ceramite dull in the harsh lighting. Behind him, the sergeants and command staff stood in their newly painted Mk X armour.
“The purpose of the Adeptus Astartes is to be the Emperor’s Angels of Death. We are killers. However, the Azure Flames have grown to be more than that. Like our forebears, the Salamanders, we fight to protect. The Imperium would collapse without a base of civilians. We serve the Emperor, but we also serve those who serve the Emperor. Before he died, my gene-father Atrus referred to us as a Chapter of Heroes. We have strived to match this with every foe slain, every bolt round fired, and every life saved.”
The Grayshields were passive, almost aggressively so. None of them so much as blinked. If Antonius’ superhuman senses didn’t hear them, he would have sworn they weren’t even breathing. Antonius could have had more impact orating to a formation of statues. Nevertheless, he continued.
“Each Chapter of Astartes is unique, even those of the second founding. They have heraldry, rituals, and history. All of you will learn of the Promethean Cult. You will become self-sufficient, perhaps even innovative. You will learn of our past; both victories and defeats. We will teach you which foes are simply to be exterminated and which hold our deepest hatreds. And you will feel the anguish of battle brothers long lost. Each of these is important in its own way, and at the end I will feel pride to call each and every one of you ‘Brother.’”
Once again, the Grayshields stood as slabs of plasteel. Antonius briefly considered striking one to see if they would crack like stone. He dismissed the thought; stone would have more feeling.
“Now, each of your squads will be assigned to a veteran sergeant. Though you all performed with distinction when helping us to reclaim Releeshan from the Neverborn, these Brothers have withstood the worst our chapter has seen, and more. They will be the first step on your journey to fellowship with our Chapter.”
The Grayshields fell out, organizing into their previously assigned squads. The sergeants behind Antonius stepped forward, each claiming one. However, the chatter that Antonius was used to from a gathering this size was noticeably absent. Where the cacophony of Brothers speaking their mind would normally make hearing in such an echoey space a chore, the hangar bay was filled with whispers as if it were a tomb. Antonius looked back to Hakan and Ory-Hara. Hakan, behind his skull mask, shrugged as if to indicate his bewilderment. Ory-Hara, ever mysterious in his hood and rebreather, narrowed his eyes in disapproval.
This was going much more poorly than Antonius had even hypothesized in his worst estimations. This was not brotherhood or fellowship. This was…
…a meeting.
“Ugh.” he whispered under his breath. This would not do.
He stepped forward, mingling with one squad after another. The sergeants were each taking a different tack in briefing their new subordinates. Daenan, ever the duelist, described the epic conflict between Antonius’ gene-father Atrus and the hated Esharradon. The clash that ended the Chasma Spica conflict and won the Azure Flames their homeworld. Daenan, despite his lack of articulation, made the conflict seem almost like it was happening in front of them.
The Grayshields absorbed this information like a rag absorbed a puddle of spilled oil. Their eyes did not widen when it was made clear that Atrus sacrificed himself to trap the Daemon within the ancient sword Ba’arzunipal. No cheers went up when the Traitors were broken and driven from the planet. They simply memorized the story. The awe inherent in such a tale of heroism washed over them with the effect of a glass of water tipping over on a stone table and running onto the floor.
At another gathering, Brother Sachio explained the importance of taking all parts of a war as a whole. His example; the brilliant execution of their parent chapter, the lauded Salamanders, and their contribution to the third war for Armageddon. Not just in their protection of Armageddon’s civilian population, or in their bold assaults on Ork Roks which served as defensive bastions, but specifically on the Salamander’s utility in repairing and maintaining water and sewer systems for the besieged hives. Without this mundane effort, defenders of the hives would have been overrun within the first few months of the conflict. These efforts were arguably more important than the firepower of an entire Legio of the Adeptus Titanicus.
This tale got the most pronounced reaction of all Antonius had seen yet; mild surprise. So, they were capable of emotions! Perhaps one of them could even vocalize it? No such luck was to be had.
What was wrong with these men? Lord Cawl said that the Primaris were Astartes, not abominable thinking machines.
Antonius interjected into several of the discussions. He probed, tactfully of course, into the past of these new Marines. How many wars had they fought? Where had they been recruited from?
While all gave vague answers, it was clear; their homes before Lord Cawl had taken them were all long gone. Many of them had been in stasis for literally thousands of years, some dating to just after the heresy. All of these new recruits were older than Chapter Master Perseus by far.
And yet, none of them had seen battle until weeks ago. Sleeping in stasis, they had bypassed the millennia. Black Crusades, Apostasy, and wars beyond counting meant nothing to them. They had only vague inklings of their past and Lord Cawl’s psycho-indoctrination. Their homes and families had not been saved by the Azure Flames, they were consigned to the dustbin of history. They had never even trained as Scouts. The very foundations of their personalities had been stripped away by Cawl’s ambition to re-create the Emperor’s work.
Antonius felt pity for these men. They had nothing to anchor them. Nothing set any of them apart. They may as well have been vat-grown; some of them may indeed have been.
However, the Sergeants that Antonius had put above them were vibrant, well-rounded, and experienced. They had grown as Scouts under Captain Daniel’s expert tutelage. They had felt the anguish of the visions that all Azure Flames have projected into their minds upon their ascension to becoming a full Battle Brother. They had fought and watched their Brothers die, building hatred for foes that persist.
Put simply, these new recruits had no culture.
Antonius felt empty inside. He knew how to lead men. Not how to make strangers into people.
He dismissed the assembly. It would not solve the problem. Antonius didn’t know what would. Though, he knew of one man who might know.
***
“What do you mean, they’re not people?” Perseus asked.
Antonius raised his eyes to meet the Chapter Master, now once again clad in the massive Tactical Dreadnought armour that befitted his station.
“That came out wrong, my Lord.” he replied. “They are… people… but they have no background or personality. Who they were is gone. Now they are just… there. How can I integrate them into the mindset that Atrus left us?”
“By doing it.” Perseus hammered.
“My apologies, Lord, I do not understand…”
Perseus grunted. “I do not believe that for a second. Let me ask you this, which is more important to our role, destruction or protection?”
Antonius’ mind blanked for a second. He bit his tongue gently to prevent himself from stammering like an idiot. “I… suppose that both are equally important, my Lord.”
Perseus’ stony face grew into an approving smile. “Just so. We protect the faithful and destroy the unclean. Which of these has Lord Cawl’s indoctrination prepared them for?”
“The destruction.”
“…and so half of your job is done for you. You need only show them how to protect, and why. Then they will truly have a home in the Chapter of Heroes that Atrus wanted us to be.”
“But where can…” Antonius cut off, his eyes widening with realization.
Perseus’ chuckle rolled out of him like a cliff collapsing. “I never tire of seeing you make that face, Antonius.”
“Yes, I understand now. Thank you, my Lord. Permission to take the Honor on a mission of my own discretion?”
“Granted.” Perseus said as he cocked his head quizzically. “Where are you going?”
Antonius grinned with a warmth he had not felt in ages.
“Home.”