Corporal Mir Egal was jittery.
He sat on the edge of the bench and fiddled with the power setting of the lasgun, a whine and then a groan as he pushed it up and down.
Haze seems messed up.
Monthly...for five whole days, and then only you have to bleed. Indeed? Anybody and everybody. Who made you sacred, made you believe that blood's not the only thing that mattered. He took, was blacklisted by her in his arms, and the Eyes.. Never underestimate me, never, no.
Fit to lead?
Cards are held closely to the black ceiling, twin waterfalls of tears hidden within the cardiac organ. An essence, I've missplaced it. I am in full possession and unconditionally presently on that that indicates I am presently capable of the information and in full knowledge of retribution to the expiration of another being.
Lifespan, the Reaper. Behind the large explanation is simply a set of doors.
Id est, ready for war.
As if in confirmation of the fact, Haze crackled into life over the combead.
'We're moving out.'
Egal took one last look around the room, maybe his last. Nadal, Bleeder and the rest were already leaving, Domo hadn't moved and Egal got the bad vibes from him. Taking one last snort of Spur to counteract the last of the Transcendil, and give him a boost, he flipped down his visor, made the sign of the Aquila and grabbed Domo, both of them tearing up the corridor.
Out of the blast doors, into the etherland.
The waters run out of a pool. The wound stops bleeding.
The pace was set, we go where we are ordered to go.
An individual, made of replaceable parts.
Replaceable parts, made of the individual.
He knew the truth.
He knew what they were made of.
Were they less human than he?
Sight down the scope.
A head, a face, a heart.
The armour warps and cracks as we reach out and touch them.
The light was truth as falsehoods failed and spun to the ground.
I can forgive them, only I can give them absolution.
Absolution through annihilation.
Sight another down the scope.
Extinguished. A candle that is snuffed and cannot be re-lit.
Individuals. We're all the same.
Sight another, cut down by a different truth.
Lies kicked up the ground around him, some of them heavier.
Was faith his shield as the light died in his eyes?
We draw back to see what it is that has happened, out of our fabrications.
It seems a little hollower now.
I stand upon a hill, a mountain, alone.
Manned the mountain.
A few falsehoods streak past, but I am proof against them.
At least until I desire not to be anymore.
Not to be.
Another sighted, he dies.
What is death then?
We fight to die.
Why else do insects fight?
Insects... He ground another beneath his foot.
Things far below me I have been ordered to crush.
Ducking and refreshing, He thought upon death.
Either nothing to fear, or nothing.
Nothing here, really.
Maybe I'll decide to die?
A crack, a half-truth falling, bleeding, dying.
Maybe I'm alone now.
Feelings come from the craw of the reconciliati.
What I learned from meeting a girl who didn't know.
Didn't really learn anything.
At least I know my purpose here.
To be born, to live and to die.
Not necessarily in that order.
To think of heaven.
Maybe I'll go there.
No, never will, fear the house doomed to bleak shortness self hate that bled down from ages, stargods, untouchable, doomed to bleak shortness, imprisoned in these false tombs never living, only deathlife surrounds bound to the master raised from unlife bought and sold still only bought and sold
I'll go there now.
Egal ducked down below another volley of shuriken meant to end him, hearing it skitter and fragment on the jagged volcanic rock. He peered over the edge of his foxhole and saw Domo walking towards the Eldar line.
He's lost it. He's finally lost it.
As much as he hated himself for doing it, he rose from cover and began sprinting towards the sniper.
The frantic dissection of boredom.
Something is always happenning.
We make it ourselves.
I'll end it soon.
A new sensation, to be held close and swept to the breast.
At least, till the next day.
The voice of another comes.
He's too far away to reach even me.
A sea of lies awaits.
I'll take a swim, maybe drown, see if I can cool down a little bit.
He stands on the highest point, waiting for lightning to strike.
Curse this lack of presence.
Finally, a light to the darkness.
The impact that destroys tired truths.
Are these tears?
Not my tears.
I could never express myself, you know...
The body opens.
Fluids spill out.
Irreversible cessation of circulation.
The onset of putrefaction.
is this death?
A shaking of the limbs, boots drumming against the cold.
Aye, there's sleep.
Perchance to rub? Rub in sleep on dreams.
Salacious to the end.
Not a bitter one.
not a man for speeches
I'll never understand it.
never should have bothered trying.
slower now, he fails to dodge the thousand barbs meant to destroy.
paradoxically, a hastening!
a great sigh
Egal crashed into the lip of the dune where Domo had fallen, scatter lasers from the remaining Elder armour swirling though the sand, leaving hundreds of glass tubes. They splintered, a million million shards shredding Egal's hand and gashing his throat. A krak grenade went off somewhere, finishing whatever Nadal's lascannon couldn't. Egal centred himself and found Domo's pulse. He was dead, but still warm. Without hesitation, he took out a syringe of Miskatonic and plunged it directly into Domo's neck. He released the Leylandii-pattern carpace and began chest compressions, desperately trying to work the preservative into every cell of the body.
Domo was the best, untouchable in stealth, concealment and marksmanship.
They were under orders to use the stasis fluid on any fallen, but Egal went out of his way to save Domo. His blood flowed into the dead air, steam rising from his ruined hand and throat as the bodyheat condensed. It'd freeze quick enough, so he didn't have to worry. Domo jerked under the impacts, and for a second Egal thought he was still alive.
He owed him from Kan-Rika, in the jungle war. But the One-Shot wraith was a ghost now.
Egal stopped pumping his arms and began to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Resuscitate a corpse. How amusing. A snicker as he fell back into the sand, hysterical as he heard footsteps coming up behind him and silent paroxysms as two Non-Borns lifted him to his feet and carried the dead man away.
It was over.
Back in the debrief room, Haze wore exhaustion like a shroud. She had been soaked in Bleeder's blood when he went down with a severed torso, a casualty of a shruiken cannon and her body twinged where fragments of shrapnel had embedded themselves. Domo was dead, but Egal's actions had pleased the Commander inordinately. He requisitioned the body when her and her squad, accompanied by about twenty surviving Non-borns, came in the airlock. She was tired, shellshocked and too outranked to make an objection. Nadal rolled and Glass toked, both glad to exist. Joy Enders had gone to see Merity, everyone else still a little too close to death to see some new life. Egal was glum. He flexed three new bionic fingers and was murdering a few classic tunes through a new voicebox. He joked he didn't need the three fingers, he still had the only two that mattered.
'I dread to think what's being done to those bodies.' Nadal rumbled.
'Bleeder might be back, and that's what I'm scared of...'
'They lost thirty out there today. A few still unconfirmed.' said Haze, thinking on Roy.
Everyone did a little mental arithmetic. Two hundred and ninety seven minus thirty equals two hundred and sixty seven. Plus one, if you wanted to be pendantic or optimistic. That was not a happy figure.
'All those wasted corpses...'
Hopeless, star cold sweat.
'Just shut up Egal.'