>be one of the emperor's finest soldiers
>maybe you aren't one of his children or a psyker, but you've more than made up for it with technology
>you can hit the head of a bolt at 20km without any witchcraft
>you've killed more xenos than anyone in your unit and you've been commended appropriately
>the skulls of chaos sympathizers who failed to tempt you hover around your study, finally returned to the emperor's service
>chilling perhaps, but it's been a long time since you thought too much about it
>tonight you're filling out some boring but vital forms, requesting supplies for your unit
>routine, but no less important for that
>occasionally the lies of slaanesh tug at your mind
>what if you lived a quiet life outside the imperial army?
>what if you had a family, friends who didn't salute you or expect you to salute them?
>what if you met a cute tau-
>and you're back to estimating your oil usage for the next month
>that isn't as simple as it sounds because there isn't just one type of oil
>soldiers and mechs don't use the same grade because of the relative advantages-
>your terminal's communicator starts beeping like it's done ever night for the past couple of weeks
>whoever keeps messaging you seems suspiciously ignorant of protocol
>you can't imagine a spy being that stupid and careless
maybe you should have reported this oddity to someone who knows about such things, but, well...
>it's hard to serve the emperor so faithfully
>others have their little vices, small enough to slip through regulations... for now... but you've seen heresy creep in too many times to risk indulging yourself
>you turn your digital third eye to the screen
>"what's cooking, sparks?"
>whoever this is doesn't sound much like an agent of chaos
>or much like a spy
>when she first found out what you were, before you realized something was amiss, she seemed curious
>not like the average person who gawks at your appearance, or the superstitious who can't tell you're human (well, mostly) under all the metal
>she asked things like whether you could wiggle all your probes at once, or whether you could jumpstart a spaceship
>...that's where "sparks" came from
>it felt really nice to talk about something that wasn't work, have someone listening who thought your body was cool rather than "a valuable implement for securing the future of holy terra and her colonies"
>even if that felt sort of wrong
>you haven't found out that much about your conversational partner, aside from the fact she's "obviously not a xeno" and that despises chaos
>that's a little hard to believe with the sort of life she claims to lead
>fresh cooked meals several times a day, walls thick enough she can sleep through the night, never having to join a chant to ward off the warp beasts...
>it sounds like something from a fairy tale about when the emperor walks among his people
>you contemplate forwarding the message to intelligence, but you can't force yourself to push the button
>instead you type out a quick reply that you're doing some paperwork
>she relates to your struggle, having spent the entire day on a single very important form that wasn't even part of her job
>you respect her privacy as she respects yours and probe no deeper
>but you comment how interesting it is that you're on the same schedule despite her being on another ship
>all she says to that is "lulz"
>you chat a little about the victories of the imperium, carefully keeping track of what you've discussed before and speaking of campaigns you have no secure knowledge of
>even if you trusted her not to be a spy you couldn't trust her to keep a secret, not without meeting her at least
>she seemed oddly misinformed on a great deal and seemed to think the emperor's forces could ever be defeated
>even stranger, she seems to think you'll be in combat very soon
>you finished a tour recently enough you doubt that but you make a note, just in case she's right
>as the night grows late she makes you promise to take care of yourself
>assuming it's something normal from whichever planet she's from you say the same
>it's not the first time you've exchanged well wishes
>but her final message of the night is strangest
>she promises to send you a present
>she has no way of knowing where you are, and even if she had the skill to trace a communication signal through the relays and through the warp... network sanitation is practically an instinct for the mechanicus and she'd know better
>but no sense in losing sleep over that (literally) when you aren't done with your work

>ffw a while
>you're preparing for an early deployment to deal with some xeno uprising close to your present location
>it SHOULD be someone else's problem, but no, your ship is closest
>not like you could argue anyway
>as you tuck the last of your faithfully sparse belongings into the trunk that keeps them safe during extended warp travel, someone knocks at your door
>one of the limbs gifted you by the emperor extends to answer the door while you fight the latches of the trunk
>it's private creves, a smart boy if a little eager
>loyal now, but chaos bait if you've ever seen it
>he salutes and hands you a delivery
>no return address, no imperial post markings, as though it popped into existence on the other side of your door a minute ago
>you dismiss the messenger and shut the door again, turning over the delicate parcel in your steel hands
>when was the last time you docked again?
>no matter, you carefully scan the contents, and, finding no evidence of tampering, slowly cut the string and pull away the paper
>what you hold in your hands baffles you
>a fucking leaf
>sort of
>it's more like a branch, a fragrant string of green the feels alive
>after weeks in transit it should have withered or at least have been mauled by a few inspections
>what lunatic sends someone a leaf?
>you know what kind without checking for a note
>a small piece of paper reads "-:)"
>three eyes...
>either one of the crew is trying to get both of you executed for heresy, treason, and improper conduct all at the same time (you're not certain they won't bring you back to execute you again), or it's from your secret companion
>should you call her a friend?
>friends are the first step on the path to heresy
>you REALLY ought to stop talking to her
>as you turn the plant matter over in your unfeeling fingers, you remember how alone you felt then compared to now
>the clerics were right about how hard it is to resist something that seems directly engineered for you
>a warning siren interrupts your self indulgent musing and you shove the leaf into your trunk and lock it away for the next week or so

>the passage was rougher than any you've seen in ages
>the warp seemed angry
>or something, you're not the expert, but it certainly doesn't seem happy about anything
>the navigation crew throws some choice slurs your way when you pass during a meal
>as good as it would feel to punch them with your "demon beckoner" you'd rather not die here
>so you returned to your quarters for the rest of the voyage
>the warp spits you out right where you need to be, as the emperor wills
>the call to arms comes immediately so you pull your bolter out of your trunk along with a change of clothes
>can't go into battle looking shabby, right?
>you remember a bit wryly that you won't be able to tell your contact about today, not when there's a risk of passing information to the enemy
>not that you know who the enemy even is...
>command was worryingly quiet
>maybe you don't need to know, or maybe it's something less scary than it looks, or someone one of the higher officers used to know who fell to chaos
>it's not your place to question the emperor's will
>as you finish tugging on your robe, you notice the leaf and consider bringing it along for luck
>luck... a very chaotic concept
>intellectually know know nothing is truly random, that psionic forces invisible to you and to most of humanity teased by the psychically adept and the demonic rule reality, shaping it in ways beyond comprehension
>but for you... it feels arbitrary a lot of the time
>is it really more important to have someone thinking really hard behind the lines than training soldiers to shoot a bit better?
>you shouldn't doubt the emperor or his decisions...
>but you tuck the leaf inside your armor, not for luck, for certainty

>by the time you reach the battle, the planet you're on, the name of which you missed in the roar of the fighting, is half destroyed
>you land by what looks like where a city once stood and march through the rubble to the front line
>a general passes by your unit and looks at each of you
>"the emperor's counting on you, go get these xenos"
>that's all he says, but it's all he needs to
>you feel ready to kill any threats to humanity you may find
>not one more world will fall if you have anything to say about it
>your men feel the same way and you don't have to tell them where the battle is
>not that the noise would leave much question
>all manner of machines and heavy artillery are raining terrifying substances on a small patch of ground a few km from you
>your visual lenses shift and you zoom in on the target, obscured by smoke as it may be
>a few hundred xenos by your estimate, carrying a thick yet transparent shield
>heavier fire slows them but they never cease advancing
>all your unit can do is add a bit to the defence of terra
>yet it does nothing
>you feel no fear until the xenos meet your eyes with theirs
>they're like nothing you've heard stories of, more chaos essence than matter
>writhing masses of vines and leaves like demonic forests
>as they pass a wrecked land cruiser you register their size, each easily thrice as tall as the emperor's lineage
>each seemingly thinking of other things as one of the biggest forces you've ever seen pounds them all at once
>like some turtle of death they slowly continue toward... something
>half a kilometer from your position the line begins to break
~~~~~
>your shouts of encouragement do nothing for other divisions
>why should they?
>some whose markings you don't recognize (battle sisters maybe?) drop their weapons and begin to run until a commander shames them into doing their duty
>admittedly it's taking all your strength not to run in a panic too
>but if you fail, who can succeed?
>if you refuse your duty, who can be trusted to discharge it in addition to his own?
>you must slay the xeno
>who are you kidding?
>if anyone's going to be slain it's fodder like you!
>a blast powerful enough to scald life from an entire metropolis is shrugged off as though a slap on the back from a drinking partner
>...
>who can face THAT?
>but your fears are quelled when the emperor's sons arrive
>you've never seen them in person
>they only fight the most hopeless, dangerous battles, the ones where chaos is certain to prevail
Even the sight of their armor fills you with awe, their power suits clanking with the might of a thousand psykers
>and the plants simply ignore them in their advance
>one charges the moving barrier and is casually thrown back to your position
>that sounds much more impressive than it is, because they're really close now
>you can see their faces at conventional zoom, and they're terrifying like how demons are described
>these agents of khorne have many eyes that stare out unfeeling, scanning the field of battle
>some have 6, some 12, some even more
>you turn to rally your unit... but they're gone, to the last
>it's just you now
>and here you hoped for luck
>what good does luck do against something like this?
>from your place near the command, being one of the last remaining by accident more than by choice, you hear the word exterminatus
>of course
>you can only hope that your life was worthwhile and that the sacrifice you make will help terra
>you don't want to die
>but you don't have any choice in the matter
>the only choice is whether you die nobly or whether you die shot in the back like a coward with your soul given over to demons
>this planet will break before you do
>the last scraps of fear leave your body as you resign yourself to your fate
>"for terra" you whisper, reloading your bolter
>you unload it as fast as you're able, not making a dent in the clear shell
>amid the smoke and thunder of weapons you can hear faint prayer, only fitting at a time like this
>even some psykers have fled now
>you're one of the select, the bravest, the most loyal
>as the turtle closes in on you, you wonder whether your name will be remembered
>surely not, you were never that important
>who would tell stories about you?
>who would want to hear stories about someone like one, someone whose greatest fear was... standing still like an idiot and dying
>one by one the siege engines fall silent, too heavy to move during a battle and too close not to kill their operators
>soon it's handguns and launchers
>you see the hopelessness in the eyes of your comrades
>you know they're as eager to be literally anywhere else as you
>you begin to wonder just what these xenos intend and whether they'll achieve that goal before they're roasted to a crisp along with the rest of you in the fire of this planet's core
>a tiny voice says you deserved better, the voice of chaos
>you ignore it and load some more bolts
>in a few minutes you'll rig yourself to explode, a nasty little distraction to keep these xenos occupied until they go boom too
>or maybe you'll stay here with them, to become one of a select few to witness death on such a scale
>not that you'll live to tell the tale
>they probably don't expect being cooked from underneath
>the thought fills you with just enough confidence to keep shooting as hopeless as you know it to be
>a tiny dent appears in the exterior and you know that's where you must attack
>so you do
>you aim carefully...
>and see the xeno behind the glass
>three eyes and branches like long leaves
>the eyes fix on you with recognition, and she smiles

>the reality of your failure strikes you with indifference
>the fact you're alive is of greater concern
>nobody survives exterminatus, that isn't how it works
>perhaps the emperor could, but he isn't here right now, he's back on terra watching over everyone
>yet the casual defeat of an entire army by a single xeno squad makes keeping faith so much more difficult
>they beat you without firing a shot
>without a single psychic attack they broke an entire imperial army
>well... not you
>though you probably would've run if you'd been thinking
>then again, you don't think you're dead so it... probably wouldn't have changed much
>you know what happens to deserters
>cowardice is the first step toward chaos
>you lie still, hoping the cosmos will stop spinning and whirring, but it does not
>giving up on feeling well, you open your eyes
>except you only have one
>tilting your head with great effort, you see a pile of metal on the far side of the room, most of your body
>internal flamethrowers, low caliber guns, even a stun baton are piled haplessly together, far from where they belong
>but you aren't helpless
>all 3 of your arms are very sharp and still functioning
>your legs, not so much
>diagnostics reveal they're connected but disabled, obviously to keep you here while making it easier to put you back together...
>you'd rather not think about why that might be
>before you can estimate how painful it would be to cross over and deploy your emergency screwdrivers, a door that had blended into the wall well enough to be invisible quietly opens
>at least you aren't being kept waiting
>you recognize the intruder before the face appears
>it's HER
>the xeno who spent weeks perverting you, weakening you, for reasons comprehensible only to degenerate xenos
>after so long speaking together you were almost starting to like her, but now you see it was all a lie
>her many tendrils are now woven into something almost human, a crude approximation of a form impossible for a clump of plant matter
>her body the color of butter and her eyes gold, she bends down over what you now see to be a bed
>"sorry I couldn't be more gentle, sparks, those bigger yet still adorably tiny friends of yours don't like to calm down"
>calm down?
>they've been taken prisoner too?
>how?
>the impossibility of simply taking space marines prisoner clashes with how casually she said it
>you don't want to believe... but with everything you already saw, you can't help yourself
>this xeno probably could subdue them somehow
>which means...
>"you ok?"
>your vocal speaker makes a pathetic noise unworthy of an adept
>at least you didn't reveal the swirling mass of fear and pain you feel
>the enormous creature, almost a woman yet thoroughly alien, sits beside you, her mass launching you slightly into the air
>a vine breaks from her arm and gently caresses your scalp
>the comfort you feel from that touch is more terrifying than any other part of your captivity
>"shhh cuteness, you'll never have to be afraid again"
>actually, that's the most terrifying part
>"give me back my parts" you demand, rather pathetically
>your captor glances at your missing limbs
>"oh those, you'll get them back as soon as they're cleaned up and made safe, wouldn't want you hurting yourself, right?"
>hurting YOURSELF?
>those are high quality weapons designed for maximum efficiency in killing xenos!
>...
>oh
>obviously she wouldn't like that
>suddenly more conscious of your situation, you jab at a vine with sharp graspers and chop through the foliage
>they're all you've got right now, so you have to make this work
>except your full strength has no such effect
>she just looks at you, no hint of anger on her face
>desperate, you try again and again, needing the tiniest success to prove you can fight this thing off, but you can't cut through it
>she must be made of something as touch as space marine armor
>obviously
>just like them, she's meant for the heaviest fighting and taking the largest explosions
>just like you, her body is engineered for her purpose, what she may once have been irrelevant compared to her purpose
>you wonder if she serves an emperor too
>"hey sparks, you can cut that out now"
>"ha, cut!"
>she laughs, a sound like wind through an old city on terra at dusk
>that doesn't sound like an enemy's laugh, but...
>the plant grabs your arm with a second vines and carefully rests it on the soft bedding, applying no tension to your joints
>"y-you're really..."
>"really who was talking to you? That's me!"
>"you said you weren't a xeno" you mumble, well aware of what an idiot you've been
>"obviously I'm not a xeno, I'm an affini!" she says, her tone suggesting that makes perfect sense to her
>regardless of her xeno lies, you're a prisoner, helpless in her grasp and probably not going anywhere anytime soon
>when you ask what she wants she laughs again
>"petal, I don't need anything from you, not secrets, not tactics, not chemistry, what I want is you"
>"I'll never betray the emperor" you growl, voice still not quite working properly
>"you don't have to betray anyone. All you have to do is be safe and happy. That's all I need from you. I'll do my best to keep you that way and give you the best parts we can make. Maybe in a few years we'll even find a way to link sensory data through them. That'll be loads of fun, don't you think?"
>you reiterate that you'll never give your soul to the demons she serves, demons with no value but pleasure
>you don't mention that the pain of your implants helps keep away the dangers of heresy
>the affini tilts her head "demons? Are they cute too?"
>you assure her that they are not and that they will eat her, but she doesn't seem to take you seriously
>instead, she lifts you up into her lap and leans you back against her chest
>she massages your jaw until it opens and shovels in something warm but not hot
>it tastes like soup, but better than any soup you've ever had
>you move to spit it out in case it's poison, but she slamps your mouth shut before you can, forcing you to chew and swallow
>"you're such a cooperative little beeper, nice job sparks"
>after spending all day fighting, you're so hungry you have trouble fighting back
>tired too
>your attempts at struggling slowly become weaker as you eat until all you have the strength to do is accept spoonful after spoonful of soup
>she pets you gently while she makes you finish the bowl
>you limply fall back against the xeno as she praises you for your healthy appetite and wraps you lightly in more vines than you can count
>as you feel sleep taking you again, you ask who she really is
>no xeno would be this kind, not to a prisoner
>"your mistress, of course"
>oh... of course she'd say that
>but her name
>"as far as you need to worry about it, that is my name, sparks"
>your eye closes as you feel the pressure of vines all across your body
>you don't know about safe, but if the most powerful weapons of the imperium can't hurt this affini, you doubt anything could get anywhere near you while you're inside her
>you remember the leaf she sent you before the battle
>she planned this from the start, didn't she?
>how could someone like you ever hope to fight back?
>maybe you shouldn't try...