996.M41 Aurorum III
Richard's shoulders slumped as he saw Michael approaching him, covered in blood and carrying the little Eldar girl in his arms. Behind him, he dragged a space marine sized sword, the tip dragging on the ground creating a metallic, grinding noise that was rather unpleasant to listen to. He stopped in front of Richard, and the guardsman managed to get a good look at his commanding officer's face.
Bags hung underneath his eyes, his entire body was covered in grime, and his uniform was soaked in blood. Dirt and dried blood also caked his left arm, bits of grime falling from the metal whenever it shifted. His hair was a mess, the shoulder-length brown now matted red with blood and grime. The girl wasn't much better, though there was significantly less blood on her.
"Sir… I suppose you're responsible for the enemy's moral collapsing?" Richard asked, earning a sigh from Michael.
"Yeah, you'll find the corpse of one Lucius the Eternal out there… along with Alaric." Michael explained, a permanent frown on his face.
Many of the guardsmen running back and forth stopped for a second when they overheard what Michael said, "Lord Alaric is… dead?" Richard asked.
"Unless you can survive being stabbed in the gut with a cursed sword-" He hefted the Laer blade, "-or having a grenade blow up in your face, yeah. Last I checked he wasn't breathing."
Richard muttered a prayer to the Emperor and ordered some men to go retrieve Alaric's body. Sure enough, the space marine no longer breathed. His right hand was completely gone, destroyed by the grenade blast, and shrapnel from said grenade had penetrated multiple places in his armor. Much of his armor was ruined beyond repair, but Michael insisted on keeping it, along with Alaric's power sword.
When Calivar saw what had happened to his gene-cousin, he didn't even say a word, deciding to remain in a quiet, cold hatred. He had come close to joining the forces that killed Alaric, and that same space marine had pulled him away from that fate.
When Jarod arrived, he had a similar reaction, only this time he ordered several medics to assist Calivar in retrieving Alaric's gene-seed, in order to hopefully return it to the Astral Winds chapter. Even though Calivar was not an apothecary, he knew enough that he and the medics were able to succeed at the task of recovering the gene-seed.
While all of this was going on, Michael sat to the side, the Eldar girl refusing to let go of him.
"Look, we both need to get cleaned up alright?" Michael tried, only getting a shake of the head from the girl. Her arms clung to his neck, and even if she was only a small child, Michael didn't want to remove her for fear of hurting her. Many other Guardsmen and Eldar warriors had tried coaxing her off of him, but no one succeeded.
Eventually, Salah and Elirom came by to see what the situation was. Salah was covered in bandages, and out of her armor, wearing standard Aeldari robes instead, though she still carried a power sword at her waist.
"And what do we have here?" Elirom said aloud, his tone stern, if a bit coy.
Michael sighed, "I've been trying to get her to go get cleaned up for the better part of an hour," He said, shrugging, "Nothing anyone says, human or Eldar, seems to make her listen."
Kiara tightened her grip around Michael's neck as if to punctuate her objective.
"Why do you not remove her by force?" Salah asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Michael and Elirom both stared at her, the latter with a raised eyebrow and the former with a look that said 'are you stupid?'
"... you're not very good with kids, are you?" Michael asked.
Salah stiffened slightly. No, she could not say she was 'good' with children. They were so rare amongst the Aeldari that she rarely spent any time with them, "She is disobeying the orders of her betters, for that she must be disciplined." Salah said numbly.
Kiara flinched, hiding her face in Michael's shoulder, why Michael's jaw simply dropped, "Are you mentally retarded?" he asked, his face one of pure shock and seriousness, "She just stood up to traitor space marine! Not to mention watching her mom's Spirit stone get destroyed! If anything she deserves the Star of Terra for what she's done at her age!" He almost yelled.
Elirom placed a hand on Salah's shoulder, "I believe Michael is right, in this regard Exarch. She is young, and has been through more than any child of her age should have." He said, before turning to Kiara, leaving Salah blinking.
"Child, what is your name?" Elirom asked in moonspeak.
"I am Kiara," she answered.
"Well, Kiara, I believe it would be best for yourself and Commander Michael to separate for a while, the two of you-"
"No!" she interrupted him, making him blink in surprise, "He stops the bad people! He stopped the ones who serve she-who-thirsts! I will not let him go again! I will not let him die like mother and father!"
Elirom paused. When translated to low gothic, the girl sounded much older than she was, but to an Eldar… she was acting extremely childish, almost… humanly so. He wondered if being in contact with Michael had affected her mind somehow, but dismissed the idea immediately. As the guardsman had pointed out before, she had just stood up to not only a traitor Astartes but a champion of she-who-thirsts.
He would not blame her for being childish, and now that he knew what her motivation was, he came to a decision that would be… unpopular, even with the most liberal of Eldar. Her parents were dead, by her own admission, her mother recently so. If that was the case, then she likely would latch on to the one she trusted most… which was, ironically, a human.
"Kiara, if you let go, and get yourself cleaned, then I promise that you can spend as much time with Michael as you wish." Elirom offered.
Kiara looked up at the farseer, "Promise?"
Elirom stood, a smile on his face, "On my word as farseer of Craftworld Aurorum III, I promise."
Kiara slowly, hesitantly loosened her grip, around Michael's neck, giving him one last hug before allowing herself to be led off by another Eldar, stealing glances back towards Michael as she went. Michael waved, a soft smile on his own face.
"So, I don't speak moonspeak, but I'm pretty sure I heard my name in there somewhere, do names just not translate well or something?" Michael asked.
"I assured her that were she to let go of you and get cleaned, she could spend as much time with you as she wished."
Michael's eyes narrowed, "... You didn't lie to her did you?" he asked.
Elirom sighed, "I know my race has-"
"No," Michael interrupted, "Not your race, I know your races reputation, I'm referring to you specifically. Farseer's are notorious for lying to get what they want, even to their own kind. Now, you've been trustworthy so far, but this is the kind of situation where you benefit from lying." Michael explained, making Elirom raise an eyebrow.
"I assure you, I did not lie to her. Contrary to my profession's reputation, apparently, I am not fond of lying." the farseer explained.
Michael frowned for a second before nodded and standing to his feet. He turned to look at Salah and grinned when he saw her expression. Jaw on the ground, check. Frothing at the mouth, double check. Eyes looking like they were trying to stab him to death, triple check.
"You… you cannot be serious farseer…" Salah asked in disbelief.
Elirom nodded, "I am Exarch. Michael has proven himself more than capable of protecting Kiara, and I believe it would be beneficial to have her spend time with him for the foreseeable future."
Salah's jaw remained slack, and while normally would have found this hilarious, he grimaced about what he would need to tell Elirom.
"... there might be… a complication with that,"
[-----]
The conversation with Elirom had… not gone well, that much Michael was certain of. Regardless, he was glad to be back on The Emperor's Boot. It was calm, for as long as such a feeling would last. Jarod probably wouldn't be happy about Michael's situation, but Michael didn't want to think about that at the moment, instead choosing to get himself cleaned up.
Stepping into his personal quarters -- being the commanding officer of Jarod's guardsmen had its perks -- he walked into the bathroom and began stripping the blood-soaked clothing off. His metal arm was next, and he carefully removed it, setting the prosthetic to the side. Reaching into one of the cabinets, he attached a custom plate designed to keep the mechanical and digital parts of his prosthetic from being destroyed.
Stepping into the shower, he cranked the hot water up to maximum, feeling the scalding water run through his hair, the matted brown reaching his upper back. The water turned a disgusting reddish-brown color, the blood and dirt coming off easily enough. He sighed an exhausted sound that made him question if he was really cut out for command.
It had been months since his first time commanding troops, and even though he hadn't had any breakdowns as he had back then, it still never sat right in his mind that he was more often than not commanding soldiers to go to their deaths. Interestingly enough, he'd never felt guilty about killing any of the Chaos cultists, a fact that had worried him at first. Killing another human being was always something that Michael never thought he would have to do. At least, before he'd found his way into the 41st millennium.
He hadn't killed any humans back when he and Jarod had first come into this universe. Jarod and Richard did of course, and while Richard was a hardened veteran at this point, Jarod seemed to be coping through alcohol. Not the best option, but it was something that seemed to work at the very least.
Michael had killed his first human back when they'd first discovered the craftworld. He hadn't really thought about it, but he realized that he hadn't felt anything when killing the cultists. He almost thought it was the adrenalin of the moment, but even after the battle, he still didn't feel a thing. He wondered if something was wrong with him, but again, watching the men under his command get shot made his insides roll.
So he wasn't a sociopath, that's good. Still, it made him think; was his hatred of chaos what kept him from feeling bad about it? Granted he wasn't dogmatic in his hatred like many in the Imperium were, but just as Gaunt had said 'the best defense against chaos is an armor of contempt.'
Very few who truly hated chaos ever fell willingly. Even Mortarian, a daemon prince of Nurgle utterly hated the position he had found himself in. Really, if Horus hadn't convinced him to turn to chaos and the quote 'worship of Nurgle' as early as he did, then Mortarian might have remained a loyalist. Whether he could be redeemed or not was another question, but Michael doubted the Imperium would let him come back.
Regardless, Michael's hatred of Chaos was something that was rooted deep in his own mind, and it was not something that would be dislodged easily. Yes, Tzeentch had helped Jarod by unlocking his psychic powers, but that didn't mean he was good. Change by its very nature was neither good nor evil, making Tzeentch neutral at best. Slaanesh clearly had it out for them, having at least influenced two attacks on Aurorum III.
Khorne and Nurgle had yet to make their stance on the two travelers existence apparent yet, but Michael would be rather surprised in the two of them didn't end up clashing with them at some point in the future.
Turning off the water, Michael put on some clean, dry clothes and started to brush his long, thick hair. Knots found their way into it in a dozen places, making it painful to brush, but once he was finished he managed to tie it back into a wolf's-tail. He chuckled at the name Jarod had insisted on calling it. The difference between a pony-tail and a wolf's-tail was minimal at best, but Jarod said that if they ever met the space wolves, they would call him a milksop if he called his hairstyle anything but a wolf's-tail.
His beard had gotten rather long as well, so he made the effort to trim it. The dark brown, almost black hair reminded him of Captain America's look in the old Avengers movies. Granted Chris Evans was blonde, but the similarity was there.
Thinking about the films made Michael chuckle. How much had he changed since he had come from Earth? Back then he was just a twenty-year-old working a full-time job who had a knack for writing. He spent most of his free time playing video-games, writing or reading fanfiction, or watching movies. Emperor knows he wasn't the man he was now.
His thoughts wandered to the man Captain America was. Honorable, optimistic, and probably one of the most morally straight people in that universe. He would probably hate the 41st Millennium. He'd probably hate it, but he would also try and fix it. Could Michael do that? Could he do what one of the legends of old Terra would do?
[-----]
"You WHAT!?" Jarod yelled as he slammed his hands across the table, his eyes wide and filled with shock, awe, and no small amount of worry.
"I just told you! I killed Lucius the Eternal! The guy who has a really bad habit of body snatching?" Michael explained again.
"No, I heard you the first time, I just… How!? And why you of all people!" Jarod lamented as he reached underneath his desk for some alcohol, only for his hand to be slapped aside by Michael.
"No, you need to be sober for this. How do we deal with this?" He asked.
Jarod leaned back into his chair, considering the situation. Michael had killed a being that, within an undetermined amount of time, would act like a chest burster and mutate him into Lucius' original form. At worst, Michael had hours, at best he had a month.
"The only options I can think of are you committing suicide -- which I am not allowing -- or locking yourself in an Isolation cell until we figure out what to do." He offered, "And have you told Elirom about this? Or anyone else for that matter?"
"I explained it to Elirom and Salah, the Howling Banshee Exarch, and the two of them started arguing with each other. Elirom seems convinced I have some kind of role left to play, but Salah wanted to kill me then and there."
"She does know that if she kills you Lucius' soul would just transfer to her right?" Jarod asked.
Michael shrugged, "I said as much, but I don't think she was paying that close of attention. Anyway, Elirom basically suggested the same thing you did, save for the fact that he left out the suicide part."
Jarod sighed, "Well, I guess we could go with that… anything you want us to do in the meantime?" he asked.
"Comune with the Aeldari gods maybe? Cegorach would probably find my situation hilarious, enough to try and stop it maybe… Aside from that, you seem to have some kind of connection with Tzeentch, though knowing that warp-squid he'd probably just let Lucius do his thing. Loving change for the sake of it and all that." Michael mused.
Jarod hummed, taking in Michael's suggestions. The issue with Cegorach was that they would need to find Harlequins to even begin to figure out how to summon/talk to him, and those were about as easy to find as a Khornate with a World Peace Nobel prize. Well, maybe easier than that, but not by much.
"Well, I guess your getting put into Maximum Security. Let's hope I can figure something out…"
Michael chuckled darkly, "Yeah, just make sure I get visitors every few hours."
After their conversation, Michael explained his situation with Kiara, and Jarod once again slumped. The girl had gotten attached to Michael, and if he ended up getting possessed by Lucius, then the one person she seemed to really trust would be dead.
"I'm going to see her in the next hour or so for sure, but I have no idea how or what I should tell her. I mean, she's basically glued herself to me, and… and I don't know if I can just outright tell her she might not ever see me again." Michael lamented.
Jarod sighed, putting a hand on Michael's shoulder, "Honestly? Just don't tell her anything. Tell her that you're going away, or that you're not going to be able to see her again. Or heck, just tell her the truth. Eldar minds don't age the same way humans do." he explained.
"I still don't like it…" Michael said with a sigh.
Jarod grimaced, "Neither do I, but do we really have a choice?"
Michael shrugged, "Not really, no. I guess… I guess I'll just go see her, figure it out as I go."