“Damage to the second heart, not destroyed though near such a degree,” came the voice of an astartes, looking through a hole ripped into the chest of one of his battle-brothers. Ventarius was tending to a wound that had been sealed in the heat of an intense battle, not one that he been in, not that he goes into such forays with the cursed armor. The apothecary let loose a sigh before looking at his overseer, commenting in a soft tone, “I doubt I will be able to salvage the heart, it may be best to replace it.”

There was silence as Ventarius looked over the body more, seeing that whatever fight that the astartes in front of him had been in left the heart in a bad condition. It was barely able to hold a steady beat and what movement it did provide was exceptionally weak, though still functioning. If Ventarius allowed this heart to stay, there was a chance that it may heal properly, but the odds were greater that it would never recover fully and be more of detriment to the health of his battle-brother. It was not an easy choice, as rejection of the gene-implant could still very well kill the astartes, but it was better than forcing him to live on a single heart that would not be able to keep up with the demands of a space marine.

“As you wish, Ventarius. Have you thought more upon what the Company Master had said to you?” The Lead Apothecary asked, watching Ventarius work. 

“That of the Deathwatch?” Ventaruis inquired as he began to open the chest of the Astartes, in front of him to get easier access to the secondary heart. 

“Correct.”

“You know my answer,” came the quick reply.

“You cannot refuse this, Ventarius. To deny Deathwatch is to go without additional experience that you will need,” the Chief Apothecary stated.

Ventarius allowed silence to pass for a moment before he looked to the wounded secondary heart, watching it beat weakly. He could see that heart’s movement getting slower and slower, nearly unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but he knew it was there. The view brought death into his mind, a death that he was forced into once he had been forced into the scarred armor that killed all of its previous bearers. The Astartes stopped for a moment, he was not afraid of death, but he knew he would not be able to serve if he did, and Ventarius intended to serve the Emperor for as long as possible.

“I will die, they shall send me into battle,” Ventarius finally said in a grim manner.

“Indeed, however, you have a chance to serve the Chapter well. Make sure that no Fallen have infiltrated its ranks and, should you survive that vigil, you will be free of the armor,” the Chief Apothecarian said, matching the grim tone of the younger apothecary.

“Very well, then. I shall give my oath to Emissary once this procedure is done,” Ventarius stated, almost instantly following the words of the other. The heart had all but stopped now, its beat was irregular happening every few seconds as it weakly tried to do its share of work in the body of the Astartes. Ventarius allowed his mind to go to the vigil, to his future death in a Chapter that was unlike his own, no longer hunting the fallen in a manner that he was used to. Cipher would be nowhere near the fields that he would operate upon, only Xenos and their weaponry that would kill him in a matter of seconds should he let his guard down.

However, it was his duty. 

It was upon this realization that Ventarius noticed that the heart had stopped, becoming nothing more than a useless piece of muscle in a body that needed two to operate. 

[hr]

It had not been long since Ventarius had given his oath to serve Deathwatch, but already was he thinking of the gene-seeds that he would need to memorize in order to best serve those that he would fight besides. He knew that these gene-seeds were a closely guarded secret, knowing that it was a matter of corruption and becoming one of the Fallen that worried many of the other Astartes Chapters. Yet, he knew that he would be able to know his charges quickly enough, figuring that the manner of was similar if not an identical process between the chapters. Ventarius looked upon a screen to see the fortress that he would likely be housed in.

Ventarius knew that he would not belong, but he had to serve the Emperor as was commanded upon him by his superiors in his parent chapter. That had been the only reason he [i]”wanted”[/i] to join Deathwatch, as well as the added benefit of, perhaps, getting rid of the cursed armor and returning to one that he would not feel the dread of death weighing upon him. It was a constant feeling that had nearly killed him in his last engagement, fighting those who would seek to undo the work of the mighty Emperor of Mankind. The Tau had almost gotten him, one of their abominable rounds grazed his armor as he was making his way to a fallen brother. He knew that it was the armor’s doing that he succeeded in getting to his brother and retrieving his glands, after determining that he could not be saved. 

[i]Crack. Crack.[/i]

More rounds had bounced off his armor, a miracle that he should live to see another day in the galaxy that was always at war.

The door behind him slid open and the voice of an emissary brought him out of his memory, “We have arrived, dear apothecary. We can never have enough to fill our ranks and I am sure your expertise will be put to the test soon enough. I welcome thee to the Watch-Fortress.” 

Ventarius turned from the screen and began marching, asking, “I trust that I will be briefed upon the gene-seed of my charges soon enough?”

“Of course, apothecary. As a Deathwatch Apothecary, it will be your-”

“Duty to memorize my charges’ gene-seed and tend to them in an appropriate manner, I know, Emissary,” Ventarius stated, stopping in front of the emissary for a moment before looking past him in silence.

“It is good you understand, now come, I shall escort you to your chambers,” the emissary said, turning on his heel and leading the apothecary to the fortress proper. The sounds of the metallic boots hitting the ground filled Ventarius’ ears, but it was not the sound of walking that had the attention of the apothecary. It was the sounds of his two hearts, their beating and rhythm filled his mind to an incessant point of making sure he knew of his own mortality with each movement.

And he swore with each step into the fortress he could feel his hearts slowing, unnoticeable to the untrained eye.