Speculum Enigmate Chapter 20

The control room rang with frantic cries, three operators yowling distress at each other. Among the packed consoles and Hololithic displays they fought to restore order, only to be thwarted at every turn. To the common observer they would have looked like regular humans, displaying no fangs or claws or black eyes but a more detailed inspection would have revealed the placement of their muscles was slightly off, their joints bent further than they should and their lips drew back a degree too far. Genestealer hybrids, ones that were nearly but not quite human in appearance. They had been ordered to secure the Laboratorium-domes of the Genic Council, a task they were failing.

"Contact, sector nine!" one yelled.

"Not possible," another shouted, "He's just tripped a surveyor in sector three."

"What?!" a third barked, "I've got an alert in sector eleven, that's on the other side of the domes."

The three were shouting at cross purposes and the first waved frantically at his comrades as he snapped, "He can't be everywhere, he's only one solitary intruder. He has to be confounding the internal surveyors somehow."

"Maybe he's not alone," the second worried, "Maybe he's called in more Space Marines."

"Impossible, we'd have seen them," the first admonished, "He's alone. Focus on clearing out false leads and isolating his location. The Mother is angry, she wants the intruder dead and dissected."

The second bent over his consoles and said, "You're right, there's a malicious info-djinn crawling through the data-sphere. He's laid false trails for us."

"Then where is he?" the third asked in a worried tone.

Abruptly the door behind them was kicked open, revealing a huge giant in white Ceramite armour standing in the doorway. He was splattered with red and purple blood but it was unmistakably Memnos. The three Hybrids leapt from their seats with inhuman speed, hissing like feral animals but before they could attack Memnos was upon them. The first's neck he snapped with a lateral blow of his hand, the second he kicked to the ground with a blow that shattered the ribcage and drove splinters into the heart. The third he met with the drill bit of the Narthecium on his right arm, the whirring probe was designed to bore through a Space Marine's genhanced bones and it punched through the skull in an instant, splattering blood and brains everywhere.

The bodies fell at his feet and Memnos stepped over them, placing his flamer down so he could examine the consoles. He had used it liberally on his rampage but not in here, he needed these controls intact. For some time the Apothecary had been stalking through the depths of the corrupted domes and killed many of the security teams sent to hunt him down. So far he had emerged victorious but he was one Space Marine against hundreds of foes and would surely be overwhelmed eventually. Thankfully he had made three discoveries that had aided him.

First the entirety of the population was not infected; the Genestealer cult seemed to be limited to the savants and labourers of the Genic council itself. Thousands of people passed through these facilities on a regular basis and corrupting them all could not have escaped notice. It seemed the Genic council had continued their regular duties in public, while building up a nest of tainted hybrids in the shadows.

The second thing he had discovered was that their data-wards were pathetic, far below Imperial standards. Matters biological were their forte; info-security and Machine Spirits were not. As an Apothecary Memnos had a passing familiarity with cogitators and archive-stacks so his skills had been more than enough to access their Noosphere and sow havoc. They should have embraced Mechanicus adepts, Memnos thought, then he might have struggled to break into their info-nets. The Third thing he had discovered was that the facility had a number of interesting design features, ones he intended to exploit. It was the only realistic strategy; he couldn't burn this place down armed only with a flamer.

In moments Memnos had broken through their pathetic data-cyphers and found schematics of the building. His eyes scoured the plans and he noted two entire separate networks of corridors and workplaces, one for visitors to see and the other where the Hybrids must do their foul plotting. Yet both were connected by a single ventilation system. Memnos' lips drew back in anticipation as he spotted what he sought and committed the route to memory. His task nearly finished he input a series of commands, disabling several minor sub-systems and locking the ventilation systems open across the domes. Then he stepped back and took up his flamer.

Memnos checked the corridor outside was empty then squeezed the trigger, spraying promethium over the control centre. Consoles were bathed in flames, bodies burned and all the vital controls were destroyed. Memnos knew the hybrids would soon realise where he was and quickly strode down the corridor, counting his steps as he went. At a predetermined spot he stopped and faced the blank white wall, scouring it for hints. The illusion was good, damned good, but according to the schematic this was a connection between the pure public face and the hidden alcoves. There were no seams or joins but Memnos' boot made short work of the door, smashing it aside and revealing the passageway beyond.

He stepped into a dark interior and it was like moving from world to another. Outside everything had been cold and sterile, white walls and perfect silence, antisceptic surfaces and spotless purity. On the other side it was fetid and dank, the bare metal walls covered in condensation and furry moulds. Exposed pipes lined the roof, carrying Emperor only knew what deeper into the facility and the background noise was a deep rumble of heavy machinery, resembling the distant heartbeat of some mighty beast. The lighting was poor and the heat intolerably high for a regular human. It felt like a nest of some vile beast, a squalid lair for a creature from the dawn of mankind. A metaphor Memnos thought was more true than he liked to admit.

Swiftly the Apothecary advanced down the passageway, moving through his mental map of the interior. He was wary of guards and patrols but there was no resistance. He couldn't linger though, surely the guards must be closing on his location. He spent a moment wondering what lies they were telling the public scattered throughout the domes but decided it didn't matter, he had sowed confusion and panic and the bedlam would work in his favour. Not bad for an Apothecary and Memnos felt a note of pride as he thought Persion could scarcely have done better. Then he remembered where he had acquired those skills, the secret data-logs and falsified reports he had made of his sick experiments on Neophytes and his pride dissolved into bitter recriminations.

His self-loathing was thankfully interrupted as he reached a specific door and stepped within, only to be pulled up by the horror awaiting him. Inside the dank chamber were long rows of glassic tubes, standing upright and bubbling with amniotic fluids. They bore a passing resemblance to the sacred Sarcophagi of his Chapter's Dreadnoughts, which could keep a noble warrior an inch from death for millennia, save that they contained not fallen heroes but monsters. Inside each tube was a twisted amalgam of flesh and bone. Monstrous byblows of corrupt anatomy and biology that could never have lived for more than a few moments. Memnos beheld creatures with brains bulging outside their skulls, ribcages that spread outwards like grasping fingers and legs fused together into sinuous tails. There were faces that were nothing but teeth, bodies layered in heavy scales and limbs that sprouted eyeballs all along their length. Memnos had seen Chaos cultists that were less repulsive and his conviction to destroy this place hardened.

They were connected by snaking cables that littered the floor, leading up to humming logic engines, that Memnos suspected were cogitating Genic sequences from the preserved corpses. He stepped closer to a tube and spied a twisted amalgam of flesh bobbing in the fluid. He noted several features that were of Genestealer origin and disgustingly some that were human. Yet parts of it owed no allegiance to either form. Its skull was elongated and covered with fangs and its back by reptilian scales. A small plaque on the bottom read, 'Specimen 486-174-d: Crotalid'. His eyes roved over the chamber and he spotted more plaques, some reading: Canine, Felid, Avian, Grox, Panthir, Frostwyrm, Jokero, Fra'al. The implication struck him cold; the genestealers were attempting to splice animal and alien strands into their Genic sequences, stealing the traits of other lifeforms to blend with their own hideous corruption of the noble human form. It was well documented that Genestealers were associated with the Tyranid menace but this was a microcosm of the Great Devourer's ability to steal biological traits from others. This cult was trying to mimic the Hive Mind's skill for adaption and evolution.

Memnos' outrage could not have been more profound; this threat had to be destroyed. Every fibre of his being demanded he end this perversion of the natural order. Yet just then he heard a scuffle from behind a far door. Instantly he was moving, throwing his bulk against the flimsy partition, which flew wide. Behind that door lurked a woman in a red suit, holding a short dirk in hand. She had been trying to ambush Memnos as he entered but instead was caught off guard by a door slamming into her face, sending her staggering backwards.

Memnos' hand flashed out and seized her by the throat and as she fountained blood from her nose he snarled, "Xenos filth, your corruption ends today."

The surprisingly human-looking woman gasped, "No, no you can't be here! The Great Work must continue."

"Your perversions are finished," Memnos snarled, "You shall never let loose your monsters."

But woman kicked feebly as she cried, "The kiith must evolve! The strength of the Grox, the speed of the Panthir, the warp-jumps of the Crotalids, even the vigour of the Astartes shall be ours. The One God demands it!"

Memnos growled, "Your god is a swarm of hungry bugs, if they come to this world it will only be to feed. Your cult exists merely to be eaten and reabsorbed by the Hive Mind."

"You lie!" the woman shrieked, "My babies would never be sacrificed so!"

Memnos's eyes narrowed under his helm as he snarled, "Babies?"

It was then that he noticed lines of cots filling the second room. Rows of cribs, each one containing a small form. They were chubby and infantile but their alien nature was obvious: genestealer hybrids. Taloned hands, hissing maws and black eyes stared upwards in dull ignorance, a scene of parental love corrupted by a diseased mind into a parody of human reproduction. This was where the cult was breeding, this nest and others like it were where they spawned their filthy kind.

Memnos felt not a qualm of doubt as he lifted his flamer one-handed and squeezed the trigger, bathing the cots in purifying flame. The chamber erupted in an inferno, filled with tiny screams of agony as he killed the perversions with searing promethium. The heat washed over him but he stood firm as the woman screamed, "No! My babies! Not my babies!"

Memnos jerked his hand and snapped her neck, then dropped the corpse. He turned from the room and closed the doors, shutting off the flames for a moment. His actions pleased him, but it was only a start. He examined the chamber, as the flames crackled behind him and spied his objective: a glassic-fronted refrigeration unit, sealed by many locks and warning signs. He strode over to it and yanked it open, shattering a dozen locks with brute strength.

Inside was what he sought, shelves upon shelves of small vials, each one containing amniotic fluid. They were sample containers for viral clades, essential tools for bio-forming and gene-splicing but also dangerous weapons in the wrong hands, or at least they would be when Memnos was done with them. He hastily sorted through the vials, discarding those who would be slow in action or weren't airborne. Then his hand paused over a vial of Necromundian Necrotising Faucitis, a skin-eating bacterium of legendary virulence.

He double-checked his armour's seals were intact then drew it forth with a steady hand and unclipped a canister of aerosolized antiseptic from its holder. A sharp twist removed the contents and he replaced it with the vial, creating a means of spreading the microbe far and wide. The improvised weapon in hand he stepped to an airvent and placed the nozzle against the opening, then squeezed the trigger. A plume of gas ejected forth and was caught by the currents beyond, carrying microbes through the ventilation system. Memnos kept up a steady stream of gas until his canister was empty, then stepped back with satisfaction.

Even now the bacteria would be spreading through the facility, carrying spores far and wide and triggering alerts across the domes. Memnos knew a Genic facility like this would have numerous safeguards against dangerous contaminations, any facility that dealt with matters biological had to be wary of accidental exposures. History had shown many times what horrors happened to worlds where savants lost control of the things they created. As the bacteria spread the cogitators would be automatically trying to close the ventilation system, isolating the outbreak. Sadly Memnos had locked the vents open, allowing the contamination to spread rapidly. Airtight doors and anti-septic retardants had also been disabled by his malicious work, every safeguard crippled save one.

A roaring noise accompanied by many screams echoed through the door and Memnos smiled grimly as he heard tragedy unfolding. The last safeguard and ultimate ward: fire. The Machine Spirits would be scouring all infected areas with purging flames, which thanks to his efforts would be everywhere inside the domes. The genestealers' base of operations would be destroyed by its own defences, the alien menace struck a grievous blow by the wisdom of the ancient builders and the cunning of one Space Marine.

Memnos did not believe it would stop the cult, they must have spread far and wide but he had hurt them this day. Surely they would feel this wound most keenly, whatever plan they had in motion would be seriously hampered by the loss of their breeding pit. Memnos turned and strode out the door as thick smoke billowed down the fetid passageway. He had put paid to one threat but more awaited him. He would deal with them in turn, but first he had to escape this place and link up with his Brothers. They had to know what he had uncovered before it was too late.