The Return of Rogal Dorn

Part 2: The Phalanx

The trip to Luna was more or less uneventful. Fabius spent the trip restrained to the point of immobility. It was quite boring. He couldn't even speak due to the face mask he was forced to wear. But he could think about the things he was going to do to Cawl when he escaped. "I will tear him apart, piece by piece. I will make him suffer for threatening my children. Then I will take his precious Alpha apart and use what I find to create the perfect Primaris! I will show you that I am better than you, you rusted fraud!"

After what felt like months, the Fists arrived to remove him from the ship's hold. Placing him on a hover tray, Bile was moved from hall to hall, the ship lined with Skitarii and Primaris Marines, weapons trained on him. The Chirurgeon had been removed and without it, he felt... naked. Exposed. He was weakened and near another death, yet they were working hard to keep him alive. His restraints were connected to a life support machine after all. They wanted him alive, but for what? He gave an inward smile. "I am valuable to the Imperium. I wonder if I'm on Mars. The heart of the Mechanicum! The secrets I will learn! All for me!"

He was not on Mars. He was on Luna. The sight of Luna's terrain from the viewing window was majestic. And in the distance was Terra. "I am close to Terra... So close. But why am I here?"

And then... he saw him. Taller than a Primaris Marine. Stronger and smarter than any living being, skin as dark as onyx and eyes as red as fire. The Primarch of the Salamanders. Vulkan. The last time he'd had any contact with Vulkan was just before he entered the Warp. Vulkan had been relentless, his anger at Fabius' treatment of Mortal test subjects insurmountable. And now he was here. Standing in front of him. Glaring down at him with absolute hatred in those eyes of fire.

Standing behind him were three Space Marines. He had never met them personally, but he knew them by reputation. Gregor Dessian, Chapter Master of the Imperial Fists, High Marshal Helbrecht of the Black Templars, and Pedro Kantor, Chapter Master of the Crimson Fists. The Sons of Rogal Dorn. "I think I'm getting an idea what this is about," Fabius thought with a smile.

"Fabius Bile," Vulkan said with a growl. "For 10,000 years you have avoided Imperial Justice. Now we have you. You will not know an ounce of freedom for the rest of your life. I will make you pay for all the lives you have ruined. But first, I have a task for you. The first good thing you will ever do." He pointed out the window of the Luna Base towards the Phalanx, the Fortress-Monastery flagship of the Imperial Fists in orbit around Luna, bigger and grander than any ship in the Imperial Fleet. "On board that ship, in stasis, are the remains of my brother, the Primarch Rogal Dorn. With the assistance of Belisarius Cawl, you will regenerate him from those remains. You will then be turned over to the authority of the Inquisition." He motioned to two people staring out the window. One was an older gentleman wearing power armor and the other looked like a Sister of Battle wielding a Crozius Arcanum. "You have no chance of escape, Bile. And if you tamper with his genetics in any way, shape or form, I will have you know that I have requested that a group of Astartes that are in the employ of the Inquisition to commence Exterminatus on Urum. I will then personally kill you with my bare hands. Do you understand? Blink twice for yes."

Bile blinked twice. Vulkan nodded and turned to the Chapter Masters. "Prepare the shuttle for transportation. Archmagos Cawl will meet you there and they will begin. And if anything goes wrong during or after the process, I will take responsibility. You have my word." The Chapter Masters saluted and bowed to Vulkan and began to move Bile away.

Vulkan hated himself for this. During Cawl's search for Bile, he had worked hard to make sure that nothing could go wrong. He had taken every precaution, made contact with local members of the Inquisition, and talked to the Imperial Fists and their most well-known Successor Chapters to convince them to allow this to happen. According to legend and rumors, Fabius Bile had not once, but twice cloned a Primarch. Then Cawl had returned with news that Bile had not only been found, but the same source of information said that Bile had even cloned Fulgrim himself. The clone had apparently been flawless with no trace of the Warp in its DNA. The clone had been lost, but the fact that it had worked told Vulkan that his plan would work. But he hated himself for even thinking of it.

When he'd met Fabius years before the Horus Heresy, he had gotten the sense that Bile was brilliant, but cold and ruthless for an Apothecary. But then the Heresy showed Bile's true colors. He was an insane maniac. A monster that deserved to die for his crimes. Then he learned the full scope of Bile's experiments on Astartes and normal humans. In his hearts, he secretly hoped Bile would fail so he could rid the universe of a monster. He turned to the Inquisitor and his companion.

"Lord Crowl, thank you for agreeing to this. I can tell you that it sickens me more than it does you to even look upon him or to even have him in the same vicinity as Terra." Erasmus Crowl and Luce Spinoza bowed to him.

"I understand, Lord Regent Vulkan. After all this monster has done to you and your brothers, it cannot be easy for you." Crowl had been recommended to him highly by Custodes Navradaran. Crowl was apparently one of the more ethical Inquisitors stationed on Terra. Spinoza was a more fanatical sort of person. She had refused to make eye contact with Vulkan upon meeting him. She had felt that she was unworthy of being in his presence.

"Our contacts in the Ordo Malleus have confirmed that the Grey Knights have Urum surrounded. They are ready to destroy the planet upon your word." Vulkan wasn't sure about that. In his hearts, he knew it was the right thing, but he had meant it as a threat.

"I say we hold off. Until he gives me an excuse." Crowl smiled at that.

"I understand, My Lord." He turned to stare at the Phalanx. "Before you begin this, I want you to know that my colleagues in the Ordo Hereticus highly disagree with this. And by that, they are considering your association as the highest form of Heresy."

"I see. So they are as bold as the rumors claim. I take it they are preparing assassins for me? The son of the Emperor?"

Spinoza was the one to speak up. Quite loudly. "OF COURSE NOT, MY LORD! It's just that... this is Heresy! Putting a Son of the God-Emperor's fate into the hands of a Daemon like Bile? It is unthinkable!"

"Are you saying that I am a Heretic, Interrogator Spinoza," Vulkan asked with a raised eyebrow.

Spinoza looked horrified as she realized what she had just said. "M-my Lord Regent. I... I didn't mean to say that you were..."

Crowl put a calming hand on his protege's shoulder. "It is fine, Luce. Lord Vulkan was having a go at you. He was not accusing you."

"Indeed I wasn't. As for this decision, I am aware of the consequences should it all go wrong. But I am willing to shoulder them as my father shouldered the consequences of his actions 10,000 years ago when the war between me and my seventeen brothers occurred. But I am willing to do whatever it takes to make sure nothing goes wrong. Rogal Dorn will live again as he was before. Now if you will excuse me, my sons will escort you to your quarters. I promise to inform you if there are any developments in the negative." As he left to take his shuttle, he heard Spinoza call to him.

"My Lord? You said... seventeen brothers. There were only nine holy Primarchs. There were nine Devils, including Horus, but... they were not the Emperor's sons."

Vulkan turned back to her, the same eyebrow raised again. "Is that so? I will have to ask father about those events. My memory must be worse than I thought. So much for divine infallibility."

Crowl did his best to suppress a smile as Spinoza was shocked for silence. Vulkan moved on to his shuttle to take him to the Phalanx. He was not going to let this go without his supervision. As he entered the shuttle and took his seat on his throne, he suppressed the urge to crush everything in sight. He knew why the Church could not just be swept away, but he loathed how little truth there was in their dogma. How half his brothers were denied their connection to him and the loyalists. No matter what they had done, they were still of his blood and that could not be denied. "No matter how much I wish it."

He remembered his first meeting with Perturabo. At first, he had only known him by reputation as a destroyer of walls and cities. However, when they had actually met during a campaign in which the Iron Warriors and the Salamanders worked surprisingly well together on, he saw more to the Lord of Iron than Dorn would have had him believe. Perturabo introduced him to his workshop and in there, Vulkan saw an artist. A creator.

"These are beautiful," he said, looking over a pile of sketches of architecture. "When this is over, I would be honored if you would grace Nocturne with cities like these." He picked up a sketch of what looked like an arena. "What is this one?"

Perturabo took it quickly from his hands. "A project Magnus and I have been working on. It's not quite ready yet so I would appreciate some anonymity."

Vulkan nodded. "Of course."

They had spent the day in talk about their love of craft. Unfortunately, the day had turned sour when the methods of each other's Legions had come into question. They had still managed to part on good terms and in the hopes of fighting alongside one another, but Vulkan had sensed something in Perturabo that he should have remembered before Istvaan V. Bitterness. Perturabo had been bitter, having spent his childhood as a maker of weapons and only weapons for his adopted father, the Tyrant of Lochos, and now he was only known as a Warsmith rather than just a smith. He often wondered what would have happened had their places been switched. Would Vulkan have fostered that much bitterness in his hearts or would they have been the same as they were now? Of all those who had turned, he felt Perturabo had the most potential to be more than what he was.

Angron had been nothing but resentment and hatred. When they had met, Vulkan had tried to be genteel, but Angron had pushed him away, only wanting to focus on the battle ahead. Fulgrim had been cultured, but his vanity was clear for all to see. His pride and arrogance had long damned him before Istvaan. Magnus... He wished he could have done something for Magnus. He had been more a scholar than a warrior. A seeker of knowledge lost to time and his loss to Chaos had been a hard blow to the Imperium's future. He cursed Horus and Russ for their parts in Magnus' fall. Then, as he looked unto the void, he thought of Curze.

He had tried to help Konrad once. Had tried to steer him away from the darkness he had been bathing in for all his life. But it had been no use. Curze had long embraced the path of misery and murder. Nostramo had broken him and he had enjoyed it. Curze had claimed to be a victim himself, a victim of circumstance and birth. That it wasn't his fault he butchered whole populations of cities in the name of compliance. That it was all he knew how to do. "You may have been broken, brother... but you chose to remain so," Vulkan growled. Of all the traitors, he could never and would never forgive Curze for what he had done. To his sons and to Vulkan. The torture he had subjected Vulkan to had cost him his sanity, leaving him a raving mess of a savage that could only express himself in violence. It had only been his, at the time, final death that had freed him of the madness.

He did not know who had done it, his mind had been a blood haze then, but he remembered a feeling of kinship with his killer at the time. A feeling of being trapped in a body that would not die, that would not let him rest because the universe was not done with him. He had never learned the man's name or remembered his face, but he felt gratitude towards that man. "Wherever you are... whoever you were... Thank you. Thank you for freeing me." He turned his head towards the cockpit and closed his eyes. He was grateful for being allowed on board the Phalanx while the process was underway. He was Regent and as Regent, he had a responsibility to his people, including his nephews.

The three Chapter Masters watched as Lord Vulkan's shuttle approached. They did not like this. Yet, the prospect of the return of their father was too much to pass up. Gregor Dessian was the newest of the three to take the title of Chapter Master and he felt unworthy to be in the presence of heroes like the ones he stood next to. Gregor had been Captain of 7th Company at the time and had been surprised when it had ultimately been bestowed upon him. When he looked upon High Marshal Helbrecht and Pedro Kantor, he felt inadequate. It was true that he had won glory in battle, but it was nothing compared to them. Helbrecht had been placed in charged of the Astartes during the War on Armageddon and had been crucial in their victory against the Orks. Pedro Kantor had lead his Chapter proudly, saving it from near destruction during the Invasion of Rynn's World and the aftermath when the Chapter's future and viability was in serious doubt. He had even crossed the rubicon so as to stand on equal footing with his new Primaris Battle Brothers. Who was he to stand beside men like these?

As if sensing his apprehension, Pedro Kantor turned to him, still helmeted. "You are troubled, Brother. I understand the feeling."

Gregor nodded. "This deal the Regent has made. It isn't right. We shouldn't have to bargain with Fabius Bile. Nor should we need his help."

Kantor nodded and gave an answer that told Gregor he was smiling underneath his helm. "Because we've been doing so well at resurrecting our own Primarch, haven't we?"

Gregor laughed at this. "That we have, Brother. That we have."

Helbrecht was not amused. "We should not disturb the dead like this! It feel blasphemous to even consider replicating the majesty and might of Rogal Dorn! Much less to have the Primogenitor sully his remains like this!"

Gregor and Pedro looked at one another. Of the three, Helbrecht's Chapter was the only one to truly regard the Emperor of Mankind as a God. One could look a thousand years and not find a Space Marine whose fervor and zeal matched that of the High Marshall of the Black Templars. He believed what he was saying and he meant it with all his hearts.

Gregor decided that it would be best to be frank with Helbrecht. To not walk on eggshells as the old Terran saying went. "Do you fear to meet Dorn himself, High Marshal," he asked while addressing him by his proper title. Helbrecht glowered at Gregor. His eyes piercing the Imperial Fist as if willing him to repeat his accusation of cowardice. Gregor did not stand down. Imperial Fists did not back away. "Because I do." Kantor looked at him with surprise. "I fear... that he will find us unworthy. That after all we went through, we would be found wanting in the eyes of the Primarch. That we became a shadow of what his Legion was during the early years of the Great Crusade. It... frightens me."

Helbrecht looked at Gregor for a moment longer before answering. "In part, yes. But that is not it. What if Rogal Dorn is not dead? What if we have made a simulacrum, a false image that pales in comparison to the true Rogal Dorn? What if the true Dorn returns to find we have replaced him with a copy? What then? What then? We will have blasphemed for nothing and insulted our Genesire for nothing. We will have betrayed him in the worst way possible: That we lost faith in our father and decided to replace him. No, Brother. I do not fear to meet him. I fear that I will have failed him."

Gregor lets the words wash over him. He had not considered that. In truth, he had long made peace with the idea that Rogal Dorn died millennia ago in battle. But the return of the five Primarchs had been a sign of hope. Guilliman's return had been inevitable as far as the Ultramarines had been concerned. But Dorn's? What if Dorn was out there amongst the stars? Lost and alone, his mind robbed by centuries in isolation and abandonment. The Sons of Dorn were taking a gamble with this. They were risking everything on a hope that their Primarch could not only be returned, but this would be his only return. Gregor clapped a hand on Helbrecht's pauldron.

"If Dorn does return, if we have failed him, then I may never forgive myself. Nor do I think that I will ever forgive Vulkan for making us do this."

Pedro spoke next. "Do not blame Vulkan, Chapter Master. We made the choice. We could have refused to allow this. We could have. But we did not. The blame will rest with the Sons of Dorn. And we will take it on our shoulders."

Gregor did not answer. He just looked out towards Terra as the Phalanx Orbited. Whatever happened next, would define the Imperium forever.

For the next several days, the Medicae Halls of the Phalanx were dedicated solely to the revival of the Primarch. The Imperial Fists and many Companies of their successor Chapters had been called to Terra to stand guard as the Archmagos and Fabius Bile bickered and cooperated simultaneously on what the proper method of revival would be. The extraction of tissue samples from the hand was a particularly delicate matter that required several Apothecaries to be present to make sure the samples were not damaged or contaminated. Cawl welcomed their presence while Bile sneered at them. Cawl could tell that Bile's contempt for the Apothecaries ran deeper than old grudges. He saw them as cowards that had never even considered crossing the lines that he was willing to. The necessity of progress as Bile saw it.

Alpha Primus stood as the sole guard inside of the lab while the Space Marines took guard outside, each Chapter rotating shifts as they went. Qvo-87 was the only non-Space Marine besides Cawl allowed on the inside, serving as Cawl's assistant as the process went on. Medical Servitors filled in for a proper staff and Bile made his voice known that he felt it would be easier if they had a normal medical staff on the inside, but Cawl refused. What they were doing could not be trusted to the hands of a normal staff. Especially if the enemies of the Imperium had caught word of their plans. Or if any of the High Lords of Terra that still held grudges against the Primarchs as a result of their lack of power had spies on the inside.

Every so often, the three Chapter Masters that had been appointed as the overall representatives of the Sons of Dorn would check in and make the usual threats to both Bile and Cawl if this failed, though Cawl noticed that the threats directed at him were more subdued rather than the overt threats leveled at Bile. He welcomed their presence all the same and kept them appraised of any updates. Eventually he told them the full scope of his plan.

"The hand of Rogal Dorn is the starting point from which your Primarch will be reborn. From the tissue samples we have extracted, we can see that the regenerative capabilities all Primarchs possess is more or less dormant in the cells. However, there is still damage that is inhibiting growth and that is where Bile's expertise comes in."

The Chapter Masters glared in disgust at Bile as he smiled from his restraint throne. He had been allowed off it every so often, but his input to the process had been more advisory while Cawl and Qvo did the main grunt work. "We are going to be stimulating your Primarch's cells with samples extracted from Regent Vulkan," the Clonelord said, affecting a false air of gravitas when he said the name of the Primarch of the Salamanders. "We have determined that Lord Vulkan is what was known in the early days of the Imperium... as a Perpetual. He can regenerate from the state of death itself. Whether this is because of the radiation of Nocturne or something inherited from the Emperor, we cannot say for certain, but it is the key to your Primarch's return!" This last sentence was spoken with manic glee as he reveled in being the one to break this news to the Chapter Masters.

The Chapter Masters looked at each other. "Will that affect his DNA? His appearance," Gregor asked. "Will he look like a fusion of Lord Dorn and Lord Vulkan?"

Cawl gave a mechanical chuckle as a faint smile could be seen underneath his mask. "No, no, Chapter Master. We have talked about this with Lord Vulkan and we have found a way to extract the key regenerative source without his DNA corrupting that of your Primarch's. He will be the same appearance as he was in life."

Pedro spoke next. "What of his memories? His mind? Will he be a blank slate or as he was in life?"

"The DNA of a Primarch is an amazing thing to behold," Cawl said. "Whenever Lord Vulkan regenerated, he retained the same thoughts and memories he had before his deaths. It is as if his very core, his very being was preserved in his cells. We believe that will be the same for Rogal Dorn. Genetic Memory if you will."

The three Chapter Masters spoke for what felt like an hour. Finally, Helbrecht was the one to speak. "We will consent to this. But be warned, Archmagos. If this fails, both of you will be held accountable. Both of you will suffer the wrath of the Sons of Dorn. Not even Mars itself will be able to protect you, Belisarius Cawl. We will wipe you and all your followers off the face of the Galaxy. Is that understood?"

Cawl did not look visibly shaken by this threat. "It is understood, High Marshal Helbrecht. Crystal clear."

As the days went on, Cawl and Fabius began chatting more and more before Fabius was taken back to his cell and placed in his life support harness. Cawl found Fabius interesting. The way he spoke about his creations was that of a proud father. As one who knew their names by heart and would weep for each one that died. Each creation of his was something he put his heart and soul into making perfect and he would be damned if he heard any words against them.

On the other hand, Cawl found Fabius' glee at the various people and marines he butchered to be abhorrent. Cawl was not one to back down from doing what was necessary for science, but Fabius took it all too far. To him, morality was something that others adhered as a sign of weakness. That they could not take the steps he would and that bothered Cawl. And then there was the ego. As brilliant as Fabius was, he was still a lunatic with delusions of Godhood. When Cawl brought this up, Fabius laughed at it.

"Unlike my former brothers, I do not worship nor do I believe in their God. The one thing I have in common with the Corpse Emperor is that I do not subscribe to delusions such as worship or religion. I am a father. Nothing more." Cawl doubted those words.

Following the integration of Lord Vulkan's cells with that of the marrow within Dorn's Hand, the process became that of a waiting game. For days, Cawl and Fabius watched as cells began to multiply within the hand, forming skin cells, muscle tissue, and bones. Slowly, but surely, the hand started to extend into that of an arm. From the fingertips, skin began to form over the hand. It spread as the bones and muscle tissue grew and grew. Soon, they had to transfer the hand, which was already pretty big, into a larger tank where they watched as a body began to slowly, but fully, form. Cawl looked on in amazement as this happened, raising himself higher so as to come to eye level with the soon-to-be fully reborn giant. It was... beautiful to watch. Life was being restored to a being that had only been talked about as a legend. More than a man and less than a God. "Praise be to the Omnissiah," Cawl said in a buzzing whisper. He lowered himself and moved to stand beside Fabius. Fabius looked just as proud as Cawl felt. They had done it. It would take a while longer to finalize, but they had done it. They had rebuilt Rogal Dorn.

"Congratulations, Archmagos Dominus," Fabius said. It took a moment for Cawl to realize that Fabius was being sincere.

"Thank you, Chief Apothecary," Cawl said in response. "And congratulations to you as well."

It amazed Cawl that a Traitor Marine had been key in the revival of a Primarch. While Cawl felt he could have done it himself, Fabius had been helpful in getting the process done quicker. He had proven himself to be invaluable and Cawl had to admit that. He had grown to respect Fabius these last few weeks. If only he had not given himself to insanity. They might have been friends once upon a time. The two of them could have been the key figures in the Primaris Project. But those were thoughts of what could have been. Not what was happening now. Fabius would soon be treated as a criminal again. He would be placed in a cell and locked away and soon executed for his crimes against the Imperium. He may not have liked wasting a brilliant mind like that, but Cawl had to admit that Fabius had to pay for his crimes. It would have been an insult to the dead to let him or his mind live on.

Fabius smiled as he was wheeled back to his cell. He had done it. He had resurrected another Primarch. And this time it had been one that had been given up completely for dead. This was more impressive than cloning Fulgrim from the DNA of the Emperor's Children. This was on the level of true necromancy, such was the Ancient Terran term. He remembered a book from Terra's past that was written by a Terran female about a scientist that created a living cadaver from stitched together body parts. He felt like that scientist. He felt joy and pride in his and Cawl's accomplishment. Now he just needed to get out and to return to his lab. But that was easier said than done.

As he was restrained in his life support throne, an Imperial Fist Apothecary leaned forward to finish securing him and whispered something in his ear. Fabius' blood froze as the Space Marines left him in the darkness. He smiled as his escape route became clear. He had a way out and that way out had spoken three words that told him his time here was coming to an end. Three words that signaled subversion and deceit. "I am Alpharius."

Author's note:

I'm glad I got this done before the end of my vacation! Next Sunday I am back to work, but my works will be continuing onwards! But first a couple things.

The first is the introduction of Erasmus Crowl and Luce Spinoza from Chris Wraight's Vaults of Terra books, which I recommend you to read. I am a fan of the characters, but this isn't the first time I have used them. Those who have been with the series from my first chapter may recall I had a chapter where the Eldar showed up as guests on Terra following their extraction of the Hand of Darkness from Mortarion as shown in the Hand of Darkness story by Gav Thorpe. I removed it from the site and my series' canon because I felt that it didn't really fit the story or the tone. I was also really figuring out what I wanted my stories to be like so I have no regrets removing it. But I wanted to include Crowl and Spinoza somehow and I figured this would be fine.

The part with the Chapter Masters of the three most well known Sons of Dorn Chapters was probably my favorite part to write. I am a big fan of Helsreach and Rynn's World of the Space Marine Battles series and it was great to write Pedro Kantor and Helbrecht as characters. Gregor Dessian I decided to write as an unsure individual because he is standing next to what are basically Space Marine Legends (Heh). His accomplishments are small compared to these guys and he is trying to find his place. The part with Helbrecht was something that I came up with on the fly since I knew someone had to be the odd man out with this plan of Vulkan and Cawl's and I realized "They are cloning a Primarch. If it fails, then the Fists and their successors won't have the True Rogal Dorn back. Even if he has his memories, it still will be a clone" and if Dorn is alive (Maybe he is... maybe he isn't...) then they will have basically just gotten a giant white haired replacement goldfish.

Also, I plan to have some successor Chapters appear based on Chapters that were wiped out in the past. That's the beauty of the Primaris Marines. Even if they're not quite the same, the Lost Chapters can be brought back. Even if the guys who had a hand in the wiping out don't like it.

Writing Fabius and Cawl was a pleasure for me since Cawl is my favorite Warhammer character and Fabius is such a deliciously evil baddie. I had actually thought of killing him off, but that would be a waste. And with the reveal at the end of this chapter, I think Fabius is gonna be alright. The end of this story arc is coming up and I promise you, Fans of Dorn, your faith will be rewarded! Tenfold!