Flesh is Weak but Deeds Endure

It was a few days later when the time for the Chalice of Fire's departure from Fenris came. By day N'Bella had traveled across Asaheim, seeing the sights of the World of the Wolves. By night, Russ told her stories of his travels in the Warp, much to Vulkan's irritation. Her favorite story was the tale of Isha and Russ.

"Are you ever gonna see her again," She asked the night before departure was scheduled.

Russ smiled. "No, Little One. I don't think I ever will. She must stay where she is in the Warp. There she can fight Nurgle's plagues as best she can."

N'Bella sighed. "But then how will you get married?"

Russ laughed at this. "Marriage... is not something I can see occurring between me and an Aeldari Goddess."

"Why?"

"We are of two different species. Such a thing would be frowned upon."

"Why?"

"Because Humanity and Xenos races can never coexist."

"Why?"

"Because Humanity is destined to rule the stars and Xenos races have no right to it."

"Why?"

"Because... my father told me."

She didn't ask why that time. Russ smiled and kissed her good night. "Sleep well, Princess. You have the beginnings of a great journey tomorrow."

N'Bella bid her uncle goodbye the next day at the departure pad with a kiss. "Thank you for Skadi. I'll love her lots."

"Remember, N'Bella. A wolf like her is a companion for life. Take care of her."

He stood and shook hands with Vulkan. "It was good to see you again, brother. Take care of yourself."

Vulkan embraced Russ. "Take care of yourself and remain vigilant, Brother."

Onboard the Chalice of Fire, Vulkan watched as the migrant fleet continued to drop off its civilian populace. Russ had told him that he would be monitoring the integration of the species closely and that they would abide by the agreement. While the people of Fenris were beholden to the Imperium and its laws, being the home planet of the Space Wolves gave them a certain amount of leverage, especially given events proudly told by Logan Grimnar as "The Months of Shame". Vulkan had smiled at that. While the pragmatic side of him understood the need to suppress the spread of Chaos, he was proud of the Space Wolves for taking a stand and sticking to their principles. He only wished that he could have been there for it.

As the Chalice of Fire traveled through the Warp towards its rendezvous with the Iron Hands vessel, N'Bella took every chance she could between training with Aleya to play with Skadi. She would throw objects down the hallways for Skadi to chase. The child made sure to apologize whenever Skadi got in the way of a crewmember or caused a problem. And always Fan'drall or one of his battle-brothers was behind her. Whenever she slept, Skadi was at N'Bella's feet, curled up and waiting for her owner to wake up.

"You do not trust the wolf," Valerian signed to Aleya one night while the two of them stood guard outside N'Bella's chambers.

Aleya nodded and signed back. "It is still a beast. Give it a collar or a treat, it will one day harm her. You cannot change a predator's nature. Especially one born of a world like Fenris."

"It seems loyal enough. It is affectionate towards her."

"For now. But one day it will grow and then it will become hungry. At best, she'll have defanged it enough so that it is a poor protector. At worst, it will resent her and desire her flesh as recompense for its imprisonment." She paused before signing again. "You are quite... optimistic for one of your kind. I would have expected a pragmatic response from you."

Valerian surprised her with what looked like a smile. "When you have seen the Galaxy with the eyes of one who had only seen Terra, optimism is just one of the side effects."

Aleya thought that over for a minute and then asked him a question in sign. "How do your battle-brothers feel about your changes? You have become different than a normal Custodian. And your kind are not one to accept change so easily."

Valerian considered that question before answering in sign. "Some have become... distant. Tribune Colquan himself looks at me with something... I believe it is disdain. I have changed and that... disturbs them... and me."

"I'm sorry," Aleya signed.

"Don't be. I am a guardian of the Imperial Palace and what is the Imperium but the Imperial Palace expanded across the Galaxy. It is my duty to see to it."

Aleya was about to respond when an alarm sounded off and the voice of Shipmaster Phon'x could be heard over the Vox Speakers. "Attention! Real Space entry commencing! Real Space Entry commencing! Rendezvous site with Iron Hands ship has been reached!"

Vulkan entered the bridge and walked up to the Shipmaster's Throne. "Status, Shipmaster?"

Phon'x bowed his head. "We've sent a signal to the cruiser Alloyed and expect a response soon."

Vulkan waited patiently for a few minutes before the chimes of a Vox signal could be heard. The Master of Vox turned to Vulkan and the Shipmaster. "We have a signal, Lord. They request Hololith communications."

Phon'x nodded and a pict image of an Iron Hands Space Marine appeared. "Lord Vulkan. I am Chapter Master Kardan Stronos. It is an honor to meet you."

Vulkan bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Chapter Master Stronos. The honor is mine. I will meet you aboard the Alloyed. Vulkan out."

The pict feed cut out and Vulkan turned to depart. "You have the bridge, Shipmaster. Take care of it."

"Aye, My Lord."

As the gunship touched down in the Alloyed's hanger, Vulkan stood in front of the hatch with two servitors behind him carrying a massive container between them. He had insisted on going alone. "I trust the Iron Hands' loyalty more than anything. I fought alongside them when they were Legion and they would sooner die than betray their gene-father's brother."

As the hatch lowered, he was greeted by the sight of 100 Iron Hands, Primaris and Firstborn, standing together, their right fists clenched in the old Terran salute. At their front stood their Chapter Master himself. Helm maglocked to his hip and the Axe of Medusa held in his right hand, Kardan Stronos was an intimidating sight for any mortal. As Vulkan fully emerged from the gunship, Stronos and all the Iron Hands present fell on bended knee.

"Lord Vulkan," Stronos began. "It is an honor to have you aboard my ship and Clan Garrsak welcomes you."

"Rise, Chapter Master. I will not have one of my nephews kneel before me." He held out his hand which dwarfed the Chapter Master's own great hand considerably. Stronos took it and the two shook hands. Vulkan then stepped aside and motioned for the servitors to come forward. "I bring you a gift I have been working on in my spare time. Ferrus Manus' First Captain, Gabriel Santar wore a pair of Lightning Claws in battle and slew many enemies with them. While the designs have changed, I have decided to embrace the old designs with this." The container opened up to reveal a single Lightning Claw with talons for fingers. Each talon was decorated with the design of a silver wyrm. Apart from that, Vulkan had refrained from any further decorations so as to respect the Chapter's tastes in function over form.

"I call it 'Wyrm Bane'. May it serve your Chapter and its Champions well."

Stronos detached his left hand and attached the Claw to it. With a thought, he flexed it and electricity erupted from the claw. He held it high to a cheer from his brothers. "I thank you, Lord Vulkan. Come. Let us retire to much more private chambers."

The forge they entered was Stronos' personal sanctuary. Weapons of all types and sizes decorated the walls and even Vulkan was impressed with the variety. Bombs, swords, axes, hammers, and guns of all kinds were there and Vulkan had a tinge of nostalgia for his own forge on Nocturne. He had created weapons that were both works of art and tools of planetary destruction. He had forged many on the Chalice of Fire, which he'd also counted among his artefacts. These were nowhere near the level of power his had been, but they were still impressive.

"Very beautiful in their minimal design," he said at last.

"Most would call them 'plain'," Stronos said with some humor.

"Of the Iron Hands I knew, only Ferrus had an artistic flair to him and even then he limited it to one particular feature."

A shadow passed over Stronos at the mention of the lost Primarch of the Iron Hands. Vulkan noticed it and decided to hold back on talking about his fallen brother unless asked. He would not have to wait long.

"What was he like," Stronos asked.

Vulkan let out a breath as if a great weight had been lifted from his massive shoulders. "Stubborn is the first word that comes to mind when I think of Ferrus," Vulkan said after a moment's consideration. "Opinionated is another. Brutal and ruthless are some more. Brilliant and loyal. That is who Ferrus was. I remember the first time I met him. He looked at me like I was a machine he wanted to take apart to understand how I worked. He wanted to help with my armor, but I managed to get it done fast enough. There was work to be done."

Stronos placed his left hand, now replaced with the normal one, the Lightning Claw hung up with reverence. "It was said that you two did not always get along."

Vulkan shook his head. "Not always. Our ways of war were different. He was the hammer, applied with force to pound out the weakness he saw in the iron. I was the hammer and chisel. Applied precisely."

"And yet your method of war involved lots and lots... of fire."

Vulkan chuckled at that. "Ferrus often said as much. He would point out how I would preach against the use of Virus Bombs and other chemical weapons, but would gladly use fire, which, I admit, does take a long time to end an opponent. But we all must have limits. To me, it was my one exception. I would not be cruel and melt the flesh off with weapons like Mortarion would, but I would bring fire to my enemies. Besides, fire is not just destruction." He looked into the glow of the forge as he spoke, the light reflecting off his bright red eyes. "Fire is destruction and life. On cold winter nights of Old Terra, it was fire that humanity would gather around to stay warm. Fire, when used with care and restraint, cooks food to the point where it is safe to eat. Fire destroys, but it also brings and preserves life. Fire was said to be the first scientific achievement of our species. Whereas Virus Bombs just... destroy. They do not allow for new life to grow like the soil that surrounds a volcano. They rob a planet of the chance to make life again. I am fine with being called a hypocrite, but I stand by my choices."

Stronos conceded the point. "Well said. Being a politician definitely suits you with speeches like that."

Vulkan smiled again. "I feel less like a politician and more like a seat-filler. Rogal and Roboute are more suited to the role, yet I was the one who accepted it."

"Do you wish you had not?"

"Often. I miss the freedom I had to go to my workshop and I do wish I could spend more time with my daughter, but that is why I am on this pilgrimage. I wish to be a father and not a Regent for a time."

"So this is for the child?" Stronos considered that for a moment and then continued. "In Ferrus Manus' writings, he states that he did love you, but your weakness for human life frustrated him. That it held you back."

Vulkan smiled. "He told me that several times. It was how I knew he respected me. He did not hold anything back with those he held in regard." Vulkan thought back to those days and had a question that he'd wondered for a while. "Shadrak Meduson of the Sorrgol Clan. He was the Warleader of the Shattered Legions during the Heresy. How did he die?"

"He was captured and executed by Tybalt Marr after leading a suicidal attack onto his ship. Why? Did you know him?"

"Briefly. He was driven. But pragmatic. It was his hope that the Shattered Legions could deal a decisive blow against Horus and his Legion. Did no one try to save him?"

Stronos shook his head. "As far as records go, he was given ample opportunity to retreat. The Iron Council had no choice but to retreat or else lose the remainder of the Iron Hands."

"So he was abandoned." It wasn't a question.

"No, they made a choice. It was the only way to save the Legion."

"Who gave the order to retreat?"

"Iron Father Jebez Aug."

Vulkan knew that name. He had been Meduson's right hand and had briefly turned against him to join the Cult of the Gorgon. The Cult believed they had resurrected Ferrus Manus with one of his arms attached to a machine. Vulkan believed by destroying that machine and the arm, he had cured them of that delusion. "Did I truly make a difference or did I make it worse," Vulkan thought to himself. "Did I have any impact on their brotherhood or was Meduson truly overcome with his obsession to kill Tybalt Marr?" He turned to Stronos, his eyes cold.

"If you were in Jebez Aug's position, would you have made the same choice? Would you abandon a brother to die if your calculations told you it was the right move?" His blood began to run hot. His voice rising. "Have my brother's sons become so emotionless that they would abandon a brother in need?!"

Stronos raised his hands. "Primarch, if you are asking if I would do the same as Iron Council of the old days, I can tell you I would not. We are a pragmatic brotherhood, but I would not do as they did. You may not know this, but... We are trying to change. For a long time, we denied the humanity in ourselves because we believed it made us stronger but I do not believe that. We are learning to incorporate emotion into our way of life and battle. I once tried to help a planet under threat from a Tyranid Hive Fleet evacuate. My brothers and I fought as best we could to help the Imperial Guards there, but in the end, we could not tip the balance in our favor. We had to evacuate."

Vulkan considered those words. "What of the augmentations? Will you force the Primaris to do the same?"

Stronos contemplated those words. "If they choose it, which they probably will. You know the old saying. 'The Flesh is Weak.'"

Vulkan's fist fell upon the forge anvil, breaking it in half, his teeth gritted, his eyes alight with anger. He turned on Stronos, fists clenched, and began to advance. "THAT IS A MISQUOTE!"

Stronos stepped back, one hand moving to his pistol at his side while the other was raised in a placating manner. "Lord Vulkan, please."

"YOU DARE PERVERT MY BROTHER'S WORDS TO JUSTIFY YOUR ACTIONS! FERRUS NEVER WANTED THIS FOR HIS SONS! YOU DO NOT EVEN KNOW THE FULL CONTEXT OF THAT QUOTE!"

Stronos remained calm as Vulkan raged, his other hand raised. "Then tell me the full context, Lord Vulkan. I would know the true words of my gene-father."

Vulkan stopped and closed his eyes. He was more than his rage. It was what separated him from Ferrus Manus. "After a campaign in which we fought Orks, Ferrus stated that his arms felt tired. I said "The flesh is weak, but deeds endure." Stronos' organic eye widened at that. Vulkan smiled. He didn't think he could make an Iron Hand surprised. "Yes. I am the one who created that quote. Not Ferrus. While flesh may decay, the memory of our deeds will live on with the people we helped and their descendants. I am not going to tell you how to run your Chapter, but know that this isn't what Ferrus wanted. He wished for his sons to remember where they came from, not to discard it in favor of strength. Flesh may be weak, but metal can also rust with time."

Stronos looked as if he was considering this. "What you are asking will not sit well with the Council. Firstborn Astartes are already wary of them and the potential of them being replaced. Many will consider bionics simply for the chance to be accepted."

Vulkan considered this. "When my brother, Angron, first met his Legion, he ordered the implantation of the Butcher's Nails. Even after they were implanted in his Legion, it only lead to disaster. The Nails turned the World Eaters into the monsters that plague the Galaxy to this day. I am not saying that will happen to the Primaris, but I suggest you let the Primaris earn their place in the Chapter through their deeds, not the state of their bodies. Let their deeds endure. Let them prove they have just as much right to stand beside their brethren in battle."

Stronos gave a wheeze that sounded like a sigh. "I will... consider this, Primarch. We are a Chapter that embraces tradition to its core. As I have said, it will be difficult to convince them of this. But I will try. It would be easier to convince them of this... if it was Ferrus himself giving the message."

Vulkan closed his eyes in understanding. "I agree with you. It would be simpler if he were here. Even when I met the Council 10,000 years ago, they were hesitant to listen to one that was not of their own. This might even cost you your position as Chapter Master."

Stronos' face behind his mask turned up in a smile. "They can try to take it from me. My service to the Chapter ends when I die, Lord Vulkan. Not a moment before. I will try though. Perhaps it is time for somethings to change."

Vulkan smiled at that. He decided he liked Stronos.

"Now," Stronos said, taking a seat and pouring a drink of dark looking liquid from a pitcher. "I would like to know about the man that lead the Iron Hands before Ferrus Manus was found. Tell me of Amadeus DuCaine."

Back on the Chalice of Fire, Vulkan thought about his meeting with Stronos. What he had learned about Meduson's death had shocked him. To know that his brother's sons could display such disloyalty to their own, even as understandable as their reasons could be, shook him to his very core. But Stronos represented change for the Iron Hands. Something that would allow them to regain what they had lost after Ferrus' death. "Perhaps they can regain their humanity after all."

Far across the Galaxy, in Ultima Segmentum, a ship drifted through the Void, its engines at the lowest possible power to avoid detection. It had been rechristened by its inhabitants as the Nightfall and it was one of many ships that prowled the Galaxy, looking for its inhabitants lost brothers in order to rebuild what had been lost. To bring back the Eighth Legion. It also had a tail.

From a small void worthy gunship, a figure in midnight blue power armor ejected himself towards the Nightfall, his body curled up in a ball. He had been tracking this ship for months and months, hoping that this would be the ship that had the man he sought. Thanks to his planted associate aboard, he had confirmation that his father was there. As he silently propelled himself using his jump-pack, the man smiled to himself. The First Captain had returned.

Author's Notes:

Hey, everyone. New chapter is up. The next one might be a while due to my upcoming move next week so I'm gonna take this at my own pace.

As for the story itself, this is one I've been looking forward to doing for a while. The Iron Hands are a Chapter that have always had a tinge of tragedy to them. Not so much as the Blood Angels, but the loss of their humanity through augmentation is something that has been an issue for them. Vulkan calling their motto out as bastardized is something I planned on doing since I listened to the short story "Deeds Endure". I was also not a fan of how the Shattered Legions subplot from the Horus Heresy series ended with Meduson dying. True the Iron Hands were destined to become what they are in the modern day, but I wish Meduson had come to a much better end than being abandoned to die. It would have been better had it been a willing sacrifice to buy time for his brothers to escape rather than being abandoned since it makes the Iron Hands look no better than the bastards that tore them apart in the first place. I've also been reading David Guymer's Iron Hand books and while I understand they are not everyone's cup of tea, but I like them myself and the character of Kardan Stronos.

I've also adjusted some of the previous chapters to make the future a bit more manageable for me story-wise.

As for the very end? I'm gonna let that speak for itself. It's definitely gonna pay off. Next up is Chogoris and a bedtime story for N'Bella.