Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 245
Brontes stood in an observation alcove, staring into a sterile surgical suite. From here he could see whirring machines and drip lines in exacting detail, all connected to Kerubim's inert body. The boy was surrounded by Chirugeons and Medicae servitors, their scalpels and suturing needles laid upon metal trays. Strange jars bubbled as odd bulges floated within, clone-flesh for Kerubim's destroyed organs and gene-seed implants, freshly grown for this specific purpose. It was an image of surgical expertise, but marred by the wizened clerics standing in every corner, reciting votive psalms from leather tomes while small children stood nearby, waving incense sticks and trying to not make it obvious when they picked their noses. A professional wailer stood behind a plastek screen, clad head to toe in black and dabbing her implanted tear-ducts that wept continuously in mourning. The clash of hyper-advanced technology and primitive superstition ground on Brontes' nerves, everything he despised about this degenerate age in one room and he found it difficult not to storm in there and throw the spare baggage out.
"Are we truly trusting Kerubim's life to these witless simpletons?" he growled.
They are the finest Magos Biologis in the galaxy," Jordig stated coolly, "You will find no greater hands to perform the operation."
"That's not the same as saying you think this will work."
"No it's not," Jordig grumbled.
In the room there was a disturbance as Belisarius Cawl made his entrance, the Archmagos skittering inside on many legs. He wore sterile robes and metalwork gleamed from anti-septic scrubbing, but he still looked greasy to Brontes' eyes. The physicians made room as he crept nearer, looming over the table where Kerubim was laid like a slab of meat. Cawl seemed giddy with excitement as he crowed, "Today we make history! Today we break the boundaries of what is possible and take a step into the Omnissiah's realm that has never before been explored!"
"Quit boasting and get started," Brontes grumbled though none inside could hear him.
Kerubim however looked up at the Archmagos and said, "I understand you will have to stop my biological functions for this to work?"
"We will take you to the edge of death," Cawl admitted, "But bring you back renewed."
"You better," Kerubim growled, "I will not suffer to live like this. If your Rubicon Primaris fails, then don't bother to revive me. I wake up a Primaris, or I don't wake up. Understood?"
Cawl answer was to take a gas mask and place it over Kerubim's face. Soporific gases wafted into his nose, designed to suppress Astartes healing capacity, crippled as it was. Brontes had scoured Cawl's theoretical notes and learned for this to work Kerubim had to be essentially dead. They would rebuild his body and replace destroyed implants, adding three new ones too. Then Kerubim would be revived. In theory the shock would restart his system, forcing the implants to begin the agonising process of growing bones and nerves. This was the key to restoring the boy, the damage to his nerves and spinal cord was too extensive to repair any other way, forcing new growth was the only prospect for remaking him. Unfortunately according to Brontes' understanding such a thing was impossible in a mature body, he could only trust Cawl knew more of biology than he did.
Kerubim sank into unconsciousness and Cawl began making preparations to begin. Brontes however was distracted by a noise. The door slipped open and Wulfe stepped inside, the squat limping badly as he wandered over to the glassic window. He looked down with interest and asked, "Did I miss the good bit?"
"This isn't a holo-theatre," Brontes muttered, "We don't have any Kaba nuts."
"I'm here to pay respects," Wulfe retorted, "The boy fell to traitorous hands, it be good to wrest something back from those curs."
Brontes examined the squat and noted Wulfe was standing sideway to him. That was odd, always the squat had kept a step behind the Cadmus and in his line of sight, never letting the robot get behind him. Now he stood shoulder to shoulder, and his Gravity hammer was slung over his shoulder, where it would be slow to draw. Brontes' curiosity was peaked and he asked, "Not afraid I'm going to shoot you in the back Grox-botherer?"
"Not today rustbucket," Wulfe replied, "I've got bigger concerns than ye."
"How so?"
Wulfe growled, "Those scum betrayed us, betrayed me. I'd kill them for that alone, but then they murdered Lady Treya. That be a sin I cannot allow to pass unavenged. The fair lady was my light in the darkness, and they snuffed her out. I'm gonna to find Ruuka, Krusin and Dannye and grind their bones under my boot. No matter where they flee, how deep a hole they hide in, I will have my vengeance."
"Revenge," Brontes affirmed, "A concept I embrace wholeheartedly, and promise to help you with. Who would have thought all we needed was a mutual foe to bring us together? The enemy of my enemy…"
"Is a problem for later," Wulfe snorted, "I'll put aside our differences till revenge is claimed, but you're still a tin-pisspot."
"Agreed, you son of a motherless goat."
"If you're both quite finished, they're starting," Jording intruded. Brontes returned his attention to the surgery, watching as sharp scalpels sliced Kerubim open from jaw to the tip of the toes. All his muscles and veins were laid open, like a dissected diagram of human anatomy. Brontes had copious data on human biology and was curious to note the varying degrees of difference between mortal and Astartes physiology, the engorged muscles and ceramic hardened bones. They said the Emperor had made Space Marines ten millennia ago, another hollow boast laid at his feet, but Brontes had to admit the Imperium had produced a viable warrior strain. Odd that the Space Marines hadn't been given the ability to reproduce, a major design flaw by Hegemony reckoning, clearly the intent had been to keep the Adeptus Astartes under control, a scheme that had backfired utterly.
The trio watched as minutes turned into hours, Kerubim being restored one layer at a time. Bone grafts were installed, torn muscle and sinew were woven into wholeness and destroyed organs replaced by clone-flesh. The digestive tract and bowel had to be sutured in wholesale, nothing left of the originals at all. All this was messy and tedious work, but nothing compared to what came next. One by one Kerubim's remaining gene-seed implants were extracted, then replaced by new ones, remaking the Space Marine with a higher order of implant. Even the top of his skull was sawn open, to extract the implants within, his brain exposed to the cold air as the Chirugeons did their work.
Jordig broke the hour's long silence to say, "Primaris implants function far more efficiently than Firstborn's, and base rate mutation is vastly reduced. Kerubim should enjoy greater strength and reflexes, if this works."
"Hold ye starting switches," Wulfe growled, "I know a thing or two about Space Marines, ye cannae swop gene-lines willy-nilly."
"The fleshbags were cagey about their origin," Brontes added, "How can Cawl be sure he's implanting the right kind of gene-seed?"
"Cawl has his ways," Jordig muttered, "He probably knows more about the Amber Viper's blood than they do."
The operation reached a new phase as a strange machine was brought forth, with hundreds of tiny callipers on extended mechandrites. It set to work on Kerubim's limbs, fingers blurring as they wove metallic strands into ligaments. Flesh and metal merged seamlessly, making his innards glisten as they sank into each other.
"Sinew Coils," Jordig explained, "Now Cawl's greatest secret, the Magnificat." Kerubim's skull accepted a new implant, disappearing into the space between the lobes of his brain. Brontes knew it was important, but the next implant was far more crucial to the operation.
"The Belisarian Furnace," Brontes stated as a tiny organ was grafted between Kerubim's hearts.
"Names it after himself," Wulfe snorted, "Arrogant bastard."
Jordig however affirmed, "The key to the whole process. The hormonal cocktails within should trigger mass cellular replication and new tissue growth. If it works then Kerubim might walk again."
The implantations were complete and Cawl began the work of closing up the body. One millimetre at a time Kerubim was pieced back together, surgical sutures sealing him from toe to jaw. The top of his skull was replaced and the skin stitched back together, leaving an ugly mess of scars. Finally he was whole again and the physicians stepped back, leaving Cawl to apply electrical pads to the chest, a defibrillator, to restart the hearts.
"Now we find out if this be a waste of time," Wulfe hissed.
"This is where it all went wrong last time," Jordig muttered.
Cawl pulled a lever and Kerubim's chest jerked as current flowed through his chest. Brontes' attention was riveted on the boy as he slumped back and Cawl pulled the lever again, and again. On the third time something happened, a twitch of the fingers, a flutter of the eyes and then Kerubim's jaw shot open and a scream ripped out of him. His back arched and his legs flew wild as he yelled in agony, thrashing wildly and knocking over machines and driving back Chirugeons who tried to restrain him. Cawl backed up hastily as the boy went mad and his cause was obvious. Flooding hormones from the Belisarian Furnace were causing his gene-seed to activate, driving muscle and bone growth at a hyper-accelerated rate. Brontes could see it, see limbs contorting as bones grew and muscle tore, only to ease back, then tear again. Body proportions changed in moments, a process that should demand months compressed into seconds. The pain and agony must be beyond imagining.
"It's going wrong," Jordig spat, "The Furnace is too much."
"Dammit," Wulfe hissed, "His body will tear itself in two!"
Brontes could only watch in silence as Kerubim thrashed in torment, howling like damned soul burning in hell. No human body should have to endure such distortion, even a Space Marine and blood wept from Kerubim's skin as ruptures spilt him open, then suddenly it all stopped. Kerubim crashed onto the table and went still, unmoving and unseeing. His chest did not rise and his eyes stared blankly, seeing nothing. The Chirugeons slumped in defeat and the clerics fell silent as the fateful truth stole over all. Kerubim was as still as a stone, lost to the world.
"The Rubicon failed," Jordig groaned.
"Tarnation," Wulfe spat, "I thought he'd make it."
Brontes stared down at Kerubim's lifeless body, taking in the loss, but his only response was to spit, "No."
Suddenly the Cadmus turned and stormed from the alcove, stepping into the corridor and marching to the surgery door. He ripped it from its frame with one hand, smashing his way inside and causing all within to scatter in alarm. Clerics shouted in dismay as a rogue Battle-automata broke inside, kicking idling machines over as he strode past. Cawl reared up, arms waving in protest but Brontes shoved him aside and moved to Kerubim's corpse, eyes seeing nothing but the cooling body. Men yelled for Skitarii guards to come and the professional wailer fled the room, but Brontes ignored them all as he extended mechandrites from his palms and plunged them into Kerubim's skin.
Connection was made and Brontes sent his Nanocytes coursing through it, surging into Kerubim's body. Microscopic machines were injected into the cadaver and they swam in still blood, whining in confusion at this strange environment. Brontes overrode their protests with a Binaric command, reprogramming their parameters in microseconds. He repurposed a portion of his Nanocytes and instilled in them a new directive: find the damage and repair it. Filled with fresh purpose they went to work, rebuilding cell membranes and reconstructing broken tissue. Errors in gene-coding of the new implants was detected and corrected, a mistake made in the installation of the Magnificat undone and nerves reconnected in their proper fashion. Flesh or metal, alive or dead, it was all the same to a Nanocyte and they rebuilt Kerubim as industriously as they had Brontes. The Cadmus gave of himself to renew Kerubim and the boy's eyes opened with a jerk as his hearts were forced to restart.
Brontes' withdrew his Mechandrites as Kerubim launched himself from the surgical table, muscle spasm causing him to roll away and thrash on the floor. Chirugeons stood in disbelief as Kerubim convulsed on the floor, his body changing before their eyes. In moments the Frstborn became a Primaris, taller, stronger and faster, but not as they expected. The Nanocytes did not stop their efforts once he was alive, detecting further flaws in the body they moved to correct them, continuing to alter Kerubim's form to a more suitable aspect.
Detecting his ruptured skin they moved to repair the damage the only way they knew how, by creating metallic molecules in the epidermis, layering Kerubim in a skin of flexible steel. An alloy of flesh and metal quite different to what any had intended. Kerubim's pink skin vanished completely as a silvery hue spread, coating him from scalp to foot in a liquid sheen. All his hair fell out and his eyes became pools of liquid mercury, without iris or pupil as the Nanocytes deemed the repair completed. Finally he fell still as his new form settled, not Firstborn or Primaris or machine, but a bizarre hybrid of all three.
Brontes was stunned by the result, he hadn't intended this at all, but Cawl skittered forward and his voice was enthralled as he breathed in awe, "Fascinating, what fresh marvel have you wrought?"
Brontes had no answer but Kerubim lifted a silver hand before his pupil-less eyes and a metallic tongue produced a rasping wheeze, "What have you done to me?!"