Bonnland, Germany, several days later

Joakim Vos stood on the left side of a doorway. Several shots from it had made it clear that it was held by the enemy, it was time to clear them out.
Counting from 3 with the fingers of his left hand he signaled his No. 2 who promptly threw 3 hand grenades into the room beyond the door. The explosions were well muffled by Joakim`s helmet, the microphones that normally conducted the sound quite well shut the explosions out as far as possible.
It allowed Joakim to extend his right arm holding his weapon through the opening. The camera attached below the barrel gave a picture that was superimposed into his visor. Spotting three moving bodies who`s cover had literally been blown he triggered a long burst that send 7,62 ammo into the room. The recoil tried to twist the rifle up, yet the actuators in his armor easily compensated for that. His companion waited for the fire to subside and then threw himself into the room checking the corners and other places out of sight.
"All clear"
"Very well, what…"

"Boss, I have two IFV coming down the main road-some help would be appreciated."
"Coming."
Joakim triggered the map function inn his helmet and saw that to reach the rest of his squads he would have to go downstairs, double back the lane and then come down-fuck this, there was another way available now.
Sending "Follow me" to his No.2 he sprinted upstairs to the flat roof of his current building. All the while he worked on the touchpad on his inner left vambrance going through several menu options shown in his visor. When he had reached the roof he sighted the roof of the building on the opposite side of the road with his laser rangefinder and bent his knees downwards. When the "ready" prompt appeared he triggered the "jump" function before he had any chance to be afraid. Heights and roofs did not have his appreciation any more since the Battle of Altdorf, a slowly receding problem.
The Actuators in the legs of his armor got their commands from the computer that resided in the back of his helmet-he was just a passenger for the ride now. Releasing quite a lot of power the armor catapulted him cleanly forward for 6 meters, clearing the road below him and placing him squarely on the next roof. A special pneumatic bandage protected his foot and ankle well enough. Executing a roll forward to kill momentum Joakim went into a crouch and checked the real-time video of the approaching armored vehicles. Just in time it seemed.

Pulling a basketball-sized warhead from the side of his backpack he fixed it to the Bayonet holder below the rifles muzzle. Raising himself above the roofline he had a good view of the Road. Activating a button with his thumb he designated the second IFV as a target for his No.2 he lead the other vehicle a bit and pulled the second trigger. Normally the Rocket Assisted Grenade would have run straight, if a bit slowly to its target and deliver an ungodly amount of C4-now a laser triggered lights and a smoke pot.

Endex was declared not long thereafter and Joakim moved far more leisurely down to the bleachers which housed some Bundeswehr staff as well as General Grube and Major Wolf from the 1st Landwehr.
Joakin just stood silently with his rifle at port arms while Fräulein Meikle made her presentation. He was currently trading his reputation against a chance to stay useful despite his injuries.
"The current suit weights 100 Kilogram by itself. This comprises the motive system, the power system, the electronics , the cooling system and a basic set of armor which is equivalent to the best armor currently used by the Bundeswehr and the Elite formations of the Imperial Landwehr. The user can choose any weapon currently in the arsenal of our forces and several that would be too heavy to be man-portable currently. The armor can be adapted to the needs with additional spidersilk layer or trauma plates as desired and is compatible with Runes of protection or Protective Wards. In the latter configuration it can be proof against 7,62 ammo and nearly any attack that can reasonably be expected in this world. The backpack can carry up to 50 kilogram of load in addition to these things. The power and motive systems have energy for 24 hours of continuous operations and the batteries are comparatively small and can be changed on the fly. During this time the Power Armor allows to move as if he were in shirtsleeves and had considerable additional strength.
The electronic systems are of-the-rack, we were just able to combine them all as the power is already there and the additional weight is not slowing the user down. The suit can be made airtight and there is a fan-driven filter system that provides clean air.
This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the soldier from the future-available now. Your comments and questions?"

The first to move was a civilian from the Bundeswehr`s procurement side. "That was very nice, really. I think the C3I parts have great merit and should be included in future planning. As for the enhanced armor and weaponry-we seem to do very well without them presently and fire support can be provided by other sources. Maybe we can modify the concept for logistics?"
The next was a Colonel with a "KSK" patch on his BDUs-"If you can show the 24 hours endurance thing we would like to have a look. How about sound?"
"We will certainly be willing to demonstrate the endurance Herr Oberst. As for sound-as we are running electrical artificial muscles the sound level is roughly the same than a normal human. Only when the highest power levels are necessary is there much sound."
"Thanks."
General Grube was not looking at Fräulein Meikle-he was staring at Joakim all the time which was more than a little disconcerting. "I have only one question Fräulein-how much will a dozen suits cost?"

Joakim grinned behind his visor-he had just won a bet with a TyssenKrupp representative who thought the KSK would be more interested than the cash-strapped Empire. Joakim had work with and for these people long enough to know that their tactical thinking-and their experience-often turned about some great heroes who turned the tide on the battlefield.
And here they got heroes of the production line. But the far bigger part of the grin was about his hope that he would be part of the unit that would be formed. He was in this project only for the shortest of times but had taken to it like fish to water.
Much later he went down to the lab where he was to change out of the armor into something some suitable for the evening he was greeting by standing ovations by the Power Armor team-and Sophie Wagenknecht.
As this project had not been adopted by any government-so far it was strictly a private initiative-there were no requirements for secrecy. And after the series of articles that Sophie had managed to sell to "Focus" she was the flavor of the month for the armed forces of two countries anyway.
Clad in clothing suitable for the rather humid weather she looked hot enough to turn many heads and had taken the nerds on the team by storm. Joakim was very happy about the pressure sensors in the suit when he lifted her up like one would lift your favorite 5-year-old and put her down again.

Roland Meister, one of the budding technici that were needed to put the armor together was a gifted amateur photographer and got the two into a picture where Sophie sat on the Joakims`s armor`s shoulder. She looked quite nice there.
Roland showed the picture to his nephew who was a great fan of anything mecha who went apeshit about it. He took the picture from his uncles computer which was not so well protected as his Uncle seemed to think.
Sitting in front of it for a really long time he thought some improvements were needed. That gal really needed more bust and that shirt needed to go up a little-well maybe not only a little bit. The shoulders of the suit could be a bit broader, the crew cut of the soldier a bit more severe, the jaw more broad and that microphone that covered part of the mouth morphed into a cigar.
Photoshop is your friend-and Roland`s nephew was good with it.
Of course he could not keep the picture for himself-and as soon as he had shared it in a small circle it stayed there-for a while. When the suits showed up in the news for real some months later it went viral-big time.
The pic was key in replacing the dream occupation "Storch pilot" of teenage boys in both Empire in Germany with "Knight in power armor"-and most would be hard pressed if they desired the armor more than the girl or the other way around.

The Himalaya, Terra, another Universe, another time

If you could display hubris in a better way than to cover the biggest mountain range on earth with a palace then humanity has not found it yet. Built more than 10000 years ago, having withstood the Siege by one of the most feared armed forces in the Galaxy, being on top of the terminus of a warp tunnel that led to another universe of horrors-the palace had weathered it all.
It was full of incredible works of art, breathtaking architecture, hidden passageways and vaults full of secrets so devastating that they needed to be kept forever. It had been the stage for great feats of statesmanship, heroic deeds beyond telling, intense love, foul treachery, debased perversions – and often much of this at the same time.
One of the great halls was distillation of all that this palace was-the assembly room of the High Lords of Terra. The 12 members of this group represented the most important groups comprising the Empire and were endlessly jockeying for position, resources and status. Positioned around a round table these worthies usually projected a cool demeanor-heated outbreaks did not faze any of the others and would revel too much if things went wrong.
Today was different.

Tempers were flying, demands were shouted and the voice of logic was mostly silent. There was only one force which could lead to such a state: surprise. The creatures in this room-many of them so altered from their lineage that it was hard to call them human any more-were so old and experienced that nothing could astonish them any more-mostly.
Gasto Helix did not shout-his vocal apparatus was long gone. A flesh tongue and vocal cords would not do for the Fabricator General of Mars. Yet the electronics that replaced them were very much able to project sound enough to cut through the din.

"Yes, I know how unlikely all of that sounds. And yet all the tests we were able to conduct prove the same thing-yes, he is Leman Rus, in the flesh. We do have data on his genetics and it is him. From all we can check he is not tainted by Chaos and he already did humanity a great service."
"Since when is the Mechanicum qualified to judge a taint and the "Service to Humanity" benefits the Adeptus Mechanicum at the very most."

The current Inquisitorial Representative was far less than happy that the Mechanicum was about to receive a boost. The Martians were one of the few parts of the Empire of Man where the Inquisitorial remit did not carry very far.
And he was not the only one which made the clamor in the hall louder again. It was loud enough to drown out the bell-the first time. The High Lords of Terra did not place the sound right away. This was hardly surprising as it had not rung for a thousand years or more. Several functionaries whose job was taking care of the halls technical details were pasty faced in seconds, one collapsed. The bell rang twice more before the voice could be heard. It was a synthesized voice, a pale shadow of its owner`s and yet it sounded like tectonic plates grinding against each other, deep, immense and full of destruction and pain.

"LET HIM COME, BRING HIM TO ME. HE HAS SOMETHING I NEED"
The clamor had ended at the first syllable. The Emperor himself had not spoken to the High Lord governing in his name for a millennium. That had just changed.

Lüneburg, North Germany, Two in the morning

The German autumn was not especially cold, even at night and Skrulk was clad in fur that should have kept him quite comfortable. And yet he shivered and experienced periods of great heat and shivering cold. He had been quite a healthy Skaven Plague Monk when he left his familiar warren. He had traveled through this alien country at night, keeping to the woods and avoiding the human roads. The passage was quite uneventful-there were no enemy patrols and the surprisingly extensive German woods were empty of dangerous wildlife. Instead there were enough smaller animals and fruits to live well, so his sad state could not be contributed to that.
What had happened was quite obvious-one of the bottles he carried had a tiny leak-and with its content even a tiny leak was supremely deadly. He knew he would not live long, yet to die without to fulfill his duties was unthinkable, the blessings of Grandfather Nurgle had to be brought to these humans. The trouble was-he had no idea how to do it. While the center of the town was more like the little he knew of human towns in general it lacked the feature of nearly all human settlements he knew: wells.

This was the best known method of bringing the blessings to the humans-but he had yet to find a single one. How this could be was beyond his ken-they certainly did not take the waters from the local river. So what was he to do. In his feverish wanderings he stumbled upon a place he normally would have never entered as it was big and offered no cover. And there is was, finally-a beautiful, big well for all to see. Seeing that hiding had no purpose he sped the last meters to the well and uncorked the bottles he had so lovingly kept for his pilgrimage.
The greenish fluid dissolved in the running waters and Skrulk wandered off in search of a quiet and hidden place to die, which he found in a convenient storm drain.

Fortunately the dead pigeons all around the fountain warned the city employees that passed by it on their work that something was badly off and the old fountain was checked, cleaned and disinfected. In their search what hand happened and by whom the police checked the records of two of them.
Skrulk was recognizable in several pictures as Skaven.

Police building, Wiesbaden, 5 PM, two days later

Ibrahim Dürr was reading his way through a report from his Hamburg colleagues. The usual stupidity-some members of the local Hell`s Angels chapter had taken up Khorne worship. As a lot of the motorcycle gang members in nearly all organizations had been left behind by the Weltensprung they battled for turf as everybody saw opportunities. Seems like the members got into a serious pissing match about something and two Khornates really laid about them. The Blood God was probably well pleased as Blood had flown and actually heads had been taken. The pictures attached to the report made for a pretty ugly sight.

The report speculated that the members might have met Khornates when they were in the Empire to recruit new prostitutes for their brothels-after the Weltensprung these tended to be pretty empty.
The police commissar mused that Claudia Roth might have done Germany her biggest service by dying so gruesomely and publicly. That way really nobody with more brain than a 3-year-old got the message "Chaos is bad" well enough. The rest who did distrust everything shown by public media were doing a pretty good job to Darwin themselves out.
The one percent which did not were his job, but for today it was over-he had a date.

The restaurant was one he too would have chosen for such a meet-it was attached to an autobahn, one of the unlimited-speed highways that crisscrossed Germany and as anonymous as one could get.
He arrived early to check out the location, only to find Heiner Brand and 2 other men he could not identify already there. Pulling up his shoulders in resignation he approached the table.
"Hi Ib, nice that could make it. Let me introduce you to Ottokar Proktor of the BND and Werner Reiser who is MAD."
"Hello Heiner. Normally I would say nice to meet you, yet currently I am not so sure."
"Straightforward as always our Ibrahim, like I promised you."
"Good evening Commissioner Dürr. You do not seem to take it so badly, you left Martha in her job."
"At least that way I know who is leaking Herr Proktor"
"I hope that won`t be necessary much longer. But let`s get some food first, we don`t want to attract attention."
The 3 men got their fill at the self-service counter before sitting down and consuming the food with only the most cursory talk. Coffee was on the table when things finally turned serious.

"So Heiner, will you finally tell me why you are looking into my team? What have I done that the Office for the Protection of the Constitution finds objectionable?"
"Nothing, and neither do the two others present. We wanted to get your measure at work."
"What the fuck for?"
"Remember when you asked me when the OPS got the guts to do a video surveillance of the "Rote Flora"?
"Yes, for sure, so?"
"The OPS did not-have the balls I mean."
"What?"
"Come on you know exactly the kind of bosses we have been saddled with from the politicos. Remember that Rowedder guy in Thüringen? Coming to office barefoot and holding candlelight dinners with the secretaries? And do not tell me that most of the appointees we received lately are of a much better caliber.
And even the better ones are there to defend the bleeding rules that were made up by even more self-serving politicians that have no bearing from reality. I can understand that data like I gave you is inadmissible at court-but forbid me to give it to you totally? What kind of idiocy is that? And we have similar things between the OPC and the MAD or the BND. Yes, there is a clearinghouse-but you have to make an application for any info exchange, and how can you make an application when you do not even know the info exists at all? So a couple of us decided the surveillance was needed and simply did it."

"So you think yourself better than the rules and make your own."
"Come off the high horse Herr Dürr-we all know you make your own rules when it suits you. We just do the same thing and at the same time try to keep exactly that within reason."
"The great philanthropic Dr. Proktor aren`t you?"
"Me, certainly not. I am looking after my own ass, like everybody else. Maybe even a little more than others. Actually, that is another thing we do-we look after our own. Our esteemed superiors have a tendency to throw those who do their bidding under the bus when bad things happen that they initiated. If NSU still rings a bell with you, and I do not mean the car brand, then you know what I mean."
"So you make the rules and protect each other's backs-is it that?"
For the first time Werner Reiser joined the fray. "We do not just keep our friends afloat or eavesdrop without a warrant because we are all nefarious and /or compulsive snoops. We protect Germany Herr Dürr, protect it despite the blockheads that want to keep us from doing so. Before the Weltensprung this would not be a good idea-the threats were smaller, we had allies who helped, and if things would have gone seriously wrong there were other places you could go. Now it is different, there is only us. And if our bosses won`t let us do our damn duty we can either replace them or do the job regardless, but it must be done. You know yourself very well what were to happen if we do not."

"So who is giving you your second set of marching orders then."
"Nobody does. We do not have a hidden master fondling a cat and mouthing bad scripts. We are an informal network for people who want to do their jobs. No hierarchy, not many rules, just a little help among friends when you need it. We do not exchange decoder rings and we do not even have a proper name for us."
"Not totally true that."
"Come on Heiner, nobody takes that serious, that is a bleeding joke."
"Maybe it started as one, but these days all who have a need know Section 31-and anybody who stumbles on it by accident will think it is just a joke. It serves the purpose, what more do you need."
The laughter that went around the table served to ease the tensions somewhat.

"So, all joking aside-why contact me now?"
"Oh we could tell you that Heiner insisted to include you because of your abilities and we dearly need you, but let`s not insult your intelligence too much. The problem we have is your infatuation with Jasla."
"Why, what bearing could that have on you?"
It was Ottokar Proktor who rose to that question. "You know the BND is supposed to provide info about everyone outside Germany, err potential enemies. We do have a quite interesting starting base with all that background from the Games Workshop-but we really should verify that. Especially as only 80% is good info. And we all know that nothing is more dangerous than a little knowledge. For the human and the dwarven realms we are establishing trade and diplomatic missions, so it is not that hard.
But spying on the Chaos guys or the Darkies is much harder. We have the aerial recon, we have a lot of what the freed slaves tell us and then we have a big whole lot of nothing. We do not trade with them, they do not use wireless or any other communication we could eavesdrop into and sure as sure we cannot hack their computers. And given the little bit of exciting history we have with this batch of Spitzohren that is quite frustrating."
"Are you telling me YOU sprung Jasla?"
"No, of course not. We want to protect Germans, not kill them. But when it happened it opened up an interesting opportunity."
"So you know where she is and are telling nobody?"
"So? She is in a place where we cannot get at her without a major effort and she and the imbeciles that went with her are killing Germany`s enemies at their own dime. I say let them-and if and when that changes we can end that for sure. Till then no harm done and info to us."
"Before I say anything I want more info."
"I see what I can give you, ok? And then we need you to….

Ulthuan, several days later

Bruglier Henbane was no longer a frustrated Druchii. He was still escorting supplies to the front-but by now this was an important position. He was still losing true elves, but as he was the guy who got his supplies through every time, so he got the soldiers he needed.
To top it off, not had far more supplies arrived at the Bay of Drusilla these days, he had received new wagons. A year or so ago he could have cared less for the design of a wagon, now he had become an expert on the. And the new ones were really really interesting.

Instead of the wooden pole that was the basis of most wagons the new ones mixed a wooden girder structure with steel for far improved stability and weight. Steel springs made the ride far less rough but were robust enough. They were also "damped" by disk shaped devices with mechanical friction. Whatever that meant-the wagons rode better-and much more quietly, whoever build them had changed the design of the bearing considerably. No longer were they lubricated by grease and brush, the new ones needed a pistol-like device to push grease inside.
The steering was also new-instead of two wheels that turned around a middle pole the new ones had wheels that turned on their own axis each. Bruglier, who had seen his share of turned-over wagons found the steering complicated, but clearly worth it. He was interested which genius came up with such a clever design all of a sudden-and where all the steel came from.
And that was just the chassis-the top of the Wagons held even more surprises. Currently they were pretty lightly loaded, but that was a good thing on what went for roads in this khaineforsaken part of Ulthuan.

The wagons were different enough and came with recommended tactics for use, so Bruglir had decided that a week of training was in order. That had proven wise when the first rehearsals had resulted in major confusion as they required the drivers to act like warriors. The slaves were certainly not trained for such and panicked when they foresaw punishment in their futures.
Only a handful of slaves had made the grade, and Bruglier had made it crystal clear that none of these were to be punished without his consent. These were too valuable.
Now that everything was as well prepared as Henbane could make it he was dying to see whether this worked.

He was currently sitting on a horse, not a Druchii stallion, he was not a member of the cavalry, but needed it to cover the convoy in reasonable time. Nobody laughed at his riding style, at least not after the first time.
He liked the current view-the formerly lush forest that existed to the left and right of the path had been reduced to a ruin of charred stumps that offered a good field of view and more maneuvering room by his convoy. It had been him who had suggested the laying of large-scale fires when the last summer draught had made it possible and had granted him lots of recognition.
If he was in position he always tried to have an eye on the true Elves walking point, a thankless job that lent itself well for punishment duty. He was one of the first to see the Druchii that marched in a line abreast fall like ninepins and the many High Elves that worked their way from brushes and well-concealed trapdoors. The Asur seemed to cover the ground with their white and blue clad bodies-where did they get the numbers after so many fights?

"Laager-form the bleeding Laager" really stirred everybody up. As trained many times the wagons were driven in a rough circle with the teams inside. Slaves and warriors both rigged chains between the wagons, while others dropped the specially constructed walls. The inside walls formed ramps into the Wagons while the outside ones dropped partially to the ground, closing the entrance into the Laager, while the upper sides dropped down to expose firing slits. His crossbowelves scrambled into the wagons while most spear-carriers assembled at the gaps between the wagons.

He took the reserve into the center of the laager and waited. His patience was not tried-the Naggarythe warriors were out for blood. They had to cross the murderous fire of his crossbow shooters before they could grapple with him and paid dearly for it. The repeating weapons could keep up a devastating rate of fire until the marksmen were too fatigued and their return fire did not penetrate the sturdy outer sides. Even in the few instances in did the arrows lacked the strength to penetrate his elves armor.
In two or three places where the Asur reached the circle of wagons they found that they lacked the tools to destroy the wooden walls and were reduced to push themselves through the openings between the wagons. His spear-carriers had no problem at all killing these and his reserve was never needed. In the end the enemy retreated, bleeding bodies all the time. An interesting way to fight a war-Bruglier could get used to that.

The new part of the tactics had worked beyond expectations, the older part not so much. When he checked he found that all the Asuran hostages that he had ordered bound to the outer sides of the wagons had been killed. The placement of the arrows made it clear that the shots had been intentional. Ok, that was a waste of potential slaves, note to self-do not repeat.

Charite`, Berlin, next day

The Charite`is a very old place and has seen additions and modifications by the dozen over the many years of its existence. This process had left many nooks and crannies, some of them only known to a select few. One of them was a roof terrace that was hemmed in from all sides by slanted roofs and so protected the users from view.
Used by those who knew about it to catch some sunlight it was mostly deserted in autumn temperatures that asked for at least light clothing. Superior Mother Herad did not mind at all, she liked the solitude a lot. She really needed the rest and here she could get it.
Truth to be told-she needed more than a little rest. Ever since the five discovered what they could do besides mending nerves their services were highly requested. That they discovered new things they could do every other week was good-they could serve the Goddess better and heal the sick-but it took more effort every month it seemed. She had a harder time getting up, achieving the concentration needed to heal-ah the list was endless.
She knew very well that the time to leave the five was coming up but found it so very hard to go that step. Healing was such a big part of her that stopping to do so would be like a prelude to death-but sooner or later it would be necessary, likely sooner.
All the worries could not keep her from dozing for a while and she was woken up by the smell of some drinking chocolate placed next to her lounger.
Looking up she saw Brother Winkler who nursed a cup of tea while he waited her to wake up.

"Hi Mother, sleep well?"
"Too short as always Brother."
"We take it when we get it."
"Yes. Don`t tell me you just got up here to bring me a chocolate and touch up you tan."
"I`d love to Mother, but we both know it ain`t so. I think we need to talk."
"Oh sweet Mother, you all think it is time I leave? I know you are right but…"
"What? Who gave you that funny idea, we need you. No, what I wanted to talk about is that you have several conditions which need treatment-we should look after it these days."
"What do you mean, look after it? Dr. Laupichler treats me these days, he does what he can."
"I know. I thought we do it ourselves."
"Brother Ralf, during all the time the order uses the amulets for healing they were never used on the healers themselves."
"So?"

The 5 normally worked in a dedicated treatment room which by now had been modified to their use. Among the amenities were water connectors for the cooling vests and good chairs with belts which allowed them to concentrate on healing instead of keeping balance. There was also a set of sensors for everybody that led to a workstation manned by short-lived tradition by Ralf`s wife Christine.
She was no longer restricted to monitor temperature but also got data on blood oxygen content, blood sugar Blood pressure and pulse. There was a project going to equip the healers with EEG, but that was for the future. She could even do something about blood sugar and temperature, and had a red button that would distribute a mild electric shock to break off a ritual that went off track.
Getting into the meditation took somewhat longer than usual-all of them were apprehensive about what they were to do, most of them Ralf, despite his nonchalance. Still, having lots of routine helped and the five rolled back their eyes and gave up individual consciousness.

The Gestalt that formed in the middle above the empty table was the sum of all of their parts-and much more besides. When it had stabilized it gave the closed thing to an exasperated sigh "Finally they get it" and went to work.
As it had suspected it was easier to work on one of their own instead of more difficult. The Gestalt was not so sure that would have held for any treatments related to one of the brains-that would have reduced its capacity-but for anything else it was easy. And these days the five were a lot more powerful when they were before. Their new equipment allowed them to handle power loads previously too dangerous to contemplate and with heavy use of power came experience and training.
They were certainly not the most powerful mages about, not even close. Many elves and even a couple of humans would laugh at the power they commended combined. What these worthies could not match was the knowledge about the human body and the sheer processing capacity that could be had by using five brains instead of one.
And now the Gestalt went to work on Mother Herad, something that was overdue. There were so many problems that needed mending-the bones were brittle, the inside of the arteries clogged including some that provided the brain and the heart with blood, brain cells had died and never been replaced…

Ralf Winkler had been granted a gift by Shallya last Christmas-eidetic memory. That meant he could read himself through many medical volumes-but making sense of so much information was still beyond him. But not for the amalgam of the five and that went to work with a vengeance.
In Mother Herad`s body telomeres were capped off, stem cells told to multiply and then to replace cells that had been used till destruction. Then the Gestalt went back as he found that some of his work would increase the risk for cancer too much-introducing more antibodies should cure that. And tell the new cells and some of the old ones to produce more hormones.
The To-Do-List was long, yet the work went much easier than comparable work on their patients. Being nearly done the amalgam found that he had reserves left-and that the other meat bodies of his parts were only in marginally better shape. Copying the work to the others was easy as pie. The better the five became, the better the Gestalt would be-it should have been simple enough for these humans.

Christine Winkler was watching the readouts she got diligently-her husband`s life was on the line. The readings by themselves were ok and did not seem dangerous. But taken together she had not seen them before. Temperature, pressure and everything else was ok, but blood sugar was only ok as she kept adding through the drips in copious amounts and the temperature was ok only as the vests were working full throttle.
The ritual took more power than anything else she had seen before-and it was rather long and showed no sign of abating. What the fuck was up? She was making up her mind-if they ritual was not over in a few minutes she would stop it-then and there.
Seeing not the slightest change after 5 more long minutes her hand reached for the red button. Before her fingers could reach it something slammed into her mind, deleting any conscious thought. The room stayed like it was, just that nobody was moving any more but for breathing.

Dragon Gate, Ulthuan, roughly same time

Prince Tyrion, Consort of the Everqueen and General of all Asur armed forces studied the reports that had reached him. Incredible-they had taken 8 days from Lothern to reach him at the Border of the Shadowlands. That was quite a feat and had asked for a relay of Griffon riders to carry the messages. The batch from Altdorf had taken 4 days to Lothern-a much longer distance including a vast ocean that no mere Griffon could traverse.
Thinking that he had sent that buffoon Aurelius to the Germans and their allies did no longer struck him as that clever in retrospect. It had been such a nice way to get rid of the bothersome fool just to find that he had send said fool as an intermediary to the arguably most powerful faction on this world. Interestingly enough the last reports indicated a steadily improving report with both the Empire and the Germans. Well, all is well that ends well.

And one said noble had sent a report-which he even credited to his aide which told quite a lot about the changes in the ambassador-which bothered the Elven prince more than he would show to the world. The Druchii had been so successful in their current Campaign till now as they had struck at the Shadowlands, the mostly empty part of Ulthuan most populated by nomads. They certainly had supply problems as they could not forage much. His own troops had the same problem and as they could use the sea for supply of their beachhead the Dark Elves were able to bring in troops to this particular battle faster than he could. So the first strategy he had devised against this incursion had been to go after the Druchii supplies-and that had worked at first, till Malekith`s ships all of a sudden had better weapons and faster ships.
The fallback plan was to slow the Druchii down as much as possible and then defeat them at one of the 5 Gates, most likely the Dragon Gate.

The Dragon Gate was part of a series of fortifications built millennia ago and unlike the fickle humans they had been build the right way the first time. There had been no large-scale additions or changes over the millennia, the superior planning and architecture of the Asur had made this possible.
The walls and Gates were a tribute to Asur artisans, high and slender they would bring tears of envy into the eyes of the lesser races for their combination of function and beauty. Unfortunately exactly these features brought the fortress into question now. The walls were so high that neither Siege Towers nor ladders had any chance to breach them. To make them so high they were slender, something possible because of the superior workmanship of the Asur-lesser races could have to build impossibly thick walls to make them.
And yet the report on front of him made him question the fortifications that stood the tests of time through millennia. It seemed that Aurelius, prompted by the reports about explosive weaponry in Druchii hands had asked a German Engineer what would happen if the walls of the Gates would be attacked by powerful detonations. The answer was devastating: They would drop at comparatively low effort.
And the army that was shown to make its way to the Gate was substantial-he was doubtful that he could amass enough defenders in time if the Gate fell to contain these. So he would need to protect the Gates themselves-and even for that the report had suggested a way.
It was not what the Asur would normally do, so he was here to see it through.

Solar System, another Universe, another Time

Of all the known star systems in the Milky Way galaxy the Solar System was the best defended. The Solar Segmentum Fleet was huge and sported some of the most mighty starships ever build. It was backed up by the Fleet of the Adeptus Mechanicus, but countless Defense Monitors, by planate-based interceptors and Orbital Fortress by the dozen. And all of them were on alert.
The Fleet they expected was not the dreaded Necrons who already once managed to pierce these defenses once, even if only for the shortest times. It was no new Chaos Crusade, no Thyranid Hive Fleet, no Dark Elven Pirates or Ork Waaag. It did not offer Death, Doom and Destruction; it offered something many in the Imperial Hierarchy considered far worse: Hope and Change. The fleet that approached was hauling a cargo of uncertainty and that was something that frightened a bureaucracy that existed for 10000 years more than anything else.

And then the wait was over-at the set time and place reality opened up to reveal a brief view at what lay at the other side and disgorged a fleet the likes had not been seen inside a system that should have seen it all.
The core were several Mechanicum Arcs, a sort of ship that never went in groups, and here it was. There were Battleships, Cruisers and destroyers, all protecting a small fleet of Adeptus Astartes. The tension was thick enough to cut in the various commands and not diminished at all when a series of communications were exchanged that had not been heard for a very long time.
A Primarch requesting an audience with the Emperor?
Still the very nature of Space where any act is an effort of coordination, where all distances are huge and every action needs to be planned beforehand stayed the tempers and allowed the passage of the fleet.
The tension dropped minutely when the Mechanicum fleet split off to get into an orbit around Mars. The only off thing about that was that they nursed a Battle Barge of a design unseen for many millennia in their midst and docked it into one of Mars shipyards with unseemly haste.

The ships of the Space Wolves decelerated later and dropped nicely into a high orbit around Earth itself. Several Thunderhawks and a single Stormhawk detached themselves from the "Holmgang", burned their engines long enough to drop their relative speed below that what was needed to stay in orbit and oriented themselves for entry into Earth`s atmosphere. From here their course and speed were very predictable.

Defense Station Con-A-ST16 was situated close to what had been Istanbul in a bygone age and like all others of its kind sported 4 humungous laser weapons. Able to destroy anything in Earth`s orbit that passed it the defense station had gone on alert several days ago. Such alerts were always ended within 24 hours with an "Endex" and those in the know would usually drop hints when such an exercise were about to happen.
Garrison troops not called to battle usually degrade after a time and these had nearly 5000 years to do so. Now they were in an alert that was not predicted, that did not end and had no idea what was happening. Everybody in control station 2 tried his very best to avoid drawing attention by Lieutenant Uziel as the Officer was so nervous that he would tear somebodies head off for sneezing-probably literally.
When the doors leading to the room opened without any warning it seemed that several hearts slipped a beat-till they saw the familiar uniform and face of Captain Dell Úzo, their favorite umpire.

Lieutenant Uziel got up on shaky legs and was about to salute when the laser cored his head through an eye. The warrant and ratings did not even have time to get shocked before they too died.
The assassin went to work on the various stations that had been manned by 4 people by jumping from one to the next one till they had all been slaved to the command console. Pulling the real eye of Captain DellUzo from a pocket she logged into the system and took the gun off the common fire control.
The link she had established to the augurs showed her target just fine, they did not evade, use neither jamming nor anything else that might throw her shot of. It was nearly too easy, but Mehlien was taking it with grace.
As any good Assassin she did not know the purpose of her attack or even the targets identity and like all good Assassins she did not care. Yet her superior found the uncertainty that was on its way to the Palace too much to bear. Plans that had taken hundreds of not thousands of years to come to fruition were in danger and nobody and nothing was going to jeopardize them.
The first attempts at communication had started when Mehlien had taken her gun off the grid, now that it turned on her command much stronger reactions were due. Still, nothing could keep her from lining up the biggest symbol in the flock of targets up with the curser. Flipping open a lid she turned and pressed the firing stud.

Outside a fat cylindrical projector made final minute adjustments and then fired a series of fast laser pulses designed to "bore" itself through the atmosphere. Vaporizing dust and droplets in the air its passage could be seen as an afterimage as it was over so fast. The beam terminated at a "Stormbird" landing ship that had a red-glowing underside from friction with the fringes of Earth`s atmosphere.
Constructed to punch through void shields and meter-thick armor the shot simply made the ""Stormbird" disappear in a bright explosion.
Mehlien`s last act was triggering a melta charge that incinerated her and the complete contents of her Command center minutes before white-faced Guardsmen breached the doors.

The explosion lit the passenger compartment of the Thunderhawk briefly before the filters caught in. All crafts dropped Chaff, Flares and a series of active decoys that muddled the augur picture and flew random course changes designed to break any other target lock and avoid further strikes.
Normal humans would have been incapacitated by the acceleration forces, the crew and passengers of these craft were a different flesh.
"I told you that this is a different universe Patriarch."
"Yea, in my time they would not have fallen for such an obvious target."

It took the Wolves another hour to get to the Palace. It took the Party that landed no longer than three days to reach the Throne Room and even they needed nearly an hour of fast marching to cross it.
If they were impressed by the many marvels that they passed their helmeted faces did not show it. It was rather obvious that it had needed quasi-divine intervention to get them past many imperial institutions that would have kept them for an eternity otherwise. The only thing that had taken them so long was sheer mind numbing distance.
If nothing had shaken the Wolves-the Golden Throne did. An incredible edifice that was obviously an amalgam of several technologies that handles eldritch energies of incredible power. It did many things-it kept the Emperor alive-as much alive as he was-it kept feeding him the energy taken from thousands of Psionics that were sacrificed every day.
The Emperor used that energy to keep up the Astronomican, the great psionic beacon that allowed ships to navigate through the warp. He used it to sustain himself-and he used it to keep shut the portal into a webway full of horrors.

Leman Russ had been here before, a year before he left his brethren on his final mission. His father had changed, as had the Empire. Back then he was a Superhuman bound to this prostatic mess-now he was more and less at the same time.
The burned-out husk that sat inside the Throne was no longer recognizably human and whether life existed inside it in any ordinary sense was a difficult question. But the presence of an incredible mind was undeniably and the Space Wolf was pretty sure that it was muted inside this room lest it killed all who wore there. It certainly exceeded anything the Emperor was capable of when he was still walking among men-handling so much energy over such a long time had its price and its rewards.
The Patriarch had been bewildered by the Imperial Creed and the deification of his Father-now he got a better understanding.
The Golden Throne too had changed since he last saw it, but it was obviously not to the better. Even when it was erected only very few people knew its workings-now there were none who could work on it. Now it showed the signs of age and patches on top of patches. They might be gilded jewel encrusted patches but patches never the less.
The Golden Throne was failing-bit by bit. When it did the astonomican too would fail and large-scale star faring would end for humanity. The Empire would be ripped apart by its centrifugal forces.

The voice was not "heard" by anyone in the conventional sense-no pressure waves reached the eardrums, no nerves conducted the signal-the brain itself received information. It was overwhelming.
"YOU ARE HERE-GOOD"
A Patriarch who rested on one knee did not know if answering by voice would make any difference, but he was too human to do differently.
"Yes Father, I am here and I brought what you wanted. A little late but here I am. The prize is intact"
"I KNOW. BRING IT TO THE LEFT CORNER OF THE THRONE. EMPTY IT INTO THE PORT YOU FIND THERE."
"Are you sure Father. It seems intact, but…"
"I KNOW EVERYTHING THAT IS IN THIS ROOM SON. BRING IT HERE."
"Yes Father."
One of the worthies who had for several normal lifetimes been in charge of the Thrones input hesitated for a moment-and dropped lifeless to the ground. The rest showed what needed to be done wearing pasty faces.
Leman Russ watched the four Terminators who brought the heavy casks between them. Putting it to the ground at the right spot they waited for him while he deactivated a stasis field that had been active for nearly ten millennia.

Entropy and time did not have access to the contents inside the stasis field and the contents wore as they had been packed in there for an incredible time. As the field had to be maintained by quite a, lot of energy the overall entropy was maintained and the Universe did not mind too much.
And yet now the contents were part of time again. 4 cylinders were inside and even the Patriarch hesitated to open and empty them into the waiting port-and yet he did.
"WELL DONE SON. WE NEED TO TALK FURTHER, BE HERE TOMORROW"
"And that is all?"
"YOU JUST DID ME THE GREATEST SERVICE IN YOUR LIFE-AND THE WORST INJURY. TALK TOMORROW.

The Golden Throne was an incredibly complicated machinery that had worked for far too long. Now it urgently needed a rebuild from ground up-difficult when everything was all well, impossible when it had to continue to work even if you knew what to do.
Repairing it on the fly would have been like changing the pistons of a car-while it ran full throttle.
Or was it. There was one technique that would help-Nanotechnology. The Virus-sized machines could work on the Throne atom by atom. And yet, such machines did no longer exist. They had been plentiful during the Age of Technology-and had been part of its downfall. They had permeated everything-machines, humans and a lot of the environment, making sure that the humans were living in a paradise of their making.
And yet these machines were incredibly vulnerable to the Warp-using quantum effects inside the machines opened them up to anybody who could manipulate chance on such scales.

When the Eye of Terror opened up a lot of these machines just stopped working-or worked for new masters. The catastrophe that followed had nearly killed humanity off.
Only the very few nanites that had been kept in stasis were safe-and in the Anti-Nanite crusades universally destroyed. The Emperor`s throne room was one of the few places were the warp had no entry and yet he had no nanites. Only very very few untainted Nanites had survived and the Nanoforges that Lemann Russ had put into the Throne were probably the last surviving in this Galaxy.
A grey dust so fine that it could have been a fluid was pumped through the throne. Nano-factories took stock of the situation. Alone they were about as smart as an amoeba-as a swarm they were in some ways more clever than their designers.
The swarm made a plan of the facility it was in, found that it had no plan against which to work, went into default mode and checked again. By the time the Space Wolves had left the Throne room the nanites had a pretty good idea what was the purpose of the machine they were in, and hour later they had a plan on what to do.
Multiplying using the raw materials they found they went to work-reinsulating wires, reforming electronics, changing crumbling walls-in many ways in the same way a human body renews itself constantly while working.
The Golden Throne was on the mend-and as long as energy and materials were provided it would keep that way for all eternity as the nanites were easily able to reproduce. It would keep the Emperor alive-and hurting.
A few nanites were isolated in a fluid pipe closed off during the repairs. Unable to do their jobs they shut down till further notice.

Excerpt from a transcript of the conversation between Lemann Rus and the Emperor, 2 days later.
"You put WHAT on Mars? And now you ask ME to get rid of it? Father, you will never fail to amaze me."
"GOOD"

Four weeks later the clogged pipe was finally a part of the fluid circulation again and swept the shut-down nanoforges into another part of the system.
This part was obviously also failing and needed repairs, but this time a plan was found, in many parts of the system. It was molecularly coded and came in form of a double helix. Obviously a big job, so the Nanites started to multiply.

Sundeck, Charite`, Berlin, several days later

Superior Mother Serena had once turned heads when she walked in a room with a beautiful face and a marvelous physique. She had been chosen for a different path, and while the Order did not forbid marriage she had always been too busy to form lasting attachments. These days her once blonde hair had turned grey, wrinkled graced her face and gravity had taken hold of her physique.
Now she saw one of the surgeons of the Charite` enjoy a few minutes of what the Germans called October sun and for the first time in a long time felt like she was missing something.
Turning to the medic who occupied a lounge to the left of her she checked whether he was awake before addressing him.

"Think we overdid it Brother Ralf"
Ralf swept his right hand about his plate for the umpteen time today-there indeed was a low stubble where no hair had grown for the last 20 years or so.
"Way overdid it in fact."
"So, what do you think happened?"
"Well, since Mother Herad is pretty sure that we are not tainted by Chaos we can safely say we did this to ourselves. I think it comes down to an old problem: medical personal treat themselves like shit most of the times. Remember that nurse, Johanna? Couple of days before she comes to work and the doc tells her is doing to have surgery on her the next day and she should skip dinner. Imagine treating a regular patient like that. And do not tell me we are much better. Not that Germans or us skimp to make decent treatment for our own, quite the contrary-but we can get quite rough on ourselves on the way."

"So?"
"Well whatever we form when we do the ritual is the best of us distilled-and the worst. So it finally got a chance to treat us-and improve itself in by the way-and took it big time. And when Christine thought about breaking it off it did the same thing to her Dr. Brand would do if I were to interrupt a surgery of his - a slap on my wrist."
"How is she?"
"Mostly she has no memory of this-and that is a good thing I think. I had to promise not to do this again anytime soon and that settled things"
"That is good. I really like her and would be unhappy if she were distraught at what we do."
"Ask me about it. Good news is that by all indicators we did such a thorough job that we do not need a repeat for quite some time. Christine is coming to terms with that she got most of the treatment too."

"Even better. One thing I wanted to ask you about the test results-what is this thing about capped telomeres?"
"Oh hum-telomeres are counters at the end of the DNA-they mark every time a cell divides and become shorter with that. You remember the lessons about DNA?"
"Yes, the genetic information, right?"
"Right-once the telomeres are gone the DNA deteriorates and quite soon no functional cells are made by the division. Too much of that and you die. Some people call it the clock of life, but presently we do not know everything about it."
"Does "capping the telomeres" mean what I think it means?"
"Probably"
"Uff-I am not sure yet if this is a good thing or not. Be that as it may-what do you mean by "higher hormone levels"
"We restored several glands to full working order and told them to produce hormones at optimum levels."
"So?"
"Well, the optimum hormone levels are at roughly 20 years of age. I am not sure about you, but at 20 I was pretty crazy around the girls."
"And you tell me we are getting that back?"
"Supposedly, of course tempered by the wisdom we accumulated through the years. And if you believe the latter I have a bridge in Altdorf I want to sell to you."
"Ralf Winkler, we way overdid things."
"Yes. So?"
The laughter coming from their lounges indicated that they probably could take it.