LOVEHAMMER
Wolves on the Edge
part two
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The hunger for power and recognition within Lugft Huron, Chapter Master of the Astral Claws, had long been ignored as the typical ego developed by chiefs among the superhuman warriors created by the Emperor. The Astral Claws was one of the Astartes Chapters who had dominion over a civilized productive world instead of drawing from their new recruits from feral worlds. He had assigned himself as Planetary Governor, and had proved an able enough administrator. He had a right to be proud of his accomplishments both on and off the battlefield.
The Badab War proceeded well for Lugft Huron. It was he that actually brought its attention to the Inquisition, claiming that the Trade Lords of Khartago were under the influence of Chaos. Too often had pirates intercepted or destroyed shipments that supported Badab, and the geneseed tithe that should have been sent to the vaults of Mars were tragically lost. Then the Trade Lords had the gall to arrive in force into Badab, claiming over one hundred fifty years in back tithes.
Huron Blackheart claimed that he had sunk most of the subsector's resources into building up the Maelstrom Warden's defenses and rebuilding the Chapter from its campaign against the Word Bearers on Sartilla two hundred years ago. It was only in the last sixty years that they had the geneseed to spare. Since his utilization of resources benefited the sector as a whole, the Trade Lords had no right to demand immediate recovery of the tithes, as to support the security of the entire was the function of the tithes in the first place. He had requested an extension on the default, and the delegation were suicidally stupid to insist.
He had but obliged the fools.
His appelation Blackheart was from his zeal for order and disdain for the concept of mercy, not unusual in a Night Lords successor Chapter. With his rhetoric about essential rights of the defenders of the Imperium, he had swayed the Maelstrom Wardens and much of Battlefleet Maelstrom to his viewpoint. His Articles of Just Succession, sent to the High Lords of Terra, pointed out that protest against local authority was not rebellion against the Imperium on the whole, if the authority was likely to do harm and commit heresies upon the Imperium's interests. The Imperium was better served by securing the Maelstrom Zone rather than coddling the greed of merchants who produce nothing of value.
It was just too bad that the Chaos influence upon the Khartago sector was Huron Blackheart himself. Just as the Tyrant of Badab became thus to prevent any more pointless coups, he had engineered events in the nearby Khartago sector to excuse his need to invade and 'impose order and a return to useful Imperial rule'.
The Khartaginian instigation proceeded exactly as he had desired. The Trade Lords found a willing ear in the Fire Hawks Chapter. A Fire Hawks vessel entered the Endymion Cluster, a region controlled by the Mantis Warriors, one of the Space Marines Chapters in the Maelstrom Wardens. Refusing to stand down, the ship was crippled and boarded by the Mantis Warriors, with the Fire Hawk still refusing to surrender to Mantis Warrior authority. In the firefight, Astartes fought Astartes, and the war officially begun.
Despite their fervor, the Fire Hawks found themselves outnumbered and called for aid from nearby Chapters to punish oath-breakers in the Maelstrom. Their call was answered by the Marines Errant, a chapter with a heavy Strike Cruiser fleet. This forced the Maelstrom Warders to call upon Battlefleet Maelstrom for this obvious insult to their rights and duties as protectors of the Maelstrom Zone.
It was a tragic sequence of misunderstandings fueled by pride and oaths of loyalty. In four years the Fire Hawks had seen extremely heavy casualties and Lazaerek, the Chapter Master personally slain by Blackheart's hands. The Marines Errant lost the pride of their fleet. They had no choice but to call for further aid, and the Salamanders sent a small contingent to see what had befallen their successor chapter.
And Lugft Huron laughed. Not even a Chapter of the First Founding, a Legion of the Emperor's Great Crusade, could escape being so humiliated. How he ached for more tragic misunderstandings, and prove the power of his new Tyrant Legion.
Contrary to how most Space Marines gave thought only to the next battle, Huron Blackheart understood the importance of spies and subtle manipulations. He'd managed to stockpile all that he needed to stalemate the Imperium's Segmentum Command for a good long while, as long as he kept that careful balance between being as a serious contender and not yet enough of an irritant in the galactic stage.
Which in itself was just a smokescreen; he intended the Maelstrom Rift to become lesser fountainhead of Chaos, a Mouth of Terror. A second metastable Warp portal for the Traitor Legions to come out in force, it merited nothing less than being a Daemon Prince! He would stand as an equal among the Primarchs themselves!
It was just even more unfortunate for him that all these spies were eventually suborned, eliminated, or replaced by agents of the Alpha Legion.
"To make a long story short..." said Brother-Captain Tidus of the Alpha Legion Strike Cruiser VIRGO, "this could all have been avoided if you had believed us in the first place."
Captain Voras Volmir of the Fire Hawks' tattered Second Company snorted. "Even now I can't be certain you truly are from Omegon's Alpha Legion."
The Alpha Legion and its twin Primarchs was a unique case among the Legions; fully half of it turned to Chaos while the other remain loyal to the Emperor. Had Alpharius sworn to Horus in a misguided attempt to place a spy and a mitigating influence into the Enemy's ranks, or had Omegon fled towards Terra in order to insinuate a sleeper into the heart of the Imperium?
Even now it remained confusing just who was acting as a double-agent for whom. In any case, both Primarchs had already been slain by Horus.
"Even now we cannot be certain that your actions serve the Imperium." retorted Tidus of the Alpha Legion.
For the Fire Hawks had been extremely aggressive in their prosecution of the Mantis Warriors, and had fire-bombed three worlds. Their bombing of Manticore had led to the relatively young Forge Worlds of Tedras and Vinculum II towards swearing full support to the Maelstrom Wardens - Lufgt Huron's forces - in repulsing the Fire Hawks and their allies. Now even the Mechanicus seemed afflicted with schismatic frenzy: though no one was being expressly heretical so far, just prideful idiots.
Seemingly.
"You need not be certain of my identity, but it IS certain that if you continue to act so foolishly, you will be destroyed!" Tidus replied hotly. "You can't prevail over the Mantris Warriors who certainly show more imagination than you, and certainly not against the Astral Claws. They are now to the size of two Great Companies of the Emperor's Legions."
"You would not dare say that in reach of my sword!" the Fire Hawk retorted.
"Enough! While you may doubt that Alpha Legion speak the truth, I -am- an agent of the Emperor's Just and Most Holy Inquisition." spoke the old man on the bridge. "I am of the Ordos Skepticus, and you may trust that I am extremely difficult to convince."
"It is not the first time that the Ruinous Powers have operated under the guise of the Inquisition."
"And it is not the time that a Space Marine Chapter was put under Edict of Obliteration! I am a Malcadorian, come here prepared to put the Astral Claws under the sword AND WHEN I SPEAK YOU WILL SHUT YOUR INSEREN MOUTH, ASTARTES! Your actions so far have been worse for the sake of this sector since the last obvious Chaos incursion! Your feral chapter will do just as well under my stamp!"
"Hold!" Captain Ru'Tahn of the Salamaders raised his hands. "This accomplishes nothing."
The single Alpha Legion Strike Cruiser, was surrounded by Salamanders and Errant Legion ships. In many ways the Alpha Legion was even less trusted than the Black Legion, so much so that his news had to be delivered over intership communications rather than risk their presence.
"We have been manipulated most expertly." Tidus continued, ignoring the outburst. "We have proof, but coming from a 'Cassandra Chapter' as ourselves, it is not enough. So far Huron Blackheart has been acting defensively, and his seizure of the Khartago sector still somewhat excuseable. It has since moved on from an Administratum matter, but the High Lords have ordered that Huron Blackheart must reveal his Chaos taint before true punitive action is delivered."
"A direct assault would do that." Captain Magyar of the Marines Errant spoke up. "Force him to resort to powers heretical. We must strike at Badab, the source of this corruption!"
"Yes, if the Fire Hawks could just be persuaded to leave the Mantis Warriors alone for a while." the Alpha Legion Captain replied with a mocking roll of the eyes.
"What are you trying to say?" sneered Volmir. "At least we have never once allowed any defeatist mewling to taint our lips."
"I am saying that we might have just found our overt proof of Chaos activity." Tidus concluded dryly.
The door to the Salamanders' Strike Cruiser MAGMA BONUM situation room opened and Captain Kirlian of the Black Legion entered. Magyar scowled. It had not been too long since the Marines Errant first met the Black Legion. Since the fleets of the Errant and Lamenters Chapter had avoided each other due to honor-bonds formed in recent Crusades, this left the strike fleet elements of the Black Legion to pick up the slack.
The Alpha Legion may be held in deep mistrust, but no Chapter was as unwelcome as the Black Legion.
Captain Kirlian bowed slightly, recognizing how once more his Chapter was earning grudges for simply doing their duty. He moved aside to allow the entry of a hooded giant, wrapped in black cloak. The newcomer had to bend down to enter a doorframe already widened to accommodate the size of the Astartes.
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"Readings are going down... down... and is my daughter showing any discomfort?"
"No my Emperor." said Sister Superior Peverell.
"In fact, I would even say this is comforting." Malcador noted. "Look, her little rabbit feet are twitching."
The Sister of Silence scowled at Malcador. "Please do not insult the Princess."
"What? You have to admit, it is sickeningly cute."
A ghost of a smile passed across the Sister's face as she looked towards Serenity again. "Yes, she is... cute." All the Sister of Silence would gladly die for the Emperor, but as she looked into the eyes of her there the concept of guarding the Emperor's Daughter was just... perfect. "And never sickening."
She knew just what fools may assume about the Emperor deciding to form an elite guard composed exclusively of female Nulls, but only now did she come to the full realization of the depth and glory that was the Emperor's plans. It was staggering. Their effect upon the Warp was hardly enough to even touch the vast wellspring of psychic might that was the Emperor.
Shunned and loathed by every human they've ever come across, he was the first to give them true purpose and protection. As part of his retinue they were accepted. To kill lesser psykers that were not worth his attention, it was such a small means of expressing their gratitude for his great gift.
All of them had accepted that this was the best life that could be for such as them; cut off from common humanity, circling the Emperor's light like moths that would burn in his glorious flame.
None of them had even dared to dream he could have more direct use of them. None of them had until that moment considered that their despicable existence could be used to help and protect a psyker.
Six Sisters of Silence stood around Serenity's crib, with wires and sensors wrapped around their heads towards the console that comsumed the Emperor's attention. He looked up and asked "And how do you feel?"
"W-warm, my Emperor."
She wanted to say more, to sing if she could. The Emperor shone so bright that he filled the hollow that was their existence. Serenity could not be anyone but the Emperor's own child- so too did her soul seem to suffuse into their own. But where the Emperor's presence was a fire so bright and so hot that they would laugh even as he burned them all from the inside out, Serenity was a gentler glow, like sunrise over the mountain mists.
"At least you are doing her no harm." Speculatively towards Malcador: "It seems that they are even -incapable- of doing her harm, due to the unique way she processes the Warp. It still bears some watching if as she grows into her power she would cause harm to psychic nulls."
'It is something we would gladly suffer!' Sister Peverell wanted to shout.
"This could work." Malcador said, nodding. "I wasn't sure how you wanted to handle raising the Moon Rabbit, keep her from turning into some spoiled brat with too much power, but this is so simple it is elegant."
The Emperor's lips twitched. "The Sisters of Silence shall raise Serenity. What better way of disguising her psychic presence, and eventually teach her control lest she cause harm to her mothers?" He turned towards the Sisters who strained to keep their expressions serious. "Can you handle such a responsibility?"
"Oh Emperor yes!" Peverell couldn't stop her outburst. "Um. My apologies, Emperor. Y-yes, I believe we are more than capable. We shall guard her with our lives." All of them wanted to crawl and in tears thank him for his boundless generosity.
The Emperor absently nodded, already concentrating on multilayered plans of securing the Palace and a broad outline for the lesson plans. Serenity would end up inhering the Imperium, better to give him all the free time and resources he would need to advance his Great Work. He had a vision of her all grown up, her hair pulled in two trailing blonde pigtails, and accidentally headbutting an Angel in the chin.
Right. Somene had to teach Serenity about mortal frailty and sympathy for the downtrodden. He had to remind himself that at the moment, she was still but an infant barely more an month old.
"Serenity must experience at least a mother's embrace. No technology shortcuts, she must be raised as I have been raised." That is, natural feeding all the way. For a crystal moment, he caught a glimpse of his own childhood and smiled. There was nothing unusual in being raised by multiple women, sucking from different teats. In those distant days, a family was an entire community. She might not be his natural daughter, but he could still transfer a bit of heritage from humanity's care.
The Emperor looked up and considered the Sisters suppressing Serenity's visions. Serenity would need milk until until near two years old. "We need to get some of you pregnant." he realized.
Synchronized to the second, they all blushed and looked away.
Serenity's face was not serene, but rather delighted. Her tiny little fingers grabbed at the air, trying to claim something only she could see.
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"I see. So this is your First Company Commander." the Marines Errant muttered to himself. "This explains much."
Larger than even a Terminator, The Captain could only be an Ancient Venerable Dreadnought. The wide barrel-chested pattern of the torso, lack of side plating, the longer legs, and the two arms sheathed in massive Lightning Claws- these were hallmarks of pre-Scattering designs. The flat slopes of Modern Dreadnought armor was slightly tougher and most importantly easier to repair.
Dreadnoughts were the finest servants of the Imperium, and their strength and wisdom were not wasted on lesser battles. For the most part they were allowed to slumber away the years. Chaos Dreadnoughts, not allowed such rest, often turned into indiscriminate berserkers.
"Ah, Captain. So you still live. Impressive." spoke Inquisitor Jorlana.
"My maker built well this shell." The Captain's voice was the deep, authoritative brass common to Dreadnoughts. "It remain unworthy of finding peace."
"Ah, yes. Not until Serenity returns. This makes you the oldest... well, I am not sure if 'living' still applies in your case... warrior in the Imperium. There are many Chapters who believe a long life denotes cowardice."
"They are not Black Legion, and their ignorance is easily forgivable."
The other Astartes there bristled at the implied insult, except for the Salamander who sighed and the Alpha Legion on the screen who smirked.
The Captain turned towards the Fire Hawk. "You." his voice rumbled dangerously. Then, faster than even the eyes of an Astartes could follow, impossibly fast for something so huge and covered in metal, Volmir was pinned to the wall behind two inactive Power Claws. "You serve Khorne."
"Lies! Black Legion filth! You are the heretics!"
"It is a surprise to many when Khorne proves the subtlest of the Ruinous Powers. These days." The Captain added softly. "But none knows the ways of Chaos as it does. Do you know who this is?"
Volmir stuggled, his face twisted in hate.
"I WILL HAVE YOUR ALLEGIANCE, WORM!" The Captain roared, and lights all throughout the ships flickered. Everyone's hearts skipped beats.
The Fire Hawk's face hung slack. "Y-yes, my lord. My master, L-"
And then he screamed. Silver light burst out of his eye sockets and he burned from the inside. The insignia of the Fire Hawks on his pauldron peeled off to show the mark of Khorne, which too crackled and burned into silvery dust.
An empty suit of Astartes Mk V armor clattered onto the deck.
The Captain turned sharply and pointed at Kobalt Magyar, of Marine Errant, with an oustreched claw. "YOU."
A Space Marine knows no fear. This was their primary virtue, to stand where all others falter. What he was feeling then was a reasonably close approximation, the Marines Errant told himself. Under the hood of The Captain's cloak was a sloped Terminator faceplate in the shape of a stylized wolf. A wolf that was missing one eye.
"You. Are Pure." The Captain judged. "There is no taint of Chaos within you, merely arrogance." Then, he dropped his limb, his hunched posture suddenly weary. He began to shamble towards the door. "It is done. Cut it no more with its memories."
"My thanks, Captain." Inquisitor Jorlana said to the departing Black Legion. "In nomine Serena, you may rest again. Second Company commander, remain."
"At your service, Inquisitor." said Kirlian.
"And thus we have confirmation. The Fire Hawks have been in collusion with the Astral Claws for quite some time. Two Grand Companies is nearly three thousand Marines, how could the Tyrant have assembled such a force in less than a hundred years? Answer: By covertly supplying other Chapters with fresh geneseed and convincing them to subtly increase the rate they were recruiting Marines. He then traded for their geneseed in turn for his own cultivation, to delay the corruption usually indicative of forced maturation. Unfortunately the Fire Hawks and the Astral Claws were just waiting for the chance to stab each other in the back."
"Recruitment is one thing, but where would he be getting the equipment to outfit his Marines?" Captain Ru'Than asked.
"We believe he is being supported by the Dark Mechanicus."
"Troubling."
Typically, Legions of the First Founding were allowed to keep the size of a Great Company, 1200 Astartes. This was, surprisingly, owed to Angron who had shown that if you shout really really loud for a while at Guilliman's face and laid out just what you wanted in exchange for following his Codex Astartes, he was more likely to just agree and avoid the hassle of extended bargaining.
Two Great Companies meant about two and a half thousand Space Marines, plus support and vehicles. Dark Mechanicus support tended to mean an abundance of Dreadnoughts and Devastator squads.
"No!" Magyar had by then recovered. "You have just murdered an Astartes in front of me, showing off the Chaos taint of these Black Legion heretics, and that constitutes proof? This will not pass! You all are the ones who should be judged!"
Everyone else regarded him with faintly sad look. Finally, Captain Ru'Than spoke "That was no Chaos taint. If he had not given his heart to Chaos, the light would have given him strength rather than burned him for his treason."
"The Black Legion carry the burden of Horus' geneseed." the Inquisitor added in an academic tone. "Yet remember how it was that Horus was defeated. After Serenity brought Terra back after Horus fired off his Planet Killer, she then purged Horus of his Chaos taint. But without his essence of Chaos... Horus was left with nothing."
The Marines Errant scowled disbelievingly. "You cannot mean to tell THAT is Serenity's Light! THAT these scum carry the Living Heart of the Imperium with them into battle!"
"We carry the sin of Horus, and also the peace granted to Horus by Serenity even as she died." Kirlian said with heavy regret. "It is ironic that we carry within us the last echo of Serenity's presence in this universe. No one other than Horus ever experienced a full-powered MOON PRINCESS HALLATION straight to the face. We are still touched by Chaos, but unlike most who fall under the corruption we retain the awareness of the wrongness of our existence. Unlike the Grey Knights, our resistance against Chaos is instinctive knowledge of where and when it pulls. Thus you see that we can pull upon Chaos in turn."
"This is beyond vile! Serenity in such... ugh! Her power mingling with Chaos. Your whole life a blasphemy!"
"We know this. When we die, a little bit of Serenity is returned to the universe. We feed Her Light with the salvation of her people."
"Bah!" The Errant turned to Captain Ru'Than. "Do you believe this tale? Who is this Captain?"
"The Captain has fought by the side of the Emperor and the Primarchs by the Great Crusade. It is only Serenity's Light that keeps him from going mad despite being woken so often."
"His hatred for Chaos is well-documented in the annals of the Inquisition. He must have a strong connection to Horus himself, to bear such strong mark of Her affinity." Inquisitor Jorlana added. "We believe he is either Loken of the Mournival or Hastur Sejanus." He smirked towards Kirlian. "But of course, you will offer not a hint of confirmation, won't you?"
The Black Legion marine shook his head. "Whoever The Captain was is meaningless. Every Black Legion Space Marine has no identity outside of the Legion." He looked towards the screen. "Should we be gossiping about this like some Martian network leech? What is to be done about the Astral Claws?"
"The Astral Claws are to be placed under Requisitio Penita. If they continue to resist submission to being examined, in much the same way this whole debacle begun in the first place... By the Authority of the High Lords of Terra, I hereby order the Black Legion to carry out the Edict of Obliteration. Their assets forfeit, their geneseed to be expunged, if they do not accept Serenity's Mercy."
Given the fierce expectation on their expressions, everyone but Kirlian wanted that to happen. He sighed. How so easy the Imperium could turn against itself. As the dominant power in the galaxy, it seems there was challenge greater or more satisfying than itself.
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"Stand back!" the Emperor yelled, as he overlaid a shell of protective force over Serenity's wailing. The Sisters of Silence grimaced, forced to their knees by the overpowering feelings of regret and longing pouring from the infant.
"How could a baby even contain these emotions?" Malcador asked, his brow sweating from the effort of keeping the Sisters from spontaneously exploding from the Warp leakage.
"She is drawing it from her future self." replied the Emperor. "Hush. Dear child. You are safe, can you hear me? Understand this. You are SAFE. YOU ARE LOVED. You are STILL HERE."
Slowly the pressure subsided.
"Visions... are often a warning, Kadmon." Malcador gasped painfully. He leaned on his staff, his muscles heavy with weariness. "This is a powerful vision. If only we could see what is happening."
The Emperor nodded. "Agreed. I am a fisher of the future, consciously reaching for the one I want to happen. Pallas Serena is a receiver, though that helps us not at this point."
"My Emperor... please..." Peverell whispered laboriously.
"My daughter is unharmed. You have my thanks. Do you understand yet how dangerous is the duty you have too easily claimed for yourselves?"
She grinned fiercely. "She is powerful indeed, my wise master. This is a power that will cause her more pain if she is unable to control it." The Sisters knew well what it meant to be a freak, to be feared and despised beneath the veneer of respect. "I beg you... please allow us. It would be our pleasure... to give her what she needs to live amongst your people."
"Are you not worried about the transferrence of loyalty to hers from you?" Malcador asked. "There is utility in this plan of yours, but emotional attachment is always unpredictable."
"We would never!" the Sisters shouted hotly.
"I appreciate your concern, old friend, but in the end what does it matter? Serenity will hardly stab me in the back. My daughter shall continue my Work, in the end it will be her Imperium. There is more to our task than mere conquest. There is a difference between to rule and to administrate, and in the end we all serve mankind. You can trust MY Vision in this."
"So you say, and let it be done." Malcador groaned and stretched out, grimacing as his joints popped. He turned towards the Sisters of Silence. "My apologies if I have offended you ladies."
As he eas second in authority next to the Emperor, the Sisters bowed their heads in contrition. "No, it is our fault, lord. We beg your forgiveness. We have forgotten our place."
Something flicked across Malcador's face. "Kadmon, this place has so much Warp energy that now -I'm- starting to get visions. Has she calmed down yet?"
The Emperor lowered his hand and his psychic shield. "She is fine."
Serenity's eyes stared out into nothing, but she blinked now and then and her breathing was regular. She was just so intent on something, as babies were sometimes wont to do.
"Ladies, could you go back to your place so we can get back to work." As they moved to the marker disks around the crib, Malcador reconsidered "No, wait, go over there and stand in a line. Facing the crib."
Silently they obeyed. Malcador continued with "Good. Now put your hands over your head. Bend your elbows. No, bring your palms together, open out your fingers. Yes, over there just in front of the topknot. Now a little further out to the side."
The Sisters of Silence looked puzzled. Their head was shaven, except for a tall topknot rising over their skullcap, and a thick long tail of of dyed red hair that was left uncut ever since entering the Emperor's service trailed behind their neck. Their posture was now as if they were about to dive into a pool.
"Good. Now, jut your hips off to the side. To the left. -Your- left! In unison!" Malcador's face was blandly serious. They obeyed without qualm. "Left! Right! Sway more. Excellent. Now open and close your palms in the opposite direction as you sway your hips. Tilt your heads a little more, there must be hair motion, they must sway in rythmn opposite to where your hips are. Right. Left. Right. Left. Yes."
It took a few more tries, but eventually they got the pattern. "Could you smile a bit? No, that's just creepy. Normal expression."
Numa. Numa. Yay. Yay.
The Emperor's eyes focused again, and he turned away from his calculations. He looked up at the swaying line. "Malcador. You old lech, what are you doing?" The Sisters of Silence stopped awkwardly, fighting back embarrassment.
"What does it look like? Are you going to countermand my orders, oh Emperor?"
He thought that over for a moment. "No. Continue." As the Sisters directed faintly mulish expressions at Malcador, they returned to their strange dance. "This..." and there was a buzzing noise from the panel underneath the Emperor's claw. "This is actually having an effect?"
"If it obeys the theme." Mostly he just wanted to see if they'd actually do it.
"Feedback. Interesting." The Emperor gestured. "Stop. Malcador, get over here." As the Sigilite approached, he pointed to a fluctuating graph on a screen."So in some way she is aware of the present. I could overlay her emotions, or slowly the Sisters of Silence could persuade her about which timeline she should participate in. We need some more data for analysis." Remembering the Sister of Silence, he waved his arm again. "Return to your previous positions. "
Pointedly not looking at each other, the Sisters of Silence went back to their places on the hexagon and put the measuring torcs back on their heads.
The Emperor and Malcador peered at the console readouts. "What about 'fast-forwarding' to the end of this vision by charging her Warp filter with your power?" Malcador asked idly.
The Emperor looked thoughtful for several minutes, then sent out a brief experimental surge. Serenity wailed in fear. Silver fire erupted through the room.
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A line of black-armored Astartes drew their Force Swords. Silvery Warp power crackled across the edges of their blades. "WE FIGHT EVIL UNDER MOONLIGHT!" they shouted. As one, the Black Legion Fifth Battle Company held up their swords with the hilts over their faceplates.
They pointed out into the hell of war. A narrow valley already bore scars and the twisted remains of many war machines. Dark Mechanicus Destriers and Knight-riders leapt upon Space Marines already webbed in melee. This was first battle in the Badab War in which the Tyrant himself appeared, and the Tyrant Legion was proving more than adequate challenge for two Legions of the First Founding.
"WE EARN VICTORY BY DAYLIGHT!
TO EVER BATTLE AGAINST THE POWERS RUINOUS!
WE ARE THE ONES KNOWN AS THE BLACK LEGION!"
They slammed into the mass of Astral Claws like a strong wave upon a cliff. Marines were thrown every which way. The colors of the Tyrant Legion were green and gray. They were so very many, and yet had allowed themselves to be trapped into this ancient canyon. The reason why lay above a strange spire within the defile. A seething Warp Gate boiled with powers Chaotic, like an open eye eagerly beholding this bloodbath.
Its pink glow dominated the battlefield. The scattered flares of Bolter rounds and the flashing glow of blades in the night brought out the colors of Astartes armor. The only useful illumination came from the burning pits of ruined war machines.
The Salamanders and their Devastator squads capped both ends of the valley, bottling all combatants. Their primary enemy was the flank of the Dark Mechanicus, seeking to break the pin.
The battlefield was an exercise in circumlocution. The heart of the conflict was the Altar to Khorne, but not only was it guarded by Huron Blackheart himself, his Terminator retinue, and a Thousand Sons Chaos Sorcerer, but waiting above it was a Dark Mechanicus Warhound.
This left a killzone around the altar, at the edges of which the Astral Claws and the Black Legion's battle companies clashed. Beyond this was the killzone of the Black Legion, preventing the Tyrant's forces from breaking out. And beyond these were the battle lines of the Salamanders and Dark Mechanicus. The Salamanders repulsed waves of assaults while attempting to open up the enemy's fire barriers to bring in their weapons capable of harming a Titan.
Captain Kirlian too leapt into the fray. Slashing and stabbing, everyone had come to the realization that this was a battle could not be solved with suppression fire. The Warp Gate was no portal to allow the Tyrant Legion to leave, it could bring only a select chosen few into the Maelstrom. The rest of the Astral Claws had not earned that dark blessing, and thus they had to break out of this trap on their own.
Of course, the loyalists could hardly let Huron Blackheart escape.
There was a hard boom of displaced air, and the Assault Terminator Squad of First Company arrived; Deep Striking too close to the Warhound's legs for its cannons. While the Titan stepped back for a clear shot, the Tyrant's own Terminators flung cutting streams of assault cannon fire downstream. The shells sparked off Storm Shields as the Black Legion charged.
"BLACK LEGION! IN NOMINE LUNA! TO PAX SERENITAS!"
"TYRANT LEGION! SPILL THE MAELSTROM! FOR THE DARK GODS!" screamed the Astral Claws, sending out their own assault squads, armed appropriately enough with Lightning Claws, backed by Heavy Bolter fire.
The Black Legion Terminators carried Force Pikes rather than Thunder Hammers, long spears eerily similar to those that that Emperor's own Custodes carried. Attacking Astral Claws were impaled or disemboweled. The reach of their weapons slowed them down in pitched close combat however. Only The Captain managed to push ahead the weight of numbers, since his Relic Lightning Claws provided both offense and defense in a far less cumbersome package. In turn the power claws and assorted body parts of the Astral Claws fell apart against his expert sweeps.
By this time the Dark Titan had extended its own minimum range. Its Plasma Blastgun spoke, spitting out a glob of blue sunfire, exploding and immolating all within the innermost killzone. Terminators roared as they were thrown into the air.
"I almost did not believe it. You really do not even swear to the Corpse-Emperor, but to someone who could not even leave a corpse." Huron Blackheart laughed. "If you seek the peace of Serenity, then go! Die with your useless weakling Princess! The Imperium will be better rid of useless creed!"
Kirlian momentarily paused. He could hardly believe his ears. Lufgt Huron had said that unencrypted into the Astartes comm net. "Even more pathetic is the level of his taunting!" he shouted to his battle-brothers. "Ignore this idiocy and push forward!"
To no avail. They were driven to berserk fury. Warp energy crackled around them, and silver fire crackled over their shoulders. They were on fire, and everything that they touched was soon on fire as well. All was right.
"Is this really the best you can do? The reputations of the Emperor's own penitent Legion has been vastly overstated! You were fools to turn away from the power offered by Chaos!" He brandished the daemon-sword Impukcharai at the crumpled forms of the Black Legion's most elite warriors. Even The Captain, still clad in his monk-like cloak, struggled to get back to his knees. "All for what? A weepy little woman who would have given away everything that all the Emperor worked for!"
The Captain stood up, his massive frame shaking with malice. "Silence." he rumbled dangerously. "A galaxy that knows Serenity, a galaxy in peace... it is the greatest gift the Emperor could give to humanity."
Huron Blackheart laughed again. "What use is there in peace? You've all grown weak! A pox on Serenity!"
The Captain roared lunged with his claws outstretched. Straight into a stream of Vulcan Mega-Bolter fire.
The wicked torrent that could chew through Superheavy tanks ripped across the battlefield, blasting into the rock of the valley. Through the kicked-up dust, The Captain stumbled and fell. No Dreadnought armor was a match for Titan-scale weapons.
But The Captain's armor was barely armor at all. His shroud was already in tatters, and as he forced himself back to his feet, it ripped free entirely. Rather than coolant and components, it was thick red blood that dripped down the cracks in his torso.
His faceplate was gone, his nose was bleeding. By the rents in his armor, he taken bursts of Vulcan Megabolter fire straight on. Impossibly, he still endured.
"No..." he wheezed as he felt his broken ribs. He had none of the enhancements of the Astartes, his every organ like that of any normal man. His life and his destiny was writ large in the skein of the galaxy in pain. "Not yet... not to die. Not from something like this. NO, KHORNE. NO YOU SHUT UP."
"Captain!" Kirlian shouted from below. "In name of the Emperor's Mercy and the Peace of Serenity, for the sake of this galaxy under threat, you are given leave to do what takes to bring that traitor to justice!"
The Captain still hesitated. His breathing calmed down, and the red glow from behind his eyes faded to silver, then to the eyes of a man who had seen far too much across too many worlds. "There is no honor in this."
Kirlian parried the attacks of three Astral Claws at once. "Your honor means nothing! Will you not defend the honor of our Princess?"
The Captain nodded. "She would forgive. It... no. -I- will not." He forced himself back to his feet and faced the Warhound. His wounds bled heavily, liters of blood reflecting the glow of the Plasma Blastgun above him. "01101110 00110000 00110000 01100010!" he spat.
The Warhound growled and spat back sunfire. As the bright flash blinded everyone, it followed through with its Vulcan Megabolters. Seemingly enraged, it slashed away at the base of the spire, until it was completely covered with thick, shard-flecked smoke and dust.
The smoke wafted out, like a living creature crawling through the canyon floor. It wrapped around the Scout Titan's ankles and suddenly the Warhound found itself being wrenched to the ground. It struggled, and there was a heavy crack. One of its legs was torn free from the hip socket. There was a thunderous clang. It was being clubbed over the head with its own limb.
Clang. Clang. Clang. The air around it shimmered to show its ineffective Void Shields. Hit after hit the Warhound's armor deformed. Clang. Until, mercifully, its head fell right off. The Dark Mechanicus pilots were nothing more than sheets of augemetics and rivulets of goop sandwiched between thick layers of metal and machinery.
With a final heavy whump! the Titan collapsed.
The Captain walked up the steps, the dark dust billowing around him like a rising dragon.
The Captain sneered contemptuously, and pressed a latch over each of his Lightning Claws. The Relic weapons dropped, leaving him with nothing more than his bare hands to fight with. Slowly he began peeling off the useless armor over his body. Naked from the waist up, it was the closest to a fair fight he could give to a Chapter Master filled with the blessing of Chaos.
"Wonderful! Chaos hear my thanks! " As a Chapter Master, Huron had access to the latest mark of Astartes Armor, now enhanced with the technological witcheries of the Dark Mechanicus. He laughed again, his voice pitching up in glee, and gestured to his retinue. "Kill him! KILL HIM IF YOU CAN!"
All the rest of the Astral Claws on the spire charged down.
A Tyrant Chaos Terminator leapt towards the Captain, Power Axe held high. The Captain caught it by the blade, the matter-disrupting Power Field sparking in his palm. With his other hand he palmed the Terminator's face, and dug in. His fingers broke through armor, into brains, and effortlessly collapsed the Marine's head in.
With an easy flick as if the suit of Tactical Dreadnought Armor was no more than a toy, he tossed it aside. Not once did his expression change from cold hatred.
The other Marines saw no wisdom in attacking one by one and leapt right off the steps to drag him to the ground with their combined weight. The Captain grabbed the nearest and used him as bat to sweep away the rest. "I give your death to the Emperor. May He show the mercy that She cannot give." he whispered to the shaken Astral Claw. Then he flung that Terminator up high into the cliffs.
The look of glee on Huron's Blackheart's face only intensified. "... now comes the time to test my capacity. Accept this tribute! CHAOS FILL ME WITH GLORY!"
His daemonsword cut into The Captain's forearms. The Tyrant stabbed down, taking clear advantage of higher ground. The Captain was taller than the Chapter Master, but his enemy remained out of reach. He had enough to deal with in keeping the point of the blade from poking his eyes out.
Huron Blackheart was looking down upon him, both literally and figuratively. Chaos liked to test their new champions against him. Through thousands of years, The Captain had weathered the egoes and ambitions of thousands of fools. There was that look of triumphant bloodlust in Lufgt Huron's face. He brought nothing new to The Captain's long and tortured life.
The Captain ducked, and rather than attack the Tyrant, drove his palms into the rock of the ancient spire's stairs. This was the problem with most Chaos Champions; The Captain remembered, give them power and they tend to lose attention. Too long unchallenged, feeling they had hit the wall of their personal prowess, they instead forget the worth of their skills.
Even he at the furthest extent of his power, had no shortage of people willing and able to punch him in the face. As Huron Blackheart lost his balance, and as a look of bewildred fear replaced the frenzy, The Captain allowed himself a smile. He flicked out his left arm to grab the daemonsword by the hilt, and crushed the Tyrant's forearm into paste under his palm. The daemon within the blade screamed.
The blade fell off, tumbling down into the shrouded depths of the pillar's base. "Gurk!" Lufgt Huron struggled for breath as The Captain held him aloft by the throat.
"No more of your slander." he whispered dangerously. "In name of the moon. I will punish you."
Luft Huron kicked against The Captain's chest and managed to pull free, as a blast of Warp lightning scoured the Black Legionnaire's side. The Captain grimaced in pain, but already the sword-cuts from earlier had healed completely. Above, the Chaos Sorcerer poured the curses of the Warp into a steady lashing even as he shouted for Lufgt Huron to finish his task.
Huron Blackheart flew from a backhand strike, and slammed into a pillar of rock atop the spire. It collapsed over him. That by itself would not have bothered a Space Marine, but The Captain's little finger had carved straight through his armor and nearly disemboweled him from shoulder to hip.
Such viciousness. Such relentless power.
Only one word could contain it. Huron Blackheart laughed through blood-stained teeth. "...p-primarch."
Zargoz, Chaos Sorcerer of the Thousand Sons, placed himself between The Captain and Huron Blackheart. "Flee now, fool." he said to the Tyrant. "You have not yet the strength to prevail against him."
Huron Blackheart continued to chuckle, even as his lungs filled with blood. "N-not yet. But soon." He limped towards the Warp Portal and its evil glow seemed to seep into his bones. He drew strength from its cursed whispers.
The Captain was only momentarily delayed by the poisonous Warp field around the spire's top. He seemed to drink in the boiling energies, the field parting in his passing.
"You hear their welcoming whispers, do you not? So much effort spent in just trying to seal away powers that are ever yours for the taking." The tip of Zargoz' bone-wreath staff burned with dark power as he readied himself for battle. "I would have you know this is an honor." he said to the Captain. "Magnus himself has decreed that my death be upon your hands."
A low growl came from The Captain's throat, and he surged forward to flatten the Chaos Sorcerer even as he sought to reach the Tyrant of Badab. To no avail. Even a being of his stature could be thrown off by a Warp wall. Adapting quickly, he landed right in front of the Thousand Sons Sorcerer.
He remembered how it was that Magnus in his quest to unravel the mysteries of Serenity's existence, had fallen so easily to the promises of Chaos.
"Chaos seeks not total victory, lord." Zargoz' oily voice didn't budge a quaver even as his arms were torn off their sockets. "Chaos still has some affection for you. Total victory against the Imperium would give an end to this endless, entertaining war between us. You are now the last, you know this?"
He flung his burning amputated torso against the Captain, delaying him for just the crucial second to let Huron Blackheart enter the portal and render the seige futile. It flickered out. The Captain snarled at his failure and turned his full attention to the Sorcerer.
And now his legs were gone. Zardoz fell onto the stumps, rolling wormlike to face his tormentor. "You cannot defeat Chaos as you are. Serenity is a lie. That smug fool seeks to stand amongst the Primarchs, but you in time could have stood beside the Gods!"
The Captain punched down, his fist moving with such speed and power as to shatter the night air with a shockwave. Around the cairn's base, battling Astartes in Terminator armor were blown off their feet. His fist was sunk to the elbow into the ground and through the Sorcerer's plastron.
Then the whole rocky column began to collapse.
Yet even as they fell and with most of his chest gone, Zargoz managed to gurgle out "As long as you deny... the power that is your birthright, we... wolves... gladly and... easily... devour her flock..."
The Captain tore him apart and once on mostly solid ground stomped on the remains for good measure. He look to the stars and roared incoherently. His rage rent the sky asunder and cogitators of the Dark Mechanicus, attuned to chaotic Warp flows that jump aside normal processing cycles, sparked and died. His despair, his regret, they were viscous currents in the Warp, tearing apart the daemonic Warp creatures observing the battlefield.
And then, abruptly, he stopped. His shoulders slumped. Yet one more failure that he had to redress. One more he had proven to himself that power alone meant nothing, no one even of collosal power can master a galaxy. Even the Emperor knew this, and that why he had made the Primarchs and the Astartes.
"Only Serenity can heal this galaxy..." he said to the stars. "Peace unto you, wherever you may be, sister beloved by us all." he said softly towards the darkness behind the night sky. At least one more world was free of the traitor's taint. "These people will suffer no more. In time they will heal."
Then, his posture sagged again. The power and the fury left him, and for his physical might he was again a tired and broken man. "This is in no way enough to earn my forgiveness."
The Captain left the broken corpse and nudged a Titan's leg out of his way. He searched for something he could use as a cloak. The moonlight, even if was not Luna's glow, the feel of it was heinous upon his skin. The moon's light was symbolic of Serenity, the sunlight the Emperor. He had his own reasons for avoiding such brilliance. There was no place dark enough that he could crawl, no shadow deep enough to cover his stigma, but at least he could put something over his face.
He settled for having his long black hair fall over his face, like Conrad Kurze did when in his dark Night Haunter moods. He moved slowly down the rubble of the altar spire and didn't there was silence on the battlefield. All eyes were upon him.
Seeing the cowardly retreat of their leader, the Astral Claws paused even in the midst of melee. Not a few were eviscerated for this intentional opening. It was as if a heavy cloud was lifted, and Astartes on both sides of the conflict regarded each other with reluctant reappraisal.
Images of Horus had been torn down throughout the Imperium, and not in old shared monuments to the Primarchs were spared. Where it was necessary to show the Heresy at its height, Horus had always been depicted as viewed from the back or as a vile corrupted face of Chaos. The Emperor's visage was familiar to many.
The Captain had an eerie resemblance to the Emperor's divine features. That was something shared by only eighteen other beings known to the Imperium.
Kirlian approached the weary giant. "Lupercal." he spoke firmly, equal to equal.
"I failed." The Captain replied mournfully.
"You are not forgiven, but it is excusable. We have achieved our broad objectives in laying siege to this world. " He carried a large Black Legion campaign flag torn off its pole. There was no honor in offering it, everyone in the Black Legion was fine with it even if someone were to use their flag as a cleaning rag. "What is to be done with these stragglers?"
The Captain put it over himself, taking a deep relieved breath as he did so, and shook his head. "I am not worthy to speak of anyone's repentance. If you wish to slay them all, do as you please. If you wish to see who can be saved, that is your choice."
"You are still Captain of the First Company. We would hear gladly your voice.
For ten thousand years you have suffered for the Imperium, and us who suffer with you... we are not Sons of Horus, but we would gladly call him brother. This was what he wanted to say. We choose to stand with you, and you are not alone in your long vigil. We too believe that someday we may all earn Serenity."
The Captain shook his head and brushed past him. "No. I am nothing. Without her, I remain nothing."
The surviving Astral Claws First Company Terminators dropped to their knees. "Only now do we realize the extent of our sins. Divine Primarch, if it would please you to see us die, then we accept it."
"No. Rise! Do not bow to me. Never to me." The Captain growled as more and more Astral Claws either dropped in total surrender or turned their weapons on themselves. "Damn you all. I deserve no such respect."
Kirlian looked around. The secret of The Captain's true identity was nevertheless easy to keep. He knew that far too many of these Astartes would choose death over accepting Serenity's peace. They might try to seek penance even as just bonded chapter-serfs to the Black Legion, but even that would be denied them. No one joins the Black Legion out of one's own free will.
Mutely accepting their fate was not the way of the Black Legion, much as it might appear that way. They had to struggle from the inwards out for their own redemption, it would not be so easily given. He tried to be glad, that at least they had been saved from falling completely into Chaos.
Only those who had taken the full brunt of Chaos its temptations and walked out with their soul intact could become part of the Black Legion. To become part of the Black Legion was also to have one's own geneseed ripped out to be replaced with Horus' own. Anyone who was trying to join the Black Legion for that peculiar honor of serving a living Primarch was doing it for the entirely wrong reasons and would be burned alive by the flames of contrition.
"You have done the Imperium a great service here today!" Kirlian shouted at that broad back."Huron Blackheart may have fled, but perhaps now this wasteful schism may end. Even if nothing can earn your absolution, we can at least recognize the honor of your having done your duty well."
"I seek no honors." spoke The Captain of the Black Legion. In a softer voice "To hear my precious sister's laughter would be worth everything." His shrouded slouch lowered some more, like a hunchbacked minion in old borderline heretic holos, even as the Space Marines in his path scampered to give way.
The Black Legion fought that in death they may be forgiven. He had no such relief. It was a deeper wound, his shameful secret, that he had already been forgiven. She had forgiven him even as she faded away in his arms. He would forever be unworthy.
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=][=
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The Emperor and the Sisters of Silence were unharmed. The equipment were worthless wrecks. Malcador rolled on the floor a few more times and got up, limping on staff. In the middle of the room, the crib as undamaged. Within it, little Serenity looked around, awake and fully aware of her surroundings. She reached out for the Emperor as he approached, and he gingerly picked her up.
"And now she is laughing." Or as far as babies could laugh, anyway, in an ack-ack-ack series of squeals. "Why is she laughing?" The Emperor turned towards Malcador. "Do something funny."
"You cannot possibly be serious."
The Emperor held up a hooked finger of his Power Claw. "Note. Serious. Face."
Malcador sighed. He leaned towards the child and stuck out his tongue. "Booga! Booga! Booga!"
Serenity's face turned serious. She was deeply unimpressed. Disinterested, she curled into the Emperor's thumb and closed her eyes. Soon enough her breathing evened out into sleep.
"Not as I intended, but good work old friend." The Emperor carefully put her back into the crib.
Malcador was old, and had his own share of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Sometimes, behind the Emperor's cold ruthless and bloody-minded ambition, Malcador still felt he was dealing with the ultimate among self-centered and irrepressibly curious children. "Blood relations or not, already I can see the family resemblance. I swear to you, when she reaches adolescence, I am going to take a LONG vacation. See how you deal with it all alone, then!"
"I could order you not to, I suppose. I did endure -your- whiny rebellious stage."
"With all due respect, my Emperor. Be stuffed." If she was anything like him or the Emperor, it would be a hyperactive headache-filled adolescence that would last centuries.
The Emperor chuckled. He'd been doing that more often these days.
"Are we done? Is her power now sealed?"
"Yes, we are done." The Emperor tapped lightly the Lunar Tiara express-delivered from Mars. One of the most powerful psychic dampeners ever made, it helped filter the impressions constantly bombarding her mind. He smiled slightly. Where he would bring order and majesty, Serenity would bring life and delight. A new and bountiful galaxy in peace waited for all mankind.
Bowing to the Emperor and giving the child one last considering look, Malcador walked out the Palace Creche. He was ever more certain that while good may come from a softer approach than what he and Emperor had decided long ago, there would be yet much more unforeseen suffering before it could come to pass.
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author notes:
Bleh. It feels a suppressor is a bit too plot device-y, but then I remembered this was both SM and 40k. It would be a far greater departure from their themes if there wasn't some doohickey to complicate things later. Anyway, please remember that Lovehammer has many different continuities, and if you don't like Serenity being given some semblance of a normal childhood there are others where she's being a rambunctious bundle of joy to the Custodes. Check the parent thread for this over at spacebattles.
And now a bonus! There was a hole in the timeline last chapter, to fill it up:
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Old as the Emperor was, he was still subject to whims and moods. It was just that these tended to last for centuries on end. He longer dreamed, though he still set aside a few hours a day for a sleep cycle and introspection. It was a bargain he'd made with himself long ago. His every waking moment was devoted to mankind, but he needed also time for 'himself'. Such a mind as his, specially with his powers over time, could live out lucid lives and craft universes out from the dark. It was also easier to contact others through dreams when he himself was in a dream state.
Malcador had noticed through long association that even the Emperor could get (even more) flaky if he chose to forego even but days of sleep. The Emperor was his own worst enemy, and did not take the the breach of a contract lightly. Ever since the child arrived, the Emperor was so excited by the new possibilities that he hadn't a chance to step back and let things play out beyond even his control.
Three days after finding Serenity, and with several more weeks before the formal celebration to commorate his supreme rule over all Terra, homeworld of mankind, and thereafter all of mankind again, the Emperor had barged into Malcador's room and yelled "We! Are going! To Mars!"
He was in full armor, golden glow, the whole shebang. The pack of noblewomen shrieked and tried to cover themselves. The Emperor's presence put them into orgiastic bliss more than... the orgy they were just in. Malacador gestured for them to go, and they scampered like rabbits. The old psyker groaned and raised both hands. He snapped his fingers. His robes appeared over his head and he let gravity do the rest.
"What in The Cage, Kadmon? I do not disturb your sleep with paperwork, you could at least not disrupt my own private cycles! I am no apprentice you can just toss into a Dragon's Mouth, I have administrative stresses too that must be unwound! Can you not allow me time to relax (away from you) now that our war is won (and now I have to clean up the messes you made, You damn you)?"
"Meh." was the word. The Emperor turned and began to make his way over to the starport.
Malcador had no choice but to follow. The Sigilite was muttering something about "... this is going to be like that time you sent me out fishing for babel, isn't it?"
=][=
"So why are we going to Mars so soon?" Malcador asked as they boarded a Stormbird. "Have you not scheduled this some twenty years down the line so Terra can be of sufficient strength to force the issue if they resist? Give them time to inspect your Work to form their own expectations as to your status as a techno-preserver?"
"I have decided that a 'soft sell' would work just as well. My plans can afford being delayed, as now I must spend at least fifty years to make sure Serenity is raised and trained properly. Coincidentally, now is also when both Phobos and Deimos are at perigree. Their industrial base is needed for the task of babyproofing Terra."
"I am certain that in your unmatched wisdom this all makes sense to you, Emperor. But I am but a fraction of your intellect and I have no idea what the hell you are saying. Perhaps you should sleep on it."
The Emperor's lips twitched in a slight grin. "I have. I had a dream old friend. I dreamed of my ancestors, and of my own childhood as a goatherder in Anatolia. The mountains spoke to me again. Do you realize what this means?"
Malcador had to bite his tongue to keep the obvious retort from escaping his lips. "No, I do not. Uh. Congratulations?"
The Emperor nodded, pleased. "I dreamed of two roads, winding and rising around cliffs and over hills. Running on each the other road I saw myself. I knew then that these were the Rules that Govern the Fate of Mankind. The Rules are Changing, seeking to dominate each other, and the fate of all humanity in flux. I saw in the distance that the roads forked, two paths each, diverging out and and meeting in the middle to form a third path. I knew then that there would be a collision, for I, myself, will not give way even to myself. I, for the first time, shall face A Choice that is My Own. In the end it can be an event that is inspiring, or amusing, or as I dare call it... awesomefun. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Malcador was gripping his staff with both hands and was apparently forcing himself to pretend it was bolted to the floor. "No, my Emperor, I am... sad... to say I do not. Please do not explain."
"You are shielding your mind from me, old friend. That does dishearten me. Be honest. What do you think? Dreams are always open to interpretation."
"No, I have no need to know. I will trust you and be secure that you will continue to well for all mankind do as you are able. It... is not as if this is going to change your habits, is it?"
The Emperor looked thoughtful. "No, not at all. The future for myself unfolds as it will."
"Lovely." Malcador sighed.
=][=
While it was true that the Warp Storms of Old Night did isolate many worlds all across the galaxy, Sol was not exactly trapped. On occasion the AdMech sent out explorator fleets, which set up new Forge Worlds should they survive. Terra itself had its own ships, and many fortunes rested on travels made when the Warp was calmer. The Tech-Priests of Mars had little need for trade, and thus the rare ship that manages to break through into Sol tended to crash-land and set up new dynasties on Terra; still the largest, wealthiest, and most populous Hive-World for lightyears around.
The Emperor would have directed the industrial output of Terra, one that could easily rival the red planet if properly managed, into the construction of a vast and finely-designed starship- the first in a long, long time capable of distant and safe Warp transit. It would have technologies that Mars would have forgotten, secrets locked safe and undistorted in the peerless mind that designed them in the first place.
For the moment, they did have a much less impressive but nonetheless functional ship, one seized from the Mechanicus in their last raid upon Terra. He had no problem remotely shutting down the Martian orbital defenses, since the security holes he laid into the STC patterns so long ago still remained in the kernels.
Taymon Verticorda was, as in his previous vision, was the one to first see and to greet his return to the red planet. Brother Veriticorda was young, just a Squire of Taranis, and rode Castanea Tractus; an older training Knight-mount. In many ways this served the Emperor just as well.
"I sense your machine has its difficulties, Taymon Verticorda." spoke the Emperor, laying on thick the omnipresence. He laid his massive gloved hand over the stylized equine head and said "Machine, heal thyself."
Subtle vibrations surged through the mount's flesh and steel existence, humming through its armored frame of plasteel and ceramite. As the young Squire of Taranis took a reflexive step back, he felt his mount's quick and free movement as if it was fresh off the factory.
"Whoa." was the young man's awestruck exclamation. "Hax."
The Emperor blinked. That was not what he'd been expecting.
=][=
It was a risk, the Emperor knew, but he was not asking for their recognition as the Omnissiah yet. It was easy enough to add the interpretation that 'coming from heaven in drops of rain' could mean restarting the lost terraforming engines upon Mars. Rather than the shock and awe approach, he was going to let them butt heads against his depth of knowledge until they realized that he was the architect of their past and the shaper of their futures.
The Forge Masters of Mars had gathered to inspect this interloper from Terra. The Emperor waited serenely as they drank in the implications of his presence. He was waiting for the question "So you are the Emperor of Mankind? Such a grandiose title. Do you mean to say that we too must bend our knee to you? By what right do you claim this authority?"
He was prepared to say 'by reason and ability'. He would pass their tests. He would insinuate himself thoroughly into their culture, leaving no room for the Void Dragon to get its hooks in. No one would be able to accuse him of enslaving the Mechanicus to his will after beating their faces in thoroughly and scholastically. They would see he had tested them in turn as they had tested him, and be relieved they had proven ready.
Kelbor-Hal, Forge Master of Olympus Mons, was a large red-cloaked figure whose face was now but a tangle of augmetic bundles and glowing apertures. Free from the doubts of the flesh, could this creature even consider itself 'human'?
His voice was a machine buzz. "Omnissiah, I wish to file a bug report."
Twice now caught by surprise, the Emperor retorted "What."
It translated into 01110111 01110100 01100110 straight into what remained of their flesh-born brains. The Forge Masters excitedly filled the noosphere in discussion amongst themselves and then it was if a dam was broken when he sarcastically added "Sure why not."
The Emperor soon found himself answering a barrage of questions, even in reflex his replies were without fail. Only later did he begin to get an awareness of what answers his subconscious was supplying to ever-more increasingly absurd lines of inquiry.
"That is because you keep on forgetting to comment your code."
"Electrum can also mean amber. Try a crystalline layout."
"No, it is perfectly normal for global network throughput to spontaneously consist of over forty percent pornography. Slaanesh has nothing to do with it."
"No, THAT is a C≠ compiler. Your Warhounds are running on Reticulate‡, which is an astonishing accomplishment in of itself."
"The Etheric Principle is not working for you because you are not wearing a tophat and monocle."
"The STC Chamber and the Matrix of Leadership are two different things entirely!"
"You bastards cannot possibly be completely taking everything I say seriously, are you?"
Koriel Zeth, Mistress of Magma City, raised a ferro-sculpted hand. "In the interests of accuracy, I am a bitch."
Sometime during this exchange for some reason, Malcador had set the Magos Biologis' face on fire.
"Enough!" The Emperor pointed to the assembly of the finest and most fervent minds of the Mechanicum. His glorious golden glow had visibly diminished, but his eyes were burning white-hot. "I... appreciate... your excellent analysis. Your acceptance of the situation. Compile a faq for easier access to the problems and solutions you require. But for now, I! Am going back. To Terra. I shall return... soon."
And with a burst of power, he had in a split-second flung himself through millions of kilometers to appear on a landing platform of Hive Brasil. His left cheek twitched.
Beside him, piggybacking on the Warp shunt, Malcador hobbled to face his master. "This is how I feel, Kadmon." he spoke in a pained hush, the Sigilite's expression wide-eyed and nearly feral. "ALL THE TIME."
=][=
Please remember, that all these wackiness? This was still around when Horus and the Primarchs were up and about. Trolling each other is apparently how they bond. In Lovehammer, everybody is the straight man to somebody else.
And then... it's gone.
And only one person really remembers what it meant to have Serenity. It didn't mean stasis and peace at all costs; it was a wild time full of bickering and schemes and awful food and demigods acting all too foolish and all too human. They exulted in their flaws, rather than excise them.
:(
Horus has a sad.