Chapter 44

The mood at the great council table in the center of reclaimed Halfast Primus was a weary but celebratory one, even if the original meeting on its moon had been moved to a more agreeable area on the first continent to be reclaimed. Any air of revelry, so common amongst the many echelons of the Imperium of Man after a successful campaign, however, was tinged with a great deal of somber silence.

Reports were still coming in of the damage done by the detonation of the ork gargant, just as the tallies had finished from the losses from its main weapon upon Imperial battle lines.

Three entire IG regiments had been wiped out to the man by the glancing blow, the unnatural energy erasing almost every trace of them and their fortifications. Seventeen more regiments were horribly bloodied, many down to only a few hundred troops apiece from once there had been tens of thousands. Even those lightly affected by the blasts were suffering severe ailments brought on by such close proximity to explosions; temporary or permanent losses of eyesight, hearing, uncontrollable shaking, jitters, the works.

The loss of the troops was expected, but the sheer amount of equipment lost in the initial blasts had been astronomical. There was talk that the surviving regiments wouldn't have enough gear to supply themselves, and would need to be sent to nearby worlds to replenish their numbers and scrounge up more gear to outfit their new forces. Or, given circumstances, be forced to meld into one another to bring them back to relative combat effectiveness in a shorter time.

The tallies from the gargant explosion were significantly less lethal outright, but the continent upon which the superweapon's corpse had rested, along with the ork warboss and his forces, had cracked from the explosion. The corpse of the superweapon itself, as well as everything within many kilometers, had been practically vaporized or reduced to still-melting piles of slag.

As to why death of the gargant hadn't exploded everything on the world, theories ranged from it needing to be inside a target to the gargant releasing a good deal of its potential energy with its main weapon blasts. Still, the sudden lava flows and the near-constant groundquakes meant the unstable landmass would likely remain uninhabitable by any significant settlements for hundreds, if not thousands of years to come. All forces remaining had been withdrawn from the continent, with aerial patrols killing any small pockets of remaining orks, many of whom had descended into infighting after the death of their warboss.

The planet was, in essence, won, and once again a part of the Imperium, though like so many others, not without a great cost.

Prioress Absinthia and Prollarius stood in for Captain Solomon, whose location was still unknown. The remnants of one of the Siegebreakers had been found scattered across the front, with very few survivors, most of them being Hastati. The other Siegebreakers had been recovered relatively intact, but the cargo bays were still in the process of being cracked open, so damaged they were.

Prioress Absinthia could feel the numerous sedatives easing the aches in her body, the partial collapse of her bunker thankfully the worst to have happened to her section of the trenches. Other forces had been buried alive, some dying outright in their trenches from the shockwave while others were digging their way out from their bunker complexes. Yet, for all her luck, as well as that of her fellows, she was still out of commission for the front lines for a good few months. The broken bones, torn ligaments, shrapnel, all of it would needed to be dealt with before she could resume her position on a battlefield as both a military leader and as the primary medicae on hand.

"We should begin this council to discuss the future of Halfast Primus," one of the assembled generals said, likely to attempt to accomplish something amidst the influx of depressing reports. "It will not do for us to waste time better spent on the conclusion of this campaign, and the dawn of the ones to come."

Admiral Gillmer nodded. "We've received word of troubles to the regions surrounding the innermost portions of the Segmentum Bastionus, of which we now fully control nearly a hundred systems, inhabited and uninhabited alike." He pressed several buttons, and the holographic displays, installed courtesy of the surviving original Mechanicus citizens, lit up before them, displaying the current starmap of said segmentum. Any settled planets fully in control were a bright golden color, whereas uninhabited yet controlled systems, such as ones with minor mining or strategic Warp waypoints, were in a bright ochre.

The under siege and as-of-yet unsecured planets, greens and blues respectively, vastly outnumbered the rest. With a press of a few buttons, a small portion of the hologram split off and formed a more detailed, closer look at one of the systems.

"Ension Tertius, classified as a united feudal world, remains only in partial control by the Imperium, the remainder of the world being under the thumb of greenskins, who have been unable to cross the large oceans separating them from the Imperium in large enough numbers to be a threat, as the seas teem with life that gives even the greenskins pause. The first two worlds in the system fell centuries ago, but we've received little word of greenskin activity on their surfaces. The first was primarily a civilized world, and the second was in the process of becoming a major mining settlement before their falls. Establishing a foothold and securing the entirety of Ension Tertius will be the first step in reclaiming the Ension system."

"Why was there not an attempt to reclaim the world before?" one of the generals asked.

"It would seem that most troops originally allocated to assist were diverted elsewhere over the century, with conflicts deemed more pressing or important taking precedence," Absinthia replied, scrolling through her DCD. "Any troops that were sent tended to blend with the native population and uplift it with each new addition, rather than accomplish their goals. When the world was first invaded, the humans there were little more than entering what is considered a primitive bronze age, the system only having been found and reunited with the Imperium a few centuries before, and now the remaining population of the third world are beginning to produce their own stubbers, albeit currently crude ones."

"Other reports show an open war upon Vaeria Quaternius between two nation states, one which the local PDF has been unable to quell, being torn along cultural loyalties within the organization. Efforts from her neighbors are currently underway to attempt to remedy this, as are the other nation states upon the world. It is believed that without outside influence, this could devolve into a global conflict."

The doors slammed opened, much to the shock of all present, and with heavy footsteps, Captain Solomon and Titus strode into the room, the former bearing a great deal of bandages, the latter appearing none the worse for wear. Absinthia and Prollarius moved aside, Solomon taking his seat between them with a silent nod of thanks.

To Absinthia, the captain looked like shit. Ugly splotches from bruising, a great deal of pink, fresh scars from cuts now healed shut, and a withering gaze tinged with exhaustion and pain greeted any who were brave enough to look him in the eye. He was haggard, worn, and judging from the deep shadow of stubble across his chin, hadn't been able to take care of himself in days. How nobody had known his location was a mystery she intended to solve, in due time of course.

With a wince, he retrieved his personal DCD, laying it upon the table alongside his heavily bandaged arm and plugging the device into his console. His arm, under the wrappings, moved erratically, as if it were simply a swarm of beetles packed together by the bindings, and every now and then, a faint yet audible crunch, pop or squelch sounded from it.

"Nanite reconstruction of my arm, courtesy of Syngra's earlier work after my… issues upon Mastuonus Primus," he said as Titus took his place behind him, upon noticing the stares. "My Hastati was partially crushed when the Siegebreaker was tossed, but thankfully this was the worst of it. Neural inhibitors are preventing me from feeling the pain for now, and I don't know how long that will be, so please, continue. I might pass out once they wear off, and I'd rather be in bed than at this meeting when that happens."

"You're alive?" one of the gathered leaders asked, sounding rather shocked.

"Indeed," Solomon replied with a firm calm. "Please, continue the meeting, there's much to be discussed and we're on as tight of a schedule as ever before."

Regaining his composure quickly, Admiral Gillmer continued. "Other than Ension, we have at least three known systems suffering from orkish invasion or occupation that we are able to assist. As of yet, more have not left their worlds behind to attack other Imperium planets, as they had here, but it is only a matter of time until they do so. Plans have been drawn to distribute the experiences and information of this campaign to others preparing to embark on liberations and conquests."

"Of these, the closest is the Rykxa system, which contains only one world, and a variety of gas giants," Solomon added, his own display showing another world. "Similar to Ension Tertius, a united feudal world, though the low level of technology is preventing the orks from becoming more than wandering tribes that occasionally swell large enough to enact major wars upon the planet. The last war was near five decades ago, and as such the ork numbers should be growing large enough once more to cause another one."

"There are other, more important worlds to reinforce and reclaim. These feudals have been holding off the problem for now, why send aid?" one of the other rogue traders asked.

"What Rykxa lacks in natural resources upon its world, it makes up for in that the gas giants of its system are brimming with unique cocktails of chemicals both precious and needed in a wide variety of fields, including industry and the development of more reliable plasma weaponry. While reclaiming more immediately strategic and thus vital worlds is a priority, there can be no hesitance in aiding besieged worlds of man, even if they seem to be holding their own," Solomon countered. "It is imperative we secure any system with such resources, regardless of their plights or capabilities, and if needed, elevate them technologically until they are capable of harvesting and processing such important materiel."

"As it is," Admiral Gillmer continued, "the Ension and Rykxa systems will be the primary focus of the upcoming campaigns, with the Ension being the target of the largest concentration of troops, many of them carrying over from the Halfast campaign. A smaller but no less prepared force will retake Rykxa in due time. As for other matters?"

"Mining production has increased by leaps and bounds on already established mining worlds, with a great deal more of mineral wealth becoming available due to the expansions made possible by Captain Solomon's recent endeavors," Absinthia said. "The addition of the mining ships known as Mass Processors in the peripheries of asteroid and comet fields is also increasing the production capabilities of any system they establish themselves in. In turn, the increase of available resources is seeing an increase in merchant traffic. Halfast Primus will soon be one of these, for in addition to the reclamation, processors are arriving to mine the vast quantities of minerals left behind from the explosion of Halfast Secundus."

One of the merchant captains rose, a Mechanicus Adept coincidentally. "Production of new military and civilian vessels, both to replace destroyed or missing ones and to keep up with supply demands has reached a new peak, especially over the skies of Vaeria Primus. As of yet, it remains the most established and supplied shipyard within the Segmentum Bastionus, and as such represents a vital part of the ongoing efforts of reclamation and fortification. Captain Solomon, word is that you have had a direct hand in this expansion and reopening of its drydocks and shipyards."

"Indeed, that is accurate," the man replied. "With the newest designs rolling out, alongside the repaired and retrofitted ships of tried and true designs, orders for ships are being met as fast as possible. An expansion of shipyards to other forge world systems will likely be required to not only keep up with demand, but to also expand our production capabilities and prevent an overreliance on one system. If something were to happen to the Vaeria Primus shipyards before then, our ability to maintain the ships that travel the void would be crippled for some time, perhaps for generations."

"Are there any immediate means of rectifying this situation?" another admiral asked.

"As of yet, nearly a quarter of all ships being produced will be designed to defend the Vaeria system, by necessity of the voidship production capabilities it currently possesses. Eventually, such production will be transferred to ships bound for other systems, or so I've been informed. Ideally, additional shipyards built specifically for defensive purposes will be needed for every major system, especially those with high populations or resource deposits."

"The ability to build shipyards often takes a great deal of time for a planet to attempt, centuries for even some of the more middling ones. How can we combat this?" Admiral Gillmer replied.

"In production are a new class of ships designed to work in great harmony with the mining vessels currently being employed in greater and greater numbers," Solomon said, the layout of a new style of ship appearing before the gathered leaders. "As of yet it remains unnamed but tentatively called an Assembly Cruiser, in function it could be called a massive manufactorum with a ship built around it. The most basic of the class will simply take the raw materials from the Mass Processors and convert them into whatever goods the manufactorum is primarily designed for. Some will have multiple functions and production lines, including civilian production needs, ammunition for stubbers, and the creation of components for weapons and vehicles, just to name a few. Others will, in time, be able to produce their own vehicles, ranging from light transports to the more heavily armed and armored tanks and artillery."

One of the scans moved over to show a much larger, more robust ship of the same classification. "And this one?" one of the Adepts asked.

"A mobile shipyard version of the same design, capable of creating voidships themselves of varying size classes, again depending upon their size and overall designation. The most common ships created with these Assembly Cruisers will be for the primary purpose of system defense, destroyers and the like, of which will contain no Warp capabilities, and will defend the very same systems in which they were built. The very largest of these classes have not yet been created, but in time, they could create entire fleets of ships, Warp-capable or not, as well as mobile battle stations, and there would theoretically be no limit to the size of such constructs they could create so long as they have the resources required."

The room was silent for a moment at that revelation. Given the sheer amount of resources in space in every single star system, entire planetoids worth of oft-pure elements, it would stand to reason that, in coordination with the Mass Processors, almost any voidship could be created at a much swifter pace than previously thought.

Perhaps, in the most fevered and oft-dismissed dreams of many throughout the millennia, mighty Imperium battleships as well could once again roam the void as weapons of war, and not priceless relics used in only the most dire of circumstances.

But that was to remain a dream. Surely there could not be enough resources or time saved with the captain's methods to actually allow for the creation of such powerful weapons of war?

Right?

Space is vast, so much so as to defy the limits of comprehension. To imagine the vast distances is to imagine near nothingness, empty of anything recognizable or tangible. Occasionally, small bits of matter, ranging from errant atoms to wandering planetoids, would pass through a given area, but overall, there was nothing out there.

For the Drukhari ship drifting amidst the silence of space, its form long since crippled by the battles against their psychic cousins, a random chance of the smallest possible occurrence was shifted heavily in its favor by forces far beyond it. A small warp rift, mere hundreds of meters across, opened just quickly enough for an errant asteroid, lost in a warp storm, to pass through it and slam into the drifting vessel.

It did no damage, of course, for the fallen Eldar built their vessels with great care and technology, but it did impart a force upon the ship. A curiously calculated, almost planned course, taking it deeper into the Mastuonus system which it had orbited for years now, directly towards its third planet. Who or what opened and closed such a rift was unseen by mortal eyes, but the telltale flicker of Warp energy swirling from the closing rift signified a more devious, cunning, and plotting malevolence than previous encounters.

Aboard the ship, life continued as it had before for the remainders of the poor Imperium civilians snatched up by the raid years before. All had fallen farther than they believed they might have before, when surrounded by indoctrination and the quiet life of a world dedicated to feeding the people of the Imperium. Now, alone, abandoned, forced to scrounge for supplies aboard an actively hostile ship, and with so many of them already dead, turning to the whispers had proven too difficult to resist.

Further and further they slipped into depravities, some amongst them joining with the few Drukhari aboard the ship as servants for their patron god of pleasure. Others in more niche corners had accepted other patrons, just as foul and dark, and as these communities entrenched themselves, the whispers told of vengeance against the ones who had failed them.

Vengeance against the Imperium. Vengeance against the Mastuonus System.

Vengeance against Captain Solomon.

Magos Biologis Vena was very curious about the man before her. He wasn't interesting in a sense, but it was more about who he was, and more importantly, who he knew, that had made her seek him out.

"Prollarius, you've been with Captain Solomon for some time now, correct?"

"Indeed, Magos," he replied. "I was there when he first arrived in the care of Captain Ordacius. Afterwards he and I parted ways for some time, but eventually we were reunited during the campaigns on Woebus, and I found myself once again within his employ. Since then, I've served with and for him most faithfully all these years."

"It shows, given how far you have come," she replied, their meeting one she had managed to arrange before his reassignment. "From a lowly guardsmen, to a commissar equivalent, then to the equivalent of a regimental colonel, all within a time period guardsmen tend not to survive long in. Yet now, after all that, you are, in essence, retiring, in order to take on a different sort of command, as per for your valor, experiences and the numerous contacts you've managed to establish."

"Governor of the newly colonizing moon, with you as my boss down on Halfast Primus itself," the man replied, shaking his head. "What strings the captain pulled, I'll never know, but to be the founder of a dynasty? To be the one to steer this newly colonized world towards the future, a hopefully brighter one for the Imperium and mankind itself? My pa woulda never believed it even if he was still alive."

"Be that as it may, the purpose of this meeting had a more tangible purpose behind it. Captain Solomon has a Mechanicus adept in his employ, correct?"

"Yes, that would be Adept Syngra, she's currently back on his moon base Talmanjir. Why do you ask?"

"I was curious if he would, temporarily, be willing to take on another, perhaps more experienced devotee to the Machine God? My assignment to this world will likely not be needed for some time yet, and I would be most grateful if I were able to "tag along" as it were. His theories and practical application of both technological progress and study have opened my eyes to the great many things we now know so little of compared to his own mysterious time. It would be a great benefit to the rest of my order, as well as the Imperium at large, for me to learn from him as best I can."

"I'll have to let him know, he's currently asleep in his quarters, and Titus isn't letting anyone near the place until he's had a good rest and those nanites manage to finish reconstructing whatever parts of him were bludgeoned by impact. Him and that Knight pilot, whoever she is."

"The Eye of the Storm lives as well?"

"The pilot does, at any rate. The Knight itself was heavily damaged I've been told even before the Siegebreaker carrying it was tossed around. Word among the adepts inspecting and repairing the Hastati is that it'll likely be useful only for scrap at this point."

Confessor Morias handed Prioress Absinthia a mug of recaf, fully believing it would be needed for the next few hours. Emperor give him strength, as he did not like using the Manperor moniker, news upon news was spreading of the role Solomon had played in the Reclamation of Halfast, as the campaign was being called, and a good number of future headaches were beginning to manifest before his very eyes. One of them, most recently, having introduced herself to their collective assembly shortly after Solomon had gone to bed.

"So, Prollarius was speaking to that Magos Biologis, and apparently, she wishes to join with Solomon," he muttered, taking a sip. His private quarters more resembled a shrine to the Emperor, with his trimmings otherwise few and very plain. When it came to his personal quarters, he believed in a simple life of devotion, eschewing some of the more glamorous and gaudy trinkets others often wore een when alone. He preferred his faith to shine brightly, rather than his clothes, and let his actions speak rather than his accoutrements.

Still, the chairs were rather comfy, and the recaf maker was one of the few things he'd ever splurge on, if only for the extra perk it gave him when needed.

"Hopefully not in such a way as some of the more simple-minded guardsmen might allude to," the prioress replied. "I take it you do not agree?"

"To an extent, I see it as a great addition to the captain. He is without a doubt an inspiration for the technologically inclined to look inside themselves and seek greater results than what they have accomplished thus far. With the knowledge they have, combined with his great number of ideas or inspirations, I believe such a partnership, even if only temporary, will bring a great deal of good to this segmentum and those we are all trying our hardest to protect in these dark times. Yet it brings me worry, for two very important reasons."

"Which are?"

He took another sip. "Firstly, the influence of the Machine Cult, as opposed to that of the Ecclesiarchy. We are both in his employ so to speak, me willingly so and you more so under the aspects of an alliance, a partnership if you will. In his employ is also Adept Syngra, another Mechanicus Adept as you have told me, and although from your accounts she does not seem to be the overly zealous type when it comes to conversion, we do not know if this Magos is of a similar mindset. She could very well try to influence the good captain away from the light of the Emperor, and in doing so bring him ideologically into their camp. I see it as my duty to ensure he remains well in the Emperor's light, and continues to do his good works in the name of the Emperor and not, potentially, personal ambitions."

"As for the second?"

"A Magos Biologis often deals with the study and technology concerning the body and biological aspects. Given the rumors and facts swirling around Solomon's origin, I daresay she should have an ulterior motive for wishing to be so close to the captain, even if it is temporary. It is an enticing unknown just what his genetic code could hold within it, given just how ancient the rumors make him out to be, especially for one so dedicated to the focus and study of such things."

Absinthia nodded. "I do agree we have little to go on about this Magos, if only because we've only been in their presence for so very short a time. In due time I'm sure we'll find out much more about her and her goals, but with her background as a Biologis, I can definitely see her seeking Solomon for personal projects of hers, either pre-existing ones or things she had developed since the good captain has arrived on the scene. We must watch her very closely in all things, lest she begin to partake in experiments involving the captain that could prove disastrous to him or his goals."

They sat in silence for some time, before Morias spoke once more. "By the way, the captain, does he have any mistresses?"

Absinthia nodded. "Indeed, he is in a very close relationship with the former governor of Mastuonus Primus, Delvidia Warmak. As for others, I do not believe he has any. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity mostly, with a tinge of concern now settled," he replied. "After all, a Magos of the Biologis would see no qualms with using certain… aspects of his being as the basis for an experiment, after all."

Absinthia was silent for a few moments, mentally constructing the puzzle mirrored by his statement, before wincing. "We shall have to take extra care then, that the captain does not find himself in such a potentially… compromising position with Magos Vena, then."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few more minutes, content to let the recaf flow gently into their system as they each mulled over their private thoughts on the matter. Sadly, such a peace could not last, as they retrieved their dataslates and plugged them into their personal DCDs, as there was more to their meeting than simply worrying about a Magos potentially cornering Solomon in a deserted locker room.

"The number of Scholas within the Segmentum Bastionus are fairly few in number, but their combined influence is nothing to be dismissed. Furthermore, it seems some of their more vocal members are raising a stink over Solomon's Janissaria program. They claim he is undercutting their important work in their potential recruitment of orphans for the Imperium." Absinthia shook her head. "Solomon takes in all manner of orphans for this program, whereas the Schola Progenium focuses mainly on orphans of nobility or soldiers. If they have problems with him being far less selective than they are, and thus feel threatened by him over it, then they need to adapt, not simply blame him for their inefficiency."

"Then Solomon will merely have to explain such methods to their representatives, some of whom will be arriving at his moon base in the near future," Morias replied, gesturing to his dataslate. "It would seem Inquisitors and even astartes chapters are having some of the same conniptions over the matter, but for slightly different reasons."

"Let me guess, the Inquisitors feel he'll be taking away from their potential pool of Stormtroopers and acolytes?"

"Yes, but also that his troops may receive better equipment and training than their own soldiers, many of whom are already equipped with some of the best gear they can manage. Such a potential rivalry does not bode well for either side, especially if they are needed to work together on a task."

"The Inquisition overreached far too much during its investigation upon Terra, and the leftover remnants who were comparatively sane to their overzealous counterparts are still far too egotistical for their own good. If they want better gear, then purchase or even politely ask for it. Solomon does not charge exorbitant prices for his goods and services, even if I personally believe he should for those with the thrones to purchase them, and he does favors far more freely than someone with his level of power and influence normally would. As for their recruits, again, the Schola supplies such recruits, and Solomon recruits any manner of orphan, and even accepts volunteers. It is not his fault they are so picky with whom they choose."

"As for the astartes?"

"Again, the issue of potential aspirant poaching is heavily implied, but there seems to be a split between the astartes as to exactly why this is an issue. For some of the chapters, not only is Solomon taking what could become battle brothers in the future, but is also creating his own "inferior astartes" according to some of the more… politically difficult chapters, shall we say. Yet others are intrigued by his genetic screening processes, such as the Steadfast Wallbreakers on Whara IV, as they are in desperate need to rebuild their numbers and would only benefit from seeking a partnership with Solomon's recruiting."

"Given that astartes tend to only go for the roughest and toughest aspirants, those from underhives and both feral and death worlds, it must certainly be a challenging time for them to seemingly stoop so low when looking for applicants," Morias said. "Yet I could most definitely see Solomon turning this to his advantage. The astartes who fail to take their implants and are reduced to mere chapter serfs would likely make for excellent candidates for both his Janissaria and Varangia programs. In exchange for these failed battle brothers, many of whom have already accrued a great deal of experience in trials before the implants, he could screen his other recruits for genetic markers signifying them to have a greater chance of success in not rejecting their implants."

"Thus," Absinthia added. "He could "gift" or even barter these aspirants of his own with astartes chapters, should said chapters be willing to deal with him. This would not only see the number of potential astartes increase dramatically, but also reduce the waste of losing seemingly perfect aspirants to the quirks of genetic dissimilarities. Solomon praises efficiency over politics, even if I believe he occasionally needs a guiding hand in the latter."

"Well, that could solve some of those issues, should those chapters send representatives to his moon base, as the Wallbreakers have done. We shall just have to wait and see, and guide him with what we know to be the will of the Emperor."

Behind the high doors of Eternity Gate, the very same Emperor of which Confessor Morias spoke of, let out a deathly, rattling sigh.

Humanity just did not understand what he wished of mankind, even with all the hints, seminars and outright statements, as he had done countless times in the past, Monarchia being one of them. The things he had done in the dark, the things that none, not even Malcador, had known of, all in his pursuit of a better humanity. Oh, how he had been tempted, too many times to count and too many times to remember in his current state, to do something more direct before the Unification Wars and the Great Crusade. In some cases, even more direct than those actions had been, and in a few moments of weakness, he had done just that; cross a line here or there that had, thankfully, driven him away from similar decisions down the road.

"Father, correct me if I am wrong, but I have deduced your sigh was one of exasperation," Rogal Dorn replied, standing off to the side of his decomposing father.

"Yes, Rogal, that was that," he replied. "I was merely projecting a portion of myself to oversee a long-lost project of mine and the results it has been achieving, and witnessing it from afar, as I am forced to do in my current state. It can be really, really hard sometimes."

"It is not another one of our brothers returning as Magnus once did, is it? I have not properly refortified the palace after his last tantrum, and I would loathe to allow you to be endangered by the enraged fits of another sibling returned from the forces of Choas."

"No, not yet, but such things will come to pass, my son. No, this is simply a project from long ago, before your time, its purpose known only to me. Not even my bro Malcador knew of it, and I told him of a great many things that I told nobody else."

"Father, I did not think Malcador was your sibling, you are far too old for him and you to be so directly related through ancestry. Unless my grandparents somehow inherited some leftover psychic amalgamation energy and were alive long enough to conceive him as well."

The room shook slightly. "Dammit, Rogal, it's just an expression, sometimes I worry the density of your skull rivals our galaxy's central black hole. My parents had normal lives for their time, and passed when I was but in the prime of my life."

Rogal paused. "I do so doubt that my cranium is capable of influencing the gravitational rotation of hundreds of billions of celestial entities, as well as bending and even consuming emitted light. If it were that dense, it would make for an excellent fortification against all manner of heavy weaponry."

The shaking grew ever-so-slightly more violent.

"Rogal, you are missing the point." The Emperor let out a sigh again, this was more of consternation at his son's social ineptitude. "You Primarchs were among, if not my greatest, experiments and achievements, even with all your clear faults, you know this, right?"

"Indeed, father, though your Webyway project was likely even greater than us, had it been completed. Why do you ask?"

"Did it not intrigue you as to why you were so successful of an experiment, something that took me years and countless resources to achieve?"

"I have never given it much thought, father, as much of the past outside of theoretical decisions or actions taken by me has little effect on my state of mind."

The shaking receded. "You are the culmination of thousands of years of experiments, many done by me as well as others throughout history, many of which amounted to little or were complete failures. As it was, however, there were many experiments that never saw the light of day, not even their failures. Many of my experiments were focused on the soul, on related warpcraft, on the melding of minds and spirits for a variety of reasons."

"When did you start such experiments, father? In your time explaining to Magnus and the Captain General the history of Terra before your appearance before mankind, you mentioned that psykers did not arrive amongst the human population in any real numbers until well into the Golden Age of Mankind and the Dark Age of Technology."

"I dabbled here or there from the very beginning. Even from the moments before I was infused with the knowledge and wisdom of the shamans, I knew I was different from the rest of mankind, incredibly so, and this feeling only lasted the longer I dwelled among them. In my relatively early years, I grew lonely enough to attempt something I've never done since."

"What was it?"

"Very long ago, when mankind was still nestled upon only Terra and still used bronze as a primary metal for weapons and armor, I twice attempted to create another being like me out of the souls of those dying from a plague, both in a very short length of time."

"I take it these attempts failed?"

"Have you ever heard the story of Sodom and Gomorrah?" The Emperor knew the infection had needed to be stopped, and as much as it had pained him to do so at the time, wiping out thousands of innocents to prevent a much greater catastrophe had hurt him on a very personal level. If containment had been truly breached, then all of Terra could have been jeopardized.

All because of his loneliness and desire for companionship, of someone who at least somewhat understood his task, his burden, his life.

"I… have not. They sound like diseases, or a pair of particularly unpleasant people."

"Well, unlike what some scholars eventually led themselves to believe, they happened, though not as depicted in the texts that survived, and I never tried something so direct again. Instead, amongst the lost, forsaken and believed dead of the world, over the centuries, I continued experiments of a wide variety. Technology had eventually begun to progress enough for some of these experiments to take longer and be handled far more delicately, yet so many failed all the same."

"Yet you mentioned that one of these experiments was still out there, and it was… causing changes?"

"Indeed, my son. One of the few minor successes in a long line of disappointments, even if its overall purpose was an outright failure, one I have come to appreciate occurred at all."

"What was the purpose it was meant to achieve?"

"I can't tell you now, my son, it would ruin the surprise, and besides, the experiment has so much more left to do before such a thing can come to pass."

"I am… disappointed, father. I was certain, for once, you were going to tell me something without leaving out crucial details."

"Join the club, I've been its president since before the Dark Age of Technology."

"There is no such club."

Solomon sat in silence at the bedside, the thoughts normally swirling through his head pushed to the side for the moment. He and many others had paid a great price to destroy the warboss, and it pained him to know that, possibly, the ork might have survived. Highly unlikely, given the sheer destructive blast of the gargant, but as time and time again showed, those thought dead for certain could still come back. What if the forces of Chaos or some crazy Necron moved the ork in the blink of an eye somewhere else? What if the Waaagh energy did something other than just blow him up?

Yet even as these worries filtered through his control, he waited patiently for the resting figure to fully awaken. One of the survivors of his Siegebreaker, and one of his most mysterious allies, Celenta had been badly hurt in the attack and resulting retreat. It had taken a great deal of careful work to haul her unconscious form from her damaged Knight and stabilize her long enough to bring her to a sterilized environment where she could hopefully recover.

Her eyes opened even as he thought of how to break the news to her.

"Captain Solomon?" she muttered, sounding confused. "What happened?" She winced fiercely as she tried to move, many of her bandages keeping her locked in place. Most of her blonde tresses had been swept back and under the number of bandages covering her head, with an errant hair peeking out now and again. A good portion of it had been cut back to access the few cuts she had received.

"Shh, rest now," he replied, wincing as an errant piece of bone in his arm was slid back into place. The nanites had done the majority of the work by now, and a new batch of neural inhibitors was keeping the pain at tolerable levels. "You've been through much, we all have, but you need to rest and recover."

"Where are we?"

"We're in one of the medical wings of my ship, my personal infirmary in fact, and we're all headed towards the edge of the system in order to journey home. Talmanjir is in need of my presence, and it's time for me to finally allow for some recuperation," he said, glancing back at Titus, the giant watching them like a guardian shadow. It had been too long since he'd been home, or as close to home as he could call his moon base, and the astartes was rather… insistent that he make the time to rest.

He paused for a few moments, remembering a promise to find time to wind down, and then sighing at the prospect of taking himself out of the war, even if for a short time, turned back to the injured woman before him. "What do you remember?"

She was silent for a few minutes, faced straining in concentration as she regained her bearings. "You," Celenta finally replied, looking him in the eyes. "The warboss, it had ripped my Knight apart, you stopped it. I saw you kill it, I was bleeding and everything hurt and then you carried my Knight and me to the Siegebreaker. Then, there was a great light, and a rumble, and you shielded me, and then… I woke just now."

"You've been out of commission for a few weeks, the medicae said that keeping you sedated was the best chance you had at a full recovery. You're in good enough health at the moment that they believe letting you wake up would be for the best."

"Where is my Knight?" she asked, her voice growing hoarse. "Where is the Eye of the Storm?"

Solomon sighed. He did not like what he had to say, but it needed to be done regardless. "We recovered what we could, but I'm afraid it's unlikely you'll ever be able to pilot it again. The damage from the ork warboss was very severe, and then to add to it the damage caused by the blast… I'm sorry, Celenta, but it's gone. Your Knight is no more."

She swallowed a sudden sob, her eyes brimming with tears that she refused to shed. "I… I see," was her reply, filled with remorse, anguish, and another unidentifiable emotion. "Thank you for the information, captain, I appreciate it."

"Celenta, it is imperative that you rest and recover," he said. "Your wounds will keep you from the battlefield for some time now, and there will be wars to come in our future, of that we are all certain."

"Battlefield?" she asked, a choked sob mixing with a short, grim laugh. "Wars? Future? What future can I possibly have after losing my other half? How can I fight without my Knight? I was the pilot, the Ritual of Becoming bound our minds and souls together in ways few can ever imagine. Yet for all our unity and skill, I survive, the weaker of the two halves. Why?"

"Your survival has nothing to do with strength or weakness," Solomon countered, concern showing on his features. "Celenta, without you, the Knight would have merely been a collection of wires, weapons and armor. You, as the pilot, were the true spirit of the Knight, not merely the last piece of its puzzle."

"Yet without it, I cannot fight," she repeated. "What good is a pilot without her Knight? Knights pass through pilots all the time, but it is unusual to the point of being suspicious for a pilot to survive the destruction of their Knight."

"You can be the one who can train the next generation of pilots to continue your work," he said. "You can be the one who helps us create better and stronger Hastati and other such constructs to do battle with the enemies of man, to see us through our times of woe and into a new and brighter future."

"A glorified clerk or scribe, an instructor with nothing to instruct with. That is what I would be, wouldn't it? Something easy to control, easy to convince or manipulate, as I would no longer have the power or prestige I once had."

The venom in her voice made him wince, yet she needed to let it out, and he had tough enough skin by now to withstand such misguided anger. Manperor alone knew how much he hated himself at times for the some of the things he had to do. "As it is, with your permission, allow me to look over your Knight, to see what could be salvaged for its return."

"Return?" she asked, failing to hold back the sob this time. "Salvaged? How could the Eye of the Storm return, when it was you, just now, who told me it was damaged beyond repair? In case you forgot from brain damage of your own, it was missing nearly half of itself before the blast hit, which likely damaged or destroyed even more."

"Yes, I did say it could not be repaired in its current condition. I said nothing about being unable to replace it, to rebuild it into something greater than before."

She fell silent at this, her tears returning as she turned away from him, giving a silent nod. Taking this as an approval to his query, Solomon rose from his chair and made to leave the infirmary, Titus shadowing him as he did so. He paused, turning back to her. "Again, I am sorry. If there is anything I can do, let the medicae know, the Hospitallers on duty will relay your request as soon as possible. Sleep now, Celenta, you've earned it." With that, he left the infirmary, headed towards his private quarters.

Celenta wiped away some of her tears with a free but still bandaged arm, wincing at the pain of moving it. Her Knight was gone, yet she remained. Yet the captain had said it could be replaced, could be brought back, if not entirely in body, then perhaps in spirit. She had come into the hospitality of a man willing to replace something that, for the longest time, had been the nearest and dearest thing to her heart, after the theft of all else she cherished.

The faces of her father, proud and strong, her mother, cunning and wise, and her younger siblings, flitted through her mind like a flock of birds, suddenly there and then gone in a flash. Taken from her, like so many others have been, and would continue to be, by forces most foul. Xenos, heretics and worse, all across Imperium space, rising like never before, taking what was not theirs and destroying it before the eyes of the Imperium's loyal citizens, like the monstrous, immoral beasts they were. Unlike before, she could now do little about it, her means of vengeance, of atonement for the sins of which only she knew, was gone.

Yet all was not lost. Solomon said they could rebuild the Eye of the Storm. Truly, did he possess such capabilities? The construction of knights was lost in many locations across the Imperium, and even places that knew how to build those mighty machines guarded their secrets and techniques with great fervor. Forge worlds that built such mechanical monstrosities took great pride in their work and enjoyed privileges many other worlds were not afforded. Had he managed to find a way around such anguishing restrictions?

Was this her chance to begin anew, to start fresh and erase the shame of past? Could she once again hold her head high, for even in loss, she had fulfilled her vow to her deceased family? Had she found the answer to her troubles, the means by which to rebuild her dynasty and restore the honor she had once had?

Had she found the one who would help her do so?

A/N: well, took longer to get this chapter started than I had hoped, but all in all, I fell into a nice rhythm that saw me writing a sizable portion every night, and then another day or two of edits, rewrites and the like. One of the few upsides of quarantine is that I can write more when I'm not distracted. Let me know, as always, in a PM or review what you think, ideas or concerns for the story, and hopefully I can get back to you in a timely manner.

BTW, as it is, I have started editing and rewriting/revamping some earlier chapters. Most will include more TTS and 40K lore seasoning, as well as trying to capture a better feel for the story, as it began a little barebones compared to these later segments. I've already done such with the first chapter, with little things here or there, and hope to continue to do so with the first 20 or so chapters. We'll see how fast I progress, as I have a lot on my plate at the moment, including trying to write my own original fiction series or two.

So, until then, thanks for reading, and see you in the next chapter!