Getting Warhammered - [ 231 ] (Patreon)

No one paid us any mind; only a few sent some longer glances our way. I changed my hair and eyes, but my face and body were still the same, so it wasn’t unexpected that some looks lingered. I mean, my body was sculpted to perfection. I would have been disappointed if it didn’t earn me glances, even if this one was just a drone replica of my original Avatar, lacking the psychic ompf factor. 

Then there was my companion. Even with the illusion hiding his true form, he still had an air about him that had people scurrying to get out of his way. 

“They seem a bit … aimless,” the Primarch walking beside me observed, his steely gaze roving the civilians going about their business, causing people to hunch their backs and hurry their steps instinctively. 

“They are still settling in,” I replied. “It’s been a little over a month since they migrated here from a nearby world. They are still getting used to the changes and all the new tools at their disposal.”

“Where are they from?” He questioned, watching a small group gathered around a broken-down car, trying to fix it up. That was not on me. The vehicles were their own making, though I recalled Alpha asking for a supply of organic fuel alternatives for the machines. It was not promethium, but I got them a practically endless supply of organic fuel. 

“Kazathor, I think the planet is called,” I said. “An out of the way human world on the galactic fringe. It had a chaos cult growing on it, and was ruled by an undercover Daemon Prince. After I eradicated the taint, I gave the humans the chance to come with me and live under my protection.”

“And the rest?”

“Likely in a violent state of anarchy,” I said, shrugging. I could have lied, but I decided not to. “I believe there is a Tau expedition heading their way to establish some order, since I’ve given them a heads up about the planet.”

Though whether that expedition would reach them was now in doubt with Coldstone heading back to organise a massive offensive on the Imperial Greyhell front. There might not be enough ships left to send to an out of the way planet without any strategic use beyond providing future manpower.

 “Tau?” he asked, and his illusion reflected the frown I could feel form on his face. 

“Gangly blue aliens,” I said. “One of their Septs rules this section of the stars, and before you ask, I didn’t notify the Imperial forces nearby because they are of the ‘shoot first, ask questions never’ philosophy when it comes to anything even mildly suspicious. Knowing there used to be a Daemon Prince on the planet would have earned it a quick Exterminatus. The Tau at least treat their vassals well, their philosophy won’t allow them anything less.”

He did not like that one bit, but I could feel a grudging acceptance in him. These humans were not Imperials, and they would be fine if he could believe me. He had billions in much worse situations to worry about.

“They are … nostalgic,” I continued. “They remind me of what humanity used to be like, what I imagine they were like in the centuries heading up to the Age of Technology. The humans of this age are more alien to me than these weird blue Xenos.”

He didn’t say anything, but I could feel a chaotic storm of emotions brewing within him. What I spoke were my honest thoughts, but I didn’t speak them without reason. 

I knew the Lion wouldn’t feel exactly the same way, but he too would find the humanity of this age to be alien, deformed and rotten. My words were resonating with those thoughts that he might not even have acknowledged. 

We were two people out of time. I’d been away for 40 thousand years, while he a mere 10, but there were similarities in our experiences, I thought. 

About half an hour and two exhilarating elevator rides later, we were down on the agricultural level filled with greenhouses, walking down an aisle. To the left was a greenhouse designed to accommodate tropical fruits, currently growing the closest approximation of bananas, mangoes, passion fruit, dragon fruit and even durians. They weren’t all a perfect match, but close enough to feel familiar. 

To the right, fruits and vegetables fit for more temperate environments grew in another glass enclosure. Anything from strawberries to pumpkins and eggplants. 

“Even these plantations are already making a surplus,” I said idly. “Reabsorbing the plants once they’ve borne fruit repays the amount of energy needed to grow a plant and then some. Though it’s a negligible profit in the grand scheme of things.”

I just funneled the extra to the arcologies’ main bio-energy stores, which powered the other systems. The fuel, elevators and the electricity certainly didn’t pay for themselves. Like with the Dyson Swarm factory, I felt that making things as self-sufficient as possible could only work to my benefit, since that meant they needed much less micromanaging. 

At a few points, I had to ever so gently nudge people away from us when their conversations wandered towards the earlier Imperial invasion and the salvaging efforts currently going on. A little mental tap on their brains that urges them to shut up and sod off in an orderly manner, nothing more. 

I was reasonably sure that I could, if not convince the Lion to help, make him ambivalent to the idea of the destruction of the Imperium’s Achilus Crusade. He had disposed of governors and generals alike before who made their people miserable for no reason, and Sebasticor Ebongrave — the Lord Commander of the Greyhell front — was likely worse than them all. 

The more I heard about that cunt, the worse it got. Tetrarchus might have been paranoid, but he was the epitome of mental health compared to Ebongrave.

“What happens if you die?” The Lion asked suddenly, making me slowly turn my face towards him. “The artifact is all that keeps all this together. What happens when you die?”

“Some systems will continue to function,” I said after a moment, answering honestly as I felt the weight of those questions. “But the majority won’t be able to continue functioning.”

“The Emperor had many plans, a grand dream of a galaxy at peace, flourishing after the Crusade,” the Lion spoke, and I could feel the naked grief in his stoic voice. “A realm united, ruled by the people as he stepped away from power, enjoying abundance unseen in mankind’s history. And yet, the Ruinous Powers destroyed that dream. Without him, it all rotted and decayed. Nothing good lasts for long in this galaxy.”

“The ‘great enemy’ wins when you stop hoping for a better future,” I said softly. “I don’t intend to die. However, I know that won’t mean much to you, I doubt the Emperor intended to end up interred on the Golden Throne in his current state. I like to think I am much more … annoying to kill than him, though.”

“How so?” he asked, his tone cold and level. 

“Look into my eyes,” I asked, turning to him as my eyes shifted into those of a Navigator. The saying ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’ was very much made literal for the third eye of a Navigator, so when the Primarch’s steel-grey eyes met my own, he was allowed a glimpse at my soul, at my Realm in the Empyrean separate from the Warp, pure and ever-growing. 

He stiffened, his eyes widening as he almost took a step back, but caught himself. Proper Navigators could drive lesser men to madness by subjecting them to their gaze, but I assumed that was because they showed a glimpse into the abyss of the Warp.

My Realm was smaller, not endless, and Lion El’Johnson was no ‘lesser man’.

“I am incorruptible,” I said with certainty, and I saw him reorient himself with a grunt. “I am anathema to the forces of Chaos in a way not even your Father is. When I combine that with the power of the artifact now serving as my vessel, I feel confident in at the very least not dying.”

*****

The claim sounded outlandish, ridiculous even. The Lion would have snorted and dismissed the woman as delusional, as most Psykers tended to be. 

But he had seen it. That brilliant silvery light that glowed with such purity that he felt the lingering darkness receding from his soul, as if what little of the Warp’s accursed nature that had latched onto him throughout his life fled at its mere sight. That mere glance was enough, he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Echidna would never fall, that she would never be corrupted by Chaos. It was a law of reality, as ironclad as the laws of physics and chemistry. Chaos would never be able to warp her soul.

He could barely comprehend what he had seen, the flashes of images, scenery, emotions and the storm of thoughts. He had seen a forest, sheltering wisps of light, a small girl playing in the grass, a pillar of silvery light expanding into infinity. He felt hope, confidence, calm, but also paranoia, hate, and rage.

Rather than discourage him, those latter emotions made it feel more real. The woman before him was no personification of purity, he would have suspected some deception if the inner world she showed him was perfect. Nothing was perfect. 

 And yet, he couldn’t stop a thought from forming.

The perfect soul for the perfect vessel. The perfect weapon against Chaos and the foes of Mankind.

But was that all? Was that why he’d been sent here? Why him? Why not Roboute? He was no diplomat, no negotiator, he was the Emperor’s Exterminator. 

No. Not anymore. I am the Protector of Humanity … and she could be of much use to me in that role. 

Furthermore, there was also another use for her powers that he hadn’t brought up yet. Unwilling to even entertain the thought before knowing of her incorruptible nature.

“That artifact you now use as your ‘vessel’,” he began. “It has been used by the Emperor in the making of his Custodes, and in the creation of the Primarchs. Do you think it could be used to return him to his original state? In a way similar to what you had offered me? Could you rejuvenate the Emperor?”

“… perhaps,” the woman said after a long moment, thinking over each word carefully. “I could probably heal his body, if any organic material still remains of him on his bones. I wouldn’t know without seeing for myself how decayed or degraded his genes had become over the years. But that wouldn’t wake him. The body? I am confident I could heal him, given enough time, but the mind? The soul? Both of which Horus shattered and the Golden Throne further fragmented? That, my artifact could do nothing about.”

She knew strangely much about the Emperor’s state, but the Lion wrote it off as Psyker nonsense. They always knew more than they should, especially the most powerful ones.

“I see,” the Lion said, the brief flicker of hope he had had now winking out. There would be no help from his Father in saving humanity. He was alone … with Roboute. 

“But,” the woman spoke up again, sounding hesitant. “I know of someone who’s been working on fixing that issue for the last ten millennia. However, that information is tightly tied to the trade your brother had rejected. To say more, I’m going to request compensation. It is my greatest bargaining tool against you Primarchs.”

The Lion considered beating her until she squeaked. He considered ignoring her and trusting that whoever was ‘working on this issue’ really did succeed. 

Is this about a genetic sample? A lock of my hair? … does she not already own Fulgrim’s? 

If that truly was a clone of Fulgrim, and not just a replica made in his image. He felt no deception on her part though, and while he didn’t like relying on his gut, it was a point in favour of his argument.

She already had a Primarch’s genetic material. Having another would grant her little in the way of direct power. It would merely expand her options, grant her another sample. There was a massive difference between selling a gun to a man who had dozens at home, and to a primitive who only had swords and arrows. 

“For a lock of my hair,” he said. “You will reveal that information in its entirety?”

“Yes,” she agreed instantly, her eyes glimmering with eagerness. 

At worst, she makes a subpar clone of me. The Lion thought. I can’t believe any clone made in my image would be an enemy of mine, or mankind. And even if I’m wrong, the mere chance of returning Father to his prime would be worth it. Always.

“Very well,” he said. “I agree to this trade, but on one condition.”

“Speak it,” Echidna said, her earlier look of innocent excitement vanishing so quickly it would have disturbed a lesser man.

“When the time comes,” the Lion spoke, his gaze heavy as it bored into her. “You will aid in the Emperor’s resurrection, you will give your all to healing his body.”

She grimaced, and the Lion almost frowned. Why would she oppose the Emperor’s resurrection? The goals and dreams she had spoken of aligned so closely with His. 

Did she want to rule in his stead? … or perhaps she merely didn’t wish to be subordinated? Perhaps she enjoyed having no Psyker eclipsing her in power to fear? 

All valid concerns, from her point of view. But not so from the Lion’s. 

Not that he cared if she agreed to his condition. The Emperor’s return might truly give not just Humanity, but even the Imperium a fighting chance … though the Lion found himself wondering whether even his Father would be able to turn this smouldering wreck of an empire around. 

Perhaps letting it all burn and build a new humanity upon the ashes would be better. 

But such grand considerations were outside his preview. He was a protector, not a builder of nations. A warrior. The shield of humanity, not its head. 

If only Sanguinius was still alive. With Roboute, he was confident the three of them could rebuild the Imperium.

“Alright,” Echidna finally spoke, a deep, calculating look hiding behind her forest green eyes. She was gazing into the distance, her eyes glazed over as she seemed to be lost deep in thought. She gave him a nod. “I agree. When the time comes, I will give you my aid … though, it goes without saying, that you will be the guarantor of my safety and continued freedom.”

She held out a hand, and with an ever so slight smile tugging at the edge of his mouth, the Lion clasped his massive hand around hers, then shook it once. 

“I swear it,” the Lion said. “Unless you go back on your word, I will stand between you and all who would harm you or infringe upon your freedom while you go about the task.”

The accord was struck.