Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Kharn did not know what to feel. His genesire had been brought low with little effort, and then the Butcher’s Nails ripped out and instantly healed right before his eyes. After the World Eaters hurried a dumbstruck Angron back to the Conqueror’s Apothecarion, Kharn and the other honor guards were practically assaulted by their battle brothers, their own lesser Nails adding menace to their disbelief.

“Is it true?” Captain Ehrlen snarled right at Kharn’s face. “Angron’s Nails…they’re gone?” Disbelief, anger and hope mingled in the question, a sentiment shared by many in the legion, Kharn included. It was a cruel joke, to be presented with such hope only after the legion had broken and damned itself in a failed bid to bond with their gene-father.

What now? Arrange for the entire legion to remove their implants? A shameful amount of blood had been shed in getting the XIIth to embrace the implantation of the Butcher’s Nails, how much more would flow in getting the legionnaires to undo this mutilation?

All the lives lost, all the mad, desperate acts of trying to connect with their primarch…and after all that, after the World Eaters had mutilated and corrupted themselves, some backwater warlord rendered all the sacrifices all but void. Kharn hated this hopeful turn of events. A part of him was aware that he might come to appreciate it in the future, but right now the equerry and Captain of the 8th Company wished that Angron had not landed on that red planet.

“Gather the captains,” Kharn growled at the mob of World Eaters. “All of them. We need to talk.”

Whether Angron would participate in that talk or not, he was still unsure. Confused and irritated, Kharn stomped off to the Apothecarion to hopefully clear some things with his primarch.

*****

Horus felt the humiliation of defeat keenly, and so did his sons. This was the first true defeat the Luna Wolves had experienced, one where the primarch heavily doubted the chance of rectifying anytime soon. Horus knew that Sev’s mercy in letting most of the expedition go was more than just a magnanimous and merciful gesture. The enemy had held such contempt towards the genehanced superhumans of the Imperium that they could afford to not only disable and capture every human and transhuman they encountered, but also restore them back to near-peak condition before letting them go.

The phantom pain in his chest nibbled at the back of Horus’ mind, a reminder of Sev’s strength. His sons would probably feel the same, if not worse, with their missing limbs being regrown almost as quickly as they were removed. How the Nexus’ healing technosorcery took account of a Space Marine’s heavily modified physiology was a mystery, along with just about everything else about them. It was a disturbing thought, and Horus couldn’t imagine what they’d do when Sev actually wanted to go to war.

But at the same time, his brother Angron had been freed from the heavy veil of rage and bloodlust, judging from what the Apothecaries reported. Not only had Sev removed the Butcher’s Nails, he had also somehow restored the missing brain matter destroyed by the horrific archeotech. The Angron submitting himself to the rigorous testing of the Apothecaries was a calm, collected being coming to terms with long lost mental and emotional functions, not the raging, nihilistic beast that only craved slaughter.

It was nothing short of a miracle; a cursed malady deemed untreatable by even the Emperor was removed within seconds by some backwater holdout of humanity. A holdout that is now poorly disposed to the Imperium, and had proven itself more than capable of fending off a Compliance fleet with ease.

Obviously the World Eaters struggled to come to terms with what had happened to their genesire, having undergone a similar mutilation in an effort to gain a sense of kinship with their primarch. Horus felt a great pity for them, but considering how their own pale imitations of the Butcher’s Nails were far from final in their implantation, perhaps the XIIth legion would undergo another transformation.

“I suppose it should be expected,” Sanguinius sighed, “that it would take one lost civilization and its technology to combat another.” The primarchs were gathered in the strategium of the Vengeful Spirit, as much to discuss the matter of the Nexus system as to see to their brother Horus’ own condition. Clad in simple robes until a new set of armor could be forged, the Luna Wolves’ primarch was thankful that not even Russ was in the mood for taunting and jokes.

“That has nothing to do with technology,” Magnus replied strongly to the Angel, and then turned his gaze to face the rest of his brothers. “And it has nothing to do with the powers from the Great Ocean. Surely you’ve all felt it?” Of all of them, it was the Cyclops that was the most unsettled amongst the primarchs at the Nexus, even counting Horus who had lost so miserably to Sev.

Leman Russ nodded his head slowly, as if reluctant to agree with his brother. “Aye, that was more than just dark archeotech and maleficarum at work. Whatever trove of knowledge they have, it’s proven more than capable of enhancing the mortals to the point of being able to beat Angron with ease.” The Wolf King gave a rueful grin at Horus to soften the incoming verbal blow. “Hel, he beat Horus and his sons like they were fledglings. That’s one hell of a black mark to leave on our brother’s record.”

“And a clear sign that the Nexus Unity is already a potent threat, despite being constrained to this lone system,” Rogal Dorn added with his usual stony thoughtfulness.

“So far,” Horus emphasized. “They are clearly an emerging civilization, and it would be foolish to assume they would limit themselves to their home system.”

The other primarchs nodded, though Sanguinius was the one to counter, “It’d be even more foolish to engage in active conflict with them at the moment, even with our superior numbers.”

That earned more nods, and it was a point that Horus easily conceded. “I should be thankful they were willing to open negotiations.”

“You should,” Rogal agreed with a wan smile. “Some of our brothers not present might find humor in this, but I’m certain we prefer you being with us alive than dead on that backwater.”

Horus blinked in surprise. A joke from Rogal? Sanguinius and Magnus seemed equally amused at the delivery from their usually stoic brother.

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It was clear that Russ was about to add a comment, but an intrusion from outside the strategium saw Ezekyle Abaddon enter with a curt bow. “Forgive me, my lords. Sensors have picked up a ship drifting towards our fleet. Transponders show it belonging to one of the destroyers we lost in combat, the Dauntless Blade.” Horus’ trusted son paused for a moment before continuing. “Auger arrays also confirm that the ship is running purely on life support, with its engines either nonfunctional or inactive by choice.”

The report confirmed Horus’ initial assumption that some ships did survive the ruinous engagement above the Nexus’ homeworld, though he was left puzzling over what message Sev was trying to send this time. However, if life supports were running…

Dorn and Russ volunteered their forces to investigate, and the Dauntless Blade was quickly discounted as a sort of trap for the gathered Imperial fleet. Instead, the legionnaires boarding the destroyer found in one landing bay several hundred shivering men and women, almost naked if not for the familiar red robes that they wrapped around themselves. It seemed that what was done to Angron had been replicated on the followers of the Machine Cult.

Removed from their augmentations and implants, the purely flesh and blood members of Val Breya’s Mechanicum detachment were practically unrecognizable. The Magos himself looked pathetically frail in his human form, his crazed, despairing eyes betraying a broken mind like most of his brethren. “The abominations stole from us,” Val Breya mumbled to no one in particular. “They stole the blessings of the Omnissiah, and cursed us with flesh…”

The entire contingent of tech-priests were so scarred by the experience that they were practically unsalvageable assets. Only the lower castes, the less augmented initiates, held onto their sanity, though they could provide little information about their ordeal.

“The abominations came for us, mutilating and desecrating, and then they returned us in this humiliating state.”

A headcount confirmed that all of the Mechanicum forces that joined Horus on the doomed assault on the fourth planet were accounted for, including the crew of every Titan. The Imperial Fists and Vlka Fenryka also found the actual crew of the Dauntless Blade trapped inside the scuttled weapon bays, along with the crew from other escort ships crippled by the Nexus’ defensive fire. They had clearly endured some sort of ordeal but otherwise seemed physically unharmed. Even the navigators were accounted for, traumatized but otherwise intact.

Judging from how Horus had witnessed first hand the healing abilities of the Nexus, it was far from likely that Sev had left any of the crew alone.

The trembling captain of the Dauntless Blade presented a message supposedly from Sev, to be passed along to any primarch. The piece of paper contained three short sentences, printed in both High and Low Gothic:

“All prisoners returned as negotiated. Our part of the trade is fulfilled. Leave.”

Horus grimaced as he read the note. The bastard was showing off that he had already deciphered Imperial languages.

As the freed crew and allies were transported over to be inspected and debriefed, the primarchs debated whether to actually leave the Nexus Unity alone or attempt another, more humble establishment of diplomatic communications. Perhaps not surprisingly in hindsight, it was the World Eater’s primarch that insisted via hologram communications for the latter.

With the Butcher’s Nails removed, the recovering primarch’s behavior changed drastically to the point that Horus barely believed it was truly Angron at all. His once anguished features had morphed into a calmer, more somber mask, one that bore some of the stoicness of Dorn, and exuded a recovered nobility and compassion that almost mirrored Sanguinus or Vulkan. But even with the newfound self-control and thoughtfulness, the World Eaters’ primarch clearly betrayed his mixed emotions about his restored state of being.

“They have…bested us. And instead of massacring us, they wish us to simply leave, and to leave them alone. At the very least, we should…apologize. I- We owe them that much. This Nexus…they should not be our enemy.”

It would take some time for Horus to get acclimated to seeing a calm and disturbingly coherent Angron engaging in discussion. It seemed that Leman was now the uncontested frothing berserker of the primarchs.

Rogal gave a slow, cautious nod. “We have lost a significant amount of materiel, but in relation, the total lives lost is far lower. It would be easy to call this Sev arrogant in his display of mercy, however…”

“It would be arrogant for us in turn to assume that he has revealed most of what his Nexus can achieve,” Magnus finished with a nod, and then turned to Sanguinius with a bitter sigh. “Loathe as I am to admit it, I somehow doubt that using our Librarius would achieve much. The world below feels far too…normal for what the Nexus has shown us so far. The veil of the Immaterium here feels too calm, even throughout this whole system. It could be an illusion to fool our senses, or some archeotech that actually dampens their psychic presence and stills the Great Ocean. Either option presents the Nexus as wielding significant powers.”

The debate on the Nexus was warming up when the fleet’s combined auger arrays, scanning the system with paranoid fervor for further surprises, picked up warp translations from the other end of the system. Contrary to initial belief, it was not more Imperial reinforcements, but instead, the focused and overlapped scans managed to briefly pick up a familiar and detestable signature before it blinked out of existence through arcane techsorcery.

“This might be interesting,” Horus muttered, to the agreement of several of his brothers.

The engine readings were a match for the vessels of Eldar corsairs, and no doubt they were heading towards the Nexus’ home planet.

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