Chapter 8: Chapter 8

By the time I reconnected to realtime for the periodical updates with the outside world, I had refined a good portion of the Warp lines, enough that I could safely paste it on myself, and patch the Tiberium matrix to be more effective against ambient Immaterium energies.

And it seemed that it was just in time, too. Looks like the more Imperial reinforcements were on the way, and at the same time, the bumming primarchs seemed insistent for an audience. Guess I’ll have to go treat with them…after I quickly implemented the console tweaks to priority assets.

After reinforcing Tupile and its current occupants, I first went on a global teleporting and flying tour of the world, visiting Tiberium beds, arcologies, infrastructure and production hubs, and the AI server cores to further ward them from Warp corruption and infestation. It only took slightly less than a day simply because I just needed to edit the Tiberium mesh in the buildings, and only personnel within my inner circle were updated for now.

On day two, the bots and war assets were recalled in batches to be tweaked, and thankfully I had the mass copy/pasting that sped up the tedious process. Despite the sheer amount of things I had to change, the whole process still took faster than my previous patches, mostly thanks to Cabal’s efficiently streamlining the process in the many hubs around the world. I just had to teleport from depot to depot, spending less than ten seconds each time to select everything in them to paste the new lines in.

With all the important stuff further immunized against the new Warp threat, I used the third day to take a short break with my girls, though not before tossing the relevant notes over to Dr Madison Li so she and Vault Gesserit could rage some more over the illogical behavior of the metaphysical.

Day four was when I was supposed to go contact the Imperium, but before I even got out of bed to even think about the annoyance of that task, Eva’s voice filled my bedroom.

“Sensors have picked up more contacts arriving at the edge of the system. Energy emission readings are similar to those of the current Imperium fleet, with several exotic differences. Significant emission of Type-H ‘Warp’ energies have been picked up, likely originating from a single vessel.”

Huh, Imperium reinforcements carrying a very powerful psyker. I wonder who it is?

“C’mon girls,” I said as I restored them to peak condition via console, including their wakefulness. “Wash up and let’s get back to Tupile. We have an Emperor to greet.”

*****

The Bucephelus came to the system with a massive retinue in tow; Two Mechanicum explorator fleets with five Titan maniples between them, six Imperial Army support fleets, and an oversized combined strikeforce made up of various Astartes legions, particularly those sons from the primarchs currently treating with the Nexus. And forming a core amongst them were the gold-hulled ships of the Talons of the Emperor, the Legio Custodes and the Sisters of Silence.

This was a concentration of force meant to subjugate spanning galactic empires, or fully exterminate sectors-wide xenos infestations.

Horus felt heartened to know that the Emperor took the threat of the Nexus seriously, though a growing part of him wished that a peaceful resolution could be achieved through diplomacy. Partly due to the fact that a war would almost guarantee a heavy cost on the Imperium even if it won, and partly because the primarch was not actually sure if the Imperium could even win a war without resorting to long-range Exterminatus strikes.

And even then, Horus had his doubts. Sev was too confident in his Nexus, even when he surely knew that the Imperium had more forces and more weapons to commit into combat.

With that thought still wriggling in his mind, the primarch of the Luna Wolves boarded a Stormbird to meet with his Father aboard the Bucephelus. No doubt his brothers were enroute as well, though Horus idly wondered for a brief moment how Angron would be presenting himself now.

His brother seemed so lucid now. The World Eaters’ primarch stood straighter in the holoprojector meetings, and even through the static laced transmission his features were far less anguished, and his eyes far more focused. His calm, even voice was still something to adjust to, evidenced by the fact that Leman was mostly quiet whenever Angron spoke. Horus noticed the Wolf King’s appraising stare at their brother, as if he was looking for the old snarling Angron.

This new Angron held far more grace than Russ (not too much an achievement, admittedly), shared some of Dorn’s thoughtful silence, and most unsettlingly he exuded a humble charisma that reminded Horus of Vulkan, his brother from the XVIIIth Salamanders legion. At the same time, he was clearly burdened by either shame or guilt…or more likely both.

Supposedly, Angron’s legion was in flux as he and his sons sought to adapt to the new state of things. Even if it went unsaid, the primarch was sure to harbor some thought about turning to the Nexus for aid to undo the damage the legion inflicted on itself in an attempt to be closer to their primogenitor.

Horus met his brother primarchs in the Bucephelus’ hangar bay, and they barely had time to exchange quips and pleasantries before the marching of gilded boots heralded the arrival of the Emperor and his Custodes. Wizened Malcador walked just behind Him as well, his staff of office clacking loudly amidst the chorus of auramite boots..

Mortals and legionnaires alike froze at the sheer presence of the Master of Mankind, the former quickly prostrating or breaking down into awestruck weeping. Even for Horus, the sight of his Father stirred up strong emotions within him, and he dropped to one knee with his head lowered as if it was the most natural thing to do.

“Father,” the assembled primarchs greeted their sire, though Angron’s calm voice was again very unnerving.

“My sons,” their Father replied, and Horus could feel His gaze sweep amongst them, eliciting a shudder when it finally fell upon him. “I am heartened to see you alive and well, Horus.”

The acknowledgement filled Horus with joy, and he gazed up to meet the Emperor’s faint smile. The primarch gulped, and then willed himself to speak. “I have…much to explain, Father.”

“Indeed.” Horus noticed the Emperor flicking his gaze past him for the briefest of moments, towards Angron, before addressing them as one. “Rise, my sons. Let us bring this discussion someplace more appropriate.”

A lengthy debriefing was given in the Emperor’s more private halls, with each primarch providing their own thoughts, with holorecordings to add any missing details. Horus swallowed his own shame as he detailed his encounter with the Nexus, from the moment he arrived in the system, to his defeat, and then to his return to his brothers.

“That they spared most of the expedition spoke of confidence in their abilities,” Sanguinius offered, “though with what we’ve encountered so far, it seems…doubtful that said confidence is misplaced.”

“The durability of their war automatons make conventional approaches practically impossible,” Rogal added, earning his Father’s intrigued attention. The Imperial Fists’ primarch gestured to the paused recording, taken from a Luna Wolf legionnaire’s helm during the failed assault on the fourth planet. “Titan-grade weapons are what was needed, and even then-”

“Direct hits are required,” their Father finished with a slight nod.

“There is also their abilities to take into account,” Magnus added, changing the recording to that of the shivering, fully flesh-and-blood Mechanicum priests, and then switching to the view of Angron’s hollowed out skull being closed up as Sev stood before him, the Butcher’s Nails leaking gore in his hand. “It is clearly not drawn from the Immaterium, yet neither is it a purely natural phenomena.”

“You are sure of this?” Malcador asked, frowning with heavy concern.

Magnus nodded. “I am. The Nexus conducted an unidentified…ritual several days ago, that clearly delved into the Great Ocean. Whatever it was, that activity did not compare at all to the healing Angron experienced.”

“They’re a dangerous people,” Leman said, almost spitting the words out. “They healed our brother and let us off peacefully, I’ll give them that. But they’re still dangerous.”

“And yet we are the ones who are trespassing on their domain,” Angron cut in. The Emperor and Malcador focused their silent attention on him as he spoke, as if trying to discern something hidden.

“I didn’t say we weren’t,” the Wolf King growled half-heartedly.

Rogal nodded. “We are on a mission to reunite humanity.”

“Regardless,” Angron pressed, “This Nexus have proven unassailable thus far, and have proven magnanimous foes. Forcing another battle with them would be too costly, even if we win. They are not enemies we must make, but instead are allies we should pursue.”

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While their Father proved stoically unreadable, Malcador’s surprised reaction almost made Horus bark out with laughter. His brothers also wore amused smiles or smirks of their own, though of course it was Leman who chuckled throatily at the Sigillite.

The Emperor though was thoughtfully silent for a moment longer before answering. “You make a compelling case, my son. Let me see for myself the worth of this…Sev then.”

*****

Finding more humans out in space was not as pleasant as anyone had expected. After the first battle, Edward quickly found the genetically enhanced soldiers of the Imperium little better than super mutants. Their primarchs were something to be wary of however, as after witnessing Sev’s exchange with two of those, Edward knew where he and his troops rated.

It’d take at least six Sev-blessed Sardaukar to bring a primarch down. Nine, if it’s the one with wings, and maybe up to fifteen for the red-skinned one that was brimming with metanatural energies.

As grotesque as Edward regarded them, these ‘Space Marines’ and their primarchs were an understandable thing; living weapons created to fight wars that would underwise be insurmountable. The commander understood that, respected that even.

After all, not everyone had Sev.

The Mechanicum though…those fuckers made Edward’s skin crawl. He loathed their existence, it reminded him too much of the many cults he had purged back on Earth, delusional fanatics that molded their beliefs to ease their sanity into their environment. And worse, their fervent beliefs often ended up becoming reality simply due to the sheer metaphysical weight cast onto them.

Edward had seen the reports of Imperium tech - the more advanced they were, the more tainted they were by eldritch touch. Their ships and war machines were run by crudely assembled programs that were twisted by deluded faith. Their guns, armor and even cybernetics were likewise infected. It was the cyber-cults of China all over again, except there was plenty more of these fuckers out in space.

So yes, Edward had a very dim view of the Imperium and its Mechanicum.

But duties were duties, and he stood guard with the full might of the 1st in Tupile’s hangar to greet the latest Imperial delegation. Even those troopers on leave or rotated to civilian duties were up here in full battle kit. They were the only human elements of the welcoming party, save for Sev and his own diplomatic party. The robot legions stood alongside them, either fully revealed or stealthed throughout the hangar.

Supposedly, there was a strong metanatural presence arriving. Sev speculated that it was the Imperium’s Emperor, which was why he kept the fleshier honor guard to just the 1st - reduced chance of metaphysical infection.

“How’s the runes?” Edward called out through the general channel as he watched the Imperial shuttles grow large enough to be identified as such. The routine check was returned with normal status, the eldritch defenses of each trooper’s 8th-gen Sardaukar-pattern power armor signaling optimal conditions. “Remember, casual attention, no matter what,” he reminded, “No matter how gaudy, horrific or minutely interesting, we ain’t impressed.”

“Roger that,” came the chorus of replies.

They kept silent after that, attentively watching the vessels approach the landing bay. Sokar Stormbirds, according to the databases ‘procured’ from the Mechanicum tech-priests.

Orbital heavy assault transports.

Dangerous… For anything not up to Nexus Unity standards.

The five fliers glimmered with burnished gold, annoying in their radiance. But even out there, with the cockpits barely discernible, Edward saw his rune start to glow. Hell, his neck itched as he could actually feel a hint of the metanatural energies leaking from the convoy. It was almost as bad as the sleeping gods in the Atlantic and the Himalayas.

Well, at least this time they were working with the home advantage, Edward mused with a grin. It’d make any potential hostilities far less of a slog.

Minutes passed before the Stormbirds finally landed on the deck. Up close, the sheer amount of gilding irritated Edward’s eyes. The eldritch pressure didn’t help his mood either, as both his suit and his own Sev-given defenses staved off the spike in ambient energies at the cost of comfort. Even Piper and the other girls by Sev’s side were fidgeting in their armor. Obviously, Curie seemed the most collected, while Cait looked like fleas crawled up her slit.

Sev though, remained casually still, utterly unimpressed. Because of course he was.

The Nexus welcoming party kept as silent and as still as they could as the ramps of each overly-inefficient flier lowered, clanking dully with Tupile’s metal floor. Then out marched a small parade of gold giants designated as Custodes with spears and swords and shields. They moved as one, and each step spoke of inhuman efficiency and precision, which in turn betrayed their utter lethality.

They would be awe-inspiring if not for how ridiculous Edward found their golden armor and conical, plumed helmets. They were probably the closest to New Vegas’ Caesar’s wet dream made real.

Smaller, more human proportioned women strode behind them, wielding ornate greatswords. Just as gold, but at least they seemed less outlandish. They also reeked of a metanatural void, an anti-eldritch of a particular flavor, probably the same ‘Immaterium’ energies that the Imperium used.

Edward wondered whether Sev would be tempted to break one in if the chance ever came up.

Then, with the honor guard neatly arrayed, the true guests appeared. A giant even amongst the Custodes strode out. Except this one was most definitely eldritch, the type-H energies he emitted taxed Edward’s suit to the point where the rune was a blinding white glow, and his own body’s defenses was an itch he desperately wanted to be rid of.

So this was the Emperor of Mankind.

Despite the distraction, Edward paid close attention to the towering figure. His suit’s defenses filtered away enough of the metanatural disruption for him to make out a black-haired man with unnaturally chiseled features. He carried himself with all the confidence of a deluded conqueror, looking down at his host with patronizing contempt.

What’s more interesting though, was the fact that the perfectly sculpted feature was just that: perfectly sculpted.

There was a metanatural veil wrapped around the Emperor that hid his true form. Too potent for Nexus magitech to peer through, but it was definitely there.

Edward shook his head to snap himself out of tunnel-visioning onto the Emperor, and shifted his attention to the older man right behind the so-called Master of Mankind, probably a close advisor of some sort. This one too leaked eldritch energies, but thanks to his proximity to the Emperor Edward’s suit couldn’t get a proper approximation on his power.

The primarchs he met before made up the last of the literally gigantic delegation, and judging from the frowns on some of them, Edward felt the urge to reach for his rifle.

Silence reigned as both guests and hosts finally assembled before one another, and it was Sev who finally spoke first. It wasn’t the standard greeting that Edward and everyone else expected though.

“Your primarchs did tell you that any further signs of intimidation or coercion, natural or not, is taken as a hostile act by the Nexus, right?”

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