Capítulo 40: Chapter Twenty One: Gold, Silver, and Steel (Part VII)
Location: The Imperial Laboratories
Date: 814.M30
Apothecarium Primus Fabius was hard at work inside the Imperial Palace's secret Gene-vaults. For years he had toiled. Separated from his beloved Legion by one of the Emperor's projects. He had to admit that on some level, he was envious of his brothers. Earning merits and accolades out in conquest of Sol. Still, he knew his work was far more important than anything they could hope to achieve. The III Legion sought to master and perfect whatever they put themselves too. For his brothers that was war. For Fabius, genecraft would be perfection.
The Project, as he and the other apothecaries entrusted with it called it. was another contingency the Emperor had devised. In the Master of Mankind's infinite wisdom, he had prepared a tool in case of widespread corruption to the Astartes Legions. The Project was the cultivation and preparation of immense stores of purified gene-seed. Each cultivated organ had been infused with a few molecules of the Emperor's blood. A carefully selected amount that would provide protection, power, and new life to the gene seed, but not enough to be stolen by nefarious forces.
The Twenty Legions had suffered casualties in the Lunar Crusade. First, the unworthy culled by the lure of Chaos. Then, those who fell in battle. Lastly, the wounded and the broken. The mutation unleashed by the Creed of Four Phases had inflicted brutal organ damage on the Astartes. Nearly every Legionnaire suffered severe physical damage. The Dohrnii Drive could repair most but not all of it. Some damage to the gene-seed organs was so profound even the Drive could not fix it. So now Fabius and his comrades had the duty of replacing the damaged organs
Using the purified organs to fix the Twenty Legions, in a massive surgical operation. Each legion suffered defects in particular organs. Fabius suspected this was due to the contamination method used by the Creed. Allowing the nearly two legions worth of Gene-Seed to repair all twenty Astartes bloodlines. For weeks the Apothecaries of the legions and countless other gene-smiths healed the Astartes. One by one, the stricken Space Marines arose from the operating table reborn. Faster, stronger, resistant to the warp and infused with a bit more of the spiritual essence that elevated Astartes beyond mere Gene-Warriors. Astartes, like there gene-sires are beings of both planes. Human children reforged both physically and spiritually into Angels of Death.
One of the lesser known but incredibly powerful gifts of the Astartes is the "Saga." Each Astartes is psychically attuned in a unique way by there geneseed. Allowing them to subconsciously harvest the psychic-energy they produce through great deeds. With every legend and act of heroism committed by an Astartes, they grow in strength. Fabius did not know this ability was the reason in the Grimdarkness of the Far Future that "mere" Chapter Masters and captains of the Chapters could defeat Daemon Princes and other powerful horrors. If each Primarch was a myth given flesh, the Astartes were soldiers infused with the power of their heroism.
This infusion of mythological blood would increase the potential of this ability along with a few minor boons. Unfortunately, Fabius doubted this power would pass along through Geneseed. Future Astartes born from the Primarchs or fallen brothers would be standard Space Marines. These veterans of the Solar Conquest though, they would be something truly unique.
With this great work in mind, Fabius set to his next patient. Typically, the Apothecaries of a legion treated their brothers and left the injured of other legions to their respective brothers. This patient was an exception. The skills of the XVI's medicae were not up the level needed. Sourly, the XVI called in Fabius to save their champion. Abaddon the Redeemer lay on the surgical table, flitting between life and death. The marred warrior had suffered greatly in his duel with Be'lakor, Only the activation of sus-an sleep kept him alive long enough for his Apothecary brothers to patch him up. Even with the XVI geneseed's gift, it was nothing short of miraculous that Abaddon lived. Nearly every organ in his body, natural or not, was brutalized. His skin was a patchwork of scars, electrical burns and graphed tissue.
Sheer statistics said that something should have given out by now. So much was damaged, a thousand systems that were needed for life. Each pushed and broken to the very edge. Yet Abaddon held on, drifting in and out of pained consciousness between surgeries. Each time he awoke, his shredded tongue worked with burnt lungs to cry out a single desperate word. "Horus!"
The half-dead son called for his fallen father. Some part of Abaddon the Redeemer knew Horus lived, in some shape or form. Deep inside his soul, something told him that the XVI and its Primarch survived the impossible. Neither Fabius nor his attendants bothered to inform Abaddon of his father's return. They had other patients to attend to, and worked as efficiently as they could. Such distractions were not necessary as they worked. Eventually, after a near day of intense surgery Fabius team approached the final hurdle. The replacement of Abaddon's Magnificat.
The strain of using a demigods weapon had blasted apart the Astartes' god-maker. Now, a fresh and enhanced version would take its place. With black carapace linked mechadendrites and a precision forged at the Emperors side, Fabius linked individual neurons and blood vessels together, fusing new life into the husk of Abaddon. Pulling away from his work, the Apothecary Primus of the III legion let out a deep breath. This had been by far his most stressful operation. Now all he had to do was shut off the neural dampener and let the magnificant activate. Pressing a button on his surgical station, the genius Astartes prepared to move his next patient.
Without warning, a blast of light detonated in the operating theater and sent Fabius flying against a nearby wall. The impact was strong enough to force bile from Fabius' mouth. As his enhanced vision adapted to the light burst, he glanced over at the table. Fabius was cold-hearted, even for an Astartes, but concern for his patient flickered through him. Interestingly, the blast had not affected Abaddon. In fact he seemed to be the source.
A second pulse of light echoed out, this time the Apothecary was prepared for it and braced himself for the impact. The energy faded and a medical miracle captured Fabius' attention. Abbadon's exposed tissue started to pull itself out of surgical clamps. Muscle tissue bulged with some supernatural power. Scars faded like washed away stains. Wounds closed fully and Abaddon swelled with power. It was like watching the entire developmental process of a human child being played out in mere minutes. Flesh, bone, and organs grew and shifted. His limbs lengthened and thickened. Injecting sites spat out their needles. Abaddon twitched to life.
Readying his side-arm and a particularly nasty surgical implement, Fabius prepared for battle. He knew the power of the Warp well, it coursed through Fabius' patient and mutated him. Fabius was a lesser warrior by Astartes standards, but he calculated he could euthanize Abaddon in his stupor before he fully awakened.
Jolting and twitching like a live current was tracing through his muscles, Abaddon dragged himself off the operating table. Shooting a hand out like a viper, he clutched Fabius' foot with an iron grip. Abaddon stared up at his surgeon, ferocious willpower etched into his face, and a curious Warp light pouring from his missing eye. Glowing with supernatural power, Abaddon croaked out words in a wrasping tone that told Fabius his vocal chords were still in the process of repairing. "Take me to my father, I have something of his."
To Fabius' shock, he felt the unmistakable presence of a Primarch from Abaddon. A lesser shadow indeed, but still something beyond mistaking. Slowly, Abaddon rose to his feet and Fabius felt his mouth fall open against his wishes. The Astartes had grown massively, nearly matching a Primarch in size. The psychic energy bound within Abaddon had invigorated his magnificant organ, healing him and bulking his body to near Primarch heights.
The scientific mind that made Fabius so prized set to work as he and Abaddon stared at each other. The magnificant was only half of the godmaker gland, and the countless other augments and alchemical forgings that made a Primarch were missing. Abaddon would not match any Primarch, but he now stood above any Astartes. Stronger, faster, smarter and tougher than any other mortal. He was possibly comparable to an elite Custodes, but Fabius lacked the data to be sure. It was a sour note for him that the Emperor refused knowledge of the golden brotherhood.
*CRACK* Fabius was brought back to the present when Abaddon put a power-fist sized hole in the wall above the apothecary's head. The psychic flame in Abaddon's missing eye flared brighter as he spoke again. "Now!"
Quickly, Fabius escorted his patient out of the laboratories and handed him off to Custodes patrolling the complex. Whatever happened now was not his problem. Back to work he went. Fixing twenty Legions and musing about what over alterations or improvements were possible to the Astartes form. Preparing for his next patient, he stopped to check the gene-vault registry for the best match of gene-seed. As he peered through the data, something caught his eye. Geneseed was missing. An entire numbered batch from each bloodline. Checking the access records, he realized the Sigillite himself was the culprit. Nonplussed, but confident in Malcador's loyalty. Fabius figured it was another project of the Emperor's. Still, the fact that all twenty of the legions six hundred and sixty sixth batch of purified Geneseed was gone seemed rather strange.
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