Chương 38: Discussion
The sun rose on a transformed landscape. Where once teeming hordes of Tyranids had threatened to overwhelm all in their path, now only corpses remained. The Helican Sector, which had trembled under the shadow of the Legion of Ouroboris for so long, could breathe freely once more. What would have taken the Emperor himself twelve days to accomplish in another timeline had been achieved in just seven, thanks to the combined might of the Master of Mankind and his son, Franklin Valorian.
Franklin stood atop a hill, surveying the carnage. At his feet lay the bisected remains of the Frost King Swarmlord, its carapace still glistening with an otherworldly sheen. Unlike the countless other Tyranid corpses turned to ash by his psychic heat, Franklin had deliberately preserved this specimen for study.
"Quite the trophy," Khaine's voice echoed in his mind, a mix of pride and curiosity coloring the ancient god's tone.
Franklin nodded, both physically and mentally. "Indeed. If we can unlock its secrets, we might gain an edge in future encounters."
Around them, the battlefield buzzed with activity. Liberty Guardsmen, escorted teams of scientists accompanied by their ever-present drone assistants, they scurried about, collecting specimens and data. The remains of the Frost King Swarmlord were being carefully prepared for transport to the Sweet Liberty for in-depth analysis.
Franklin then asked "How are we doing on the Genestealer situation?"
As if on cue, a nearby drone projected a holographic display. Data streams and genetic sequences flowed across the image, accompanied by a crisp, artificial voice.
"Genestealer threat neutralized with 99.97% certainty," Sovereign reported. "Genetic sequences of all variants cataloged and transmitted to planetary defense networks. Residual infection risk: minimal."
Franklin nodded approvingly. "Excellent work, Sovereign. Your name for these xenos – 'Genestealers' – it's catching on, you know. Quite apt, given their modus operandi."
"Thank you, Primarch Valorian," Sovereign replied, a hint of pride in its synthesized voice. "Accurate nomenclature facilitates efficient communication and threat assessment."
John Ezra stepped forward, his dataslate in hand. "Sir, if I may, I have the preliminary casualty reports."
Franklin's expression sobered. "Go ahead, John."
"Liberty Eagles Astartes casualties: 2,743 confirmed KIA, 5,189 wounded but expected to recover. Liberty Guardsmen: 387,562 KIA, 1,203,897 wounded."
A moment of silence fell over the group as the weight of the numbers sank in. Even in victory, the cost was high.
"Each one a hero," Franklin said softly. Then, squaring his shoulders, he continued, "And the enemy losses?"
John's lips quirked in a grim smile. "Total, sir. Between our ground forces and Battlefleet Liberty's orbital bombardment, we've achieved complete eradication of the Tyranid presence in this sector. Not even wreckage remains of their fleet."
Sovereign's holographic display shifted, now showing a comparative analysis of various Space Marine Legions. "If I may, Primarch, I've compiled a performance analysis of the Liberty Eagles compared to other Legions."
Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell, Sovereign. I'm curious to hear your conclusions."
The AI's voice took on a tone that, if it were human, might be described as proud. "The Liberty Eagles consistently demonstrate lower casualty rates compared to other Legions, including the renowned Luna Wolves and Space Wolves. This is attributed to superior tactics, Golden Age technology integration, and of course, your leadership, Primarch."
"However," Sovereign continued, "it should be noted that the only force with a better combat record is the Emperor's own Custodes. But as you often say, sir, they are a different breed entirely."
Franklin chuckled at this. "Indeed they are. Father and his golden boys are in a league of their own, Father... well, he's Father what more can I say."
Khaine's voice interjected, a mix of curiosity and disdain. "Your reverence for your creator is admirable, if perhaps misplaced. Do not forget, young Primarch, that you now wield the power of a god of war."
Franklin's mental response was tinged with humor. "Careful, Khaine. Your jealousy is showing."
"Now, let's talk about the data we've gathered here. What are your initial findings on the Frost King?"
The holographic display shifted once more, this time showing a detailed scan of the Swarmlord's remains. "Preliminary analysis indicates significant adaptations to counter your specific abilities, Primarch," Sovereign reported. "The creature's biology shows signs of rapid evolution, likely in response to the threat you posed."
As the day progressed, more data poured in from across the sector.
---------------
The bustling command bridge of the Sweet Liberty fell silent as the Emperor of Mankind strode in, his presence filling the vast chamber with an almost tangible aura of power.
As they walked, Franklin couldn't help but notice the mix of awe and fear in the eyes of the crew they passed.
"You know, Father," Franklin said with a grin, "I think you're scaring my crew. Maybe we should get you a 'World's Best Dad' t-shirt to lighten the mood."
The Emperor's stern expression cracked slightly, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I believe that would somewhat undermine the gravitas of my position, Franklin, We have much to discuss."
"Of course, Father. Shall we use my personal briefing room? I've got a great view of the ongoing terraforming efforts from there."
The Emperor nodded, following his son through the corridors of the massive vessel. As they walked, Franklin couldn't help but engage in some light banter.
"You know, Father, if you keep dropping by unannounced like this, people might start to think you're playing favorites," he quipped, a twinkle in his eye.
The Emperor's face remained impassive, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "The affairs of the Imperium wait for no one, Franklin. Not even for my... unexpected visits."
As they entered the briefing room, Franklin couldn't help but notice the slight pause in his father's words. Was that a tacit admission of favoritism? He filed the thought away for later consideration.
The room offered a panoramic view of the planet below, where massive terraforming engines were already at work, repairing the damage done by the Tyranid invasion. Franklin gestured to the scene.
"Quite a view, isn't it? In a few months, you won't even be able to tell there was a war here."
The Emperor nodded approvingly. "Good. Your efficiency in restoring order is commendable, Franklin. But there are larger matters at hand - matters that require your unique... talents."
Franklin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And here I thought my talent for speed-eating contests was going unappreciated."
The Emperor fixed him with a look that would have made a lesser being quail. Franklin, however, merely grinned wider.
Emperor gazed at his 11th son, His expression was stern, but there was an underlying warmth that few ever got to see. "We need to discuss the Webway Project."
Franklin's eyebrows rose. "The Webway? I thought that was still in its early stages."
"It is," the Emperor confirmed. "But recent developments have accelerated our timeline. Franklin, I need you to be our... diplomat."
The Primarch couldn't help but chuckle. "Diplomat? Father, have you seen Leman? I'm not sure 'diplomacy' is in the Primarch job description."
The Emperor's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "Perhaps not for all. But you, Franklin, have a unique talent for... shall we say, 'getting along' with others. Even those who are not of our kind."
Franklin's expression turned thoughtful. "You're talking about the Aeldari, aren't you?"
"Indeed," the Emperor nodded. "As you know, the Webway is crucial to our plans for humanity's future. But our understanding of it is limited. The Aeldari, on the other hand..."
"Have been using it for eons," Franklin finished. "But Father, the Imperium's stance on xenos..."
The Emperor held up a hand. "Is a necessary public position, for now. But you know as well as I do that the galaxy is more complex than simple xenophobia allows for."
Franklin nodded, recalling conversations they'd had in the past. The Emperor wasn't truly xenophobic – misxenoist, perhaps, but pragmatic above all else.
Franklin nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "A pragmatic approach, then. Work with those who can be useful, eliminate those who pose a threat."
"Precisely," the Emperor confirmed. "The Aeldari, for all their arrogance, possess knowledge that could be invaluable to us. Your task is to extract that knowledge, by diplomacy if possible, by... other means if necessary."
A mischievous glint appeared in Franklin's eye. "Other means, eh? Should I start practicing my Eldar pick-up lines?"
The Emperor fixed him with a stern look, though Franklin could have sworn he saw a flicker of amusement in those ancient eyes. "Your methods are your own, my son. But remember the gravity of this task. The future of humanity hangs in the balance."
"I understand, Father," Franklin said, straightening up. "You can count on me. But what about the rest of the Imperium? The other Primarchs? They might not take kindly to this... diplomatic approach."
The Emperor's eyes bore into Franklin's. "That is why discretion is paramount. You will report directly to me on all matters related to the Webway. As far as the rest of the Imperium is concerned, your interactions with the Aeldari, should they occur, are strictly military in nature. Understood?"
Franklin nodded, feeling the weight of the responsibility settling on his shoulders. "Understood, Father. I won't let you down."
For a moment, the stern mask of the Emperor slipped, and Franklin saw a glimpse of the man behind the legend – a father proud of his son. "I know you won't, Franklin. You never have."
As the Emperor turned to leave, Franklin called out, "Hey, Father?"
The Master of Mankind paused, looking back at his son. Franklin's usual jovial expression had softened, replaced by a look of genuine curiosity and concern.
"The future you see," Franklin began, his voice uncharacteristically serious, "do we succeed?"
The Emperor's ageless eyes met Franklin's, and for a moment, the Primarch felt the full weight of millennia bearing down upon him. When the Emperor spoke, his voice was measured, careful.
"We must succeed, Franklin. The alternatives are... unacceptable."
There was an undertone, so subtle that even Franklin almost missed it. A note of... not quite uncertainty, but a grim determination in the face of an unclear future. It was as if the Emperor was willing success into being through sheer force of will, rather than stating an observed fact.
Franklin's mind raced. The implications were staggering. The Emperor, the being who had guided humanity for millennia, who had shaped the very course of human history... was not certain of their success.
"And if we don't?" Franklin asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What then?"
The Emperor's eyes seemed to bore into Franklin's soul. "Then we adapt. We persevere. As we always have."
Franklin nodded slowly, processing this. Then, almost hesitantly, he broached another subject. "The Inertialess Drives... I know they're still in development, but couldn't they serve as a backup plan?"
A flicker of something - frustration? concern? - passed over the Emperor's face. "The Inertialess Drives are a technological marvel, yes. But they are a last resort, Franklin. A fallback option that I hope we never need to rely upon."
"Because they can't starve out Chaos," Franklin finished the thought. It wasn't a question.
The Emperor inclined his head slightly in confirmation. "The Webway is more than just a means of transportation, my son. It is a path to humanity's ascension, a way to free ourselves from the predations of the Warp. The Inertialess Drives, miraculous as they are, cannot provide that protection."
Franklin absorbed this, his mind working through the implications. The stakes were higher than he had realized. It wasn't just about faster travel or even about military superiority. It was about the very survival and evolution of the human species.
"I understand, Father," Franklin said, his voice filled with newfound determination. "I won't fail you. Whatever it takes, I'll secure our path through the Webway.Though I have to say, Father, sharing secrets like this - it's almost like we're having a real father-son bonding moment. Should I go get us some matching sweaters to commemorate the occasion?"
Despite the gravity of the situation, the Emperor's lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile. "Your humor, Franklin, irreverent as it may be, is one of your greatest strengths. Do not lose it, even in the face of the challenges that lie ahead."
As the Emperor turned once more to leave, something strange happened. The air around Franklin seemed to shimmer, reality itself bending like a heat haze. For a brief, terrifying moment, Franklin felt as if he were falling through time and space.
Vision swam before his eyes, disjointed images flashing in rapid succession:
Terra, the cradle of humanity, engulfed in flames. The Imperial Palace, that bastion of human achievement, under siege. Armies of twisted, corrupted beings swarming its walls. And at the center of it all, a figure – massive, powerful, radiating an aura of wrongness that made Franklin's soul recoil.
In the shifting shadows of the vision, Franklin found himself on a bridge of corruption, its form distorted and writhing in darkness. Before him loomed the immense figure, a monument of terror and might. Yet, Franklin's eyes held no fear, only an unshakable resolve as he stared into the abyss.
From this vision, fragments emerged like shards of prophecy: the Emperor's hands weaving through the tangle of the Webway, a crimson shadow poised on a golden throne, and a light extinguished.
And then, as quickly as it had come, the vision was gone.
Franklin gasped, stumbling backward. The Emperor was at his side in an instant, steadying him with a grip that could crush mountains.
"What did you see?" the Emperor demanded, his voice urgent.
Franklin blinked, trying to process the flood of images. "I... I'm not sure. Terra, burning. The Palace under attack. And something... someone... corrupted by Chaos, I think. It was all so fast, so jumbled."
The Emperor's expression darkened, his eyes flickering with golden fire. "The future is not set, Franklin. What you saw may come to pass, or it may be averted. But take heed – such visions are not granted lightly."
Franklin nodded, his mind reeling. "I understand, Father. I'll be on my guard."
As the Emperor left, his parting words echoed in Franklin's mind: "Remember, my son – sometimes the brightest light casts the darkest shadow."
Alone in the strategy room, Franklin sank into a chair, his head in his hands. "Khaine," he thought, reaching out to the god bound within his sword, "did you see that too?"
The ancient Eldar deity's voice resonated in Franklin's mind, tinged with a mix of concern and sardonic amusement. "Indeed, young one. It seems the strings of fate are plucking a rather ominous tune."
Franklin snorted. "That's one way of putting it. Any idea what it means?"
"The future is a fickle bitch," Khaine replied, his tone dry. "What you saw may come to pass, or it may be nothing more than a nightmare given form by your father's immense psychic power. My advice? Use it as a reference, not a guide. Let it inform your actions, but do not let it control them."
Franklin nodded, grateful for the god's pragmatic perspective. "Fair enough. But that figure I saw... there was something familiar about it. Something that felt... close."
Khaine's voice grew somber. "The greatest threats often come from within, Franklin Valorian. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, as your father said. Be wary, but do not let fear rule you. That is the path to failure... and worse."
Franklin stood, pacing the room as he processed everything. The weight of his father's expectations, the daunting task ahead, and now this vision of a possible dark future – it was almost too much to bear.
But then, unbidden, a memory surfaced. A battle long past, when victory seemed impossible. Franklin had rallied his troops with a joke so terrible, so groan-worthy, that it had shocked them out of their fear and into action. They had won that day, against all odds.
A smile tugged at Franklin's lips. "You know what, Khaine? I think it's time we looked at this from a different angle."
The god's curiosity was palpable. "Oh? And what angle might that be?"
Franklin's grin widened. "Well, if the future's determined to be all doom and gloom, then it's up to us to bring a little light to the party. After all, what's the point of saving humanity if we can't have a little fun along the way?"
Khaine's laughter echoed in Franklin's mind, a sound like clashing swords that somehow managed to be warm. "Ah, young one. Your spirit is truly indomitable. Very well then – let us face this grim future with a smile and a jest. Who knows? Perhaps laughter truly is the best weapon against the darkness."
As Franklin left the strategy room, his steps were lighter, his spirit buoyed by a renewed sense of purpose. Yes, the task ahead was daunting. Yes, the future held potential darkness. But he was Franklin Valorian, Primarch of the Liberty Eagles, and he'd be damned if he'd let a little thing like fate get in the way of a good time.
"Alright, universe," he muttered to himself as he strode down the corridor, "you want to play rough? Well, buckle up. This Eagle's about to show you how we do things in Nova Libertas style!"
As he walked, Franklin began to plan. He'd need to prepare his Legion for the challenges ahead, to shore up their defenses against both physical and metaphysical threats. He'd need to hone his diplomatic skills for the encounters with the Aeldari. And, perhaps most importantly, he'd need to work on his Eldar puns. After all, if he was going to save the galaxy, he might as well do it with style.
Yet even as he joked and planned, a part of Franklin's mind remained fixed on that haunting vision. The burning Terra, the corrupted being with familiar eyes – it lingered like a shadow at the edge of his thoughts. A reminder of what was at stake, of the price of failure.
But Franklin Valorian was not one to be cowed by shadows. If anything, the darkness only made him more determined to shine brighter. Let the future come with its trials and tribulations. He and his Eagles would meet it head-on, with courage, with honor, and with an irreverent grin that said, "Bring it bitch."
As he reached the bridge of the Sweet Liberty, Franklin paused for a moment, looking out at the stars. Somewhere out there lay humanity's future, filled with both promise and peril. And he, Franklin Valorian, would play a crucial role in shaping that future.
"Well," he murmured to himself, a glint of determination in his eye, "let's go make some history."
With that, Franklin strode onto the bridge, ready to face whatever the universe might throw at him. For in the grim darkness of the far future, where there is only war, sometimes the greatest act of defiance is to laugh in the face of destiny.
And Franklin Valorian, Primarch of the Liberty Eagles, was nothing if not defiant.
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