Nador Kol stepped forward with confidence, moving through the wide corridors of the newly renovated section of Telstarax.
He was heading toward the final steel door that separated the ancient compartments of the steel ring from the new ones.
He moved carefully, avoiding most cameras, intent on finishing his report to his father regarding the information gathered from the surface of this extraordinary world.
No one was to notice him.
Such was the way of their Legion—the Keepers of Secrets and the Emperor’s hidden blade, invisible to the entire galaxy.
Such was the will of the multi-headed Hydra.
The moment he crossed the service threshold, the Space Marine’s pace quickened noticeably.
In the un-repaired sectors, the risk of entering a zone without oxygen or stumbling upon remnants of the ancient war—mines or half-destroyed feral machines still carrying sparks of intellect—was too great.
The Storm Walkers, along with an army of baseline humans, continued their sweeps, but even they could miss a particularly stealthy relic hiding in the darkest corners of this giant planet and its equally massive structure.
Nador continued his journey for several hours, meticulously tracking the time to ensure he returned to base on schedule.
According to his official cover story, he had ventured here to scout the remains of Scientific Sector 344, where blueprints or traces of ancient STCs might still reside.
Hundreds of other Astartes like him had set out on similar searches in other parts of the Mega-structure; however, he possessed a second, far more vital objective.
He needed to relay information to his true father about everything occurring on this planet.
For such occasions, he had been entrusted with a special device—crafted on Terra and capable of delivering a message to a neighboring star system.
An agent of their Legion was stationed there, who would then pass the information to their father personally via astropath.
A convoluted scheme, but there was no other way to maintain a web of intrigue spanning most of the galaxy.
Reaching a nearby vacant and lightless compartment, Nador dropped to one knee and produced a black metallic box given to him by Alpharius himself.
It was difficult to even imagine where he had obtained it, but the representative of the Hydra did not wish to dwell on it.
He had a grim inkling of how exactly such a “transmitter” was implemented.
Opening the black lid revealed a single red button and a glass plate concealing a dark-red, pulsating mass within.
He did not know if the device was a relic of the Old Night or a secret project of their father or grandfather involving “portable” astropaths, but Nador didn’t dare ask such questions.
The chances of ending up inside such a box himself were far too high.
He began to press the button, inputting a sequence known only to the most trusted members of their Legion.
While the Mechanicum called themselves masters of ones and zeros, even they could not crack the Hydra’s secret cipher, which was not based on conventional logic at all.
Through it, he was now transmitting every secret revealed to him during his last year on this world.
He was the only one granted such a rare relic; he could not fail, and he was obligated to tell everything…
Having finished the transmission, Nador was about to close the box and return to base when the black mass of flesh pulsed—a sign that a response and new commands were being issued.
The Astartes watched the artifact with a cold expression.
Once the task was complete, he gave a short nod and began to draw the bolter from his belt.
He was raised as a loyal son of Alpharius; if his father demanded the sacrifice of his life, Nador would do so without the slightest hesitation.
Previously, he had simply been certain of this; now, a way to test that conviction in practice had appeared.
Bringing the bolter to his head, he was ready to shatter his skull and paint a new crimson mural on the wall, when his hand suddenly stopped obeying its master.
His finger simply refused to pull the trigger, which deeply unsettled the Hydra’s agent.
However, he had no time to ponder the situation further, as something sharp stung his mind and his consciousness began to slowly drain away.
The enemies proved more farsighted, and I have failed my father…
Only a complete fool, ignorant of the Hydra’s inner workings, would think such a thing.
Nador understood perfectly that his failure was merely part of a greater, grander plan.
Even if someone were to cut open his brain or extract knowledge from his very blood, it was all part of his father’s design.
Birth, death, and life—these were all but stages in the life of the true Head of the Hydra.
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I tapped my finger rhythmically against the steel surface of the device, which had revealed many very unpleasant details.
The original plan—a brilliant field test of the modified “Scarab” project—had yielded far more oddities than I could have imagined.
The technology was simultaneously simple and incredibly complex, largely a result of reverse-engineering Precursor machines.
They had blueprints for a curious tiny device designed to be installed in the brain, turning a human into a mindless puppet of the programmer.
It could send specific signals to influence the thinking of sentient beings and manipulate their biochemistry on a broad scale.
A curious little thing that would definitely be useful to me later, but in this case, I had to rework it significantly to get what I wanted.
Due to the unusual biology of Space Marines, such a device has almost no effect on them and, at best, would simply kill them or drive them mad.* Get faster updates on g.com.
However, I have some tricks of my own.
I managed to convert the “Scarab” into a machine capable of the opposite—reading surface brain waves and converting them into full text.
Because it was a completely passive influence, and nanites allowed the machine to be small enough for invasive insertion, the subject didn’t even notice the control being established over his mind.
A true miracle that turned a spy from a threat into a perfect source of information.
If not for the final catastrophe, averted only by my decision to take a risk.
Since my knowledge of biology is somewhat limited, I cannot fix this flaw without serious consequences.
The fact that I managed to knock out this traitor only happened because I literally overloaded the machine, destroying it in the process and certainly damaging the spy’s brain.
Regardless, he will be of much more use to me this way than as a corpse.
The idea of a secret Legion that managed my father’s secrets and reported on the secrets of all other Legions didn’t seem like such madness.
In fact, it seemed obvious and expected.
It would be stranger if such a thing didn’t exist.
However…
this Alpharius is certainly not simple.
How could he even theoretically guess that I would find out about the spies in my Legion?
I watched Nador’s thoughts after discovering him, so there was no way he could have sent a message unnoticed.
And how would he even know about the device?
It was specifically tested on criminals to be completely undetectable to the senses and most scanning instruments.
Or is this just a bluff—a simple set of actions in case he’s caught?
Because he’s either a genius the likes of which are rarely seen, or an even greater paranoid than I am.
I wouldn’t be surprised if both are true, as all Astartes can gain memories from blood, which is like death for such spies.
Though a “false life” truly seems like something fantastical, even for Space Marines.
But I still can’t understand: how did he know his spy was compromised?
Is he a sorcerer like my father, capable of seeing the future?
Did I miss other agents in his camp who uncovered my plan?
It’s funny that I even have a way to ask him personally—the spy’s strange machine is still intact, and thanks to the memory scan, the code is actually understandable.
The only question is: did my potential brother stage this entire situation specifically to contact me?
And what could have interested him then?
I had a criminally strong urge to just take this spy and feed him to one of my sons, so that through their Omophagea organ, they could absorb his knowledge.
Or even try such a “specific” method of gathering information from a single drop of blood myself.
But something tells me that such a schemer would definitely have a trap prepared for just such an occasion.
Yet, there was a possibility he foresaw those thoughts too, and prepared for the case where I do nothing?
Or he predicted that as well, which means…
I must think rationally.
In a dark and unexplored galaxy where real magic exists, the most insane anomalies are possible.
Even at the height of humanity’s power, the universe was not thoroughly studied, as shown by the unknown phenomenon that severed the ability to travel faster than light.
Therefore, I must proceed from the assumption that the potential opponent knows more than I do.
I must strive for new information without diving too deep into the stream of “what-ifs.” That would only confuse me further.
Consequently, first I need to study this box and understand the principles it operates on to know if its use could lead to something harmful for me.
If real sorcerers exist, it’s not hard to imagine they can create “cursed” items.
This whole game with the spy might have been a detailed attempt to eliminate me—or perhaps to confuse me further by calculating my thoughts…
In any case, the answer was obvious: it’s unlikely my relationship with this Alpharius will be a smooth one.
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Duran stared with shocked eyes at the giant, over two meters tall, clad in the heaviest steel armor he had ever seen.
None of his people’s combat suits created such an atmosphere of majesty and power as this one pale, hairless giant with blue eyes that seemed to look right under his skin.
And despite the fact that these “Astartes”—as the voices in the Towers called them—had spent over a year in the planet’s orbit, he had hardly seen them.
Most of the Space Marines lived on Telstarax, only occasionally descending to the surface to train or clear a zone of feral machines and rebellious tribes.
For the most part, their leader kept everyone under tight control, only relaxing the pressure in the last month as he immersed himself in his research. This chapter was taken from novelping dot com without permission.
Still, it was strange and frightening that the giant himself had come to them with a task.
He, Vicarius, and Kirah had only returned to the steel ring a few months ago for scheduled maintenance on their ship, so at least it was clear where this “Storm Walker” had come from.
But still…
“Greetings, young people. My name is Samaraidyn Ibnmar, and I have come here to speak with the native inhabitants of this world. Would you grant an old warrior this favor? In return, I could share stories of the state that is even now casting its gaze across the galaxy and beyond.”
His voice was rough and quite harsh, but there were felt attempts not to frighten mortals.
Duran identified such things easily, having always been good with people, but Vicarius lagged behind in this regard, sometimes taking things too close to heart.
Duran gave Vicarius a slight nod to calm him, then turned his gaze to Kirah.
The non-human girl was drilling her eyes into the Space Marine, who seemed not to notice her, looking specifically at the two boys.
When the tension began to reach an unpleasant stage, Duran finally replied:
“Well, if you want to know more about our home, why not tell you? However, your Imperium interests us as well. We know the basics, but the details later. For example, it turns out the Emperor is your leader, but surely someone helps him? A council, ministries, or representatives of the corps, like we have?”
“Firstly, the Imperium is ours. And secondly—among mortals and even us, the Astartes, there is no one who could truly ‘help’ the Master of Mankind. Only his sons, the most worthy to walk the earth, and his oldest immortal advisor, Malcador the Sigillite, are capable of giving worthy counsel to the Lord of all men. Thus, there is no need for ministries or councils of influential wealthy men or aristocrats. The Emperor manages the entire state, and so it shall be until the end of time. But now, I ask to hear your tale of how your Empire is structured,” he said the last word with a noticeable smile.
Obviously, the Marine must have known this, but Duran figured he wanted to verify the information from primary sources.
Or perhaps he simply wanted to start the conversation with simple topics to test them before moving on to something more serious.
In any case, for now, he could answer honestly:
“I think it’s obvious who our main leader is? The Lord is our unquestioned master, thanks to whom the entire Empire exists. Every technology, from the complex life-support systems of the towers to the combat suits and spaceships, bears the master’s mark. Through them, communication is maintained between the towers, the heads of the corps, and young specialists like us. Generally, our state structure is quite federal and ‘fragmented,’ as different towers almost never intersect due to the planet’s enormous size, and while the corps work together, there is no active discourse between them. However, lately, there seems to be an administrative reform pushing the new generation into the core of the state. Though it’s unknown how joining the Imperium will affect that.”
“Heh, the Lord,” the Space Marine chuckled.
“And who supports him? Our father is strong, but would people follow just for his words and a promise to build a future with technology?”
“He had power, and that was the only thing that mattered before. And it doesn’t matter much what people think when an army of hundreds of tanks with air support marches on their homes. Certainly, there were many who resisted, but as a result, you won’t even be able to find their names—they were erased so thoroughly from the pages of history. Nothing can stop an army of machines when they dig into the ground and have enough energy.”
“I see,” the Astartes said respectfully, then looked them over once more.
“Thank you for the information.
I assume you are part of the research corps?
Indeed, a most worthy cause—to study the limits of the explored and try to break beyond them to reach something yet untamed and wild.
However…
can this really be considered the limit of your dreams?
Just imagine what you could achieve if you broke past the boundaries of human possibility itself?
Do you not wish, for the first time in your lives, to feel the taste of true freedom—granted to you by superhuman strength and unbound by the shackles of a Primarch?
To become someone real, rather than a pathetic puppet of a single paranoid?
Of course, you are already a bit old to be elevated, but hope is not yet lost.
And I might even be able to help you in this matter…”
The giant’s voice echoed in their heads as if hypnotizing them.
Duran and Vicarius exchanged glances, then simultaneously looked at Kirah, who had suddenly drawn a plasma pistol from her belt and pointed it directly at the smiling giant’s face.
He seemed only to enjoy the situation, and the escalation only amused him further.
“Who are you? You can stop worrying and speak honestly—a squad is already on its way here to deal with you. And as for how much you want to test your speed…”
No one even realized the moment her pistol was snatched and ended up in the giant’s hands.
He examined the weapon with unconcealed curiosity while continuing to speak, clearly relishing every word:
“Don’t worry, my plans include no thought of harming you. What would be the point for me? You have heard me, you have remembered my words, and therefore you will play your role, though not just yet. However, it is good that you have already called the guard, thereby activating the protocol secretly installed by Ferrus in a fit of paranoia—one that will immediately relay such a message to him and make him even more nervous. My move is made; now it is time for him to answer. And I very much hope that my brother does not disappoint me.”
*Yes, while it’s not the most popular technology, the Necrons do have such “toys”—it’s with their help they create human servants.
Though Astartes are tough nuts to crack and won’t be subverted easily, even if some have tried.
Strangely enough, such machines exist even now, albeit in the development stages.
I wouldn’t be surprised if they are soon given to the Tau to assist their personal telepaths.
GW has a funny approach with them—since Warhammer appeared in the last century, it’s no surprise the Imperium wasn’t given many of the technologies used today.
To show how advanced the Tau are, they are the ones using drones and AI.
They even replaced their main ruler with an intelligent machine that has recently begun showing glitches and signs of consciousness (like many other AIs in their empire).
Which surely won’t turn into anything horrifying in the grim darkness of the 42nd millennium.
And yes, here he is at last—appearing as both the main “friend”/”foe”/”rival” to our Ferrus.
He won’t have the best relations with most Primarchs, decent ones with a few, but definitely a special connection with the smartest of the Master of Mankind’s sons.
Alpharius certainly won’t leave alone a brother he can play intrigue games with while showing off a bit.