A single white bulb brightly illuminated the small room, its corners swallowed by absolute darkness.
I sat at one side of a steel table, fully encased in my living-metal armor, while opposite me lounged a man bound in shackles that completely covered his arms and legs.
However, this did nothing to diminish the spy’s smirk.
“So, who are you? Answer quickly and with absolute honesty. Lies will not help you now; they will only delay the moment of a much more… ‘intimate’ interrogation,” I said in an iron tone, my gaze burning through the stranger.
Though, can I really call him a stranger when his identity is effectively known to me?
“What an expected and cliché speech, though starting that way isn’t bad. What is the point of asking if you already know the answer? Do you wish to confirm your thoughts and the results of your machines, which secretly gathered particles of my skin? No, no… the man who ‘exposed’—heh—my existence cannot be so mediocre. One who built a complex of living steel and restored an ancient shipyard cannot afford such banality,” the bald man replied with a smile.
He stood nearly two and a half meters tall and met my gaze without flinching.
Despite his projected air of nonchalance, I took a sharp dislike to those eyes.
It was the look of a predator deciding to lighten its mood by playing with its prey.
It was obvious at a glance: he was crafting the image of a grand schemer and master strategist, believing himself smarter than everyone else and anticipating every move.
I do not appreciate being treated as a secondary character in someone else’s play.
“Why so silent? By the way, do you know that technically you are my elder brother? And therefore—”
His speech was cut short by a surge of electricity.
Usually, I resort to such methods only when dealing with the most depraved representatives of the human race, but here I could utilize my systems to their full extent; the person sitting opposite me would not be significantly harmed by such treatment.
It would merely teach him manners through pain.
A single mental command, and the tech executed it, causing him to jerk with a voltage high enough even for a Primarch.
A few seconds later, when it stopped and he began to breathe heavily, I spoke again, driving each word like a nail into the dialogue:
“Listen to me, ‘genius.’ I am not going to play games with you. If you continue your idiotic attempts to provoke me, you will continue to receive neurological damage until your brain turns to mush. And believe me, regardless of what our father might say, such an infiltration into my forces cannot go unanswered. I am sure such an outcome would not suit you, would it… ‘Alpharius’?”
The spy attempted to pull his arms apart and break his shackles, but they simply stretched with him like molasses or rubber.
A new bolt of lightning forced him to stop, trembling from the pain, and lift his gaze to me once more.
Irritation was now visible, but his self-satisfaction had almost vanished.
Almost.
“Fine, you want honest answers? You shall have them. Just don’t tell me to shut up later. I’m curious to show someone my real self, especially since we share the same goals of preserving humanity,” he replied, lifting his head and rubbing his electrified limbs.
“You already know my name, so that’s boring. What’s far more fascinating is that I am the leader of an entire Legion, and it is one of my sons you have imprisoned, violating our father’s protocols. I’m sure he’ll find that story very amusing…”
This time I didn’t use electricity.
Instead, I gave vent to my irritation the old-fashioned way.
A single punch from my fist straight into his nose produced a sickening crunch and a brief cry of pain from the Primarch.
Despite our common parentage, Alpharius without his armor was over a meter shorter than me, making my blows particularly painful for him.
“The Emperor is not here now, and he will not save you,” I replied with icy calm.
“You are in the heart of my domain, where every molecule is under my absolute command. One more bold word intended to spark my anger, and you will begin to rapidly lose limbs.”
With a flick of my hand, I shook the remnants of his blood onto the floor, while several milliliters were instantly siphoned as samples.
My suit could create new devices in an instant if they were simple enough for me to visualize their structure.
Right now, my brain was working at full capacity, having secured the DNA of a third Primarch.
The more samples I possess, the easier it will be to understand myself and exactly how the Master of the Imperium crafted these demi-gods.
A few drops could be preserved for the future extraction of genetic memory—effectively copying my brother’s experiences—but I didn’t want to push it that far yet.
I already have enough strange flashes of memories of things that never happened…
“Fine,” Alpharius said, spitting out blood, his tone finally serious.
“My father, who found me first among his sons, entrusted me with the most vital task of all: guarding his secrets and harvesting the mysteries of the enemies of all mankind. My job is to find spies, instigators, and cultists who hide behind the mask of loyal servants, and any enemy who attempts to undermine the foundations of our Empire from within. I also oversee all ‘quiet’ operations where new worlds are brought into the Imperium without ‘excessive noise.’ And, of course, it is I who ensures that none of our brothers rebel or lead their Legion against humanity. Until this day, no one noticed my subtle influence.”
He said the last phrase looking directly into my eyes, but I did not flinch.
The fear of death is for me nothing more than a fact to be accounted for in future plans.
“Curious. But now I am interested in something else—how exactly did you hide, change your appearance, and learn of my actions?”
“You don’t understand, do you? My task is to keep our father’s secrets, not to reveal them. Even if you try to torture me, you will learn nothing. You can risk carving the knowledge out of me with technology, but there are countermeasures even for that. There is literally nothing you can do to me that would make me prefer facing our father’s wrath,” he replied without a smile, a flicker of genuine fear crossing his eyes for a moment.
According to my sensors monitoring his micro-expressions, pulse, and perspiration, he was telling the truth—though his last sentence flared a desire in me to hit him again.
However, I restrained myself, took a quiet breath, and tried to settle my temper.
“Then why all the games with me? Are you even capable of being serious?” I asked tiredly, finally releasing the restraints, which dissolved into a heap of nanites.
Alpharius began rubbing his wrists with a smile, though he didn’t move.
I’m certain he understood that as long as he was on Telstarax, he stood no chance against me.
“Seriousness is the primary inhibitor of true creativity; therefore, I am entirely against those shackles. Sure, one can pretend to be a grim, blunt brute like you, but then what is the point of living? What is the meaning of power if one cannot enjoy it? Besides, you will soon understand me—that such games are the only solace from our grim daily lives, full of nothing but blood and the stench of endless war. I came to you with a single message: our father calls for you to finally take your rightful place and become part of the Great Crusade. Your fleet will soon arrive in the system, and you must depart with it to unite humanity and annex new worlds.”
I didn’t react outwardly to this information, simply beginning to process it.
It was highly unlikely to be a lie, as there would be no profit in it, and my instruments confirmed his sincerity.
While the outcome was unpleasant—many projects were still unfinished—it was expected.
Obviously, no one was going to leave me in peace.
I addressed only one thought to my brother, who was clearly missing certain parts of a rational brain:
“Then why did you do all of this? What was the point of these intrigues?”
“None. I do it simply because I can, and because I want to show at least someone that I really am smarter than everyone else,” he replied with a shrug.
“Believe me, sometimes the answer is just that simple.”
Strangely enough, I didn’t believe Alpharius for a second.
My entire being screamed that he should not be trusted.
Never, and under no circumstances.
Even simple conversation with him began to feel exhausting because of how irritably he carried himself.
Yet, it was necessary.
“Well, since we’ve settled everything, perhaps you’ll let me go?” he said casually, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture.
“You realize now that I pose no threat, so…”
“And how did you arrive at that conclusion?” I interrupted without hesitation, smirking.
“No, our conversation is not over. Perhaps you hoped to make me rush by mentioning the fleet’s arrival, but such tricks won’t work on me. The interrogation has only just begun. While you won’t reveal father’s secrets, I am interested in hundreds of other topics. At the very least, our brothers—I’m sure you can tell me a great deal about them, ‘genius.’ You wanted an audience? Now you have one.”
Alpharius smiled widely, then cracked his neck.
The Master of Secrets might be a cunning individual, but even he has weaknesses.
Or strengths that he presents as weaknesses to trap an enemy when they least expect it.
In any case, my brother turned out to be a very…
specific fellow.
.
.
.
“Do you truly understand what these machines are meant to do? We have reviewed your blueprints and, if you’ll forgive me, they were rather primitive. The vita-womb technology you employed was the simplest and most obsolete version. While your security protocols and software were impressive, only a true master of the intricacies of biology and the human frame can build the finest cloning and bio-modification devices known in the galaxy…”
I barely paid attention to the speech of the Tech-Priest Biologis, who was draped in crimson robes and possessed a remarkably human-like face and proportions.
He had arrived from Mars with the blueprints and samples I required, but the machines themselves were the center of my attention.
These were specialized chambers, developed by the Mechanicum over thousands of years—the sole reason the red, lifeless planet had not died out centuries ago.
They were capable of growing new generations in vats who did not descend into madness or fall under the influence of the Warp.
Such developments were incredibly, critically important to me.*
“…Indeed, I advise against growing subjects at an accelerated rate unless you suppress their brain development at a biological level to subsequently turn them into excellent servitors. Sentient beings grown in haste turn out frankly insane and far too clumsy, even if knowledge is later force-fed into their heads via psycho-indoctrination. And yes, samples of such machines also arrived with my ship.” Find the original chapter at g.com.
Closing my eyes, I tried to listen to the “words” of the machines.
For a few seconds, only the monotonous voice of the Tech-Priest was audible, but soon the first sounds emitted by the complex technology emerged.
They spoke in unison, submissively asking what awaited them.
Delicate and incredibly complex devices that required special care to continue their faithful work.
But it must be admitted, they certainly deserved such an approach; they practically glowed with power and confidence in their own capabilities.
“…W-what are you doing? The machine spirits… they seem to be singing… I have never seen anything like this,” a high, surprised voice pulled me from my thoughts, forcing me to turn sharply toward the short Tech-Priest.
Or was it just that everyone under two meters was starting to seem short to me?
“I am the son of the Emperor, whom you consider the incarnation of your god in the material world. Does that not also make me a sacred figure in your religion? For my gifts are not so different from his abilities,” I said calmly, turning to the Magus.
He looked at me in awe, but the moment I clenched my fists and sharply commanded all the machines to activate, he immediately fell to his knees and pressed his hands together.
“Holy… Om-Omnissiah,” he whispered in a trembling voice, beginning to recite a prayer to his deity as dozens of engines began to emit a low hum, coalescing into something like a choir.
I tried to hide my irritation, stepping toward him and looking down, making full use of my Primarch aura.
I do not like using it to wash brains, but if all of humanity benefits from it, it is permissible.
After all, the lives of millions stand infinitely higher than my moral qualms.
“Stand, man, and look into the eyes of one capable of understanding any machine, no matter how complex. A new era of human genius is beginning, where we shall reclaim all the achievements of the Dark Age and once again become masters of the universe, before daring to look even further. We are all servants of the Omnissiah, but did you truly think his ascension would happen without mortal trials? Our task is to find the remnants of humanity’s golden age and use them for the good of all. Today, I give you a portion of the STCs I have found—but this is only my first gift to your organization, a guarantee of long and fruitful cooperation. Is that not so?” I said with heavy pressure, my gaze pinning the Tech-Priest.
The Biologis nodded in shock, listening and carefully memorizing every word as if it were divinely ordained.
However, he was even more surprised when the floor beneath them trembled, and mountains of black metal began to rise from it, already forming new machines based on the obtained blueprints.
He whipped his head around, but my heavy stare forced him to go still.
“Excellent. Now, stand up and help me work on a new idea,” I declared loudly with a wave of my hand.
“Tell me your thoughts on how to organize the mass cultivation of healthy, strong organisms, devoid of all genetic refuse and disease, by using existing templates. I will require tens, potentially hundreds of thousands of new soldiers who will later be given the chance to ascend even further.”
“Y-you propose mass-producing candidates for Astartes transformation? This would take decades to do correctly…” he replied, shocked and stammering from the overwhelming emotion.
Microscopic machines began to crawl up his steel legs during this time, merging with his implants and copying their structure.
Soon they would reach his brain, and then this Tech-Priest would be entirely mine.
“Long-term investments suit me perfectly,” I replied with a short nod.
“Furthermore, only the biological samples of the strongest individuals who have undergone ascension will be used. I am certain this will significantly increase their survival rates, meaning I will have more loyal and healthy sons. Potentially—hundreds of thousands of Angels of the Imperium, who will become the blade of humanity and the Machine God himself. You will help the Omnissiah in his mission, won’t you?”
The Mechanicum is a potentially very dangerous organization, capable of either reviving humanity or finishing it off if they continue to believe in strict dogmas instead of practicing real science.
Therefore, I must handle the problem myself, ensuring they end up on the right side.
Something tells me that I possess all the right resources to accomplish such a task.
And if that is the case, they must become my new servants, whether they want to or not.
Among the sons of the Master of Mankind, there must be at least one dedicated to such heavy, uninteresting, and thankless work—it is better that I take up this burden.
In the end, it will be easier for everyone else.
*The ban on cloning is one of the most popular myths in Warhammer, the origin of which is honestly unknown to me.
Yes, there was one book where experimental clones of great heroes became insane failures, but that was clearly an exception due to specific conditions.
Everyone seems to forget that the Mechanicus grows billions of humans every day to become servitors, skitarii, personal assistants, or future tech-priests.
The most popular Mechanicus character, Belisarius Cawl, is a vat-grown clone and isn’t even shy about it.
And need we even mention the wonderful place called Krieg?
A nod to the “Dark Heresy” and “Calixis” lore that wasn’t included in “Shackled” due to the lack of connection between Gabriel and the Tech-Priests.
In reality, the Mechanicus are some of the best schemers in the setting thanks to a specific technology—a tiny chip they can insert into a person’s brain, making them a puppet.
This thing is almost impossible to detect, which is why almost any representative of the Imperium could be their secret agent…
though looking at their capabilities from that angle, it becomes clear why so few know of their influence.