Roboute Guilliman was annoyed. He was used by now to the behavior of the self-proclaimed star god, yet that had not diminished the grating effects of its attitude. They had been en-route to Terra, having been recalled there, apparently per his fathers wishes; although the Custodes would not elaborate further on the matter even when pressed. After dropping out of the warp temporarily to switch into a different, stable warp route that would lead them directly into the sol system, the strange, featureless communication device he now carried with him had chimed. A recorded message had informed him in few words and with fewer courtesies still that a past and future ally would meet with him aboard his own vessel once they dropped from the Warp.
Although he did not believe it was a trap, he had had questions, and tried in vain to place them. His communicator had remained inert however, and unmoved by his attempts to coax it into function. Pushing aside his personal feelings, he had made his way to one of the cavernous assembly chambers of the Maccrages Honour. He had ordered his guards and retinue to wait without, but ready to intervene at a moments notice.
He was unafraid but remained determined not to be caught off guard either.
Now he stood alone in the sound-proofed chamber, waiting for the communicator to reactivate. Surely, a vessel would soon hail them and ask for permission to come aboard…
Guillimans head swung around, his superhuman senses having picked up something, a movement, at the chambers bow-facing wall.
"My patience quickly reaches its limit. Show yourself!" Guilliman called out
"As you wish."
The voice had barely reached his ears when His sword cleared its scabbard in an uproar of psychic fire, sending dancing shadows through the glum meeting chamber.
From the dimly lit parapets emerged a figure; the details of its form all but indiscernable save for a Primarchs keen eyes. The scales upon its armor shifted fluidly as the figure stepped forth, glinting ever so slightly in the light that now shone upon them. Guilliman shifted the grip upon his sword, its tip now pointing at the intruders chest.
The figure seemed unperturbed, taking another step towards the Ultramarine Primarch, the spear visible upon its back untouched. It spread its arms and dipped its head:
"Hello, brother"
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"Not one step further." Guillimans voice was a low growl, the tip of his sword still aimed at the heart of the other. "I killed you on Eskrador."
Omegon smiled: "Almost"
"I reckon it is time to finish what I started, then." The Ultramarine Primarch retorted coldly.
The Alpha Legion Primarch made no move to defend himself, merely shaking his head: "I am here to speak, not to fight you. If my words do not convince you, you may strike me down thereafter."
Guilliman laughed humourlessly: "Bold of you to assume that you are in a position to make demands."
"Oh come now, Roboute" Omegon smiled
"You know that I could have attacked you already, with the element of surprise on my side, seeing as neither you, nor those under your command, were able to detect the approach of my vessel, nor my boarding of your ship, until I revealed myself." He gestured to the Hangar around himself "You are furthermore aware that I am not one to gloat before striking a kill, either. This allows you to rule out a simple direct attack as my intention. Similarly, I know you could have struck me down already, and yet you did not, because you have realized the very same thing already. Otherwise, you would have called upon your guards and retinue, would you not? So, let us not waste time with angered words and pretense."
For a moment, Guilliman was silent, his face a façade of mistrust. Finally he nodded sharply:
"I will allow you to speak, if only because this question has haunted me for all these millennia: Why? Why would you betray us?"Betray what, precisely?" Omegon inquired "The Imperium; the Emperor, or humanity?"
"Do not play these games with me, Omegon!" Guilliman hissed
"I am not playing games." Omegon answered, levelly. "It is a legitimate question. The most important one, in fact. If you do not see why, allow me a question of my own: What do you serve, humanity, or the imperium? What do you fight for; the Emperor and his edicts, or the survival of our species?"
Guillimans face had turned grim, and he said nothing. Omegon nodded with a knowing expression on his face:
"The Imperial Truth was a lie, brother. You and I both know that. Believe me or not, but I have never stopped fighting for humanity. I merely decided to do so in a different way."
"Was that it?" Guilliman hissed, "You felt that the Emperor lied to you and so you turned, to enlighten all as to the true nature of the Galaxy?"
"Oh please, Roboute" Omegon sighed, sounding almost annoyed: "I am not Lorgar, so do not insult me by drawing such comparisons. I do not bear the Emperor any malice for what He did, in fact I believe I can claim to understand better than most the value of lies and misdirection. Nonetheless, a different approach became necessary once I came to understand the true nature of the Galaxy."
""Why should i believe a word of what you say?" Guilliman spat, outraged:
"What confirms to me that this is not another plot to tear apart all that we had once striven to achieve? There have been countless alpha legion attacks throughout Imperial history. Raids, sabotage, the instigation of cults, to name but a few! If anything, I am amazed that you have the audacity to claim that you were working towards the betterment of humanity!"
Omegon sighed: "There were…differences, between my brother and I; and also within the legion itself, on how to proceed past a certain point. My brother, he…he favoured a different approach to mine, and some of our sons joined him in turn. When he fell, I took up his mantle, but I never achieved control of all the legion. Many have since gone their own ways, some becoming corrupted as time passed on. It might strike you as irony, but the very same independent organization and secretive structure that makes the 20th what it is, meant that I could not simply stop them, either."
"So what you wish me to believe is that instead of willful betrayal, your own sons elude you despite your best efforts to stop them?" Guilliman gave a mirthless chuckle
"If anything, that version of events makes for a fine jest! Let me guess; the parts of the legion loyal to you have of course been aiding the Imperium in all these millennia, striking at chaotic warbands before they can attack, making sure warnings reach imperial ears where possible, and following a myriad other plans within plans to the ultimate benefit of humanity. And, of course, tragically, due to the inherent secrecy of such operations, no proof for your benevolent involvement can be provided, either. How maddeningly convenient!"
Guilliman raised a hand, cutting off his brothers answer: "Spare me your reply. Tell me instead what you still have not said. Why did you do it? Name it as you will; a changed approach, or a betrayal. Why!?"
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Now, Omegon looked uncomfortable at the pain and grief evident in his brother's voice:
"As the crusade went on, my brother and I were…contacted, by a cabal made up of multiple Xeno species. They showed clearly that they could have struck at us and our fleet, mayhaps even killed us, but instead chose to parlay. They explained to us much about the nature of the warp, and the danger that Chaos posed to the galaxy. They remained adamant that the Emperors approach of denial was doomed to failure, and maintained that to destroy Chaos, it would first have to triumph."
Guilliman simply stared at him, incredulous: "I have read and written many tractates about strategies and warfare. And never once have I encountered one that suggested letting the enemy have total victory. How could you have believed them that such an approach would ever be successful?!"
"Due to the very nature of Chaos, which the Cabal seemed to know well, and certainly better than my brother and I did." Omegon explained "They stated that they had foreseen that a conflict was coming, that the Warmaster would turn against the Emperor, inevitably. Once that happened, they claimed, only two options remained: A costly Imperial Victory that would leave our father dead or crippled and the Imperium stagnant and open to seeping corruption in the millennia thereafter. Or, as alluded to, a chaotic victory."
Omegon held up a hand, forestalling his brothers questions:
"They held the belief that, once victorious, Chaos would soon burn itself out due to its contradictive nature; fracturing and falling to infighting. Ultimately, most life in the galaxy would die and-with nothing left to fuel them, the so-called chaos gods would wither away, leaving the warp free of malign influences and the galaxy open to resettlement. We had, of course, stored away cryogenically frozen embryos in sufficient quantities to reinstate humanity…"
He trailed off when his brother began to slowly shake his head, his face a mask of utter disbelief:
"You chose to abandon the crusade, abuse the trust that we, your own brothers, had put into you, and help the traitors cause to ultimate victory to further a plan that required the full extinction of mankind to succeed? Not to mention that you did not even attempt to stop it from happening? Have you ever considered that perhaps, just perhaps, your actions brought about a pyrrhic victory where a clean one could have been achieved? Why did you not strike at Horus if you knew of his treachery? Or warn any of us, your brothers?"
Now it was omegons turn to laugh: "Oh yes, how foolish of us; that would have been the pathway to success all along! We should have just approached you, as the most recently discovered, least proven or trusted legion; told our brothers that a cabal of unknown xenos with a dim opinion of our species had informed us that our beloved brother Horus, the warmaster, the Emperors most favored son, would soon fall under the thrall of the gods of the Warp. Or, even better, attempt to assassinate him. Tell me, Roboute, if I had come with this prophecy to you, before the heresy, what would you have done? Embraced me, perhaps, and joined my cause without reservations?"
Guilliman merely shook his head, sighing, remembering how his own denial, his rejection of the very idea of a civil war, had cost him and his sons.
"We did not trust them" Omegon stressed, "Which is precisely why we developed multiple plans and contingencies after they had contacted us. As is the nature of our legion, we were unwilling to commit to truly major action until we possessed sufficient amounts of information. As you well realize, we could not speak to any others about this, either. And so we waited, we observed, and once the cabals prophecy was proven true at Istvaan, we decided to commit ourselves to their plan."
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Omegon winced at his brothers facial expression: "I am aware of how it sounds if abbreviated. I can assure you that many more considerations were involved in it, and convincing evidence presented. This" he spoke up before Guilliman could interject "was also the point of disagreement between my brother and I. Where before we had been of one mind on almost all matters, we split, for they had managed to sway him much more so than they did me." He took a deep breath, then continued:
"While our faith in the crusade was shaken by the realization that the Emperor had lied to us about the true nature of the Warp, I did not agree with my brothers assessment of the situation, nor was I inclined to fully believe the cabal. The Xenos act with regards to their own benefit first and foremost, as do we, and to believe that they had no hidden motives would have been absurd." He sighed deeply:
"While I had been sceptical from the moment we made contact with the Cabal, over time I grew to truly hate what we were doing. I saw mounting reasons to believe that the cabal, even if their motives had been sincere, and some of their predictions true, would fail; for although their knowledge was enormous and their end goal an understandable one, they were attempting to thwart forces far beyond even their control. When it became clear that their hopes would go unfulfilled, I finally confronted my brother." A shadow of remorse and pain crossed his face at the memory. "We parted in disagreement, although he, too, no longer served their goals entirely." He paused for a moment, as if struggling to find the right words:
"Still, I hesitated to move against him or his followers openly." He shook his head, sadness creeping into his voice:
"He was me and I was him, a brother more so than any other Primarch could ever be." He paused for a moment, smiling bitterly "Besides, I was certain that the cabal had placed agents in our fleet, and so I needed to move carefully."Guilliman remained unfazed, his answer dripping with icy sarcasm: "This, of course, changes everything! I am moved deeply by your conclusion that bringing about the extinction of all humanity at the behest of a conglomerate of alien manipulators with unknown motives was a questionable decision. You made without a doubt the most difficult moral choice any one of us could have ever faced! I truly cannot comprehend how any being could possibly question your allegiance after such a heroic demonstration of loyalty, courage and moral integrity!"
Omegon hung his head. "I would have been surprised if you reacted differently."
"By our fathers throne on Terra!" Guilliman growled "I cannot believe that you, of all my brothers, fell for their machinations. You were never that naïve, Omegon, and you should never have listened to that Cabals false promises!"
"Aye. And you should have apologized to a brother wronged; one that loved our maker more than any other." Omegon retorted, anger creeping into his voice "As you should have realized his treachery when he had his ships maneuver into attack positions, and yet you did not. Neither should you have barred entry to the library of Ptolemy, but instead allowed all to learn what mistrust and lack of information can do, even to ones' sincerely good ambitions. And yet, so you did."
For the first time since they had met, Guillimans righteous anger seemed to waver. Far too miniscule to be picked up by anything but a Primarchs keen eyes, the tip of the Emperors sword wavered in his grasp, sending a slight ripple through the psychic flames dancing around it. A noise escaped the Ultramarine Primarchs' lips, half exasperated sigh, half stifled laughter:
"Of course!" Roboute Guilliman shook his head "Of course you would know about all that. To call myself surprised would mean lying."
Where one might have expected smug superiority, the smaller Primarch displayed nothing but a sad, regretful smile:
"All of us have made mistakes, Roboute; I more so than most. There were many moments since in which I could have allowed myself to be slain by one foe or another, but I do not believe in atonement through death. I will atone through actions; by setting right that which has happened. I cannot change the past, but I can fight for a future in which Chaos' malign influence no longer blights humanity!"
Omegons voice had grown in intensity, leaving the calm and collected statements behind. He had stepped forwards, while Guilliman remained unmoving, bringing himself further into striking range. The tip of the Emperors sword was aimed at his hearts, and Roboute Guillimans sword arm was drawn back; ready to plunge the flaming weapon into his chest and end him. Yet the alpha legion Primarch seemed unconcerned, his hands still resting at his sides, his Sarrisanata -the pale spear- remaining inert on his back.
Guilliman shook his head, unmoved by his brothers apparent lack of concern:
"You cannot truly expect that I will accept you back at my side?!" he inquired, incredulous.
Omegon shook his head: "Pay attention to my words, Roboute. I never stated that I would rejoin the Imperium. I am here merely to work out the details of cooperation, for the benefit of mankind."
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The Ultramarine Primarch cocked an eyebrow: "Let me guess" Guilliman replied, his voice icy "You are the ally promised to me by the star god."
He chuckled darkly "I will endeavor to return any kin of yours, so they are opposed to Chaos" he quoted "I probably should not be surprised, after all, it did not speak only of loyalists"
"He is indeed the one who sent me here." Omegon confirmed "He…located me, some time ago, and shared with me his vision, his goal of destroying chaos not by exterminating humanity, but by uplifting and protecting it! The very thing our creator so spectacularly failed to do. Finally, here was a being both willing and, much more importantly, capable of facing the madness of the warp and then triumphing over it!" he smiled, vigour in his voice:
"At last I had definitive proof for my assumption that the cabal had been either lying, or unable to fully glimpse the future, despite their claims to the contrary; for they never foresaw the return of the Yngir. I realized then that this was a chance, an opportunity. Perhaps the last one that humanity will receive. A way for the species we species we swore to protect to survive and even thrive, and a way for me to rectify the mistakes of the past. A third option, which the cabal claimed did not exist, one which I feared we would never have."
Guilliman shook his head, still in disbelief. "Survive, aye; in servitude to a xeno deity." He sighed: "First the cabal, now the star god. Are you so desperate to follow something that is not our father?"
Omegon shook his head: "I am merely attempting to do what is right."
"I am certain many of our fallen brothers had claimed the same thing." Guilliman replied. He raised his hand:
"Be that as it may. We will not see eye to eye on this, so we need not waste our time trying. The C'tan did not mention you specifically. How am I to make sure this is not a coincidence beneficial to you?"
"Do you truly believe I would have simply happened upon your ship, Roboute, at the specified time, after you were notified via secure channels to expect a visitor? Such a feat of coincidence would be difficult even for one such as me." Omegon showed a half-smile
Guilliman did not rise to his jest:
"You have twisted the truth before. No matter your motives, you turned from our father and aided the damned traitors in their quest to bring Chaos to the entire galaxy! Why would I trust you not to sabotage or betray us again?"
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With a chime, the communicator upon his belt sprang into action; unprompted: "I shall confirm it to alleviate your mistrust, Roboute Guilliman, for time is of the essence. The Primarch Omegon is indeed in my service."
Guilliman could not help but laugh in disbelief.
Omegon shrugged, grinning: "I am aware that He did not inform you beforehand of my identity, although I too remain unsure as to why. Perhaps most beings that men call gods have a faible for grand reveals?"
Guilliman had already turned serious again. "My trust in your final loyalties remains absent. If the star god vouches for you, I shall tolerate a cooperation, and nothing more than that."
Omegon nodded:
"I do not ask for love, brother, for trust or even for your forgiveness. All I ask is that you cooperate in our fight against a mutual enemy, to the benefit of all mankind. If you do not trust my words, which does not represent a surprise, think about what the star god does to those who serve and worship the ruinous powers. If he judged me to be aiding the cause of those beyond the veil, would I still be here to converse with you?"
"I suppose not" Guilliman conceded. "So we are aligned, at least in that regard." Although he did not voice it, Roboute Guilliman was certain that beyond that concession, Omegons true loyalties were as impossible to know as before. He continued to speak:
"And so you have exchanged one enigmatic alien master for another. I would have thought better, even of you."
"Oh, please, brother" Omegon answered "You work together with it just as well."
"Yet I do not serve it." Guilliman retorted
Omegon chuckled: "You serve its designs all the same, be certain of that, Roboute. Do not pretend you are unaware of this."
"I am working for the survival and prosperity of mankind." Guilliman replied, defensive "If this makes you think I serve the C'tans cause as well, then so be it. In fact, we could all, at any time, even unwillingly, be serving a being whose goals we cannot fathom. What do you think about that?"
Omegon chuckled: "I would reckon nothing much had changed since the time we bestrode the stars alongside our creator, then."
Despite himself, Roboute Guilliman laughed, again. "Very well. As I have stated, I now confirm: If the star god vouches for you, I shall accept its judgement." He raised a finger:
"As long as certain conditions are met. Firstly, I expect to be informed in detail about any and all operations you conduct in Imperial space and beyond, including an explanation of your reasoning and motivations. Secondly, you will avoid contact with imperial citizens as much as is possible, and similarly keep your identity a secret. Do that, and we may cooperate successfully towards a common goal."
Omegon nodded, smiling warmly "Cooperation, not trust. This is all I expected, and all I need. I shall acquiesce to your demands."
Guilliman nodded courtly in reply: "Now then, I do not believe we have anything more to discuss. How do you plan on leaving this vessel?"
Omegon laughed: "Why, the same way I came…"
He began to take steps backwards, Guilliman following him, sword still in hand. As he retreated, the form of his brother Primarch grew hazy and indistinct, its edges swimming. Then, with a whisper of displaced air, Omegon vanished.
Guilliman grunted with annoyance. Teleportation, then, teleportation that bypassed void shields, coupled with camouflage technologies far beyond the Imperiums ability. It seemed the C´tan was supplying its newest servant with precisely the kind of technology that it would not deliver to the Imperium at large, or Guillimans own forces. A good indicator, at least, where his mysterious brother would stand, should a moment of uncertainty arise.
Turning around, the Primarch sheathed his fathers sword, and strode towards the doors. There would be no further delays on his way to Terra.
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And there we have it, the next chapter. A long one, which I have been working on for quite a long time, and which took shape as the story progressed. A somewhat surprising entrance, I would say, but then again, such was always the way of the alpha legion.
Furthermore I think, considering their history, they are/were among the most likely candidates for cooperation with the c´tan, seeing as they had little issue working with - and for - the cabal when presented with evidence and arguments that they found sufficient.
As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to comment below what you thought about the chapter; feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome!
Kind regards
Commander T
Last edited: Jun 27, 2021
93
here we are once more, another chapter done. Took longer than I had hoped it would, but still less time than I feared it might. Beyond that, I can´t say much besides that i hope that you will enjoy yourselves while reading it!
If you have the time, leave a comment below, as i´d like to hear your opinions and questions!
Without further ado, lets get into it.
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"If that is all, my Sons, Lords, Ladies and my brothers in arms, we shall conclude this meeting. We are fast approaching Terra and I need to make preparations for our arrival."
Accompanied by murmurs of agreement and gestures of respect, humans and Astartes began to file out of the meeting chamber, heading off to perform the tasks Roboute Guilliman had bestowed upon them.
The Custodes still refused to elaborate on what exactly had caused his creator to recall him, but the Primarch was not one to sit idle either way, and had determined to use his time on Terra as efficiently as possible, now that his fathers summons led him there once more. He had allocated a multitude of tasks to those in his crusade fleet so as to expedite his return to the forefront of the crusade once his business on Terra was concluded. Repairs, maintenance, systems optimization, the restocking of provisions, combat drills and extended rest periods for the mortal crew would all be part of the ships' time at high anchor, to ensure the war-worn fleet was quickly brought back up to maximum efficiency.
Guilliman himself planned to use what time he had available on the throneworld in a different fashion, namely by reorganizing Terran civilian infrastructure. Ever since his return he had been horrified at the inefficiency of the various hives systems and supply chains, the illogical allocation of much-needed resources and the monumental squalor that arose as a consequence. While he was on crusade, his manifold other duties occupied his every waking minute, leaving him little, if any, time to address the issue, no matter how much it irked him. His return now represented a rare, and urgently needed opportunity to focus on the matter.
Besides the pity he himself felt for the citizens of the Throneworld, the constant suffering and the reliance on outside sources of sustenance represented a strategic weakness that the Primarch would not – could not – allow to persist. As it stood now, the defenses of Terra were in constant jeopardy, the threat of cult uprisings and food riots among its many, many discontent and desperate inhabitants ever looming over the Throneworld. It was a factor that would no doubt play into the hands of any hostile force, be they infiltrating Terra or besieging it; tying down much-needed defenders in crowd suppression duties, or allowing the foe to spread their malign influence through cults among the destitute and the forgotten.
Superior air and water filtration systems, as promised by the C´tan, had already been received by Mechanicus representatives on several forge worlds. Efficient, simple and quicker to manufacture than existing machinery, they had soon thereafter entered mass production on his orders and were en-route to Terra.
He had already begun to analyze the Hives one by one, mapping out the optimal attachment points for the air scrubbers and water purifiers for the Magi of the Mechanicus to install. Furthermore, construction was - by his will and authority - underway on food depots, vast, refrigerated underground complexes filled with purified water, nutrient blocks and vitamin tablets. Each was heavily guarded by automated weapon systems, manned by adeptus arbites and guard personnel, and possessed multiple plasma reactors and void-shielding. Every complex, capable of supplying billions of citizens with water and caloric intake for at least a standard solar month, was in turn connected underground by multiple reinforced, redundant tunnels to a number of hives. In due time, each hive would be able to draw upon at least two such repositories, ensuring a stable supply in case of blockade; and dampening the effects of the regularly occurring shipping delays.
To further alleviate the situation, Guilliman had requested additional Mechanicus geo-shaping engines, using the authority of his office and his standing as a "Blessed Offspring of the Omnissiah" to speed up the proceedings.
Within a few solar years, excavation work would begin on multiple underground agriculturae; expansive, geothermally powered, servitor-staffed farms where crops would be raised to feed Terra. The Throneworld may not have been able to support its entire population by itself for millennia, but nothing would dissuade the Primarch from making a concerted attempt.
With a sigh, Guilliman rubbed his temples, allowing himself a moment of weakness while still alone. Setting his cogitator to stand-by, he stored some of the schematics and papers on his desk neatly in their allotted folders, before calling through the vox for Kratus Marcii.
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The knight, having been stationed outside, alongside members of the Victrix guard, entered without hesitation, the automated doors whispering closed behind him and stood at attention, his eye-lenses staring straight ahead.
"I wish to talk about a few things before our arrival in the Sol system" Guilliman began. "Firstly, an inquiry. The oval device in the pouch upon your belt, Kratus, a recent addition unless I am gravely mistaken. Might I enquire its nature?"
The Primarch's keen eye for details had made it out a while ago, but only now did he find an opportunity to bring it up in a suitably private conversation. The knight turned his head to look at him:
"You might. It is an anti-daemonic blasting charge. A small antimatter warhead encased in blessed and inscribed silver and studded throughout with vials of holy water and sacred oils. Once it detonates, it saturates the area around it with shards of the metal, coated, as they were, in the blessed liquids."
While Guilliman was by no means an expert in these matters, sheer practicality had long since forced him to learn more about the occult and the psychic than he had ever wished to. As such, he understood the effects that such "holy" metals had on daemonic entities, no matter how much he detested the fact.
"Blessed silver; much like the coating of your swords" He remarked.
"Precisely so." the Knight nodded, "These devices were with us before, stored securely; yet had not been rated as fully tested nor confirmed to be sufficiently effective at that time. Recently, we received word that they have been, and as such we carry them openly now." He quickly pulled out the device, casually tossing it over to the Primarch. Guilliman caught it effortlessly, although he handled it with a more gingerly grip once he held it.
"Do not worry, Lord," Kratus assured him "…it is inert at this moment, and our technology does not tend towards random failures"
Guilliman could swear that he had heard the slightest trace of sarcasm in the knight's voice. The left corner of his mouth quirked upwards: "Do I hear an accusation?"
"None was intended, lord" Kratus replied, his tone of voice one of pure innocence.
Now Guilliman's grin widened as he remembered an ancient Terran proverb about the howling of stricken canids..."I am certain it wasn't" he replied, equally sarcastic.
While they bantered, he had turned the device over, examining its surface, covered fully, as it was, in no doubt painstakingly hand-etched scripture and runes of banishment.
"I had not taken your order to be ardent followers of the Imperial creed" he said with mock surprise, tossing the device back to the knight, who refused to rise to his jest: "The belief of trillions..."
"Has great power" Guilliman finished the sentence. "Speaking of which, what exactly is the purpose of this device? Permanent destruction?"
"Negative." The knight answered, slipping the charge back into its holster, "To fully destroy a daemons essence, other measures are necessary. It is a fallback weapon, one that can damage or destroy a powerful daemon's physical form, and inflict enough...discomfort unto it to force it to retreat, even if it maintains physical coherence. It can also be used to disseminate bigger groups or lesser entities."
Guilliman nodded in understanding "A last measure to drive off a daemonic foe that you are unable to best, or facilitate extraction; to be used when survival and the maintaining of combat effectiveness is the only remaining priority."
"Quite so." Kratus confirmed, his voice harder now.
"Then let us hope you will never be in need of its usage." Guilliman said, meaning every word.
"My observation of the galaxy during my times of service has dissuaded me from such optimism." The Knight replied.
Despite himself, Guilliman laughed. Few talked like this in his presence, and it was refreshing to hear. Then, he felt a stab of pain in his chest - his brothers; with them he had been able to talk like this frequently, free of awed deference or terrified subservience. His sons, though loyal, could seldom shake their feelings in this regard, while the Custodes in his retinue had never dropped their wary, distantly accusational attitude; one they carried since the Heresy.
In their eyes, he knew, he represented as much a risk as he did an asset, ever liable to fall to the ruinous powers. Having such conversations again, then, bantering with the knights, reminded him how much he missed the company of his brothers.
He hid his discomfort with practiced ease. It was, equally so, a reminder to be on his guard, lest he become emotionally compromised with regards to what was, in the end, an agent of the C´tan.
Smiling at the knight, he spoke again, "I am certain you will put it to good use, should the need arise."
Kratus nodded, before tilting his head ever so slightly in a questioning fashion.
Guilliman chuckled: "Yes, curiosity pertaining to your newest weapon is not the only reason I have called you in. I wish to talk about our upcoming arrival on Terra. As you are no doubt aware, your precise nature is to remain secret. If you were to descend to the surface of the Throneworld, you may encounter those who possess knowledge sufficient to be able to discern that you are not what you appear to be. The Custodes, likewise, are not fond of the thought of having you within range of the palace."
The knight nodded in understanding: "We do not wish to cause a diplomatic incident, Lord, damage your reputation or stir discontent in your forces. If you order it, we will remain upon your flagship."
Guilliman nodded: "That would be preferable"
He trusted the knights to follow his orders, or at the least, to possess enough competence not to be caught if they flaunted them. Then again, he thought bleakly; more likely than not the star god already had spies aplenty in the palace, so what need was there really for them to risk it?
"That is all, Kratus. I take it you will inform the other knights, and…remove yourself from sight, so to say, once we enter the Sol System."
The knight showed no signs of taking offence; if indeed his pride had been wounded, he hid it expertly: "We shall retreat to our quarters at the appropriate time. If our presence should become necessary at short notice, you need but order it, and we will make haste to your side."
"I shall, although I dearly hope it will not be." The Primarch answered.
"Rest assured, Lord." Kratus replied "So do we."
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So there we have it, Guilliman is on his way to Terra; and we shall see what awaits him there...
I acquired a new beta reader that kindly offered me to look over the stuff that I write, and try to catch the inevitable grammar and spelling mistakes and make suggestions.