Chapter 8: The Empire's First Gene Engine
Chapter 8: The Empire's First Gene Engine
The Emperor lingered within the sanctum of His laboratory, where the sterile hum of ancient machinery bore witness to achievements that would reshape the fate of mankind.
When at last He emerged, a rare expression crossed His features—not joy, for such mortal emotions were beneath Him, but something approaching satisfaction at a labour well concluded.
When Malcador and Valdor came to render their reports, the Emperor revealed unto them His latest triumph.
The Empire's first Gene Engine.
Wrought from the fundamental principles of the Super God Universe's biotechnology, refined through His own transcendent intellect, it represented a quantum leap in human augmentation. Once implanted, it would enhance every physiological parameter of its bearer beyond the limits of natural evolution.
"At last," Malcador breathed, his ancient eyes scanning the data-scrolls the Emperor had provided. His voice carried the weight of millennia spent planning humanity's ascension.
"The Gene Engine coupled with the Astartes project... the Imperium shall possess warriors beyond compare."
The stars themselves would bow before humanity's might. The galaxy would be theirs by right of conquest.
"All credit belongs to our new counsel," the Emperor said, His gaze falling upon the Raven perched upon His shoulder—a creature whose knowledge and prowess to travel the universe beyond had proven invaluable in this and will be upcoming endeavours.
"No, no. It's Your genius and knowledge that truly alone wrought this miracle, Great Emperor," the Raven replied, shaking his obsidian head with characteristic deflection of praise.
The Emperor's lips curved slightly—the ghost of what might once have been called a smile—before He turned His attention to matters of war.
"All preparations stand complete, my Lord," Malcador intoned, conjuring a hololithic display from the chamber's cogitator arrays.
Though Terra had endured millennia of strife, certain spaceports yet functioned within acceptable parameters. The primary shipping lanes connected the inner system worlds, with a handful of secure warp routes extending beyond Sol's influence.
In the name of the Terran Senate, Malcador had requisitioned every void-capable vessel within their reach. A grand armada now awaited the Emperor's command to bring Luna back into the fold.
"Then let us begin," the Emperor declared, His gaze turning skyward where Luna hung pale and scarred against the Terran night. "The Gene Cults have had their time of independence. They shall submit, or they shall perish."
At His word, the Thunder Warriors assembled.
They were giants among men, their frames enhanced far beyond mortal limits. Bronze ceramite plates covered their massive forms, while crimson plumes crowned their helms like the crests of ancient warriors.
Thunder-marked banners snapped in the recycled air of the staging grounds, the lightning bolt sigil of their Legion painted upon every surface.
The Raven observed Ushotan, First Captain of the Thunder Warriors—one of the earliest proto-Primarch-class warriors—with something approaching sorrow.
The warrior-lord stood resplendent in his bronze power armour, its edges worked with crimson lacquer that spoke of countless battles. Battle scars marked every plate, a testament to campaigns fought in Terra's most hellish warzones.
His helm bore the snarling visage of some ancient predator, while a massive chainsword and bolt pistol hung at his belt. A scaled cloak of some great beast draped across his shoulders, the lightning bolt of his Legion etched deep into the pauldrons.
Once, the Thunder Warriors had been the vanguard of the Great Crusade, the living embodiment of the Emperor's will made manifest.
Children had played at being Thunder Warriors, acting out grand battles against mutants and gene-witches. Poets had sung their deeds with reverence and gratitude.
The Raven mourned what these brave souls would soon face. Yet he understood the grim necessity of and his lack of resources to bring any change to it.
The Thunder Warriors' genetic instability had reached critical mass. To allow them to continue would invite catastrophe upon the nascent Imperium.
"Death! Slaughter!"
One of the Thunder Warriors suddenly convulsed, his augmented mind finally succumbing to the madness that claimed them all. Rage and corrupted memories consumed his thoughts as he swung his weapon at phantoms only he could see.
Three mortal attendants died in the space of heartbeats, their bodies torn asunder by ceramite gauntlets. Blood painted the staging ground's deck plates as other Thunder Warriors moved to restrain their maddened brother.
This was no isolated incident. Such episodes had become commonplace as more and more of the Legion succumbed to neurological decay. The very achievements that had made them legendary also made their breakdown a crisis of unprecedented magnitude.
The Raven knew that in the Emperor's position, he too would have made the same cold calculation. Sentiment was a luxury the nascent Imperium could not afford.
When the Emperor appeared before His assembled host, many warriors struck their breastplates in salute, respect, loyalty, and devotion, streaming down their scarred faces.
"The unification of Terra marks not an ending, but a beginning," the Emperor proclaimed, His voice carrying to every corner of the staging ground. "Humanity shall reclaim its birthright among the stars. Our first conquest awaits above—Luna has languished too long beyond our reach. In unity's name, it shall return to Imperial hands."
His words were crafted to inspire, each syllable calculated to stir the blood of His warriors. The assembled host responded with growing fervour.
"Let us fight for unity. Let us fight for humanity's future among the stars."
The climax of His oration sent the crowd into rapturous acclaim.
"Unity!" they roared. "For the Emperor!"
The war-horns sounded their brazen call.
In perfect formation, the Thunder Warriors marched toward the loading ramps of their transports.
From Terra's surface to orbital stations, then to the troop ships that would bear them to Luna's cold embrace—each step brought them closer to their destiny.
Soon, a vast armada hung in Luna's shadow.
The Gene Cults had not been idle. Void shields shimmered over their cities as orbital defense platforms came online.
Plasma beams and mass-driver rounds carved brilliant trajectories through the dark, some finding their marks among the Imperial fleet.
Explosions bloomed like newborn stars as reactors overloaded and hulls buckled. Men and women were consumed by fire or cast into the merciless void.
Yet these losses barely registered against the overwhelming might of the Imperial host.
"Begin," the Emperor commanded.
Drop pods launched in their thousands, burning through Luna's thin atmosphere like falling stars. They struck the surface with tremendous force, each impact crater marking another beachhead for the Imperial assault.
Hatches blew open with explosive charges, disgorging their lethal cargo.
"For humanity!, FOR THE EMPEROR," Ushotan bellowed, his chainsword already singing as he charged into the fray.
His warriors echoed the battle-cry as they fell upon the gene-twisted abominations that defended Luna's surface. The sight was both magnificent and terrible—transhuman warriors wreaking havoc upon creatures that had once been men.
Such was the price of progress. Such was the Emperor's will.
The Thunder Warriors secured their landing zones with characteristic brutality, allowing subsequent waves to reinforce the growing Imperial presence.
Transport after transport descended through the tactical corridor they had carved with blood and bolt shells.
Missiles screamed down from Luna's defense satellites, most intercepted by the flickering void shields protecting the landing zones. Those that broke through detonated against energy barriers, creating ripples of discharge across the protective fields.
The enemy's desperate gambit had failed. The beachhead was secure.
As the Thunder Warriors pressed their advance, the first defensive lines crumbled before their assault.
Within a commandeered palace hall, now carpeted with the corpses of gene-twisted defenders, Ushotan gathered his senior officers for tactical planning.
"The Custodians have not deployed," observed Vaizula, one of Ushotan's most trusted lieutenants. Gore still steamed on his armour from the recent fighting. "This anomaly troubles me. They have shadowed our every campaign, yet now they remain absent."
"Perhaps we have finally earned their trust," suggested another warrior.
"Trust?" Vaizula's laugh was bitter. "The Custodians trusted us not even when our minds were whole. Now, as more of our number succumb to madness, they suddenly approve? The jest lacks humour."
"Enough," Ushotan commanded, his voice cutting through the growing discord. "Our Liege's strategies are beyond our comprehension. We need only obey."
"My lord," Vaizula pressed on, his agitation plain, "self-deception serves no purpose. We have been betrayed—cast aside like a broken weapon. We gave everything in His service, only to face abandonment."
"I said enough!" Ushotan's roar silenced the chamber. "You swore sacred oaths of loyalty. You pledged to fight until death claimed you. Any who would break those vows shall answer to my blade."
Though his subordinates fell silent, Ushotan could see the doubt festering in their eyes. When the others had departed to resume the assault, he activated a private vox-channel.
"Is this truly Your will, my Emperor?"
Silence answered him—a cold acquiescence more damning than any words.
"We suspected this day would come," Ushotan said quietly. "We knew you were crafted new warriors to replace us, yet we cherished hope." His laugh was hollow. "How naive we were."
He had served long enough to understand that the Emperor's vision extended far beyond Terra. The Thunder Warriors had been adequate for planetary conquest, but the galaxy demanded something more stable, more refined.
"I shall not break the oaths I swore in youth," Ushotan declared. "The Thunder Warriors shall deliver Luna into Your hands. This final service we offer freely."
Without waiting for a response, he closed the private channel and opened the Legion frequency.
"Warriors of the Thunder!" he roared. "For unity! For humanity! Advance!"
The assault resumed with renewed fury. Luna would fall, as the Emperor had commanded. The Thunder Warriors would see to that, even as they marched toward their own extinction.
Such was their honour. Such was their duty.
Such was the price of the Imperium's birth.