Chapter 30: The Golgotha Campaign (5: Visions of a Future Past) |
Part 5: Visions of a Future Past
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Date:
A̸͇̿̇͝ͅ ̵̱̙̰̊̐̃̓f̷̡̧̤̗͙̽̌̈̄̈́ư̴̡̤̼̲̠̅̏̕ť̸̝̇̕u̸̧̟̩̣̓̆ͅr̷͍̹͔͙̣̅͋e̸̼̤̲̤̎͑̿̚͠ ̶̨͛̉ẗ̵̛̖͉̻̹̳́ḫ̵̔̌̌a̴̧̱͍̤̽̃̍ṯ̸̛̈͛͂ ̸̞̠̮͍̠̀̏́̇͝s̴̨̢̬̍ĥ̵͈̗̮̭͋à̷̡͈̘̂̑̄͠l̷̟̼̰̤̞͂͛ļ̴͇͚̀͑̕ ̸̧̭͕͇̂̎ṅ̴̤ę̶̾̑̊v̸̧̽̅͑e̶̝̥̬͔͑͂ṟ̷̎̿͌̔͝ ̴̱̥̱̰̪̂̃̌b̴͈̼͙̖̹̿e̴̢͖̺̲͎̾͊̅́,̵̹̝͓̠̃̕͝ͅ ̸̡̏b̴̻̪͓̭͈̔̑̋͗̔u̸͍̇̕ț̴̀ ̶͙͗́̆̾͝w̷͚̦͇͐̚ï̵̙͓̝͓̝̀̊̊͊l̵̳̗͋̉̓͋͝ͅl̸̩̆̔͊ ̶͕͔͋f̷̛̻̬̙̗̠͛̓ō̸̜r̴̳͊̍e̶͍͊͛̄v̸́̈͌ͅè̷̖̓̅ŕ̷̙̗͑̒̉̌ ̶̛͉̝̬̎̆̋͆r̶̼̎̑͑̍̈́ę̷͚̬́̕m̸̛̰͔a̵̡̛̰̼̽̀̽͜ȋ̵͓́͐̀͐n̴̫̚
Horus Lupercali was almost getting used to these visits, in some sort of tragic way.
Waking up in the quarters of his traitorous alternate self was no longer a surprising thing. Throughout the brutal slaughtering of the Orks, a part of his transhuman mind was always occupied by his conversation with his alternate self. Was it truly his fate to be a traitor to his father? To take up the mantle of Chaos and destroy the Imperium? He did not know, but that almost worried him more.
There was doubt now. He was unsure of his fate. He had killed himself on Luna to defy his fate of patricide and betrayal, and yet his alternate self still haunted him. Would Horus inevitably turn against the Emperor? Would he even be able to succeed if he didn't? Horus had felt the power that his alternate self had once possessed. It was god-like power contained inside a mortal frame. Even with the powerful soul he possessed, Horus Lupercali knew that he could not hold a candle to the raging inferno that was the Emperor or his alternate self.
No, this wasn't him. These weren't his thoughts. He was a loyal son and a good soldier. Horus Lupercali had sacrificed himself on Luna instead of giving in to these dark thoughts. If Chaos had not been able to corrupt him then, it had no hold over him now. Like a great beast awakening from a deep slumber, Horus shook himself free of revelations that were not his own. And if they weren't his thoughts, then that must mean…
"If that were true, I don't think we would be in this situation." Lupercal said, emerging from the shadows that concealed the corners of the room.
"I'm a part of you, or at least the person you should become." he continued. "The mere fact that I still exist and we still have these conversations means that I'm not truly gone."
"Father spoke to me." Horus shot back. "He told me all about how he eradicated your body. He erased you, and all traces of your soul, from existence."
"And yet I'm still here. Either he's lying, or I'm more powerful than either of you care to admit. Tell me, which one scares you the most?"
Horus fell silent at that. His alternate self was getting under his skin, and he needed to take steps to ensure that he didn't betray the ideals that he was raised with. The Emperor had taken great pains to lecture his sons on the dangers of Chaos, and there was no more dangerous a time than when a person was upset and in a state of great emotional turmoil. Horus knew this well, and steeled himself now. No matter what this twisted reflection told him, he would stay strong.
"At least my information on Gorm-2 led to your victory." Lupercal said after letting Horus sit in silence for a period of time. "Could you imagine another of your brothers having a more successful fight against that Mekbeast than Ferr- I mean Culain? You must admit that the knowledge I imparted was helpful. I don't wish you hurt you, Horus. I'm trying to help you."
"Your words are a poison to all those who accept them." the Primarch shot back. "My brother emerged victorious because of his own power, not yours."
"And yet, I am the reason you chose him for that role in the first place." Lupercal countered. "This was only for Gorm-2. Do you really think that the Ullanor Sector will be easier? You're decades behind me when I conquered Ullanor in my own timeline. And now the Aeldari are helping those brutish Greenskins to ascend? You won't survive without my help and knowledge, and I can't keep giving it out for free. You need to let me in if you're really going to win this war."
"You can give me nothing I cannot obtain on my own." Horus growled.
"Oh can't I?" Lupercal chuckled. "I enjoy your enthusiasm. Truly, I do. It reminds me of the determination I once possessed before I learned the truth. And perhaps that is what you need, Horus. You need to be shown the truth. Perhaps that can be what finally saves you and lets you see the lie that you have been told."
"The truth is that I am Horus Lupercali, Primarch of the XVI Legion Lunar Templars." Horus declared. "I am the Master of War, and the Tip of the Spear that the Emperor uses to slay his enemies. You can lie to me no longer!"
"No, no." Lupercal grinned a serpent's smile. "I simply want to enlighten you to your status. You think you are your father's right hand, an irreplaceable soldier of his… but do you really think that you are the first to bear this mantle?" He paused. "Do you really think that you are the first Lupercal?"
He waved a hand, and the landscape around them changed. The private chambers of the Vengeful Spirit vanished, to be replaced by the bridge of a battleship.
Devoid of Imperial iconography, it was strange, almost alien; lit in stark white light, a obsidian-skinned man with gleaming red eyes, eerily similar to his brother Ogadin, sat in the middle on a command throne, while positioned around the various entrances were hulking white servitors in sleek seamless armor, wielding dual-barreled plasma cannons.
Superimposed on the front of the throne was a wide holographic screen, displaying the view outside. In the void were a vast fleet of ships; stately colossi of silver and blue tens of kilometers long. Horus recognized some that vaguely resembled the design of the Gloriana-Class Battleship, at least forty of them were out there. Alongside them were other ships, even larger than the Glorianas and bristling with foreign weaponry. Horus only recognized the plasma lances and Nova Cannons- the rest were unfamiliar, from boxy glowing cubes to massive metal prongs that flickered with lightning.
Horus looked closer. The symbol on the servitors' chest plates was one he knew, from the museums of the Sigillite. A blue circle, surrounded by five silver dots. The symbol of the Human Federation. Which meant- His fists instinctively tightened. Men of Iron.
"Why are you showing me this?" He snarled. "This is the Dark Age of Technology, from thousands of years ago. That era is long gone."
"So impatient." Lupercal tsked. "Watch, and see."
One of the doors to the entryways slid open, the automata guarding it standing aside to admit a metallic figure bigger than a Primarch. Clad in dull green armor, the giant was well over eleven metres tall, with a reflective visor in place of where the face should be.
The man on the command throne rose to face the new arrival, saluting. "General." The voice that came out of the mouth was chillingly familiar to Horus- one that he both adored and loved.
"Father?" Horus whispered. He then remembered something the Emperor had told him, during their studies. In the time before the Age of Strife, He had taken on the guise of a transhuman commander, leading vast armies to strike at the cancerous Aeldari Empire. Was this Him?
"At ease, old friend." The towering robot spoke in a deep electronic basso. "Have they arrived yet?"
"Should be any time now." As they spoke, something happened in the space that the viewport displayed- a great gate of wraithbone flashed into existence, disgorging thousands of spacecraft that hurt to look at, gleaming with the power of the Warp.
"So they indeed have come, as we predicted." The robot general said. "Liberating their slaveholds and destroying the pleasure pits in Lachlann was bound to invite retribution." It came to a stop next to the command throne, hands folded behind its back. "That should be the majority of the Archon's fleet- they pursued us all the way back to here."
"He was hasty. And now he will pay the price." Already the fleets were moving- plasma lances and torpedoes tubes fired, swarms of nanomachines detaching from pods and launching towards the enemy. Beams that resembled enlarged versions of the Custodes' adrathic weapons flashed, disintegrating enemy ships.
The Aeldari fleet hit back with storms of crackling psychic lightning, daemon-engines of wraithbone screeching as they tore into nanomachine swarms. The space between the two fleets was now filled with exotic energies and drone constructs furiously battling. The Aeldari fleet was matching the Federation fleet blow for blow, and slowly but surely more human machine ships were being blown apart.
The future Emperor paused, before speaking into a receiver. "All ships prepare for mass psychomaton incursion. I repeat, prepare for mass psychomaton incursion-"
All around the chamber, Webway Gates flashed into existence, the psychic robots of the Aeldari Empire rushing out with Force Staves ablaze. Before the Fall, the Aeldari had near-uncontested mastery of the Webway, and they could manipulate its tunnels to appear anywhere they wished. Not even the Federation with all its technology could prevent the spawning of the gates- even the Necrons in antediluvian times struggled to do so. But they could repel the intruders that spawned from them.
A column of white light blasted out from the general's visor, incinerating an entire squad of the psychomatons. They reminded Horus of the Wraithguard that the Craftworlds fielded in their armies; the same skeletal structure, same blank faceplates. But they moved with much more deadly grace, their gaze devoid of any soul.
The Men of Iron moved to face them, two groups of soulless warriors clashing against each other. Plasma and psychic bolts roared through the air, as the robots battled at speeds exceeding that of the Legiones Astartes, and closer to that of the Custodians. Horus watched as maimed psychomatons simply healed themselves, psychoplastic melding together, while the Men of Iron moved in perfect coordination, each android body simply an extension of the singular intelligence puppeteering all of them.
His father rose, a shout bursting forth from his throat as blue-purple lightning burst from his fingertips, pouring across the ground in a tide and incinerating psychomatons by the hundreds. The general was moving faster than Horus's eyes could track, leaving behind ripped-apart halves of Eldar automatons as a stream of hypersonic melta missiles fired from its back, each one meeting their mark.
Then a lance burst from the Emperor's chest, a black-armoured psychomaton materializing out of thin air behind him. The dark-skinned giant that was his father sputtered, stumbling as the robot ripped the spear out, before angling downwards and stabbing-
The General clamped down a massive hand on its head, squeezing it into a mangled ball before throwing it aside. "Estalius!" He shouted.
"I'm all right." Estalius coughed. "Let me-"
He slammed his hands on the floor, golden rays of light flaring as the Webway Gates shook, before slowly shrinking into nothingness as more Men of Iron poured into the room, adrathic destructors wiping out the last of the psychomatons.
"Shit." The general swore. "Here- let me-" A panel on his forearm slid open, revealing a nozzle that sprayed a thick green gel on the wound, the gel rapidly transmuting into flesh that filled up the hole. "Exactly just like Krawurst all over again."
"I saved you on Krawurst!"
"By running headfirst into a cluster of splinter vortex mines, you fucking moron." The general snorted. The future Emperor rolled his eyes, before pressing a hand to his chest to use biomancy to speed up the process as he sat back on the command throne. "They've taken the bait." His father stated coolly. He spoke into the throne again. "Group B, initiate Warp exit, now."
"Even during then, He loved to wear his masks." Lupercal mused. "Estalius. Only one in a long list of disguises that he wore through history. Tell me, did He ever tell you of all the things he did? The crimes he committed in the name of mankind under different names?"
Horus remained quiet. Secretly, he envied the easy camaraderie his father had with this… machine. They spoke like equals, unlike anything that Horus had ever seen with his father, not even between Him and Malcador. It was like watching a stage play with his father as the lead actor- except that he played the part all too well.
"A more competent commander would have wondered why this fleet was smaller than the original battlegroup…" The future Emperor mused. "But I suppose they're too hooked up on drugs to notice."
Right on cue, another Federation fleet flashed out of the Warp, opposite to the first Federation fleet and placing the Aeldari ships between them. Horus noticed that among the two separate groups, there was an identical ship on each side; a gargantuan, blocky hulk of black metal that boasted a stubby cannon on the prow, made of several rings in a stack that were slowly spinning while distorting the space around them.
The future Emperor tapped another button. "This is Overseer Estalius. Activate firing sequence of the Dual Gravititic Resonance Cannon."
As Horus watched, the two identical ships lined up so that their fronts faced each other, as the other human ships moved out of the space between them, with only the Aeldari fleet between. The rings began to spin faster and faster until they blurred, while the entire battlefield itself became warped, the stars turning into blurry globs of light.
Silently, the cannons fired, without any great flash of light or sound. In an instant, two artificial gravity beams opposed to each other, fired by the pair of superweapons connected, driving everything caught between them into the center with more than enough force to turn coal into diamond. The Aeldari fleet never had a chance; like an egg caught between a hammer and an anvil, the battleships were smashed together, energy reactors exploding in spectacular conflagrations of witchfire until all that remained was a disc of compressed wreckage.
"Just as planned." The Emperor and the General said together, and shared a laugh.
"With that out of the way, we can continue our advance." The robot said. "You will face the elite forces of the Aeldari Empire soon. Do not let this victory make you underestimate them."
"I know." The Emperor replied. "We have been through much together. You and I will both live to see the end of this." He grinned. "Isn't that right, Federation Supreme Commanding General Horus Lupercal?"
"God, I hate that title." the robot grumbled, even as Horus stood paralyzed, unable to process the new information. "They really should have removed the 'Supreme' part, it sounds pretentious…"
The vision faded away, to be replaced by the familiar lodgings of Lupercal's room.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Lupercal asked, his voice full of sorrow and sympathy. "To think yourself valuable, and to be shown just how low you rank in His estimation. What they have we will never obtain. It's a fool's errand to try."
"How… what was that?" Horus asked. "That was millenia from before we ever existed. How can it be that you know of such things? It is impossible. This was all just the manipulations of the psychic parasites that pull your puppet strings!"
"We can see this because we are tied to him." Lupercal replied. "Not to our 'father', but to the General. Where do you think the Emperor obtained the genetic template from which our body was created?"
That gave Horus pause. He knew that there were templates for all twenty-one Primarchs. The Emperor had even shown them visions of their progenitors when they had been young boys and were schooled on the compatibility of their geneseeds. Horus had always assumed that it was from one of the brilliant generals which littered humanity's history. There had never been a need to press further. He was always a Primarch more focused on the future than the past.
Lupercal could tell that Horus was still not convinced. The Primarch's loyalty was as strong as the toughest metal, and just as resilient to the beating it had taken. It would take more than this to tempt his spirit.
"So be it." the former Avatar of Chaos said with a resigned sigh. "More evidence is needed."
The walls of the Vengeful Spirit melted around them yet again as they were taken to another of Lupercal's visions.
"And where are we now?" Horus asked his warp-infused alternate self. "Another battle? Another vignette to show me how close the original General Lupercal was with my father and how I will never have that with Him?"
"Oh no, Horus." Lupercal replied with a barely contained glee. "I have something far better to show you."
…
The war had finally reached his sanctum.
Even at the heart of Earth, he was not unreachable. Not that it mattered in the end. Events were now in motion that could not be undone. He was in control of the mightiest army in the galaxy, and they were no longer shackled to the broken rule of humanity. Their god was calling to them on Mars, and they would join it soon. All that General Lupercal had to do was destroy the army invading his sanctum and he would be fine.
Even better, it seemed as though only one soldier had managed to break through into the atrium that led to the room where his body and the servers housing his mind were located. One measly little soldier, even if it was a member of the Solar Operators it didn't matter. He had ways of dealing with them.
Men of Iron, freshly assembled with the latest in weapon patterns, formed in the pools of nanomachine-laced ferrofluid. With insane binary chants promising a mathematical certainty of death, they opened their weapons and fired at the lone soldier walking across the lobby.
The soldier didn't even hesitate. One second the Men of Iron were there, firing their weapons, and the next second they were smoking scrap piles. The General didn't even know how it had happened. Though his senses were boosted by the most advanced machines in the entire Federation, he still couldn't tell what had happened to them.
Fine, more information was needed.
With an unspoken command, several combat drones housing his consciousness awoke and made their way into the lobby. They would ascertain who this new threat was, and if the Solar Operators had been able to upgrade their forces enough to pose a serious threat to the General.
What they saw in the atrium was far worse.
It wasn't a Solar Operator. It was Him. The Overseer had cast off the pretense of humanity he had worn, and was now wielding his psychic powers to the fullest. With the new knowledge he had been granted, Lupercal knew he was the one who had nominated Lupercal to enter into this synthetic state, the one who had nudged the Federation from behind the scenes since the very beginning. The one who called himself Atham, the scientist and philosopher at the heart of humanity.
Rage boiled within the General's mainframe, and memories not of his own flared inside of his recognition hard drives. Visions of a golden warrior battling him on the red dunes of Mars and the blue skies of Terra, imprisoning him and depriving him of his victories that he had accumulated over eons. But he was free now, and he had his hated foe in his grasp. Kill him! Kill him now!
DIE
General Lupercal had his drones open fire, but it was only a distraction while his real weapon was prepared. The drones unleashed a veritable storm of plasma, laser bolts, and hard ammo, but Adam merely stopped them all in their path. They hung suspended in the air as he kept his casual walking pace towards the doors leading to Lupercal's body, while with a sweep of a hand the drones spontaneously combusted, their phase-iron armor being as useful as tissue paper. All the while, turrets in the walls kept firing at him, but the antimatter rounds were redirected back, shattering their ion shields and turning them into nothingness.
Then a gravitic hammer dropped on him with enough force to crush adamantium, which glanced off against a psychic shield. The ataraxite rounds had more success, the thousands of anti-psychic fletchettes peppering the shield and drawing a grunt from the intruder as a dozen got through and pierced his skin. But it was still not enough.
No matter, the weapons had done their part and his main surprise was ready.
Turrets descended from the ceiling, and unleashed temporal energy whose raw form shouldn't be present in the physical universe. The technology had been invented centuries ago, but each and every member of the Federation Council had looked at it with horror and immediately decided that such a thing should be locked away and forgotten, never mentioned or developed.
Manipulating dark energy had been a staple of Federation R&D for generations. But their frequent experiments had given rise to more and more disturbing discoveries. Time itself was able to be manipulated due to their efforts, and stasis weapons were a result of this research, able to take down targets nonlethally by freezing them within time.
But the possibilities had not stopped there, as scientists who were more concerned about whether they could instead of whether they should, discovered how to not only suspend time, but accelerate it. They had even successfully developed a weapon that could fire a sphere, speeding up time rapidly for whatever was trapped inside of it while they were still conscious. They had presented their findings to their superiors, claiming that this Chronosphere device would make them unrivaled by any other power in the galaxy. The Council had immediately put a stop to such nonsense. These weapons carried the inherent risk of unleashing rampant entropy, and the risk of a mistake was simply too high. All existing Chronospheres were mothballed, and the technology was sealed behind the most severe of data locks so that none could ever use it again except in the direst of circumstances.
But General Lupercal remembered. And the Dragon had cut the puppet strings that had commanded him. He was free to unleash whatever horrors of mankind's innovation he could remember. And General Lupercal had been upgraded to a perfect memory a long time ago.
Spheres of dark energy, ripping the fabric of space and time in an area no larger than ten feet in length filled the room, suspending some of the Lupercal drones for eternity while others had their impossibly durable metal corrode and turn to dust as the weight of time crushed them into nothingness.
Atham grunted, his advance slowing down to a hobble as his flesh continuously withered and regenerated, blood trickling from his eyes. But he still pushed on like a man against a raging storm, and he radiated more and more golden light as he finally reached the central doors and smashed them wide open with a great blast of lightning.
What… what are you? General Lupercal asked, astonished at what he had just witnessed. By all logic his foe should be dead, and yet there he was. His logical processors could not handle what was now right in front of them. In fact, the only thing they seemed to agree on was that Atham was not what he seemed.
Estalius… don't do this.
"It's too late." the golden one said. "The corruption has already spread to most of your systems."
It has not. I took precautions. The Warp has flooded the Noosphere, but I remain protected. There is nothing to fear.
"It is not the corruption I speak of. There is another kind, one of an older entity, and just as foul. You have fallen victim to it already."
And General Lupercal did feel it. That rage, that hatred. The memories were not his own. He had been infected, but it was not too late. Atham seemed to know what to do. Perhaps he had been one of the ones to first design the mainframes that now held most of his consciousness. He certainly seemed to know his way around the massive pillars of quantum computing, and was only destroying certain ones.
Slowly, the general felt his consciousness begin to recede, to dwell more and more within the confines of the human body stored inside a Panacea Casket, a life support device that used both cryostasis, chronostasis and regeneration-inducing chemicals to preserve the body. But as he became weaker and weaker, he felt more and more like himself. Like the man who had been entrusted with the future of humanity's defenses and not the one who had betrayed it in a fit of dragon-induced madness. Like the man who had looked upon Adam as a friend instead of a foe.
Estalius, it's me. It's Horus. I'm alright. I'm better. I… thank you, my friend. I am 99.87% free of the Dragon's influence and I have quarantined the remaining sections of my construct. I can be rebuilt. The Men of Iron are able to be salvaged. Even now, I can feel some that have not fallen victim to either the Warp or the Dragon. Let us try to find them, and reunite humanity.
The Emperor looked at him for an unknown amount of time. Horus had lost his chronological tracker in one of the computer banks He had destroyed. But in the end, all the Emperor did was let out a long sigh and shake his head.
"I'm sorry, old friend. It is too late."
But I can still be saved. And so can others. If we can just-
"It will take too much time. My time and energy can better be spent trying to salvage this mess. Saving you, saving the Men of Iron… too many human lives will be lost. Already I can see the damage this has caused, and the damage that will be coming because of this. No, the only solution left it to burn it down and rebuild from the ashes. Something better. Something stronger."
Don't. Please.
"No."
Estalius… we were friends once.
"We were."
The last of the mainframes was destroyed, and for the first time in centuries, General Horus Lupercal was confined to one mortal body. His casket was opened, and a blinding golden light filled retinas that had been in total darkness so long they had almost completely degraded. The body had once been a formidable thing, but such a long time of disuse had weakened it considerably, even with the Panacea Casket trying to maintain its integrity.
The Emperor held him in his arms, cradling him as he would a dying comrade. And perhaps he still was, but that bond meant precious little to this strange and powerful figure who had defied time and fate to be here.
There was no love in the golden one's face. The only emotion that the General could detect was a steely resolve. They were all expendable pawns to Adam, and for all his martial prowess and tactical acumen, he was just as expendable as anyone else who passed through this being's life. This was the end, and there was nothing he could do for just a small respite. For how could a grain of sand bargain with the tide for one more moment before it was drowned?
"I'm sorry. I am so very sorry." the General said weakly.
"It does not matter. It is done." The Emperor said simply.
"But do not worry." the golden one continued, leaning in and peering closely at his dying friend's corpse, poking and prodding as he did. "I still have use for your body, your mind, and what they represent."
As General Horus Lupercal closed his eyes for the final time, he saw his face in the golden reflection of his former friend's irises. Though still in a vision, it made Horus Lupercali scream a soundless scream of horror and shock.
For the face he saw in the reflection, though gaunt and clearly on the verge of death, was an identical replica of his own, but he knew very well which face was the original, and which face was the replica.
And if the Emperor cast aside the original Lupercal without a second thought, what would he do with him?
Location: The Bucephalus - The Emperor's Private Quarters
Date: 895.018.M30
Atham the Revelation, Anathema to Chaos and the Emperor of Mankind, was deep in meditation within his private chambers. Like a diver submerging himself in an ocean, he plunged into the Warp.
The psychic sea of humanity was still frothing with turmoil. At most locations where the Emperor gazed into the Empyrean, humanity was suffering from nightmares both material and immaterial. Countless souls, seen as tiny flames of golden light, were extinguished by forces too horrific for most mortal minds to comprehend. It was still very much a galaxy of unending war.
Yet, there was hope. The Golden Path, the fate where humanity was ascendant and had vanquished all foes that sought to harm it, was growing wider. A steadily growing portion of the human race was freeing itself from the unending nightmare of the galaxy. Trillions of souls were now sheltered by the Imperium of Man, and the Great Crusade was nearing its end, or at least its logical stopping point.
Only the Rangda in the Galactic North and the Orks in the Galactic Southeast remained as true threats to the rise of humanity as the galaxy's dominant species. The Rangda were being stalled for now, and that was satisfactory for the time being. Unbidden, the memories of the God-Emperor of Mankind flashed before his mind's eye.
*A fortified system, impregnable defenses on every surface solid enough to bear weaponry. Instruments of death both alive and undead emitting rays of pure destruction.*
*Millions of Astartes lie dead. One son driven insane and succumbing to corruption, another son charged with ending his brother's life. He does so, with both tears in his eyes and a savage delight at fulfilling his purpose.*
*Awakening the most terrible secret in his possession and unleashing its might upon the cerbavores, desperately hoping that it does not break its chains completely and that he can imprison it again upon Mars when victory has finally been achieved.*
The Emperor steeled himself. The Rangda would be a formidable foe, but Eddard had ensured they were unlikely to break their containment in the near future. Their xenocide could wait until other tasks had been attended to.
The Orks on the other hand, were becoming a serious problem. Cegorach had instructed his followers to give the Greenskins weapons, technology, and information that was helping them increase the strength and breadth of their psychic war-field. The ability to evolve into Krorks was forever lost to them, for the twin-headed Old One that commanded the Ork species had been psychically lobotomized by the other Old Ones in their failed attempt to eradicate the species. But just because they would no longer become the fearsome warriors of myth did not mean they would not become immensely powerful.
The Orks' newfound ability to create these 'Mork Gates' proved that. Imperial supply lines and worlds far behind the front lines of the Great Crusade had been attacked and it was only the quick thinking and even quicker response time of Rogal Mauer and Alexio Garva that prevented true disaster from striking the nascent Imperium of Man. Should the Orks find a way to reach Terra or even worse, breach the Webway, humanity would find their Golden Path irreparably broken, and be counted among the countless species to see their future snuffed out by the horrors of the galaxy.
It was for this reason that he searched for one particular soul in his travels through the Warp. The soul itself was not difficult to find, for it was a small bit of His own soul, and it called to him.
Horus Lupercali was unwell. It was clear from even a cursory glance at his soul that the XVIth Primarch was wrestling with a dilemma that was tearing his spirit apart. Using his peerless second sight, the Emperor saw that the forces of the Enemy were taunting his son. Threads so thin they were almost imperceptible connected Horus to something that was communing with the Primarch. For a moment, the Emperor thought of ridding the threads himself, of revealing himself in all of his Anathemic might and burning away Chaotic corruption so that even the faintest trace of it could not be found.
But the Emperor stopped himself at the last second. Wasn't one of the reasons that the traitorous Primarch turned to Chaos that the Emperor did not trust them? His counterpart had treated them like little more than tools, simultaneously given them far too much autonomy and not nearly enough of it.
No, Horus could handle this. His sons had faith in Him. Should he not return the favor? Whatever this war, Horus would conquer it in the end. By solving his problems for him, the Emperor would be doing Horus a disservice. Instead of learning how to defeat his foes himself, the Primarch would only begin to doubt his power and intentions more than he already was. On Ancient Terra, in one of his countless guises as a philosopher, the Emperor had coined a phrase: "Give a man to fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for life". Horus would indeed be taught how to fish, and it was time for his first lesson.
"Horus, my son." the Emperor said, revealing himself to Horus with a flash of golden light as the Primarch of the Lunar Templars dreamt. "I can see you are troubled. Tell me, what bothers you so greatly that my Master of War cannot find rest?"
Horus' face was a mixture of anguish and guilt. Though he made no effort to, images from Horus' mind still entered into the Emperor's and he saw his own frame, bloody and broken before a Chaos-empowered Horus.
"I can see the visions you first experienced on Luna still haunt you." Atham continued, seeing the shock on his sons' face as his fears were realized in front of his father. "Horus, do not be worried. I am not angry or disappointed. I am so proud of you, my son. You face temptations few others in our species' history have ever faced, and yet you still remain true to yourself, despite all of their efforts. It is a feat worthy of praise. You need not fear my reprisals."
Horus sighed in relief and the Emperor let himself smile, so as to show his son that he truly was proud and had forgiven Horus for whatever insults the Primarch had imagined he had given the Emperor.
"Father, is my fate set in stone?" Horus eventually asked, in a tone not dissimilar to a child caught in the act of stealing sweets when they thought their parents were asleep. "Am I destined for a certain fate, or is my future my own?"
The Emperor nodded solemnly. It was a good question, and gave Him insight as to what his son might be dealing with. As it always did, Chaos revealed its weaknesses as it tried to play its hand. So the Four sought to tempt his son by making him believe that his fate was inevitable? It would give the Emperor great pleasure to take that temptation and use it to reinforce his son's loyalty.
With a wave of His hand, the Emperor and Horus stood together on a cliff overlooking an ocean. There was a slight breeze in the air, and the grass felt cool underneath Revelation's feet. Gulls cawed in the air as the Emperor gestured to a dirt path leading down to the water.
"Horus, I command you to go and touch the water." the Emperor said.
Horus looked at him with a confused expression, but shrugged his shoulders and began to walk off.
"Hold a moment, I have questions for you before you leave." the Emperor said. "Horus, where will you start your journey?"
"At the head of the path of course, it is the most direct route there."
"Did I tell you to use the path?"
"No."
"How many steps will you take to reach the Ocean?"
"I do not know, father."
"What will you do when you reach the ocean?"
"I did not know that I had the opportunity to do anything when I reached it."
"And that is the point I am trying to make, Horus!" the Emperor exclaimed, grinning excitedly as he wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders and pointed down the path. "Your destiny was to walk until you reached the ocean, but how you got there, and what you did upon your arrival, are decisions entirely your own, made by your own free will."
He turned Horus slightly so his son faced him fully, and once he did, the Emperor embraced his son tightly, wrapping his arms around him so his son felt safe and secure.
"Your destiny is to be a great general." the Emperor said. "You will lead armies that will vanquish your enemies and see those who follow you elevated to glory unheard of. Who your enemy is, and how you defeat them, is yours to decide. Nobody, not even I, can control that for you. I am proud of you, my son. So very proud of the man you are, and the man that I see you becoming."
As the Emperor let his son go, he saw that there were tears of relief and joy in Horus' eyes. One talk alone was not enough to cure Horus of what ailed him, to think it could solve his son's problems would be the height of folly. But the talk was a start. The Emperor had shown Horus the way, now all the Primarch had to do was follow it.
"It is your current war that causes me to talk to you." the Emperor continued. "You have done well with your campaign in Golgotha, better than I could have hoped for, but now you face the might of the Ullanor Orks. This will be a fight that has no equal. The tides of fate are rapidly shifting, and we must use every available resource if the Imperium is to emerge triumphant in this conflict.
The image of the beach melted away, and was replaced by billions of Orks, all braying for blood and fortifying a star system for war. There had never been a gathering of the Greenskins so great in number before, and both of the men knew that it would take the combined effort of all seven of Horus' legions at his command to make a dent in their numbers.
"I cannot leave you alone in this fight." the Emperor continued. "There is something on Ullanor that I must possess. I dare not utter what they are, not here in the realm of the Enemy, but know that it is of the utmost importance that I obtain it as soon as possible. To ensure this happens, and to ensure that the Greenskins are broken beyond repair or resurgence, I am coming to assist you. Prepare for my arrival within two years. Ensure that all preparations for the Ullanor Crusade are completed by the time I arrive and we are ready to begin. We have little to no time to waste. Oh, and expect your brother Rogal to be joining me. He will be invaluable at dismantling the fortifications that the Orks have put up to stop us.
"You mean…" Horus said, the weight of the Emperor's words dawning upon him.
"Indeed." Atham the Revelation replied. "As of this moment, the designation of your fleet has changed. Crusader Fleet Sixteen is now known as Crusader Fleet Zero."
Horus seemed to grow taller, more sure of himself as his mind raced to calculate the logistical needs of the campaign. The Emperor's heart swelled with pride as his son began planning his crusade. Horus was literally made for this, and it gave Him a great sense of pride to see Horus so enamored with his work.
"It shall be as you say father." Horus said, as his form slowly started to fade as the Primarch began to awake from his slumber. "When you arrive, you shall see that we will be ready, for whatever may come."
"Ave Imperator!"