Chapter Twelve: Children of Terra
Date: 790.M30
Location: The Emperor's private quarters within the Inner Palace.
The Emperor rarely slept, his Apex-mind and physiology did not require it. During periods of crisis he had spent literal years awake with no physical side effects and he doubted centuries of consciousness would have an effect. Yet he still chose to sleep occasionally. Not much, just a night once a week where he shut his eyes and allowed himself to rest.
He had been mildly surprised when this ancient practice of his had somehow influenced some of the Religions that had sprung up in his wake, they called it the Sabbath. Like many of the quirks he had picked up throughout the millennia it had unintended consequences upon human history. These sabbaths reminded him of that and the consequences of even the smallest errors.
Yet reminding him of lessons long ago learned was only one of the reasons the Emperor decided to still sleep. It helped him feel human, feel more connected with his species. He knew logically that engaging in basic bodily maintenance did not actually make him more human but when he went long periods without it he felt himself becoming distant, aloof, and worryingly alien.
The reason for this is related to how sleep and in particular Dreams connects to the Warp. When mortals dream they touch the surface of the warp and come into contact with there species collective oversoul. Here they touch into what an ancient friend of the Emperor named "The Collective Unconscious" When the Emperor slept he did not experience the random regurgitated memories and emotions of his subconscious mixed with the warp but something much more precise and powerful.
He touched the Oversoul of the human species and could feel the gestalt consciousness of Humanity. It was not unique to him and any Alpha class Psyker or higher could manage it but few did for what they saw there was enough to drive even the most iron-willed psyker mad. The Human Species was trapped in a never-ending nightmare.
The Horrors of the Old Night had touched every Human alive, fear and grief plagued there subconscious as memories both cultural and there own inspired nightmares more horrific than anything seen in human history. Xeno predators drinking the bones of billions and leaving the survivors to clean up continents of distorted corpses. Green Brutes mutilating people into cattle. Material Madness exploding out of a witch's skull and sacrificing its world to Chaos.
Everytime the Emperor slept he touched the Oversoul where the Material and Immaterial met and reminded himself of what he must do. No matter the cost he would end the Nightmare and awaken humanity to a new dawn. When he slept he felt all of humanity as one and could feel the future they could obtain upon the Golden Path.
The Emperor's sabbath helped him reconnect with his humanity and since the ignition of the Astronomicon eight years whispers a simple phrase into the dreams of trillions of Terras lost Children. "Salvation is near o'Children of Terra" It was a promise he made both to them and himself. Soon the next step on the Shining Path will be taken and the Great Crusade would launch. Twelve years left, to get everything ready. More time than he had originally wanted but it would be worth it.
The Emperor floated in the dreamscape and brought himself back to Terra and watched over the homeworld of his species. He dove/looked into the Palace. It was still under construction but the Dungeons and the basic Skeleton were completed. Peering through layer and layer of the palace he watched the millions of the souls that inhabited the inner palace and looked for Twenty in particular.
All twenty of the Primarchs were asleep within there apartments. They were called Apartments but in truth, they were subterranean mansions built into the Emperor's quarters. (which in turn was a city-sized complex of rooms.) Each Apartment possessed full amenities from feasting halls to modular training complexes. The Emperor could see the various menials awakening to begin their duties and even a few of the more strict Matari beginning their morning rituals.
He chuckled to himself as he watched his Seventh son's foster mother awake before any of the others. Petra Sauer may have retired from the Imperial Army a decade ago but she had changed little. Catching warp-flickers he realized some of his sons still dreamt, he debated peering into them and eventually decided a quick glance wouldn't hurt.
*A King riding a Lion charged a mechanical dragon with the Knights of the Round following him*
It appears Arik had been regaling young Eddard with tales of the Unification Wars. The Emperor only hoped that the stories his sons heard were not as grisly or nightmarish as the truths of that conflict, they still had a few years of relative innocents. No need to plunge them into a lifetime of war early.
*Cities forged from imagination rose into the sky, constantly improving and being rebuilt by a Conductor of Equations*
Octaviar had so far proven far more stable than the version raised on Olympia and he had hope for his son. The gene-connection was tenuous but some days he saw flickers of his old friend within him.
*Screaming, a thing made of blades and lighting stalked grime-covered streets, filth in human flesh committed unspeakable crimes and the bladed thing did unspeakable things to them*
A frown crossed the Emperor's face, Konrad's gift of foresight was great even at this young age but it not only saw futures to be but futures prevented. The Emperor watched the dream of Nocturne for a moment before he reached into the dream and changed it, that horrific future had been prevented and he would not allow his children to be hurt by it.
The Emperor had raised thousands of children throughout human history, some his own, some not. Most of his biological children inherited something from him, increased psychic potential, extended lifespans and a rare few were true immortals like him and some still even walk the ages. Yet even the ones who had inherited great powers from him had been simply powerful humans, these children, his primarchs were true Superhumans in every sense of the word.
Each was intellectually, physically and psychically beyond humanity, yet still human. Their souls were not that of an Aliens but simply More than a humans. He had crafted them with thousands of years' worth of knowledge in both the material and immaterial sciences along with Warp-born power. The twenty children were quite literally Myth made Flesh.
These thoughts floated through the slumbering Emperors' mind as he watched the sleeping Primarchs. He could see the horrific futures he had averted and could only hope that their fates were not the tragedies he had seen. In particular, he looked at his 16th and 17th sons. Horus and Phillip both slept soundly and a grim thought entered the Emperor's head. In ages past, he had been forced to kill his children and in a possible future, he would be forced to do it again to save humanity.
Dispelling that thought the Emperor prepared to awake and return to the material. Just as he did he felt a slight shift. One of his sons had awoken. A soft smile appeared upon his face for he knew what would come next. It had become a competition over the last few years over which Primarch could wake up first in the morning after his sabbath. In order to wake him up.
Wincing slightly at what was to come next the Emperor returned to his body and waited in a half-asleep state. He did not have to wait long until a black-colored meteor burst through the doors of his chamber with a squad of Custodes in hot pursuit. A Hetaeron just had enough time to bellow "Let your Father sleep Kota!" before the Nineteenth Primarch barreled into the Emperors sleeping from. Even with the body of an eight-year-old, the Primarchs "assault" carried enough power to shatter a normal man's rib cage. It proved an unpleasant shock to the drowsy Emperor.
Kota Ravenwing often won this weekly contest due to his mix of speed and stealth and was laughing in triumph while flitting around the Emperor's bedroom with the energy and momentum only a small child could possess. "Father! I was the first! I Snuck past all my brothers and woke you up!"
The Emperor tousled his son's hair and spoke "You did, I'm impressed my Son but you still need to work on not alerting the Custodes. Kota you are a true master of stealth in the making. Now run along"
The child beamed and scurried off to begin his day's training. The Emperor left his bed and telekinetically dressed himself as he spoke to the Custodes "Letting a child sneak through your defenses? He may be my Son but you are my Companions."
The lead Custodes responded, "There is no excuse my lord."
The Emperor let out a slight chuckle before responding "To be fair it is hard to apprehend a Transhuman child moving at nearly a hundred kilometers per hour without injuring him. Though I trust you will eventually find a way. " The Custodes simply nodded and left.
The Emperor finished dressing and prepared to go about his day. The last eight years had been a whirlwind of activity. Terra was being slowly and steadily rebuild with primitive atmosphere scrubbers cobbled together by the Terrawatt Clan beginning the long arduous process of healing the homeworld of the human species. There had been a veritable population explosion thanks to the peace and prosperity brought about by unification.
Countless great works were being built across the planet, employing billions in the construction of new infrastructure and macro-structures. Material wise they were making do with whatever the Archo-Armies could scavenge from the depths of the Old Earth but the Emperor had known that the next phase of his plan would require Terra's twin. Mars: the Red world of Technology.
Captured cybernetic scavengers sent from Mars had given a pretty clear picture of what Mars was like, it lined up with both the Emperor's own projections and the God-Emperor's memories. A culture of cybernetic Tech-Worshippers both far to curious and close-minded for their own good. Yet perfect for the next phase of his plan. The Dragons Dreams still seeped into the minds of Mars but they were just dreams so far. The thing sealed within the Labyrinth still slept.
Malcador and the Emperor had both agreed that the time to reach Mars was at hand and the Emperor would lead the first expedition there within a month. He had honestly no idea how long negotiations would last and he was not going to bring his Sons to mars while they were still so young. This would be the first extended period he would be away from his sons and the governing of Terra. The Emperor intended to use said month to ensure both his Children and his Imperium would survive his absence.
The Emperor strowed through the inner Palace reading reports prepared by countless Adepts under Malcador. So far the news was mainly good. Uriah was spreading the "Revised" Imperial Truth throughout Terra. A creed Uriah, Malcador, and the Emperor had crafted using entire libraries of religious texts. The Imperial Truth was the idea of Humanity's eventual Ascendancy. That by unifying as one we were taking another step down the road of Ascension, and working to the species' birthright as being surpassing any god-creature.
Malcador was busy helping create a bureaucratic system capable of actually governing the galaxy and instituting numerous backups and contingencies to help prevent the Administratium ever becoming the monstrosity of the far future. In turn, the Officio Assassinorum had made good progress through the list the Emperor had given Malcador. At this point thousands of potential threats were dead.
Arik and his equerry were also keeping busy. The Primarchs were still children so it fell to them to train the rapidly growing "First Twenty" as the first batch of 20,000 Astartes were being called. One of each gene-seed lineage. Once mass production of the Legions start these first Legionnaires would form the officer corps of the quickly growing Legio Astartes.
The Emperor had been working on a cure for the sickening of the Thunder Warriors, Astartes Gene-Seed had seemed to be a distinct possibility for a while, but they realized the organs would eventually reject the two thunder warriors and leave them in even worse shape. So far a stop gap had been created in the form of blood transfusions from the Primarchs. Cloned blood had been used at first to some effect but when they learned of it the then 5-year-old Primarchs were all willing to help there "Uncle Arik and Cousin Ghota."
As of now the Primarchs were growing quickly and mastering virtually every skill set the Emperor had them learn. Countless tutors and experts had been brought in from around the world to educate them. Each were utter masters of anything they were taught but took to their preordained specialties like leviathans to the sea.
Tyric could track a man through miles of the palace easily and hold his own against a Custodes in single combat. Dante and Konrad were mastering the art of Precognitive Combat and both Kota and Konrad could sneak through some of the low-security sections of the palace completely undetected. In turn, Vulkan, Culain, and Octaviar were hard at work crafting countless new inventions for both themselves and the imperium.
The Emperor entered the Primarchs Hall and could hear the sounds of twenty superhuman children starting their days. The Primarchs hall was a vast circular room that acted as a type of pseudo-courtyard to the Primarchs Apartments. Twenty-Two doors lead into the chamber and lined the walls of the chamber. The Center of the chamber formed a park of sorts. A green space for his sons to explore and enjoy like so many generations of Terrans had in the past.
The Emperor stood at the southern entrance overlooking it and taking a moment to watch his children play. He let out a small chuckle as he watched Theodora chase a mid-flight Dante. "Come back here young man! You need to groom your feathers or they will get damaged."
The ruffled looking Primarch tried to desperately flee his impending grooming but a pair of wings and precognitive powers were not enough to shake his Matrari
Similar events occurred across the Primarchs Hall. The Emperor let out a content sigh. The Primarchs were little like the living weapons and Warrior-Kings he had seen in the visions of the Heresy. These sons of his were Heroes in the making.
The Emperor entered the chamber and approached the congregation of children and Assai-Matari. Laughter and shouts streamed towards him as he watched. The Primarchs had not noticed their father yet, he cloaked himself in ancient stealth arts and psychic shadows in order to watch undetected.
Sensing a slight stirring in the immaterium he glanced over at Tyric focusing his mental energies into his hand. The Emperor chuckled, it was a trick the 6th Primarch had figured out a few months ago. A novel use of the Cryokinetic psychic arts that came naturally to him. Tyric had formed a snowball in his hand and prepared to surprise his older sibling Eddard who was busy eating breakfast with it.
Lowering his perception filter the Emperor appeared before his sons just in time to catch the 400kph ball of slush. As one 20 voices let out a jubilant cry of "Father" The boys began to instantly jockey for his attention as they boasted accomplishments and generally acted like siblings. As they settled down the Emperor spoke to them calmly. "My sons, in one month the Martian Expedition shall begin. Before I leave I wish to spend this month with you, to see how you have all grown and developed."
The Primarchs nodded, they had known this separation was inevitable and coming soon. They had steeled themselves for this moment and were ready. No tears were to be shed for the Primarchs may have been children but they were Primarchs and knew the Emperor's reasons and that he would return to them.
The Primarchs were beyond human in many ways, including their emotions. They felt stronger purer feelings than most humans, which had contributed to the fall of the Heresy in the timeline averted. The Emperor knew not of it a side effect of there warp-touched nature or a simple quirk of the countless gene codes stitched into the Primarchs Gene-Code.
No matter the source the Emperor had spent many nights teaching his Sons an art that few sentients ever fully master. Equilibrium of Mind: a balancing of intellect and emotion designed to temper either extreme and strengthen the psyche of the practitioner. It was an ancient skill formed by Philosophy Cults at humanity's height and often thought the evolution and perfection of countless meditative arts created throughout human history.
His sons had greatly benefited from this and displayed not just intellect and strength of superhuman levels but blossoming wisdom and temperance that would hopefully allow them to become the Paragons he, no, Humanity needed. No expense had been spared to prevent there fall and the Emperor could only hope it was enough.
The Emperor continued "I am going to be more actively involved this month, my sons intend to observe you and teach you as much as I can before the next step is taken." His children nodded solemnly and went about their morning with a renewed conviction to make there Father and Assai-Matrari proud, and to prove themselves worthy of the destiny set forth before them.
The Primarchs finished their breakfast in relative peace, the Emperor's presence naturally reduced the amount of mischief they got into. Next, they moved onto the morning spar. They used the massive training arenas capable of modifying themselves to mimic countless environments built into the Palace.
So far the young Primarchs were matching an average Hykanatoi's score on most training courses and a few were even starting to match and even exceed Allarus scores. The Emperor watched them from an observation deck as his Sons battled there way through an artificial Under-Hive.
They were each whirling masses of fire and fury. Thousands of vat-grown monstrosities and cybernetic death-beasts died before the Primarchs. Each wielded weapons designed for adult mortals with practiced ease. The Emperor watched as Octaviar and Culain fought back to back against unending flesh-puppets that their bolters and Adrathics reduced to a thin paste. Alpharius and Omegon in turn disoriented and confused swarms of Murder-creatures into setting upon feral mutant tribes imported for these tests.
These and countless other sights of skill and ferocity impressed the Emperor as he watched along with the Assai Matarai and tutors observing also. The Emperor softly said, "I believe they are ready to have safeguards Alpha and Beta removed, my sons truly live up to humanity's warrior spirit."
Meredith Kane, Kalib's Matrari let out a soft chuckle. "They already have been, this is lethal combat sire. I believe Horus leads the effort to convince the Arena-Maesters to allow it."
The Emperor raised an eyebrow at that "Is there a reason I was not informed?" Meredith simply responded. "They ensured you weren't, I believe they want to impress you." A melodious laugh escaped the Emperor's lips. "I am impressed, such ambition, initiative, and sense of purpose. Fine then, remove safeguards Gamma as well."
The faces of nineteen mothers flickered with fear, Mary, Phillips Matrari was the one who showed no fear but calm determination. She answered the Emperor's command in her soft melodious voice: "They will succeed, these children born of your blood and spirit and raised by us are greater than any of us could ever imagine. The Primarchs will face any challenge and triumph, I have faith in that.
The Emperor watched her confidence infect the others and felt his lips twitch in a smile. Faith the enemy of reason, his sin, and salvation in one. Millions labored under his and Uriah's instruction to harness that great force for humanity's benefit. To teach the Children of Terra not to put faith in god-things or Transhumans but in each other. Mary Atimah had been a great success in that quest, now she showed her reborn faith, her faith in her son, and his brothers. A faith in human potential.
With that safeguard, Gamma was removed. The Arenas gravity doubled, its temperatures started to fluctuate wildly, and new greater more horrific monsters were released to hunt and be hunted. The Emperor watched with a father's pride and a scientist's fascination at what occurred. His sons were Warriors and they proved that fact over and over.
Baraca barely dodged a chain blade larger than him wielded by some leftover war-thing of the Techno-Barbarians. It left a nick on his armor as he jumped out of the way. The creature was right where the XII Primarch wanted it, a Web grenade detonated in the things face trapping it between two hab-structures it had been lured to. The titanic thing was stuck and with every struggle of cloned muscle, it became more bound. When it was fully trapped Baraca decapitated it with a single strike of his blade.
Countless other displays of incredible martial skills were displayed. From Iskandar slaying a dozen War-Screamers with a single strike each. To Rogal cleaving a path straight through a Ghular pack with calm certainty. After another hour or so the morning spar was finished and the Primarchs retired to disarm and compare scores.
Eventually, they made their way to the Great Library of the Palace. This ever-growing monument to knowledge was a place of study and learning where copies of trillions of texts were stored. It was also where the Primarchs were tutored in the countless intellectual pursuits necessary for there future.
Today's lecture was about the Legio Astartes, the Space Marines. The Primarchs were expected to be as knowledgeable about there gene-sons as the greatest Gene-wright or Terrawatt Elder. The biology and capabilities of the Astartes were discussed in detail by the Ancient Sage of transhuman lore taken from Luna to teach his craft to the perfection of it.
The Emperor simply sat in the back of the lecture hall and listened with quant amusement. This had not been the first time he had listened to a lecture being given about his creations or accomplishments. In ages past, he would often find it an interesting pastime when he was walking in the guise of academics.
The Sage started the lecture with a simple question: "The transhumans born of your genecode are formally known as the Adeptus Astartes, a title tracing its roots to Old Terran. Space Marine is typically how the term is translated into gothic or other languages but what is the original literal meaning of this name?"
Magnus piped up first: "Adeptus has the same meaning as Master, and Astartes means Stars so Masters of the Stars?" The sage chuckled softly: "a common error, young Magnus. Adept is the title of Master but Adeptus is the action. To Master, Adeptus Astartes literally means Masterers of the Stars. Much like how the Adeptus Administratum masters the imperium government and the Adeptus Astro-Telepathica master the Astronomicon and its uses."
The Sage gestured to the twenty Primarchs and spoke with a mix of reverence and hope: "You and your Genesons were created to Master the Stars for humanity. Not as rulers or owners of the Galaxy but explorers, conquerors, and defenders of humanity. An ancient Terran writer paraphrased a religious text with this famous quote.": "According to the word of God, the meek would someday inherit the earth. Someday. But God never accounted for the mighty"
"Your father seeks to ensure a Galaxy where humanity can grow and prosper under their own rule and guidance, yet a galaxy is a place of many horrors that would drive humanity to extinction or worse. You and the Astartes are the answer to that conundrum. The Mighty will protect the weak while they become rightful inheritors."
The Sage had been a good choice the Emperor thought, he knew his theory well, let's see how he does with practical. The lecture continued as the intricacies of Geneseed were discussed. Its meta-psychic nature and biological components were discussed in detail. How it linked the Astartes on both a genetic and spiritual level to there Primarch and by extension the Emperor himself. Symptoms of Warp-taint and natural degradation were discussed. Quick overviews of the 24 gene-organs were touched on, including the bloodline specific ones.
The Emperor watched as the lecture carried on until Tengri, ever the quiet one surprised the lecturer and siblings with a question: "Why does Gene-Seed reject some applicants? Shouldn't all pure strain humans be capable of the augmentations?" The Sage simply shrugged his aged shoulders. "It is unknown why possibly some genetic quirk but only certain populations of humanity are capable of undergoing the transformation."
At that the Emperor stood up and walked into the center of the lecture hall, the Sage bowed and moved aside to allow the oldest and wisest of humanity's teachers to take center stage. The Emperor remembered countless similar scenes from his history, of educating bright young minds and it brought a smile to his lips. He had forgotten how much fun it was to smile, he used to smile maybe once a decade after the Iron War, its horrors had burned much of his humanity away, now his children both living and dead had restored it to him.
In a lecturers, voice practiced and refined since he had debated Socrates the Emperor began. "You are all my children, born of my blood and soul, but not that alone. Each of you was painstakingly crafted with all my knowledge acquired over nearly Forty millennia. I used my own genome as a template but you are each unique."
As he spoke psychic images flickered through his student's minds. Of countless hours spent within secret Gene-vaults, the painstaking work done to hybridize countless strands of DNA and imbuing said product with impossible Warp-Arts. "Each of you carries genes taken from legendary figures from human history, along with posthuman refinements unique to each of you.
*An ancient Centurion of Old Roma holds a Xeno-blade aloft*
*Five thousand cavalrymen were lead by a stunningly handsome prince*
*The Emperor and a grizzled General discussed strategy as Iron-Men singularity engines approached*
*Justice in Black clambered between spires of primitive Hives, hunting fiends and villains*
*A repentant Cognoscynths ripped out chunks of his scarlet hair in sadness as a golden-eyed warrior comforted him*
* The Wiseman lay dying in the Emperor's arms right before giving his speech "Word of the Law"*
The visions danced through the young Primarch's minds and showed them there genetic heritage. As the memories faded the Emperor continued: "You are not just simple clones of me and as such your lineage is only compatible with individuals matching certain psycho-genetic markers. For example, Tyrics Gene-seed is far more compatible with Humans who have spliced genes, those with wild blood are much more easily accepted by his bloodline than those without."
The Primarchs nodded and processed this knowledge, Marcus ever the clever one raised his hand and asked: "So thats why some of our lineages have an easier time finding candidates. The Markers are more common for that type of geneseed?" "Correct Marcus, your lineage, in particular, is one of the more verdant ones due to your genetic heritage in the Ancient Ultramarc League."
The lesson continued with the Primarchs learning more and more about there genetics and genesons with both the Sage and the Emperor teaching. This was an overview lesson and more detail in the countless topics and intricacies of Astartes creation would be discussed eventually. After an hour or two, the lecture concluded and the Primarchs adjourned for lunch. The Emperor followed them silently and thought to himself. "Oh, Children of Terra, your champions are coming."
The Primarchs day continued as usual with combat drills, Legion exercises with the first twenty, and more lessons. Another aspect of their education was a time when creativity was encouraged. Each of them engaged in an art or science they found particularly interesting. Some preferred more material arts like sculpting or smithing while some like Dante and surprisingly Moric preferring the spoken verse or composing music. Much to his chagrin Dante's siblings often referred to his musical pieces as "Bird Song"
The Emperor spent the day watching and interacting with his sons. The long-dormant joy of being a parent crept deeper and deeper into the Master of Mankinds soul. Yet still shadows of worries and his eternal burden clung to him. As he watched the young Primarchs finish their evening duties and prepare to retire he whispered softly to himself "two hundred and ten years. Hopefully enough time…"
The month sped by faster than either the Primarchs or the Emperor could wish. Every day the Primarchs impressed there Father, through intellect, martial skill, leadership, and wisdom surprising for such youths. In turn, the Emperor imparted knowledge, lessons, and paternal love to them in preparation for what was to come. The day of departure grew ever closer and the Emperor found himself becoming confident in his Sons. His Children of Terra were greater than he could ever hope, now it was time for him to bring the Children of Mars into the fold.