War Scribes-Father and Son

This page details people, events, and organisations from the /tg/ Heresy, a fan re-working of the Warhammer 40,000 Universe. See the /tg/ Heresy Timeline and Galaxy pages for more information on the Alternate Universe.

This is a story taken from the main page of the War Scribes. If you are confused how you got here, go back there, or head to the /tg/ heresy links above.

Father and Son

Finally, the Emperor himself intervened, following Arelex into the silent depths of his home in the Void when it seemed the Primarch could be in his Marines' presence no longer. Deep in the ancient metal caverns, the two men calmly shared a simple meal of cheese, bread, and meat, with water to drink. An unthinkable treasure here, even a few weeks prior. The son broke the quiet first.

"I do not know them, father. I listen to their songs, but I cannot understand them. War. Weapons. Armies of men marching together. What is this to me? I see no reason to fight for people you do not know. My world is small, and I have seen too much death already. I am not sure I wish to learn your songs, to learn more of blood and carnage. You do not need me."

The Emperor thought for a few moments. "Follow me, then." Finishing their meal, father and son pressed ever deeper into the Hulk. Eventually they came to a titanic set of adamantium doors, the docking bay for some ancient voidship embedded in the Space Hulk thousands of years ago. The two men spoke no words, for the ancient cavern's stillness seemed to defy being shattered by human voices. The Emperor simply opened his satchel of equipment and set to work alongside his son, quietly and calmly picking apart the ancient mechanism's riddles. After three days, the portals were opened, and the final lock turned smoothly into place. Food, drink, shelter, the elements, the needs of the Crusade, the future of Humanity, all temporarily forgotten in the concentration of the moment. Ancient Man's mysteries did not come forth so easily.

Inside, a rush of stale air carried with it the scent of death. Corpses, hundreds of corpses, scattered the floor, and they had not been dead for long. Arelex recoiled in horror at the sight, for it could mean only one thing. Here were more victims of his ill-starred Warp journey, slain by his hand as surely as if Arelex had slit their throats in person. Their songs were gone, lost to this eerily silent part of the Hulk. He could never have known they were here, but that did not make them any less dead.

"My child, war and bloodshed will come to you whether you wish it or not. These people hid in their caves of steel, guarding the broken relics of their ancestors, never knowing of a world beyond these doors. But they died all the same, thinking themselves safe. You did everything you could to defend your family, but by doing so this family you slew. All life is a choice, for the Galaxy demands only death. The uncaring void would have us all lay down and die, unmourned and unloved. The warriors of Legio Secundus are of your blood. How could you do any less for them, your true children, than you did for the tribesmen who adopted you? And like this ill-fated tribe locked behind the impermeable walls, there are so many Human worlds out there among the stars, trapped behind veils of ignorance, suffering, and fear. Will you do nothing to help them?"

Arelex was beside himself with fury, moving through the dead bodies like an automaton without guidance. The Emperor followed behind him a few paces back, as if waiting for something. Stumbling forward, he came to a colossal shrine, the last bastion of this hidden tribe. Hundreds of people sprawled before it, as if pleading to the colossal metal idol atop it for mercy and deliverance. Arelex howled in rage at the senselessness of it all, for the markings above the idol clearly read "Disengage Docking Clamps for Armor Ejection". The miserable tribe never knew that their god was little more than an empty, corroded, useless shell. No words of divine wisdom were these that glowed in the darkness.

As the two men watched, the breeze flowing in from the colossal doors stirred the stagnant air. For a brief moment, the Hulk's systems sputtered to life and the gigantic suit opened of its own accord, sensing their presence through means unknowable. It had never opened for those that worshiped it. But it opened for them. And the servos strained and groaned. The ancient metal began to crumble into dust. Its knees bent, ankles snapped, proud shoulders sagged under the weight of eons. Then it was gone, little more than a pile of rubble in the drifting wind.

Arelex's voice was hoarse, almost strangled. "Damn you. Did you know this would be here? Did you know I killed these people this whole time, did you know my world even better than I myself?! This planet we orbit even now, did you know I would eventually come here? Were those people MURDERED by my own hand, just to teach your wayward child something of the world?! Did... did you place them here somehow, Father, just so they would die?" Suddenly, spurred by some unknown energy, the Primarch leapt atop the altar, kicking and striking at the armor's remains. Corroded metal scattered everywhere, unable to resist his rage. "Why could you not protect them? I did not wish these people harm! They worshipped you, you worthless hunk of metal! They trusted you! It wasn't MY job! They were YOUR responsibility!"

The Emperor's massive hand upon Arelex's shoulder stifled his tirade.

"Arelex. It is this that I would teach Humanity. It is this that I would have YOU teach Humanity. I tell you truly, I knew nothing of these people. I knew nothing of their beliefs, or their gods. But I know that there are billions more just like them, equally helpless. And I am deeply grieved at their deaths. There are many things that I know, and much that I am capable of doing, but I am no god. These people placed their faith in something that could not save them, rather than trusting themselves to shoulder their own burdens."

"And if Humanity is to reclaim the Galaxy's vastness, all Mankind will have to stand on their own. United in purpose, rather than praying for intervention. You and your tribe are a perfect example. Though you are much more than the average man, nevertheless you are human. And you took a group of the lost and terrified and made them greater by far, daring what few would dream. You trusted neither in ancient idols nor myself, only in your skills and those around you. The tribe trusted you as a leader, certainly, but without their own inner strength none of you could have made it so far."

"It is tragic that these people died. And before the great work is completed there will be millions upon millions more who are lost. Tragedy and sorrow are unavoidable in this world, and we are foolish to deny it. But let this serve as a candle to light your way if it wounds you so deeply. Never give up, my son, and never stop working to end all such tragedies in the future. Find each and every catacomb, return every single lost tribe to the light. Build towards your impossible dream. Build such wonders as can never be toppled. Unite the people that they may never be separated by another Old Night. Let your Legion be the many-handed one who serves at your will yet has minds of their own, equally aflame with that selfsame passion on Mankind's behalf. Mold them into what Humanity may become so that all will see them as the example to be emulated. They are but clay still, uncertain and unguided. They need their sire to mold them."

"There is great passion within you, my son. So different from disciplined Hektor, and yet very alike. You truly love your family. I ask that you extend that love to all. Fight for each and every human as fervently as you do your adopted tribe, and you will someday see the day that no more die in vain."

Arelex took several deep breaths, regathering himself in the twilight stillness. "Give me a moment, then." The Primarch pressed his hand upon the destroyed armor's activation panel, and with a mighty rush of air corpses and shattered metal alike flowed into the void to be buried in deep space. In a few hours or days, Whitestone would see a briefly beautiful artificial meteor shower. Fitting memorial to ephemeral lives. Closing his eyes, Arelex followed them into the vacuum as he had often done before. His enhanced genetics allowed him to survive in space for quite some time before needing to return, and this served him well in a home whose atmosphere was never guaranteed.

The bay doors ground slowly shut. The air returned to stillness and calm. The Emperor looked about the silent tomb one last time, and with a smile, returned to his ship.

Floating in space high above Whitestone, clinging to the surface of his adamantium home, Arelex saw the planet and star he had dreamed of for so long. It was so beautiful from above, and there were so many more pinpricks of light in the distance. How many worlds circled those distant suns? How many tribes lived upon them? The Primarch drifted in silence for several hours, drinking in the view as he struggled to master himself. His anger burned like a hot fire in his gut, slowly cooling to a dull ache. At last, the Emperor spoke, and Arelex heard him even through the void. "It is time to act, my son." It was a peaceful, gentle order, but an order nonetheless. For such a powerful person as the Emperor, it could be nothing else, even the faintest suggestion became an iron command. "The Second Legion awaits you."

With a quiet mental sigh, Arelex responded through the Emperor's mental link. "I am still suspicious of you, Father. How could I not be? I cast myself and my family adrift into the roiling storm, and we emerged right beside you. I learned many harsh truths about this Galaxy. Perhaps some fate has ordained this, perhaps not. I cannot know. And I have spoken to the men who share my blood, Father. They speak of only destruction and chaos, blood and fire and xenos corpses. Glory, they call it. Honor. I have little interest in war. But here in the void, I can hear the songs of the ancients calling me from distant aeons, they resonate in my very bones. Those people trusted in the past to save them. But just as you say, the past was NOT these people's savior. Humanity worked many wonders, but they were not gods. However mighty, their strength had limits, so we must find our own power and move beyond them. And you are right. There can be no progress without sacrifice. I protected my own family, at the cost of another, and I shall forever bear the marks of that choice within myself. But I would make that choice a thousand times over, and it would be madness to deny that truth. Legio Secundus will be my new tribe, blood of my blood. And through them, I will fight for all the other tribes of Man. I will trust you, Father."

With that, Arelex's powerful legs kicked off the Space Hulk's hull. Moments later, the bay doors to the Emperor's flagship opened, and the Primarch landed before the Legion. With outstretched hand, the Emperor shook Arelex's, sealing the pact, and the Primarch of the Second Legion was deafened by thunderous shouts of joy from the assembled Legion.

At last, purpose.

"My apologies, Marines. I was unforgivably rude to you when first we met. The loss of my adopted family was too fresh in my mind for me to contemplate gaining another, the grief too potent. Let us start anew. Tell me your stories, sing me your songs, show me who you are as people, and I shall in turn share myself with you."

For the next full year, Arelex spent time getting to know each of his Legionnaires by name, drinking in every detail of their mannerisms, speech, and achievements. There was much repair work to be done after Legio Secundus' recent campaigns, and now was as good a time as any to rest and rearm. This time, Arelex listened to the Legion's stories attentively, and Legio Secundus was surprised at the torrent of questions the young Primarch bombarded them with in return. Details about Terra, how their Power Armor worked, what the folk tales of Nord Merica were like, what they saw when they looked at the night sky, and a thousand thousand other things he asked of them. Arelex drank in every facet of his men, as if attempting to make up for a life spent living in space, rather than upon solid land. The Legionnaires taught Arelex their ways of war, how they fought and the tools they fought with, their strategies and tactics. From the Terrans, Arelex learned how to repair vehicles under fire, how to remove landmines and tank traps, how to aim a bolter, maintain Power Armor, and properly swing a power sword. He ate with them, he drank with them, he sang their songs and mastered their ways.

When the year had drawn to a close, Arelex disappeared, leaving only a single Chapter Serf to deliver a missive to the Legion Command. "I am grateful for your gifts. Now, I will share mine with you all. Report to the Space Hulk, this Serf will lead you to the appropriate spot. Bring no weapons, no armor, no tools. Come with simple garb, and a warrior's spirit." The Legion looked to each other with uncertainty at the thought of stepping aboard a Space Hulk with such cavalier recklessness, but boarded shuttles nevertheless.

Aboard the titanic space station, the assembled Legion stood in rank upon rank, fifteen thousand strong. Before them awaited their Primarch, clad in nothing more than a plain pair of white cloth pants. Shirtless, the blocky Primarch's scars stood out in stark relief under the harsh dock-lights, as battered and torn as the surface of Luna, Mars, or Terra itself. A hundred thousand different wounds, different experiences, different foes went into forging such a body, and the thought of a man who could endure such punishment gave them pause. "This is my world, Marines, and we bid you welcome. It is tame now by my standards, for I have long since purged its depths of xenos and mutant alike. Nevertheless it has much to teach you all, lessons you will learn nowhere else. The Emperor has worked to stabilize its hull, but the internal systems remain as treacherous and unpredictable as the day I arrived before you all. I would not have it any other way. You will pursue me, hunt me in any way you see fit. I am a son of the Emperor, and I know this world like the back of my own hand, but you are fifteen thousand trained soldiers, veterans of warfare. Many of you grew up in caves of steel similar to this one. All of you have seen Hektor and the Emperor face obstacles and overcome them. Now, I wish to see if you can overcome ME."

Without another word, Arelex flexed his powerful legs and in a single mighty leap, disappeared into the shadows above. The Legionnaires began to talk among themselves uncertainly, looking to their commanders for direction. A flash of metal glimmered in the darkness, and a young Sergeant grunted in pain as a chunk of long-melted hull plating bounced off his forehead. "One down, Marines. Better get moving..." The Sergeant returned to the transports with a shamefaced look, and the Legion charged into the metal caverns with warcries on their lips, abandoning discipline in order to rush their Primarch before he could winnow them away.

Arelex was a ghost in the machine, striking from every angle. The Marines were used to the thundering noises of war, and made no effort to hide their passage. To Arelex's ears, they might as well have been visible through the adamantium walls. Oh, what a fun game. And yet, Legio Secundus was learning. Once, Arelex was almost caught by a plasma conduit rigged to blow, as he passed by to strike down a Legionnaire feigning entrapment in a collapsed floor. Even as his gene-son disappeared, dropping to the deck below, a wall of fire filled the tunnel, and Arelex laughed with pride as he in turn stymied his children's plans by punching a wall panel free, gripping the broken conduit with bare hands, and clamping off the flow of energy.

Arelex's voice rose to a thunderous shout even as the Primarch peeled the sparking conduit from the wall, hosing the Marines' bolthole with blue fire. "Good! You can learn! Show me more!" And he was immediately rewarded by a Captain and ten Legionnaires charging in from behind. Patiently, they had waited as the walls caught fire, as their Primarch assaulted their brethren. And now, they struck without hesitation. In the mad scrabble to free himself, Arelex felt more than one bone crack, but only smiled more broadly as he faded into the mist.

Gravity twisted and turned in the Hulk's endless maze, and corridors would collapse and shift. Sometimes there was light, sometimes dark, sometimes a confused jumble of kaleidoscope afterimages and strobes. Sound carried for miles, except when it was muffled in meters. But slowly, slowly, Legio Secundus taught themselves to piece useful information together from the noise, and they crept ever closer to their elusive gene-sire even as their numbers dwindled. Almost a full year passed, entombed in the Space Hulk. Incredibly, only a hundred Marines remained standing, the rest sidelined by injuries real and simulated. Thus far, Arelex's watchful gaze had prevented any fatalities, but now the game had become serious. Those remaining hundred would see their lord bound and shackled, or die trying to prove themselves.

Arelex used no tricks now, the time for teasing and play long since over. Now he showed them the raw brutality a life in space had taught. As if frozen or carved from stone, the Primarch lurked around every corner, waiting patiently for his moment to punch through a bulkhead and knock a Marine unconscious. The depths of a Hive City teach urban combat fundamentals, but Arelex had grown to manhood in a city of three dimensions. If the Second Legion was to survive this Galaxy, they would have to adapt to conditions stranger than they could possibly imagine. Arelex could pull no punches, and he moved among his men like a machine, disabling them with sharp, precise blows to the pressure points. Finally, the last Marine fell to the floor unconscious, and Arelex stood with a look of sorrow, but also satisfaction. His men had done as well as he could have hoped. And that was the last thought that ran through Arelex's mind before an automaton, a relic of Dark age Man, struck him a blow to the head as silent as it was powerful, shattering itself to bits in its final exertion.

When he awoke in the flagship's medbay, surrounded by smiling Legionnaires, Arelex could only raise his eyebrow in a quizzical look. Reaching a hand to his aching jaw, he realized the right half of it had been torn away, replaced by bionic metal. "I know each of you by name, face, sound and smell. Not one of you escaped my notice. How then did you defeat me? A dead man switch on that cybernetica?" A young Marine, barely out of his Initiation trials spoke first. "We cheated, sire. The First Company Captain promoted me after you delivered your message, and told me that if I was able to survive the Space Hulk and assist the Legion, I would no longer be a Neophyte, but a Battle-Brother like the rest. You never knew I was there, and I spent my time in silence while the rest of the Legion was as noisy as possible. I brought some of the Hulk's systems back online, reawakened that Cybernetica, and then waited for the Captain's signal. The rest of the Legion sacrificed themselves to maneuver his veterans into position and force you to come forward, and they in turn took your blows so that I might seize the critical moment. I apologize for injuring you so severely, but I dared not hold back for fear of my Captain's wrath." The young Marine bowed deeply, and waited with bated breath to hear his Primarch's response. "What is your name, Marine?"

"I am called Matyas Stegl, my lord." "Then this Space Hulk I once called my whole world, it shall be named Palaestram Matyas forevermore. I was unsure of myself at first, but after seeing the Legion's development inside its walls, I know I have made the right decision. Whatever homeworld Legio Secundus takes as its own, the Palaestram will teach its warriors the same values you all have learned here. Courage in the face of the unknown. Aggression in its proper moment, without hesitation or doubt. Patience when encountering superior forces. Trust in your fellow Marines, above all else. You moved as one unit. You fought together. You learned together. You suffered together. And I myself am your prize, at the end of it all. The very embodiment of your growth."

Arelex gently tapped his new bionic component, feeling the cold adamantium against his warm flesh. "Hektor is a strong man. A titan among us all. He is far stronger than I. And I am stronger than any one of you. But just as you will bear the scars of your training this past year... I will bear this scar you gave me. And I will remember your strength, and trust in it. I do pity my brother, for he is so strong, so indomitable, he has no such mark of bonds forged. Hektor does not carry the sign of his men's resolve. But that is enough of that. I know something of your lives, and now you know something of mine. The time for looking inward is past."

Arelex stood from the bed, green eyes sparking with eagerness. "My Marines... My family. The Galaxy awaits us."

The Legion that left Whitestone two years later, now 18,000 strong, was a more integrated fighting force than ever before. Though much replenished in manpower, precious few veterans remained from the Greenburn and the fight for Calavera. This could not stand, and Arelex took action at once. Combat was required, and as soon as possible to strike while the Legion's spirits were up and the iron was hot.

Arelex was a patient man. But now, to act!