| Terra |
Aboard the Bucephelus…
Upon arrival at Terra, I sensed Magnus trying to reach out to me, so I aided him in manifesting his psychic form in the command center.
Once his form was complete, Magnus animatedly said, "Congratulations on your campaign, father. As expected of you to complete it with 0 casualties within 30 minutes."
"Thank you, my son," I replied warmly, and, sensing that he had more to discuss with me, I continued. "I also sense another reason for your happiness. May I know what it is?"
Magnus made a rather mischievous grin, placed his hand over his chest, and proudly said, "I have succeeded in guilt-tripping Erda. She has indirectly made it known to me that she wishes to have a meeting with you."
I gave Magnus a deadpan stare and then sighed. "Magnus," I said softly in exasperation, "never once did I say to guilt-trip her, but nevertheless, thank you for your endeavors."
"Of course, father," Magnus said happily, then made a sly grin. "It is my pleasure to aid in bringing you and mother back together. I have no problem with having more brothers or even sisters."
Then, with a deep chuckle, Magnus dispersed his form before I could retort to his teasing. An awkward silence took hold in the command center as the two Custodians present quickly pretended like nothing had happened.
As for the elite naval officers, a majority of them had pale faces, believing that they would be killed for hearing something they shouldn't have. A few others were simply frozen, as their brains couldn't process what they had just heard. The remaining few looked moved to see such kinship between me, the Emperor, and my second-found son, Magnus.
I gave a look to the two Custodians present to signify that it was fine, and then I said aloud, "Carry on with your tasks."
With another sigh, I rubbed my temples and sincerely thought, 'Thank God that— Wait, no… Thank me— No, that's even worse. Haaaaah…'
With a sigh, I turned my gaze slightly left toward Gildas, purposely avoiding looking at his canvas, and I continued, It's a good thing Gildas is passed out and unable to record that conversation, or else I might have needed to erase his memories.
A couple of hours ago, Gildas passed out after using his brain too much over these past 3 days. He had been moving like a whirlwind between sketching on the canvas, writing poems, and then doing the first brushstrokes on the canvas.
I once again felt appreciation for his focus on his work, and then I turned my attention forward again, past the command hub in the center of the command center.
Walking through the doors to the command center were Valdor, Jenetia, and Malcador, who had all come to join me on the venture to Jupiter.
However, what instantly bothered me was the smirk on Malcador's face. A smirk on his face was never a good thing.
Which was proven right in the next instance as he commented, "It seems I'm not the only one who believes there should have been sisters, and at this rate, my friend, perhaps you can heed our words on this matter."
I let out another sigh, knowing exactly what he was gloating about. In the original timeline, Malcador suggested that some of the Primarchs should be female. He believed that having sisters present would help lessen the chaos 20 sons would cause.
"Is everything ready?" I asked, deliberately trying to change the topic to something else.
Luckily, Malcador went along with it and replied, "Yes, all preparations are done, and Alpharius has completed giving out all his instructions to his legion and the 19 other legion companies under his command."
I nodded and signaled to Valdor to use the command hub to connect to Alpharius. In a few moments, it connected to his battleship. Alpharius's face popped up on the screen, and I decided to ask him directly.
"Tell me truthfully, my son, are you truly ready to take this first step on your path? To become more than just a father, a Primarch, and the Warmaster. To go beyond all that and become what you and your brothers are meant to be?"
Alpharius looked me dead in the eye and replied with absolute certainty, "I am, father. I will become the embodiment of humanity's adaptability. I will ensure that through my actions, humanity will understand that true adaptability is not imitation or readily embracing change. It means the power of resistance and assimilation, an innate ability we all possess that prevents change from grasping us."
"Well said, my son," I replied in a pleased tone. "Well said… Go then, on your first campaign as Warmaster. Bring your homeworld, Jupiter, into compliance and complete the unification of the Sol System."
"By your will, father," Alpharius said, and then the communication on the command hub cut out. Outside, in the void of space above Terra, a magnificent fleet consisted of standard battleships belonging to the Alpha Legion and the 19 other legions, along with bulk carriers and grand cruisers belonging to the Imperial Navy and Army under his command.
At the forefront of this fleet was the main heavy battleship of the Alpha Legion, and trailing behind this fleet was the Buchephelus. This fleet was on a course for Jupiter, where an event that would echo throughout the Imperium's history would take place.
___
| 𝌉𝍔䷢⚏𑛄𑄹꧕᧓𑁭 POV |
___
The Cephalods, the xenos overlords who controlled the moons around Jupiter, were all still startled by what occurred 6 cycles ago on Lysithea.
For a long time, the Cephalods knew that despite the collars they kept on their slaves, there was bound to be one who had other ideas. Although putting an end to a slave revolt wouldn't be a problem, it would still cost them up to hours of lower production, which was unacceptable to them.
So, using rather simple methods, they trained the slaves to never think of freedom. They made the slave quarters large, open square areas inset into the ground with stairs leading out. From this large square area, the slaves were able to see the void of space and the many buildings surrounding them.
No guards were stationed in the slave quarters, and very soon, many of the slaves walked out, trying to find their way away from where they were. However, very quickly, they learned that there was no way out.
The port with the ships was guarded heavily, and any slaves who tried to get in were made examples of. Every slave that attempted to storm the port disappeared for some time and was then displayed prominently, impaled on a spike around the slave quarters. Their bodies were scarred from unspeakable tortures and kept alive by unknown means.
The Cephalods looked on in satisfaction at how their simple solution domesticated the slaves, making the majority of them accept their fate as slaves. Although a small minority of them seemed to still harbor hope and pass it down through stories, it mattered not. This minority would just become future examples of any attempts at freedom.
These simple methods kept the slaves in line for centuries, at least until the day that an abnormally large human managed to do the impossible. He killed the Cephalod present, stole a ship, freed the slaves, and bombarded the port at Lysithea.
News of it spread throughout the ranks of the Cephalods and eventually reached the ears of the human slaves thanks to the gossiping of lower-ranking Cephalods. The Cephalods normally communicated with the slaves using symbols, but some humans who still believed in freedom orally recorded the rare vocal sounds the Cephalods would make and deciphered what they could mean. Over the many years, through the sacrifices of many, they managed to decipher the language of the Cephalods by forcing them to talk when they purposefully did something wrong.
The humans who learned the basis of the Cephalods' language told the other slaves what they heard. A large man with blue eyes did the impossible: he killed the Cephalods, stole a ship, freed he slaves, and destroyed the port at Lysithea.
This story inspired dread in many, because following that event, the Cephalods became harsher on the slaves. The Cephalods had originally never properly documented a slave; after all, they were expendable and weren't worth the effort. But now, every slave was branded on the forehead with their identification.
This identification was coded to inform every Cephalod who the slave's owner was, what moon they belonged on, their bloodline relatives, and their number. With this information, every Cephalod would instantly know what they needed to know about the slave, and who to make examples of should any slave dare to repeat what occurred on Lysithea.
The actions of the Cephalods indeed caused many to cower, but there were exceptions among the slaves who were ready to risk it all. Located on the moon Ganymede, one such man existed, known to the Cephalods as 𝌉𝍔䷢⚏𑛄𑄹꧕᧓𑁭, or better known to his fellow kin as Cold Eye.
Cold Eye was currently in the slave quarters, seated on the cold hard ground, curled up in a ball against the wall. He was near an indivisible line that separated the living slaves from the dead ones and was speaking softly to something on the ground across from him.
"Cephalods are still spooked by what occurred on Lysithea," he said, chuckling lightly to himself. "Rumors have reached even here about Big Man Blue Eyes, who freed slaves, ended Cephalods, and destroyed the port there."
Cold Eye looked up at the sky and continued, "Then he took them to a much better place, far, far away from here. A place where they do not have to work anymore, in the tales Old Man One Arm used to tell us. Tales about Terra, about how great our kind once was, that we should not give up all hope. He always used to rave about how angels sent by a divine one will one day come from the void above and save us all."
He stopped speaking for a brief while and then chuckled hollowly. "His stories were nice to listen to; we never took them seriously. Old Man One Arm was close to sleeping for the final time. For a long time, red life would suddenly come out from his nose, mouth, and ears. His eyes would turn blank like the dead."
"For a long time," Cold Eye said, turning his gaze back at what he was talking to. "I believed that such stories would never come true, but now I believe differently. Big Man Blue Eyes did it... How? I do not know, and I do not know, because never once have I dreamed of leaving. But ever since that story of Big Man Blue Eyes, I have begun to dream, to believe, to think, to learn and adapt."
Cold Eye reached out with his arms and gently scooped up what he was speaking to, looking down at the collection of fragmented bones inside the worn rag that held them together. He hugged it tightly to his chest, these bone fragments belonged to the ones who gave birth to him, people he interacted with, and his mate who died in labor.
These fragmented bones were his only physical possession, ones he had to obtain by breaking them off from their dead bodies. If he didn't do so, these bodies would have been taken over to the processor building, a building that stood out greatly to the north of the slave quarters.
The processor was the fate for all the slaves, a kind fate compared to what the Cephalod's have done to slaves they don't like. In the processor, dead slaves were turned into food meant for the living slaves.
The Cephalod's had once told them that this was the circle of life and that they should be thankful that they are even allowed to see their dead loved ones before they are made into something better. And indeed they were thankful, because they will use the bones of their loved ones to put an end to their slavers.
Cold Eye put the rag back down and put some of the bones that he had sharpened long ago inside the rags meant to be his clothing. His eyes instantly became sharp and cold as he mused.
'Everything against me, my body weak, my knowledge lacking, and my kin, even now still dare not to believe. Or rather… No one dares to be first and made into an example.'
Looking over at the stairs leading up, Cold Eye saw the Cephalod floating there, indicating to them that it was time to get back to work. Getting up, he got into line with everyone else and made his way to the designated worksite.
During his many observations and knowledge about the work schedules, today was the day in which a ship meant to deliver new machinery would arrive. This ship lacked any obvious weaponry and it only had at most 2 Cephalod's in it behind the controls.
Since the machinery was more of a deployer and nothing sharp, the two Cephalod's showed the slaves how to operate it. This lessened their work and allowed those two Cephalod's to spend their time standing outside the ship communicating with the Cephalod who controls the slave collars.
Cold Eye wanted to use this very small window of opportunity to do one of two options. First he could purposefully cause some of the fuel used to power the machinery to spill. Then under the guise of needing to clean it, he could "accidentally" wander off farther into the ship to observe more about how it functions.
Or risk it all by operating the machinery and using it as a blunt weapon to slam into the Cephalod's and if it did not kill them outright. With his sharpened bone, he'll keep stabbing them until they're dead.
With these options in mind, Cold Eye kept walking in line past structure after structure, contemplating everything that could go wrong and what to do.
What to do if any of the Cephalod's stay inside the ship...
What to say if they question him...
How to distract the few amongst his kin who are desperate for the approval of the Cephalod's...
How to ensure that secrecy is kept...
Where to go if a chance to kill Cephalod's appears...
Based on the stars and stories of Old Man One Arm, which direction is Terra...
Most of all, he wondered that should he ever succeed in escaping this moon with his fellow kin, how does he return to free the rest. Before he even realized it, he reached the normal docking area for the ship.
In an open area, a circular, old looking ship was already there, the ramp leading up to the cargo area was open and just as Cold Eye had hoped. The two Cephalod's who normally pilot the ship were outside and already began speaking to the leading Cephalod who controlled their slave collars.
Cold Eye immediately got to work with everyone else, moving the supplies and machinery that was already outside the ship. Walking a bit closer to the three Cephalod's, Cold Eye heard them speaking in their tongue saying, "jdniw infefaj owjdm woajie wpaksdi wjwjwjw dowakd." Which he translated to his own tongue, "It seems Travjeoa Phenomena occurring again, our signals into space are being temporarily jammed and will not be back up for a while."
Hearing this, Cold Eye's breath hitched, this was information that changed everything. If things keep going well, he just might be able to succeed in the impossible. Quickly recomposing himself, Cold Eye made his way onto the ship towards the machinery.
Going up the ramp, he took mental notes of the different machines, 'Twenty-nine different machines, all mainly used to build new roads. Should chance of using these machines to hit Cephalod's arise, twentieth machine would be best. It moves fastest, which would give them least amount of time to react.'
Taking a quick glance back towards the three Cephalod's, he observed that they were still busy talking to each other. Cold Eye got back to work, he tapped the control panel on the side of the machine and turned it on. Then he pressed the button that he learned meant to go forward and guided the machine out towards where the others machines were stationed for manual transport.
This process continued for a while until finally seven of the machines were already outside, Cold Eye grabbed one of the cleaner machines and slowly went further into the ship. He went up a lift and instead of stopping by the waste chamber, he continued walking further into the ship.
Walking quickly but quietly down the hall, he reached where he came to learn where the control area for the ship was. To his utter surprise, the door which was normally locked through some means unknown to him, was wide open.
However, instead of feeling joy at this, he felt suspicion, things were going way too well and he refused to believe it was a coincidence. First, the three Cephalod's were gathered outside a good distance away from the ship. Second, they stayed there and never moved around, not even once.
Third, the way those three Cephalod's mentioned their signals or whatever are being jammed, seemed a bit off. Fourth, never once has the door to the control area been left open like this. Taking all these points into account, Cold Eye quickly faked an expression of surprise, as if he just realized something.
Then turned back around and went straight towards the waste chamber to start cleaning it. A few moments later, he realized he made the right choice in doing so, because as he was cleaning. He heard the sound of a Cephalod moving around and it was speaking rather fast to itself.
Its tone did not match any of the three he knew, meaning there was a fourth Cephalod on this ship. But, what made him freeze in horror is the few words he managed to pick up on, "Slaves… Problem, Begin executing."
'Did I truly hear that correctly,' Cold Eye's body trembled as he pondered in rising despair. 'Execute us?? What changed all of a sudden? This just for slave quarters that I belong in or for all of my kin across different moons?'
Cold Eye slowly got up and quickly firmed his will, 'I must act, I cannot risk the chance that what I heard was incorrect. I refuse to go quietly, nor witness more of my kin suffer and die at their hands. I must act on my plan, if I succeed we can escape and start a new on a better world like Terra. If I fail, if things don't line up, I will trade my life to take down at least one of the Cephalod's. I will become the first on this moon to rebel and kill on of the Cephalod's, I'll let my actions inspire others that we have a choice and a chance.'
In a do or die state of mind, Cold Eye exited the waste chamber and went back down to the cargo area. There were still four machines in the way of the twentieth machine he had identified as perfect for his plan and outside, the fourth Cephalod was talking with the other three.
Cold Eye waited patiently in the cargo area, pretending to use the cleaning machine on the walls around as he watched one of his kin take the a machine out. Then soon another one of his kin came to take out another machine.
There were now currently two machine infront of the twentieth machine, Cold Eye walked up to the machine closest to the exit. Making sure no one was looking, he deliberately unhooked a vital wire in the machine. Which would cause it to malfunction and stall after being moved for a bit.
This would be the decoy to gain the attention of four Cephalod's talking outside, it would force them to have to pay attention to it. Cold Eye looked at his approaching kin and told him, "Hey One Ear, you have to take path by the Honored One's. They wanted this machine by east side instead of west."
One Ear cautiously asked, "Are you sure Cold Eye? Signals they gave was pretty clear."
"Yes," Cold Eye responded back, while pointing towards the fourth Cephalod who was present. "Fourth Honored One over there told me that directly, when I was cleaning waste chamber."
One Ear looked over to where Cold Eye pointed and nodded his head saying, "Ok, I will do it."
With that, One Ear took the machine out, headed left near the Cephalod's and just as Cold Eye expected, the machine broke down. The Cephalod's let out annoyed sounds and they all turned their attention to the broken machine.
Cold Eye quickly turned on the twentieth machine and waited for another one of his kin to come inside and move the last machine in the way. Very soon, an older woman known as Kind One came in and activated the machine in the way.
Cold Eye followed closely behind Kind One, using her and the machine she moved as cover so that he didn't stand out too much as he moved out. After walking a short distance outside the ship, Cold Eye quickly glanced at the Cephalods, who were still crowded around the broken machine.
Cold Eye turned his machine sideways, so that the side of the machine that was about the length of five of his kin was facing directly at the Cephalods.
The situation was now in his favor. The Cephalods weren't paying attention to him, there was a broken machine in front of them that would act like a wall, and then there was the machine he controlled that would act as the hammer crushing them.
For a moment, Cold Eye felt nervous, but he quickly dismissed it. He had to act now before it was too late. Cold Eye typed onto the control panel and, with knowledge he had gained from those who lived before him, he overrode the safety system on the machine and created an input for it to move at its fastest speeds.
Watching closely, Cold Eye watched as the machine started to move and then accelerated at speeds he never thought possible. It headed straight towards the four Cephalods in the distance, and just as they turned around, the machine was covered in a mysterious light and stopped as if it had never been in motion.
Cold Eye stared in shock, but then he quickly turned around after hearing a chortle of sorts behind him. Behind him was a fifth Cephalod that was glowing in a mysterious light. It looked him in the eye, and then Cold Eye felt as if his mind had been directly opened.
'What is this?' Cold Eye thought in horror as he felt another presence inside his mind.
"This is your mind, slave," a raspy, deep voice said. Cold Eye turned and looked up at the fifth Cephalod he had seen just earlier behind him.
"You slaves are so amusing sometimes," the raspy, deep voice chuckled and then continued. "You all always find new ways to make attempts at freedom, and to think you just might have succeeded if I wasn't here."
"No, he wouldn't have," another voice said angrily. "I would have easily stopped him. I merely played into his scheme for my own enjoyment."
"Don't lie, Rahbuwia 'el jnwdia. This slave managed to stage a situation where you genuinely would have died if it weren't for me. Now be quiet, you will be punished later for your negligence of duties."
"Now then, slave," the fifth Cephalod said in an amused tone. "For such a spectacle, allow me to reward you greatly."
Cold Eye felt as if he was being ripped in two. The fifth Cephalod was torturing his mind, lashing at him with powers he never knew Cephalods possessed. While the four Cephalods in reality started whipping his body, they were careful to avoid hitting any fatal locations.
All five of them wanted to make sure that this slave was reminded of its place and given the other slaves another example of what happens when they act out of line. While the five of them brutally tortured Cold Eye, they mocked him and his efforts.
"We are a psychic species. We possess the ability to read your minds and know everything that you think. Everything you and your predecessors have ever done occurred under our watchful eye. This entire time, you believed you were doing everything you could to help your kin, trying to fish out those among them who will aid you while avoiding those who wouldn't. We truly appreciate slaves like you. Your efforts allow us to always know who needs to be put down."
At these words, Cold Eye's will collapsed because he now knew why many close to him always seemed to die. He himself put a target on their head. He exposed them to their eyes. They used him as a spy.
From the overwhelming mental and physical torture, Cold Eye cried in anguish at the life that was given to him. In his mind he screamed out, 'Just why did he have to be born a slave? Just why did he have to be so powerless? Why... WHY!?!'
But no answer was given to him, only laughter and more words that struck him to the core. Cold Eye could not feel any sense of time passing, only pain, endless pain, that continued until suddenly it stopped.
For the first time in what felt like centuries, Cold Eye was able to breathe and think properly. He was on the ground face down, choking in a small pool of his own blood.
Cold Eye felt himself fading and, in what he believed were his final moments, he questioned, 'Must it end like this? Were my efforts truly all for nought?'
In his slowly fading consciousness, Cold Eye recalled his fonder memories of his parents, friends, and mate. The little happiness they had together in this bleak life of theirs, overcome by the memories and his reluctance of dying accomplishing nothing.
Cold Eye turned his head and, through his blurry red vision, he forced his bleeding, broken body to move toward what he believed was one of the tentacle limbs of the Cephalods. By the time he reached the limb, he had no strength to grab the sharpened bone he had. In fact, he didn't know if it was even there.
So, he did the next best thing: he bit the limb as hard as he could out of spite. He decided if he was going to die, he would make the Cephalod bleed one way or another. Releasing the limb from his mouth, he tasted the blood of the Cephalod and saw the blood with his own eyes run down the limb he had bitten.
Cold Eye let out a wheezing laugh at his achievement and waited for the resulting strikes for what he had done. However, those strikes never came. Confused, Cold Eye slowly turned his head up at them and saw that they were all frozen, staring in what seemed like horror at the void above them all.
Never before had Cold Eye ever seen the Cephalods lose composure like this; he had to know what it was. Turning his head even further, Cold Eye looked up at the void above and witnessed a sight he'd never forget.
For the first time in his life, he saw something else in the void that wasn't those white shining lights. There were ships larger than the moon he was born on floating in the void. Then he saw fire rain down from the sky.
This fire instantly consumed the port in the distance, leaving nothing but wreckage behind. Smaller balls of fire appeared in the sky, getting closer to the moon. They landed heavily, and the doors burst open.
Cold Eye watched with sudden clarity as a giant human-shaped thing walked out in light blue armor. What passed for its eyes glowed red, and it stared right at him, almost as if to assure him everything was fine now.
The Cephalods around him finally acted and started to glow as they seemed to have tried to use that strange power on the armored giants. At fast speeds, the armored giant suddenly had a strange weapon in its hand that made loud sounds that resulted in one of the Cephalods' deaths.
Its corpse fell to the ground and some of its blood splattered onto Cold Eye. In this moment he felt fear at what killed it, but only joy at seeing it dead. Another two of the Cephalods died in the exact same manner and the remaining two tried to run.
Seeing the Cephalod trying to run, Cold Eye panicked and did the one thing he could do. Once again, he bit its limb, desperately trying to ensure it didn't escape its death. Cold Eye instantly felt the Cephalod's body go limp and crumble to the ground.
Looking around and seeing all the Cephalods who had tortured him dead, Cold Eye let out another wheezing laugh. This time it was much louder at seeing a sight he dreamed of. His laughter continued until one of the armored giants walked over to him and knelt.
Cold Eye didn't know who or what this armored giant was, but he was thankful to it for what it had done. Even if it wasn't for him and if its next target was to kill him. But, as Cold Eye braced himself for death, the armored giant took off its helm and Cold Eye saw its face.
His eyes widened at seeing a face that belonged to his kin under that terrifying armored helmet. The armored giant started speaking, "Mortalis, ego sum Atheil Vaneothus Legionis Alpha, unus ex Angelis Mortis Majestatis Imperatoris, filius fidelis ac miles vigesimi filii Imperatoris, Primarchi Alpharii. Cerno scintillam in oculis tuis, dignus es accedere in ordines nostros Legionis Alpha. Si adhuc potes, nomen tuum et voluntatem ad nostram cohortem adiungendam prome."
Cold Eye did not understand a single word, but he could tell the armored giant was asking him something, and speaking through his eyes he showed agreement. After he showed agreement, he was suddenly picked up and carried to a ship that had appeared.
Cold Eye was confused and was tense at receiving such treatment, but as he reflected on the words of the armored giant, there was one word that actually sounded familiar: "Angelis." And in that instant, Cold Eye realized everything.
He then began to sob and then eventually let out loud, ugly cries, cries of relief similar to a child who finally found someone that they trust wholeheartedly.
Before his consciousness completely slipped away in the comfort of the one he could trust, he recalled that old memory and happily thought:
'Old Man One Arm was right... Thank the Divine One that he was right... Angels are real, they truly exist, and now they have come to save us all.'
-To Be Continued...
(A/N: Almost forgot I was a author, ditched the macbook last week and bought a pc. Been playing all the steam games I never got to play before. I'm gonna go back to playing dark and darker and Space Marine 2.
P.S. FUCK LEANDROS)