Chapter 2: Father and Son are Honest!
As he drank the gene soup, another wave of genetic information flooded Francis's mind.
'Visken genes'... 'Harris strain'. 'Highly aggressive species'.
Native to an unnamed world in the Ghoul Stars. The race possesses hyper-acidic secretions, photosynthetic capability, and accelerated regeneration.
In a matter of seconds, Francis's entire body shifted to a blue-green colour, his skin actively absorbing the chamber's artificial light. A pleasant warmth spread through him, like lounging on a beach during summer vacation. Way too comfortable, really.
"So this is what photosynthesis feels like!"
"Which means the hyper-acidic secretions should be kicking in too!"
Francis raised his hand and began probing his throat with two fingers.
"Ugh... gag..."
Finally, the overwhelming urge to vomit struck him. With a wet heave, his last thread of rational restraint snapped.
Thick green liquid erupted from his mouth. His right hand, which was covering his face, was not withdrawn quickly enough, and immediately got submerged in the corrosive discharge.
Sizzle.
Francis watched with indifference as his hand dissolved at visible speed, slowly, then regenerated completely within seconds.
"Holy mother of Emperor, it actually works!"
Just as Francis raised his restored palm in celebration, footsteps came from beyond the detention cell door.
Glancing toward the corridor, he saw Constantine gripping his Guardian Spear with white knuckles, every muscle tensed for immediate combat.
The Captain-General doubted whether the containment field was enough to restrain someone like Francis.
"Are you finally succumbing to xenos corruption, Francis?"
Francis stared in disbelief. If he weren't currently "serving his sentence," he'd show this golden-armoured bastard exactly why flowers bloomed red when Francis Krick strolled in Gardens.
'hmmmm, deep breath, no point in getting angry at a brick wall'
Francis swallowed his irritation and adopted an innocent expression, waving his hands dismissively.
"Oh, cmon, Corruption? No, it's nothing like that! I'm just conducting research, okay. Controlled experimentation. I'll return to normal momentarily."
"For your sake, Eleventh, I hope you speak the truth. Since you have forgotten why you were confined to these chambers."
"Allow me to refresh your memory."
Constantine's voice carried disgust, each word said as if remembering the most heretic act.
"First: You will not pursue the so-called 'evolution' of mankind through forbidden means."
"Second: You will not abuse your genetic manipulations. You cannot control their consequences"
"Third and most serious of all, you will not even think of reconciliation with those damn xenos in the name of cultural research."
"Are my words clear?"
Constantine's words hit Francis hard. Right, in this universe, xenos tolerance was the ultimate heresy!
So what exactly did that make his current experiments?
Francis suddenly felt grateful the Custodian hadn't executed him on sight.
"Constantin, I'm studying our enemies! Learning to turn their own strengths against them! As the ancient strategists said: know thy foe!"
"Oh Look, I'm completely restored to normal."
As he spoke, Francis swayed slightly, and the alien characteristics rapidly faded from his form.
Constantine continued staring with unblinking intensity, the Guardian Spear's energy field crackling.
"Constantin, what do you know of something called... the Webway?"
Just as Francis attempted to change subjects, that familiar paternal voice spoke within his mind with clear authority:
"Francis. How do you possess knowledge of the Webway Project?"
Unlike their previous mental conversations, the Emperor's tone carried distinct coldness, the kind of cold that preceded executions.
Only then did Francis realise his slip-up; the "Webway Project" was a classified project beyond all security levels.
According to established history, the Emperor had withdrawn from the Great Crusade specifically to construct the Webway beneath the Imperial Palace. This operation was known to a tiny circle, one that definitely excluded the twenty Primarchs.
Someone sealed away for genetic experimentation should have no possible knowledge of this undertaking.
Instantly, Francis's mind raced through hundreds of thousands of calculations.
Finally, the concepts "Webway" and "unknown substance" connected in his consciousness.
Francis made up his explanation. Taking a deep breath, he replied: "The unknown essence within me, Father, it shows me things in dreams. I witnessed someone wielding terrible psychic power, breaching the Webway itself, leading countless daemons to pour through like a tide of living nightmare."
Francis kept his description deliberately vague; after all, he was currently just a confined son with mysterious visions.
"It appears you have received prophetic glimpses concerning the Webway through this unknown essence within your genetic structure."
Hearing the Emperor's considerably warmer tone, Francis internally cursed his situation.
What prophecy? I'm a bloody transmigrator here to save your ass, old man!
If history proceeded unchanged, the Webway would be breached by Magnus, daemons would invade in masse, the Custodes would suffer heavy casualties, half his sons would betray him, and even the Emperor himself would spend eternity half-dead upon the Golden Throne.
Humanity's future would be extinguished, truly tragic!
However, he still had to feign shock and concern: "Father... something terrible is going to happen to the Webway? What does this mean for me? For all of us?"
"It remains Unknown. But thus far, the effects appear beneficial rather than detrimental."
Clearly, the original Eleventh Primarch had indeed encountered serious complications that led to his containment.
"Father, when can I leave this place?"
"Why do you wish to depart?"
Here it comes. This was the moment he had rehearsed this answer for days in his mind.
Francis adopted a pained expression, his voice low and hoarse with fake anguish: "Because I need to understand these visions better, Father. The tragedy I witnessed, I have to find a way to prevent it! I cannot remain idle while knowing such darkness approaches!"
Francis' Act might have fooled anyone but not the Emperor.
The Emperor saw through Francis's act immediately; the boy possessed all the subtlety of a Land Raider attempting stealth operations.
Yet he could sense genuine truth beneath the dramatics, despite this son's dramatically altered personality since awakening.
"What do you propose should be done?" He asked.
"In my vision, Father, I saw someone with immense psychic power breaching the Webway, someone who knows Terra's location..."
"Perhaps... perhaps those with the strongest psychic abilities should be recalled? Placed under observation? Even if it was just a vision, the threat I felt was so real..."
Francis's eyes darted as he spoke, deliberately avoiding naming specific individuals like Magnus.
"Intriguing."
Clearly, the Emperor chose "slowing the Crusade to ensure Webway security" over "maintaining Crusade momentum while risking total project failure."
Therefore, Francis received no immediate information from the Emperor regarding his potential release date.
"Hmph."
Whether due to his conversation with the Emperor or some other factor, Constantine lowered his Guardian Spear to a less threatening position.
"Do you intend to stand vigil there indefinitely, Constantin?"
Constantine offered no verbal response, simply maintaining his vigilant observation. The two regarded each other in silence for a while.
Fine! If he couldn't provoke the Custodian into conversation, he could at least ignore the golden statue.
Francis turned his attention to the laboratory equipment scattered across his containment cell's work surface.
He now had several xenos specimens and an impressive array of genetic manipulation devices in his possession, probably more advanced biotech than most forge worlds could produce.
"Let's see... time to show our golden guardian what true biochemical mastery looks like, He-He-He don't blame me, Constatine, blame yourself for your arrogance in front of your boss son, he-he-he"
As time passed, more genetic modification knowledge surfaced in Francis's memory, fragments of the original Eleventh's expertise filtering through his consciousness.
"First, add a measure of Ork blood for the regenerative factors, then Visken samples for the acidic compounds."
"Gene-dissolving enzymes, controlled mutation catalysts, binding agents, universal genetic supplements, some of my hair for DNA compatibility, toenail clippings for trace elements. Mix thoroughly..."
The result was a dark, swirling liquid within a laboratory chalice.
Francis activated one of the cultivation chambers, opened its access port, and began what could only be described as a chant:
"Come now, essence of transformation... flow into your new vessel, my beautiful creation..."
As the thick compound poured into the chamber, he sealed the access hatch with a satisfied flourish.
Francis had commenced his first genetic engineering procedure since awakening!
The spectacular, and thoroughly heretical, nature of the process was evident in Constantine's thunderstruck expression beneath his golden helm.
The Custodian stood frozen, watching Francis casually violate approximately seventeen different Imperial prohibitions with the enthusiasm of a child building sandcastles.
Were it not for the Emperor's explicit commands regarding the Eleventh's unique circumstances, Constantine might have already purged this heretic completely and reported the matter as a tragic containment failure.
...
Meanwhile, from the depths of the Imperial Palace, the Emperor issued a new decree that started a butterfly reaction that would ripple across the galaxy:
"Recall the Space Wolves Legion. Have them return to Terra immediately."
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[End of Chapter]