Aboard the Lamenters' warship, the air was buzzing with activity.
The civilian survivors had long since been screened. The method was simple and crude: a light wash of Imaginary energy was applied to all of them. The corrupted could not be dyed, and psykers were difficult to dye. Those two groups were immediately rejected. Zhou Ye had no intention of equipping his legion with psykers.
Instead, he had configured anti-psyker equipment: Judah (modified version). The next time they encountered a psychic unit, they could just toss it over and be done with it. Once he unlocked more Paths in the future, he fully expected to see showdowns between Imaginary energy and psionic power.
For these civilians, Zhou Ye gave the Armed Puppets full authority. He had them wash everyone with Imaginary energy and then Honkai energy. This was a minimal expenditure of power that would greatly enhance their stability—a necessary investment. It would be nearly impossible for the Four Great Gods to corrupt them in the future. After all, in the Warhammer universe, individuals who could accept a large amount of a Chaos God's power at once were exceedingly rare; most would simply devolve into a Chaos Spawn.
So, Zhou Ye had tinkered with their capacity first. Any forced corruption by a Chaos God would most likely result in a Chaos Spawn. Those with a high capacity, however, could be directly recruited. With a few modifications, they could become qualified Astartes. It was a win-win situation he had no reason not to pursue.
Although Zhou Ye felt that forcibly contaminating people was not ideal, this was Warhammer 40K. Zhou Ye would be the first to say that the Imperial Truth was also a roll of toilet paper, because no one besides Fabius Bile could truly believe in it. Even Guilliman, after being possessed by the Emperor, no longer believed. After all, the Warp and daemons were objective realities that could not be simply ignored.
For now, these civilians were temporarily settled. They would all be brought back to New Tillius to enjoy the benevolent 996 work-blessing arranged by Zhou Ye. The benefits were good; food and by-products were all provided. There were no wages, however. Only devotion was required. After all, Zhou Ye had yet to issue any sort of material currency; he had no monetary system to speak of.
Of course, the survivors knew none of this. They only knew that these Angels were incredibly merciful. Look at the food they were given! It even included a fruit they had never seen before, called a cherry. Although they only got one each, it was enough to lift their spirits.
"All of this is bestowed by the God-Emperor, so praise the God-Emperor!" the Lamenters' Chaplain preached loudly among the refugees. He was one of the few surviving Chaplains. Unlike the terrifying Inner Circle of the Dark Angels, he had no strange triggers. He genuinely revered that Lord. To him, that Lord was the very model of a Lamenter. He saved the suffering and never asked for thanks.
Originally, he and the few Macragge-born "Word Bearers" from the Ultramarines contingent had discussed adding him to their praises of the God-Emperor. But the latter had sternly refused. Such a loyal man, to refuse even that honor. He was truly... The Chaplain was deeply moved. People like that were too rare. So, let everyone praise the God-Emperor together.
Of course, Zhou Ye wasn't worried that the Emperor could track him down. The entire Imperium of Man had too many believers, and the number of his own people was too small. In a galaxy of planet-sized populations, his group was but a single grain of sand. More importantly, the Yellow Fiend had not yet become a true fifth Chaos God, so his ability to project his power in this manner was far weaker than that of the other Chaos Gods. Amidst a sea of shining lightbulbs, his little spark was completely inconspicuous.
Frankly, hoping to find him through the methods of a Warp god was far less practical than just using the physical universe.
---o---
Elsewhere, a group of Lamenters was repainting Aslot's armor.
"Waaaah, my Lord, you can't do this..."
The massive, sacred Contemptor Dreadnought was currently huddled in a corner like an abandoned stray cat. The sound was truly heartbreaking to hear. Only after seeing his armor being returned to its proper colors did he finally cheer up a little.
"Ancient, this is our Chapter Master of the Lamenters, Malakim," Mario said, introducing his commander to Aslot. Before the Ancient, the Chapter Master looked like a dwarf. The latter was mostly just nervous; he hadn't yet gotten familiar with this Dreadnought Ancient.
"Waaaaah... go find Apothecary Beta, get the Primaris surgery for yourself. Waaaah, my Lord..."
"..." Seeing the Dreadnought's low spirits, a drop of cold sweat ran down Malakim's forehead. But he looked at his former sergeant, now the Captain of the First Company, and nodded. He had realized in the battle that a large gap in combat capability had opened up between himself and his sergeant brother. Besides, the Lamenters had it so rough that every time they reached full strength, they would soon suffer another near-Chapter-wipe. They had no special traditions to speak of and were very receptive to the Primaris surgery.
But just then...
"The Ultramarines, Flesh Tearers, the Inquisitor, and the Black Templars have all sent a request for an audience. They have matters to discuss with you."
"The Dark Angels?" Mario asked, a little confused. Shouldn't all of them have come? Where were the Dark Angels? They seemed to have vanished. Come to think of it, the Dark Angels had been like ghosts throughout the entire battle; he hadn't seen a single dark green figure.
"They left at light speed after picking up their people. Who knows what they're thinking. But it's good that they're gone. They have too many secrets," the neophyte delivering the message said with a shrug. After a battle like this, he was basically a veteran. It was an unwritten rule for everyone to keep a certain distance from those guys. So it was for the best that they had left, lest they start some trouble.
"Right, why aren't they looking for that Lord? What do they want with us?"
"That Lord has already departed. They can't find him, so they can only come to us."
"!!!" Mario's face was a mask of horror. Malakim, on the other hand, was utterly bewildered. He was completely out of the loop. Did a Primarch not have a name? Why call him "that Lord"?
"Sigh, let's go."
Looking at the message his communications officer had received, Mario steeled himself and went. Malakim knew nothing, so he, as the First Company Captain, would have to handle it. He also sent men to take them for the Primaris surgery, and then for a shower.
It was a special rule of Zhou Ye's: after a battle, a Space Marine must take a shower. The reason? The last time he performed the Primaris surgery on these Weeping Folk, the stench when he removed their power armor had almost made him vomit. Nurgle's filth was disgusting, but Zhou Ye had been in his armor with the internal circulation system active; he hadn't smelled a thing.
In other words, he had not been broken by Nurgle, but he had been broken by Astartes body odor.
So, from that day on, he issued a new regulation: after a major battle or training session, if conditions permit, a shower is mandatory. He had equipped all his warships with advanced purification and recycling systems anyway, allowing for the reuse of water resources. If that wasn't enough, he also had a small matter converter. Turning stone into ceramite was out of the question, but turning it into water wasn't a problem.
"Ancient, please, stop crying for a moment."
Looking at the Contemptor Dreadnought huddled in the corner, Mario could only speak with gritted teeth.
While Malakim went to take care of his personal affairs, Mario went to the warship's grand hall. The group of visitors was looking around the vessel with expressions of awe. It was just so new, and the interior decor was relatively clean. It lacked the heavy, oily Gothic style. It was clearly a brand-new warship.
As fellow sons of Sanguinius, the Flesh Tearers were envious that the Lamenters had managed to latch onto such a powerful patron. The sight of all the brand-new equipment nearly blinded them.
But...
"I hope the Ancient will return with me to Baal. Several of your comrades are still there," Seth said sternly, looking at Mario and the Dreadnought behind him. The Blood Angels still had several sacred Dreadnoughts from that ten-thousand-year era. But those Dreadnoughts, while they had seen Sanguinius in person, had been neophytes at the time. This one was a true Sanguinary Guard. Seth had confirmed his identity with his own Librarian. He was an ancient and great Sanguinary Guard who had happened to be stationed with Horus. The fact that he had managed to escape that rebellion was incredible.
If such an Ancient were to return to Baal, every member of the Sanguinary bloodline would have to pay their respects. He would become the soul of the Chapter, just like Bjorn of the Space Wolves.
"My sins are not yet cleansed! I have a more important mission!"
THUD!
Without giving Seth a chance to argue, Aslot grabbed a large crate and slammed it down in front of him.
"?"
"This is the potion that Lord prepared earlier. He made a hundred thousand doses in total. If it's not enough, I'll have him prepare a few more. We captured quite a few profane things last time; we should be able to squeeze out a few tens of thousands more doses."
These were all made by Zhou Ye. After he first concocted it, he didn't know how effective it would be. After all, the Lamenters were fine; they had neither the Black Rage nor the Red Thirst, so Zhou Ye couldn't confirm its effects through experimentation. So, he just used the Universal Printer to make a hundred thousand doses, even blowing up a Plaguebearer in the process. He figured it was always better to be overprepared.
"..." Seeing the crate, Seth's mouth twitched.
"And you, sons of Guilliman and sons of Dorn, their situations are much the same."
Seeing the Ultramarines and Black Templars, who looked like they were about to speak, Aslot quickly added. It was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over them, and they instantly quieted down. However...
"Ancient, could you please help me contact the Pri..." Giovanni, the Black Templar Marshal, stood up, forcing himself to speak. He dared not disrespect this ten-thousand-year-old Dreadnought. But there was a more important matter, a wound shared by all of the Imperial Fists' lineage.
Their genetic flaw. They were missing two organs. One of them didn't matter so much, but the Sus-an Membrane was the critical one. Its absence often led to many unnecessary casualties among the Imperial Fists and their successors. So when he saw those ten-thousand-year-old Imperial Fists, it wasn't just for glory; there was an equally important reason.
Those two organs had been removed from the surgical procedure by Rogal Dorn's order to speed up recruitment. Given the intensity of the Horus Heresy, there was no time for suspended animation. Rather than being captured or becoming a burden, it was better to just die. Rogal Dorn's order had been perfectly logical at the time, but who could have known it would screw over the Imperial Fists ten thousand years later?
Although they officially claimed it was the Primarch's sacred command, they weren't idiots. Even the Ultramarines found ways around the Codex Astartes; they were no different. Their stubbornness was just a front for their helplessness; their bodies were very honest. So naturally, they hoped to restore the Sus-an Membrane. And now, finally, they had a chance.
"I'll handle this. That Lord has already anticipated this situation. So, this is what he wanted me to give you. Thirty Imperial Fists gene-seeds in total."
The Lamenters' Apothecary, who was standing next to Mario, came forward carrying a large container filled with gene-seeds. This stuff wasn't of much value to him. More importantly, he still hoped the Imperium could hold off Chaos for longer, allowing him to continue developing in secret. He knew he would be discovered sooner or later, but the later, the better. So, Zhou Ye didn't mind strengthening the Imperium's forces a bit. He generously whipped up a hundred and threw them in front of the group.
Of course, these were also spiked. Not with Imaginary energy, but with some strange little seasonings. It was like Rogal Dorn carrying the Emperor on his back, holding a shovel and a bucket filled with Sanguinius-sauce. Then Malcador the Sigillite turning to dust before his eyes, and finally, that man arriving on Terra to kick down the door and settle the score with Horus.
It would surely be very interesting. Of course, Zhou Ye wasn't doing it on purpose. He just tended to have some idle thoughts while he was creating things. He knew about this little habit of his, but he couldn't resist adding a little something extra.
---o---