V3 Chapter 63: The Mantis Warriors' Gene-Seed Anomaly
In orbit above Castellan-Badab, the Soul of Torment drifted quietly beyond the fortress world's outer reaches.
This strike cruiser of the Mantis Warriors' Second Company did not move any closer to the orbital fortress, holding instead at a distance both safe and courteous enough.
Second Company Captain Metrus stood at the centre of the bridge, his expression complicated as he looked over the reply that had just come in.
It was a message from the Macragge's Honour.
The Imperial Primarch, Lord of Ultramar, Roboute Guilliman, was already aware the Mantis Warriors' advance fleet had arrived at Castellan-Badab. He would not come in person immediately, but would instead send a representative to meet with them first.
A mortal representative.
Metrus closed his eyes.
Countless thoughts rose up within him.
Known within the Chapter by many as the "Oracle Captain," he was the one the Mantis Warriors most often turned to as counsel and judge. Chapter Master Yarvan Sartaq had sent him here to meet this legendary gene-father precisely because he was cautious enough, and calm enough.
But now, that calm was being put to the test.
They were afraid.
It was not a flattering thing to admit, but the feeling was real all the same.
The Mantis Warriors feared having the anomaly within their Chapter's gene-seed reopened for Mechanicus scrutiny. They feared Terra taking some manageable discord and inflating it into a formal charge. They feared that those far removed from the Maelstrom would reduce centuries of watching and sacrifice down to a single line in some tribunal record: "suspected contamination."
He thought of Lufgt Huron too.
That Chapter Master of the Astral Claws had spoken before of the Maelstrom's future, and of what standing the Astartes ought to hold along the Imperium's borders. Huron's ambition had never been fully hidden, and yet much of what he said genuinely struck at the resentment buried in the Wardens' hearts.
Every variable would help decide the Mantis Warriors' future.
But now, the Imperial Primarch had not even come to receive them in person.
He had only sent a mortal.
Did this already reveal Guilliman's attitude?
Had their future already been decided?
"Captain."
A Chapter serf's voice pulled Metrus back from his thoughts.
"New arrival signal received. A Lamenters mobile fortress-monastery, the Weeping Mother, is entering the system."
Metrus opened his eyes.
"The Lamenters?"
"Yes, Captain."
Metrus had not expected that Guilliman's representative would arrive aboard a vessel of the Lamenters Chapter.
Soon, a new message reached the Soul of Torment.
Its content was brief.
The Imperial Primarch's representative, Imperial Marshal-Commissar Duvette Erdmann, would meet with the Mantis Warriors' advance party. Once the Weeping Mother entered orbit, the Mantis Warriors were requested to send personnel aboard.
At the end of the message was one further line.
You may come to meet me armed.
Metrus stared at that line, his expression growing more complicated still.
After a moment, he turned and gave the order.
"Notify the Second Company veteran squad. Prepare a Thunderhawk gunship. I will go to the Weeping Mother personally."
"Shall we go armed, Captain?"
Metrus was silent for a moment.
"Armed."
The Weeping Mother eased slowly into orbit above Castellan-Badab.
This Lamenters Chapter vessel still bore the marks of the fighting it had just come through, several unrepaired wounds still visible along its hull, yet it retained every bit of the dignity a Chapter flagship was owed.
Metrus boarded a Thunderhawk gunship and left the Soul of Torment, flying toward the Weeping Mother.
He brought several Second Company veterans with him.
None of the warriors spoke.
Once the Thunderhawk entered the hangar, several Lamenters were already waiting there. They saluted the Mantis Warriors, then led Metrus's party deeper into the ship.
Along the way, Metrus noticed that many of the Lamenters still bore fresh marks from recent combat.
They had only just pulled free of a rescue battle, and had already been drawn by Guilliman into a new political storm.
Eventually, Metrus was brought before a meeting chamber.
When the door opened, he saw the mortal representative.
Duvette Erdmann stood at the centre of the room in a neatly kept Commissar's uniform, a power sword hung at his belt, his expression calm. Behind him stood two Astartes who towered a full head above Metrus himself.
They wore white power armour.
The heraldry on their shoulder plates brought Metrus to an abrupt halt.
In that instant, a name repeatedly warned against in the Chapter's own history flooded into his mind.
"The Shadow Wolves of Luna?"
The name left him almost before he realised it.
The veterans behind Metrus raised their weapons at once. The Mantis Warriors' muzzles trained on the two white-armoured warriors, and the entire room's atmosphere snapped taut in an instant.
Markus did not move.
The other Shadow Wolf simply watched them, calm.
Duvette let out a short laugh.
"Lower your weapons, Captain. Lord Guilliman is already aware of their existence."
Metrus's gaze turned to Duvette.
Duvette continued. "Bringing them with me this time is also meant to convey something to you."
"If Lord Guilliman can find room for them, he is hardly going to condemn your entire Chapter over a manageable gene-seed anomaly."
The room fell quiet.
This mortal before them spoke far too naturally.
So naturally, it was as though what he had just mentioned wasn't the secret the Mantis Warriors most guarded from outsiders, but a minor issue in some ordinary military report.
Duvette gestured for them to be seated.
"Imperial Marshal-Commissar, Duvette Erdmann." He introduced himself again. "Acting under the order of the Imperial Primarch, Lord Roboute Guilliman, here in advance to meet with the Mantis Warriors' representative."
Metrus was silent for a moment, then finally sat down across from Duvette.
His veterans remained standing behind him, their weapons not fully lowered.
Duvette paid it no mind, and settled slowly into his own seat.
"Since I invited you to come armed, this conversation isn't going to be a tribunal," Duvette said. "I've simply come ahead of time to gauge your attitude, on the Imperial Primarch's behalf."
Metrus said nothing.
Duvette looked at him, and sighed inwardly.
This temperament was nothing at all like a successor Chapter of the White Scars line.
He remembered how satisfying his conversation with the Scimitar Brotherhood's Khan had once been. These Mantis Warriors before him, by contrast, were like shadows out of the Endymion cluster: silent, cautious, and carrying far too much wariness.
Duvette drew his thoughts back.
"I know what you're afraid of."
Metrus's gaze sharpened further.
Duvette continued. "I know your Chapter carries a particular condition, born from a neurotoxin variant within a pre-installed gland implant."
"Perhaps you've never disclosed its full nature to the outside world. Perhaps you're still mapping its boundaries yourselves. But it exists, all the same."
He raised a finger and tapped it lightly against the table.
"I'd guess you call it something like battle-trance, or bullet time."
"That state pushes a warrior's focus to an extreme degree, compressing spatial awareness and reaction time down to something almost unnatural. It can even carry the illusion of having glimpsed the future beforehand."
"But the cost is that you can almost never fully step away from that state again."
Metrus finally spoke.
"How do you know this?" His voice was low. "We have never told this to anyone outside."
Duvette looked at him.
"Don't forget, when your Chapter was first sanctioned for founding, that first batch of gene-seed left a record in the Mechanicus's vaults. Which bloodline it came from, which lineage of inheritance it passed through, the archive could never vanish entirely."
Metrus's expression did not change.
But Duvette knew that alone was enough to keep him listening.
"Of course, none of that actually matters, Captain Metrus." Duvette spoke his name aloud. "This isn't some irreversible catastrophe, not to me, not to Lord Guilliman, not even to the Imperium."
Metrus looked at him.
Duvette's voice slowed somewhat.
"The Primarch may well care about your gene-seed record, may demand an inspection, may demand the truth. But what he is truly weighing is whether you remain loyal to the Imperium."
A rare trace of anger crept into Metrus's voice.
"Are you questioning our loyalty?"
"I certainly don't question your loyalty today," Duvette said, looking at him calmly. "But you stand too close to the Astral Claws, and Huron has already gone too far."
Metrus was about to speak, but Duvette raised a hand, signalling he needn't rush to explain himself.
"No need to explain yourself to me, Captain."
Duvette said, "I'm not here demanding you declare a position now. Lord Guilliman will arrive shortly, and you'll still have the chance to explain yourselves to the Primarch directly."
"As I said, I've come ahead simply to see where you stand."
Metrus fell silent.
Duvette continued. "You're afraid of a Mechanicus reckoning. Afraid Terra will turn gene-seed discord into a formal charge. Afraid centuries of the Wardens' fighting will be wiped away with a single line."
"That's understandable."
"But you should also think clearly about whether Huron can truly decide the fate of every Warden of the Maelstrom."
Something shifted in Metrus's gaze.
Duvette gave a short laugh.
"Don't worry. At least as far as I can tell right now, the Mantis Warriors are neither traitors, nor heretics."
The atmosphere in the room finally eased a little.
Duvette rose to his feet.
"Get some rest, Captain Metrus. The Primarch will be here soon."
Metrus remained seated, watching the mortal before him.
Only as the conversation drew to a close did he realise that he had been led along by every word the man had said, from beginning to end.
Duvette had not pressed him with force.
He had simply produced the Shadow Wolves of Luna, spoken the Mantis Warriors' secret aloud, and laid the question of Huron out on the table. Not one sentence had amounted to a tribunal, and yet Metrus found himself forced to reconsider everything.
He thought of the words Huron had once spoken.
Mortals were incompetent.
Mortals could only survive under the Astartes's protection.
The Astartes were the true masters of the Imperium.
But now, watching the smile on Duvette's face, for the first time, doubt stirred in his heart over those very words.
This mortal seemed able to see exactly what he was thinking.
"Is there anything else, Captain Metrus?"
Metrus was silent for a moment, then rose to his feet.
"No. Nothing."
He gave Duvette a nod.
"I will await Lord Guilliman's arrival."
Duvette nodded back.
"Good."
Metrus left the room with his veterans.
Once the door closed again, Markus looked down at Duvette.
"He's wavering."
Duvette looked at the closed door.
"Wavering is enough."
He paused for a moment.
"The rest, I leave to Guilliman."