Herald of the Stars - A Warhammer 40k, Rogue Trader Fanfiction

“Odhran, this will require some context,” I say. “What do you know of the different methods towards transhumanism?”

“Gene Mods and machine augments.”

I grin, “Correct, but it is so much more than that. There are four paths. They are, in order: biokinesis, genetic manipulation, bionics, and cybernetics. Each also includes a subcategory for arcanotech. Rather than bore you with definitions, I’ll give examples instead.”

Odhran snorts, “How generous.”

“Biokinesis would be me drawing on the Warp to alter your flesh directly to, say, give you retracting claws, or constantly feed you power to reinforce your body, much like field bracing, making you stronger, faster, and tougher. Through sorcery, the arcanotech aspect for biokinesis, I could give those claws the equivalent of a power field, or make those body enhancements permanent.”

“I am familiar with these. Go on.”

“Good. Examples of genetic manipulation include some of your custom organs, like the multi-lung. Arcano-tech would be your geneseed or the omophagea. How else would one gain memories by eating brains without drawing on the warp? It’s also why using the omophagea too much can lead to corruption, such as the one suffered by the Blood Angels. Regardless of it being arcanotech or not, all your organs are grown from geneseed.”

Odhran gives me a curt nod, “I will keep usage limits in mind.”

“Bionics cross the boundary between man and machine. A bionic, Human heart would have the form and function of an organic one, including self-repair functions. An intricate series of delicate machines that mimic life.

“A cybernetic heart would be a pump. Similar in form, and identical in function, to the one that runs coolant through your power armour.”

“I can hear your disdain for the second, Aldrich.”

“Cybernetics have their place. Like your new mechadendrites: running around with fleshy tendrils and extra arms will get one shot in the face.”

Odhran chuckles, “I see your point.”

“As for arcanotech equivalents, these would be bionic and cybernetic implants that channel the Warp to perform beyond what the natural world permits, or offer protections against it, like sacred blood or electoo wards.

“Definitions can get a little tricky as there is a lot of crossover. Implants like your black carapace involve implanted organic nerves, machine ports, and microcontrollers that convert one signal to the other. That’s three out of four categories in one implant. I’d probably call it a bionic, but it has organic parts that grow, and machine parts that do not self-repair.”

“I may have become a Tech-Marine, but I am not Tech-Priest. I will let you worry about the definitions of things.”

“Fair enough. A final point, then, that will interest you. As a child of the Emperor, you naturally enhance yourself as you age. It is why older Space Marines tend to be stronger, though the effect is minor. It’s also why Space Marines are far faster and stronger than their bodies, even with all their enhancements, should allow.

“This is why children with tough lives are chosen as aspirants and why harsh, but not cruel, training before implantation is necessary. It ensures the aspirants have a stronger soul, and thus are better able to handle the burden on the soul inflicted by arcanotech implants. For this reason, I’m a little sceptical about using vitae wombs to grow Space Marine compatible bodies. I’m not saying it’s impossible, we might be able to fake conditions with simulated noosphere environments and chemicals, but it’s not just tradition that dictates why Spacemarines recruit from Feral Worlds and Underhives.”

“I had no idea there were such mechanisms in place,” says Odhran. “For someone who said they don’t know how to make a Space Marine, you sure know a lot about us.” Odhran shakes his head, “Never mind that, what does this have to do with your transition?”

“Well, for my advancement, I have chosen to undergo a full bionic conversion and I’ve almost completed it. Within the next year or so, hopefully, the only part of me that will remain organic is my brain. This has been playing havoc with my perception of the world and my place within it.”

“You have doubts? Discomfort? Are you in pain?”

I shake my head and put my hands in my pockets. “I have no doubts about the ‘why’ of my transition, nor is it physically painful. The galaxy is harsh. I have a family and fleet to guide and protect.”

Odhran nods along, a small smile tugging at his lips, “My motivations are similar: my oaths and my brothers. I would have liked a painward as my first surgery though. As a child, the surgeries were terrifying. Unfortunately, dulling the nerves hinders the implantation process. Even now, I do not like to visit the Apothecary. I have never really understood the brothers that endure such things and decide they want to know more. It is good to learn that my trials actually assisted in my transition’s success.

Odhran paces up and down for a few moments, his hand clasped behind his back, “Perhaps a touch of pride also drives me,” he frowns, and stops pacing. “I like being at the pinnacle of physical superiority. Competence and strength are the armour of the mind. It is just as necessary as power armour when the bombs are falling. Ego, too, is the root of one’s sense of self; it crushes the sinister whispers from within, or external influences beyond one’s heart. Doubt, decision paralysis, even the Ruinous Powers, all fall before the might of one’s ego. You are taking the right path by forging your determination with worthy goals, as well as your body.”

“Odhran, thank you.”

Odhran gives me a single, curt nod, “Tech-Priests always seem so keen to hack bits off each other, it is strange to talk to one who takes such a measured approach.”

“I tend to preach that abandoning one’s humanity to protect it is a fool’s errand, for to do so is to lose the reason to transition in the first place. This is where I am struggling right now, despite it being my own philosophy. The archeotech cache that I am using to fuel my change is potent,” I rub my chin. “Perhaps a demonstration is required.”

“Go ahead.”

I glance about. The training room only has soft mats. I sigh, “A spar?”

“Acceptable. It has been some time since our last. You might want to remove your greatcoat. Those buttons could get ripped off otherwise.”

I smirk.

“So that’s how it’s going to be, is it, Magos?” Odhran gives me a practised look, one that implies I’m an idiot.

I adopt a back fighting stance with my left foot and hand forward, and my right hand held near my waist.

The moment I am in position, Odhran bursts into motion, his arms wide as he goes for a tackle.

I push down hard on the mat. With a screech, the plasteel floor beneath gives way slightly and I appear before Odhran. Before he can blink, I grab his chest and belt and toss him into the air. I overdo it slightly and he barely gets his arms above his head before he slams into the ceiling with a heavy thud, eight metres above my head.

Odhran gives me a dirty look as he falls. I jump up and catch him in my arms. Odhran takes the chance to punch me in the face, knocking my chin to the side by a couple of centimetres. I land and throw him again, much lighter this time, and Odhran lands on his feet. He glares at me, rubbing his knuckles, then starts to laugh. It turns into a big belly chuckle that continues for a solid twenty seconds.

“That was absurd!” Odhran grins, “How far can you toss me?”

“I don’t know. The limits are your clothes and flesh. Even in your power armour, I could rip you apart with my bare hands, no power field required.”

Odhran sighs, “We will have to skip the testing, then. You are powerful. What is the problem?”

“It’s not a question of control, as I thought at first. I always know exactly how much strength I am applying to something and my implants won’t even let me hurt or damage people or objects unless I make a deliberate choice to do so. Even a momentary flash of anger is not enough.

“Neither do people see me as different to what I was before, at least for now. I even still feel like I am Human. What I don’t feel like is myself, as if my body is not my own. It seems like a silly thing to complain about, as if I am whining about the consequences of having the power I have pursued. My mind and body is disconnected, and no matter how foolish the complaint, it is a serious issue that I must address lest it grow to something worse. Can you help me with this?”

“I can.”

I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Odhran says, “This is a common issue with recruits after their first implants. They grow rapidly, have poor coordination, and more energy than they know what to do with. At the same time, their rapid growth makes them prone to injury and they struggle with their emotions.”

I snort, “Sounds like puberty.”

“Lucky you, Aldrich. You get to go through it twice.”

I groan and Odhran laughs.

“The Omnissiah throws us cruel trials,” I say. “What must I do?”

“Do you need to exercise to integrate and test your implants like aspirants do?”

“It isn’t mandatory. They are supposed to automatically and rapidly adjust to my needs.”

“Then you need tests of skill. Anything from juggling eggs to towing Thunderhawks around a hangar. Gymnastics, parkour, squad tactical exercises, these and many others are the things you need to be doing. It isn’t about how good you are at it, or how much it tires you, but how familiar you are with yourself performing those actions. When one task becomes second nature, practise something new. Challenge yourself at every opportunity for at least six hours a day until every task you are likely to come across feels natural once again.”

“Thank you, I will do so.”

“If you run out of ideas, come to me and I will help you practise dodging bolter rounds. I doubt they’ll do more than give you a nasty sting.”

I laugh, “Depends what they’re loaded with, there’s always a weakness somewhere. You're not wrong about your evaluation though.”

“I’ll arrange some custom scenarios, and once you are feeling more comfortable, you can play the part of a high priority target. Maybe we could pit you against all the Heralds and my team?”

“We have done something similar before when I was demonstrating the importance of hull patrols. I won. I think my crews would like a chance for a rematch.”

“Perfect. Now, Aldrich, I am happy to help you with your transition, but if possible, I would like something in return.”

“Go ahead.”

“A Space Marine’s duty is death. Others might joke about it, or not understand, but we take our deaths seriously. There is no retirement for Space Marines. It isn’t about throwing ourselves carelessly at the enemy, but to ensure that when we do go, it’s because there is no other option and to make our ends so costly for our enemies that they must consider if it’s really worth the effort.

“While many of my brothers would disagree with me on this, every battle we don’t have to fight, or ones where we can intimidate our ways to victory is better. There’s no point draining our chapter of resources just for a good scrap.”

“I can see why you’d want to avoid the comparison with Orks. Where are you going with this?”

“Oh? Is only the mighty Magos allowed to endlessly chant the wonders of his knowledge in the name of context?”

I clear my throat, “Please. Do continue.”

“What I want from you is better war gear, access to more implants, and whatever else you can provide that will make killing me as costly as possible.”

“We will need to discuss the specifics, but yes, I will help you.”

“I didn’t think you would refuse, but it is good to have confirmation. I would also like to reserve the Space Marine wargear and vehicles that you have in store for my chapter, rather than just a part of it as you originally intended. In return, I will ensure my brothers won’t just try to take it, though how successful they might be in such an endeavour is debatable. I can’t keep what you have a secret from my chapter master, but I can make him pay for it.”

“I understand your dilemma. The Stellar Fleet will reserve Space Marine wargear for your fleet. Is there a specific reason why you asked for this?”

“Yes, we are finally close enough that I was able to contact my chapter. I have given them a time and location to rendezvous with us. I have not transmitted the details of your fleet, only that I and my brothers have been rescued. I did tell him that his physical presence would be required.

“While Killian, Darrah, Nuada, Eoghan and I intend to continue our service with you, we need to explain why to the chapter master so that we aren’t seen as renegades. He has not confirmed that he will be present as that would mean others might discover my chapter’s fleet will be at a specific location in ten years time, I have faith that he will come because of the unusual circumstances.”

“You’re telling me that your main battle barge will be there to greet us at Archeron.”

“I am.”

“I know I’ve given you some privileges, Odhran, and that you are anxious to reunite with your chapter after so many years, but this was poorly done. Your authority within the Stellar Fleet is for emergencies, out of respect for you saving my life and your extensive experience as a Space Marine veteran. I told you this when I gave them to you.

“The factions of the Imperium are not always friendly with each other and they will likely be on full alert after such an odd message, even if you did give them a bunch of identification codes. I will be even more annoyed if you did not. While I appreciate you setting up trades for me, through your choice, you have placed my Fleet and family at risk without permission, or even discussion. If we are to continue our partnership, we are going to have to work on understanding each other’s boundaries and I have some communication protocols to update. I will be removing your right to roam within the vessel for you and your brothers until we meet up with your fleet.”

“Yes, Magos.”

“I like you Odhran, and I believe we are friends, but you really fucked up here and should know better. You know perfectly well what the difference between showing initiative and insubordination is; some of the Herald’s doctrine is based on what you’ve taught on the matter.” I sigh, “We’ve had a similar discussion before about disrupting my authority, when you messed with the Eldar delegation. It clearly has not stuck. Let me be absolutely clear: do not go behind my back again.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t make me shoot you, Odhran. I won’t miss you, but I will regret it.”

Odhran stares at my face for a few seconds, his own expression unmoving. He cracks a small smile and nods, “Understood.”