‘Pointless?’ Orlandriaz bunched his fists and his lip twitched in irritation. ‘I am sure the primarch would be even more angered if we had turned his first batch of legionaries into these…’
He waved his hand to encompass the long line of cages. Beyond the bars, mammalian and reptilian things hunkered and paced. Some were unidentifiable, little more than mewling, distorted conglomerations of flesh. Most were warped by over-sized muscles, others had bony growths splitting their scales or fur. Several had extra limbs, additional eyes, overgrown fangs or distended spines.
A green-furred mouse the size of a dog lunged against the bars of one cage, its claws sheathing and unsheathing spasmodically, tusks protruding from its lower jaw. In another enclosure, a two-headed snake, several metres long, coiled menacingly, its tail tipped with a jagged barb. From every cage, deformed monstrosities glared and snapped, regarding the legionaries and tech-priest with predatory intent.
‘Corax thinks it is a mistake to use animal subjects,’ said Agapito. ‘He does not suggest that you introduce the new gene-seed directly to the recruits, and Branne certainly won’t allow it. By the other hand, introducing primarch genetic material to non-human hosts will never be successful.’
‘Then we are caught in a bind,’ said Sixx. ‘How are we to ensure the new gene-seed works if we cannot trial it in organic hosts? Our data modelling can only prove so much.’
‘That is not my problem, it is yours.’
‘We will have to return to base cell analysis,’ said Orlandriaz, eyes fixed on a massively-shouldered lizard with horny growths protruding from its spine. ‘We can certainly eradicate more of the anomalous reactions.’
‘But nothing of cerebral impact or behavioural side-effects,’ said Sixx.
‘Aggression is not necessarily a bad thing in a legionary,’ said Orlandriaz.
‘We’ll leave the mindless ferocity to the World Eaters,’ replied the Apothecary. ‘We need disciplined, efficient warriors.’
‘What shall I tell Lord Corax?’ asked Agapito. ‘He will expect me to return with some news of progress and a firm plan for resolving any problems.’
Sixx and Orlandriaz looked at each other. The Apothecary sighed and nodded.
‘I’ll euthanise these abominations and study the cellular breakdown,’ said Sixx. ‘That should give us some new data to incorporate into the models.’
‘I will restart the base cell experiments with a modified gene-seed,’ said Orlandriaz.
‘How long?’ asked Agapito. ‘I understand that you need to get this right, and I will support you in every way I can, but the primarch is understandably impatient. Every day we spend now is a day closer to Horus being ready to launch an attack on Terra.’
‘When we are successful, time will not be an issue,’ said Orlandriaz. He pointed to the creatures in the cages towards the far end of the corridor. ‘Those are the results of our implantation since we compiled the latest report. We introduced the genetic template into infants to record the time required for full maturation of the gene-seed.’
The animals in the cages were full grown, some of them showing the mutation of the others, but a few seemed to be ordinary specimens, large for their species but otherwise normal. Agapito shook his head in confusion and amazement.
‘You only submitted your report forty hours ago,’ said the commander.
‘Thirty-seven point three hours, to be exact,’ said Orlandriaz, smiling thinly. ‘Given the longer maturation period of the average human male, I estimate the entire process, once perfected, will take between seventy and eighty Terran hours.’
Agapito shook his head again, this time with a grin.
‘That is remarkable. Eighty hours to turn a boy into a legionary? Well, in body at least.’
‘Not just physiologically, commander,’ said Sixx, now becoming more enthusiastic. ‘Our recruits will emerge from the process with mental and physical aptitudes beyond anything we’ve seen before. They’ll be quick learners too. A little bonus of the primarch material. Our new legionaries will be primed and ready from the outset.’
‘That is fascinating news,’ said Agapito. ‘To pass on to Corax, of course. Take as much time as you need to complete the gene-seed. There is no reason to proceed with anything less than a perfect sample. I look forward to hearing of your success as soon as possible. If what the primarch says about broadening out the recruitment base is true, there could be a near-limitless supply of legionaries. I’ll inform Lord Corax of your findings.’
‘Yes, commander,’ said Orlandriaz. Agapito and Sixx exchanged nods of respect before the commander strode away. Neither Apothecary nor tech-priest said anything until the door at the end of the passage closed behind Agapito.
‘I am pleased the commander seems so eager,’ said Orlandriaz. ‘His brother has been much more reticent in his approval of our project.’
‘He used to be one of the staunchest Legion traditionalists,’ Sixx said distractedly, still looking at the closed door. ‘He and Branne were hard-headed about their Deliverance heritage, hammered it into me and the rest of the recruits from the first day we were made novitiates. I suppose losing so many warriors on Isstvan has changed his mind about being so selective.’
‘I fear he may over-represent our progress to your primarch,’ said Orlandriaz. ‘We should continue our studies with a degree of alacrity.’
‘Agreed,’ said Sixx. ‘If we cannot produce something tangible soon, Lord Corax may become even more impatient. I’ve never considered him rash, but he is very determined to begin the rebuilding.’
‘Adversity often creates desperation,’ said Orlandriaz.
‘Not ever!’ snapped Sixx, rounding on the tech-priest, remembering words spoken by his primarch during the long retreat from the dropsite massacre. ‘We are Raven Guard. Deliverance was born out of determination and perseverance. Strife is our sustenance, adversity is our ally. Attack, withdraw and attack again. That is our creed, the lifeblood of the Legion. The Raven Guard do not become desperate when circumstance does not favour us. We become more dangerous.’
THE SLAP OF bare feet on black-painted ferrocrete brought back memories to Alpharius as he stood watching the recruits running circuits of the main hall. He knew the memories were not his own – they had been removed by the Alpha Legion’s Librarians – but the recollections were exceptionally vivid, coming to him as brief snatches: scenes and tableaux that lasted a few seconds each. His training had taken place in Ravenspire rather than down here on Kiavahr, but he had performed the same drills as the youths around him.
‘Ready weapons!’ barked Branne from the stage area at one end of the vaulted chamber. ‘Form up for firing practice.’
The recruits dashed to the crates at the centre of the hall and took up simple automatic rifles from within. These were training weapons duplicating the weight and bulk of a bolter to a full-fledged legionary; without gene-seed enhancement even a full-grown man could not train with a proper Legiones Astartes bolter. The snap of magazines being slipped into place joined the patter of running feet.
In groups of five, the recruits lined up in front of Branne’s position. He waved each squad forwards. Panting, red-faced young men lifted their weapons to their shoulders, took aim at the ceramite target tiles on the far wall and opened fire. The rattle of shots and tinkle of expended cases filled the room.
After firing for a few seconds, the first group peeled away and the second squad took up position. One of the recruits was struggling with the magazine on his weapon and approached Alpharius.
‘I can’t get it to eject, sergeant,’ said the boy, face screwed up with frustration. He looked up at Alpharius – the novitiate’s eyes were just about level with the bottom of the legionary’s breastplate. ‘It’s stuck solid!’