Omegon played the recording again, his fingers adjusting the dials of the receiver to get the best possible signal. The report was still quiet and fragmentary, and only his experience and superhuman hearing allowed him to pick out words and phrases from amongst the white noise that was blanketing every frequency.
‘…widescale degradation throughout the latest batch… degenerate, bestial… more recent recruits are worst affected… Corax has ordered… nearly a thousand of the poor… suspects mutation due to some mistake in the gene replication for large scale implantation. Apothecary Sixx housing the… howls and roars like caged animals. Security has been tightened around the gene-tech, but access still possible. There seems… overall mission integrity intact. Awaiting…’
THE SACRIFICE OF Eloqi’s guild had been worthwhile, after all. In the grand scheme, their survival or success was irrelevant. The guild insurrection, and the Order of the Dragon who had instigated it, were simply the means to pry open Ravendelve.
The Betawould be moving into position, while the Order of the Dragon was ready to strike their final blow. It was time that his operatives knew their full part in the endgame. He shut down the receiver and packed it away, going over the final parts of the plan in his mind.
Tomorrow, twenty-nine Terran hours from now, the Alpha Legion would make their move.
THE PAIN HAD subsided for the last few hours, leaving Navar with a deep ache in his flesh and bones. He sat in the corner of the cell, not able to look at Marls, Kharvo, Dortaran, Benna and the other twenty Raptors who shared the room. They were amongst the fortunate ones, apparently, though Navar did not feel fortunate as he looked down at the jet-black talons jutting from his fingers.
He had seen a few of the worst-affected, as Sixx and his attendants had hurried them into the quarantine area that had been quickly established in the depths of Ravendelve. It was only temporary, the Apothecary had said, reversible if they could isolate the mutated strands in the gene-seed. Navar knew he had not experienced much of life, but he recognised a comforting lie when he heard one, even if Sixx had been lying to himself as much as the Raptors.
He could hear the muffled yells and screams of the most degenerate and could not push away the visions he had seen. Some of them had been bent almost double by elongated spines, others had been twisted by insane muscle growth, their limbs warped and engorged. Bony growths split their skin, fangs punctured their lips, and all had the same bloody eyes as Navar.
As a child, Navar had never suffered nightmares. Growing up in the shadow of the Ravenspire was more assurance than any mother’s words that there were no monsters that could harm him. Yet the sight of the degenerated Raptors was something from the darkest recesses of his imagination, causing a primal revulsion and fear that no amount of Legiones Astartes discipline and training could eradicate. That he was counted amongst the monstrosities only increased his unease.
His brain, his body, no longer produced the fear response of a normal human, but on that primitive level, in the core of his mind, Navar was distressed and unable to articulate his worry. It was if he could not form the thoughts, could not grasp the concepts required to voice his dread.
Navar stood up to ease the pressure on his lower back, where one of Sixx’s attendants had surgically removed a vestigial tail. The Raptor’s knees and hips ached, wound about with tight, overgrown ligaments and sinew. He started to walk, completing a circuit of the room, which was bare save for the thin training pads on the floor that had been provided as rudimentary bedding, the best the Legion could offer for the moment.
He neared the door, and heard voices. The door was not locked, not for them. Elsewhere, the most bestial sufferers had been taken to the cages that had once housed Sixx and Orlandriaz’s animal subjects. They could not be trusted to stay where they would be safe, though none had been violent towards their fellow Raven Guard.
The voices grew louder and Navar recognised the deep timbre of the primarch. He gestured to the others and they rose from their positions to crowd as close as they could get. The conversation seemed to be taking place a little further down the corridor beyond, near to the infirmary entrance.
‘…is an intrinsic problem with the gene template, I am sure of it,’ they heard Orlandriaz replying to something said by Corax. ‘There is no error in the replication process.’
‘Then why are the first five hundred Raptors unaffected?’ said Corax. ‘At some stage, we have made a mistake. The reduplication to this scale must be responsible.’
‘Unless there has been degeneration in the source material,’ replied Sixx.
‘It is kept in stasis, how could it change?’ countered Orlandriaz.
‘Incrementally,’ replied Corax. ‘It is removed from stasis for reprocessing new batches of gene-seed. Perhaps it has degraded a little during each removal, so slightly that we have not noticed it.’
‘That would suggest there is an inherent flaw,’ said Sixx. He cleared his throat before continuing, apparently uncomfortable with what he had to say. ‘The flaw is not in the Raven Guard gene-seed, it has been verified many times over since its creation.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ said Corax.
‘That there is something wrong with the primarch data,’ said Orlandriaz, as coolly as if he were discussing inclement weather.
‘Or our analysis of it,’ Sixx added quickly. ‘The traits we are seeing, the deformations, are consistent in their own way. Not entirely random.’
‘I fail to see that,’ said Orlandriaz.
‘I do not,’ said Corax. ‘We know that there are elements of non-human structures within the primarch data. Similar strands are encoded into every gene-seed. The Legiones Astartes make-up owes a small part to characteristics found in other species, introduced by the Emperor into the gene-seed. The scales, horns and other growths may be indicative of these traits being accelerated, out of step with the rest of the adaptation. Whatever was holding them in check, maintaining the balance, has deteriorated. Judging by the timing of the change, I would start by looking at those physical functions under greatest stimulation during combat. It seems that the something in their enhanced metabolism triggered this.’
‘An uncomfortable thought,’ said Sixx. ‘To think that all of us contain the potential for such transformation.’
‘Not all of us,’ said Corax.
‘Apologies, lord, I did no–’
‘I don’t mean my primarch heritage,’ Corax continued. ‘The standard Raven Guard gene-seed is stable, as you said before. We have done something to destabilise it. Isolate that cause, and perhaps we might find a means to reverse the errant genetic material.’
‘It is a possibility,’ said Orlandriaz. ‘I shall conduct more tests to compare the initial Raptors created with the most recent, to see if I can identify a consistent differential.’
‘I’ll concentrate on making them as comfortable as possible,’ said Sixx. ‘If we can’t…’
‘We will!’ said Corax. ‘They are Raven Guard and deserve our greatest effort. Keep me informed. I must return to Ravenspire to discuss the attack on Ravendelve with the command council.’
‘You fear it is the start of something more threatening, lord?’ asked Sixx.
‘We all but wiped out the insurgents, so the threat is debatable. That proscribed guild-tech weapons have surfaced cannot be ignored, though. We could do without further distraction while we resolve the issues with the gene-template.’
The noise of the conversation receded, followed by the clankof the infirmary door closing. Navar turned back to the others.
‘You heard Lord Corax?’ he said. ‘They’ll find a way to change us back.’
Some of the other Raptors smiled, a few sadly shook their heads. Navar headed back to his corner and sat down, ignoring the pain in his rump. The primarch believed that there was a way, and he had the most brilliant mind imaginable. Feeling a little happier, Navar leant back against the wall, closed his eyes and tried to sleep.