CHAPTER 148 — Audience with a Primarch
Time had passed.
The Oath of Rectitude had completed its journey. Terra lay behind them now, vast and unchanging, the heart of the Imperium as it had been for ten thousand years.
Gaius stood at the foot of the Imperial Palace.
Even after all he had seen, the sight still carried weight.
The palace was not just a building. It was a city layered upon itself, rising higher and wider than most worlds could imagine. Stone, metal, and ancient construction stretched into the sky, each wall built upon the remains of older walls. Statues watched from every angle, heroes, saints, warriors, and symbols whose names had been lost to time. Banners hung unmoving in the still air, marked with the Aquila and sigils of authority that had endured through endless war.
This was Terra.
And this was where his gene-father waited.
Gaius was not alone.
At his side stood Titus, armor maintained to regulation standard, posture formal and disciplined. Behind him, three Bladeguard Veterans stood silent and composed, shields held in the traditional stance.
They were there as guards for Gaius, not to intimidate, not to put on a display. Their presence was purely a matter of formality.
Waiting for them was a Custodian.
Aurelius Kaelion Thryx.
The Custodian stood like a statue come to life, armor gleaming gold beneath the palace light. His spear rested lightly in his hand, not raised, not lowered. His helm turned slightly as Gaius approached.
"Captain Gaius," Thryx said, voice deep and even. "You are expected."
Gaius nodded once in acknowledgment of the familiar Custodian.
Thryx turned without another word and began walking. Gaius and his guard followed.
No gates barred them.
No checkpoints delayed them.
Doors opened before they reached them, ancient mechanisms responding to authority older than memory. Servitors and palace officials stepped aside without needing to be told. The path was clear, straight, and deliberate.
Guilliman knew he was here.
They passed through halls large enough to hold armies, floors polished smooth by centuries of movement. The air felt heavy, not with threat, but with history. Every step echoed softly, carried by stone that had heard far louder sounds than boots on marble.
At last, they reached the inner heart of the palace.
Guilliman was already there.
The Primarch stood tall, broad shoulders framed by blue and gold armor, his presence filling the space without effort. Around him stood dozens of Victrix Guard, their spears grounded, their attention sharp but calm. They did not move as Gaius approached, but they watched everything.
Gaius stopped several steps away.
He reached up and removed his helm.
"Gene Father," he said.
Behind him, Titus and the three Bladeguard moved as one. They knelt and spoke together, voices firm and respectful.
"Gene Father."
Guilliman smiled.
It was not a grand gesture. Just a small, genuine expression.
"Get up, my sons," he said.
Titus and the Bladeguard rose immediately, returning to their places.
Guilliman stepped forward slightly, his gaze resting on Gaius.
"You return quickly," he said. "I did not expect to see you again so soon."
There was no accusation in his voice. Just curiosity.
Gaius met his gaze without hesitation.
"I encountered something," he said, "that would greatly benefit the Imperium."
The shift was instant.
Guilliman's smile faded. His posture straightened, attention sharpening. He knew Gaius well enough to understand what those words meant. Gaius did not exaggerate. He did not dramatize. If he said something mattered, then it mattered.
"Then this is not a conversation for open halls," Guilliman said.
He turned and gestured.
"Come. We will speak privately."
They moved together toward the Strategium.
The Victrix Guard did not follow, and neither did Titus or the three Bladeguard Veterans. They remained where they were, silent and watchful. Behind Guilliman and Gaius, the doors to the Strategium closed, sealing the room in quiet.
The room was wide but controlled. Tactical displays rested dormant along the walls. A large table dominated the center, marked by maps and faint projections that faded as they entered.
They sat.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Gaius broke the silence.
"My… friend," he said carefully, "from another world, gave me his inventions."
Guilliman raised an eyebrow.
"A friend," he repeated, a hint of amusement touching his tone. "It seems your character has softened."
Gaius paused.
He coughed once, awkwardly, and shifted slightly in his seat. He did not respond to the remark. Instead, he raised his hand.
The Multiversal Chat parcel system activated.
Light shimmered briefly, and a sealed set of documents appeared. Gaius placed them on the table and slid them across to Guilliman.
Guilliman took them.
Then he read.
His eyes moved faster than any mortal's could follow. Page after page passed in seconds, data flowing into his mind, patterns forming, implications unfolding. His expression changed as he read, first focus, then surprise, then something deeper.
He stopped.
Slowly, he looked up.
"This invention," Guilliman said carefully, "who is this friend of yours? Is he even human?"
"Yes," Gaius replied. "He is human. A very smart human."
Guilliman studied him for a moment longer, then nodded.
"I see."
He rose from his seat.
"Custodian," he called.
The door opened almost instantly, and a Custodian stepped inside.
"Contact an Astropath," Guilliman ordered. "Send word to Belisarius Cawl. Inform him that a technology of immense value has arrived. One that will greatly benefit the Imperium."
The Custodian's expression hardened further. He bowed and left at once, moving with purpose.
Guilliman turned back to Gaius.
"We will not show this to the Mechanicus yet," he said. "First, we build it. We test it."
Gaius nodded.
They did not waste time.
What followed was swift and quiet. Guilliman gathered trusted engineers and specialists, people chosen not for rank, but for competence and discretion. Materials were requested under sealed authority. Orders moved through the palace like a current, unseen but unstoppable.
Within a single day, raw materials arrived.
Within that same day, most of them were shaped into components.
The machine itself took form inside a secured section of the palace. It was large and heavy, built with purpose rather than elegance. Two distinct chambers formed its body, connected by thick conduits and surrounded by powerful cogitators capable of holding and processing immense data.
Guilliman did not delegate oversight.
He was present. He watched every step. He asked questions. He assisted when needed.
After three days, it was complete.
The builders were dismissed. Every one of them. The room fell silent.
Guilliman stood before the machine, holding a blueprint.
"A standard lasgun," he said, feeding the data into the cogitator.
Materials were placed into the rear chamber.
He looked at Gaius.
"Do the honors."
Gaius stepped forward and powered the machine.
The fusion reactor hummed to life. Cogitators clicked and whirred. Light filled the chambers, steady and controlled. There was no chanting. No ritual. Just process.
Minutes passed.
Then silence.
Gaius opened the front chamber.
Inside lay five lasguns.
Perfect.
Guilliman picked one up. He examined it closely, turning it in his hands, feeling its weight, its balance. He did not need tools to know what he was holding.
"This is flawless," he said quietly.
Gaius felt something lift inside his chest. He did not smile, but the feeling was there. This would help humanity. Truly help it.
A knock sounded.
"Enter," Guilliman said.
A Custodian stepped in. "Belisarius Cawl has arrived."
Guilliman nodded. "Come, Gaius."
They stepped out to meet him.
Belisarius Cawl was impossible to miss.
He was vast, a towering mix of flesh and machine, moving on multiple mechanical limbs. Crimson robes hung from his frame, threaded with cables and metal. Insect-like lenses glowed as they focused, adjusting constantly. He carried an Omnissian axe, held more as symbol than weapon.
He bowed slightly.
"Lord Guilliman."
His gaze shifted to Gaius.
"It seems you have grown," he said.
Gaius did not respond.
Guilliman spoke instead.
"We have brought you here," he said, "because a technology has arrived that will benefit the Imperium greatly."
Cawl paused.
Internally, systems recalculated. This was not expected.
"Oh?" he said.
Guilliman did not answer immediately. Outwardly calm, he measured every risk inwardly.
Cawl was useful. Dangerous. Careful.
"You will see it," Guilliman said at last. "But not yet."
The pause was deliberate.
Cawl's lenses adjusted, light levels recalibrating as his internal cogitators spun up. Not shock, assessment.
Interesting, he thought. If Guilliman delays, the danger is political, not technical.
"Not yet?" Cawl said mildly. "You summon me urgently, yet ask restraint. That suggests either unprecedented caution… or a technology that cannot be unseen."
Guilliman stepped slightly, placing himself between Cawl and the sealed doors behind him.
Containment, Cawl realized. Not secrecy. Only time.
"This technology," Guilliman continued, "did not originate on Mars. It is not an STC. It did not pass through the Mechanicus. It is human, created without their doctrine."
Cawl processed that slowly. Pure human innovation. Half of Mars would rage, the other half would worship it.
"You will not claim it," Guilliman said. "You will not sanctify or distribute it. Not until I decide."
Cawl considered his options. Compliance meant access. Resistance meant exclusion.
"Reasonable," he said finally.
A Custodian placed a lasgun on the table. Guilliman handed it to Cawl.
"This was made in minutes," Guilliman said. "Matter arranged directly."
Cawl took the weapon, scanned it, ran layered auspex sweeps, then deeper molecular analysis.
Silence stretched.
Impossible, one part of his mind said. Elegant, said another. Dangerous beyond measure, concluded the part that had survived millennia.
"No internal stress fractures," Cawl said quietly. "Perfect molecular alignment. Not superior manufacture, it is intentional matter placement."
He looked up. "Consistent?"
"If it isn't," he thought, "then this is merely impressive. If it is…"
"With anything," Guilliman replied, "given sufficient material and power."
That settled it. Forge worlds became optional. Supply chains obsolete. Labor irrelevant. Ritual meaningless. Not tomorrow, but eventually.
"This does not replace the Mechanicus," Cawl said slowly. "It bypasses us."
Guilliman did not deny it.
"Who made it?" Cawl asked.
Guilliman paused. "A human beyond stagnation. One who remembers what knowledge was meant to do."
Cawl accepted that.
"I will need time," he said. "Not to dismantle it, but to understand how it destabilizes every power structure we rely upon."
Guilliman nodded once. "You will observe it here. Under my authority, with Custodian oversight. No data leaves this palace."
Cawl inclined his head. Compliance ensures survival. And survival ensures opportunity.
"Reasonable," he said aloud. "Restrictive. But survivable, for now."
Guilliman turned to Gaius. "You have brought hope."
Behind them, Cawl spoke quietly. "The Mechanicus will not like this."
Guilliman did not turn. "No," he said. "But humanity might."
~~~
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