40 Thousand Reasons

Gradually, as time passed and orders became easier to obey, I began implementing my personal projects with the Blood Angels.

First replacing the broken machines and fighters with new and functional ones, even a few updated templates made by myself. Then upgrading the auspex sensors and the void shield teleport deflection trick.

And a year later, the more debatable things.

Captain Ideon had little choice but to submit to a minor repair of his barge, with the tech-priests being escorted like criminals from one ship system to another. Not that they would know what and why the tech-priests chanted and bowed and sprinkled oil or incense on some gun battery or targeting cogitator.

"It won't be so bad, Astartes. The cogheads know their machines, and Bellus is in a rather poor shape. Plus, I know very well that teleporting strike teams will be useful, once the device is repaired." I explained and patted his shoulder.

"Not only this, but you're kidnapping 90 Brothers from the Company! And implanting their heads with the Emperor-knows-what contraptions!" he complained in a seething rage.

"Every one of you will be implanted, Astartes! Even yourself, since your minds are so weak that any cultist can manipulate you like puppets. Plus, the implants do help control the Rage and the Thirst, just as the phase-iron dermal hoods will help defend against Warp sorcery." I yelled at him and took out my Rosette.

The blazing light of the sacred cog made him draw back and mutter a prayer. "Stop that! My head will explode!" he growled as his eyes turned red and started weeping bloody tears.

"This artifact is the Mark of the Throne, Astartes. Who sits on that Throne?" I asked in a gentler voice and returned the damn memetic device to its null box.

"The Emperor!" he declared in firm conviction.

"And he is the most powerful psyker to have ever lived. More so now, empowered by the faith of a quintillion humans in the Imperium, praying to him every single day. Even so, the Aquila has two heads. Faith and Reason. Blood and machine."

I continued and drew my glove off.

My left hand was slightly glowing, like it always did when the Emperor was mentioned.

"Every human is touched by the Emperor. Blank, or Psyker or a lowly serf. Even the Ogryns know him, and he knows them. But you are still his son, blood of his blood, diluted as it is with silly blood rituals and geneseeds corrupted. When you pray, he listens because you are the closest thing to his family. He sends his Angels in the hour of need." I whispered and covered my hand before someone else saw it glow. That wouldn't be healthy.

Slowly, his rage drew back, and he glanced at my savant implants with more respect.

"Twin Aquila...just like your Ogryns and their maces. I had been blind." he mused in a regretful voice.

"If I could, I would demand for all Astartes to train as techmarines first. Then medics and generals, ship captains and governors. There will be plenty brutal fighting, but only when you enter your dreadnought." I concluded and started to leave his quarters.

"We are not allowed to rule...outside our recruiting planets." he answered in a meek voice.

"Of course not. Big naive idiots without any common sense. You wouldn't let an Orgyn lead a sector, would you?" I threw over my shoulder as the door opened.

Ludvaius passed a throne coin to Rafen. "I told you they were not fighting, Brother." Rafen declared in a confident voice, then still checked me for scuffle marks.

I ignored their childish games and headed towards the hangar.

Soon it will be time to leave, with a large Astartes group as my bodyguards. Now I was slowly training their minds and teaching them to think, which was frustrating to say the least.

A thousand younger Catachans were selected as Aspirant replacements, at my urging. Already big and strong and skilled in combat, the Catachans should survive the implantation in larger numbers than regular farm boys.

And possibly adapt and thrive as space marines better than other people, especially after receiving the savant implants and some schooling.

Not on my dime, but the Fabricator would have tech priests train their minds as well.

Thrasius and my armored void marines waited in the hangar, with my close Blood Angels right behind me.

" I take it the meeting went well, Captain?" the Scythe asked to make sure.

"No punches, just harsh words." I said with a fake shrug. Not easy to do in power armor.

"I still don't trust them, no matter what penance vows they took." he declared in a cold voice, and glared at the gathered Blood Angels.

I didn't either. I mean...sure they could laugh and joke and appear friendly. But even with hard-wired restraints and phase-iron inhibitors, they could still fall to their blood curse. And then I'd have a horde of blood-thirsty maniacs loose on my ship.

Thus, the melta charges in their jetpacks, keyed to my implant control, just like the Ogryns. They really should learn what machines are for, silly brainwashed zealots.

Very dangerous zealots, with combi-bolters and Power Weapons and even heavier weapons in some squads.

The Thunderfire_Cannon would clear a hallway of intruders in a single second of rapid fire.

The Grav-cannon would squash Chaos marines in their cursed armor, leaving only a blood smear.

Heavy flamers and the Meltagun would deal with heat susceptible enemies, pretty much all of them.

Then the Terminator squads had the classic Assault_Cannon but of high quality for longer combat service and the Frag_Cannon, shooting hollow shells which would fracture on impact with a myriad of adamantium shards.

The new Lima-class destroyers were speeding around the system for their trials, and Forge Shenlong had begun producing the missile corvettes at full tilt, with 10 of them already operational and a second wave on the way.

I was almost done here.

My ship's Gellar generator was undergoing final checks, and a dozen tech priests were clustered inside for some special ritual of awakening, which probably means what you think it does.

Two of my daughters got to become destroyer Captains, including the wonderful Larrisa, who wouldn't let getting pregnant stand in the way of her rank. Catachan husband, as expected.

Why not? These guys had solid genes, and my girls were prettier than the moon.

I only had to hint at an available position and a dozen duels provided the faster and stronger candidates. Not much brains these warrior husbands, but my girls had more brains than me, and that should suffice for their children.

And imagine I still had 20 more girls coming of age soon.

The nursery was crawling with babies as well, because a year in dock was boring and I had a permanent teenager body.

I was running out of available bed mates, so Decima recruited another batch to last me til Illevar. Best wife ever, right? I was so lucky. She wore my old armor now, as to not waste it. And it should keep her a bit safer, for a minute of combat.

Henna didn't want an armor, nor would she fit in a regular female carapace, due to enhanced glands. She got a Flak robe and force field belt, and she wears my old Hellpistol, so it evens out. Plus it's easier to disrobe Henna for a quick husbandry duty in my bedroom. Win-win.

Canis got a savant implant too, and a combat collar with its own Power Shield, and now the Catachans train him to hunt like they do. Only he has grown a lot during this year and is larger than a pony. Kids love him anyway, as he gives the best rides.

A shadow flashed and jumped on me like I expected. Luckily I had my armor, so he couldn't throw me down. Not yet. "Hey Canis! Good boy?"

"Woof!" he answered and ran back to the horde of kids. I think he thinks my kids are his puppies. Spends more time with them than I do anyway.

The Blood Angel transfusion is still working, and now grips my heart and neck.

Soon enough, it will reach my brain and I admit I'm a bit wary. Those Black Rage fits would ruin my life very fast.