Morningstar, planetary capital Calaena, orbital command center.
Magnus was strenuously trying to persuade Perturabo. Despite time pressure, he spoke like a teacher, patiently explaining.
During this conversation, his eyes were azure blue, similar to his brother's.
"Geomagnetic polarity reversal is common on all worlds. Intervals between reversals average around five hundred thousand years."
"Polarity reversal itself usually takes centuries, thus almost imperceptible to inhabitants."
"But Morningstar's magnetic reversal accelerated to six months. Martian Tech-Priests delved into the core yet found no cause. This conceals conspiracy."
A light flickered in Perturabo's blue eyes, then faded. Through armored glass, he watched tugs ascending toward orbit.
"My task is evacuation, not seeking reasons for a doomed world."
"My plan will ensure every Morningstar inhabitant safely leaves this world."
"To ensure completion, every aircraft, no matter how dilapidated, must be utilized. Magnus, I must continue my work now."
After speaking, Perturabo walked to the console. His dreadlocks were about to interface with the system to resume work.
Suddenly, the ground shook violently. The entire orbital command center swayed.
Perturabo's dreadlocks entered the data stream, rapidly consolidating data from nodes.
Earthquakes. Large tracts of land cracking.
Tsunamis. Cities swallowed.
…
Even the planetary defense force Red Dragons, previously compliantly cooperating, executing assigned tasks decently, launched rebellion.
Their armored firepower suddenly fired at Iron Warriors, causing several deaths.
They also kidnapped Imperial-appointed Planetary Governor Conad Varga, completely disrupting his evacuation plan.
A flicker of anger crossed Perturabo's eyes. His dreadlocks detached from electronic instruments.
"You foresaw this? With your psychic power?"
Magnus keenly sensed Perturabo's aversion toward psychic power in his tone.
Through prolonged contact, he understood Perturabo to a considerable extent. Unlike Leman Russ's pure hatred, Perturabo and Rogal Dorn's attitudes toward psychic power somewhat resembled each other.
Both emphasized psychic power's dangers. Dorn's thoughts stemmed more from himself. Perturabo's due to the Emperor's emphasis.
Magnus smiled, slightly shaking his head.
"More from my son, Hathor Maat. He captured a cult called the Sons of Shai-Tan, obtaining intelligence from them."
"Based on this information, my divined future tells me Morningstar's doom is an elaborate conspiracy."
"Now, I need that device you manufactured for me. Is it ready?"
Perturabo remained silent for a moment. Earlier, Magnus gave him decrypted ancient documents, requesting manufacture of a Warp navigation device.
That device's unique aspect was operating without psychic power, compensating for Navigators' shortage in evacuation fleets.
It was long completed. Perturabo originally intended to shatter it before Magnus, reminding his sole brother considered a friend of the Emperor's teachings on Warp dangers.
But now wasn't suitable timing. Magnus was a proud brother, possessing full confidence.
Persuading him shouldn't be during his own plan's failure, but when that machine proved useful.
"Follow me."
Perturabo walked toward the covered instrument, pulling aside the grey curtain.
Ten minutes later, a red Stormbird soared. Magnus worked nervously between two machines linked by adamantium chains.
He had no time to modify his own machine. Now he had to combine both machines.
Perturabo's machine would lock onto the Warp entity named Shai-Tan. His machine would help gather energy, eliminating the threat.
While the Stormbird sped toward Zharrukin, Hathor Maat was already in dire straits.
He raised his staff high. Thousand Sons' power converged within an electric sphere.
The electric dragon's blinding radiance rivaled electromagnetic storm lightning in the distance.
Psychic lightning struck the red-armored figure. But he merely raised a hand, shimmering light meeting the electric arcs.
Amid detonations, psychic lightning was swallowed.
"Die!"
"Atharva" roared. Molten streams of fire descended from above.
Phosis T'kar raised both hands. Telekinesis surged. Force shield shrouded the sky.
Molten streams struck the force shield. T'kar's expression drastically changed.
As a member of the First Council, a leading figure among the Raptora Cult, only the gene-father's defenses surpassed his within Thousand Sons.
But his "force shield" was breached in an instant.
T'kar roared. His telekinesis reluctantly pressed back around his body, barely enveloping him.
Flames engulfed over a dozen Thousand Sons, instantly reducing them to ash.
Atharva's eyes flashed countless images. He emitted a snicker.
"Thousand Sons, all is dust!"
Within the inferno's center, Hathor's body melted, then regenerated rapidly under biomancy.
In the material realm, Atharva's voice came from one.
But in the ocean's vastness, countless chaotic voices arose.
Voices seemed from millions: men, women; elderly, children.
Hathor felt perplexed by Shai-Tan's words. With the gene-father's return, powerful Thousand Sons couldn't be associated with dust.
He swiftly discarded Shai-Tan's words. Survival was more crucial now.
Hathor's peripheral vision glanced skyward. No shadow seen.
The gene-father hadn't appeared. He had to seek self-rescue.
As his gaze returned, he saw Thousand Sons' dense barrage toward Shai-Tan dissipated mid-air, bolt shells scattering like dust.
If psychic power couldn't counter the powerful Warp entity born from countless psykers' agonizing deaths, only abilities bestowed by his Lord could save him.
A flash of inspiration struck the "Psychiatrist's" mind. His thoughts raced.
'Deceased Dragon Kingdom psykers were killed after compatriots drained their psychic energy.'
'Shai-Tan was spawned by countless deceased's resentment! Those deceased still exist!
Though Shai-Tan is powerful, I might "Placate" some among them.'
After psychoanalyzing, the "Psychiatrist" spoke:
"Compatriots from Terra, psykers, I understand you."
"You never did wrong yet suffered ruthless betrayal by kin."
"…"
The "Psychiatrist" discovered as he "Placated," molten streams engulfing him dissipated.
'Indeed possible. Among Shai-Tan's aggregate, some were "Placated" by me. I can communicate with him.'
'Perhaps I have a chance to fulfill my Lord's command.'
Thinking this, Hathor shouted: "Retreat!"
He was unable to send thought-pulses. Armor's comms devices incinerated in molten streams.
Hathor was unprecedentedly disheveled. He saw Shai-Tan lower his right hand, raise his left, aiming at retreating Thousand Sons.
"We are not your enemies."
"I am your friend. Tell me your stories."
Atharva's face contorted. Arguments arose in the ocean's vastness.
"Lies! Kill them!"
"No! I must tell him that story. Tell him about that despicable wretch. He deceived me. Tricked me inside. His name… Damn, I can't recall his name."
"Yes, someone must know shameful betrayal. Until I finish the story, he and they cannot die."
T'kar looked toward Hathor. Their gazes met. He sensed his firm conviction.
He slowly nodded, leading Second and Third Fellowship Thousand Sons turning away, leaving Hathor alone with terrifying Atharva.
Time passed moment by moment. The "Psychiatrist" listened to hundreds of voices echoing in his mind.
He swiftly responded to each voice, carefully "Placated" their emotions.
Hathor believed any other "Psychiatrist" would have long been torn apart.
Fortunately, he was both Astartes and psyker, possessing superhuman mind.
His lord previous three gifts also enhanced his mind and gave him ability to handle this situation.
The "Psychiatrist" nervously satisfied some, "Placated" others, maintaining fragile balance, until all Thousand Sons vanished from his senses.
He just breathed a sigh of relief when engine roars sounded in his ears.
Hathor looked up. A Legion-marked red Stormbird rapidly approached.
'The gene-father is coming.'
As the thought flashed, a terrifying shriek sounded. Shai-Tan sensed a life-threatening entity.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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