Chapter 30: The Physician's Art
Angron's awakening was unlike any he could remember. His mind felt... empty. Not the terrible void of the Nails' hunger, but something approaching actual peace. The constant static of rage that had filled his thoughts for decades had dimmed to a whisper.
His consciousness moved slowly, but that had always been the case. The Nails made thinking difficult even on the best of days.
"You're awake." Leman Russ leaned forward, studying his brother's face intently. "How do you feel?"
Angron considered the question, actually considered it, rather than defaulting to fury. The novelty was almost overwhelming.
"Better," he said finally. Then, with visible effort: "Thank you."
Leman Russ went completely still. His eyes widened as if he'd witnessed a miracle.
"By the Throne," the Wolf King breathed. "Angron just... you actually said thank you."
"Don't make it into something it's not," Angron growled, but even his anger felt muted and manageable. The Nails still bit at every emotion that wasn't rage, but the pain was bearable now, almost familiar.
"You're thanking the wrong person." Leman Russ shook his head slowly. "Francis saved you and nearly killed himself doing it. I've never seen anything like what he endured for your sake."
At the mention of gratitude, any emotion beyond anger, the Nails flared. Angron clutched his skull, gritting his teeth against the familiar agony.
"Who," he managed through clenched jaw, "is Francis?"
Leman Russ frowned. "Are you, "
"Answer me!" The pain was building, threatening to drag him back into the red haze. "Who is Francis?"
"Your brother. The Eleventh Primarch." Leman Russ watched him carefully. "He's recovering in the next chamber. You should, "
Angron was already moving, driven by a need he couldn't fully understand. Behind him, Leman Russ tried to follow, but his own injuries slowed him too much.
At the medical bay door, Angron paused. Voices drifted from within, urgent and confused.
"Anyone know how to hook up a nutrient drip to a Primarch? I can't even find a vein that'll take the needle!"
"None of us have training for this. What about direct gastric insertion?"
"Why not just pour it down his throat and hope for the best?"
"That... might actually work."
Angron pushed the door open to find a cluster of Soul Drinkers standing around a medical slab, gesturing helplessly at the thin figure lying upon it.
The moment they noticed him, their behavior changed completely. Sarpedon stepped forward, his force weapon crackling to life while mutations writhed beneath his skin, clear preparation for violence.
The tension might have erupted into bloodshed, but Francis chose that moment to return to consciousness.
"Step back," Francis said weakly, struggling to sit up. "All of you. I'm fine." His voice carried the authority of a Primarch, despite his obvious weakness. "Bring me food, enough for a company. I need to speak with him alone."
"My lord, " Sarpedon began.
"Leave the door open if it makes you feel better. You can watch from the corridor." Francis managed a thin smile. "I trust your vigilance, Chief Librarian."
Reluctantly, the Soul Drinkers filed out, though Sarpedon's glare promised swift retribution if Angron made any threatening moves.
"They're devoted to you," Angron observed, surprised by his own ability to notice such things.
Francis studied him with tired eyes. "I can guess why you're here. Yes, I used your own psychic gift to draw off decades of accumulated rage and bloodlust. It nearly killed me." He gestured at his wasted form. "But you're my brother. What else could I do?"
The Nails bit at him again, gratitude was dangerous territory. Angron pressed his palms against his temples. "I came to ask... could you do it again?"
Francis stared at him in complete disbelief.
"You absolute bastard," he said finally. "Look at me! Look what it cost! And you want me to do it again?"
"I don't have a choice." Angron's voice cracked as the Nails dug deeper. "There's no other way. The pain is already coming back."
Francis fell silent, studying his brother's face. Finally, he sighed. "Let me eat first. Then we'll see what can be done."
The Soul Drinkers brought enough food for a siege. Francis tore through it with desperate hunger, his enhanced metabolism demanding fuel for the healing process. Within minutes, he'd consumed rations meant for fifty men.
Properly fed, strength began returning to his limbs. "Lie down on the examination table," he told Angron. "Let me take a proper look at your condition."
"The Emperor Himself couldn't fix this," Angron protested, but his voice was already taking on the familiar edge of rising fury. "What makes you think, "
"I'm not talking about a cure. Just... management. Making it bearable." Francis activated his bio-armor, and dozens of Navigator eyes opened across its surface. "Now lie still."
Under that multi-faceted gaze, Angron felt completely exposed. Francis studied him with the intensity of a scholar examining a rare manuscript.
"Interesting," Francis murmured. "You're not just connected to the Warp, you're anchored to it. Part of your essence exists outside normal reality." He paused, considering. "I initially thought we could solve this by killing you and having Father resurrect you without the Nails. But now... I'm not sure what would happen to your soul in that process."
Despite himself, Angron felt a chill that had nothing to do with the Nails.
"However," Francis continued, "I do have some treatment options. Would you like to hear them?"
Angron looked down at the restraints that had somehow appeared around his wrists and ankles. "Do I have a choice?"
"Of course! You get to pick which treatment we try first."
"Since the Nails have grown through both your brain and spinal cord, we have two main approaches." Francis began pacing, his scientific enthusiasm overriding his earlier irritation. "First option: I grow you replacement neural tissue using your own cerebrospinal fluid. New brain, new spine, installed parallel to your existing ones."
Angron blinked. "Two... brains?"
"Exactly! You could learn to shift your consciousness between them. Use the new brain when you want peace, the old one when you need to fight. Eventually, we might even be able to remove the damaged tissue entirely while keeping you conscious throughout the process."
The Nails seemed to quiet at the sheer impossibility of what Francis was suggesting.
"What's the second option?" Angron asked carefully.
Francis sighed. "I figured you wouldn't go for the radical approach. The conservative treatment involves installing neural interface hardware, think of it as therapeutic technology instead of the crude torture devices you currently have."
"Instead of converting everything to rage and bloodlust, we reprogram your emotional responses. You'd still feel anger, but you could also experience... variety. Joy channeled into battle-fury, sorrow transformed into righteous wrath, that sort of thing."
"The downside is that you'd need regular medication to prevent your enhanced metabolism from rejecting the modifications, and it's not a cure, just long-term management."
"Two," Angron said immediately. "The second option. Definitely the second option."
"Excellent choice." Francis produced a vial of crimson fluid from his armor. "Now, this might look alarming, but I need to activate my enhanced Navigator genetics for the neural interface work."
He drained the vial in one gulp, and a massive eye opened in the center of his forehead.
Angron stared. "What in the, "
"Completely normal," Francis said cheerfully as his bio-armor reconfigured itself, all the optical sensors clustering around his head like a crown of mechanical eyes. "This is just standard gene-craft. Nothing to worry about at all."
Looking up at the bizarre figure looming over him, part Primarch, part living telescope, Angron realized he was experiencing an emotion the Nails couldn't convert to anger.
Pure, undiluted bewilderment.
"Just... try to hold still," Francis said, and got to work.
[End of Chapter]
Ohhh, Interesting!!