Chapter 42: Data Destruction
The Eleventh Primarch fell with a smile and perfect peace upon his features, as though recalling pleasant memories from his past. He died content, utterly reconciled with his fate.
Malcador the Sigillite, who had entered the chamber during the final moments, stood observing the serene expression on the dead Primarch's face. He shook his head slowly.
"You are ultimately not human," he said quietly, almost to himself.
Each Primarch possessed extraordinary value; the Emperor would never resort to such a drastic measure unless absolutely necessary. Yet the decision had been made.
With the Eleventh Primarch's death in the confinement chamber, the Emperor personally issued a decree: all information regarding the Eleventh Primarch would be destroyed. All traces of the Rangdan alien civilization would be erased from the known star systems.
Complete erasure of all records pertaining to the Eleventh Legion. This was an order to destroy information, direct from the Emperor himself.
Upon receiving such an absolute command, the Astartes Legions, whose various conflicting ideologies had been swirling in their ranks, fell into profound silence. For a moment, everything seemed to pause.
The rhetoric of Space Marine superiority vanished. The missionaries' chants ceased. The Primarchs' public complaints stopped entirely.
While many newer Space Marines and regular soldiers of the Imperial Army found this sudden quiet unfamiliar, the long-standing Legion Captains and senior Primarchs understood perfectly what this silence meant.
The Eleventh Primarch had been secretly executed. Now began the systematic erasure, information cleansing on an empire-wide scale.
In the Great Hall of the Fortress of Hera, Primarch Roboute Guilliman stood clad in his distinctive blue power armor, visibly shocked before his assembled Legion Captains. He slumped into a chair, his expression lost and deeply somber.
"Was it truly necessary to go that far?" he muttered to himself, the words barely audible.
Unlike ordinary Astartes warriors, each Primarch was utterly unique. Originally, there had been twenty, but now only eighteen remained, not counting the Primarchs still unaccounted for or recently lost.
Guilliman had understood the Eleventh Primarch's ideology, even if he disagreed with it.
They were all sons of the Emperor. They were brothers. Although Guilliman had long disapproved of certain actions taken by some Primarchs, news of his brother's death still struck him with profound sorrow.
Seeing Guilliman's devastated expression, his adoptive mother approached to comfort him. "Everything will be alright," she said gently.
The assembled Legion Captains exchanged alarmed glances.
Space Marines had always held exceptional status and superiority in past wars because they had accomplished feats far beyond what the Imperial Army could achieve. They were, quite literally, superhuman.
Now that all records of the Eleventh Legion would be destroyed, fear gripped them all.
The realization was stark: they could not act recklessly. Not even a Primarch was beyond consequence.
In an elegant office within a high-rise structure at the Ninth Legion fortress base, Primarch Sanguinius, clad in golden power armor with magnificent white wings folded at his back, received his subordinate's report with visible shock.
He stumbled backward several steps, overturning the teacup on his desk.
The white wings behind him cast long shadows across the office walls.
Sanguinius thought immediately of the genetic flaw that plagued the Blood Angels, the defect that manifested in his own physiology. His expression became solemn, tinged with fear.
Within the fortress of the Sixteenth Legion, the Luna Wolves, several high-ranking officers sat together in a spacious council chamber, clad in full power armor. At the head of the gathering sat a burly man with a shaved head: Primarch Horus himself. He sat in silence, slowly swirling a glass of red wine in his hand.
Beside him stood Ezekyle Abaddon, First Captain of the Luna Wolves, with his striking topknot of dark hair. He clasped his hands and glanced across the assembled group before speaking.
"The Emperor has executed the Eleventh Primarch and, like the Second Legion before him, ordered the destruction of all related data. While this was anticipated in some form, it remains unbelievable; each Primarch was an incredibly powerful being."
Abaddon paused, his tone growing thoughtful. "It seems wasteful to simply eliminate such power. He would have been far more valuable on the battlefield, like Angron."
The other officers began to discuss among themselves, their voices low and contemplative. Before this moment, they had viewed their own Primarch as perhaps the most exalted being in existence. Now they felt a profound new awareness of the Emperor's absolute authority, and the fear that came with it.
Horus continued to admire the deep red color of his wine, swirling it slowly. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a strange acceptance.
"Fate enjoys playing tricks on us all. Who would have conceived that the Eleventh Primarch was the War Commander of the Rangdan xenos, our very enemy? When this knowledge spreads, the entire empire will erupt into chaos."
He took a slow sip from his glass. "He chose to stand against us, and for that choice, I can only acknowledge his death as necessary, however tragic."
Horus set down his glass and turned to Abaddon with clear direction. "Abaddon, begin coordinating the destruction of all information related to the Eleventh Legion and the Eleventh Primarch. Every document, every record, every mention must be eliminated, as if they had never existed in this world."
"Yes, sir," Abaddon replied, feeling a chill run through his chest as he once again experienced the full weight of the Emperor's supreme authority.
From the moment the data destruction order was issued by the Imperial Palace, all eighteen Astartes Legions and the Imperial Army executed it absolutely and without hesitation.
All information regarding the Eleventh Primarch was systematically destroyed, section by section. No one dared discuss the matter any longer.
For an entire month, all records of the Eleventh Legion disappeared from Terra completely. Related data throughout the solar system was similarly obliterated.
This order continued to propagate throughout the entire empire. After all data concerning the Eleventh Legion within human space had been destroyed, the imperial forces obliterated all information related to the Rangdan xenos themselves.
In the Alpha Legion's fortress, Omegon stood expressionless before his assembled troops and delivered a mandatory two-hour ideological instruction before dismissing them. As he walked past, an eerie silence surrounded him.
The Hydra's soldiers, who normally possessed at least some sense of humor, now passed each other in absolute silence. It was as though speaking an unnecessary word might bring a curse or misfortune upon them.
Returning to his office, Omegon found Alpharius sitting motionless in a chair. He stared blankly into space, barely glancing at Omegon as he approached. His mood was clearly at its lowest point.
Omegon walked to the desk and casually leaned against it, raising his hand to wave it in front of Alpharius's face. Alpharius couldn't help but roll his eyes in response.
Omegon spoke directly. "The fortress has become even quieter and more terrifying than the oppressive atmosphere you created recently. Something is going to happen if we remain like this."
He continued with calm certainty. "Our data destruction is complete. I have forbidden our subordinates from discussing any unusual ideas. Their thoughts remain sound. They are absolutely loyal to the Emperor and to humanity."
Alpharius nodded slowly and replied without much energy. "Do whatever you think necessary. I'm not in the mood to discuss it right now."
Omegon shook his head with clear frustration. "Return to the frontier. Return to the battlefield. At this moment, nothing sounds more pleasing than the sound of war."
Omegon disliked this eerily quiet atmosphere. Even his usually disciplined subordinates remained silent, afraid to speak above a whisper.
Alpharius sat up straighter and looked directly at his brother. "There is another matter. The Emperor has instructed that all Primarchs meet with the Sigillite for memory erasure, deletion of all knowledge regarding the Eleventh Primarch and the Eleventh Legion from our minds."
Omegon fell silent for a moment, processing the implications. "You want me to meet with Malcador? To reveal myself to the Emperor? You've truly thought this through?"
The implications were staggering. This wasn't a minor administrative matter, this was a deliberate choice to make himself known to the throne.
Alpharius countered calmly. "What are you thinking?"
Omegon shrugged. "The question is meaningless. Whether I undergo this procedure or not makes no practical difference. Perhaps our return to the frontier can bring something positive, can offset the sadness and oppression everyone currently feels."
Alpharius was so shocked by this response that his jaw nearly dropped.
He began laughing, almost cursing in exasperation. "This is a 'ward off bad fortune' opportunity. Our departure isn't meaningless. Take your men back to the frontier and begin combat operations. Help the Imperial forces eliminate the remaining Rangdan xenos."
Alpharius stood and clapped Omegon on the shoulder. "You're right. These soldiers will only cause problems if they remain here any longer. The quiet will consume them."
Omegon nodded and pointed to his head. Alpharius pointed to his own head in acknowledgment. They would undergo the necessary memory erasure together before departure.
Without further discussion, Omegon quickly issued orders for the Alpha Legion fortress to begin troop assembly and movement toward the spaceport.
Although the Alpha Legion's movements were conducted with characteristic secrecy and precision, the entire solar system was saturated with Malcador's intelligence personnel. The Alpha Legion's unusual activity was discovered within hours.
In the Imperial Palace, Malcador the Sigillite, draped in his grey robes and leaning upon his staff, stood in a quiet, deserted corridor.
He gazed out toward the bustling city visible through the high windows, watching the lights of Terra shimmer in the distance as though observing the pulse of empire itself.
[End of Chapter]