Fortunes Son
"Every man should be responsible to others, nor should anyone be allowed to do just as he pleases; for where absolute freedom is allowed, there is nothing to restrain the evil inherent in every man." - Aristotle, personal musings.
"Eli is a man whose dreams could turn into nightmares if left unchecked. That is not a bad thing from the outset. More often than not, any dream fails because of a lack of will. Yet what turns them into nightmares is when that resolve turns into a vile rot within a man's heart." - General Orbán Vilmo.
"Mankind can do better. It can be better. The Emperor of Mankind has shown it to be possible. Yet we can't expect him to do all the work..." - Eli Lanatus.
---
It had been years since Skullface had contacted one of his former students or protégés. By the sheer virtue of Majestic and the Imperial Army declaring that Foxhound was to be disbanded and their involvement in the Black Brigades covered up. The decision was not without reasoning. Certainly, Majestic did not want this research found by the Mechanicum or perhaps other individuals that could harm the Imperium. To that end, all those involved in the operation were scattered to the proverbial four winds of the galaxy.
Orbán hadn't been the sentimental type, nor was he concerned about what his students might get involved with afterward. They were all capable, dedicated, and ambitious officers and scientists. However, a few could've been said to hold a special place in his heart. One such individual was Eli. Back then, Foxhound were all strangers to one another. Handpicked and chosen by Godfather to achieve a seemingly impossible goal. As such, there were tensions among them. Egos and what-not, brushing up against one another. So when Orbán met the young Captain Eli Lanatus, an up-and-coming military genius, there were some disagreements, and thus their relationship started off poorly. Foxhound was the only place where you could find a captain arguing with a seasoned colonel without getting court-martialed or shot.
Amusingly enough, their initial argument was over a mundane but critically important issue: Was the average trooper of the Imperial Army capable and prepared for the wars ahead? Foxhound was one of the groups given the "truth" of the military capabilities and lack thereof, and upon examining the devil in the details, almost everyone agreed that humanity was ill-prepared for the long haul. The Sigillite needed solutions. So when Majestic succeeded with the Black Brigades, they gathered up as many geniuses and visionaries within the brigades and put them to work.
Eli was exactly what Majestic was looking for; a genius
and visionary. Initially, Eli was slated to be the one in charge of the Foxhound group, but it was instead assigned to Orbán due to his experiences in understanding the limits of most humans and actual combat experience. Unfortunately for Eli, he had only two campaigns under his belt and had not been allowed to shine. A fault he claimed came from "old warhorses" that refused to use his skills and intellect. Hence his initial clashes with Orbán, who Eli saw as a "relic" of the old ways.
An age-old struggle, the young versus the old.
However, Eli's tune changed when he took the time to hear Orbán's plans and ideas. It was probably the first instance of the two bonding over the potential outcomes of Foxhound. To Orbán, the Black Brigades represented an unexplored path of potential within the Imperial Army and its special operations division, separate but equal to the Astartes and Solar Auxilla. Before all else, the infamous Skullface wanted an effective and powerful tool in his hands. The consequences of such a design had turned men into monstrous sentinels. A necessary evil.
But Eli? He dreamed of making a better
human. He wanted a man that wasn't just an emotionless killer (although that was certainly a trait he desired) but one that could accomplish feats of strength and whose aptitudes could overcome any enemy combatant. An artificial army of heroes, saints, and killers all wrapped into one neat little package of human flesh and spirit.
The Emperor of Mankind had proven it wasn't just possible but
vital to the survival of their species. The weakness of their species needed to either be eliminated or reduced. And it wasn't that Eli necessarily thought that the weak had to be purged or not protected. He pointed out that the weak would be phased out and a new and better humanity in the long run when it came time. Why kill a helpful resource, then?
It seemed so harmless back then. Eli hadn't given up on humanity, yet Skullface had long before his time in the Ritual War. Such a foundation made for a good working relationship between the two. Soon enough, Eli and a few others formed their own clique
around Skullface. This soon turned into "Skullfaces Pupils." One of the more unpopular developments during their time spent in Foxhound. Soon his enemies accused Orbán of corrupting and radicalizing these officers and scientists. It was one of the "unofficial" reasons why Foxhound was disbanded.
Perhaps if one knew or found the guts to ask Skullface if it was true, Orbán might have answered there was some truth to the claims. Eli and the others were all ambitious, long before he had gotten his claws into their souls. His enemies had given him
too much credit. Unfortunately, he did bear some responsibility for
what they would do to accomplish their goals upon leaving Foxhound.
Skullface taught them well...perhaps too well. Eli wasn't an exception; he was the blasted
rule. He had gone from Major to Lord-General in only a few years and gathered many allies among the Imperial Army and Armada. There were rumors of most unsavory "friends" such as Mechanicum sects and pirate lords. Truth be told, Orbán wouldn't deride Eli for having such acquaintances. It was all politics in the end.
Nevertheless, his rise to power had garnered a bit too much attention, especially with the return of his "infamous" mentor, who had been hailed as one of the great commanders by the War-Marshal himself and whose Black Brigades had earned a special place among the Lord of Iron's interest. Perhaps a reasonable concern was that Lord-General Lanatus would ask his former mentor for aid or maybe a recommendation towards a higher position of power.
Orbán thought nothing of such rumors...until he learned from several reliable sources that Eli was slated to become the new Lord-Militant of the Imperial Army. That was concerning, to say the least. More than that, it confused Orbán. Eli, the next Lord-Militant? How much power had he gathered now to allow for such a possibility? Or was the Imperium in such a dire situation that it required men like Eli to take the reins for the Tyrant of Terra?
Eli was waiting for him on Terra. A missive requesting his presence had reached Skullface, but not before it made the rounds of just about every commander and general within a hundred sectors. There were far too many eyes on him and Eli to ignore the summons. So off he went to see his "better half" in the galaxy.
A cold pit of dread grew in Orbán's stomach. He had a bad feeling about this.
---
The Imperial Palace was always a treat to visit, at least Orbán thought so. It was one of the few locations on Terra that had artificial weather systems, which meant that every day of the week, you always
knew what to expect. The Emperor of Mankind and the Sigillite seemed to relish the chance to make it snow or rain upon the palace on command (although it still took a few days for such events to take place.) There weren't many places in the galaxy where a ruler could decide if he wanted a cool summer rain or a gentle snowstorm in late autumn.
Orbán loved the rain. It was one of the few guilty pleasures that Orbán enjoyed and kept to himself. His homeworld of Arzoka rarely had rainfall. The few times it did rain, though, was one of the few times the squabbling nations engaged in a ceasefire. It would've been akin to a world stuck in darkness most of the year, with the sun piercing the veil of shadow for a few days. Upon leaving Arzoka with the Imperial Army, Orbán soon learned that most people took things like rain for granted. No one was amazed anymore by the little pleasures in life.
Although, perhaps there wasn't much to enjoy these days?
Well, that was a question for the philosophers. He had more important and not-so-important things to focus on. As soon Orbán exited his shuttle, he declined an umbrella offered by one of his guards. No, he would enjoy the feeling of rain upon his charred and ruined skin. A few memories surfaced of time spent with his daughter and wife during a small storm. A better time for sure. But now, that was a memory meant for a man that hadn't yet died on Karkin.
Skullface and his nine bodyguards followed behind him, stepping onto the landing zone. The seven men and two women of his cohort were all veterans of the Ritual War. Each one had been scanned and proven uncorrupted by Warden psykers before leaving the Maelstrom. They were beyond solid. Utterly loyal to Skullface and dangerous to anyone that wasn't a veteran Auxilla or a bog-standard Astartes.
He wasn't expecting to be attacked here in the Imperial Palace. That said, Orbán knew better than to put his life in the hands of those he hadn't personally vetted or interacted with before. His enemies certainly wanted him dead, although even Orbán figured that they wouldn't try to kill him within "earshot" of the Custodies. Most knew that the palace was a neutral ground to prevent the petty grievances and disputes among the Imperial Army leadership from getting out of hand.
And they did tend to get out of hand. The universal military concept of honor had resulted in just as many deaths among the Imperial officer corps. There are about the same number of deaths per year due to assassination or unexpected "suicides." Orbán was jealous of the Astartes in that regard. Rarely did their leadership pursue "satisfaction" for some slight against one another.
Embarrassing didn't begin to describe how Orbán felt about such activities. It was one thing to hear the rank and file acting like ruffians and thugs. Because, if anything, that was precisely how the Imperial Army wanted their frontline troopers to operate in the end. Discipline, honor, valor, and what-not made for excellent practices among soldiers, but a savage heart could win out just as much as cold logic when it came down to a fight for survival. Officers, however, couldn't afford such luxuries as embracing such base instincts. They had to be confident, cruel, logical, or empathetic based on the right circumstances and context.
An impossible balancing act for most, but it was
possible. Officers just had to cut through all the noise and pointless arguments to see the little and big pictures, which meant needing to be apolitical and passive on such things. The irony, of course, was that the Imperial Army was a political machine in many cases. You
had to be a player. Otherwise, you could become someone else's pawn. Such worries were part of the reason why Orbán was here on Terra.
"General Vilmo," Orbán was roused from his musings and enjoyment of the rain upon his skin by the approach of a young female officer and her entourage, "I welcome you to the Imperial Palace." Glancing over at the woman, Orbán saw a beautifully stoic face staring back at him. He was amused to see a Black Brigade holding an umbrella for her in full armor and kit.
She saluted him, "I am Lieutenant Beli Agatha. It is an honor to meet the Phantom himself." She certainly didn't sound too excited. Then again, Phantom was such an underwhelming name as far as titles went. A few others were attached to his name, but Orbán found them obnoxious. It reminded Orbán of how Orion felt after that whole "Angel of Humility" business. Such a waste of time, but it was ultimately necessary for the end. Besides, it's not like either of them had any control over who called them what, and indeed, there were much
worse titles.
Many seemed to have forgotten that Skullface wasn't his name...
Lieutenant Agatha continued, "General Lanatus is waiting for you inside his personal study. He was in the middle of work when you arrived." Orbán saw the first hint of emotion on her face, "I apologize, but he can get lost in his work and forget certain appointments."
Skullface waved it off, "Yes, yes. I know that from personal experience, lieutenant." Eli didn't get distracted; instead, he would become engrossed in his work. Although, Eli also
knew better than to do that with his former teacher. "All too well..." A rather arrogant move by Eli, but ultimately excusable. "In any case, we were a bit late due to the weather."
"Unfortunate timing," The lieutenant offered another stoic look, "But you are here now, and general Lanatus has been informed." She glanced towards his guards, "I must ask that your men stay here."
Orbán wordlessly lifted his left hand and twirled it twice. This motion caused his brigaders to fall towards the shuttle and take a defensive position. He knew that Eli wasn't going to try and kill him. Besides, there were only two possible outcomes in that situation. Either Eli succeeded, or Skullface would make him regret the attempt in the cruelest and most creative ways.
'Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself.' Such thoughts were unneeded right now. Best to enjoy the rain for a few more seconds. Once that passed, he turned and nodded to the lieutenant in front of him. "Lead the way."
---
Orbán had long since learned that once you reached a certain level of respect and influence in the Imperial Army, a whole new galaxy awaited you. It had to be said that the Imperial Army had plenty of vice among its ranks. That wasn't a condemnation, at least from Skullface's perspective. He was wise enough to know why and intelligent enough to not raise a fuss about it like some commanders. Why fight it, after all?
Well, Skullface had a different perspective on that after the Ritual War. But that was beside the point. The Imperial Army rewarded their generals with enough wealth and property to make them rich men and women. However, they were still "poor" compared to the wealthiest groups in the Imperium. Yet for any man that had been a career soldier on their homeworld, working for perhaps a pension and home... joining the Imperial Army suddenly became very lucrative if you weren't dying in some ditch or getting stabbed in the back.
Indeed, there were quite a few perks attached to a higher rank. One of those was getting real estate in the Imperial Palace.
His former student had picked out a rather magnificent looking one, at least from what Skullface could tell as soon as he stepped inside the estate. The rugs under his feet probably cost more than a trooper's entire year's salary. He didn't even want to imagine how much the diamond candleholders or ivory statuettes cost. So much wealth and affluence, yet Orbán knew that Eli hadn't picked these things out. Orbán wondered how many people passed through these halls before ending in disgrace or death. You could never tell with the estates within the palace.
The Imperial Palace held thousands of these estates for its most "honored" commanders and officials. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Skullface technically had one within the palace, but he had never visited it. Rare was it for him to be on Terra longer than a few days, and Orbán tended to stay in specifically designed rooms due to his body's condition. He had grown up in comfortable housing but never gained the "taste" for grand estates and mansions. Most of his best memories were of his family's home on Arzoka, which wasn't any larger than a house most of the middle-class owned.
Besides, his preferred vices were in more enjoyable luxury objects, like cigars and alcohol. Otherwise, Skullface shunned most other things. He indeed could not find a woman that would seek him out willingly. Besides, he never could betray the memory of his wife, even if their marriage fell apart in the end. Some things can never be forgotten or
forgiven. This proved that even the vaunted and dangerous Skullface was not above such enjoyments.
But Eli was different.
It would be remiss of Skullface to say that Eli overindulged or he refused to partake. There was a truth in the
middle of both claims. Strange as it sounded, Eli had experimented with just about every sort of vice, shy of a few that only the most depraved enjoyed. And the keyword in this situation was "experimented," for that was the true intention. Eli
knew the scientific and medical reasoning behind desires, addictions, and depravity, but he needed to understand those sensations firsthand.
Lesser men would've run the risk of acquiring a taste for unnatural pleasures. Yet Eli had willpower that rivaled even veteran Astartes, along with a sense of pride that forbade him from falling to such temptations. Everything he did serve a purpose, a fulfillment towards a greater endeavor. The only thing that controlled Eli was himself and nothing more. Unfortunately, this pursuit of the unknown led Eli towards
questionable truths about humanity.
Even during their Foxhound days, Orbán wondered how Eli developed such radical solutions and theories after a few "incursions" into such dark realms of thought and imagination.
"We're here." The lieutenant announced with hushed excitement. Orbán figured that those who served under Eli's leadership tended to grow "fond" of him. It probably helped that more than a few men and women called Eli a "dashing" or "handsome" figure. Then again, Orbán liked to joke that anyone would look quite attractive when standing next to the infamous Skullface.
They were standing in front of a large pair of wooden doors flanked by two uniformed brigaders, one of which was scanning Skullface in case he was here to smuggle something inside, like a bomb or vox-bug. That was another thing Skullface noticed on their short journey, all the security details and patrols. Undoubtedly all were members of the Black Brigades. The line between what the Black Brigades were meant to do versus what they
were doing now was vague. He heard more than a few commanders wanted them as personal bodyguards because of their skill and unshakable loyalty...unaware that at a moment's notice, those same men would kill them in an instant.
He idly wondered if Eli held such concerns...
Without much preamble, the doors opened, and the first thing that Skullface felt was the heat of the room, followed by the sounds of fists rapidly hitting and punching something and the rhythmic breathing brought about by years of physical conditioning. A man trained, shirtless, in the center of this office, showing off his body to any passerby. One might have been impressed, primarily as his physical condition could generally only be found with genetically modified humans, made to be as "peak human" as possible. He was pummeling what looked like a combat-training servitor, and quite effectively. Judging by the amount of sweat pouring from his body, Eli had been training for quite some time.
Lieutenant Agatha called out to get his attention, "General, your guest has arrived." Eli, however, continued to focus on the servitor. When she tried a little louder and still got no response. The lieutenant only got flustered when she heard Skullface's raspy chuckle and finally prompted her to approach Eli. Orbán should've said something, but instead, he crossed his arms and watched...
Agatha got within a few feet of Eli when she tried again, "Sir, your guest has-" She couldn't finish her sentence before Eli, still focused on the servitor, promptly launched a vicious elbow strike into the lieutenant's center mass. Perfect and fluid execution by a seasoned veteran against someone approaching them from behind. Orbán watched as the lieutenant crumbled to the crowd with an audible wheeze. In most instances, such an attack would've simply knocked the wind out of someone. Yet once again, Eli wasn't an ordinary man or soldier.
"What the devil?!" Eli's Albyon accent made the man's reaction all the funnier to Skullface, "Oh, blasted it all." He muttered before kneeling down to check on the gasping woman, "Steady your breathing, Beli. Just like your instructors taught you." Eli gently instructed her with a frown on his face, "Just like that, hup-to."
"S-sir," Lieutenant Agatha gasped, "Guest...arrived." Orbán resisted the urge to laugh if just to save whatever dignity the lieutenant had left. Eli didn't seem to hear her and opted to undo the top of the officer's uniform. Before Skullface could ask just what Eli hoped to accomplish with a rather unsavory act, he saw that lieutenant Agatha wore armored synskin under her uniform.
Eli seemed pleased, "Ah, good. You remembered to wear your armor." He stood and helped the lieutenant, "But you seemed to have forgotten my warnings about approaching me during my sessions."
"Sorr-y, sir." The lieutenant winced as she brought a hand to her chest, "I...I think you broke a rib or two."
Her commander looked displeased, "You should count yourself lucky that I didn't go for your throat or face. Thankfully human instinct still has us go for center mass."
Like he was all those years ago, Eli rarely admitted to making a mistake, nor could he pass up the opportunity to lecture someone, "Go to see doctor Campbell, right away." This dismissal seemed to cause a bit of panic in lieutenant Agatha as his body tensed, and even Orbán could see it in her eyes.
"But sir!"
Yet Eli gave her a steely glare, "Now, lieutenant. You could have internal bleeding or a punctured lung. I will handle the rest of things here." The order was clear, and thus the lieutenant obeyed, but not before looking devastated at embarrassing herself in front of two generals. Deciding that retreat was the better option now to save face, she swiftly exited the office. Leaving both former teacher and student to themselves.
The student looked over at his former master, "Apologies for that." He turned to the still waiting servitor, "Return to standby mode and report to the training bay 3." The undead creature started moving out of the room, "These blasted machines don't measure up to training with any living creature, but most of usual sparing partners are out on missions." Eli remarked before heading over to a desk with a few towels and water bottles. He then paused and remembered his manners.
"Oh yes," He turned around, "Good to see you again, Orbán."
Skullface gave a rictus grin back, "Nice to see you too, Eli."
---
A fat man in an Imperial Army uniform stared down at Skullface from atop a fireplace. Perhaps the strangest painting that Eli could've kept in his possession. The painted visage of the fat man had a look of sour distaste. Orbán was so focused on the ugly visage he barely noticed Eli approaching with a glass in each hand. He was still shirtless and wearing a towel around his neck, but he at least wiped off all the sweat from his training.
Eli handed one of the glasses over to Skullface, who idly noticed it was scotch, before Eli spoke up, "The Most Illustrious and Wise General Walter Himmelcran." He saluted the painting with his glass with a smug grin, "A fine old chap."
Orbán spared a glance towards Eli, "You knew him?"
"Oh no," He shook his head, "He died almost a century ago. I heard that he was quite a bore and a rather subpar commander." Eli took a sip from his glass, "Still, his taste in liquor is impeccable. It was partly one of the reasons I purposely took this estate. The wine cellar alone is probably worth a small fleet of shuttles."
Looking down at the liquid and figuring that Eli wouldn't poison him, Orbán took a tentative sip. It tasted divine. "Hmm, I do hope the fully stocked shelves of spirits and wine wasn't the only reason?"
"Of course not," Eli sounded just the tiniest bit offended, "This estate also has a few integrated communication network engines and a rather useful safe room to hold all my research from prying eyes." He paused for a moment, "Well,
most prying eyes." Multiple groups in the Imperium could've gotten inside this estate, especially when some of their headquarters were inside the Imperial Palace.
That aside, Orbán had another question, "Why then keep such a dreadful painting inside your main office?"
"It amuses me." Eli's smirk returned, "His entire family line probably hailed from before even the Age of Strife, yet no one will remember the Himmelcrans. Their legacy exists now only because I allow it. Besides, it makes for a good icebreaker when I have guests." He took another sip from his glass, "People find it amusing or uncomfortable."
Orbán looked at the painting and noticed something interesting, "The eyes do seem to follow you..."
Eli chuckled, "I like to think sometimes that Walter is watching from beyond the grave. Quite flustered and annoyed at the man that lives in his home, sleeps in his bed, and drinks his wine. The first night I was here and was told that this desk belonged to him, I kicked my feet up on it. It's quite petty, but the little things give me a spring in my step."
Skullface didn't focus on that last line. Instead, he continued to stare at the painting. Considering what Skullface knew now of the warp, Lord Himmelcran was likely in some daemon's personal hell. And wasn't that a lovely thought?
Deciding to drown out such a disturbing realization with the drink in hand, Orbán drank the scotch in record time. "Perhaps we should move on to why you requested me? Much as I'd like to stay and catch up, we both know that the galaxy won't wait for either of us."
Eli nodded in agreement rather than be disappointed or offended, "Of course. Since becoming a Lord-General, I've certainly lost quite a bit of leisurely time."
"Yes," Skullface was interested in hearing that, "You've earned considerable fame and notoriety among the Imperial Army for your activities in this Desolation." That was putting it lightly. Eli had effectively been put in charge of all counter-insurgency operations within the entire operating area and succeeded beyond most expectations. It was safe to say that Eli was a blessing for the post-clean.
Although, many in the Imperial Army considered Eli a
scourge. His successes were predicated upon frequently brutal and calculated massacres designed to demoralize the remaining Delta faction elements. He wasn't interested in winning battles but in destroying the will of his enemies. As he saw it, a man that was too afraid or broken would be unable to pick up a gun to shoot back. It wasn't hyperbole to say that Eli intentionally wiped entire generations of men and women across multiple sectors and left the survivors with shattered spirits.
Just as he had taken Himmelcran legacy, so to did he take away the futures of numerous worlds.
"It was nothing noteworthy." Eli remarked with little pride, "Killing is nothing more than a chore to me. We agreed long ago that one shouldn't derive joy from it."
Orbán frowned, "I remember that conversation. However, you also said that getting
satisfaction from it shouldn't be denied either."
"And I still stand by that," Eli retorted as he approached an expensive-looking couch and sat down, "Human civilization has collectively agreed that killing other humans is bad, yet we applaud and give accolades to those proficient in doing just that. The hypocrisy of it all." He placed his glass down on an equally expensive table, and Skullface noticed that Eli intentionally missed the coaster, "The Emperor of Man realized that the human consciousness is ultimately drawn to warriors and generals of mythological proportions, regardless of fame or infamy attached to them. We are not cheering on killers, but rather the best and brightest that humanity has to offer who just so happen to be capable of ending life."
Skullface frowned, having heard this argument before, "Semantics. Fighting and killing, especially against fellow humans, is an essential duty for the survival of our species and the state."
"Which I have never disputed." Eli kicked his feet up on the table, "I just think we should take every step, no matter how ludicrous or bizarre, to ensure that we produce only the best soldiers in the galaxy. And nothing says we can't make them find solace and pride in all aspects of that essential duty as you like to call it." Eli shook his head, taking another sip of his drink, "You and your values; next, you will tell me how we should be 'honorable' or 'empathetic' towards things like the Orks or Eldar."
There was another problematic quirk of Eli's. His passive-aggressive remarks towards his allies and friends. To his enemies, Eli was a nightmare to deal with. Yet sometimes, his idea of offering "advice" tended to come off as gentle put-downs or micro-insults. Orbán and the others had gotten used to it, but someday this little quirk of his would get him into trouble.
"Those traits matter, especially when you are the one that
might be directing future policy for the Imperial Army." Skullface finally took a seat across from Eli, "I forgot to offer my congratulations, but so far, I haven't heard it's been set in stone yet."
Eli was quiet before he dismissed the claim with a wave, "Baelsar is on his way out. He's made too many enemies now. And has only prolonged this miasma that hovers over the Imperium with his decisions."
"That's not what I heard." Orbán remarked, "My information claims that he's intentionally leaving the position of Lord-Militant. He's become disillusioned with how the Imperial military is effectively an appendage of the Primarchs or a pawn for fifth echelon organizations like Majestic and the Sigillites."
"And?" Eli shrugged, "The military has always been the pawns of the state. Unless the military controls the state, to begin with. We both know that the Imperial Army has too many competing factions with its ideologies and backers that make it impossible to unify. Aldrich made the mistake of assuming that everyone within the Imperium would actually agree on something. And yet we know that will
never be the case."
Orbán was confused, "And yet you wish to take on the position of Lord-Militant?" Just what was Eli's angle here?
Eli smiled, "With enthusiasm. I'm just waiting on the retirement announcement from Baelsar. The only other option that the Sigillte will take is Lord-General Pentric." He laughed at mentioning them, "And they are too dodgy, especially for the Sigillite. So yes, I'm going to get the position. Mark my words." Oh yes, Pentric and his significant ties to the Mechanicum. There were rumors that they had a bastard child with an influential member of the Mechanicum Parliament and several links to Mechanicum leaning parties across the Solar Segmentum.
No doubt the Sigillite and Godfather would refuse Pentric to rise to the position of Lord-Militant. So that left Eli. Yet, Eli was aware that the job was effectively powerless in the grand scheme of things. So why then was he so excited? It took Skullface a few more seconds to consider the one reason why Eli would take the position if offered.
Now Orbán felt that dreadfully feeling return.
"Eli, you plan on using this position for your own means, don't you?" Orbán narrowed his eyes towards Eli, "Because you believe in fixing the economy is impossible, so instead...you'd use it for your own ends."
He held up a finger, "Now-now...I'd like to think I'd be a popular Lord-Militant after I reverse all the decisions made by Lord Baelsar and instead approve them. Naturally, you should make friends while accelerating your plans, if possible."
Out of all the things he expected to hear, that certainly surprised even Skullface, "You want to reverse
all the revenue changes and approve them? You realize that the Imperial economy won't survive such a development, yes?"
He chuckled, "I disagree. My intellect might be towards science and all things associated with it, but even I can read the economic reports and see that my decision isn't going to make things worse, but simply accelerate the process towards its logical conclusion." He looked at Skullface, "However!" The man smiled once more, "I believe we can weather the storm, especially if some of these projects that the Primarchs are working on are successful."
After all the things he had heard and seen in the Maelstrom, Orbán had thought he wouldn't have heard something so insane from someone like Eli, "You want to intentionally plunge the Imperial economy into a financial apocalypse that could take years to recover from?"
"Years?" Eli
almost sounded amused, "Try decades. Maybe even a century. However, this is the cliff we are walking towards under Baelsar. I just plan on driving us off it so we can get this pain over with and get on the other side."
Skullface sat his drink down and rubbed the right side of his head, "Eli...this will kill the value of the throne, do you realize that?"
Eli made a dismissive gesture, "I understand that."
"Do you?"
That pushback caused a rather venomous response, "Do you?! This is it, Orbán!" There was a vicious gleam in his eyes, "There are only two ways this goes now; either we continue this disastrous course and be unprepared for when the collapse finally comes, or we can escalate at our own behest and soften the blow."
"Soften the blow? For who?" Skullface rechallenged him, "The average citizen that has money will need to wheelbarrow it in to buy bread or soylent. Do you want the Mint to just print out money so the Primarchs can feel better at the cost of hundreds of trillions effectively being brought to poverty?"
"It will correct itself." Eli repeated, "Maybe faster than before once the Primarchs have a fire under their asses to motivate them. Aldrich is right; they are the biggest money sinks in the Imperium, but they can pump enough material profit back into the Imperium to counter-balance the expenditures." He reached forward to grab his glass and lean back into the couch, "Far as I am concerned, it'll be a problem they will be required to resolve because they have contributed to it."
"Because you effectively gave a dozen warlords and technocrats unlimited funding." Skullface figured this was only going to get crazier the more he heard, "You do realize that Malcador and Godfather will, at best, get you thrown out of office? Killing you is probably the preferred method."
Eli nodded, "That is true. However, I'm also banking that once the Primarchs are quite happy with this development, they will be vocal about another reversal under a different administrator. Besides, I'm giving the Sigillite plenty of political ammo and influence with the Primarchs after this. Even if the entire office of the Lord-Militant will end up being nothing more than a joke."
Once again, Skullface tried to figure out what Eli was getting out of this, aside from funding. "So what do you get from this crazy plan? Funding, right? Unlimited at that, but for what project, I wonder."
His former student looked at his teacher severely, "I will do it, Orbán. I'm going to start Project G.I."
Orbán couldn't help himself as he groaned loudly, "Oh, for the love of...this again. Eli, it's a
pipedream."
During their Foxhound years, Eli had expressed considerable interest in genetic memorization and implementation or, what he liked to call "Gestalt Instrumentality." The concept would be the foundation for a new type of soldier, artificially created but capable of growth and learning in all facets of humanity, albeit under a controlled set of parameters via mental techniques and technologies provided by Majestic. Eli developed several procedures during this time, which had gone on to become the foundation for the memetic psy-wards and hypno-indoctrination used to create the Black Brigades.
Eli, however, wanted to explore this new field. Unfortunately, Majestic refused to entertain the idea, and even Orbán found the concept of G.I. to be fanciful. It was one of those sore points that nearly ended their relationship. What was Orbán to do back then? The whole concept was just impossible.
"It's not a pipedream." He spoke quietly, "I know it can work. With the resources and knowledge available, I can get Project G.I. started and in production in under ten years after becoming Lord-Militant. We
need this, Orbán."
"Who, the Imperium? Or just you, Eli?" Orbán tried to phrase this next part gently, "Eli, you don't need some Primarch-sized vanity project to justify your genius."
"You think this is some vanity project?!" He looked incensed, "I'm trying to make a better
human, something we know is possible! A better soldier that can stand against the coming tides of darkness. The Black Brigades were a good step in that direction, but I recognize that an emotionless tool will only get us so far. We need to start manufacturing
heroes, maybe even demi-gods of our own, if we are to survive the coming centuries. Project G.I. will be one of the many tools for humanity to achieve final victory."
Orbán thought of Orion and his sense of humility in the back of his mind. Eli, meanwhile, thought himself one of the future saviors of humanity. Yet he was willing to bring upon misery and suffering if he became Lord-Militant.
When he thought things couldn't get any stranger, Eli followed up on the madness, "I asked you to come here because I
need your help. I want you to become my chief of staff in my administration."
Now Orbán knew that Eli had lost his mind, "That would kill any chance of you getting friends among most of the Imperial Army."
"To hell with them." He remarked, "You think I want them as allies, let alone as friends? What has friendship done for anyone in this office? I need men of vision and action, ready to do whatever is necessary to ensure the long-term survival of the Imperium."
Orbán got fed up with this nonsense, "Spare me the rhetoric, Eli. What you want out of this is to see this ego project to completion so you can have your name etched in the very foundation of the Imperium's history."
"And that's wrong of me?" Eli gestured towards the painting of Himmelcran, "Am I supposed to be content with what I have accomplished and call it a night? And you, Orbán, do you truly wish for your legacy to be remembered as the man you are now? What would your family think of you."
Since the start of this entire conversation, Skullface hadn't felt himself get angry. Frustrated and exasperated, yes. But not angry. He and Eli were still "friends" in some form. However, he wasn't about to let Eli lecture him on legacy or family.
"Eli, I've accepted that what I leave behind is evil and destruction for a greater purpose. But do
not lecture me. If you want some sound advice, don't seek to follow me down a similar path or assume that I will follow you on your own." His oblivion would come soon enough if there was any justice left in this galaxy. However, he also remembered the small promise he made to Orion. If there was any hope for ending things like the Black Brigades, it had to be done at the institutional level. Yet to play a part in Eli's ludicrous plan? Skullface had crossed many lines, so why was this one so costly in his mind?
"Are you honestly not interested at all in my offer?" Eli sounded shocked, "I understand that you've accepted your legacy...but there are better ways to ensure it rather than just be remembered as a monster." Orbán couldn't disagree with that sentiment. "Listen, this is going to happen. And if you honestly believe that I am going to make a mistake, you are
far better off being around me to correct the
actual ones that could be made. I'm not infallible, Orbán. I readily admit that. However, I know this is the only course of action we can take at this juncture."
Orbán contemplated Eli's plea, "Were it that simple, Eli." He finished his drink and then spoke, "Nevertheless, I know you don't deal in your absolutes unless you are ready to carry them out. Especially when you are this confident in the matter." Eli certainly never took any risks unless he knew the odds of winning. "I'm not swayed, but I won't deny you have a few points."
Eli leaned forward, "Is that a yes or a no, Orbán?"
"It's a
maybe." He needed more time to consider this offer and the fallout from either decision. Skullface had no obligation to aid Eli in this madness by all rights. On the other hand, Skullface was one of the few men in the galaxy that could reign in Eli's costly tendencies and keep him focused. Additionally, as Chief of Staff, it would be pretty easy to support his
own endeavors and projects on the side. This administration would become nothing more than a rubber-stamping office used to embezzle funds and resources toward black projects. All at the cost of the Imperial economy.
And if Eli was right, stars help him, then the only people to really blame were the people in charge. The nobles, the Imperial military, the Primarchs, and even Godfather and Malcador would have to contend with the reality that everyone would accept this course of action because they would get their share of the funding. Human civilization was all just a giant racket in the end. Aldrich was one of the few men, human or otherwise, who tried to make a difference...and now the Imperium was going to force him out a second time.
"Eli, you are probably one of the smartest men in the galaxy that isn't a Primarch or Astartes." Skullface spoke icily, "But make no mistake, you are playing with a fire you cannot control or hope to extinguish."
"With respect, general," Eli remarked, "I didn't start the fire. Yet everyone seems to think the smoke coming from it is just passing through. Maybe once everyone sees it, they'll actually try to stop it. So if I have to be the one that throws the promethium on it, then
so be it." He glowered at Orbán, "You taught us that if someone needs to be the monster, you might as well be an effective one."
Another sin of Orbán's comes to bite him in the ass once more.
But then Eli waved it off, "But in any case, my offer still stands. You will be welcomed into my inner circle with open arms. I do hope you'll accept, Orbán. We can certainly accomplish great things together..."
Orbán frowned and turned away, "You'll have my answer soon enough." He started to walk towards the door, "I hope you don't mind, but I need to be on my way..."
"Of course," Eli answered, "There is much to be done, after all." Leaning back into his chair, "Just remember, you'll be saluting me next time we meet." There was a playful tone in his voice. Along with smug certainty, "Cheerio, Orbán."
---
The escort back to his shuttle was uneventful. The rain, sadly, had stopped. All Orbán saw now was the dark sky and thousands of twinkling lights, of stars, stations, and vessels up above the Imperial Palace. He didn't waste any time leaving the estate grounds. Skullface had much to think about and no one to talk to about these concerns.
At least not yet.
"Take us back into orbit." He ordered his pilot, "And relay back to have astropathic teams ready." Orbán needed to start investigating who else was possibly going to be part of Eli's inner circle. No doubt anyone involved with Foxhound was on the docket. But Eli had allies now across the Imperium. Especially with how grandiose this entire plan of his sounded at the outset.
Once he got a better idea, Orbán would make his decision. It was best to learn more about what precisely the future Lord-Militant had planned for the Imperium. This would have to be done quietly. Less panic ensued among the Imperial Army or the vast multitudes of Imperials that could either stand to lose everything or benefit from Eli's economic plans.
Orbán would plan and react accordingly and in due time. Until then, he would contemplate the future and what exactly lay in store.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, done with this omake and under a week. Now to see if I can finish that Crystal Dragons omake now or if I should just try another omake of this size.
