In the apothecarion of the Sons of Horus flagship, the Vengeful Spirit, the members of the Council of Four Kings—Ezekyle Abaddon, Taric Torgaddon, Hastur Sejanus, and Horus Asimand—stood anxiously at the side like men waiting through a birth, watching the Apothecaries fight desperately to save him.
Vaddon had been an Apothecary for many years, but he had never been as panicked and hopeless as he was now.
Father lay on the wheeled gurney, saline replenishing his body's fluids and stabilizing his blood pressure.
Medical servitors brought over bag after bag of fresh blood.
Another Apothecary, Loghan, stared hard at the ECG monitor. "Blood pressure is dropping fast. Heart rate is soaring."
"He's about to arrest!"
"He still isn't clotting. Bring me more Larraman Cells, and set up another IV line," Varo shouted.
Nathasym surgical tools descended from the ceiling as usual, and numerous ticking Mechanical Arms operated according to Vaddon's instructions.
Larraman Cells were injected into Horus's shoulder, immediately slowing the blood loss, but the blood still did not fully clot.
Loghan let out a breath in relief. "Heart rate is slowing. Blood pressure is rising."
"Why hasn't he woken up yet?" Abaddon demanded.
"The damage to his shoulder appears very minor, but it cannot be healed," Vaddon explained.
"More importantly, we still don't understand him well enough. We don't have sufficient knowledge of his physiological mechanisms or bodily functions. I can't even determine what kind of injury triggered this crisis."
"The wound on his shoulder has never clotted. It keeps bleeding."
"I found some residual substance in the wound. It may be some kind of toxin."
"Could it be bacterial or viral infection?" Torgaddon said.
"The swamps on Davin's moon were heavily contaminated."
Vaddon shook his head. "No, it isn't that simple. Father's body is immune to such things."