The Swan Goose

After resting for an entire day and getting himself into the right frame of mind, Fu Qinghai followed Ogedei's wheelchair toward the familiar, dim, oppressive corridor deep inside the battleship. He wore a simple robe made of linen.

Inside Master Kunto's laboratory.

Fu Qinghai lay completely naked, secured inside a partially open incubation pod. Master Kunto's operating table stood beside it.

Not only had his clothes been stripped off, but every last hair on his body—even in the crevices—had been shaved away.

Master Kunto's Servitor assistants were surprisingly skilled at shaving. Their eight mechanical arms moved with remarkable agility, wielding razors that darted up and down.

Ogedei and Talal had both left. Only Master Kunto and several of his Servitors remained.

Master Kunto said nothing as he lowered his head and adjusted the sharp drill bit at the end of a metal tube in his hands.

Fu Qinghai turned his head and glanced at the tubes, some thick, some thin, all different sizes. Every one of them would eventually pierce his skin and muscle and be inserted into his body.

At that moment, Fu Qinghai's thoughts began to wander again.

Becoming a Space Marine.

It was something Fu Qinghai had never even considered before.

But when Ogedei had put the option before him, he hadn't hesitated at all.

They said Space Marines had none of the desires of ordinary people and lived an ascetic life, like monks.

They said Space Marines couldn't have children and could only pass on their legacy through Gene-seed.

But Fu Qinghai no longer cared about any of that.

Becoming a Space Marine would make him stronger!

That was enough. In the Warhammer 40K universe, was there any more reliable and direct way to become stronger than becoming a Space Marine?

In this man-eating universe, how could he survive without getting stronger?

"Here we go," Master Kunto said in a hoarse voice beside him.

Fu Qinghai steadied himself, cleared his mind of distracting thoughts, and slowly let his consciousness drift.

Pain flared in his back. He felt a cold, tubular object enter his chest.

Then his vision went black, and he lost consciousness.

Outside the steel bulkhead, in the dim corridor.

Ogedei and Talal walked side by side.

As they walked, Ogedei suddenly spoke in a low voice:

"High above, the swan goose soars, covering a thousand miles in a single flight. May this young eagle survive this ordeal and soar freely across the grasslands."

The Chogoris native had been struck by a fit of poetic inspiration.

"...Locke isn't from Chogoris." Talal was at a loss for words at his companion's sudden, awkward poem and metaphor.

In Chogoris culture, eagles were held in high regard. For instance, Jaghatai Khan, the Primarch of the White Scars, had the title "Warhawk."

"Locke may not be from Chogoris, but he really is a young eagle. He has the ambitions of a swan goose."

The survival rate for Space Marine implantation surgery was very low. Not everyone could endure so many complex procedures. Even with candidates selected with the utmost care, the Imperium of Man still had to pile up corpses to get results.

It had only been a passing thought, one neither of them had expected to amount to anything. Ogedei and Talal had already prepared themselves.

Prepared to hear that Fu Qinghai's surgery had failed and he was dead.