Interlude: Aboard the Edge of Reason (I)

Apothecary Kademeri forehead beaded with sweat, gripped a pair of silver-white, specially made surgical forceps, using them to pry a piece of flesh clinging to the bone. A bright white light shone from the temporary inspection lamp mounted on his right shoulder armor, illuminating a particular wounded patient.

After a brief observation and examination, Kademeri realized that, as an Astartes Apothecary, he was utterly helpless with this mortal patient before him.

He had served in the Dark Angels for forty-six years, which may not sound like a long time, but he had never been far from the Order' most intense wars. He had ended the suffering of many brothers and snatched many people back from the jaws of death. In every respect, he was a qualified Apothecary, and indeed, an excellent one.

But now, he encountered a problem. He found that the medical knowledge he had learned and practiced in the past was hardly effective on the person in front of him.

First of all, the first point is that this person was not bleeding.

He had blood vessels, and blood in them; his heart was still beating, his body was warm, and he had a horrific penetrating wound in his chest. The location and size of this wound determined one thing: he would die within seconds.

But he didn't. He didn't even bleed.

Not only did he not, but he was even able to lie comfortably in the medical chair and chat with Lion El-Jonson— Kademeri's Primarch —next to him.

He was lucid and articulate, remaining remarkably calm even with a surgical forceps probing inside his flesh, unlike any other mortal wounded he had encountered before in Kademeri.

Kademeri took a deep breath and cleared his mind.

He had decided that, whatever the reason for this bizarre situation, he would treat this special patient according to the standard procedures for treating seriously injured people.

He held the single-molecule scalpel in his hand, while the filler, disinfectant spray, healing spray, and sutures were delivered to a small platform to the side by the medical arm.

Kademeri gripped the scalpel, checking his fingers for a firm grip as if performing surgery for the first time, before making the incision. He was going to remove some flesh that would obstruct the stitching. However, things didn't go as he expected.

With a slight cracking sound, the monomolecular scalpel snapped.

The Apothecary was stunned. For a few seconds, his mind raced while his body remained completely stiff. It wasn't until his patient sat up, picked up a can of healing spray from the small platform, and sprayed some medicine on his wound that he came to his senses.

Lion Aljonsen watched this scene expressionlessly, a voice in his mind mocking him blatantly.

I told you long ago he was just joking. Look what you've done, brother! Your good son won't be able to sleep tonight!

He didn't need to sleep anyway; Caliban's knight only meditated! The Lion El'Jonson roared in his mind.

In the real world, however, he spoke in a gentler tone, "Kademeri."

"Yes, Primarch?"

"Well done," said the Lion El'Jonson.

He patted the Apothecary on the shoulder, turned silently, and led the group out of the medical room. Kademeri watched them leave blankly, receiving only an apologetic smile from the patient.

A few seconds after the door closed, he looked down at the scalpel in his hand; some fragments lay at his feet, gleaming faintly.

"Didn't you say you needed treatment?" Lion El'Jonson asked, seemingly in a casual tone, as he walked on the deck of the Edge of Reason.

"And I received treatment—at least an examination; the Apothecary clearly determined I needed surgery." Karyl shrugged, the gash on his chest still very noticeable. "So, I do need treatment, unless you think the Apothecary was incompetent."

The Lion El'Jonson turned its head away and stopped speaking, but after taking a dozen steps, it suddenly spoke again, "You've changed, Karyl."

I would like to hear more details.

The Lion El'Jonson paused for a moment, then slowly spoke, "Russ said he'd like to buy you a drink."

"I have no objection," Karyl said with a smile. "But I think we'd better go back to Fenris for a drink."

The Lion El'Jonson took a deep breath, tossed the spear in his hand to him, and strode ahead. Leman Russ Russ's laughter followed closely Karyl, a hearty, unrestrained laugh.

"Look at his face, Karyl! The old Lion isn't going to sleep tonight!"

"But isn't he a knight of Caliban?" Karyl asked, slightly doubtful. "They always use meditation instead of sleep."

Russ's laughter stopped abruptly.

A few seconds later, he said quietly, "Sometimes I really don't understand your Nostramo sense of humor. You, Konrad Curze, and that rascal Jago Sevatarion —where did you all learn this way of talking?"

Karyl didn't answer the question, he just smiled. Ten minutes later, they arrived at the tenth deck via the descending elevator.

The Lion El'Jonson had arranged the offices of the mortal servants and some officers from the Edge of Reason who were responsible for serving the Chapter here. Most of the officers came from within the Sol System. The servants, on the other hand, were either rejected members of the Chapter or descendants of the Caliban.

They paced back and forth in a large hall, and everyone, regardless of gender, age, or age, looked perfectly healthy, yet extremely busy. The Imperium's most favored method of weighing by slate was clearly causing them considerable trouble.

Even with the help of handcarts and other tools, the task was not easy. More than one person frowned when looking at the stone slabs, but they did not complain, perhaps because they were used to it, or perhaps because of the arrival of the Lion El'Jonson.

This event filled them with immense excitement and honor. Everyone stopped what they were doing and began to bow repeatedly to the Lord of Caliban. Even after he had passed by them, they continued to silently watch over him.

However, things were different for Karyl. Most people ignored him, and a few looked at him with very unfriendly eyes, even filled with jealousy.

Karyl was a little confused until Russ told him the reason.

"These people are simple-minded, but also rigid, Karyl. They see the service Chapter and the Lion El'Jonson as the same way to serve the Emperor; they're fanatical, and you happen to be holding that spear."

"They'd love to do this for you, you know? Seriously, how about we make a bet? There are at least three hundred men here willing to carry this spear for you."

Karyl sighed silently, quickened his pace, and caught up with the Lion El'Jonson.

A few minutes later, they turned into a long, narrow passageway. It was impossible for the Lion El'Jonson to enter if it were wearing armor.

The walls were made of granite and hung with many battle flags, but none of them belonged to the Space Marine Chapter; rather, they were the flags of the mortal legions. The guard and the navy, two opposing and mutually repulsive systems, were now living together harmoniously.

Karyl slowed his pace and began to identify them. He could recognize only a few flags, such as the famous Cadian Shock Troops and the Mordian Iron Guard. However, most of the flags were ones he had never seen or even heard of before.

The Imperium is vast; how many people fought and died under these banners? What sacrifices did they make, and what glory did they achieve, to be able to fly their banners here?

The Lion El'Jonson stopped at the end of the passageway, reached out and knocked on the wooden door. A cold, almost inhuman voice came from behind the door.

"Please come in."

The Lion El'Jonson turned around and smiled at Karyl, a strange expression on his face. It was the look of a busybody, more likely to appear on Russ than on him.

Karyl raised an eyebrow as he watched him push open the door. Behind the door was a table, and behind the table sat an officer whose face was initially as stern as a stone, intently studying a document in his hands.

But he was clearly a very quick-witted, or rather, very vigilant person. In less than a second, he realized there were no footsteps at the door, so he quickly looked up and saw the Lion El'Jonson.

The man immediately stood up and saluted, his uniform impeccably straight, the Aquila emblem on his cap gleaming.

"Good afternoon, my lord."

"Sit down, Shefa." The Lion El'Jonson nodded to him. "I have someone to introduce you to."

Instead of going into the office, he stepped aside, bringing Karyl into the line of sight of the officer named Shefa.

The latter paused slightly, his expression suddenly changing, somewhere between serious and bewildered. Then, he raised his hands, as if to offer a salute.

But he didn't do that in the end. Instead, he pursed his lips, flipped his right hand, and a badge suddenly appeared between his fingers.

Karyl glanced at it and couldn't help but chuckle.

"Inquisitor?" he asked.

Shefa nodded quickly.

Karyl looked up at the Lion El'Jonson, tossed his spear to the silently smiling giant, and went into his office, not forgetting to close the door behind him. But the Lion El'Jonson did not leave, nor did it seem angry.

His voice rang out from outside the door, tinged with a distinct chuckle, "We'll see you later, Karyl. Remember to bring that old sailor along too."

Where shall we meet?

"Find it yourself," the Lion El'Jonson said, laughing as he walked away.

Karyl turned to look at Inquisitor Shefa, who stood ramrod straight, and sighed.

"Sit down, Shefa. Colonel? You also hold a position in the Departmento Munitorum?"

"Yes, sir, he's only been in office for a month."

Shefa said, then sat down meticulously. His voice was steady, his eyes fixed straight ahead, seemingly looking at Karyl, yet not quite. His gaze was focused, but without any fixed point.

"A month?"

"I was assigned a task by the Sigillites. He asked me to gather some capable criminals across the galaxy and recruit them into my ranks to form a new Legion of Punishments. To do this, I must have a military rank, otherwise I will encounter considerable difficulties with the procedures."

"This mission requires me to take those criminals to the most dangerous war zones across the galaxy and screen them again. The Sigillites hopes to select a group of the most ruthless scoundrels in this way, and then I will lead them to carry out those near-suicidal missions."

"If they die or complete their mission, they will receive a penance, in the Emperor will pardon their sins."

Karyl paused for a few seconds, then asked, "Don't you have any concerns about this?"

"No, sir," Shefa replied firmly. "Those selected for the Legion of Punishments all deserved it."

I have reservations about this Karyl thought.

The image of the man named Kaiqi flashed before his eyes; before the discipline officers beat him black and blue, Karyl had already talked to him for a long time.

He was a former soldier who came here because he killed his superior. The reasons were complicated, but he had killed someone, so he wasn't innocent. But he was accompanied by a former sergeant named Frank and a pastor named Jiabai.

Frank came from an Agri World and was drafted for Tithe, rising from farmer to soldier to sergeant. He should have had a bright future, until he was fighting rebels on a planet called Lucky II.

During that battle, Frank and his men had never had enough to eat for a month. So he went to question the officers, only to find them eating stewed beef and drinking brandy in their tents.

Frank asked them for supplies, but the officers refused again. His soldiers could no longer stand it, so they stole everything from the officers' tents.

Frank did not stop them, because he simply couldn't understand how hungry soldiers could attack an enemy fortress on the ice field. He had been sentenced to the Penal Legion for disobeying orders and assaulting his superior.

As for the priest Jiabai, he was somewhat similar to Frank in that he disobeyed his superiors, the only difference being that he did so in front of a large audience and six officers of the Imperial Guard.

He questioned his superior—a bishop—about why he had executed those who had protected his palace during the rebellion, and all he received in return was the bishop's roar.

Because they are not devout enough!

Then, Jiabai had his leg broken and was thrown into prison, where he was selected for the Penal Legion because of his fighting prowess.

"Gentlemen?"

"It's nothing, Shefa." Karyl smiled at him. "I just wanted to remind you that there are always exceptions. Some people aren't killers or psychopaths; they're just punished for doing the right thing in the wrong circumstances."

You're still young, try to understand this sooner rather than later.

He rose and left, the wooden door closing behind him. He stepped into the darkness and found the old sailor Haide, on the port side of the boarding deck of the Edge of Reason.

The latter was sitting awkwardly in a makeshift meeting room, with a cup of herbal tea in front of him, and a newspaper and a magazine lying beside him. Haide, however, neither drank the tea nor read the newspaper or magazine.

He simply sat upright on the sofa, his eyes blank. Karyl appeared at the door, then gently opened it, pretending to have just walked in, and coughed softly.

The old sailor turned around and, upon seeing him, blurted out, "Sir! Where have you brought me?!"

"The Edge of Reason," Karyl said. "A warship of the Dark Angels Chapter."