‘Tinkering with his battleplate again?’

‘What else?’ said Solus. ‘I shall fetch him first.’

Solus hurried away. Felix stalked down the corridor. The refectorum door was closed but not latched, and he pushed it open stealthily. He looked inside, his mind flooded with memories. Twenty Space Marines were dotted around the long tables filling the room. None of them noticed him stood there. Oil cloths were spread out before them, the components of weapons laid out for cleaning, and they were engrossed in their work. The place smelled of men, gun oil, lapping powder and yesterday’s nutrient gruel. Regulations said they should not undertake such work in the eating area, but they gathered there because there was nowhere else of size besides the training ground to congregate. The armorium was out of the question. That was small, and Lieutenant Sarkis’ pet projects had overtaken the space even in Felix’s time. It had got worse since Sarkis had taken command.

Though the Unnumbered Sons were formed into temporary Chapters of their own kind, Guilliman had decreed that they spend time fighting in mixed squads in order that the differing gene-lines would learn each other’s strengths, and how to best work together. As more of the Unnumbered Sons had been assigned to their permanent homes and their numbers in the crusade decreased, each rotation had been longer, and Felix’s demi-company had been fighting together for the better part of a decade.

Most of the Primaris Space Marines present were of Roboute Guilliman’s line. Five were not. Bjarni’s gene-seed obviously came from Leman Russ, and his skin was covered in faded Fenrisian tribal tattoos. Then there was Aldred and Urstan, who were kin to Dorn, Lei Jian of Chogoris, and Kalael. All, however, were Primaris Space Marines, and that bound them together when their differing heritages might have set them apart.

After a century of war, the Primaris Space Marines still seemed new. The Imperium was used to technological stagnancy. The Primaris warriors were shocking: a blasphemy against the holy works of the Emperor-Omnissiah to some, a sure sign of the deity’s work in the world to others. It was probable, Felix thought, that only the primarch’s presence had prevented the advent of the Primaris Space Marines sparking yet another war between the Imperium’s brawling factions.

The less theologically inclined cared only about the Primaris Space Marines’ effectiveness in combat. They were bigger and stronger than the older type of Space Marine, and equipped with potent new weapons. There were other less obvious differences between the two types as well, but though the unseen was more essential to the salvation of the Imperium, when one witnessed the Primaris Space Marines in battle, these deeper differences seemed of lesser importance.