The Primarch of Liberty

Chapter 1: Nova Libertas



In the shadowed depths of the Imperial Palace, nestled beneath the towering peaks of the Himalazian Mountains, lay the most secretive and vital of the Emperor's laboratories. Here, in chambers of unparalleled technological wonder, twenty gene-forged marvels slumbered in their gestation pods - the Primarchs, the Emperor's greatest creations and the future leaders of humanity's conquest of the stars.

Among these developing demigods, in the eleventh gene-lab, floated a child with natural brown hair and hazel eyes. Like his brothers, he was growing at an accelerated rate, his potential far beyond that of any normal human. The Emperor had imbued each Primarch with unique traits and abilities, and this eleventh son was no exception, though his full

capabilities were yet to be realized.

The laboratory hummed with energy, intricate machinery and psychic wards maintaining the delicate balance required for the Primarchs' gestation. Servo-skulls flitted between monitoring stations, while gene-wrights and bio-savants worked tirelessly under the Emperor's exacting supervision. The very air crackled with potential, as if the fate of the galaxy hung in this very chamber.

But in the swirling eddies of the Warp, dark forces were gathering. The Chaos Gods, those malevolent entities that held sway over the Immaterium, had become aware of the Emperor's great work. They saw in these Primarchs a threat to their power, a potential force that could tip the balance of the great game they played with the fate of all living things.

With a concerted effort that belied their usual fractious nature, the Ruinous Powers reached out across time and space. Their influence seeped through cracks in reality, probing at the formidable psychic defenses the Emperor had erected around his laboratories.

In an instant that seemed to stretch for an eternity, the careful balance was shattered. A great rent tore open in the fabric of reality within the gene-labs, a howling maelstrom of Warp energies that defied all natural laws. Alarms blared throughout the facility as the impossible occurred - the Gellar fields and psychic wards that should have made such an incursion impossible were breached.

The Emperor, engaged in matters of galactic importance elsewhere in the Palace, felt the disturbance immediately. With speed that defied comprehension, he rushed to the laboratories, his auric power blazing like a newborn sun. But even for one such as he, it was too late.

The gestation pods containing the Primarchs were ripped from their moorings, drawn inexorably towards the Warp rift. Among them, the pod of the eleventh, the child with brown hair and hazel eyes, spun in the vortex of energies. For a brief moment, it seemed as if the Emperor's hand might reach it, golden light straining against the pull of the Warp.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

But the Chaos Gods' influence was too strong, their combined will focused with laser-like intensity on this singular moment. One by one, the pods vanished into the rift, scattered to the far corners of the galaxy by the capricious tides of the Warp.

As quickly as it had formed, the rift collapsed in upon itself, leaving the laboratory in ruins. Sparks flew from shattered machinery, and the moans of the injured filled the air. The Emperor stood amidst the devastation, his face a mask of fury and anguish.

In that moment, the Emperor knew that his great plan had been derailed. The Primarchs, his sons created to lead humanity to its destiny among the stars, were lost to him. Yet, he was not one to succumb to despair. Already, his transcendent mind was formulating new strategies, adapting to this unforeseen calamity.

The genetic material of the Primarchs remained, and from this, the Emperor would forge the Space Marine Legions. These genetically enhanced warriors would serve as a stopgap, a force to begin the great work of unifying humanity while the search for the scattered Primarchs continued.

As for the eleventh Primarch, the child with brown hair and hazel eyes, his pod hurtled through the Warp, buffeted by currents of raw chaos. Protected by the Emperor's craftsmanship and perhaps by fate itself, it emerged from the Immaterium far from Terra, in a star system Called The Independence Cluster.

The pod streaked across the sky of a world that would come to be called Nova Libertas, a blazing comet that heralded great change. There, the child would be found, raised, and would grow to become Franklin Valorian, the Primarch of the Liberty Eagles.

The Independence cluster, a group of 300 worlds nestled in the treacherous Halo Stars, had been colonized during humanity's Dark Age of Technology. Unlike many human settlements that had fallen into barbarism or technological regression during the Age of Strife, the Independence Cluster had managed to preserve much of its advanced technology, including crucial Standard Template Constructs (STCs).

The arrival of the infant Primarch on Nova Libertas was an event shrouded in mystery, yet destined to reshape the future of the Independence Cluster. Like his brothers scattered across the galaxy, Franklin Valorian descended from the heavens in a pod of unknown origin, crashing into the heart of the capital city of New Washington.

The pod's discovery by the prominent Valorian family, known for their political influence and staunch belief in democratic values, set the stage for young Franklin's upbringing. Adopted into this household of movers and shakers, the child's superhuman nature quickly became apparent.

As with all Primarchs, Franklin's growth was accelerated and his abilities far beyond those of normal humans. By the age of three, he stood as tall as a grown man and displayed an intellect that left his adoptive parents in awe. His charisma, even at such a young age, drew people to him like moths to a flame.

The Valorian family, recognizing the potential in their adoptive son, ensured he received the finest education the Independence Cluster could offer. It was during these formative years that Franklin's personality began to truly shine.

In his history classes, Franklin showed a particular interest in ancient Terran cultures, especially those that valued individual liberty and democracy. He would often engage his tutors in spirited debates, challenging established viewpoints with a mixture of logic and humor that was uniquely his own.

"But Professor," Franklin would say with a mischievous glint in his eye, "if the ancient Athenians believed in democracy so much, why did they keep slaves? Isn't that a bit like saying you're on a diet while eating a triple cheeseburger?"

His tutor, Dr. Eliza Hawthorne, struggled to maintain her composure. "Well, Franklin, historical contexts are complex. We must be careful not to judge past civilizations by our modern standards."

Franklin nodded sagely, then grinned. "So what you're saying is, we should give them a pass because they didn't know any better? I wonder what future genera ions will say about us. 'Oh, those quaint 31st millennium folks, always worried about xenos invasions. How charmingly paranoid they were!""

Dr. Hawthorne couldn't help but chuckle. "Your ability to find humor in even the most serious topics is... unique, Franklin. Just remember, there's a time and place for everything."

"Of course, Professor," Franklin replied with a wink. "And right now, it's time for me to place another witty observation!"

This exchange was typical of Franklin's approach to learning. He absorbed knowledge voraciously but always filtered it through his own unique perspective. His humor, often laced with irony, became a trademark of his personality. It served not only to entertain but also to disarm, allowing him to navigate complex social and political situations with ease.

"Young Franklin, please explain to the class the fundamental principles of democracy," Professor Harriet Adamson requested, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. Franklin, now appearing to be a teenager despite being only a few years old, stood up with a grin. "Well, Prof, it's simple really. Democracy is like a big ol' party where everyone gets to choose the DJ. Sometimes you end up with great tunes, other times it's a cacophony that makes your ears bleed. But hey, at least we all got a say in the playlist, right?"

The class erupted in laughter, and even the stern Professor Adamson couldn't suppress a smile. "An... interesting analogy, Franklin. Could you perhaps elaborate on the more serious aspects?"

"Of course," Franklin replied, his tone shifting to one of surprising gravitas. "Democracy, at its core, is about the power of the people to choose their leaders and influence the decisions that affect their lives. It's built on principles of equality, freedom of speech, and the idea that government should serve the will of the people. However," he paused, his expression thoughtful, "it's not without its challenges."

Professor Adamson leaned forward, intrigued. "Go on."

"Democracy requires an informed and engaged citizenry. Without that, it's vulnerable to manipulation, to the tyranny of the majority, or to paralysis when consensus can't be reached. It's a delicate balance between individual liberty and collective responsibility."

The professor nodded approvingly. "Excellent, Franklin. You've clearly given this much

thought."

Franklin's serious demeanor melted back into his characteristic grin. "Well, I figure if I'm gonna live in this system, I might as well understand how it ticks. Besides, someone's gotta keep all you oldsters on your toes!"

As Franklin progressed through his education, his understanding of the Independence Cluster's unique position in the galaxy grew. He devoured information about the cluster's history, its advanced technology preserved from the Dark Age of Technology, and its constant struggles against xenos threats.

In a private conversation with his military strategy instructor, retired General Marcus Steele, Franklin's growing awareness became apparent.

"Sir," Franklin began, his tone uncharacteristically serious, "I've been studying our cluster's defensive capabilities and production output. We're sitting on a powder keg of potential,

aren't we?"

General Steele raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean, son?"

"Our STCs, our rapid production capabilities... we can manufacture top-tier weapons and

power armor in minutes. Most worlds would kill for that kind of technology. And yet, we're constantly on the defensive against xenos incursions."

The general nodded slowly. "That's a keen observation, Franklin. What's your point?"

Franklin's eyes gleamed with intensity. "My point is, why are we just defending? With our capabilities, we could be expanding, pushing back against the threats that surround us. We have the means to not just survive, but to thrive."

"Careful, boy," Steele warned. "That kind of talk sounds dangerously close to imperialism. We're a democratic society, not conquerors."

"Is it imperialism to want to secure our borders? To ensure our people can live without constant fear of xenos attack?" Franklin countered. "I'm not talking about subjugating other human worlds, sir. I'm talking about creating a buffer zone, expanding our sphere of

influence to keep the monsters at bay."

General Steele studied the young man before him, a mix of concern and admiration in his eyes. "You're treading a fine line, Franklin. Remember, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Our democratic system is designed to prevent any one person or group from gaining too much control."

Franklin nodded, but there was a glint in his eye that suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "I understand, sir. But sometimes I wonder if our commitment to absolute democracy might be our Achilles' heel. In times of crisis, decisiveness can be the difference between survival

and extinction."

As Franklin's education progressed, he found himself increasingly drawn to the study of historical leaders who had navigated the delicate balance between democratic ideals and necessary action in times of crisis. He was particularly fascinated by the concept of the Roman dictator - a leader granted temporary absolute power during emergencies.

This interest led to a pivotal conversation with his political science professor, Dr. Elara Voss.

"Dr. Voss," Franklin began, his tone carefully neutral, "I've been researching historical models of governance, particularly those employed during times of extreme threat. I've noticed a pattern where many successful societies had mechanisms to temporarily consolidate power in crisis situations. What are your thoughts on this in relation to our cluster's constant state of alert against xenos threats?"

Dr. Voss peered at him over her glasses. "An astute observation, Franklin. You're referring to

systems like the Roman dictatorship or various emergency powers acts throughout history, I

assume?"

Franklin nodded. "Exactly. Given our unique situation - advanced technology, constant

external threats - do you think our current system is... optimally designed to respond to potential catastrophic events?"

"Ah," Dr. Voss leaned back, a knowing look in her eye. "You're wondering if pure democracy is always the answer. It's a question that's been debated for millennia, Franklin. Our system has safeguards, checks and balances designed to prevent the abuse of power."

"But those same safeguards can lead to gridlock and slow response times," Franklin countered. "In a situation where minutes could mean the difference between survival and annihilation, can we afford the luxury of protracted debate?"

Dr. Voss studied him carefully. "What are you suggesting, Franklin?" "Nothing concrete, professor," Franklin replied with a disarming smile. "Just thinking out

loud. Perhaps a system that combines the best aspects of democracy with the ability to act decisively when necessary. A sort of... managed democracy, if you will." "Managed democracy," Dr. Voss repeated, her tone cautious. "That's a slippery slope,

Franklin. History is littered with examples of leaders who used similar reasoning to justify authoritarian rule."

Franklin's expression grew serious. "I'm not talking about authoritarianism, Dr. Voss. I'm talking about a system that respects the will of the people but is also capable of swift,

decisive action when needed. A system that can harness the full potential of our cluster's capabilities without getting bogged down in political squabbles."

"And who would decide when such 'decisive action' is necessary?" Dr. Voss challenged.

Franklin's response was immediate. "The people, of course. Through their elected representatives. But with mechanisms in place to act quickly in genuine emergencies." Dr. Voss sighed. "Franklin, your ideas are... interesting. But be careful. The road to tyranny is

often paved with good intentions."

Franklin nodded, his trademark grin returning. "Understood, professor. It's all theoretical anyway. For now, I'm just a student, eager to learn."

But as he left Dr. Voss's office, the wheels in Franklin's mind were turning. The seed of an idea

had been planted - an idea that would one day reshape the Independence Cluster and beyond.

As Franklin entered his teenage years (at least in appearance), his grasp of the Independence

Cluster's unique position in the galaxy solidified. He understood that their preserved Dark Age Technology, particularly their STCs and rapid production capabilities, made them a potential powerhouse. Yet, they remained constantly on the defensive against xenos threats like the Rangdan and Slaugth.

This realization led to many heated debates in his advanced military strategy classes. "But sir," Franklin argued passionately, "with our production capabilities, we could outfit an expansion fleet in a matter of weeks. We could establish forward bases, create a buffer zone against xenos incursions."

His instructor, a veteran of countless defensive actions, shook his head. "And spread our

forces thin? Leave our core worlds vulnerable? It's too risky, Valorian." Franklin's eyes blazed with conviction. "Riskier than sitting here, waiting for the next attack? We have the means to take the fight to them, to secure our future on our terms." These debates often ended in stalemates, but they fueled Franklin's growing conviction that the Independence Cluster needed to be more proactive in its defense and expansion.

As Franklin's education neared its end, his reputation had grown far beyond the confines of

the academy. His intellect, charisma, and innovative ideas had caught the attention of military and political leaders across the cluster.

At his graduation ceremony, Franklin delivered a speech that would be remembered for years

to

come:

"My fellow citizens of the Independence Cluster," he began, his voice carrying across the packed auditorium, "we stand at a crossroads. For generations, we've preserved the legacy of humanity's golden age. We've defended our borders against countless threats. We've maintained our democratic values in the face of a hostile universe."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the audience. "But is survival enough? Are we content to

merely exist, always on the defensive, always waiting for the next crisis? I say no!" The crowd stirred, some nodding in agreement, others shifting uncomfortably. "We have the technology, the resources, and the spirit to do more than just survive. We can

thrive. We can expand. We can secure a future not just for ourselves, but for all of humanity in this sector of the galaxy."

His voice rose with passion. "But to do this, we must be willing to adapt. To evolve. To create

a system of governance that preserves our democratic ideals while allowing for decisive action when needed. A system that can harness the full potential of our technological superiority and the indomitable spirit of our people."

Franklin's eyes blazed with intensity. "I stand before you today not just as a graduate, but as a

citizen ready to serve. Ready to help forge a new path for our cluster. A path of strength, of growth, of liberty secured through overwhelming firepower and unwavering resolve." He ended with a smile, his tone lightening. "And hey, if we happen to make the galaxy a bit

more fun along the way, where's the harm in that?"

The speech was met with thunderous applause from many, thoughtful silence from some, and

wary concern from a few. But none could deny the charisma and vision of the young man who

stood before them.

As Franklin stepped down from the podium, he knew his journey was just beginning. The Ideas of a managed democracy, of an expansion doctrine backed by overwhelming firepower, of a future where the Independence Cluster could stand proud and free in a hostile galaxy - these were no longer just academic theories. They were a roadmap for the future he intended

to build.

Little did he know that fate, and the machinations of powers beyond his comprehension, had an even grander destiny in store for him. The stage was set for Franklin Valorian to emerge as a leader, a warrior, and ultimately, a Primarch who would shape the future of not just the

Independence Cluster, but the entire Imperium of Man.

A/N: As I wrote this I'm starting to see why there are a lot of Space Marine Books and etc.