The Space Marines or Legiones Astartes were originally conceived of by the man who came to be known as the Emperor a good thirty thousand years ago. It was around the twenty-first millenium, however, when he finally put his theories into practice and work began on creating genetically engineered super-human soldiers that the Emperor could use as his troops in the re-conquering of Earth followed by the rest of the galaxy.
Twenty Primarchs were bred, and they were the twenty most powerful men in the galaxy after the Emperor. The affairs of the hunt for the lost Primarchs, and the corruption and fall of some of their number and the Horus Heresy are not the concern of this account. From the seed of the Primarchs were created the Legiones Astartes, companies of men stronger, faster, more intelligent, and better armed than ordinary humans. They were formed into Legions, and later subdivided into Chapters to make them more manoeverable and less susceptible to the wearing forces of Chaos.
There are not enough Space Marines in the galaxy to fulfil the Imperium’s need of them, only about a million in total. Nevertheless, over the twenty thousand years since they were first created, countless thousands of Space Marines have been lost forever to the vagueries of the warp. Take, for example, the Feigned Spectres Chapter, whose entire fortress-spaceship was lost en route to the Gavan system. Hundreds and hundreds of pieces of gene-seed are there for the taking, invaluable to one who knows what to do with them.
Say, for example, a young and not-too-powerful Chaos power were to collect fragments of these thousands of warriors, and with them construct an intact set of the nineteen gene-seed implants. If he then spent much time spying on realspace, learning how the Marine Chapters use and manage their implant procedures, which chemicals are required, and so-on, would it not be possible for this being to set up its own Chapter, its own legion of super-human warriors to battle against its enemies?
Of course it would.
If a traveller were to plod his slow way through the warp to the devout Imperial systems that make up the realm of Ultramar, he would find himself in a sector of the galaxy where war never ends. Iyanden Craftworld, three entire Space Marine chapters and the whole of the Tyranid Hive Fleet Kraken are irrevocably commited to this crucible of destruction, not to mention the thousands of Orks, Imperial Guard and primitive humans there.
If the traveller were to leave this area, and head galactically south, avoiding the armada of the Tyranids, he would soon meet the fringe of the beacon that guides the whole of humanity, the Astronomican. Somewhere in this area, there is an area of warp/reality overlap that resembles a tiny version of the Eye of Terror, known among the local intelligent creatures as the Teeth of Death and Destruction. This rather overblown name completely fails to describe the single system that resides inside this area, the system that goes by the name of The Sardkaon.
The Sardkaon star is a bloated ball of furious plasma, wrestling constantly with the supernatural containment that stops it from going supernova. Orbiting this tormented ball of fire are five planets, and an Eldar craftworld. Directly inside the unnatural influence of the Teeth of Death and Destruction the paths of the planets are erratic to say the least, and they travel in wide, unpredictable loops around the sun.
On the death world of Tharada a lost brood of Tyranids war constantly with the deadly flora and fauna. On the chaos world of Mishka warbands of the gods vie for attention, battling each other without end. On Erestron, a Squat stronghold, thought lost forever but actually lifted by an alien force right out of the bedrock of one of the core worlds, spars but not always fights with the native Orks. On Chaktaaron, forces from the other planets and those of the Eye of Terror, transported here on the whim of their masters, battle eternally; sometimes dying, sometimes being resurrected, sometimes being claimed by the gods of the slayer.
But in this system of total war and neverending death, the planet of Karos somehow manages to maintain a form of peace. Karos’ surface is divided into three continents, each governed by a separate system of leadership. Together, they are known as the Petty Imperium, for reasons known only to themselves. On the continent of Wvrense, ten hereditary Kings take turns leading the whole nation. On the continent of Choloro, an elected President rules.
And on the largest and most powerful continent of Naish, the Master of the Chapter of Saurus Legion Space Marines, the Dominus Magister Draco, rules. For the past five centures, this has been Brother-Commander Takant, a man of great strength and wisdom. The plains of Arma border the mountainous vaults of Ere, and it is here (by the Ere) that the fortress-monastery of the Saurus Legion stands.
The fortress-monastery of the Saurus Legion is an imposing structure, rising above the Ere mountains in a mile-high peak. Within its walls, the Brothers of the Chapter and their servants move quickly along the labyrinthine corridors on their way from one place to another (and they wouldn’t have it any other way). On the plains outside, enormous herds of dinosaurs roam and feed on the plants and each other. And at the highest point in the Citadel (apart from the defence laser battery just above, that is) is the Officio Dominus Magister Draco, also known as the boss’ office.
In this archaicly decorated room, the Master of the Chapter sits at a stone desk, with his feet up, and reads the paper. He laughs at the cartoons page, and might occasionally dictate a memo to his secretary, such as a pun for the Farseer of I’shk’t’ouri craftworld, or a letter of thanks to the Ork and Squat Warlords of Erestron for a particularly entertaining peace treaty.
In short, he loafs around.
This is true of the whole Chapter, in fact. The Marines spend their time playing holovid games, reading books and watching the holo-TV they pick up from the continent’s captial hive city. The Masters of the Apothecarion, Librarium, Reclusiam, Foundries and Bestiary sometimes meet for a game of poker, or perhaps a round robin table tennis tournament. Life is relaxed on Karos.
Except during a war.
When the really loud alert klaxons sound in the corridors, halls and rooms of the citadel sound, TVs are clicked off, cricket bats thrown into bins, and pornographic magazines are hastily shoved under mattresses. The Captains of each company page their Lieutenants, who page the Sergeants, who go round to all their Battle-brothers rooms and collect them up, already suited in their powered armour.
They stream in a massive wave to the foundries, where newly-constructed bolters, flamers and lascannon await. The Marines take up the weapons and head for the garage. They leap into their Rhinos, Land Raiders, Razorbacks, Thunderhawks and onto Bikes, and race out onto the plains. The entire Chapter assembles as one, lining up in rows of squad, detachment and company, and ready to hear their orders.
Typically, Commader Takant (or one of the Lieutenant Commanders if he is busy, say for example in an important meeting) will present the mission, and then everyone who doesn’t get to go on it returns to the fortress and packs up again. The chosen warriors load themselves and their equipment onto a horde of spaceships, and blast off to wherever it is they are going.
That about sums it up.