Chapter 20: The Cult of Gene Stealers

Genestealer Cult, commonly known as the “Chicken Thief Cult,” consists of purestrain Genestealers (four-armed xenos) that infiltrate human worlds.

They corrupt humans through genetic infection, spawning hybrid offspring and building underground networks.

These act as the hive fleet’s vanguard—scouting, locating, and weakening planets for consumption.

They sabotage defenses, incite chaos (riots, facility destruction), and serve as “pathfinders.”

As the hive fleet approaches, cultists flee with refugees.

Once on a new world, they seed fresh cults, repeating the cycle.

“Divine One, you have finally come to receive us!”

Chen Xing stared at the bald woman in ornate robes—jarring contrast.

The woman was a psyker; her power stemmed from another hive fleet, slightly incompatible.

Chen Xing recalled her origin: likely Leviathan fleet, en route to besiege the Blood Angels’ homeworld Baal.

This hybrid clearly wasn’t Leviathan—perhaps Behemoth remnants or nascent Kronus.

Conclusion: not her cult.

“Divine One?” The bald woman blinked. “May I ask…”

THUD!

The tyrant’s bone sword struck the chitin deck.

Chen Xing’s heart skipped.

Eleanor’s voice thundered with psionic weight, shaking the chamber.

“Insolence. Who permitted you to raise your head?”

The woman bowed low in terror.

All cultists followed.

Chen Xing’s avatar—a bio-crafted loli identical to her mental form—sat in the tyrant’s arm, swinging tiny feet.

Short-lived puppet: one to two years max, then digestion pool recycling.

Behind the woman: grotesque hybrids.

Some with three arms.

Others bore clear Genestealer traits.

A few bloated into ogryn-sized abhumans.

Further back: a massive Purestrain Patriarch pinned by three zoanthropes.

Onyx’s host floated above, sneering.

The Patriarch—cult core—had mind-controlled all via psychic leash.

It bypassed orbital scans.

Only Chen Xing’s superior synapse exposed it.

Now: dispose or use?

Chen Xing linked the hive-mind net, brushing fleet-minds.

Lesser than Hive Mind, but still titans.

Response: simple.

[Eat or exile. Your choice.]

So casual?

She cleared her throat.

“Faithful.”

“Two paths.”

“Ascend—left to digestion pools. Bodies dissolve, souls join the Great Will.”

“Serve—remain as crew.”

A lie, of course.

Human souls cannot merge with Tyranids—different species.

Yet hybrids stirred.

Monstrous ones leaped joyfully into pools.

Near-human ones (bald, wrinkled brows) stayed—better suited to human society.

Surprise: the Patriarch chose to stay.

It grinned obsequiously.

Onyx unleashed psychic pressure—puppeteered it step-by-step to the bubbling pool.

“Ascend, Patriarch!”

Cultists raised arms in rapture.

The Patriarch wept noodle tears inside.

Gloop—gloop—melted.

Led by the bald woman, survivors knelt again.

“Divine One,” she beamed. “How may we serve?”

“Act as crew.”

“I will carve a habitat zone—fake human district.”

“Greet visitors, maintain rogue trader disguise.”

“I will sustain you and lend power—far beyond your Patriarch’s.”

“Your grace is infinite!” She trembled. “I will not fail you, Divine One!”

“Your name.”

“Luna Bella—honored to offer it.”

Chen Xing inwardly rolled eyes.

If she knew I ate the uglies and Patriarch…

“Luna Bella, I lend you stronger psionics.”

“Guide the next refugee batch.”

“As you command—I will not disappoint, Divine One!”

Loot from Golden Fleece and Bloodied Blade supplied uniforms.

Cultists transformed into convincing crew.

Chen Xing warped to system edge—Warp Shadow active.

Demons screamed, pulverized in psychic storm.

Next: second refugee run.

Free lunch, round two.