'It won't last.’ Karkasy said. 'No, no. It won't last. It can't. Nothing lasts. You look like a wise man to me, friend, what do you think?' @BRK#'I think you should be on your way, sir.’ the officer said gently. @BRK#'No, no, no... about the city! The city! It won't last, Terra take Peeter Egon Momus. To the dust, all things return. As far as I can see, this city was pretty wonderful before we came and hobbled it.’ @BRK#'Sir, I think-' @BRK#'No, you don't.’ Karkasy said, shaking his head. You don't, and no one does. This city was supposed to last forever, but we broke it and laid it in tatters. Let Momus @BRK#rebuild it, it will happen again, and again. The work of man is destined to perish. Momus said he plans a city that will celebrate mankind forever. You know what? I bet that's what the architects who built this place diought too.’ @BRK#'Sir-' @BRK#'What man does comes apart, eventually. You mark my words. This city, Momus's city. The Imperium-' @BRK#'Sir, you-' @BRK#Karkasy rose to his feet, blinking and wagging a finger. 'Don't "sir" me! The Imperium will fall asunder as soon as we construct it! You mark my words! It's as inevitable as-' @BRK#Pain abruptly splintered Karkasy's face, and he fell down, bewildered. He registered a frenzy of shouting and movement, then felt boots and fists slamming into him, over and over again. Enraged by his words, the troopers had fallen upon him. Shouting, the officer tried to pull them off. @BRK#Bones snapped. Blood spurted from Karkasy's nostrils. @BRK#'Mark my words!' he coughed. 'Nothing we build will last forever! You ask these bloody locals!' @BRK#A bootcap cracked into his sternum. Bloody fluid washed into his mouth. @BRK#'Get off him! Get off him!' the officer was yelling, trying to rein in his provoked and angry men. @BRK#By the time he managed to do so, Ignace Karkasy was no longer pontificating. @BRK#Or breathing. @BRK#SIX @BRK#Counsel @BRK#A question well answered @BRK#Two gods in one room @BRK#Torgaddon was waiting for him in the towering ante-hall behind the strategium. @BRK#There you are,' he grinned. @BRK#'Here I am.’ Loken agreed. @BRK#There will be a question.’ Torgaddon remarked, keeping his voice low. 'It will seem a minor thing, and will not be obviously directed to you but be ready to catch it.’ @BRK#'Me?' @BRK#'No, I was talking to myself. Yes, you, Garviel! Consider it a baptismal test. Come on.’ @BRK#Loken didn't like the sound of Torgaddon's words, but he appreciated the warning. He followed Torgaddon down the length of the ante-hall. It was a perilously tall, narrow place, with embossed columns of wood set into the walls that soared up and branched like carved trees to support a glass roof two hundred metres above them, through which the stars could be seen. Darkwood panels cased the walls between the columns, and they were @BRK#covered with millions of lines of hand-painted names and numbers, all rendered in exquisite gilt lettering. They were the names of the dead: all those of the Legions, the army, the fleet and the Divisio Militaris who had fallen since the start of the Great Crusade in actions where this flagship vessel had been present. The names of immortal heroes were limned here on the walls, grouped in columns below header legends that proclaimed the world-sites of famous actions and hallowed conquests. From this display, the ante-hall earned its particular name: the Avenue of Glory and Lament. @BRK#The walls of fully two-thirds of the ante-hall were filled up with golden names. As the two striding captains in their glossy white plate drew closer to the strategium end, the wall boards became bare, unoccupied. They passed a group of hooded necrologists huddled by the last, half-filled panel, who were carefully stencilling new names onto the dark wood with gold-dipped brushes. @BRK#The latest dead. The roll call from the High City battle. @BRK#The necrologists stopped work and bowed their heads as the two captains went by. Torgaddon didn't spare them a second glance, but Loken turned to read the half-writ names. Some of them were brothers from Locasta he would never see again. @BRK#He could smell the tangy oil suspension of the gold-leaf the necrologists were using. @BRK#'Keep up,' Torgaddon grunted. @BRK#High doors, lacquered gold and crimson, stood closed at the end of the Avenue Hall. Before them, Aximand and Abaddon were waiting. They were likewise fully armoured, their heads bare, their brush-crested helms held under their left arms. Abaddon's great white shoulder plates were draped with a black wolf-pelt. @BRK#'Garviel,' he smiled. @BRK#'It doesn't do to keep him waiting,' Aximand grumbled. Loken wasn't sure if Little Horas meant Abaddon or the commander. 'What were you two gabbing about? Like fish-wives, the pair of you.' @BRK#'I was just asking him if he'd settled Vipus in.’ Torgaddon said simply. @BRK#Aximand glanced at Loken, his wide-set eyes languidly half-hooded by his lids. @BRK#'And I was reassuring Tarik that I had.’ Loken added. Evidently, Torgaddon's quiet heads-up had been for his ears only. @BRK#'Let's enter.’ Abaddon said. He raised his gloved hand and pushed the gold and crimson doors wide. @BRK#A short processional lay before them, a twenty-metre colonnade of ebon stone chased with a fretwork of silver wire. It was lined by forty Guardsmen of the Imperial army, members of Varvaras's own Byzant Janizars, twenty against each wall. They were splendidly appointed in full dress uniforms: long cream greatcoats with gold frogging, high-crowned chrome helms with basket visors and scarlet cockades, and matching sashes. As the Mournival came through the doors, the Janizars brandished their ornate power lances, beginning with the pair directly inside the doorway. The polished blades of the weapons whirled up into place in series, like chasing dominoes along the processional, each facing pair of weapons locking into position just before the marching captains caught up with the ripple. @BRK#The final pair came to salute, eyes-front, in perfect discipline, and the Mournival stepped past them onto the deck of the strategium. @BRK#The strategium was a great, semi-circular platform that projected like a lip out above the tiered theatre of the flagship's bridge. Far below lay the principal command level, thronging with hundreds of uniformed @BRK#personnel and burnished aide servitors, tiny as ants. To either side, the bee-hive sub-decks of the secondary platforms, dressed in gold and black ironwork, rose up, past the level of the projecting strategium, up into the roof itself, each storey busy with Navy staff, operators, cogitation officers and astropaths. The front section of the bridge chamber was a great, strutted window, through which the constellations and the ink of space could be witnessed. The standards of the Luna Wolves and the Imperial Fists hung from the arching roof, either side of the staring eye banner of the Warmaster himself. That great banner was marked, in golden thread, with the decree: 'I am the Emperor's Vigilance and the Eye of Terra.’ @BRK#Loken remembered the award of that august symbol with pride during the great triumph after Ullanor was done. @BRK#In all his decades of service, Loken had only been on the bridge of the @BRK#Vengeful Spirit @BRK#twice before: once to formally accept his promotion to captain, and then again to mark his elevation to the captaincy of the Tenth. The scale of the place took his breath away, as it had done both times before. . @BRK#The strategium deck itself was an ironwork platform which supported, at its centre, a circular dais of plain, unfinished ouslite, one metre deep and ten in diameter. The commander had always eschewed any form of throne or seat. The ironwork walk space around the dais was half-shadowed by the overhang of tiered galleries that climbed the slopes of the chamber behind it. Glancing up, Loken saw huddles of senior iterators, tacticians, ship captains of the expedition fleet and other notables gathering to view the proceedings. He looked for Sindermann, but couldn't find his face. @BRK#Several attendant figures stood quiedy around the edges of the dais. Lord Commander Hektor Varvaras, @BRK#marshal of the expedition's army, a tall, precise aristocrat in red robes, stood discussing the content of a data-slate with two formally uniformed army aides. Boas Comnenus, Master of the Fleet, waited, dramming steel fingers on the edge of the ouslite plinth. He was a squat bear of a man, his ancient, flaccid body encased in a superb silver-and-steel exoskeleton, further draped in robes of deep, rich, selpic blue. Neady machined ocular lenses whirred and exchanged in the augmetic frame that supplanted his long-dead eyes. @BRK#Ing Mae Sing, the expedition's Mistress of Astropathy, stood to the master's left, a gaunt, blind spectre in a hooded white gown, and, round from her, in order, the High Senior of the Navis Nobilite, Navigator Chorogus, the Master Companion of Vox, the Master Companion of Lucidation, the senior tacticae, the senior heraldists, and various gubernatorial legates. @BRK#Each one, Loken noticed, had placed a single personal item on the edge of the dais where they stood: a glove, a cap, a wand-stave. @BRK#'We stay in the shadows.’ Torgaddon told him, bringing Loken up short under the edge of the shade cast by the balcony above. This is the Mournival's place, apart, yet present.’ @BRK#Loken nodded, and remained with Torgaddon and Aximand in the symbolic shadow of the overhang. Abaddon stepped forward into the light, and took his place at the edge of the dais between Varvaras, who nodded pleasantly to him, and Comnenus, who didn't. Abaddon placed his helm upon the edge of the ouslite disc. @BRK#'An item placed on the dais registers a desire to be heard and noted.’ Torgaddon told Loken. 'Ezekyle has a place by dint of his status as first captain. For now, he will speak as first captain, not as the Mournival.’ @BRK#'Will I get the hang of this ever?' Loken asked. @BRK#'No, not at all.’ Torgaddon said. Then he grinned. "Yes, you will. Of course, you will!' @BRK#Loken noticed another figure, removed from the main assembly. The man, if it were a man, lurked at the rail of the strategium deck, gazing out across the chasm of the bridge. He was a machine, it seemed, much more a machine than a man. Vague relics of flesh and muscle remained in the skeletal fabric of his mechanical body, a fabulously wrought armature of gold and steel. @BRK#'Who is that?' Loken whispered. @BRK#'Regulus.’ Aximand replied curtly. 'Adept of the Mechanicum.’ @BRK#So that was what a Mechanicum adept looked like, Loken thought. That was the sort of being who could command the invincible Titans into war. @BRK#'Hush now.’ Torgaddon said, tapping Loken on the arm. @BRK#Plated glass doors on the other side of the platform slid open, and laughter boomed out. A huge figure came out onto the strategium, talking and laughing animatedly, along with a diminutive presence who scuttled to keep up. @BRK#Everybody dropped in a bow. Loken, going down on one knee, could hear the rustle of others bowing in the steep balconies above him. Boas Comnenus did so slowly, because his exoskeleton was ancient. Adept Regulus did so slowly, not because his machine body was stiff, but rather because he was clearly reluctant. @BRK#Warmaster Horus looked around, smiled, and then leapt up onto the dais in a single bound. He stood at the centre of the ouslite disc, and turned slowly. @BRK#'My friends.’ he said. 'Honour's done. Up you get.’ @BRK#Slowly, they rose and beheld him. @BRK#He was as magnificent as ever, Loken thought. Massive and limber, a demi-god manifest, wrapped in white-gold armour and pelts of fur. His head was bare. @BRK#Shaven, sculptural, his face was noble, deeply tanned by multiple sunlights, his wide-spaced eyes bright, his teeth gleaming. He smiled and nodded to each and every one of them. @BRK#He had such vitality, like a force of nature - a tornado, a tempest, an avalanche - trapped in humanoid form and distilled, the potential locked in. He rotated slowly on the dais, grinning, nodding to some, pointing out certain friends with a familiar laugh. @BRK#The primarch looked at Loken, back in the shadows of the overhang and his smile seemed to broaden for a second. @BRK#Loken felt a shudder of fear. It was pleasant and vigorous. Only the Warmaster could make an Astartes feel @BRK#that. @BRK#'Friends.’ Horus said. His voice was like honey, like steel, like a whisper, like all of those things mixed as one. 'My dear friends and comrades of the 63rd Expedition, is it really that time again?' @BRK#Laughter rippled around the deck, and from the galleries above. @BRK#'Briefing time.’ Horus chuckled, 'and I salute you all for coming here to bear the tedium of yet another session. I promise I'll keep you no longer than is necessary. First though...' @BRK#Horus jumped back down off the dais and stooped to place a sheltering arm around the tiny shoulders of the man who had accompanied him out of the inner chamber, like a father showing off a small child to his brothers. So embraced, the man fixed a stiff, sickly grin upon his face, more a desperate grimace than a show of pleasure. @BRK#'Before we begin.’ Horus said, 'I want to talk about my good friend Peeter Egon Momus here. How I deserved... pardon me, how @BRK#humanity @BRK#deserved an architect as fine and gifted as this, I don't know. Peeter has been telling @BRK#me about his designs for the new High City here, and they are wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful.’ @BRK#'Really, I don't know, my lord...' Momus har-rumphed, his rictus trembling. The architect designate was beginning to shake, enduring direct exposure to such supreme attention. @BRK#'Our lord the Emperor himself sent Peeter to us,' Horus told them. 'He knew his worth. You see, I don't want to conquer. Conquest of itself is so messy, isn't it Ezekyle?' @BRK#Yes, lord.’ Abaddon murmured. @BRK#'How can we draw the lost outposts of man back into one harmonious whole if all we bring them is conquest? We are duty-bound to leave them better than we found them, enlightened by the communication of the Imperial Truth and dazzlingly made over as august provinces of our wide estate. This expedition - and all expeditions - must look to the future and be mindful that what we leave in our wake must stand as an enduring statement of our intent, especially upon worlds, as here, where we have been forced to inflict damage in the promulgation of our message. We must leave legacies behind us. Imperial cities, monuments to the new age, and fitting memorials to those who have fallen in the struggle to establish it. Peeter, my friend Peeter here, understands this. I urge you all to take the time to visit his workshops and review his marvellous schemes. And I look forward to seeing the genius of his vision gracing all the new cities we build in the course of our crusade.’ @BRK#Applause broke out. @BRK#'A-all the new cities...' Momus coughed. @BRK#'Peeter is the man for the job.’ Horus cried, ignoring the architect's muted gasp. 'I am at one with the way he perceives architecture as celebration. He understands, like no other, I believe, how the spirit of the crusade may be realised in steel and glass and stone. What we @BRK#raise up is far more important than what we strike down. What we leave behind us, men must admire for eternity, and say "This was well done indeed. This is what the Imperium means, and without it we would be shadows". For that, Peeter's our man. Let's laud him now!' @BRK#A huge explosion of applause rang out across the vast chamber. Many officers in the command tiers below joined in. Peeter Egon Momus looked slightly glazed as he was led off the strategium by an aide. @BRK#Horus leapt back onto the dais. 'Let's begin... my worthy adept?' @BRK#Regulus stepped towards the edge of the dais and put a polished machine-cog down delicately on the lip of the ouslite. When he spoke, his voice was augmented and inhuman, like an electric wind brushing through the boughs of steel trees. 'My lord Warmaster, the Mechanicum is satisfied with this rock. We continue to study, with great interest, the technologies captured here. The gravitic and phasic weapons are being reverse-engineered in our forges. At last report, three standard template construct patterns, previously unknown to us, have been recovered.’ @BRK#Horus clapped his hands together. 'Glory to our brothers of the tireless Mechanicum! Slowly, we piece together the missing parts of humanity's knowledge. The Emperor will be delighted, as will, I'm sure, your Martian lords.’ @BRK#Regulus nodded, lifting up the cog and stepping back from the dais. @BRK#Horus looked around. 'Rakris? My dear Rakris?' @BRK#Lord Governor Elect Rakris, a portly man in dove-grey robes, had already placed his sceptre-wand on the edge of the dais to mark his participation. Now he fiddled with it as he made his report. Horus heard him out patiently, nodding encouragingly from time to time. @BRK#Rakris droned on, at unnecessary length. Loken felt sorry for him. One of Lord Commander Varvaras's generals, Rakris had been selected to remain at Sixty-Three Nineteen as governor overseer, marshalling the occupation forces as the world transmuted into a full Imperial state. Rakris was a career soldier, and it was clear that, though he took his election as a signal honour, he was quite aghast at the prospect of being left behind. He looked pale and ill, brooding on the time, not long away, when the expedition fleet left him to manage the work alone. Rakris was Terran born, and Loken knew that once the fleet sailed on and left him to his job, Rakris would feel as abandoned as if he had been marooned. A governorship was intended to be the ultimate reward for a war-hero's service, but it seemed to Loken a quietly terrible fate: to be monarch of a world, and then cast away upon it. @BRK#Forever. @BRK#The crusade would not be back to visit conquered worlds in a hurry. @BRK#'.. .in truth, my commander.’ Rakris was saying, 'it may be many decades until this world achieves a state of equity with the Imperium. There is great opposition.’ @BRK#'How far are we from compliance?' Horus asked, looking around. @BRK#Varvaras replied. 'True compliance, lord? Decades, as my good friend Rakris says. Functional compliance? Well, that is different. There is a seed of dissidence in the southern hemisphere that we cannot quench. Until that is brought into line, this world cannot be certified.’ @BRK#Horus nodded. 'So we stay here, if we must, until the job is done. We must hold over our plans to advance. Such a shame...' The primarch's smile faded for a second as he pondered. 'Unless there is another suggestion?' @BRK#He looked at Abaddon and let the words hang. Abaddon seemed to hesitate, and glanced quickly back into the shadows behind him. @BRK#Loken realised that this was the question. This was a moment of counsel when the primarch looked outside the official hierarchy of the expedition's command echelon for the informal advice of his chosen inner circle. @BRK#Torgaddon nudged Loken, but the nudge was unnecessary. Loken had already stepped forward into the light behind Abaddon. @BRK#'My lord Warmaster.’ Loken said, almost startled by the sound of his own voice. @BRK#'Captain Loken.’ Horus said with a delighted flash of his eyes. The thoughts of the Moumival are always welcome at my counsel.’ @BRK#Several present, including Varvaras, made approving sounds. @BRK#'My lord, the initial phase of the war here was undertaken quickly and cleanly.’ Loken said. 'A surgical strike by the speartip against the enemy's head to minimise the loss and hardship that both sides would suffer in a longer, full-scale offensive. A guerilla war against insurgents would inevitably be an arduous, drawn out, costly affair. It could last for years without resolution, eroding Lord Commander Varvaras's precious army resources and blighting any good beginning of the Lord Governor Elect's rale. Sixty-Three Nineteen cannot afford it, and neither can the expedition. I say, and if I speak out of turn, forgive me, I say that if the speartip was meant to conquer this world in one, clean blow, it has failed. The work is not yet done. Order the Legion to finish the job.’ @BRK#Murmuring sprang up all around. You'd have me unleash the Luna Wolves again, captain?' Horus asked. @BRK#Loken shook his head. 'Not the Legion as a whole, sir. Tenth Company. We were first in, and for that we have @BRK#been praised, but the praise was not deserved, for the job is not done.’ @BRK#Horns nodded, as if quite taken with this. Varvaras?' @BRK#The army always welcomes the support of the noble Legion. The insurgent factions might plague my men for months, as the captain rightly points out, and make a great tally of killing before they are done with. A company of Luna Wolves could crush them utterly and end their mutiny.’ @BRK#'Rakris?' @BRK#'An expedient solution would be a weight off my back, sir.’ Rakris said. He smiled. 'It would be a hammer to crash a nut, perhaps, but it would be emphatic. The work would be done, and quickly.’ @BRK#'First captain?' @BRK#The Mournival speaks with one voice, lord.’ Abaddon said. 'I urge for a swift conclusion to our business here, so that Sixty-Three Nineteen can get on with its life, and we can get on with the crusade.’ @BRK#'So it shall be.’ Horus said, smiling broadly again. 'So I make a command of it. Captain, have Tenth Company drawn ready and oathed to the moment. We will anticipate news of your success eagerly. Thank you for speaking your mind plainly, and for cutting to the quick of this thorny problem.’ @BRK#There was a firm flutter of approving applause. @BRK#Then possibilities open for us after all.’ Horus said. 'We can begin to prepare for the next phase. When I signal him...' Horus looked at the blind Mistress of Astropaths, who nodded silently '...our beloved Emperor will be delighted to learn that our portion of the crusade is about to advance again. We should now discuss the options open to us. I thought to brief you on our findings concerning these myself, but there is another who positively insists he is fit to do it.’ @BRK#Everyone present turned to look as the plate glass doors slid open for a second time. The primarch began to clap, and the applause gathered and swept around the galleries, as Maloghurst limped out onto the stage of the strategium. It was the equerry's first formal appearance since his recovery from the surface. @BRK#Maloghurst was a veteran Luna Wolf, and a 'Son of Horus' to boot. He had been in his time a company captain, and might even have risen to the first captaincy had he not been promoted to the office of equerry. A shrewd and experienced soul, Maloghurst's talents for intrigue and intelligence ideally served him in that role, and had long since earned him the title 'twisted'. He took no shame in this. The Legion might protect the Warmaster physically, but he protected him politically, guiding and advising, blocking and out-playing, aware and perfectly sensitive to every nuance and current in the expedition's hierarchy. He had never been well-liked, for he was a hard man to get close to, even by the intimidating standards of the Astartes, and he had never made any particular effort to be liked. Most thought of him as a neutral power, a facilitator, loyal only to Horus himself. No one was ever foolish enough to underestimate him. @BRK#But circumstance had suddenly made him popular. Beloved almost. Believed dead, he had been found alive, and in the light of Sejanus's death, this had been taken as some compensation. The work of the remembrancer Euphrati Keeler had cemented his new role as the noble, wounded hero as the picts of his unexpected rescue had flashed around the fleet. Now the assembly welcomed him back rapturously, cheering his fortitude and resolve. He had been reinvented through misfortune into an adored hero. @BRK#Loken was quite sure Maloghurst was aware of this ironic turn, and fully prepared to make the most of it. @BRK#Maloghurst came out into the open. His injuries had been so severe that he was not yet able to clothe himself in the armour of the Legion, and wore instead a white robe with the wolfs head emblem embroidered on the back. A gold signet in the shape of the Warmaster's icon, the staring eye, formed the cloak's clasp under his throat. He limped, and walked with the aid of a metal staff. His back bulged with a kyphotic misalignment. His face, drawn thin and pale since last it had been seen, was lined with effort, and waddings of synthetic skin-gel covered gashes upon his throat and the left side of his head. @BRK#Loken was shocked to see that he was now truly twisted. The old, mocking nickname suddenly seemed crass and indelicate. @BRK#Horus got down off the dais and threw his arms around his equerry. Varvaras and Abaddon both went over to greet him with warm embraces. Maloghurst smiled, and nodded to them, then nodded and waved up to the galleries around to acknowledge the welcome. As the applause abated, Maloghurst leaned heavily against the side of the dais, and placed his staff upon it in the ceremonial manner. Instead of returning to his place, the Warmaster stood back, away from the circle, giving his equerry centre stage. @BRK#'I have enjoyed.’ Maloghurst began, his voice hard, but brittle with effort, 'a certain luxury of relaxation in these last few days.’ Laughter rattled out from all sides, and the clapping resumed for a moment. @BRK#'Bed rest.’ Maloghurst went on, 'that bane of a warrior's life, has suited me well, for it has given me ample opportunity to review the intelligence gathered in these last few months by our advance scouts. However, bed rest, as a thing to be enjoyed, has its limits. I insisted that I be allowed to present this evidence to you today for, Emperor bless me, never in my dreams did I imagine I would die of inaction.’ @BRK#More approving laughter. Loken smiled. Maloghurst really was making the best use of his new status amongst them. He was almost... likable. @BRK#To review.’ Maloghurst said, taking out a control wand and gesturing with it briefly. Three key areas are of interest to us at this juncture.’ His gestures activated the underdeck hololithic projectors, and shapes of solid light came into being above the strategium, projected so that all in the galleries could see them. The first was a rotating image of the world they orbited, surrounded by graphic indicators of elliptical alignment and precession. The spinning world shrank rapidly until it became part of a system arrangement, similarly draped in schematic overlays, a turning, three-dimensional orrery suspended in the air. Then that too shrank and became a small, highlighted component in a mosaic of stars. @BRK#'First.’ Maloghurst said, 'this area here, itemised eight fifty-eight one-seven, the cluster adjacent to our current locale.’ A particular stellar neighbourhood on the light map glowed. 'Our most obvious and accessible next port of call. Scout ships report eighteen systems of interest, twelve of which promise fundamental worth in terms of elemental resource, but no signs of life or habitation. The searches are not yet conclusive, but at this early juncture might I be so bold as to suggest that this region need not concern the expedition. Subject to certification, these systems should be added to the manifest of the colonial pioneers who follow in our footsteps.’ @BRK#He waved the wand again, and a different group of stars lit up. This second region, estimated as... Master?' @BRK#Boas Comnenus cleared his throat and obligingly said, 'Nine weeks, standard travel time to spinward of us, equerry.’ @BRK#'Nine weeks to spinward, thank you.’ Maloghurst replied. 'We have barely begun to scout this district, but @BRK#there are early indications that some significant culture or cultures, of interstellar capability, exist within its bounds.' @BRK#'Currently functioning?' Abaddon asked. Too often, Imperial expeditions came upon the dry traces of long perished societies in the desert of stars. @BRK#Too early to tell, first captain.’ Maloghurst said. Though the scouts report some discovered relics bear similarities to those we found on seven ninety-three one-five half a decade ago.' @BRK#'So, not human?' Adept Regulus asked. @BRK#Too early to tell, sir.’ Maloghurst repeated. The region has an itemisation code, but I believe you'll all be interested to hear that it bears an Old Terran name. Sagittarius.’ @BRK#The Dreadful Sagittary.’ Horus whispered, with a delighted grin. @BRK#'Quite so, my lord. The region certainly requires further examination.’ The crippled equerry moved the wand again, and brought up a third coil of suns. 'Our third option, further to spinward.’ @BRK#'Eighteen weeks, standard.’ Boas Comnenus supplied before he had to be asked. @BRK#Thank you, Master. Our scouts have yet to examine it, but we have received word from the 140th Expedition, commanded by Khitas Frame of the Blood Angels, that opposition to Imperial advance has been encountered there. Reports are patchy, but war has broken out.’ @BRK#'Human resistance?' Varvaras asked. Are we talking about lost colonies?' @BRK#'Xenos, sir.’ Maloghurst said, succincdy. Alien foes, of some capacity. I have sent a missive to the One Hundred and Fortieth asking if they require our support at this time. It is signifkandy smaller than ours. No reply has yet been received. We may consider it a priority to venture forward to this region to reinforce the Imperial presence there.’ @BRK#For the first time since the briefing began, the smile had left the Warmaster's face. 'I will speak with my brother Sanguinius on this matter.’ he said. 'I would not see his men perish, unsupported.’ He looked at Maloghurst. Thank you for this, equerry. We appreciate your efforts, and the brevity of your summation.’ @BRK#There was a ripple of applause. @BRK#'One last thing, my lord.’ Maloghurst said. A personal matter I wish to clear up. I have become known, so I understand, as Maloghurst the Twisted, for reasons of... character mat I know are not lost on any present. I have always rejoiced in the title, though some of you might think that odd. I relish the arts politic, and make no effort to hide that. Some of my aides, as I have learned, have made efforts to have the soubriquet quashed, believing it offends my altered state. They worry that I might find it cruel. A slur. I want all here assembled to know that I do not. My body is broken, but my mind is not. I would take offence if the name was to be dropped out of politeness. I don't value sympathy much, and I don't want pity. I am twisted in body now, but I am still complex in mind. Don't think you are somehow sparing my feelings. I wish to be known as I always was.’ @BRK#Well said.’ Abaddon cried, and smacked his palms together. The assembly rose in a tumult as brisk as the one that had ushered Maloghurst on to the stage. @BRK#The equerry picked up his staff from the dais and, leaning upon it, turned to the Warmaster. Horus raised both hands to restore quiet. @BRK#'Our thanks to Maloghurst for presenting these options to us. There is much to consider. I dissolve this briefing now, but I request policy suggestions and remarks to my attention in the next day, ship-time. I urge you to study all possibilities and present your assessments. We will reconvene the day after tomorrow at this time. That is all.’ @BRK#The meeting broke up. As the upper galleries emptied, buzzing with chatter, the parties on the strategium deck gathered in informal conference. The Warmaster stood in quiet conversation with Maloghurst and the Mechan-icum Adept. @BRK#'Nicely done.’ Torgaddon whispered to Loken. @BRK#Loken breathed out. He hadn't realised what a weight of tension had built up in him since his summons to the briefing had arrived. @BRK#Yes, finely put.’ said Aximand. 'I approve your commentary, Garviel.’ @BRK#'I just said what I felt. I made it up as I went along,' Loken admitted. @BRK#Aximand frowned at him as if not sure whether he was joking or not. @BRK#'Are you not cowed by these circumstances, Horns?' Loken asked. @BRK#At first, I suppose I must have been.’ Aximand replied in an off-hand way. "You get used to it, once you've been through one or two. I found it was helpful to look at his feet.’ @BRK#'His feet?' @BRK#The Warmaster's feet. Catch his eye and you'll quite forget what you were going to say.’ Aximand smiled slightly. It was the first hint of any softening towards Loken that Little Horns had shown. @BRK#Thanks. I'll remember that.’ @BRK#Abaddon joined them under the shadow of the overhang. 'I knew we'd picked right.’ he said, clasping Loken's hand in his own. 'Cut to the quick, that's what the Warmaster wants of us. A clean appraisal. Good job, Garviel. Now just make sure it's a good job.’ @BRK#'I will.’ @BRK#'Need any help? I can lend you the Justaerin if you need them.’ @BRK#Thank you, but Tenth can do this.’ @BRK#Abaddon nodded. 'I'll tell Falkus his widowmakers are superfluous to requirements.’ @BRK#'Please don't do that.’ Loken snapped, alarmed at the prospect of insulting Falkus Kibre, Captain of First Company's Terminator elite. The other three quarters of the Mournival laughed out loud. Your face.’ said Torgaddon. 'Ezekyle goads you so easily.’ chuckled Aximand. 'Ezekyle knows he will develop a tough skin, soon enough.’ Abaddon remarked. @BRK#'Captain Loken?' Lord Governor Elect Rakris was approaching them. Abaddon, Aximand and Torgaddon stood aside to let him through. 'Captain Loken.’ Rakris said, 'I just wanted to say, sir, I just wanted to say how grateful I was. To take this matter upon yourself and your company. To speak out so very directly. Lord Var-varas's soldiers are trying their best, but they are just men. The regime here is doomed unless firm action is taken.’ @BRK#Tenth Company will deal with the problem, lord governor.’ Loken said. You have my word as an Astartes.’ @BRK#'Because the army can't hack it?' They looked around and found that the tall, princely figure of Lord Commander Varvaras had joined them too. 'I-I didn't mean to suggest...' Rakris blithered. 'No offence was intended, lord commander.’ said Loken. @BRK#'And none taken.’ Varvaras said, extending a hand towards Loken. 'An old custom of Terra, Captain Loken...' @BRK#Loken took his hand and shook it. 'One I have been reminded of lately.’ he said. @BRK#Varvaras smiled. 'I wanted to welcome you into our inner circle, captain. And to assure you that you did not speak out of turn today. In the south, my men are being slaughtered. Day in, day out. I have, I believe, the finest @BRK#army in all of the expeditions, but I know full well it is composed of men, and just men. I understand when a fighting man is needed and when an Astartes is needed. This is the latter time. Come to my war cabinet, at your convenience, and I'll be happy to brief you fully.' @BRK#Thank you, lord commander. I will attend you this afternoon.’ @BRK#Varvaras nodded. @BRK#'Excuse me, lord commander.’ Torgaddon said. The Mournival is needed. The Warmaster is withdrawing and he has called for us.’ @BRK#The Mournival followed the Warmaster through the plated glass doors into his private sanctum, a wide, well-appointed chamber built below the well of the audience galleries on the port side of the flagship. One wall was glass, open to the stars. Maloghurst and the Warmaster bustled in ahead of them, and the Mournival drew back into the shadows, waiting to be called upon. @BRK#Loken stiffened as three figures descended the ironwork screw stair into the room from the gallery above. The first two were Astartes of the Imperial Fists, almost glowing in their yellow plate. The third was much larger. Another god. @BRK#Rogal Dorn, primarch of the Imperial Fists, brother to Horus. @BRK#Dorn greeted the Warmaster warmly, and went to sit with him and Maloghurst upon the black leather couches facing the glass wall. Servitors brought them refreshments. @BRK#Rogal Dorn was a being as great in all measure as Horus. He, and his entourage of Imperial Fists, had been travelling with the expedition for some months, though they were expected to take their leave soon. Other duties and expeditions called. Loken had been @BRK#told that Primarch Dorn had come to them at Horus's behest, so that the two of them might discuss in detail the obligations and remit of the role of Warmaster. Horus had solicited the opinions and advice of all his brother primarchs on the subject since the honour had been bestowed upon him. Being named Warmaster set him abruptly apart from them, and raised him up above his brothers, and there had been some stifled objections and discontent, especially from those primarchs who felt the title should have been theirs. The primarchs were as prone to sibling rivalry and petty competition as any group of brothers. @BRK#Guided, it was likely, by Maloghurst's shrewd hand, Horus had courted his brothers, stilling fears, calming doubts, reaffirming pacts and generally securing their cooperation. He wanted none to feel slighted, or overlooked. He wanted none to think they were no longer listened to. Some, like Sanguineus, Lorgar and Fulgrim, had acclaimed Horus's election from the outset. Others, like Angron and Perturabo, had raged biliously at the new order, and it had taken masterful diplomacy on the Warmaster's part to placate their choler and jealousy. A few, like Russ and the Lion, had been cynically resolved, unsurprised by the turn of events. @BRK#But others, like Guilliman, Khan and Dorn had simply taken it in their stride, accepting the Emperor's decree as the right and obvious choice. Horus had ever been the brightest, the first and the favourite. They did not doubt his fitness for the role, for none of the primarchs had ever matched Horus's achievements, nor the intimacy of his bond with the Emperor. It was to these solid, resolved brothers that Horus turned in particular for counsel. Dorn and Guilliman both embodied the staunchest and most dedicated Imperial qualities, commanding their Legion expeditions with peerless devotion and military genius. Horus desired their approval as a young man @BRK#might seek the quiescence of older, more accomplished brothers. @BRK#Rogal Dorn possessed perhaps the finest military mind of all the primarchs. It was as ordered and disciplined as Roboute Guilliman's, as courageous as the Lion's, yet still supple enough to allow for the flex of inspiration, the flash of battle zeal that had won the likes of Leman Russ and the Khan so many victory wreaths. Dorn's record in the crusade was second only to Horus's, but he was resolute where Horns was flamboyant, reserved where Horus was charismatic, and that was why Horus had been the obvious choice for War-master. In keeping with his patient, stony character, Dorn's Legion had become renowned for siegecraft and defensive strategies. The Warmaster had once joked that where he could storm a fortress like no other, Rogal Dorn could hold it. 'If I ever laid assault to a bastion possessed by you.’ Horus had quipped at a recent banquet, 'then the war would last for all eternity, the best in attack matched by the best in defence.’ The Imperial Fists were an immovable object to the Luna Wolves' unstoppable force. @BRK#Dorn had been a quiet, observing presence in his months with the 63rd Expedition. He had spent hours in close conference with the Warmaster, but Loken had seen him from time to time, watching drills and studying preparations for war. Loken had not yet spoken to him, or met him directly. This was the smallest place they had both been in at the same time. @BRK#He regarded him now, in calm discussion widi the Warmaster; two mythical beings manifest in one room. Loken felt it an honour just to be in their presence, to see them talk, like men, in unguarded fashion. Mal-oghurst seemed a tiny form beside them. @BRK#Primarch Dorn wore a case of armour that was burnished and ornate like a tomb chest, dark red and @BRK#copper-gold compared to Horus's white dazzle. Unfurled eagle wings, fashioned in metal, haloed his head and decorated his chest and shoulder plate, and aquilas and graven laurels embossed the armour sections of his limbs. A mantle of red velvet hung around his broad shoulders, trimmed in golden weave. His lean face was stern and unsmiling, even when the Warmaster raised a joke, and his hair was a shock of white, bleached like dead bones. @BRK#The two Astartes who had escorted him down from the gallery came over to wait with the Mournival. They were well known to Abaddon, Torgaddon and Axi-mand, but Loken had only yet seen them indirectly about the flagship. Abaddon introduced them as Sigis-mund, First Captain of the Imperial Fists, resplendent in black and white heraldry, and Efried, Captain of the Third Company. The Astartes made the sign of the aquila to one another in formal greeting. @BRK#'I approve of your direction.’ Sigismund told Loken at once. @BRK#'I'm gratified. You were watching from the galleries?' @BRK#Sigismind nodded. 'Prosecute the foe. Get it over with. Get on. There is still so much to be done, we cannot afford delays or time wasting.’ @BRK#There are so many worlds still to be brought to compliance.’ Loken agreed. 'One day, we will rest at last.’ @BRK#'No.’ Sigismund replied bluntly. The crusade will never end. Don't you know that?' @BRK#Loken shook his head, 'I wouldn't-' @BRK#'Not ever.’ said Sigismund emphatically. The more we spread, the more we find. World after world. New worlds to conquer. Space is limidess, and so is our appetite to master it.’ @BRK#'I disagree.’ Loken said. 'War will end, one day. A rule of peace will be established. That is the very purpose of our efforts.’ @BRK#Sigismund grinned. 'Is it? Perhaps. I believe that we have set ourselves an unending task. The nature of mankind makes it so. There will always be another goal, another prospect.’ @BRK#'Surely, brother, you can conceive of a time when all worlds have been brought into one unity of Imperial rule. Isn't that the dream we strive to realise?' @BRK#Sigismund stared into Loken's face. 'Brother Loken, I have heard much about you, all of it good. I had not imagined I would discover such naivety in you. We will spend our lives fighting to secure this Imperium, and then I fear we will spend the rest of our days fighting to keep it intact. There is such involving darkness amongst the stars. Even when the Imperium is complete, there will be no peace. We will be obliged to fight on to preserve what we have fought to establish. Peace is a vain wish. Our crusade may one day adopt another name, but it will never truly end. In the far future, there will be only war.’ @BRK#'I think you're wrong.’ Loken said. @BRK#'How innocent you are.’ Sigismund mocked, 'and I thought the Luna Wolves were supposed to be the most aggressive of us all. That's how you like the other Legions to think of you, isn't it? The most feared of mankind's warrior classes?' @BRK#'Our reputation speaks for itself, sir.’ said Loken. @BRK#'As does the reputation of the Imperial Fists.’ Sigismund replied. 'Are we going to scrap about it now? Argue which Legion is toughest?' @BRK#'The answer, always, is the Wolves of Fenris.’ Torgad-don put in, 'because they are clinically insane.’ He grinned broadly, sensing the tension, and wishing to dispel it. 'If you're comparing sane Legions, of course, the question becomes more complex. Primarch Roboute's Ultramarines make a good show, but then there are so bloody many of them. The Word Bearers, @BRK#the White Scars, the Imperial Fists, oh, all have fine records. But the Luna Wolves, ah me, the Luna Wolves. Sigismund, in a straight fight? Do you really think you'd have a hope? Honestly? Your yellow ragamuffins against the best of the best?' @BRK#Sigismund laughed. 'Whatever helps you sleep, Tarik. Terra bless us all it is a paradigm that will never be tested.’ @BRK#'What brother Sigismund isn't telling you, Garviel.’ Torgaddon said, 'is that his Legion is going to miss all the glory. It's to be withdrawn. He's quite miffed about @BRK#it.’ @BRK#Tarik is being selective with the truth.’ Sigismund snorted. 'The Imperial Fists have been commanded by the Emperor to return to Terra and establish a guard around him there. We are chosen as his Praetorians. Now who's miffed, Luna Wolf?' @BRK#'Not I.’ said Torgaddon. 'I'll be winning laurels in war while you grow fat and lazy minding the home fires.’ @BRK#'You're quitting the crusade?' Loken asked. 'I had heard something of this.’ @BRK#The Emperor wishes us to fortify the Palace of Terra and guard its bulwarks. This was his word at the Ullanor Triumph. We have been the best part of two years tying up our business so we might comply with his desires. Yes, we're going home to Terra. Yes, we will sit out the rest of the crusade. Except that I believe there will be plenty of crusade left once we have been given leave to quit Earth, our duty done. You won't finish this, Luna Wolves. The stars will have long forgotten your name when the Imperial Fists war abroad again.’ @BRK#Torgaddon placed his hand on the hilt of his chainsword, playfully. 'Are you so keen to be slapped down by me for your insolence, Sigismund?' @BRK#'I don't know. Is he?' @BRK#Rogal Dorn suddenly towered behind them. 'Does Sigismund deserve a slap, Captain Torgaddon? Probably. In the spirit of comradeship, let him be. He bruises easily.’ @BRK#All of them laughed at the primarch's words. The barest hint of a smile flickered across Rogal Dorn's lips. 'Loken.’ he said, gesturing. Loken followed the massive primarch to the far corner of the chamber. Behind them, Sigismund and Efried continued to sport with the others of the Mournival, and elsewhere Horus sat in intense conference with Maloghurst. @BRK#'We are charged to return to the homeworld.’ Dorn said, conversationally. His voice was low and astonishingly soft, like the lap of water on a distant beach, but there was a strength running through it, like the tension of a steel cable. The Emperor has asked us to fortify the Imperial stronghold, and who am I to question the Emperor's needs? I am glad he recognises the particular talents of the VII Legion.' @BRK#Dorn looked down at Loken. "You're not used to the likes of me, are you, Loken?' 'No, lord.’ @BRK#'I like that about you. Ezekyle and Tank, men like them have been so long in the company of your lord, they think nothing of it. You, however, understand that a primarch is not like a man, or even an Astartes. I'm not talking about strength. I'm talking about the weight of responsibilty.’ Yes, lord.’ @BRK#Dorn sighed. The Emperor has no like, Loken. There are no gods in this hollow universe to keep him company. So he made us, demi-gods, to stand beside him. I have never quite come to terms with my status. Does that surprise you? I see what I am capable of, and what is expected of me, and I shudder. The mere fact of me @BRK#frightens me sometimes. Do you think your lord Horus ever feels that way?' @BRK#'I do not, lord.’ Loken said. 'Self-confidence is one of his keenest qualities.’ @BRK#'I think so too, and I am glad of it. There could be no better Warmaster than Horus, but a man, even a primarch, is only as good as the counsel he receives, especially if he is utterly self-confident. He must be tempered and guided by those close to him.’ @BRK#You speak of the Mournival, sir.’ @BRK#Rogal Dorn nodded. He gazed out through the armoured glass wall at the scintillating expanse of the starfield. You know that I've had my eye on you? That I spoke in support of your election?' @BRK#'I have been told so, lord. It baffles and flatters me.’ @BRK#'My brother Horus needs an honest voice in his ear. A voice that appreciates the scale and import of our undertaking. A voice that is not blase in the company of demi-gods. Sigismund and Efried do this for me. They keep me honest. You should do the same for your lord.' @BRK#'I will endeavour to-' Loken began. @BRK#They wanted Luc Sedirae or Iacton Qruze. Did you know that? Both names were considered. Sedirae is a battle-hungry killer, so much like Abaddon. He would say yes to anything, if it meant war-glory. Qruze - you call him the "half-heard" I'm told?' @BRK#'We do, lord.’ @BRK#'Qruze is a sycophant. He would say yes to anything if it meant he stayed in favour. The Mournival needs a proper, dissenting opinion.’ @BRK#'A naysmith.’ Loken said. @BRK#Dorn flashed a real smile. Yes, just so, like the old dynasts did! A naysmith. Your schooling's good. My brother Horus needs a voice of reason in his ear, if he is to rein in his eagerness and act in the Emperor's stead. Our other brothers, some of them quite demented by @BRK#the choice of Horus, need to see he is firmly in control. So I vouched for you, Garviel Loken. I examined your record and your character, and thought you would be the right mix in the alloy of the Mournival. Don't be insulted, but there is something very human about you, Loken, for an Astartes.’ @BRK#'I fear, my lord, that my helm will no longer fit me, you have swelled my head so with your compliments.’ @BRK#Dorn nodded. 'My apologies.’ @BRK#'You spoke of responsibility. I feel that weight suddenly, terribly.’ @BRK#'You're strong, Loken. Astartes-built. Endure it.’ @BRK#'I will, lord.’ @BRK#Dorn turned from the armoured port and looked down at Loken. He placed his great hands gently on Loken's shoulders. 'Be yourself. Just be yourself. Speak your mind plainly, for you have been granted the rare opportunity to do so. I can return to Terra confident that the crusade is in safe hands.’ @BRK#'I wonder if your faith in me is too much, lord.’ Loken said. 'As fervent as Sedirae, I have just proposed a war-' @BRK#'I heard you speak. You made the case well. That is all part of your role now. Sometimes you must advise. Sometimes you must allow the Warmaster to use you.’ @BRK#'Use me?' @BRK#'You understand what Horus had you do this morning?' @BRK#'Lord?' @BRK#'He had primed the Mournival to back him, Loken. He is cultivating the air of a peacemaker, for that plays well across the worlds of the Imperium. This morning, he wanted someone other than himself to suggest unleashing the Legions for war.’ @BRK#SEVEN @BRK#Oaths of moment @BRK#Keeler takes a pict @BRK#Scare tactics @BRK#'Stay close, please,' the iterator said. 'No one wander away from the group, and no one make any record beyond written notes without prior permission. Is that clear?' @BRK#They all answered yes. @BRK#"We have been granted ten minutes, and that limit will be strictly observed. This is a real privilege.’ @BRK#The iterator, a sallow man in his thirties called Emont, who despite his appearance possessed what Euphrati Keeler thought was a most beautiful speaking voice, paused and offered one last piece of advice to the group. This is also a hazardous place. A place of war. Watch your step, and be aware of where you are.’ @BRK#He turned and led them down the concourse to the massive blast hatch. The rattle of machine tools echoed out to them. This was an area of the ship the remembrancers had never previously been allowed to visit. Most of the martial areas were off limits except by strict permission, but the embarkation deck was utterly forbidden at all times. @BRK#There were six of them in the group. Keeler, another imagist called Siman Sark, a painter called Fransisko Twell, a composer of symphonic patterns called Tole-mew Van Krasten, and two documentarists called Avrius Carnis and Borodin Flora. Carnis and Flora were already bickering quietly about 'themes and approaches'. @BRK#All of the remembrancers wore durable clothing appropriate for bad weather, and all carried kit bags. Keeler was fairly sure they'd all prepared in vain. The permission they hoped for would not be issued. They were lucky to get this far. @BRK#She looped her own kit back over her shoulder, and settled her favourite picter unit around her neck on its strap. At the head of the party, Emont came to a halt before the two fully armoured Luna Wolves standing watch at the hatch, and showed them the group's credentials. @BRK#Approved by the equerry.’ she heard him say. In his beige robes, Emont was a fragile figure compared to the two armoured giants. He had to lift his head to look up at them. The Astartes studied the paperwork, made comments to one another in brief clicks of inter-suit vox, and then nodded them through. @BRK#The embarkation deck - and Keeler had to remind herself that this was just @BRK#one @BRK#embarkation deck, for the flagship possessed six - was an immense space, a long, echoing tunnel dominated by the launch ramps and delivery trackways running its length. At the far end, half a kilometre away, open space was visible through the shimmer of integrity fields. @BRK#The noise was punishing. Motorised tools hammered and ratcheted, hoists whined, loading units trundled and ratded, hatches slammed, and reactive engines whooped and flared as they were tested. There was activity everywhere: deck crews hurrying into position, fitters and artificers making final checks and adjustments, @BRK#servitors unlocking fuel lines. Munition carts hummed past in long sausage-chains. The air stank of heat, oil and exhaust fumes. @BRK#Six stormbirds sat on launch carriages before them. Heavy, armoured delivery vehicles, they were void capable, but also honed and sleek for atmospheric work. They sat in two rows of three, wings extended, like hawks waiting to be thrown to the lure. They were painted white, and showed the wolfs head icon and the eye of Horas on their hulls. @BRK#'...known as stormbirds.’ the iterator was saying as he walked them forward. 'The actual pattern type is Warhawk VI. Most expedition forces are now reliant on the smaller, standard construct Thunderhawk pattern, examples of which you can see under covers to our left in the hardstand area, but the Legion has made an effort to keep these old, heavy-duty machines in service. They have been delivering the Luna Wolves into war since the start of the Great Crusade, since before that, actually. They were manufactured on Terra by the Yndonesic Bloc for use against the Panpacific tribes during the Unification Wars. A dozen will be employed in this venture today. Six from this deck, six from Aft Embarkation 2.’ Keeler raised her picter and took several quick shots of the line of stormbirds ahead. For the last, she crouched down to get a low, impressive angle down the row of their flared wings. 'I said no records!' Emont snapped, hurrying to her. 'I didn't think for a moment you were serious.’ Keeler responded smoothly. We've got ten minutes. I'm an imagist. What the hell did you think I was going to do?' Emont looked flustered. He was about to say something when he noticed that Carnis and Flora were wandering astray, locked in some petty squabble. @BRK#'Stay with the group!' Emont cried out, hurrying to shepherd them back. @BRK#'Get anything good?' Sark asked Keeler. @BRK#'Please, @BRK#it's me.’ she replied. @BRK#He laughed, and took out a picter of his own from his rucksack. 'I didn't have the balls, but you're right. What the hell are we doing here if not our job?' @BRK#He took a few shots. Keeler liked Sark. He was good company and had a decent track record of work on Terra. She doubted he would get much here. His eye for composition was fine when it came to faces, but this was very much her thing. @BRK#Both the documentarists had now cornered Emont and were grilling him with questions that he struggled to answer. Keeler wondered where Mersadie Oliton had got to. Competition amongst the remembrancers for these six places had been fierce, and Mersadie had won a slot thanks to Keeler's good word and, it was said, approval from someone high up in the Legion, but she had failed to show up on time that morning, and her place had been taken at the last minute by Borodin Flora. @BRK#Ignoring the iterator's instructions, she moved away from the group, and chased images with her picter. The Luna Wolf emblem stencilled on an erect braking flap; two servitors glistening with lubricant as they struggled to fix a faulty feed; deck crew panting and wiping sweat from their brows beside a munition trolley they had just loaded; the bare-metal snout of an underwing cannon. @BRK#'Are you trying to get me replaced?' Emont asked, catching up with her. @BRK#'No.’ @BRK#'I really must ask you to keep in line, madam.’ he said. 'I know you're in favour, but there is a limit. After that business on the surface...' @BRK#'What business?' she asked. @BRK#'A couple of days ago, surely you heard?' @BRK#'No.’ @BRK#'Some remembrancer gave his minders the slip during a surface visit and got into a deal of trouble. Quite a scandal. It's annoyed the higher-ups. The Primary Iterator had to wrangle hard to prevent the remembrancer contingent being suspended from activity.’ Was it that bad?' @BRK#'I don't know the details. Please, for me, stay in line.’ 'You have a very lovely voice.’ Keeler said. 'You could ask me to do anything. Of course I will.’ Emont blushed. 'Let's continue with the visit.’ As he turned, she took another pict, capturing the scruffy iterator, head down, against a backdrop of bustling crewmen and threatening ships. @BRK#'Iterator?' she called. 'Have we been granted permission to accompany the drop?' @BRK#'I don't believe so.’ he said sadly. 'I'm sorry. I've not been told.’ @BRK#A fanfare boomed out across the vast deck. Keeler heard - and felt - a beat like a heavy drum, like a warhammer striking again and again against metal. @BRK#'Come to one side. Now! To one side!' Emont called, trying to gather the group on the edge of the deck space. The drumming grew closer and louder. It was feet. Steel-shod feet marching across decking. @BRK#Three hundred Astartes, in full armour and marching perfectly in step, advanced onto the embarkation deck between the waiting stormbirds. At the front of them, a standard bearer carried the great banner of the Tenth Company. @BRK#Keeler gasped at the sight of them. So many, so perfect, so huge, so regimented. She raised her picter with trembling hands and began to shoot. Giants in white metal, assembling for war, uniform and identical, precise and composed. @BRK#Orders flew out, and the Astartes came to a halt with a crashing din of heels. They became statues, as equerries @BRK#hurried through their files, directing and assigning men to their carriers. @BRK#Smoothly, units began to turn in fluid sequence, and filed onto the waiting vessels. @BRK#They will have already taken their oaths of moment.’ Emont was saying to the group in a hushed whisper. @BRK#'Explain.’ Van Krasten requested. @BRK#Emont nodded. 'Every soldier of the Imperium is sworn to uphold his loyalty to the Emperor at the start of his commission, and the Astartes are no exception. No one doubts their continued devotion to the pledge, but before individual missions, the Astartes choose to swear an immediate oath, an "oath of moment", that binds them specifically to the matter at hand. They pledge to uphold the particular concerns of the enterprise before them. You may think of it as a reaffirmation, I suppose. It is a ritual re-pledging. The Astartes do love their rituals.’ @BRK#'I don't understand.’ said Van Krasten. They are already sworn but-' @BRK#To uphold the truth of the Imperium and the light of the Emperor.’ Emont said, Ъш, as the name suggests, an oath of moment applies to an individual action. It is specific and precise.’ @BRK#Van Krasten nodded. @BRK#'Who's that?' Twell asked, pointing. A senior Astartes, a captain by his cloak, was walking the lines of warriors as they streamed neatly onto the drop-ships. @BRK#That's Loken.’ Emont said. @BRK#Keeler raised her picter. @BRK#Loken's comb-crested helm was off. His fair, cropped hair framed his pale, freckled face. His grey eyes seemed immense. Mersadie had spoken to her of Loken. Quite a force now, if the rumours were true. One of the four. @BRK#She shot him speaking to a subordinate, and again, waving servitors clear of a landing ramp. He was the @BRK#most extraordinary subject. She didn't have to compose around him, or shoot to crop later. He dominated every frame. @BRK#No wonder Mersadie was so taken with him. Keeler wondered again why Mersadie Oliton had missed this chance. @BRK#Now Loken turned away, his men all but boarded. He spoke with the standard bearer, and touched the hem of the banner with affection. Another fine shot. Then he swung round to face five armoured figures approaching across the suddenly empty deck. @BRK#This is...' Emont whispered. This is quite something. I hope you all understand you're lucky to see this.' @BRK#'See what?' asked Sark. @BRK#The captain takes his oath of moment last of all. It will be heard and sworn to by two of his fellow captains, but, oh my goodness, the rest of the Mournival have come to hear him pledge.' @BRK#That's the Mournival?' Keeler asked, her picter shooting. @BRK#'First Captain Abaddon, Captain Torgaddon, Captain Asrimand, and with them Captains Sedirae and Targost.’ Emont breathed, afraid of raising his voice. @BRK#'Which one is Abaddon?' Keeler asked, aiming her picter. @BRK#Loken knelt. There was no need-' he began. @BRK#We wanted to do this right.’ Torgaddon replied. 'Luc?' @BRK#Luc Sedirae, Captain of the Thirteenth Company, took out the seal paper on which the oath of moment was written. 'I am sent to hear you.’ he said. @BRK#And I am here to witness it.’ Targost said. @BRK#And we are here to keep you cheerful.’ Torgaddon added. Abaddon and Little Homs chuckled. @BRK#Neither Targost nor Sedirae were sons of Horus. Targost, Captain of the Seventh, was a blunt-faced man with a deep scar across his brow. Luc Sedirae, champion of so many wars, was a smiling rogue, blond and @BRK#handsome, his eyes blue and bright, his mouth permanently half-open as if about to bite something. Sedirae raised the scrap of parchment. @BRK#'Do you, Garviel Loken, accept your role in this? Do you promise to lead your men into the zone of war, and conduct them to glory, no matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe? Do you swear to crush the insurgents of Sixty-Three Nineteen, despite all they might throw at you? Do you pledge to do honour to the XVI Legion and the Emperor?' @BRK#Loken placed his hand on the bolter Targost held out. @BRK#'On this matter and by this weapon, I swear.’ @BRK#Sedirae nodded and handed the oath paper to Loken. @BRK#'Kill for the living, brother.’ he said, 'and kill for the dead.’ He turned to walk away. Targost holstered his bolter, made the sign of the aquila, and followed him. @BRK#Loken rose to his feet, securing his oath paper to the rim of his right shoulderguard. @BRK#'Do this right, Garviel.’ Abaddon said. @BRK#'I'm glad you told me that.’ Loken dead-panned. 'I'd been considering making a mess of it.’ @BRK#Abaddon hesitated, wrong-footed. Torgaddon and Aximand laughed. @BRK#'He's growing that thick skin already, Ezekyle.’ Aximand sniggered. @BRK#'You walked into that.’ Torgaddon added. @BRK#'I know, I know.’ Abaddon snapped. He glared at Loken. 'Don't let the commander down.’ @BRK#'Would I?' Loken replied, and walked away to his stormbird. @BRK#'Our time's up,' Emont said. @BRK#Keeler didn't care. That last pict had been exceptional. The Mournival, Sedirae and Targost, all in a solemn group, Loken on his knees. @BRK#Emont conducted the remembrancers out of the embarkation deck space to an observation deck, adjacent to the launch port from which they could watch the stormbirds deploy. They could hear the rising note of the stormbird engines behind them, trembling the embarkation deck as they fired up in pre-launch test. The roaring dulled away as they walked down the long access tunnel, hatches closing one by one after them. @BRK#The observation deck was a long chamber, one side of which was a frame of armoured glass. The deck's internal lighting had been switched low so that they could better see into the darkness outside. @BRK#It was an impressive view. They directly overlooked the yawning maw of the embarkation deck, a colossal hatch ringing with winking guide lights. The bulk of the flagship rose away above them, like a crenellated Gothic city. Beyond, lay the void itself. @BRK#Small service craft and cargo landers flitted past, some on local business, some heading out to other ships of the expedition fleet. Five of these could be seen from the observation deck, sleek monsters at high anchor several kilometres away. They were virtual silhouettes, but the distant sun caught them obliquely, and gave them hard, golden outlines along their ribbed upper hulls. @BRK#Below lay the world they orbited. Sixty-Three Nineteen. They were above its nightside, but there was a smoky grey crescent of radiance where the terminator crept forward. In the dark mass, Keeler could make out the faint light-glow of cities speckling the sleeping surface. @BRK#Impressive though the view was, she knew shots would be a waste of time. Between the glass, the distance and the odd light sources, resolution would be poor. @BRK#She found a seat away from the others, and began to review the picts she'd already taken, calling them up on the picter's viewscreen. @BRK#'May I see?' asked a voice. @BRK#She looked up and had to peer in the deck's gloom to identify the speaker. It was Sindermann, the Primary Iterator. @BRK#'Of course.’ she said, rising to her feet and holding the picter so he could see the images as she thumbed them up one by one. He craned his head forward, curious. @BRK#You have a wonderful eye, Mistress Keeler. Oh, that one is particularly fine! The crew working so hard. I find it striking because it is so natural, candid, I suppose. So very much of our pictorial record is arch and formally posed.’ @BRK#'I like to get people when they're not aware of me.’ @BRK#This one is simply magnificent. You've captured Garviel perfectly there.’ @BRK#"You know him personally, sir?' @BRK#'Why do you ask?' @BRK#You called him by his forename, not by any honorific or rank.’ @BRK#Sindermann smiled at her. 'I think Captain Loken might be considered a friend of mine. I'd like to think so, anyway. You never can tell with an Astartes. They form relationships with mortals in a curious way, but we spend time together and discuss certain matters.’ @BRK#You're his mentor?' @BRK#'His tutor. There is a great difference. I know things he does not, so I am able to expand his knowledge, but I do not presume to have influence over him. Oh, Mistress Keeler! This one is superb! The best, I should say.’ @BRK#'I thought so. I was very pleased with it.’ @BRK#'All of them together like that, and Garviel kneeling so humbly, and the way you've framed them against the company standard.’ @BRK#That was just happenstance.’ Keeler said. They chose what they were standing beside.’ @BRK#Sindermann placed his hand gently upon hers. He seemed genuinely grateful for the chance to review her work. That pict alone will become famous, I have no doubt. It will be reproduced in history texts for as long as the Imperium endures.’ @BRK#'It's just a pict.’ she chided. @BRK#'It is a witness. It is a perfect example of what the remembrancers can do. I have been reviewing some of the material produced by the remembrancers thus far, the material that's been added to the expedition's collective archive. Some of it is... patchy, shall I say? Ideal ammunition for those who claim the remembrancer project is a waste of time, funds and ship space, but some is outstanding, and I would class your work amongst that.’ @BRK#You're very kind.’ @BRK#'I am honest, mistress. And I believe that if mankind does not properly document and witness his achievements, then only half of this undertaking has been made. Speaking of honest, come with me.’ @BRK#He led her back to the main group by the window. Another figure had joined them on the observation deck, and stood talking to Van Karsten. It was the equerry, Maloghurst, and he turned as they approached. @BRK#'Kyril, do you want to tell them?' @BRK#You engineered it, equerry. The pleasure's yours.’ @BRK#Maloghurst nodded. 'After some negotiation with the expedition seniors, it has been agreed that the six of you can follow the strike force to the surface and observe the venture. You will travel down with one of the ancillary support vessels.’ @BRK#The remembrancers chorused their delight. @BRK#There's been a lot of debate about allowing remembrancers to become embedded in the layers of military @BRK#activity.’ Sindermann said, 'particularly concerning the issue of civilian welfare in a warzone. There is also, if I may be quite frank, some concern about what you will see. The Astartes in war is a shocking, savage sight. Many believe that such images are not for public distribution, as they might paint a negative picture of the crusade.’ @BRK#.’We both believe otherwise.’ Maloghurst said. The truth can't be wrong, even if it is ugly or shocking. We need to be clear about what we are doing, and how we are doing it, and allow persons such as yourselves to respond to it. That is the honesty on which a mature culture must be based. We also need to celebrate, and how can you celebrate the courage of the Astartes if you don't see it? I believe in the strength of positive propaganda, thanks, in no small part, to Mistress Keeler here and her documenting of my own plight. There is a rallying power in images and reports of both Imperial victory and Imperial suffering. It communicates a common cause to bind and uplift our society.’ @BRK#'It helps.’ Sindermann put in, 'that this is a low-key action. An unusual use of the Astartes in a policing role. It should be over in a day or so, with little collateral risk. However, I wish to emphasise that this is still dangerous. You will observe instruction at all times, and never stray from your protection detail. I am to accompany you - this was one of the stipulations made by the War-master. Listen to me and do as I say at all times.’ @BRK#So we're still to be vetted and controlled, Keeler thought. Shown only what they choose to show us. Never mind, this is still a great opportunity. One that I can't believe Mersadie has missed. @BRK#'Look!' cried Borodin Flora. @BRK#They all turned. @BRK#The stormbirds were launching. Like giant steel darts they shot from the deck mouth, the sunlight catching their armoured flanks. Majestically, they turned in the @BRK#darkness as they fell away, burners lighting up like blue coals as they dropped in formation towards the planet. @BRK#Bracing himself against the low, overhead handrails, Loken moved down the spinal aisle of the lead storm-bird. Luna Wolves, impassive behind their visors, their weapons locked and stowed, sat in the rear-facing cage-seats either side of him. The bird rocked and shuddered as it cut its steep path through the upper atmosphere. @BRK#He reached the cockpit section and wrenched open the hatch to enter. Two flight officers sat back to back, facing wall panel consoles, and beyond them two pilot servitors lay, hardwired into forward-facing helm positions in the cone. The cockpit was dark, apart from the coloured glow of the instrumentation and the sheen of light coming in through the forward slit-ports. @BRK#'Captain?' one of the flight officers said, turning and looking up. @BRK#What's the problem with the vox?' Loken asked. 'I've had several reports of comm faults from the men. Ghosting and chatter.’ @BRK#We're getting that too, sir.’ the officer said, his hands playing over his controls, 'and I'm hearing similar reports from the other birds. We think it's atmospherics.’ @BRK#'Disruption?' @BRK#Yes, sir. I've checked with the flagship, and they haven't picked up on it. It's probably an acoustic echo from the surface.’ @BRK#'It seems to be getting worse.’ Loken said. He adjusted his helm and tried his link again. The static hiss was still there, but now it had shapes in it, like muffled words. @BRK#'Is that language?' he asked. @BRK#The officer shook his head. 'Can't tell, sir. It's just reading as general interference. Perhaps we're bouncing up broadcasts from one of the southern cities. Or maybe even army traffic.’ @BRK#'We need clean vox.’ Loken said. 'Do something.’ @BRK#The officer shrugged and adjusted several dials. 'I can try purging the signal. I can wash it through the signal buffers. Maybe that will tidy up the channels. @BRK#In Loken's ears, there was a sudden, seething rush of static, and then things became quieter suddenly. @BRK#'Better.’ he said. Then he paused. Now the hiss was gone, he could hear the voice. It was tiny, distant, impossibly quiet, but it was speaking proper words. @BRK#'.. .only name you'll hear....' @BRK#'What is that?' Loken asked. He strained to hear. The voice was so very far away, like a rustle of silk. @BRK#The flight officer craned his neck, listening to his own headphones. He made minute adjustments to his dials. @BRK#'I might be able to...' he began. A touch of his hand had suddenly cleaned the signal to audibility. @BRK#'What in the name of Terra @BRK#is @BRK#that?' he asked. @BRK#Loken listened. The voice, like a gust of dry, desert wind, said, 'Samus. That's the only name you'll hear. Samus. It means the end and the death. Samus. I am Samus. Samus is all around you. Samus is the man beside you. Samus will gnaw upon your bones. Look out! Samus is here.’ @BRK#The voice faded. The channel went dead and quiet, except for the occasional echo pop. @BRK#The flight officer took off his headset and looked at Loken. His face was wide-eyed and fearful. Loken recoiled slightly. He wasn't made to deal with fear. The concept disgusted him. @BRK#'I d-don't know what that was.’ the flight officer said. @BRK#'I do.’ said Loken. 'Our enemy is trying to scare us.’ @BRK#EIGHT @BRK#One-way @BRK#war @BRK#Sindermann in grass and @BRK#sand @BRK#Jubal @BRK#Following the 'Emperor's' death and the fall of their ancient, centralised government, the insurgents had fled into the mountain massifs of the southern hemisphere, and occupied a fastness in a range of peaks, called the Whisperheads in the local language. The air was thin, for the altitude was very great. Dawn was coming up, and the mountains loomed as stern, misty steeples of pale green ice that reflected sun glare. @BRK#The stormbirds dropped from the edge of space, out of the sky's dark blue mantle, trailing golden fire from their ablative surfaces. In the frugal habitations and villages in the foothills, the townsfolk, born into a culture of myth and superstition, saw the fiery marks in the dawn sky as an omen. Many fell to wailing and lamenting, or hurried to their village fanes @BRK#The religious faith of Sixty-Three Nineteen, strong in the capital and the major cities, was distilled here into a more potent brew. These were impoverished backwaters, where the anachronistic beliefs of the society were @BRK#heightened by a subsistence lifestyle and poor education. The Imperial army had already straggled to contain this primitive zealotry during its occupation. As the streaks of fire crossed the sky, they found themselves hard-pressed to control the mounting agitation in the villages. @BRK#The stormbirds set down, engines screaming, on a plateau of dry, white lava-rock five thousand metres below the caps of the highest peaks where the rebel fastness lay. They whirled up clouds of pumice grit from their jets as they crunched in. @BRK#The sky was white, and the peaks were white against them, and white cloud softened the air. A series of precipitous rifts and ice canyons dropped away behind the plateau, wreathed in smoke-cloud, and the lower peaks gleamed in the rising light. @BRK#Tenth Company clattered out into the sparse, chilly air, weapons ready. They came to martial order, and disembarked as smoothly as Loken could have wished. @BRK#But the vox was still disturbed. Every few minutes, 'Samus' chattered again, like a sigh upon the mountain wind. @BRK#Loken called the senior squad leaders to him as soon as he had landed: Vipus of Locasta, Jubal of Hellebore, Rassek of the Terminator squad, Talonus of Pithraes, Kairus of Walkure, and eight more. @BRK#All grouped around, showing deference to Xavyer Jubal. @BRK#Loken, who had always read men well as a commander, needed none of his honed leadership skills to realise that Jubal wasn't wearing Vipus's elevation well. As the others of the Mournival had advised him, Loken had followed his gut and appointed Nero Vipus his proxy-commander, to serve when matters of state drew Loken apart from Tenth. Vipus was popular, but Jubal, as sergeant of the first squad, felt slighted. There was no @BRK#rule that stated the sergeant of a company's first squad automatically followed in seniority. The sequencing was simply a numerical distinction, but there was a given order to things, and Jubal felt aggrieved. He had told Loken so, several times. @BRK#Loken remembered Little Horus's words. J.’ @BRK#you trust Vipus, make it Vipus. Never compromise. Jubal's a big boy. He'll get over it. @BRK#'Let's do this, and quickly,' Loken told his officers. The Terminators have the lead here. Rassek?' @BRK#'My squad is ready to serve, captain,' Rassek replied curtly. Like all the men in his specialist squad, Sergeant Rassek wore the titanic armour of a Terminator, a variant only lately introduced into the arsenal of the Astartes. By dint of their primacy, and the fact that their primarch was Warmaster, the Luna Wolves had been amongst the first Legion to benefit from the issue of Terminator plate. Some entire Legions still lacked it. The armour was designed for heavy assault. Thickly plated and consequently exaggerated in its dimensions, a Terminator suit turned an Astartes warrior into a slow, cumbersome, but entirely unstoppable humanoid tank. An Astartes clad in Terminator plate gave up all his speed, dexterity, agility and range of movement. What he got in return was the ability to shrug off almost any ballistic attack. @BRK#Rassek towered over them in his armour, dwarfing them as a primarch dwarfs Astartes, or an Astartes dwarfs mortal men. Massive weapons systems were built into his shoulders, arms and gauntlets. @BRK#'Lead off to the bridges and clear the way.’ Loken said. He paused. Now was a moment for gentle diplomacy. 'Jubal, I want Hellebore to follow the Terminators in as the weight of the first strike.’ @BRK#Jubal nodded, evidently pleased. The scowl of displeasure he had been wearing for weeks now lifted for a @BRK#moment. All the officers were bare-headed for this briefing, despite the fact that the air was unbreathably thin by human standards. Their enhanced pulmonary systems didn't even labour. Loken saw Nero Vipus smile, and knew he understood the significance of this instruction. Loken was offering Jubal some measure of glory, to reassure him he was not forgotten. @BRK#'Let's go to it!' Loken cried. 'Lupercal!' @BRK#'Lupercal!' the officers answered. They clamped their helms into place. @BRK#Portions of the company began to move ahead towards the natural rock bridges and causeways that linked the plateau to the higher terrain. @BRK#Army regiments, swaddled in heavy coats and rebreathers against the cold, thin air, had moved up onto the plateau to meet them from the town of Kash-eri in the lower gorge. @BRK#'Kasheri is at compliance, sir.’ an officer told Loken, his voice muffled by his mask, his breathing pained and ragged. The enemy has withdrawn to the high fortress.' @BRK#Loken nodded, gazing up at the bright crags looming in the white light. 'We'll take it from here,' he said. @BRK#They're well armed, sir.’ the officer warned. 'Every time we've pushed to take the rock bridges, they've killed us with heavy cannon. We don't think they have much in the way of numerical weight, but they have the advantage of position. It's a slaughter ground, sir, and they have the cross-draw on us. We understand the insurgents are being led by an Invisible called Rykus or Ryker. We-' @BRK#'We'll take it from here.’ Loken repeated. 'I don't need to know the name of the enemy before I kill him.' @BRK#He turned. 'lubal. Vipus. Form up and move ahead!' @BRK#'lust like that?' the army officer asked sourly. 'Six weeks we've been here, slogging it out, the body toll like you wouldn't believe, and you-' @BRK#We're Astartes.’ Loken said. You're relieved.' @BRK#The officer shook his head with a sad laugh. He muttered something under his breath. @BRK#Loken turned back and took a step towards the man, causing him to start in alarm. No man liked to see the stern eye-slits of a Luna Wolfs impassive visor turn to regard him. @BRK#'What did you say?' Loken asked. @BRK#'I... I... nothing, sir.' @BRK#What did you say?' @BRK#'I said... "and the place is haunted", sir.' @BRK#'If you believe this place is haunted, my friend.’ Loken said, 'then you are admitting to a belief in spirits and daemons.’ @BRK#'I'm not, sir! I'm really not!' @BRK#'I should think not.’ Loken said. We're not barbarians.’ @BRK#'All I mean.’ said the soldier breathlessly, his face flushed and sweaty behind his breather mask, 'is that there's something about this place. These mountains. They're called the Whisperheads, and I've spoken to some of the locals in Katheri. The name's old, sir. Really old. The locals believe that a man might hear voices out here, calling to him, when there's no one around. It's an old tale.’ @BRK#'Superstition. We know this world has temples and fanes. They are dark-age in their beliefs. Bringing light to that ignorance is part of why we're here.' @BRK#'So what are the voices, sir?' @BRK#'What?' @BRK#'Since we've been here, fighting our way up the valley, we've all heard them. I've heard them. Whispers. In the night, and sometimes in the bold brightness of day when there's no one about, and on die vox too. Samus has been talking.' @BRK#Loken stared at the man. The oath of moment fixed to his shoulder plate fluttered in the mountain wind. 'Who is Samus?' @BRK#'Damned if I know.’ the officer shrugged. 'All I know for certain is the whole vox net has been loopy these past few days. Voices on the line, all saying the same thing. A threat.’ @BRK#They're trying to scare us.’ Loken said. @BRK#Well, it worked then, didn't it?' @BRK#Loken walked out across the plateau in the biting wind, between the parked stormbirds. Samus was muttering again, his voice a dry crackle in the background of Loken's open link. @BRK#'Samus. That's the only name you'll hear. I'm Samus. Samus is all around you. Samus is the man beside you. Samus will gnaw upon your bones.’ @BRK#Loken was forced to admit the enemy propaganda was good. It was unsettiing in its mystery and its whisper. It had probably been highly effective in the past against other nations and cultures on Sixty-Three Nineteen. The 'Emperor' had most likely come to global power on the basis of malignant whispers and invisible warriors. @BRK#The Astartes of the true Emperor would not be gulled and unmanned by such simple tools. @BRK#Some of the Luna Wolves around him were standing still, listening to the mutter in their helm sets. @BRK#'Ignore it.’ Loken told them. 'It's just a game. Let's move in.’ @BRK#Rassek's lumbering Terminators approached the rock bridges, arches of granite and lava that linked the plateau to the fierce verticality of the peaks. These were natural spans left behind by the action of ancient glaciers. @BRK#Corpses, some of them reduced to desiccated mummies by the altitude, littered the plateau shelf and the rock bridges. The officer had not been lying. Hundreds of army troopers had been cut down in the various attempts to storm the high fortresses. The field of fire @BRK#had been so intense, their comrades had not been able even to retrieve their bodies. @BRK#'Advance!' Loken ordered. @BRK#Raising their storm bolters, the Terminator squad began to crunch out across the rock bridges, dislodging white bone and rotten tunics with their immense feet. Gunfire greeted them immediately, blistering down from invisible positions up in the crags. The shots spanked and whined off the specialised armour. Heads set, the Terminators walked into it, shrugging it away, like men walking into a gale wind. What had kept the army at bay for weeks, and cost them dearly, merely tickled the Legion warriors. @BRK#This would be over quickly, Loken realised. He regretted the loyal blood that had been wasted needlessly. This had always been a job for the Astartes. @BRK#The front ranks of the Terminator squad, halfway across the bridges, began to fire. Bolters and inbuilt heavy weapon systems unloaded across the abyss, blitzing las shots and storms of explosive munitions at the upper slopes. Hidden positions and fortifications exploded, and limp, tangled bodies tumbled away into the chasm below in flurries of rock and ice. @BRK#'Samus' began his worrying again. 'Samus. That's the only name you'll hear. Samus. It means the end and the death. Samus. I am Samus. Samus is all around you. Samus is the man beside you. Samus will gnaw upon your bones. Look out! Samus is here.’ @BRK#'Advance!' Loken cried, 'and please, someone, shut that bastard up!' @BRK#'And who's Samus?' Borodin Flora asked. @BRK#The remembrancers, with an escort of army troopers and servitors, had just disembarked from their lander into the bitter cold of a township called Kasheri. The cold mountains swooped up beyond them into the mist. @BRK#The area had been securely occupied by Varvaras's troopers and war machines. The party stepped into the light, all of them giddy and breathless from the altitude. Keeler was calibrating her picter against the harsh glare, trying to slow her desperate breath-rate. She was annoyed. They'd set down in a safe zone, a long way back from the actual fighting area. There was nothing to see. They were being handled. @BRK#The town was a bleak outcrop of longhouses in a lower gorge below the peaks. It looked like it hadn't changed much in centuries. There were opportunities for shots of rustic dwellings or parked army war machines, but nothing significant. The glaring light had a pure quality, though. There was a thin rain in it. Some of the servitors had been instructed to carry the remembrancers' bags, but the rest were fighting to keep parasol canopies upright over the heads of the party in the crosswind. Keeler felt they all looked like some idle gang of aristos on a grand tour, exposing themselves not to risk but to some vague, stage-managed version of danger. @BRK#'Where are the Astartes?' she asked. 'When do we approach the warzone?' @BRK#'Never mind that.’ Flora interrupted. 'Who is Samus?' @BRK#'Samus?' Sindermann asked, puzzled. He had walked a short distance away from the group beside the lander into a scrubby stretch of white grass and sand, from where he could overlook the misty depth of the rainswept gorge. He looked small, as if he was about to address the canyon as an audience. @BRK#'I keep hearing it.’ Flora insisted, following him. He was having trouble catching a breath. Flora wore an earplug so he could listen in to the military's vox traffic. @BRK#'I heard it too.’ said one of the protection squad soldiers from behind his fogged rebreather. @BRK#The vox has been playing up.’ said another. @BRK#'All the way down to the surface.’ said the officer in charge. 'Ignore it. Interference.’ @BRK#'I've been told it's been happening for days here.’ Van Krasten said. @BRK#'It's nothing,' said Sindermann. He looked pale and fragile, as if he might be about to faint from the airless-ness. @BRK#The captain says it's scare tactics.’ said one of the troopers. @BRK#The captain is surely right.’ said Sindermann. He took out his data-slate, and connected it to the fleet archive base. As an afterthought, he uncoupled his rebreather mask and set it to his face, sucking in oxygen from the compact tank strapped to his hip. @BRK#After a few moments' consultation, he said, 'Oh, that's interesting.’ @BRK#What is?' asked Keeler. @BRK#'Nothing. It's nothing. The captain is right. Spread yourselves out, please, and look around. The soldiers here will be happy to answer any questions. Feel free to inspect the war machines.’ @BRK#The remembrancers glanced at one another and began to disperse. Each one was followed by an obedient servitor with a parasol and a couple of grumpy soldiers. @BRK#*We might as well not have come.’ Keeler said. @BRK#*The mountains are splendid.’ Sark said. @BRK#'Bugger the mountains. Other worlds have mountains. Listen.’ @BRK#They listened. A deep, distant booming rolled down the gorge to them. The sound of a war happening somewhere else. @BRK#Keeler nodded in the direction of the noise. That's where we ought to be. I'm going to ask the iterator why we're stuck here.’ @BRK#'Best of luck.’ said Sark. @BRK#Sindermann had walked away from die group to stand under the eaves of one of the mountain town's crude longhouse dwellings. He continued to study his slate. The mountain wind nodded the tusks of dry grass sprouting from the white sand around his feet. Rain pattered down. @BRK#Keeler went over to him. Two soldiers and a servitor with a parasol began to follow her. She turned to face them. @BRK#'Don't bother.’ she said. They stopped in their tracks and allowed her to walk away, alone. By the time she reached the iterator, she was sucking on her own oxygen supply. Sindermann was entirely occupied with his data-slate. She held off with her complaint for a moment, curious. @BRK#'There's something wrong, isn't there?' she asked quietly. @BRK#'No, not at all.’ Sindermann said. @BRK#'You've found out what Samus is, haven't you?' @BRK#He looked at her and smiled. Yes. You're very tenacious, Euphrati.’ @BRK#'Born that way. What is it, sir?' @BRK#Sindermann shrugged. 'It's silly.’ he said, showing her the screen of the data-slate. The background history we've already been able to absorb from this world features the name Samus, and the Whisperheads. It seems this is a sacred place to the people of Sixty-Three Nineteen. A holy, haunted place, where the alleged barrier between reality and the spirit world is at its most permeable. This is intriguing. I am endlessly fascinated by the belief systems and superstitions of primitive worlds.’ @BRK#"What does your slate tell you, sir?' Keeler asked. @BRK#'It says... this is quite funny I suppose it would be scary, if one actually believed in such things. It says that the Whisperheads are the one place on this world where the spirits walk and speak. It mentions Samus as chief @BRK#of those spirits. Local, and very ancient, legend, tells how one of the emperors battled and restrained a nightmarish force of devilry here. The devil was called Samus. It is here in their myths, you see? We had one of our own, in the very antique days, called Seytan, orTearmat. Samus is the equivalent.’ @BRK#'Samus is a spirit, then?' Keeler whispered, feeling unpleasantly light-headed. @BRK#'Yes. Why do you ask?' @BRK#'Because.’ said Keeler, 'I've heard him hissing at me since the moment we touched down. And I don't have a vox.’ @BRK#Beyond the rock-bridges, the insurgents had raised shield walls of stone and metal. They had heavy cannons covering the gully approaches to their fortress, wired munition charges in the narrow defiles, electrified razor-wire, bolted storm-doors, barricades of rockcrete blocks and heavy iron poles. They had a few automated sentry devices, and the advantage of the sheer drop and unscalable ice all around. They had faith and their god On their side. @BRK#They had held off Varvaras's regiments for six weeks. @BRK#They had no chance whatsoever. @BRK#Nothing they did even delayed the advance of the Luna Wolves. Shrugging off cannon rounds and the backwash of explosives, the Terminators wrenched their way through the shield walls, and blasted down the storm-doors. They crushed the spark of electric life out of the sentry drones with their mighty claws, and pushed down the heaped barricades with their shoulders. The company flooded in behind them, firing their weapons into the rising smoke. @BRK#The fortress itself had been built into the mountain peak. Some sections of roof and battlement were visible from outside, but most of the structure lay within, thickly @BRK#armoured by hundreds of metres of rock. The Luna Wolves poured in through the fortified gates. Assault squads rose up the mountain face on their jump packs and settled like flocks of white birds on the exposed roofs, ripping them apart to gain entry and drop in from above. Explosions ripped out the interior chambers of the fortress, opening them to the air, and sending rafts of dislodged ice and rock crashing down into the gorge. @BRK#The interior was a maze of wet-black rock tunnels and old tile work, through which the wind funnelled so sharply it seemed to be hyperventilating. The bodies of the slain lay everywhere, slumped and twisted, sprawled and broken. Stepping over them, Loken pitied them. Their culture had deceived them into this resistance, and the resistance had brought down the wrath of the Astartes on their heads. They had all but invited a catastrophic doom. @BRK#Terrible human screams echoed down the windy rock tunnels, punctuated by the door-slam bangs of bolter fire. Loken hadn't even bothered to keep a tally of his kills. There was little glory in this, just duty. A surgical strike by the Emperor's martial instruments. @BRK#Gunfire pinked off his armour, and he turned, without really thinking, and cut down his assailants. Two desperate men in mail shirts disintegrated under his fire and spattered across a wall. He couldn't understand why they were still fighting. If they'd ventured a surrender, he would have accepted it. @BRK#That way.’ he ordered, and a squad moved up past him into the next series of chambers. As he followed them, a body on the floor at his feet stirred and moaned. The insurgent, smeared in his own blood and gravely wounded, looked up at Loken with glassy eyes. He whispered something. @BRK#Loken knelt down and cradled his enemy's head in one massive hand. 'What did you say?' @BRK#'Bless me...' the man whispered. 'I can't.' @BRK#'Please, say a prayer and commend me to the gods.' 'I can't. There are no gods.' @BRK#'Please... the otherworld will shun me if I die without a prayer.' 'I'm sorry,' Loken said, "ifou're dying. That's all there @BRK#is. @BRK#'Help me...' the man gasped. @BRK#'Of course.’ Loken said. He drew his combat blade, the standard-issue short, stabbing sword, and activated the power cell. The grey blade glowed with force. Loken cut down and sharply back up again in the mercy stroke, and gently set the man's detached head on the ground. @BRK#The next chamber was vast and irregular. Meltwater trickled down from the black ceiling, and formed spurs of glistening mineral, like silver whiskers, on the rocks it ran over. A pool had been cut in the centre of the chamber floor to collect the meltwater, probably as one of the fortress's primary water reserves. The squad he had sent on had come to a halt around its lip. @BRK#'Report.’ he said. @BRK#One of the Wolves looked round. What is this, captain?' he asked. @BRK#Loken stepped forward to join them and saw that a great number of bottles and glass flasks had been set around the pool, many of them in the path of the trickling feed from above. At first, he assumed they were there to collect the water, but there were other items too: coins, brooches, strange doll-like figures of clay and the head bones of small mammals and lizards. The spattering water fell across them, and had evidendy done so for some time, for Loken could see that many of the bottles and other items were gleaming and distorted with mineral deposits. On the overhang of rock above the pool, ancient, eroded script had been chiselled. Loken couldn't @BRK#read the words, and realised he didn't want to. There were symbols there that made him feel curiously uneasy. @BRK#'It's a fane.’ he said simply. 'You know what these locals are like. They believe in spirits, and these are offerings.’ @BRK#The men glanced at one another, not really understanding. @BRK#They believe in things that aren't real?' asked one. @BRK#They've been deceived.’ Loken said. That's why we're here. Destroy this.’ he instructed, and turned away. @BRK#The assault lasted sixty-eight minutes, start to finish. By the end, the fastness was a smoking ruin, many sections of it blown wide to the fierce sunlight and mountain air. Not a single Luna Wolf had been lost. Not a single insurgent had survived. @BRK#'How many?' Loken asked Rassek. @BRK#They're still counting bodies, captain.’ Rassek replied. 'As it stands, nine hundred and seventy-two.’ @BRK#In the course of the assault, something in the region of thirty meltwater fanes had been discovered in the labyrinthine fortress, pools surrounded by offerings. Loken ordered them all expunged. @BRK#They were guarding the last outpost of their faith.’ Nero Vipus remarked. @BRK#'I suppose so.’ Loken replied. @BRK#'You don't like it, do you, Garvi?' Vipus asked. @BRK#'I hate to see men die for no reason. I hate to see men give their lives like this, for nothing. For a belief in nothing. It sickens me. This is what we were once, Nero. Zealots, spiritualists, believers in lies we'd made up ourselves. The Emperor showed us the path out of that madness.’ @BRK#'So be of good humour that we've taken it.’ Vipus said. 'And, though we spill their blood, be phlegmatic that we're at last bringing truth to our lost brothers here.’ @BRK#Loken nodded. T feel sorry for them.’ he said. They must be so scared.’ @BRK#'Of us?' @BRK#'Yes, of course, but that's not what I mean. Scared of the truth we bring. We're trying to teach them that there are no greater forces at work in the galaxy than light, gravity and human will. No wonder they cling to their gods and spirits. We're removing every last crutch of their ignorance. They felt safe until we came. Safe in the custody of the spirits that they believed watched over them. Safe in the ideal that there was an afterlife, an otherworld. They thought they would be immortal, beyond flesh.’ @BRK#'Now they have met real immortals.’ Vipus quipped. 'It's a hard lesson, but they'll be better for it in the long run.’ @BRK#Loken shrugged. T just empathise, I suppose. Their lives were comforted by mysteries, and we've taken that comfort away. All we can show them is a hard and unforgiving reality in which their lives are brief and without higher purpose.’ @BRK#'Speaking of higher purpose.’ Vipus said, 'you should signal the fleet and tell them we're done. The iterators have voxed us. They request permission to bring the observers up to the site here.’ @BRK#'Grant it. I'll signal the fleet and give them the good news.’ @BRK#Vipus turned away, then halted. 'At least that voice shut up.’ he said. @BRK#Loken nodded. 'Samus' had quit his maudlin ram-blings half an hour since, though the assault had failed to identify any vox system or broadcast device. @BRK#Loken's intervox crackled. @BRK#'Captain?' @BRK#Tubal? Go ahead.’ @BRK#'Captain, I'm...' @BRK#What? You're what? Say again, Jubal.’ @BRK#'Sorry, captain. I need you to see this. I'm... I mean, I need you to see this. It's Samus.’ @BRK#'What? Jubal, where are you?' @BRK#'Follow my locator. I've found something. I'm... I've found something. Samus. It means the end and the death.’ @BRK#"What have you found, Jubal?' @BRK#'I'm... I've found... Captain, Samus is here.' @BRK#Loken left Vipus to orchestrate the clean-up, and descended into the bowels of the fastness with Seventh Squad, following the pip of Jubal's locator. Seventh Squad, Brakespur tactical squad, was commanded by Sergeant Udon, one of Loken's most reliable warriors. @BRK#The locator led them down to a massive stone well in the very basement of the fortress, deep in the heart of the mountain. They gained access to it via a corroded iron gate built into a niche in the dark stone. The dank chamber beyond the gate was a natural, vertical split in the mountain rock, a slanting cavern that overlooked a deep fault where only blackness could be detected. A pier of old stone steps arced out over the abyss, which dropped away into the very bottom of the mountain. Meltwater sprinkled down the glistening walls of the cavern well. @BRK#The wind whined through invisible fissures and vents. @BRK#Xavyer Jubal was alone at the edge of the drop. As Loken and Seventh Squad approached, Loken wondered where the rest of Hellebore had gone. @BRK#'Xavyer?' Loken called. @BRK#Jubal looked around. 'Captain.’ he said. 'I've found something wonderful.’ @BRK#What?' @BRK#'See?' Jubal said. 'See the words?' @BRK#Loken stared where Jubal was pointing. All he saw was water streaming down a calcified buttress of rock. @BRK#'No. What words?' @BRK#There! There!' @BRK#'I see only water.’ Loken said. 'Falling water.’ @BRK#'Yes, yes! It's written in the water! In the falling water! There and gone, there and gone, You see? It makes words and they stream away, but the words come back.’ @BRK#'Xavyer? Are you well? I'm concerned that-' @BRK#'Look, Garviel! Look at the words! Can't you hear the water speaking?' @BRK#'Speaking?' @BRK#'Drip drip drop. One name. Samus. That's the only name you'll hear.’ @BRK#'Samus?' @BRK#'Samus. It means the end and the death. I'm...' @BRK#Loken looked at Udon and the men. 'Restrain him.’ he said quietly. @BRK#Udon nodded. He and four of his men slung their bolters and stepped forward. @BRK#What are you doing?' Jubal laughed. 'Are you threatening me? For Terra's sake, Garviel, can't you see? Samus is all around you!' @BRK#Where's Hellebore, Jubal?' Loken snapped. Where's the rest of your squad?' @BRK#Jubal shrugged. They didn't see it either.’ he said, and glanced towards the edge of the precipice. 'They couldn't see, I suppose. It's so clear to me. Samus is the man beside you.’ @BRK#'Udon.’ Loken nodded. Udon moved towards Jubal. 'Let's go, brother.’ he said, kindly. @BRK#Jubal's bolter came up very suddenly. There was no warning. He shot Udon in the face, blowing gore and pulverised skull fragments out through the back of Udon's exploded helm. Udon fell on his face. Two of his men lunged forward, and the bolter roared again, @BRK#punching holes in their chest plates and throwing them over onto their backs. @BRK#Jubal's visor swung to look at Loken. 'I'm Samus.’ he said, chuckling. 'Look out! Samus is here.’ @BRK#NINE @BRK#The unthinkable @BRK#Spirits of the Whisperheads @BRK#Compatible minds @BRK#Two days before the Legion's assault on the Whisper-heads, Loken had consented to another private interview with the remembrancer Mersadie Oliton. It was the third such interview he had granted since his election to the Mournival, at which time his attitude towards her seemed to have substantially altered. Though the subject had not been mentioned formally, Mersadie had begun to feel that Loken had chosen her to be his particular memorialist. He had told her on the night of his election that he might choose to share his recollections with her, but she was now secretly astonished at the extent of his eagerness to do so. She had already recorded almost six hours of reminiscence -accounts of battles and tactics, descriptions of especially demanding military operations, reflections on the qualities of certain types of weapon, celebrations of notable deeds and triumphs accomplished by his comrades. In the time between interviews, she took herself to her room and processed the material, composing it into the @BRK#skeleton of a long, fluid account. She hoped eventually to have a complete history of the expedition, and a more general record of the Great Crusade as witnessed by Loken during the other expeditions that had preceded the 63rd. @BRK#Indeed, the weight of anecdotal fact she was gathering was huge, but one thing was lacking, and that was Loken himself. In the latest interview, she tried once again to draw out some spark of the man. @BRK#'As I understand it.’ she said, 'you have nothing in you that we ordinary mortals might know as fear?' @BRK#Loken paused and frowned. He had been lapping a plate section of his armour. This seemed to be his favourite diversion when in her company. He would call her to his private arming chamber and sit mere, scrupulously polishing his war harness while he spoke and she listened. To Mersadie, the particular smell of the lapping powder had become synonymous with the sound of his voice and the matter of his tales. He had well over a century of stories to tell. @BRK#'A curious question.’ he said. @BRK#And how curious is the answer?' @BRK#Loken shrugged lightly. The Astartes have no fear. It is unthinkable to us.’ @BRK#'Because you have trained yourself to master it?' Mersadie asked. @BRK#'No, we are trained for discipline, but the capacity for fear is bred out of us. We are immune to its touch.’ @BRK#Mersadie made a mental note to edit this last comment later. To her, it seemed to leach away some of the heroic mystique of the Astartes. To deny fear was the very character of a hero, but there was nothing courageous about being insensible to the emotion. She wondered too if it was possible to simply remove an entire emotion from what was essentially a human mind. Did that not leave a void? Were other emotions @BRK#compromised by its lack? Could fear even be removed cleanly, or did its excision tear out shreds of other qualities along with it? It certainly might explain why the Astartes seemed larger than life in almost every aspect except their own personalities. @BRK#Well, let us continue.’ she said. At our last meeting, you were going to tell me about the war against the overseers. That was twenty years ago, wasn't it?' @BRK#He was still looking at her, eyes slightly narrowed. What?' he asked. @BRK#'I'm sorry?' @BRK#'What is it? You didn't like my answer just then.’ @BRK#Mersadie cleared her throat. 'No, not at all. It wasn't that. I had just been...' @BRK#'What?' @BRK#'May I be candid?' @BRK#'Of course.’ he said, patiently rubbing a nub of polishing fibre around the edges of a pot. @BRK#'I had been hoping to get something a little more personal. You have given me a great deal, sir, authentic details and points of fart that would make any history text authoritative. Posterity will know with precision, for instance, which hand Iacton Qruze carried his sword in, the colour of the sky over the Monastery Cities of Nabatae, the methodology of the White Scars' favoured pincer assault, the number of studs on the shoulder plate of a Luna Wolf, the number of axe blows, and from which angles, it took to fell the last of the Omakkad Princes...' She looked at him squarely, 'but nothing about you, sir. I know what you saw, but not what you felt.’ @BRK#'What I felt? Why would anyone be interested in that?' @BRK#'Humanity is a sensible race, sir. Future generations, those that our remembrances are intended for, will learn more from any factual record if those facts are couched in an emotional context. They will care less for @BRK#the details of the battles at Ullanor, for instance, than they will for a sense of what it felt like to be there.’ @BRK#'Are you saying that I'm boring?' Loken asked. @BRK#'No, not at all,' she began, and then realised he was smiling. 'Some of the things you have told me sound like wonders, yet you do not yourself seem to wonder at them. If you know no fear, do you also not know awe? Surprise? Majesty? Have you not seen things so bizarre they left you speechless? Shocked you? Unnerved you even?' @BRK#'I have.’ he said. 'Many times the sheer oddity of the cosmos has left me bemused or startled.’ @BRK#'So tell me of those things.’ @BRK#He pursed his lips and thought about it. 'Giant hats.’ he began. @BRK#'I beg your pardon?' @BRK#'On Sarosel, after compliance, the citizens held a great carnival of celebration. Compliance had been bloodless and willing. The carnival ran for eight weeks. The dancers in the streets wore giant hats of ribbon and cane and paper, each one fashioned into some gaudy form: a ship, a sword and fist, a dragon, a sun. They were as broad across as my span.’ Loken spread his arms wide. 'I do not know how they balanced them, or suffered their weight, but day and night they danced along the inner streets of the main city, these garish forms weaving and bobbing and circling, as if carried along on a slow flood, quite obscuring the human figures beneath. It was an odd sight.’ @BRK#'I believe you.’ @BRK#'It made us laugh. It made Horus laugh to see it.’ @BRK#'Was that the strangest thing you ever knew?' @BRK#'No, no. Let's see... the method of war on Keylek gave us all pause. This was eighty years ago. The keylekid were a grosteque alien kind, of a manner you might describe as reptilian. They were gready skilled in the arts of combat, @BRK#and rose against us angrily the moment we made contact. Their world was a harsh place I remember crimson rock and indigo water. The commander - this was long before he was made Warmaster - expected a prolonged and brutal struggle, for the keylekid were large and strong creatures. Even the least of their warriors took three or four bolt rounds to bring down. We drew forth upon their world to make war, but they would not fight us.’ @BRK#'How so?' @BRK#"We @BRK#did not comprehend the rules they fought by. As we learned later, the keylekid considered war to be the most abhorrent activity a sentient race could indulge in, so they set upon it tight controls and restrictions. There were large structures upon the surface of their world, rectangular fields many kilometres in dimension, covered with high, flat roofs and open at the sides. We named them "slaughterhouses", and there was one every few hundred kilometres. The keylekid would only fight at these prescribed places. The sites were reserved for combat. War was forbidden on any other part of their world's surface. They were waiting for us to meet them at a slaughterhouse and decide the matter.’ @BRK#'How bizarre! What was done about it?' @BRK#'We destroyed the keylekid.’ he said, matter of factly. @BRK#'Oh.’ she replied, with a tilt of her abnormally long head. @BRK#'It was suggested that we might meet them and fight them by the terms of their rules.’ Loken said. 'There may have been some honour in that, but Maloghurst, I think it was, reasoned that we had rules of our own which the enemy chose not to recognise. Besides, they were formidable. Had we not acted decisively, they would have remained a threat, and how long would it have taken them to learn new rules or abandon old ones?' @BRK#'Is an image of them recorded?' Mersadie asked. @BRK#'Many, I believe. The preserved cadaver of one of their warriors is displayed in this ship's Museum of Conquest, @BRK#and since you ask what I feel, sometimes it is sadness. You mentioned the overseers, a story I was going to tell. That was a long campaign, and one which filled me with @BRK#misery.' @BRK#As he told the story, she sat back, occasionally blink-clicking to store his image. He was concentrating on the preparation of his armour, but she could see sadness behind that concern. The overseers, he explained, were a machine race and, as artificial sentients, quite beyond the limits of Imperial law. Machine life untempered by organic components had long been outlawed by both the Imperial Council and the Mechanicum. The overseers, commanded by a senior machine called the Archdroid, inhabited a series of derelict, crumbling cities on the world of Dahinta. These were cities of fine mosaics, which had once been very beautiful indeed, but extreme age and decay had faded them. The overseers scuttled amongst the mouldering piles, fighting a losing battle of repair and refurbishment in a single-minded obsession to keep the neglected cities intact. @BRK#The machines had eventually been destroyed after a lasting and brutal war in which the skills of the Mechanicum had proved invaluable. Only then was the sad @BRK#secret found. The overseers were the product of human ingenuity,' @BRK#Loken said. @BRK#'Humans made them?' @BRK#Yes, thousands of years ago, perhaps even during the last Age of Technology. Dahinta had been a human colony, home to a lost branch of our race, where they had raised a great and marvellous culture of magnificent cities, wim thinking machines to serve mem. At some time, and in a manner unknown to us, the humans had become extinct. They left behind their ancient cities, empty but for the deathless guardians they had made. It was most melancholy, and passing strange.' @BRK#'Did the machines not recognise men?' she asked. @BRK#'All they saw was the Astartes, lady, and we did not look like the men they had called master.’ @BRK#She hesitated for a moment, then said, 'I wonder if I shall witness so many marvels as we make this expedition.’ @BRK#'I trust you will, and I hope that many will fill you with joy and amazement rather than distress. I should tell you sometime of the Great Triumph after Ullanor. That was an event that should be remembered.’ @BRK#'I look forward to hearing it.’ @BRK#There is no time now. I have duties to attend to.’ @BRK#'One last story, then? A short one, perhaps? Something that filled you with awe.’ @BRK#He sat back and thought. There was a thing. No more than ten years ago. We found a dead world where life had once been. A species had lived there once, and either died out or moved to another world. They had left behind them a honeycomb of subterranean habitats, dry and dead. We searched them carefully, every last cave and tunnel, and found just one thing of note. It was buried deepest of all, in a stone bunker ten kilometres under the planet's crust. A map. A great chart, in fact, fully twenty metres in diameter, showing the geophysical relief of an entire world in extraordinary detail. We did not at first recognise it, but the Emperor, beloved of all, knew what it was.’ @BRK#"What?' she asked. @BRK#'It was Terra. It was a complete and full map of Terra, perfect in every detail. But it was a map of Terra from an age long gone, before the rise of the hives or the molestation of war, with coastlines and oceans and mountains of an aspect long since erased or covered over.’ @BRK#IThat is... amazing,' she said. He nodded. 'So many unanswerable questions, locked into one forgotten chamber. Who had made the map, @BRK#and why? What business had brought them to Terra so long ago? What had caused them to carry the chart across half the galaxy, and then hide it away, like their most precious treasure, in the depths of their world? It was unthinkable. I cannot feel fear, Mistress Olitan, but if I could I would have felt it then. I cannot imagine anything ever unsettling my soul the way that thing did.’ @BRK#Unthinkable. @BRK#Time had slowed to a pinprick point on which it seemed all the gravity in the cosmos was pressing. Loken felt lead-heavy, slow, out of joint, unable to frame a lucid response, or even begin to deal with what he was seeing. @BRK#Was this fear? Was he tasting it now, after all? Was this how terror cowed a mortal man? @BRK#Sergeant Udon, his helm a deformed ring of bloody ceramite, lay dead at his feet. Beside him sprawled two other battle-brothers, shot point-blank through the hearts, if not dead then fatally damaged. @BRK#Before him stood Jubal, the bolter in his hand. @BRK#This was madness. This could not be. Astartes had turned upon Astartes. A Luna Wolf had murdered his own kind. Every law of fraternity and honour that Loken understood and trusted had just been torn as easily as a cobweb. The insanity of this crime would echo forever. @BRK#'Jubal? What have you done?' @BRK#'Not Jubal. Samus. I am Samus. Samus is all around you. Samus is the man beside you.’ @BRK#Jubal's voice had a catch to it, a dry giggle. Loken knew he was about to fire again. The rest of Udon's squad, quite as aghast as Loken, stumbled forward, but none raised their bolters. Even in the stark light of what Jubal had just done, not one of them could break the sworn code of the Astartes and fire upon one of their own. @BRK#Loken knew he certainly couldn't. He threw his bolter aside and leapt at Jubal. @BRK#Xavyer Jubal, commander of Hellebore squad and one of the finest file officers in the company, had already begun to fire. Bolt rounds screeched out across the chamber and struck into the hesitating squad. Another helmet exploded in a welter of blood, bone chips and armour fragments, and another battle-brother crashed to the cave floor. Two more were knocked down beside him as bolt rounds detonated against their torso armour. @BRK#Loken smashed into Jubal, and staggered him backwards, trying to pin his arms. Jubal thrashed, sudden fury in his limbs. @BRK#'Samus!' he yelled. 'It means the end and the death! Samus will gnaw upon your bones!' @BRK#They crashed against a rock wall together with numbing force, splintering stone. Jubal would not relinquish his grip on the murder weapon. Loken drove him backwards against the rock, the drizzle of meltwater spraying down across them both. @BRK#'Jubal!' @BRK#Loken threw a punch that would have decapitated a mortal man. His fist cracked against Jubal's helm and he repeated the action, driving his fist four or five times against the other's face and chest. The ceramite visor chipped. Another punch, his full weight behind it, and Jubal stumbled. Each stroke of Loken's fist resounded like a smith's hammer in the echoing chamber, steel against steel. @BRK#As Jubal stumbled, Loken grabbed his bolter and tore it out of his hand. He hurled it away across the deep stone well. @BRK#But Jubal was not yet done. He seized Loken and slammed him sideways into the rock wall. Lumps of stone flew out from the jarring impact. Jubal slammed @BRK#him again, swinging Loken bodily into the rock, like a man swinging a heavy sack. Pain flared through Loken's head and he tasted blood in his mouth. He tried to pull away, but Jubal was throwing punches that ploughed into Loken's visor and bounced the back of his head off the wall repeatedly. @BRK#The other men were upon them, shouting and grappling to separate them. @BRK#'Hold him!' Loken yelled. 'Hold him down!' @BRK#They were Astartes, as strong as young gods in their power armour, but they could not do as Loken ordered. Jubal lashed out with a free fist and knocked one of them clean off his feet. Two of the remaining three clung to his back like wrestlers, like human cloaks, trying to pull him down, but he hoisted them up and twisted, throwing them off him. @BRK#Such strength. Such unthinkable strength that could shrug off Astartes like target dummies in a practice cage. @BRK#Jubal turned on the remaining brother, who launched himself forward to tackle the madman. @BRK#'Look out!' Jubal screamed with a cackle. 'Samus is here!' @BRK#His lancing right hand met the brother head on. Jubal struck with an open hand, fingers extended, and those fingers drove clean in through the battle-brother's gorget as surely as any speartip. Blood squirted out from the man's throat, through the puncture in the armour. Jubal ripped his hand out, and the brother fell to his knees, choking and gurgling, blood pumping in profuse, pulsing surges from his ruptured throat. @BRK#Beyond any thought of reason now, Loken hurled himself at Jubal, but the berserker turned and smacked him away with a mighty back-hand slap. @BRK#The power of the blow was stupendous, far beyond anything even an Astartes should have been able to wield. The force was so great that the armour of Jubal's @BRK#gauntlet fractured, as did the plating of Loken's shoulder, which took the brunt. Loken blacked out for a split-second, then was aware that he was flying. Jubal had struck him so hard that he was sailing across the stone well and out over the abyssal fault. @BRK#Loken struck the arching pier of stone steps. He almost bounced off it, but he managed to grab on, his fingers gouging the ancient stone, his feet swinging above the drop. Meltwater poured down in a thin rain across him, making the steps slick and oily with mineral wash. Loken's fingers began to slide. He remembered dangling in a similar fashion over the tower lip in the 'Emperor's' palace, and snarled in frustrated rage. @BRK#Fury pulled him up. Fury, and an intense passion that he would not fail the Warmaster. Not in this. Not in the face of this terrible wrong. @BRK#He hauled himself upright on to the pier. It was narrow, no wider than a single path where men could not pass if they met. The gulf, black as the outer void, yawned below him. His limbs were shaking with effort. @BRK#He saw Jubal. He was charging forward across the cavern to the foot of the steps, drawing his combat blade. The sword glowed as it powered into life. @BRK#Loken wrenched out his own sword. Falling meltwater hissed and sparked as it touched the active metal of the short, stabbing blade. @BRK#Jubal bounded up the steps to meet him, slashing with his sword. He was raving still, in a voice that was in no way his own any longer. He struck wildly at Loken, who hopped back up the steps, and then began to deflect the strikes with his own weapon. Sparks flashed, and the blades struck one another like the tolling of a discordant bell. Height was not an advantage in this fight, as Loken had to hunch low to maintain his guard. @BRK#Combat swords we're not duelling weapons. Short and double-edged, they were made for stabbing, for battlefield onslaught. They had no reach or subtlety. Jubal hacked with his like an axe, forcing Loken to defend. Their blades cut falling water as they scythed, sizzling and billowing steam into the air. @BRK#Loken prided himself on maintaining a masterful discipline and practice of all weapons. He regularly clocked six or eight hours at a time in the flagship's practice cages. He expected all of the men in his command to do likewise. Xavyer Jubal, he knew, was foremost a master with daggers and sparring axes, but no slouch with the sword. @BRK#Except today. Jubal had discarded all his skill, or had forgotten it in the flush of madness that had engulfed his mind. He attacked Loken like a maniac, in a frenzy of savage cuts and blows. Loken was likewise forced to dispense with much of his skill in an effort to block and parry. Three times, Loken managed to drive Jubal back down the pier a few steps, but always the other man retaliated and forced Loken higher up the arch. Once, Loken had to leap to avoid a low slice, and barely regained his footing as he landed. In the silver downpour, the steps were treacherous, and it was as much a fight to keep balance as to resist Jubal's constant assault. @BRK#It ended suddenly, like a jolt. Jubal passed Loken's guard and sunk the full edge of his blade into Loken's left shoulder plate. @BRK#'Samus is here!' he cried in delight, but his blade, flaring with power, was wedged fast. @BRK#'Samus is done.’ Loken replied, and drove the tip of his sword into Jubal's exposed chest. The sword punched clean through, and the tip emerged through Jubal's back. @BRK#Jubal wavered, letting go of his own weapon, which remained transfixed through Loken's shoulder guard. With half-open, shuddering hands, he reached at @BRK#Loken's face, not violendy, but gently as if imploring some mercy or even aid. Water splashed off them and streamed down their white plating. @BRK#'Samus...' he gasped. Loken wrenched his sword out. @BRK#Jubal staggered and swayed, the blood leaking out of the gash in his chest plate, diluting as soon as it appeared and mixing with the drizzle, covering his belly plate and thigh armour with a pink stain. @BRK#He toppled backwards, crashing over and over down the steps in a windmill of heavy, loose limbs. Five metres from the base of the pier, his headlong career bounced him half-off the steps, and he came to a halt, legs dangling, partly hanging over the chasm, gradually sliding backwards under his own weight. Loken heard the slow squeal of armour scraping against slick stone. @BRK#He leapt down the flight to reach Jubal's side. He got there just moments before Jubal slid away into oblivion. Loken grabbed Jubal by the edge of his left shoulder plate and slowly began to heave him back onto the pier. It was almost impossible. Jubal seemed to weigh a billion tonnes. @BRK#The three surviving members of Brakespur squad stood at the foot of the steps, watching him struggle. @BRK#'Help me!' Loken yelled. @BRK#To save him?' one asked. @BRK#'Why?' asked another. 'Why would you want to?' @BRK#'Help me!' Loken snarled again. They didn't move. In desperation, Loken raised his sword and stabbed it down, spearing Jubal's right shoulder to the steps. So pinned, his slide was arrested. Loken hauled his body back onto the pier. @BRK#Panting, Loken dragged off his battered helm and spat out a mouthful of blood. @BRK#'Get Vipus.’ he ordered. 'Get him now.’ @BRK#S S S @BRK#By the time they were conducted up to the plateau, there wasn't much to see and the light was failing. Euphrati took a few random picts of the parked storm-birds and the cone of smoke lifting off the broken crag, but she didn't expect much from any of them. It all seemed drab and lifeless up there. Even the vista of the mountains around them was insipid. @BRK#'Can we see the combat area?' she asked Sindermann. @BRK#'We've @BRK#been told to wait.' @BRK#'Is there a problem?' @BRK#He shook his head. It was an 'I don't know' kind of shake. Like all of them, he was strapped into his rebreather, but he looked frail and tired. @BRK#It was eerily quiet. Groups of Luna Wolves were trudging back to the stormbirds from the fastness, and army troops had secured the plateau itself. The remembrancers had been told that a solid victory had been achieved, but there was no sign of jubilation. @BRK#'Oh, it's a mechanical thing,' Sindermann said when Euphrati questioned him. This is just a routine exercise for the Legion. A low-key action, as I said before we set out. I'm sorry if you're disappointed.' @BRK#'I'm not.’ she said, but in truth there was a sense of anticlimax about it all. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but the rush of the drop, and the strange circumstance at Kasheri had begun to thrill her. Now everything was done, and she'd seen nothing. @BRK#'Carnis wants to interview some of the returning warriors,' Siman Sark said, 'and he's asked me to pict them while he does. Would that be permissible?' @BRK#'I should think so.’ Sindermann sighed. He called out for an army officer to guide Carnis and Sark to the Astartes. @BRK#'I think.’ said Tolemew Van Krasten aloud, 'that a tone poem would be most appropriate. Full symphonic composition would overwhelm the atmosphere, I feel.’ @BRK#Euphrati nodded, not really understanding. @BRK#A minor key, I think. E, or A perhaps. I'm taken with the title "The Spirits of the Whisperheads", or perhaps, "The Voice of Samus". What do you think?' @BRK#She stared at him. @BRK#'I'm joking.’ he said with a sad smile. 'I have no idea what I am supposed to respond to here, or how. It all seems so dour.’ @BRK#Euphrati Keeler had supposed Van Krasten to be a pompous type, but now she warmed to him. As he turned away and gazed mournfully up at the smoking peak, she was seized by a thought and raised her picter. @BRK#'Did you just take my likeness?' he asked. @BRK#She nodded. 'Do you mind? You looking at the peak like that seemed to sum up how we all feel.’ @BRK#'But I'm a remembrancer.’ he said. 'Should I be in your record?' @BRK#We're all in this. Witnesses or not, we're all here.’ she replied. 'I take what I see. Who knows? Maybe you can return the favour? A little refrain of flutes in your next overture that represents Euphrati Keeler?' @BRK#They both laughed. @BRK#A Luna Wolf was approaching the huddle of them. @BRK#'Nero Vipus.’ he said, making the sign of the aquila. 'Captain Loken presents his respects and wishes the attention of Master Sindermann at once.’ @BRK#'I'm Sindermann.’ the elderly man replied. 'Is there some problem, sir?' @BRK#'I've been asked to conduct you to the captain.’ Vipus replied. This way, please.’ @BRK#The pair of them moved away, Sindermann scurrying to keep up with Vipus's great strides. @BRK#What is going on?' Van Krasten asked, his voice hushed. @BRK#'I don't know. Let's find out.’ Keeler replied. @BRK#'Follow them? Oh, I don't think so.’ @BRK#'I'm game.’ said Borodin Flora. 'We haven't actually been told to stay here.’ @BRK#They looked round. Twell had sat himself down beside the prow landing strut of a stormbird and was beginning to sketch with charcoal sticks on a small pad. Carnis and Sark were busy elsewhere. @BRK#'Come on.’ said Euphrati Keeler. @BRK#Vipus led Sindermann up into the ruined fastness. The wind moaned and whistled through the grim tunnels and chambers. Army troopers were clearing the dead from the entry halls and casting them into the gorge, but still Vipus had to steer the iterator past many crumpled, exploded corpses. He kept saying such things as, 'I'm sorry you had to see that, sir.’ and, 'Look away to spare your sensibilities.’ @BRK#Sindermann could not look away. He had iterated loyally for many years, but this was the first time he had walked across a fresh battlefield. The sights appalled him and burned themselves into his memory. The stench of blood and ordure assailed him. He saw human forms burst and brutalised, and burned beyond any measure he had imagined possible. He saw walls sticky with blood and brain-matter, fragments of exploded bone weeping marrow, body parts littering the blood-soaked floors. @BRK#Terra.’ he breathed, over and again. This was what the Astartes did. This was the reality of the Emperor's crusade. Mortal hurt on a scale that passed belief. @BRK#Terra.’ he whispered to himself. By the time he was brought to Loken, who awaited him in one of the fortress's upper chambers, the word had become 'terror' without him realising it. @BRK#Loken was standing in a wide, dark chamber beside some sort of pool. Water gurgled down one of the black-wet walls and the air smelled of damp and oxides. @BRK# д dozen solemn Luna Wolves attended Loken, including one giant fellow in glowering Terminator armour, but Loken himself was bareheaded. His face was smudged with bruises. He'd removed his left shoulder guard, which lay beside him on the ground, stuck through with a short sword. @BRK#'You have done such a thing,' Sindermann said, his voice small. 'I don't think I'd quite understood what you Astartes were capable of, but now I-' @BRK#'Quiet.’ Loken said bluntly. He looked at the Luna Wolves around him and dismissed them with a nod. They filed out past Sindermann, ignoring him. @BRK#'Stay close, Nero.’ Loken called. Stepping out through the chamber door, Vipus nodded. @BRK#Now the room was almost empty, Sindermann could see that a body lay beside the pool. It was the body of a Luna Wolf, limp and dead, his helm off, his white armour mottled with blood. His arms had been lashed to his trunk with climbing cable. @BRK#'I don't...' Sindermann began. 'I don't understand, captain. I was told there had been no losses.’ @BRK#Loken nodded slowly. That's what we're going to say. That will be the official line. The Tenth took this fortress in a clean strike, with no losses, and that's true enough. None of the insurgents scored any kills. Not even a wounding. We took a thousand of them to their deaths.’ @BRK#'But this man...?' @BRK#Loken looked at Sindermann. His face was troubled, more troubled than the iterator had ever seen before. 'What is it, Garviel?' he asked. @BRK#'Something has happened.’ Loken said. 'Something so... so unthinkable that I...' @BRK#He paused, and looked at Jubal's bound corpse. 'I have to make a report, but I don't know what to say. I have no frame of reference. I'm glad you are here, Kyril, you of all people. You have steered me well over the years.’ @BRK#'I like to think that...' @BRK#'I need your counsel now.' @BRK#Sindermann stepped forward and placed his hand on the giant warrior's arm. 'You may trust me with any matter, Garviel. I'm here to serve.’ @BRK#Loken looked down at him. This is confidential. Utterly confidential.’ @BRK#'I understand.’ @BRK#There have been deaths today. Six brothers of Brake-spur squad, including Udon. Another barely clinging to life. And Hellebore... Hellebore has vanished, and I fear they are dead too.’ @BRK#This can't be. The insurgents couldn't have-' @BRK#They did nothing. This is Xavyer Jubal.’ Loken said, pointing towards the body on the floor. 'He killed the men.’ he said simply. @BRK#Sindermann rocked back as if slapped. He blinked. 'He what? I'm sorry, Garviel, I thought for a moment you said he-' @BRK#'He killed the men. Jubal killed the men. He took his bolter and his fists and he killed six of Brakespur right in front of my eyes, and he would have killed me too, if I hadn't run him through.’ @BRK#Sindermann felt his legs tremble. He found a nearby rock and sat down abrupdy. Terra.’ he gasped. @BRK#Terror is right. Astartes do not fight Astartes. Astartes do not kill their own. It is against all the rales of nature and man. It is counter to the very gene-code the Emperor fused into us when he wrought us.’ @BRK#There must be some mistake.’ Sindermann said. @BRK#'No mistake. I saw him do it. He was a madman. He was possessed.’ @BRK#"What? Steady, now. You look to old terms, Garviel. Possession is a spiritualist word that-' @BRK#'He was possessed. He claimed he was Samus.’ @BRK#'Oh.’ @BRK#You've heard the name, then?' @BRK#'I've heard the whisper. That was just enemy propaganda, wasn't it? We were told to dismiss it as scare tactics.’ @BRK#Loken touched the bruises on his face, feeling the ache of them. 'So I thought. Iterator, I'm going to ask you this once. Are spirits real?' @BRK#'No, sir. Absolutely not.’ @BRK#'So we are taught and thus we are liberated, but could they exist? This world is lousy with superstition and temple-fanes. Could they exist here?' @BRK#'No.’ Sindermann replied more firmly. There are no spirits, no daemons, no ghosts in the dark edges of the cosmos. Truth has shown us this.’ @BRK#'I've studied the archive, Kyril.’ Loken replied. 'Samus was the name the people of this world gave to their archfiend. He was imprisoned in these mountains, so their legends say.’ @BRK#'Legends, Garviel. Only legends. Myths. We have learned much during our time amongst the stars, and the most pertinent of those things is that there is always a rational explanation, even for the most mysterious events.’ @BRK#'An Astartes draws his weapon and kills his own, whilst claiming to be a daemon from hell? Rationalise @BRK#that, @BRK#sir.’ @BRK#Sinderman rose. 'Calm yourself, Garviel, and I will.’ @BRK#Loken didn't reply. Sindermann walked over to Jubai's body and stared at it. Jubai's open, staring eyes were rolled back in his skull and utterly bloodshot. The flesh of his face was drawn and shrivelled, as if he had aged ten thousand years. Strange patterns, like clusters of blemishes or moles, were visible on the painfully stretched skin. @BRK#These marks.’ said Sindermann. These vile signs of wasting. Could they be the traces of disease or infection?' @BRK#'What?' Loken asked. @BRK#'A virus, perhaps? A reaction to toxicity? A plague?' @BRK#Astartes are resistant.’ Loken said. @BRK#To most things, but not to everything. I think this could be some contagion. Something so virulent that it destroyed Jubal's mind along with his body. Plagues can drive men insane, and corrupt their flesh.' @BRK#Then why only him?' asked Loken. @BRK#Sindermann shrugged. 'Perhaps some tiny flaw in his gene-code?' @BRK#'But he behaved as if possessed,' Loken said, repeating the word with brutal emphasis. @BRK#We've all been exposed to the enemy's propaganda. If Jubal's mind was deranged by fever, he might simply have been repeating the words he'd heard.’ @BRK#Loken thought for a moment. You speak a lot of sense, Kyril.’ he said. @BRK#'Always.’ @BRK#'A plague.’ Loken nodded. 'It's a sound explanation.’ @BRK#You've suffered a ttagedy today, Garviel, but spirits and daemons played no part in it. Now get to work. You need to lock down this area in quarantine and get a medicae taskforce here. There may yet be further outbreaks. Non-Astartes, such as myself, might be less resistant, and poor Jubal's corpse may yet be a vector for disease.’ @BRK#Sindermann looked back down at the body. 'Great Terra.’ he said. 'He has been so ravaged. I weep to see this waste.’ @BRK#With a creak of dried sinew, Jubal raised his head and stared up at Sindermann with blood-red eyes. @BRK#'Look out.’ he wheezed. @BRK#Euphrati Keeler had stopped taking picts. She stowed away her picter. The things they were seeing in the narrow tunnels of the fortress went beyond all decency to record. She had never imagined that human forms could be dismantled so grievously, so totally. The stench of blood in the close, cold air made her gag, despite her rebreather. @BRK#'I want to go back now.’ Van Krasten said. He was shaking and upset. There is no music here. I am sick to my stomach.’ @BRK#Euphrati was inclined to agree. @BRK#'No.’ said Borodin Flora in a muffled, steely voice. We must see it all. We are chosen remembrancers. This is our duty.’ @BRK#Euphrati was quite sure Flora was making an effort not to throw up, but she warmed to the sentiment. This was their duty. This was the very reason they had been summoned. To record and commemorate the Crusade of Man. Whatever it looked like. @BRK#She tugged her picter back out of its carry-bag and took a few, tentative shots. Not of the dead, for that would be indecent, but of the blood on the walls, the smoke fuming in the wind along the narrow tunnels, the piles of scattered, spent shell cases littering the black-flecked ground. @BRK#Teams of army troopers moved past them, lugging bodies away for disposal. Some looked at the three of them curiously. @BRK#Are you lost?' one asked. @BRK#'Not at all. We're allowed to be here.’ Flora said. @BRK#Why would you want to be?' the man wondered. @BRK#Euphrati took a series of long shots of troopers, almost in silhouette, gathering up body parts at a tunnel junction. It chilled her to see it, and she hoped her picts would have the same effect on her audience. @BRK#'I want to go back.’ Van Krasten said again. @BRK#'Don't stray, or you'll get lost.’ Euphrati warned. @BRK#'I think I might be sick,' Van Krasten admitted. @BRK#He was about to retch when a shrill, harrowing scream echoed down the tunnels. @BRK#What the hell was that?' Euphrati whispered. @BRK#*** @BRK#Jubal rose. The ropes binding him sheared and split, releasing his arms. He screamed, and then screamed again. His frantic wails soared and echoed around the chamber. @BRK#Sindermann stumbled backwards in total panic. Loken ran forward and tried to restrain the reanimating madman. @BRK#Jubal struck out with one thrashing fist and caught Loken in the chest. Loken flew backwards into the pool with a crash of water. @BRK#Jubal turned, hunched. Saliva dangled from his slack mouth, and his bloodshot eyes spun like compasses at true north. @BRK#'Please, oh please...' Sindermann gabbled, backing away. @BRK#'Look. Out.’ The words crawled sluggishly out of Jubal's drooling mouth. He lumbered forward. Something was happening to him, something malign and catastrophic. He was bulging, expanding so furiously that his armour began to crack and shatter. Sections of broken plate split and fell away from him, exposing thick arms swollen with gangrene and fibrous growths. His taut flesh was pallid and blue. His face was distorted, puffy and livid, and his tongue flopped out of his rotting mouth, long and serpentine. @BRK#He raised his meaty, distended hands triumphantly, exposing fingernails grown into dark hooks and psoriatic claws. @BRK#'Samus is here.’ he drawled. @BRK#Sindermann fell on his knees before the misshapen brute. Jubal reeked of corruption and sore wounds. He shambled forward. His form flickered and danced with blurry yellow light, as if he was not quite in phase with the present. @BRK#A bolter round struck him in the right shoulder and detonated against the rindy integument his skin had @BRK#become. Shreds of meat and gobbets of pus sprayed in all directions. In the chamber doorway, Nero Vipus took aim again. @BRK#The thing that had once been Xavyer Jubal grabbed Sindermann and threw him at Vipus. The pair of them crashed backwards against the wall, Vipus dropping his weapon in an effort to catch and cushion Sindermann and spare the frail bones of the elderly iterator. @BRK#The Jubal-thing shuffled past them into the tunnel, leaving a noxious trail of dripped blood and wretched, discoloured fluid in its wake. @BRK#Euphrati saw the thing coming for them and tried to decide whether to scream or raise her picter. In the end, she did both. Van Krasten lost control of his bodily functions, and fell to the floor in a puddle of his own manufacture. Borodin Flora just backed away, his mouth moving silently. @BRK#The Jubal-thing advanced down the tunnel towards them. It was gross and distorted, its skin stretched by humps and swellings. It had become so gigantic that what little remained of its pearl-white armour dragged behind it like metal rags. Strange puncta and moles marked its flesh. Jubal's face had contorted into a dog snout, wherein his human teeth stuck out like stray ivory markers, displaced by the thin, transparent crop of needle fangs that now invested his mouth. There were so many fangs that his mouth could no longer close. His eyes were blood pools. Jerky, spasmodic flashes of yellow light surrounded him, making vague shapes and patterns. They caused Jubal's movements to seem wrong, as if he was a pict feed image, badly cut and running slightly too fast. @BRK#He snatched up Tolemew Van Krasten and dashed him like a toy against the walls of the tunnel, back and forth, with huge, slamming, splattering effect, so that @BRK#when he let go, little of Tolemew still existed above the sternum. @BRK#'Oh Terra!' Keeler cried, retching violently. Borodin Flora stepped past her to confront the monster, and made the defiant sign of the aquila. @BRK#'Begone!' he cried out. 'Begone!' @BRK#The Jubal-thing leaned forward, opened its mouth to a hitherto unimaginable width, revealing an unguess-able number of needle teeth, and bit off Borodin Flora's head and upper body. The remainder of his form crumpled to the floor, ejecting blood like a pressure hose. @BRK#Euphrati Keeler sank to her knees. Terror had rendered her powerless to run. She accepted her fate, largely because she had no idea what it was to be. In the final moments of her life, she reassured herself that at least she hadn't added to brutal death the indignity of wetting herself in the face of such incomprehensible horror. @BRK#TEN @BRK#The Warmaster and his son @BRK#No matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe @BRK#Official denial @BRK#'YOU KILLED IT?' @BRK#Yes,' said Loken, gazing at the dirt floor, his mind somewhere else. You're sure?' @BRK#Loken looked up out of his reverie. What?' 'I need you to be sure.’ Abaddon said. You killed it?' Yes.’ Loken was sitting on a crude hardwood stool in one of the longhouses in Kasheri. Night had fallen outside, bringing with it a keening, malevolent wind that shrieked around the gorge and the Whisperhead peaks. A dozen oil lamps lit the place with a feeble ochre glow. We killed it. Nero and I together, with our bolters. It took ninety rounds at full auto. It burst and burned, and we used a flamer to cremate all that remained.’ Abaddon nodded. 'How many people know?' 'About that last act? Myself, Nero, Sindermann and the remembrancer, Keeler. We cut the thing down just before it bit her in half. Everyone else who saw it is dead.’ @BRK#'What have you said?' @BRK#'Nothing, Ezekyle.' @BRK#That's good.' @BRK#'I've said nodiing because I don't know what to say.' @BRK#Abaddon scooped up anodier stool and brought it over to sit down facing Loken. Both were in full plate, their helms removed. Abaddon hunched his head low to catch Loken's eyes. @BRK#'I'm proud of you, Garviel. You hear me? You dealt with this well.' @BRK#'What did I deal with?' Loken asked sombrely. @BRK#'The situation. Tell me, before fubal rose again, who knew of the murders?' @BRK#'More. Those of Brakespur that survived. All of my officers. I wanted their advice.' @BRK#'I'll speak to them.’ Abaddon muttered. 'This mustn't get out. Our line will be as you set it. Victory, splendid but unexceptional. The Tenth crashed the insurgents, though losses were taken in two squads. But that is war. We expect casualties. The insurgents fought bitterly and formidably to the last. Hellebore and Brakespur bore the brant of their rage, but Sixty-Three Nineteen is advanced to full compliance. Glory the Tenth, and the Luna Wolves, glory the Warmaster. The rest will remain a matter of confidence within the inner circle. Can Sin-dermann be trusted to keep this close?' @BRK#'Of course, though he is very shaken.' @BRK#'And the remembrancer? Keener, was it?' @BRK#'Keeler. Euphrati Keeler. She's in shock. I don't know her. I don't know what she'll do, but she has no idea what it was that attacked her. I told her it was a wild beast. She didn't see Jubal... change. She doesn't know it was him.' @BRK#'Well, that's something. I'll place an injunction on her, if necessary. Perhaps a word will be sufficient. I'll repeat the wild beast story, and tell her we're keeping @BRK#the matter confidential for morale's sake. The remembrancers must be kept away from this.’ @BRK#Two of them died.’ @BRK#Abaddon got up. A tragic mishap during deployment. A landing accident. They knew the risks they were taking. It will be just a footnote blemish to an otherwise exemplary undertaking.’ @BRK#Loken looked up at the first captain. 'Are we trying to forget this even happened, Ezekyle? For I cannot. And I will not.’ @BRK#'I'm saying this is a military incident and will remain restricted. It's a matter of security and morale, Garviel. You are disturbed, I can see that plainly. Think what needless trauma this would cause if it got out. It would rain confidence, break the spirit of the expedition, tarnish the entire crusade, not to mention the unimpeachable reputation of the Legion.’ @BRK#The longhouse door banged open and the gale squealed in for a moment before the door closed again. Loken didn't look up. He was expecting Vipus back at any time with the muster reports. @BRK#'Leave us, Ezekyle.’ a voice said. @BRK#It wasn't Vipus. @BRK#Horns was not wearing his armour. He was dressed in simple foul-weather clothes, a mail shirt and a cloak of furs. Abaddon bowed his head and quickly left the longhouse. @BRK#Loken had risen to his feet. @BRK#'Sit, Garviel.’ Horas said softly. 'Sit down. Make no ceremony to me.’ @BRK#Loken slowly sat back down and the Warmaster knelt beside him. He was so immensely made that kneeling, his head was on a level with Loken's. He plucked off his black leather gloves and placed his bare left hand on Loken's shoulder. @BRK#'I want you to let go of your troubles, my son.’ he said. @BRK#'I try, sir, but they will not leave me alone.’ @BRK#Horns nodded. 'I understand.’ @BRK#'I have made a failure of this undertaking, sir.’ Loken said. 'Ezekyle says we will put a brave face on it for appearance sake, but even if these events remain secret, I will bear the shame of failing you.’ @BRK#'And how did you do that?' @BRK#'Men died. A brother turned upon his own. Such a manifest sin. Such a crime. You charged me to take this seat of resistance, and I have made such a mess of it that you have been forced to come here in person to-' @BRK#'Hush.’ Horus whispered. He reached out and unfixed Loken's tattered oath of moment from his shoulder plate. @BRK#'Do you, Garviel Loken, accept your role in this?' The Warmaster read out. 'Do you promise to lead your men into the zone of war, and conduct them to glory, no matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe? Do you swear to crush the insurgents of Sixty-Three Nineteen, despite all they might throw at you? Do you pledge to do honour to the XVI Legion and the Emperor?' @BRK#'Fine words.’ Loken said. @BRK#'They are indeed. I wrote them. Well, did you, Garviel?' @BRK#'Did I what, sir?' @BRK#'Did you crush the insurgents of Sixty-Three Nineteen, despite all they threw at you?' @BRK#'Well, yes-' @BRK#'And did you lead your men into the zone of war, and conduct them to glory, no matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe?' @BRK#'Yes...' @BRK#Then I can't see how you've failed in any way, my son. Consider that last phrase particularly. "No matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe". When poor Jubal turned, did you give up? Did you flee? Did you cast @BRK#away your courage? Or did you fight against his insanity and his crime, despite your wonder at it?' @BRK#'I fought, sir.’ Loken said. @BRK#Throne of Earth, yes, you did. Yes, you did, Loken! You fought. Cast shame out. I will not have it. You served me well today, my son, and I am only sorry that the extent of your service cannot be more widely proclaimed.’ @BRK#Loken started to reply, but fell silent instead. Horus rose to his feet and began to pace about the room. He found a bottle of wine amongst the clutter on a wall dresser and poured himself a glass. @BRK#'I spoke to Kyril Sindermann.’ he said, and took a sip of the wine. He nodded to himself before continuing, as if surprised at its quality. 'Poor Kyril. Such a terrible thing to endure. He's even speaking of spirits, you know? Sindermann, the arch prophet of secular truth, speaking of spirits. I put him right, naturally. He mentioned spirits were a concern of yours too.’ @BRK#'Kyril convinced me it was a plague, at first, but I saw a spirit... a daemon... take hold of Xavyer Jubal and remake his flesh into the form of a monster. I saw a daemon take hold of Jubal's soul and turn him against his own kind.’ @BRK#'No, you didn't.’ Horus said. @BRK#'Sir?' @BRK#Horus smiled. 'Allow me to illuminate you. I'll tell you what you saw, Garviel. It is a secret thing, known to a very few, though the Emperor, beloved of all, knows more than any of us. A secret, Garviel, more than any other secret we are keeping today. Can you keep it? I'll share it, for it will soothe your mind, but I need you to keep it solemnly.’ @BRK#'I will.’ Loken said. @BRK#The Warmaster took another sip. 'It was the warp, Garviel.’ @BRK#The... warp?' @BRK#'Of course it was. We know the power of the warp and the chaos it contains. We've seen it change men. We've seen the wretched things that infest its dark dimensions. I know you have. On Erridas. On Syrinx. On the bloody coast of Tassilon. There are entities in the warp that we might easily mistake for daemons.’ @BRK#'Sir, I...' Loken began. 'I have been trained in the study of the warp. I am well-prepared to face its horrors. I have fought the foul things that pour forth from the gates of the Empyrean, and yes, the warp can seep into a man and transmute him. I have seen this happen, but only in psykers. It is the risk they take. Not in Astartes.' @BRK#'Do you understand the full mechanism of the warp, Garviel?' Horns asked. He raised the glass to the nearest light to examine the colour of the wine. @BRK#'No, sir. I don't pretend to.' @BRK#'Neither do I, my son. Neither does the Emperor, beloved by all. Not entirely. It pains me to admit that, but it is the truth, and we deal in truths above all else. The warp is a vital tool to us, a means of communication and transport. Without it, there would be no Imperium of Man, for there would be no quick bridges between the stars. We use it, and we harness it, but we have no absolute control over it. It is a wild thing that tolerates our presence, but brooks no mastery. There is power in the warp, fundamental power, not good, nor evil, but elemental and anathema to us. It is a tool we use at our own risk.’ @BRK#The Warmaster finished his glass and set it down. 'Spirits. Daemons. Those words imply a greater power, a fiendish intellect and a purpose. An evil archetype with cosmic schemes and stratagems. They imply a god, or gods, at work behind the scenes. They imply the very supernatural state that we have taken great pains, @BRK#through the light of science, to shake off. They imply sorcery and a palpable evil.’ @BRK#He looked across at Loken. 'Spirits. Daemons. The supernatural. Sorcery. These are words we have allowed to fall out of use, for we dislike the connotations, but they are just words. What you saw today... call it a spirit. Call it a daemon. The words serve well enough. Using them does not deny the clinical truth of the universe as man understands it. There can be daemons in a secular cosmos, Garviel. lust so long as we understand the use of the word.’ @BRK#'Meaning the warp?' @BRK#'Meaning the warp. Why coin new terms for its horrors when we have a bounty of old words that might suit us just as well? We use the words "alien" and "xenos" to describe the inhuman filth we encounter in some locales. The creatures of the warp are just "aliens" too, but they are not life forms as we understand the term. They are not organic. They are extra-dimensional, and they influence our reality in ways that seem sorcer-ous to us. Supernatural, if you will. So let's use all those lost words for them... daemons, spirits, possessors, changelings. All we need to remember is that there are no gods out there, in the darkness, no great daemons and ministers of evil. There is no fundamental, immutable evil in the cosmos. It is too large and sterile for such melodrama. There are simply inhuman things that oppose us, things we were created to battle and destroy. Orks. Gykon. Tushepta. Keylekid. Eldar. Jokaero... and the creatures of the warp, which are stranger than all for they exhibit powers that are bizarre to us because of the otherness of their nature.’ @BRK#Loken rose to his feet. He looked around the lamp-lit room and heard the moaning of the mountain wind outside. 'I have seen psykers taken by the warp, sir.’ he said. 'I have seen them change and bloat in corruption, @BRK#but I have never seen a sound man taken. I have never seen an Astartes so abused.’ @BRK#'It happens,' Horus replied. He grinned. 'Does that shock you? I'm sorry. We keep it quiet. The warp can get into anything, if it so pleases. Today was a particular triumph for its ways. These mountains are not haunted, as the myths report, but the warp is close to the surface here. That fact alone has given rise to the myths. Men have always found techniques to control the warp, and the folk here have done precisely that. They let the warp loose upon you today, and brave Jubal paid the price.' @BRK#'Why him?' @BRK#Why not him? He was angry at you for overlooking him, and his anger made him vulnerable. The tendrils of the warp are always eager to exploit such chinks in the mind. I imagine the insurgents hoped that scores of your men would fall under the power they had let loose, but Tenth Company had more resolve than that. Samus was just a voice from the Chaotic realm that briefly anchored itself to Jubal's flesh. You dealt with it well. It could have been far worse.' @BRK#'You're sure of this, sir?' @BRK#Horus grinned again. The sight of that grin filled Loken with sudden warmth. 'Ing Mae Sing, Mistress of Astropaths, informed me of a rapid warp spike in this region just after you disembarked. The data is solid and substantive. The locals used their limited knowledge of the warp, which they probably understood as magic, to unleash the horror of the Empyrean upon you as a weapon.' @BRK#'Why have we been told so little about the warp, sir?' Loken asked. He looked direcdy into Horas's wide-set eyes as he asked the question. @BRK#'Because so litde is known,' the Warmaster replied. 'Do you know why I am Warmaster, my son?' @BRK#'Because you are the most worthy, sir?' @BRK#Horus laughed and, pouring another glass of wine, shook his head. 'I am Warmaster, Garviel, because the Emperor is busy. He has not retired to Terra because he is weary of the crusade. He has gone there because he has more important work to do.' @BRK#'More important than the crusade?' Loken asked. @BRK#Horus nodded. 'So he said to me. After Ullanor, he believed the time had come when he could leave the crusading work in the hands of the primarchs so that he might be freed to undertake a still higher calling.' @BRK#'Which is?' Loken waited for an answer, expecting some transcendent truth. @BRK#What the Warmaster said was, 'I don't know. He didn't tell me. He hasn't told anyone.’ @BRK#Horus paused. For what seemed like an age, the wind banged against the longhouse shutters. 'Not even me.’ Horus whispered. Loken sensed a terrible hurt in his commander, a wounded pride that he, even he, had not been worthy enough to know this secret. @BRK#In a second, the Warmaster was smiling at Loken again, his dark mood forgotten. 'He didn't want to burden me.’ he said briskly, 'but I'm not a fool. I can speculate. As I said, the Imperium would not exist but for the warp. We are obliged to use it, but we know perilously little about it. I believe that I am Warmaster because the Emperor is occupied in unlocking its secrets. He has committed his great mind to the ultimate mastery of the warp, for the good of mankind. He has realised that without final and full understanding of the Immaterium, we will founder and fall, no matter how many worlds we conquer.’ @BRK#'What if he fails?' Loken asked. @BRK#'He won't.’ the Warmaster replied bluntly. @BRK#'What if we fail?' @BRK#'We won't.’ Horus said, 'because we are his true servants and sons. Because we cannot fail him.’ He looked @BRK#at his half-drunk glass and put it aside. 'I came here looking for spirits,' he joked, 'and all I find is wine. There's a lesson for you.' @BRK#Trudging, unspeaking, the warriors of Tenth Company clambered from the cooling stormbirds and streamed away across the embarkation deck towards their barracks. There was no sound save for the clink of their armour and the clank of their feet. @BRK#In their midst, brothers carried the biers on which the dead of Brakespur lay, shrouded in Legion banners. Four of them carried Flora and Van Krasten too, though no formal flags draped the coffins of the dead remembrancers. The Bell of Return rang out across the vast deck. The men made the sign of the aquila and pulled off their helms. @BRK#Loken wandered away towards his arming chamber, calling for the service of his artificers. He carried his left shoulder guard in his hands, Jubal's sword still stuck fast through it. @BRK#Entering the chamber, he was about to hurl the miserable memento away into a corner, but he pulled up short, realising he was not alone. @BRK#Mersadie Oliton stood in the shadows. @BRK#'Mistress.’ he said, setting the broken guard down. @BRK#'Captain, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. Your equerry let me wait here, knowing you were about to return. I wanted to see you. I wanted to apologise.’ @BRK#'For what?' Loken asked, hooking his battered helm on the top strut of his armour rack. @BRK#She stepped forward, the light glowing off her black skin and her long, augmented cranium. 'For missing the opportunity you gave me. You were kind enough to suggest me as a candidate to accompany the undertaking, and I did not attend in time.’ @BRK#'Be grateful for that.’ he said. @BRK#She frowned. 'I... there was a problem, you see. A friend of mine, a fellow remembrancer. The poet Ignace Karkasy. He finds himself in a deal of trouble, and I was taken up trying to assist him. It so detained me, I missed the appointment.’ @BRK#'You didn't miss anything, mistress.’ Loken said as he began to strip off his armour. @BRK#'I would like to speak with you about Ignace's plight. I hesitate to ask, but I believe someone of your influence might help him.’ @BRK#'I'm listening.’ Loken said. @BRK#'So am I, sir.’ Mersadie said. She stepped forward and placed a tiny hand on his arm to restrain him slightly. He had been throwing off his armour with such vigorous, angry motions. @BRK#'I am a remembrancer, sir.’ she said. Your remembrancer, if it is not too bold to say so. Do you want to tell me what happened on the surface? Is there any memory you would like to share with me?' @BRK#Loken looked down at her. His eyes were the colour of rain. He pulled away from her touch. @BRK#'No.’ he said. @BRK#PART TWO @BRK#BROTHERHOOD IN SPIDERLAND @BRK#ONE @BRK#Loathe and love @BRK#This world is Murder @BRK#A hunger for glory