Authors note: Gothic/proto-Gothic is given within square brackets.

Ch. 13

Briefing room, Demon of Ullanor

"Take you to our leaders?" asked Lysea.

Ajall smiled.

"Why, yes. Take me to your leaders."

"Going in with a fleet like this wouldn't be seen as diplomatic, Lord Admiral."

"I'm not going to take my entire fleet to this Citadel of yours. Perhaps one of my smaller cruisers will do."

"I don't think so. You can't accompany us in any of your ships, but we'll take the good Sergeant I met with earlier and a few Army personnel."

Ajall barked out with laughter.

"You think we're that stupid? I should have you and your ships blown to pieces right now!"

Laughter came over the radio in response.

"And risk a galactic war you're not ready for?" snorted Lysea.

"You are nothing in the face of the Emperor's Armies, you piece of xenos filt –"

"We agree." Pax cut in. "We'll shuttle over the committee in three hours' time."

Ajall's eyes bulged as he ground his teeth furiously. He slammed his hands against the table he was seated at. The Sergeant shook his bare head in warning.

"Fine." Ajall cut the link and leaned back in his padded marble chair. He surveyed the table at which he sat – General Bolting was seated at his left, and Sergeant Pax at his right.

[What the hell was that?] barked the Lord Admiral.

[I call the shots. You follow my lead. Remember your place, Ajall.] replied the Astartes.

[I have to agree with the Lord Admiral on this one, sir. What was that?] asked Bolting.

[I need you to send some men to Earth. We need to establish a presence there first, of all things - granted we catch some of their representatives on this Citadel. That Council the alien was talking about can come later.] Pax tapped an armored finger against the table. [Also, for all we know, we could be walking into a trap if we don't agree.]

[Send men to Earth?] came Ajall incredulously. [We don't even know if it's in the same position as it was when our star charts were created – ]

[The stellar drift calculations should be simple neough. We can't get bogged down dealing with these aliens, Admiral. We have to take the initiative.]

Ajall sighed. [Fine, Sergeant. We do it your way. Who will you want to send?]

[The Titan Legions and three Regiments. A show, and a warning,] replied Pax.

[I'll send the Destroyer of Worlds and her cohort there as well.]

[Wise. Has Denthax made any progress on this extranet of theirs?] asked the Legionnaire.

[Some. It wasn't designed to be wholly accessible by hard-links that we have. However, we've determined that this human Systems Alliance is the primary body of government for our kind in this universe. No doubt we will meet one of their ambassadors on this Citadel, whereupon we might take up the issue of our station upon the untarnished soil of the homeworld.]

[I'll take Denthax along with me to the Citadel, then. Perhaps he will be able to discern something with closer proximity to the technology itself.] The Space Marine's finger continued tapping against the table. [If there aren't any more questions…]

[Who's the talk-team?] asked Bolting.

[First Squad will accompany me – they've just returned from planetside on New Istanbul. Denthax, plus whoever you are willing to give me in special operations capacity, General.]

Bolting nodded thoughtfully. [Espandorian military could use some experience. Five men sound good?]

[Yes.]

[There's a catch, sir.]

[Indeed?]

[They weren't sent down to the colony because of disciplinary issues.]

Pax's dark eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips slightly.

[Anything to do with the Warp incursion?]

[They were part of a detail team when we dropped out. Geller fields on their ship blew out completely – their divisions took significant losses to those damned creatures. Their team blew up the entire Navigator quarters. As it turned out, there was some sort of open gateway in there, but what they did was still against orders. I only deal with high-level disciplinary actions, and I realized what this fiasco has been about well after the fact, otherwise they'd have been given medals.]

The Space Marine was silent for several moments before answering.

[I'll take them. Anything else?]

[When is the fleet going to deploy?] asked Ajall.

[As soon as we have this Alliance's cooperation, you will be spread into defensive groups in human space.] Pax got up off his chair, the servos in his armor whirring. [I leave in three hours.] He clasped his fist to his breastplate in salute. Ajall and Bolting got up and mirrored the salute as Pax strode out of the chamber. After the Space Marine had left, the Lord Admiral looked dubiously at Bolting, who shrugged.

[I don't like how they operate either, but we don't have a choice.] Bolting said in way of a reply.

()()()

Thunderhawk Glory Eagle, troop hold

Pax spared a glance at the five Imperial Army men. They were nestled in their own compartment with a sixth figure – the Magos Denthax, visible by the various mechadendrites waving around in front of him – closer to the cockpit, and conversing about whatever it was that mortal men conversed about. He looked away at his own First Squad, and weighed the decision he was about to make against his orders. Orders handed down to every Legionnaire by none other than the Emperor himself.

Orders that had been given in another place, in another time.

Orders that, Pax knew all too very well, were designed to protect against a threat that, in essence, did not exist in this universe.

"Durrow. Feyr."

The Legionnaires' heads jerked up as they was addressed. Pax heard two clicks over his helmet vox. He blinked at a dull green icon on his HUD, and a series of clicks followed – open squad channel.

"You all know where we are. And when we are."

Silence. Good.

"You all were there at Nikaea with me. You know what the Emperor said. You know we would never betray him. Because we knew why. Why he would order such a thing." He turned in his harness and looked at all of his squad members in succession. "The scenarios have changed. Daemonic possession is not a risk here. Nor will it be.

The Warp Currents will once more guide the Hydra."

The Legionnaires nodded briskly – Durrow and Feyr somewhat less so, however.

"I do not make this decision lightly. Should we ever make it back, you will relinquish your positions as psyker-regulars. I trust you both to watch over each other closely. At the slightest sign of

possession – "

"Execution protocols." Durrow cut in. "But are you sure about this? You know what Ajall's Navigators felt – he is here."

"Yes. He is here. A twenty-eight thousand year younger version of him."

Feyr shook his head.

"The currents of the Warp are known to him. He sees all roads, but none past the dark of Lorgar's folly."

"We won't be able to hide anything from him, Pax. You know this," added Rahman.

"Ours is a new road, one yet to be forged. He will understand, if he chooses to reveal himself to us. If not, then we await his judgment.

"I reinstate you both – Durrow, Feyr – to the status of psyker-regulars, effective immediate."

Silence. The Thunderhawk rumbled as its engines fired off. Pax shut off the vox-link to his squadmates from his HUD and opened a link to the Thunderhawk's cockpit.

"Pilot, have you identified the coordinates?"

"Yes sir. Whenever you're ready."

"Let's move."

()()()

CIC, the Waterloo

Captain Womack stood at the airlock to greet the Imperial delegates anxiously. His last encounter with them hadn't gone very well, and he was eager to get this one over with.

"Newman, how much longer?" he asked.

"They're docking now, sir," came the reply over the ship's intercom. In affirmation, the Waterloo jolted as its airlock was engaged. Steam issued from the frame, before the door rotated slowly and rose upwards.

The other ships' interior was, to the Captain's eyes, rather gloomy – most of it was dark grey, illuminated with only strips of blue lighting. There was a long hallway running parallel to the Waterloo's CIC, connected by a large airlock to Womack's ship. He readied his omni-tool: he'd had the Waterloo's VI run a diagnostic on what little of the language he'd been able to record while on the Demon of Ullanor (a name he still couldn't figure out), and it had developed a working translation program. Hopefully, he'd hear what they were saying in his ear as they were speaking.

Several figures materialized out of the dark interior. Five armored men came through first, walking through in single file. A tall, spindly robot strode in behind them. Womack peered around the group into the gloom beyond, and saw a huge figure silhouetted against the lights. The Astartes walked down the short ramp connecting the two ships and hunkered down to squeeze through the airlock. His armor screeched as his shoulder pauldrons barely made it through the narrow opening. He straightened as he made it and stepped onto the Waterloo's deck, holding four gauntleted fingers up.

Womack stepped back as the five soldiers and robot sidled forwards to make room. Four more giants came through the airlock in the same fashion as the first. They assembled in the middle of the triangular CIC, in front of the Captain's Chair but behind the navigation and weapons consoles, drawing stares from Womack's crewmen. The Captain cleared his throat to speak.

"I am Captain Womack, of the SSV Waterloo, Systems Alliance Navy." He held his right hand out. For several uncomfortable seconds, no one took initiative, until one of the armored soldiers clasped Womack's hand.

"Olen Major Dunlye. Taistele puxna per Diapente Espandorian Veneratio tutelum divortius."

He smiled and nodded as his omnitool's voice modulator sounded in his ear. Closest approximation: I am Major Dunlye. Taistele I do for Fifth Division veneratio Espandorian. He winced as he heard the program and responded. "That's great, son. Nice to meet you."

The soldier, Major Dunlye, looked at him blankly. His pale white features were arrayed in confusion. One of the giants looked at the soldier and rattled off a quick sentence in the same language Dunlye had spoken in. The brown-haired Imperial Major nodded in Womack's direction, looking somewhat reassured that communication between the parties wouldn't be a total breakdown.

"Denthax, Magos, Brotherhood of the Cog. Specialization Machinatory. Conversational: Your dialect is curious, Captain Womack. Conversational, informational: Current databases place it at a pre-Strife version of Merican Gothic, still used in many parts of Terra in the thirtieth millennium."

The Captain turned towards the robot in surprise. He hadn't expected a naturally male voice from it.

"I – what? Databases? Merican?"

"Explanatory: Contrary to outward appearances, I am still quite human. Intellectually speaking, of course." Several long mechanized tentacles waved around in front of the hooded being. They moved fluidly, as if controlled by thoughts, and almost seemed to taste the air around them.

"So, you're not an AI or a robot ... or something?"

The Magos shook his head.

"Indignant: No."

The giants, who were standing ominously to Womack's left, seemed to give no indication that they were going to talk to the Captain. Womack glanced at them before holding his arm out before him, towards a walkway lined with floor lights that extended past the Galaxy Map console.

"If you'll come this way, my Marines will show you to the temporary guest quarters."

The soldiers walked off in front of Womack. Denthax, the robot-human, fell into step with Womack. The Captain felt the Astartes start up behind them.

"This ship, Captain. I was only able to peruse a part of your extranet, but I believe it utilizes what you call a mass effect drive?" asked the Magos.

"Ah, yes. I'm sure my head engineer will be willing to give you a tour – the journey to the Citadel will take around six to seven hours."

Denthax's hooded head bobbed up in down in semblance of a nod. Several of the ensigns at the heat monitoring stations shifted out of the way as the party made their way to the lower deck access stairs.

"Grateful: I would appreciate that. Explanatory: As a member of the Martian Brotherhood, I am somewhat curious about new technologies." He looked to his left and peered at the Galaxy Map as he walked by. "Query: is the hologram fully interactive?"

The Captain nodded.

"We use a console at the top of those stairs there to access parts of the Galaxy. I usually don't use it, because I have a Navigations officer, but on occasion I'll take a peek at it."

Womack stopped in front of the door, and addressed the rest of the Imperials.

"If you'll head through this door – " he looked at the Astartes; once again, they would have to squeeze their way through an opening not designed for people of their size " – our resident Marines will show you to your quarters. I'll send one of the crew down to see how you're all settling down in about fifteen minutes. If you'll excuse me, I have to ready my ship." The Captain nodded and watched the delegation walk (and screech) their way through the door. This time, in translation, the Magos spoke to the soldiers as he strode through the door behind them. Womack sighed as it closed behind them, and turned around, rubbing his lined face wearily.

"Uneasy, sir?" asked Newman from her console several meters away.

"Hell yes."