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By this time, despite the unreliable pace in which it traveled across the vast territories of the Imperium, news of Horus' intervention upon the Cadian Gate had reached the heart of mankind. As one would expect of the ruling class in these dark days, their fickle minds were seized with terror, a stark contrast to the lesser peoples who walked the streets below their gilded palaces. Though attempts to censor the news or twist it into vile propaganda have been made, the folk rejoiced at the coming of not one, but three Primarchs! Many saw this as the hope promised by the Emperor of Mankind all those years ago.
The lords and ladies of the capital world found themselves divided on the issue, but a greater number saw the Penitent Primarch as a threat and acted accordingly. These seeds of discord twisted their perception and clouded their judgement so much that it drove them to a near-maddening pace as they poured in every resource to prepare for the soon arrival of the Lupercal, no doubt set in motion by the Great Deceiver in an attempt hinder Horus in his quest to restore order to the chaotic and fractured Imperium of Man.
Since the dark days of the Horus Heresy, the number of seats on the Senatorum Imperialis has largely remained the same, fluctuating during various points of crisis before eventually returning to its original number. Each seat is filled by a leader from one of the most powerful Adepta and other organisations of the Imperium.
A complex web of tradition, skulduggery, promises of support, threats of retaliation and considerations of mutual interest binds them together and determines who holds office and who does not. In practice, some of the Imperium's Adepta and institutions are so powerful and vital that it would be unthinkable for their leader to not be granted a seat amongst the High Lords of Terra.
Naturally, over the long millennia, the unthinkable has happened many times over, however, and the existing High Lords often put in place an inordinate amount of measures to ensure that their seat is a permanent one - that upon their deaths their position is automatically filled by the new head of their organisation. The following offices are almost invariably represented as High Lords because they form the cornerstones of the Imperium, the most important of its ancient institutions.
Whereas in former days, the debates on every day's pressing concerns took years to reach a decision, the High Lords of Terra were of one mind for the first time in a millennia. This did not ensure that their decisions, as proven by their current circumstance, were the wisest of solutions. Like those who quaked at the news of the newly resurrected Horus Lupercal, they moved with purpose as they summoned all within their powers to bolster the defenses of the capital world.
For the lesser folk, it was a day of jubilation. For the Senatorum Imperialis, it was the second Horus Heresy.
The Emperor, who saw the backward minds of his servants, cast his disapproving gaze upon the hearts of those who took up the mantle of leadership and so trampled upon his ideals. Alas, their hearts were closed to correction, and they did not feel the pangs of guilt that could have shown them the error of their ways.
Horus grimaced as the apothecary saw to his wounds. There was no gentleness in his touch, only the hard and methodical methodology of a grizzled war medicus that cared little for comfort. "Be still, my lord." The apothecary grunted, "This will only take a second."
"So it is true?" The angelic voice of the Saint greeted the triumphant Primarch, "The Tyrant of Badab lies dead?"
"And the Blackstone Fortress is ours." Horus said with a nod, again wincing at the sting of the whining device in the apothecary's hand.
"There, my work is done." The old medicus muttered, "I'll take my leave now, Lord Horus."
"Wait." Horus called after the veteran, "What is your name?"
The apothecary stood at attention and removed his helm, revealing an ancient and horrifically scarred visage. His twin grey eyes held nothing but cold indifference, although Horus knew the astartes genuinely tried to show due respect. The stubs on his head numbered four, signifying four centuries of service to his chapter- a feat many consider rare and awesome. The man was of Ultramar Prime, it showed in the high-aired diction in each word pause of a sentence. Guilliman's people prided themselves on everything, from the smallest syllable in their spoken tongue to the majestic crafts that spanned their blue skies. "Apothecary Ygor of the Ultramarines 2nd Company, or rather what's left of it." The veteran rumbled, "I thank you for the honor of tending to your injuries, my lord. Many a man would kill for the chance to see a Primarch up close...and then live to tell the tale."
He didn't sound too happy about it. It was a mere pleasantry to avoid disrespect, nothing more. "I have heard of the fate of your brothers upon the Blackstone Fortress. Know that I feel the weight of their deaths as keenly as you."
"I thank you for your sympathies, Primarch." Ygor bowed, "Pardon my curtness, my lord, but I have many more brothers who have wounds to see to. I humbly ask that you do not delay me in my duties any further."
Horus did not take the veteran's words personally and let him be, turning to the Saint to oblige her needs for conversation. "How are you holding up? I heard the forces of Magnus gave you a hard time in the Maelstrom. Have the Sisters fared the ordeal well?"
The Saint's lower lip stiffened at the inquiry, "My Sisters have suffered heavy losses, but they are strong. The fallen have died as martyrs, and they now stand at the Emperor's side, waiting to be called to service when He wills it."
Horus had gotten used to the Imperium's view of the Emperor's divinity by now, the unwavering fealty they showed could almost tempt him to forsake the Imperial Truth and worship him as such. Almost, but not quite. He made that mistake in desperation when he first stumbled out of Hel'Nkuza, and he would not do so again. He saw the appeal, perhaps in the same way as Lorgar did, but would not have himself stoop so low. "I see. I had come to admire the Sisterhood for their unshakeable faith in my father. It is...good to believe in something when the days grow ever darker."
"No truer words have been spoken." Celestine beckoned the Primarch, "Will you walk with me, Lord Horus?"
"I don't see the harm in it." Horus replied, rising from the operating bench and picking up his helmet from the nearby table. The two entered the long and deserted halls of the Golgo's Respite, watching in silence as the observatorium displayed the asteroid fields that surrounded the fleet on their left. Even after the horrific events of the past nine hours remained fresh upon their minds, Horus found the hidden beauty amongst the rubble in a way that no one else could. The cosmic luminance that shone through the stars dotting the vastness of space had played with the vision of the demigod, casting its brilliance through the decks that was more often ignored entirely by the crew operating on deck. "A magnificent sight, this one." He breathed, finding himself lost in his reflection of the war. "It is so easy to lose sight of what we're fighting for when time has eroded the reason of it all."
"Do you find yourself in doubt once more, Lord Horus?"
"Before I slew the Tyrant of Badab, he and I had an exchange of words that still rings clear in my head." Horus revealed, "He spoke of how my quest for redemption was meaningless, and that I would remain an enemy in the eyes of the Imperium for what I have done. His words were a taunt to goad me to act recklessly, but I cannot deny the sense in them."
"But my lord, these are the words of a madman." Celestine said, "You cannot allow it to cloud your judgement."
"It is not my judgement that I fear may be swayed, but those who sit upon their thrones on Terra." Horus shook his head sadly, "I was received better when I came to the defense of Cadia from Abaddon's onslaught, but that was only due to desperation. It easily eliminated doubts of my allegiances. But what of Terra? They are not under attack, and I will be held under much scrutiny."
"They will see reason." The Saint reassured, "You bring with you the two Primarchs of legend! Will they disregard the word of Lord Guilliman, or even of Lord Corax? And am I not at your side, a proclaimed Saint of the Ecclesiarchy?"
"You speak true." Horus said with a nod, "But I have seen the sore lack of reason in the Imperium. They will not see me or my brothers as liberators, but as conquerors coming to claim the Golden Throne as it was in the dark days of the civil war that I started."
"Emperor forbid!" Celestine exclaimed, astonished that she should hear such apprehensions coming from Horus of all people. "Would they dare to defy an explicit order from the God-Emperor himself?! No, my lord! The High Lords of Terra know better than that, you will see. They will know of your many victories, and they shall receive you with open arms."
Horus chuckled humorlessly, "I made the mistake of assuming my brother Roboute would be so forgiving, and he only stopped short of killing me because my father intervened. I do not expect him to do so again, and even if he did it will not be enough."
"My lord?"
"I know hatred more than anyone else in the Imperium, Celestine." Horus sighed, "The High Lords of Terra will only see what they want to see. I cannot lead a willing Imperium to the road of greatness while they yet sit as its leaders. Change must be implemented, but I know better than to think it would not come without cost. Having hold on such unlimited power over such a vast empire can twist the mind of even the most loyal of servants, you know this to be true, for there stands no better example than me. I will try to avoid having to command a second assault upon Terra, but if it is the only way to reach my father and restore the Imperium- I must do it."
Celestine surprised the Primarch with her answer. "Then I shall stand by you as you show them the error of their ways."
"Are you not going to try and sway me from this?" Horus asked quietly, absolutely humbled by the Saint's loyalty.
Her smile glowed like the sun, "I trust you, Lord Horus."
Horus felt a little lightheaded, but managed to stay composed. "You honor me with your trust, though I feel I still have not earned it."
The Saint replied, casting light upon a part of herself that no one else had known, "I have lead the Sisterhood in many battles, many a righteous cause that served to only further the ambitions of my betters. Although I had my duty as a Sister, later a Repentia, and finally a Saint, I felt utter disgust at how we were used as fodder and not as the servants of the Imperium that we were born to be! We die in serving the Emperor, but our lives are wasted when thrown into the flames day by day. But when I found myself serving under your banner, Lord Horus, I knew in my heart that there could be no greater cause than to follow you. Do you not see this? You have more than earned the loyalty of all those who follow you!"
Horus bowed his head, "Forgive me, I did not realize how deep your convictions were. Perhaps when we reach the Golden Throne, at last these doubts will be shed."
"My lord, only a fool would think that uncertainty can be ignored. It is an enemy that hounds you in your waking moments and in your sleep. It is an enemy that cannot be killed, merely defeated- much like the Chaos gods."
"I do not believe in that." Horus addressed the latter of her sentence, "When my father returns- and he will- there will be a reckoning for the Ruinous Powers. Order will reign, and Chaos will lie dead at its feet."
"If you say that it is possible, then I shall gladly choose to believe you."
The two walked on in silence for a few moments more, reveling in the sweet respite offered in each other's company. One can easily mistake the relationship the two shared for something more intimate, but the facts were lost on the two. Too many things swirled within their minds to even think of it, and the respect they had for each other had formed a nigh impenetrable barrier that not even the strongest psykers could shatter.
Perhaps one day they shall come to their senses, but that day was not today.
"Tell me of the God-Emperor, my lord." Celestine broke the silence. "What is He like?"
The question demanded an answer that spanned the whole Sol system, perhaps even the vast entirety of the Imperium itself! Horus endeavored to be specific with his answer for her sake, for the Emperor was an enigma that even he- the favored Primarch- had not fully understood. "My father was a conqueror with a heart of gold that held infinite compassion. I'm sure you've heard tales of all his endeavors to save mankind from extinction many times over."
"But you know they are exaggerated, I want to hear of the tale told by one who knew Him best!" Celestine's eager tone was that of a little girl begging her father to tell her one last bedtime story.
"Very well." Horus obliged. There were many stories he could tell of the Emperor, so many that choosing one of them proved too great a challenge, so he selected at random. "You have heard of the Battle for Ignis IV, yes?"
Celestine's brows furrowed as she slowly shook her head, "I'm sorry, my lord. I've never heard of it."
"Ah, I do not blame you." Horus laughed, "Many great tales tend to overshadow that brief campaign, but it is one of the most significant times in my past life." It was also where the Emperor proved that Horus was more than just a tool to him, but a son and valued warrior. "When the Great Crusade was at its first decade-
"Pardon the interruption, my lord." Captain Goodwill's vox chattered, "We are about to begin Warp jump to Segmentum Solar. Lord Guilliman and Lord Corax are present at the bridge and are requesting your involvement."
"I'm on my way, thank you captain." Horus smiled, turning to Celestine. "Alas, we shall have to continue the story some other time then." Bading her farewell, the Primarch took the shortcut up to the bridge to meet his brothers.
The moons were closer now than before. One can see the craters upon their faces without having to look too closely. It was a sight to see, and the world rejoiced in the festivities of the Lunar Conjunction.
They did so, in the last forty two hours of their lives, for the people of Suttra II had always enjoyed peace at the backwater worlds far from the chaos of the war beyond. One can even say that they never even knew war, for with the erratic shifts of the nebula surrounding their system it was difficult for any ship to navigate even with the most advanced tools. Warp was impossible due to the storms plaguing its reefs, and so the Suttra subsystem remained untouched.
That is, until today.
It came so sudden and swift, like the reaper's scythe upon the tall stalks of grain in harvest time.
The sky had turned black as the death mist descended upon the agricultural paradise, then turned upon the populace. Spores produced hulking brutes sporting vicious claws of every shape and size, then let loose on the hapless victims of the cities dotted upon Suttra II's surface. Human blood and gore spilled the streets, and the bodies were left where they fell, only to be gathered up to the biomass pools of the capillary towers that suddenly sprung free from the poisoned ground.
Like monsters of legend, the tendrils of the Tyranid Hive Fleet descended from the broken skies, sapping at the life of the planet until nothing remained but a dried husk.
This was not Leviathan, Dagon or Gorgon. Neither was it Hydra.
Unlike its predecessors who now roamed freely upon the Imperium's territories, Hive Fleet Numosa- a designation hastily placed by the few who survived its onslaught- distinguished itself through the purpose of sating the Collective Consciousness' curiosity. As one might learn from devouring, so too did Numosa endeavor to learn as much as it can from the worlds it chances upon and further perfect the forms it births through its gene pools.
A humanoid creature stepped forth from its chrysalis to survey the results of its work. The Hive Lord- or more accurately the Queen, as was evident of its feminine form, shared her thoughts to the Fleet and gave voice to her desire to move on in the pursuit of knowledge. The accumulated result on this find was too little, and Numosa needed more- much more.
Like a moth attracted to the flame, Hive Fleet Numosa was drawn to the psychic influence of the Astronomican, much like the other Fleets. But it will not just strip the worlds in its path for reproduction, it will take its time to absorb, to learn.
To hunt, to consume.
To adapt.
The Queen cast her baleful red eyes upon the darkened horizon and screamed. A million birth-cries of newborn humanoid-variant Tyranids echoed the shared thought. Suttra was the not the first to fall, and it will not be the last.
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