Indomitus Bellum Chapter 21

The argument had been raging for some time, a back and forth diatribe of two deep, transhuman voices. It filled the quarters with angry retorts, accusations and reprimands. Lieutenant Smyth heard the words from where he was standing upright in his armour but tried to pay no attention to them. The speakers were but venting, letting out their frustrations in a mutual fit of bile.

Smyth tuned out their shouting as he looked around the chambers; these were Captain Kieva's own quarters, a sparse and functional dwelling as befits a warrior trained on Mars. There were cabinets filled with data-slates and tables for strategic maps, while a vox set in one corner squatted next to a small Mechanicus shrine unto the Omnissiah. An armour stand held Kieva's ponderous Gravis armour while a weapons bench held a pair of power swords. One was the Captain's functional Martian blade, bearing the stamp of the weapon-wrights of Anseris Mons. The other was Toran's captured relic blade, an electro-magnetic longsword with a golden crossguard. Smyth could not help but admire its flawless workmanship and compact energy field generator, yet the way it had been taken gnawed at him. Luring the Storm Herald's into a trap, double-crossing them and leaving them to rot, grated on his sensibilities. He could not bring himself to speak against his orders but in his innermost thoughts the accusation lurked that it had been wrong.

He was pulled from his musings as harsh voice barked, "Arrested?! They're supposed to be dead!" That was the opinion of Chaplain Megaro, the ex-Storm Herald who had told them of the heresy in his former Chapter. Smyth turned his eyes to regard the Chaplain, assessing the black armour which was adorned with morbid skulls and macabre flourishes, noticeably lacking weaponry of any kind. His face was hard and unforgiving, with a zealot's look in his eye and a set to his jaw spoke of his intransigence. Smyth knew Megaro held onto grudges like they were precious treasures, finding the Marine to be blinkered and short-sighted.

Across from him Kieva stood with his arms crossed. He was clad in a loose robe but being a Primaris proved still taller than the Chaplain in full plate. Kieva looked irate as he replied, "The Lord Commander's orders were specific, capture the Storm Heralds, do not kill them."

Megaro's hands twitched as if longing for a weapon as he spat, "I want them dead, all of them."

Kieva sniffed, "Your wants are not my concern."

Smyth stepped in then to say, "Toran and his compatriots are under arrest. They will be disbanded shortly and that will be the end of the Storm Heralds. Why are you so angry?"

Megaro turned to fix him with a burning glower and he hissed, "Those curs killed our dream, the vision of a just and strong warrior order. They slew Lessall and Samect, the rightful leaders of my Chapter and they drove me from my home. My followers are the last of the True Believers but we have nothing left, Toran and his ilk took it all from us. They even tricked Honourable Ajax into joining their cause; those damnable Primarch's Own stole our greatest champion and turned him against us."

Smyth saw an opportunity to needle the Chaplain and said, "He's here you know, the one you call Ajax, he's lying in pieces in a vault.

Megaro blinked and uttered in surprise, "Ajax is here? Maybe, maybe I could talk him around… but no. No, it's too late for that, the Storm Heralds are dead, those pretenders wearing our colours turned it all to ash."

Kieva brushed off the sentiment and said, "The Lord Commander is adamant, the Storm Heralds will be disbanded. An Edict of Obliteration will erase them from history and a newly commissioned Primaris Chapter will claim Lujan II, assuming responsibility for the Saint Karyl Trail."

"Disbanded?!" Megaro spat, "It is an insult, so long as those curs live I am shamed! If you won't do it then give me a blade and I will go and take my revenge myself."

"You will do nothing," Kieva growled, "The Smoke Jaguars are causing problems, citing every legal loophole they can find. The Black Templars are with them as are the White Scars; they grow concerned they are losing their autonomy. Thankfully the Imperial Fists stand with Guilliman as do the Fire Lords; they would pick any side that opposes the Smoke Jaguar's position. The rest are sitting and waiting to see who will win."

Megaro lip curled and he hissed, "You truly are a rear-echelon officer, Kieva, and you always will be. Your dreams of promotion are farcical; you lack the steel to lead Space Marines."

Hastily Smyth stepped in to explain, "The Storm Heralds will be crushed but the Lord Commander cannot risk alienating his allies. Half the old Chapters are threatening to walk out of the Crusade if they think he seeks to quash their hereditary rights. Guilliman needs the Storm Heralds convicted by the book, legally and in accordance with the Lex Imperialis, but they will still be erased."

Megaro snorted in disgust but said, "At least give me the Sword of Thiel."

Kieva frowned, "By the Red Sands, why would I do that?"

Megaro stated, "It is a sacred legacy of my order, a burden and an honour. That it fell into the hands of a knave like Toran was a disgrace, the first sign that everything was going to hell."

Kieva shook his head and said, "After what you pulled trying to break into Guilliman's presence, you are not going to get anything. Maybe when this is done you might be sent back to the front lines to die in battle, but until then you will stay under my guard."

Megaro sneered in response, "I'd like to be escorted back to my cell now."

"As you will," Kieva replied, "Guards!"

The far door slid back to reveal a pair of Intercessors and Megaro stalked from the room, his fury coming off him in waves. Smyth watched him go and said, "How could a hearty Chapter like the Storm Heralds produce a zealot like that?"

"Sympathy for the enemy?" Kieva queried with an icy tone.

Candidly Smyth replied, "They fought well and they seemed uninterested in preaching. If anyone is a fanatic, it is Megaro."

"What did I tell you about fraternisation?" Kieva spat, "You knew the mission going in, our orders were that the Storm Heralds were to be brought to heel and imprisoned, to await censure."

Smyth glared at the door and uttered, "I still don't trust Megaro."

Kieva wearily sighed, "How many times must I say that he's under control. Cease worrying at dead circuits."

Smyth turned to face his Captain and said, "But are we not forgetting something?"

Kieva frowned as he remarked, "The Storm Heralds are captured, their fate is sealed. Megaro and his little band are going nowhere and you and I shall be richly rewarded. What else is there?"

"Inerus," Smyth stated, "We are all forgetting the planet below us."

"What of it?" Kieva demurred, "It's dead and gone, who cares about that?"

Smyth shook his head and said, "We filed a report but you know it answered nothing. The undead, the tragedies that befell us, are we really going to pretend none of it mattered?"

Kieva glared at him and hissed, "Don't lose focus; this triumph gives us a chance to ascend to the Primarch's court. We are looking at promotion to high command Smyth, a chance to make a lasting mark upon the galaxy. This is our opportunity; don't cause a system crash over trivial details."

Smyth knew an argument would get him nowhere so instead tried to be sly by saying, "But what if we found something that could greatly boost our prospect? We could be the heroes who uncovered a vile conspiracy."

Kieva growled curtly, "Hope, Smyth, always with the impossible hope. It makes you chase dreams when your eyes should be on your surroundings. Leave hope behind and embrace reality."

Smyth protested, "But…"

Irately Kieva spat, "End this line! I do not like arguing with you but you must learn to put this impossible hope aside, it's holding you back. Focus on what you can realistically achieve and take what you can get, for example, look at this."

Kieva lent over and picked up Toran's Relic blade before handing it over. Smyth was surprised but hesitantly took the weapon in both hands and gave it a practice swing; he found it to be remarkably well balanced yet with enough weight to lend it real stopping power and boasting far superior reach to his own gladius. He could tell this was the weapon of a champion, one that would turn any average swordsman into a lethal combatant. He performed few practice swings, admiring its deadly grace and said, "A fine weapon indeed."

Abruptly Kieva stated, "Keep it."

Smyth blinked in surprise and said, "Captain?"

Kieva picked up a matching scabbard from the bench and said, "The Storm Heralds won't ever get to use it again, so you might as well have it. Consider it spoils of war and use it with my blessing. Now, return to your duties."

Smyth knew the weapon was but a token to dismiss his concerns but silently accepted the scabbard with a bow. He sheathed the blade and then fixed it around his hip before saluting and taking his leave. The scabbard clanged against his thigh a couple of times as he walked, the length of the sword being unfamiliar to him. He scowled as it clipped his leg and he wondered how Toran had coped, frankly between the sword, that cape and his rank chains it was a miracle Toran managed to walk without jangling like a set of keys. Smyth scowled at the thought of their captives but he adjusted the fit of the scabbard until it no longer obstructed his movement.

Fuming under his breath Smyth marched on, passing various Primaris Marines in their daily duties. He paid them no mind as he wended his way through the compartments of the Macragge's Honour, his course direct and deliberate. Soon he arrived at a gloomy cargo lift and he stepped within, pulling down the cage before pressing a rune to make it ascend. A few moments passed and then from behind him a voice uttered, "Nice sword."

Smyth glanced back into the shadows, which parted as someone stepped into the light. In the corner the silhouette of Sergeant Ingvis appeared, the Reiver looking as sullen as ever. Smyth turned to face him and said, "Captain Kieva didn't listen."

Ingvis snorted, "No surprise there."

Smyth shook his head and said, "Everybody is so focussed on the Storm Heralds that they are forgetting about Inerus."

"Kieva's always been hungry for advancement," Ingvis stated, "He doesn't care about some hardscrabble world when there's a chance to ascend to High Command."

Smyth bristled at such open criticism of his superior but he couldn't deny it and agreed, "Inerus is a problem and he wants it gone, they all do. The planet will be subjected to the Exterminatus and the whole thing will be dumped in a recycling unit and forgotten about."

Ingvis looked thoughtful as he murmured, "Then it's up to us to remind everyone and make them pay attention."

Smyth's eyes narrowed as he queried, "How?"

Ingvis looked nonchalant as he said, "It's easy to ignore a problem when you can't see it but harder to ignore when it's in your face. I say we go back to the planet and drag a few undead up here for… examination."

"Are your processors glitching?!" Smyth cursed, "Bring those things on board, security would never allow it."

Ingvis retorted, "There are quarantine bays, take the specimens straight there and seal them in. Nobody would be able to ignore them then."

Smyth shook his head and sighed, "It sounds good but it's impossible, we would never get clearance to return to the planet."

Ingvis smiled slightly and said, "I wasn't implying that we ask for permission."

Smyth knew he should be shocked by the illicit suggestion but strangely he found himself agreeing. The situation was dire and nobody wanted to do anything, he had to act, even if it cost him his rank he had to do it. Reluctantly Smyth nodded and said, "Very well but only a small party, your squad, myself and Sergeant Yones' squad. No one else can know."

Ingvis replied, "I'll meet you in landing bay one-forty-one in three hours."

Smyth stopped the lift and let himself out as he declared, "Three hours, let us hope we find something useful down there or we will all be sent for servitor conversion."