Sometimes, in the deepest recesses of his sleep, he could hear them shrieking, the burbling horde coming to kill him, their rending talons clacking off carapace, swarming across an endless desert. He stood in a bunker, always the same bunker, with no weapon. He was naked, and only able to watch them as they came on, ready to tear his body apart and devour him. Only when they were finally upon him, when he was scant seconds from death, would he awaken.
"Jax! Wake up!"
Jax opened his eyes to see Dimitri above him. His equerry was shaking him by the shoulders, and Jax's unsecured visor was sliding up and down with each movement.
"Huh?" he asked.
"You're running late."
Jax sat up and clamped the visor in place. "Nah, we ain't got to jump for another hour."
"Not for the jump to Nalith, Jax." Dimitri walked out of the bedroom, but kept up conversation by yelling back at Jax. "You've two jobs, remember?"
"Oh." Jax looked out the arch windows next to his bed at the Administratum spire looming out of the broad streets of the Imperial Palace grounds. "That."
"Yes, that," Dimitri said, returning with two cups of caffeine. He handed one to Jax. "Master of the Administratum and highest of the High Lords of Terra. You remember that, now?"
"Yeah, thanks Mom."
"Welcome, honey," Dimitri said, matching Jax's sarcasm step for step. "Now get your capes on. We're using 7th Company as escorts."
Jax got up and made his way over to his clothing rack, where he pulled on the sheaf of capes. They draped across his right shoulder when he wasn't in combat, and were of staggered length so that each emblem stood out in at least some capacity. Once he had it on, Dimitri came over and made it a point to put the golden heraldry of the Administratum office on top of the others.
"Thanks," Jax said, picking up his adamantium blade. "7th Company's the Zuvens. Didn't they just join up?"
"Zuvenians," Dimitri said. He ignored Jax's 'whatever' and continued. "So far, they've seen no official action, either combat or ceremonial."
"So what the hell're they doing as my escort?"
"Their Colonel Eormel requested the duty. Seems he's eager to show what his men are capable of in their new armor."
Jax frowned. "No dice, Dimitri. I already know his boys can fight. I've read those reports you gave me. They ain't parade ground material."
"You have a better idea where they can prove themselves?"
"Yeah." Jax paused to pluck his Impaler off the plaque over his headboard and lock it to his thigh. "They can come with us to Nalith. Let Manker's boys take the day off."
"I feel as though Harken might not like that."
"Harken needs to get over himself," Jax snapped. "Fact is, this is my first meeting with the High Lords, and I need to show the best of the Legion."
"And Manker's Blackened Guard are better in synchronization for marching and parade purposes," Dimitri finished.
He was a little bothered that he hadn't come up with the idea. Jax was becoming more accustomed to his role as Battle Saint every day. Dimitri had never thought Jax truly inept, but with this level of command decision making suddenly on display, he was forced to admit that he may have underestimated the Confederate.
"And the black armor looks better," Jax said, heading out of the bedroom and toward the door to his suite. "Politics is all about dickswinging, Dimitri."
Jax threw open the door and marched into the hallway. Immediately, Menshaw and Sternev snapped to attention.
"Calm down, boys," he said. "Gotta look relaxed for the politicians."
The Confederate
Chapter 45: To Build a Legion: Part 6: Everything Old is Young Again
The warp exit signature flared on the fleet's sensors for little more than a second before fading completely. Few noticed the anomaly, and as the strike cruiser moved farther into the fold of ships in orbit around Carthage, it did so undetected. Only when it was at the heart of the fleet, moving alongside the conglomerate's flagship, did it make it's presence known.
"Vox-link established," Drake reported. "Speak when ready, lord."
Adamus nodded and, relaxed on his command throne, spoke into the handset. "This is War Captain Adamus Luchance of the Black Legion, reporting in."
At once, the vox exploded with counter-calls, as the captains of the surrounding ships voiced their objections. Adamus held the handset away from his ear and smiled.
"Glad they're happy to see us," he said, earning a grin out of Drake. Near the auspex pit, Omnios chuckled, his voice hollow in his empty helmet. Tharok turned from where he was looking into the cage next to Adamus's throne.
"Did you say something, lord?"
"Shut up." Adamus put the handset to his mouth again. The voices had quieted. "Am I very late?"
"SILENCE, WHORESON!" shouted a voice. It was hard-edged and raspy from centuries spent yelling out its throat. Adamus recognized it immediately.
"Kharn, so good to hear from you again."
"I WILL KILL YOUR FACE!"
"I'm not sure that makes sense."
Kharn started to speak again, but his voxlink went dead with a squelch of static. Someone had closed it forcibly, and now, that someone spoke up.
"Adamus Luchance, we must speak."
"Indeed," Adamus replied smoothly. "Where shall we meet?"
A hum filled the bridge, followed by a flash of red light. The stench of brimstone washed across the decking, and the teleported figure stood from its crouch. He was gigantic, and as he looked at Adamus, he did so with eyes as black as the void. His right arm, a titanic power claw, pointed to the deck between his massive boots.
"Here," said Huron Blackheart.
(' ')
Dimitri followed Jax into his balcony suite in the council chambers, leading himself the trail of adjutants and members of the Legion's command echelons that were to attend along with their Battle Saint. He pulled aside just within the entryway and counted off the members that followed him in. When all had gone through, he hadn't seen Castarius. He checked the corridor outside, both sides, before turning to the nearest Dog.
It was Manker.
"Harken, have you seen Castarius?"
Manker glared at him. He was still pissed about being pulled from the Nalith party, Dimitri realized.
"Oh, get over it. You know why we're doing it. The Zuvenians need experience, and they want to prove they're worth while."
"That was a military decision," Manker replied.
"Are you implying that I went over your head?"
Manker didn't reply.
"Well, technically, it was a morale decision, which is under Jax's direct purview, and need I remind you that he is the Battle Saint and reserves the right to alter any aspect of this Legion as he deems necessary."
"But—" Manker started.
"And," Dimitri said, "I don't think you're in any place to criticize unsolicited changes. I've read the doctrinal updates. Both Jax and I agree with them, but would it have killed out to run it by us before making the changes law?"
Manker narrowed his eyes even further. "No."
"Good. So we're on the same page, then?"
"Yes," Manker said, the venom in his words audible. "Castarius is in the Mechanicus booth."
"Thank you."
Dimitri stepped past the general and into the booth proper. Jax had yet to take his seat, and instead was chatting with a massive, half-naked spear-totting warrior.
Looking across the chamber wall, Dimitri spotted the Mechanicus balcony. At its center was Fabricator General Lovidicus, perched upon his throne as a bulky mass of cogitators and wires attended to by a platoon of techpriests.
Dimitri had seen Lovidicus in other bodies, slender combat types and flashy display forms, and he knew for certain that this large, bulky tank of a body was not necessary. Like all things in the chamber, it was political; the Fabricator General wanted to appear unwieldy to the other councilmen, so as to force them to underestimate his abilities.
Shrewd politics. Dimitri admired him.
Castarius stood next to Lovidicus, speaking so quietly even Dimitri's suit couldn't decipher the words. It came across as more than a little suspicious looking, and Dimitri felt a momentary worry that Castarius was somehow working against them. It was completely irrational, and the Techmarine looked over at Dimitri and nodded, as if to sooth his fears.
"Dimitri!" Jax said, clapping his equerry on the shoulder and yanking Dimitri from his thoughts. "You remember Valdon, right?"
"Yes," Dimitri replied. "Hello, Captain-General."
Valdon nodded to him, the feathers running from his head down his back jostling with the motion. "Equerry Vlasna."
"We ready to start?" Jax asked.
"That depends on you," Valdon replied.
"How you figure?"
Dimitri cut in. "As Master of the Administratum, you are the de facto head of council for the High Lords during meetings. It is your place to declare a meeting is in session."
Jax stared at him. "Shit."
"Yes, shit indeed," Valdon said with a smile. He started for the door. "I should see to my own balcony, seeing as how you're about to start. Good luck, Confederate."
"Thanks," Jax groaned and flopped back onto his throne. The chair had been built for Xanthius, and its gilded iron frame creaked under Jax's weight, but held by some miracle.
"How do I start this shindig?"
"Read this." Dimitri handed him a dataslate.
Jax looked over its contents and sighed. "You're fucking with me."
"Not a bit."
"This is stupid."
"Just read it so we can get this over with."
Jax cleared his throat and got to his feet. "Members of the High Lords of Terra, we convene here to do the business of the Imperium of Man. Commence."
Someone in one of the other balconies clapped, but nothing else happened. Dimitri sighed.
This was going to be awkward…
(' ')
Adamus stood from his command throne with deliberate slowness, one hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. Around the bridge, the rest of his command echelon did the same, and at his side, Tharok produced an autocannon from his arm. Drake's blade encarmine came out of its sheath and he rested it, depowered, on his shoulder.
Not that he expected Blackheart to attack him outright, but experience had taught him to be ready for anything when dealing with other champions of Chaos. Personalities had a tendency to get in the way of logic amongst their kind, and while Blackheart was a far cry from someone like Kharn the Betrayer, caution was still advised.
"Relax, Adamus," rumbled the Blood Reaver. "We've known each other too long to fall to bloodshed now."
"I should think so," Adamus replied, making a quick click of his throat-vox. Taking his signal, the men around him lowered their weapons. Adamus kept his hand on Zeruel's pommel. "So, you wanted to talk to me?"
Blackheart nodded, slowly. "The fleet is assembled in full, Adamus, and we will be translating to our destination shortly. I have already made agreements with the other champions here today, and now I would make one with you."
Blackheart strode across the deck to Adamus and held out his arm. "Will you join me as a brother?"
"With respect, lord, no," Adamus said. He took the warlord's arm in a warrior's shake. "But I will gladly wage war alongside you."
A smile creased Blackheart's face, cracking the aged skin and drawing thin runnels of black vitae along his pale cheeks. "Fine. Death to the False Emperor."
"Death to the False Emperor," Adamus agreed. "Now then, what world are we taking?"
"A world that has been a thorn in my side for too long, War Captain," Blackheart's grin grew. "We are going to burn Marathon."
(' ')
Fshwambamfamf!
The first thing Dimitri noticed was the smell. Nalith was a forest world, and it smelled of wet undergrowth, moss, and the aftershocks of a rainstorm. It was a moist world, so much that it came through his suit's filtration system, and he just pulled off his helmet to keep his view from fogging up.
Next to him, Jax popped his visor and took in a deep breath. "Nice place," he muttered.
Dimitri nodded. The clearing they had arrived in was little more than a patch of bare grass surrounded by the towering trunks, but it was that simplicity that impressed him. In the past year, he had seen so many planets that they had become a blur of extremes.
Nalith was a slice of peace, and as the Zuvenian Dogs of 7th Company fanned out around the clearing, Dimitri felt a calm wash over him. Judging by the relaxed movements of the rest of the landing party, they felt it, too.
It was this lackadaisical attitude that made them so easy to ambush.
Colonel Eormel, the Zuvenian officer so eager to impress, caught the telltale hint of the coming attack before anyone else, and had just opened his mouth to belt a warning when the lasbolts started flying.
Shouts sounded over the commlink as the rounds hammered home, calls for help sending up alongside firing orders. Lasbolts dug holes in the dirt and ricocheted from the Dogs' super-hardened armor, careening off into the forest, shattering branches.
Dimitri slammed his helmet back into place. His visor ticked off the angles of attack and projected amount of shooters. The figure was ridiculous.
"All units, return with blanket fire!" Eormel shouted. "Overlapping fields! Cut them down!"
The roar of massed Impaler fire drowned the snap-crack of the lasguns, and the outer edges of the forest began to fall. Trunks the width of groundcars splintered as trees came down, and after a moment, there were clear lanes of fire into the forest all around. The clearing had grown by ten meters.
"Hold!" Eormel sounded, and the firing stopped. "Sound off!"
A round of clears sounded from the squad leaders, and Eormel reported it in to Dimitri and Jax.
"Thanks, Colonel," Jax replied, thumping Eormel on the shoulder. "Your boys are the real deal."
Eormel made the sign of the aquilla. "Thank you, Battle Saint."
"No problem. Let's find out just what you hit."
As it turned out, what they hit had been a series of automated turret drones. Each comprised of quad-linked lasguns mounted on crawler treads, the drones had laid in wait of their arrival before delivering the fusillade according to remote auspex devices that served as heads to their stubby bodies.
One of the drones was larger than the others and harbored a lascannon. It had not fired during the ambush, and as such hadn't been targeted by the return fire.
That said, Jax destroyed it on sight with a rocket, and only afterward noticed the note taped to its body. Plucking it from the drone's hull, Jax held it up to his faceplate. He frowned.
"What is it?" Dimitri asked, and caught the note as Jax flicked it to him.
'Sorry for the hot welcome,' it read, 'had to know you were real.' Dimitri turned it over and read off a series of numbers.
"Map coordinates." He loaded them in his visor and overlaid the location on the sketchy topograph he had of the planet. "They're in a region called the Eternity Peaks, a mountain range northeast of here. What do you think?"
Jax rubbed the moss with his toe and mulled it over. After a moment, he shrugged. "Fuck it, why not? Tell Eormel to form his boys up and—"
Suddenly, an arrow slammed into the bark next to Jax's head with a thunk and stayed there. Jax and Dimitri tracked its trajectory, weapons up, but there was no one there. Dimitri flicked to infrared, but still got no fix. Angry, he marched over and pulled the arrow out of the bark, finding a note wrapped around its wobbling haft.
He pulled it off and read aloud. "Just the two of you. No friends allowed."
"Great." Jax spat into the dirt. "Anything in your books say these guys were fucking loony?"
"No," Dimitri replied. "But it looks like they're damn stealthy."
(' ')
They told Eormel and the rest to stay put and started on their way alone, moving through the forest on a constant incline that grew steeper with every few hundred yards as they neared the base of the mountain range. Dimitri had his rifle slung and walked with his hands at his sides, putting one foot in front of the other, lost in thought. Jax walked with his sword in hand, kneading its silver grip in his rubber palm. He was angry about being toyed with, and in his silence, his anger was spreading to his equerry.
Dimitri thought about all he actually knew about the Nalith soldiers, and realized that aside from a very heartfelt communiqué from a sector councilman named Knoy, he knew next to nothing about the regiments. Not that he had needed any at the time; Knoy seemed trustworthy enough, and the documentation he provided of the Nalith contributions to the Emperor's wars had seemed sound enough.
Of course, now that he was here in woods that seemed to have never seen a living man before, he was convinced the communiqué had been a farce. Nalith was uninhabited by Imperial civilization, and aside from some half-buried ruins spotted here and there, it hadn't seen any other civilization for a very long time.
After a while, the trees began to fall away, replaced by rocky crags and hard-packed or melting snow. Beneath his boots, the ground came away in sloughs of mud, and Dimitri had to grab at the rock with his hands to keep from sliding away.
He initially thought it to all be a clever way of getting Jax singled out for execution, and he had yet to write that off. They would have their shot at any moment along this hike, but they had yet to take it, so they were either the dumbest assassins in the world to try and draw the Confederate in for a close fight, or they were something altogether different.
They reached a straight cliff face and, grumbling, Jax put away his sword. He reached up and made a handhold in the frozen granite and pulled himself up, burying a boot in the cliff to give himself leverage. Like this, he began to climb, and Dimitri followed suit.
4,000 feet above them, in the settling twilight of evening, a silhouette watched their ascent.
(' ')
Jax got up first and pulled Dimitri up after him. Together, they turned to face their summoner.
The meeting place was a tiny plateau in the mid-mountain reaches of the Eternity Peaks. In its center was a deep pool of steaming water, and a cabin leaned nearby, smoke pouring from its stone chimney. It had begun to snow, and though it was late evening, Dimitri could still see the beauty of the mountain range laid out below them.
It was spectacular, but Dimitri couldn't have cared less. Even with the suit handling all the physical work, the climb had been exhausting on his mind. He couldn't think beyond the sound of his hands and feet cutting glass and the constant whirr of his armor joints.
Jax wasn't so tired, and as he pulled his sword from its sheath, he announced his displeasure to the world.
"All right, I'm here, ya son of a bitch," he growled to the empty plateau. "I know someone's watching me, so why don't you just come on out, huh?"
And then he did.
The man appeared from nowhere, standing from a crouch no more than three feet in front of him to throw a cloak over his shoulder. He pulled a hood back and revealed a young face, younger even than Dimitri, but with a hard look to his eyes. The look wasn't like Trooper Hale of 1st Company. Hale had more cocksureness, more arrogance, both in line with is age. This kid looked different than that. His eyes looked older than time itself, world-weary and experienced beyond belief.
"Battle Saint," he said. "I think I've wanted to meet you for a while."
Jax glared down at him. "You're sneaky. I thought there was a regiment of guys like you. What happened to that? Your robot friends kill them?"
"I don't believe there ever was a regiment," said the man. "I think I told you that to bring you here."
"You think!" Jax shouted.
"So," Dimitri said, stepping past Jax to head off the confrontation, "there is no sector councilman Knoy, nor a Nalith infantry regiment."
"Nope," said the man. "In fact, I'm probably the only one living here. I think…"
"Right, and just what is your name?" Dimitri pressed.
"I hardly think that matters."
"Since when?"
"Since I forgot it."
Jax barked a humorless laugh. "Perfect! A lonesome loony who don't even know his own damn name!"
"Jax…" Dimitri started, but the Confederate would have none of it.
"We climbed four hours for this? Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I'm worth it, sirs," said the boy.
Jax marched right up into the kid's face and poked him in the chest with a giant, armor-shod finger. "Give me one good reason why we should even listen to you, you little prick!"
The kid moved faster than Dimitri had ever seen a person move. Striking with rapidity and precision that put Astartes to shame, he slammed four fingers into a thin plate on Jax's midsection. There was a crack of steel and shriek of electronics shorting, and Jax hit the ground on his back.
Dimitri's Impaler was out in an instant, locked onto the kid's head. The kid didn't move. Jax laughed and pulled himself to his feet.
"All right, all right, that was kinda impressive," he said. "But you don't learn that as a little kid, man. How old are you?"
"Two-hundred and fifty," he replied instantly. "Been here since everything ended in the core worlds. Colonel told me to stay put and wait for you lot."
"That's awfully cryptic," Dimitri said. He finally lowered his rifle. "Can you be more specific?"
The kid smiled. "Can't even remember my own name, son, so you'll forgive me if I can't tell you the colonel's name, or what the hell the core worlds were, or why the hell I got picked to stay here with the eternity pool and wait it out alone." He stopped and considered that a minute. "Come to think of it, I'd wager I'm more than a bit insane."
"No shit?" Jax said. He looked back at Dimitri. "Looks like we're gonna be another company short, pal. What do you think?"
Dimitri shrugged. "I guess we should take him with us. After all, we came all this way, and he seems like he has some skills."
Jax nodded. "Then it's done. Come on, old kid, we've got a hell of a climb back down."
Jax and Dimitri had already started for the cliff when the man cleared his throat. "Um, why don't you just use the stairs?"
"What stairs?" Dimitri followed the pointing finger to the row of perfectly carved steps built into the mountain that led all the way down to the foot of the range. "Oh, those stairs. Wonderful."
(' ')
They waited a few minutes for their new charge to gather his things before leaving. When he emerged from the cabin, he had a rucksack over his shoulder and a long stormcoat pulled around his shoulders to keep the cold out. His combat boots had fresh tape on them, and the lasgun over his shoulder was augmented by a longlas held at his side. The hilt of a power sword stuck out of his rucksack, and Jax pointed it out.
"You got a blade?"
"Yeah," he replied, pulling it out and clicking the power stud. The blade came to life with a flicker of blue force. "It's been here as long as I have."
"Nice," Jax said. He held up his own sword and fed some power into it from his palm. The blade lit up pure white.
Dimitri spoke up. "Sorry, but what do we call you if you have no name?"
The man shrugged. "I don't really care. You pick one."
Dimitri opened his mouth to reply, to say that the idea was silly, and that even if it was up to them, he couldn't possibly have come up with a name to fit the man.
But he never got a chance to, because Jax disagreed with him, and had a name all ready for him.
"Rover," the Confederate said. "Rover Roverson."
"Jax!"
"Sorry," Jax said, "Trooper Rover Roverson."
Rover shrugged. "That'll work."
"Perfect!" Jax clapped him on the shoulder. "Then let's get going. We've got a long road to the bottom ahead of us."
Jax led the way, starting down the steps with his new stealth trooper behind him. Dimitri lingered a moment.
So now they had a mysterious, amnesiac, inexplicably youthful old man who may or may not have become so thanks to the water of these mountains, and who admitted to being mentally unstable. And they had failed to recruit a company. Again.
Dimitri sighed and hurried to catch up with them. There was a schedule to keep and things to do on Terra if they were going to make it to Marathon by next week.
(' ')
Across the galaxy, Colonel Ivan Rakatev looked up from his billet balcony at the skyline of Central Acropolis. The city was the largest on Marathon, and its shining towers were the envy of pleasure worlds. Gardens served as medians between the skyways that twisted in and out of the towers, all elevated above ground so as to keep from interfering with the lush city parks.
Civilians walked along the throughways below his balcony, window shopping, and the sight made Rakatev smile. So many years off-world and nothing had changed. It made him feel good to know all the fighting and dying had kept something safe, and the calm almost made him forget about the patch over his eye.
There was a knock at the door followed by a creak as Rakatev's adjutant let himself in. The colonel didn't object to the intrusion. He and Lang had served together long enough to feel comfortable with each other.
"Enjoying your break, Lang?" Rakatev turned from the view. "I know I've been…"
His voice died in his throat when he saw the look on his adjutant's face. The lad was armored up, too, his flak armor cinched down across his fatigues, and a lasgun was strapped to his back alongside the vox unit.
"What's wrong?"
"Sir," Lang said, holding out the vox-horn, "something's gone wrong."
Rakatev snatched the horn and held it to his ear. He recognized the voice immediately as Lord General Samatec, but what he heard sounded alien. The words couldn't be true. This couldn't be happening.
Rakatev turned and looked up into the sky as a wave of meteors split the atmosphere.
Drop pods.
Chaos had come to Marathon.
Author's Note: Aaaaaand end arc. Next chapter we kick off the fight for Marathon, which will be the first heavy action for the newly minted Dogs of War Legion. The return of the Marathon characters from the first arc, both Guard and Astartes alike, and a rematch between Adamus and Jax, and what consequences that will have. Seven companies of Dogs, Huron Blackheart and his Red Corsairs, Kharn the Betrayer, and the death of a planet.
In short, I've got my characters. Now it's time for war.
Oh, you may have noticed the Dogs are a tad short on manpower. If they actually get the Marathon soldiers they want, then they'll still have two companies' worth of empty slots in the roster. What could fill this gap, I wonder?
Anyway, have a good week. Next Saturday, Marathon burns.
