Speculum Enigmate Chapter 11

The red sun was having a strange effect upon his armour, the tinted light shining upon his arms and chest and making the hue seem wrong. His blue colours had shifted to a deep midnight navy, with a purple sheen when he moved. Persion didn't like it, it reminded him of the heraldry of the hated Night Lords, a Legion his Chapter had clashed with too many times over the millennia for him to feel anything other than visceral loathing for. Still there wasn't anything to be done, they had arrived on Pascum and would simply have to bear the ignominy.

Around Persion the Storm Heralds were busy disembarking from their Thunderhawk, the three squads forming up in lines. Meanwhile a Thunderhawk Transporter was dropping a pair of Repulsor tanks from its drop claws, the hovercraft floating on a cushion of Anti-grav fields. Persion eyed the machines warily, distrusting the invention and innovation that had gone into their design. Part-tank, part-APC and part-skimmer, covered in enough guns to make an Ork feel it had sufficient Dakka, they were ridiculous to his eye. Persion was firmly convinced the damned things couldn't hold enough ammo to last more than five minutes in battle and with all their bizarre technologies would surely break down so often as to be almost useless. He would have preferred a respectable Rhino APC or in a pinch a Razorback, though at only a few thousand years old that design was still considered unproven to many traditionally minded Space Marines.

Persion shook off his contemplation as the squad leaders approached, no, his squads he reminded himself uncomfortably. Before him Sergeants Yones, Zeax and Gotram lined up, their own plates shimmering in the wan light. Apothecary Memnos was there too, his white plates looking like he was covered in a film of red blood under the sunlight. Beyond them the starport of the Capital city bustled, shuttles constantly landing or taking off as they carried civilians around the globe or into orbit. Further out the city itself lay open and inviting, awaiting the arrival of the Space Marines, but first they had to make sure all was in order.

Persion opened his mouth to address them but before he could speak Zeax muttered, "Can we start?"
Persion sighed, "I was just getting to that, are all the squads ready?"

Sergeant Yones, the looming Intercessor barked, "Ready and accounted for, sir!"
Gotram winced as he hissed, "Not so loud."
Yones grinned teasingly as he spoke in a booming tone, "What's the matter Reiver, hungover?"
Gotram snapped, "My squad's been on high combat alert since we entered the system."

That was news to Persion, he hadn't seen the Reivers since Jediah had promised to handle the matter. They had disappeared into the bowels of the ship, ostensibly on training duties. It had made Persion's life a lot easier, he'd managed to get the other two squads to work together, but he was concerned about what effect it had made on the Reivers. Gotram looked haggard and worn, with weary lines on his face and his eyes were red from constantly being on guard.

Persion stared at him and asked, "Sergeant how is your squad coping under Jediah?"
Gotram's eyes were filled with fraught tension as he blurted, "He attacks us without warning, day in, day out. We don't dare go anywhere alone, we have to travel in packs and still he seems to outnumber us. He's always in the shadows and the ducts. His eyes… his eyes always watching. We don't dare sleep, or take our armour off and I can't think beyond the next five minutes for trying to anticipate where he'll from. Red Sands… here he comes, sweet God-Emperor don't let him have heard that."

Persion spied Jediah swaggering down the ramp of the Thunderhawk, seemingly unperturbed by the long journey from the warp-jump point. Persion had known Jediah for decades and seen him fight but never suspected he could break the will of a Primaris Marine. It belatedly occurred to him he hadn't really seen much of Jediah on his own and exactly what sort of things he was capable of when Captain Toran or Chaplain Furion weren't around to reign him in. Jediah hailed a Repulsor and jumped within, without bothering to address the party. Persion eyed Gotram and said, "Better follow him, you don't want to make him angry."

Gotram cast one last harried glance at the gathering then jogged away, leading his Reivers into the Repulsor. Meanwhile Zeax declared, "I call the other one, my squad aren't walking all that way lugging Heavy Bolters."
"As you will," Persion sighed resigning himself to walking, "We will be marching before you so keep it parade perfect."

Zeax had already moved off and mounted the other transport but Yones declared, "Cheer up Lieutenant, it's a nice day for a walk."
Persion rolled his eyes at that but said, "Let's go, but remember we're only here to cow the natives back into line. Try to look impressive and don't yawn too obviously if you get bored."

The Intercessors formed up in two rows of five with Persion, Memnos and Yones in the lead. Behind them the Repulsors drifted into position, their turbines thrumming at the lowest ebb as they proceeded at a relative snail's pace. As the commander Persion led them from the landing field, marching with the distinctive crumping stomp of a parade march while the others followed in his wake. Behind them the Thunderhawks lifted off in blasts of downdraft, rising above the field before screaming up and away, the pilots burning for orbit with their throttles jammed into the red as was traditional. Persion felt hot jet wash buffet his head but kept on marching, not letting the wind break his step. As they approached the edge of the landing grounds a guard of local constables jerked to attention, their jaws falling as they spied the Transhumans bearing down on them. An officer in gold braiding swallowed nervously to address them but Persion strode past him without pause. Protocols be damned, he intended to get this over with as quickly as possible.

The constables looked at each other then leapt onto motor-powered bikes and set off to clear the roads before them. The Space Marines strode ceaselessly along, passing various roadblocks and checkpoints, where local law enforcement held back the traffic to allow the Storm Heralds passage. Many civilians were protesting the interruption to their day, shouting and waving fists at the constables but all fell silent as eight-foot tall genhanced warriors march by, their bolters and knives gleaming. Men went wide-eyed at the sight, more than a few making sketchy attempts at forming the Imperial Aquila. Children started crying or trying to rush out to touch the Space Marines while frantic mothers pulled them close and whispered at them to be silent. Persion was reassured by none of this, he had grown accustomed to mortals meeting Astartes with awe, religious fervour or feigned indifference and bluster but this was different, this was fear. The people of this city were afraid of the Storm Heralds and the reason they had come, which boded ill tidings for what may lay ahead.

Persion heard Yones remark, "Cowing civilians into line, is this what it's like to be in a Chapter?"
Persion belatedly remembered the Primaris had participated in the Crusade before joining the Storm Heralds and had only worn the spiral in a starburst for a few weeks. Sternly the Lieutenant informed him, "We rarely have time for ceremonial envoys, most of our time is spent training or in battle."

"Really?" Yones quipped with a grin, "I heard the Storm Heralds spent most of our time lounging around the Saint Karyl Trail, sitting with our feet up and not straying too far from home."
Persion caught the tone in his voice and realised the Sergeant was trying to engage in friendly banter, rather than undermine him, and replied with a smile, "Hardly, there's Orks in the Serrati Stellas, Psybrids festering in their nests, pirates raiding the pilgrim convoys, Traitor Legion warbands roaming at will, rebellions, warp-incursions and that's not to mention the expeditions we send ranging out into Segmentums Tempestus and Solar. There's barely a day goes by without some threat or another encroaching on our protectorates."

Memnos inquired, "What of yourself, did life in the Crusade allow much time for parading?"
Yones sighed, "Truth be told I was in a rear-line unit. There were thousands of Primaris in the Primus fleet alone, all vying for recognition. My unit spent most of its time in space, clearing out derelicts and hulks of alien threats. Our biggest action was the retaking of the Macragge's Honour, before we ran into you lot of course."

"Don't remind me," Persion muttered remembering how disastrously the Storm Herald's first meeting with the Indomitus Crusade had gone. Yones had been there, playing a part but Persion didn't hold that against him. The Intercessor's squad had been lost soon after, leaving him to rebuild a unit of fresh recruits, straight out of the stasis tubes. Punishment enough in Persion's opinion, in any case it was hard to dislike the cheerful Sergeant.

He turned his eyes outwards, seeing the fearful crowds watching them pass with silent glowers. They were entering deeper into the city and he noted the mix of Imperial architecture and local buildings, the soaring towers and brooding bulk of the former set against the sweeping domes and graceful minarets of the later. Word must have raced ahead of them for people were hanging out of windows and crowding in doorsteps, jostling to get a view of the Emperor's Finest as they marched past. Notably none of them were cheering or praying, as mortals were prone to do when seeing Space Marines for the first time. They weren't throwing rocks either but this reception was troubling indeed.

Persion felt an uncomfortable urge to take up his Friction Axe but forced his hand still as he said, "Something's off, they aren't happy to see us."
Memnos commented, "Maybe it's something to do with the last time the Chapter visited."

"You've been here before?" Yones asked.
"Not I," Memnos replied, "Nor any Brother for five hundred years, I checked the records. The last time the Chapter was here was to fight an invasion by the vile Traitor Vorshaan."

"Who?" Yones inquired.
"A tale for another time," Persion told him, "Suffice to say he was a Night Lord who plagued this region for centuries, till Captain Toran slew him. Anyway, we saved this planet, why do they resent us?"

"Probably because in the aftermath we decided to convert the population to our own version of the Imperial Creed," Memnos muttered.
"A practice we've since abandoned," Persion hastily interjected, "The Storm Heralds are done with proselytising."

Their march had brought them through the city and they found themselves entering a wide plaza, which sat under the shadow of a towering, needle-like monument. Beyond that were the wide and thick walls of a fortified palace, made of sweeping green domes and elaborate spires. Persion wasn't much given to aesthetics but recognised a beautiful construction when he saw one, surely one that would have made a mortal stop and gape. Far more interesting to his eye however was the thickness of its walls, the number of void shield projectors lurking among the domes and the cunning placement of gun towers and pill-box blisters. Surely this place would be well-defended and hard to storm, a respectable fortress by any measure.

Standing at the wide gates were a party of mortals, sheltering from the sun under palm fronds held by muscly servants. Among them Persion recognised a wizened crone, bound within the confines of a life-support throne which floated on a cushion of anti-grav motors. The decrepit woman was burrowed through with tubes and drip-lines and her head bore a gaudy ceremonial crown encrusted with jewels, but she was recognisably Aleys Bassail, the Lord Governor of Pascum.

Persion waved the convoy to a halt and stepped forward alone to address Aleys by reciting the speech he'd been given, "Hail Lord Governor, I am Persion of the Storm Heralds. On behalf of Chapter Master Phalros I offer the hand of Brotherhood to your noble household."

Aleys nodded in welcome, nearly toppling the crown off her skull as she replied, "Hail warriors of the God-Emperor, on behalf of the people of Pascum we welcome you to our fair world and offer you shelter and succour for your stay."

Persion hadn't really thought much about what to say next so said, "We, thank you. We will be coming inside, just as soon as we find a place to park our vehicles."
Aleys waved a hand like a skeletal claw as she demurred, "Let the serviles worry about petty details, come and meet my aides. Here, this is my heir Goddun and my daughter Otlie."

Persion beheld an adolescent boy with a face full of fear, lacking in muscles or the callouses of hard training. He looked more like a bookish scribe than the heir to a dynasty that had ruled a planet for millennia and Persion instantly judged he would never survive the Chapter's selection trials, let alone the stern training and gene-forging of a Space Marine. Next to him was a girl half his age, with a fiery expression on her face, her dark skin blushing not with fear but ire and hostility. She looked ready to challenge him to a fistfight, even though she was barely taller than his knees.

Persion nodded vaguely, not giving his thoughts away but Aleys continued, "And this is my First Secretary and right-hand man, say hello Odrin."
A man with an arrogant face and cunning eyes looked up at Persion and said, "Greetings Space Marine, I have been eagerly expecting your arrival."