Speculum Enigmate Chapter 48

The courtyard still stank of death. Even after three days the lingering stench of rotting bodies, opened bowels and burnt war machines filled the air. Teams of mortals wore neckerchiefs over their faces as they shifted the piled dead, the civilians finally making themselves useful after the fighting had died down. They looked sick and weary, glazed-eyed by the horrors they had seen and they had not even been present for the decisive confrontation.

Persion walked among the labouring teams of mortals and was pleased with his work. The death of the Patriarch had thrown the Genestealer Cult into disarray, leaving them bereft not only of leadership but of fighting spirit. A furious counter-charge by the Space Marines had torn them to shreds, the few who tried to fight back swiftly dispatched by the righteous vengeance of the Emperor's Finest. Persion couldn't even call it a battle, it had been an outright massacre.

Many of the Genestealers had been culled but the remainder had fled, running for their pathetic lives. Persion hadn't been willing to let them go, so the Storm Heralds had given pursuit and slain everyone they could catch. The filth had fled to the ruins of the city but had found no shelter. The Space Marines had hunted them relentlessly, determined to exact vengeance. After a day and a night of massacring Genestealers Persion had ordered the squads to spilt up. The survivors of the Cult were too dispersed to find in any great number. Persion had determined to send his squads out to secure key objectives while he had sought out the few surviving pockets of loyalist PDF and told them they answered to him now.

Persion saw a flash of white in the courtyard and moved nearer. He saw Apothecary Memnos shifting a pile of dead bodies, his face hardly any better in colour than the corpses. Memnos had crashed hard after the battle, passing out into a drug-induced torpor. Persion had never seen a Space Marine pass out like that and it had been two days until the Apothecary woke up and explained what he had done. He still looked cold and shivery, his Transhuman body not yet back to full capacity.

Memnos turned over another body then rocked back and hissed, "Damnation."

Persion stopped next to the pile, seeing what he had found and sighed, "Marshal Gunnah."

Memnos nodded, "I vaguely remembered seeing him die in the fighting. I wished it was just a hallucination but it was true."

Persion agreed, "I guessed as much when we couldn't find him after the battle. Without him the Arbites are leaderless."

Memnos stood up and brushed off his hands as he lamented, "I'll add his name to the list. At this point it's quicker to count the survivors than the slain."

Persion eyed the morbid Apothecary warily and commented, "You sound defeated, it's not like you. This procedure you undertook really hit you hard."

"You have no idea," Memnos muttered sullenly.

Persion sniffed, "Not intending to recommend messing about with the Furnace to the Chapter?"

"Oh I certainly plan to make a recommendation," Memnos countered, "Lesson one of extracting the Furnace is... Thou Shalt Not Extract The Furnace."

Persion was distracted as he saw a gaggle of mortals drift by, the Governor and an entourage. The wizened crone was trundling along in her life-support throne, followed by Viscount Proam, his daughter and her heirs. The boy looked blank-eyed and distant, as if his mind was hollow, but Otlie looked proud, bearing herself like a queen over her court. Surprisingly on the other side walked Fysk, the criminal overlord smugly talking to the rulers of his world like an equal.

Memnos glanced over and commented, "I see they crawled out of their bunker at last."

"Typical," Persion muttered, "They let others do all the fighting and then emerge to claim the credit once the dust has settled."

Memnos remarked, "The Viscount looks pleased, his daughter will still wed the heir and by the vapid looks of that boy she'll be running the planet in a year."

"I wouldn't count Otlie out," Persion commented, "She's already got the hearts and minds of the remaining PDF. They love her for fighting on the front line with them. Give her twenty years more experience and she'll be a power to be reckoned with."

Memnos frowned as he asked, "What's Fysk doing with them?"

Persion explained, "With the Genic council gone and the Arbites and Ecclesiarchy leaderless, this society is lacking in social order. Fysk's negotiating to take over law-enforcement when things calm down."

"A crime boss?" Memnos asked, "Running the law-keepers?"

"Who better?" Persion sniffed, "He knows who to watch and who's fingernails to pull out. The criminal-caste fears him more than they ever did the Arbites. Plus he said something about removing some form of birth control implant, with the Genic Council gone there's nobody left to organise reproductive matches."

Memnos mused, "So it seems changes will be coming to Pascum."

"Perhaps," Persion demurred, "Things have a way of levelling out. Give them three generations and this world will probably be exactly as it was when we arrived, minus the Genestealers."

Memnos pointed out, "I note they aren't coming over here to congratulate us."

"Good," Persion stated, "Let Toran do the diplomacy and the fancy speeches. I'm no good at that sort of thing. Give me a battlefield any day, one that I understand. I'm not cut out for grandiose gestures and heroic sagas. I'm better in the mud and dirt, not flashing my big red cloak and striking heroic poses as I swing a sword."

Memnos rubbed his neck and asked, "What are we going to do then?"

Persion drew in a breath and sighed, "Astropathic orders came in this morning, we are being recalled to Lujan II."

Memnos frowned as he protested, "But we're not done yet. We have Genestealers hiding in the undercity and a full-scale rebellion in progress planet-wide."

Persion held up a hand as he explained, "I have Zeax in the city, securing key facilities one by one. Jediah's hunting the traitor PDF officers and Gotram was dispatched to find Inquisitor Vevara. We can secure this city while we wait for relief. The Indomitus Crusade has sent reinforcements. Chapter Master Jaric Phoros is leading three hundred Fire Lords and five hundred Unnumbered Sons to suppress this rebellion and sweep out the Genestealer dregs. They should translate from the warp in a day or two."

Memnos cocked an eyebrow as he remarked, "Eight hundred Space Marines, they will crush this rebellion in days. Though I doubt much will be left standing once the Master of the Fire Lords is done, he does love incendiary bombardments."

Persion sniffed, "Not our problem. As soon as they secure orbit we are out of here. And look, here comes our stalwart Brothers."

Sure enough across the courtyard came four figures. Lieutenant Jediah, Sergeants Zeax and Gotram and oddly Inquisitor Vevara herself. They picked their way carefully through the piled dead, making their way over to Persion's position. Zeax looked satisfied with his work but Gotram looked troubled. Jediah looked like Jediah always did and Vevara was unreadable. The group marched up to Persion and nodded briskly, save Vevara who looked disdainful, even though she was surrounded by Transhumans nearly a foot taller than she was.

Persion started by asking Zeax, "Are the suburbs secure?"

Zeax replied, "All remaining Genestealers crushed or driven underground. The rebellious PDF troopers have surrendered. They seemed reluctant to fight when Deimos' Shadow floated into view. Say what you like about Repulsors, but all those guns are mighty intimidating."

"Would that we had two," Gotram muttered.

"Phobos' Light will be taken back to the Chapter's Forges," Persion explained, "In time she will fight again. Now Jediah, what of the Traitor officers? Does Clemas Bassail recant his Heresy and throw himself on the mercy of Terra?"

Jediah snorted, "Bit hard for him to do that since he's dead."

"Dead," Persion sighed, "Did you have to kill him without getting the names of his conspirators first?"

"Be at ease," Jediah countered, "His brain yielded everything we needed."

"You ate it?" Persion asked resignedly.

"Not I," Jediah corrected, "I had one of the Reivers eat it, and the other Traitor's too. There was more than enough to go round before we were done executing the turncoat officers."

"You get a brain, he gets a brain, everybody gets to eat a brain," Zeax muttered under his breath.

Persion ignored that and turned to Gotram inquiring, "What of the situation underground?"

Vevara answered for him, "The surviving cultists are retreating to the depths, many are trying to leave the city and flee into the hinterlands. The Inquisition has been informed, kill-teams are en route to burn them out. Rest assured the God-Emperor's Left Hand will find them, not one Genestealer will be alive on Pascum before the year is out."

Persion wasn't reassured and said, "Gotram… what aren't you telling me?"

Gotram sighed wearily, "We… we found Yones' body. He's dead."

Persion growled, "Damnation, I was just starting to like him."

"There's more," Gotram continued, "The way he died, it wasn't by shot or by claw. He was buried inside a stone column, physically fused to the atoms of its material. There's only one way I know to do that: he was teleported inside the stone. Deliberately."

Persion frowned as his mind processed the news, then facts slammed home. There was only one individual who had access to teleport technology on Pascum, one name that was absent from their accounts. The Eldar. The conclusion was inescapable, the Xeno scum had killed Yones and his master was standing right next to Persion.

"You!" Persion roared as he turned on Vevara, "You did this!"

Vevara glared up at him and retorted, "I did not."

Persion's anger flared and his hand flashed out, grabbing her by the shoulder. His grip tightened like a vice and Vevara's face crumpled in pain as her bones ground against each other. The outburst drew many eyes but Persion cared not. He increased the pressure slowly, drawing ever more pain from the Inquisitor as her other hand skittered off the Ceramite gauntlet.

Memnos leaned in and hissed, "Persion, people are watching."

"I don't care," Persion snapped, "She killed Yones."

"I…I did not," Vevara gasped through the pain.

"You expect me to believe that," Persion growled, "The Eldar worked for you, he was your agent."

"Ally," Vevara squawked in protest, "An untrustworthy one… he acted on his own… I gave no order."

"Then you are a fool," Persion barked as he increased the pressure of his grip, "Bringing an alien among us, letting it roam free. When will you Inquisitors learn that consorting with Xenos brings nothing but trouble?!"

Jediah cocked his head and quipped, "If you plan on killing an Inquisitor there are quicker ways. Try the jugular artery."

Persion glanced up and realised he was within an inch of breaking the woman in two. He would dearly have loved to extact vengeance for Yones, but killing an Inquisitor was no simple matter. There were repercussions for such a deed, terrible forces awaiting those who crossed that line. The Inquisition was a fractious and divided institution, but one thing they were united upon was that publically killing an Inquisitor would bring the wrath of Terra down not only on the killer but on their family, friends and world, even if that person were a Space Marine. If Persion killed her openly, before witnesses, then the Storm Heralds Chapter would be razed to the ground.

Persion reluctantly let go of the woman and she staggered back, grabbing her shoulder with a wince. Persion hissed, "I knew you were trouble. You Inquisitors are all alike, treacherous and deceiving. You're no better than any of them."

Vevara rubbed her shoulder and glared upwards as she spat, "The Warp Spider didn't only betray you, he betrayed me. I assure you this will not go unpunished. Wherever he goes, wherever he hides I will find him and end his miserable life. I knew he had his own agenda but I thought he was after a native of Pascum, someone in the government, which I was willing to overlook so long as the God-Emperor's sovereignty was upheld. I thought Manaar would reveal his intent in time, instead he used me to get to you and that is not something I can forgive. Craftworld Furta-Rith has made an enemy this day. Nobody uses me, not again."

Persion sneered, "Your pretty promises do not make up for the fact that you got our Brother killed."

Vevara's eyes narrowed as she countered, "Yones got himself killed. I heard him speak, he was too trusting, too soft. His death was the result of his own choices. These new Primaris need to learn the galaxy is not a stage for noble heroes to play out their glories. It is cruel and dark and hostile and only the most ruthless survive."

"Enough of your pontificating," Persion snapped, "Get out of my sight and if I ever see you again I will not be so lenient."

Vevara screwed up her lips, then turned and stalked off, not looking back once. Persion watched her go but he heard Memnos whisper, "Well done Brother."

His head turned fractionally and he said, "You approve of me laying hands on an Inquisitor?"

"You didn't kill her," Memnos stated, "You've learned something."

"I've learned I hate diplomacy," Persion sighed, "I can't wait for our relief to get here, so we can leave this miserable planet."

"Sooner the better," Memnos concurred, "I finally persuaded Brother Spika to sink into a healing coma. He will need an augmetic heart installed when we return to the Fortress-Monastery."

"No argument here," Zeax said, "I long for the blessed touch of the Emperor's Storm."

Gotram rubbed his brow and asked, "Do we really have to do that glitching ritual every single time the planet turns?"

"Yes," Jediah stated, "But first we need to get our team back into training, your education was rudely interrupted by this war."

"More training?!" Gotram yelped in dread.

Persion left them to it as he walked off. He strode through the remains of the battlefield and saw the results of his labours. The Storm Heralds had come within an inch of defeat but through the most outrageous combination of determination and fortune they had scraped victory from the jaws of defeat. Perhaps this was how it always was for officers he mused, maybe they always struggled to find the way through the darkest times. Yet he took comfort that in the heat of battle he had not been found wanting, he had proven he could lead Space Marines. But he was resolved as soon as they got home he was going to beg his captain to never send him on another diplomatic mission. As far as he was concerned battle was far less dangerous than politics.