Festum Gladius Chapter 25

The Forge doors loomed before him, the vast adamantium slabs rising to the roof. They were each large enough to permit the passage of a Warhound Titan and covered in icons of the Cult Mechanicus. Huge locks bulged upon them, massive machines held them firmly shut and symbolic gargoyles leered from on high, guarding the approach with taunting expressions. Everything about this barrier screamed that it was supposed to remain closed and that interlopers were not welcome.

Walking slowly towards them Lieutenant Smyth had to admit he was intimidated. He had faced down aliens, heretics and Daemons but those were foes he comprehended, enemies he could fight. This was marching into the unknown, entering the dominion of a secret and reclusive order that did not welcome visitors. Smyth knew just enough of Martian ways to be wary, Machine Spirits were capricious by nature and easily offended. One wrong step could see them struck down by plasma leakage or crushed by a malfunctioning hoist-lift. Such was the nature the artefacts behind that door and they were as dangerous as any frothing Berserker.

By his side marched Orath and Wela, the pair shorter than the Primaris but no less intimidating. Orath's Terminator bulk lent him mass and heft unthinkable in other marks of armour. Wela's armour was covered in esoteric runes and mythical icons Smyth didn't recognise and was sure he never wanted to understand. Warpcraft shared much with Cybertherugy in that both contained truths better left unknown. Humanity had fallen prey to the perils of unfettered science in the distant past, as it was currently bedevilled by the nightmare of the Daemon.

They reached the doors and stopped to wait. After a moment Orath muttered, "They'd better open up before I kick these doors in."

Smyth sighed, "That's solid Adamantium, your foot would wear down to a nub before you made a dent."

"Don't tell me what I can do," Orath snapped.

"As you will," Smyth retorted, "Kick away for all I care, make an idiot of yourself."

Suddenly Wela growled, "Cease your prattling. They know we are here. This is a petty display to make us wait for their pleasure."

They settled down but Orath sniffed, "What should we expect on the other side?"

"I don't know," Smyth answered.

"Weren't you trained on Mars?"

Smyth explained, "I spent most of my time in stasis, save for experiments and training campaigns. Most of the Adeptus Mechanicus didn't know the Primaris existed and would have sought to destroy us had they ever found out. We trained secretly, in the wastes far from anywhere. Still, some days we would catch glimpses of the Forges on the horizons, manmade mountains touching the low sky. The ring of iron would catch the orbital sunlight sometimes, glittering like oil on water and the red sands would shimmer like fire. Once I saw the aurora of the planet's artificial magnetic field flaring, as it battled to hold back the solar winds. It was inspiring and terrifying in equal measure, knowing only the artifice of the ancients kept deadly radiation at bay and prevented the sands returning to the irradiated nothingness that was before mankind reshaped the planet."

Thoughtful silence fell as Smyth ruminated on the past. When he had gone into stasis the Imperium had been resurgent, the Traitor Legions were in full retreat and the Second Founding had reformed the Astartes into the pattern that would secure a new future. The Primaris project had seemed a logical next step to set mankind back on the path to progress and further the Emperor's work to its proper conclusion. He had not understood how dark the future would turn out to be. He had awoken to an age where progress was reviled and innovation was considered a sin. The existence of the Primaris was decried by many as an abomination and was it not for Roboute Guilliman's unquestionable authority they would never have been awoken. Many would have preferred to let the Imperium fall into oblivion before they would accept change.

Smyth eyed his companions, knowing they likely felt the same. Yet as he did so his vision wavered. Like water disturbed by strong winds he saw the image of Wela change, becoming another Librarian with cruel eyes. Shadows lurked in the corners, two more figures, one in grey armour and the other in shining steel. He wasn't outside the Forges anymore, he was somewhere else, somewhere he couldn't remember. The only solid and unchanging thing was Orath, hard and focused and instinct told Smyth the Terminator was part of this.

Suddenly the gargoyles started wailing and the great locks clunked open. Smyth's vision shattered, leaving him in the real world but utterly confused. Was he going mad, he wondered, it was the only logical explanation he could think of. Thankfully he was saved from answering by the opening of the doors and the emergence of a trio of Techmarines. Smyth eyed them warily as they stood before him and said, "In the name of the Omnissiah we greet you."

Wela faced them and said, "By the authority of the Chapter Master we are here to review the incident with Honourable Ajax and determine how this occurred."

"We accept your license and give you leave to enter," one with a servo-harness declared, "I am Lytek, the Charity Steward. This is Abdael the Parlierer and this is Tardak the Sentinel. I regret the rest of our Sodality is absent, they hunt Ajax in the depths. I am sure you appreciate few could be spared from this task."

"It will do," Wela said, "Let us begin."

He strode boldly over the threshold but Orath hesitated and said, "Two hundred years have I served the Chapter, but never have I stepped over this line."

Smyth smirked, "Scared are you?"

Orath glanced at him with annoyance but then stepped over the threshold and entered. Smyth followed and entered the Forge, seeing the innermost sanctum of the Omnissiah in the Chapter. It was rather disappointing. They walked into a broad avenue, grey and littered with debris. The walls were drab, where they weren't potted with bulletholes, and rubble lurked in the corners. Artisans laboured to clean up the mess but so extensive was the destruction that it would be many days before they could erase all signs of battle.

"Ajax's handiwork?" Orath muttered.

"Indeed," Lytek answered, "The Honourable left a trail of calamity in his wake."

Wela stated bluntly, "All the more reason for this review."

Smyth was taking everything in and questioned, "Where do we start?"

If Lytek was annoyed by the reminder of their purpose he masked it well as he explained, "We shall start with the manufacturing facilities. Then a tour of our vehicle stables. The Archives are a marvel you have to see and the grand fane is…"

"I shall start in the Cyro-vaults," Wela stated firmly, "I want to see where Ajax's madness broke its bonds with my own two eyes."

"Now see here!" Abdael snapped.

But Wela snarled, "I am not here to sightsee, I am here to conduct a full investigation into this debacle. Phalros wants answers and you would be well advised to provide them. You shall not sweep this under a rug, I shall uncover how you failed so miserably and there shall be changes made in this Forge. Of this you can be sure."

"You can't…" Tardak protested.

"Yes he can," Orath snarled hefting his Thunder Hammer, "Don't try to stop us."

Abdael paused a moment then said, "I shall comply, follow me and I will take you to the cryo-vaults."

"I shall accompany you," Wela said, "Orath, Smyth carry on with the tour."

Smyth watched him leave with puzzlement but Lytek was already marching on. Smyth hastened to keep pace and asked, "I am curious, what is a Charity Steward?"

As they passed various portals and doorways Lytek expounded, "A specialised role in the Techmarine order. We have many pressing duties so find it efficient to spread our roles across the order. I am responsible for vehicle repair and maintenance, it is my honour to care for wounded Machine Spirits and nurse them back to functionality."

"And your shifty friend?" Orath spat.

"Abdael is the Parlierer, his role is to supervise the work of the Forges and ensure all is in accord with the doctrines of Mars. His role is to ensure we all conform to the universal laws."

"Like a Mechanicus version of a Commissar?" Smyth guessed.

"I haven't thought of it that way but yes, I suppose he is. He watches us all, he sees all and makes sure our doctrines do not waver in purity."

"Why would you need such a thing?" Smyth asked in confusion.

"You'd be surprised," Tardak spat, "Many seek to invent, to innovate or worse. Some seek new ways to wage war and many wish to open doors best left shut, to unleash the forbidden and the forsworn technologies of the past. Sentient weapons, reality shattering devices and rites of Cybermancy so vile as to make the stars weep."

"I don't understand," Orath said.

Lytek explained, "Much like the Librarius there are aspects of our lore that are forbidden, arts buried in the hope none would wield them again. The Aeterna Paradigm, the Keys of Hell, Agesine protocols, Sarcosan Formulae, the Eight Sleepers, Abominable Intelligences and Bio-transference arrays. All sealed behind thick doors and guarded night and day."

Orath glanced at Tardak saying, "And what's your role in this?"

"To make sure the doors stay shut and the keys unturned," Tardak snarled.

"Couldn't you just erase these technologies?" Orath asked.

That produced gasps of shock, "Destroy knowledge?! It is unthinkable, we would never destroy information, it violates every precept of the Universal Laws!"

Smyth nodded in acceptance and said, "Then you are wise to keep them under lock and key. We are reassured by your diligence."

Tardak hissed, "I am surprised a Primaris could understand such a concept."

"You have a problem with Primaris?" Smyth asked pointedly.

"Innovators, inventors and provokers," Tardak spat, "Your kind pushed Ajax into madness, your abuse of the universal laws is blasphemy. You were a mistake and should be treated as one. Belisarius Cawl should be burned at the stake as a Heretek."

"Ha!" Orath spat, "I like that! I'll tell him that if we ever meet."

Smyth pulled up short and snarled, "A word Sergeant, in private."

The Techmarines stepped away as Smyth hissed, "You want to do this now?! In the middle of our investigation?"

"Might as well," Orath sniffed, "I'm just here to look intimidating."

"Use your eyes," Smyth snapped, "I can't believe you're so dense as to not see it."

"See what?"

"They're hiding something," Smyth hissed, "They're trying to dazzle us with technical talk, but there is something they wish to conceal."

"How do you know?" Orath hissed.

"Forget the machines, they're not the issue," Smyth snapped, "Watch the people, see how they tense up around us. Listen to the words they're not saying. I think Tardak knows more than he's telling but he doesn't want to say it around Lytek. His protests ring a little too loud, as if he's covering for something."

Orath glanced at the Techmarine and whispered, "You may be right, but what do we do about it?"

Smyth leaned in and said, "Quit harassing me and see if you can get Lytek away for a while, Tardak may open up to me if I can talk privately."

Orath nodded once then turned and marched on. Smyth let him lead as they walked away, heading deeper into the Forge. Mysteries awaited them but Smyth could smell a lead and was resolved to follow it He was going to get to the bottom of this affair no matter what it took.