The Great Tragedy
There was a time when the city had been a hive of activity. A tapestry of colours and lights from the buildings and streetlamps. A symphony of voices as the crowd bustled about their daily lives, blissfully unaware of the change to come. It had been a city of life, culture, music and joy.
Now it was blasted ruin, a corpse of what it used to be and a grim echo far removed from the wonderment it used to bestow.
The ashes shifted beneath Makil's steps, billowing behind him as he ran. On his shoulder, Jur'Tera scuttled around, his antennas wiggling in the air, feeling for danger. On many worlds, the sight of a human and an insectoid xenos together would have been a strange and unwelcome sight. But on the world of Rohal III, once the cultural hub of the Wanderers and Antillions, it had been an everyday sight.
Had, being the main point.
Jur'Tera's voice module warbled. "Makil, danger."
Makil swiftly dove into the shadow of a ruined building. Once it had been host to countless renditions and plays of how the Wanderers and Antillions had come together in friendship. It was a subject that many young Wanderers and Antillions found boring, having been told the stories many times beyond count long before they reached their maturity.
Now, they wished they could watch the play just one more time.
Above, dark shapes swooped, blocking out the star of Rohal III. Harsh screeches assaulted Makil's ears and he glanced at his tiny companion. Jur'Tera's antenna were trembling, the only outward sign of fear that Antillions showed.
"Steady, Jur," said Makil, looking up. "They won't see us from here."
Beside them, the shredded playbill entitled: The First Contact billowed pathetically in the scouring wind, a sad reminder of their history. Makil and Jur'Tera knew the story very well.
II II II
It had been nearly two millennia ago.
The Wanderers had been a terraforming expedition from Terra, searching for worlds to make habitable for human colonies. It was a mission they had faithfully carried out for many standard centuries. But then the Cataclysm had happened. The Wanderers were cut off from Terra and couldn't find their way back. They had no idea what had happened or if Terra still lived.
Lost, the Wanderers had drifted through space, their powerful terraforming technology unused as they aimlessly traversed the vastness of space. For centuries, they carried on in this way, trying to preserve as much power and resources as possible, trying blindly to find their way home to Terra. They had survived attacks from hostile aliens and space pirates, just trying to survive.
Until the day had come when their resources became critically low. Their people were starving, and grew sick. The ships' systems began to fail as they ran out of resources to maintain the fleet due to the hostile environment of space and predatory aliens. It had seemed that the Wanderers were doomed, destined to join the countless dead peoples that occupied parts of the enormous galaxy.
That was when the Antillions had found them.
Having just developed spacefaring capabilities over two centuries earlier , the insectoid race had just begun exploring the planets of their solar system when they came across the exhausted Wanderer fleet. The first meeting had been tense, as the Wanderers have been hostile against all outsiders due to their harsh experience during their long journey. Realising the weariness and desperate plight of these strange beings, the Antillions had offered a ship full of food supplies as a gesture of goodwill.
It had opened a path to cautious diplomacy, which had been hampered by their inability to understand each other. But the Wanderers slowly came to realise that Antillions meant no harm as the xenos continued to supply them with food and resources to survive. Eventually, the Antillions, with the help of the Wanderer scientists, developed technology to translate their language, which had greatly improved relations between them.
The Antillions offered the Wanderers to settle on one of their worlds, which the Wanderers accepted. Using the terraforming technology they brought with them, they were able to terraform the world into a suitable habitat for themselves which they named, Rohal. It meant 'the soul' in their lexicon.
As the generations went by, the Antillions and Wanderers became allies, and then friends, and now, they had become one civilisation. Antillion and human lived side by side, building their future together. It didn't matter that the Antillions resembled huge versions of the ants of Terra, or that humans were anatomically different. Their differences were celebrated, and strengthened each other as they expanded their civilisation throughout their solar system.
But through it all, the Wanderers have never forgotten Terra or their ancestral desire to return to their homeworld. The Antillions had swore to assist their friends in the endeavour.
Thus, the Wanderers and Antillions had sworn eternal friendship.
Little did they know of the anguish it would bring to both their races.
II II II
Makil looked up to the skies. He could no longer see the flying beasts. He looked down to Jur'Tera. The Antillion's antennas twitched as his voice module activated.
"Danger is distant."
Makil nodded and began to move. He gracefully picked his way through the rubble of the city that Man and Antillion had built together. He passed the gutted remnants of the school that he and Jur'Tera had went to not so long ago. The school library where he and the little Antillion had first met was nothing more than an ugly block of charred stone and metal.
Fighting back the tears prickling in his eyes, Makil hurried on. "How far are we, Jur?"
"5 clicks, we're almost there."
In the distance, they could hear the roars of weapons. It ended all too quickly, the silence screaming more loudly than the brief cacophony.
As he ran, Makil could eventually see his destination. Amidst the ruined buildings stood a lone tree that had somehow survived the devastation. Despite the danger, Makil smiled.
"Almost there, Jur," he said quietly. "You're almost home."
"We're almost home," answered the Antillion.
II II II
The Wanderers had longed for Terra for so long, they had dedicated their whole existence to finding it.
They did not expect Terra to find them.
When the mighty ships from Terra had entered their solar system, the initial reaction had been one of great joy. After long millennia, the Wanderers had received confirmation that their birth world still lived. That all mankind was called back to serve the great aegis of humanity known as the Imperium of Mankind. The Wanderers had been eager to answer the call.
The initial meetings had been promising. The leader of the Wanderers had met with the delegation of the Imperium, led by the great mighty being called Horus. With him were the equally mighty Perturabo and Jaghatai Khan, along with great warriors from their Legiones Astartes. Despite the warlike nature of the Imperium's delegation, the Wanderers were initially put at ease by Horus's charm and oratory.
The exchanges had gone well, and relations were warm.
Until the fateful day the Imperium had shared the current state of Terra.
The Wanderers were horrified to see that the Terra of their ancestral memories had undergone a terrible change.
Gone were the sapphire-blue seas, or the great emerald-green forests. Most of the great mountains had been levelled by war or industry, leaving behind blasted wastelands choked with hive-cities where humanity lived on top of each other in the smog-filled air. The Wanderers had wept to see the beautiful homeworld in their memories reduced to such.
So they had offered the services of their great terraforming technology to restore Terra to her former glory. The Imperium delegation, especially the Mechanicus contingent, were delighted at the revelation that such advanced human technology still existed. They foresaw great use for it, already planning to turn many worlds into paradise.
But then, the Antillion delegation, which had remained quiet and unnoticed in the meetings, had finally spoken up. They had offered their assistance to rebuild the homeworld of their friends, and their services to the Imperium.
From there, everything had gone wrong.
II II II
The tree had not escaped the devastation entirely unscathed; the tops of it's branches had been sheared by the fires of the war that had taken the city, and parts of its barks had been ripped away by the battles. But it was still clearly alive, and a functioning shelter.
Makil placed Jur'Tera near the roots. The Antillion scuttled forward, tapping its antennas on surface in a pattern that the human could not make out. Moments later, other Antillions emerged from the roots of the tree, their antennas waggling.
"Thank you, Makil," said one. "We owe you our gratitude for rescuing our friend."
"No need for that, Del'Agassi," replied Makil, grinning. "I have to get moving, where's our side of the shelter?"
"Two clicks north of here," answered the Antillion Del'Agassi. "You better hurry, they're closing in. You know the codes?"
"I do, thank you," answered Makil. He looked over at Jur'Tera. "Look after yourself, Jur. I'll see you soon…"
Makil was cut off when explosion, too close, erupted just north of their location. Makil's face whitened.
"No…"
They could hear the sounds of battle, the screams and the roar of the monstrous weapons the warriors of the Imperium wielded.
"They've gotten to the shelter!" said Jur'Tera, antennas waggling in alarm. "Hurry, Makil, we can still hide you here…"
"No, there's no time," said Makil grimly. "I have to get out of here, if not they'll find you."
"No, Makil," said Jur'Tera, alarm evident even through the toneless warble of his voice modulator. "We won't abandon you! Come, we'll protect you!"
"No, Jur," said Makil gently, reaching out a finger to the Antillion. "I can't put you all at risk. I'll go and distract them. Lure them away from here. You all hide."
"Makil, no…"
"Live, Jur," said Makil, smiling. "I'll always treasure our friendship. May your Hive prosper forever."
The Antillion looked up at him, antennas gently brushing the tips of his finger. "Thank you for everything, Makil. May you live to see the blue skies of Terra once more."
Makil nodded. "Go on, now."
Without looking back, Makil ran north, as fast as he could. Tears fell down his cheeks as he ran.
It wasn't fair. All they wanted was to go back to Terra, all they wanted was to stand under the blue skies of their birthworld again. All they wanted was to share the beauty of Terra with the friends that had saved them a long time ago.
Why did the Imperium see fit to destroy them all because the Wanderers chose to stand by that friendship?
Helpless to do anything about it, Makil cursed the Imperium's extremism.
On the periphery of his sight, he could see his people firing their weapons against giants in monstrous blue armour. A focused fire from their energy-based weapon tore one of the hulking monsters apart, but the others descended on the defenders. The sounds of their screams and limbs being ripped apart caused bile to rise in Makil's throat even as he ran.
He could saw more of his people up ahead, firing into the enemy. One of them spotted him and beckoned.
"Quick, boy! Take cover under…"
A dark shadow swooped from above.
All of a sudden, there was a white blinding light, and when it faded, Makil found the world upside down. His legs were screaming in pain, but that wasn't possible, for when he looked down at them, they were gone. Blood gushed from the hideous stumps where his knees used to be.
Makil laid back, and let the agony drown him.
II II II
The battle was over. The defenders were beaten, and the survivors rounded up. Deor was perched on a pile of rubble, the Storm Eagle's sharp eyes keeping watch as Gwaine surveyed the battle scene. A few of his men were inside the enemy shelter, mopping up any remaining resistance, and an Apothecary was kneeling over their lone fallen comrade, harvesting his gene-seed so that his death would not be wasted. They had slain hundreds of the enemy today, and had lost only one battle-brother, it was as successful a battle as Gwaine could hope for, given the enemy's advanced technology and weaponry.
So why did Gwaine not feel victorious?
He trudged through the ruins, his glaive in one hand and his helmet in the other. He surveyed the alien architecture, beautiful even in their ruined state, even in their xenos design. The destruction looked like the work of melta-weaponry, which had morphed the once beautiful living structure into a beautiful corpse of what it used to be.
It was almost poetic.
A soft groan reached Gwaine's ears.
Following the sound, he found a young man on the ground. No, not even a man, just a boy. His legs were gone, likely from the explosion of the battle, and the paleness of his face, evident even under the grime covering his skin, along with the slowing blood flowing from the stumps that used to be his legs, told Gwaine that he did not have long. Thrusting his glaive into the ground, Gwaine knelt beside the boy, cradling his head.
"What's your name?" asked Gwaine.
The boy's eyes shifted to him, unseeing, the life fading with every drop of blood he was losing. "Ma…Makil…"
"Makil, we'll get you aid," said Gwaine softly. "Just hold on, you'll live through this."
It was a lie. The boy was too far gone for even the Apothecaries to save him. But Gwaine was still human, and he understood that people wanted to be comforted in their final moments. He hoped the boy would be able to take comfort in the lie.
Makil smiled, tears streaming from his unseeing eyes, leaving trails down his grimy face. "It's not fair…we…we just wanted…to go home…"
The spark of life left his eyes.
Gwaine sighed and closed the boy's eyes. He laid him down gently on the ground. One of his men approached from behind.
"Report." ordered Gwaine without turning his head.
"Resistance wiped out. Survivors being taken to holding points."
Gwaine nodded. "Then we're finished here. Back to the command centre."
Taking his glaive, Gwaine strode away, leaving Makil behind in the blasted ruins of his home. The ghost of his last smile was still etched on the boy's face, as beautiful as the dead buildings around him.
II II II
Smoke rose from the last great fortress of Rohal III. The defenders' resistance was still fierce but crumbling under the onslaught of the Storm Eagles and Luna Wolves.
Asghar surveyed the battle, his mind effortlessly taking in the updates of not only the battle before him, but the battle ongoing throughout the Wanderer/Antillion solar system. The White Scars had taken much of the outer worlds, burning Antillion hives and slaying all Wanderer resistance, while ensuring no escape. The Iron Warriors were taking the middle worlds, methodically breaking down all resistance. The Luna Wolves and Storm Eagles were taking the core worlds, where the enemy's main command was located. It was a simultaneous attack, designed to overwhelm and crush the enemy's ability to respond.
The battle had been won long ago.
Yet, the Wanderers and Antillions continued to resist. When the core worlds had fallen, the Wanderers had smashed their ships into the Imperial fleet in a suicide attack, destroying many ships and damaging even more.
It was only later that they learned the all-important terraforming technology were aboard those same ships. The Mechanicus contingent had been furious, and even Horus had looked grim at the news. The Wanderers had chosen to deny the same technology they had eagerly offered earlier to the Imperium. All semblance of order for the Wanderer/Antillion resistance had long been crushed, and yet they kept on fighting. So they had decided to deny the Imperium the one great valuable thing the Imperium could have gained from this bloody conquest.
Overwhelmed as they were, the Wanderers and Antillions kept fighting.
It was frustrating, it was admirable.
It was a damned tragedy.
The Wanderers were humans. Brave, cunning and devoted to Terra. They would have been excellent additions to the Imperium of Mankind. They should be standing alongside their brothers in the Imperium, not fighting them to the death in defence of some…insects.
Asghar noted Gwaine's arrival and report, but it hardly mattered at this point. Instead, he gave voice to the frustration within him.
"Why do they keep fighting us, Gwaine?" he asked.
Gwaine tilted his head. "Pardon?"
"The battle is lost. Compliance is nigh. But still they fight. They should know their defeat is inevitable. But they still keep throwing away lives. Why?"
Gwaine smiled bitterly. "Would we do any differently, if we were in their place?"
"They fight us, their brethren, to the bitter end to protect xenos?" growled Asghar, incredulity in his voice.
"Xenos to us," answered Gwaine. "But to them, the closest of friends."
"It is an affront to the Emperor's edict," said Asghar, shaking his head.
"It is," said Gwaine. "But it is no different than what we would do. We would fight to the bitter end to protect out people, wouldn't we?"
Asghar looked at the Lightning Rider. "You sound like you admire them, Gwaine."
"I do. I admire their loyalty to their comrades," said Gwaine. "As misplaced as it is. But the end is near, as you said."
Asghar shook his head again. "Yes, it is. Let's see it through."
II II II
The remaining survivors were herded into the courtyard of the fortress. Some three thousand ragged and exhausted survivors. They still carried their arms, but did not look keen to escalate the conflict any further.
Asghar felt the same way.
He had repeatedly called on them to surrender even as they fought and finally, they had decided to open talks. Their general, a grizzled veteran named Balak who had lost an eye during the conflict, stood at the forefront of his men, looking haggard but grimly resigned to the turn of events.
"You understand the terms?" asked Asghar.
"Yes," growled the general, glaring contemptuously at Asghar. "We will surrender to your commander-in-chief, and you will cease further aggression on my people."
Asghar nodded. He thumbed his vox bead, receiving updates on Lord Horus's arrival. He turned to look at Balak again. He had meant to stay silent, but something in him behooved Asghar to speak.
"You could have saved more lives if you had surrendered sooner."
The general snorted. "And let you massacre the Antillions?"
"You sacrificed your lives to protect xenos," snapped Asghar. "This war didn't need to happen."
"No, it didn't," replied Balak. "We chose to honour the friendship we extended the Antillions millennia ago. You could have respected that and left us well alone."
"You would have given up returning to Terra?"
"The Antillions saved our people when we were on the verge of death," snapped Balak. "Yes, we would have. But we would not have given up. We have tried to find away to compromise, to work together with the Imperium. But the moment we refused, you gave us an ultimatum: abandon our friends or die with them. You gave us no chances. You forced us to fight!"
Balak broke out into a coughing fit. "We Wanderers have stood side by side with the Antillions for generations. If they are to die, we would die with them."
"But you fought to the bitter end to help them escape," said Asghar, shaking his head. "Your efforts were futile. They will never escape the Iron Warriors or the White Scars. You threw your lives away for nothing."
"Maybe. But we stood by the ones who stood with us in hour of need," answered Balak. "Say what you will, kinslayer. But we die with a clear conscience."
Asghar have the general a hard look, before turning away. Gwaine, who had been observing from the sight, could only admire Balak's courage. Beside him stood Master Adalgrim, Captain of the Storm Eagles' 9th Company. His stony face revealed his distaste for the current situation.
The time ticked by as they waited for Horus's arrival. Even though the courtyard was occupied by the three thousand Wanderers and a thousand Astartes, it was silent and tense.
Which was broken by the arrival of the Justaerin.
The elite squad of the Luna Wolves' First Company was led by Ezekyle Abaddon, the First Captain of the Legion. He and his squad were drenched in the blood of both humans and Antillions. The tension heightened with their arrival as Balak and the surviving Wanderers tightened their grips on their weapons.
Abaddon removed his helm as he approached Asghar. Both First Captains stood eye to eye in their Terminator Power Armour.
"You've taken the fort before I could arrive," he said. "I'm disappointed I didn't get to fight here."
"Looks like you found plenty of fighting," replied Asghar, eyeing the gore on Abaddon's armour.
Abaddon smiled grimly. "Their insect pets are tenacious. But I think we got them all."
"Animals!" shouted someone from among the Wanderers.
"Beasts! Murderers!"
"Quiet!" shouted Balak, raising his hand even as he glared at Abaddon with undisguised hatred. Abaddon's lips curled at the sight of them.
"You Storm Eagles have always been soft," said Abaddon. Gwaine immediately bristled but Adalgrim immediately gripped his shoulder to calm him down.
"Our duty is bring all stands of Mankind together, Abaddon," answered Asghar evenly. "Not to mindlessly slaughter everyone who resists."
Abaddon sneered. "Fancy talk considering what you lot did on Giant's Land."
Asghar's eyes flashed.
"That's enough, Ezekyle."
Hastur Sejanus strode into sight with the men of the Luna Wolves' 4th Company. He moved to stand between Asghar and Abaddon, undaunted by the two hulks in Terminator armour towering over him.
"Remember that Asghar is here as representative of Lord Thorondor," said Sejanus to Abaddon. "Treat him with the same respect."
Abaddon huffed and turned away. Sejanus turned to Asghar. "I apologise for that, Asghar."
Asghar nodded. "Never mind that, what's Lord Horus' estimated time of arrival?"
"Not long now, he should almost be here…"
They heard the roaring sound of the approaching Stormbirds. They looked up just in time to see the lead Stormbird, the one with Horus in it, erupt into flames. It flew overhead and crashed into the smoking fortress.
The silence stretched for a heartbeat.
Then chaos ensued.
"Treachery!" roared Abaddon. "They killed Lupercal!"
Without hesitation, he and Justaerin charged at the Wanderers, along with members of the Luna Wolves 4th Company.
"No, stop!" roared Asghar, but he was drowned out by the mayhem. Balak and his men, seeing the charging Astartes, open fired without hesitation.
"Damn it!" roared Asghar even as Gwaine and Adalgrim gave the order to attack. "Stop them! Stop them!"
"Who?" snapped Gwaine.
Who indeed? The decision was made for Asghar when a Wanderer's shot bounced off his armour.
"Damn it all!" roared Asghar as he opened fire on the Wanderers.
Barely ten minutes later, all the Wanderers were dead. Balak laid among his men, his features almost unrecognisable from the number of bolt-gun blasts that tore through him. Asghar looked down at his corpse, breathing heavily.
This was not honourable. This was not what how warriors should act. Shame coursed through him. He had shamed Lord Thorondor. His lord had charged him to ensure minimal loss of human life, and instead, he had done the opposite. Looking around at the dead Wanderers, he saw Abaddon howling with rage as he stood over a pile of their dead.
Rage took Asghar. It overwhelmed his usually cool head. But the frustration of the campaign, the shame of his failure, the sight of Abaddon howling like frenzied beserker…
It was all too much for him
Blood thundering through his veins, Asghar marched through the men, shoving aside Luna Wolves as he made a beeline towards Abaddon. Gwaine and Adalgrim hurried forward.
"Asghar, stop," said Adalgrim trying to restrain him along with Gwaine. But in his Terminator power armour, Asghar shrugged them off effortlessly. Sejanus saw him coming and tried to stop him but Asghar swatted him aside effortlessly. Abaddon looked up just in time as Asghar backhanded him, sending the the Luna Wolves' First Captain crashing onto a pile of Wanderer corpses. The Justaerin immediately raised their weapons at Asghar, and the Storm Eagles immediately responded in kind.
"Hold! Hold!" roared Gwaine, raising his glaive high to make sure he got everyone's attention. Sejanus was doing the same for the Luna Wolves.
Abaddon rose slowly, his eyes narrowing dangerously at Asghar.
"You impulsive, murderous, bastard!" roared Asghar, moving towards Abaddon, but Adalgrim, along with members of Asghar's First Squad, swiftly restrained him. "You massacred them! They were about to surrender!"
"They killed Lupercal!" roared Abaddon, stomping forward towards Asghar. He came to a halt when he suddenly found the blade of Gwaine's glaive resting against his throat.
"That's far enough, Abaddon," Gwaine warned. Abaddon snarled at him.
"Enough! Enough!" roared Sejanus, moving to separate them.
Just as it looked like a war was about to break out between the Storm Eagles and Luna Wolves, a voice boomed out over the field.
"That is enough!"
The gravity of the voice made everyone turned. Horus was staring down at them, his armour scratched and scorched from the crash, but he was otherwise unharmed. He strode down towards them.
"That is enough," he said again.
Slowly, everyone lowered their weapons. Abaddon moved forward to kneel before Horus.
"My lord…we thought you were lost…"
Asghar strode forward. "First Captain Abaddon attacked prisoners of war who were prepared to surrender, Lord Horus. He has violated our code of conduct and perpetrated excessive brutality! He must be court-martialed!"
"They attacked Lord Horus!" snarled Abaddon.
"We don't know that!" roared Asghar. "It could have been the Antillions!"
"It was."
Both Asghar and Abaddon looked up at Horus. The Primarch of the Luna Wolves was holding up a charred corpse of an Antillion.
"Suicide attack, they caused an internal explosion on my ship," said Horus. He smiled a little. "Luckily, it'll take a little more than that to kill me."
"You…"
Asghar rounded around and threw a punch right at Abaddon. For the second time, the First Captain hit the ground, spitting his teeth out. Asghar stormed forward. "You murdering son of a…"
"Asghar, stop!" ordered Horus, restraining the enraged First Captain of the Storm Eagles.
"He caused unnecessary deaths!" snarled Asghar, quite beside himself. Gwaine and Adalgrim were staring at him in shock and even Horus looked surprised. "He must be court-martialed!"
"Asghar, Abaddon lost control when he thought I was killed," said Horus. He touched Asghar on the shoulder. "Ask yourself, what would you do if you thought Thorondor had been killed by the enemy."
Asghar growled. "I would have strove to uphold the ideals the Storm Lord preached to me."
Horus nodded. "Admirable. But not everyone is as strong as you. Leave Ezekyle to me, I will discipline him as necessary."
Asghar looked at Horus, still angry. But he mastered his anger and got himself under control. "Very well, my lord."
He glared at the snarling Abaddon. "But make no mistake, Lord Thorondor will hear of this."
With that, Asghar marched off. Gwaine and Adalgrim fell into step behind him.
"This was a damned mess," muttered Adalgrim.
"No, Master," said Asghar without turning. "This was a damned tragedy. I don't know how I can face Lord Thorondor after this."
He stopped and turned to look at them. For the first time every Gwaine saw anguish on Asghar's face.
"We were supposed to bring this system into Compliance," said Asghar. "Instead, we destroyed everything. What am I supposed to tell him, Gwaine?"
Gwaine shook his head. "It would have been the same if our lord was here. It wouldn't change a thing."
He smiled sadly at Asghar. "He'd be feeling exactly the way you do right now."