Chapter seven.
Four shadows raced across the surface of the Capital, the sounds of their thunderous engines turning the heads of every infected we passed over. Inside the dim lit bay targeting data and rune coded information danced across my vision, absorbed and filed away, last minute reports of the enemy we went to fight. My vision passed the information feed to the guardsman that stood and sat in the room. Every hand here gripped a lasgun tight.
They might be wracked with nervousness, but for me it's just quiet. The roar of the engines is muffled by my helmet, the vibrations suffocated by the softer material of my armor. My eyes danced across their faces. Determination, fear. It depended on the soldier, but nobody complained, there was no begging for safety. I felt a bit of pride for these men then, they had proven here, in a war not for their own homeland, they could be strong. It didn't stop the smell of sweat from getting through my opened air filtrations.
Beside me, Sargents Diago, Brovalic and Kurko stood, their squads being those chosen to lead the different raiding parties. Their numbers crowded the hold, each kitted out in basic flack gear, weapons set to a medium charge, holding the shoulder of those around them as the thunderhawk moved.
It wasn't the first I had reminded myself that I needed the production of heavier weaponry before my next war. I could only speculate at how much a single heavy bolter might have changed things, no less a dozen.
"Five seconds." Came over the speakers above our heads, my hand rising to grip the release to the door.
"Today we strike a true blow against our enemy, the Emperor is with those who fight in his name." Brovalic raised his head from prayer and grinned, he was missing a tooth after his last mission.
"He is always watching Chapter Master!" That got a cheer from those inside the hold, all devout followers of the church.
"For the Emperor!" We roared before the thunderhawk mounted heavy bolters stole our cry and the door slammed down, flooding the bay with light and noise as we charged forward.
The assault on the ore refinery had begun. True to the Warehouse Masters words the structure had been fortified, piles of rubble formed makeshift walls that surrounded the entrance. The building itself was massive and domelike, a wide round roof spread over its top, filled with industrial pipes that no longer belched black smog into the air. Nobody knew how thick it was. On the far side of the complex a huge plume of smoke was carried up and blown away by the day's fierce wind.
While their forces moved to check on the explosion we launched our attack, flying low over the city until the last movement, thunderhawks blowing away huge chunks of their defenses.
Bits of lasfire flashed from the walls toward the dozen squads that were charging alongside me. The return fire was fierce, blocks blown to shards from overheating. There was no faltering in our steps, my pace matching the wall of loyalists as came crashing over their barricades, a wave of fury and bayonets. My first blood of the day came from a mortal woman, her teeth blackened and boils growing over her face. She screamed her hate for me up until the moment my blade took her head.
The soldiers of Tarth were just as quick, combat knives rising and falling upon their foes, emptying powerpacks into the fleeing cultist.
These cowards fell back into the cover right outside the entrance. Sandbags filled with crushed ore and rock. Dark plumes of metal dust rose as bolt shells impacted the heavy sacks. Lasround shots heated them, catching their cloth sacks aflame as it melted and poured down the sides. Some were unfortunate enough to have been injured and laid up. They screamed as it flowed over them, helpless to get away.
The men didn't flinch, keeping up our advance until we entered the structure proper, boring walls of steel rising a dozen meters above our heads. A large industrial claw ran along the ceiling, a crate still held in its grasp. The room was large enough for most of the squads to gather inside. My gaze flickered to the side when my three Sargent's stood and waited to be addressed.
"Our mission is the death of the cult leader and his council members, no matter what you see, what you hear, hold the Emperor close, and make these heretics pay." They saluted and returned to relay the information to the others. Few of them knew their orders before this moment, the actual reason they had mounted up at all was for a mission that didn't exist. Even orders for most the pilots had been changed mid flight. It was a ruse that Micheal had asked us to perform, keeping the fact we were striking until the last moments. He feared a spy among the ranks, squads that had been ambushed and cut down to nothing.
Said Inquisitor stepped up beside me, followed by his acolytes? Slaves? I couldn't be sure how all of them had come into his service.
"Your soldiers fight well Chapter Master." Behind Micheal his anterague were fitted for war. I still only knew Groda. The man was covered head to toe in heavy carapace armor, a hot-shot held in his hands. He hoisted the weapon up vented heat. His voice was slightly muffled by the helmet he wore.
"It's been too long since I've seen an Adeptus Astartes fight." I raised an eyebrow.
"When did you fight with my brothers last?" It was always good to hear what my cousins were doing out in the galaxy.
"On Yallik 4. Imperial Fists, from the symbols. They are a stoute bunch." I couldn't help but agree. The sons of Dorn were renowned for it.
"I hope to be a match for your expectations." He seemed almost surprised, the way his helmet stilled for a moment. I turned away from them all and started into a dark hallway, bright as the day with my augmentations. Down a handful of other passages the guardsman advanced, a multi pronged attack. We had to ensure the enemy leader couldn't escape.
I stepped beyond a corner and was hit by a dozen shots, red energy crackling against my ceramite. I moved behind the corner, Groda hefting his weapon in preparation. I gave him a nod and stepped back out, the hall filling with enemy fire in moments. I let my bolt pistol roar, ripping the traitors to shreds. One in the back tried to throw a grenade, but Groda shot his hand off, the pin already pulled. For a horrified moment the cultist looked down at the explosive and then at us, consumed by the blast a second later.
More boots thudded off the walls and we were forced back into a fight, other members of our party opening fire. For almost twenty minutes we broke through barrier after barrier, leaving broken corpses in our wake. As we battled further into the building the corruption of our foes grew, some show bloating or nubs growing from skulls and spines.
"You fight just as well as your brothers did my lord." I reloaded my pistol, letting the empty magazine fall to the floor with a thunk.
"I'm glad I match up." The soldier's helm turned to me for a moment to respond but his words died on his lips when we entered the next chamber. Cages, stacked up to the ceiling, each empty. Shit and piss ran down their rusting bars, the ones at the bottom completely covered. Most of those without protection gagged at the smell. My eyes trailed the trail of it that was smeared onto the floor and leading to the next room.
"I wonder how many rooms just like this." Micheal spoke aloud, observing the place for all it was worth.
"It's disgusting." A woman's voice sounded next and I turned to look at the speaker. She was of average height for a mortal, long dark hair and weary brown eyes, the lower half of her face covered by a rebreather.
"All the more reason for why we must hurry." Micheal said, grim face drawn longer in the dim lighting.
We continued forward, through the door and into a new set of horrors. This room held more cages, some of these filled with the thin bodies of civilians. Their faces gaunt, hands gripped bars in weak attempts at freedom. Many were dead, fat black flies infesting their flesh.
Nobody uttered a word, our pace did not falter. Glassy eyes watched us go, gasping hearts fading as we went to the next door, abandoning them in pursuit of our target. Some in our party muttered a prayer for the fallen, but I remained silent, readying my rage for the Plague Lord.
I rested a hand on the opening of a new door, our passage through the complex having taken us through three cage filled rooms. There were signatures on the other side of the door, movement that was pinging my sensorium.
I held up a hand to still the rest of the group and unclasped a grenade from my belt. In an instant I opened the creaking door and tossed the explosive inside, listening to the panicked voices as traitors dove for cover. The boom was muffled by the flesh and growth that covered the walls, in the next second we stormed into the room, weapons barking.
More traitors died under our blades, what had once been pure humans now bloated and fowl, skin turning every shade, teeth falling out or elongated. They were unaware of their suffering, powered by corruption. We put them to rest, sending their souls to be consumed by their dark masters minions. There were no cages here, just sandbags and blackened rockcrete. Lumens from the others shined, and I wondered what it had to be like, to only see what the light touched. I wondered if any of them would dare to look up, see the human skin that was sown across the ceiling.
Groda vented heat from his weapon, the end of the barrel faintly glowing from its use. He raised a boot and shoved a corpse away from a barricade, coming to stand beside me.
"These sods don't put up much of a fight do they?" I nodded in agreement. We had encountered nothing but lightly armed soldiers, just like the local PDF. Besides the rocket launcher from the raid on the Arbities station, I had never seen another heavy weapon.
We stop at a large set of double doors, filled with the hideous growths of Nurgle. Eyeballs and flesh covered what had once been pristine wood and bands of iron. Two iron rings are hooked to the doors, each rusted heavily with slime dripping from its rings. Part of me wondered if they wouldn't disintegrate into dust at a meer touch. I grasped them anyway and pulled, the hinges screaming and making some of the mortal's behind me wince in pain.
Unlike the darkness we had been in for the last twenty minutes, there was light inside the massive circular chamber we stepped into, an unnatural eerie glow that came from the growths that covered everything, expanding and retracting in random patterns. Inside the flesh that covered the floor and squished under our boots maggots writhed, a carpet of white, above them, flies swarmed thick enough to choke a man.
In the center was a shrine to the Plague God, a pyramid of pestilence and filth that stretched a dozen meters high. At its very top a massed iron cauldron sat covered in symbols of the arcane and otherworldly languages.
A platform of rusted metal sat next to the cauldron, and on that platform a large flat stone with a seven pointed star branded into its surface. A human laid atop the stone, bound in chains of intestine, he was weak, struggling fruitlessly as a bloated man stood above him, a rusted blade in hand. He was chanting in some language that I didn't know. The temperature of the room plummeted as the last syllable left his mouth, the dagger plunging downwards. I was already raising my bolt pistol when a cloud of flies swarmed my vision. I fired anyways, not needing to see my enemy. Bolts roared but found no purchase.
"Shoot him down!" Micheal yelled, but it was for naught. I could make out the squelch of flesh as the dagger found the man's heart. As I whipped the buzzing insects away all I could see were the corpses, the flesh on the floor moved and twisted, rising to their feet.
"I told you before Micheal, any time you bring along that crystal, the mission always goes wrong." Groda grounded out as hundreds of undead shambled forward.
"Mention it again and I might have you shot." The Inquisitor snapped back.
"What you said last time." The soldier started, and then hell broke loose. Micheal and I went forward, dismembering as we went. His acolytes pulled weapons from robes and opened fire, everything from bolt pistols to a melta gun. I didn't have time to question where he had gotten that before they were upon us in earnest.
My second sword joined the first, lighting dancing down the edges, cutting a crackling path through the zombies. There was little they could do to me, elbows thrown at heads were just as effective as any blade to such weak foes. But I didn't push out, instead holding ground for the others as we fell back into the last room. At the doors we resumed our defence, funneling the monsters into lines of red laser and melta fire. Even from meters away I could feel its heat, everything the woman shot at was reduced to charred ashes. The vox in my ear crackled, it was Sergeant Diago.
"My lord, we believe we have found the missing nobles from the palace. We," His voice paused for a second, my suit dampening the sounds of the hundred hungry corpses grasping for the flesh behind me.
"We found the cages, but these civilians are different, better clothed, fed. Should I have a team take them to the thunderhawks?" I swung my blade in a wide around in front of me, buying a moment of peace.
"Have them tested by Medicea as soon as they arrive." Beside me Micheal grasped a grenade and threw it deep into the horde, walking backwards confidently besides the flesh eating monsters a meter away.
"Yes my lord." Then it was back to slaying, the Inquisitor firing his pistol as Groda put down a punishing wave of red. Underfoot the squelching flesh changed to wrongly colored stone. As we retreated back through the room of cages, those inside were not spared the infecteds attention, ripped apart and pulled in chunks from their holdings. I may not have believed the Emperor a god, but I muttered a quick prayer for their souls all the same, my lips curled in a snarl as dozens of the monsters paused to greedily shove hands and flesh down gaping maws. We slayed and slayed, didn't seem to matter, more came, a sea of yellow eyes chasing us through the chambers and dark hallways.
For a moment I almost thought we would get out unscathed, but then a roar came from the darkness, something larger, something darker. I couldn't see it yet, but I could hear its footsteps, crushing and thudding from several rooms away.
"Get ready, something is coming." I spat from my vox grill, beside me the Inquisitor nodded and issued orders to his followers. Another minute of frantic melee insured, the bodies piling up in front of us in a wall of maggot infused flesh, flies buzzed around our faces. Still they came, crawling over their fellows until almost the entire hallway had been blocked by their corpses. The thudding was closer now, just on the other side of the mound of destroyed flesh.
The corpses explode outwards, an abomination of mutation and muscle barreling through the bodies and into our ranks. Faster than any of the mortals could react I cut a goudge in its flesh as it bull rushed past me, but it did nothing to stop its rampage. Two seconds later and one acolyte was dead, chest caved inwards, blood and metal dripping from the monster's massive meaty hands.
An undead and mutated Ogryn slowly turned to face the rest of us, its lips curled in a savage grin, flem and mucus flying from its mouth as it roared again, making a few of the mortals wince from the noise.
I held no such weakness, and brought my bolt pistol up to blow away at the monster's head. Before I could fire it charged and brought its arms up to guard its face, slapping aside another unfortunate acolyte. Chunks of its arms were blown away before it was upon me, forcing me back as I ducked away from its clumsy swings. Rockcrete shards flew were it impacted the walls and floor, my blade cutting away at its flesh, but unable to find true purchase.
The beast lunged at me and I stepped back again only to get grasped by the waiting hands of the few remaining undead. They grasped at my form, unable to tear me down but enough to put me off balance.
The undead Ogryn landed a single blow into my chestplate, the ceramite cracking and Adamantium plating stressing under the hammer strike. Blood came out from my mouth as my fused ribs cracked, thrown back into a horde of infected, covered in rotted scratching forms.
The Inquisitor rallies those left, unleashing a salvo of fire upon the beasts back. It roared again, flesh cooking and bubbling as the meltagun ate away at its form. Twin hearts beating, chasing one another in their tempo I surged to my feet, ripping myself away from the zombies and grasped my blades to do battle once more.
The Ogryn reached towards some of the rubble and roared in effort, throwing it at another acolyte, he had no time to dodge, crushed between the slap and the wall. Such was the force he was cut in half, blood dribbling from his mask as his legs detached and crumpled to the floor. He would be the last to die. Distracted by the fire I descended upon the beast and took its arms as it reached for more projectiles.
It bellowed and charged me, loosing its head as I step back from the crazed bull charge. It sinks into the mounds of souped flesh, a puppet with its strings cut.
The mortals are breathing heavy, Micheal looking around to see who remained alive. Grota and his protege were alive, if slightly injured from flying shards. I stepped forward to the Inquisitors side.
"Are you injured?" Visually I could see no wounds, but I wanted to make sure.
"I'm fine, as are the others. Riftan and Nakaro however." I gave a passing glance to the corpses and nodded.
"They died good deaths, in service to their Emperor. We need to go, we might have failed to kill the enemy leader, but we have the Imperial Governor back. You must see him." The Inquisitor nodded and we left, only Groda stopping long enough to take the pendants of the Inquisition off his dead comrades.
Micheal winced a bit at the sunlight as we made our way outside, not a cloud to be seen, only the smoke from the still burning promethium tanks we had blown up to cause a distraction.
Nearby a pile of both loyalist PDF and Tarthian bodies burned, ensuring our own men couldn't be used against us in the future. Three squads had been whipped out, none had escaped without losses. I wanted to give the men time to finish their task, but that was something we did not have to spare. The enemy would be coming, and we had to make back to the safety of our walls.
Micheal went to find the Imperial Governor and see how damaged his mind was after a month of being held at the whims of the enemy. Personally I didn't hold much hope for it. I had seen men come back from prison camps of Chaos. None had been able to return to any kind of normal life. Even after a mind wipe. Much less be trusted to lead a world with its capital city under quarantine.
As the Inquisitor's cloak shifted stilled dust Sargent Diago walked up alone. His face was covered in smeared blood, uniform tattered, but otherwise unharmed. He saluted before starting his report. His voice was flat and dead.
"We lost forty seven men, my lord, and two officers. Charges have been placed like you instructed, we can bring the building down whenever you order." I couldn't help the way my eyes flicked over the man's uniform and to the smell that drifted from the cantina secured on his belt.
It smelt of recaff, and something stronger.
"We will blow the charges as soon as we leave Sargent," I paused for a moment as he held out a remote detonator and held up a hand. "You should be the one to do it, your men held back the brunt of the enemy soldiers so we could strike at the heart, it is only right." He looked down at the device in his hand and I knew it wouldn't do anything to bring back his dead comrades, but it might make him feel like their deaths had not been in vain.
"Thank you, my lord. I can only hope those bastards still inside die aren't crushed all in one go. They should suffer first." His anger was almost a palatable thing, his hands went to being clasped behind his back, but his frame was taunt and rigid. It made me pause for a moment, and while I had never done so before, I asked him what was on his mind. The lives of guardsmen had never truly affected me before, they fought and died, sometimes holding the line and sometimes not. But these were not any guardsmen, these were mine.
"It's nothing my lord, just a few losses within the squad. Makes you think about death a bit is all." Whatever Diago had seen in the dark shook him.
"When do you think the war will be over." The question caught me off guard, haggard brown eyes looking into the lenses of my helm. He wasn't wrong in asking. It was something I had asked every time the sun had risen over the plague gripped city. There were less infected being seen in the streets, we had just struck a blow against the enemy leader. In most conflicts, that would mean we were winning. It was not always so with Chaos.
"I don't know," I answered honestly, watching his face harden, expecting the answer. For a moment we stood in silence, the man shifting his weight from foot to foot, but before he would leave, I continued. "But I hope it will be soon."
He looked up at me and undid the clasp on his cantine, a soft snapping as the metal released and he drank deeply. The scuff of boots had me looking up, a soldier of his squad standing a few meters away, eager to speak to his superior, but unwilling to interrupt us.
"I have other duties to see too, as I'm sure you do as well. This will be over in the coming days Diago, just keep faith." He saluted as I turned off to find the Inquisitor. He and a medicea trooper were kneeling in front of the Imperial Governor.
The medic was using his tools to check the man for infection. The Governor made no move to stop him, gazing upwards in wonder. The medic, years of ingrained social rules drilled into his head, was careful not to prick too harshly, damaged or not, the man was still an Imperial Lord. A lord that Micheal was having a hard time getting to respond.
"Lord Yearta," Micheal said, voice filled with the start of irritation. "Lord Yearta do you know where you are?" The lords brown eyes slowly rose to look upon the Inquisitors face, the faintest bit of recognition making him rock back. The fine clothes he had once worn were now tarnished and disgusting, a crown of what looked like finger bones sat sown into his scalp. The medic had yet to ask about that.
"Outside." The lord's voice rasped, from lack of use or some affliction I couldn't know. He turned his face upwards and basked in the light.
Instead of trying to coax more out of the confused mortal Micheal pushed himself up from where he crouched, taking a few steps back until he stood beside me.
"It's better than I expected to be honest." I glanced down at him, a data-slate in his hand. On it were the names of as many missing nobles as he could find. For every noble he found alive, he took their names off the list.
"It seemed the enemy kept this lot away from the worst of his rituals. I'm simply pleased there are no monsters here." I couldn't help but agree with that. As much trouble as the infected may have been causing us, a horde of deamons would have been far worse to both body and mind.
"Are they salvageable?" The Inquisitor shrugged.
"Perhaps, but with him saved the other lords will be pushing for the same question to be answered. If he's unfit to rule…" The data-slate in his hands was placed into a satchel at his side, hands then resting on his hips.
"The best course is to see if this one," He pointed to the Imperial Governor, who was tugging the sleeve of the medicea and asking for more drugs. "Is fit to lead the planet again, if not then somebody has to be put in charge. Order must be restored."
I had no way of knowing how much work the man was doing behind the scenes. I very rarely had given thought to mortal politics during my time in my old Chapter. It was only with my new role as a Chapter Master of a memberless Clan that I had been forced to weight in so often.
"Irvecido?" I questioned, and Micheal sighed.
"Perhaps, we've discussed him before but there other who would be most displeased if he came into power." He tilted his head back and forth, thinking about something for several seconds before nodding to himself.
"Not that it matters, as long as Irvecido can hold his power and get the planet back into shape then its fine." He glanced at me for a moment, parroting my words back at me. I couldn't tell if it was again him trying to find common ground between us, or mockery.
"How long are we going to give this one to clean up?" I motioned to the now possibly removed Planetary Governor." The Inquisitor tilted his head once more and then finally turned on his heel and started to walk away.
"None, I will go and make the preparations for Irvecido to take power. It should only take me a week or so to get it done." Only a week to see a new lord over a planet, including all the threats and possible bribes it would take. I had a feeling it would be mostly threats.
"I will continue my war here. I wish you success, Inquisitor." He nodded back to me and left, his Acolytes in tow. One of them, the woman with the Melta gun, turned as they walked away. Features covered by a thick hood, a necklace with the blocky symbol of the Inquisition swinging from around her neck, clattering off the battleplate. It seemed Micheal already had an apprentice of his own.
Finally it was time for us to leave, sensors on the thunderhawks warning us of incoming life signs. The enemy was rallying, coming to take back their fortress. We loaded up into the thunderhawks, far more room this time around than the last and flew a hundred meters away before Diago pressed the detonator.
Entire sections of the roof, thinner metal than I had expected, were sent hurtling skywards, rockcrete and flesh blasted in every direction. With a rumbling that we heard inside the thunderhawks the building sunk in on itself, dust blowing outwards in a massive wave, covering entire districts in debris. It was a blow against our enemy, taking away their headquarters, but it was not the victory we had come for.
The enemy lord would still need to be hunted down, only his death could resolve this conflict. I turned my attention from the explosion and to the survivors that crowded the hold of the thunderhawk. Many of them were being helped in some fashion, either supported physically, their muscles not enough to keep them upright from the weight forced upon them by our craft. Others were given water, or food, mumbling prayers of thanks to the Emperor of Mankind.
When the doors opened back at the palace there were teams of soldiers whose duty it was to see to the survivors. It wasn't glamorous work, but the risk of spreading infection was great, the men who watched them knew how important the duty was.
Spare blankets were handed out and more food and water was given. More checks for infection were carried out, and then they were escorted to chambers set for sleeping. Nearby Sosa and Vovek stood with their own groups of officers who assisted them in their day to day duties of organizing and managing the war. Each of them was looking at me with thinly veiled tension, wondering if it was over, if the dying and the screaming that came in the night was finished.
I shook my head, the last bits of drying black blood dripping from my armor. They didn't let their faces fall, didn't make any response but to nod and wait as I strode over to them. The half crescent of the palace yard had changed. The grass and stone work had been mostly torn away, giving way to landing strips, stacks of steel crates and rows of tents used by mechanics, spare parts and cans of oil strewn across metal tables.
"My lord, I'm glad you've returned safely." Sosa handed me a data-slate as he spoke, giving me a short report on what had happened while I was gone. His eyes lingered for a few seconds on the fist like indent that was the remains of my breastplate, but said nothing about it.
Before we could continue onwards one of the more stable prisoners we had found, this one a priest, a staff of rusting iron gripped into gnarled hands. He as weak and feeble, but using his staff moved passed the troopers trying to get him into the palace. I turned to him, slightly confused when I saw the look in his eyes. There was madness there, but if it was for the Emperor, or something else, I could not tell.
"You are the one who saved us." He said in a raspy voice, hand coming out to reach up and trace the Aquila that was now smashed to pieces. He looked up at me, decaying teeth stretching into a smile.
"You are not blessed like the others, you do not have the gift." The others around me exchanged glances at the strange words, but I looked to the trooper behind the man and nodded, who helped guide him away. He turned his head back to look at me and crackled.
"Not blessed, not blessed." He rambled in a high pitch, laughing to himself as he went away. I looked down at my ruined breastplate and knew I needed to have it repaired. The ramblings of the old priest were less important to me. So I ignored them, spending only a short time to give new orders to my commanders, hunts for the Plague Lord had to continue, soldiers who had sunk themselves deep into the city would report back at any mention.
Instead my boots echoed off the stone walls of the palace once more, filling with more soldiers, more saved civilians. Many bowed or muttered thanks to the Emperor as I went deeper, they saw me as a savior, even if I didn't think so myself. There had also been looting, any valuables smaller than the marble statues had been snatched up. Perhaps it was owed to them, so I didn't order the soldiers to search what few things they did have left.
In a chamber deep within the mountains I entered into the place I could repair my armor. A Mechanicus alcove, now long abandoned. I undid what bound my armor together, placing each piece on a metal table on a piece of cloth. The black blood still coated its surface, and each piece would be clean before I placed them back on.
I had little training in the ways of a Techmarine or any teachings of the Machine God, but I knew enough to ensure my battleplate and weapons were in good condition. I found I enjoyed the labors from time to time. The rhythmic pounding of tools, the gentle application of paint and wringing of metal.
I pondered once more as I often did the state of the war while I worked. Trying and failing to understand the way the enemy was waging this war. My hands gripped my tools tighter when I thought of my failure to end it right there, in that central chamber, surrounded by the filth and fowleness of the Plague God. All of my armor was taken off by now, cleaned and scrubbed for all it was worth. I'm sure somewhere the Techmarines of my old Chapter would be turning in their sleep for lack of proper ritual and purification, not that they ever did sleep much.
My thoughts turned to Tarth now, the Primarch that was growing upon its surface. How large would he be when I returned? What would become of this planet I had been placed atop off? Idea's and plans formed and were discarded, I was no true builder of worlds, no mastermind of politics or understanding of the million small gears that would ensure a successful reign. But I would do my duty. No matter where that path may be leading me. For now, that was to raise Aragorn, raise other Space Marines to inherit the place I would leave behind.
I stilled in my labors as my thoughts turned dire. It was every Marines duty to seek death on the battlefield. It was the only way for one of our kind to die. But I had never been, fearful? No, I wasn't fearful of death. I had others now beyond Battle Brothers who would suffer should I fall now. I had soldiers, a Primarch, the colonists and refugees who now lived and breathed at my orders.
Perhaps some men would revel in the feeling, the power, the responsibility. But I could only feel the weight, like sacks of rocks tied around one's shoulders, dragging me ever farther downwards.
The candles I had lit in the chamber to provide soft lighting as I worked flickered and I realized how dark my thoughts had become. Shaking myself from the stupor that had arisen within me I set about entombing myself within my armor once more, bolting and connecting each piece in its place, before finally my vision was once more the endless datastreams and targeting runes that accompanied my helm.
The destruction of the enemy base marked a strange period in the war for Rivia. The enemy seemed to lose its ability to direct the infected for a time, the wandering hordes only attacking our fortifications upon sight or sound. These were easily fought off. Instead there was an increase in the amount of traitors that pushed our ranks. Sniping from buildings as those loyal to the Emperor engaged in cat and mouse with those who had turned their backs on his Imperium.
Buildings became killing grounds as they would hunt one another around the ravenous dead, both sides now seemingly affected by their hunger. Some would be immune, those already changed by the Lord of Decay were left alone by their fallen kin, but their number was far fewer. Scouts would happily report watching traitors be taken down and eaten live, just as so many of our own had been.
As planned Lord Irvecido took power after a week. Micheal came to the palace himself to host the coronation of the now Planetary Governor. The old one, after being sent to his ship to be tested, had failed in some regard for another, and the young Inquisitor had been swift in enacting new leadership.
I cared not for how the other lords had reacted, none were able to come to the ceremony anyways. In a almost humorous turn of events, Irvecido was crowned Lord of all of Rivia in a small gathering, Micheal, myself, Colonel Vovek and Sosa were the only prominent names in attendance. His wife and children also attended, dressed in fine clothing and gems. His spouse's predatory smile could have split her face.
Micheal was the one to crown him, not an actual crown, but a golden laurel wreath he placed gently on his head. Kneeling inside the palace temple to the Emperor, the Immortal God of the Imperium watching over him, he was anointed Imperial Governor of the planet Rivia.
The ceremony was without much fanfare, but there were a few different servitors with quills scribbling down each word that was said, pictures that would be taken and printed out to hand out to the masses and messages sent to those lords who still desired the position for themselves. Not that it would matter now.
The new lord rose and repeated back his vow of service to the Emperor, confirming that he would do all in his power to see his world prosper and remain in total loyalty to his God. He then turned and addressed the assembled members, voice rising to carry through the high chamber.
"To you, my friends who have come here in this time of need of this planet, I will never forget what you have sacrificed so that today could come to pass. Together, with the authority I now wield, we will bring the end of this plague that grips our proud city." His wife exploded into a series of quick claps, face still stretched in a wide grin. The rest of us stayed silent, an annoyed gaze flickering our way for just a moment before she turned back to the front.
The Planetary Governor wasted little time coming over to me as Vovek and Sosa left for the Strategium. There had been reports they wanted to monitor.
"I'm glad you could attend Chapter Master, I know that," He paused for a moment to gesture around the room. "None of this would have happened without you. You put my name forward and that means a great deal to me. Now I am in the position to pay you back for that kindness."
"I do not need to be repaid my lord," His lips curled slightly as I addressed him, a bit of pride filtering into his eyes. I continued.
"Perhaps once the war is over we can discuss a deal between our own planets, something that would prove beneficial to both of us in the coming years." For a moment he blinked in surprise, perhaps ignorant that I too technically held the title of a Planetary Governor. Even if the planet I held had only a single city.
"I would like that, but I know you are a busy man, and I will leave you to the defense with the firm belief you will be victorious. I have letters to write." That same vicious gleam that all nobility held wormed its way onto his face and he gave me a short bow before he turned and swept towards his family. Still before the statue of the Emperor Micheal raised his head from prayer and together we started back towards the front of the palace again.
The sound of my own heavy boots thudding off the carved stone walls drowning out the softer patter of the Inquisitors fine shoes. He dressed up a bit for the coronation, and I could see the slight discomfort emanating from him being out of his wargear. He was a soldier, of that I was sure by now.
"Have you heard anything from your agents regarding the enemy leader?" He shook his head before the words had even finished falling from my mouth, reaching into a satchel at his side and pulling out a scroll. He handed it to me and I opened it, reading the contents with a glance and handing it back to him a moment later.
"I forgot you could do that." The comment surprised me, the normally all business Inquisitor making small talk.
"It is a useful skill, you only have to go through years of augmentation to acquire it." The man cracked a smile and finished placing the paper back into his satchel. The contents had been the condensed findings of his acolytes from the prisoners we had freed. Each of them had been probed for any information they had overheard. Most of it was useless, praises to Nurgle and plans for defence of locations that had already been raided. The one standard was that they were preparing for something, moving infected away from our lines for some attack that we had yet to see coming.
"Your thoughts?" I asked the mortal beside me as we passed through chambers laid full with bedrolls of soldiers. It was late in the afternoon now, a small chronometer keeping time in the upper corner of my vision. My eyes scanned the room automatically, taking in the discarded piles of boots and clothing, soldiers sitting around boxes playing cards and smoking. Half eaten bowls of food laid beside them, lamps dimmed so keep the light from waking those sleeping nearby.
I eased my footsteps as we passed through, the thudding dying off to the soft grit of ceramite on stone. It had taken me years of practice to be able to pull off such a feat, but I had no desire to wake the soldiers who put their lives on the line for a cause I had forced them into. Letting them rest was the least I could do. Many who saw us stood and made silent nods or respect, warily gazing at the Inquisitor who walked beside me. Micheal didn't answer my question until we were back into a hallway, the lights bright once again.
"I know they are planning something, of course. But all we can do for now is to continue onwards as we have. The leader has gone to ground, their base is broken. We will find him, one way or another, but it will take more time. I suggest we use that time, a luxury not often given, to shore up any defences we can in preparation of an attack."
I breathed in deep and slowly exhaled, letting my frustration bleed from me as I did. Of all the enemies of Man, Chaos was perhaps the most fowl to fight. Even Eldar, skittish as they were, would meet you on the field of battle, where champions would lock blades and a thousand untold heroics would win a day. This fighting however, holed up inside a palace with no true way to push the enemy out, to truly secure ground. It set me on edge.
"Do we have any idea where the infected have been moved to?" Micheal shook his head.
"I was wondering about that as well. If they are trying to hide them from our scouts I couldn't see the purpose. Hiding such a blunt force as their hordes will only help us move about the city and bring the fight to them. Unless they hope to draw a large section of your forces out and then swamp them inside the city." By this time we had made it outside, the sky a brilliant deep purple that cast everything in muted darkness.
"The only thing we can do then is prepare ourselves, what of the sewers? Have they been searched?" Micheal thought on that for a moment before he slowly shook his head.
"I don't believe so, but that might be something to ask your Colonel. He would be more aware of what the scouts have found than myself." We paused next to his transport and he turned to face me, the symbol of the Inquisition bouncing slightly on his chest.
"I'm headed back to the Witches Penitence for now, but I will contact you with any additional information I can gleam from the prisoners we rescued. The Emperor protects, Chapter Master." I gave him a nod and he departed, his shuttle blowing flat the already trampled grass and making dust kick up in a storm around it. Then he was off, engine light fading until it became invisible against the backdrop of the growing darkness.
Several days of nothing passed. Scouts were sent out seeking the enemy lord but found nothing. Our forces fought and died hunting through the city for civilians and traitors alike. Fewer and fewer infected had been seen in the streets, almost to the point where squads could walk through entire districts unmolested.
When the end came, it came in a crushing wave of hungering flesh.
It started with the candle in my room flickering, dancing for its life in sporadic fleeting twists and turns before it snuffed out, smoke curling up from the blacked wick in a slow lazy wisp. I set about relighting it, disturbed by frantic pounding on my door.
I expected none at this hour and grasped my weapons from their rest, hopeful it was only a critical report.
The pounding was back. Furious and desperate. It opened and Sargent Brovalic was there, one hand still raised to hit on the door, the other holding his lasgun. He was out of breath, the stench of fear and sweat heavy on his brow with flecks of blood across one cheek. The lumens were off outside. His face made hollow by the shadows.
"Infected, inside, Emperor preserves us; they got inside, they are swamping through the palace."
Shock struck me, fury and hatred making my teeth grind. But then I was moving, acting. The vox in my helmet picks up none of the signals of the palace.
Bouncing across the stone, heralds of death and ruin, screams echoed out from the darkness, overridden by the snap crack of lasgun fire.
"Why was I not informed earlier?" Struggling to keep up with my furious pace, Brovalic drew in gasping breaths before speaking.
"The vox is down my lord, they blew up the communications relays, the short ranges should work but its only static." I bit back a curse and rounded another corner, seeing flashes of red light blooming into existence. I paused to address the Sergeant.
"Get to the thunderhawks, their systems should be enough to contact the Emperor's Light in orbit." His face turned into a deep frown as he looked down the hallway.
"But my lord, my men are fighting, I need to get to them. With you on our side we can fight them off!" More flashes, a few blood chilling screams that made Brovalic's face to a snarl, but he stayed rooted on the spot. I didn't have the time to explain.
"Tell Alexander to be ready with Armsman crews. Where are Vovek and Sosa?"
"I do not know my lord, nobody knows where anybody is."
"Go to the thunderhawks, I will find a way to deal with this." He nodded and took off running, my own pace picking up as I headed deeper into the palace.
How and why rammed through my brain. The puzzle pieces had been scattered, the way made shadowed. I bit back a frustrated growl. What had I missed? What had I let slip through my fingers? How many would die tonight because of my failure.
I needed to find my officers, without them where no command, no communication, we were a sword without a wielder. I round a corner to see twenty soldiers, a mix of Tarth and Rivian, firing into a horde of pale eyes and gnashing teeth.
They were shoulder to shoulder, advancing backwards in a deliberate lockstep, the month spent fighting these hordes put well into practice. Few more soldiers stood behind, shooting through the gaps in or above their heads when the bodies started to pile up.
"Where are the Colonel's?" Boomed out from my vox grill, the soldiers standing in the back turning. Edim was there, his hooked nose having lost a bit of its length, shot off by a traitor around days before by the wound.
"We tried to push into the officers quarter my lord but the infected got there first, Vovek is in the Strategium, I can only assume Sosa is stuck somewhere in the palace." I nodded and observed the scene before me once more, scrambling for a plan.
"I will go and look for the Sosa, rally what men you can find, start evacuating the palace and ensure the enemy does not take the courtyard. Hold it at all costs." He nods and makes the salute of the Aquila before going and joining his men. I took two steps backwards, trailing my gaze upon the dying hordes before turning and pounding across the tunnels and chambers of the palace.
Everywhere I went soldiers were fighting a desperate defense, unprepared for a sudden attack from inside the walls they had slept inside for the last few weeks. I gave what small bits of assistance I could yet always sought a way through the horde. As I ran I tried to figure out what I had missed, how this could have happened.
Had they gotten in from one of the side palaces of the other nobility? Was the Planetary Governor even alive? Broiling frustration pounded under my skin, kicking my second heart into beating alongside the first. Its steady thud thud thud against my ribs matching the tempo of my run.
Everything me and my men had spent a month accomplishing, gone in a night.
Not yet, I reminded myself, there was still a chance to fix it, to find the source and close it off, purge the palace of the infected and count our losses. How much this night would set us back, the moral of the men, butchered and consumed inside the one place that had been safe.
I turned the corner, now in a far wing of the palace and finally found a place to delve deeper inside. There were very few officers of true rank among our men, but those that had earned such status were given a pick of the dozens upon dozens of rooms that littered the palace. They had stayed in the same area for simplicity reasons, but I had never taken the time to learn who stayed in which rooms.
I rounded another corner and into a raised chamber, two wide stairs sweeping upwards nestled under a large statue of the Emperor dominated the center, sword held between his hands, stabbing into the chest of a writhing beast.
I was not alone here, a pack of infected was a wriggling mass in a corner, ripping and gorging themselves on a recent kill. My eyes snapped from door to door, seeing those that had been ripped open, and those that remained standing.
I ignited my blades and dispatched the infected to inspect the corpse, the smell of burnt blood filling the air as my boots squished in intestines and flesh. It was a Rivain officer, a man who had often helped coordinate the defence of the front lines. His once grizzled image and deep brow were now torn apart, his jaw having been torn off, tongue slipping down to touch at his neck.
I took a moment to close the eyes of the soldier before I moved on, pacing from door to door, searching the first floor before starting up the stairs at the second. At the top of the stairs there was a handful of corpses, brains blown out from lasweapon discharge, strewn down the walk. I followed the bodies to one of the doors, one last corpse laying against its frame. My sensorium pinged life signs inside, my blades igniting to cut away at the lock. The door swung open and a few infested shambled towards me..
None were Sosa, and heads hit the floor a moment later, the humming crackle of my swords fading as I looked around for my Colonel. A single heartbeat pulsed from the fresher and after a moment, it opened, the mortal I sought appearing behind the door. The old man was covered in blood, a pistol without charge held in his hand.
"Chapter Master." He greeted me, the two of us staying in silence for a moment before he pointed down at the corpses.
"I don't suppose you could keep the circumstances of this little rescue from the others? It would be embarrassing if the men found out I was stuck in the bathroom from a few enemies." If only I had been in the mood to smile.
"I saw your work outside, I'm guessing he was bitten in the fight?" Sosa nodded and the two of us walked out, stepping over the corpses of civilians, and a few soldiers as well.
"He was a Rivian, and I should have known he would hide the bite from me. I knew something was up when he broke into a fever, I was looking for something to knock his brains in when he turned, faster than any other I've seen. Without ammo or even a dagger well." His brow dipped and I could tell he was feeling the shame of the situation.
"You lived, that's what matters, but perhaps a short blade should be included in the officers uniform from now on." The Colonel nodded and changed the subject.
"Do you know what has happened my lord? I was dressing when I heard the yelling, came out to find a group of dead below us. It was chaos." He paused for a long moment as we stepped out of that chamber and into the labyrinthian halls of the palace.
"Why did you come get me, my lord? I can only guess the palace has been breached, the men would need you on the front to help coordinate the defense." I had thought of that myself, to leave him behind and join the defence, but I knew I needed him, needed him for beyond Rivia.
"Because you are valuable Sosa, because you can help lead my men in ways I cannot, know how to lead men where I do not. You're one of mine and I won't throw you away." As we passed back through the halls he reached down to grasp at a lasgun, still held in the grip of a dead guardsman. A Rivian from the symbols on his uniform. He checked the charge and I felt his gaze on my helmet for a moment before he looked only forward.
"You're kinder than the Imperial Commanders I served under. I'm sure they would have bombed the place from orbit on the first day. But you tried my lord, and that means a lot in my books." To gain that bit of respect made a bit of satisfaction blossom in my chest, to have it confirmed that I was doing what I could, that I had done my best. The vox in my helmet crackled, the voice of Brovalic coming through.
"I've contacted the Emperor's Light my lord, Alexander stands ready for whatever you need." The bursts of lasweapon fire were visible now, the snap hiss of bubbling flesh and blackening bones.
"I will inform Alexander of my plans momentarily, in the meantime, go back to your men and start an evacuation of every civilian and non military personnel you can find."
"Yes my lord, the Emperor Protects." Bolt round and lasweapon bloomed into existence as four infected came shambling around a corner, slipping on already bloodied stone.
"What of the new Imperial Governor? Do we know where he is?" I blinked for a moment, the man having escaped my priorities since I had been brought out of my chamber and the whirlwind of events since then.
"He must still be in his own palace, and hopefully safe from what is happening right now." Sosa's brow rose in a bit of confusion.
"You are not going to save him?" Another bolt round blasted forward, hitting a target out in the dark that Sosa could not see.
"I will, but there are more nobility on this planet that can be made to rule, lord Yearta was just the closest. I'm not going to leave him, but my men, and the lives of the Rivian soldiers are taking priority." I did care about the life of the noble, but sending men or myself and a detachment all the way to his palace to secure him, it would have to wait.
"Can't say I disagree, where is Vovek? Is he leading the defense?" I nodded, the lumens of the palace suddenly flickering on and filling the hallway with light. Sosa blinked at the sudden intrusion, squinting through the irritation as we hurried along the passages.
Again and again we came across torn bodies, sometimes a handful of infected feasting on a newly departed. The sound of ripping flesh and gnashing viscera lead us onwards, walking along the path of blood.
"This is a nightmare." Sosa muttered, to himself or between us I couldn't tell. But I agreed. Our forces had been pushed back farther than I had anticipated, closer and closer to the outer palace and our aircraft that sat ready.
"Its far from ideal. But we might yet salvage the situation." Sosa didn't look nearly as convinced, gaze lingering upon another pile of bodies, these, Tarthian in uniform.
"I helped lead these boys here, I wonder how many will be living by the time we return." I could have muttered something about their sacrifice to the Emperor, earning a place at his side, but instead I could only sigh.
"It was my choice to make. I brought us here, not you." It was a new feeling for me, not guilt, but a reservation over spending the lives of mortal soldiers. I had never had to make such choices before, I knew a Space Marines lot in life was to die, hopefully surrounded by the corpses of their enemies. But humans were different, they had lives beyond the roar of a bolter and chainsword, beyond duty and death. Beside me Sosa spoke again.
"They are soldiers, still my lord, tried and true now. Tarth needed to cut its teeth, if it wasn't this war, it would have been another, perhaps worse. Those that return from here will bring back their experiences to help those that come after them."
He had a point, and as we finally drew around one last hall to see one of a dozen holdouts, soldiers stacked shoulder to shoulder, lasweapons firing wildly into the hordes that pressed against them, I put it from my mind.
"Get to the Strategium, help coordinate the defenses and take over the evacuation efforts. I will help hold them here." He rushed off, as quickly as he could, welcomed back through the lines of waiting soldiers.
It did not go well, the thick stone of the palace walls kept the squads from communicating through the vox without the boosted power from the relays, only those near the entrance able to send messages, and even those were less than clear. We relied on runners, their boots slapping across still clean stone, some leaving bloody footprints that crossed and overlapped, marking the way across our lines.
It did not go well, and through the sacrifice of a hundred hero's screaming out their Emperor's name we still gave ground, buying time for those few remaining civilians and wounded to be sent up into orbit. It was a long process, squad after squad getting the order to fall back as we tried to get messages out those men still out in the city, trying to save all we could.
Coated in foul black blood I stand at the front of the thickest fighting, take the brunt of the gnashing teeth and grasping decaying flesh. I had managed to link up with Squad Diago, having found them holding one of the main hallways, bracing against large wooden doors, hands of the dying trying to get in. Together we closed them and four of his men brought over statues to block the passage, the marble saints useful for the first time in a generation.
The dead pounding on the door we fell back another level, matching our retreat with other squads, trying to ensure none of us got left behind, surrounded and added to the enemies ranks. Mortal and Astartes boots pounded on the marble as we ran for the next defensive point, some soldiers, directed by the Colonel's, having already set up barricades for us to use.
The men were breathing hard, clutching their weapons tight as they slammed fresh batteries into already overheating systems, smoke curling from the cherry red barrels. I turned, blasting chunks into coming mass as a vox signal broke through the static.
"Chapter Master? Chapter Master can you hear me?" I paused to reload before responding, bolter kicking in my hands as I turned another to useless meat.
"I hear you Micheal, the situation has changed on the ground." I heard a scoff come through before he continued.
"That's an understatement of the millennium. By the Throne I've been getting nothing but frantic calls from the Planetary Governor. Is it true? The palace is overrun?" My eye flickered to the right where one of the infected tore away from their ranks to lunge forward at the side of our formation. I raised my blade and swatted it aside, its corpse making a wet splat at it impacted the wall and slid to the floor.
"I'm not sure we can hold it much longer, I've been pulling my soldiers out as I can. Could you secure the Governor?"
"I already have, but, what are you going to do now?" There was weight behind the question, the fate of an entire city resting in my hands. It wasn't the first time, and I knew it would not be the last.
No hesitation, no doubt, no mercy.
"I'm saving all that I can from the palace, and then we will shell the city, as we discussed before. The bombardment cannon on the Light will burn away the infected and cleanse it all." A moment of silence before Micheal spoke again.
"That's it then?" There was perhaps a hint of judgment there, tinged with reserved understanding.
"You knew better than I that it might end this way. The planet will survive, the Governor will survive. That is what is important now is keeping the infection from spreading."
I watched as two soldiers, stragglers from the last line, hobbled in front of the horde. One was dragging the other, pulling him towards our lines. They were blocking our fire, the men were hesitating. I did what I had to do. May the Emperor guide their souls.
"I understand, my ship will assist in the bombardment, but it will take time for it to get into proper position."
"Macro cannon shells will cause more damage to the planet's crust than I desire, leave it to my own ship."
"Very well, may the Emperor watch over you and your men Chapter Master."
The last hour was bloody and hard fought, what could be salvaged was thrown into thunderhawks and landers, equipment that would be hard to replace paid for in lives. The Strategium was second to last, a handful of still living officers firing at the horde that was threatening to spill from the side passages and main door. My own thunderhawk was helping, hovering a dozen meters above the ground weapons roaring into the endless horde that spilled from the interior of the palace.
Squad Diago and I were the last out, other gunships buying us time as we loaded up, men running into the bay full tilt, never looking back once given the order to retreat. The thunderhawk lifted off with undead hands clawing at the landing gear and getting crunched inside the gears as they rose. The soldiers rocking back as the engines growled and we blasted away from the doomed city. Even as we tore away, high above in orbit, a ship finished aligning, a soundless shockwave and ploom of ever expanding gas rocked the heavens as the melta filled shell of the bombardment cannon fell upon the city.
Inside the troop compartment it was quiet. Peaceful after hours of eyes illuminated by the flash of rifles, of the screaming of the dying and the roar of the faithful resistant. Men sobbed, gripped their squadmates and broke as adrenaline faded and the realization they would live through the day stamped into their hearts. I wish I knew the words to raise their spirits in that moment, to be able to understand them so that I could bring them up from their despair.
But I was not a human any longer. I was an Adeptus Astartes, and knew no fear.
I looked back using the sensors on the thunderhawk to see the first shell hit, thousands of kilos of rock and civilization blasting out from the impact in a shower of debris. In the next second the fire came, expanding outwards in a ring of destruction and death.
Everything it touched turned to ashes, burned away in cleansing fire that charred a kilometer of the city, finally dying out, leaving a blackened husk in its wake.
Another shell fell now, blanching over the outer walls and spilling into the fields outside. For weeks afterwards, ash would fall upon this side of the planet. More shells fell, more fire spreading through the city and burrowing under the surface.
We had left men behind in the city. The thought of that swept the ashes of destruction into my mouth. What had they thought, in their last moments. Had they been brave, fearful, crying out in rage and anger at the cruel hand they had been dealt.
My helm lenses found Diago and the remains of his squad. It could have been them, watching the sky split apart and fire claim their souls. It could have been any of them. Such was the cost of war, the cost of a pyrrhic victory.
The cannon was still firing when we landed in the main hanger, the reverberations from each shot shaking through the ship. I followed the squad out of the bay and into the hanger proper, all those that remained were getting assistance from the armsman crews aboard the vessel. The room, if it could even be called such a thing for its mass, was filled with motley green and blue uniforms, squads of shipmen blocking the doors, just in case.
It was chaos, medical teams rushing to the aid of those wounded, every soldier was stripped and searched, those with bite wounds given the Emperor's mercy. I walked through the masses, parting before me like a boulder rolled through shallow waters. They looked up at me, covered in blood and gore, with hopeless hallowed eyes. The Tarthians had it better, they knew this meant they could go home now, that this decrepit disgusting war, the short month we had spent here, was finally over, the survivors could go home to families and mourn the dead.
The Rivians had it worse. They had fought for twice the amount of time, paid in flesh and bone to secure their homes from the clutching hands of the dead. And they had failed. A sudden burst of rage filled me and my teeth ground together inside my helmet, the area around me getting just a little larger at my silent fury. They hadn't failed. I had, I hadn't done enough, fought hard enough, planned enough.
I was the Emperor's chosen warrior, a descendant of his son's, and yet I had failed, again. I could blame circumstance, lack of weapons, fellow marines, manpower, equipment. But none of those things mattered. I had failed in my very first battle outside my Chapters guidance. My old Chapter, I reminded myself.
Finally I broke through the sea of bodies and neared one of the large doors that lead deeper into the ship. There I found Vovek and Sosa, both of them were fairly intact, having been spared from any front line fighting. Vovek was looking out to his men with broken eyes sitting, on a metal crate, both hands clasped under his chin. Sosa was standing nearer to Alexander, the ship Captain coming down from the bridge to personally oversee the efforts here. There were others among the ships hierarchy as well. I saw Arotium performing medical checks on nearby soldiers and was glad he survived.
All of them looked up at my heavy footfalls as my ceramite boots thudded across the deck, drowned out by another boom the bombardment cannon. My teeth rattled slightly inside my skull. Nobody said anything for a long moment, before Alexander broke the silence.
"All gunships and transports are accounted for my lord, the ships cannon will keep pounding the for six hours, ensuring all inside and around are... Cleansed." I nodded my thanks to him and turned to the guardsman leaders, waiting to hear their own reports. Sosa spoke first.
"Seven hundred and fifty four." I tilted my head in question, and he continued.
"That's the first count of how many of our men survived, it might be a bit less by the end of the day." He stood tall still, his years of service in the guard before he came into my own service showing now more than ever. He accepted the cost of battle, knew every war had a price to pay in bodies. Death would always have her due.
"Less than I hoped for, but it could have been worse." Sosa only nodded, and we both turned out attention to Vovek. It took him a moment to notice our attention, and shook his head slightly before he stood and spoke.
"Two thousand six hundred and forty." In the distance a soldier started to thrash, his nearby comrades racing to put him down. "Thirty nine."
Part of me always knew this was how it would end, that we would bomb the city, but I had hoped all the same. I tried not to think about the souls that were lost, those who had fought for all that time, only to be consumed by fire. Perhaps it was better to give mercy to those remaining, better to die than hide in the dark, fearful and starving.
The end was fast coming in the days following the disaster at the palace. Vovek and his remaining soldiers were transported throughout the planet. Fresh soldiers would be found to replace their losses, but during that time, a well deserved rest.
There was a flurry of meetings between the Inquisitor, lord Yearta and I. He agreed to continue selling to the Mechanicus, perhaps even bringing the Tech-priests back to the planet for proper machines to return the world.
Micheal took care of the transference of power and cleaning up of any last custists that had hidden themselves around the world. The Planetary Governor, with the backing of an Astartes and Inquisition behind him, found his feet and quickly secured his own standing.
Two weeks passed before the Emperor's Light pulled itself away from the planet and swung towards home. The path there was becoming more and more known to our Navigator, and the journey proceeded without incident. Sosa, his officers and I spent much of time returning home reviewing strategies and plans we had deployed during our battles. Notes were drawn up for how to properly deal with such a threat again in the future.
I still wish we could have captured the leader of the enemy and found out more about his plans and master. In all my years of fighting chaos, the masters always had masters. It was a loss of knowledge we would have to burden.
The mood among the crew was somber as stories of the battles from below did its rounds. Tales being swapped around lumens and mess halls. The chapels onboard the ship were filled with thankful servants, entire squads partaking in prayer together, strengthening the bonds that remained. The priests spent countless hours overseeing their focks, chanting praises to their God.
It didn't stop me from seeing the haggard looks in the gazes of the men who had survived. Their hunched back forms as they woke screaming in the night.
One of those days I spent visiting our ship's Medical Officer, looking over and reviewing the more scientific issues that arose among our campaign. More mundane things, the rates of infection among the soldiers, a few minor diseases that had transferred from the field and back into the set up barracks. Octavian made an appearance halfway through the day, servo's swinging through the white room.
Together all three of us reviewed data, the Magos of the ship taking a sample of the infected tissue, and ensured that it would be reviewed in a safe way. Farus was less than thrilled, but he only said so after the red robed figure had left.
The infected cells had fallen dormant in the few days after the bombing of the city. Their rampant mutations and changes slow and then nonexistent. Whatever fell power had been powering this plague had finally shifted its attention elsewhere.
I made proper logs of the events of the plague war, to be stored in the vaults of the Librairium that was to be built. For a moment I felt the stones that weighed upon my shoulders, the vast task that was before me. Then I shook myself, finished my writing, and snuffed out the candle between ceramite fingers.
One week after we left the Rivian system we were back to Tarth, the green world of mountains and mighty rivers welcomed us back into her embrace, the Emperor's Light slipped easily back into its place high above the capital city.
Over the next few hours the surviving soldiers of the Tarth guard were transitioned back to the ground, leaving their vast lines of bunks and boredom behind to get back to their families. I was leaving the ship soon as well, and took the last few hours to discuss the last of my business with Alexander. Now that we had a source of materials and minerals to use the shipyard we had secured, it would be time to begin building a place where we could train new ship Captains. An academy on the ground where he could teach while we were away from war.
After my talks with him, I left the bridge and descended through the ship and walked along its spinal column to the main hanger. I enjoyed it greatly, the ship was never quiet, but there was a lull to her energy now, the nervous vibrations of her engines steader, at rest. The tall arching hallway were bare of any Chapter markings, of honor or glory. All that remained were the dull gray statues of Astartes. It was fitting perhaps, a Chapter as unknown as my own had no need for grand splendors, not yet.
The great doors of the hanger ground open, momentarily numbing the soft rumble of the Light. My thunderhawk was already running, the hot engine air shimmering behind the grumbling thrusters. A small bit of blood speckled the floor of the hold, a hiss as the compartment door shut and sealed behind me. The injured had been taken down first, to the more spacious medicea facilities inside the city.
A short flight later and I was stepping back into the worn stone of my Fortress-Monastery, satisfied that its construction was still well underway. The Serf's who were ending their work for the day greeting me eagerly, pleased I had returned from the war unharmed and well.
The two members of my new Chapter, the immortal child I had lifted from rubble and the Drake I had hatched and seen grow both stood in front of the Monastery doors. One was pleased to see me, one was not. Both regarded with predatory eyes upon me, but the small smile on Aragorn's face told me what I needed.
"Welcome home." The Primarch said, eyes glancing over the small bits of damage that still marked my armor. "How was the war?" I thought about my response for a few seconds, seeing the eagerness in his posture. He was hungry for tales of a battle. I thought of those who had been consumed, the ones who had fired and screamed until their last moments.
"Bloody, and filled with heroes." Aragorn cocked his head a small bit as Despair snorted. I looked at him and smiled, the distances between our physical bodies had lessened the strength of our bond, and I could feel the calming pleasure of sharing my being with another. I hadn't realized how much I had missed that feeling until I experienced it again.
He pulled at memories from the battles, reviewing each with the same hunger the Primarch showed. I motioned towards the door.
"I can tell you more inside, let me see what work has been done."
As we walked I told him of the conflicts I had taken apart in, the foulness of the infected and the people we had saved. I pressed in on that fact in particular, thinking back to his claim of the world and the promise he had made me.
As I talked I gazed around all the new rooms that had been carved out of the mountain. One of the first things that we had done upon entering the system was share our chronological information to know how much time had passed in realspace. Three and a half months.
Slightly longer than I had wanted to be gone, but considering some of the warp jumps I had taken apart in, was a short addition on already lost time.
Aragorn's voice brought me out of my thoughts.
"Octavian has been teaching me more about weapon creation, I've forged one of my own blades already." I looked down at the grinning demigod and inclined my head in approval.
"Many of the Primarchs were known to be incredibly skilled artisans, Vulkan is considered by many as a master of metal working." That flare of pride filled his eyes, the same light that filled them when he saw a new challenge.
"If we ever meet them on the field of battle, I would enjoy asking his sons if my own work might one day measure up to their Primarchs." My eye was now drawn to the weapon on his hip. It was shorter than my own, but fit his height well, two snarling Drake heads were formed out of the ends of the crossguard, leather wrapping covering the handle.
"I'm sure they will in time. You will likely excel at anything you put your attention to." He hummed at that and finished the touring of the new facilities that had been built. The end of our journey found us sitting at the tables of a communal chamber.
"Now that the fighting is over, what is next?" I stopped the idle drumming of my fingers on the stone surface before me and thought of that for a moment.
"Building up the Chapter, the planet." What a task it would be. I had skimmed through a report that the city council had given me during my flight down. Everything was expanding smoothly, except for a growing problem with the native peoples of the planet. Blue painted warriors wielding crude weapons had been attacking operations, both civilian and military, outside the capital.
"How long do you think that will take?"
"Decades." I answered without a moment of hesitation. Full grown and established Chapters, after heavy losses could spend twenty or more years rebuilding their forces and only partaking in small battles. Readying themselves to again pay a heavy price for their Imperium.
My own Chapter, not given the jumpstart many Foundings received, would take far longer to grow. Not to mention the help that was being sent by other Chapters, I had no way of knowing when that assistance would come.
I had withdrawn into myself as my mind raced through the plans I had labyrinthine inside. Aragorn copied me for a moment, drumming fingers on the table to get my attention. I continued.
"Making a new Chapter of Space Marines is no simple thing Aragorn, I must find Aspirants, wait for help to come, create the Geneseed…" I trailed off at that, looking at the Primarch before me. It was logical, yet also an idea many would akin to madness.
How the Emperor had first made Geneseed from the DNA of his sons was lost on me. But it might not be to others. I had accepted at the beginning of this mission that I would be building up a Chapter that would be descended from the loyalists. A new Chapter of Ultramarines or Imperial Fists perhaps.
But with Aragorn here there was a third option, given the Apothecary sent to have the needed knowledge. The Primarch again broke the silence.
"Your going to use my blood right? Create Marines from my genetic template. I've been reading about it, what I could from Octavian anyways." Perhaps the knowledge of the Magos extended farther than I had assumed, weapons crafting, engine repair, knowledge of Geneseed. Perhaps it was time I questioned the Tech-priest a little more.
"He is full of surprises, as I am finding out. But yes, I would use your blood if possible." Aragorn was silent for a long moment, eyes downcast, the gold strands that ran through his eyes pulsing and moving his eyes dilated in and out in intense thought.
"I think it will be nice to have brothers." I stopped at that and stared for a long moment. I thought he would have seen those molded by his blood as sons, just as almost all Astartes Chapters saw their Primarchs as a father. An unreachable, untouchable father.
"Brothers?" I asked, desiring to know more. Aragorn looked at me for a few seconds and I bore his stare, intense as it was.
"I've read and heard stories of my brothers. Half serve the enemy. The loyal ones are missing from this galaxy." He paused for a second and his eyes trailed around the chamber before they returned.
"It seems being fathers to their Legions didn't serve them well. I would rather be a brother in arms." I thought about that for a moment, but also felt a fair amount of satisfaction coming from his interests in building this Chapter. I had always known that he would play the most important part as its Primarch. But him having an invested interest and not forcing it upon him, it could only help.
"We have to wait for the Apothecary to arrive before we can begin testing the youth." I smiled after a moment's thought.
"Let's hope your blood isn't too stingy about who it allows in this brotherhood of yours." Aragorn laughed and we slipped into easier conversation.
It continued like this for months, slipping back into older habits of training, planning, management.
I received reports of the beginning of the academy starting construction from Alexander, and the training fields had received more soldiers. I had expected there to be a decline in recruitment after the Plague War, as stories of the horrors the men had fought circulated around the population.
To no small bit of surprise the fields were actually seeing more over all recruits than it had before, the tales of the heroics of those who had fought spurring onwards some who had been feared to join before. I was pleased by this, and told the council to continue whatever bits of propaganda they had begun.
Both Aragorn and Despair continued in their pursuit to grow taller than myself, a fact both were keen to remind me about. While Despair was my companion, there was a unnatural way the two could understand another's intentions with nothing but a few gestures and differing length glances.
But again our quiet was ground to dust with news from space. A Frigate of the Ultramarines Chapter settled over our world.
Notice: All content after this mention should be considered non-cannon for the Iron Drake setting. Chapters are being replaced and this warning moved as they are. I am doing this as to not confuse anybody who might be going through the story for the first time. Apologies for this transition period.
AN: Well, the Plague war is wrapped up. Part of the biggest section when it came to true rewriting. Hope you enjoyed, leave a review with what ya thought.
