Extremus Fors Chapter 7
"I still don't understand," Novak grumbled as he watched an Overlord gunship be loaded.
"You aren't the only one," Cortha agreed as a crate of bolt rounds was dragged up the assault ramp by a team of serfs.
"There must be more to this," Novak reiterated, "Arvael, surely you must have an explanation."
"I've been standing here the whole time," Arvael protested, "Why do you think I have more information?"
Novak sank into sullen silence as the serfs steered a servitor-mule with six mechanical legs up a ramp. The strike team was heading into the unknown, with only the supplies they could carry to sustain them, so the mechanical-mule would carry provisions, ammunition and supplies. It was this or have one of them drag a sled, an indignity no Astartes would suffer. Loading complete fuel lines were dragged up to the Overlord 'Hurricane Fury' and the process of blessing it with fuel began. In the small hanger, heavily built against the planet's fierce storm cycle, the smell filled the air with fumes, signs that the gunship would soon be ready. One of Cawl's new designs, one Novak had never ridden in. The advanced systems within included potent auspex arrays and surveyor baffles, all the better to sneak in undetected and sniff out any clues once they got there.
Geryon would fly the small team up to orbit, where they would dock with the Hunter-frigate Ares' Promise and break for the warp-jump point. Sleek and faster than a strike cruiser the frigate offered the best chance they had to reach the Forgemoon in time. Still between the time it would take to reach a safe Translation distance, traverse the warp and trek in-system at the other end, they were cutting it damned close. By Novak's estimates even with the most favourable tides they would have barely two weeks to scour the planetoid for their objective and depart, before an Exterminatus fell upon that doomed world. Two weeks to search a moon the size of a continent, unless Arvael could lead them straight to the target Novak didn't see how they would pull this off.
Cortha continued to speak, "How can there be a whole planet out there none of us has heard of?"
"The records were sealed and redacted," Arvael sighed, "Given enough time anything can be forgotten."
"But it shares a name with our Homeworld!" Novak snapped, "Why, what connection is there between Lujan II and Lujan Minoris. How could this be, how could it be forgotten?!"
"I have no answer for you," Arvael stated, "Someone went through the records with a firebrand, excising and torching anything that could reveal the mystery. Binaric-archives have been purged and data-crystals smashed. They were thorough and exacting, the only fragments we found were oblique references to a Mechanicus enclave and the map scroll. The ancient Masters of the Chapter really didn't want future generations to know what was going on there."
"Sounds like something you Firstborn would do," Geryon muttered resentfully.
Everyone paused and looked at the Primaris Marine in puzzlement. Novak took the bait and asked, "You have something to add?"
Geryon sniffed, "In my brief time in the Sodality I have learned this island hides many secrets. Forsworn vaults and buried shrines. Epochs of history have played out here, been revised by later generations, then completely rewritten or thoroughly excised. Whole passages of the history book have been ripped out, leaving vast gaps in your understanding."
"I can't accept that," Novak rebuffed, "We would have known."
"Did you ever think to ask?"
"Well...no."
Geryon nodded as he continued, "It is well known that the Storm Heralds have a history of bad relations with the Imperial authorities."
"Our habit of Emperor-worship," Novak countered, "Now stopped, I should add."
"Are you sure that's all there is to it?" Geryon muttered, "If your ancestor's actions were honourable then they would want to be remembered. The fact someone erased a Forgemoon from the records does not suggest their deeds there were laudable."
Novak was not pleased by that suggestion. Like all Space Marines he had been indoctrinated to revere his forebearers, venerating their heroism and sage wisdom. That belief had taken a few knocks thanks to the contentious issue of Emperor-worship, but Novak had always thought the practice had started harmlessly and only become a problem in his lifetime. The suggestion that his distant predecessors had engaged in worse practices was an affront. He was almost glad the Forgemoon was going to be burned to ash, taking its secrets with it. Almost, save that he might be standing on it at the time.
His worrisome musings were interrupted by a faint voice, muffled badly, as it spat, "Mumph, mum-fum-muph!" Novak turned to see the Pariah boy waving his hands up and down, manacled wrists clinking. His iron gag was sealed tight but the pale eyes looked angry. Was that possible, the boy had no soul, could he feel anger or despair, Novak didn't know where to begin to answer that.
He turned to the boy and growled, "Be quiet!"
"Mumph!" Micah hissed, "Phuf-huh-mumph!"
"For Throne's sake, I'm taking this gag off," Novak declared.
"That thing has no right to speak," Cortha snapped.
"We can't keep him gagged forever," Novak said, "He has to eat sometime you know."
"Do what you will, but keep it away from me," Cortha snorted, "Soulless husk, it offends my eye."
"Your discomfort is nothing," Arvael muttered, "For a Psyker even looking at him is repulsive, if that limiter was not in place I would take my morningstar and end his existence."
Novak ignored them as he bent down and unlocked the gag. It fell away and the boy worked his jaw in pain as he made slurred noises with his tongue. After a moment he regained the use of his voice and spat, "I was trying to say: you can leave me out of this!"
Novak glared at the child and hissed, "You should feel honoured, you have been selected for a mission in the name of the Emperor."
"Your Emperor, not mine," Micah snorted, "What's he ever done for me?"
"Blasphemy!" Cortha snarled as his hand fell to his Crozius.
"We need him alive!" Arvael snapped as he hastily moved to block the Chaplain.
Micah's eyes glinted in mirth as he jeered, "Touchy, aren't you?"
Geryon interjected, "You better be more careful when addressing four Astartes, who can break you with a shrug."
"You won't kill me," Micah spat, "I heard you talking, you need me alive."
"We need your brain to generate your null-aura," Novak hissed, "Your tongue is an optional extra."
"You aren't very convincing playing as the tough one," Micah scoffed, "I've seen killers and you ain't one."
"I have killed thousands," Novak hissed, "Braver men than you, stronger and sterner. You have never laid eyes on someone with a higher bodycount than me."
"He's not wrong," Arvael commented, "Novak's got nearly a century on any of us, and that sword rarely rests."
Micah didn't sound so certain but said, "I heard tales of the Storm Heralds all my life. Those living in the slums they speak of you, big goddamn heroes, saving the innocent from vile Heretics and Traitors. We scrapped and fought over crusts of bread, but we had our stories to keep us going."
"That's right, we kill Heretics," Novak stated then drove an armoured digit into the brand on the boy's forehead and continued, "Of which you are now one. I can kill you any moment I please, and everyone will pat me on the back for it. You are useful, that's all thats keeping you alive."
Micah sounded deflated but muttered, "I'm no good to you, I'm quick with a knife but that's all. I can't fight monsters and this horror you lot bleat on about. I'm deadweight, I'll slow you down."
"If you have to fight, then we would already be dead," Novak scoffed, "Your job is to sit in the mule and keep out of trouble. Stay alive, I'm sure you can do that. Your aura will do the rest."
Arvael interrupted, "That reminds me, you better have this."
He passed over a small control rod, with a large red button on one end. Novak looked at it askew and asked, "And this is?"
"The control-stave for his limiter," Arvael said, "One push and we'll be drowning in nothingness."
"You don't want to keep it?" Novak asked.
"Knowing what it unleashes, no. I might hesitate to push the button, in a moment when a second's delay could kill us all. You have little to fear from a Null... I however..."
Arvael trailed off in shame, unable to articulate the dread a Psyker must feel in the presence of Null. Novak took pity on him and applied himself to fitting it to the back of his combat shield. It nestled well into the grip, secured firmly. With a flick of his thumb he could trigger the limiter, switching Micah's Null aura on and off as needed. He trusted he wouldn't need it till they found the blade, but wasn't so naive to assume it would turn out that way. This button may well save their lives.
He heard Geryon declare, "Fueling complete, blessings are applied."
"Let us go," Arvael said, "We have no time to..."
Before he could finish there was a great commotion at the hanger entrance. Novak turned in surprise, wondering what was going on. He was totally shocked when the serfs gathered there scattered, hurrying out of the way of a towering war machine. On two great legs it strode, boasting a smooth body bearing an armoured sarcophagus. A sensor-dome was buried in a protective enclosure and its back shimmered with heat exhaust from an Atomantic reactor. One arm was a multi-barrelled assault cannon and the other a great power fist. Novak recognised it, how could he not, every Storm Herald knew the sight of Honourable Ajax.
"THERE YOU ARE!" Ajax boomed as he strode over.
"What the frak is that?!" Micah gasped as he tried to inch behind Novak.
Geryon however moved to intervene calling, "Venerable Brother, you should not be here. You are supposed to be in your stasis-crypt!"
"YOU'D LIKE THAT WOULDN'T YOU BOY," Ajax spat, "I WAS NEARLY ASLEEP WHEN I LEARNED OF THIS MISADVENTURE, HAD TO RUN THE WHOLE BLOODY WAY TO GET HERE IN TIME."
"How do you know about that?!" Arvael exclaimed, "Chief Librarian Echeb..."
"COULDN'T FIND HIS ARSE WITH BOTH HANDS AND A MAP," Ajax snapped, "HE REALLY THOUGHT HE COULD PROBE THE DATA-STACKS FOR REFERENCES TO LUJAN MINORIS AND IT WOULDN'T TRIP ANY ALARMS?!"
Novak frowned as he said, "Wait... you... you're five thousand years old... you know something about that Forgemoon. You lived through those days."
"OF COURSE I SODDING WELL DID YOU DOLT," Ajax snapped, "THAT WRETCHED ICEBALL HAS BEEN NOTHING BUT TROUBLE SINCE CHARAEL'S DAYS. I THOUGHT THE PSYBRIDS TOOK CARE OF IT FOR US, BUT IT SEEMS IT RETURNS TO PLAGUE US ONCE MORE."
Cortha faced the towering war machine and said, "Honourable Brother, your concern is appreciated but you can't stop us. We have a sacred mission to complete, you will not stop us going."
"STOP YOU?" Ajax scoffed, "YOU HAVE AN OVERINFLATED SENSE OF YOUR OWN IMPORTANCE. I'M NOT HERE TO STOP YOU, I'M COMING WITH YOU."
Everyone started in surprise and Geryon exclaimed, "Ajax, you have barely been rebuilt from your injuries. You cannot..."
"NO ONE SETS FOOT ON LUJAN MINORIS WITHOUT ME. I'M COMING, END OF DISCUSSION."
Ajax didn't give them a chance to argue, striding through the group to mount the open assault ramp. Novak was forced to jump aside, lest be bowled over and looked at the others in helplessness. Geryon swallowed, "This could be trouble, Ajax is... an erratic ally."
"I can keep him focused," Arvael said.
"Once maybe, but now I am not sure," Geryon sighed.
Cortha however declared, "We hardly have a choice, if the Honourable wants to come, he comes. At the very least his extra firepower will be welcome."
With that the Chaplain strode off, climbing into the gunship. Arvael and Geryon followed, readying their tools. That left Novak and the Pariah and the boy said, "That thing is on our side, right?"
"My side," Novak corrected, "You, not so much."
"If he scares the enemy half as much as he does you, we might just live through this."
"I am not scared of Ajax!" Novak snapped.
"Keep telling yourself that, you damned near pissed yourself when he strode in!" Micha laughed snidely.
Novak rolled his head back to stare at the Ferrocrete ceiling and groaned, "Oh Throne, this is going to be a long, long trip."
