Extremus Fors Chapter 8

Hypras swiftly made his way to the ship's primary communication chamber. He passed various serfs tending to the ship's Machine Spirit, all with eyes down and blank stares. The Grey Knight gave them no mind as he strode past, uncaring for their lives or opinions. Mortal hands were necessary even for the most rarefied Chapter of all, but they were of no more value to him than the servitors embedded in the gunnery targeting-alcoves or plasma generators. Mortal lives were but cogs in the machine of the Chapter, most subjected to such frequent mind-wipes as to be blank shells of personalities.

Despite his indifference Hypras noted a certain haste to the mortal's stride, a sense of urgency to their tending of the ship. Ritual prayers over exposed circuitry were recited at a clip, welding to overhead pipes was being finalised and the conduits secured, a wizened cleric refreshing the offering bowls of sacred libations before statues of dead Grey Knights spilled a drop onto the stone alcove. To Hypras such actions screamed that Purity of Silence was preparing to set sail, time was drawing close, faster than he was ready for.

Hypras increased his pace, making his way to the spine of the Strike Cruiser. Here he found the communication chamber. The Grey Knights boasted access to technologies so advanced that the Fabricator General himself would fall to his metal knees in awe, were he ever to be allowed to set foot in one of their ships. The comms room was such an example, the walls were lined by cogwheels, with pulsing devices set in their axles. They turned constantly, hundreds of wheels great and small clicking over as their mechanisms aligned in ways inscrutable. Seven pillars stood upright around the perimeter, each ten metres tall, glassic frames crackling with caged lightning as they projected arcane symbols onto a roof fashioned from a single piece of diamond, fifty metres broad.

Hypras was not privy to the secrets of the Cult Technis but knew this chamber could project a signal across a star system, and pick up the faintest whisper of vox-traffic against the backdrop of space. Many Grey Knight campaigns had been steered by crypto-logisticians operating from this room, drinking in secrets before the foe had the slightest idea the ship was in-system. The only limitation was the hard barrier of light-speed, the Tech Priests of the dedicated Forgemoon that supported the Chapter were miracle workers, but even they could not break the tyranny of relativity, for that one required an Astropath.

The room was broad enough to house a Company, but today only two were present. Hypras saw Brother-Captain Manguire standing in the middle of the room. He wore his Terminator armour, perfectly restored in every detail. His greaves shone with reflected light and his breastplate bore the Liber Daemonica in its ritual mounting. His sword was sheathed at his waist but his eyes were alert and his aura spoke of a readiness to fight at a moment's notice.

The other was a mortal man, present only in Hololithic form. From a servitor, whose whole face had been replaced with projector vanes, his image emerged, standing before the Captain with head raised. He wore a long overcoat and his hands were gloved, while his pinched face scowled and the hair on his head was greasy and clung to his scalp. Hypras' hearts fell as he recognised Inquisitor Serak, of the Ordo Malleus, a man Hypras had insulted not too long ago.

Serak was speaking in an irate tone, "But I need you here! We've barely begun to sort out the mess of Holdfast, Daemons still roam the wastes and our base is in ruins."

"That is your mission, Inquisitor, mine is to sail to the Heraculan Deeps. A Majoris Incursion looms, we are ordered to move to intercept it."

"You are oath-sworn to my mission," Serak spat.

"Then take issue with the Lord Inquisitors, they fully endorse this redeployment. Our numbers are too few to be chasing dregs, we must be where the threat is greatest."

Manguire had no larynx to speak with, and no vox could convey telepathic messages, so his words were being voiced by an Autolocutor. At his side squatted a square machine, on four wheels and atop a human head rested in a small bowl. The decapitated head of a Sorcerer, killed while attempting to summon a tide of Daemons, the very one who had stolen Manguire's voice with his black magic. A clean death had been deemed too kind a fate for a sinner so vile, so his brain had been preserved by various nutrient feeds and fluid pumps driven into the stump of his neck. He was forced to suffer eternal torment for his crimes, but his tongue could be put to use, so Manguire telepathically hammered words into the meat of the brain, overriding neurons to produce speech. It was a just sentence, and also a means for Manguire to reclaim his voice.

Hypras was glad to see Manguire was standing firm against Serak's tirade but reluctantly said, "Brother-Captain, Inquisitor, I pray forgiveness for this intrusion."

Both turned to look at him and Serak snarled, "You! You dare come before me thus!"

Manguire cut him off as the Autolocutor intoned, "Brother-Librarian, I trust this is urgent."

"Most urgent," Hypras said, "I bring news, our Prognosticars have discovered a threat. One that must be addressed post-haste."

"We are inundated with threats," Serak snorted, "What makes this one so special?"

Hypras answered, "The location of the Daemonsword that escaped Holdfast is revealed, we have found it!"

Manguire nodded his head as the Autolocutor said, "A potent Neverborn was bound within, but not so great as the uprising that is about to occur. Grand Master Anval Laraon commands Sixth Brotherhood to move with all haste to deny the incursion. I cannot afford to be distracted by slumbering foes, not when the Grandis Pandemonium is on the move."

"But we must act!" Hypras exclaimed, "We have a chance here to strike a telling blow against the First Evil!"

"You spout fantasies," Serak scoffed.

Yet Hypras argued, "We are sworn to deny the Primal Evil, to baulk the Ruinous Powers at every turn. So we have done for ten millennia, throwing them back, banishing them to the hell of the Warp, slamming the door in their face. We hold the line, but how often do we have a chance to strike back? A Daemon Prince of no small power is bound into physical form, trapped for a time, but not for long. It will get free; we all know it. Daemons always find a way to break their bonds or corrupt their gaolers, then return to plague mankind once more. But if it were the Grey Knights who took the blade, pure and incorruptible jailors, then it would be trapped forever. Sealed in the vaults of Titan it would never break free."

"You sound very sure of that," Serak probed.

"The Emperor's blood is in our veins," Hypras countered, "We are elevated beyond mortal corruption, above the flawed and failed Astartes. No Grey Knight has ever fallen to the wiles of the First Enemy, never proven impure."

"The permanent removal of a Daemon from the ranks of the Archenemy," Serak mused, "A tempting victory, but one you will never achieve."

"It has been done before," Hypras argued.

"By greater forces than ours," Manguire's proxy replied, "And I cannot spare a single Justicar for this mission."

Serak sniffed, "It seems your personal quest is over."

"Then I will go alone," Hypras retorted, "As a Brother-Librarian is my right to act independently."

But Manguire continued, "I said I cannot spare a Justicar, but Grand Master Anval Laraon prizes the efficiency of his Brotherhood. He oft claims a single Knight can do the work of hundred, in the right circumstances. And it just so happens there is a squad lacking a Justicar."

"Squad Mercadier," Hypras concluded, "A broken blade, their will is blunted by the loss of their Justicar and they are understrength."

"But a broken blade can still cut deep," Manguire argued, "By rights they should bear their lost Brothers back to the Dead Fields and be reforged as a unit, with a new Justicar. They have lost much and have the right to mourn, but their hearts are bold. I cannot command them to aid your quest, but if you can convince them to join you, I will not object."

Hypras was grateful for the chance and bowed saying, "I thank you Brother-Captain."

Manguire nodded in return but said, "Alas, I have no ship to bear you. You must look elsewhere for transit."

Hypras' eyes slid to the Inquisitor, who was grinning smugly, knowing what was to come. Hypras bit back a bitter taste as he said, "Inquisitor."

"Yes," Serak replied snidely.

"You understand what is required," Hypras stated icily.

"You need my help?" Serak chuckled, "Does the blood of the Emperor running in your veins not allow you to step between worlds?"

"You're going to make me say it out loud," Hypras growled.

"Indeed I am," Serak bit back, "If you have a request to make of the Ordo Malleus, all you have to do is say it."

Hypras knew the man was a bitter and petty soul, but it was more than that. Hypras was impressing the dominance of the Ordo Malleus over the Grey Knights, reminding him that the Inquisition was vast and powerful and the elite Daemonhunters few and dependent on their goodwill. Serak wanted Hypras in a position of vassalage, to make the Librarian admit he needed the mortal's aid. His pride railed against, but he would not let passion interfere with his mission, Hypras would do anything to complete his mission, even forsake pride.

"I formally request a ship, to take us on our voyage," Hypras said through clenched teeth.

"But of course, I am pleased to grant you this boon," Serak replied smugly, "I shall demand one of the Navy's fastest escort frigates forthwith."

With that the image snapped off, leaving the Grey Knights alone. Hypras' nose wrinkled as he hissed, "Petty little despot."

"+Indeed he is+" Manguire replied using telepathy once more, "+But you did well to place duty over pride+"

With a wave he dismissed the Autolocutor and the small machine reversed away as the Heretic atop it implored, "No... please... let me die... I beg you..."

Both ignored the entreaties as Hypras said, "Again I thank you."

"+Your wisdom will be sorely missed+" Manguire cast, genuine regret tainting his thoughts.

Hypras sighed, "I wish you success in your mission, I do not doubt it will be among the most testing of your life. And yet I must ask of you another boon."

"+Oh?+" Manguire cast warily.

"I am but one Librarian, and maybe a half-strength squad, against a fiend that would test dozens of our Brothers united. I judge the cause worthy, but the prospect of success low. The Daemonsword will not hesitate to find a wielder, unleashing its full power, maybe even breaking free of its confinement. To try and fail is not an acceptable outcome so I require an edge in this fight, an advantage of my own. I must ask you for a Tesseract Labyrinth."

Manguire's hand fell to his belt, where a grey cube rested in a hanging cage of gold wire. Runes unknown to any man were emblazed upon it, fractal designs that drew the eye in and in and in to infinity. Even inert it oozed dark potential, a sense of danger quite at odds with its harmless facade. Ancient and rare, Xenos in origin and yet priceless in value, Hypras was well aware of the scope of his request.

Manguire was hesitant, "+That is an audacious request+"

"And yet I make it," Hypras said, "In all humility."

"+Millennia have Captains of the Sixth Brotherhood held this weapon and never saw fit to use it. Always the foe was too minor, or the battle too fierce to deploy it. We have hoarded this tool against the darkest of days+"

Hypras argued, "And we hoarded it still when the Primal Hatred ripped the galaxy apart, opening the Cicatrix Maledictum to rend the galaxy end to end. Will we still be hoarding it when Sin Incarnate throws down the Crusade, breaks the walls of Terra and marches into the Throneroom?"

"+We no longer speak to its makers+" Manguire hesitantly countered, "+The few remaining are all we have, once used they cannot be replaced+"

Hypras pressed, "Then I ask what do you value more, a weapon you will never use or the lives of your Brothers? When you hear of our fate, what news would you prefer, that a tool was put to good use, or that five Brothers lie dead upon the snow?"

Manguire's lip described a sad smile as he cast, "+You cut to the heart of me. So be it, I would not send a Brother into battle unarmed, neither will I send you without the means to achieve victory. Take it.+"

Manguire unclipped the Tesseract Labyrinth and passed it over. It fit into the palm of Hypras' hand and he held it firmly as he said, "My debt to you can never be repaid."

"+You can repay me with tale worthy of a statue in the Dead Fields, when you return+"

"I shall," Hypras declared.

"+Do not count your laurels before the first shot is fired+" Manguire cautioned, "+You have yet to speak to squad Mercadier and convince them to join your quest. Purity of Silence departs in five hours, you need to be off the ship before then+"

"Then I must waste no more time," Hypras uttered, "By your leave."

He turned to depart but Manguire cast, "+One more thing Hypras+"

"Yes, Brother-Captain?"

"+Make sure to win+"

"I will," Hypras promised as he stepped forth, eager to begin his quest.