Extremus Fors Chapter 13
Into the broken remnants of the Xenos system a small ship stole. She was a tiny dart against the vast immensity of space, merely three kilometres long and thin about the gunwales. A cobra-class torpedo destroyer, Scylla-1, moving at a fraction of her true speed. She was alone and unescorted, easy pickings for a hostile fleet, so she moved circumspectly, trying to go unnoticed as she slip past broken hulks drifting through the outer system.
Shattered remains of hourglass-ships coasted by, their hulls rent by unforgiving broadsides. Alien corpses clung to the rents, their frozen screams ignored by an uncaring universe. Truly the Xenos had been mauled, but in defeat they had reaped a fearful tally. Escort frigates, fighters, bombers and even cruisers lay inert among the dead, their valiant crews culled in the tense exchange of fire. A steep cost in blood had the Exterminatus fleet paid to advance, but advance they had.
Nearer the star sharp radiation spikes and electromagnetic flares declared the deployment of Exterminatus-grade weaponry. Cyclonic torpedoes scouring worlds bare, igniting atmospheres to burn away the alien taint. Several planets had already been turned into lifeless rocks, but that was not Scylla-1's affair. She was heading to a remote and desolate moon, orbiting the furthest planet from the star, skirting the range most Astrogators would consider habitable. She slipped into orbit like a leaf touching a still pond, cutting her drives and pretending to be a hole in space.
"The Navy is progressing faster than anticipated," Mordad observed in their tight quarters.
"They are tasked to the kill and unwavering in conviction," Agriff commented, "They will not relent until the Xenos' worlds are ash."
"Yet that focus comes at a cost," Galhuad countered, "Not all those wrecks we passed are completely dead. Some might harbour survivors. If the Xenos can restore even one ship they may slip away into the space between stars, to plague mankind again someday."
"That's tomorrow's problem," Pelleus sniffed, "Today aliens burn."
Hypras' eyes narrowed at that, his patience wearing thin. Despite their feud Inquisitor Sekar had come through, requisitioning one of the Navy's fastest ships and best Navigator to convey the Grey Knights. Their journey had been tolerably short, not nearly as swift as a Grey Knight vessel, but better than most lumbering human starships. Fast yes, but hardly comfortable.
The ship's crew hadn't been told who was coming on board, merely that they required seclusion, so the compartment was fitted for an Inquisitor and his retinue. Consequently the roof was barely above the Transhuman warrior's heads and Hypras had to carry his staff at an angle. The walls were bare and the floor a dull metal that rang with every step they took. Cobra-destroyers were lean ships, lacking the finery and staterooms of a capital ship. These quarters may be adequate for mortals but to Space Marines it was unbearably cramped, not even giving them enough room to swing a sword.
Currently Mercadier squad were crowded around a small Hololith, peering at the display of local space. Hypras cut off their deliberations with a curt, "It is irrelevant."
Agriff blinked his pale eyes in surprise, "The destruction of an enemy has no merit?"
"Xenos are for the Deathwatch, we are hunters of Neverborn."
"We should not be too narrow in focus," Mordad countered, "The Psybrids are a psychic race, yet have never displayed any vulnerability to the Primordial Annihilator. This may be worthy of study."
"Sully our race-purity with Xenos lore?!" Hypras spat, "It is offensive."
"All I meant was..." Mordad protested.
But Galhuad uttered, "On this I agree with our esteemed leader. The only interest we should show for Xenos is their removal. Our goal is below."
"Aye, leave the Navy to its business, the time has come to deploy," Pelleus agreed.
Mordad fell silent as Hypras led them from their billet. They stepped into narrow corridors, their shoulders barely clearing the walls. Small the ship may be but every bulkhead was spotless, polished lovingly and the air was rich with blessed unguents and the rustle of purity seals hanging at regular intervals. It seemed the ship's crew took their devotions to the Machine Spirit seriously, a pious bent that spoke of a dutiful mindset. This section was deserted, every hatch sealed at Hypras' direct order. Before they set foot on board he had ensured they had a clear run from the launch bay to their quarters, guaranteeing no soul on board would lay eyes upon them. This was not a Chapter ship and none had warrant to lay eyes upon Grey Knights.
As they made their way to the Stormraven Pelleus asked, "Have we any inkling where to start looking?"
"Not yet," Hypras confessed.
"Worlds are big and time is short," Agriff commented, "We have scant days to scour a whole moon, looking for one sword."
"The Daemon Prince will not be hiding," Hypras argued, "Its vile scent will be evident, a psychic spoor upon the wind."
"You hope," Mordad grunted, "Hope is the first step upon the path to disappointment."
Hypras was about to answer but went silent as they stepped into the bay. Their Stormraven sat where they had left it, noble Azure Pheonix, a veteran of many campaigns. Beyond the vast white curve of Lujan Minoris hung outside the atmo-field, dirty white sphere boasting glaciers and continent-spanning ridges of ice. A cold world, bitter and sullen, squatting on the edges of hability, resenting any intrusion into its frigid isolation. Yet none of that caught Hypras' attention, what made him stop in his tracks were the gaggle of men and women standing in twin lines before the Stormraven.
Mortal heads came up and eyes widened at the sight, jaws dropping under peaked caps. They wore dark blue longcoats, with a smattering of medals, over white breeches and black waistbands. Cutlasses and laspistols hung at their hips, pristine and unnotched, ceremonial weapons worn for appearance rather than intent of use. This was some form of ceremonial detail, meant to honour the departing guests, but to Hypras it was an insult.
One with gold epaulettes on her shoulders gawped in surprise, "Space Marines?! I didn't..."
Hypras' eyes blazed with fury as he strode forward barking, "You! Explain this!"
The woman recovered commendably fast, "Lieutenant-Commander Calpihy, my lord, skipper of Scylla-1. I arranged this farewell to send you on your way with our finest esteem. I... knew an Inquisitor had demanded our services, but I had no idea Space Marines..."
"Were your orders not clear?" Hypras growled as he loomed over the gaggle of officers, "This section was to be sealed and isolated at all times."
"We..." Caliphy stammered as blood drained from her face, "I thought such an august body deserved a formal send off."
"You mean you thought to grease your way up the ranks by sucking up to an inquisitor," Agriff snorted.
"I didn't think," Caliphy started.
"No, you didn't," Hypras barked, "You have defied orders and broken faith with your superiors. That is only the beginning of your transgressions. you have laid eyes upon that which is forbidden, and must suffer the consequences."
"Now hold on!" Caliphy spat as the crowd tried to hide behind her, "Inquisitorial emblem or no, Space Marines do not give orders to the Imperial Navy!"
"But I am no mere Space Marine," Hypras hissed as he exerted his will. Psychic knives stole forth, sinking deep into the minds of the mortals. They were no Psykers, not even Hypno-conditioned to resist mental probes, Hypras' might overpowered them with ease and took control. With a flicker of will he locked their postures solid, blocking neural connections in their brains to prevent them from moving or speaking. They could still see and hear, completely aware of all that transpired, but left powerless to move or resist.
Hypras sneered at the terrified mortals and growled, "Mercadier squad, you know what to do."
"Do we?" Galhuan replied coldly.
Hypras half-turned in surprise and uttered, "You defy me?!"
"I seek clarity," Galhuan stated firmly, "You intend to kill these ones?"
"It is the law of the Grey Knights," Hypras growled, "To lay eyes upon the sons of Titan is death."
"Why?"
"Why?!" Hypras exclaimed, "You know why, to see us is to see a weapon forged to fight the Ruinous Powers, which proves the existence of said powers. Such knowledge cannot be allowed to spread."
To his surprise Pelleus snorted, "You're jesting surely. The galaxy is split in half, every world from the Halo Stars to the Galactic Maw can see the Cicatrix Maledictum blighting its skies. The Primal Evil stands revealed to all, every soul in the galaxy knows the warp is loosed. To cover that up is impossible, to attempt it is like trying to drain a river with a spoon."
"What humanity know is myth, allegory and falsehood," Hypras retorted, "A million conflicting legends about the rift arise, each contradictory and lacking in truth. Facts and evidence are different, to see with one's own eyes is not the same as bar room gossip or lies from a pulpit."
"They've done nothing to us," Galhuan argued, "This act will sully our purity of spirit."
"Our purity derives from the Emperor," Hypras stated with conviction, "It cannot be besmirched."
"So we sin as we please," Galhuan barked, "No, the Emperor's gift is a duty, not a right. We must hold to the righteous path, pure in thought and word and deed, else forfeit our sanctity."
"You tread dangerous ground," Hypras growled, "To suggest a Grey Knight could be corrupted is to doubt the Emperor's perfect design for our Chapter. It is to doubt the rule of Golden Throne itself."
Hypras' threat rang loud but did not sway the errant pair, yet Agriff intruded, "This defiance is not like you, neither of you protested purging the survivors of the Word Bearers."
Galhuan replied, "They had been exposed to Sin Incarnate, the risk of taint was too great to bear. But these, what have they seen. No Neverborn, no dark rites. Merely five Space Marines in unfamiliar heraldry, no different from a thousand other Chapters in the galaxy."
"You suppose," Mordad spat, "You guess they will make no connections to Titan, but that is a gamble. Knowledge of our existence is forbidden to all, even Space Marines must be mind-wiped if they see us."
"Not Librarians," Pelleus pointed out.
Agriff snorted, "Librarians have powerful defences, it's not certain we could. Besides they deal with the Warp daily, they know how to keep their mouths shut."
"As you will," Galhuad sniffed, "Wipe these one's minds, leave them with some confused memories about a classified mission."
"I will not take that chance!" Hypras snarled, "To lay eyes on a Grey Knight is death."
"They don't need to die, it's not like they've seen Chaos..."
Galhuan's voice trailed off as he realised his error. He had said the name of the enemy aloud, a taboo embedded deep in the psyche of the Grey Knights. To name a thing created connection, either to master or be mastered by. The Dark Gods could not be mastered, only a fool thought otherwise and to name them was to draw their malevolent attention. For this reason the sons of Titan never referred to the lords of ruin by name, individually or collectively. They called them the Primal Evil, Sin Incarnate, Ruinous Powers, the Archenemy or Primordial Annihilator. By naming them Galhuad had drawn their eye, risking the mission and the lives of them all. A disgraceful act, and he knew it.
Galhuad's head fell as Pelleus looked queasy. Hypras decided to be magnanimous and didn't rub it in. He looked at the foursome and ordered, "Take arms." There was no protest as weapons were drawn and the Grey Knights stepped to the pinned mortals. Eyes widened and larynx twitched in fearful cry, but the officers had no breath to scream or plead for their lives. Hypras lifted his stave high, looking into the pleading eyes of the commander as she tried to scream, then with a firm voice uttered, "Execute."
Once, twice, thrice the weapons struck and it was done. The mortals lay upon the deck, limbs twitching as nerves fired from shattered skulls. Blood pooled across the deck, mingling and forming a pool that threatened to stain Hypras's boots. He stepped back, not allowing the thin vitae to mar his perfect colours. This deed would leave no mark upon him, his spirit as untouchable as his plate.
Hypras left the dead uncared for as he stepped over them, placing one foot upon the assault ramp of the Storm Raven. The ship's crew would have questions when their senior officers failed to return from the sealed compartments, but answers would not come. Either they stayed clear in fear of the Inquisition's wroth, or they dared to intrude and Hypras would mete out the same fate, he cared neither way. So he left the dead to rot, thinking only of the mission to come and the ramp closed on a scene of murder.
