Extremus Fors Chapter 15
Novak gingerly picked his way over an ice bridge, testing every step before trusting his weight to it. To either side a sheer plunge dropped away, disappearing into the darkness beyond the light of the lumen orbs. Vertigo was not a sensation Astartes were troubled by, but this made him cautious. If the ice failed then he would drop an unknown distance, perhaps into conditions even he could not survive. To die crushed in a glacier was no death for a Space Marine and the thought of being trapped alone in the dark, unable to move or call for aid, made the palms of his hands tingle unpleasantly.
Another step he took, and another, crossing the distance with nervous footsteps. High above the sweeping curve of the ice roof reflected the wan light, just like a dozen other tunnels they had explored. None had been passable, not to their bulk anyway, this crossing was the only way across the crevice, they had to dare it. Novak tried to think only of the next step, closing his mind to the danger, then he was across and sagged in relief.
He waved to the rest of the party, signalling them to cross. Geryon went next, handheld auspex scanning the ice for cracks. He had declared the spar adequate but still moved hastily, as if not trusting it. Then came Arvael with a brisk step and Cortha, who stomped across as if daring the bridge to break. Next it was Micah's turn. The Pariah sat in the servitor-mule, huddled under a pile of thermal blankets and scowling. A handful of lumen orbs were suspended over his head, casting illumination into the midnight cavern. Mechanical legs clipped the ice with a trot as the luggage moved over the span, steered by an indifferent servitor brain.
"Five down, that just leaves you Ajax," Geryon called. The Dreadnought had been forced to go last, and wasn't happy about it. The Contemptor had been the reason they had been forced to divert so many times, his height and weight making most passages unusable. Ever since Hurricane Fury deposited them on the glacier above Ajax had been slowing them down. All were keenly aware they could have moved much faster without him, but the Dreadnought had chosen to come and nobody could gainsay him.
Novak watched as the war machine strode over the ice-bridge, his great metal feet making slivers of ice spill from its mass. Novak's teeth ground together as he waited for the span to break and plunge the Honourable into the gloomy depths, each creak of the span making him wince. Surely such flimsy material could not support a Dreadnought, and yet Ajax crossed without incident. He stomped over, shaking the bridge at the last, but crossing safely regardless.
Novak breathed out loudly, "Throne, that was close."
"NOTHING TO IT," Ajax muttered.
Geryon adjusted his auspex saying, "Would you like to know how fine the tolerances were on that span?"
"ONLY IF YOU WANT TO FIND OUT HOW DEEP THAT CREVICE IS, FIRSTHAND."
Arvael broke in, "We shouldn't linger, we've lost a lot of time already. The tunnel ahead is clear."
"How can you be sure?" Micha piped up from his nest.
"I'm a Psyker," Arvael snapped as he turned and strode away.
Novak and Geryon shared a loaded glance, but the librarian was technically in command, so set off after him. The tunnel sloped downwards gently and was circular in form, the floor was slippery as glassic, but Astartes boots were equal to the task and Novak had no issues with traction. The crevice behind dropped out of sight as they advanced, keeping their weapons held ready at all times. Micah had slept twice since they made planetfall, but Astartes could operate for days on end, weeks even, with no loss of alertness. Novak was fresh and ready to fight.
Geryon waved his auspex about and remarked, "Strange, so far the tunnel network has been formed from natural glacial movements, or caverns melted by geothermal activity, but this isn't natural at all. I'm reading claw marks in the ice."
"A lifeform dug these?" Cortha asked, "Is it a threat we should be wary of?"
"NOTHING THAT CAN TROUBLE US," Ajax stated firmly.
"You're sure?" Novak asked.
"LOCAL LIFEFORMS ARE THE LEAST OF OUR WORRIES."
Novak rolled his eyes under his helm for Ajax had been less than forthcoming. Ajax had selected their landing coordinates, and set their course, traversing the ice with a familiar step that spoke of previous experience. That the Dreadnought had been here before was obvious, but he refused to divulge when or why. Novak could not help but wonder what ancient quest had unfolded in these icy caverns, what the Honourable had seen and done that made him so quietly angry. Whatever had occurred and been dire enough for an entire epoch of the Storm Herald's history to be burned from memory. The implications were troubling.
Micah's thin voice piped up, "I'm freezing."
"Deal with it," Novak muttered.
"Can I have another heating pack?"
"No," Geryon snapped.
"I didn't ask to come on this sodding mission. I was quite content to stay in Ka Mua, living my life, until you lot came along."
"You were about to be burned for Heresy," Novak snapped.
"At least I would have been warm!" Micah retorted.
Cortha growled, "Why does it speak, when nobody cares?"
"If I die then you lose your only Pariah," Micah pointed out.
"Have a hot-ration pack then," Novak grunted.
"I can't reach, you get it for me."
Novak's lip curled but he fell back a step to the mule. Micah was bundled up like a swaddling babe against the chill, thermal blankets held close. Novak kept his sword drawn, but with his other hand reached into the packs taking up the rear and pulled out a slip of slivery foil. He passed it over and a pale hand darted out, snatching it under the coverings. A tearing noise announced its opening, then seconds later the smell of boiling vegetable broth filled the air, heated by a chemical reaction with air.
"Mummm broth," Micah emerged, "I'll say this; you lot feed your prisoners better than slumlords do their tenants."
"This is beneath the dignity of a Chapter Champion," Novak grumbled.
"Cheer up, you'll be back on your island before long, basking your big head in showers of praise."
Novak glanced down and spat, "Most Lujanites show the Storm Heralds respect!"
"Most Lujanites spit on me," Micah retorted, "My parents threw me onto the streets to survive. All my life the strongtold me I'm worthless and born under an evil star. They said I had to beg for the God-Emperor's forgiveness, but he's shown me nothing but contempt. Had to beg and steal to scrape by, tried to sell my body even, but no soul would touch me. Now your boss tells me I'm a Pariah… whatever that is. I guess it explains why everybody hates me on sight, doesn't make it easier though."
"I care nothing for your life story," Novak hissed.
"What's that jewel?" Micah suddenly asked.
"Huh?"
"That jewel, on your shield," Micah asked again, "Looks worth a silver at least."
Novak lifted his combat shield and said, "This is a Rosarius, a sacred relic of the Astartes. It was broken in battle with a fiend beyond your comprehension, in a war where Storm Herald and Ashen Knight forged bonds everlasting. It was given to me as a mark of Brotherhood and trust."
"So… you're not interested in selling it?"
"No," Novak growled.
"You sure?"
"If you touch this I'll rip your head off!"
"Pity, I could live for a month off what I could get for that."
"Gah," Novak spat as he stomped ahead, leaving Micah to drink the broth.
He drew level with Arvael who sniffed, "Troubles?"
"Don't, just don't," Novak muttered.
"Finally met someone as mouthy as you, and you don't like it," Arvael quipped.
"I'm not like him," Novak spat, "I'm hilarious!"
"You're not half as funny as you think you are," Arvael jabbed.
"Keep it up," Novak growled, "I'm in a bad mood and looking to share it."
Arvael drew in a breath but suddenly Geryon held up a fist. Everybody froze, weapons held ready. Novak's focus became laser-sharp as he scanned the tunnel for threats, but found nothing. Geryon however stalked forward, moving into an ice-cavern barely big enough for them all to spread out. Novak noted the roof scraping Ajax's exhaust vents, and the walls seemed slick, as if the ice had once melted, then refroze. Several tunnels led out of this dimple in the glacier, and yet none of them attracted Geryon.
The Techmarine stepped over to a wall and said, "This cavern was once much bigger, the walls have closed in and buried something. I'm reading a solid mass inside this wall: Plasteel, Ceramite… Adamantium."
"Adamantium?" Arvael exclaimed, "Surely not, there is no Adamantium in this moon's geology."
"The moon in general is lacking the mineral content to justify a Mechancius Forge, but that's what I'm reading," Geryon stated.
"STAND BACK," Ajax rumbled as he pushed forward.
The Contemptor stepped up and drove his fist into the wall, shattering the ice into deep cracks. Novak winced, expecting the whole roof to implode, but all that happened was the surface fell away, revealing a sloped mass of armour beyond. Thick Ceramite was exposed, covering a tank tread marked every thirteenth link with the Imperial Aquila. The slope rose on one side, but the other was vertical, and bored through by a ragged hole big enough for a grown man to wiggle through. The material was covered in white frost, but the colour underneath was unmistakable, dark blue: Storm Herald blue.
"That's…" Novak gasped, "That's a Land Raider, that's a Storm Herald Land Raider!"
"Surely not," Cortha breathed, "So treasured a relic, left in the ice like a discarded Bolt shell. We would never abandon so hallowed a machine."
"It seems we would," Arvael breathed, "If we had to."
Geryon waved his auspex over the ragged hole in the side, "Land Raider Proteus, a truly venerable relic, but this blast pattern does not conform to any known weapon. An energy beam of some description punched through Ceramite and Adamantium like it was parchment. This Land Raider has been bored through, both sides. The Machine Spirit was annihilated on impact, beyond any prospect of repair. This Hallowed machine was killed with a single shot."
"Land Raiders are legendarily tough," Novak mused, "Few things short of Titan-grade weapons can so much as scratch that hull, let alone kill one in a single shot."
"Even so, the dead should have been rescued, for interning in the Forge's vaults," Geryon added.
"THERE WASN'T TIME," Ajax rumbled, "AND WE COULDN'T RISK COMING BACK FOR THE LOST."
All eyes slid to the Dreadnought and Arvael asked, "Honourable brother, could you explain this?"
"FOLLY AND HUBRIS, THE MADNESS OF INVENTION AND THE SHAME OF A THOUSAND YEARS. MAGOS LAZAR AND HIS UNDYING WERE THE POISONED FRUITS OF INSANITY, BUT THE SEEDS WERE LAID MILLENNIA EARLIER. ON THIS MOON IT BEGAN, AND HERE IT ENDED. WHAT CHAPTER MASTER LUJAN BEGAN, INCADLE ENDED."
"What happened here?" Novak breathed. Ajax didn't respond, merely turning away and striding to a distant tunnel. The others glanced at each other, then set off, following in Ajax's wake, unable to do anything save trust the ancient knew where he was going. Ajax pulled ahead, leaving them to trail along, filled with questions as they pressed deeper into the icy wastes.
Novak sidled up to Arvael and breathed, "Chapter Master Lujan, ring any bells?"
"None," Arvael muttered, "But it seems he had two worlds named after him. Remarkable, it may well be that Lujan II was not our Homeworld's original name. I wonder what the planet was called beforehand, and what feats this lost Master performed to justify so mighty an honour."
Geryon mused, "Incadle, I've heard that name. In a lost temple, dedicated to a crusade that was expunged from history."
"Truly?" Cortha probed, "This is not known in the Chaplaincy. Did you glean any clues to explain this conspiracy?"
"Sadly not," Geryon lamented, "Ajax buried the temple shortly after we discovered it."
"Of course he did," Novak groaned.
Novak had more questions than ever, but no answers, so he walked in silence. The mystery of this Forgemoon grew with every passing hour, and he had no way to know what lay ahead. Even if they did uncover the truth he would not be allowed to remember it. For some reason that irked more than anything else.
A soft sniff at his side was Micah tossing his empty ration pack aside and remarking, "I'm not following any of this."
"You're not the only one," Novak grunted, "Mysteries abound."
"I get that, but what I meant is what bearing does this have on the mission? What does any of this have to do with getting that sword?"
"I…" Novak murmmered, "Nothing I suppose. None of this relates to the sword."
"Then it's a distraction. Forget it."
"That's… surprisingly good advice," Novak allowed.
"Don't be so shocked, I'm full of helpful advice. Growing up on the streets you had to learn to pick your fights and never get dragged into someone else's problems."
"Keep it up," Novak said with a touch of warmth, "Maybe I won't bash your brains in before this is over."
"Thanks," Micah snorted.
"I only said maybe," Novak quipped.
"Novak…one other thing, since we're being friendly," Micah said.
"Yes?" Novak ventured.
"I have to stop and pee."
Novak's hand came up to slap his faceplate and he groaned loudly, "Throne, what did I do to deserve this?!"
