Extremus Fors Chapter 30
Novak gingerly poked at the servitor mule, testing if it was viable. The machine did not respond, its mechanisms wrecked and organic components oozing synthetic blood. Two entry holes in its flank revealed where bolt rounds had penetrated its thin hide, and the gory craters in the other side proclaimed where the explosive rounds had blown innards to scrap. In the wan light of their stablights it made a forlorn sight, broken in ways irreparable, it would never move again.
"It's fried," Novak stated grimly.
"We'll have to carry whatever we need from now on," Cortha replied.
"We can refill ammo and repair our armour, food... I suppose that depends if Micah is still alive."
"No point waiting then."
The pair leaned down and gripped the broken mule, lifting it with transhuman strength. Novak wasn't holding out much hope that the Pariah was still alive, the machine had taken the brunt of the shots but had fallen over, trapping its cargo under its weight. There were many ways the mortal could die, crushed, impaled, drowning in the shallow water and Micah had been in poor health to begin with. Yet to his surprise when they lifted the bulky mule there was a soft groan and a hint of movement among the scattered bags.
Novak carefully moved the piles and found Micah laying among the debris, huddled into a ball. The Pariah whimpered as they freed him, not responding to his name. He did flinch when Novak tried to move him, the left leg swollen around a bad break. That complicated matters. Novak scooped him up, ignoring the yowl of pain and carried him away from the water, placing him on a dry bit of snow. Then he started peeling off wet clothes.
"Gerrrroofff!" Micah yelped.
"You'll die of hypothermia if we don't get you dry. Cortha, find some thermal blankets and a medpack."
"I do not care if it lives or dies," the Chaplain growled.
"You'll care when Hypras comes back looking for revenge," Novak snapped, "Without protection, we will be diced."
The Chaplain's skullface helmed did not give anything away but he reluctantly scooped among the wreckage, finding what they needed. Novak meanwhile tended to Micah's wounds. In addition to the broken leg there were numerous lacerations to his lower body and gut, leaving him bloodsoaked but only shallowly. Secondary shrapnel from the dying mule, Novak judged. The Pariah was fortunate, a direct hit from a bolt shell would have splattered him across the walls.
Cortha dumped the supplies then marched off, moving to help Geryon, who was unburying Ajax from the mound of snow. Arvael was on the other side of the cavern, psychically searching for a way out. Novak had activated the limiter as soon as the fight ended, before he knew if Micah lived. That left Novak to act as medic. His knowledge of human anatomy was scant, more weighted to taking bodies apart than putting them back together, but the med-pack was tailored for mortals and he knew how to treat field injuries.
Novak first applied a Morpha-balm, then went to work. He took some needles and picked bits of cloth out of the wounds, lest infection kill the mortal, then applied sealant foam to stop the bleeding. The leg was a more troubling prospect, human bones did not reform with the speed of an Astartes', Micah would be unable to walk for weeks, someone would have to carry him, which required a splint.
Novak took out two collapsible rods and twisted them to extend a brace and then added some bandages. "Micah, this is going to hurt."
"Feel like I'm flying," the Pariah murmured.
"Think I gave you too much Morpha," Novak grunted as he gripped the leg, "Or too little, I don't know. Anyway…."
He pulled gently on the leg to straighten the bones and Micah tried to sit up with a snarl of pain. Novak's grip however was firm and he held the leg still as he applied the splints, then wrapped it tight. Then he sprayed sealant all over the dressing, forming an immovable cast around the broken leg. All the while Micah seethed in pain, drugs not enough to stop all sensations.
When Novak was done Micah flopped back and whined, "That hurts."
"I've lived through worse," Novak snorted.
"I can tell that from your face," Micah hissed, "Tell me we're going home now."
"No, we're not."
"We can't be thinking of going forward. Not with those silver brutes out there. It's insane!"
"We're Space Marines," Novak stated bluntly, "We don't abandon missions."
"I don't care!" Micah snorted, "I never asked for any of this. I never wanted glory and power, never wanted to be a crime lord or run off to the stars. A warm bed, a full belly and a safe place to call my own. It's not too much to expect from life. But all I ever get is stepped upon, used and abused. No one ever gave me a break, not even your god-Emperor. I didn't deserve any of this."
"You're a Pariah," Novak sighed, "Get used to it."
"Maybe I should just drown myself, how'd you like that eh?"
Novak drew in a breath and reached up to pull free his helm, revealing burnt features. He looked upon Micah as he explained, "The universe doesn't care what we want, or deserve. We get what we get and try to make the most of it. You're valuable, that's more than most folk can say. The Librarius won't want to lose you, much as you make them sick. When we return they'll set you up for a comfortable life. Regular meals, clean clothes, a cell to call your own."
Micah's eyes grew wide as he whispered, "A room all to myself?"
"Hold onto that," Novak advised, "Think past today's problem and imagine tomorrow. It will get you through the worst."
"A room of my own," Micah sighed as he sank back and stared at the roof.
Novak left him to rest, standing up and walking over to the buried Dreadnought. Geryon and Cortha were shifting piles of snow, they'd already cleared Ajax's reactor housing and were working on his shoulders. The mound was steep and narrow, too much for a third Space Marine to climb so Novak stood back and called, "How long?"
"Few minutes," Geryon grunted, "Getting the ice out of his gears will be a Shunt-error-abort."
"Are we sure we want to?" Novak asked.
"What are you suggesting?" Cortha hissed as he ripped away a pile of snow.
Novak sighed, "Only what we're all thinking: Ajax has been a liability from the start. He's been leading us on wild snape chases, dreaming of past battles and starting fights we don't need. How much longer are we going to indulge his ramblings, how much more time can we afford to waste? The Exterminatus is mere days away, if we don't pick up the pace we'll all die and the mission will fail."
Geryon stopped digging and turned his helm to accuse, "What do you suggest?
"I…" Novak groaned, "I don't know. Something… anything… Can't you fix him?"
Geryon sighed, "The Techmarine Sodality has tried, I only recently joined them but the records are clear. Ajax's mind has been decaying for centuries, they've done everything they could think of, but nothing can stop his dementia from worsening. His wild outbursts have been growing, he attacks his friends and allies. He killed serfs and Techmarines during the Feast of Blades."
"You knew this and let him come anyway?!" Cortha hissed.
"He didn't give us a choice," Geryon reminded them, "He was your Chapter's Dreadnought, long before I joined. Any of you could have said something, but you didn't. You revere him, venerate his experience. There were options, you could have made his cryo-sleep permanent or removed his limbs, but not one among you dared lift a hand to stop him."
Novak's hearts fell, "Geryon's right, we can't discard Ajax, or leave him buried. He's one of us, a Storm Herald, the oldest Storm Herald. Mad or not we have to bring him along. To do anything else is a betrayal of our Chapter."
"Brotherhood," Cortha agreed, "Without it we are nothing. To leave him behind would violate every principle we uphold."
They went back to work as Novak stomped off, muttering under his breath, "I hate dealing with the big issues. Toran should have come, to handle all this crap and leave me to swing a sword." He made his way over to Arvael, who was telekinetically boring a passage in the ice. His hands shimmered as he pulled snow to and fro, causing a tunnel to form. Novak didn't know how the Librarian worked but saw it wasn't the original tunnel, too unstable to risk clearing, instead a new exit was being made, to link with passages further up.
Novak waited silently until Arvael let his hands drop then asked, "We can move out?"
"The way is clear," Arvael sighed as his hands dropped, "Once we are ready we can head out."
"And go where?" Novak pressed, "How many more empty ruins do we poke through before admitting we're getting nowhere? We don't have enough time to explore all the Forgefanes on our map, and there's no guarantee the Daemonsword is even in one."
"You ask questions to which answers cannot be found," Arvael replied, "But more concerning is our new enemies."
"The Grey Knights. Yesterday I thought them a myth, today they are our enemies."
"More than you know," Arvael lamented, "You took the life of a Grey Knight, this they will not forgive, nor forget."
"Hypras is not the live and let live type?"
"I can't emphasize enough how unlike him that is. Hypras will stop at nothing to end us, to end you. When he threatens to destroy our Chapter, he means it. The Storm Heralds will be cast out, Excommunicated from the Imperium, if he lives to bring word to Titan. And the Grey Knights have the ears of many Inquisitors, Hypras will make it happen. You cannot allow this to pass."
"You suggest I kill Hypras," Novak probed warily.
"Not just him," Arvael replied, "I recommend you kill all of them. If the Grey Knights return to Titan our Chapter is doomed. When we meet again you must not hesitate to strike. They cannot be allowed to report what happened here."
"Wonderful," Novak sighed, "I'll add it to my to-do list."
A suddenly rumbled echoed around the cavern and they saw Ajax breaking out of his icy gaol. Shattered ice broke from his gears, raining flakes from every piston as his legs kicked their way free. His fingers flexed and assault cannon clunked several times before the barrels took a test spin. Water streamed off armour plates as the heat of his reactor melted the bits he missed, leaving the Contemptor glowering in frustration.
"BRING ME MORE UNDYING, MY RAGE IS NOT SATED."
"There were no Undying," Cortha snarled, "You attacked our allies."
"DON'T CHEEK ME CHARAEL. YOU MAY BE A HIGH CHAPLAIN BUT I WAS THERE AT OUR FOUNDING. VISIONS OR NO, I DON'T TAKE ORDERS FROM WHELPS."
Novak looked at Arvael but the Librarian shook his head to indicate there was little to be done. Ajax remained unhinged, lost to his ramblings. Charael was a name from antiquity, High Chaplain and First Visionary, dead millennia before the incident with Lazar yet Ajax didn't seem to note the difference.
Geryon moved to his flank and began prodding and poking at gears, muttering, "These fluid-links are frozen, I need to unclog them or your amniotic life-support will spoil."
"YOU… YOU'RE TALL FOR A WHELP… why are you so tall… I know you… Obeck… YOU ARE OBECK…"
"My name is Geryon," the Primaris said as he tugged out some links and squeezed frozen chips from the lines.
"STUPID AS EVER OBECK, NO WONDER THEY LOCKED YOU UP AND THREW AWAY THE KEY."
"I am not him," Geryon said as he reapplied the connections.
"I TOLD YOU THOSE GHOUL MARINES WERE A BAD IDEA… just couldn't help yourself though, saw what Lazar was building and thought you could do better … I'M GLAD INCADLE DIDN'T LIVE TO SEE WHAT BECAME OF YOU."
Novak stepped forward, "Honourable Ajax, we are in danger and time is short. We need you to focus. You must walk with us, we need your strength."
"CHAMPION THIMARL, LIBRARIAN MACADEOR… but you died… I SAW LAZAR'S UNDYING RIP YOU BOTH APART…"
Arvael spoke up, "Ajax, we must move. Lazar is gathering his Undying to repel our advance. Chapter Master Incadle needs you to lead the final assault."
"YES OF COURSE… THE HERETEK SEEKS TO ESCAPE OUR WROTH… WE MUST STOP HIM… TELL INCADLE THAT AJAX WILL JOIN HIM, AS SOON AS BLESSINGS ARE MADE…"
Ajax fell silent as Geryon moved around, fixing and blessing parts. Arvael nodded to the side and said, "We can't break Ajax from his delusions, better to play along."
"So long as he can walk," Novak agreed, "Crazy or not, he's our Dreadnought and we won't abandon him. We need to gather supplies for Micah and move."
"You can carry that thing," Cortha muttered, "But where shall we…"
The Chaplain trailed off as Arvael took on a queasy look. Novak was confused and asked, "What?"
"I sense…" the Librarian gulped, "Corruption… vileness… the rancid filth of the Warp. Chaos… chaos given free rein. The Daemonsword, its power is loosed."
"Someone's using the sword," Novak exclaimed, "Can you track it?!"
"Like a flare at midnight," Arvael gulped, "It's harder not to see it."
Novak cried in excitement, "Then we have a sign to follow! Quickly, get Ajax ready and gather supplies. I'll grab Micah, then we can finish this once and for all!"
