Armorum Fidei Chapter 6
Upon the cold and barren plains sat a forward operating base. It was a standard pattern Astartes' facility, dropped straight from orbit to provide logistical support for Companies in the field. Millennia of practice had seen the base up and running within one hour or arrival, generators, Sacred-Reliquaries, Chapel-barracks, forge-shrines and Armouries set out in a grid pattern. Orbital vox-relays loomed over the base, competing with void-shield projectors for grandeur and tended to by serf-artisans with revenant devotion. Around the base razor-wire laid down a perimeter, while tarantula sentry guns and serf crewed heavy weapons swept the horizon for threats and anti-air Icarus Stormcannons rotated endlessly.
Within the base hundreds of serfs tended to all the duties necessary to keep their masters functioning. Armour was blessed, ammunition counted, ancient observances made and strategic data parsed through wheezing cogitators. Machines were consecrated, tanks cleansed of mud and algae with triple-distilled waters and anointed with holy oils. In mess halls bowls of Synthi-gruel were laid out, followed by the traditional gagging noises as the masters tried not to choke on their provisions. The Primaris brethren were notably louder in their reactions, proclaiming their distaste for their meals, while Firstborn wryly mocked they knew nothing, only when they'd been eating it for a century or more would they truly learn to loathe these provisions.
At the centre of the camp Captain Toran frowned at a Hololith. He was standing in a Stronghold, the command and control nexus. In the cramped confines teams of serfs sat before glowing consoles, large headsets over their ears shutting out noise as they focused on streams of data. In the corner a wizened cleric with a vox-grill for a mouth recited passages from the Lingua Technis in a screeching hiss of pops and whistles, soothing psalms of Binaric Cant to placate the Machine Spirits and keep them running smoothly. The heat of numerous cogitators working was oppressive and the air close, but Toran barely noticed, his attention fixed upon the swirling icons in the Hololith.
"Play it again," Toran ordered, causing the images to reset and repeat their dance.
"We can play it over and over but the outcome won't change," Furion sighed from beside him.
"There must be something we're missing," Toran groaned, "Some secret weakness we haven't yet found."
Sergeant Matheus, whom Toran had invited to join their strategic review, chimed in, "The Primaris paradigm is robust, but we can take pride in our performance, Third won nearly half the engagements against Sixth."
"Barely half," Toran lamented, "We should own the balance, not Sixth. At range we could not match them, our only wins were when we got into close combat, and even then losses were grievous. On a level field, with equal numbers, we were found wanting."
Furion snorted, "The one thing you will never find in the galaxy is a level playing field. With the advantages of terrain, intel and surprise there are a thousand ways we could have turned the tables on Raynek and the Sixth."
"I am not comforted," Toran muttered, "The Primaris learn fast, they already match we Firstborn for strength and skill, how long until they surpass us? The Chapter has started a small trial-induction of Primaris, but with these results I cannot fathom why we would hold back from full-conversion of our recruitment methods.
"Easier said than done," Matheus countered, "Converting our facilities will not be quick or easy, a century at best before we have the means was the prediction."
Furion added, "They have not yet learned everything we have to teach, experience trumps any amount of genetic tricks. Truly it is said; beware of old men in professions where men die young."
Toran watched as Hololithic figures advanced, a feint on the left by Inceptors drawing attention then a thrust by Aggressors in the Pride of Lujan on the right drawing fire so a Rhino rush could drive straight up the middle into the heart of the Sixth. The plan had worked and the Astraeus went down to an infantry assault, but both feints were wiped out to a man. A bloodsoaked victory that would have been mourned in real life. Good enough tactics for the Imperial Guard but Space Marines should do better. The Codex abhorred unnecessarily wasting Brother's lives so in the face of superior firepower Toran had been forced to adapt and invent new strategies, yet compared to the new paradigms he was left feeling tactically moribund and hidebound.
Matheus however said, "They still have technical problems to overcome. The Repulsors are having issues, again. Binaric Truth's turret can only turn right and Hallowed Data's anti-grav plates are refusing to operate."
"Again?!" Furion exclaimed, "I thought Techmarine Nimbus blessed them."
"Even a Primaris Techmarine seems to struggle with these new designs. Powerful they may be but the trade-off is reliability, glitches abound in Cawl's designs. Give me a Rhino any day, there's something to be said for ten millennia of working the bugs out of a pattern."
Toran sighed, "The Masters are clear, the Chapter has to get used to using these new designs."
"I wouldn't know," Matheus snapped waspishly, "I'll never sit among them."
The ice in his voice caught Toran's attention and he looked over, seeing Matheus' scarred visage take on a bitter aspect. Belatedly it occurred to Toran that Matheus had been a First Company Veteran in his time, groomed for Command and expected to rise to a Captaincy in due course. Toran had quietly been preparing a case for him to become Fifth Captain, but then the Primaris reinforcements had arrived. Matheus had to watch the ranks replenished by outsiders and then the new Captains take roles he had been yearning for. A rank snub and Toran berated himself for not considering how the change had crushed his trusted Sergeant's ambitions.
He was about to offer consolation but suddenly a chime rang out. Toran turned to look as cries arose and the Hololith dissolved, becoming a real-time image of the local area. The cause of the distress was evident; a single blip was coming into view, inching into the sight of high flying servo-skulls. It was a Rhino, but not of the Chapter, vox-idents proclaimed it to be an Adepta Sororitas vehicle, heading straight for their base.
"Vox-challenge!" Toran barked, "Contact that vehicle and demand an explanation as to why they encroach on Astartes' territory!"
A serf repeated the message then called, "The intruder claims to carry a Canoness of the Sororitas, they cite Holy writ as authority to inspect our base."
Furion growled, "The Ecclesiarchy uses the Emperor's name to claims many rights, but they do not have jurisdiction to question our conduct in the field. The Emperor himself bestowed our mandate; they have no business being here."
"Look like someone wants to tell them that in person," Matheus muttered.
Toran blinked as he saw a Repulsor leaving the base, heading out to intercept the Rhino. It moved far quicker on its anti-gravs and would meet them long before they came into visual range of the base. "I gave no order to send an envoy, who is in that Repulsor?!"
"Chaplain Polarus," came the reply.
"Warp Hells!" Toran spluttered, "That maniac let loose among Sororitas, he'll start a war. Quickly we have to get there, follow me!"
Toran dashed from the Stronghold, and the others followed. They exited rapidly and sprinted to the vehicle park as Furion uttered, "We should take a Repulsor, they're faster."
Matheus was a step behind and protested, "The Codex Imperialis does not permit Firstborn to ride in Primaris vehicles, or vice versa."
"I don't care!" Toran snapped the sense of dread getting the better of him, "We need speed, let's get a move on!"
Hurriedly the trio dashed to the nearest Repulsor, Cog's Boon, and dove inside. Toran shouted instructions to the driver and the tank set off at a rapid pace. Toran rocked as the turbines sent them hurtling out of the base, skimming over the land at a pace no Rhino could match. The velocity was impressive but Toran felt it wasn't nearly enough. The idea of Polarus meeting the Sisters of Battle sent a cold shiver down his spine. The Astartes and Sororitas had a frigid relationship at the best of times, and the Primaris Chaplain had been brusque enough with other Space Marines, what he'd make of the religious branch of the Imperium was not pleasant to imagine. Toran fought to stay calm as Cog's Boon roared over the land, heading towards a fateful meeting.
Toran fumed every inch of the way until finally the Repulsor reduced velocity and skimmed to a halt. He jumped out the hatch, cloak billowing in the buffeting forces of clashing anti-gravs and found a tense confrontation. Standing before a black Rhino were six human women. They were clad in slim power armour, far less robust than Astartes' plate and cumbersome without the interface of a Black Carapace. They bore a variety of relic weapons and their heads were exposed, revealing scarred faces with the eyes of zealots. Against them stood Chaplain Polarus, one Marine against six, yet somehow far more intimidating. His skeletal helm glared and in his hand was a Crozius, a short rod topped with a skull, lacking wings or spikes as customary.
The leading woman was speaking, "In His name, get out of my way."
"Take His name in vain again and I will end you woman," Polarus growled.
Toran skidded to a halt and barked, "Stay your hand and explain this!"
The woman turned to face him and despite being surrounded by towering Transhuman killers snapped, "You, tell this one he has no right to bar my passage."
Toran didn't care for her tone and wasn't about to be addressed so and replied, "You ignore established protocols between our orders, millennia of convention. I am Captain Toran, this is Chaplain Furion and Sergeant Matheus, Chaplain Polarus you've already met. By tradition you must tell me your name and business."
The woman looked like she'd sucked on a lemon but replied, "I am Canoness Phantea, ranking Soroitas on this planet. This is my Celestian guard. By the God-Emperor's will I am here to inspect your conduct."
"I warned you…" Polarus hissed as he took a half-step forward.
Yet Toran saw he had to slap this conflict down hard and fast so interjected, "Hold, I am in command here. Sisters, you overstep your authority, the Adeptus Astartes does not answer to you."
"In matters of faith my mandate is clear," Phantea argued, "You Storm Heralds are noted deviants, I will not depart this place until I am satisfied you are not proselytising."
Toran's twin hearts fell as he realised she was here about his Chapter's Emperor-worship. A practice he had fought long and hard to put a stop to, but one whose shadow hung over them still. No matter how many times he thought the matter buried in the past it seemed to keep rearing its ugly head to plague them.
Toran drew in a breath and said, "Canoness, you mistake our intent. We are merely here to train and conduct military exercises. The beliefs of the local natives are of no interest to us."
"And for that I am expected to take your word at face value," Phantea scoffed.
Polarus sneered, "Your twisted beliefs are not our problem, your order's existence is an affront to the Emperor's Imperial Truth. If he could see what you have made of His Imperium he would call down Exterminatus upon every shrine world in this galaxy."
"You dare threaten us!" Phantea snarled.
"The Regent…" Polarus hissed.
Yet Toran butted in, "Has issued explicit orders regarding the Ecclesiarchy. We are not to antagonise them, nor interfere with their allotted mandate. The Astartes are to focus upon the execution of our missions, leaving matters of faith to those best suited to the task. The Lord Guilliman requires us to respect the Adeptus Ministorum, showing neither prejudice nor favour to their activities. We are not to provoke the Sisters of Battle; any infringement of this decree is to be considered a direct violation of standing orders, Polarus."
Polarus thankfully shut up but Phantea snorted, "If that's settled let us move on to the inspection."
Toran rounded on her and barked, "Never. You will vacate our grounds immediately. The Adeptus Astartes' rights were laid down by the Emperor himself. No, I will not hear a protest; this is the Emperor's writ and you risk defying Holy decree. We fight, you preach, that is the order of the Imperium."
The Canoness glared in defiance and Toran sensed building violence within her but then from behind her a Sister holding a polearm spoke up, "Pardon my boldness, but you are Storm Heralds. By chance would you know of a Chaplain Wrethan?"
Toran was stunned by the odd question but the name struck at his hearts and he started, "Wrethan…"
"Justini," Phantea hissed.
"Let her speak," Toran urged, "You knew Wrethan?"
Justini nodded, "I met him, shortly before his death. He gave me great comfort in a time of distress. His example showed me the path to righteousness, when all choices seemed evil. I owe him a debt of gratitude."
Toran's hearts ached at the memory of the lost, a disgraced and penitent Chaplain sent to find atonement for terrible sins. He drew in a breath and said, "Wrethan was a friend and mentor to me, but he was led astray in a time of bitter kinstrife. He was sent from us to seek redemption among the stars. I heard of his death after the fact and mourned that I was not there at his side. Tell me, did he die well?"
"Exemplarily," Justini replied, "Whatever sins he committed in life, he expiated with his passing. He was true and brave to the last."
"He also seemed to think everyone needed a good flogging," Phantea added.
"That was definitely Wrethan," Toran chuckled, "It would be a shame to taint his memory by infighting between our institutions. For his sake I suggest we agree to mind our own affairs and keep a respectful distance."
Phantea grimaced but allowed, "For the sake of a common friend I will withdraw, but know I will be watching your perimeter like a hawk. If I see a single one of your kind sneaking towards a Train-city it will go ill for you."
"Make whatever threats you need to satisfy your pride," Toran permitted, "But do it from far away."
With that the Sisters turned and strode back to their Rhino, entering without a backwards glance. Toran breathed out in relief, feeling how close that had come to bloodshed. He was amazed to think they had met his long-lost mentor but stranger things had happened in the galaxy and he was content to let the matter lie. As the Rhino sped away he rubbed the back of his neck and resolved to focus his Companies on their exercises, the last thing the Storm Heralds needed was another conflict.
Sadly it was then that Polarus turned to face them and growled, "Who was this Wrethan and what Heresy have you been hiding from me?!"
