Armorum Fidei Chapter 27
The smoking ruins of the battlefield fumed into the uncaring sky. Thousands of corpses were laid out on the ground, the vast majority non-human slaves, culled by relentless bolter fire. Yet they were not the only ones. Dotted here and there were strewn blue-clad bodies in unyielding Ceramite, Space Marines killed the ferocious fighting. They lay where they fell, the dead being of no use to the Psybrids as their killers picked over the remnants.
Chuqik was directing a pair of Borlac to overturn one of the human's clanking war machines, its hollowed out shell still smoking. It had taken a direct hit from an artillery shell and been destroyed, the turret embedded in the ground not far away proclaiming its demise. Still one could not be too careful when dealing with Praetorians, their ability to live through astonishing wounds was legendary. So he kept his whips extended as the slaves rooted around in the charred ruin, pulling out two burnt corpses.
Chuqik sagged as he saw the crew were in fact dead, it seemed no living Praetorians remained in the field. Disappointed he sent the Borlac away with a thought and turned his attention to the wider arena. As far as the eye could see dead bodies littered the ground, but in the distance the warren was still and unmoving. From its length trudged thousands of humans, all taken by the Song. They were sent on the long march to the distant Nexus Array, to add their lifeforce to the construction and speed its completion.
Chuqik was forced to admit the plan had been good. The Choir for War had shown unexpected cunning, sending waves of infiltrators into the warren loaded with leashes. Overrunning the Train-city would have taken more time than they had, but those ensnared had been given treacherous commands to sabotage the wards. All they had to do was break the shell and the Song had swept through the warren, claiming all without betraying any external sign that the warren had fallen. It was a sly strategy and Chuqik was humbled that he hadn't thought of it himself.
A faked distress cry had summoned the Praetorians, then the trap had been sprung. As expected many had died in the betrayal, but unexpectedly the Praetorians had scorned death in battle and pulled back. The perfectly engineered trap had failed to close properly and the Psybrids had only wounded a foe they had intended to kill outright. In Chuqik's opinion that made the Praetorians more dangerous than if the Psybrids had left them alone.
He spied Mewek closing, her left arm engulfed in a bulky fist that resonated with the Song's power. Like him she had been fighting at the heart of the battle and was far from pleased with the outcome. She faced him squarely and spat, "This was a disaster!"
"A disappointment yes," Chuqik agreed, "But some Praetorians were killed, that is something."
"Newak planned to obliterate them utterly," Mewek growled, "The Choir for War bungled the trap."
"War is an unpredictable business, we cannot expect everything to unfold as we want."
Mewek was incensed and hissed, "How can you defend him?!"
Chuqik retorted, "Because we have no choice but to follow. He is Praecentor by the will of the Song. Listen to the harmonies, they have not changed. Anger and resentment build, but our race's collective will remains unchanged. The Psybrid people want bloodshed and death and Newak has promised to deliver. So long as the Song wills it, he is in command."
Mewek made a snide thought but Chuqik shrugged it off, the Choir for Prosperity no longer held sway over the Psybrids. Command was a fluid thing among their race, favour shifting and changing depending on circumstances. The Song waxed and waned constantly, often cycling through harmonies and coming back to discarded themes. His time would come again; he was sure of it, but for now he was compelled to follow Newak's lead.
His eyes sought out the new Praecentor and found Newak striding along, a broken blister-spine in hand. He marched to where the pair were waiting and as he did so placed the broken ends to each other. Tendrils grew between the shorn parts as the Blister-spine regrew, the organic weapon seeking to be whole. By the time he reached them his weapon was perfect again and he placed the thorny end on the ground as he said, "We have won."
Mewek snarled, "I find this victory lacking. I count the dead and come up short."
"Blood is blood," Newak dismissed.
"Perhaps you missed the bulk of the Praetorians escaping your trap!" Mewek snapped.
"Is that defiance I sense?" Newak growled.
Chuqik quickly interrupted, "The Choir for Prosperity functions as your counter-point, to balance the harmony. We measure today's gains against losses and find the outcome wanting."
Newak snorted, "The Choir for Prosperity exists only to count eggshells, thinking the universe can be reduced to numbers. The Choir for War understands life is blood and bone and violence, the superior take what they want and the weak perish. We blooded the Praetorians, that is all that matters. So what if it takes one battle, or ten or a hundred to finish the job? We will grind them down one at a time until none remain."
Chuqik found that thinking blunt but allowed, "The Song supports you, our people want more blood. Yet the Praetorians are alerted to the shift in our tactics, you won't catch them the same way twice."
"I don't intend to," Newak laughed, "I will not waste time singing into the wind but strike for their heart. You will see, this war is far from over."
With that the Praecentor turned and strode away, smugness ringing through the Song. Chuqik was annoyed, the fool had barely scraped enough blood to call this a victory and yet he acted as if he had slain the Songbreaker himself. Chuqik turned to his companion and said, "We must be cautious and take steps to ensure our survival."
"You propose… disobedience?"
"Never!" Chuqik snarled, "I am no pathetic human, to live in discord. I merely propose a sub-theme to the harmony. Take our forces and double the guards around the Nexus Array, in case of unexpected mishaps. We must ensure Yeuek's work is completed, or nothing we do here will matter."
Mewek bobbed in acknowledgement and then bounded away, drawing slaves to follow her. Chuqik watched her depart and then sagged against the ashen ruin of the tank. Despite his words he could not help but think that the Choir for War was driving them to disaster, that Newak was going to lurch from blunder to blunder until he ruined everything. Chuqik wanted to change that certainty and yet was bound by the Song to obey, there was no course left to him save to comply.
It was then that he became aware that he was being watched. From behind the wreck stepped out another Psybrid, this one in a dark exo-cuirass with long talons for fingers. Chuqik didn't know this one and his suspicions were roused. If it were possible for Psybrids to fight Psybrids he would have lifted his guard, as it stood he jerked upright and snapped, "Who are you?!"
The newcomer bobbed low in submission and exclaimed, "A friend."
"You were listening to our exchange," Chuqik hissed.
"I was and I found it most enlightening," the newcomer confessed, "I am Jeguk, and I am of the Choir for Possibility."
That greeting brought Chuqik no peace. The Choir for Possibility was a strange chord in the orchestra of the Song. They were few in number and yet provoked great controversy among the other Psybrids. The Choir for Possibility existed to imagine, to conceive notions others dared not to dream. They were the wild ones, those who strayed furthest from orthodox thinking, always challenging stagnation and moribund tradition. The Choir for Science advocated the advancement of their race, but their ideas were linear in progression, the Choir for Possibility produced novel concepts that overturned all convention. They were held in low regard by the majority of Psybrids, the whiff of disobedience clinging to them, but they had a role to play and were tolerated.
Chuqik faced Jeguk and hissed, "You risk much seeking me out."
Jeguk snorted, "Without risk there is nothing for us save a slow slide into extinction. The well trod path leads nowhere, but those who dare the unknown discover more than they ever dreamed."
"I have no time for your philosophising," Chuqik snorted as he made to move off.
"Newak is going to destroy the Psybrids!" Jeguk proclaimed.
Chuqik froze at the proclamation and uttered, "What?!"
"You know it to be true," Jeguk urged, "You see his blunder here and know it will be repeated again and again. The Choir for Possibility exists to prevent disaster, we are a safeguard against hidebound thinking leading us into stagnation such as the humans have drowned in. Someone has to seek new ways to exist and our two Choirs have much in common. But the Choir for War seeks only blood, uncaring for cost. Newak will not stop until we are all dead."
Chuqik tensed as he retorted, "You don't know that for a fact, he may win."
But Jeguk shook his head and explained, "The Choir for Possibility has dreamed that too. We foresee if Newak wins through bloody conquest he will not be satisfied. The Choir for War will grow in arrogance, pressing for more violence and death. They will not be content to sit inside a sphere of silence and wait for the danger to pass. They will urge a head-on attack against the Songbreaker, sending the entirety of the Psybrid race into battle to claim his head."
"That would be the end of us!" Chuqik exclaimed in shock, "The Songbreaker drove us to the edge of extinction once, he would not fail a second time. We cannot challenge him in his place of strength."
"And yet the Choir for War will not care," Jeguk argued, "They are not like the Choir for Prosperity, they care nothing for losses. Even the prospect of extinction would not sway them."
Chuqik felt the cold hard truth whelm up within him but he could only sigh, "Yet we cannot change that, the Song supports Newak."
"What if he wasn't a factor?" Jeguk proposed, "Imagine if he were simply… gone."
Chuqik's alarm grew as he started, "What do you mean?!"
"Better you don't know," Jeguk deflected, "But consider Newak has given our race's violent impulses a focus, drowning out all other possibilities with one blaring note. Without that focus other notes would be allowed to flourish and fresh possibilities would abound."
Chuqik leaned in and growled, "You foster discord and strife."
"No, we seek to restore harmony, to bring the Song back into accord. We have a plan… but what we need to know is, were Newak no longer Praecentor would you be able to take back the role?"
Chuqik leaned back and considered it. He could not imagine any way to excise Newak's influence, but the Choir for Possibility existed to dream the impossible. They may have some cunning ruse he could not conceive, some way to change the status quo. Chuqik was bound by convention, he could not disobey but others were more flexible, they may have a means beyond his ken. It was certainly worth considering, the Choir for Prosperity needed to regain control of the situation.
"It can be done," Chuqik affirmed, "If the situation were altered I could reclaim the role of Praecentor. But your thoughts are perilous, were they to become widely known…"
"We can operate with subtly," Jeguk replied, "Best we not speak again, simply be ready to move when you see the chance appear."
With that Jeguk loped away, disappearing into the crowds of aliens. Chuqik was left to ponder what he had just agreed to. He didn't know what they were plotting but he was sure he wouldn't like it. Still he could not argue the time to take risks had come. If he did not wrest control back then the Psybrid race was doomed.
