Armorum Fidei Chapter 42
Polarus had never felt so lost. He stood in brooding silence, staring out the stained armourglass windows that fronted the command centre of Curren Ecclesia. The strange environment unsettled him, the macabre flourishes flowing from a morbid attitude he did not understand. Scores of madmen chanted prayers of worship as they operated the controls and bloated cyber-cherubs flittered about, squawking gibberish. Everything he thought he knew told him this was a pathetic sham of discipline, and yet with his own eyes he had seen these mortals overthrow the Psybrids. Protected by a force he did not and could not understand, some power in the universe he had failed to grasp. So he brooded in silence, gnawing on his failure.
Outside the windows three Train-cities rolled alongside Currens Ecclesia, while the Astartes' vehicles trundled along in their shadow. They were hardly speedy but over the course of several days had drawn near the Psybrid construct, adding more forces as they went. It had been Furion's idea to broadcast word of what had happened in the battle, telling the people that mere mortals had faced the Psybrids in open battle and triumphed. Polarus understood the value of propaganda but Furion had insisted it was not Astartes or Sisters or preachers who told the tale, mere civilians, those who had seen events unfold with their own eyes. The humble testimonials had done what two thousand years of preaching had failed to achieve, turning the surviving people towards the Imperial Creed in their multitudes.
The train-cities of Turhen, Gorflat and Hequal had come together, and more were on their way. Trails of discarded talismans and charms were left to rust in their wake, thrown out as useless junk as the Imperial Faith took root. Many executions occurred too, the soothsayers and bone-rattlers strung up as charlatans and liars, their trickery had been revealed as a sham and the people were not slow to show their displeasure. Polarus could see them swinging from cages strapped to gibbets hanging over the sides of the Train-cities, left to starve to death in a slow sacrifice to their new religion. Another aspect Polarus failed to comprehend.
Disappointed he turned from the view and made his way back to the middle of the Templum. There Captain Toran, Furion and Justini poured over pict-images, laid upon a broken Hololithic projector. Justini had dismounted her warsuit, as it was being worked over by adepts below and had a faint air of annoyance that's she no longer stood head and shoulders above the Space Marines. Polarus wasn't sure why they'd brought him, he had nothing to offer in this strange new world he inhabited, perhaps it was the others literally didn't want to let him out of their sight.
Toran's one eye narrowed and his augmetic whirred as he held a pict aloft and said, "It's not a spaceport, or a fortress, the design is all wrong."
"Perhaps an orbital tower?" Furion mused, "It's almost as tall as a hive city already."
Toran countered, "Psybrids don't need such an interface, they have mastered Teleportation. I cannot define its function, but its value is inarguable. These picts reveal the armies ringing it have doubled in the last day."
Justini placed a finger on another pict and declared, "Our forces have grown too, more Train-cities move to join us. A few more days and we will add fifty thousand more souls to the cause."
"We may not have time," Toran sighed, "The Psybrids won't stand idle. Whatever this construct is it is valuable to the Psybrids and I suspect that will mean no good for us. We must strike before they can complete it."
Justini's freckled nose wrinkled in confusion as she protested, "But you said we must have all the allies we can get."
"True, but one must consider the strategic situation. To surrender initiative is a great mistake."
Justini threw up her hands and cried, "You contradict yourself!"
"If command were easy anyone could do it," Toran quipped with a cold smile, "The Psybrids will not permit us to gather every last man on the planet to march under our banner, so we must strike first. No commander ever goes into battle with the forces he would like to have, you have to learn to take what you are given and make it work."
Furion spoke up then, "We have two Companies of Space Marines, your abbey and its forces, plus three Train-cities with all their artillery, guns and militia. Some twenty-five thousand bodies, desperate to engage with the foe."
"If we can trust them," Toran cautioned, "You are such your... protection extends to these newcomers?"
"The Emperor Protects!" Justini declared confidently, "But I take your point, thankfully we can be doubly sure of their conversion. The people of Suna have spent two thousand years cowering in terror of the Xenos, a generational fear that has grown with every retelling. Now at last they see a chance to strike back at their oppressors, all that fear and anxiety has become rage and zeal. They embrace our Creed with the fervency of one who has seen the truth for the first time. There are few experiences so hallowed, trust me."
Toran returned to the picts and said, "Judging by this intelligence there is nothing to be gained by hanging back. Sneaking about will give initiate to the Psybrids. A full-frontal attack is our best option. I intend to leave the non-combatants behind for the next Train-city to come along, while we press our advantage."
"There are no non-combatants," Justini declared.
"None?" Toran asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Every last man woman and child is with us, braying to be allowed to fight," Justini proudly uttered.
Toran nodded and said, "In that case a diamond attack pattern will allow our Train-cities to cover each other. Currens Ecclesia will take point, use your quake cannon to good effect, save no rounds for later. We will drive into the midst of the foe then sally forth on foot to break open the way, then my Companies will strike for the construct and bring it down."
Justini accepted the plan but said, "With the God-Emperor at our side we cannot fail."
Toran looked dubious as he said, "Much will depend on your crews keeping up the momentum, I shall have a squad redeployed to defend your walls."
Polarus broke his silence then to say, "No need, I'll do it."
Everybody blinked in surprise and Toran said, "You volunteer to stay behind?"
"It is the best place for me. I'll keep them moving forward, no matter what."
Toran eyed him for a long moment then relented, "We have six hours until engagement, I suggest we make final checks and brief our respective force."
With that he and Justini departed, leaving Furion and Polarus alone in the bustling hubbub of the control centre. Polarus didn't look at him as he stared at the scattered picts and muttered, "You don't have to watch me like an errant child."
"I think I do," Furion countered, "It is not like you to hang back."
Polarus sighed, "I wish to understand this place, these people. There is a power moving amongst them, one I cannot name. My understanding of the galaxy is incomplete and I need to uncover what ethereal protection they have effected."
Furion shook his head and said, "You seek deception where there is none. Faith, Polarus, the power of faith is no more than what it appears to be. For millennia the Imperial faith has held back the tide of darkness, performed miracles on the battlefield and strengthened Mankind for the fight."
"Faith in a lie!" Polarus hissed, "The Emperor is no god, He himself forbade such talk at the dawn of the Imperium. These fools have been taken in by a lie... yet somehow that lie has become true. Did He deny his divinity and hide it from us? But no that would make the curs of the Word Bearers right. Maybe... maybe He wasn't a god back then, but became a God in the last ten thousand years?"
"Stop," Furion sighed, "You are making the same mistake the Ecclesiarchy makes, focusing on the man and not His teachings."
"I don't follow," Polarus started.
Furion explained, "The Emperor was many things: technologist, warlord, the most powerful psyker who ever lived, but above all he was a man with a vision. He saw the potential in mankind and dreamed of a strong and united humanity, safe from the perils of a malevolent universe, safe from Xenos and Chaos. He was taken from us so long ago, but His vision remains, the mission He gave us endures. That is what we have faith in, the righteousness of our task and confidence it can be achieved. The priests forget this, they make the man more important than the message. Do I think the Emperor is a god, no, but I believe the mission He gave us is Holy. Miracles are manifestations of the human will to prevail against all odds, a psychic phenomenon if you want to be pedantic. Proof that humanity is strong and righteous, that is something to believe in."
Polarus lowered his head and sighed, "We could never have accepted such teachings in my day. Vuqil would have shot anyone who suggested such a thing."
"Who?" Furion probed.
"My blood-brother, he was taken into the Legion before the Second Founding. He eventually became a Chapter Master of the Novamarines. I thought to match his feat by becoming Master of Sanctity, it was a prideful act, the arrogance of a blind idiot."
Furion nodded as if a complex puzzle had been solved and said, "You are competing with a ghost."
"I'm what?"
"You try to outperform a memory, failing to see that the task is impossible to achieve. You will never equal the image you cling to, for it is a false ideal. Bitterness and disappointment are all you will ever know so long as you define yourself as someone's shadow. All you can see is failure, in yourself and in others. You must stop measuring yourself by another's deeds and see your own worth. You are not Vuqil's shadow, you are your own man."
"I..." Polarus whispered, "I never grasped that truth."
"Learn from it," Furion snapped coldly as he turned away.
"Wait," Polarus called, "You don't want to guard me anymore?"
"You seem to have learned an important lesson," Furion said, "Best you are given solace to reflect."
Polarus whispered, "Why do you offer counsel to a Marine you despise?"
"Don't take it personally, I would give the same solace to any Marine under my care, especially one struggling with his many failures."
Polarus lifted his head and said, "You are a good Chaplain."
"You are not," Furion stated icily as he turned and strode away.
Polarus was left among the mortals to chew upon what he had heard. His mind cycled over the words and was unable to deny the truth within. Accepting that he had been wrong was hard but to recognise his failures were born of his own insecurities was harrowing. He had been clinging to a dream of his brother, spinning fantasies of some perfect hero, one he could never live up to. The very idea that he could be a Master of Sanctity reeked of arrogance and self-conceit, it shamed him to think he once believed himself worthy. The lives he had ended, the contempt he had shown, it weighed upon his soul like a millstone.
There was nothing else he could do save admit he was not worthy and it was time to make it right. Polarus opened his armour's memno-logs and began by saying, "I Polarus make this recording of my own free will and entrust it to the combat logs of all our vehicle's Machine Spirits. I hereby rescind my claim for Master of Sanctity and offer my unequivocal support to another..."
