The space marines were back on the ship, the main ork threat had been dealt with, the Astra Militarum could handle whatever was left. The Silver Griffons Third Company was now on its way to its next mission: a psychic distress call from another space marine ship.
Gechorus was once again caring for his armour. The ork blood was sticky and the scratches from the guns were many, much devotion was needed to bring this holy armour back to the glorious appearance it once had. Alas as much as he worked and toiled, his thoughts came back to the words of Solemis Tarvos, as strong as his devotion to the Emperor and the Imperium was, he could not deny the truth of what he had said. Had the space marines come all this way and done so much of the Emperor's work; only to leave as greater enemies to the people than the orks? "It cannot be so," he murmured under his breath. It was not his place to pass judgement on the fate of a planet, it was not up to him to call upon the inquisition; but he could not help but feel that calling on the inquisition would not be the right action to take. An old inquisitors' saying kept spinning round in his mind, "some question our right to kill a planet's population, they should ask, 'what right do we have to let them live.'"
A knocking was heard at his door, 'It must be the writer,' he thought. He got up to open the door and indeed, there she was, standing there with her book, ready for more 'insight'. Gechorus moved aside to let her pass into the room.
"Good day, my lord," she said with a smile. She sat on the bed and waited for Gechorus to sit beside her, "… if it is day time, it's hard to tell on a space ship."
He did not reply to her, he just sat down on the bed and waited for her to start delving into his mind.
"So how did it go down there?" asked Xilthara.
"We rescued the governor and returned him safely from a hostile environment."
"Is that all?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
"It is all I wish to share."
"What was it like in the underhive?"
Gechorus took a deep breath, "It is a vile place; the air is toxic, there is no sunlight and the inhabitants are…" he paused.
"The inhabitants are what?" she probed.
"I would prefer not to say."
"What's wrong?" she asked, "Did you lose another brother?"
He shook his head, "It was not our proudest moment."
"But you saved everyone," she argued.
Gechorus stared at the floor, his mind swimming with conflicting thoughts and emotions.
"I think you need to talk about it," advised Xilthara. She closed the book and set it beside her, and shuffled over to get closer to the marine, "Look, I won't even write it down. It's off the record, you can tell me anything."
Gechorus took a deep breath, she was right, he couldn't play quiet all the time and he needed to let loose his emotions before they got the better of him. "I lost a brother today," he said, "and now the planet's fate lies with the Inquisition."
"What does the Inquisition want with…"
"There were heretics in the underhive," explained the space marine. "I do not know exactly what an inquisitor's judgement would be, but extreme action may be taken, especially if the heresy has spread to other cities. If the entire planet is corrupt, then exterminatus might be the action they would take."
"Exterminatus?" exclaimed Xilthara, "for some heretics in the slums?"
"The inquisition is cruel, Xilthara," sighed the marine. His emotions were getting the better of him, he was on the verge of saying things that he shouldn't, it was better to mull these issues though in silent solitude. "I am very sorry, but I need to be alone."
Xilthara left Gechorus, but he found that as much as he tried, he could not get absorbed in the care of his armour. He worked but the mind was distracted, his thoughts kept coming back to what Tarvos said, the people he killed and the people that were going to die when the Inquisition passed its judgement. Sergeant Pantaleon often used sword practice to calm the mind and meditate; perhaps he should try it himself.
Gechorus entered the training room; Pantaleon was going through sword drills on his own, with only the eyes of a waiting servitor watching his movements. Pantaleon was a master of the blade and was nearly unbeatable; the sergeant moved through different stances and performed neatly choreographed attacks at an imaginary enemy changing swiftly between forms to improve balance and control.
"Gechorus!" exclaimed the sergeant, "It is always a welcome sight to see a brother in the training room. Will you join me in training with the sword?"
The servitor trundled over to Gechorus, presenting a second training sword. He nodded in acceptance to Pantaleon and took it from the servitor. It was as big and as heavy as a power sword, but it was a simple thing, there was no power source and the edge was not battle-sharp; but it was still as immaculately decorated with insignias and words of wisdom as any weapon made for the Astartes.
For hours they went through form training, then they duelled, and in forty rounds of fighting, Pantaleon was the victor in all.
"You are off your game today," said Pantaleon, when they sat down to rest.
"You have always been the better swordsman," admitted Gechorus.
"Perhaps," said Pantaleon, "But your skills with a blade are not normally so easy to overcome. If I was to guess, I would say that you were distracted."
Gechorus sighed, what he was about to admit could lead to great ramifications, if Pantaleon was not in an understanding mood. "My mind has been wondering in dark places," Gechorus explained.
"I see, what is the nature of these dark places?"
"My thoughts keep falling back to the underhive."
"The heretics?"
"Yes."
"You must then be thinking of the great glory of the Emperor we shined upon them," suggested Pantaleon.
Gechorus said nothing.
"You cannot just sit in silence; the Emperor's glory was shown to those heretics in its purest form."
Gechorus still said nothing
"Surely you saw it," continued Pantaleon, "because if I remember rightly, you were killing heretics along side me."
Gechorus did not give a response.
"But I noticed something, in the middle of all the noise and bloodshed of the emperor's work, you were wasting multiple rounds into the same target, and you were missing entirely at times. I was surprised at your lack of precision and efficiency. It didn't take long until I realised the problem."
Gechorus glanced over at the waiting servitor, expressionless and thoughtless; there may have been some listening device active on it.
"Ignore the servitor," said Pantaleon, reading his concerns, "it is not recording," he assured. "You doubted our cause, our right to kill those people." Pantaleon could see that Gechorus accepted the accusation; the lack of an argument or retaliation confirmed that the sergeant was correct. "The reason I did not mention it until now was that I had doubts of my own as well."
Gechorus perked up and listened intently. He had never known the sergeant to show weakness, or to admit doubt.
"We have done the Emperor's work for hundreds of years, you and I," explained Pantaleon, "and what mark have we left on the galaxy other than bloodshed?"
"Some say we give hope to the people we fight for," said Gechorus.
"Do you think we gave those people hope?" asked Pataleon, "The ones in the underhive. They are terrified of us now, those who are left."
"The Codex Astartes says to destroy chaos," explained Gechorus, he slowly thought about what he what he had just said. The codex Astartes was very clear but for the first time, the situation was not clear in his mind, "but we did not have to kill them."
"It is heresy to say such things, Gechorus," commented Pantaleon with a raised eyebrow.
"Our mission was to kill the orks," explained Gechorus "and we succeeded. We did not need to tell the inquisition."
"But it is our eternal mission to destroy the dark forces of the galaxy," explained Pantaleon, "I'm amazed you would forget that. It was the Emperor's will that we killed those people. All of them, every man, every woman..."
"…every child."
"Yes," sighed Pantaleon, "the Emperor is cruel; those who manage to survive our 'intervention' are forced to join his vast armies or are worked to death in his factories; the people are better off without his 'protection.'" He paused; perhaps Pantaleon was trying to gage the emotions of his brother, "I did not call on the inquisition. The only people who know about the heretics in the under hive are the four of us and Tarvos."
Gechorus couldn't put it all the different thoughts and ideas together; still trying to formulate his own opinion. Pantaleon began to put more ideas into his mind. "What does it matter anyway? We are more evolved than them, we are Astartes, they should be working, fighting and dying for our cause; but no, under the rule of the Emperor, we work, fight and die for them. I have outgrown my bonds of servitude to the Emperor and petty humanity and I do not want to live by this backwards regime anymore."
Gechorus shifted back on his seat and looked the sergeant in the eye, "You are suggesting betrayal!"
"Our cause is not as righteous as our leaders would have us believe," the sergeant continued to explain; "they have been betraying humanity and astartes for an age. We need to turn our back on this chapter"
"I will not betray my brothers," stated Gechorus.
"I do not want to either, but should the opportunity arise that we can relinquish our bonds to the Imperium, we should take it."
Gechorus rested his head heavily in his hands. All this talk of betrayal was unsettling, he needed time to think. He wanted to stand by his sergeant but, "This is the path to chaos, Sergeant."
"It is only the path to chaos if you surrender yourself to it."
"And what if the only way out of the Imperium is through chaos, would you surrender yourself to it?" Gechorus asked.
"I think that when the time comes, we will both know what is right," assured Pantaleon.
Gechorus got up to leave.
"Remus and Loukios are of the same mind as myself," commented Pantaleon, "when we are to abandon our chapter, they will join us."
Gechorus turned back to his brother before he went through the exit, "I must ask sergeant, how long has your charade of the loyal space marine been going on? How long has all your talk of devotion to the emperor been an act?"
"Longer than I have been a terminator."