False Flag

The governor's throneroom was a grand ballroom set at the heart of the palace. It was a beautiful vision of white marble and gold filigree, with graceful arched windows that revealed the distant stars. Flaming braziers lit the room, giving off scents of delicate nectars mixed with the oils burning within. Paintings of ancient rulers hung upon the stone walls, proud men in starched military uniforms and women in voluminous gowns, each ancestor celebrated for the continuity and stability they had brought to their world. For four thousand years the Gantasi dynasty had ruled Hyrela, in the distant Emperor's name, and they intended to rule for a thousand more.

Beyond this room the Palace sat in the stratosphere, a shining jewel topping the spire of Castile Hive, capital city of Hyrela. Far below the huddled masses eked out lives of bleak toil and backbreaking labour. Manufactorums abounded, churning out endless lines of lasguns, Leman Russ tanks and Hydra batteries. Millions of hands worked every day to stitch field tents, stuff ration tins and sew uniforms for the Imperial Guard. This one city could supply an army and it was but one city among twelve on the Hive world. Yes, Hyrela was a shining beacon of industry, a bastion of production that held together much the Eastern Fringe, and a vital keystone of Imperial strategy on the borders. That the billions of miserable workers would never see the fruits of their labour did not occur to those who luxuriated above, neither did it matter to Reddam.

Standing in Hololithic form a Space Marine listened patiently to the voice spitting at him. He was a veteran Astartes, with the scars on his face to prove it. His bearing was proud and he carried a power spear in his right hand. His plate was blue, lined with golden engravings and covered in noble 'U' icon of distant Ultramar. He seemed every inch the proud and noble warrior son of Roboute Guilliman, a fact he tried to keep in mind as the diatribe waxed on.

Before him an obese woman sat in a gilded throne, her jowly face red and her eyes furious. She wore fine robes of office and the golden chain of the Governor, declaring to one and all she ruled Hyrela. This was Mwinda, appointed governor of the planet in the Emperor's name and mistress of billions. She was cunning and proud, ruthless and devious, as a Governor must be if they intended to last longer than a year in office but currently she was outraged.

"They took my son!" Mwinda shrieked, "My heir and the future of Hyrela languishes in Traitor hands! What are you going to do about it?!"

Reddam kept his face still as he replied, "I assure you Governor my Company is moving to retrieve your heir as we speak."

"Not good enough!" Mwinda cried, "Those vile Traitor Marines stormed my summer palace, they killed all the guards and stole my only child. The servants wept as they spoke of the Traitors in black, their mutated forms loathsome to behold. Emperor alone knows what vile rituals they plan to enact, what nightmarish sacrifices they will conduct. You must get him back."

Reddam voice was stern as he replied, "It shall be so, the Unnumbered Sons will see your blood returned to you. So swears Captain Reddam."

"He is mine," Mwinda hissed, "They stole him from me. This insult shall not stand!"

Reddam was of the opinion she was more outraged by the act of theft itself, rather than the safety of her offspring, but calmly said, "We hear you, the Imperial Regent hears you. The Lord Commander of the Imperium Entire is concerned with the prosperity and welfare of all faithful worlds in his Aegis. Your crisis is my highest priority."

Mwinda sank back in relief as she breathed, "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. Times have been trying, so many reports of calamity across the stars, so many worlds lost."

Reddam leaned in as his eye took a hard edge and hissed, "So that is why you planned secession…"

"I…" Mwinda started in alarm, "I never…"

"Don't deny it," Reddam growled, "The Imperium knows about the supplies you held back, the armies you outfit in secret. Your world is arming itself for war."

Mwinda's face drained and Reddam could practically see her mind trying to comprehend how he knew about that and how she was going to pretend it wasn't true. Her armies weren't ready for war just yet, both of them knew it to be true, if an Imperial fleet arrived in orbit the rebellion would be crushed to dust, as would much of the planet's industry. She was cunning enough not to deny it outright but instead protested, "No, you've got it all wrong. We were… we were building up new forces for the Imperial Guard. The call could come any day now, with the state of the galaxy being what it is, we decided we must be ready to offer our aid to the Imperium when it is required."

It was a feeble excuse but Reddam threw her a lifeline, "It seems there has been a miscommunication, the Regent will be pleased to hear the reports were erroneous, these are confusing times after all."

"Confusing, yes," Mwinda stammered grabbing the way out he had offered, "Great confusion. These armies are for the Imperium."

"Good," Reddam stated, "I shall send to the Regent to arrange transport ships to embark your armies, tell your officers to expect to begin embarkation within the month. But for today I must focus my efforts on rescuing your son."

"Thank you," Mwinda stammered, "I shall not forget this, tell the Regent that Hyrela shall repay him tenfold. Cathedral bells shall ring in every level and songs shall be sung in the workhouses of the Regent's beneficence. All will give thanks to the Lord Commander."

"We shall speak again when I return," Reddam stated and then cut the link.

Several kilometres away Reddam stepped off the Holoplate and sighed deeply. He shook his head as he turned around and surveyed the comms-room. The chamber was a rough affair, thrown together in the slums of Castile Hive where the authorities would not think to look. It was a hovel, in the most crime-ridden ghetto of the city, a place where all knew to keep their eyes to themselves. Their equipment had been set up in haste but it functioned well enough for his purposes. Still the room was cramped and hot, not least because of the Transhuman warriors filling it.

In a gaggle lounged Joffel, Kazao and Larus, his squadmates and comrades. Like him they were scions of the Amber Vipers Chapter but unlike him their plate was coloured black and daubed with feral runes. They weren't Chaos brands, nobody would stand to wear those foul icons, but to the untrained eye they were close enough to pass. The three resembled a band of Traitors, right down to the brass Daemon faces stuck to their helms. Joffel and Larus had their helms off, but Kazao kept his donned, afflicted with aberrant Gene-seed his skin and eyes were mutated and vile to behold.

They waited patiently for him to step down, while behind them a cryo-casket steamed, and then Larus sniffed, "Think she bought it?"

Reddam sagged as his proud bearing evaporated and he muttered, "A few promises, a few threats and she was eating out of my hand. She won't dare lift a finger against the Imperium; she'll even get the people to express gratitude to the Regent, anything to avert reprisals."

"Cheer up," Joffel laughed, "We led her about by the nose, she hasn't a clue what's going on."

"I know," Reddam sighed, "Still I feel wrong to be defacing my armour so."

Joffel cocked his head and remarked, "I reckon blue suits you. Still calling yourself Captain Reddam, was Chapter Master too grand a title for you?"

"Watch your tone," Reddam cautioned, "Or I'll have you cleaning out latrines for a month."

Kazao seemed troubled as he interjected, "Brother-Sergeant, is this… honourable?"

"It is what has to be," Reddam lamented, "Honour won't bring this world back into the fold, a rebellion was brewing and extreme action was necessary. We save billions of lives, and this world's productivity by killing a handful. Better this than a blood-soaked war of suppression."

Joffel didn't sound concerned as he quipped, "Don't get worked up, it was only a few dozen guards, they were no match for us. Remember how they ran screaming when they saw the 'Traitor marines' bearing down on them. Remember how the servants wept when they saw Kazao's face."

"I never thought my aberration would prove useful," Kazao spat.

Larus shook his head and sneered, "I would have thought such skulduggery beneath the high and mighty Regent. Trickery, deceit and lies, this is not what I expected of him."

Reddam muttered, "Politics is dirty work, and he excels at politics. Do not underestimate his ruthlessness or the pragmatism of his calculations. A rebellion averted, a world saved and billions of lives spared, a goal worth a few guard's heads."

"But why send us to do his dirty work?" Kazao lamented.

"Because if we get caught nobody can attach any blame to him," Reddam sneered, "If this goes sideways he can publically condemn us and claim no knowledge of our crimes."

"I feel amazingly expendable," Joffel snorted.

Reddam snapped, "Enough wallowing in self-pity. Tell me the boy is secure."

"He's safe downstairs," Larus reported, "Tebes is keeping an eye on him. He's convinced he's been kidnapped by Traitors."

"Good," Reddam affirmed, "Make sure he stays clueless. Kazao go join Tebes, Joffel and Larus go repaint your armour blue, then in six hours we will stage a 'Rescue' and take the boy back."

"Try not to stab me too deeply," Kazao muttered as he turned and mooched off.

"I make no promises!" Joffel laughed as he left by another door.

"Speaking of which," Reddam muttered as he drew a knife.

He moved to the cryo-casket and with a heave he opened it, to reveal a body within, no, a twisted freak. Warped limbs writhed from a barrel chest and the face swelled with grotesque amounts of skin. Teeth stuck out at random and a single red eye stared out of a pit of a socket, made mad by pain and anguish. Even in death the pain had not ended, the features fixed forever in torment on that mutated face. It was a sight to make the stomach churn but what truly troubled Reddam was this a fellow Amber Viper, a new recruit struck with the curse of Aberration, who had died on the medical slab as his body betrayed him.

Reddam held the knife over the corpse, ready to begin cutting wounds into the body but before he began his grizzly task he whispered, "Brother Mazio, I am sorry but this has to be done, we need a body to bring back. They would never buy our story without proof. It has to look convincing and your mutations will silence any questions. I wish it wasn't necessary, you deserved better. All I can say is you can serve the Chapter in death, as you never had a chance to in life."

And with that he went to work, sacrificing a Brother's memory for the mission while trying not to hate the one who had ordered it to be so.