Locum Ignotum Chapter 5

Silence fell over the battlefield, deep craters smoked and flames licked at the damp grass. Everywhere Transhuman bodies lay, strewn randomly where they had fallen. Predator tanks and Rhino transports rumbled past the dead without pause, showing no concern for the fallen. Overhead Thunderhawks and Storm Talons whisked past, missile pods ready and armed.

Amid that devastation Bylan stood proudly, the Company Standard flapping magnificently in the wind. It had been a hard fight but he had acquitted himself well. The banner had not once dipped or bowed once and the sight of it had rallied his kin to glorious feats of valour. With him was the Command Squad and they were atop a small hillock, looking over the carnage and taking in the sight. Chaplain Wrethan nodded to himself and declared, "A fine victory."
"A hard fought one," replied Captain Toran, "There was no restraint here."

"Good," said Wrethan, "The Initiates need to be reminded what it is to wage war."
"Let's go again," Toran declared, then voxed, "Red team, blue team, all Marines are to end the exercise, victory to Red team. Now all Brothers back to start positions, we are going to do this again and this time I expect Blue team to increase their kill count."

All over the battlefield Marines and machines pulled back, separating and returning to their original positions. In the distance the looming form of Honourable Ajax stomped away, seemingly disappointed by the end of hostilities while the white dot of Apothecary Memnos went to and fro checking the wounded. The 'Dead' Marines got up to shake mud and dirt from their plate. They lifted their bolters, (loaded with paint rounds) and trudged back, grumbling all the while about it. Bylan looked over their ragged lines and saw their sloppy formation, the drooped shoulders and low heads. It was a sign of the apathy creeping into the ranks, of the lack of ardour that was tainting their hearts.

From beside him he heard Jediah growl, "It's just not the same."
Bylan looked over and said, "+What do you mean?+"

Jediah snarled, "This is no substitute for real war, the Captain can organise as many exercises and training drill as he likes but it will never fire the heart the way true battle does."
Bylan understood what he meant but said, "+We have to do something, two months we've been trapped here. Tempers are fraying, Brothers are growing restless, we have to keep them sharp and ready+"

"For what?" came the voice of Persion who sounded irate, "What could we possibly be preparing for? We're stuck here in this insufferable place, there's no getting out."
Bylan protested, "+You don't know that, the Captain's ordered Arvael to look into it+"

It was true, the Librarian was conspicuously absent. The Psyker had been tasked with probing the limits of this strange land, of understanding it and finding a way out. In the meantime the Company was practising manoeuvres and battle doctrines. War machines had been brought out from the holds of the Thunderchild and manoeuvres had been rehearsed over and over, to keep their spirits vibrant and skills sharp. That was the theory at least, in reality it wasn't working. Brothers had started to squabble, fights were breaking out and their famed discipline was breaking down.

From the side Wrethan said, "An Astartes needs purpose in his life, it gives us meaning. This place is too tame, too safe. We need purpose or we will fall apart."
Jediah eyed the distant mountains, whose snow-capped peaks glistened in the eternal golden radiance and he said, "Maybe we should follow Ganaar."

Bylan thought upon it, the Space Wolf had been an infrequent sight, coming and going as he pleased. He would disappear for weeks at a time then emerge nonchalantly as if he had never been away. Bylan couldn't keep track of his movements and had quickly learned to accept it. Jediah however seemed to stalk his movements like a hawk, though whether it was to join Ganaar or fight him none could say.

Toran spoke up to say, "Jediah, Furion, Novak go get the squads sorted out, they're taking too long."
Jediah sneered at that but Toran was firm in his gaze and eventually he relented and stomped away, resentment glowering off him as he muttered, "I hate this place."

Bylan watched him go and said, "+Jediah worries me, his temper is fraying+"
Persion commented, "I always wondered what would happen if he didn't get to kill something on a regular basis."
"Enough," Wrethan growled, "Jediah is my concern, I will keep an eye on him. Concentrate on your duties."
"Indeed," Toran said, "While we wait let us go speak to our hosts."

Bylan glanced over a remote hillock where a large crowd had gathered, common folk sitting around watching the events. They had brought food and drink, small children and few musicians to drown out the loudest explosions. They were treating this whole thing like some summer gala, like an amusement for their entertainment. Not one of them seemed concerned by the notion that a stray bolt round or missile could obliterate them in an instant.

To be fair the Storm Heralds were Astartes, the idea of them striking so far off target was laughable. But still the cavalier attitude was unsettling, it was like these people had been safe for so long that they had forgotten what it was to be in danger.

As the command Squad set off Bylan looked all around and said, "+This would be perfect Titan country+"
Persion shook his head and said, "Still on about that?"

Bylan sighed, "+I have always wanted to see one, I still haven't given up hope yet+"
"Hope is for fools and dreamers," Wrethan's voice snarled, "We deal with what is in front of us and do whatever is required."

Persion changed tack and said, "So any more takers for the wager?"
"+Wager?+" asked Bylan.

"On who our hosts are," Persion explained, "I'm starting a pool on what bloodline our hosts claim to be."
"+Well Baruch's obviously a Salamander+" Bylan said, "+Ganaar we already know, the rest I couldn't say+"

Persion nodded and said, "They're cagey about it, none of them wants to admit it. They say it's not important , but I'm determined to find out."
Toran inquired, "What're the favourites?"
Persion said, "The odds favour Samandriel for a Dark Angel, Maxivus for an Ultramarine and Leanyr for an Imperial Fist."
Bylan snorted and said, "+With that face, no way. He's an Iron Hand no mistake+"
Wrethan burst in to growl, "Gambling is a vice, one beneath the dignity of the Storm Heralds. You will cease and desist this at once."

The group fell silent as they approached the hillock, rising effortlessly up its sides. Bylan kept the Standard straight so its colours were unruffled and could be seen by all. Soon they reached the top and the crowd parted before them. Standing there with his customary smile was Baruch, who seemed to be listening to an old man complain about being dragged out here for a lot of fuss.

He straightened as they came into view and called, "Ah welcome my friends, how was your morning?"
Toran replied, "As well as can be expected."

From the side there was a harrumph, issued by the one called Maxivus. He was pale and angular, with a waxed moustache. His robes were well made and sharply cut, making these humble attire seem regal. He sounded dismissive as he stated, "Your Assault squads arrived twelve seconds early, their counter was sub-optimal."

Bylan bristled at that but Baruch said, "Now, now let our friends have their moment. It was certainly very energetic."
Wrethan didn't sound pleased by the comment as he said, "This is important, the Emperor's work is never done. It is essential we be ever ready to fulfil our purpose."

Baruch spread his arms to encompass the crowd and said, "Why cling to an obsolete purpose when you have nobody to fight anymore. There are other duties to be fulfilled, we have found meaning working with our common man, helping them be the best they can be. Why Maxivus here has dedicated himself to promoting the growth of this civilisation's culture."

Wrethan was irate now and spat, "Astartes were made for battle not mollycoddling the weak. War is where we excel."
Maxivus' lip curled and he said, "Astartes excel at war because we were made to excel in all things. There is more to life than blasting things apart; you have the time now to perfect your skills to their utmost degree."

Suddenly another voice cut in, it was Samandriel. He was beautiful for an Astartes, unscarred and smooth of face. He was a Librarian, literally and figuratively, both a psyker and a keeper of the local's knowledge. He was staring out across the battlefield and said, "We should not argue, the fault lies not with our guests but with ourselves. Have we forgotten how long it took us to accept reality, the decades we wasted following Ganaar through the tunnels? How many times did he say he could smell a way out?"

Baruch nodded and said, "Yes indeed, we expect too much from you. You will see in time, there is no need to rush. One Ganaar is enough."
Bylan was curious and asked, "+You don't approve of his ways?+"

Maxivus sneered, "He clings to the past, dreaming of returning to what he was. The future beckons but he sits still."
Samandriel expanded, "We let him have his way for he thrives on obstinacy. His identity rests on non-conformity."

"Still comes to me when he needs his Machine Spirits blessing though," another voice spat. It was Leanyr, a grizzled and scarred veteran. His face was cratered by old damage and one whole eye was but an empty socket. He was working at a drawing pad with a stylus and a frown of concentration. He was always doing that, seemingly designing everything from architecture and gardens to pumps and hoists.

Toran looked at him and inquired, "What are you designing now?"
Leanyr replied, "An irrigation system, for the new farms on the perimeter settlements."

Persion said, "Isn't that rather simple work?"
Leanyr replied without looking up, "Maybe, but the challenge lies in working within the limits of the materials I have to hand."

Baruch cut him off by saying, "I find that I must repeat my previous request to let your people down from your ship. Your crew do not need to live enclosed by metal and machines. There is fresh air and good soil down here, the towns would welcome new blood."
Toran replied, "Our serfs will remain on the Thunderchild for now, they keep her on a ready status."

"For what?" asked Maxivus.
Wrethan growled, "For when our Librarian finds a way out of here."

Samandriel looked sad and said, "He wont, not if he searches for a hundred years. Still we should let him try, his spirit will not know peace until he thinks he has tried absolutely everything."
Baruch nodded and said, "In the meantime could we not at least meet some of your crew?"

Wrethan snarled, "The serfs stay where they are."
Baruch bowed in acceptance but Leanyr muttered, "Waste of time and resources. That ship's big enough to feed this civilisation's hunger for metal for decades to come."

Toran glared and said archly, "We must continue our drills, will your people remain or leave?"
Baruch replied, "The children grow restless, we will return to our town soon enough."
"Good," said Wrethan, "War is no place for civilians."

Baruch bowed low and then stepped away. Persion shook his head and said, "How did they get so soft and apathetic?"
Toran said, "They're convinced that there's no way out, they've forgotten their purpose. I can't imagine what that's like."

Wrethan said thoughtfully, "We need to keep the Company busy before they start to think the same. Drill them hard, regular exercises, forced marches, surprise inspections, I will not have weakness grow within our ranks."
"I will tend to that," Toran said, "You have to go check on Arvael."

Wrethan's demeanour fell, even the cantankerous Chaplain not wanting to interrupt a Psyker at work, but from behind him Persion piped up, "Don't worry… Bylan volunteers to go with you."
"+I do?!+" Bylan blurted out in surprise.
"Excellent, well volunteered," Toran stated with a knowing glint in his eye, "You two go check on our escape plan, I will keep our honoured Brothers busy."

Toran turned and strode away, Persion in tow. Meanwhile Bylan said, "+So Father Wrethan, shall we go and see if our Librarian has made any more progress today?+"