Venenum Filios Chapter 8

Brother Korvano was dead, the call came, he had been lost to the Phage and had passed away right before his squadmate's eyes. The words rang across the vox-net, carrying to the ears of every Initiate on the ship. It echoed in the barracks, it sang through the armouries and training halls, it resonated in the ears of every Space Marines on the Thunderchild.

Persion cursed loudly as the message reached him, instantly alerting him to the dire news. He spun on his heel and set off rapidly, dashing to get to the location as fast as possible. Alongside him ran Bylan, the lone Brother easily keeping pace with the older Initiate and Persion suspected that the healthy Astartes may be slowing down to let him keep pace.

As they ran Persion grumbled, "Damnation, what fool let the word out so blatantly?"

Bylan agreed, "+The Captain told us to keep an eye out, to keep a lid on the tensions. How the hell are we supposed to do that if some idiot blurts out things like this?+"

Persion knew that he was right, tensions were indeed running high and every Storm Herald was feeling the pressure. Over the last few weeks the Company's discipline had frayed, Brothers becoming edgy and temperamental with one another. Once friendly banter had taken on a bitter aspect, training bouts and practice duels had become savage beatings and fistfights were breaking out in the corridors.

Chaplain Wrethan had been run ragged trying to maintain discipline, meeting out arduous penances left, right and centre but it hadn't been enough. To aid him Captain Toran and the Command Squad had taken to patrolling the ship, keeping an eye upon the various squads and spreading themselves everywhere to mediate arguments.

Persion had never seen his kin so fraught and dishevelled, their pride in their bearing withering along with their discipline. The once proud Storm Heralds had become slovenly and lazy, by Space Marine standards, spending time grumbling and arguing when they should have been training. It was the touch of morbidity, Persion realised, the knowledge that they were going to die.

Space Marines were all going to die of course, they were built to sell their lives in battle. Yet such a fate held a certain dignity, to die blade in hand against impossible odds and be revered by future generations was the desire of every Astartes. Not this sickness, not this weak mortality and withering of the flesh, it was almost like ageing. It was galling, it was unmanning and it was inevitable. Was this how mortals felt all the time, Persion wondered.

Though none would admit the clammy grip of fear was circling their hearts, trying to sink dark talons into their souls. It was commonly held that Space Marines knew no fear, which was true to a certain extent, but that did not make the Astartes into automatons. Space Marines were not immune to fear, they were greater than that, they channelled it into action.

Where fear made mortals cower and weep, it merely drove Space Marines to fight harder, empowering them and stoking their rage and hatred to epic proportions. In practical terms what that meant was that the tension was manifesting itself as resentment, spite and ill-will between Brothers.

As they ran Persion reflected that he too was showing signs of stress, the Phage gripping his flesh and grinding at his spirit. His arms were covered in a bright red rash, one that wouldn't stop itching, even his augmetic one. How could an augmetic itch, Persion wondered, but he had no answer. It was all he could do not to tear and gouge at his own flesh, trying to find relief.

To distract himself he asked, "Korvano… please tell I'm wrong in thinking Korvano was in Mylos' squad."

Bylan replied, "+Sorry, but I can't. He's definitely one of Mylos' lot+"

"Great," muttered Persion, "That's all we need."

In a company of irritable and cantankerous warriors, Mylos had managed to stand out as being the worst of the lot. Always a sour and disagreeable malcontent, he had spent the last few weeks becoming an outright agitator. As the Thunderchild made its final approach to Trux his complaints had only grown louder and Persion had desperately hoped that they would return to realspace before he started a genuine fight.

Persion put his head down and doubled his space, his armour plate humming loudly as he ran. Soon the pair approached a mess hall and they burst in, finding nine Astartes stood around the room, in various poses of shock and horror. Spread out upon the floor was Brother Korvano, dead and cold.

Persion took once glance at his face and felt a wave of nausea rise. Korvano's face was swollen and bloated, leaking blood from his eyes and ears. That wasn't what upset Persion though, the worst part was that one side of his face was covered in tiny, perfectly formed feathers, pushing out from the dead skin. Persion was sickened to realise that the mutations had already started to manifest, far faster than any of them had expected.

Persion pulled up and said, "What's going on, who sent out that call?!"

From the back Mylos stomped forward on an augmetic leg, and spat, "I did."

Bylan snarled, "+Damn it, you're spreading alarm and discord. With half the Company still in comas we need to hold ourselves together, the Captain told all the Sergeants to keep a lid on this+"

Mylos sneered, "The Captain, what does he know. He led us into this mess, Korvano died because of his foolishness."

Bylan went very still at that the slur against his personal hero and he growled, "+Do not insult Captain Toran in front of me+"

Mylos leaned in and spat, "Toran is an arrogant glory-hog and doesn't deserve his rank."

Before anyone could react Bylan's fist blurred and smacked Mylos in the jaw, knocking his head back with a shocked expression. There was a moment of stunned silence as the squad struggled to grasp what had occurred, then they all leapt at him, fists and knees lashing out. In moments a scrum of armoured bodies emerged, supposed Brothers battering at each other in full plate armour.

The fight lasted a second then was brought to an abrupt halt by the crashing thunder of a single bolt-pistol shot. Everybody froze and looked to see Persion standing there, holding a smoking pistol aloft to point at the roof. With everybody's attention Persion barked, "This is disgraceful, look at yourselves. Brawling like drunken Fenrisians, you are Storm Heralds, act like it! You're all fortunate that I don't report you to Chaplain Wrethan, as it is you're all to take Korvano's body to the Apothecarion then you are confined to your barracks until we reach Trux. That includes you Bylan."

Bylan looked like he would protest but knew he had erred and trudged out with his head hung low. One by one the rest filed out taking Korvano with them, leaving Persion and Mylos alone. Mylos had the decency to wait until they left then said, "Striking a Sergeant, Bylan must be punished."

Persion holstered his pistol and said, "Give him a break; he's facing his own form of hell."

"Him?" spat Mylos, "Isn't he the only immune to this Phage?"

"Yes," replied Persion sadly, "Which means he's going to have to watch the rest of us die, one by one. If the Phage reaches Lujan II, which we both know the enemy will make a certainty; he may well end up being the last Storm Herald in the galaxy. He will be left alone, the only one to remember our deeds and history."

Mylos blinked at that, the dire fate one he would never inflict upon his worst enemy. Persion watched him sigh and run a hand over his face then Mylos said, "We've been in some tight spots before, but this is the worst. I can't see how we can survive this."

Persion was surprised by the candid admission and said, "We can only trust in the Captain, he's done the impossible before. I know you have bad blood with him… especially since the death of your twin but put that to one side for a moment."

Mylos blinked and said, "Is that what you think this is about?"

Persion didn't follow and said, "I thought…"

"Oh get over yourself," Mylos stated, "I forgave Toran for that long ago. This is bigger than him; he's a symptom of the problem, not the cause."

Persion was confounded and said, "I don't follow."

Mylos sighed and picked up a mug of recycled water, he toyed with it for a moment then slugged it back. As if making a decision he stated, "The Imperium is dying, we all know it to be true. The darkness encroaches from all sides and we are not now that power which in distant ages past drove out. The End Times loom and the High Lords are too weak to repel it. Chapter Master Gorgall too, with his blasted kowtowing to the Lex Imperalis, he's leading us into extinction. If it wasn't this Phage it would have been something else."

Persion was stunned, he had no idea matters of such magnitude had been weighing upon Mylos. He drew in a breath and said, "I know, I've seen it too, but what can we do. We fight as best we can and hold the line."

"I'm sick of holding the bloody line," spat Mylos, "We should be taking the fight to the foe. We should be leading the Imperium back to glory, not those conniving politicians. The Storm Heralds should be forcing humanity onto the true path of strength and faith."

Now it was Persion who blinked and said, "You mean the Emperor-worship, you think that we should be spreading the gospel. Setting ourselves up as priest-kings over humanity."

Mylos shook his head in denial and said, "No, I mean the Storm Heralds should be humanity's guides, we should show them to way to survive. The Imperium will die but we don't have to go down with it, we can make something better in its place. I've tried to tell Toran and the others that the old ways are failing us, that we can't just keep on going as we have been but he won't listen to me. But he might listen to you."

Persion was shocked to hear that and said, "Me, I can't do that."

Mylos stepped forward, a strange light in his eyes as he said, "Yes you could, it could be like the old days. You, me, Furion, together once more, united as one."

Persion shook him off, trying to jest, "To do what, build an empire of our own?"

Mylos replied frankly, "Guilliman would, if he could ever leave his shrine then he would purge Terra of its laxity. He would rebuild the Imperium, restore the glory of the old Legions, start a new Great Crusade. He wouldn't accept this rotten, crumbling prison we have built for ourselves. He would tear it down and build something better in its place."

Persion had only been joking but he was shocked by the scale of Mylos' vision. He could almost see it, a new shining Imperium rising out of the cooling ashes of the old, with the Storm Heralds as leaders, not soldiers. Then he shook it off, it was a pipe-dream, impossible to achieve. Persion said, "Mylos, you've let your mind fill up with dreams and grandiose fantasies. We don't have the power or the time to play empire building; we should be concentrating upon the task before us. Fighting the enemies we have rather than making new ones. "

Mylos practically pleaded now, "Persion don't be short-sighted, we can still turn this around. If you stand with me then we can make the Storm Heralds great once more."

Persion put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Mylos, we can't do anything if we are all dead. We need to focus on the task before us, finding a cure for this Phage, or failing that leaving a legacy of honour. Stop living in tomorrow, put aside these foolish notions and help us here today."

Mylos looked at him for a long moment then sighed, "Yes, of course, it was a mistake to bring this up. I won't mention it again, I stand by you."

Persion was glad to hear that and said, "I welcome that, we all do. Come let us go sort out this bad blood with the squad before this discord sours."

Mylos nodded and together they walked out, side by side for now.