Chapter Thirteen
"Sara, I think it would be a good time to replenish our financial reserves. This is a perfect place to dispose of these."
Sara looked round at the big marine and the ornately carved box held in his massive paw. "Dispose of what?"
He showed her. Gems of all colours caught the light, refracting multi-coloured spectra; the box was full of jewellery.
"Emperor's Throne. Where did you get those?"
"In the quarters of one of my long unlamented companions. He was a sadistic pervert, but he knew his jewellery. The original owners are of course long dead. But the collection is worth millions, at the least. There are very few places in the galaxy where you could sell them openly; this resort, a playground for the wealthiest citizens of the Imperium, is one such place."
She blanched. "Morgan, I couldn't. It's like robbing the dead."
He nodded. "I understand, but these dead were robbed centuries ago. And we will need funds, Sara. For equipment, for munitions. Even for repair. We cannot count on having the Emperor intercede on our behalf again."
She chuckled despite herself. "No, I don't suppose we can. Oh, very well. Have you any idea of the true worth of this?"
He shook his head. "I am not a collector. However, I did run a few searches, and of course I scanned each piece individually, both for material, and for makers' marks and so on."
"And?"
"Most are high quality, and would retail in the hundreds of thousands. A couple, however, are almost certainly worth millions, at least, on their own. And one, well, I am not certain it should be offered at all."
Helplessly intrigued she asked the obvious question. "Why?"
He lifted out a,... necklace? No, a headdress, its metal darkened by age and – what might have been fire? The stones were unlike anything she'd ever seen before, five gems that almost seemed to glow with an inner fire, flickering through all the colours of the spectrum as if they were alive.
"What is it?"
"A headdress. I saw something similar during the preliminary battles in the Isstvan system. It was worn by a warsinger."
"A warsinger? What is that?"
"Some kind of psyker, I think. They sang a long, endless series of notes which supported the Isstvani troops into actions of suicidal courage. I saw one nearly kill Garro, the battle-captain of the Death Guard, by a sonic strike when he got too close to her. Flung him tens of metres from the top of her pyramid and severed his leg. Fabius got to him and stopped him from bleeding to death."
"Battle-captain?"
"Special name for the Seventh Company captain of the Death Guard. Garro was Captain Tarvitz's honour brother, just as his sergeant Pyr Rahl was mine. Rahl died in that fight."
"And Garro?"
"I cannot be certain, but I heard from a Death Guard plague marine, many centuries later, that Garro killed the Death Guard's Second Company captain, an arrogant ass called Grulgor, and fled to try and give warning of the Rebellion. Whether he managed it or not, I have no idea."
"I wonder why they had a special name for that single position amongst all the hundreds of company captains," said Sara thoughtfully.
Sedreth chuckled. "There were only seven companies of the Death Guard. Still are, for all they're split into smaller groups these days. Whatever their commanders may say, the plague marines all consider themselves to be members of one of the seven Companies of their Legion. Then again, that's not entirely surprising; their patron's sacred number is seven."
They looked at each other, then changed the subject. "So is the headdress some sort of psychic focus, then?"
"I am not a psyker, Sara; I don't know."
"Then we should keep it safe; I shall not loose a psychic device upon anyone unknowing."
He nodded. "The rest though we can sell. There are several dealers on Plett III, but more on Plett IV, presumably because people are foolish enough to stake large sums at the games."
"We can visit IV on our last day here. In the meantime, I think we have a little girl who will want to visit the beach again tomorrow."
They smiled at each other and walked outside to practice.
Silver Suns was a frenetic place, where everyone seemed to be in a hurry. The hire-flitter dropped them off at a pedestrian precinct and they strolled easily along. The displays were rich, fabulous items of craftsmanship and great expense shown to carefully discreet advantage. This was where the nobility of the Imperium of Man came to play and to spend their huge wealth, and Sara couldn't help but be impressed. She kept close hold of Janey's hand as they walked through the richly-dressed people.
A large sign indicated their first destination and they walked into the cool ostentation of Piven and Nours at eleven precisely.
"I am sorry, captain, but that is my final offer."
Sara looked at the slim moustachioed man opposite her with distaste. Parasite, she thought. "Very well, ser Piven. I shall go elsewhere." She stood and nodded briefly, then, collecting Sedreth and Janey on the way, walked out without a backward glance.
Behind her a door opened. "Tulis, you fool. You've lost her."
The slim man shrugged. "She knew what she would accept and I was not prepared to match it. There are few places she can sell such goods; I doubt they will offer more. She will be back."
"And if she is not?"
Another shrug. "Our contacts will ensure that charges are brought. I am sure we can find a few missing heirlooms."
They shared a look and smiled at each other. They were not pleasant smiles.
The trio's second call was very different. First, because the entrance was extremely discreet, only a metal plaque stating the name of the business. Second, because the person who met them was much much more pleasant. Ser Holt of Holt and Patchett Aucntioneers was a dapper little man of nervous manner. He was also much more interested.
"Captain Tarken, how on earth did you come across such a collection?"
She shrugged slightly. "The property of an unfortunate pirate, ser Holt. A very unfortunate, and very dead, pirate. Where he got them is a matter of conjecture."
Ser Holt looked at her through old-fashioned spectacles. "Pirate? I thought you were a trader captain?"
She smiled deprecatingly. "I trade, yes. It is not perhaps my primary business." She handed him her rogue trader license. He looked at it and blinked, then glanced at Sedreth's massive form with a sudden understanding in his eyes.
"Oh. Oh, I see. In that case, of course we will be honoured to do business, captain."
She chuckled, and sipped the water she had accepted. "Excellent."
It took about an hour for ser Holt to agree on a price for the contents of the jewel-box. One by one they went through the pieces until there was only one left. As he took the last glittering necklace from its case ser Holt drew an audible breath.
"Magnificent. Sera, I am deeply sorry, but I cannot purchase this. It is indubitably worth several million credits just for the break-up value, but I would be extremely remiss to breach my companies' reserves, even for this."
She nodded slowly. "How much would you expect to receive on the open market?"
"At auction? Anything from ten million to ten times that. I could not in any honour buy it from you for less than five million credits, and I do not have those funds available."
She chuckled softly. "Can it be sold and the monies credited to my account?"
"Yes, captain. But I warn you it will take time; those with the wherewithal to purchase such a piece are few and far between. It could take up to three or four years to sell."
Sara nodded. "That sounds acceptable. Can you arrange for one tenth of the sale price to go direct to the Astartes Black Templars?"
He blinked again and nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Easily."
"Less your firm's commission, of course."
Ser Holt nodded again. "You are most generous, captain. For the privilege of selling such an item, I shall be pleased to reduce our commission rates to four percent."
"Good. Then our business is concluded, ser. A pleasure dealing with an honest man."
He smiled briefly. "An honour dealing with you, captain. The transferral to your account will only take a moment."
They walked past a small café and had fruit juices before heading back to the shuttles. Silver Suns, on closer inspection, was very expensive and had a certain air of desperation, as if the inhabitants had been told so often that the resort was a great place to have a good time that they simply had to convince themselves they were doing just that. It was not a pleasant atmosphere and Sedreth's battle-honed instincts were at high alert as they strolled along the main skywalk towards the the shuttle port. Janey seemed tense as well, and Sara had the sort of look in her eyes that he associated with live combat practice.
They were about half way along the skywalk when Janey stopped. "Mr Morgan," she asked quietly. "What's that building there?"
He looked where she was pointing. "It's a casino, Janey, where people go to gamble."
"It's wrong, Mr Morgan. Wrong like wen the things came that night."
He looked at the tiny, seriously worried face. She met his eyes with a scared look. "Something bad's happening."
Sara hesitated. "I feel something too."
He closed his eyes briefly. Something familiar. Too familiar. He scooped up the little girl. "Come on. We need to get to the ship."
Sara nodded and simply shoved aside a young couple who were about to board a hire-flitter. The man tried to protest only to be silenced by a look from Sedreth. He subsided, spluttering about outrages.
"Shuttle port. Move. In the Emperor's name." Sedreth's voice was not one any cab driver was going to ignore. The vehicle took off.
"Go direct. Traffic regulations be damned," added the marine, taking his bolt pistol from its holster under his long coat and cocking it. The driver's eyes went wide. "Sara, you have your psi-shield?"
She nodded. "Always." She took out and cocked her own weapon, watching the casino with cold eyes.
"Mr Morgan, we have to hurry." Janey's voice was faint, and Sara pulled her daughter close.
It was only a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours before they were leaping from the flitter. Sedreth turned to the driver and shoved a handful of credit chips at him, enough to buy the vehicle. The man looked at him with wide scared eyes.
"Driver, go home, get your family, take them to the nearest cathedral, and pray. Pray as hard as you ever have. Pray for your soul. The Emperor protects." He turned and carried Janey one-handed towards the shuttle bays at a run, to catch up with Sara.
"Brother-captain, there is a small shuttle ignoring lane regulations. It appears to be en route to Trinarii dock. It is not responding to traffic management."
The scar-faced warrior in his pale grey Terminator armour took the two strides needed to cross the small bridge. "A shuttle? Does it belong to any vessel?"
"Negative, brother-captain. It is a standard shuttle for hire."
"Can you determine who hired it? Given the sensation we experienced a few minutes ago, such haste is unlikely to be coincidence."
The dark-haired marine at the scan station, likewise hulking in pale grey Terminator armour pressed controls. He shook his head. "Negative, brother-captain. Not without exposing our hooks into the system records."
"Hmm. It is headed away from the source on IV. Keep watch on it and alert me if anything else unusual occurs. Once brother Mallory is finished at his devotions, take your turn; he will cover scan. We dare not allow ourselves to be distracted by minor anomalies. If necessary we can deal with this mysterious shuttle later."
"As you command, brother-captain."
"Brother-captain, that shuttle. It is heading for a ship powering up at Trinarii dock. I'm attempting to access the details of it now."
The cold-eyed man with the artificial eye raised his real eyebrow. "Brother-captain Mendez? Is this an anomaly I should be aware of?" He stepped across to join the two marines, his blood-red armour contrasting sharply with their grey. The gold icons of his official position glinted in the deck-lights.
The Terminator captain met the enquiry without flinching. "I am not entirely certain Lord Daemonhunter. The shuttle appeared to be in a great hurry to leave the vicinity of Silver Suns. Have you any details on this ship, brother Mallory."
Mallory nodded slowly, his pale blue eyes more worried than was normal. "Yes, brother-captain. I have the registration. Eyes of the Phoenix, registration epsilon-76, 0001-delta, 29-sigma, gamma-79."
"Epsilon indicates a warship, does it not, brother-captain?"
"Indeed, Lord Carline." The big captain's face was grim. He spoke into his commlink. "Brother-sergeant Neihart, affirm my memory. What do the groupings of alphanumerics mean in a standard ship registration?"
The veteran warrior's reply came through clearly. "The first pair indicate the class, brother-captain, the second indicate the planet of origin. The third pair show year and service, the last pair is unique to each service."
"So in order, epsilon-76 indicates?"
"A warship, brother captain. I do not recognise the numeral; it must be an old type. But only capital ships have numbers above sixty."
"I see. And 0001-delta?"
"The fourth planet of the Sol system, brother-captain. That is, it would indicate a vessel that was built at the Mars shipyards." The sergeant's voice indicated a certain interest and he walked through the bridge entrance before he had finished speaking, the now-five armoured occupants making the small space seem very cramped indeed.
Mendez gave a tight smile "29-sigma?"
"Astartes vessel, entering service in the 29th millennium."
"Which means the last pair indicates chapter and company, correct?"
"Yes, brother-captain. Based on the ancient alphabet known as Greek, with a numeric for the founding and heritage, and a second number for the company if any."
Carline looked at the grim-faced marines. "Explain, sergeant."
"Yes, lord Carline. Each letter indicates a First Founding unit. For example, an epsilon indicates the Imperial Fists, Legio number Five, and their successor chapters, thus Black Templars are epsilon-secundus, Crimson Fists epsilon-tertius. The letter nu, the thirteenth letter of the alphabet, would indicate the Ultramarines or a successor chapter. The number of such successors is of course in the hundreds for the Ultramarines; the great majority of astartes chapters are descendant from Lord Guilleman's Legion. All Grey Knights vessels use omega as it is the last letter of that alphabet."
"I see. This vessel is gamma-79. How would you interpret that?"
"I can only assume there must be an error, lord daemonhunter. Gamma is the third letter of that alphabet. There is no such force in Imperial service, not since they joined the Arch-heretic in betraying their Emperor."
"The Third Legion? Are you telling me that a vessel registered to the Emperor's Children has been sitting quietly at dock right under our noses?"
Mendez' answering look was eloquent. "It explains much, Lord Carline."
Carline's expression would not have been out of place on one of the more ferocious ork warlords. "Uncloak. Get me the local admiral. Shields and weapons to full power. I want a firing solution on that ship and I want it now."
The space marines hurried to obey. Mallory turned in his chair. "Lord Carline. I have the ship-type. It's a Raptor-class strike destroyer. Obsolete now, but the Raven Guard keep one in service. It's the equivalent of a modern strike cruiser, more or less."
Carline went white. "A strike cruiser? Throne of Gold! There could be a company or more on that thing. And weapons to match."
"They will not stand against us, lord Carline. Not if we can board."
Carline nodded and started to speak, then groaned in pain, clutching his head. "There is a summoning. On the planet. A daemon. A very great daemon."
"The heretics on the ship, Lord Carline?"
"They will have to wait, captain; I dare not split us up. Inform the system admiral to take that ship into custody, and blow it if it resists. We must act against the summoning, or we will have worse by far to worry about than mere traitor marines." His voice told them all exactly how highly Carline reckoned their chances. "Ready weapons and get me a teleport lock. If that summoning is completed the system is doomed."
"Yes, lord daemonhunter." The Grey Knights moved to obey.
Janey watched the tactical display as Eyes of the Phoenix swung away from the dock, heading for Plett IV orbit. A flashing light came live and she opened the comlink. "Mr Morgan, a small ship just uncloaked over Plett IV. It's signalling the local Navy forces, I think. I can't make out the signal; it's in code. But its systems just came up full, shields and weapons lit."
The deep voice came back over comm. "It must be Imperial if it's signalling the Navy. Paranoid idiots probably think we're an enemy. Bring our shields up, Janey, and power up lances and main batteries. Then get the Navy on the comms and tell them we're not a hostile."
"Yes, Mr Morgan. Oh. Mr Morgan, there was just a teleport signature from the small ship. I couldn't make out how many; perhaps five or six. Teleport to the surface; I'm running a capture as close as I can."
"Good, darling. We'll be up in a moment or two."
She could hear the sound of rapid armoured footfalls in the corridor. Then mummy and Mr Morgan came onto the bridge, both in full armour. Mummy handed her a bolt pistol.
"I hope you don't need it, darling."
She nodded, feeling scared. She swallowed and spoke. "We'll be in teleport range in three minutes; I'll put us at high anchor with the autos so I can run tacscan. It's online now, but I don't have a clear signal yet."
Mummy smiled. "I have it." She leant over the comms channel. "This is captain Sara Tarken aboard Eyes of the Phoenix calling Imperial naval command. Respond."
A crackling voice came back. "Eyes of the Phoenix, by command of Lord Daemonhunter Carline you are ordered to heave to and prepare to be boarded in the Name of the Emperor."
Janey felt a pain in her tummy. "Mummy, it's happening."
Mummy nodded. "Bring the Geller fields online, darling. That should stop any daemons." And into comm. "Negative, Naval command, we are taking high anchor over Silver Suns. I suggest you get a ship or two in position yourself. Phoenix out." She looked at Mr Morgan. "Let's do it."
"Janey, do you have precise lock?"
"No, Mr Morgan. There's some sort of interference. I can't put you closer than the main entrance to the building."
"Do that, then. I hope we're in time." He lifted the bolter and cocked it. She looked at them both and bit her lip.
"I love you both," she said. Then, "Teleport in five, four three , two, one, mark." There was a flare of light and mummy and Mr Morgan disappeared. Janey loosened her knife in its sheath and cocked her newly acquired bolt pistol before placing it carefully in the console clip.
"The Emperor protects," she whispered, bringing tacscan up to max.
Suze moaned in ecstasy as the two wonderful tongues worked on her over-stimulated body. How many orgasms had she had? She couldn't remember. There was only the wonder of sensation after sensation. She arched again in pleasure, gazing through heavy-lidded eyes at the party.
Marla hung naked from leather straps, a pink-haired woman thrusting deep into her arse with a huge false penis while two dwarves bit at her breasts with sharpened teeth. A hugely muscled man plied a whip between her spread legs as she screamed in pleasure and pain.
Beautiful, virginal Adrisse was on her knees half-naked, slurping eagerly at a circle of offered cocks, some of which had already spattered her aristocratic features with semen.
A hand pulled her up and she whimpered as her face was pushed into a blue-dyed pudendum. "Lick, slut. Please me."
She groaned in lust as the delicious smell of arousal overwhelmed a lifetime of repugnance, burying her face and tongue willingly into the wet slick folds.
Kiletti 'n'd Killes could barely take her eyes from the horrific orgy in front of her. No-one was paying her any heed as she backed away from the sight of her friends acting like animals, bestial and lusting. It had to be some sort of evil enchantment, she thought, gripping the medallion of the Holy Emperor that hung around her neck. She backed a bit further, then turned and ran. A half-naked man stepped out of the shadows, glittering blade in his hands and she found, in this last moment, that she was too scared to even scream. Then a huge armoured hand wrapped itself round the swordsman and he fell, neck cleanly broken. Kiletti blinked once, then fainted.
"Is she one of them, Lord Daemonhunter?"
The crimson-armoured man shook his head. "Look at her expression. And she clutches the image of the Emperor still. I shall place a calming sleep on her mind; when we are done here, she will be a witness to what passed." He knelt swiftly and placed a firm hand on the girl's forehead., then stood.
"On your mark, Lord Daemonhunter."
Carline nodded. "For the Emperor." He flung himself into the room, a figure of ancient vengeance and protection. Behind him the five grey giants followed, cutting down anything that moved.
Adrisse Magret Hunen flinched as the men around her fell, their bodies shattered and splattering her with blood. She looked round, confused. Where am I? She felt at herself. Memory returned and she felt the sting of futile tears. Oh, merciful Emperor, what have I done. She saw, from her position against a blood-stained couch, six armoured warriors smashing their way through the perverts and participants. A figure moved behind them, clawed and vile and repellently graceful.
"Look out!"
Something exploded in her chest; she looked down, astonished, as she was lifted to her feet by the claw sticking out of her. Then a glowing blue arc cut across her vision, something behind her screamed in unearthly rage and pain, and she collapsed.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. My Emperor."
She didn't feel brother-sergeant Neihart gently close her eyes.
He looked up at his captain. "If not for her warning, I'd be dead."
Carline nodded grimly. "Enspelled, like many here. Place her apart; she died decently. Once we identify her, she can be returned to her kin."
"And the rest?"
"After we are done, burn everything. Cleanse this place. But first," he indicated the closed double doors at the far end of the chamber. Five grim faces met his.
"In His glorious name, lord Carline."
Carline stalked over to the polished portals, looked at his marine squad, then kicked the door in.
They materialised in front of the casino entrance, causing consternation and no little awe. Sedreth ignored the citizens who stood, stunned, at the arrival of one of the Emperor's space marines in their very midst and ran to the doors; the guards didn't even consider holding him up, nor Sara, jogging alongside him as she triggered the pilot light on her flamer.
"Who's in charge?" he snarled at the nearest guard.
The man shuddered and said, "Uhm."
Sedreth shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Get .."
Janey's voice came in over the vox. "Mr Morgan, there are some marines in the basement. And somethings else. Lots of somethings else. And tacscan's going all fuzzy again."
Sara looked at him; she'd heard too. He turned, seeking the emergency stairwell. There.
"You. Keep everyone, and I do mean everyone, away from the basement. Then arm yourselves and get the civilians out, and guard that stairwell with your lives."
He didn't wait to see if the man was following orders, just strode to the stairwell doors and kicked them open, then took them down, three at a time, with Sara in rapid pursuit. He heard her on the vox, soft voice hard and grim.
"Janey, power up lances. If we don't win, take the building out. We can't let a daemon loose here."
"Yes, mummy. Lances charging now."
Carline burst into a nightmare. A woman hung, half-skinned and in what had to be excruciating pain above a twisted altar, her blood dripping into a fanciful chalice of chalcedony and precious stones. Surrounding her were dozens of naked and semi-naked worshippers, all with bloody whips and sharpened objects with which they scourged themselves and each other in reckless abandon. In the middle was a huge figure, armoured in black and pink and gold, with a tentacle in place of one arm. The traitor marine was bellowing a blasphemous chant while he drew a white knife across the screaming sacrifice. Golden mist writhed across the floor, making other, worse, figures indistinct for anyone who had never seen a daemonette of Slaanesh before.
And worst of all, a glowing split in reality itself widened even as he raised his psycannon. They were almost too late.
"In His Glorious name, death to the traitors! Forward!" he bellowed above the tumult, his powersword cutting a surprised guard in two as he led his Grey Knights into a battle they had to win.
Hmm. Interesting. Exquisite pain, and, ah, a worthy enemy. Yes, He would answer.
"For the Emperor!" came the battle-cry from brother Gabriel's left. The Terminator hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough for the blast to rip him apart in a wall of jarring sound.
Mendez cursed. Noise marines. "Emperor's Children heretics. Kill them all!" He flung himself forwards, storm bolter tearing chunks from fancifully embossed armour. A warrior laughed insanely even as his chest was torn open. Mendez smashed his force halberd through the traitor's neck, severing head and left arm alike in a spurt of blackish blood.
Neihart leapt into the mêlée, his own force-halberd a blur of prowess and death. Black- and pastel-armoured warriors fell, but there were more and more coming from somewhere.
Brother Joshua bellowed a Word and cultists fell all across the chamber, even a couple of the traitors staggering backwards under the impact of the Emperor's Blessing. Joshua used his force-halberd two-handed as he spun and whirled, a massive titan of destruction.
There were cries of rapture and the hairs on Mendez' neck rose as something coalesced above the altar.
"It's mine," bellowed Carline, stitching a line of blessed psycannon bolts across the thing's chest. An unearthly roar of rage and pain left most of the remaining cultists on the floor, writhing in pain as blood poured from ears and eyes, mouths and noses. The daemonhunter lunged, his glowing blade burying itself deep in the chest of the still-forming daemon. Mendez cursed quietly. A Keeper of Secrets. Now they really were in trouble. He called on the Emperor and all his own psychic strength and spoke a Word of his own. The daemon staggered, then lifted Lord Carline off his feat and casually ripped his arm off.
"No retreat, brothers. Keep those traitors busy while I take the daemon. In the Emperor's name."
He didn't wait for an acknowledgement, just stepped forward to challenge the creature. It eyed him for a second, then a burst of promethium roared past his shoulder to engulf it and it bellowed in fury. What?
"For the Emperor!" A woman's voice. His tacscan showed two additional figures, a woman in power armour and a space marine. He glanced to the left and blinked in surprise. Both wore armour of purple and gold, the aquila bright on their chests, and a golden winged talon device that Mendez did not know on their left shoulders.
The traitors engaged with brothers Neihart, Joshua and Mallory screamed in fury. Everything seemed to pause, then a terrible voice snarled, velvet and evil. "You! Traitor! I shall enjoy your song of pain, Sedreth."
The marine chuckled. "Captain Marius. Long time, no see. I hope you can remember how to use a sword. Because I certainly do. Time to die, bastard."
He drew a chainsword and combat knife and took a duelling stance, then leapt into the mass of traitors with a bellow of laughter even as the ground he'd been standing on disintegrated under the horrific sonic weapons of the traitors. A burning arm swept out from the altar, reminding Mendez of his own peril. He parried desperately, aware that Neihart was down and that ever more traitors were appearing out the mists.
"Sara, the sacrifice is still summoning them. Cut her down."
Sara nodded, flung her half-full flame unit into a group of traitors who were charging Sedreth, cursing quietly to herself as it failed to explode, and drew her sword. Ducking past the grey-armoured terminator as he duelled the Keeper she leapt high, cutting the bonds holding the sacrifice up. A massive claw smashed her backwards even as the dying woman fell clear and the glowing portal seemed to shudder. Red lights showed on her armour displays and she barely parried the follow-up that gouged a two-metre chunk out of the wall. One of the Terminators shouted something and the daemon screamed in rage and pain, starting to de-coalesce, drawing back through the closing gateway. Then the Terminator fell, some sort of sonic weapon flinging him through a disintegrating wall with his weapon in pieces and bits of his armour flaking off. She pulled her bolter and opened up, targeting anything in black and trying to prevent them from interfering with Sedreth's one on one duel with the enemy commander.
Mendez drove his force-halberd into the daemon's chest, speaking a Word as he did so. There was an explosion of sound and light and he was flung like a rag doll across the chamber.
Sedreth laughed through his suit speakers. "You always were a pussy, Marius." His chainsword smashed down, shattering the other's shoulder-plate and almost tearing off his arm. The answering blow though powerful was slightly out of alignment and he flicked it aside with his knife, the massive smoking blade screaming in frustration.
Marius recovered quickly, leaping back to prevent the follow-up that would have ended it. "You dare, Sedreth, to wear the ancient colours. To dress a woman in them? You shall die in endless pain." His voice was nightmare.
"Noise marines. You're pathetic, the lot of you. She's a hundred times the astartes that any of you ever were," he answered, his voice taunting. Instinct brought him sideways as an enraged warrior, lidless eyes blazing hatred, blasted the ground he'd been standing on; his knife flew true, finding the exposed throat. "Too stupid to wear a helmet, even," he laughed, and launched himself into a blistering attack sequence which drove Marius backwards.
A monstrous explosion lifted them all and flung them across the room, traitors and loyalists alike bouncing off each other to land in an ungainly pile against the far wall.
Was the building shaking? He couldn't tell, and honestly didn't care.
He heaved himself upright, taking the head from a traitor before the warrior was even aware he was there. A bolter opened up from his left and he saw Sara, her right shoulder-plate missing, kneeling as if at target practice, picking her shots, ignoring the return volleys which bounced off her armour and the trail of blood running down her left thigh.
A huge grey-armoured Terminator burst back into the room, cracks all over the thick plate, but with a storm bolter in one hand roaring death. Half a dozen Emperor's Children flung themselves at the Grey Knight in an orgy of fury and destruction, followed by half a dozen more. The man's heavy bolts tore some apart, but the others dragged him down, overwhelming the warrior by sheer weight of numbers.
The Grey Knight captain exploded from a pile of bodies, and leapt to his brother's assistance, the massive force-halberd in his hands a blur of eldritch blue energies.
Sedreth killed another, then he was there again. Marius had lost his helmet. His once-handsome face was a vision of horror, eyes stitched upon and ears and nose long gone, a hairless blasphemy of humanity. Sedreth casually decapitated a third marine as he staggered upright, then deliberately took off his own helmet, hooking it to his utility belt. Marius nodded slowly and lifted his daemonblade in cold salute.
"Time to die, traitor." They both spoke the same words at the same time and for a second their eyes met. Then the blades blurred as they loosed the fury of ten millennia on each other.
"For the Emperor!"
The smoking blade went wide and just for a fraction of a second, Sedreth saw the acceptance in his former captain's eyes. Then his own weapon tore through bone and flesh and Marius was just a headless twitching corpse. He kicked the daemonblade clear and sought another opponent, but the Children were all dead or dying.
The Grey Knight captain looked at him. "You are a fine swordsman, marine. And your arrival was, timely. But I will have an explanation."
Sedreth shrugged and looked down at the corpse of a warrior he'd once been proud to serve under. "Later, captain. This den must be cleansed. That altar,.." he gestured. "Have you the means to destroy it?"
The man nodded, his eyes cold inside the psyker hood of his armour. "Indeed. And we must see to our dead and wounded also. Brother-sergeant?"
Neihart gave his captain a thumbs-up sign from where he lay, one leg severed, on the gore-stained floor.
Sedreth looked at Sara who was picking up her flamer from where it had landed. She nodded and lifted it, streaming yellow-white promethium over the corpses of traitor marines and cultists alike. Someone screamed and tried to run; there was a single shot and the naked figure fell. Sara sent a burst of fire over the body, reducing it to ashes in seconds.
The Grey Knight captain carried the half-skinned sacrifice clear; by some miracle she was still alive. He looked down at her. There was no healing these injuries, he knew.
"Sister, I am sorry we were not in time. I can offer you the Emperor's peace," he said, his voice gentle. The woman nodded.
"The, the.."
"All dead, child. You are avenged." A tear ran down her cheek and he closed her hand on a icon from his armour. She gave a faint smile. The dry snap of her neck was loud in the stillness. Mendez lowered her slowly to the ground. "Rest in His Light, sister. Your suffering was not in vain."
Brother-captain Mendez stood, watching his battered marines as they carefully destroyed relics of chaos, twisted armour, and daemonblades, the crisping of human and no-longer-human flesh a hissing accompaniment. He noticed idly that the woman in the purple and gold armour wore a Black Templars purity seal, proudly displayed on the front corner of the same left shoulder-plate that bore, like the big marine watching the destruction cold-eyed, what had to be the ancient codex symbol of the Emperor's Children. Her name was incised in black Imperial Gothic script, 'Sara', etched centimetres deep into the solid gold. Time to deal with these two in a moment, first, his squad.
Mendez looked at the bodies. Lord Daemonhunter Carline was alive though unconscious; missing an arm, he wouldn't be fighting daemons for a year or two. Brother Gabriel was dead, brother Mallory likewise. Brother-sergeant Neihart had lost a leg. Brother Joshua's armour would need months of repair; even as he watched, a knee-plate detached itself to fall and rock slowly on the floor. Joshua winced as he bent to pick it up, his astartes stoicism pushed to the limit by multiple fractures and organ damage. His own armour had more red lights than green, and his bio-readouts indicated he had been wounded fourteen times. He flexed his left arm; broken in three places. If those two hadn't come out of nowhere, he and his squad would all be dead, of that there was no doubt. He looked across the chamber.
The stranger marine met his questioning gaze. Mendez realised that he was tall even for an astartes, tacscan giving his height as two point nine two five seven metres. Even in his own Terminator armour, he had to look up slightly to meet the man's cold grey-blue eyes.
"My apologies for not introducing myself, brother-captain. Morgan Sedreth, sergeant, 79th combat century, Third Legion Astartes." He gestured to the headless burning corpse of the captain he'd killed. "Captain Marius was my company commander, a long long time ago, back before the Heresy."
"I have heard of this Marius. An infamous name."
Sedreth nodded. "He and his combat century, the 5th, became the first noise marines; they are addicted to the noise of battle and use weapons which destroy with discordant blasts of sound. I had to taunt him to take me on hand to hand, or we'd all be dead." He gave a grim smile. "Their joy in battle is one of the few weaknesses of the Children; they tend to lose discipline if you can get under their skin a bit. Marius was never truly my equal with a blade; only Lucius is, really, amongst the surviving Children. I had to get him angry enough to face me one on one or he'd have organised his warriors to tear us all apart."
Mendez nodded. "You sound regretful, Morgan Sedreth." He didn't bother to hide his suspicion; whoever this man appeared to be now, he obviously had been an Emperor's Children marine and thus a traitor. That did not preclude gaining information from him however.
"He was fine man, once. His tactics in the Laer campaign would have been worthy of any Imperial Academy's praise. But it had to be done. Marius and his company embraced the worship of their patron power to an extent rare even amongst the fallen Legions. There is no saving such a man." He gestured to the altar with its now-melted chalice. "Do you need demolition charges?"
Mendez shook his head and picked up Lord Carline's powersword. Raising it in two hands, he stepped close to the slab and spoke a Word while bringing the blessed blade down with all his physical and psychic strength. The altar exploded in a shower of stone and a faint scream of rage echoed in his mind.
Sedreth nodded slightly. "It's been a long time since I saw the Grey Knights in action. You remain as fearsome as ever. Sara, do you have enough fuel left to cleanse the antechamber too?"
The woman nodded. "Only a fifth of a tank, but that should suffice." She removed her helmet, hanging the corvus-style protection from her utility belt. Her face bore a faint scar on the left cheek which did little to detract from a considerable beauty. Mendez looked at her inquiringly and she smiled briefly, a fractional light in dark cold eyes
"Captain Sara Tarken, brother-captain. Owner and commander of rogue trader Eyes of the Phoenix. Honoured to meet you."
The strike destroyer. "Eyes of the Phoenix? That is your ship?"
She nodded. "Lord Commander Calgar confirmed title last year when we were at Macragge." She gave a wry smile and his psychic abilities read the unspoken 'not that he wanted to' in her mind despite the psi-shield she wore. There was a certain sadness about the thought and he wondered why. However, courtesies first.
"I am brother-captain Mendez, captain. That is brother-sergeant Neihart, and brother-astartes Joshua. My brothers Mallory and Gabriel fell today. Our commander is Lord Daemonhunter Carline."
She nodded. "The loss of two such warriors is a grievous one for humanity."
Her commlink buzzed. "Janey?"
"Mummy, there's ships incoming. Hostile warships at system zenith. The Navy are on intercept course, except for one with weapons locked on Phoenix."
Tarken looked grim. "Morgan, did you get that?"
He nodded. "This ritual was not the only string to their bow. I should have guessed. Marius would not have arrived with so few."
So few? More than thirty traitor corpses lay charred near to ashes amidst the hundred or so dead cultists. It was unusual to find chaos marines in larger numbers. Mendez looked at his brothers. "We must give what assistance we can to the Navy."
Sedreth looked at him. "Your ship is that small scout at polar low anchor, yes?"
He nodded, thinking of the pitiful ship-to-ship weapons they had available.
"Are your men competent in ship-board weaponry?"
Mendez gave him a cold look. "Of course."
Sedreth nodded. "Good. We're short-crewed and could do with someone else to command the batteries. Janey, can you 'port everyone up?"
Mendez could hear the reply. It sounded like a young girl's voice. "No, Mr Morgan. There's too much interference. I can't get a clean lock."
Sedreth gave them all a look. "Carry the Fallen. Brother-sergeant, can you walk?"
Neihart nodded, using his force-halberd to lever himself to his feet. The other gave him a grim smile, as if he'd expected no less. "Sara, you're rearguard. Once we're out of the antechamber, burn everything in it to ashes."
She nodded. Sedreth stooped and lifted the massive armoured weight of Lord Carline into a fireman's carry. He unslung his bolter with a just-in-case expression and looked at Mendez, who nodded slowly. It would allow them to investigate these people, after all. He lifted brother Gabriel's armoured body; Joshua carried brother Mallory and Neihart stayed to the middle, limping slowly with his storm bolter unslung and cocked in his left hand. The woman, Tarken, paused, then lifted the dead sacrifice, ignoring the sticky blood that stained her armour as she slung the woman over her left shoulder.
"She doesn't deserve to be left with these scum."
Mendez nodded agreement. "There are two beyond the antechamber, one dead, but not cultists."
Sedreth met his eyes coolly. "We'll manage them also. No honest citizen should be left in this den."
They moved cautiously through the wrecked, blood-stained antechamber. Mendez noted clinically that someone, presumably their two new companions, had used frag grenades in here. They picked up the dead girl who'd shouted that vital warning, and the unconscious woman who'd been trying to slip away from the horror, then Tarken opened up with her flamer, skilfully sweeping the fires over all the bodies and especially the remains of the daemonettes. In seconds the chamber was ablaze, a single mass of flame in which the stench of burning bodies was distinctly and unpleasantly clear. The building's fire protection system sprayed water over all of it, to little effect.
"That's me out," she said, unslinging her bolter again and slamming a fresh magazine into place. Mendez noted it was a standard sickle pattern bolter elegantly chased in gold and bronze. "The sprinkler system will prevent any spread I should think. Let's go."
They moved slowly up the staircase, emerging in a large gaming chamber, its tables and machines empty of people. Several armed men and women in uniform looked at them with relief and no little worry. Mendez reflected idly that these people could not often have seen space marines, let alone space marines as battered and injured as they were.
A small group of richly-dressed Imperial administrators came towards them. The leader, a slim arrogant-looking man, spoke without waiting to be addressed.
"What is the meaning of all this?"
Mendez just looked at him. The silence stretched. "And you are?"
"Under-secretary Colgan, senior assistant to his Excellency Governor n'Hallet."
"Brother-captain Mendez. By my personal order, no-one, and I do mean no-one, is to go down to that basement without my say-so. You may consider yourself under arrest, under-secretary, as is the entire administration of this system, the Governor included. The owners of this building are to be likewise arrested and held pending interrogation by the Inquisition."
The man stood still in shock. Before he could protest, Mendez went on.
"The Emperor, in his infinite wisdom, understands that men and women need to relax, to enjoy themselves away from the cares of day to day living. This debauchery, however, is not acceptable. You will order the closure of all gambling establishments, all brothels, all sellers of stimulants. You will so order now, under-secretary."
"But, but,.." the man waffled. Mendez let his fury show.
"Thanks to your laxness and incompetence, a heretical cult to the ruinous powers had established itself here. Two of my brothers died to kill the daemon summoned not one hour ago in this very building. Lord Daemonhunter Carline may not survive his injuries. I suggest that you examine your conscience, under-secretary. For even if it is mere laxness and incompetence, you and yours have a great deal to answer for. And I shall not be lax in finding the answers."
The man wilted. "Of course, sir, as you command."
Sedreth beckoned one of the uniformed men, who seemed to recognise him. "How far back are the evacuees?"
"The building is clear, sir, as you ordered. I also ordered the evacuation of all adjacent buildings within a five block radius. That's still ongoing; under-secretary Colgan wanted it stopped."
"Did he indeed? Recommence at once. And when you're done, get your people out. Under-secretary, you and yours as well. No-one within a five block radius of this place." Mendez looked at him and he gave a tight smile. "Our main lances are targeted on the building, just in case."
"A sensible precaution. But we will not destroy it just yet. There may be evidence to find." Mendez did not allow his instant suspicion to show on his face. Not in front of what might well be cultists, or at least those bribed or influenced by cultists.
Sedreth nodded briefly, a single sharp acknowledgement. "Janey, have you teleport lock?"
"Yes, Mr Morgan."
"'Port when ready."
It came through general channels; astartes inter-unit, rarely used but always available to ensure that chapters could talk without compromising internal battle-cants and the like. "Teleport in ten. Eleven signals. Acknowledge."
Mendez acknowledged. "Squad Mendez acknowledges. Squad strength, three effectives; two dead. Three civilians, two dead, one unconscious also due teleport. One additional combatant, wounded and unconscious, likewise."
Sedreth's voice was calm. "Two effectives to teleport, Phoenix."
"Affirmed, brother-captain, brother-sergeant. Eleven to teleport. Teleport immediate. Mark."
There was the familiar sensation and they were all in a large chamber, clearly on a warship, but deserted. Sedreth walked swiftly to a locker and pulled out a pair of gurneys loaded with diagnostic equipment, still with the Lord Daemonhunter over his shoulders. He lowered the man's armoured form carefully onto the heavyweight frame. Mendez watched as the big marine attached medical equipment with an expertise that an apothecary might have envied. He kept his own peace as the warrior did the same with brother-sergeant Neihart, assisting the grizzled Terminator to attach diagnostic and trauma packs to his armour.
A girl's voice came over the main speakers. "All crew to the bridge, immediate. Incoming hostile vessel, frigate class, seven light-minutes to battery range. Shields and Geller fields online."
Tarken gently laid down the woman she was holding, then turned. "It's this way." She ran from the room, leaving a faint trail of blood, though whether her own or the dead sacrifice, it was impossible to determine. Mendez carefully laid Gabriel's body to the deck and folded his brother's hands across his chest. "I shall be back, brother."
Joshua was doing likewise, and both followed the woman, who was waiting at a large lift. Behind him he heard Sedreth speaking.
"Will you be alright, brother-sergeant? There are additional medpacks here if you need."
Neihart's voice rumbled. "I shall be fine. Go."
Sedreth's running steps rang along the corridor as he followed them quickly into the lift. The four of them stood in silence as the lift rose half a dozen floors or so. It opened onto what would have been a typical astartes warship's corridor, except for its emptiness; Sedreth and Tarken turned left and the two Grey Knights followed them onto a large bridge where a young girl with a headset, no more than nine years old, sat alone in the secondary command chair. Only three stations were active. She flicked switches with an expertise clearly borne of experience, bringing two more stations to life, and barely glanced up as they came in, speaking rapidly and professionally.
"Mummy, the scan plot is on your HUD. Engines are online and full power is available at your discretion. All batteries are online, lances at sixty percent. Nearest enemy vessel bears two gamma by seven, out of standard range by sixty-two light-seconds. Transferring main lances to station seven; starboard broadside to your two, Mr Morgan. Port broadside to station nine. Captain Mendez, if you and brother-astartes Joshua can take stations seven and nine, please?"
Tarken dropped into the pilot's chair, already flicking switches. A holographic image of the system came down around her head. "All hands take hold. Maximum acceleration in five seconds. Janey, do you have the local naval command?"
"Yes, mummy, but they're not very keen to talk to us. They want to arrest us."
"Brother-captain, I'd appreciate it if you could call off the hounds. The Navy needs every ship it has right now, us included."
Mendez met her eyes. "Captain, where is the rest of your crew?"
She grinned and tapped the main control panel. "Here. The ship herself. Sedreth tells me she was automated centuries ago, since crew were quite hard to find."
Mendez looked at her in astonishment, his psychic hood making it easy to tell she spoke the truth. How could anyone automate a ship this size?
The girl, Janey, gave him a quick grin. "Comm is open to your station, brother-captain. Channel two."
Mendez looked into merry brown eyes, then turned and spoke into the comm-unit, visibly startling the naval comm officer who looked back at him on the vid-link.. "This is brother-captain Mendez aboard rogue trader Eyes of the Phoenix to Plett naval command. By my authority, this ship is to be considered friendly. We are proceeding at max to engage." He glanced at the readouts, gauging the vessel's systems. "Admiral, our firepower and shielding approximate a frigate-class vessel, at least. Where do you need us?"
Sedreth spoke quietly to brother Joshua. "The lances work; they're accurate but they're old and the crystals need replacement. Take them to no more than sixty percent unless you want to blow the ship." Joshua nodded.
All three of the mismatched, tiny, crew were all business. "Firing solution on enemy vessel bearing two gamma by eight. Deflection estimate point three seven."
"Scan indicates Imperial vessel Shrike being boarded. Scout-ship at polar anchor taking fire from incoming enemy." Damnation, thought Mendez. That ship had vital records.
Joshua spoke quietly. "Lances online. Firing."
"Direct hit. Enemy shields damaged but holding. INS Oath's Hammer engaging. Four direct hits with class III missiles. Enemy shields down on starboard bow lower hull."
"Lances at thirty percent. Firing."
"Direct hit enemy lower starboard bow. Enemy has lost all bow shielding. Fire incoming."
The ship didn't even waver, shrugging off the incoming barrage as if it were water. Mendez wondered what had been done to make her so well-shielded.
"Oath's Hammer taking damage." Smaller than themselves, their closest ally was having a hard time under accurate and ferocious fire from a ship of its own class.
"Come a point to port, Sara. I can't get a good firing solution at this angle."
"One point to port. Acknowledged. On mark. Mark."
"Solution plotted. Starboard broadside firing."
The calm young voice reported it, although Mendez could see for himself the result of the devastating broadside. "Eleven direct hits. Enemy bow open to vacuum. Enemy is on fire along her port battery."
Joshua's calm voice. "Firing solution plotted. Lances at fifty percent. Firing."
"Direct hit. Enemy open to vacuum along port side. Enemy vessel no longer firing and is attempting to withdraw. Oath's Hammer, this is Eyes of the Phoenix. Do you require assistance?"
The return image was distorted, but the vox came through clear enough. "Negative, Eyes of the Phoenix. Manoeuvring positive, shields online at forty-five percent. We have sufficient firepower to finish them. Admiral's request you take vector eight-tau at all speed."
"Acknowledged, Oath's Hammer. The Emperor protects."
"Proceeding vector eight-tau, point seven-three c." Mendez blinked. That was fast; he'd never been aboard a ship this size that could make three-quarters of light-speed in-system. The enormous acceleration pressed them all back in their seats.
"Shrike just detonated her engines bearing six-gamma by seven. Enemy flagship was caught in the explosion. Remaining enemy vessels are going to warp."
"They're running away?"
"Enemy flagship has blown up." The girl looked round. "Yes, mummy, all of them are going into warp."
Sedreth's bass rumble sounded from his left. "Naval casualties?"
The girl glanced at her scan. "Two ships destroyed, three heavily damaged. The enemy, whoever they were, lost four ships, including their flagship when Shrike blew up."
Sedreth looked grim. "It's not like the Children to run from a fight. Especially a fight they might win."
"Perhaps the fight served their purpose, Morgan Sedreth, and planted an agent amongst the Emperor's astartes," said Mendez, turning in his chair.
Sedreth started to laugh, then sobered. "You remain suspicious, captain Mendez? Why doesn't that surprise me?"
"You admit to being an Emperor's Children space marine. You rebelled against the Emperor. It is only the fact that I cannot read any taint that has held my fire thus far."
He nodded. "Naturally. That and the fact that my companion wears a Black Templars purity seal on the same colours I wear."
Joshua's voice was quiet and calm, as it always was. "And what do you wear, Morgan Sedreth? The feather of some chaos beast?"
Sedreth genuinely laughed at that, looking fondly at the long white pinion. "Have you never seen a Baal ruby, brother-astartes Joshua? This is an honour I received before the Heresy, before your chapter even existed. I put it away long ago only to find it again almost by accident. When I fall in battle, as one day we all must, Sara or Janey will return it to the Ninth Legion. Until then, it has saved my life more than once, and I will continue to bear it in memory of its original owner, who saved the survivors of my century on Murder long ago."
Both Grey Knights blinked. Mendez shook his head. The Ninth? Joshua's voice was stunned and disbelieving. "That cannot be."
Sedreth merely looked at them. Eventually Tarken broke the silence. "Are you all quite finished? Captain Mendez, we will be happy to show and your men round the ship once we are at dock again. In the meantime, I believe we have wounded still needing attention?"
Grey Knight brother-sergeant Andus Neihart leaned back against the wall, running repeatedly through meditation rituals of pain relief. His leg was severed neatly just more than halfway down the femur, courtesy of one of the accursed noise marines, and although his enhanced metabolism and ancient, blessed, armour had prevented him from bleeding to death the wound would have sent any warrior other than a psyker astartes unconscious with shock. He had spent much of the past hour reviewing the tactical recording of the fight in the basement, partly to keep his mind off the pain, and partly out of interest to see who their two mysterious reinforcements were. There was no doubt that the big marine was a superlative warrior, nor that the enemy had obviously known him. More to the point, there was no question but that without their intervention the squad would have died. The enemy's tactics had been skilful and deadly; their fields of fire superbly married to each other. Had the big marine and his companion not unexpectedly intervened squad Mendez would have been caught in a lethal crossfire, unable to fight effectively due to the daemon at their back.
He pondered over the meaning of the exchanges. Clearly the enemy commander, and his men, had considered the big marine in codex (codex!) Emperor's Children colours to be a traitor. Which indicated that he had once fought alongside them, presumably during the Heresy and subsequently. Which, in turn, meant that he must be killed. But. The Black Templars did not casually hand out purity seals, nor could a purity seal, of any chapter, be taken from the dead and retain its aura. And the woman's seal had the unmistakable aura of one that had been used against daemons. Logically that meant it was real and hers.
Nor could he consider the situation to be a careful trick. He could not believe that the infamous former marine captain known as Marius would be casually sacrificed even by the ruinous powers; they valued their more competent pawns, and Marius' long tale of blasphemous slaughter was equal to almost any other he could think of. Including the vile being known as Lucius, whom the marine Sedreth had mentioned.
A thought struck him. This Sedreth, if he truly was who he said he was, must know more of the chaos legions than any other man alive. It was the duty of the Grey Knights, as the Emperor's chosen for the task, to elicit as much information as they could. The lives of the crew – wherever the crew might be on this ship – were a secondary consideration.
He slowly levered himself to his feet... foot. It would need a prosthesis, and he would be out of action for months. He grimaced slightly; warriors had fought on for their Emperor with worse injuries. Soft footsteps sounded in the corridor and he turned slowly to face the door.
A small girl put her head round the door. She smiled. "Hello. I'm Janey. Mr Morgan and your captain are arguing; I came down to see if you're alright?"
Neihart nodded. "I shall recover."
Her smile widened. "Good. I brought the transports so we can lay out your brothers in the chapel. And the poor ladies who were killed. But I better check the diagnostics on Mr Carline first. Mummy said he lost an arm."
"Indeed. His armour should have shut down the blood flow automatically, but he is not a space marine."
"And he hasn't got all the enhancements that stop you bleeding to death," she said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I know. We had to make special modifications to mummy's armour. And I suppose we'll have to for mine when I get big enough." She checked the readouts on the medical equipment. "I think that's all okay. Mr Morgan knows the equipment much better than me, but he tol' me what's an okay range and Mr Carline's readings are in it." She turned to him and gave him a stern look. "You should be lying down. Walking around won't make you better."
Neihart shrugged inside his armour. It hurt; he ignored the pain. "Nor will it make me any worse, child."
"Okay." She took out a control device and two small transport platforms, the type used for moving munitions, rolled slowly into the room. She looked dubiously at the two Fallen astartes in their Terminator armour. "They're too heavy for just you and me to move. But they'll all be finished arguing soon. Brother-captain Mendez isn't going to start shooting unless he has a reason and Mr Morgan won't give him one."
"You are very confident."
"Mr Morgan has spoken to space marines before. Astartes are smarter than normal people."
Neihart absorbed this silently, watching the child as she took out some sort of wand device and ran it over Lord Carline. "What is that?"
"A scanner. Mr Morgan uses it for armour diagnostics. This armour is still drawing power correctly, but it's a different model to the armour we have. So is yours, actually. That's tactical dreadnought armour, isn't it?"
He nodded, surprised by the question. And, if he was honest, with the correct designation for Terminator armour.
"We have some, but mainly pieces; no complete suits. Mr Morgan says he prefers the speed of his own armour, and that mummy isn't big enough to use a Terminator suit. We adapted a suit of Mark IV armour for her. And a helmet from a mark VI suit."
"You have suits of astartes armour on board?"
She grinned. "Oh yes. We found thirty-four brand new suits in an abandoned armoury on the third floor. And seventy-three suits awaiting repair."
"That is a great many. What happened to the owners?"
"They died on Murder. The century, including reinforcements, lost one hundred and forty-two killed and thirty-eight wounded – which was all the survivors – before Lord Sanguinius arrived. It was made up to strength from survivors of other centuries, and they already had their own armour, of course. But most of their transports and vehicles were lost. Mr Morgan said that was why they were told off as the Primarch's escort to the Iron Hands instead of dropping on Isstvan. I think he's still sad about that."
"Oh?" Neihart did his best to feign disinterest.
She nodded sadly. "I think he sometimes wishes he'd died with his brothers under captain Tarvitz." She grinned suddenly. "But sometimes I think he's just annoyed he didn't get the chance to measure himself against Angron or Mortarion."
"Do not speak those names."
The child gave a small nod. "I know. I wonder if they regret what they did, if they ever realised they were tricked by the chaos powers."
Neihart looked at her. "That is blasphemy, child."
She met his eyes with the innocence of youth. "Don't you ever feel sorry for the cultists you kill?"
"Enough! I shall not listen to such heresy!" He pointed at her and spoke a Word.
She looked back at him, untouched. "What does 'Inkametibnkastet' mean?"
Brother-captain Mendez's deep voice answered her. "It is a Word of the Emperor, child. It focusses His power to destroy daemons and the minions of chaos. Were you a servant of chaos you would have been blasted from your very bones."
"Oh. Right. But I'm not."
Brother Joshua's calm quiet voice helped Neihart to re-focus after the expenditure of so much psychic energy. "Obviously. It is as well for you that brother-sergeant Neihart did not use his force-halberd. That would have killed you regardless."
"Yes. Most fortunate. I'd hate to have to kill you for killing my daughter," said the woman from the doorway in a cool tone. "Now, are we all finished with the machismo and threats? Good. Then brother-captain, perhaps you and your brothers would care to load your Fallen so that we can take them to rest in the chapel? Fighting amongst ourselves is a poor way to reward their sacrifice."
Brother-captain Mendez looked at her. "We have a small votive on our own ship."
"Which is damaged and barely holding low anchor," said the big marine, Sedreth. "Captain, if you wish to inspect the chapel first, it is not at issue. Brother-captain Abdiel of the Black Templars used it when he was our guest while we were docked at Macragge. Though it has always been a place of memorial rather than worship, I am certain it will meet any requirements you have."
"Memorial?" asked Neihart, his curiosity aroused. Why have a chapel at all if not for prayer?
Sedreth nodded, the briefest inclination of his close-cropped head. "The Imperial Truth was always secular, thus the ship's chapel was a place where we commemorated our Fallen during the Great Crusade."
"I would see this memorial, Morgan Sedreth." Neihart's statement surprised himself before he realised he was intensely curious about the place. "With your permission, brother-captain?"
Mendez nodded. "We shall visit this memorial, Morgan Sedreth. Since we are at high anchor there is no danger to the vessel."
The purple-armoured marine merely nodded and led them without a word.
It was like, and yet unlike, any chapel the Grey Knights had ever seen. The centrepiece was a simple block of pale stone, carved with the aquila and, as they looked closer, the astartes catechism. On it lay a bright purple cloth edged in gold, and on that, two chased and gilded candlesticks and a large chalice in the form of a winged talon. Above the altar hung a huge purple and gold banner with the words 'Legio Astartes III' and '79th – Stand fast' circling a red and bronze raptor rising from white flames, and bearing long lists of names stitched in gold thread.
"What are the names, Sedreth?"
"Planets. Battles. Campaign honours. The bird is a phoenix. This was – is – the century's honour standard. It was never taken out of this place, except to battle, the honours added to over the years. It is older than the Legion sigil, than the very name 'Emperor's Children'."
Mendez nodded. So far, so like any astartes chapter. What was different was the long long lane of alcoves and their accompanying banners, torn and battle-scarred and in colours of more than one of the ancient Legions. He walked slowly closer. A dark green banner caught his eye amongst the others – the Salamanders. He recognised the Imperial Fists and the Blood Angels, the Raven Guard and the Iron Hands. A tattered White Scars banner hung beside an equally shot-torn midnight blue and silver standard he realised must belong to the Night Lords and he swore softly, realising he was standing under a World Eaters honour standard. It still bore faint blood-stains on the blue and white silk.
"I do not recognise all these colours, Morgan Sedreth." He had to struggle to keep his voice calm.
The man's mouth quirked in what might have been amusement. "The Legion standards are purple and gold. The blue and white with the jaws are World Eater standards; the skull and star in green on white are Death Guard. The white sun on crimson is the Thousand Sons. The chained 'A' is Alpha Legion. The black wolf's head against a crescent is Luna Wolves. I presume you recognise the iconography of the Night Lords and Iron Warriors; they haven't changed it much."
"No Word Bearers?" he asked walking along the long aisle. Each alcove held a marble column about a metre high on which was engraved a list of names. And units, he realised.
Sedreth shook his head. "No. Nor Ultramarines or Dark Angels. The century didn't fight alongside them in any campaign of note. Although some of their Fallen are listed on the memorial columns."
Mendez barely heard him, his unbelieving gaze caught by the two portraits. He heard brother Joshua's indrawn breath. "This is the Primarch Sanguinius."
Sedreth's calm voice seemed to come from a great distance. "And the Legion's Primarch. As they were on Murder, planet one-forty-twenty. We lost a lot of good astartes there. If it hadn't been for the Primarchs getting down and dirty, we would have lost many more. Both ourselves and the Blood Angels lost more men in that single planetary campaign than we'd lost in the previous five decades of war put together."
He looked up at the three shot-torn flags above his head. "The other banner is a Luna Wolves standard?"
"Yes. Horus and his Legion arrived in time for the mop-up. Loken's company dropped to reinforce us. That's their company standard; captain Loken insisted we take it."
"Loken? I have never heard the name."
"He was one of Horus's four senior captains, what were called the Mournival. Died on Isstvan III."
Neihart's voice was cold. "No loss than."
Sedreth stopped, still as the grave. "Every warrior on these columns died for the Emperor, brother-sergeant." He turned abruptly and stalked out.
Neihart looked after him. "I gather I touched a nerve, brother-captain."
Mendez nodded. The girl-child, Janey, gave them both a disgusted look, and turned her back on them both, folding her arms across her chest and scowling. The three Grey Knights looked at her in astonishment, understandably nonplussed by anyone, let alone a tiny preteen, openly disapproving of the Emperor's astartes. Tarken's voice was calm.
"She's right, you know. That was extremely ill-mannered. As it happens, Captain Garviel Loken of the Luna Wolves died fighting for his Emperor along with more than thirty-seven thousand other loyal astartes." She paused, then went on into the suddenly stricken silence. "When he and the warriors he dropped with were betrayed by their own commanders. He and Lorgan Torgaddon were killed in the fighting by their Mournival brothers, Horus Aximand and Ezekyle Abaddon."
Neihart looked at her; Abaddon the Destroyer, warlord of the Black Legion, was the most wanted man in the Imperium. "And you know this, how?"
A deep voice answered from the doorway. "Abaddon himself told me, during a lull in the fighting at the Siege of Terra, while we were waiting for the Death Guard to get into position for another assault. He laughed and showed me the scars on his chest-plate from Loken's chainsword. Little Horus was there too. He said he'd killed Torgaddon."
"The histories say the Emperor's Children took no part in the Siege of the Imperial Palace."
"The histories are wrong. About five hundred of us were there at any time, maybe a thousand fought there in total over the months. The majority of the Legion were elsewhere."
"Committing mass murder."
Sedreth shook his head. "Far worse, captain Mendez, far, far worse. Trust me, you don't even want to imagine what the Legion did on Terra." He met their grim faces with the cold, cold look of a man who has truly been through hell. "However, I have something to show you. Follow me."
He swung round and walked back along the corridor without a word. Bemused and curious the three Grey Knights followed, Neihart using his force-halberd like crutch. Behind them, the woman and girl trailed, for all the world as if they were out for a stroll along the beach. Only the still battle-scarred armour that Sara Tarken wore belied the casual impression.
Sedreth led them to a lift and they took it down in silence. He turned left out of it and opened a pair of embossed double doors; an armoury. They followed him through and Joshua's indrawn breath hissed; the dour marine's equivalent of a gasp of shock. Neihart could understand exactly why his brother was surprised. There must have been a hundred suits of astartes armour in the vaulted chamber, all of them the same rich purple and gold as Sedreth's own, all of them bearing a gleaming aquila on the breastplate and a winged talon in gold on the left shoulder. On the walls were racks of gleaming weaponry, bolters, heavy bolters, flamers, chainswords, all of it adorned and chased in gilts and bronzes. As they looked a bit closer they could see that many of the armours were damaged, most with great gouges, as if from enormous claws. Neihart realised that they were all old marks; mark IV and V mostly.
Captain Mendez looked at the big marine. "You could outfit a company from here. Is that your intention, Morgan Sedreth? Some attempt to redeem your honour?"
Sedreth looked steadily back at him. "That's not why you're here." He walked to the far right wall where a huge plain workcloth covered something long, flat and rectangular. He pulled off the covering to reveal a massive plaque, five metres high and twice that across. An aquila was etched into the top of it and below the Emperor's sigil were four numerals and four other sigils. Neihart recognised them from Sedreth's earlier description.
Emperor's Children.
World Eaters.
Luna Wolves.
Death Guard.
Beneath each sigil were long long lists of names. Sedreth looked back at them.
"We found the drop lists. These are the Betrayed. The loyal astartes who were virus-bombed from orbit by their own commanders on Isstvan III."
Joshua's voice was soft. "How many?"
"Three thousand, one hundred and seven. So far. I am barely begun. More than thirty-seven thousand marines dropped. Nine thousand, more or less, from each legion." His gaze was hard. "When you next pray for the Fallen of your chapter, add one for these men." He touched a name, near the top of the great gold sheet. "And especially give thanks for this man. Saul Tarvitz, First Captain of the Emperor's Children. He wasn't part of the drop, but found out about the betrayal, and took a Thunderhawk down to give warning. Horus had expected a massacre. He got a war. Tarvitz got much of the drop force to shelter, then took command. They held out against four Legions for more than a month, until finally Horus wiped out the last handful from orbit. The campaign cost him about sixty thousand marines, over and above the warriors who had fought him."
Neihart swore quietly. "That was well done."
Sedreth said nothing, looking up at the long lists of names. Mendez looked at him, then at his brothers and the three of them quietly left the room, leaving the man alone with his memories.
"Mr Morgan's not really angry at you," said the girl as they finished laying out the dead in the ship's chapel.
Joshua looked at her and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"He's angry at himself. Most of his century dropped on Isstvan III; he was far away, with his Primarch, who was trying to get the Iron Hands to join the rebels. They had to fight their way out after Ferrus Mannus refused. An' after the Drop-site Massacre, well, I think he wishes he'd chosen differently instead of following the Primarch and the Warmaster."
"Do you think it matters, child?"
She nodded seriously. "Of course. That's why the Emperor tol' him he still had something to do."
Neihart straightened slowly. "The Emperor told him?"
The little face grinned back. "Uh-huh. At Macragge. That's why the Ultramarines let us go, I think."
Mendez looked at her with a strange expression. "At Macragge."
She tilted her head, looking up at the captain. "All the Ultramarines heard it. And the shrines all shone."
"You are talking about the Miracle." It wasn't a question, but she smiled an affirmative.
"Yes."
"You heard it all?"
"We both heard it all," said Sara Tarken quietly. "And felt it. The Emperor's presence is, …, there are no words." She put out her hand to her daughter. "Come on, Janey. Let the Grey Knights tend their brothers in privacy. We can come back later for a formal memorial service."
The two walked out quietly leaving the Terminators looking at each other in confusion.
"Brother-captain, do you think they truly heard the words of the Emperor?" The three Terminators stood in the long aisle of memorial columns, their prayers for their dead brothers completed.
"What do you think, Joshua?"
"I think that if they are liars, they are very convincing liars. This place," he gestured at the gleaming marble and the battle flags, "this ship, their actions. The man seeks redemption; the woman, truth and purpose. The child's veneration of Him is not the faith of the Imperial cult. It is almost, ... personal. As if she truly believes the Emperor watches her actions and takes an interest and a hand in them."
"The reported words of the 'Miracle' were 'My beloved son Robouté will restored be to me. And the Child's prayer shall be answered.' You think she is the Child in question?"
Joshua looked at his sergeant thoughtfully. "I do not know. I had not considered it. But it is conceivable. How else could a girl-child act as this one does? She is what, eight or nine standard years? Yet she controls the ship's communications, weapons and tactical scans as if she has spent a lifetime doing it. Perhaps the Emperor guides her."
"Or perhaps she is a servant of chaos, and guided by the ruinous powers?"
Joshua nodded. "It is likewise possible; more likely perhaps. Yet I am troubled by the thought."
Neihart nodded slowly. "I too. Brother-captain, do you believe they are servants of chaos?"
Mendez looked at his brothers and slowly shook his head. "Everything is consistent with them being loyal servants of the Emperor. But."
"Aye," said Neihart heavily. "But. This place. That portrait." Three pairs of eyes moved as one to the great mural of the Primarch Fulgrim. The imperial aquila on the warrior's chest gleamed gold as if to demand their doubts.
"The child in particular showed sadness when she looked at it. Pity, even."
"Indeed. A worrying concept."
"You think she will be led astray by that empathy?"
"It is possible. You both know that the Ordo Malleus theorises that many of the original heretics were led to chaos by their devotion to their Primarchs. One small step at a time, until they were lost to anything bar the evil of chaos."
They both nodded grimly. "Then what do you suggest, brother-captain? What action should we take?"
"For the present, we shall observe, until we return to our own ship. If they continue to act as they have so far, we shall merely report that this vessel bears watching. If they do not, then we shall take whatever other action is appropriate."
Neihart nodded. "Then, brother-captain, I shall offer my prayers to the Emperor that he guide these three and keep them from calling down upon themselves that action."
Mendez smiled.