It's easy to assume that during the Great Crusade we were sent from one war zone to next. We are not Emperor's Children and Angron is no Horus, but we actually did end up on a few worlds which required a more delicate approach.
By this point, I was starting to learn my boundaries with the Captain and I allowed myself to comment that it does not surprise me that much. I had made some research after finding out where I was to be assigned and I was aware that Primarch Angron had a cadre of diplomats accompanying his Fleet.
All fleets had them, just like all fleets took iterators and clerks. You can't expect a soldier to negotiate a peace treaty, let alone one involving commerce. Apparently, there are all sorts of variables one needs to take into account—local customs, the affluence of the entity you are negotiating with and how badly we destroyed it prior to the negotiations.
But, as I was saying, we didn't always end up fighting. This was the case with the world first brought to compliance by Lord Angron.
The system we entered had only one inhabited planet—Tenebris. It wasn't a particularly hospitable one, though it was no Death World. The main problem was that its atmosphere tended towards thick clouds and so more often then not, day turned into perpetual dusk. It was a rather gloomy place.
The population had settled during the first migration, at least that was what the Adepts had found out about it. Apparently, it was a much more inviting place back then. I was told a gradual shift in its orbit and… something to do with forests, caused a change in climate.
The other information of interest about the colonists was that they were apparently mostly members of the same religious community. While many tend to hope that the passing of ages has taught the people of a planet the folly of religious faith, it turns out more often than not that the isolation of the Long Night had only strengthened the local beliefs.
I was quite surprised at this statement and asked what actions they intended to take if such superstitious ways still prospered.
I keep forgetting it isn't common knowledge. The planet's populace was friendly and wanted to embrace the rest of humanity. While it may sound off, coming from me, attacking it would be premature. First, the iterators and the diplomats would make sure that their peaceful ascension into the Imperium would see them throwing away religious dogma and embracing the Imperial Truth. If they refused, then we would be forced to step in. After we enforced this, in either way and the planet was deemed compliant, we would leave supervisors, to make sure they are following through with it.
I suppose the diplomats must have had this on their minds as they prepared to meet our lost brethren. They had quite enough time to polish their best arguments, since we spent roughly fourteen weeks in transit. We were hailed as soon as we entered the system. Apparently, the inhabitants of Tenebris were eager to meet other humans after the imposed solitude of the Long Night. Angron was rather disappointed and mentioned a few times that he was told he would lead armies, though he did cheer up somewhat when I pointed out he wouldn't have to be negotiating.
I voiced some surprise at both Captain's Kharn casual admission and the fact that Primarch Angron would be so callously unconcerned about the lives that would be lost in a campaign. My sentiments seemed to have caught the Captain by surprise—and though in the previous chapter I noted that Space Marines are still human, I must admit they do tend to be very alien at times.
It's not like that at all. We're all going to die in battle. Our whole life is dedicated to being warriors, to killing the enemies of Mankind. Of course we prefer battle to standing and making a scary impression.
As for Lord Angron… When we found him, he intended to die in battle with his gladiators. Does this speak of a high regard for life? As a gladiator, he saw his companions die for the enjoyment of the crowd. He never learned life—his life, the lives of those he knew—had value at all. And then, when they rebelled, they found out they could not win. They would die, but then it didn't really matter to him or them anymore. Their life had always been cheap, and now they were at least free to choose how they would lose it.
His upbringing, his life before being reunited with the Emperor, beloved by all, didn't merely teach him that life has little value. It made him into a killer, a man of action. Our Lord is a warrior first and foremost. He's not a politician like Horus Lupercal or the Phoenician. So, yes, he was always more enthusiastic about war than peace, even if it might seem callous.
And no, it didn't particularly worry us. War is our purpose.
Isn't it hypocritical of you to sound so surprised? A lot of art boils down to "war is glorious" and "dying in war is glorious", doesn't it?
I had to concede that this was true, though I did point out that most of those works omit such details as flying kidneys. Let us just say that we had a rather lengthy discussion on which body parts fly during a fight and leave it at this.
It was raining when we landed. No, rain is too big a word. It was that kind of drizzle that makes you want to bite off the head of the nearest passer-by. I was told later that such weather was far from unusual. The artificial light helped somewhat, though I suppose some people might have suffered a seizure, given what it illuminated. The Tenebrians apparently decided that since they lived in permanent gloom they must make up for it by painting their buildings outrageously.
The hall of the spaceport—the first building we saw there—was bright blue. The windows and doors were framed by orange abstract patterns. I suppose they weren't expecting anything to attack them, either, given that the windows were huge. There was only one missile battery, painted bright yellow, no doubt to make it a better target. From the landing platform, I could see the city sprawl beneath us. It was just as bright, as if someone just started splashing around paint all over it. From what I could notice, the architecture wasn't particularly remarkable. Nothing like the spires of Prospero, just blocky hab-units, only brightly painted.
The indigenous population didn't have much better taste in clothing than in architecture. The group that welcomed us was dressed in various shades of purple and they were hiding under the pinkest canopy I've seen in my life. It was one of those moments when I was glad that my helmet hides my face.
"You will see more surprising sights," Primarch Janos said in a flat, if hushed tone to Lord Angron.
Our Primarch grunted wordlessly in reply. I couldn't really guess if it was a sound of agreement or just a noise to signify he had heard Janos. Moments later the small group of locals came close enough to talk comfortably.
"We welcome you most cordially to our humble world," said a middle-aged man, who looked like his own clothes wanted to eat him. "It is a great joy to finally meet our long lost brothers."
"And sisters," Lord Angron rumbled, looking meaningfully at the two female diplomats. I suppose our hosts could be forgiven not noticing them. Primarchs tend to obscure a lot.
"Of course," the speaker replied, nodding hastily. "But perhaps we could continue inside out of the rain?"
We followed our hosts, steeling ourselves for more aggressive colours, but apparently their love for vividness didn't extend to decorating interiors. It seemed quite familiar—at first I couldn't guess why, but then I realized the building must have been ancient, built in the times of colonization. Those structures had been reused over and over, and so you could end up on a planet with completely different architecture than that of Terra and yet, end up walking into a very familiar place.
This one seemed to have been refitted somewhat with larger windows and one large hall replacing the usual smaller ones. Another man greeted us just behind the door and offered some local grain mixed with salt to the Primarchs and the diplomats. Fortunately, they did not bring musicians for the welcome.
Next we were transported to a small palace—from what I heard it was the summer home of the Tenebrian royal family. As it turned out, sometime during the Long Night Tenebris had turned away from… democracy, I think. Or was it an oligarchy?
In any case, once we arrived there was a moment of milling about. First, a small group with a canopy rushed up, to shield our hosts and the diplomats from the rain, no doubt fearing they'd dissolve.
Finally, we were led inside, into a large hall. It had all the trappings: a red carpet, foreboding paintings of ancestors with various degrees of squint and impractically huge marble stairs. We proceeded into a large chamber, where we were greeted by the ruler of Tenebris—a portly man in red robes lined with vivid green—and a significant part of his court, all of them dressed in bright colours. There was also a huge table with some tiny sandwiches and a pile of little balls in golden wrapping.
I asked if that had been everything and the Captain shook his head, frowning.
No, there was a lot more. Like glasses with some local alcohol and all sorts of things you can eat in one bite. Or half a bite, really.
Make it a quarter of a bite.
The Primarchs and the diplomats were invited to eat, once all the greetings and such were done, while we stood and looked menacing. There was more talk of how we all were so overjoyed to meet our lost brothers and sisters, and what an important moment it was for Tenebris and so on, all in the same spirit. In between, servants scurried with drinks on trays, but strangely, they never seemed to get close to the two women so they could help themselves, too. Although at this point, I wasn't thinking about it all, only on how dull it all was and that I would have preferred a destination with something to fight. Frankly, I expected Lord Angron to grow bored after the first fifteen minutes, but he was watching our hosts keenly.
It surprised me, because I really couldn't imagine why he'd find this repetitive babbling interesting in the slightest, but since he was a Primarch, I just assumed it was something I wouldn't understand anyway.
After a while, though, I did notice something odd. The locals seemed to find the female diplomats something out of ordinary. As soon as one of them said something, they looked…
The Captain pauses, looking around for a moment, deep in thought.
They looked as if something very out of the ordinary had happened. As I watched them, I suddenly realized they were all men.