Fame Cimex Chapter 12

Aboard one of the starforts around Angle's Redoubt, a meeting was taking place, a gathering of the most powerful individuals in the systems. The call had gone out for the Lords Militant to assemble, but the local leaders of the Imperial Departmentos had been unwilling to let such an important event go unobserved. There were Generals, Admirals and Flag officers aplenty, along with Munitorium Generals, Mechanicus Magi, the head of the Astra Telepathicus, emissaries of the Navigators, the Arbites, the Merchant Guilds the Chartist Captains and even the planetary governor himself.

All the great and the good of the Imperial institutions were gathered in one arena, so naturally it had immediately descended into a raging argument. Adepts of various orders and ranks were shouting loudly, waving and talking over each other, nobody was really listening for nobody really cared what anyone else had to say. In the centre of the room, on a large stage set in the middle of the ascending rows of seats a man in a Naval uniform was attempting to instil order but he was having no success whatsoever.

Into that bedlam strode three Space Marines, all giants in their shining blue armour and bedecked with glorious golden embellishments, it was Chapter Master Gorgall, Captain Phalros and Captain Toran. They strode into the room with heads held high to show their detractors that they remained proud and unconcerned by the whispers behind their backs. Their sudden appearance made silence fall, every eye being drawn to the Transhuman giants and amongst those who had never witnessed Astartes in person before, mouths fell agape and bowels tightened in fear. It was an impressive entrance, the sheer size and power of the Space Marines upsetting many of the Adepts and knocking their carefully constructed schemes askew. The trio surveyed the room, taking in the sheer variety of men and women sitting on the ascending tiers of seats, while their minds automatically calculated the best cover and firing positions with casual ease.

Toran's vox bead tickled and a sub-vocal transmission came in from Phalros as he whispered, "Dammit we've been outmanoeuvred already, we were hoping for a closed strategy session with military minds who would grasp the situation, but they've summoned everyone. Dousmanis is going to turn this into an absolute circus."

Toran's eye sought out the Lord Admiral himself, the man was stood on the stage before them in a gold frogged navy uniform with a stiff-necked collar. He had a stern visage, subtly augmented by the tell-tale signs of frequent Juvenat treatments and he appeared to be looking down his hooked nose at the world. Dousmanis saw the Astartes' entrance and scowled, yet this was not born of anger but rather anxiety, his skin was clammy and his rapid heartbeat thundered in the Astartes' ears. To Toran's genhanced eyesight, the Lord Admiral looked like a man caught between a raging forest fire and a bottomless plunge off a cliff.

To his credit Dousmanis recovered quickly and blustered, "Storm Heralds... we did not expect you so soon."

Gorgall mounted the stage and his Captains followed him, the Chapter Master's gaze swept the room, making many men cringe before he settled his sights on the Lord Admiral and said, "I find that doubtful, seeing as how I was the one who called this strategy session."

Dousmanis had grit enough to fake serenity and said, "A presumptuous act on your part, the Imperium has yet to decide whether your presence is necessary or desirable in this theatre of war." The words sounded disdainful and offensive and yet there was a certain tone and hesitation to them, it was indiscernible to mortal hearing but to Toran's ear, Dousmanis sounded more like an actor repeating the lines given to him than a man speaking from the heart.

Gorgall wasn't about to be outdone though, he stepped forward and said to the whole room, "Are there any among you who doubt that the threat is real? The Tyranids come and this world stands imperilled, war is upon us and none can shirk from this fight."

Yet a melodious voice rang out from the crowd, "It is not the Xenos that concern us, it is you!"

The speaker rose to his feet and descended to the stage, he was a rotund man in thick creamy robes of office, decorated with Aquila's and holy icons. He carried a crook and sceptre and bore a forked mitre on his head, Toran instantly realized that this must be the infamous Cardinal Giovanni. Toran had met many potentates of Imperial might in his time and generally found stereotypes of them being fat, venal and inbred to be somewhat unfair, but Giovanni seemed determined to fit the mould in every way. He waddled as he walked and his swollen fingers were bedecked with priceless rings, many chins hung low under his jaw and he perspired slightly from the labour of climbing the stairs to the stage. The Cardinal was accompanied by a pair of Sisters of Battle in full plate armour, with helms on and loaded bolters in their hands. They seemed relentless and vigilant guardians for so mighty a lord, but Toran was totally familiar with the language of an armoured body and he could tell from the tightness of the Sister's grips on their weapons that they despised their Lord and Master.

Giovanni approached the waiting dignitaries and Dousmanis stepped aside without looking at him, the way his gaze avoided his compatriot announcing how little he thought of his ally. The Cardinal paused and then said, "There is no place in the Imperial fold for Heretics."

Gorgall practically growled, "A dangerous accusation to make, Priest!" The difference between their voices was shocking, the Cardinal, for all his flaws, was accustomed to speaking to a crowd and his voice was resonant and enticing. Gorgall on the other hand snarled like an inhuman monster, his voice gratingly harsh and making many Adepts wince at the dangerous tone. Toran realised that this was their opponent's intent; they were turning the whole room against the Space Marines.

Giovanni spoke again, "Your litany of blasphemies is long and damning, the preaching and sermonising to the masses is a gross insult to the God-Emperor. You speak of matters you have no business addressing, the faith of the Imperium is entrusted to the Ecclesiarchy, not the Space Marines."

Lord Admiral Dousmanis spoke up, "The Imperium was founded upon the division of its sacred jurisdictions: we sail, they preach, you fight. That is the order of things."

That statement brought many nodding heads from the crowd and Toran realised that his Chapter Master was being manoeuvred into a difficult position; defend a practice he himself despised or admit that his Chapter had strayed into Heresy. Gorgall was not fool enough to fall into such an obvious trap and addressed the crowd directly, "The Tyranids are at our door and the Hive Mind cares not for our petty differences. If we do not set aside our squabbles then we will become nought but food to sate its hunger!"

That statement sent rustles through the crowds, the civil adepts turning pale and queasy while the militarily inclined nodded in agreement. Those in the crowd who had faced the Hive Fleets before knew all too well the scale of the peril. From the crowd a voice came, "He speaks the truth!" From among the red-clad Magi, rose a boxy and square being, one that floated over the heads of its compatriots in a long trailing robe. Toran almost smiled at the sight, his call for allies had not gone unheeded. He knew this Tech-Priest and they were old friends, more importantly he had enough dirt on her to guarantee that she would take the Storm Herald's side.

In a surprisingly feminine voice, the Tech-Priest said, "I am Magos Castabore, envoy from the Forge-Synod of Crux Lapis, and I say the mathematics of war are irrefutable. To stand alone is an unbalanced equation, we must alloy our strength!" The Tech-Priest's declaration set whispers flying, the Mechanicus was the single most powerful imperial institution and their support would swing many others to the Storm Herald's side.

Castabore followed this up by declaring "The Mechanicus Forges of this system will extend their labour to refit the Astartes' fleet and resupply their stores."

It was a most generous offer and Gorgall capitalised on this to declare, "Now is the hour, we must all unite or we will fall!"

The room was filled with a susurration of whispers and for a second Toran dared to believe that they had swung the argument, but his hopes were dashed as a new player entered the stage. A deep, booming voice cried out, "And under whose leadership would we fight, that of Terra… or yours?!"

From the shadows behind the stage rose a man, a man in matt black power armour that hummed as he moved and with a long Black cloak that billowed behind him. His armour was superficially similar to that worn by the Astartes but it was scaled to a mortal's frame and lacking a Black Carapace implant his movements were stiff and jerky. Still he exuded an aura of threatening menace well beyond his size, this was emphasised by his bald, scarred head and sneering expression. Yet the most ominous thing about him was the Inquisitorial rosette on his breast: the mark of the Ordo Hereticus.

Toran realised that this must be Inquisitor Zerban, the architect of this entire farce and as he took his place the Lord Admiral and the Cardinal averted their gazes, not willing to look right at him. Toran saw that both of them were but Zerban's puppets, through bribery or corruption or extortion the inquisitor owned these men and they were nothing but mouthpieces for his will. Zerban looked across the stage at the Space Marines and the hatred in his gaze was all-consuming as he spat, "You think us blind, but we see more than you know. We are well aware of your schemes to break with the rule of the High Lords, to set yourselves above the Emperor's rule!"

This sent flurries of whispers around the hall and Gorgall glared at the Inquisitor as he said, "I deny such claims, the Astartes exist to serve the Emperor's will."

Zerban didn't flinch as he said, "And yet you set yourselves up as the messengers of his Divinity, you think to spread his word to the masses!"

Gorgall spat, "You put words in my mouth, the Storm Heralds do not claim to know His divine word."

Zerban smiled widely and too late Toran saw the trap Gorgall had walked into as the inquisitor said, "Then let us consult Him directly."

Cardinal Giovanni raised his gaze to the heavens and pressed his hands together piously as he proclaimed, "He on Terra smiles upon us and the Xeno hordes shall be swept before his fiery gaze. The majestic Imperial Navy shall sail forth to meet the enemy and they shall be the divine thunderbolt that breaks the inhumans asunder. Thus prophesizes the God-Emperor!"

The prophecy was pure theatre, meant more for the audience than anyone else and probably had been written word for word by Zerban. The audience however lapped it up, joyously cheering the speech with thunderous applause. Only the Lords Militant looked less than rapturous, knowing all too well that any battle against the Hive Mind would be far from easy. Lord Admiral Dousmanis in particular looked fit to burst as his face went red, having just been committed to send his fleet head-on at the Tyranid menace. He was about to protest but a glare from Zerban made him shut his mouth, whatever dirt the Inquisitor had on him must be truly damning.

Chapter Master Gorgall however was left in an impossible position, either to yield and allow the Navy to charge off without the Space Marines or speak up and appear to defy the will of the Emperor, something that would confirm every accusation against his Chapter. Toran didn't know which path his lord would choose, but then Gorgall seemed to decide discretion was the better part of valour and spun on his heel to march off in shameful defeat. With the cheering of the crowds ringing in their ears the Captains followed him out and Toran heard Phalros mutter, "Bloody fools, they've just killed us all."