Chapter 4.7 Long Knives
"You… you… you won't… get away… with it… Ezekyle."
Abaddon raised the sword over the fallen form of Sejanus, his battle brother panting with the exertion and the pain from the handful of wounds over his body that leaked crimson blood onto the floor of the First Captain's quarters. Abaddon was no sadist. This would be over quickly. This was necessary.
A vision of Aximand, Little Horus, flashed in front of the First Captain's eyes, and the pain of the loss ached again. Another member of the Mournival was about to be killed, this time by HIS hand. But he had no choice. He couldn't leave Sejanus alive. He needed to keep the Warmaster safe, and he could not allow any Son of Horus to remain alive if they would not bend the knee, completely and utterly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, as he drew the blade back for the killing blow. Sejanus closed his eyes, awaiting the final strike.
"Ezekyle, I'm sorry for bursting in like this. I know there is a ship wide lock down but I just wanted to ask a-"
The figure of Mersadie Oliton filled the space of the First Captain's doorway, the door sliding shut behind her as she stood, frozen, just past the threshold. Terror crossed her features as she saw the form of the First Captain, bent over in a murderous stance over the fallen body of his brother Sejanus. Her mouth opened and desperately tried to grasp words that struggled to come.
"Ez… Ezekyle… What…"
"RUN MISS OLITON!" screamed Sejanus with all the energy he had left, "GET OUT OF HERE NOW! WHILST YOU STILL CAN!"
Murder crossed Abaddon's features, and Mersadie took a pace away, her back pressing up against the cold metal of the closed door behind her. The First Captain lowered the sword from his striking position and turned to give his full attention to the intruder, grasping the hilt of the blade firmly within his grip.
"RUN!" yelled Sejanus again, but Mersadie's body was not responding to her desire to flee.
Abaddon took a few steps towards Mersadie, then paused, staring at the human stood before him. She quivered in fear below his gaze. So small, so fragile. He could break her entire body with the slightest of effort. And he should. Witnesses would not be convenient for him. But as he thought this his blade hand trembled. Some part of him that connected with the human reached up and squeezed the Astartes' heart. He let the blade slip from his grasp gently, and the weapon collided with the deck with a small thunk.
In the days of Horus we would have had no qualms about killing her. Neither her, nor Sejanus, for the will of his Primarch. His Father would never have brooked such weakness as empathy. But the Warmaster… Sanguinius… he had shown him the value of it. He had shown him the wisdom of respecting all life, especially that of lesser humans. And despite all of it… Mersadie had become his friend.
Walking softly forward and bending down so that his head was at her height, Abaddon gave Mersadie the most convincing smile he could, which didn't amount to much, and placed his massive hand on her shoulder.
"Fear not, Miss Oliton," he said softly, "I will not harm you. I am still the gruff old soldier you know and have spoken with for these many years. This is an internal Legion matter. I must ask you to leave, and remain in your quarters until the Warmaster, the Primarch, rejoins us from his time with the Ninth. Do not speak of what you have seen here, or else we will have a problem between us. Do you understand?"
Mersadie nodded in affirmation, her terror lessening slightly but still present as she glanced over at the still prone Sejanus.
"Of course… First Captain. Are… are you… going to kill Captain Sejanus?"
Abaddon looked back at his Mournival brother's form, and let out a loud sigh before turning back to Mersadie.
"No, Miss Oliton. I am not going to kill Sejanus. But he needs to be removed from command. The Primarch is going to be very busy soon, and will need his sons to be absolutely loyal and unquestioning in their execution of his commands. Sejanus has always been too… questioning. I fear for the Primarch's safety and so, for now, Sejanus must be restrained, willingly or no. But no harm shall come to him, I promise you that."
Mersadie nodded with understanding that she didn't entirely feel but accepted the First Captain's word. He had shown much restraint, more than he would have done in previous days. She doubted his innocence, but fighting right now would not aid anyone. He was an Astartes, and she was a mostly baseline human. The best she could do is withdraw and wait for an opportunity to share what she had seen with the Warmaster upon his return. If, of course, this was even displeasing to the Warmaster. For all she knew this was part of some grand strategy of the Great Angel, her mind spun with confusion. The First Captain was her friend though, this she knew. He would not harm her, so for now all she could do was depart and await whatever the future brought.
"By your leave then… First Captain. Ezekyle. I will return to my quarters. Please. Stay safe and don't do anything… hasty."
"I never do, Miss Oliton," said Abaddon with the lopsided unenthusiastic grin.
As the young woman departed, Abaddon turned his now stern attention back on Sejanus who simply lay there, mouth agape.
"I didn't think you had it in you, Ezekyle," muttered Sejanus, "I thought… I thought you-"
"'You were going to kill her,' Sejanus?" snarled Abaddon, "That I am a murderer? A butcher? Nothing more than a common street thug looking for his next victim? The Warmaster showed me I am better than that, Sejanus. I do what must be done, but I am not of Angron's dogs, I am not of Curze's criminals. I take no joy in what I have to do. But I am not letting anything stop the Warmaster from achieving his goals, not even you, brother."
Abaddon's shoulder's heaved with deep breaths as he let his emotions pour forth. After a moment, he calmed and resumed his previously stoic appearance. Sejanus simply looked at his Mournival brother, propped up on his left arm, through new eyes of respect and understanding. The First Captain had changed. He wasn't the ruthlessly efficient soldier he had been under Horus. Sanguinius had brought out a new side to him, given a new rounded edge to his personality. Sejanus would have laughed and joked with his brother if the circumstances were different.
"So what will you do now, Ezekyle?" he asked, unsure of what was to follow.
"I'll stick you in the cells," said Abaddon curtly, "And I'll have to put Tarik in with you. He would have followed me if I'd managed to convince him you had perished in your last mission. But now I have to keep you alive he won't just fall in line. Its not worth the risk trying to lie, he'll find you down there eventually. Just… shut up, stay there, and when the Primarch gets back remember who spared your life."
"I would say that was Miss Oliton…" murmured Sejanus under his breath.
"What was that?" snapped Abaddon.
"Nothing, brother. Do as you will," said Sejanus lying back on the floor.
Abaddon had several of his Justaerin lock the 2 remaining members of the Mournival away in the brig of the Vengeful spirit. They wouldn't be a problem as most of their allies had already been taken care of. It was done quietly, so no one would find them until long after the operation was complete. As long as the moderates didn't have anyone to rally around the entire Legion would fall in line when the time came.
He ordered the Sixteenth out to Isstvan, following the prearranged plan with Askaellon. For his part, the Sanguinary Guard had accomplished everything he had set out to do. The line of ships marked for the purge were neatly arranged, encircled by a semi-circle of their kin with the Red Tear proudly at the centre of the formation. Abaddon ordered the ships of the Sixteenth Legion to join the formation behind, completing the encirclement without any of the prey so much as suspecting danger.
When the Sixteenth bordered the Red Tear, Abaddon's forces quietly spread out throughout the ship to key stations to ensure when the moment arrived the vessel would be at the command of Askaellon. The Sons of Sanguinius greeted them all joyously, treating their kin with respect and deference, those of Askaellon's faction giving them all a knowing nod. Part of Abaddon felt a sinking guilt for greetings, especially those who didn't know of what was about to come.
Raldoron gave Abaddon a nod as the First Captain and his Justaerin marched onto the bridge of the Red Tear, overseeing the operations taking place on the planet below. Various displays hovered before the Astartes, with the bridge's command chair unoccupied as Raldoron continued guiding the operation taking place on Isstvan 3.
"Welcome aboard, First Captain," said Raldoron graciously, turning to address his guests, "I must admit I was surprised by your arrival and the Primarch's wishes but his will shall be executed. We have already begun the assault and in all honesty I don't think we'll need to commit the entire Ninth, let alone the Sixteenth. You might have come all this way for nothing."
"Oh I'm sure that won't be the case," replied Abaddon, taking up position on Raldoron's right whilst Askaellon quietly moved towards his left, "And I must admit I was as surprised as you were. But we Obey The Will of the Warmaster."
That was the signal. The phrase agreed upon by both Legions, by Abaddon and Askaellon. In a flash, Abaddon's sword was up and swinging for Raldoron's head. Raldoron let out a surprised gasp as his own blade reached up to block the strike coming for him. The pair of First Captains clashed in a contest of strength. Abaddon was considered one of the finest swordmen of the Astartes, but Raldoron was at the very least his equal.
"Ezekyle… WHAT… ARE… YOU… DOING?!" grunted Raldoron with effort, confusion and anger spreading across his features. Suddenly his eyes went wide and he looked down as another blade protruded through his chest. It withdrew, and he collapsed to the floor in a heap as Askaellon looked down in distain at this victim. He shook the blood off his blade and took a seat in the Red Tear's command chair as Sixteenth Legion and Sanguinary Guard brought down those remaining Raldoron loyalists and escorted the human members of the crew off the bridge, Astartes taking up stations across the entire ship.
"Send a command to all vessels and all Astartes," instructed Askaellon from his command chair, "The operational phrase is Obey The Will of the Warmaster."
"As you command, Lord Askaellon," called the Sanguinary Guard who had taken up station at the vox communications array.
For a moment, the galaxy held its breath. Ships gently moved through the void, gun ports opening, turrets aligning, torpedo tubes sliding up to reveal their deadly payloads. All was calm and quiet. None would have suspected the carnage that was about to follow. It seemed to drag on for an eternity, that moment just before everything changed, before the system went to hell.
Then suddenly, terribly, thousands upon thousands of weapons opened fire. Unsuspected volleys stabbed deep into the hearts of the encircled Ninth Legion vessels. Ships burned and chunks of armour tore from blazing hulks. Explosions detonated across a whole line of ships, cruisers, frigates and capitol ships either absorbing fire, or deploying it. Some desperately tried to move, to escape, only to collide with others or make themselves the primary target of their foes.
The moment of surprise didn't last long. The Ninth and Sixteenth fleets had their prey entirely surrounded, a miles wide sphere of fire pouring into those caught within. By this time shields had been raised, return fire had been ordered, but it was a clustered melee for which there was no hope of escape. Some of the victims even turned on each other in the confusion, further adding to carnage that was being wrought.
Aboard the Frigate Sosigenes, Captain of the 16th Company Vitus Salicar desperately fought to keep his vessel from being destroyed, and to take as many of the enemy as possible with him. He was not afraid to die, but he was not going to submit to this betrayal by the Sixteenth. If he and his 16th company were going to meet their end, the traitors would pay a high price.
He didn't know how so many had managed to infiltrate the rest of the Ninth's fleet, but somehow they had. The Red Tear no longer received hails, and knowing that First Captain Abaddon of the Sons of Horus had boarded the vessel made it very clear First Captain Raldoron was probably dead.
"Helm," called Vitus sat in his command chair, "Bring us around past Virtue's Gift on the port side. Tell gunnery to charge the lances and give the Vengeful Spirit a full broadside. Let's try and knock her teeth out if they're going to try and bite us."
"Yes, My Lord," called the officer from the helm, desperately inputting commands as the Sosigenes rocked from more explosions.
"My Lord!" called a voice from the communications stations, "Communication coming in from the Malakim's Wings! They're going to cut a path for us and the Ciceronian through the Sixteenth's starboard flank."
The Ciceronian was the Sosigenes' sister ship. The pair had been laid down in the same Mechanicum dockyard and had entered the service of the Sons of Sanguinius, formerly the Blood Angels, many decades before Sanguinius was declared Warmaster. Compared to many of the other Frigates they were an older breed, but they were still holding their own as many other older vessels had perished.
"How are they going to manage that?" spat Vitus, "Even with all three of us we'd never survive the broadside we'd receive cutting through there."
"They're going to cripple the Vengeful Spirit… they're going to... they're going to ram her, My Lord!"
"That is madness…" yelled Vitus over another explosion. But the Malakim's commander was right. As things stood they were all going to die here. If anyone was going to survive, it was going to be through a sacrifice. He wasn't in a position to argue, and if 1 ship could get out, let alone 2, there might be a pyrrhic victory to scrape from these jaws of defeat.
"Contact the Ciceronian," called Vitus, "Tell them to shunt their shields to starboard and then come up on our starboard side. We will shunt our to port and together we should have enough strength to stand enough volleys until we can break through. Also tell them to transfer all spare power and any weapons power to engines. The sisters are going to run together until we can get out of here. Tell Malakim's Wings that their sacrifice will not be in vain. We shall find loyalist forces and warn the Imperium of the Sixteenth's betrayal."
"Yes, My Lord."
The magnificent bulk of the cruiser Malakim's Wings speared up and over the Sosigenes and in towards the Vengeful Spirit. From his view on the Red Tear, Abaddon howled with anger as his Father's command vessel took a direct impact from the cruiser at full speed, smashing into the Vengeful Spirit's hull. Metal tore and bulkheads ripped. Shuttles and escape pods flew off of the Gloriana class warship's hull as the cruiser's still burning engines dug deeper and deeper into the Vengeful Spirit's core.
The sister Frigates, the Sosigenes and the Ciceronian blasted up and away through the hole in the Sixteenth's line moving up and out towards the edges of the system. Behind them, the Vengeful Spirit detonated in a brilliant explosion that engulfed a number of nearby escort vessels as its warp core went critical.
A handful of Sixteenth ships broke to give chase but the light Frigates were far more nimble and agile, and with no concern for returning fire the additional power directed from the weapons bays to their engines meant they would be far beyond reach for any pursuing vessel. The sisters darted away like avians escaping a prowling Bird of Prey, until the distance was so great their pursuers simply gave up and returned to their formation. There were other targets to attend to.
At the edges of the system, the Sosigenes and the Ciceronian slowed as another fleeing vessel joined their desperate run from destruction. It was a simple transport, passing mostly unnoticed in the battle thanks to the larger ships battered each other bloody. It also probably helped that it bore an IFF beacon of the Sixteenth Legion.
"Contact, my Lord," called Communications, "We have a shuttle requesting docking! It came off the Vengeful Spirit. They claim to be Second Captain Tarik, Fourth Captain Sejanus, and a number of Remembrancers. They say they managed to escape in the confusion. They claim to fleeing the persecution of First Captain Abaddon."
"It could be a trap my Lord," hissed one of Vitus' unit commanders in his ear, "We should leave them."
"After all that has happened here, we need to be the better Sons," replied Vitus, "Allow them to land, but have all available units in the docking bay. Those on the shuttle are to be taken directly to the brig for interrogation, and the shuttle jettisoned back into space as soon as possible. Inform the Ciceronian they are to break at the edge of the system and make their way to Terra by any means possible. If anything happens to us, they are to keep running and not look back."
"What about us, my Lord?" asked the helm, "What course should I plot?"
"The Third Legion is the closest to us," said Vitus, "We will make for the Primarch Fulgrim, and hope by the Emperor he listens to our pleas."
