A/N: Review responses are in my forums like normal. THanks to all who reviewed. This chapter continues the sequence from Chap 6, following Taylor's capture right before the Seige of Terra for her protection. This is the first long section of Taylor POV chapters. This sequence will continue through Chapters 13 and 14.
Chapter Twelve: In Dolore Paries Filios
It was a terrible thing to watch the future die.
Renold Stein was born during the height of the Great Crusade. It was a heady time to grow up on Terra. His school in the newly christened Botan Hive, made up of the old arcologies of the Merican Federation, began each day with announcements of the great victories the Emperor's sons, the god-like Primarchs, achieved across the galaxy. He was too young and ignorant to be able to understand that the Emperor was doing to the entire galaxy what he did to Earth–that compliance meant conquest. That pacification meant genocide and mass enslavement.
All he knew was that the giant, unstoppable sons of the Emperor, and their untold legions of genetically engineered supersoldiers, the Astartes, were sweeping like fire across the cosmos to bring all human worlds under the aegis of the Imperium of Man.
It felt to young Renold Stein as if he were witnessing the future of the entire human race. What would his future children think of this time?
The Lion's Gate Spaceport has fallen.
Stein woke to the news in his morning briefing, along with instructions on a visitor he was to cooperate with. He stared at the words incredulously, because it seemed impossible. The Lion's Gate Spaceport was the Imperial Palace's most crucial space port. The space elevators it housed would allow even a Gloriana class battle barge to dock and unload its warriors right at the base of the Imperial Palace itself!
It was one of their most defended locations. For it to have fallen…
He shivered and tried to remember what day it was–how long they had been trapped by the siege. The glorious dream of the Emperor that Stein grew up believing seemed to have collapsed. The very sons the Emperor had elevated almost to godhood for some reason had turned, and now they stood right on the Emperor's doorstep with rage in their heart and weapons of such fearsome power it felt like Terra itself was dying.
It took an act of will to bathe with the old sponge. To dress and arm himself. To leave his cramped quarters and reach the security checkpoint where his visitors awaited. Despite his fears and misgivings, he opened the checkpoint door within the vast Blackstone Prison deep within the Imperial Palace and let his visitors enter.
"I don't understand why this prisoner has her own warden."
Major Renold Stein stared with some mild incredulity at the source of the question.
The newcomer was not a tall woman, nor imposing in her appearance. She had a frail frame mostly lost under oversized breeches and a stained smock. Like many of the inhabitants in the now besieged Imperial palace, bursting with refugees and the starving masses who fled the Arch Traitors attacking host, she carried the odor of insufficient bathing; he himself likely smelled worse despite his best efforts. Her hair was a dull blonde color and in need of a good trim and wash.
Behind them, towering almost twice the woman's height, ghosted the silent behemoth Amon Tauromachian, one of the Emperor's own companions. In the two years since Stein had taken up residence in the Blackstone Prison, he had come to make the Custodian's acquaintance. At least so far as he was able to recognize him. For all the giant's vast age, power and size, he was a surprisingly calm and gentle speaker.
Back to the newcomer's question, he found himself grinning dryly. "Why do you rate one of the Emperor's companions as a guard?"
Her smile turned somewhat bitter. "Why indeed?"
They moved together through the black stone halls of the ancient prison. Stein found it interesting that he and the woman beside him both made far more noise than the armored giant that towered over them both a step behind.
He entered the code, then his hand print, and the door opened.
Taylor Hebert looked up from the book, her face carefully schooled. She wore a single-piece jumpsuit of thin fabric, like many of the older prisoners. But unlike all the other prisoners, her cell was well appointed by the Sigilllite's servants. Instead of a cot, she had a comfortable bed. Instead of pre-made rations, she had bags of actual food stuff. Legumes and rice, vac-stored meats, sugar and flour and all the ingredients to feed herself. She had a small kitchenette she used to prepare food for herself.
In fact, there was a rich, enticing smell in the air even as they entered.
Beside him, the other female prisoner made a half-swallowed moan as the smell struck her. "What is that smell?"
"Who's your friend, Amon?"
Stein began to answer before realizing the question was not directed at him. How would Taylor have been on first-named basis with Custodes?
The young blonde woman stepped forward. "My name is Euphrati Keeler, a Rembrancer. I've come to ask you some questions about your life."
Keeler did not understand why the prisoner laughed, or why it was such a bitter, hopeless sound. When the laughter eased, Taylor stared off into a far distance that Stein could scarcely imagine. "You can't ask me about my life, Mamzell Keeler. The Emperor has expressly forbidden it."
"I am here with the authority of Lord Dorn and…"
Taylor ignored the woman and glanced once more at Amon. "Do you really think your boss is okay with this?"
"Everything she writes will be reviewed by Lord Dorn and the Sigillite," the Custodian said with an even tone.
"The Sigillite knows my story better than I do," Taylor muttered. She glanced briefly at Stein. "And will Renold be euthanized for learning the truth? It's happened before."
Stein felt himself go still as Amon turned and regarded him. Realizing he was the only one who could answer, Stein said, "The Sigillite has my personal vow. I know who you were before, my lady."
She rose suddenly from her chair and stepped to her kitchenette. The enticing smell was coming from a large pot on one of the induction coils. "Might as well eat. You look like you could both use real food."
"What is it?"
"The best approximation of beef stew I could do. Hard to make since the last cow to produce beef on Terra died out twenty thousand years ago. But we all have to make due."
"Cow?"
"Domesticated bovine, produced both meat and milk for large portions of the human race pre-diaspora," Taylor explained as she scooped out a ladle of soup into simple ceramic bowls, complete with simple steel spoons. Stein had to admit his mouth watered at the smell.
"I'd offer you some, Amon, but we both know you don't actually have taste."
"Thank you for the thought," the giant said gently.
Keeler actually moaned with her first bite. "Emperor preserve me," she whispered. "That's the best thing I ever had."
Taylor shrugged. "My mother taught me well, and I've had a lot of time to add to my expertise. So, Euphrati Keeler. Historian and propagandist for the most well-meaning and yet destructive tyrant in the history of humanity. Ask your question."
It was interesting to watch how defensive Keeler became. Even so, she couldn't help but take another bite of the stew. "You hate him?"
"I hate what he's done. Look around you, Euphrati. Terra is dying. The world will never live again after this war. The Emperor crafted artificial gods, and then found himself trapped when he couldn't control them. So, I don't hate him. I can't, truly. I know him too well. But I hate what he did."
"You've met him."
"He's babysat for me on several occasions."
Keeler snorted stew, then coughed before laughing. "I've not heard…wait. You're not joking?"
"You want to know my story, Euphrati Keeler? No one else will ever see this transcript, because neither the Emperor nor Malcador can afford to let the truth be known. You're one of his believers, I can see it in your eyes. You think he's a god."
"You don't?"
"I don't need to think it, I know it. He is a god, a god born of gods from an age millennia before science. The issue is that he was not alone–he was never the god, just one of a pantheon, and one pantheon of many. Gods came in many forms–the elemental gods who were not truly sentient, but merely were the spirit of a phenomenon. Heaven. Earth. The sky, the ocean. Some gods were crafted in physical form, their magic and powers tied to the mortal realm, while others were beings of pure spirit. But all of them, regardless of their domain, served to protect the Earth from Chaos. Their very existence helped create a divine aegis around the Earth. Until late in second millennium when a destroyer of stars–a void dragon–fell to the world and shattered that aegis. That's where my story starts…"
~~Revelation~~
~~Revelation~~
Keeler was gone; her Custodian left with her. Stein sat at the little table before an empty bowl and watched as Taylor washed the pot. Between the three of them (mostly Stein, if he were honest), every bite of the stew was gone. Keeler wasn't lying—it was the best thing he'd ever eaten.
There was so much he wanted to ask her. So much he wanted to say, but no words came to him. Her story violated every truth he'd been taught. Some of her words could even be construed as treasonous. But Amon said nothing, and Keeler just furiously wrote into her dataslate.
Until now the two hovered in the silence after, alone.
Words suddenly blurted out. "I've been charged to kill you if the Traitors capture you."
She glanced at him briefly. "Yes. Malcador told me."
That bit of news surprised Stein. "I'm not sure…"
"It would be a kindness, Renold," she finally said. "You know it would be. And it wouldn't be my end. I don't linger eternally like Malcador or the Emperor. I'm reborn, I age, grow old, and die just like any normal person. And then, sometime later, I come back and do it all again."
He shook his head. "You should be at the Emperor's side, exalted as much as the Lord Regent or the Primarchs. I don't…"
Abruptly he was blasted with a terrible feeling that made his stomach clench and his jaws ache. Tears swelled in his eyes. Abruptly, the feeling left. The whole time, Taylor stared intently at him.
"I have no soul, Renold," she said softly. "This is a mortal shell. Pure biology, but without the ephemeral spirit of a human soul. I'm a blank–a pariah. Standing beside me, you would not see the divinity the Emperor projects. He can't exalt me without weakening himself."
"He has other nulls. A whole cadre of woman. The Sisters of Silence."
"I know, they're all descended from me." She motioned toward herself. "Unlike me, they do actually have souls, they're just psychically suppressed. My soul was lost. But that also means I have a powerfully disruptive effect on the Warp. On chaos. And on those gods who have abandoned their true divinity to seek power in the Warp."
"So why was the Sigillite so afraid of you falling into the hands of the Warp? What could they do beside kill you?"
"Like that's a good thing?"
"You know what I mean." He shook his head again. "You're…you deserve so much more. But the Sigillite spoke as if your fall would end humanity."
She took on that faraway look again, lost in endless memories, before she walked around the table to stand before him. "I told you my story, Stein. I'm one of three. Someday, those other parts of me may come back. Telos herself may someday come back. A true-born goddess of both the Material and Immaterial. A goddess of the body and soul. A goddess of Hope."
She considered a moment longer, before turning around to present her back. He watched, confused and yet enticed as she undid the zipper in the front of her single piece jumpsuit and peeled the top down to the very base of her spine. He found himself staring at her narrow, slim back, unblemished save for one single rune at the base of her spine.
"I don't understand…"
"Telos bore the most powerful spell of protection known among gods," Taylor said, turning her head to speak over her bare shoulder. "That symbol on my back is all I have of it. It was a key rune from a different language than the rest. The other shards of myself are probably covered in runes, but not this one. If I am corrupted by Chaos, Stein, then the dark gods will have the key to turn Telos from a goddess of hope, to a goddess of death and despair. I'd die a thousand times to keep that from happening."
Instead of pulling her top back, she deliberately turned to face him. He froze as she stepped closer.
"The Sigillite chose you because he knows me. He saw into your soul and knew you were a good man. A protector. But I also know you after the years you've watched me, and I know you're scared of what you may have to do. I'm telling you not to be scared, Renold. Even if I have no soul, I still have hope. I have hope enough for both of us."
He couldn't say who kissed who first; nothing else mattered after.
~~Revelation~~
~~Revelation~~
A feeling of despair had slowly blanketed the Blackstone Prison. It was punctuated by the constant, distant thumping of enemy artillery. The Traitors were already inside the outer walls of the vast Imperial Palace, totally enclosing the loyalists and shrinking that circle every day.
Stein stepped into the small office he'd claimed when he assumed his duties overseeing Taylor, the brief buoyancy from his visit already fading under the grim miasma that seemed to hold sway over the palace. He'd heard whispered rumors of monsters sneaking their way past the Emperor's psychic aegis–creatures of the Warp summoned by the tainted traitors. Demons.
The Imperial palace was near total collapse and the traitors were not just knocking on the door, they were kicking the walls themselves down.
His quarters, such as they were, consisted of a cot in a former guard station deep within the black walls of the prison. He had a stack of rations as a last resort, though he mostly ate with Taylor.
They were all going to die, and yet for a few hours every day he found a way to push the despair aside in Taylor's arms. He couldn't help but wonder what the Remembrancer, Keeler, would have made of it.
Thinking about the Emperor's pet fanatic, he had to wonder what had happened to her. Somehow, she was allowed to escape, but it seemed there was no place else for her to run to.
"She is founding a new cult, I suspect."
Stein bit back a startled yelp and jumped to his feet in alarm.
Malcador the Sigillite stood at his door leaning on his staff. He had the hood of his cloak up over his bald head. His beard looked thin and scraggly with age, and this close, the skin on the right side of his face looked slightly discolored, as if from an ancient injury.
"Lord! Apologies, I…"
"It is of no moment, Major. How is our prisoner?"
Stein felt his cheeks burn under the knowing gaze. "She survives. She lends me her strength."
"Is that what you young people are calling it today?"
Stein let his shoulders droop. "She is a remarkable woman, Lord."
"Yes."
Most ordinary people knew little about the Sigillite. Malcador was a name whispered cautiously in the same breath as that of the Emperor, Dorn or Sanguinius. But what Stein did know was that Malcador was far older than any ordinary man–he was at the Emperor's side during the great Unification, centuries before. And he was old then. Even Taylor, who was ancient beyond belief, admitted Malcador was older than she was.
Now Stein felt those powerful eyes on him, and for the first time noticed that they were the same shade as his prisoner.
"Your prisoner can no longer remain on Terra."
"Lord…with all respect, I believe that ship has sailed."
The Sigillite stared for a moment, before laughing deeply. It was such a free expression of mirth for a moment it was possible to ignore the fact that this was the Regent of Terra. "Oh, Major, she must have you far, far gone in her wiles for you to even know what that means."
"Lord. She's let me read some of her books."
"Yes. She does have a certain taste in men. Likely you remind her of someone." The Sigillite's smile sobered somewhat. "Lord Dorn has advised me that we are fast approaching the end. Lord Khan will be attempting to make a counter-offensive, but it will have limited effect on the final outcome."
He did not speak as if expressing his fear, but coldly, and logically.
"What can I do, Lord?"
"I need you to be her monster, Stein. I need you to destroy those who would destroy her, or die trying. But most importantly, I need you to take her from Terra. She has only left this world once, in all her time. I think she feared to, for what would happen with her next death if she were not close to her birthworld? But I wonder if even she understands that her existence is tied not to a world, but to humanity itself. I need you to get her away from Terra."
The task seemed impossible. "Lord, I would do anything for her…you. But getting her off planet may be a task beyond my abilities."
"Perhaps. So I shall provide you some help. I will give you a map, and armor and weaponry. Transport as well. There is someone in Nordafrik, a very old friend, who can assist you in getting her off world. Your task will be to get Taylor to this friend. Taylor will know her. You will wait for the Khan's counter-offensive before attempting to escape. Perhaps the Fifth legion will be sufficient to occupy the enemy for a time."
"As you command, Lord."
Malcador stood to leave, when Stein blurted out, "Lord, why me?"
Malcador looked down at the floor. "It was not my decision, Major, but hers. She has no arts of her own–her condition does not permit it. And yet you will never find a more able judge of character. If she gives her trust to someone, that someone is trustworthy. If she gives her love to someone, then that person is…"
He smiled under his hood. "Let us say she has always had a fondness for soldiers."
He then turned and left the room.
~~Revelation~~
~~Revelation~~
As the Primarch of the V Legion, the Great Khan, led his soldiers and a massive phalanx of heavy armor to retake the Lion's Gate from his fallen brother, the traitor Primarch Mortarion, Major Renold Stein received two crates from one of Malcador's many servants.
He opened the first crate, with his name printed on it, to reveal environmentally sealed power armor of such quality it left him giddy. He bathed as best he could, knowing it might be days before he could do so again, and then began pulling on the armor. He realized as the first piece auto-sized perfectly to him, that he was pulling on armor that likely had its origins in Dark Age technology.
The waist of the chest piece sealed automatically with the leg section, but still somehow allowed almost complete freedom of movement. He leaped and hit his head on the ceiling from the augmented musculature of the suit.
He pulled on his gauntlets, and then explored the rest of the crate's contents. He found a square pack that could maglock to his back that held two gallons of water and omnical ration bars. First aid, a tool kit, a magnifier and other survival tools. He sealed it up and with a grunt at the weight of the water slipped it onto his back. Once secured to the suit, the weight seemed irrelevant with the suit's power.
The crate came with an extraordinary sniper long-las, far more powerful than what he used in the field before. He also found a pair of Volkite pistols of obvious Martian manufacture, finer in quality than any weapon he'd ever handled. Underneath that was an ancient power sword inscribed with runes of power and protection from ages before Unity.
The pistols clamped to his thighs. The rifle to his back, next to the power sword. Thus armed, he carried the second crate with him though the mostly emptied prison until he reached Taylor's cell.
They didn't even bother locking the door any more.
She looked up from her own preparations, and then blinked. "Where did you get a GX-15 power suit?"
"A what?"
She ignored his question as she drifted to the crate. He put it down and opened it, and she stared in at the contents with the same expression he'd learned to read as being lost in memories. "This is my suit," she whispered.
"From when?"
"A long time ago. Another war. Long before the Dark night fell." She spoke casually of something tens of thousands of years ago. She pulled the armor out, grunting at its unawakened weight. "Do we know where we're going?"
"I have a map. We're supposed to head to Nordafric. He said you'd know our contact."
Again, a distant stare. "If she'll see me."
She stripped without a second thought before pulling on the tight body glove and then the armor itself. Her suit was not as bulky as his was but had all of the same features. It was a mottled color, like old stone, but even as he watched he saw the colors change.
"It has a chameleon circuit that helps it blend with environments," she said when she saw his look. She pulled the armor on as if born to it.
Once armored, she too looked within the crate and found her own supply pack that she maglocked to her back. She also had a sniper las, but one of a slimmer, more elegant design than his. She slipped it to her back, as well as a short power-gladius. The final weapon was another Volkite pistol, again smaller than his but doubtlessly no less dangerous.
She looked up, and in that moment all hint of despair was gone. Instead he saw an eagerness–a new energy and determination. He saw in that moment that Taylor Hebert was not a bird to be caged. She was a woman of action, and it struck him almost like a blow to the chest that he loved her.
She saw him staring, and the curve of her mouth turned up before she stepped forward and kissed him passionately. "Have I ever told you how much you remind me of your great grandfather?"
Stein shook his head. "No, you…wait. What?"