Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 130
The Novan's capital city was unique in all the galaxy, technological marvel and refutation of the High Lord's indolence all in one. The Ur-Council rejected the torpid stagnation that had overcome Holy Terra, instead electing to site their citadel everywhere and nowhere. A mobile fortress, vast beyond belief, travelling between the many sprawling conurbations that covered the rest of the planet. A show of confraternity and solidarity with the peoples of their crownworld, and a marvel to dazzle them into submission. Nu Zantium it was called, and its passage shook the world.
The mobile city was built across the backs of ten Capital Imperalis, each a gigantic mobile fortress in its own right. A series of broad plates created a multi-level structure, upon which tiered buildings arose. Around the outer circumference ringed macroweapons and shield generators, strong enough to repel an army, replete with landing pads and lift-conveyors. Under the shadow of the second plate lurked the beating heart of the Plasma reactors and all the secret places of the Cult Technis. Above rested fine apartment complexes and numerous administrative blocks. Finally the highest tier was dominated by a Senatorial dome, grand enough to suit those whose ambitions encompassed the stars themselves. It was defended by a pair of Imperator Titans, standing guard facing outwards, eternally vigilant against encroaching threats. Nu Zantium stood proud, a city of shining souls, determined to make a stand against the rot consuming mankind, at least in theory.
"They have no idea of what's coming," Disquisitor Von Tor sighed.
"Take heart Jethro," a matronly voice echoed in his ear, "The first battles did not go our way true, but the war is far from over."
"It is hard to agree when Terrans march upon our soil," Von Tor grimaced.
"They are not the first Terrans to come here."
"This is no time for jests," the Disquisitor huffed.
Into his eyeline stepped an elderly woman, her frame plump and face kind. Von Tor was not fooled, her kindly appearance hid a ruthless mind and an augmented frame that could knock an Ogryn over. She wore the robes of the Disquisition, but unlike him was Novan-born. Their shared institution was loose in its hierarchies, but Disquisitor Berye Leyra was at least his equal, if not superior.
Leyra gestured to the broad window they were looking out, "Behold the technological marvels of Nova Terra, surely no force in existence can match our power."
"We said the same of the Battlemoon," Von Tor argued, "And the Causes mountains."
"I seem to recall you arguing that the Ur-Council should relocate under those mountains," Leyra pointed out.
"I did, and had we done so we'd all be dead," Von Tor sighed, "But it doesn't change the fact we are the last dregs of a mighty empire."
A shadow fell across the window as the Imperator Titan Vermillion Retribution shifted its Vengeance Cannon to sight upon a distant mountaintop. So mighty a God-Engine took the breath away, its weapons fierce and unrelenting, its armour unbreakable. From atop Nu Zantium it could rain down destruction upon any attacker, and yet Von Tor was not appeased. The Titan was meant to stride to war, to bring ruination to the enemy, not sit idle and wait. The Ur-Council had taken its most vital advantage, its mobility and bound it to their bastion. Vermillion Retribution, and its twin Vermillion Death, could only stand idle and wait for the enemy to come to them.
"The Ur-Council is assembling," Leyra announced
"Let us pray they see sense," Von Tor muttered.
"Have faith," Leyra chided, "We are the future, not the corruption of the High Lords."
Von Tor followed his compatriot further into the senatorial dome, followed by Kazial and a pair of Vigilants in mortal-sized power armour. Leyra's personal guards carried Guardian spears, lightweight versions modelled on Custodes armaments. Though far less skilled with the blade, and accurate, than the Emperor's Companions, they carried themselves with sure confidence that they were superior to this ruffian. Kazial for his part merely kept grinning at them, his hands never far away from his Banestrike pistols.
Von Tor ignored their silent rivalry as they entered the great chamber of the Ur-Council. At the heart of Nu Zantium lay, a magnificent rotunda, filled with high-backed chairs where notables sat to hear the debate. The high walls on all sides were painted with images of the God-Emperor, not as a morbid spectre of death as He had become to the rest of the galaxy, but a vibrant warlord, leading mankind out of the Age of Strife. The Novans embraced the conquering ideals of the founder of the Imperium, while rejecting the stinking cesspit of corruption his legacy had become over four millennia. Where the High Lords had failed the Ur-Council would succeed, again in theory.
Around an eternal flame was set a ringed table, beautiful Nalwood, polished to a sheen. Von Tor and Leyra took their places, as joint envoys of the Disquisition, while their guards were forced to stay near the door. The Novans had created their own versions of most Imperial Adepta and in various poses sat the heads of the Regularum, the Adjudication, the Orthopraxy and more. Faces stern, conniving and smug, they represented the greatest concentration of power in the western arm of the galaxy.
A pinch-faced man in a coarse brown robe opened the meeting, "Thank you for attending, this meeting is to inform you all of recent developments."
Leyra snorted, "We all know what has happened, Dothkoi, skip to the part where we do something about it!"
The man scowled back, "There are protocols to follow!"
"Damn Regularum protocol, the end is nearly upon us!"
Fargo Dothkoi was head of the Regularum, the tithe-adepts and administrators of Nova Terra. His army of scribes and clerics were the turning wheels of Novan society, organising every last detail of their interstellar empire, and such control was power. Despite his drab attire Dothkoi was counted among the most powerful men in the galaxy, his intellect keen and ambition keener.
Another voice cut in, "This calamity cannot be allowed to pass unpunished!"
Von Tor snorted, "It's a little late to be casting blame Furix."
A burly man in silver armour leaned forward, "The orbital defences fell in a day, a day no less! The traitor Gymeon has betrayed us all with his cowardice!"
Von Tor shook his head, "Gymeon is dead, and I doubt he was in any position to refuse to issue that order."
"Does the Disquisition allow treachery to pass unpunished?!"
"The Disquisition focuses its efforts on productive endeavours, not piling shame on the dead, the Adjudication should try it sometime."
Furix threw himself back in his chair in annoyance, as the surrounding nobles tittered at the jab. The Adjudication were the Lexmen of Nova Terra, enforcers of law and order. Sadly they were overly concerned with guilt and punishment, rather irrelevant at the moment Von Tor thought, but they were well armed and could provide some resistance when the Terrans began moving out from their landing grounds.
"Friends, friends, let us not bicker in this hour of woe," a warbling voice cut through the argument.
"And what would you have us do instead, Archbishop Dolel?" Leyra retorted, "Pray?!"
"Do not besmirch the God-Emperor!" the fat archbishop snapped, "Through Him all things are possible!"
Von Tor smirked cruelly, "Your preaching did not help keep our empire together, one might think He does not favour you at all."
"Heresy!" Dolel barked as she sat bolt upright.
Leyra was not put down, "If the Orthopraxy had done its job, then we wouldn't have lost so many worlds to Ecclesiarchy missionaries! The Cataclysm of Souls they call it on Terra, and it was made possible by your incompetence. Either offer constructive suggestions or shut up!"
Dolel sank back into her cream robes, fuming under a tall hat. The Orthopraxy directed the faith of Nova Terra, but wielded marginal political power. This was the key difference between the Novans and Terrans, while they were faithful people they did not fall to their knees before any tinpot cleric claiming to speak with the God-Emperor authority. Von Tor knew well that the High Lords were a fossil of themselves, the true power on Terra these days was the Ecclesiarch, extending his influence into every aspect of life, and absorbing all temporal and political power. Von Tor suspected in another millennium the other Adeptus would be nothing but puppets, hand-picked by the Ecclesiarchs, or even disbanded entirely and their functions absorbed into the Imperial Cult. It was why he'd abandoned the Inquisition, while he still could.
Leyra gazed across the room and said, "Let us consider our response then, how shall we resist?"
"Ride out and meet them!" Furix spat.
Von Tor nodded, "I find myself in unusual agreement, we cannot allow the Terrans to establish a beachhead."
"That is premature," Dothkoi refuted, "Our defences are shattered, our strategic plans in tatters. Decades we expected to have to prepare, now we find we have mere days. We must regroup and consolidate a proper defence around our remaining assets."
"Shuffle paper and line up toy soldiers," Leyra snorted, "How like you."
"I know better than any the logistics of war, and we are overextended on all fronts. Attacking now would see us floundering!"
Von Tor grimaced, "You cannot allow Astartes to maintain the initiative, they will hack off the heads of our commanders one by one, while Guardsmen demolish our armies from the bottom up."
"I do not share your lack of confidence in our Wardsmen," Dothkoi sneered.
A harsh blurt of Binaric sounded, followed by the grating rasp of a vox-coder, "Our Titan Maniples stand ready, our Capitol Imperalis are many. The Omnissiah's truths shine through the Astronomicon and foretell of victory!" A flutter of relief passed through the chamber at the pronouncement, cheer restored by the news. Archmagos Zobatten appeared a misshapen lump of ill-forged metal wrapped in a red robe but he spoke for the Moirae Schismatics, a breakaway cult from the Mechanicus who followed prophecies mathematically derived from fluctuations in the Astronomican. They brought technical marvels to the Novans, and the mightiest of weapons, but Von Tor did not trust their prophecies, they hadn't been proven right once in ten years of war.
Von Tor leaned forward and placed his hands on the table, "My friends, attack or defence are both valid strategies, but neither can succeed conventionally. We are outnumbered and outgunned, whatever option we choose must be backed by more... Radical ideas."
Dothkoi's eyes narrowed, "What do you speak of?"
Von Tor replied, "The Disquisition has access to arsenals of fearsome repute, weapons subtle and gross in their devastation. It is time to open those vaults and unleash our full potency."
"Virus bombs," Furix snorted, "We shall not consider that again."
"Not that," Von Tor hastily backed up, "But there are other weapons, assassins and allies we have yet to employ."
Dothkoi waved a hand dismissively, "We heard similar talk before Chasquit IX, how you would sweep the invaders from our borders. What we got was piles of our own dead, and total failure to end the threat as promised. The Dark Tusks survived your Exterminatus, and became a poisoned blade in our backs."
Von Tor saw too much agreement for comfort in the room and hastily changed tack, "From the beginning the Astartes have been the Terran's greatest advantage. We have never been able to meet them head-on in battle and win. Across the stars it is known, that was why so many worlds abandoned our cause for Terra's. If we are to have any hope then we must be able to meet the Space Marines on even terms!"
His plea was impassioned but Leyra looked at him with harrowed eyes, "We've tried to recruit them, Throne knows we've tried for nine centuries. The Chapters will not heed us, their masters will not fight for our cause. The Astartes acknowledge one lord only, and He remains silent."
"There are alternatives," Von Tor desperately urged, "Options we have not explored."
Furix retorted, "Your assassin clades have their uses, but open battle does not suit them."
Dolel agreed, "We have maintained a tradition of mutual restraint with Terra, when it comes to our political leaders. If we start assassinating their leaders, they will send their own killers after us."
Dothkoi concurred, "Let us consider more practical options, with realistic chances for success."
Von Tor's patience wore thin at their lack of vision, "You are throwing it all away! All of you, the end is coming and you dither over protocol and tradition. When Space Marines break down these walls and slaughter us all none of this will matter!"
His words rang loud but Leyla faced him squarely, "You speak with passion Von Tor, but you know we will never license such power in the hands of a Terran-born."
There it was, Von Tor grimaced, the hidden contempt they held for him. Never spoken to his face, but in sly glances from the corner of the eye and whispers out of earshot. Von Tor was not Novan by birth, and that was a sin they could not look past, more offensive even than turning coat on the Inquisition. All he'd done for the cause of Nova Terra, all the sacrifices he'd offered up and the dubious decisions he'd made counted for nothing in their eyes. For all her kindly appearance Leyla had just reminded him that he was an outsider and always would be.
Von Tor sank into bitter silence as the debate moved on. He didn't listen, lost in his thoughts. The Ur-Council was supposed to be better, a clean sweep from the High Lords, dynamic, fresh and meant to reward merit over birth-station. Perhaps it was so at its inception, but the passing centuries had proven the Ur-Council was no less corruptible than the autocrats it denounced. Moribund fossils, wrapped in their own petty squabbles, bickering over minutiae while their world burned down around them. They would still be arguing when the roof fell in and crushed them all.
Von Tor decided then he would not be counted among fools like this. He would take action, no matter if the Ur-Council approved or not. Von Tor would do what was necessary and save Nova Terra, and the bright promise it offered for mankind's salvation. Here was the last hope for a better galaxy, not in these dusty chambers but in the beating heart of every Novan. Von Tor would save them, he would save mankind, and anyone who dared stand in his way would be cast down. And that included the Ur-Council itself.