by Ben Counter
'Are you sure?' asked Captain Garro of the Death Guard, limping on his newly replaced augmetic leg.
The gyros had not yet meshed with his nervous sysВtem and, much to his fury, he had been denied a place in the Death Guard speartip. The bridge of the Eisenstein was open to the workings of the ship, as was typical with the Death Guard fleet, since Mortarion despised ornamentation of any kind.
The bridge was a skeletal framework suspended among the ship's guts with massive coolant pipes looming overhead like knots of metallic entrails. The bridge crew bent over a platform inset with cogitator banks, their faces illuminated in harsh greens and blues.
Very sure, captain,’ replied the communications officer, reading from the data-slate in his hand. 'An Emperor's Children Thunderhawk is passing through our engagement zone.'
Garro took the data-slate from the officer and sure enough, there was a Thunderhawk gunship passing close to the Eisenstein, a pack of fighters at its heels.
'Smells like trouble,' said Garro. 'Put us on an intercept course.'
'Yes, captain,’ said the deck officer, turning smartly and heading for the helm.
Within moments the engines flared into life, vast pistons pumping through the oily shadows that surrounded the bridge. The Eisenstein tilted as it began a ponderous turn towards the approaching Thunderhawk.
* * *
The scream hurled Kyril Sindermann from sleep with the force of a thunderbolt and he felt his heart thudding against his ribs in fright.
'What?' he managed before seeing Euphrati sitВting bolt upright in bed and screaming fit to burst her lungs. He scrambled to his feet as Mersadie tried to put her arms around the screaming imagist. Keeler thrashed like a madwoman and Sindermann rushed over to help, putting his arms out as if to embrace them both.
The moment his fingers touched Euphrati he felt the heat radiating from her, wanting to recoil in pain, but feeling as though his hands were locked to her flesh. His eyes met Mersadie's and he knew from the terror he saw there that she felt the same thing.
He whimpered as his vision blurred and darkВened, as though he were having a heart attack. Images tumbled through his brain, dark and monВstrous, and he fought to hold onto his sanity as visions of pure evil assailed him.
Death, like a black seething mantle, hung over everything. Sinderman saw Mersadie's delicate, coal dark face overcome with it, her features sinking in corruption.
Tendrils of darkness wound through the air, destroying whatever they touched. He screamed as he saw the flesh sloughing from Mersadie's bones, looking down at his hands to see them rotting away before his eyes. His skin peeled back, the bones maggot-white.
Then it was gone, the black, rotting death lifted from him and Sindermann could see their hiding place once again, unchanged since he had laid down to catch a few fitful hours of sleep. He stumВbled away from Euphrati and with one look saw that Mersadie had experienced the same thing –horrendous, concentrated decay.
Sindermann put a hand to his chest, feeling his old heart working overtime.
'Oh, no…' Mersadie was moaning. 'Please…
what is…?'
'This is betrayal,' said Keeler, her voice suddenly strong as she turned towards Sindermann, 'and it is happening now. You need to tell them. Tell them all, Kyril!'
Keeler's eyes closed and she slumped against MerВsadie, who held her as she sobbed.
Tarvitz wrestled with the Thunderhawk controls. Streaks of bright crimson sheared past the cockpit –the fighter craft were on his tail, spraying ruby-red lances of gunfire at him.
Isstvan HI wheeled in front of him as the gunship spun in the viewscreen.
Impacts thudded into the back of the Thunder-hawk and he felt the controls lurch in his hands. He answered by ripping his craft upwards, hearing the engines shriek in complaint beneath him as they flipped the gunship's mass out of the enemy lines of fire. Loud juddering noises from behind him spoke of something giving way in one of the
engines. Red warning lights and crisis telltales lit up the cockpit.
The angry blips of the fighters loomed large in the tactical display.
The vox-unit sparked again and he reached to turn it off, not wanting to hear gloating taunts as he was destroyed and any hope of warning was lost. His hand paused as he heard a familiar voice say, Thunderhawk on a closing course with the Eisen-stein, identify yourself,’
Tarvitz wanted to cry in relief as he recognised the voice of his honour brother.
'Nathaniel?' he cried. 'It's Saul. It's good to hear your voice, my brother!'
'Saul?' asked Garro. 'What in the name of the Emperor is going on? Are those fighters trying to shoot you down?'
'Yes!' shouted Tarvitz, tearing the Thunderhawk around again, Isstvan III spinning below him. The Death Guard fleet was a speckling of glittering streaks against the blackness, crisscrossed by red laser blasts.
Tarvitz gunned the stormbird's remaining engine as Garro said, 'Why? And be quick, Saul. They almost have you!'
This is treachery?' shouted Tarvitz. All of this! We are betrayed. The fleet is going to bombard the planet's surface with virus bombs.'
What?' spluttered Garro, disbelief plain in his voice, That's insane,’
Trust me,' said Tarvitz, 'I know how it sounds, but as my honour brother I ask you to trust me like you
have never trusted me before. On my life I swear I do not lie to you, Nathaniel.'
'I don't know, Saul,’ said Garro.
'Nathaniel!' screamed Tarvitz in frustration. 'Ship to surface vox has been shut off, so unless I can get a warning down there, every Astartes on Isstvan III is going to die!'
Captain Nathaniel Garro could not tear his eyes from the hissing vox-unit, as if seeking to discern the truth of what Saul Tarvitz was saying just by staring hard enough. Beside him, the tactical plot displayed the weaving blips that represented Tarvitz's Thunderhawk and the pursuing fighters. His experienced eye told him that he had seconds at best to make a decision and his every instinct screamed that what he was hearing could not posВsibly be true.
Yet Saul Tarvitz was his sworn honour brother, an oath sworn on the bloody fields of the Preaixor Campaign, when they had shed blood and stood shoulder to shoulder through the entirety of a bloody, ill-fated war that had seen many of their most beloved brothers killed.
Such a friendship and bond of honour forged in the hell of combat was a powerful thing and Garro knew Saul Tarvitz well enough to know that he never exagВgerated and never, ever lied. To imagine that his honour brother was lying to him now was beyond imagining, but to hear that the fleet was set to bomВbard their battle-brothers was equally unthinkable..
His thoughts tumbled like a whirlwind in his head and he cursed his indecision. He looked down at the eagle Tarvitz had carved into his vam-brace so long ago and knew what he had to do.
Tarvitz pulled the Thunderhawk into a shallow dive, preparing to chop back the throttle and deploy his air brakes, hoping that he had descended far enough to allow the atmosphere of the planet below to slow him down sufficiently for what he planned…
He glanced down at the tactical display, seeing the fighters moving to either side of him, preparing to bracket him as his speed bled off. Judging the moment was crucial.
Tarvitz hauled back the throttle and hit the air brakes.
The grav seat harness pulled tight on his chest as he was hurled forwards and the cockpit was sudВdenly lit by brilliant flashes and a terrific juddering seized the gunship. He heard impacts on the hull and felt the Thunderhawk tumble away from his control.
He yelled in anger as he realised that those who sought to betray the Astartes had won, that his defiВance of their treachery had been in vain. Blooms of fire surged past the cockpit and Tarvitz waited for the inevitable explosion of his death.
But it never came.
Amazed, he took hold of the gunship's controls and wrestled with them as he fought to level out his
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flight. The tactical display was a mess of interferВence, electromagnetic hash and radioactive debris clogging it with an impenetrable fog of a massive detonation. He couldn't see the fighters, but with such interference they could still be out there, even now drawing a bead on him.
What had just happened?
'Saul,’ said a voice, heavy with sadness and Tarvitz knew that his honour brother had not let him down. 'Ease down, the fighters are gone.'
'Gone? How?'
The Eisenstein shot them down on my orders,’ said Garro. Tell me, Saul, was I right to do so, for if you speak falsely, then I have condemned myself alongside you,’
Tarvitz wanted to laugh and wished his old friend was standing next to him so he could throw his arms around him and thank him for his trust, knowing that Nathaniel Garro had made the most monumental decision in his life on nothing but what had passed between them moments ago. The depth of trust and the honour Garro had done him was immeasurable.
'Yes,’ he said. 'You were right to trust me, my friend,’
Tell me why?' asked Garro.
Tarvitz tried to think of something reassuring to tell his old friend, but knew that nothing he could say would soften the blow of this treachery. Instead, he said, 'Do you remember what you once told me of Terra?'
Yes, my friend,’ sighed Garro. 'I told you it was old, even back in the day,’
You told me of what the Emperor built there,’ said Tarvitz. 'A whole world, where before there had been nothing, just barbarians and death. You spoke of the scars of the Age of Strife, whole glaciers burned away and mountains levelled,’
Yes,’ agreed Garro. 'I remember. The Emperor took that blasted planet and he founded the Imperium there. That's what I fight for, to stand against the darkness and build an empire for the human race to inherit,’
That's what is being betrayed, my friend,’ said Tarvitz. 'I will not allow that to happen, Saul,’ 'Nor I, my friend,’ swore Tarvitz. What will you do now?'
Garro paused, the question of what to do, now that he had chosen a side, uppermost in his mind. 'I'll tell the Andronius that I shot you down. The flare of the explosion and the fact that you're in the upper atmosphere should cover you long enough to get to the surface,’ 'And after that?'
'The other Legions must be warned of what is going on. Only the Warmaster would have the daring to conceive of such betrayal and he would not have begun an endeavour of this magnitude without swaying some of his brother primarchs to join him. Rogal Dorn or Magnus would never forsake the Emperor and if I can get the Eisenstein
out of the Isstvan system, I can bring them here: all of them.'
'Can you do it?' asked Tarvitz. 'The Warmaster will soon realise what you attempt.'
'I have some time before they will suspect, but then the whole fleet will be after me. Why is it that men have to die every time any of us tries to do what is right?'
'Because that's the Imperial Truth,’ said Tarvitz. 'Can you keep control of the Eisenstein once this gets out?
'Yes,’ said Garro. 'It will be messy, but enough of the crew are staunch Terrans, and they will side with me. Those who do not will die,’
The port engine juddered and Tarvitz knew that he didn't have much time before the gunship gave out beneath him.
'I have to make for the surface, Nathaniel,’ said Tarvitz. 'I don't know how much longer this ship will stay in the air,’
'Then this is where we part,’ said Garro, an awful note of finality in his voice.
'The next time we see one another, it'll be on Terra,’ said Tarvitz.
'If we meet again, my brother,’
'We will, Nathaniel,’ promised Tarvitz. 'By the Emperor, I swear it,’
'May the luck of Terra be with you,’ said Garro and the vox went dead.
Moments ago, he had been on the brink of death, but now he had hope that he might
succeed in preventing the Warmaster's treachery from unfolding.
That was what the Imperial Truth meant, he realised at last.
It meant hope: hope for the galaxy; hope for humanity.
Tarvitz gunned the Thunderhawk's engine, fixed its course towards the Precentor's Palace and arrowed it towards the heart of the Choral City.
TEN
The most precious truth
Praal
Death's tomb
The sub-deck was packed with people come to hear the words of the saint's apostle. Apostle: that was what they called him now, thought Sindermann, and it gave him comfort to know that even in these turbulent times, he was still a person that others looked up to. Vanity, he knew, but still… one takes what one can when circumstances change beyond one's control.
Word had spread quickly through the Vengeful Spirit that he was to speak and he glanced nervously around the edges of the sub-deck for any sign that word had reached beyond the civilians and rememВbrancers. Armed guards protected the approaches to the sub-deck, but he knew that if the Astartes or Maggard and his soldiers came in force, then not all В°f them would escape alive.
They were taking a terrible risk, but Euphrati had made it very clear that he needed to speak to the masses, to spread the word of the Emperor and to tell of the imminent treachery that she
had seen.
Thousands of people stared expectantly at him and he cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulВder to where Mersadie and Euphrati watched him standing at the lectern raised on a makeshift platВform of packing crates. A portable vox-link had been rigged up to carry his words to the very back of the sub-deck, though he knew his iterator trained voice could be heard without any mechaniВcal help. The vox-link was there to carry his words to those who could not attend this gathering, faithВful among the technical staff of the ship having spliced the portable unit into the ship's principal vox-caster network.
Sindermann's words would be heard throughout the Expedition fleet.
He smiled at the crowd and took a sip of water from the glass beside him.
A sea of expectant faces stared back at him, desВperate to hear his words of wisdom. What would he tell them, he wondered? He looked down at the scribbled notes he had taken over the time he had been sequestered in the bowels of the ship. He looked back over his shoulder at Euphrati and her smile lifted his heart.
He turned back to his notes, the words seeming trite and contrived.
He screwed the paper into a ball and dropped it by his side, feeling Euphrati's approval like a tonic in his veins.
'My friends,' he began. We live in strange times and there are events in motion that will shock many of you as they have shocked me. You have come to hear the words of the saint, but she has asked me to speak to you, that I may tell you of what she has seen and what all men and women of faith must do,’
His iterator's voice carried the precise amount of gravitas mixed with a tone that spoke to them of his regret at the terrible words of doom he was about to impart.
The Warmaster has betrayed the Emperor,’ he said, pausing to allow the inevitable howls of denial and outrage to fill the chamber. Shouted voices rose and fell like waves on the sea and Sin-dermann let them wash over him, knowing the exact moment when he should speak.
'I know, I know,’ he said. You think that such a thing is unthinkable and only a short time ago, I would have agreed, but it is true. I have seen it with my own eyes. The saint showed me her vision and it chilled my very soul to see it: war-tilled fields of the dead, winds that carry a cruel dust of bone and the sky-turned eyes of men who saw wonders and only dreamed of their children and friendship. I tasted the air and it was heavy with blood, my friends, its stink reeking on the bodies of men we have learned to call the enemy. And for what? That
they decided they did not want to be part of our warmongering Imperium? Perhaps they saw more than we? Perhaps it takes the fresh eyes of an outВsider to see what we have become blind to.'
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The crowd quietened, but he could see that most people still thought him mad. Many here were of the Faithful, but many others were not. While almost all of them could embrace the Emperor as divine, few of them could countenance the War-master betraying such a wondrous being.
AVhen we embarked on this so-called "Great CruВsade" it was to bring enlightenment and reason to the galaxy, and for a time that was what we did. But look at us now, my friends, when was the last time we approached a world with anything but murder in our hearts? We bring so many forms of warfare with us, the tension of sieges and the battlefield of trenches soaked in mud and misery while the sky is ripped with gunfire. And the men who lead us are no better! What do we expect from cultures who are met by men named "Warmaster", "Widowmaker" and "the Twisted"? They see the Astartes, clad in their insect carapaces of plate armour, marching to the grim sounds of cocking bolters and roaring chainswords. What culture would not try to resist us?'
Sindermann could feel the mood of the crowd shifting and knew he had stoked their interest. Now he had to hook their emotions.
'Look to what we leave behind us! So many memorials to our slaughters! Look to the Lupercal's
Court, where we house the bloody weapons of war in bright halls and wonder at their cruel beauty as they hang waiting for their time to come again. We look at these weapons as curios, but we forget the actuality of the lives these savage instruments took. The dead cannot speak to us, they cannot plead with us to seek peace while the remembrance of them fades and they are forgotten. Despite the ranks of graves, the triumphal arches and eternal flames, we forget them, for we are afraid to look at what they did lest we see it in ourselves.'
Sindermann felt a wondrous energy filling him as he spoke, the words flowing from him in an unstopВpable torrent, each word seeming to spring from his lips of its own volition, as though each one came from somewhere else, somewhere more eloquent than his poor, mortal talent could ever reach.
