by Dan Abnett
Keeler shook her head. 'No. No, not at all. Not back then. If I'd gone to the authorities, they'd have confiscated them... destroyed them, probably, and told me the same story about a wild beast. The first captain was very certain it was a wild beast, some xenos creature, and he was very certain I should keep my mouth shut. For the sake of morale. The picts were a lifeline for me, back then. They proved I wasn't going mad. That's why I sent them to you.’
'Am I not part of the authorities?'
She laughed. Той were there, Loken. You were there. You saw it. I took a chance. I thought you might respond and-'
'And what?'
Tell me the truth of it.'
Loken hesitated.
'Oh, don't worry.’ she admonished, rising to refill her glass. 'I don't want to know the truth now. A wild beast. A wild beast. I've got over it. This late in the day, captain, I don't expect you to break loyalty and tell me something you're sworn not to tell. It was a foolish notion, which I now regret. My turn to apologise to you.’
She looked over at him, tugging up the edge of the sheet to cover her bosom. 'I've deleted my copies. All of them. You have my word. The only ones that exist are the ones I sent to you.’
Loken took out the data-slate and placed it on the table. He had to push dirty crockery aside to make a space for it. Keeler looked at the slate for a long while, and then knocked back her glass and refilled it.
Imagine that.’ she said, her hand trembling as it lifted the flask. 'I'm terrified even to have them back in the room.’
'I don't think you're as over it as you like to pretend.’ Loken said.
'Really?' she sneered. She put down her glass and ran the fingers of her free hand through her short blonde hair. 'Hell with it, then, since you're here. Hell with it.’
She walked over and snatched up the slate. Wild beast, eh? Wild beast?'
'Some form of vicious predator indigenous to the mountain region that-'
'Forgive me, that's so much shit.’ she said. She snapped the slate into the reader slot of a compact edit engine on the far side of the room. Some of her picters and spare lenses littered the bench beside it. The engine whirred into life, and the screen lit up, cold and white. "What did you make of the discrepancies?'
'Discrepancies?' Loken asked.
Yes.’ She expertly tapped commands into the engine's controls, and selected the file. With a stab of her index finger, she opened the first image. It bloomed on the screen.
Terra, I can't look at it.’ she said, turning away.
'Switch it off, Keeler.’
'No, you look at it. Look at the visual distortion there. Surely you noticed that? It's like it's there and yet not there. Like it's phasing in and out of reality.’
'A signal error. The conditions and the poor light foxed your picter's sensors and-'
'I know how to use a picter, captain, and I know how to recognise poor exposure, lens flare, and digital mal-formance. That's not it. Look.’
She punched up the second pict, and half-looked at it, gesturing with her hand. 'Look at the background. And the droplets of blood in the foreground there. Perfect pict capture. But the thing itself. I've never seen anything create that effect on a high-gain instrument. That "wild beast" is out of sync with the physical continuity around it. Which is, captain, exactly as I saw it. You've studied these closely, no doubt?'
'No.’ said Loken.
Keeler pulled up another image. She stared at it fully this time, and men looked away. "There, you see? The afterimage? It's on all of them, but this is the dearest.'
'I don't see...'
'I'll boost the contrast and lose a little of the motion blurring.’ She fiddled with the engine's controls. "There. See now?'
Loken stared. What had at first seemed to be a frothy, milky ghost blurring across the image of the nightmare thing had resolved clearly thanks to her manipulation. Superimposed on the fuz2y abomination was a semi-human shape, echoing the pose and posture of the creature. Though it was faint, there was no mistaking the shrieking face and wracked body of Xavyer Jubal.
'Know him?' she asked. 'I don't, but I recognise the physiognomy and build of an Astartes when I see it. Why would my picter register that, unless...'
Loken didn't reply.
Keeler switched the screen off, popped out the slate and tossed it back to Loken. He caught it neatly. She went back over to the cot and flopped down.
That's what I wanted you to explain to me.’ she said. That's why I sent you the picts. When I was in my deepest, darkest pits of madness, that's what I was hoping you'd come and explain to me, but don't worry. I'm past that now. I'm fine. A wild beast, that's all it was. A wild beast.’
Loken gazed at the slate in his hand. He could barely imagine what Keeler had been through. It had been bad enough for the rest of them, but he and Nero and Sinder-mann had all enjoyed the benefit of proper closure. They'd been told the truth. Keeler hadn't. She was smart and bright and clever, and she'd seen the holes in the story, the awful inconsistencies that proved there had been more to the event than the first captain's explanation. And she'd managed with that knowledge, coped with it, alone.
'What did you think it was?' he asked.
'Something awful that we should never know about.’ she replied. Throne, Loken. Please don't take pity on me now. Please don't decide to tell me.’
'I won't.’ he said. 'I can't. It was a wild beast. Euphrati, how did you deal with it?'
What do you mean?'
'You say you're fine now. How are you fine?'
'My friends helped me through. I told you.’
Loken got up, picked up the flask, and went over to the cot. He sat down on the end of the mattress and refilled the glass she held out.
Thank you.’ she said. 'I've found strength. I've found-'
For a moment, Loken was certain she had been about to say 'faith'.
'What?'
Trust. Trust in the Imperium. In the Emperor. In you.’
'In me?'
'Not you, personally. In the Astartes, in the Imperial army, in every branch of mankind's warrior force that is dedicated to the protection of us mere mortals.’ She took a sip and sniggered. The Emperor, you see, protects.’
'Of course he does.’ said Loken.
'No, no, you misunderstand.’ said Keeler, folding her arms around her raised, sheet-covered knees. 'He actually does. He protects mankind, through the Legions, through the martial corps, through the war machines of the Mechanicum. He understands the dangers. The inconsistencies. He uses you, and all the instruments like you, to protect us from harm. To protect our physical bodies from murder and damage, to protect our minds from madness, to protect our souls. This is what I now understand. This is what this trauma has taught me, and I am thankful for it. There are insane dangers
in the cosmos, dangers that mankind is fundamentally unable to comprehend, let alone survive. So he protects us. There are truths out there that would drive us mad by one fleeting glimpse of them. So he chooses not to share them with us. That's why he made you.’
That's a glorious concept.’ Loken admitted.
'In the Whisperheads, that day... You saved me, didn't you? You shot that thing apart. Now you save me again, by keeping the truth to yourself. Does it hurt?'
'Does what hurt?'
The truth you keep hidden?'
'Sometimes.’ he said.
'Remember, Garviel. The Emperor is our truth and our light. If we trust in him, he will protect.’
'Where did you get that from?' Loken asked.
'A friend. Garviel, I have only one concern. A lingering thing that will not quit my mind. You Astartes are loyal, through and through. You keep to your own, and never break confidence.’
'And?'
Tonight, I really believe you would have told me something, but for the loyalty you keep with your brothers. I admire that, but answer me this. How far does your loyalty go? Whatever it was happened to us in the Whisperheads, I believe an Astartes bro
ther was part of it. But you close ranks. What has to happen before you forsake your loyalty to the Legion and recognise your loyalty to the rest of us?'
'I don't know what you mean.’ he said.
Yes, you do. If a brother turns on his brothers again, will you cover that up too? How many have to turn before you act? One? A squad? A company? How long will you keep your secrets? What will it take for you to cast aside the fraternal bonds of the Legion and cry out "This is wrong!"?'
You're suggesting an impossible-'
'No, I'm not. You, of all people, know I'm not. If it can happen to one, it can happen to others. You're all so drilled and perfect and identical. You march to the same beat and do whatever is asked of you. Loken, do you know of any Astartes who would break step? Would you?'
'I...'
'Would you? If you saw the rot, a hint of corruption, would you step out of your regimented life and stand against it? For the greater good of mankind, I mean?'
'It's not going to happen.’ Loken said. That would never happen. You're suggesting civil disunity. Civil war. That is against every fibre of the Imperium as the Emperor has created it. With Horus as Warmaster, as our guiding light, such a possibility is beyond countenance. The Imperium is firm and strong, and of one purpose. There are inconsistencies, Euphrati, just like there are wars and plagues and famines. They hurt us, but they do not kill us. We rise above them and move onwards.’
'It rather depends.’ she remarked, 'where those inconsistencies occur.’
Token's vox-cuff suddenly began to bleat. Loken raised his wrist, and thumbed the call stud. I'm on my way.’ he said. He looked back at her.
'Let's talk again, Euphrati.’ he said.
She nodded. He leant forwards and kissed her on the forehead. 'Be well. Be better. Look to your friends.’
'Are you my friend?' she asked.
'Know it.’ he said. He got up and retrieved his robe from the floor.
'Garviel.’ she called from the cot.
Yes?'
'Delete those images, please. For me. They don't need to exist.’
He nodded, opened the shutter, and stepped out into the chill of the hall.
Once the shutter had closed, Keeler got up off the cot and let the sheet fall from her. Naked, she padded over to a cupboard, knelt and opened its doors. From inside, she took out two candles and a small figurine of the Emperor. She placed them on the top of the cupboard, and lit the candles with an igniter. Then she rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out the dog-eared pamphlet that Leef had given her. It was a cheap, crude thing, badly pressed from a mechanical bulk-printer. There were ink soils along its edges, and rather a lot of spelling mistakes in the text.
Keeler didn't care. She opened the first page and, bowed before the makeshift shrine, she began to read.
The Emperor of Mankind is the Light and the Way, and all his actions are for the benefit of mankind, which is his people. The Emperor is God and God is the Emperor, so it is taught in the Lectio Divinitatus, and above all things, the Emperor will protect...'
LOKEN RAN DOWN the companionways of the remembrancers' billet wing, his cloak billowing out behind him. Sirens were sounding. Men and women peered out of doorways to look at him as he passed by.
He raised his cuff to his mouth. 'Nero. Report! Is it Tarik? Has something happened?'
The vox crackled and Vipus's voice issued tinnily from the cuff speaker. 'Something's happened all right, Garvi. Get back here.’
"What? What's happened?'
'A ship, that's what. A barge has just translated in-system behind us. It's Sanguinius. Sanguinius himself has come.'
SEVEN
Lord of the Angels
Brotherhood in Spiderland
Interdiction
JUST A WEEK or so earlier, during one of their regular, private interviews, Loken had finally told Mersadie Oliton about the Great Triumph after Ullanor.
'You cannot imagine it,' he said.
'I can try.'
Loken smiled. The Mechanicum had planed smooth an entire continent as a stage for the event.'
'Planed smooth? What?'
'With industrial meltas and geoformer engines. Mountains were erased and their matter used to infill valleys. The surface was left smooth and endless, a vast table of dry, polished rock chippings. It took months to accomplish.’
'It ought to have taken centuries!'
'You underestimate the industry of the Mechanicum. They sent four labour fleets to undertake the work. They made a stage worthy of an Emperor, so broad it could know midnight at one end and midday at the other.’
'You exaggerate!' she cried, with a delighted snort.
'Maybe I do. Have you known me do that before?'
Oliton shook her head.
'You have to understand, this was a singular event. It was a Triumph to mark the turn of an era, and the Emperor, beloved of all, knew it. He knew it had to be remembered. It was the end of the Ullanor campaign, the end of the crusade, the coronation of the Warmas-ter. It was a chance for the Astartes to say farewell to the Emperor before his departure to Terra, after two centuries of personal leadership. We wept as he announced his retirement from the field. Can you picture that, Mer-sadie? A hundred thousand warriors, weeping?'
She nodded. 'I think it was a shame no remembrancers were there to witness it. It was a moment that comes only once every epoch.'
'It was a private affair.'
She laughed again. 'A hundred thousand present, a continent levelled for the event, and it was a private affair?'
Loken looked at her. 'Even now, you don't understand us, do you? You still think on a very human scale.'
'I stand corrected,' she replied.
'I meant no offence.’ he said, noticing her expression, 'but it was a private affair. A ceremony. A hundred thousand Astartes. Eight million army regulars. Legions of Titan war machines, like forests of steel. Armour units by the hundred, formations of tanks, thousands upon thousands. Warships filling the low orbit, eclipsed by the squadrons of aircraft flying over in unending echelons. Banners and standards, so many banners and standards.'
He fell silent for a moment, remembering. The Mechanicum had made a roadway. Half a kilometre wide, and five hundred kilometres long, a straight line across the stage they had levelled. On each side of this road, every five metres, was an iron post topped with
the skull of a greenskin, trophies of the Ullanor war. Beyond the roadway, to either hand, promethium fires burned in rockcrete basins. For five hundred kilometres. The heat was intense. We marched along the roadway in review, passing below the dais on which the Emperor stood, beneath a steel-scale canopy. The dais was the only raised structure the Mechanicum had left, the root of an old mountain. We marched in review, and then assembled on the wide plain below the dais.'
'Who marched?'
All of us. Fourteen Legions were represented, either in total or by a company. The others were engaged in wars too remote to allow them to attend. The Luna Wolves were there en mass, of course. Nine primarchs were there, Mersadie. Nine. Horns, Dorn, Angron, Fulgrim, Lorgar, Mortarion, Sanguinius, Magnus, the Khan. The rest had sent ambassadors. Such a spectacle. You cannot imagine.’
'I'm still trying.’
Loken shook his head. 'I'm still trying to believe I was there.’
^Vhat were they like?'
You think I met them? I was just another brother-warrior marching in the file. In my life, lady, I have seen almost all of the primarchs at one time or another, but mostly from a distance. I've personally spoken to two of them. Until my election to the Mournival, I didn't move in such elevated circles. I know the primarchs as distant figures. At the Triumph, I could barely believe so many were present.’
'But still, you had impressions?'
'Indelible impressions. Each one, so mighty, so huge and so proud. They seemed to embody human characteristics. Angron, red and angry; Dorn solid and implacable; Magnus, veiled in mystery, and Sanguinius, of course. So perfect. So charisma
tic.’
'I've heard this of him.' Then you've heard the truth.’
His LONG BLACK hair was pressed down by the weight of the shawl of gold chain he wore across his head. The edges of it framed his solemn features. He had marked his cheeks with grey ash in mourning.
An attendant stood by with ink pot and brush to paint the ritual tears of grief on his cheeks, but Primarch Sanguinius shook his head, making the chain shawl clink. T have real tears.’ he said.
He turned, not to his brother Horus, but to Torgad-don.
'Show me, Tarik.’ he said.
Torgaddon nodded. The wind moaned around the still figures assembled on the lonely hillside, and rain pattered off their armour plate. Torgaddon gestured, and Tarvitz, Bulle and Lucius stepped forwards, holding out the dirty relics.
These men, my lord.’ Torgaddon said, his voice unusually shaky, 'these Children of the Emperor, recovered these remains selflessly, and it is fit they offer them to you themselves.’
'You did this honour?' Sanguinius asked Tarvitz.
'I did, my lord.’
Sanguinius took the battered Astartes helm from Tarvitz's hands and studied it. He towered over the captain, his golden plate badged with rubies and bright jewels, and marked, like the armour of the Warmaster, with the unblinking eye of terra. Sanguinius's vast wings, like the pinions of a giant eagle, were furled against his back, and hung with silver bands and loops of pearls.
Sanguinius turned the helm over in his hands, and regarded the armourer's mark inside the rim.
'Eight knight leopard.’ he said.
At his side, Chapter Master Raldoron began to inspect the manifest.
'Don't trouble yourself, Ral.’ Sanguinius told him. 'I know the mark. Captain Thoros. He will be missed.’
Sanguinius handed the helm to Raldoron and nodded to Tarvitz. Thank you for this kindness, captain.’ he said. He looked across at Eidolon. 'And to you, sir, my gratitude that you came to Frome's help so urgently.’
Eidolon bowed, and seemed to ignore the dark glare the Warmaster was casting in his direction.
Sanguinius turned to Torgaddon. 'And to you, Tarik, most of all. For breaking this nightmare open.’
