by Dan Abnett
arranged in perfect symmetry behind. Forty-eight hours of intense intership communication had preceded that cautious moment. Forty-eight hours of delicate diplomacy.
Horas gave a nod, and the men of First Company chested their weapons and bowed their heads in one, loud, unified motion. Horus himself stepped forward and walked alone down the aisle space, his cloak billowing behind him.
He came face to face with what seemed to be the senior envoy, made the sign of the aquila, and bowed.
1 greet you on-' he began.
The moment he started speaking, the meturge players began sounding their instruments softly. Horus stopped.
Translation form.’ the envoy said, his own words accompanied by meturge playing.
'It is disconcerting,' Horus smiled.
'For purposes of clarity and comprehension.’ the envoy said.
We appear to understand each other well enough.’ Horus smiled.
The envoy nodded curtly. Then I will tell the players to stop.’ he said.
'No.’ said Horus. 'Let us be natural. If this is your way.’
Again, the envoy nodded. The exchange continued, surrounded by the oddly melodied playing.
'I greet you on behalf of the Emperor of Mankind, beloved by all, and in the name of the Imperium of Terra.’
'On behalf of the society of the interex, I accept your greetings and return them.’
Thank you.’ said Horus.
'Of the first thing.’ the envoy said. You are from Terra?'
Yes.’
'From old Terra, that was also called Earth?'
Yes.’
This can be verified?'
'By all means.’ smiled Horns. "You know of Terra?'
An odd expression, like a pang, crossed the envoy's face, and he glanced round at his colleagues. We are from Terra. Ancestrally. Genetically It was our origin world, eons ago. If you are truly of Terra, then this is a momentous occasion. For the first time in thousands of years, the interex has established contact with its lost cousins.’
'It is our purpose in the stars.’ Horns said, 'to find all the lost families of man, cast away so long ago.’
The envoy bowed his head. 'I am Diath Shehn, abbro-carius.’
'I am Horus, Warmaster.’
The music of the meturge players made a slight, but noticeably discordant sound as it expressed 'Warmaster'. Shehn frowned.
'Warmaster?' he repeated.
The rank given to me personally by the Emperor of Mankind, so that I may act as his most senior lieutenant.’
'It is a robust title. Bellicose. Is your fleet a military undertaking?'
'It has a military component. Space is too dangerous for us to roam unarmed. But from the look of your fine soldiers, abbrocarius, so does yours.’
Shehn pursed his lips. 'You laid assault to Urisarach, with great aggression and vehemence, and in disregard to the advisory beacons we had positioned in the system. It would appear your military component is a considerable one.’
ЧУе will discuss this in detail later, abbrocarius. If an apology needs to be made, you will hear it directly from me. First, let me welcome you in peace.’
Horus turned, and made a signal. The entire company of Astartes, and the plated officers, locked off their weapons and removed their helms. Human faces, row after row. Openness, not hostility.
Shehn and the other envoys bowed, and made a signal of their own, a signal supported by a musical sequence. The warriors of the interex removed their visors, displaying clean, hard-eyed faces.
Except for the squat figures, the heavy troops in brown and gold. When their helmets came off, they revealed faces that weren't human at all.
THEY WERE CALLED the kinebrach. An advanced, mature species, they had been an interstellar culture for over fifteen thousand years. They had already founded a strong, multi-world civilisation in the local region of space before Terra had entered its First Age of Technology, an era when humanity was only just feeling its way beyond the Solar system in sub-light vehicles.
By the time the interex encountered them, their culture was aging and fading. A territorial war developed after initial contact, and lasted for a century. Despite the kinebrach's superior technology, the humans of the interex were victorious, but, in victory, they did not annihilate the aliens. Rapprochement was achieved, thanks in part to the interex's willingness to develop the aria to facilitate a more profound level of inter-species communication. Faced with options including further warfare and exile, the kinebrach elected to become client citizens of the expanding interex. It suited them to place their tired, flagging destiny in the charge of the vigorous and progressive humans. Culturally bonded as junior partners in society, the kinebrach shared their technological advances by way of exchange. For three thousand years, the interex humans had successfully coexisted with the kinebrach.
'Conflict with the kinebrach was our first significant alien war.’ Diath Shehn explained. He was seated with the other envoys in the Warmaster's audience chamber. The Mournival was present, and meturge players lined the walls, gently accompanying the talks. 'It taught us a great deal. It taught us about our place in the cosmos, and certain values of compassion, understanding and empathy. The aria developed directly from it, as a tool for use in further dealings with non-human parties. The war made us realise that our very humanity, or at least our trenchant dependance on human traits, such as language, was an obstacle to mature relations with other species.’
'No matter how sophisticated the means, abbrocar-ius.’ Abaddon said, 'sometimes communication is not enough. In our experience, most xenos types are wilfully hostile. Communication and bargaining is not an option.’ The first captain, like many present, was uncomfortable. The entire interex party had been permitted to enter the audience chamber, and the kinebrach were attending at the far end. Abaddon kept glancing at them. They were hefty, simian things with eyes so oddly sunken beneath big brow ridges that they were just sparks in shadows. Their flesh was blue-black, and deeply creased, with fringes of russet hair, so fine it was almost like feather-down, surrounding the bases of their heavy, angular craniums. Mouth and nose was one organ, a trifold split at the end of their blunt jaw-snouts, capable of peeling back, wet and pink, to sniff, or opening laterally to reveal a comb of small, sharp teeth like a dolphin's beak. There was a smell to them, a distinctive earthy smell that wasn't exactly unpleasant, except that it was entirely and completely not human.
This we have found ourselves.’ Shehn agreed, 'though it would seem less frequently than you. Sometimes we have encountered a species that has no wish to
exchange with us, that approaches us with predatory or invasive intent. Sometimes conflict is the only option. Such was the case with the... What did you say you called them again?'
'Megarachnid.’ Horns smiled.
Shehn nodded and smiled. 'I see how that word is formed, from the old roots. The megarachnid were highly advanced, but not sentient in a way we could understand. They existed only to reproduce and develop territory. When we first met them, they infested eight systems along the Shartiel Edge of our provinces, and threatened to invade and choke two of our populated worlds. We went to war, to safeguard our own interests. In the end, we were victorious, but there was still no opportunity for rapprochement or peace terms. We gathered all the megarachnid remaining into captivity, and transported them to Urisarach. We also deprived them of all their interstellar technology, or the means to manufacture the same. Urisarach was created as a reservation for them, where they might exist without posing a threat to ourselves or others. The interdiction beacons were established to warn others away.’
'You did not consider exterminating them?' Mal-oghurst asked.
Shehn shook his head. 'What right do we have to make another species extinct? In most cases, an understanding can be reached. The megarachnid were an extreme example, where exile was the only humane option.’
The approach you describe is a fascinating one.’ Horns said quickly, seeing tha
t Abaddon was about to speak again. 'I believe it is time for that apology, abbro-carius. We misunderstood your methods and purpose on Urisarach. We violated your reservation. The Imperium apologises for its transgression.’
TWO
Envoys and delegations
Xenobia
Hall of Devices
ABADDON WAS FURIOUS. Once the interex envoys had returned to their vessels, he withdrew with the others of the Mournival and vented his feelings.
'Six months! Six months warring on Murder! How many great deeds, how many brothers lost? And now he apologises? As if it was an error? A mistake? These xenos-loving bastards even admit themselves the spiders were so dangerous they had to lock them away!'
'It's a difficult situation.’ Loken said.
'It's an insult to the honour of our Legion! And to the Angels too!'
'It takes a wise and strong man to know when to apologise,' remarked Aximand.
'And only a fool appeases aliens!' Abaddon snarled. "What has this crusade taught us?'
That we're very good at killing things that disagree with us?' suggested Torgaddon.
Abaddon glared at him. 'We know how brutal this cosmos is. How cruel. We must fight for our place in it.
Name one species we have met that would not rejoice to see mankind vanished in a blink.’
None of them could answer that.
'Only a fool appeases aliens.’ Abaddon repeated, 'or appeases those who seek such appeasement.’
'Are you calling the Warmaster a fool?' Loken asked.
Abaddon hesitated. 'No. No, I'm not. Of course. I serve at his will.’
'We have one duty.’ Aximand said, 'as the Mournival, we must speak with one mind when we advise him.’
Torgaddon nodded.
'No.’ said Loken. That's not why he values us. We must tell him what we think, each one of us, even if we disagree. And let him decide. That is our duty.’
MEETINGS WITH THE various interex envoys continued over a period of days. Sometimes the interex ships sent a mission to the Vengeful Spirit, sometimes an Imperial embassy crossed to their command ship and was entertained in glittering chambers of silver and glass where the aria filled the air.
The envoys were hard to read. Their behaviour often seemed superior or condescending, as if they regarded the Imperials as crude and unsophisticated. But still, clearly, they were fascinated. The legends of old Terra and the human bloodline had long been a central tenet of their myths and histories. However disappointing the reality, they could not bear to break off contact with their treasured ancestral past.
Eventually, a summit was proposed, whereby the War-master and his entourage would travel to the nearest interex outpost world, and conduct more detailed negotiations with higher representatives than the envoys.
The Warmaster took advice from all quarters, though Loken was sure he had already made up his mind. Some, like Abaddon, counselled that links should be
broken, and the interex held at abeyance until sufficient forces could be assembled to annex their territories. There were other matters at hand that urgently demanded the Warmaster's attention, matters that had been postponed for too long while he indulged in the six-month spider-war on Murder. Petitions and salutations were being received on a daily basis. Five primarchs had requested his personal audience on matters of general crusade strategy or for councils of war. One, the Lion, had never made such an approach before, and it was a sign of a welcome thawing in relations, one that Horus could not afford to overlook. Thirty-six expedition fleets had sent signals asking for advice, tactical determination or outright martial assistance. Matters of state also mounted. There was now a vast body of bureaucractic material relayed from the Council of Terra that required the Warmaster's direct attention. He had been putting it off for too long, blaming the demands of the crusade.
Accompanying the Warmaster on most of his daily duties, Loken began to see plainly what a burden the Emperor had placed on Horus's broad shoulders. He was expected to be all things: a commander of armies, a mastermind of compliance, a judge, a decider, a tactician, and the most delicate of diplomats.
During the six-month war, more ships had arrived at high anchor above Murder, gathering around the flagship like supplicants. The rest of the 63rd Expedition had translated, under Varvarus's charge, Sixty-Three Nineteen having at last been left in the lonely hands of poor Rakris. Fourteen vessels of the 88th Expedition had also appeared, under the command of Trajus Boniface of the Alpha Legion. Boniface claimed they had come in response to the 140th's plight, and hoped to support the war action on Murder, but it rapidly emerged he hoped to use the opportunity to convince
Horns to lend the 63rd's strengths to a proposed offensive into ork-held territories in the Kayvas Belt. This was a scheme his primarch, Alpharius, had long cherished and, like the Lion's advances, was a sign that Alpharius sought the approval and comradeship of the new War-master.
Horns studied the plans in private. The Kayvas Belt offensive was a projected five-year operation, and required ten times the manpower the Warmaster could currently muster.
'Alpharius is dreaming.’ he muttered, showing the scheme to Loken and Torgaddon. 'I cannot commit myself to this.'
One of Varvaras's ships had brought with it a delegation of eaxector tributi administrators from Terra. This was perhaps the most galling of all the voices baying for the Warmaster's attention. On the instruction of Mal-cador the Sigillite, and counter-signed by the Council of Terra, the eaxectors had been sent throughout the spreading territories of the Imperium, in a programme of general dispersal that made the mass deployment of the remembrancers look like a modest operation.
The delegation was led by a high administrix called Aenid Rathbone. She was a tall, slender, handsome woman with red hair and pale, high-boned features, and her manner was exacting. The Council of Terra had decreed that all expedition and crusade forces, all pri-marchs, all commanders, and all governors of compliant world-systems should begin raising and collecting taxes from their subject planets in order to bolster the increasing fiscal demands of the expanding Imperium. All she insisted on talking about was the collection of tithes.
'One world cannot support and maintain such a gigantic undertaking singlehanded.’ she explained to the Warmaster in slightly over-shrill tones. Terra cannot
shoulder this burden alone. We are masters of a thousand worlds now, a thousand thousand. The Imperium must begin to support itself.'
'Many worlds are barely in compliance, lady,' Horus said gently. 'They are recovering from the damage of war, rebuilding, reforming. Taxation is a blight they do not need.'
The Emperor has insisted this be so.'
'Has he?'
'Malcador the Sigillite, beloved by all, has impressed this upon me and all of my rank. Tribute must be collected, and mechanisms established so that such tribute is routinely and automatically gathered.'
The world governors we have put in place will find this too thankless a task,' Maloghurst said. They are still legitimising their rule and authority. This is premature.'
The Emperor has insisted this be so.’ she repeated.
That's the Emperor, beloved by all?' Loken asked. His comment made Horus smile broadly. Rathbone sniffed. 'I'm not sure what you're implying, captain.’ she said. This is my duty, and this is what I must do.’
When she had retired from the room with her staff, Horus sat back, alone amongst his inner circle. 'I have often thought.’ he remarked, 'that it might be the eldar who unseat us. Though fading, they are the most ingenious creatures, and if any could over-master mankind and break our Imperium apart, it would likely be them. At other times, I have fancied that it would be the green-skins. No end of numbers and no end of brute strength, but now, friends, I am certain it will be our own tax collectors who will do us in.’
There was general laughter. Loken thought of the poem in his pocket. Most of Karkasy's output he handed on to Sindermann for appraisal, but at their last meeting, Karkasy had introduce
d 'something of the doggerel'. Loken had read it. It had been a scurrilous
and mordant stanza about tax collectors that even Loken could appreciate. He thought about bringing it out for general amusement, but Horus's face had darkened.
'I only half joke.’ Horus said. Through the eaxectors, the Council places a burden on the fledgling worlds that is so great it might break us. It is too soon, too comprehensive, too stringent. Worlds will revolt. Uprisings will occur. Tell a conquered man he has a new master, and he'll shrug. Tell him his new master wants a fifth of his annual income, and he'll go and find his pitchfork. Aenid Rathbone, and administrators like her, will be the undoing of all we have achieved.’
More laughter echoed round the room.
'But it is the Emperor's will.’ Torgaddon remarked.
Horus shook his head. 'It is not, for all she says. I know him as a son knows his father. He would not agree to this. Not now, not this early. He must be too bound up in his work to know of it. The Council is making decisions in his absence. The Emperor understands how fragile things are. Throne, this is what happens when an empire forged by warriors devolves executive power to civilians and clerics.’
They all looked at him.
'I'm serious.’ he said. This could trigger civil war in certain regions. At the very least, it could undermine the continued work of our expeditions. The eaxectors need to be... sidelined for the moment. They should be given terrific weights of material to pore through to determine precise tribute levels, world by world, and bombarded with copious additional intelligence concerning each world's status.’
'It won't slow them down forever, lord.’ Maloghurst said. The Administration of Terra has already determined systems and measures by which tribute should be calculated, pro rata, world by world.’
'Do your best, Mai.’ Horus said. 'Delay that woman at least. Give me breathing space.’
'I'll get to it.’ Maloghurst said. He rose and limped from the chamber.
Horus turned to the assembled circle and sighed. 'So...' he said. The Lion calls for me. Alpharius too.’
