Crusade & Other Stories - Dan Abnett Et Al.

by Warhammer 40K

  ‘If this thing were xenos or a mutant, you would have executed it,’ noted the Battle Sister. ‘So, then… I would hazard a guess that it is a breed of abhuman.’

  ‘In a way,’ allowed the prioress. ‘What you see before you is not a subspecies like the ogryn or a gene-altered human like the Adeptus Astartes.

  No, she is a synthetic creation, grown of cultured stock from blood and flesh.

  Tests conducted by adepts of the magos biologis confirm it. She is an

  artificially manufactured organic being.’

  ‘A… replicae?’ The old word felt strange to say aloud. ‘A cloned life grown from human cells?’ Miriya shook her head. ‘Such technology does not exist!’

  ‘Not so,’ Lydia corrected. ‘Such technology does not exist anymore. But the God-Emperor, His light find us, created many miracles such as this. It is the tragedy of our age that they have been lost to the Imperium of Man.’ The prioress moved closer to the glass, watching the prisoner carefully. ‘Our guest speaks a common dialect of Imperial Gothic. Her ship and its systems are comparable to those of ours. She calls herself “Rho”, and all gene-scans indicate that she is as much of human stock as you or I.’ She gave that slight smile again. ‘Outward appearances notwithstanding, of course.’

  Miriya found it difficult to accept Lydia’s words. Gene-forged beings and modified humans were a common thing in the Imperium, from the warriors of the Space Marines, to helots and cherubim, and even the arco-flagellants…

  But what the prioress described was an order of magnitude more complex.

  And certainly, if this ‘Rho’ was indeed a replicae, it deserved to be no more than a menial, a servitor at best.

  Then the being did something that made Miriya’s breath catch in her throat.

  Rho bent down before the brass shrine in the cell wall and made the exact, correct stations of obeisance before an icon of the God-Emperor, crossing her long-fingered hands over her chest, just as the Battle Sister had done in the corridor before Saint Katherine’s icon.

  ‘It… it is praying!’ It shocked Miriya to see the being doing something so sacred to her, an act that only a human was permitted to perform.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ said Lydia. ‘And to our deity.’

  They returned to the sanctum in silence, and along the way Miriya struggled to interpret what she had seen.

  The prioress saw the conflict in her expression. ‘It is quite shocking, is it not? A being born from an artificial womb, something that cannot possess an immortal soul, and yet she kneels before the Emperor’s grace like one of us.’

  ‘It is mimicry of some sort,’ Miriya began. ‘I’ve seen aliens that imitate human behaviours.’

  Lydia shook her head. ‘You are mistaken, Sister. The clone, Rho… She is not some mindless, drooling servitor commanded by punchcards and neuro-stimms. She is a thinking, reasoning being. What she does is a learned

  behaviour, not one copied from observing one of us. I am certain of this.’

  ‘You have spoken to it?’ Miriya could not overlook how the prioress continued to refer to the replicae using the female pronoun.

  ‘I have spoken to her, yes,’ she insisted. ‘When Rho saw the sign of the holy aquila upon my robes, she was elated. The replicae worships the God-Emperor of Mankind as her creator and master. She claims her mission from Hollos was begun in His name, to serve His will.’

  It was difficult for Miriya to accept what she was hearing. It was enough that her view of the universe had been challenged by the mere existence of such a being, and now she was to believe that it could know the magnificence of the Imperial Creed? It went against the order of things, and she almost said as much aloud.

  She held her tongue, and at length the prioress came to the full explanation of why Miriya had been summoned to Zhodon Orbital. ‘Your mission, Sister, will be to seek the truth of this,’ began Lydia. ‘You will travel across the unmapped zone to the Hollos colony. There, you and your squad of Sister Celestians will ascertain what has transpired during the time of isolation. It will fall to you to determine if the populace has retained its true faith in the God-Emperor.’

  She nodded, accepting the command. ‘But, mistress… The replicae. If it exists, then–’

  The prioress cut her off. ‘Rho will go with you. Take your Sisters and do as I order.’

  ‘And what shall I do if we find more of them?’ Miriya’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘What if they are all that is left on Hollos?’

  The prioress did not answer her question. Instead, she pushed a pict-slate across her desk towards the Battle Sister. Miriya gathered it up and saw dense text outlining her new orders. It bore the seal of the High Lords of Terra.

  ‘You will not be alone,’ said the other woman. ‘Due to the unusual nature of the emissary from Hollos, the Adeptus Mechanicus have taken a direct interest in the situation. An agent of their magos biologis will also be accompanying you.’

  Miriya paged through the contents of the slate. The Adeptus Mechanicus, the guardians of all technology within the Imperium of Man, were well known to her, and Lydia’s statement came as no surprise. Every scrap of science and learning was jealously hoarded by them, from their master forges

  on Mars to the countless manufactoria worlds across a thousand star systems.

  A discovery like Rho – a living, functioning clone – would be like nectar to the adepts of the biologis. She came across a data panel showing a name and visual profile of the agent who would be joining the mission: Genus Nohlan, a questor, one of countless adepts who scoured the galaxy for lost scraps of technology, missing since the Age of Old Night.

  She glanced up at the prioress. ‘Command of this mission is mine, yes? I will not brook interference from the hand of the Mechanicus. If certain choices need to be made about the fate of Hollos and its people…’ She trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.

  The prioress did not seem to notice. ‘Nohlan has been instructed to obey your orders. You may do whatever is required to retain the sanctity of church and Imperium.’

  ‘Even if that requires the death of a world?’

  Lydia turned away, dismissing her with the motion. ‘It would not be the first time, Sister Miriya.’

  The warship Coronus knifed through the void of deep space, a sword-blade prow leading towers of iron and steel, the wicked maws of lance cannons and massed laser batteries decorating the flanks. The ship was by no means the largest of the God-Emperor’s fleet, but it was still powerful. The weapons it carried could rain death from high orbit and crack continents.

  The ultimate sanction lay nestled within the warheads of a dozen cyclonic torpedoes. The command need only be given – Exterminatus – and the planet Hollos would die.

  Sister Miriya had prayed each day of the journey that she would not be called upon to speak that word, but she had beseeched her saint and her God-Emperor to give her the strength to do so, if the moment came.

  For despite the size of the Imperial church, despite the millions of loyal, devout souls in its service, its faith was a delicate and fragile thing, in constant need of protection. One single thread of poison could be enough to let rot set in. The Sisters of Battle were ever vigilant, always watching for heathens, witches and betrayers cloaked in the mantle of friendship. Put in such terms, the mission seemed clear, but Miriya knew that was a falsehood.

  There were no simple choices in the eternal service to the God-Emperor.

  Only in death did duty end, and until that time, Miriya would do as her oath

  demanded.

  The voyage would be over soon, and she welcomed it. Her Celestians –

  Sisters Lethe, Cassandra, Isabel, Portia and Iona – were troubled by their orders. The presence of the replicae Rho had divided them. Some considered the clone to be an aberration, something that should be destroyed out of hand for daring to ape humanity, but they had not seen the curious, affecting sight of Rho at prayer. Try as she might, Miriya could not shake that image
from her thoughts.

  In the end, it was inevitable that she would seek to better understand the messenger from the lost colony.

  She found Questor Nohlan where he had been for the duration of the voyage, prowling the observation chamber before Rho’s cell, his mechanical limbs clicking and whirring.

  Through means Sister Miriya was not privy to, the entire compartment had been shifted from Zhodon Orbital to a bay aboard the Coronus, so strict was the security around the clone envoy. Nohlan had not moved from there, conducting scans and taking reams of notes on the humanoid, as if he were a collector with a newly discovered species of animal.

  Rho’s odd, bird-like movements were visible through the armoured glass, and as Miriya approached, she saw Nohlan copy them, as if attempting to understand the replicae.

  ‘Honoured questor.’ She gave him a shallow bow of greeting. ‘You should

  prepare. We have emerged from the warp and the ship is making its approach to Hollos.’

  ‘Oh. Sister Celestian!’ Nohlan flinched, surprised by her arrival. ‘Forgive me. I am deep in my analysis. Processing. Processing.’ His vox-modulated voice had an officious quality to it, but that couldn’t hide his captivation with the subject of his study.

  The adept was a typical example of his kind. Beneath voluminous crimson

  robes, the remnants of a human being lay among numerous biomechanical enhancements, implants and cybernetics. Serpentine mechadendrites

  wandered across the deck near his clawed feet, or wavered in the air like fronds in a breeze. A whiff of ozone and scented machine oil was always present around him. What she could see of his face beneath his hood had too many eyes, all of them red-lit and set in brass.

  Miriya looked away towards the glassy wall. ‘You have been here for days.

  Tell me, adept, do you ever sleep?’

  ‘Praise the Omnissiah, but that need was edited from my body many years

  ago, four-point-two recurring,’ he explained. ‘It is quite liberating.’

  ‘What have you learned about…’ Miriya paused, mentally correcting.

  ‘About her?’

  ‘Much indeed, forty giga-quads of data, still rising.’ Nohlan became enthused. ‘I admit to being both fascinated and unnerved by the very presence of such a being as designate: Rho. She stimulates emotional responses in me that are rare occurrences. I am quite inspired!’

  ‘The clone is what it seems, then?’

  Nohlan’s hooded head bobbed. ‘Affirmative. The ideal of a genetically engineered, vat-grown “perfect human” has hitherto been a myth. Now it is fact. She is fact. Ninety-seven point six per cent.’ He paused. ‘However… I admit to some concern over her unusual neurological development.’

  Miriya watched Rho pick carefully at a data-slate she had been given, a simple child’s primer on the glory of the Golden Throne. ‘She seems as intelligent as you or I.’

  Nohlan nodded again. ‘My point exactly. The records of the magos biologis note that replicae were designed to be a replacement for machine-life, automata and the like. Great creations indeed, but made to be the servants of mankind. Loyal slave-warriors for our wars. Not our equals.’ He shook his head. ‘Error condition noted.’

  On the other side of the glass, Rho put down the slate and closed her eyes.

  The clone’s head was cocked and her lips were moving. ‘What is she doing?’

  ‘Singing,’ said the adept. ‘I have observed her doing so on several occasions. Parsing the audial portion, it appears to be a variant of the Oleon Anthem, probability factor plus or minus two per cent.’

  ‘I know it well.’ Miriya recalled the hymnal from her orphan youth in the schola progenium, and in that moment she made a decision. ‘Open the chamber, adept. I want to look her in the eye.’

  Nohlan hesitated, uncertain if she was serious, before finally obeying her order. ‘As you wish…’ A mechadendrite snaked out across the floor before rising up to tap out a code on a panel in the wall.

  The glass wall shifted and retracted into the deck, and Miriya caught a brief snatch of Rho’s faint and eerie singing before she fell silent. With pause, the

  Battle Sister strode into the compartment and stood before the clone, daring it to speak. Those odd violet eyes measured her, sweeping across to Nohlan and then back.

  ‘I do not blame you,’ said Rho. Her words were gentle and breathy. ‘I understand why you have kept me confined here. But I forgive it. You fear me.’

  ‘I am Sister Miriya of the Order of Our Martyred Lady,’ she replied, ‘and you are nothing to be afraid of.’

  Rho blinked slowly. ‘The actions of your prioress would seem to suggest otherwise.’ She went on before Miriya could respond. ‘But it is of no consequence. I sense we grow nearer to my home world with each passing second. You have brought me back. Thank you, Miriya.’ Rho bowed to her.

  ‘Truly, the God-Emperor has smiled upon us.’

  ‘You believe so?’ Now she heard the clone-being say the words, Miriya wanted to challenge her. ‘How can you know His will?’

  ‘I do not presume to,’ she replied. ‘I am only His servant. But there can be no other explanation. You and I are here by His design. All that has happened is the wish of the Great Progenitor.’

  At closer quarters, Miriya could better see the replicae’s shape and form.

  While slight, Rho’s body was all engineered muscle, without a single iota of useless flesh. Her looks belied a hidden strength, and the Battle Sister imagined that in combat Rho would be formidable indeed. Yet she radiated an air of calm stillness.

  She tried a different tack. ‘Your world has been isolated from the Imperium for two millennia. You are a living example of that fact.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rho said sadly. ‘Can you imagine such pain, Sister? To be surrounded by a veil of madness for century upon century? Some began to fear that the universe had been destroyed in a great cataclysm, and only cruel fate had left our worlds untouched. Others believed we were the playthings of the Ruinous Powers. But not I. I have always known the truth. It is why I was chosen to be the messenger.’

  Miriya took a step closer. ‘What is the truth you speak of?’

  When Rho replied, her eyes were shining and her words were those of a true zealot. She reached up and clasped Miriya’s hand. ‘It was His doing. The God-Emperor isolated Hollos in order to test us. To keep us pure. And our faith in Him has finally been rewarded. The veil has fallen.’

  ‘The veil… You mean the warp storms?’

  Rho nodded. ‘Aye. Now, after so long, we are free and ready to return. Our world has endured… It has prospered! I cannot wait for you to see it!’

  ‘Nor I,’ said Miriya, unable to keep the wariness from her tone.

  The engines of the Arvus-class shuttle hummed as it dropped towards the capital of Hollos, and the sound kindled old battle-memory in Sister Miriya.

  Many times she had deployed into combat from a craft such as this, and it took a near-physical effort to remind herself of an important truth.

  ‘This is a mission of words,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Not warfare.’

  ‘Not yet.’ The warrior seated in the crash-couch at her side gave the reply with a grim nod, and Miriya glanced at her

  ‘Did I voice my thoughts aloud, Sister Lethe?’

  The other woman gave a nod. ‘You did, Eloheim. But trust we are all ready with hymnal and bolter, sword and scripture alike, should either be needed.’

  Miriya gave a thin smile. Lethe was her strong right arm, second-in-command of her unit and a trusted comrade. They had fought many Wars of

  Faith side by side, and this day they shared the same silent concerns. ‘Ready the Celestians, Sister. We will make planetfall soon, and I wish to be prepared.’ She got out of her couch and made her way to the back of the shuttle; she didn’t need to make sure Lethe was following her orders. The gruff, dour Battle Sister was already immediately snapping out commands to Sister Iona and Sister Portia to secure their weapons
, and calling upon Sister Cassandra and Sister Isabel to prepare for a security sweep across the landing site on touchdown.

  Miriya left her second to her work and moved forwards to find Adept Nohlan and the replicae near the bow of the vessel, peering out through a wide viewport.

  ‘Look there,’ Rho was saying, picking out points of interest with her long, delicate fingers. ‘Can you see? That is the hive-tower of Solasian. To the west, beneath the photon sails, our farmlands. And the White Plains. A world living under the Great Progenitor’s munificence.’

  ‘Ah, “The Great Progenitor”,’ Nohlan echoed her words. ‘This is your local designation for the God-Emperor?’

  Rho gave a nod. ‘It reflects His position as the forge-master of all that we have and all that we are.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he mused. ‘Processing…’

  Miriya watched the interaction between the clone and the adept with a cold eye. Nohlan seemed to have no trouble adjusting to the abhuman’s appearance, but then she imagined his interest in the replicae and the technology that had made it overrode any other intentions.

  ‘Initial scans indicate that this region of the planet appears to be stable,’ he went on. ‘Data collation in progress.’

  Rho seemed uncertain what to make of that reply. ‘Hollos has its problems, like any world. But they have not dimmed our faith. We strive to improve our lot with each new day.’ She glanced up as Miriya approached.

  ‘Tell us about the council we are to meet on our arrival,’ said Miriya. ‘They have the authority to speak for all citizens of Hollos?’

  Rho nodded again. ‘I am one of their number. We are the legal government of our planet. Some of us have held high office for more than seven hundred Terran years! It is through the council’s guidance that we have developed a benign, enduring society.’

  Nohlan caught the inference and immediately seized upon it. ‘Interrogative: beings like you, the replicae. In this culture you are the serviles, the soldiers, the protectors, yes?’

  ‘The protectors… Yes,’ Rho replied, but cautiously.