by Thorpe, Gav
A flurry of notifications spat into the awareness of the magos and moderatus. It was a substrand of a strategic inload redirected from orbit via the landing barge’s telemetry. Other such substrands were being apportioned to the other Titans, as well as the accompanying skitarii forces and the Astra Militarum generals monitoring the Titan advance.
The data-blurt contained two important pieces of information. Exasas split his cogitator bypasses to consider them simultaneously.
Both of these revelations were accompanied by unknown agitations in the noosphere, hinting at the possibility of heretek broadcasts between the two anomalies.
Gevren’s noospheric presence disappeared instantly, at the same moment that Exasas severed his connection to combine all available synapses and processing structures into analysis of this fresh information.
It took fourteen centiseconds for the magos dominus’ threat assessment protocols to issue a preliminary warning. It was echoed through the noosphere by logistari and analytika programs all reaching the same conclusion.
While verifying this tactical estimate, Exasas’ neural network extrapolated the possibilities, inferring reasoning and potentialities from the known data. One theme quickly established itself. The enemy knew the extent of the Legio army being sent against them. Despite the terrible losses already suffered, the rebels had chosen to dispatch further forces against the incoming Titans.
The Logi Superior ventured an early analysis.
Monderas [theory]:
Exasas [inquiry]:
The power of Casus Belli’s latent machine-spirit quelled all other noospheric chatter.
Iealona [inquiry]:
Algorithms raced into action as Exasas verified his initial findings.
Exasas [theory]:
The inquisitor – if such he truly was – stroked a hand across his forehead, soothing away the furrows. When he spoke, he gazed across the half-deck, his voice quiet but assured.
‘I was guided to the Casus Belli by my readings of the Imperial Tarot. When I–’
‘Wait. Of all the wars and Titans across the galaxy, you were led to the Casus Belli? That’s like finding a flange-nut in a spoil heap.’
He darted a look of annoyance at Ghelsa. She returned it with a blank stare, a reminder that it was not her that needed help. He backed down, mastering his impatience with clenched fists.
‘I was in transit to Nicomedua already. The presence of…’ He licked swollen lips, hesitating. ‘Renegade Mechanicus acolytes are of particular interest to me. My specialism, you might say. I was already drawn to the relief fleet by the news of the uprising and its support by traitors of the Dark Mechanicum. Conducting my standard readings of the Imperial Tarot, seeking insight into how best I might intervene in a worldwide conflict, I was guided by the Emperor’s will to the forces of the Iron Skulls – your Legio. I was able to gain access to the landing barge while it was in orbit, and brief investigations, coupled with ciphered communiqués from sympathetic agents within the Astra Militarum intelligence structure, convinced me that something was amiss on the Casus Belli.’
The thud of boots on the deck above and the clatter of the chain-lift reminded Ghelsa that they were still quite easy to find. Stooped under the bracings of the level above, she ushered Harkas further into the darkness. It was almost pitch black, but the man moved without hesitating, negotiating intersecting braces that could trip a stray foot, ducking beneath the potential garrottes of cable tangles. Even with her knowledge of the space – it being one of a handful of truly private areas in the downdecks – Ghelsa banged her head twice and stubbed her toe.
‘Just there,’ she said, pointing with the multi-tool at a recess between a flue rising from the pelvic motors and a downdrain that connected the holy decks to the vaporiser inlets of the sewage vats. ‘So you stole a tributai robe and managed to sneak aboard during the drop, I’m guessing.’
‘That is correct.’
‘And then showed your proof to the moderatus prime?’
He did not answer immediately, the pause raising Ghelsa’s suspicions again. She adjusted her grip on the multi-tool.
‘You have proof of everything you say, right?’
‘I am an inquisitor – my word is sacrosanct.’
‘You really believe that.’ There had not been a hint of indecision or self-consciousness in his voice. ‘Everyone is supposed to believe what you say, because you say you’re an inquisitor?’
‘My authority is absolute. Not even the Fabricator-General of Mars can gainsay my command.’
Ghelsa nodded weakly. ‘I see.’
‘You do not see, and you will not, because you must scrape an existence among these lowly decks.’ Harkas said the words forcefully, but not out of anger, it seemed. Ghelsa railed at the use of ‘scrape’ as a definition of her life, but Harkas continued before she could offer protest. ‘You can no more know of my perspective than you can imagine what it is to be princeps of this mighty war engine. You are a cog within the machine, not the hand that guides its operation.’
‘I’ve seen exactly what can happen to this mighty war machine if the wrong cog is out of place,’ Ghelsa said hotly, shoulders bunching.
‘Exactly!’ His insistence unnerved her, like a locomotive on tracks that could not be diverted, heading directly through whatever stood in its way. There was not an atom of compromise in his bearing. ‘The cog is important, but it cannot be allowed to see the vaster machine. It must turn its course and bear its load without questioning its place in the mechanism, trusting to the other cogs and belts and engines that move around it.’
‘So I must trust you, simply because you say you are an inquisitor? I didn’t understand too much of the logical teachings we’re given, but I know a circular argument when I see one.’
He sighed, seemingly in disappointment rather than vexation. He bowed his head, his voice dropping to a whisper.
‘You are not the first to point out the fallibility of my position.’ Harkas flexed his fingers, whether in frustration or pain it was impossible to tell. ‘The moderatus prime denounced me to the hyperezia and took away my sigil, ordering that I be summarily and quietly disposed of. You are the only ally I have on the Casus Belli. You might be a small cog, but you understand enough of the machine to help me disrupt the hands of those that guide it.’
He looked directly at her, his eyes shining in the gloom.
‘You can save the Casus Belli, Ghelsa vin Jaint.’
The first real indication that the enemy were preparing for a counter-attack was when they stopped retreating. Thousands of renegade infantry ceased their fleeing and started to dig in. Tank columns that had been heading full speed back to Az Khalak returned to their berms. Within minutes the entire front changed from one of mass panic to organised deployment.
The three Warhounds suddenly found themselves not chasing down ragged groups of survivors, but coming up against massed firepower. Shields flaring under intense battlecannon and lascannon fire, the war machines were forced to give ground against their smaller foes. The noosphere buzzed with concern as the princeps retreated their engines, seeking the sanctuary of distance.
This turn of events caused Exasas deeper unease.
Exasas [initiate command noospheric connection/inquiry]:
Monderas:
Gevren [theory]:
Exasas ran this possibility through his simulation routines while he broadcast a readiness order to the skitarii under his command. Weapons storage chambers were opened and heavier armaments distributed to the squads as they prepared themselves for disembarkation.
Monderas [inquiry]:
Exasas:
Gevren:
Exasas:
Gevren:
Exasas [emphasis modulation]:
Gevren:
Exasas pulsed the digital equivalent of a grimace and contemplated the emerging battle-data. Despite their withdrawal, the Warhounds found no relent. Having been pushed back out of proximity to the rebel forces, they were again targeted by the heavier artillery in the secondary defence line. Plasma warheads rained down from mobile launchers, turning the ground to glass amid the flicker of overloading void shields.
Steel Wolf reeled as the second of its energy screens disappeared with a purple flash. Caught in a maelstrom of artificial starstrikes, the Warhound back-stepped, but in his haste Princeps Kash did not pay attention to the broken defences through which he had advanced. One of the Scout Titan’s feet caught on the fractured remains of an entrenchment, toppling the war engine sideways.
Iealona [battle group/primary broadcast]:
A data-blurt coursed into Exasas’ receptors from a sub-routine that had been analysing the enemy attack.
Exasas [direct trans/imperative/Omnissiah’s Temper]:
Iealona [direct trans/imperative/Omnissiah’s Temper]:
A flood of calculations poured through the magos, amplified via a subsidiary routine he imported from Monderas. Verifying the findings took extra time, but given the nature of the conclusion Exasas had to be correct. As he transmitted he used a visual magnifier to concentrate on the stricken Warhound. Its leg had snapped in the fall, the ruined joint sending out showers of sparks while plasma blooms crept closer.
Exasas [direct trans/closed/Iealona]:
A moment of reluctance ebbed back across the noosphere, a product of the princeps senioris’ biological sentiment. Exasas was saddened by the impending loss of the Titan, which had served Metalica and the Machine-God for over eight thousand years. That such a reign of a lord of battle would end in these fickle circumstances was regrettable but unavoidable. The calculations were not wrong.
A flicker of a closed transmission rippled through the noosphere. Several pulmonary cycles later, the Warhound’s head burst free from its mounting, becoming a short-ranged shuttle that took the command crew a few hundred metres further into enemy territory. At maximum magnification Exasas saw figures clambering out of the torso access hatches – Tech-priest Elaxha and two of her tributai assistants.
A storm of plasma engulfed the forlorn Titan before they had climbed down the side of the war engine, bathing the view in white. Reducing magnification, the magos saw explosion after explosion wracking the Steel Wolf’s cadaver. Even while he watched the demise of the Titan, the magos’ secondary cogitators scrolled energy output estimates across the view.
Monderas [battle group/datalog]:
Exasas felt the inload of data across the noosphere, trickling through his calculations like ripples in water, the equations altering as consequences cascaded through the algorithms. He was aware of substantial noospheric traffic as orders and new firing solutions flashed between the Titan crews, but the magos was not part of the dataloop. It was an unintended reminder that he was not needed.
After the intense bout of cogitation the dormancy that followed felt empty. Beams of las-fire coursed across the hillsides while flights of armour-piercing rockets arced through the smoke, but to Exasas they were of little interest. It was with a sense of detachment that he did not even calculate their impact velocities, and he took only a passing interest in the kill-efficiency data streaming from the other Titan crews.
The Imperator’s hellstorm cannon thundered into life and a distant woodland disappeared in fire. Exasas barely registered the onslaught as he accessed his paused simuladata.
He wiped clean the battle cache and started the simulation again, increasing the aggression ratings of the defenders to provide a greater challenge.
‘That’s quite a claim,’ said Ghelsa. She rocked back on her heels, not sure what to do.
‘You’re not sure what to do,’ said Harkas. ‘If I’m lying, you need to turn me over to those thugs you rescued me from. If I’m not lying, that’s the last thing you need to do.’
‘You seem like a smart one – what would you do?’ Ghelsa looked for a telltale bulge of a weapon beneath his robes but saw nothing. The multi-tool still in one hand, she passed him a rag to wipe away some of the blood. He winced as he touched the coarse cloth to his cheek.
‘Benefits and losses,’ said the so-called inquisitor. His good eye took in everything, sizing up Ghelsa, observing their surroundings. ‘If I am not an inquisitor, what have you to gain or lose?’
‘Well…’ Ghelsa wasn’t used to this sort of thinking. She was usually faced with practical problems, not matters of logic. ‘You might kill me.’
‘True. But if I were an inquisitor, I might kill you as well. And if what I say is true, and the Casus Belli is turned against the Imperium, you would be purged along with the others of the crew not party to the plot.’
Ghelsa’s hands were sweaty and her heart throbbed. The man talked about killing her as casually as she discussed a number six rawl-line.
‘So, I’m in danger either way?’
‘You live and work inside a war engine of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Every time you go into battle you are in danger.’
‘That’s not the same. You’re talking about a very specific danger. I’ve never expected any of my crew-mates to kill me. Well, maybe once or twice, with the Machine-spirits in them… But that’s not the snarl we’re in.’ A dark thought crossed her mind and with it came a fresh surge of fear. ‘The tech-priests are going to come after you, aren’t they? Either the loyal ones or the traitors, whichever want you dead.’
‘That is an accurate assessment, yes.’
‘And now that I’ve met you, I’m involved.’ Ghelsa licked her lips nervously. ‘Whichever way the truth goes, I’m… an accomplice?’
‘The moment you struck the hyperezia.’
‘Great.’ She wanted to scream, but dared not take her eyes from the bloodied man. ‘That’s just incredible. You know what they do to hereteks?’
&
nbsp; ‘They will scald-blast you with the heat overload valves,’ replied Harkas. ‘It will melt off your skin and then down to the bone. Like burning alive, but slower and far more painful.’
‘That’s right. After the torture to recant, obviously.’ Ghelsa thought she would vomit, but managed to stop the reflex.
‘It is too late for you, Ghelsa vin Jaint.’ Harkas stood, as best the confines of the twixt-deck allowed, grimacing with pain. Ghelsa readied the multi-tool, but the man seemed barely capable of staying upright, much less violent action. ‘If I am an enemy of the Machine-God, you must report us both for the good of the Casus Belli.’
He turned an enquiring gaze on her, his eyes shadowed, blood crusted over his face.
She said nothing, still trying to weigh up her options. If he was in league with hereteks then he would try to dissuade her from going to her superiors to protect himself. Her implication in the plot was the defence he needed. Harkas was daring her to risk her own life.
‘You’re not the fastest of thinkers, are you?’ he said.
‘And you’re not the nicest of people.’
‘Inquisitors never are.’
A change in the timbre of the background noise interrupted Ghelsa’s train of thought.
‘We’re slowing,’ she said. After a few seconds she could identify the new rate of stride by the floor vibrations. Her eyes widened. ‘Battle speed! We must be nearing the enemy.’
Another sound drew her attention. Feet on the deck above, moving with purpose as the work crews attended to their battle stations.
‘I need to go,’ she said. ‘I’ll be missed at roll call.’
He held out a hand as she moved to pass him. ‘The hyperezia will take you. They will torture you to find me.’
His words sounded like a threat. Ghelsa pulled back and raised the multi-tool, her fear flaring as anger.
‘Try to touch me again and I will end you,’ she said, fixing him with a glare. He met her stare without reaction, his eyes as dead as the lenses of a vacuum mask. There was no fear there. Beaten almost to death, threatened with more violence, Harkas seemed utterly unconcerned. She had never seen someone with such conviction and self-assurance.
