Lords of Blood, page 90
The council stood at the hollow, circular Table of Communion while the names were read. There was space for five hundred warriors around its circuit. Fewer than half the seats were occupied. Of those, fewer than half again played host to captains or Masters. Many of the reinforced Chapters had departed for their own fiefdoms. Dante had not required that they stay, and in some cases had ordered them to leave. How could the Chapters of the Blood hope to fulfil Guilliman’s orders if they could not even obey their most basic oaths, to secure their own regions? They had worlds to protect, sectors to patrol, and pledges of alliance and support almost as old as their loyalty to the father Chapter. Dante was skilled enough in statecraft to know he could not rescue Imperium Nihilus from destruction if his first act was to demand the breaking of ancient promises. He was born into the years of darkness. He understood this age better than the primarch. He did not have Guilliman’s reforming zeal.
Although all twenty-five officers of the Blood Angels’ own council attended, half the gathering were lesser warriors: veteran sergeants, Librarians, Chaplains and, in several cases, trusted mortal servants of the Chapters. The inclusion of baseline humans would only happen more frequently, Dante thought.
He sought out Corbulo. The Sanguinary High Priest looked troubled. Dante had had little time to speak with anyone, but he had passed on the news of the Rage among the Primaris Marines. It had affected Corbulo deeply. He had hoped the new breed to be immune. They knew now for sure that was not the case. Astorath’s place was next to Corbulo’s. He was present, for once, and had returned with similar tidings concerning the new Space Marines. The occurrence of the Rage on the Dominance was not the only instance.
The reading of names dragged on. It was a tedious affair, but necessary. There were prideful men among those present. There were those who might not take the word of a mortal man as equal to that of a Space Marine. They needed reminding the opinions of everyone in the chamber were equal.
The master of ceremonies was new, and young. Nearly all the Chapter thralls had been slain by the tyranids. What the Chapter had gained in youthful vigour it had lost in wisdom. The master did his best with the titles and the names, but he faltered more than once, and he struggled to identify all the warriors correctly.
Dante’s eyes strayed to the crack in the pure white marble of the tabletop. When his fist had made that mark there had been five hundred heroes in the hall. Most were dead. However he looked at their survival, the Chapters of the Blood were a diminished brotherhood. New technology and fresh warriors by the thousand could not make up for the loss of so much experience.
The master of ceremonies was coming to the end of his litany. He concluded with Dante’s list of titles. ‘Commander Dante, Commander of Baal, Master of the Blood Angels, Keeper of the Blood, Lord of the Angelic Host. Regent and Warden of Imperium Nihilus, by the grace of the Emperor, lord of Terra and of the Imperium of Man…’
A flock of cyber cherubim flew in, carrying Dante’s personal banner in chubby fists and mechanical pincers. They stopped and hovered directly over his throne.
‘Dante, Lord of Angels! Dante, Lord of Baal! Dante, Lord of the first-born sons!’ they sang.
‘Dante!’ the others said. Those blessed with the Emperor’s gifts slammed their right gauntlets into their chestplates. The mortal humans placed their hands over their hearts in the sign of the aquila, and bowed respectfully.
‘All be seated for the lord regent of Imperium Nihilus,’ said the master of ceremonies.
A hundred armoured bodies lowered themselves into stone chairs.
Dante remained standing. The downdraught of clumsy mechanical wings stirred the air.
‘I thank you for your attendance, brothers of my Chapter, and brothers of the Blood. To our honoured friends who are not of the Adeptus Astartes yet loyally serve the Imperium, I bid you welcome.’
Dante was masked. Rarely did he appear in public without his face covered. He did not like to show his age, and he recognised the effect the visage of the Great Angel had on others.
He leant on the table, and let his fingers trace the crack before him. Golden armour bumped over fractured marble. ‘I made this mark when I proclaimed my intention that Baal would not fall. I confess to you, my brethren, that when I said those words, I did not know our survival was possible. Yet here we are.’
Dante stood upright. His armour sighed, nearly silent, a suit of the finest quality.
‘Months have passed since the battle. Much work has been done. Much more remains. The Arx Angelicum is refortified. Skyfall is almost ready to play host to the fleets of Imperium Nihilus. Our scouts return. Our plans are ready.’
A hololith ignited in the hollow centre of the table, its projection depicting the northern portion of the Red Scar and the systems to the north beyond.
‘The attack on Baal blunted the talons of Leviathan, but it is far from dead,’ said Dante. An overlay imposed itself on the cartolith, showing the spreading limbs of the hive fleet, split like the branches of a coral, each limb heading for a different life-bearing system. All systems that had life in the Scar were human worlds, colonies maintained by technology in the face of the Red Scar’s dangerous radiation.
The largest tendril of the fleet engulfed Baal itself, but it stopped there and was covered with marks of extinction. A dozen others passed through systems Dante had enacted Exterminatus upon. Where they departed these patches of scorched earth, the tendrils were smaller. ‘After our destruction of the major tendril here, the fleets have split, and spread among the remaining inhabited systems of the Red Scar. The number of tyranids is diminished, but they are feeding, and will replenish their numbers quickly if not contained.’
‘My lord, if I may speak.’
‘Captain Raphaen, Fourth Captain, the Lord Adjudicator, Blood Angels Chapter, the Knights of Baal,’ announced the master of ceremonies.
‘Do so,’ said Dante.
‘Have we not delayed too long?’
Raphaen was a belligerent man. His impatience tested Dante. One of Guilliman’s reinforcements, he had plenty of experience fighting in the Indomitus Crusade, but had yet to shape himself to fit the Chapter.
‘I assume we are not to hear a question, but a criticism of the plan,’ said Dante.
‘I only wish to understand your reasoning of the delay in our retaliation,’ said Raphaen. ‘I see you wished to rebuild the Chapter and the others of the Blood, and gain true understanding of the situation around Baal, but why has Kheru not been purged of the tyranids still infesting it? Why have we not attacked the tyranids at these other systems nearby? We know they are there.’
‘Reasonable questions, captain,’ said Dante. He kept his annoyance hidden. Raphaen had been a vocal critic of the scheme since the beginning. He was using the opportunity of the council to make his objections known publicly. Given his indiscreet nature, most were aware already, but his speaking then marked an escalation of his defiance. ‘The tyranids must be attacked simultaneously, across a broad front. That requires organisation, and in the current circumstances, with the warp being as disrupted as it is, that organisation takes time. Attacking one tendril gives the hive mind time to reorganise and react. It is at its weakest when given no time to adapt. Kheru remains infested because it must be purged utterly. To do that we must deploy our full strength. The turmoil in the warp affects the mind of the tyranids as much as it does our own psykers, but I will not risk the knowledge of our new capabilities being made known to the greater hive fleet. If we attack, it will realise it failed here. The creatures on Kheru are isolated for now. They must be slaughtered, and they will be, but the attack on Kheru must take place as close as possible to our other assaults. If we attack in isolation there is a risk that the tyranids will become aware of our new assets, and work to counter them, either through evolutionary shift, strategic response, or both. We will retain the element of surprise. That is why we do not fight yet.’
‘You already know our lord’s reasoning,’ added Antargo. The master of ceremonies began to announce his titles, but Antargo silenced him with a glare. ‘The details of the Angel’s Halo are finalised. That is why we are here. We will attack soon. You know this too.’
Raphaen pulled a dissatisfied expression and sat back.
‘All your questions are about to be answered,’ said Dante. He wondered how many of the new members of the Chapter felt like Raphaen. They were not in awe of Dante’s legend. They had fought at the side of a primarch. ‘I understand your experiences in the Imperial Regent’s service have bred a little impatience into you. Roboute Guilliman moved fast, his gains were great. We must be more cautious, but only in the planning. The time for caution is almost over. The execution of our strategy will be swift and devastating. I have chosen these systems as the primary staging posts in our war of extermination.’
Three bright stars lit up in the cartolith, each bearing a bright data-tag: Ashallon, Gamma IV and Bhelik Alphus. Together, they made a rough arc to the south of Baal, between the Chapter world and the Cryptus system. A red arrow moved out from Baal and split, giving the appearance of a trident.
‘The Points of Grace,’ said Dante. ‘All of them likely nexuses from significant tyrannic activity. Once taken, each of these systems will serve as forward bases for multiple attacks on smaller tyranid tendrils, and from those, smaller divisions of the hive fleet, until we have plucked out every root and vine of the xenos threat. Each also has strategic importance in its own right.
‘Ashallon is an industrial world whose forges will equip the rebuilt armies of Imperium Nihilus,’ Dante continued. ‘Gamma IV offers further industrial capability, and a good anchorage for fleet operations deeper into the Scar. The fortress world of Bhelik Alphus contains a great supply of hellfire acid, which we should secure to use against the enemy.’ An expanding sphere painted itself onto the image, crawling outwards from Baal. ‘I dub this the Angel’s Halo,’ he said. ‘A growing area of control and reconquest that will emanate in all directions from Baal while the Points of Grace are being secured. Once they are, the tyranids will be isolated within the Scar and can be dealt with.’
Numerous other star systems along the edges of the Red Scar blinked.
‘Most of the systems to the immediate north of the Red Scar are relatively safe, or suffering minor attacks. Communications remain poor, however. Where our scouts have not yet been, we shall go as reconnaissance in force.’
‘And what if the tyranids turn away from the Scar, my lord?’ said Raphaen. ‘If they break for the north, they will cut past our main forces. By the time we are in a position to respond, they will be among the richer systems beyond the Scar, where they will feast and grow in number again.’
‘As yet, there is no indication that this is the case,’ said Dante. ‘The few arms of the hive fleet heading into these sectors are small and have been engaged successfully by various Imperial forces. Nevertheless, I have anticipated the arrival of greater numbers of them, for it is inevitable. To counter this, the Charnel Guard are to be placed in reserve at Toth. The Angels Vermillion are already at Kandar. Both Chapters will be in a position to provide rapid response groups to support local forces and the armies advancing from Baal, should the tyranids make a mass attempt on the north.’
‘Then there is something I should bring to your attention,’ said Raphaen. He was grimly satisfied. Dante anticipated new knowledge the captain had deliberately kept back. ‘There is a matter that requires attention, and may deflect us from our chosen path if not dealt with.’
Several of the others looked to Dante.
‘Speak, brother-captain,’ said the commander.
‘Brother Teus, bring in the governor of Ronenti,’ Raphaen voxed. Then to Dante he said, ‘My company has been on patrol in-system. They discovered a drifting vessel, only one survivor aboard. Your strategy appears sound, my lord, but I inform the council now, the tyranids are already out of the Red Scar.’
Dante watched Governor Jemmeni closely as Teus brought him in.
He was young, with the dark skin of a people raised under strong sun, still with a youth’s slightness that was accentuated by the huge figures of the Adeptus Astartes sat at the table. He was daunted by the assemblage of heroes, but the prince held himself well, and his eyes did not dart like a nervous man’s would. There was more to his bearing than the arrogance of an Imperial Commander’s brat. He was frightened, but he withstood the scrutiny of a hundred powerful lords calmly.
Astorath stood from his black throne and stared hard at the boy. The boy shivered a little, but kept his composure.
‘You are Governor Jemmeni of the Imperial world of Ronenti?’ asked Astorath.
The boy nodded. ‘I am, and of its domains of Antrigus and Roosen that are situated within the same system. Although I have had no coronation, and have yet to receive my grant of fiat from the High Lords of Terra, I am of the line of Sigaari, first governor. My father was Imperial Commander. I am his only heir.’
‘You come here to speak for the world of Ronenti and its attendant domains?’
‘I do.’ Still the boy held his composure, impressing Dante.
‘You stand before the assembled Chapter Council of the Blood Angels Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes – that is the Red Council of war, the Council of Bone and Blood who are our spiritual guides, and our allies and our brothers in the Blood. To speak falsehoods before us is a grave crime, and a greater error. Do you swear by the Emperor, the Master of Mankind who sits upon the throne of Terra, that you will tell only the truth?’
Dante watched Astorath. Too often the throne of the High Chaplain was empty. It was good to have him present. If only the news he had brought with him from Dulcis were not so grim.
‘I swear I shall not bear false witness,’ said Jemmeni. ‘I shall speak only the truth, and only in the interest of my subjects.’
Astorath looked to Dante. ‘Will you hear his petition, my lord?’
‘I will,’ said Dante. ‘He may proceed.’
Raphaen sat back. With a look of triumph on his face, he stared at the boy commander, unnerving him.
The prince showed his first sign of hesitation, looking from the Chaplain to the commander uncertainly.
‘The Lord Dante said you should begin,’ said Astorath, more softly. ‘Speak.’
‘My world is divided in two by the Encircling Desert. To the north and the south are habitable lands, in our tropics and further away. The rebellion started in the south,’ the prince began. ‘We don’t know why. When I was a young boy, a political movement began in the Djesseli Combine agitated against my father’s rule. We are a planet of many nations, but we have had peace for generations. Our parliament was adept at resolving disputes between our peoples. We have enjoyed centuries of calm. They said they wanted greater freedoms. These were granted, but more were demanded, and they became more extreme. Eventually, my father said no.’
‘The ultimate decision remained with your family?’ asked Dante.
‘We are the ruling Imperial House,’ said Jemmeni. ‘But my father and his fathers have always sought approval from the Chamber of Representatives. It was instilled in me from a young age that involvement in governmental process makes the populace easier to govern, and it forces the governors to treat the governed more fairly.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘Ours was a good world, a fair world, but the complaints the Djesseli brought against the rest were provocative. They wanted war. Every attempt to address their issues was turned down, or if resolved, another complaint would be brought. My father saw this too late. We had faith in our political system. By the time we realised they were determined to fight, they were ready, and we were not. The Djesseli took two other nations into their rebellion with them. Half our planetary defence force committed to their cause, though our system fleet remained loyal.’
‘What was the cause?’ said Astorath.
‘Xenos influence, my lord,’ said Jemmeni. ‘There was a change in appearance of the Djesseli. Long before their rebellion, their rulers began to shun our way of life. Our world is warm and the climate good, but they locked themselves away indoors. Rumours came to us that they were physically changed, becoming paler in complexion, and intolerant of the heat. We suspected genetic deterioration. Medicae purity monitors were sent by the local Administratum offices to test the populace, but they never returned, and shortly after that the war began. Towards the end, monsters fought alongside the men, hideous things with skin the colour of corpses and armoured plates of a bloody red bonded to their bodies. They had many limbs. They were not human, yet the rebels venerated them.’
‘Genestealers,’ said Corbulo.
‘A full-scale insurrection,’ added Raphaen. ‘Given the travel time, cult infestation there will already be expressing a psychic call to the tyranids, and more systems will be falling.’
‘Please, my lord, help us,’ said Jemmeni. ‘My men died to bring me here. We have had little contact with your Chapter, we have borne our difficulties alone, knowing that the terrors faced by others were more severe. We have never petitioned you before. We come to you for the first time.’
‘We have many requests for aid,’ said Dante.
Jemmeni failed to hide his disappointment. ‘My lord, I accept your judgement, as I must, but please tell me to who else I should turn? There is no help to be had elsewhere, you are our only hope.’ The prince’s eyes shone with tears. ‘My people died to save me. They died to bring me here.’
‘The whole galaxy is in turmoil,’ said Dante. ‘You are not likely to receive your grant of fiat from the High Lords, nor any other news from Terra. I, Lord Dante, rule this portion of the Imperium in the Emperor’s name, as I was so commanded to do by the Imperial Regent Roboute Guilliman himself. It is to me you must submit, in the name of the Emperor.’
