Hero of the Imperium, page 32
‘Of course,’ I said. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or angry. On the one hand I’d be spending an extra three weeks on a roundabout voyage to Emperor-knew-where, but on the other that was three weeks I wouldn’t have to worry about Lokris and his friends trying to find some new and inventive way of getting me killed. On balance that was an acceptable trade-off, I felt. I smiled, and nodded with every appearance of polite interest I could summon up. ‘I’m looking forward to hearing all about this expedition of yours.’
A servitor scuttled past me and up the ramp of the shuttle to retrieve my kitbag, which from habit I’d left lying where it was on the subconscious assumption that Jurgen would deal with it. Killian nodded with every indication of eagerness as we strolled past the line of tech-guards, every one of them immaculate, hellguns at the port. They looked formidible enough on parade, I found myself thinking, but I was by no means sure their fighting prowess would be a match for real guardsmen.
As it turned out I was to see for myself how effective they were before very long, and if I’d realised that at the time, and against how terrible a foe, I would certainly have thanked the tech-priest politely for his offer and bolted for the shuttle without a second thought. But of course I didn’t, so I simply strolled along beside him, blithely unaware that we were all on a voyage to perdition.
Despite my forebodings the trip itself turned out to be remarkably pleasant. In striking contrast to the basic conditions aboard the troopships I was used to, the Omnissiah’s Blessing felt more like a luxury liner. I had a well-appointed stateroom assigned to me, with a couple of hovering cyber-skulls humming quietly in the corner with nothing better to do than scoot off to find anything I required, and the cuisine was first rate. A real surprise this, as in my experience tech-priests tend not to worry about that sort of thing, looking on the necessity of taking in regular nourishment as a distasteful reminder of their fleshly origins or some such nonsense. I’d been steeling myself to face a plateful of soylens viridiens or something equally unappetising the first time I wandered down to the mess hall, only to find a pleasantly appointed dining room which wouldn’t have looked out of place in a smart hotel, and was immediately assailed by the mouth-watering odour of sauteed grox.
I was still enjoying my first meal aboard when Killian ambled over, a plate of grox and fresh vegetables in one hand, a large bowl of ackenberry sorbet in the other, and a steaming mug of recaf waving precariously from a mechadendrite. I gestured for him to join me, and after a few preliminary pleasantries he began to chat about their voyage.
‘No reason you shouldn’t at least know where we’re going,’ he said cheerfully, the unoccupied mechadendrite diving into the recesses of his robe for the dataslate. He placed it on the table and continued to manipulate the controls with the mechanical limb, while his real ones plied knife and fork with evident enthusiasm. A star chart appeared, the Viridian system just at the fringes of the display, and a small, sullen stellar revenant centred in the screen.
‘Looks inviting,’ I said, with heavy irony. To my surprise Killian chuckled.
‘Does rather, doesn’t it?’ he said, zooming the display so that the target system filled the screen. A handful of dark and airless worlds orbited the decaying star, seared to cinders when it went nova millions of years before, taking whatever life had existed there into oblivion before sinking back into the sullen, cooling ember about which the few surviving rocks still drifted.
‘This is the Interitus system,’ he said. ‘Well named, I’m sure you’ll agree.’ I nodded.
‘I can’t for the life of me see what you’d want there,’ I admitted. ‘Let alone why an Astartes chapter would divert a battle barge from a warzone to meet you.’
Killian positively beamed, and pointed to the largest chunk of rock in the system.
‘This is Interitus Prime. The whole system was surveyed by explorators back in the twenty-eighth millennium. In the most cursory fashion I may add, if the surviving records are anything to go by.’
‘Your records go back that far?’ I couldn’t keep an edge of incredulity from my voice. That was the all but unimaginable golden age when the Emperor still walked among men and the Imperium was young and vigourous, its domination of the galaxy uncontested, instead of being riven by heresy and threatened on all sides by malevolent powers. Killian nodded.
‘Only in the most fragmentary form, of course. But there are still tantilising hints for those prepared to meditate for long enough upon them, and put their trust in the benevolence of the Omnissiah.’
‘And you think there’s something there worth going after,’ I said. There wasn’t much which would drag a ship full of cogboys halfway across the sector, and it wasn’t hard to guess which item on that very short list was the attraction here. ‘Some significant stash of archeotech perhaps?’
‘Perhaps,’ Killian nodded, evidently pleased at my perspicacity. ‘We won’t know for sure until we get there, will we?’
‘I suppose not,’ I conceded, turning my attention to the desserts.
The rest of the voyage passed pleasantly enough, although apart from Killian I had little to do with the tech-priests on board. For company I gravitated naturally to the tech-guards, with whom I had a little more in common, finding that despite their augmetic enhancements and a devotion to the cult of the machine which I found a trifle disconcerting (I’ve little enough patience with Emperor-botherers at the best of times, let alone ones who seem to think he runs on clockwork), they were as disciplined and professional in their way as any of the warriors I’d served with. Moreover they’d heard of me, and believed every word of my reputation. Their only drawback from my point of view was that they didn’t seem to have any currency, being some sort of vassals of the adeptus, so there wasn’t much point in getting my tarot deck out. Their commanding officer, a Lieutenant Tarkus, was a keen regicide player however, and a hard opponent to beat, so I was able to keep my brain ticking over while the ship scuttled nervously through the warp towards whatever might be lurking at our destination.
It was Tarkus who finally put my mind at rest about the battle barge; it seemed that, despite my obvious concerns, its formidable firepower wasn’t to be deployed in our defence.
‘Omnissiah no!’ he said, casually dispatching one of my lancers with a sudden flanking movement I should have seen coming. ‘It’s on its way to clean out the rebel base on Viridia Secundus.’ I nodded gravely, pretending I’d read the briefing slate about the tactical situation in the Viridia system. It seemed the heretics had taken control of more than just the main world, then. ‘They’re only hooking up with us long enough to transfer a squad of Space Marines over. And to pick you up, of course.’
Well that was something, although a potential threat potent enough to require an Astartes squad to contain wasn’t to be taken all that lightly. I consoled myself with the reflection that it wasn’t my problem anyway, I’d be safe aboard one of the most powerful vessels in space and a long way away from Interitus Prime before anyone started to meddle with whatever chunk of archeotech the cogboys were after. I nodded judiciously, playing for time, and made a feint with a trooper hoping to draw his ecclesiarch out of position.
‘I’m sure you’ll feel safer having them around,’ I said blandly. ‘Can’t be too careful, after all.’ As I’d hoped, the half of his face which wasn’t made of metal coloured visibly as he considered the implied slur on his command, and he moved a little too hastily, creating an opening I should be able to exploit a couple of moves further on in the game.
‘I don’t see why that’d make a difference,’ he said, a little too levelly. ‘My boys can cope with anything the galaxy might throw at us.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ I said. ‘From what I’ve seen we could do with a few more like them in the Guard.’ Tarkus nodded as I moved my portside citadel, setting up what I hoped would be a chance to win in another three turns. I waited until he was considering his response before adding: ‘But Magos Killian obviously doesn’t share my confidence.’
Tarkus almost knocked his ecclesiarch over as he picked it up and moved it, blowing his only chance of blocking my next attack. His jaw clenched.
‘It’s not a question of confidence,’ he said. ‘There are... longstanding obligations.’
I perked up at that, as you can imagine, although what sort of pact there might be between an Astartes chapter and the Adeptus Mechanicus I was at a loss to understand. I don’t doubt that I would have been able to worm a little more out of Tarkus given time, but I decided not to press him any further that evening (having just set myself up for a comfortable win despite his superior skill at the game, and wanting to savour it), and by the time we’d agreed on for our next joust across the board he was already dead.
Well, there it is.’ Killian waved an expansive hand at the armourcrys window which dominated the far end of the ship’s lounge. Beyond it the dying star guttered fitfully, casting a dim blue glow over us which reminded me of autumn twilight. A slice of darkness distorted the glowing sphere, the bulk of the planet we’d come so far to reach rising up to take a bite out of it.
The landscape below us was in darkness, but enough of the wan glow of the system’s primary leaked across the horizon for me to make out a blasted wasteland, cracked by heat almost impossible to imagine, and riven with impact craters. That alone was a testament to how old this place was, as it must have been left almost smooth by its fiery transformation; the pockmarking of its face would have been the work of aeons. Despite the awful bleakness of the prospect I couldn’t deny that it had a desolate grandeur to it, and a faint chill akin to awe touched my soul as I took it all in.
‘It’s certainly... impressive,’ I agreed. Nonetheless a vague sense of unease took hold of me, and I found myself grateful for the thought that I’d be transferring to the Reclaimers’ battle barge and leaving this system forever within a day or two.
‘We’ve already begun to establish our base camp,’ Killian continued. I strained my eyes in the direction he’d pointed, failing to see anything for a moment, then picked out a faint flash of light as one of our shuttles ignited its engine many kilometres below. ‘I think you’d be impressed.’
‘No doubt I would,’ I agreed, grateful for the secrecy he’d displayed up to now, which almost certainly meant I wouldn’t have to leave the security of the ship. ‘But I’m sure you don’t want me getting underfoot.’
‘Well...’ Killian hesitated, clearly torn between conflicting impulses, and not entirely sure whether he was doing the right thing. ‘Obviously we’re on a mission from the Omnissiah. Normally we wouldn’t dream of involving an outsider...’ Here it comes, I thought, with an ominous sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. That reputation for heroism is about to hit me over the back of the head again. The techpriest cleared his throat. ‘But given your extensive experience as a military man, do you think Lieutenant Tarkus would listen to your opinions at all?’
‘Lieutenant Tarkus strikes me as a man who doesn’t need much advice from anyone,’ I said smoothly, cursing myself for undermining his confidence the previous evening. ‘And if he does, I’m sure the Astartes contingent will have far more pertinent comments to make when they get here than anything I might have to say.’
‘Well, that’s the thing.’ Killian coughed delicately again. ‘Technically, they’ll be led by a sergeant, won’t they?’
Of course. And Tarkus would be too stubborn to ask the opinion of a lower ranking squad leader now his pride had been hurt. Notwithstanding the fact that the marine sergeant would probably have decades of combat experience, and refuse to take orders from anyone outside his chapter in any case. I had a sudden premonition of the administrative problems which would be awaiting me on Viridia, and wondered for a moment if I’d done the right thing in volunteering.
Oh well. I might as well get a little practice in now. I had nothing better to do until the barge arrived after all.
‘I’ll do my best to help, of course,’ I said. ‘Perhaps if I had a little chat with him?’
‘Would you?’ Killian snagged a plate of canapes from a passing servitor, and offered me one. ‘We’d be very grateful. He’s an admirable young man, of course, but rather headstrong.’
‘Where is he?’ I asked, biting into the delicacy. ‘Still in his quarters?’
‘Omnissiah no.’ Killian smiled, and gestured towards the planet below. ‘He’s down there.’
As it happened that was a stroke of luck which was to save my life, but I had no idea of that at the time, so spent the shuttle ride down to the surface of Interitus Prime feeling resentful at being dragged off on a pointless errand. Technically I had no authority over Tarkus in any case, since he wasn’t a member of the Imperial Guard, but Killian didn’t seem to think that would matter, sure that the young officer would be sufficiently impressed with my fraudulent reputation to listen to whatever advice I might have to offer. He was also very grateful for my assistance, as he kept telling me from the adjacent seat as we descended, and in the end I found myself feigning interest in the desolate landscape below just to shut him up for a minute or two.
Truth to tell, after a while my interest was becoming genuine, even if it remained somewhat muted. The closer we got to landing, the more forbidding that airless landscape became, smaller craters becoming visible as we got closer to them, and faint spiderwebs of shadow swelling into chasms deep beyond measure and wide enough to swallow a hive block. The shuttle continued to descend, and I began to wonder whether the pilot was paying attention to the altitude, despite knowing it to be a servitor which could by its very nature be nothing but vigilant. There was still the faint possibility of malfunction, of course, and I began to tense subconsciously, waiting for the retros to kick in, but they never did.
‘Aren’t we getting a little close to the ground now?’ I ventured after a while, and Killian smiled lazily.
‘I suppose we are,’ he said, showing no sign of concern. Well I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself in front of the magos, so I simply shrugged with the best expression of casual indifference I could summon up.
‘Thought so,’ I said. A few moments later the reason for his lack of concern became evident even to me. A grey haze in the distance, which I’d taken for the horizon, began to close in on us, looming over the slowly descending shuttle like a thunderhead, and I nodded in sudden understanding. We were sinking gently into one of those titanic rifts in the planet’s surface, already at least a couple of hundred metres below ground level. ‘How far down does this go?’
‘About eight hundred kilometres,’ Killian said casually. ‘It’s the deepest chasm on the planet.’ He produced a flask of something from the depths of his robe with his right hand, the mechadendrites pulling out a cup apiece. ‘So we’ve got time for a recaf before we land if you like.’ I did like; under the circumstances I thought I deserved one.
The dim illumination of the dying star above had dwindled to nothing by now, but the running lights of the shuttle were enough to let me pick out a few of the details of that incredible fissure. Layer after layer of different strata slipped past the porthole, subtle graduations of hue marking the ticks of some long wound-down geological clock, and a couple of times I thought I caught a glimpse of something white, fossils perhaps, of creatures already extinct for millions of years before their planet died in its turn. The thought was a morbid one, and I tried to turn my mind away from the contemplation of death and eternity with casual conversation.
‘I can see why you think this place is so special,’ I ventured after a while. ‘It’s quite...’ I tried in vain to think of a suitable adjective, before concluding somewhat lamely with ‘impressive.’ Killian chuckled throatily. I have to say that of all the tech-priests I’ve ever met he was by far the most likable, as well as the most untypical of his kind. Factors which were probably not unconnected, come to think of it.
‘I think we can still surprise you, commissar.’ At that point I rather doubted it, to be honest, although I have to concede that he was right.
My first presentiment that there was even more to this chasm than at first met the eye was a faint glow from below us, which soon resolved itself into the actinic glare of several gigantic luminators set on pylons around a makeshift landing pad. Our shuttle settled gently in what seemed to be the exact centre of the flattened area, and Killian bounced from his seat with every sign of eagerness to get outside; it was only as he hit the rune to lower the exit ramp that I remembered the world was airless.
‘Wait a minute!’ I called, struggling up from the deeply-padded seat which suddenly seemed a lot less comfortable now that I needed to stand in a hurry. He might have some augmetic enhancements that let him manage without air, but I most certainly didn’t. Killian smiled at me.
‘I told you you’d be surprised,’ he said as the seals broke with an audible hiss. But it was the sound of equalising pressure, I realised with a sudden surge of relief, having become all too familiar with the sound of explosive decompression when the Hand of Vengeance took a torpedo volley amidships at the seige of Perlia. Thin, cold air began to seep into the shuttle, leeching the warmth away with tendrils of mist. Having spent most of my career with Valhallan units, who like their air conditioning turned up to the maximum, I found the chill bearable, but oddly dispiriting.
‘I am,’ I admitted. ‘I didn’t think you’d been here long enough to create an atmosphere.’ I followed him down the ramp, my boots crunching gently on the gravel beneath, which had something of the texture of ash.
‘We haven’t.’ Killian was rubbing his hands together, although whether for warmth or from enthusiasm I couldn’t tell. Probably both. ‘So the survey reports were right about that at least.’
