Roboute Guilliman: Lord of Ultramar

by David Annandale

  of the greenskin scrawlings. 'Do you notice anything about the walls?' he said.

  Gage turned around, scanning the space. 'The orks have only defaced the lower regions,' he said.

  'Exactly.' There was some ork handiwork visible as high as the first level or so, but it was scattered. By far the majority of the totemic faces howled the ground floor. 'Why would that be?'

  'They were too occupied tearing down the interior?'

  'Perhaps.' Guilliman didn't like the explanation. It was too simple. It made no allowance for the animalistic enthusiasms of the greenskins. They were not mindless. They were not servitors. He walked to the nearest wall. He examined the overlapping ork faces and the original art beneath. Some of the ork art was quite recent. Some he could well believe was over a century old. Their colours had faded, but nothing to the degree of the murals. All of the greenskin efforts were still clear. 'What if the levels had already collapsed?' said Guilliman. 'The wreckage would have been piled quite high initially.' He pointed up. 'The greenskins could have indulged in some of their art while salvaging the top of the heaps first.'

  'Those faces higher up do look more faded,' Gage said.

  Guilliman nodded. ''Older,' he said. 'And the murals are older yet. Much older.' He gazed at the hole in the pyramid's roof, hundreds of yards above him. If he had the time to examine the edges of that gap, would he find evidence that the orks had somehow caused that damage? He thought not. 'If the floors had already collapsed...' Gage began.

  'Yes. Theoretical - this civilisation had already fallen when the orks arrived.' He ran his gauntlet over the wall. There is a gap in time here,' he said. These murals have been fading for much longer than they have been defaced by the orks.'

  'What do you think happened?' said Gage.

  'Too early to speculate.' He pressed his lips together. 'Cultures do not need an external enemy to fail. They are bom, they age, they lose

  their coherence, and they collapse. There is a remembrancer from the Age of Terra, a Willem Yaitus. My Father showed me one of the fragments of his works that have survived. He wrote of the cycles of civilisations, and of their inevitable end. "Things fall apart, the centre ccannot hold," he said. That is the tragedy of human history until now, Marius. That is the cycle from which my Father is saving us.'

  Guilliman sighed, gazing at work that had become its own forgotten memory. He grieved for what had been lost. He had come to Thoas not expecting anything beyond the task of necessary extermination. He had held his hopes in check when the ruins had been discovered. He had told himself there would be nothing to salvage beyond restoring another piece of human history. He had taken for granted there would be no living humans to find. To hope for something different at the heart of a greenskin empire would have been madness.

  You were hoping for something, though, weren't you? he thought.

  Yes. Yes, I was.

  He had hoped for signs of a heroic end. The civilisation that had built these ruins had been capable of grand gestures. Their fall to the orks would not have been without a vast struggle.

  But they did not fall to the orks.

  He already knew what he would find as the Legion made its way deeper into the ruins. There would be evidence of decay, of a culture growing tired and losing its way. Fatigue, erosion, retreat from the heights once reached, and the collapse. There would be no glory there. He did not like to think of the orks bringing energy to the world, yet that is what must have happened. The greenskins had arrived to find an empty shell, and they had turned it to their own violent but vital ends.

  He shook the melancholy away. The reclamation was still useful. Thoas would become part of Ultramar. It would live again, with the energy of light and reason. And its history would emerge from the night into which it had fallen.

  There was value in that.

  'What do you think the purpose of this structure was?' Gage asked.

  'You sound like you have some thoughts in that regard.'

  'Theoretical - a military command centre'

  'The metal decking,' Guilliman said.

  'Yes. Very functional, but not suited to a hab zone.'

  'Your theoretical implies a similar function for the other pyramids.'

  'It does.'

  'By extension, this entire region of the mountain range is a single fortress.'

  'Particularly if the pyramids are connected.'

  'A fortress entails defence,' Guilliman mused. 'Defence against what?'

  'I can't speculate.'

  Neither could Guilliman. Gage's supposition made sense, but it raised many questions.

  'We will find the answers,' Guilliman said. 'Once we have consolidated our position.'

  He voxed Habron. 'Are the orks moving our way yet?'

  'Some', the Techmarine said. 'Not in significant numbers. The current preparations will be enough to keep them out. There are battles to the south, but the larger portion of the horde is north of us!'

  'Your evaluation of the enemy's state?'

  'Still a viable force. Without knowing their precise numbers before we began...’

  'Feel free to extrapolate.'

  'Our strategy appears to have borne fruit. The initial push by the First Chapter created a central focus for the horde, resulting in the formation of a core. The second wave destroyed that core. The ork force has been reduced.'

  'You're not going to guess by how much, are you?'

  'The attempt would be irresponsible!'

  'Agreed.' Habron was right to be cautious, but the evidence of the success of the initial blow was clear. Guilliman turned back to Gage. 'We move north. We will learn the extent of the rains, and reinforce the other Chapters. We have the high ground now The orks must fight upwards from the plains, and their wave will break against our positions.'

  There were wide, arched passageways leading out of the pyramid at three levels, equally spaced on its great height, heading north and south. The upper passages were beyond reach, but the ones on the ground floor were immense clearly designed to accommodate the mass movement of vehicles and crowds.

  Troops, Guilliman thought. Gage was right. The ruins had the marks of a gigantic military redoubt.

  And still the question: Against whom?

  He led the way, and the First Chapter began its march into the dark, bringing light, seeking illumination. From deep in the rains, the howls of orks echoed against stone.

  The 22nd Chapter took the entrance to the northernmost pyramid three hours after the first one fell to the Ultramarines. Iasus' companies were the furthest north, and they werethe last to enter the rains. Iasus was conscious of that fact. He heard the reports over the command network of the vox as he fought his way up the mountainside. He heard the other Chapters storm the rains, take possession, and begin consolidation. He was not troubled about being the last. What troubled him was Sirras' reaction. He knew the captain disagreed with the order not to make a push towards the canyon. It was not until the companies of the 22nd had breached the pyramid that he realised the depths of Sirras' discontent.

  'We are losing the initiative, Chapter Master,' the captain voxed.

  'Explain your analysis,' Iasus said, more out of necessity than interest. The final push to the lower doors had been bloody. The orks had mounted a ferocious defence, bursting from the interior of the ruins in a huge wave. Their mass alone had been enough to push two Land Raiders and a Rhino off the side of the approach. They had fallen, rolling end over end, to a crushed, explosive end on the plain a thousand yards below. Now Iasus stood in the centre of the pyramid's enormous ground-floor chamber, his armour drenched in ork blood. His nostrils and lungs filled with the clammy foulness of the brutes with every breath. Around him, the troops of 221st Company established an impassable wall of ceramite at the entrance while reconnaissance squads prepared to venture through the north entrance into the further ruins.

  The losses across the companies were high, and these legionaries hardly looked on him as a brother, even those who
had been bom on Macragge. Sirras was edging close to insubordination, and Iasus no longer had the patience to tolerate his resentment.

  'The rest of the horde is being sealed out of the ruins by the other Chapters. The orks have seen that we are last, our position as yet unsecured. They are shifting their efforts to our destruction.'

  'Then we are well-positioned to destroy them when they arrive,' Iasus said.

  He was standing beside his command Rhino Praxis. He ended the conversation with Sirras and banged on the side. Techmarine Loxias slid the door back. 'What can you tell me?'

  'The greenskins coming up behind us have slowed. Theoretical - they are remaining out of range of our defensive guns until reinforcements arrive.'

  'How long will that be?'

  Loxias turned and examined his screens. 'Longer than I would have predicted. The horde as a whole appears to be slowing at the foot of the mountains.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'I have confirmed my readings and analysis with the auspex systems of the other companies and Chapters.'

  Iasus frowned. He distrusted anything that smacked of good news when it came to the orks. The only truly positive development would be their extinction.

  'Speculation?' he asked. He entered through the Rhino's side hatch to get a better look at the auspex.

  'None that satisfies, Chapter Master? said Loxias. 'The behaviour is uncharacteristic.'

  Iasus tapped a pict screen. 'The horde looks smaller than it did earlier.'

  'It is occupying a smaller area,' Loxias confirmed. 'Because of their losses?'

  'Perhaps. And perhaps a greater concentration.' The Techmarine did not sound happy with his reasoning.

  'You don't think so.'

  'Contraction of area and decrease in speed are both accounted for by the premise of greater density.'

  'But...?'

  'The tactical benefit is limited. How many more orks could attack us at one time?'

  'You're assigning them the ability to strategist. These are orks, brother. They could simply be confused, too: If they are coming after us, we present a multiplicity of targets... and a multiplicity of points to defend,' Iasus muttered. The reports from the other pyramids painted rather different pictures from what the 22nd had encountered. All the other structures had suffered massive internal damage. All their upper floors had collapsed, and the metal decking had been scavenged by the orks. This most northern of the pyramids was closer to being intact, inside and out. The approach to the southern face split up into four ramps, each rising more steeply than the last in order to reach the upper entrances. The interior floors were constructed of stone instead of metal. The floors were many feet thick, easily able to support the infantry and armour. Each level was empty, a huge, echoing chamber void of equipment and purpose except for the stink and debris of greenskin life. The walls were covered in vague, faded murals and ork obscenities. Ramps wide enough for two tanks to take abreast came down on the eastern side of the chamber.

  'You have reported what we found to the primarch?' Iasus asked.

  'I have been speaking to my counterpart in the Flame of Illyrium,' Loxias corrected. 'Lord Guilliman emphasises the need to preserve this pyramid.'

  Iasus had come to the same conclusion himself. The ruins were the human history the Ultramarines would take back from the orks. If there was anything to learn, this pyramid offered the greatest opportunity.

  'There is something else,' Loxias said. He changed a setting on the pict screens. A schema of the pyramid appeared. It glowed a bright red. 'Radiation levels in this structure are much higher than those recorded by the other Chapters.'

  'How bad is it?'

  'Prolonged exposure would be fatal to mortals.'

  Which meant it should still be within the tolerance of the genhanced bodies of the Legiones Astartes, further shielded by their power armour. Even so, the anomaly was significant.

  'Can you identify the source?'

  'No. At present it is too widespread.'

  'Is this a bombing after-effect?'

  'There is no visible damage.' Loxias changed the display to show the radiation reading across the mountain chain. There is radiation everywhere in the ruins,' he said, showing Iasus the readings. 'It is consistent with the effects of an ancient bombing over the other structures. The degree of radiation is correct, assuming a conflict at least a thousand years ago, and likely much earlier.'

  'But this pyramid is undamaged,' Iasus said.

  'Yet the radiation level is much higher.'

  'Yes.'

  What do you do with this information? Iasus wondered. You do nothing in this moment, he told himself.

  'Excuse me, Chapter Master,' Loxias said with a notable change in tone. 'The primarch will address the entire Legion.'

  Iasus straightened as Guilliman's voice reverberated out of his vox-bead. 'Ultramarines,' he said,'we shaped the battlefield on the plain. Now we will do so again. We forced coherence on the foe and shattered its centre. Now we will shape the war once more.' The voice was rich in strength and certainty. Guilliman spoke from knowledge, experience and study. There was no hubris in what he said. His words were measured, his assertions chosen with care and all the more inarguable. Iasus listened to the primarch speak, and heard the sound of inevitable victory. Theoretical - the strongpoint controls the narrative of the war, forcing the foe to react within a narrowed range of possibilities. Practical - we will take and hold the ruins. Purge the ruins of the greenskins. They will attack, and the wave will break for the final time.'

  When Guilliman had finished speaking, Iasus addressed the 22nd. 'Brothers,' he said, 'we will have the honour of being the point on which the wave will break. Make our defences strong. The orks will believe they are laying siege to us. In reality, they will be making themselves vulnerable to our terminal advance.' He thought for a moment, then stepped out of the Rhino and opened the private channel to Sirras. 'Is everything clear, captain?' he said, speaking coldly.

  'Perfectly, Chapter Master'.

  There was no more warmth in the reply.

  'As mazes go, at least it's spacious,' Rizon said. The Scout of the 223rd looked up and down the intersection, faced with a choice of empty darkness.

  Tarchus grunted in agreement. The sergeant pictured the tunnels crowded. The image was disturbing. It emphasised the wonder of the civilisation's total disappearance. Millions must have worked here, and with great purpose. The military nature of the ruins was more than clear now.

  Beyond the pyramid, the tunnels became a network, and then a warren, each branch leading to more. Tarchus could foresee the tunnels leading off for hundreds of miles into the cordillera. Smaller tunnels, some still wide enough for a single vehicle, ran off the main ones at irregular intervals. Beside the largest intersections, shafts that could swallow a Vindicator gaped. There were vertical grooves in the shafts. Perhaps the remnants of a form of grav lift, Tarchus thought. The mountains were so hollowed out that their exteriors now seemed insubstantial. Many of the routes were blocked by rockfall and Tarchus' squad had to double back or choose alternative routes so many times that it became impossible to plan a systematic reconnaissance of the ruins. There were more squads in the tunnels, and the 223rd was only in the network that led off the third level of the pyramid. Here and there, the collapses were extensive enough to open tunnel to the sky. The cold wind Thoas moaned through the tunnels like a spectre of loss. Some of the gaps were very wide and circular. Bomb damage, Tarchus thought, and not recent, either. The edges of the craters were rounded from erosion. Scree had accumulated beyond the gaps, blown in by the wind.

  Everywhere, there were marks of the orks having made the ruins their base. But the damage they had caused simply by existing in this space was visibly recent compared to the craters and cave-ins. The complex had died long before the orks had arrived. Scout Fierelus came back from having explored the next hundred yards of the eastward passage. 'More of the same,' he said. 'And still more branching.'

 
Tarchus nodded. It was time to report to the captain once more. He contacted Sirras on the vox. 'Our status is the same,' he said. 'No sign of the enemy yet, and the region we are meant to control appears larger the more we see of it.'

  'Can it be held?' Sirras asked.

  'Not in the sense of an occupation. This network is large enough to hold millions.'

  'Your recommendation is to hold the pyramids'.

  'It is. Let the enemy come to us. The orks will, anyway. They don't skulk. We won't have to go looking for them.'

  'Very well,' Sirras said after a minute. 'Make your way back to-'

  A huge, echoing, discordant howling cut Sirras off. It came from every direction, growing louder as it rode its own echoes. The greenskins were here and they were close.

  'Contacts!' Tarchus yelled.

  'None!' Rizon said. They're out of auspex range.'

  The amplification of the sound was making the orks seem closer than they were, Tarchus realised.

  'To all Scouts of the Twenty-second Chapter,' he voxed. 'Does anyone' have readings on the enemy?'

  His answer was a confusion of voices, all asking the same question. Then Zarachas of the 221st shouted, 'We have them! Coming up fast two hundred yards north-north-east of the pyramid!'

  'Scouts,' Iasus broke in. 'Withdraw. Return to strongpoints.'

  'We're pulling back,' Tarchus told his squad. He led the way back down the tunnel at a run. He held his bolter ready. 'Watch the auspex,' he told Rizon. He gave the Scout the coordinates Zarachas had reported.

  'That's between us and the pyramid,' Rizon said.

  'Yes, it is.' They had worked their way over a thousand yards north-east into the mined network.

  Tarchus listed to Zarachas' voice as he ran. The Scout updated the ork movements every few seconds. They were closing fast.

  'They must be coming up the shafts,' Fierelus said.

  'Then why hasn't there been line-of-sight contact yet?' Rizon asked.

  Zarachas' reports ceased. His vox-cast dissolved into a blizzard of static, shouts, and gunfire. Then it cut off.