The Primarchs

by Edited by Christian Dunn

  As Squad Sigma climbed up through a twisted shaft in the cavern’s roof, the craggy walls shivered to stillness once more. The legionnaires held their position for a moment, with Sergeant Setebos swimming up between different members of the team and checking for injuries.

  The price we pay for unannounced entry, Omegon told him. Setebos nodded in agreement, and directed Zantine to continue, prompting the legionnaire to drag himself further up the corkscrewing passage.

  Within moments he had returned. Light ahead, he announced.

  The Alpha Legion fell to priming their weapons, while Omegon and Setebos joined the point-legionnaire in his climb. As they twisted up the shaft, the primarch saw that Zantine was right – the tunnels opened out into a much larger chamber ahead, the rocky ceiling of which was airbrushed in a brazen light.

  Go dark, Omegon ordered, and the three of them killed their suits’ illumination.

  Setebos propelled himself up off a jagged ledge and floated up past Zantine and the primarch with his silenced bolt pistol leading the way. He stopped at the rim of the opening, his plate highlighted in the metallic glow. He looked down at Omegon, questioningly.

  Proceed, sergeant.

  Operatus Five-Hydra: Elapsed Time Ω1/-216.82//XXUXX Legion Strike Cruiser Upsilon

  The planning chamber was a sea of copper faces. The large obsidian table at its centre was round, and as such none had any claim to status – all who were seated there were equal. There were no strategems handed down from on high. No rituals or protocols. Only problems, and the keen minds that together would provide solutions. A Legion’s wisdom.

  Omegon rested his elbow on the arm of his throne, and his chin upon his fist. Sitting there, amongst solidarity in skin and bone, Omegon might have been peering at himself through a prism. Around the table sat a full squad, crafted in their twin primarchs’ image, each gene-blessed with Alpharius-Omegon’s many gifts and each surgically sanctified with the tautness of a noble jaw and eyes of glacial depth – eyes that burned blue with intensity, intelligence and acceptance. In turn, the obsidian surface reflected back twice their silent number in shadow.

  This unanimity of the flesh made the other members of the gathering, dwarfed by their Alpha Legion comrades, seem somewhat out of place, though the psyker Xalmagundi needed little help with that. Her pallid skin and dark lips marked her out as an underworlder, though she was at least out of the rags in which Squad Sigma had found her. Her big, black eyes were partially hidden behind tinted goggles and a lho-stick drooped absently from the corner of her mouth, its sweet smoke curling into the air. Her arm was in a foil sling and bore the signs of recent surgery.

  Around her neck hung a thick metal collar, an inhibitor that checked the witchbreed’s devastating telekinetic talents. Xalmagundi had objected at first, but Sheed Ranko had insisted on the precaution while the psyker was on board the Upsilon. Rather than finding it painful, like the presence of the silent Sisters, Xalmagundi had admitted that the dampener was in fact quite soothing and imposed upon her a state of not unpleasant calm and docility. This was a feature Omegon himself had insisted upon. He had seen no reason to torture his guest unnecessarily, and Volkern Auguramus had made the adjustment himself.

  The Artisan Empyr meanwhile sat busying himself with the continual exchange of needles and feedlines between the flesh-sockets in his face: Omegon assumed it was a nervous tic. Auguramus had taken every opportunity to prove his usefulness and renewed loyalty, from constructing Xalmagundi’s collar to enhancing the received Tenebrae security schemata with his own more technical details. The artisan turned his illuminated hood to one side as his internal logic engine updated itself.

  ‘There seems little point in introductions,’ Omegon said. ‘We all know who we are.’

  Auguramus seemed vaguely amused. ‘I thought you all called yourselves “Alpharius”,’ he said, his microvox held to his throat.

  ‘Times change,’ Omegon replied coldly. No one made any further comment.

  ‘Tenebrae 9-50,’ he continued, depressing a stud on his throne to conjure a hololithic representation of the asteroid. ‘Class-C planetesimal housing the Tenebrae installation. Tenebrae is an Alpha Legion base, clearance level Vermillion, and Tenebrae is our target. Does anyone need a moment to consider that implication?’

  Setebos and the other members of his squad took their icy gaze off the hololithic asteroid. If they were going to object to the nature their target, now was the time. Setebos gave a slight shake of his shaven head.

  ‘Intelligence leads us to believe that Tenebrae and the Vermillion-clearance projects developed there have been compromised,’ the primarch continued. ‘A confirmed leak.’

  ‘An operative?’ Isidor asked, looking to the Artisan Empyr.

  ‘A member of the Legion,’ Omegon replied. He observed with interest the ripple of surprise that passed through the gathering, and the immediate efforts that all made to mask it.

  ‘Recipient?’ Setebos asked.

  ‘It could be anyone,’ Omegon told them gravely. ‘The Emperor’s spies, the Warmaster’s dogs of war, xenos infiltrators. It’s unimportant now. This matter must be handled decisively. The Tenebrae installation cannot fall into the hands of an enemy. We are to scratch the base, scratch the technologies operating there and scratch all base personnel.’

  Omegon let the order sink in. This time the legionnaires didn’t flinch.

  ‘Why not destroy it directly, using the Beta?’ Krait ventured.

  ‘The Beta is deployed elsewhere,’ Omegon replied. ‘Besides, I have the morale of the Legion to consider. This would be better handled in secret.’

  ‘Personnel compliment of the base?’ asked Setebos.

  ‘Tenebrae houses a garrison of fifty legionnaires,’ Omegon told them.

  ‘Fifty?’

  ‘Clearance Vermillion,’ Isidor reminded him.

  ‘And an Imperial Army sentry force, a one-quarter battalion of the Geno Seven-Sixty Spartocid,’ the primarch added.

  ‘The Seven-Sixty are a well drilled regiment,’ Legionnaire Braxus offered. ‘I had opportunity to observe them during the compliance of the Ferinus Worlds. They won’t easily spook.’

  ‘They’ve never had to face the Alpha Legion,’ Setebos grinned.

  ‘The Spartocid will keep,’ Omegon assured the squad. ‘Our first problem is gaining entry to an installation garrisoned by our own Legion.’

  ‘If their training and experience are a given, then it’s reasonable to expect that they will anticipate whatever we propose here, now,’ Volion muttered.

  ‘Why not stage an inspection?’ Charmian suggested, settling back into his seat.

  ‘That leaves an astropathic trail,’ Omegon reminded him. ‘Our arrival would need to be reported and verified.’

  ‘Plus a Vermillion-clearance inspection will need setting up, which in turn leaves its own trail,’ Isidor said.

  ‘I need this station to go out like a light, as if it were never there,’ the primarch said. ‘If our enemies come looking, I don’t want them to find even a grain of dust. I want them to question the validity of all the previously leaked information.’

  ‘What about the installation’s imports?’ Tarquiss asked. ‘Cargo crates. Ammunition drums. I got aboard the III Legion’s flagship in a bombardment shell case before Isstvan.’

  ‘Commander Janic is responsible for base security,’ Omegon replied. ‘I suspect he has more rigorous protocols and procedures than Fulgrim’s... distracted disciples.’

  Auguramus brought the microvox to his throat again. ‘Triple checks. Different officers. It’s impossible to get anything in or out of the installation without rune certification from Janic himself. Everything and everyone is searched, documented and augur-scanned for good measure. Believe me, I’ve tried.’

  ‘Let’s not waste time trying to second guess Janic,’ Setebos suggested. ‘H
e’s Alpha Legion: he’s going to have secured the installation as well as any of us. We need something outside of his jurisdiction, and therefore outside of his control.’

  ‘What about the asteroid itself?’ Arkan offered. Omegon found himself nodding. Once again he turned to the Artisan Empyr.

  ‘Why was Tenebrae 9-50 selected for the array?’

  ‘Alpharius entrusted Master Echion with the actual selection,’ Auguramus said. ‘My calculations merely specified the Octiss system and the surrounding regions as counterclonically related, in terms of its dynamic immeteorology, to Chondax.’

  ‘Speak plainly, Volkern,’ Omegon said. ‘Tell us about the rock.’

  ‘That’s the genius of it really,’ Auguramus went on, unperturbed. The Artisan Empyr’s admiration came through loud and clear. ‘Tenebrae 9-50 is the site of existing clandestine operations, unknown to the rest of the Imperium.’

  ‘Xenos?’ Isidor enquired.

  ‘Indeed. The demiurg are a spacefaring race that rarely enters Imperium territory.’

  ‘That at least explains why I have never heard of them,’ Setebos murmured. ‘Hostile?’

  ‘They are technologically advanced but seem to enjoy cordial relationships with other xenos cultures, several of which were eradicated during the Great Crusade,’ the artisan told them. ‘Principally they are miners and traders.’

  ‘The demiurg are mining the asteroid,’ said Omegon.

  ‘Yes. The interior cave systems and caverns of the asteroid house a small host of automated mining machines, harvesting rare and precious metals.’

  ‘What about the demiurg themselves?’ Isidor asked.

  ‘Initial surveys showed that Tenebrae 9-50 has no established orbit,’ Auguramus replied. ‘The demiurg operate a hidden “shunt network” across our space. They use unmanned electromagnetic conveyer stations to propel resource-rich asteroids from prospecting fields to their xenos clients’ homeworlds. It takes hundreds of years, but by the time the asteroid arrives in-system, the automated mining machines have excavated and processed the arranged shipment.’

  ‘And no one has yet detected this?’ Volion put to him. ‘Throughout the two hundred years that we stormed across the galaxy?’

  ‘We may be the first,’ Auguramus confirmed. ‘Imperial forces can’t investigate every chunk of rock floating through the void between star systems.’

  ‘This could work for us,’ Omegon said, bringing up the hololithic network of known shafts, hollows and excavations in the asteroid. ‘The xenos explorations do run close to the installation foundations in sectors Seventeen through Twenty-two.’

  Zantine pointed to the surface. ‘What about long-range auspectra and listening nodes?’

  ‘The base has considerable coverage,’ Auguramus said with some regret. ‘Approach by gunship or Stormbird will be detected.’

  ‘Captain Ranko will oversee our extraction by Thunderhawk upon completion of our mission, and bring us back to the waiting Upsilon,’ Omegon informed them. ‘Our entrance, however, will be less straightforward than our exit.’

  Arkan stood, sighting down his arm through the hololith. ‘What about a torpedo shot? Powered down and launched out of auspex range, obviously.’

  Omegon smiled. They were trying to impress him.

  ‘No propulsion, no flight control, no course corrections,’ the primarch said. ‘That would be one hell of a shot, legionnaire.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Arkan assured him with a grin. ‘It would be.’

  Omegon considered the plan, as it was taking shape. ‘Volkern, tell me: will these automated abominations provide any resistance?’

  ‘I cannot know the alien intentions of such technologies,’ the Artisan Empyr cautioned, ‘but my impression is that they are armed only to defend their xenos masters’ prospecting rites. If attacked, I have no doubt they would assume their shipment was in danger and respond in kind. They strike me as having a territorial logic. They present no danger to the Tenebrae installation because the base isn’t built on anything the automated machines want, or need to defend.’

  ‘Let us hope you’re right,’ the primarch said.

  Operatus Five-Hydra: Elapsed Time Ω2/003.53//TENTenebrae 9-50 – Trojan Asteroid

  Omegon clawed his way across the ceiling of the cavern. The sergeant and Zantine had led the way out of the shaft. Squad Sigma followed in a column, hauling themselves up on crags and rocky ledges, their armoured legs drifting behind. Setebos had taken them all the way to the roof, and as Omegon pulled himself along, he allowed his gaze to fall upon the reason for their circuitous route.

  Below them, giant machines were tearing into the rocky bowels of the asteroid in the silence of the void. Bulbous and brazen, they reminded Omegon of pregnant arachnids, stabbing into the cave floor with the stiletto points of their many legs. Set in their bellies were rotating maws of pulverising metal teeth that bored into the rock like a drill, and from their tapering abdomens dribbled a thread of molten, metallic ore which was carried away along an electromagnetically guided path. It was this web of glowing issue seeping from the monster machines that lit the cavern, though every few moments the bronze shimmer was overwhelmed by the flash of a fat beam of light; it was with these cutting beams that the automatons were taking the cavern apart.

  Beams that could cut a careless Space Marine clean in half.

  As Squad Sigma moved through the network of caves, it became apparent what a large scale operation the automated mineworks were. The giant mechanical mites were the backbone of the endeavour, tearing away tirelessly at the guts of the asteroid, shredding regolith and ion-bleeding source elements. But they were not the only automated machines to haunt the caves: an array of smaller, clinker-shell drones seemed to hover methodically from one mining monster to the other, monitoring production lines and administering continuous maintenance.

  After a while the Alpha Legionnaires were forced to return to the cave floor, since the wall and ceiling of the chamber were dominated by the crawling lith-consuming automatons. With bolters trained upon their thick brazen armour, Squad Sigma waited as – at Setebos’s command – Krait proceeded to plant seismic demolition charges. Cave by cave, chamber by chamber this continued, with Krait wiring the caverns in sequence and the rest of them silently ducking drones and giving the larger xenos creations a wide berth.

  Following a growing number of molten streams, Setebos took the squad into what appeared to be some kind of storage chamber. Being careful not to disrupt the fields guiding the liquid metal, and with his pistol held upright, the sergeant grabbed at the rough wall and brought himself to a halt. Omegon joined him at the cavern entrance.

  Before them was a floating lake. Streams of liquid ore had been guided to a containment vessel: a reservoir of molten metal, hanging in the weightlessness of the great cavern and held in check by crackling brassy orbs which drifted lazily around it. It was remarkable – no trace of the heat or energy field showed up on any sensor sweep, even at close range. Little wonder, then, that the demiurg shunt-network had remained hidden from the Imperium for so long. Omegon could well imagine chambers like this throughout the asteroid, where the extracted ore of rare and precious metals was stored ready for trade, once the asteroid reached its distant destination.

  Giving orders not to interfere with the pooled metal reservoir, Omegon directed Setebos and Zantine to lead the squad around the chamber. Auguramus had informed the Alpha Legion that any interference with the mining operation would likely be interpreted by the xenos machines as a hostile action. As they crawled below the drifting lake, the primarch ordered Krait to plant a double cache of hidden charges at the heart of the cavern.

  Activating their suit lamps once more the Alpha Legionnaires pushed on through the darkness beyond into a tight labyrinth of smaller tunnels, with their weapons at the ready. Zantine in particular didn’t want to run into a mechanical beast in the
confines of the passage without the means to defend himself.

  As Omegon and Setebos extracted themselves from the disorientating network of passages, they found Charmian scrambling up and across the wall of a natural dead end cave – a chamber seemingly untouched by the xenos mining machines. Slipping an auspex from his belt, he began to sweep the wall.

  What do you have? Omegon signed. Zantine brought the auspex up to his faceplate and double-checked his measurements.

  The base, Zantine responded. Through that wall.

  Operatus Five-Hydra: Elapsed Time Ω1/-215.65//XXUXX Legion Strike Cruiser Upsilon

  ‘I think that a cluster of meltabombs should handle it,’ Krait told Omegon and the gathered Alpha Legionnaires. ‘We want to burn an access way in, not bring the base foundations down on top of our helmets with a seismic charge.’

  ‘That still doesn’t solve a whole host of other problems,’ Setebos interjected. He turned to Omegon. ‘My lord, as soon as we breach the base perimeter then their atmospheric pressure will drop and vent into the vacuum. Life support will seal the affected section and lock off the bulkheads, leaving us stuck outside.’

  ‘The sergeant’s right,’ Isidor agreed. ‘Even if there weren’t alarms – which there will be – everyone on the base will know the perimeter has been penetrated. The atmospheres of their own sections will go rushing by them.’

  Omegon rested his elbows on the arms of his throne. Bringing his palms together he made a pyramid from his fingers.

  ‘Artisan Empyr,’ the primarch said after a moment. ‘How deep do the foundations of the Pylon Array – and therefore, those of the base as well – sink into the rock?’

  Auguramus nestled his microvox and narrowed his eyes.

  ‘As deep as you need them to go,’ the Artisan Empyr replied, with a hint of mirth. ‘They could probably benefit from being deeper, if you take my meaning. Especially with the greater frequency of quakes, caused by the proximity of the gas giants. As soon as I return, I shall set engineering crews to blasting out chambers for new seismic dampeners. Janic will not oppose me.’