Honour Imperialis - Braden Campbell & Aaron Dembski-Bowden & Chris Dows & Steve Lyons & Rob Sanders

by Warhammer 40K

  Colonel Lockwood was next to speak with the captain. He rested a hand on Thade’s armoured shoulder, his weathered fingers covering the twin eights marked in white.

  ‘Don’t try to talk me out of this, sir,’ Thade said. ‘We both know this is a good idea.’

  Lockwood’s scowl spoke volumes. His lined face was a route map of battles he’d been fighting for longer than Thade had been alive. Veterans, true veterans over fifty years of age, were rare in the Cadian Shock. Such was the fate of the Imperial Guard’s most often-tested regiment. No matter how good you are, the odds will always get you in the end.

  The colonel pulled him aside. ‘I’ll get him transferred. We’ll have a Cadian appointed before we leave for the next campaign. You have my word on that, son.’

  Thade glanced around to be sure none of the nearby soldiers could overhear. ‘Last time I checked, sir, men with violet eyes were trained damn hard not to complain about orders. We do what we do because we can and we must.’

  ‘It’s an insult. We all know it.’

  ‘It’s an order. The implied insult is meaningless to me.’

  ‘It’s not meaningless to the men, Parmenion. Not to the regiment.’ The conversation halted as a cluster of soldiers approached to salute the colonel and wish Thade luck. The two officers nodded and waited until the men had moved away.

  ‘I know it’s not meaningless to them. That’s why I’m breaking him in like this. I’ll turn the insult into a blessing.’

  ‘How does he seem? From first impressions?’

  ‘Sincere. Cold. Astute.’ Thade grinned. ‘Cadian.’

  Lockwood saluted, too stoic to say much more in front of his men. He’d never allow his iron-hearted reputation to take a dent like that, though his admiration for Thade was an open secret. ‘I’m not arguing against the idea. It will work. Prove he’s a warrior, and may the Throne’s light guide your blade.’

  Minutes passed as more men came to speak to Thade before the bout. Tionenji stood silent, waiting, no hint of impatience across his features. Finally Thade stepped into the circle made by the watching men and their tanks. Dead Man’s Hand and several other Sentinel squadrons towered above the crowd, their pilots watching through vision slits or open hatches.

  Tionenji folded his greatcoat and set both it and his peaked cap in a neat pile by the edge of the circle. He stood in his black uniform, his oiled hair still perfectly arranged.

  Thade was still in his body armour. Seeing that, Tionenji wondered if he had already failed some kind of test. On Garadesh, honour duels were fought unarmoured with curved blades, with any additional protection considered ignoble and base. Tionenji watched the captain now, suspecting that the opposite was true of the Cadians. They probably adhered to some code where only a fool would enter a fight without the best protection available. Or perhaps a short lecture on how a soldier should always train weighted down by full armour.

  A serious bunch, these Cadians.

  In Thade’s hands was his weighty chainsword, long and straight, with a single cutting edge. In Tionenji’s own hands was the blade he’d named as a nimcha, thin and curved like a crescent moon, also silent in deactivation. Two live chainswords meeting would risk shattering and tearing the teeth from one another. Powered down, they could be used to duel without risk of damage to the precious weapons.

  Tionenji advanced aggressively, his footwork graceful, immediately revealing himself to be a skilled swordsman. Thade kept his own footwork light, slowly circling and making theatrical cuts in the air that had a few of the men laughing at the obvious display. Most of them expected a casual bout, perhaps with the captain showing this newcomer who was really in charge, and the lord general’s orders be damned.

  The first strike and parry happened so fast that everyone except the combatants missed it. Tionenji sprang back from the blocked blow and slashed again, the flat of his arcing blade clattering against the side of Thade’s bulkier sword.

  It was the moment the fight began in earnest.

  Thade trained with his sword daily, as did Tionenji. The Cadian was a product of his home world’s Youth Legion, as were all soldiers of the Shock regiments, and had been reared to fight since his pre-teens. The Garadeshi commissar had been taken in by the Schola Progenium in his own youth, and trained to the exacting standards of the Imperial commissariat. Thade fought with a blade gifted to him by Cadia’s finest leader and the hero of Scarus Sector. Pride and reverence flooded him each time the sword cleared its sheath. Tionenji fought with his father’s nimcha, a weapon of the tribes of Garadesh, and honoured his father’s shade with each victory the blade brought for the Emperor.

  The swords met again and again, reflecting slivers of moonlight each time they cracked snake-fast against each other.

  Scout-lieutenant Vertain had parked his Sentinel close to Taan Darrick in the crowd. He leaned from his vehicle’s side hatch, watching the fight with unblinking eyes. ‘I can’t tell who’s winning,’ he said.

  ‘I think they’re both winning.’

  Vertain broke his gaze long enough to look for Ban Jevrian in the crowd. The Kasrkin sergeant was regarded as the regiment’s finest swordsman, but if the Sentinel pilot had hoped to glean some insight into the duel by reading Jevrian’s expression, the measured stare of the Kasrkin leader offered no answers. Vertain turned back to the fight.

  The fighters ducked and weaved, their deactivated swords slashing through the air to meet with metallic clanks once, twice, thrice a second. Both men were panting less than a minute after the duel had begun, neither used to facing a swordsman of equal skill.

  In one of the moments when their swords met, both men came close, pushing their weight against each other. Tionenji had smiled as he looked into Thade’s eyes.

  ‘You’re… doing very well.’ His teeth were clenched in effort, as were the captain’s.

  ‘I’m better when my blade is live,’ Thade grinned.

  ‘Aren’t we all?’

  They flew apart, neither gaining the advantage from the sword-lock. More blows were traded, each one ending in a parry or a block that locked the two weapons together. The next time they met face to face, Tionenji was grinning mirthlessly and breathing hard.

  ‘You… look tired… my violet-eyed friend.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Thade smiled back, sweat stinging his eyes. Five minutes of this was as tiring as the whole night in the monastery. ‘But if you want a rest… I’ll be a gentleman and let you take a break.’

  As with the opening strikes, the finishing blows came with such speed that those watching only realised what had happened several seconds after it was done.

  Tionenji threw himself backwards at the last instant to avoid a throat slash of Thade’s sword that he had no chance to block. The Cadian was overbalanced in the strike’s wake, and a single stumble heralded the end of the fight. The slender crescent blade licked out to crack Thade’s sword from his hand, sending it spinning away to hit the muddy ground.

  All of this happened in a heartbeat’s span.

  Tionenji had meant to rest the tip of his sword on Thade’s chest. He’d meant to ask in his delicious orator’s voice, ‘Do you yield?’ and make a short speech on what an admirable opponent the captain had been.

  Admittedly, these plans would have gone down well with the watching regiment. The men were already impressed by the commissar’s skill, and Thade had been right – in showing Tionenji’s battle prowess as their first impression of him, the commissar was walking into a warmer welcome among a band of soldiers from a warrior culture than if he had simply presented himself at a mission briefing.

  However, his plans of gracious mercy never came to fruition. Believing he’d won, his defences were instantly lowered. It took him a split second to realise Thade wasn’t finished. He remembered the captain’s words then.

  To first blood.

  By the time he w
as bringing his blade up to block the continuing threat, Thade’s roundhouse kick connected with bone-jarring force. Tionenji’s head snapped back and he staggered away, blinded by his watering eyes and the web of white-hot pain his cheek had become.

  He spat a mouthful of thick, coppery saliva, knowing from the taste that he was spitting redness. A thousand men roared their approval. As the commissar’s eyes cleared, he saw Thade offering his hand – again, it was his left hand. His real hand.

  ‘First blood to Cadia,’ the captain said, still catching his breath.

  Tionenji took the hand, flashing his short-lived grin in a display of blood-pinked teeth. ‘First blood to Cadia,’ he repeated, sensing a tradition behind the words.

  The men cheered again.

  Chapter VII

  War Council

  Reclamation Headquarters,

  outside Solthane

  They met in the lord general’s command bunker – a prefab structure just a short walk from his tent. Around the room’s edges, servitors and adepts worked the banks of vox-scanners and tactical cogitators necessary to plan the Reclamation and remain in contact with the vessels in orbit. Several officers of the Hadris Rift 40th flanked the Overseer, spreading around the central circular table and its cluster of maps. Each one was attired as the lord general himself: a dress uniform of jade green with gold trimmings. Overseer Maggrig gleamed in the reflected light from the console screens. He was wearing his finest dress uniform (and the accompanying gold that made up Hadris Rifter rank markings) for this meeting with the inquisitor. He’d ordered his men to do the same.

  Inquisitor Caius had arrived early. He stood apart, his hands resting on the table as he pored over the maps. Upon entering he’d saluted politely and immediately ignored the pomp before him. The only words he’d spoken in the last five minutes were to ask where Captain Thade was.

  Colonel Lockwood was present as Thade’s commanding officer. The senior officer of the Cadian 88th stood impassive in his battle gear, watching the regions of the map that drew the inquisitor’s attention. He was here to learn where a sizeable portion of his regiment was being dispatched to, and to plan for actions undertaken while they were seconded to the Inquisition. His displeasure at the situation was invisible. The colonel’s face was an emotionless mask.

  Thade arrived exactly on time, coming into the room wearing his battle armour and bearing his weapons. He saluted to all present, taking a position opposite Colonel Lockwood. Several men filed in after him. On his right were four junior officers in the same battle uniform as the captain.

  ‘Inquisitor,’ Thade said. ‘This is my command team: Scout-Lieutenant Adar Vertain. First Lieutenant Korim Horlarn. Second Lieutenant Taan Darrick. And this is Master Sergeant Ban Jevrian of the Kasrkin.’

  Each officer made the sign of the aquila as his name was spoken. Jevrian’s bulky carapace armour rattled as he saluted.

  ‘And these,’ Thade gestured to the figures at his left, ‘are Tech-priest Enginseer Bylam Osiron, Sanctioned Psy-Advisor Seth Roscrain and Commissar Adjatay Tionenji.’ Once more, Imperial salutes were offered, though not by Osiron. No one was surprised at that. Tech-priests were famously loyal to the Cult of their Machine-God, the Omnissiah, and worshipped the Emperor in their own secret, Byzantine ways.

  Osiron bowed, at least. The motion caused a mechanical purr from his augmetic joints.

  ‘Gentlemen, thank you all for coming.’ Inquisitor Caius gestured at the main city map. ‘Lord general, if you would be so kind as to provide a summary of the current tactical situation. How is the Reclamation proceeding throughout the capital Solthane?’

  Maggrig stepped closer to the table. He held everyone’s attention, though in a different way for each man there. His pompous self-importance bored Caius, whose attention was given grudgingly, while he was the figure of the perfect tactical genius to his own Hadris Rift officers. By and large, the Cadians considered him amusingly overdressed. Colonel Lockwood was especially unimpressed by the trimmings and wealth adorning Maggrig’s dress uniform. He’d seen less gold on paintings of the God-Emperor’s throne.

  The Overseer took a moment to compose himself, ensuring he had the attention of all in the room. He cleared his throat and calmly met the inquisitor’s eyes, hiding his inward smile at his own mastery of the situation. Bold, assured, calm, collected – he was the very representation of everything noble in the way the soldiers of the Hadris Rift went to war. He felt the gazes of his own men upon him. He could sense how he inspired them, and–

  ‘The delay is boring me,’ Caius said. ‘Colonel Lockwood, please appraise me of the fighting within the city. Specifically, the main cathedral district.’

  Lockwood was Cadian enough not to smile as he stepped forward. ‘The purge of Archenemy elements within Solthane proceeds on schedule to date, all in accordance with Lord General Maggrig’s designs.’ Lockwood took up a pointer and started making gestures to certain southern sections of the city.

  ‘Here, here and in this grand concourse here, resistance has been far heavier than expected.’

  ‘Why?’ The inquisitor looked up into the colonel’s violet eyes. Lockwood had pointed to three sectors scattered across the cathedral district, which was the size of a city in itself.

  ‘These are habitation areas of the monastic sector. Tens of thousands of citizens and pilgrims died in their homes there. Orbital picts suggested – and Reclamation tacticians anticipated – intense numbers of the plague-slain in these areas. No surprises there, but while building-by-building purges were planned for, we’ve discovered that the remains of the Kathurite Planetary Defence Force are entrenched in force there, too.’

  ‘The so-called “Remnant”.’

  All of the officers nodded. All except Maggrig, who was struggling to contain his fury and shame at being treated so shabbily by the inquisitor.

  ‘What’s this section? Why is it so much more detailed?’ Caius asked.

  ‘My Sentinel squadron mapped several square kilometres of the city on our recent advance,’ Thade said. ‘That is the region leading up to the monastery lost by the Janus sixth.’

  ‘Which brings us to the latest development,’ Lockwood continued. ‘Since we made planetfall, every vox-channel has remained scrambled and prone to extreme interference from an unknown, untraceable source. Additionally, no auspex or scrye scanner has given us a reliable reading. We’re hunting half-blind.’

  ‘Until last night,’ Thade said.

  ‘Until last night. The 88th’s attempted extraction of the Janus sixth was the first time the interference was cleared for any significant period of time over a confirmed span of territory. It was also the first time any Reclamation units have come into contact with primary-class threats.’

  ‘Traitor Astartes,’ nodded Caius.

  ‘Exactly, inquisitor. It stands to reason the presence of the Death Guard is linked to the clarity of the scanners. Thade?’

  The captain spoke up again. ‘Either the Traitor Legion cleared our scanners for a reason we’re not aware of, or something they’re doing in the Shrine of the Emperor’s Unending Majesty disables their own jammers as a side effect.’

  ‘Best guess?’ asked Caius.

  ‘We think they’re scanning for something. And they can’t jam us while they scan,’ Thade said.

  ‘I concur,’ said Osiron. ‘The tech-adepts of every regiment are working on methods to counter the interference based on the latest development.’

  ‘As expected. But what is there to scan for?’ Not a man failed to notice the edge to Caius’s voice as he asked that question.

  ‘We have tacticians, savants and teams of research servitors working on that, sir,’ said the lord general. Caius waved the reply away.

  ‘Does the Inquisition know?’ asked Thade suddenly.

  ‘What?’ Caius was momentarily blindsided. The silence that followed was intensel
y awkward.

  ‘The plague has ravaged Scarus Sector for months now, on worlds closer to the Warmaster’s front lines. Now we know the Death Guard are present; the Legion historically responsible for the other outbreaks and the likeliest source of this most recent one.’

  ‘That’s guesswork,’ said Maggrig.

  ‘It matches the facts,’ Thade replied. He was careful to keep the irritation from his voice.

  ‘I respect your position, Captain Thade,’ Caius began, ‘but the Holy Ordos of the Throne will make you aware of what you need to know when the time comes for you to know it.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a “yes”,’ Thade smiled. Commissar Tionenji pointedly cleared his throat. Thade quieted down and worked hard to kill his smirk.

  ‘The Ordo Sepulturum is here to sweep the reliquaries and places of greatest faith within the cathedral sector. I seek the source of the plague. Indeed, I seek any information at all that can help us better understand this grave threat.’

  ‘Understood, sir,’ Thade said. How very rehearsed, he thought. And vague. Thade had never worked with the Inquisition before. It was a record he’d been keen to keep. Following orders was one thing; he was used to it and it rarely rankled. But information was power, and going into a fight without the facts was not the way any soldier wanted to make war.

  ‘We’re not children,’ Thade said. ‘If you’re keeping the truth from us to save our sanity, I tell you now that we’d rather know exactly what’s going on.’

  ‘Thade,’ Lockwood warned.

  ‘I mean no offence,’ the captain said. ‘But we’re not some green unit on our first campaign. We’ll fight and die or fight and win, no matter what the truth is.’

  ‘Thade,’ Lockwood warned again, frowning now.

  ‘Your stubborn insistence is noted, captain.’ Caius gestured to the Overseer. ‘Lord General Maggrig, what are your current intentions?’

  There were no hesitations from the lord general this time. ‘I am ordering the remaining forces at this position into the city to take and hold several key locations along the western edge. We will establish a forward base within Solthane by the end of the week.’