The Ultramarines Omnibus

by Graham McNeill

  ‘How can you do this?’ screamed a soot-smeared man in Jenna’s face. ‘Don’t you know you’re helping prop up a corrupt regime of thieves and liars?’

  Sergeant Collix was suddenly at her side and slammed his shock maul into the man’s face. The man collapsed, blood spurting from his shattered jaw and Collix dragged him over the line of judges. The sergeant hauled the insensible man’s bleeding body towards the Rhinos.

  True, the man’s words had been illegally subversive, but she realised that there was the very real possibility he was right.

  Barely five years out of the Schola Progenium and her Adeptus Arbites training only completed six months ago, such concerns were far above Jenna’s head. Her superiors would decide if the rulers of Pavonis had become criminally incompetent and remove them from office should that prove to be the case.

  She tensed her leg muscles, ready to push the crowd again, but suddenly realised there was no need as the people before her took a collective step backward, staring in wonder at something behind her. Making sure there was nobody threatening nearby, she spared a hurried glance over her shoulder.

  A splendid hover carriage swept by, but it was the blue armoured giant sitting along with the Taloun and two men she didn’t recognise that claimed Jenna Sharben’s attention.

  She had never seen a Space Marine in the flesh before, but had seen the devotional placards and posters on her home-world of Verdan III. Never had she imagined that the outlandish proportions they ascribed to Space Marines could actually be real. She recognised the alabaster white emblem on his shoulder guard as belonging to the Ultramarines and felt a flutter of unreasoning fear as the enormous warrior glanced over at her.

  The carriage raced through the palace gates and the Ultramarines warrior was lost to sight. She shook herself free of her awe at the Space Marine’s size and turned back to the crowd, ready for more trouble.

  But such a physical reminder of the Imperium’s power had robbed the crowd of any further desire for troublemaking and slowly it began to break up. First in ones and twos, then in greater numbers as word of the enormous champion of the Emperor’s arrival spread to those at the rear of the crowd who hadn’t seen him. A few die-hard demagogues tried to keep the crowd together with attempts at fiery rhetoric, but they were soon clubbed to the ground and dragged towards the holding cells of the Rhinos.

  ‘Did you see the size of him?’ declared the judge next to her. ‘The Space Marines are here!’

  Yes, thought Jenna Sharben, the Space Marines are here.

  But did that mean things had just got better or worse?

  THE DOME OF the Pavonis Senate Chambers of Righteous Commerce was cast from solid bronze, its inner face lined with a rich patina of age and smoke. Beneath the dome, the circular chamber was tiered and filled with shouting members of the Pavonis cartels. The tier nearest the red and gold chequered floor was reserved for the heads of the twenty-four cartels, though the burgundy leather seats were rarely fully occupied except at the beginning of the financial year.

  Sixteen of the positions were currently occupied. The heads of the six most profitable cartels – the Shonai, the Vergen, the de Valtos, the Taloun, the Honan and the Abrogas – were all in attendance, making ostentatious displays of friendship.

  Behind them sat the members of their families or those who could claim some relation by marriage or adoption.

  Finally, in the highest tier, at the rear of the chamber, sat the equally vocal members of each cartel who could not claim a blood tie to its owners, but nevertheless had signed exclusive contracts of loyalty to its charter. This was by far the largest tier in the chamber and its segregated members shouted venomously at one another despite the repeated calls for order by the bewigged Moderator of Transactions. These were the hangers-on and opportunists who sought social advancement through their association with the cartel

  of their choice. Uriel noticed Adept Ballion Varle sitting shiftily in the section reserved for supporters of the Taloun.

  Guests and those without formal written remit to be part of the chamber’s activities were permitted to sit in the bare wooden benches of this tier and it was from here that Ario Barzano, Lortuen Perjed and Uriel Ventris watched the dealings below.

  Uriel could feel the eyes of many of the upper tier spectators upon him and forced himself to ignore them as he listened to proceedings on the floor below.

  ‘Can’t see or hear a damned thing from here,’ grumbled Barzano, straining over the brass rail of the tier.

  ‘I believe that is the idea,’ observed Perjed acidly. ‘Many worlds in the galactic east are notoriously reluctant to allow observers to participate in their government. Even observers as… ah, influential as you.’

  ‘Is that so?’ snapped Barzano. ‘Well, we’ll see about that.’

  Uriel could understand Barzano’s frustration about being placed here, but thanks to his genetic enhancements, he could hear and see perfectly well from their lofty position.

  ‘Now who’s that big fellow in black?’ asked Barzano pointing to a corpulent man in the centre of the chamber banging a long polearm topped with a bronze sphere.

  ‘That is the Moderator of Transactions,’ answered Lortuen Perjed. ‘He acts as the chairman of senate meetings, approves the agenda and decrees who may or may not speak.’

  ‘Doesn’t look like he’s doing a very good job of it. What in blazes is he saying anyway?’

  ‘He is appealing for quiet,’ said Uriel.

  Barzano and Perjed stared at him for a second before remembering his enhanced senses.

  ‘Still, it won’t do, Uriel,’ snapped Barzano. ‘It won’t do at all. You might be able to hear, but I don’t want to find out what’s happening secondhand. No offence to you of course, my dear fellow.’

  ‘None taken,’ assured Uriel. ‘First-hand battle information is always more reliable.’

  ‘Exactly so. Now come on, let’s get out of this perch and a bit closer to the action.’

  Barzano led the way down the stone steps towards the lower tiers. A few muscular bailiffs in fur lined robes and bicorn hats

  with golden chains of office around their necks tried to bar their way with black staffs tipped with bronze. Uriel could see that they carried the cudgels like they knew how to use them and guessed that some senate meetings required breaking up when the ‘discussions’ became overly heated. One look at the massive Ultramarines captain soon convinced them that discretion was the better part of valour, however, and within minutes, Barzano, Perjed and Uriel were ensconced in the padded leather seating behind the heads of the cartels.

  The Moderator of Transactions tapped his cane on the tiled floor and stared pointedly at the three interlopers in his senate chambers. The bailiffs behind them shrugged. Heads were turning to face them and a pregnant hush fell over the crowded hall as they waited what steps the Moderator of Transactions would take.

  Uriel folded his massive arms and stared back at the sweating man. The tension was broken when Vendare Taloun stood and waved his cane in the direction of the Moderator.

  ‘Moderator, might I be permitted to address our guests?’

  The man scowled, but nodded. ‘The floor recognises the Honourable Vendare Taloun.’

  ‘Thank you. Friends, fellow cartel members and traders! It is with great pleasure that I welcome Adepts Barzano and Perjed and Captain Uriel Ventris of the Ultramarines as our guests here today. These honoured visitors from the Emperor have come to our troubled world to see what can be done to remedy the terrible hardships we have been forced to endure these last few, painful years. I feel it is only good manners to welcome them to this, our humble assemblage and extend every courtesy during their stay on Pavonis.’

  Applause and jeers greeted Taloun’s words in equal measure as Perjed leaned over to whisper to Barzano and Uriel. ‘Very clever. He infers that it was his influence that brought us here and thus he is seen as a statesman with a greater perspective than the governor while at the same time avoidin
g criticising her directly.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Barzano, his eyes narrowing. ‘Very clever.’

  As the jeering, clapping and calls for other potential speakers continued, Uriel studied the other members of the cartels sitting in the front tier. The bench nearest the moderator bore the governor of Pavonis and her advisors. A thin, acerbic faced man stood behind the governor and sitting beside her was an older man with an enormous grey beard, smoking a pipe. Both men were whispering urgently to her.

  Uriel liked the look of Mykola Shonai. Despite the chaos of the senate chambers, she comported herself with dignity and he could see she had great strength in her.

  As Taloun sat down, Uriel noticed a white haired man seated near him whose scarred, burned face had the unhealthy pallor of synth-flesh. This man seemed uninterested in speaking and stared with undisguised hatred at governor Shonai.

  ‘That’s Kasimir de Valtos,’ whispered Perjed, noticing the direction of Uriel’s stare. ‘Poor chap’s ship was attacked by the eldar pirates. Apparently they did all manner of horrible things to him before he escaped.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘I don’t know. “Horrible” is all my records mention.’

  ‘What does his cartel produce?’

  ‘Engines and hulls for Leman Russ battle tanks and heavy artillery pieces mainly, though I think that much of that is overseen by his subordinates.’

  ‘Why do you say that, Lortuen?’ asked Barzano.

  Administratum records for this world have listed Guilder de Valtos as applying for no less than seven Imperial permits to lead archaeological expeditions throughout the system. Many of the finest pieces in the Pavonis Paymaster’s Gallery have come from his own private collection. He is quite the patron of the arts and has a passion for antiquities.’

  ‘Really? It seems we share an interest then,’ chuckled Barzano.

  Uriel wondered exactly what that meant as Perjed threw his master a sharp look, and also pondered why Barzano himself did not know these facts. He nodded towards a bearded man with a ponytail who sat slumped on the bench close to de Valtos and Taloun. He could see that the man’s eyes were glazed and even over the bodily odours of the hundreds of individuals in the hall, Uriel could detect the faint aroma of a soporific emanating from the man, possibly obscura.

  ‘What about him, who is he?’

  Perjed squinted along his nose and sighed in disappointment. That, Captain Ventris, is Beauchamp Abrogas, and a more sorry specimen of humanity you will be hard pressed to find this side of the Ophelian Pilgrim trail. He is a waster who could barely spell his own name if you handed him the quill and wrote half the letters for him.’

  The bile in Lortuen Perjed’s voice surprised Uriel and the old man seemed to realise this. He smiled weakly and explained, ‘My apologies, but I find the squandering of an individual’s Emperor-given talents such as this wasteful. And if there is one thing the Administratum hates, it is waste, my dear captain.’

  Uriel turned his attention back to the floor of the chamber where a modicum of order had been restored. The moderator was pointing his sphere-topped staff at a fat man in a powdered white wig that cascaded across his shoulders as a shrill voiced woman with long blonde hair yelled at the moderator.

  Uriel raised a questioning eyebrow to Perjed, who shrugged. ‘She sits in the seat normally reserved for the Vergen, so I can only assume she is his daughter. I know nothing about her,’ admitted the adept.

  The woman would have been attractive, thought Uriel, had her face not been set in a permanent sneer of self-righteous indignation. She gripped the rail before her and tried to make herself heard over the shouts of the other members.

  ‘I demand senate chambers recognise my authority to speak in the name of the Vergen cartel!’ she spat. As the daughter of Leotas Vergen I demand the right to be heard.’

  The moderator of transactions blatantly ignored the woman as two bailiffs moved to stand before her. The moderator turned away and said, ‘The floor recognises the… Honourable Taryn Honan.’

  A few bawdy laughs greeted this last comment from the high tiers along with balled up agenda sheets. The man appeared flustered at the reaction and puffed out his considerable chest before loudly clearing his throat and speaking in a high pitched, nasal voice.

  ‘I think I speak for all of us when I join with Guilder Taloun in welcoming our honoured guests to Pavonis, and I for one wish to extend to them the full hospitality of my country estates.’

  ‘Has the committee approved that, Honan?’ shouted a voice from the opposite side of the hall. Applause and laughter greeted the joker’s comment and Uriel noticed Guilder Taloun rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation, as though embarrassed by the support of Honan.

  Guilder Honan sat back in his seat and rested his hands on his belly, bewildered and shamed by the laughter at his expense. The shrill voiced woman again began yelling at the moderator as he stamped the staff onto the tiles and shouted, ‘If you are quite finished, gentlemen, today’s first order of business is an Extraordinary Motion tabled by the honourable Guilder Taloun.’

  Across the chamber, the governor of Pavonis surged to her feet.

  ‘Moderator, this is intolerable! Will you allow Guilder Taloun to hijack proceedings like this? I called this assembly of the senate and the right of first voice is mine.’

  ‘An Extraordinary Motion takes precedence over the right of first voice,’ explained Taloun patiently.

  ‘I know the conventions of procedure!’ barked Shonai.

  ‘Then can I assume you will allow me to continue, governor?’

  ‘I know what you’re doing here, Vendare. So just get on with it, damn you.’

  ‘As you wish, Governor Shonai,’ replied Taloun courteously. Vendare Taloun pushed himself to his feet and spread wide his hands, making his way to the centre of the chequered floor and taking hold of the staff offered to him by the Moderator of Transactions.

  Once divested of the staff, the Moderator of Transactions consulted a data slate and said, ‘Guilder Taloun, I notice that your submitted motion does not bear a title. Under article six of the conventions of procedure, you are required to fill subject form three-two-four dash nine, in triplicate. Can I assume that you will do so now?’

  ‘My profound apologies for the absence of a title, but I felt that to announce the topic of my motion would be to cause unnecessary bias had its subject matter become common knowledge before my raising it. Rest assured I shall complete the said form immediately following this assembly.’

  The moderator nodded in acceptance and yielded the floor to Vendare Taloun.

  He rapped the staff sharply on the floor.

  ‘Friends, we live in troubled times,’ he began, to sycophantic applause.

  Taloun smiled, accepting the applause graciously and raised his hands for silence before continuing.

  ‘Seldom in our proud commercial history have we faced such threats as we do today. Vile alien raiders plague our shipping, the Church of Ancient Ways bomb our manufactoram and kill our workers. The business of trade has instead become the business of survival as costs rise, taxes bite harder and margins shrink.’

  Obsequious nods and shouts echoed around the hall as Taloun began to pace the floor, jabbing with the staff to accentuate his words, and Uriel recognised a powerful orator in Vendare Taloun.

  ‘And what does our vaunted governor do about this crisis?’ demanded Taloun.

  Heated shouts of ‘nothing’ and other, less savoury comments roared from the assembly as Taloun continued. ‘There is not one amongst us that does not suffer under her financially oppressive regime. My own cartel groans under the weight of Governor Shonai’s tithe tax as I know others do too. Brother de Valtos, you yourself were attacked by these despicable alien raiders who plague us so, and tortured most horribly. And yet the governor does nothing!

  ‘Sister Vergen, your own dearly beloved father was murdered a stone’s throw from where we sit. And yet the governor doe
s nothing! Brother Abrogas, your own blood relative was nearly murdered on the streets of his hometown. And yet the governor does nothing!’

  Solana Vergen was too startled by Taloun’s acknowledgement of her loss to respond in a suitably grief-stricken manner, while Beauchamp Abrogas did not even register that he had been named.

  ‘Our world is under siege, my friends. The vultures gather to pick our carcass clean. And yet the governor does nothing!’

  Thunderous applause greeted Taloun’s words and Uriel could see the governor’s two advisors practically holding her

  down as Taloun turned to address the moderator of transactions directly. The chamber suddenly fell deathly silent as the assembly waited for what Taloun would say next.

  ‘Moderator,’ he announced formally ‘I table a motion that the senate cast a vote of no confidence in Governor Shonai and remove her from office!’

  SEVEN

  MAGOS DAL KOLURST, tech-priest of the Tembra Ridge deep-bore mine, checked the map on his data slate for the third time to make sure he was in the right place. The glow of the display threw his face into stark relief and cast a flickering green halo around him in the darkness of the mine. He glanced above him, checking that the line of glow-globes and electrical cable was intact and connected to the power transformer. He leaned closer to the transformer, hearing the reassuring hum that told him it was operational.

  Yes, everything seemed to be in order. The proper obeisance had been made to the Omnissiah and he had checked that all the correct cabling was connected.

  So why was he standing alone in the sweltering darkness of the mine, with only the glow of a data slate and his shoulder lamp to illuminate his surroundings?

  He checked the map one more time, just to make sure he was in the right place. Shaft secundus, tunnel seventy-two, junction thirty-six. Kolurst knew he was in the right place, and couldn’t understand why there was no light here, when everything told him this part of the mine workings should be lit up as bright as day.