The Master of Mankind

by Aaron Dembski-Bowden

  ‘You see no other value to the world?’

  ‘Mining will still be possible after the worst of the radiation subsides. Its agricultural possibilities are poor. What Thoas offers will survive the worst we can do on the surface.’

  ‘I see.’

  The Chapter Masters remained silent. You know me well, Guilliman thought. They knew the debate was about more than a tactical decision.

  ‘Captain Iasus,’ Guilliman said. ‘You were on the surface. What are your views?’

  ‘I respectfully disagree with my brother’s evaluation.’ The captain of the 166th was younger than Hierax, and a native of Macragge. His features were far less worn than Hierax’s. The long, livid scar that ran from his right temple down the length of his jaw made his profile seem even more aquiline. ‘The value of Thoas is more than industrial. There was an important culture there. Its memory should be preserved.’

  ‘That culture failed,’ said Hierax.

  ‘It did,’ Guilliman agreed. ‘Does that mean it should be expunged from our collective memory? Do we have nothing to learn from it? Does that mean its stand against the orks does not deserve to be commemorated? That there were no battles worthy of song?’

  ‘It does not,’ Hierax admitted.

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’ Guilliman placed his hand on a stack of bound vellum manuscripts on the side of his desk. ‘There is no tactical value to the remembrancers on our vessels. They contribute nothing to the battlefields of the Great Crusade. What they contribute in between the battlefields is inestimable. The records of the pacifications. The celebrations of victories. The memorialisation of the fallen. The analyses of the recovered cultures. This is the living tissue of the Imperium’s culture, Hierax. Even the dead civilisations are part of the human story. They have a life beyond the dust of their citizens.’

  He turned to look at Thoas. Most of the planet was a dark brown, but it was far from dead. Its atmosphere was turbulent with the flashing energy of storms. The coasts were green with vegetation. Thoas was alive. Even with the cancer of the orks upon it, it was alive. He would not kill it. And he would not kill its history.

  ‘The orks took Thoas from humanity,’ he said. ‘We will take it back. We will not lose its heritage in the process.’

  ‘The radiation levels…’ Hierax began.

  Guilliman raised a hand. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘They are high in the region of the ruins. Will we make them higher yet? We come to reclaim and to build. We will take Thoas back, and we will build a new civilisation here. Of course it will surpass what was there before, but it will also honour this world’s history.’

  He smiled at Hierax. ‘Do you understand, captain?’

  ‘I do.’ The Destroyer’s tone was flat.

  I wonder if you do, Guilliman thought, even more disappointed. Hierax was a good officer, but he was limited. He also symbolised a larger problem Guilliman had seen growing in the Legion, one the time had come to deal with.

  ‘The Nemesis Chapter stands ready to deploy when and as ordered,’ Hierax said.

  ‘I’m sure the Twenty-second does.’ Guilliman’s use of the numeral designation sounded like a rebuke. ‘And deploy it will.’

  ‘All of it?’ Hierax asked.

  Guilliman raised an eyebrow at the shade of anger in the question. More evidence of the necessity of what he was about to do. He was glad he had asked Hierax to be here. Listening to the captain had confirmed him in his resolution.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not all of it. There are some actions that will not be necessary.’

  Hierax’s lips thinned.

  ‘The time and the place must be the correct ones,’ Guilliman said. ‘These ones are not.’

  Hierax bowed his head. He said nothing.

  To the Chapter Masters, Guilliman said, ‘You have seen the intelligence gathered by the Scouts of the 166th and 223rd Companies.’ He emphasised the credit. He had just informed Hierax he would, once again, not be seeing action. He wished the captain to know, also, that the contribution of his Chapter had value.

  ‘We land in the plain?’ Banzor asked.

  Guilliman nodded. ‘Your thoughts?’

  ‘A good staging area. The orks have the high ground, but our presence will draw them down.’

  ‘Their high ground is a dead end,’ said Atreus. ‘If we force them back there, that is where they die.’

  ‘And they will be a diminished enemy in retreat,’ Klord Empion of the Ninth mused.

  ‘That practical depends on the theoretical of the orks abandoning the ruins,’ Banzor said.

  ‘When have greenskins ever resisted the bait of a fight?’ said Gage.

  ‘Good point,’ Banzor admitted.

  ‘We see no chance the ruins are so important to them that they might hold their ground?’ said Vared of the 11th.

  ‘Highly unlikely,’ Guilliman said. ‘It would be unprecedented.’

  ‘“The unprecedented,”’ said Iasus, quoting Axioms 17.vi, ‘“is the catalyst for adaptability. Do not hope to expect every eventuality. Meet it instead.”’

  Hierax frowned at the other captain’s temerity. Gage raised an eyebrow, amused.

  ‘The very words,’ Guilliman said, grinning.

  He ended the briefing a few minutes later. The target was clear. So was the strategy. This wasn’t an attack that called for finesse. It would have bored Lion El’Jonson or Fulgrim senseless. Angron might have appreciated the straightforward application of overwhelming force, though he would have been baffled by the decision to capture and preserve the ruins. This was the strategy the enemy and the goal called for, though, so it was the strategy that would be employed. The difference between doctrine and dogma is the gulf between triumph and defeat.

  ‘Evido,’ Guilliman called to Banzor as the Chapter Masters and the captains filed out of the compartment. ‘A brief word, if you would.’

  Banzor walked back to the front of the desk. Gage remained where he was, off to the side and between the desk and the crystalflex walls. Guilliman had told him some of what he had planned, but not all. He was visibly startled by the fact Guilliman had asked the Chapter Master of the 16th to stay. Banzor merely looked puzzled.

  When the doors had closed behind the others, Guilliman said, ‘What is your evaluation of Captain Iasus?’

  ‘In what sense?’

  ‘In general. And in his ability to command, in specific.’

  ‘A fine warrior. An excellent captain.’

  ‘He inspires loyalty?’

  ‘He does. He doesn’t just lead from the front. He’s fought at one point or another with just about every squad in the company. They know he knows what they do and what they need to do it.’

  ‘So his mission with the squads was typical rather than unusual.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Adaptable, then.’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘And his overall command of the company? I appreciate his fine knowledge of the workings of the squad, but a captain needs to be more than a very flexible sergeant.’

  ‘You need have no reservations on that score, primarch. The 166th has been exemplary under his leadership.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Thank you, Evido.’

  Banzor left, still puzzled. He had questions, but he did not ask them. Guilliman did not offer him answers. He had not made a final decision yet. Until he did, there were no answers for Banzor’s questions.

  Guilliman moved to his seat behind the desk. He looked at Gage. The Chapter Master Primus looked less puzzled. He’s guessed, Guilliman thought. Even so, he would not open this particular discussion with Marius. He wanted the quiet of his own counsel first.

  Gage understood. Gage knew him well. So Gage spoke of something else. ‘Thoas,’ he said. ‘Are the ruins that important?’

  ‘You think I should let Hierax off his leash.�
��

  Gage shrugged. ‘The Destroyers haven’t been planetside at all on this campaign.’

  ‘Their tactics and their weapons have not been called for. We are not fighting that kind of war.’

  Gage hesitated. ‘Will we ever?’

  ‘For those companies as they are presently constituted, I hope not.’

  ‘“As they are presently constituted”?’ Gage asked.

  Guilliman waved off the question. ‘Later,’ he said. ‘To answer your first question – yes. The ruins are that important.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Their symbolism. Thoas is a culmination. We will crush the ork empire here. We will reclaim a world that we know was once a human one. Another piece of what is and must be inherent to the Imperium will be restored.’

  ‘All that would be true regardless of the state of the planet.’

  Guilliman gave the old veteran a sideways look. ‘Since when are you such an advocate for the Destroyers’ way of war?’

  ‘I just don’t think we should reject Hierax’s approach out of hand.’

  ‘I haven’t. I said the symbolism of the ruins is important. It is for two reasons. We are not destroyers, Marius. That isn’t why my Father created us. It can’t be. It won’t be. So preserving a city, even a dead one, is important. Especially now.’

  ‘Because of the one we destroyed,’ Gage said after a moment.

  ‘Yes,’ said Guilliman. ‘Because of the one we destroyed.’

  Monarchia. Lorgar’s pride. The city raised to glorify the Emperor. The city razed because it had deified the Emperor. A place of architectural wonder. A beautiful city. The XIII Legion had come to the jewel of Khur. The Ultramarines had taken possession of the city. They had rounded up the population. They had reduced the empty city to ash and glass.

  The people of Monarchia had committed no crime. They were loyal to the Emperor. Loyal to a fault, Guilliman thought. They were guilty only of believing the lie taught them by Lorgar, a lie Lorgar had believed himself. The memory of the grief on Lorgar’s face during his confrontation with the Emperor haunted Guilliman. It had been the terrible agony of a son punished for doing what he had thought would be pleasing to his father.

  The Ultramarines had destroyed a city and the spirit of its populace to chastise Lorgar. To humble his pride.

  To make a point.

  Symbolism.

  ‘I keep wondering,’ Gage said, ‘why us?’

  ‘Because my Father could trust us to perform the task as it needed to be done. Would you have wished it on any of the others?’

  Gage shook his head.

  ‘And Angron might have enjoyed himself,’ Guilliman added. ‘We did what we had to. We were deliberate. We were dispassionate. My Father’s chastisement was measured.’

  With a sigh, Gage said, ‘I did not feel measured when we flattened Monarchia.’

  ‘None of us did.’ The destruction had taken its toll on the Word Bearers. That had been its purpose. There had been a cost for the XIII Legion too. ‘We suffered a blow because of what we did there. We took that blow because it was necessary and because we could stand it. Do you see what Thoas can be for us?’ Symbolism. He tapped a data-slate, summoning the picts Iasus and the Scouts of the 166th had captured. ‘There is majesty there. Majesty worth preserving, and worth building upon. We will take back this city, and in time we will see a new civilisation rise here.’

  ‘We’ll be creators again,’ Gage said.

  ‘Thoas will wash the bitterness of Monarchia from our mouths.’

  As he spoke, Guilliman turned his seat to look out through the crystalflex at the planet below. He saw the plain where his legions would land. His eyes locked onto the spot where he knew the ruins stood. He thought of absent cities. He tried to make himself think of cities yet to be, not of cities unmade. He failed. He thought of both.

  He thought of the force of symbolism, and of the choice he knew he had already made.

  Click here to buy Roboute Guilliman: Lord of Ultramar.

  For Savannah Lily Dembski-Bowden, who decorated my shoulder with vile,

  milky baby vomit only five minutes before I wrote these words. Thanks, Scout.

  A Black Library Publication

  First published in Great Britain in 2016

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  Cover artwork by Neil Roberts.

  Internal illustrations by Kevin Chin.

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