by Various
The thick windows at the front of the flight station were blind for now, closed off from the madness of warp space by black iron shutters that blotted out the sea of insanity. All but one of the Velox’s command stations were occupied by quiet automata or servitors; unlike a human crew, the machines and mind-wiped helots would never question – or even remember – their secretive missions, no matter where they took them.
The sole human on the command deck was a taciturn male of Nordafrik descent named Sorkad, who never left the compartment, even for sleep or refreshment. He peered owlishly over his shoulder at Kendel as she entered, a rig of multifaceted optic lenses over his face snapping back so he could look at her.
‘Agentia,’ he said, by way of greeting.
‘Time to translation?’ Kendel had quickly learned that Sorkad had no interest in conversation beyond the most basic interactions. She liked the simplicity and directness of that.
‘Thirty-eight hours.’ He turned back to his panel.
She looked away, finding the bulbous hemisphere set into the flight deck’s ceiling. A heavy hatch covered with psychometric wards protruded from the curved surface. This was the lower part of a bell chamber where the Velox’s Navigator Mazone drifted in null-gravity and did his strange work guiding the gun-cutter through the immaterium. Kendel had not laid eyes on the Navigator since boarding the ship, and Mazone had made it clear that he did not want to be in the same room as the pariah – or even aboard the same vessel, she noted.
She didn’t want to tarry. Even with walls of dense psi-dampeners between Mazone and Kendel’s innate anti-psionic qualities, the former Oblivion Knight feared that she might cloud the Navigator’s ability and cause the Velox to drift off-course.
She heard gentle footsteps behind her, and a sound that was half gasp, half retch. Kendel turned to see the ship’s other psyker, the blind astropath, retreating back into the corridor. The woman’s olive skin paled and her long-fingered hand went to her mouth.
‘Milady Pau Yei,’ Kendel began, trying to soften the moment with the use of the honorific. ‘Please, wait. I would speak with you.’ She followed the astropath off the bridge, and the other woman kept backing away, almost stumbling. One hand rose in an unconscious gesture of warding, the other desperately feeling the way along the curved walls of the corridor.
‘Stop. Stop.’ Pau Yei shook her head. ‘Don’t come any closer. It is most distressing.’ A sheen of fear-sweat made her dulled complexion shimmer. ‘Oh.’ She snatched at an atomiser on her belt and sprayed it in her face, inhaling a sweet calmative mist to steady her nerve. ‘Forgive me. I do not wish to be rude, but…’
‘I understand. But please appreciate that this mission requires all of us to make sacrifices. Your comfort, I am afraid, is one of them.’
‘Indeed.’
‘I was looking for you,’ Kendel went on. ‘Your insight is required.’
‘For what?’ Pau Yei appeared as if she wanted to be anywhere in the universe but here in this moment.
‘The others need to be briefed before we translate back into normal space. Better we do it now, to give everyone time to prepare.’
The astropath gave a nod. ‘Could I not speak to them over the vox from my–’
‘Follow me, milady,’ Kendel insisted.
They assembled in the Velox’s cargo bay. Wide enough to accommodate a pair of Land Speeders side by side, it was empty except for the portable arming racks the Death Guard had set up against the inner hull wall. Qelvyn was fascinated by the pair of them, watching discreetly as they prepared their power armour and their massive, oversized bolters for whatever threats might await the ship at the end of its journey.
Vasado nudged her. ‘Take a pict, it will last longer.’
‘Maybe I will,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like them.’
‘That’s the idea,’ said the other soldier. ‘They were made that way.’ He grunted to himself. ‘But believe me, you may think a Space Marine is impressive, but you haven’t seen anything until you’ve laid eyes on a primarch.’
She shot him a look. ‘You’ve never seen one of them.’
‘Not one,’ countered Vasado. ‘A few. I was at the Triumph at Ullanor.’
‘Liar,’ she replied, without malice. ‘Every trooper and their dog says that! Let me guess, you were right at the front, too?’
‘There were eight million of us.’ Vasado looked affronted. ‘It’s the truth! And no, I was a few miles back. Still saw them, though.’ He paused, recalling the moment, losing himself in it. ‘The Emperor was there.’
‘Our gene-father too,’ rumbled the legionary called Gallor. He’d clearly heard every word they had uttered.
‘And Horus,’ added the other Death Guard, Kyda. He replaced his gun on the rack and tossed a cleaning cloth into a bucket. ‘I wonder if that’s where the rot began.’
Gallor glanced at the two soldiers. ‘Forgive my brother. We have had little to occupy us of late, and during inaction our thoughts dwell on bleak questions.’
Kyda advanced on Vasado, looking him up and down. ‘You were there. So were we.’ The Space Marine placed a giant hand on his shoulder. ‘There will be less marching this time.’ He turned away once more.
Qelvyn and Vasado shared a look. What the hell does that mean?
The hatch behind them clanked open and the astropath Pau Yei flitted into the compartment, moving as quickly as she was capable to the very farthest corner of the cargo bay, hand over hand along a guide rail. A second later, Kendel entered and gave them all a nod. She sat atop a storage crate and ran a hand through the short fuzz of her hair.
‘Well, now,’ she began. ‘Time for explanations. We’re under way, so the full scope of this mission can be detailed.’
‘You promised me traitors,’ said Kyda. ‘Do not renege.’
‘The enemy are waiting at our destination.’ Kendel fished in the pocket of the heavy, brocaded surcoat she wore. ‘We are on course for Proxima Centauri.’
‘That’s a loyalist system,’ said Kyda, with a sniff.
‘Is it?’ Gallor raised an eyebrow.
Vasado gave a start. ‘I… I was born on Proxima Secundus.’
‘Yes, it’s almost like Malcador had some sort of plan when he picked you,’ Kendel replied dryly. ‘Trooper Vasado’s local knowledge will be of use to us when we arrive at the capital world of Proxima Majoris.’
The soldier’s expression soured. ‘I’ll do what I can. But I never had much time for all the First Family nabobs and rich preeners on Majoris.’
‘Noted.’ Kendel went on, then began her briefing in earnest. ‘I’ve been granted clearance to tell you the following. Over the past few months, the astropathic choir in the City of Sight on Terra have been intercepting strange psionic messages from beyond the solar system. At first, they thought these were ghost echoes or some other empyreal phenomena, but investigation has shown otherwise.’
‘Who is sending the messages?’ said Gallor.
‘We don’t know.’
The Death Guard frowned. ‘Where are they going?’
‘Out.’ Kendel gestured at the air. ‘Into the Ruinstorm.’
‘To Horus, then?’
Kendel’s lips thinned. ‘That is the most likely explanation.’ She turned to Pau Yei. ‘Milady, if you would be so kind as to illuminate us further?’
‘Of-of course.’ The demure little astropath’s head flicked up at the sound of her name. She gulped down water from a jewelled bottle chained to her belt and took a shuddering breath. ‘You may have heard the rumours. Some time ago, a cadre of Word Bearers led by the dread centurion Sor Talgron committed grievous sabotage on Terra. One such action was an attempt to destroy the psionic levees in place around the City of Sight. It left us open to… a far greater intrusion.’
‘Psionic what?’ Qelvyn’s eyes narrowed. All this witch-
talk was beyond her.
‘Telepathic barriers,’ said Gallor. ‘Go on, milady.’
Pau Yei nodded to herself, the empty sockets in her face looking at nothing. ‘Perhaps the full details are not germane to this conversation. The important point is, during the reconstruction of those levees, we detected the echo-imprint of unauthorised psionic arias coming from Proxima Majoris. It was pure chance. Had the barriers been in full effect, we might never have known…’ She halted again, reframing her thoughts. ‘The prognostics have confirmed that someone on Proxima Majoris is secretly transmitting data to the enemy through the song of a suborned astropath.’
Kyda considered Pau Yei’s words. ‘A spy based on Proxima could monitor ship movements coming in from across the segmentum. They would be able to track the transfer of hardware and manpower to and from Terra, if correctly embedded. It’s a sound deployment.’
‘Malcador thinks so,’ said Kendel. ‘The Sigillite’s orders are clear and unequivocal – we are to find and terminate the rogue astropath, along with whoever is controlling them. But it must be done carefully.’
Pau Yei gave a curt nod. ‘Hence our enforced cooperation.’ She gestured in Kendel’s direction. ‘We are, for the duration, the witch-seeker’s retinue in this matter.’
‘We’ll try to make it less of a chore for you, milady,’ Qelvyn deadpanned.
‘I see why this mission was not granted to Lord Dorn’s warriors,’ added Gallor. ‘Kendel has her status as a null and her expertise in hunting psykers, aye, but more than that, the deployment of a visible legionary force would raise panic in the local populace.’
‘The Imperial Fists don’t know how to walk quietly,’ Kyda noted.
‘Exactly,’ said Kendel. ‘We don’t want the government of a system of Proxima’s tactical value to be divided by accusations of treachery.’
Kendel didn’t expand on that, but Qelvyn had heard talk of some Imperial colonies falling into anarchy and in-fighting when loyalties were directly challenged. The last thing the Imperium needed on the eve of invasion was witch-hunts and pogroms.
‘Vasado.’ Gallor turned to Qelvyn’s companion. ‘What is the character of this world, its people?’
The trooper frowned. ‘Stuffed shirts, the lot of them.’ The Death Guard’s quizzical look made it clear he didn’t understand the reference, and Vasado went on. ‘Majoris is run by a cabal of nobles descended from the first colonists to arrive in the system, and if you’ll pardon my bluntness, they think their sewage doesn’t stink. It’s a very regimented, narrow-minded society with a strong military component. Everyone on the planet claims to be related to some war hero or another. Proxima’s supplied men and women to the ranks of the Imperial Army since the First Expedition. Take it deadly serious, they do. We walk in there cracking off about a spy in their midst to all and sundry, and it won’t end well.’
‘It would be shameful to them,’ said Gallor, grasping the trooper’s meaning. ‘So any investigation – and accusation – will need to be discreet.’ He paused. ‘Not my usual sort of battlefield.’
Kyda made a spitting noise. ‘This sounds unpleasantly like a diplomatic mission.’
‘Oh, there’ll be blood to be shed,’ Vasado corrected. ‘Proximans don’t do anything by halves, and a traitor won’t go quiet, not on that planet.’
Kendel got to her feet. ‘I’ve had data-slates programmed with all the available intelligence we have on Proxima Majoris and the reports from the prognostics. I advise everyone to review them.’
‘Are we dismissed?’ Pau Yei said quickly, sensing the briefing’s conclusion.
‘Aye–’ Kendel had barely started speaking before the astropath bolted from the room as best she could and disappeared into the corridor.
‘Something we said?’ muttered Vasado.
Qelvyn caught his eye and shot a look towards the witch-seeker.
‘Oh. Right.’
The group broke up and Kendel decided to walk the length of the Velox once more, to gather her thoughts. But she had barely gone a few metres when she heard the heavy footfalls of one of the legionaries behind her.
She turned to find Gallor filling the corridor. ‘Agentia. I would speak with you.’ The Space Marine was hunched forwards so that his head would not touch what for him had to be an intolerably low ceiling. The gun-cutter was not built for those of legionary stature.
‘What is it, Brother Gallor?’
‘You do not recall me, then?’
Kendel paused. ‘I’m sorry… Have we met before?’
He nodded. ‘Aye. Years ago. I should not expect you to recollect, we were both clad in armour, masked at the time. But we passed within arm’s length of one another, in the rush of battle.’
A flash of memory came to her. ‘The castigation of the Jorgall at Iota Horologii? Of course. The Sisterhood fought alongside the Seventh Company of the Death Guard there.’
‘You were quite impressive, for a non-modified.’
‘That action did test the Sisters of Silence,’ she noted. Once upon a time, she might never have dared to admit such a thing, but it was true. The Jorgall – a species of telepathic cyborg xenos – had invaded Imperial space inside a vast bottle-world, and they were targeted for purging. The mission had succeeded, but in the combat, many of Kendel’s fellow Storm Daggers had been killed or maimed.
‘It seems so long ago,’ said Gallor. ‘I miss the purity of knowing who my enemy was. But this arena you are taking us into… There, our foe wears the same face as us.’
Momentarily, Kendel found herself lost for a reply. Gallor’s statement chimed with the same sense of melancholy that had taken hold of her the moment she set foot on Luna. ‘That is so,’ she told him, at length. ‘I think perhaps both of us have been forced to confront a hard reality in recent times.’
‘Betrayal.’ Gallor spoke the word with grim fortitude. ‘It is a powerful thing, to know that those who shared your oaths have chosen a path that makes them your foe.’
Emrilia Herkaaze’s face rose and fell in Kendel’s thoughts. ‘True enough, legionary.’
‘You do understand, then.’ Gallor nodded to himself, and Kendel had the sense that she had passed some kind of test with the Death Guard, that now he considered her worthy of his loyalty and not just his duty. ‘We have both become ghosts haunting our former lives. It would be well to feel… useful once again.’
The Velox’s atmospheric shuttle was a stripped-down Eridani-pattern variant of the workhorse Arvus-class lighter. Little more than a cramped metal box with engines and winglets, it was still more aerodynamic than its mothership, and while Sorkad, Mazone and Pau Yei remained in orbit with the gun-cutter, Kendel flew the rest of her group down through the clouds towards Proxima Majoris’ largest metropolis.
The Sigillite’s authority granted them an expedited approach over the towers of the great city. In typically egotistical Proximan fashion, the capital was named Majesty, and it spread out across hundreds of tiny islets over a shallow sea. Each fragment of land was filled by tall castle-like constructs, and the myriad canals threading between them were busy with watercraft.
Two fighter flyers escorted them down to the courtyard of a massive ziggurat festooned with coloured pennants.
Vasado and Qelvyn disembarked first, and made a show of military precision in their stride and posture. On Vasado’s suggestion, they had polished their boots and spit-shined their carapace armour to parade-ground perfection, and it seemed to have the right effect on the local officers, who looked on in admiration. Kendel herself walked out with the two Death Guard warriors flanking her, in a calculated moment of theatre.
There was bowing and nodding and a great amount of empty platitudes, and Kendel soon tired of it. She demanded to proceed to her meeting with the Exalted Governor of Majoris, the High Minister and Aristarch Bakaro Proge.
That earned her some sharp intake
s of breath – a break in protocol, one of the Proximan officers called it – but Kendel wanted to keep them off-balance.
Leaving the troopers with the lighter, Kendel and the legionaries began a lengthy trek around the ziggurat castle and its corridors. Serviles and soldiers alike bowed or hastened away as her party passed. On many of their faces she saw the same kind of awe that most humans experienced on seeing a Space Marine. A special sort of shock at laying eyes on a being bred only for war, a scion of the Emperor himself.
But in each of them, Kendel searched for a glimmer of something else – a truer fear, of the variety that those who kept a secret would exhibit.
Somebody here, perhaps in this very building, knows why we have come.
At each turn, she saw more evidence of the militaristic culture that Vasado had spoken of. Not just the lionising monuments to soldiery and ancient battles, but an all-pervasive propaganda machine in action through visual feeds and vox-horns. As they marched along an open gallery that looked out over the walls and into the streets beyond, Kendel noted that even the cut of civilian fashion was styled along quasi-military lines.
A sharp sound reached her, and she paused. Kyda and Gallor heard it too, both their helms turning to look in the same direction. The crack of an electro-whip. The noise of the weapon’s discharge was very distinctive; then it came again, this time followed by a woman’s cry.
‘There,’ Kyda pointed.
Kendel looked and saw a man in a variant of an Imperial Army uniform, specifically that of a discipline master. Usually, the masters were deployed to maintain control of penal battalions – but here the man was whipping a civilian, shouting at her for some infraction that Kendel could not determine. Now that she looked carefully, Kendel saw that there were more similarly dressed figures on every street corner.
‘What is going on?’ she demanded.
The Proximan officer leading them raised an eyebrow, and it took him a moment to realise what she was asking. The discipline master’s actions were clearly so commonplace that he barely registered it. ‘Encouragement,’ he said simply. ‘It is important for those who have not served to know they are a burden.’