Death of Integrity

by Guy Haley

  Caedis tensed at this threat. Mazrael shifted. Galt felt this more than saw it, but their concern was palpable.

  ‘And if we agreed? I admit, the thought of so great a challenge fires me,’ said Caedis. A brittleness had entered his voice. He is hiding something, thought Galt.

  The third tech-priest, Lord Cogitator-Lexmechanic Nuministon, rolled forward. His movement was too smooth to have been produced by legs, and Galt suspected a track unit hidden under his robes. It would not have been out of place, for Nuministon’s arms and most of his head had been replaced by metal prostheses and implants. Only fragments of the original man remained. He resembled a spindly, iron skeleton, scraps of grey skin embedded in it to no immediately apparent purpose.

  ‘In recognition of your services,’ Nuministon said – unlike Plosk’s natural voice, his was that of a machine – ‘the fleet yards at the forge world of Triplex Phall will undertake to construct and present the Chapters of the Blood Drinkers Adeptus Astartes of San Guisiga and the Novamarines Adeptus Astartes of Honourum one strike cruiser apiece in a period not exceeding thirty standard years after date of construction, of a class of your choosing. This we swear by the holy will of the Omnissiah, and will agree to be bound by contract to be astropathically verified by the offices of the Adeptus Terra, Adeptus Administratum, and the Lord Magi of Mars. Let our promise be lodged for all to see, for we shall honour it, this we swear before you.’

  Clastin turned to look at the First Captain. ‘Brother-captain, this is an unprecedented offer…’

  Galt held up his hand.

  ‘What use is that to us, if we should lose one cruiser, only to gain another? I could withdraw my fleet now, and save the one I have,’ said Galt.

  Plosk snorted, the fat on his face wobbling. ‘And abandon your sworn duty to defend the Ultima Segmentum? I think not. No, the records speak more highly of the Novamarines than that, lord captain. Do you mean to tell me that you are nought but mercenaries away from Lord Chapter Master Hydariko’s noble leadership? I should like very much to hear what he says in response to your words. In any case, your ship Corvo’s Hammer will not survive another transit through the warp.’ Plosk sighed, and inspected his well-manicured right hand. Unlike his metal left, only the smallest digit had been replaced there. Galt wondered at what obscure sub-sect of the tech-priests this man pledged allegiance to be so unaltered. ‘I will offer this also to the Novamarines: that my fleet shall undertake repairs on Corvo’s Hammer, beginning this very day, and make it warp-worthy at the least. Full repair is a possibility, dependent upon the extent of the damage. Excommentum Incursus is a Megiron-class forge vessel, lord captain. Such minor works are well within the bounds of its many capabilities. What say you? Aid me to the greater glory of the Imperium, or turn your back upon a legitimate request? All combat operations will remain under your purview. All I request is your aid in my venture, not your servitude.’

  Galt sank back into his throne. The servo-skulls buzzed away, trailing the might of Terra behind them. Here was a knotty proposition. What path to take? For a moment he wished that Lord Chapter Master Hydariko was there to make the decision, and that the burden was far from his shoulders. He looked to the lord to his right.

  ‘Lord Caedis?’

  Caedis fixed him with eyes the colour of pale amber. A look of longing entered into them; perhaps almost of fear. The Chapter Master was breathing heavily, his grin fixed. Sparse drops of sweat stood out on his dry skin. He squeezed the throne arms, then released them, and some of the tension in his face went. He glanced aside to Reclusiarch Mazrael, who gave the slightest of nods. Caedis let out a ragged breath, he had been holding it. When he looked back at Plosk, his features were calm. ‘I say let us do it. Yes. Such a challenge, Brother-Captain Galt; one worthy of the heroes of old, do you not agree?’

  ‘I see no legitimate objection I can make,’ said Galt. ‘Although it vexes me to say so.’ He touched his breastplate, his hand unconsciously searching out his pendant. ‘Very well. You have the support of the Novamarines, on the condition that you do not interfere with our operations beyond that which is needed to secure any archeotech that may lie within the Death of Integrity.’

  Plosk gave a broad smile. ‘As I said, lord, I wish your aid, not your fealty. It is beyond me to demand that anyway, and what do I know of military matters?’

  More than you would have us believe, thought Galt.

  ‘We are agreed then, Lord Caedis, Lord Galt?’ said Plosk. His face had become bright.

  ‘Wait, High Magos Explorator,’ said Galt. ‘I have not yet finished. There is a further condition.’

  Plosk glanced at his aides; the withered machine man and the boy. His lips pursed. ‘Pray tell, oh lord. We of Mars are listening.’

  ‘I say this to you, should four days elapse, or the hulk begin to drift back into the warp before that time has elapsed, it will be bombed into oblivion by the Novamarines. I trust I may rely on the Blood Drinkers to aid us should this occur. It fits your original intention, Lord Caedis, and it is a sensible intention, no matter how the prospect of combat entices you.’

  Caedis nodded, his mouth curled in something akin to distaste. ‘Agreed. Come what may, the plague of genestealers stops here, in orbit around the star Jorso. I have striven for too long to see them slip from my grasp one more time.’

  ‘Marvellous!’ the magos clapped his hands together. ‘Then might I suggest we begin our plans at once, lords? A little reconnaissance will be in order, and time is of the essence.’

  The Adeptus Mechanicus had evidently determined that a deal would be made prior to the meeting, for soon after the assault was agreed upon they brought into the audience room a great wheezing machine that hovered on buzzing anti-gravitic engines ten centimetres from the floor. The whole of the thing was black, so black that the edges of it were indistinct to the eye, the many arms grouped around its centre impossible to count. It cut a loathsome shape as it was shepherded into the audience chamber, spinning unsteadily on its cushion of force, until prodded in the correct direction by its handlers. It resembled nothing so much as a dead spider, legs curled in the air, carried upon the back of some pill-shaped predator on the way to its lair. The young tech-priest, Samin, stood back, hands dancing on a heavy instrument console he had taken from a servant and hung by a strap from his neck. The device spat lengths of scroll as he wrote, a serf working quickly to scoop it up from the marble floor, a second folded it efficiently and packed it into a brass-bound wooden box.

  Plosk stood aside as Nuministon directed his drones to deploy the machine. Augmitters twittered as he spoke to his minions in the secret machine-speech. The spider-thing wavered to a halt. The buzz of its impellers shut off, and it dropped onto the floor heavily. Arms uncurled from the top, opening like an iron flower. A new electric noise, brazen and harsh, started up. By some contrivance the tech-priests caused the lighting in the room to go out, plunging the chamber into darkness. The sound of movement came from behind Galt as his and Caedis’s men snapped to readiness in alarm, for if the tech-priests could so influence the lights, it was not beyond reason that they could suborn the ship’s other systems, but Galt bade them stand down with a whisper into his vox.

  The room burst into view again, a new light emanating from the tech-priest’s device. Formless shapes coalesced above the spider-legs, revealing its purpose as a chartdesk or pict display, although Galt had never before seen its like.

  All of a sudden the most perfect false image Galt had ever seen was suspended above the spread arms of the device. The Death of Integrity sailed the air of the room, so real that he thought he could reach out and touch it. It was entirely possible that if he did so, he thought, that his hand would meet solid metal and warp-tossed stone, not light and air.

  ‘As you can see, my lords, our wisdom is deep. We have many gifts of the Machine-God in our possession. This device, the Imagifer Maximus, comes from the Heptacombs o
f Danarion, taken from the grave goods of the world’s first human lord, aeons dead and rich with technology.’

  Caedis spoke from the half-light. His indignation was not so great as before, but anger stole back into his voice. ‘We are not savages of a forgotten world to be awed by your technology, High Magos.’

  ‘Quite. I merely bring this to your attention; that together, with your might of arms, and our many blessings, we will triumph all the quicker. There is a further reason for my deployment of the Imagifer Maximus, and it is this. With your leave, I would humbly make a suggestion.’

  ‘Proceed,’ said Caedis. ‘Quickly. Your prolixity tires me.’

  ‘No doubt you both have noticed an amount of radiation emanating from the hulk itself. The stellar environment here is turbulent, and our nearness to the star Jorso does not aid our cause one iota.’

  ‘Aye, we are not fools, Explorator,’ said Caedis.

  Galt broke in, seeking to head off Caedis’s building irritation. ‘Our ship communications and deep scans are much affected,’ he said. ‘We are aware, magos.’

  ‘Then you are also probably aware that the youthful violence of Jorso is not the sole cause of your difficulty.’

  The hulk grew in size until it filled the whole of the room. The long spines of a primeval spacecraft brushed past Galt’s face, so close he could see how much the hard hand of time had plucked at its surface. The hulk’s opacity lessened, the outer shell became near-transparent, uncovering a nightmarish warren of corridors, chambers, and caverns within. This was revealed in far greater clarity than Novum in Honourum’s own augur suite could manage. Nevertheless, much of the interior was blank. At the hearts of these dark spots on the map, pict representations of power sources could be seen, picked out in livid purple.

  ‘Within the hulk are an unusual number of active power sources. The warp engines and reactors of countless ships, that so many are still active doubtless makes our undertaking harder. Much of the hulk is flooded with radioactivity surpassing the sigma ten level. Deadly. But it is also a promising sign.’

  The twinned voices of Clastrin rang out, and there was excitement in them. ‘Any datacores may still be not only part-viable, but functioning. Active, not dead, supported by the reactors. More data could thus be present, perhaps all data. A full template database?’

  ‘Exactly, oh son of Mars. As I said, I believe there are several ships of unsurpassed vintage contained in this agglomeration. By my reckoning, at least three of these are active. It is not beyond the bounds of hope that a full Standard Construct Database might be present. Think of it!’

  Silence descended onto the room. This was the grail of the tech-priests of Mars, the condensed knowledge of the Dark Age of Technology.

  ‘However, it does present us with difficulty, even for our machineries,’ continued Plosk. ‘So many overlapping power signatures in such a vast object make accurate mapping difficult.’

  ‘‘To go into battle not knowing of the enemy’s disposition is folly,’’ quoted Galt.

  ‘Just so.’

  ‘Curse your endless circumlocution, magos. What will you tell us?’ snapped Caedis.

  ‘There is a way around our particular problem, a manner of mapping that is foolproof and simple.’

  Red dots appeared at a dozen places around the hulk.

  ‘A seismic map?’ said Clastrin.

  ‘If we were to plant explosive modules upon the skin of the hulk, then we could build an accurate representation of the agglomeration, accurate to within eighty per cent, I would say.’

  ‘The other twenty per cent?’ said Galt.

  The magos spread his hands and made an apologetic face. ‘Seismic mapping is a mathematical exercise, lord captain. Our devices are made aware of what shape and size things are by how quickly waves of force move through materials. Often, we have enough data for our savants and cogitators to unpick the signals and create an accurate map. It is all done by inference, you understand. But certain substances generate unusual signals. Unknown alloys, for example, or liquids of peculiar density, or anything of abnormal atomic structure might throw off our findings, lord captain. There is always a degree of guesswork in our craft. Science is an art.’

  ‘Very well, go to it then,’ said Caedis. ‘Why not simply proceed?’

  ‘The sensors operate by measuring the rapid passage of vibrations through the fabric of the gathered mass. By calculating their rapidity, how they slow and accelerate, we can discern what is stone, what is metal, what is void, and so forth. Truly is the wisdom of the Omnissiah great! He is artful and cunning indeed.’ Plosk sighed regretfully. ‘But we require a node for the vibrations, a place from which they may be gathered, triangulated and uploaded for due processing by our logicators and cogitation engines.’

  ‘For the result to be most effective, brother-captain, that source would best be inside the hulk,’ said Clastrin.

  ‘A first mission inside?’ said Galt. He sat forward. ‘You propose a reconnaissance in force.’

  ‘Precisely, lord captain,’ said Plosk with a shallow bow. ‘There are further benefits to an exploratory expedition. While within, other variables could be determined, variables that may well influence the composition and deployment of our – your – forces when it comes to the attack. The distribution of the radioactivity that so fills the hulk, the whereabouts of vacuum, gravitic variance, hull density, presence of atmosphere, the operational status of ships within the agglomeration, whether any of the machine-spirits inside cling to life, the placing of informational caches and other, more esoteric yet highly useful data could be gathered, processed by my tech-priests, and the knowledge gained gladly shared.’

  ‘That is as may be, magos. However, as soon as we enter the hulk to begin the mapping process, the genestealers will become aware of our presence,’ said Galt. ‘At the present time they do not know of us, and the majority will be in hibernation. To enter the hulk will stir the hornets’ nest. Our few men would be swiftly killed, and then a large force will be waiting, fully wakened, when we attempt the main assault.’

  ‘You have experience of fighting such infestations?’ asked Nuministon.

  ‘A great deal,’ said Galt sternly. ‘Have you, magos?’

  Plosk ignored the retort. ‘Surely the hornets’ nest will be disturbed should you arrive in force? You would not have time to breach their brood chambers and purge them, then. Besides, we know of the location of but a few of their nests. Without a reliable map your efforts will be cogs too small for good gearing. Immediate assault will provoke the xenos in any case, and as an additional hindrance you will have no reliable charts to guide you.’

  ‘A number of small assaults is unlikely to succeed, I admit. Stealth and swiftness are our surety against death in situations such as these. They have often served us well aboard such derelicts, but here?’ Galt clucked his tongue, ‘No. Only overwhelming force will suffice.’ He gestured to pulsing green clusters, the biosigns of uncovered genestealer roosts. ‘They are many, and we are few. Even as two Chapters we are too few.’

  ‘Then I advise stealth first, Lord Captain Galt, the stealth you yourself say is your greatest weapon. And then, why, then the hammer blow, once our intelligence is gathered.’ said Plosk. He steepled his fingers in front of his lips and smiled. ‘Choose your battleground wisely, good disposition is half the battle.’

  ‘You speak sense, tech-priest, and you quote the Codex at me, whose tenets are dear to all who wear the battle-plate of the Adeptus Astartes. You are sly, but slyness alone will not sway my decision. Tell me more.’ He sat forward. ‘Where would this device of yours require its planting? Show me.’

  The hulk rotated. Part of it expanded greatly, pushing the hulk out through the chamber walls. The detail became uncertain, with many gaps. In a dark patch, a ruby skull blinked.

  Galt nodded curtly. ‘It is possible. The location is far from the brood
roosts. Teleportation is impossible I take it Clastrin?’

  ‘Regrettably so, brother-captain. Matter patterning will not hold in the face of the sun’s emissions and the energy fluctuations within the hulk.’

  ‘Then entry must be made from the surface. Here.’ Galt pointed a finger at the skin of a starship’s back, exposed to the stars. ‘They will have to cut their way in. Boarding torpedoes will cause too much of a disturbance. One squad of Terminators, two at most. And they will have to move quickly. Three kilometres down. Hmmm.’ Galt sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. ‘But yes. It can be done. Lord Caedis, what is your opinion?’

  ‘My Chapter has little recent experience fighting such battles,’ said Caedis. ‘Although we have faced the genestealer threat on many worlds lately, we have not combated them in space for a long time, not for four recruitment generations. I defer to your Chapter’s more recent experience. I propose that you, Lord Captain Galt, should assume responsibility for this initial mission. Choose one of your warriors to lead it. I will provide a squad of my own brothers as support, under your overall command.’

  ‘It is an honour, Lord Chapter Master.’

  ‘It is prudence, lord captain, I am a proud warrior, but I will not let pride come in the way of sense.’

  ‘Cogitator-Lexmechanic Nuministon will accompany you,’ said Plosk.

  ‘Impossible,’ said Galt.

  ‘Necessary,’ said Plosk. ‘I doubt even your Forgemaster has the expertise required to activate our seismic probe and extract the relevant data from it.’

  Galt checked readings dancing close to the mechanism of the Imagifer Maximus. ‘Only Terminator armour is proof against such a high radiation count, lord magos, you will surely perish.’

  ‘I will survive. The flesh is weak, but there is little of flesh about me,’ grated Nuministon. ‘And you will find my armour to possess a sufficient grade of shielding. We have our means.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Galt reluctantly. ‘I will not be held accountable for your fate. You come on your own recognisance, and will suffer whatever befalls you on your own account.’