Tallarn: Executioner

by John French

  The Horus Heresy®

  It is a time of legend.

  The galaxy is in flames. The Emperor’s glorious vision for humanity is in ruins. His favoured son, Horus, has turned from his father’s light and embraced Chaos.

  His armies, the mighty and redoubtable Space Marines, are locked in a brutal civil war. Once, these ultimate warriors fought side by side as brothers, protecting the galaxy and bringing mankind back into the Emperor’s light. Now they are divided.

  Some remain loyal to the Emperor, whilst others have sided with the Warmaster. Pre-eminent amongst them, the leaders of their thousands-strong Legions are the primarchs. Magnificent, superhuman beings, they are the crowning achievement of the Emperor’s genetic science. Thrust into battle against one another, victory is uncertain for either side.

  Worlds are burning. At Isstvan V, Horus dealt a vicious blow and three loyal Legions were all but destroyed. War was begun, a conflict that will engulf all mankind in fire. Treachery and betrayal have usurped honour and nobility. Assassins lurk in every shadow. Armies are gathering. All must choose a side or die.

  Horus musters his armada, Terra itself the object of his wrath. Seated upon the Golden Throne, the Emperor waits for his wayward son to return. But his true enemy is Chaos, a primordial force that seeks to enslave mankind to its capricious whims.

  The screams of the innocent, the pleas of the righteous resound to the cruel laughter of Dark Gods. Suffering and damnation await all should the Emperor fail and the war be lost.

  The age of knowledge and enlightenment has ended. The Age of Darkness has begun.

  ~ DRAMATIS PERSONAE ~

  The Imperial Army

  TAHIRAH, Lieutenant, First Squadron commander, Amaranth Company, Jurnian 701st

  LACHLAN, Gunner, 111 Executioner Lantern

  MAKIS, Driver, 111 Executioner Lantern

  VAIL, Loader, 111 Executioner Lantern

  UDO, Sponson gunner, 111 Executioner Lantern

  GENJI, Sponson gunner, 111 Executioner Lantern

  HECTOR, Corporal, commander, 112 Executioner Deathlight

  BREL, Sergeant, commander, 113 (field attachment) Vanquisher Silence

  JALLINIKA, Gunner, 113 (field attachment) Vanquisher Silence

  CALSURIZ, Driver, 113 (field attachment) Vanquisher Silence

  SELQ, Loader, 113 (field attachment) Vanquisher Silence

  RASHNE, Gunner/signaller, 114 (field attachment) scout vehicle Talon

  Imperial Personae

  AKIL SULAN, Merchant prince of the Sapphire City

  Others

  JALEN

  'War is the death of rationality. Only in retrospect do events seem driven by choice and judgement. Those who fight rarely know why they fight, and those that command them rarely see clearly enough to make any true choices besides saying "we fight them here because this is where we are".'

  – Aedolus, savant-militant to the Imperial court

  'Destruction is not obliteration. When we destroy we create. Break a sheet of glass and you create sharp edges.’

  – Aphorism of the Gobinal Blade Clans, Terra (age unknown)

  'Speak to me of the kingdoms we made amongst the stars.

  No, we will not speak of those dead places,

  Of their coverings of night, and their quieted songs.

  Speak to me of the greatness which was ours.

  No, we will not speak of dry teeth rattling in dead mouths.

  Speak to me of the peace that will be ours again.

  No, we will not speak of the silence that will come.'

  – Song of Lament at Fall of Night, Tallarn (later era)

  The remakers of Tallarn arrived like driftwood carried on a breaking wave. A thousand ships tumbling into space from nowhere: first one, spinning end over end, then a second and then hundreds. They rolled in the starlight, ectoplasm melting from their black iron hulls. All were warships of the IV Legion, the Iron Warriors. They were not graceful galleons of war, but slab-hulled world breakers, armoured in pitted plates, their flanks and spines nests for guns and launch bays.

  ‘The Iron Blood arrived last, thrusters firing down the length of its hull as soon as it tasted real space. The great ship shook as it forced itself into a controlled arc of flight, its superstructure shuddering, engine vents glowing white with heat. It ploughed a path through its scattered fleet. Some of the smaller ships managed to regain enough control to move out of its path, but not all could escape.

  The Purity of Fire spiralled into the Iron Blood's path. The great battle-barge's prow hit the torpedo destroyer like a hammer, and the smaller ship burst into ragged chunks, its plasma reactor rupturing in a sphere of blue-hot matter. The Iron Blood broke through the wreckage, its armour glowing briefly under the fire's touch. It slid to stillness and lay in the darkness, its engines dimming like the eyes of a tired man. Slowly, the scattered ships formed around it.

  Signals began to crawl amongst the ships, orders and demands for data beginning to flow. Order returned to the fleet. Sensors rolled across the void, searching, judging.

  In the star-pricked sphere of space one star burned brighter than all the rest. At this range the naked eye saw it as a small glowing coin. Around that star its planets waited, unknowing of their future, sleeping peacefully in the cold wrapping of space.

  Slowly, like a great beast rising from sleep, the fleet turned its prows towards the star and a thousand ships went to murder a civilisation.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Forgotten weapons

  Heaven's tears

  Silence

  Lieutenant Tahirah - officer commanding First Squadron, Amaranth Company, Jurnian 701st Armoured - swore as the tank braked sharply. She was still swearing as she came off the empty gun mount and spun through the air. The ground hit her hard as she tried to turn her fall into a roll. She skidded across the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, hit the tarpaulin-covered crates and stopped. The air thumped from her lungs. That stopped the swearing. She felt the cool rockcrete press against her cheek. A dull pain filled her chest.

  Her mouth was open; she could feel her lips and tongue flapping as she tried to breathe.

  I must look like a fish, she thought.

  The rest of the crew were laughing now, the sound blending with the idle growl of the tank's engine. The Mars-pattern chassis was grumbling where it stood a few paces away. Still in its factory grey, it did not look like a battle tank. Where the turret should have been was only a greased collar, and an opening into the chassis's guts. Hull and sponson gun mounts were just empty slots. She could see the gunner girl Genji grinning out at her from where the forward hull weapon should be. Lachlan sat on the tank's right sponson, Makis and Vail on the top of the hull, legs dangling into the machine's open guts.

  'Inspecting the floor, Tab?' The voice was high-pitched, almost boyish, Udo. It would be Udo. They all laughed some more. Terra, it was not even a good joke.

  'Just trying... to escape... your company.'

  They laughed, and she breathed quietly.

  The fall was her fault really, Udo could not drive to save his life, and the top of the gun mount had been a stupid place to sit for the ride. Even so she had to try very, very hard not to consider standing up and shooting Udo in the face. She pushed herself to her knees as a pathetic sip of air reached her lungs. She stood up, picked up her cap and jammed it back on her head. She was tall for a machine rider, but would have been short for an infantry officer. Wiry, warm-skinned and sharp-faced, she had a smile that she thought showed too many teeth, and her grey-and-greens always looked baggy, no matter their size.

  She glanced away from the tank, as much to hide the fact that she had still not got her breath as to take the sight in. Behind the idling vehicle the c
hamber extended away, a vast rockcrete cavern lit by harsh light. Now that she was not riding on the tank she noticed how the sound of the engine had filled the space with echoes. The floor was a patina of oil stains and gouge marks from heavy tracks. A fine gritty layer of dust covered everything, and there was a cool, slightly musty smell, which betrayed that the ventilation system had not been active for some time. Somewhere above them, separated by layers of rock, plascrete and steel, was the Sapphire City, bustling with life while beneath it a warren of military shelters lay all but empty.

  It was not actually empty, of course: two regiments and a few other stranded units lived in the upper sections. Then there were the stores, supplies for campaigns that had most likely ended long ago, all rusting and decaying in silence. Even in caverns like this one, there were crates stacked against the walls, and big blocky shapes under regulation green tarps. Despite that, an entire armoured regiment, perhaps two, could have vanished into the remaining space.

  And there were more shelters, ten more in this complex alone, and more complexes all across Tallarn. Space enough for a star-cluster-breaking army to gather.

  Not any more, thought Tahirah. She had never really bothered with the unoccupied parts of the underground shelter until now. Three damned years and she had never thought to look around.

  The rest of them had, of course. She had the feeling that Makis and Genji knew far more about the complex than was healthy, but then what else was there to do? It was Makis who had found the chamber, and suggested taking one of the incomplete machines for a joyride. At least that was how it had seemed. Tahirah had a feeling that this was not the first time her crew had passed the time this way, just the first time they had asked her along.

  Tahirah and the rest of the Jurnian 701st had been in holding condition - pre-deployment - on Tallarn for twenty-seven Solar months. After six months they had gone through every drill imaginable just to try and bleed off some of the tension running through the unit. There had been fights, both amongst the crews of the 701st, and with the Chalcisorian 1002nd Mechanised who shared the complex. There had been floggings. It had made no difference. They were all clamped down too tight waiting for a war that seemed to have forgotten that they were waiting.

  Then the news had come. The Imperium was at war with itself. Horus, Warmaster of the Great Crusade, had turned upon the Emperor and half the fighting power of the Imperium had turned with him. Some had doubted that it was true, as though the lack of immediate sound and fury denied the possibility of Horus's treachery. And still Tahirah's unit had remained without orders, without a ship to carry them to a front, without a war that wanted them.

  Tahirah turned and saw Makis leaning down into the tank's open turret ring just behind the driver's position.

  'Get out of the seat, Udo,' he said, his voice low and measured.

  'Why? Can't I make a mistake while I learn?' She could not see Udo but the whiny bastard's voice was more distinctive than his ratty face.

  Makis scratched the grey stubble on his chin, and gave a small shake of his head. Lachlan caught her eye from where he sat on the top of the right sponson. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

  'Just get out,' said Makis. Udo's head popped out of the turret collar, his spot-covered scalp gleaming in the light. He reached up for someone to give him a hand. No one did. After a second he pulled himself up, his faced pinched with the effort. The kid was all pale skin and ribs under his grey-and-green fatigues.

  'I didn't hit anything,' Udo protested as he stood on the upper hull. Makis said nothing, but swung down into the driver's seat.

  'Oh. You were trying to avoid hitting anything?' said Vail. 'Sorry, I thought you were being reckless. I guess incompetent is better.'

  'It was funny.' Udo's thin face was pinched and red. 'You guys laughed.'

  'Udo.' Vail had turned his head, a frown bunching above his black eyes. 'Shut up.'

  'I didn't hit anything,' mumbled Udo again as he sat down, his legs hanging into the turret collar, and he shot a sour look at Vail. The tattooed loader closed his eyes as if he were catching up on some sleep, Udo flushed pink with anger.

  Udo. She should do something about Udo. Her crew was doing what small groups of bored people that spent too much time with each other did; they found an outlet for their frustration. She should have done something about it months ago. She had always got results from her crews without using the hard methods of other officers. It was getting to her - the waiting and not knowing. She bit her lip as she watched Udo glance again at Vail, then down into the tank where Makis settled into the driver's seat. She really should have done something months ago. Her skills were slipping. She ran a hand through her dose-cropped hair.

  She would do something.

  Udo gave Vail another glance, then spat onto the tank's hull. The saliva drooled down the grey-sprayed metal.

  Trouble was, the little tick was so easy to dislike.

  'Boss?' Lachlan's voice cut through her thoughts and she blinked, realising that he had got off the tank and was standing just a couple of paces away, he wore a green vest, and his combat trousers were an ochre-and-grey tiger pattern that was not Jurnian issue. He held up an open pack of lho-sticks. Tahirah nodded and he tossed her the packet.

  'Thanks,' she said as she lit up, and handed the pack back. Lachlan nodded at the tank chassis, as the engine gunned and a fresh plume of exhaust boiled towards the roof.

  'You ready for another spin, boss?'

  'Huh?' She looked at the tank. 'Yeah, sure, in a minute.'

  She turned to the tarpaulin-covered shapes that she had rolled into when she came off the tank. The edge of one of the tarps was loose, and she could see rust-spotted metal beneath. She lifted the edge of the heavy fabric and flicked it back. The vehicles underneath were small, barely a third of the size of the Mars chassis that Udo had nearly crashed. They were stacked in threes, one on top of another, in metal frames.

  'You seen this stuff?' said Tahirah, as her eyes moved across the rust blooms and stenciled numbers.

  'What are they?' Lachlan stepped next to her.

  'Scout cars, I guess. Never seen this pattern before'

  Tahirah pointed her lho-stick at the small mount jutting from the front of one of the vehicles. 'That looks like it should take a lascannon.'

  Lachlan nodded and bent down next to the bottom vehicle in the stack. He ran his hand over the projecting wheel mount. It came up black with dust-covered grease.

  'Never been stripped of the manufactonim grease. They must have come in and been stuck here before they could get to the poor bastards who were supposed to ride them.' He ran a thumbnail across a patch of rust, and came away with a flake of brown-red metal the size of an aquila coin. 'Don't think they will ever make it.'

  'I know how it feels,' she said, and let out a long breath. 'Come on, let's get back to the upper levels.' She walked back to the waiting tank, swung herself up onto the upper hull and dropped herself onto the turret collar opposite Udo. Lachlan followed. The engine growled from idle, and the tank clanked around. She glanced at Udo and saw his mouth start to open.

  'No, Udo. You can't drive.'

  Akil Sulan waited in silence until Jalen's footsteps had receded across the tiled platform. For a long moment he watched the letters scroll across the data-slate in his hand before he shut it down and slipped it into his pocket. Akil took another slow breath, tasting the smell of the Sapphire City as it settled under the failing light. The scent of dust blending with the sea wind filled his mouth and nose. He liked this time of evening: the heat of the day rubbing against the cool of lengthening shadows, the scent of water as the warm stones of the streets were washed of dust, the thin plumes of cooking smoke rising from the tangle of roofs. It was as though the city itself was breathing out.

  He took another slow breath, allowing it to hold him for a second suspended between moments. The sky was a cobalt-blue vault, edged by the golden pink of the sun's retreat. The city dropped away from the edge of
the balcony in irregular tiers, and the shadow-cut valleys of streets, sliding down until it met the flat lands of the coast and delta and its stone roofs gave way to the crystal of agri-domes that extended to meet the sea. Most of the city was a tangle of flat-roofed buildings, but it was the towers that drew the eye. There were hundreds of them, some small and weathered, others seeming to scrape the sky. All were stone, but stone of a thousand textures and colours. The black tower of Asil sparkled with flecks of crystal, while the Spire of Nema looked like a spiralled horn of bone. Akil smiled for a second, as only a man who owned much of what he saw could.

  The Sapphire City: a jewel amongst Tallarn's many great cities. His city.

  He leaned on the stone balustrade, and looked down at his hand. The skin looked older somehow: how had that happened? How had so much time and responsibility piled upon him?

  He brought his hands up, running them across the smooth skin of his face and then back through his greying hair. It was an old gesture, imitating splashing water across the face at the end of a day of toil. His daughters had picked up the gesture almost before they could talk. The thought of them laughing as they copied him briefly brought the smile back to his lips.

  The wind rose and the smile faded.

  He turned and walked away from the balustrade, tapping the data- slate in his pocket as he walked down the steps to the narrow streets below. His clothes were far poorer than those he normally wore. Those who knew him would be shocked to see him dressed in the worn black and purple robe so common amongst the toiling classes. He liked the simple clothes, though; they were comfortable and he enjoyed the frisson of anonymity when he walked through the streets of the Sapphire City as the darkness gathered in the recesses. People passed him, a few raised their hands and muttered him good fortune, but none spared him more than a glance. He seemed just another man walking home at the end of the day, with nothing but food and the promise of sleep on his mind.