Fabius Bile: Clonelord

by Josh Reynolds

  ‘Then why are we even having this conversation?’ Fabius leaned on Torment. ‘Why bother with this tête-à-tête if you have concluded that there is such a gulf between us?’

  ‘I was curious.’

  Fabius nodded in understanding. ‘Be that as it may, I see no benefit to circling one another like territorial primitives. If you wish to kill me, do so and be done with it.’

  Trazyn made a hissing sound that might have been a snicker. ‘I do not think that you would like that. I disabled your armour’s cognitive pattern buffer. When was the last time you backed up your mind? Recently, I hope. Else the next you might be at quite a loss.’

  Fabius stiffened. ‘You know–?’

  ‘As I said, I know all about you. It is quite impressive. I use something similar, though vastly superior in design and function, myself. That you were able to cobble together something so useful, with such crude materials is commendable. The signal has a faint… aftertaste, let’s say. Aeldari, I think.’

  ‘A variation on their infinity circuit technology. I like to think of it as a neural gate, of sorts, allowing for the flow of pertinent data between nodes.’ Fabius tapped the side of his head. ‘Veins of specially cultivated wraithbone, inserted into the unoccupied cerebellum of clone bodies. Allowed to flourish, within set parameters, it acts as a sort of… ­tuning fork, calibrated to a single frequency – mine.’

  ‘Very clever, in a primitive sort of way. A cleverness motivated by necessity, I suspect. My sensors completed a thorough assessment of your biological status the moment you arrived – you are afflicted in a most pernicious way.’

  ‘The blight,’ Fabius said flatly. ‘I am aware.’

  ‘No doubt. It always creeps back, does it not? It has buried itself so deep in your marrow that whatever soil you set your roots in, rapidly goes sour.’

  The stubborn beast-flesh, something – someone – whispered. Fabius twitched. ‘I have made peace with my mortality. I persist only out of a sense of obligation.’

  ‘So I have heard.’

  Fabius paused. ‘From who?’ he asked, after a moment. Now they were getting to it. This creature knew him. Had been expecting him. Why?

  Trazyn gave a rattling laugh, like plates of metal clanging in a breeze. ‘From the one who sent you to me, in return for a bauble from my collection.’

  ‘Eidolon,’ Fabius said. His grip on Torment tightened. ‘He made no mention of you.’

  Trazyn stared at him for a moment. ‘I journeyed to the world you call Harmony. I wished to see for myself the fruits of your labours.’ Trazyn’s eyes brightened. ‘Such unique things, in those ruins – so much so that I allowed myself to become distracted. The one you call Eidolon attacked me. He very nearly destroyed my body with that ululation of his, but… an accord was reached. I had something he wanted, and he offered me something of equal value in return – you.’

  Fabius chuckled bitterly. ‘You offered him the gene-tithe, in order to save your own silver skin.’ Trazyn tensed and lifted his staff. Fabius hesitated, wondering which way to duck. Then, as if thinking better of it, Trazyn set his staff back down.

  ‘And why do you seek it? Perhaps you hope that it holds the secret of that black weed strangling your body, one organ at a time?’

  ‘Hardly.’

  ‘Then why?’

  Fabius frowned. ‘A better question – why did you want me?’ Eidolon offering him up made perfect sense. It took him off the board, and in such a way that no blame would befall the Lord Commander Primus, should anyone – like Fulgrim – care to enquire about it.

  ‘You are unique in the universe. A Legion of one. The father of monsters.’

  ‘And now, having baited your trap, you intend to confine me like a specimen in a cage? Doesn’t that seem a waste, to you?’

  Trazyn stopped. ‘Explain.’

  ‘I could add to your collection greatly.’

  ‘That is my intent, yes.’

  ‘I meant more than simply myself. I am not so unique as all that. There are worthier prizes to be had, for the true collector.’

  Trazyn hesitated. ‘You are stalling.’

  ‘Yes. And you are listening. You say you seek to create a repository of all that exists. But that is a thankless task, filled with hardship.’ Fabius sidled back, out of reach of the staff. ‘The universe is a riot of the new – new species, new artefacts, new worlds. Eyespace alone would tax even your mania. But I could help you. My gene-banks are full of samples taken from worlds without number. Whatever you wish, I can make. Even if it is long extinct or newly risen.’

  Trazyn lowered his staff. ‘The one called Eidolon said you were cunning. He said I should not listen to you – that I should take you unawares. Was he trying to cheat me of your true worth, do you think?’

  Fabius smiled. ‘Of course. Treachery comes as easily to him as breathing.’

  ‘The same might be said of you.’ Trazyn emitted a harsh, buzzing sound that might have been a laugh. ‘But I know something of you, Fabius. That is why I agreed to the trade in the first place. And I know that you speak the truth, in this. Perhaps, then, I should keep you here with me, awake and aware, so that you might bend your full attentions to the matter of my collection.’

  ‘As a slave, you mean.’

  ‘If you wish.’

  ‘I do not.’ Fabius let Torment slide through his fingers, until he gripped the end of the haft. If it came to it, he would have no choice but to take the risk. He studied Trazyn, trying to discern a weak point in the mechanical being’s form. It was like trying to isolate a single grain of sand on a beach. Something about Trazyn defied even his enhanced senses. It would be down to instinct and luck.

  ‘A shame. But perhaps after a few thousand years of stasis, you might reconsider.’ Trazyn did not move. Suddenly, the chirurgeon hissed in warning. Fabius looked around and saw the silent guards lifting their strange, crackling weapons. One wrong move would see him annihilated – or worse, imprisoned. He ground his teeth in frustration, trying to think. There had to be something – anything – he could do to buy himself just a bit more time. A few moments, even. Trazyn lifted his staff. ‘It has been a most intriguing conversation, Lieutenant Commander Fabius. I look forward to many, many more in the epochs to come. But for now, I–?’

  The dull clangour echoed through the still air, like the tolling of some great funerary bell. Trazyn swept his staff out, calling into being a hololithic pict-feed, showing another part of his vast museum. A large, curved shape rose into view. ‘What is this, now?’ Trazyn said.

  Fabius recognised the cracked and broken shape of a webway portal, suspended at the end of a walkway. As he watched, the stones set into the jagged shape of the portal began to flash and flare with internal light. Ancient systems, cycling up for the first time in a long time. The arch of the portal was soon filled with strands of crackling light.

  ‘Curious. I do not recall activating that particular item.’ Trazyn gestured, and a hololithic control panel crackled into view. Metallic digits played across the alien controls. ‘It is resonating with something in orbit – your ship, I believe.’

  ‘The wraithbone,’ Fabius murmured. ‘How is that possible?’

  ‘It would take longer than you have to live, to explain it. I – ah. It is opening from the other side. How delightful.’

  A pallid mist began to spew from the coruscating light within the arch. It flowed like a thing alive, curling slowly about struts and braces as if testing the path for dangers. Coloured motes of light flashed within it, spinning and dancing wildly.

  Fabius watched as, a moment later, a gaudy shape detached itself from the pale mist and sprang into the open. A Harlequin. It was soon followed by the rest of its troupe. A dozen or more white-faced clowns spilled out into the hard reality of Solemnace’s corridors.

  ‘Ah. Aeldari. Cunning little vermin. Always so cunn
ing. So sharp, that they often cut themselves as well as their enemies.’ Trazyn turned, watching as more pict-feeds as they blossomed into visibility all around him, catching the intruders from every angle. ‘I possess examples of several sub-species in my collection. These, so gaudily arrayed, are new to me.’

  ‘Would you like them?’ Fabius asked quickly.

  Trazyn looked at him. ‘Are they yours to give?’

  He shrugged. ‘I am the one offering.’

  Trazyn stared at him, unblinking, for long moments. Then he turned back to the images. ‘They are curious creatures, aren’t they? So full of knowledge, and so selfish with it. That was at the heart of our war, I think. An inability to share this universe. That greed precipitated their decline. Now they are on the wane.’ He reached out, as if to grasp the images, but his metal fingers passed through them. ‘They grow rare, among the stars.’

  ‘All the more reason to preserve these, while they are close to hand.’

  ‘And what do you wish in return for this… generous offer?’ Trazyn was amused. It seemed the creature admired hubris.

  ‘Safe passage back to my ship.’

  Trazyn thumped the ground with his staff. ‘Done. I will require your assistance, however.’ He looked at Fabius. ‘Catching vermin requires the proper bait.’

  Chapter twenty-five

  The Tithe

  Fabius stepped into the open, and knocked Torment against the wall. A hollow reverberation sounded through the gallery. The Harlequins turned smoothly. He made no attempt to hide from them. They capered through the prismatic galleries, unafraid of anything that might be watching. He smiled thinly. ‘Here I am,’ he called out.

  ‘Here you are,’ a familiar voice rang out in reply. ‘And here we are. Round and round we go, wrapped tight in the coils of destiny. The way the King of All Feathers was caught by Shehem-shahai in the courtyards of The Weeping Citadel.’ Veilwalker stepped forward, silvery mask fluctuating eerily. ‘We are destined to do this until you capitulate to the fate we have laid out for you.’

  ‘As arrogant as ever, Veilwalker,’ he said. ‘Not to mention foolish. Have you followed me all the way here, merely to continue your persecution of me?’

  ‘We have not come to kill you, but to save you, mon-keigh. Your destiny does not lie here, pinned in a cage of false starlight. Your time upon the stage is yet to be, and you must be there to make your grand performance.’ Veilwalker spun its staff in a curious pattern, dragging streamers of light and colour through the air. ‘So set aside your weapons and come with us. This act is brief… The true story occurs above, where your children fight and die, in your name.’

  ‘I think not. I thank you for your concern, but I have no need of your assistance at this time. You may go.’ Fabius turned, gesturing dismissively as he did so, though he wondered what it meant. A sudden urgency filled him. If Alkenex had made his move, then the situation might be even more perilous than he’d thought. Abruptly, colourful shapes sprang over him, and rose to their feet, blocking his path. The Harlequins chuckled and sang softly as they closed in, as if the conclusion were a foregone one. Fabius’ hand fell to his needler. ‘I will not go with you.’

  ‘You will – in chains, if we must. The hero cannot turn from his path, the king cannot give up his throne, the god his heaven.’ Veilwalker slid forward, staff jabbing him in the side. He batted it away, and suddenly found the blades of the others pressed to his throat in a ring of steel. ‘You will follow the story we lay out for you, Fabius. Or you will be removed from the stage, and all your works with you. That is the way of it.’

  Fabius fixed the creature with a sneer. ‘Surely you know by now – I always choose the third path.’ He glanced up. ‘Any time now.’

  Silence. For a moment, he thought that Trazyn had abandoned him. The Harlequins were dangerous creatures. Perhaps the ancient archaeovist had decided to cut his losses, and stay out of the affairs of others.

  Then, with a sound like falling rain, the swarm descended. Cybernetic scarabs, much like those that had devoured Diomat’s remains, fell upon the startled Harlequins. Veilwalker cried out in alarm and rolled aside. Many of its troupe was not so lucky.

  The swarm of tiny, robotic scarabs clambered over the shrieking eldar, burrowing beneath their gaudy raiment with mechanical rapidity. ­Trazyn merely watched, content to let his drones do the fighting. The Harlequins’ war-dance became a spasmodic gyration, their routine disintegrating amid waves of agony, as one by one they fell to the ground. Fabius laughed loud and long to see them reduced to such a state.

  The others swept towards him, no longer laughing. He avoided a slashing blade, and thrust Torment into a grinning mask. As they capered about him, to a more savage rhythm than before, he saw skeletal silver shapes advance out of the gloom. Beams of scintillating emerald flashed, scattering the clowns.

  ‘A trap,’ Veilwalker spat.

  ‘Yes, how does it feel?’ Fabius sneered. He lunged for the creature, determined that it should not escape. Veilwalker easily avoided his blow.

  ‘You make bargains with things beyond your comprehension, O King of Feathers. And they will do worse than consume you, if you are not wary.’

  ‘Is that a warning, or a threat?’ Fabius swung, narrowly missing the twisting figure. ‘You seem at a loss. Have I ruined your tale once more?’

  ‘Stories are strong things.’ Veilwalker swept its staff out, nearly cracking his skull. The chirurgeon chattered in his ear, pumping stimulants and battle-drugs into him. His movements became quicker, more fluid. Torment struck the Harlequin’s staff, and Veilwalker staggered, gasping. Around them, the rest of its troupe were busy dying, or worse.

  They’d been caught by surprise. Perhaps they’d assumed that whatever force protected them from discovery elsewhere would function here as well. Or perhaps they’d simply grown overconfident, assured of their narrative.

  ‘And what story is this, then? What tale are you telling? Perhaps it loses something in translation, eh?’ He sent the xenos sprawling and advanced on it. ‘Ah well.’

  ‘It is not over yet,’ Veilwalker hissed. It sprang up, narrowly avoiding a beam of green energy. Then it was gone, vanishing into the gloom. Fabius stared after it for a moment, and then looked down at the twitching bodies, lying about him.

  ‘Oh, I’d say it is.’ He kicked one of the Harlequins in the head, cracking its gruesome, leering mask. He raised Torment, ready to crush the xenos’ skull.

  ‘Hold. It belongs to me now, and I would not see it damaged.’ Trazyn stepped out of a darkened alcove, staff clicking against the ground as he approached. ‘Though what I am going to do with them I cannot say.’

  ‘Perhaps they might perform for you,’ Fabius said, leaning on his sceptre. ‘I can think of nothing more exquisite than to capture them in mid-act, and leave the story there, unfinished for an eternity.’

  ‘You are a cruel creature, but ingenious in your cruelty.’ Trazyn gave a rattling chuckle. ‘I shall consider it, at my leisure.’ He looked around. ‘One of them escaped.’

  ‘Only one of its many annoying habits. I trust you will not hold it against me?’ He looked at the bodies again, and suddenly, he recalled how the Harlequins had sacrificed their own kin on Lugganath, in order to draw him in. Veilwalker had said that the true battle was above. For some reason, they wanted him to go back to the ­Vesalius. Had their defeat been nothing more than a ploy to ensure that outcome?

  Trazyn gestured dismissively. ‘No matter. For now, you may go. I look forward to seeing how long it takes you to make your way back to the surface.’

  Fabius hesitated, pushing his thoughts of Veilwalker aside. There were more important matters to concentrate on. ‘You promised me safe passage.’

  ‘Yes. But I did not promise to take you there.’

  Fabius grimaced. ‘What about the gene-tithe?’

  ‘What about it? Our agreeme
nt was a trade – your freedom for theirs. The gene-tithe is mine still. Rest assured, it shall be safe here, with me.’

  Fabius frowned. ‘What if I could offer you something else? Something in exchange?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Any number of things. Name it.’

  Trazyn paused. A moment later, he said, ‘You.’

  Fabius licked his lips. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I want you, Fabius. For my collection. As was the original arrangement. You have several clones aboard the vessel currently in orbit, do you not? I want one.’ Trazyn leaned on his staff, a parody of ease. ‘And a copy of your brilliant, singular mind – another thing I know you possess. I have enjoyed our conversation, and wish it to continue.’

  Fabius hesitated. A simple enough price, but one that seemed somehow too steep. It was not the loss of the body that bothered him, so much as it was the loss of self. Another him, trapped here on this silent world forever.

  Trazyn looked up. ‘I would make up your mind. Things have progressed in your absence. Here – listen.’ He gestured, and suddenly the sounds of the Vesalius’ vox frequency echoed through the gallery. Fabius’ eyes widened as he took in the sounds of gunfire and the screams of dying men.

  ‘Flavius,’ he hissed. Whatever Eidolon’s intentions, Alkenex had obviously had his own plans. He looked at Trazyn. ‘Fine. I will give you a piece of myself, in return for the gene-tithe. But I will only supply you a neural copy to go with it if you ensure that my ship remains in my hands.’

  Trazyn considered this. Then, he leaned forward, eyes flashing with alien mirth.

  ‘Very well. We have a bargain.’

  Igori lunged, her knife punching through the reeling Space Marine’s neck. As he staggered back, cursing, she shot him in the face with her shuriken pistol. He toppled backwards with a wet thump. All across the command deck, mutant and New Man struggled with Space Marine. The latter were outnumbered, but they fought with manic zeal, islands of ceramite in an ocean of flesh.