by Guy Haley
The orbits around Baal Secundus especially were full. Chapters of the Blood vied to be closest to the place where the foundling Sanguinius had first spread his wings. It was upon the second moon that, ten thousand years ago, Sanguinius had inherited a ruined world and saved the benighted populace. Over Baal and Baal Primus there was scarcely more space. Databursts from a dozen nearby ships flooded the Splendid Pinion’s cogitators, warning them off collision course.
‘I have never seen so many Space Marine attack craft,’ said Achemen.
‘Nor have I, though I do not like to admit my ignorance of such spectacle!’ said Erwin.
‘There must be thousands of Space Marines here,’ said Achemen.
‘Tens of thousands,’ said Erwin.
For them both, the thought of being near so many others like themselves was strange, and not altogether pleasant.
Then there was Baal itself: huge, red, brooding. Deserts blanketed it from pole to pole, where tiny icecaps sat in deference to its modesty. They could serve no other purpose but to spare Baal’s embarrassment at its lack of water. They were too small to spawn glaciers, too cold to birth rivers, too isolated to be utilised easily by men. Legend said that Baal was never fully populated, for its moons had been paradises, and it had always been a desert. Unlike the scarred beauty of its satellites, Baal’s natural splendour was mostly untouched, save for here and there in the red sands, where the skeletal remains of lost colony cities showed like lace.
One place upon Baal exhibited signs of life, and though small from orbit it stood out in the sterile expanse of desert. Surrounded by lights, heralded by broadcasts on all frequencies of the spectrum, the black, spreading mountain that housed the Arx Angelicum was large in every Space Marine’s perception.
From orbit the Arx Angelicum was the merest blemish on the equator, but magnified pict views revealed something of its splendour. Black rock had been carved into imposing art. None of the Arx Angelicum’s impressive verticality could be appreciated from that altitude. Everything on a world appears flat as a game board from the void, but the barrels of defence lasers pointing skyward all over the main cone and its secondary companion were a sufficient statement of threat. The fortress monastery was a place of great power – no space-faring visitor could overlook that.
To the Space Marines flocking to the world, the fortifications were the least of the Arx Angelicum’s qualities. Baal was a spiritual home to every transhuman in the fleet. No matter how far they had strayed from the grace of their forefather, and some had strayed far indeed, the Arx Angelicum was a reminder of Sanguinius’ actuality: that the Great Angel was no myth, that he had once been, that he had walked and fought and died for the dream of the Imperium. Sanguinius himself had built that fortress and he had dwelt there. At the sight of it those Chapters who had forgotten something of their heritage felt their love for Sanguinius shine anew, while those who still held their lord in their hearts were smitten with near-religious awe.
Relations between Sanguinius’ sons remained close. Their curse was their bond. Hundreds of those present had been to Baal on pilgrimage or missions of amity. However, thousands of the warriors had not, and on many ships of many colours, hardened warriors wept to see the world of their gene-father for the first time.
Magnified further, rows and rows of Space Marine tanks were visible on the uncovered landing fields, as was the industry disturbing the desert for miles around the Arx.
‘I have seen the tyranid swarm with my own eyes,’ said Achemen. ‘Until this moment, I thought we had no hope of beating them. But we might, we just might.’
Erwin and Achemen watched for an age, unwilling to tear themselves away from the spectacle.
A harsh burst of static interrupted their silence. A voice, its words indistinct but its tone angry, blurted out from a vox station in the communications section.
‘My lord, we are being hailed by the Blade of Vengeance,’ called the Servile of Response.
Erwin frowned. ‘Captain Asante?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Let us have him then.’ He gestured. ‘Main hololith.’
Asante swam hugely into life over the main hololith pit. His armour was bedecked in honours and bloodstone. His face was stern.
‘Captain Asante, to what do I owe this honour?’ said Erwin, though he could guess. Asante maintained a neutral expression.
‘Captain Erwin, I demand you present yourself upon the Blade of Vengeance.’
‘For what purpose?’ said Erwin, though he guessed that too.
‘I would like you to explain to me why you disregarded my orders, and went to the aid of the Staff of Light rather than falling into formation with the rest of my task force.’
Erwin smiled fixedly. ‘I shall be glad to attend you. I accept your invitation, Captain Asante. But you have no right to summon me.’
Erwin nodded at the Servile of Response, and Asante was cut off as he was opening his mouth to speak again.
‘Prepare my Thunderhawk,’ ordered Erwin.
Achemen pointed at Erwin’s armour. His colours were scuffed and scratched. Alien blood caked the deeper recesses. ‘Are you not going to clean your wargear before you meet him?’
‘That would undermine the point I am going to make,’ said Erwin.
‘Good luck,’ said Achemen.
‘It is he who will require luck,’ said Erwin. ‘The Angels Excelsis take orders from none but themselves. In any case, you can watch, because you are coming with me. Orsini, keep things in order while we are gone. Servile!’ he called to his armoury servant. ‘Bring us our weapons. We shall speak to this captain armed.’
Erwin’s Thunderhawk wove its way through crowded space. Smaller craft sped between the vessels of the gathering host, taking emissaries between Chapters to reaffirm old alliances and strike new ones. From the largest ships went streams of landing craft, ferrying men and materiel to the surface. Everywhere there was activity, and the vox was overwhelmed with the chatter of two dozen separate military organisations attempting to establish some sort of order between themselves.
It looks like a Legion, thought Erwin, of the sort from the old histories, but it is not. If only it were. There is no unity here.
There was no central command structure, no order of deference to be observed, no hierarchy. Each Chapter was semi-autonomous within the Imperium, beholden to the commands of its master and no one else. Very few individuals or organisations could order the Space Marines to do anything. Although all of them respected Commander Dante as the eldest living Space Marine commander, and his position as lord of the founding Chapter granted him authority, technically all the Chapter Masters were of the same rank as he. The situation was even more complicated at captain level. A Space Marine captain was expected to make decisions with little guidance. For much of the time they operated alone upon their own initiative. There were hundreds of them at Baal, and they had no command structure to coordinate their actions.
That was why Erwin must go to Asante and stand his ground.
The Blade of Vengeance dominated the space around it. Orbital control at the Arx Angelicum did its best to group ships by Chapter. The Blade was attended by three of the Blood Angels strike cruisers and a number of escorts. Its blood-red livery was striking, its shade of red more violent, more sanguinary than all the other reds around it. Erwin shook his head. His mind was playing tricks. How was the red of the Blood Angels any more vibrant than that of the Blood Swords? How was it more arresting than the deep red and black of the Flesh Tearers? That kind of thinking was why Asante thought he could order Erwin about. The idea of Blood Angels as pre-eminent had to be challenged.
Even so, Erwin could not shake a sense of awe as his Thunderhawk flew along the metal cliffs of the Blade of Vengeance’s flanks. It was a magnificent ship, and ancient, dating back to the Heresy. One of the first of its class, and among the most powerfu
l, its gundecks and towers were festooned in glorious sculpture, chased with gold and precious metals. Large panels were painted with stupendous battle scenes. It was a scarred beauty. The freshest wounds were inflicted by acid, bioplasma and claw, but these marks of the Cryptus campaign were overlaid upon older damage, some of it so deep the art of the Blood Angels could not conceal it. The damage did not detract from the ship’s grace, instead it accentuated its magnificence and its deadliness, like duelling scars on the face of a beautiful female warrior. The Blade of Vengeance had taken everything the galaxy had to throw at it for ten thousand years, and it had survived in glory.
The flight deck entrances were located in the stubby wings projecting from the side of the main section. In this and other regards, battle-barges were similar to strike cruisers, with the same overall body design of main hull, and a projecting neck housing gun batteries and turrets that ended in a flat-headed prow. But they were so much bigger. Extra flank shielding sheltered the flight decks and the reactor core. Erwin’s craft flew behind the shields, out of the light and into a dark saturated with bloody tones by the Red Scar, Baal and the ship’s arterial livery.
Atmospheric shielding flickered over his ship, and he came into the brightness once more. His Thunderhawk put down on a landing square in the hangar.
‘Welcome to the Blade of Vengeance, Captain Erwin,’ said a human voice. ‘You may disembark.’
Erwin ordered the ramp lowered and strode out, Achemen and himself flanked by a pair of Excelsior Guardians clad all in white. He noted straight away that the grav-plating was set higher than the Angel Excelsis ships, mimicking Baal’s great mass.
A human servile waited for Erwin at the foot of the ramp. Armed shipmen stood in a perfect square behind him, their heavy lasguns held to attention.
‘My lord.’ The human dipped his head. ‘I am Corvael, third deck captain and blood thrall to the Blood Angels Chapter. My lord Asante regrets that none of the brothers were available to greet you, but it is, unfortunately, unavoidable. Our Chapter is presently understrength, many of my lords are deployed elsewhere. As you can see we have a great many tasks to accomplish.’
Our Chapter? thought Erwin. One of his own serviles would never have dared refer to the Angels Excelsis that way, and a captain? There was no meek deference in this Corvael. He was confident, daring to look at Erwin as if he were almost an equal.
Erwin hid his astonishment. His irritation was harder. ‘My thanks, third deck captain.’
Corvael bowed deeply. It was a small balm to Erwin’s outrage.
Servitors came to the Thunderhawk, clamping track units around its landing claws that raised the ship up off the deck. The tracks squealed, and the Thunderhawk lurched off in the direction of a holding bay.
Corvael followed Erwin’s eyes. ‘Your ship will be ready to leave when you are, my lord.’
Impertinent, thought Erwin. ‘Take me to your master,’ he said.
‘As you wish.’
Corvael turned smartly about. The Angels Excelsis followed, and the human shipsmen formed up around them.
Corvael was not lying about the number of Space Marines present. They marched down deserted corridors. Ammunition transports rumbled past on their way to and from the ship’s vast magazines, but the only people they saw were servitor half-men, and their barely more human Adeptus Mechanicus creators. Space Marine craft had small crews for their size, most of them being servitors watched over by human serfs and commanded by Space Marines. It was unbelievable to Erwin to have the likes of Corvael with so much authority. He should have seen at least a few fellow Space Marines. They went deeper into the ship towards the command spires. Only when they reached a bank of giant lifters situated at a nexus in the spinal corridor did he see a solitary Blood Angel standing watch.
Ornate doors of red marble slid back. They were beautifully carved, as was the interior they revealed.
‘This way, my lord,’ said Corvael, gesturing to the empty lifter.
They ascended many floors to the uppermost decks, passing the command centre. The lift stopped near the top of its run, and Erwin’s party was led into a lofty hall whose walls, floor and ceiling were covered in polished stone of black, red and cream. Inside he found a dozen Blood Angels – a single squad and a couple of Sanguinary Guard whose armour and gear mirrored Erwin’s Excelsior Guardians in all but colour.
There was a high throne in the hall upon a platform held off the paving by a cunningly balanced stair. The thought of Asante lecturing him from that vantage made Erwin angry, but it appeared the captain would not, for it was covered in a red banner bearing the Chapter badge.
The Blood Angels parted, revealing Asante.
‘You,’ said Asante without introduction. ‘I ordered you to follow my lead. Why did you not?’
Erwin removed his helmet before answering, letting the hiss of pressure equalisation fill the space of words. He looked upon a man who was similar in appearance to himself. Sanguinius’ gene-seed reworked its bearers strongly. There was a genuine family resemblance in the Chapters.
‘Because you have no right to order me,’ said Erwin. ‘I am not of your Chapter. Even if I were, I am a company captain. You have no company. I will not submit to another captain’s authority without direct orders from my own Chapter Master.’
‘So you disobeyed–’ began Asante.
‘Disregarded is how you put it before,’ interrupted Erwin. ‘That is more accurate.’
‘You disregarded my orders to make a point?’ said Asante.
‘I disregarded them because you did not give me the complete picture. I saw a ship in danger. We could not communicate. How was I to know the Staff of Life was a decoy?’
‘It was an obvious tactic,’ said Asante.
‘One I disagree with. To be frank, had I known I would have acted the way I did anyway. In the end, I extricated the ship and myself. You could have done the same.’
‘If I had, I would have risked my entire task force. You put two ships in danger, and your company. The destruction of Zozan Tertius was under my command.’
‘I came to a call for aid,’ said Erwin. ‘I aided you as I saw fit.’
Asante frowned, and took a data-slate from an attendant blood thrall. ‘Upon this slate are triple-verified prognostications for casualty reports if my plan had been followed. Within it also you will see the chances of success for your self-appointed mission. You will note they are low.’
Erwin ignored the slate.
‘I acted on my own judgement, as is my right. You cannot complain about my exercising my Emperor-given authority as a captain of the Adeptus Astartes.’
‘I would not, had you not put my entire operation at risk.’
Erwin laughed. ‘Nonsense. I put my company at risk, not you or your ships.’
‘Our chances of escape would have been higher had you obeyed.’
‘You escaped anyway!’ said Erwin. ‘Thanks to me, Hennan of the Angels Numinous lives to retell the story of your victory. Had it not been for my so-called disobedience, he would have been dead, and a valuable ship lost.’
‘Now I see more to disagree with you about. You call this a victory?’ said Asante.
‘Your mission was to deprive the hive fleets of biomass, I assume. You enacted exterminatus?’ Erwin shrugged. ‘Then your mission was a success.’
‘Five hundred million Imperial citizens are dead by our hand,’ said Asante. His face flushed. He stepped in close to the Angel Excelsis. He was bigger and heavier than Erwin, but Erwin would not be intimidated. ‘Five hundred million lives we were sworn to protect. Their world, a valuable, viable world, is no more. They called for help, before the shadow fell on them. They would have seen us arrive as the hive fleet invested their planet, thinking their prayers answered and their lives saved. But die they did, and the last sight they had was of a Blood Angels warship opening fire upon
them,’ said Asante. ‘We did not have time to evacuate them, or to even explain our actions fully. There are no successes in this fight, only degrees of failure. Impetuous warriors like you increase the severity of those failures.’
‘You are attempting to distract yourself from your guilt by railing at me. I expected more from the Blood Angels.’
‘And I expect more respect from a brother in arms. I suggested a course of action that was logical and had the higher parameter of success.’
‘What can I say?’ said Erwin. ‘I enjoy bad odds.’
Asante stared at him.
‘Please do not become angry, brother,’ said Erwin. ‘I agree, we need a command structure. If commanded to do so by my own lord I will follow you without question. But you have no right to assume I will follow you because you are of the father Chapter. A hierarchy based on so flimsy a premise will not withstand the rigours of war. You presume too much because you wear the colours of Sanguinius, my brother.’
Asante scowled. ‘Your efforts to save the Staff of Light are appreciated, but folly. Saving it is to be commended. Missing two ships would have been the poorer result, and it was far more likely. Do not risk yourself in that manner again.’
‘I have said that you cannot command me!’ said Erwin.
‘Then you will die alone. We must work in concert if we are to prevail. Commander Dante will show you the way.’
‘No agreement has been made yet,’ said Erwin.
‘Someone has to take command,’ said Asante. ‘We could be wrangling over this for months. If we do not make our own agreements when needed, we will die. If this situation ever occurs again, I advise you to do as I say, or die as you will. All that matters to me is that Baal is saved. I hope you will choose the better option so you might help in the defence, rather than throwing your life away.’
Erwin frowned. ‘Why are you being this way? Why do you challenge my authority in front of my second?’