Chapter II
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'When one finds oneself in strange parts, cautious and unyielding vigilance is the duly recommended course of action.' – Civitas Imperialis, 547.M39 edition
Consider now all the holdings of the Imperium, of humanity as a whole, spread across the galaxy like a smear of blood on a boulder. How strange and varied can each world be, each little pool of life and light? All are separated by the yawning void, and to reach them often means risking soul and sanity to journey through the perils of the un-realm known as the Warp. Danger may lurk behind any oddity, and everyone's motives are suspect.
How vigilant can anyone be?
Segmentum Solar
Sol Halo, en route to Tulak-Nedh
Voidship Mendicant Witness
After all the millennia of human existence, only one viable form of faster-than-light transit was left to the Imperium: passage through the Warp. A treacherous and occasionally lethal mode of movement, ships travelling through the Warp were at constant risk of never returning to normal spacetime again. Tales of woe and warning abounded among lifelong spacers: of ships arriving emptied of crew, decades or centuries after they were expected, torn to pieces by warp storms, and sometimes even arriving before they had ever left.
The storms of unreality in the Warp could rage for centuries, cutting off colony worlds utterly from the light and guidance of Holy Terra, to the point that if contact was ever re-established it was often with an entirely different culture and people, who had long forgotten the Imperium. Daemonic beasts and their masters lurked within the realm of the Warp as well, ever sniffing for traces of the prey that might try to slip past toward safety. Many a ship with improper shielding had thus been boarded and destroyed, the bodies of their crews ravaged however the monsters pleased.
Small wonder, then, that Inquisitor Pellifex's personal voidship bore redundant Geller field projectors to fully insulate its sleek hull from the terrors without, as well as surprisingly powerful engines and void shields for its size. At first sight, it appeared to be a small luxury yacht, of the kind that a wealthy planetary governor might gift unto an adolescent heir, to sport among friends and playmates. All the armor was cleverly concealed, the sweeping warp vanes appeared to be affectations of design, and the hull bore no sign of being an Inquisition vessel.
Techmarine Caecilius had thus been pleasantly surprised to discover that their transport to Tetonis Sigma IV was not the prissy pleasure craft he had assumed it to be, but a well-appointed ship of war, if a great deal stealthier than he was used to. As a Grey Knight, he had always been taught that operational secrecy was paramount, but the Inquisition he served took it to another level entirely. Their criteria for successful subterfuge bordered on the paranoiac, and could only reasonably be surpassed by the expert killers of the Officio Assassinorum temples.
Boarding the small ship with his battle brothers and all their gear had been swift and efficient. Grey Knights relied a great deal on their Aegis-pattern power armor to augment their psykery in combat, and so, unlike most Astartes chapters, their deployments did not include such vast quantities of arms and ammunition. Three of the hefty stevedore servitors in the ship's crew made quick work of the equipment they had brought to the dock, and had it squared away under Caecilius' sharp supervision in commendable time. His duties completed, he rejoined the Justicar on the bridge.
'...and I must say, Inquisitor, it is most kind of you to allow us the use of your personal vessel for such a venture,' Argillander was saying. 'We had planned to commandeer a small freighter bound for Krieg, and stow ourselves and our gear in a cargo bay. This allows for a significant improvement in keeping our mission clandestine, and the Grey Knights thank you for extending us the courtesy.'
'Think nothing of it, Justicar. Will the Praetor be joining us?'
'Not to my knowledge, no. He's settling into his quarters and will likely remain there until we are ready to deploy.'
'Was he like this the last time, at Jollana?'
'Yes, so he was. I was not yet a Justicar then, but I recall my own squad leader saying much the same to me. He's an ally of Humanity, though Throne knows just what corner of Humanity he must hail from.'
'That armor, and his weapons; have you ever seen the like?'
'No, only on him. He won't even let our Adeptus Mechanicus or Techmarines examine the suit, so all we know is from battle records and external observation. It must be a relic from the Dark Age, as I've seen it perform much like Astartes power armour, yet he does not appear to be augmented as we are.'
'Does he maintain it himself then? He didn't seem to be carrying any tools as such, only those strange weapons.'
'It appears his armor can repair itself, though no one seems to understand how, and he cannot say.'
'Cannot? I was under the impression he was under a vow of silence.'
'Well, we believe him to be a mute, though I have heard him make sounds of effort or pain in battle…'
Half paying attention to the quiet conversation in case anything more useful was said, Caecilius turned to observe the spacious bridge. Viewscreens and data readouts surrounded the Inquisitor's command chair, but there was enough space around the wedge-shaped room for the whole squad to stand and move with ease. Seated far forward at the helmsman's station was a slender woman, focused on the ship's controls and holo-display. A Navigator, her sanctioned mutation covered by a bronze bandana over her forehead that tied back over curling black tresses shot through with gray. A pair of servitors stood by her, tending to her needs as she sat ensconced in her pilot's seat, where she would remain for most of the journey.
No windows on the command deck, only viewscreens; passengers who wished to look upon the vastness outside would instead go up to the viewing platforms on the promenade level, or they would if it existed. The reinforced glass seen from the outside was purely cosmetic, and anyway, no Navigator worth the title would be barred from seeing straight through the hull and out into the void with their third eye, the warp-eye whose presence made them feared and reviled as mutants even as they were revered for their irreplaceable service to the Imperium. This one kept her back to the Knights, and he sensed her own fear at their strangeness and power.
Resolving not to bother the person who could plunge them all into the heart of a star if she panicked, he quietly took his leave of his superiors and left the command deck to familiarize himself with the vessel. Even though they were not expected to engage in hostilities until they arrived on Tulak-Nedh, the routines of environmental awareness were drilled into every Marine long before they would even see a suit of Scout Armor. Besides, as a techmarine, Caecilius was doubly interested in the workings of a voidship that could transit the warp and yet remain so small and low-profile. At just over five hundred metres long, the Mendicant Witness was barely the size of a patrol gunship, let alone a modest frigate, though its armored hull would probably outlast even a Corvette-class warship of the Navis Imperialis.
The Inquisition was powerful indeed, to have access to such amazing technology. It had likely been preserved in caches from ages long past, and accorded to such agents as had earned good standing in service of Humanity, or possibly just commandeered by the Inquisitor and then kept for its usefulness. Wandering the cool, relatively unadorned corridors, he noted with approval the carefully placed choke points and fortifications, and his mechadendrite sensors revealed the bulkheads to be significantly thicker and tougher than they appeared.
At a fork in the path, he paused, listening carefully. The hum of the engines seemed louder straight ahead, so he pressed on, eager to see what ancient machine-spirits powered the ship.
A single hatch in the wall blocked his way into the engineering section, and he turned his attention to the lockpad beside it. No doubt keyed to whoever was in charge of the machinery, and of course the Inquisitor herself. Nonetheless, Caecilius had trained diligently under the Adeptus Mechanicus on Deimos, and he'd picked up a trick or two along the way.
Switching his implanted vox-caster on, he willed it to emit a brief burst of static that to ordinary ears would sound like noise. The secret binary cant embedded within, however, resolved itself into a Mechanicus passcode when received by the locking mechanism, and the hatch clanked twice before smoothly sliding open.
'My Lord Inquisitor. Is everything alright,' a familiar monotone buzzed from the gloomy depths of the incense-shrouded engine room.
'Greetings, Adeptus. I am a Techmarine, accompanying the Inquisitor on a holy mission. Glory to the Omnissiah,' intoned Caecilius.
'A Techmarine,' buzzed the Mechanicus priest, skittering into view around a corner. Rust red robes shrouded a cyborg body that bulged with implanted machinery. The upper half of the face was missing, replaced with a cluster of sensors and garnet oculi that glinted in the half-light. Below the torso, the flowing garment parted to reveal four insectoid legs of plasteel tipped with ceramite claws that aided the enginseer in clambering through the ship's machinery to maintain and repair its archaic systems. Over the narrow shoulders Caecilius noticed a trio of mechadendrites much like his own pair, bearing supplemental tools and equipment.
A humanoid arm suddenly snapped up from the shadows within the robes, leveling a Mars-pattern bolt pistol at Caecilius' unarmored head. 'Armor class unrecognized. Astartes status unrecognized. Immediate. Identify. How did you gain access.' Caecilius froze, and then switched his vox-caster on again. In rapid binaric, he uttered the sixteen Universal Laws held sacred by all who were trained in the Cult Mechanicus, and taught to no other on pain of execution. The eight Mysteries, and the eight Warnings. The enginseer paused, considering the import of the information, and continued in binaric.
++[Query, immediate]: State designation.++
[Information]: Techmarine First Class Macit Caecilius of Grey Knights 6th Brotherhood.
++[Information]: Sensors read Adeptus Astartes-class augmetics and genetic enhancements. No such Chapter listed in directories. | [Query, immediate]: State Chapter classification.++
[Information]: Adeptus Astartes Chapter 666. Classified Ordo Malleus Chamber Militant.
++[Information]: Database access denied. This unit does not possess sufficient information privileges. This unit must seek clarification from commanding unit-designate Inquisitor Lord Pellifex.++
The tech-priest paused again. ++[Query]: State armor classification.++
Caecilius smiled gently. Like himself, all adepts of the Mechanicus were insatiably curious about unknown technologies, and constantly strove to acquire new information for the vast archives of the Imperium. A little information about his armor would likely prove a useful gesture of goodwill. Nothing classified, of course.
[Information]: Aegis-pattern Power Armor system exclusive to Grey Knights Chapter. Further system information privileged. This unit does not have permission to share.
++[Information]: Understood. | [Query]: State provenance. Where did unit-designate Caecilius train as a Techmarine?++
[Information]: Deimos.
If the Enginseer still had eyes, it might have blinked in shock. Nonetheless, it froze. Caecilius considered disarming it, but refrained on the same basis as he had decided not to antagonize the Navigator. The caretakers of this ship were not expendable, though in a pinch Caecilius reckoned he could keep things running if he had to. Emperor-willing, it would not come to that.
++[Information]: Forge-World Deimos declared lost to Mars and Mechanicus in ?.?.?.M31. | [Query, immediate]: Clarify current location.++
[Information]: Deimos given to Grey Knights in accordance with alliance pact between Ordo Malleus and Adeptus Mechanicus. Records destroyed or falsified to protect truth. Result: Deimos declared lost. Current location remains privileged information. Sincere apologies.
The bolt pistol lowered, slowly, and was then tucked into a hidden holster. Privately, Caecilius was impressed. Few within the Imperium would dare to draw a weapon on an armed and armored Astartes and hope to get even a shot off before dying violently. This tech-priest was either suicidally foolhardy, or more likely exceptionally brave, especially if employed in the service of an Inquisitor.
[Query]: State designation.
++[Information]: Enginseer Second Grade Severin Kjellet, Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars.++
'Well met, Enginseer. I apologize if I have caused alarm. I was merely–' he swung around as the door opened behind him, '...curious.'
Pellifex marched in, eyed him critically, and then leaned over slightly to check on her employee. 'All well, Kjellet?'
'Clarification required, Lord Inquisitor. Astartes Caecilius claims to be of Grey Knights Chapter, yet no relevant information was accessible.'
'The Grey Knights are a classified chapter, Kjellet. I suppose you may as well know, so I will transfer the required access codes to your cogitators later today.'
'Inquisitor, are you sure that this is wise?' asked the techmarine. Pellifex gave him a Look.
'Apologies, my Lord. I meant no offense.'
Boarding the small ship with his battle brothers and all their gear had been swift and efficient. Grey Knights relied a great deal on their Aegis-pattern power armor to augment their psykery in combat, and so, unlike most Astartes chapters, their deployments did not include such vast quantities of arms and ammunition. Three of the hefty stevedore servitors in the ship's crew made quick work of the equipment they had brought to the dock, and had it squared away under Caecilius' sharp supervision in commendable time. His duties completed, he rejoined the Justicar on the bridge.
'...and I must say, Inquisitor, it is most kind of you to allow us the use of your personal vessel for such a venture,' Argillander was saying. 'We had planned to commandeer a small freighter bound for Krieg, and stow ourselves and our gear in a cargo bay. This allows for a significant improvement in keeping our mission clandestine, and the Grey Knights thank you for extending us the courtesy.'
'Think nothing of it, Justicar. Will the Praetor be joining us?'
'Not to my knowledge, no. He's settling into his quarters and will likely remain there until we are ready to deploy.'
'Was he like this the last time, at Jollana?'
'Yes, so he was. I was not yet a Justicar then, but I recall my own squad leader saying much the same to me. He's an ally of Humanity, though Throne knows just what corner of Humanity he must hail from.'
'That armor, and his weapons; have you ever seen the like?'
'No, only on him. He won't even let our Adeptus Mechanicus or Techmarines examine the suit, so all we know is from battle records and external observation. It must be a relic from the Dark Age, as I've seen it perform much like Astartes power armour, yet he does not appear to be augmented as we are.'
'Does he maintain it himself then? He didn't seem to be carrying any tools as such, only those strange weapons.'
'It appears his armor can repair itself, though no one seems to understand how, and he cannot say.'
'Cannot? I was under the impression he was under a vow of silence.'
'Well, we believe him to be a mute, though I have heard him make sounds of effort or pain in battle…'
Half paying attention to the quiet conversation in case anything more useful was said, Caecilius turned to observe the spacious bridge. Viewscreens and data readouts surrounded the Inquisitor's command chair, but there was enough space around the wedge-shaped room for the whole squad to stand and move with ease. Seated far forward at the helmsman's station was a slender woman, focused on the ship's controls and holo-display. A Navigator, her sanctioned mutation covered by a bronze bandana over her forehead that tied back over curling black tresses shot through with gray. A pair of servitors stood by her, tending to her needs as she sat ensconced in her pilot's seat, where she would remain for most of the journey.
No windows on the command deck, only viewscreens; passengers who wished to look upon the vastness outside would instead go up to the viewing platforms on the promenade level, or they would if it existed. The reinforced glass seen from the outside was purely cosmetic, and anyway, no Navigator worth the title would be barred from seeing straight through the hull and out into the void with their third eye, the warp-eye whose presence made them feared and reviled as mutants even as they were revered for their irreplaceable service to the Imperium. This one kept her back to the Knights, and he sensed her own fear at their strangeness and power.
Resolving not to bother the person who could plunge them all into the heart of a star if she panicked, he quietly took his leave of his superiors and left the command deck to familiarize himself with the vessel. Even though they were not expected to engage in hostilities until they arrived on Tulak-Nedh, the routines of environmental awareness were drilled into every Marine long before they would even see a suit of Scout Armor. Besides, as a techmarine, Caecilius was doubly interested in the workings of a voidship that could transit the warp and yet remain so small and low-profile. At just over five hundred metres long, the Mendicant Witness was barely the size of a patrol gunship, let alone a modest frigate, though its armored hull would probably outlast even a Corvette-class warship of the Navis Imperialis.
The Inquisition was powerful indeed, to have access to such amazing technology. It had likely been preserved in caches from ages long past, and accorded to such agents as had earned good standing in service of Humanity, or possibly just commandeered by the Inquisitor and then kept for its usefulness. Wandering the cool, relatively unadorned corridors, he noted with approval the carefully placed choke points and fortifications, and his mechadendrite sensors revealed the bulkheads to be significantly thicker and tougher than they appeared.
At a fork in the path, he paused, listening carefully. The hum of the engines seemed louder straight ahead, so he pressed on, eager to see what ancient machine-spirits powered the ship.
A single hatch in the wall blocked his way into the engineering section, and he turned his attention to the lockpad beside it. No doubt keyed to whoever was in charge of the machinery, and of course the Inquisitor herself. Nonetheless, Caecilius had trained diligently under the Adeptus Mechanicus on Deimos, and he'd picked up a trick or two along the way.
Switching his implanted vox-caster on, he willed it to emit a brief burst of static that to ordinary ears would sound like noise. The secret binary cant embedded within, however, resolved itself into a Mechanicus passcode when received by the locking mechanism, and the hatch clanked twice before smoothly sliding open.
'My Lord Inquisitor. Is everything alright,' a familiar monotone buzzed from the gloomy depths of the incense-shrouded engine room.
'Greetings, Adeptus. I am a Techmarine, accompanying the Inquisitor on a holy mission. Glory to the Omnissiah,' intoned Caecilius.
'A Techmarine,' buzzed the Mechanicus priest, skittering into view around a corner. Rust red robes shrouded a cyborg body that bulged with implanted machinery. The upper half of the face was missing, replaced with a cluster of sensors and garnet oculi that glinted in the half-light. Below the torso, the flowing garment parted to reveal four insectoid legs of plasteel tipped with ceramite claws that aided the enginseer in clambering through the ship's machinery to maintain and repair its archaic systems. Over the narrow shoulders Caecilius noticed a trio of mechadendrites much like his own pair, bearing supplemental tools and equipment.
A humanoid arm suddenly snapped up from the shadows within the robes, leveling a Mars-pattern bolt pistol at Caecilius' unarmored head. 'Armor class unrecognized. Astartes status unrecognized. Immediate. Identify. How did you gain access.' Caecilius froze, and then switched his vox-caster on again. In rapid binaric, he uttered the sixteen Universal Laws held sacred by all who were trained in the Cult Mechanicus, and taught to no other on pain of execution. The eight Mysteries, and the eight Warnings. The enginseer paused, considering the import of the information, and continued in binaric.
++[Query, immediate]: State designation.++
[Information]: Techmarine First Class Macit Caecilius of Grey Knights 6th Brotherhood.
++[Information]: Sensors read Adeptus Astartes-class augmetics and genetic enhancements. No such Chapter listed in directories. | [Query, immediate]: State Chapter classification.++
[Information]: Adeptus Astartes Chapter 666. Classified Ordo Malleus Chamber Militant.
++[Information]: Database access denied. This unit does not possess sufficient information privileges. This unit must seek clarification from commanding unit-designate Inquisitor Lord Pellifex.++
The tech-priest paused again. ++[Query]: State armor classification.++
Caecilius smiled gently. Like himself, all adepts of the Mechanicus were insatiably curious about unknown technologies, and constantly strove to acquire new information for the vast archives of the Imperium. A little information about his armor would likely prove a useful gesture of goodwill. Nothing classified, of course.
[Information]: Aegis-pattern Power Armor system exclusive to Grey Knights Chapter. Further system information privileged. This unit does not have permission to share.
++[Information]: Understood. | [Query]: State provenance. Where did unit-designate Caecilius train as a Techmarine?++
[Information]: Deimos.
If the Enginseer still had eyes, it might have blinked in shock. Nonetheless, it froze. Caecilius considered disarming it, but refrained on the same basis as he had decided not to antagonize the Navigator. The caretakers of this ship were not expendable, though in a pinch Caecilius reckoned he could keep things running if he had to. Emperor-willing, it would not come to that.
++[Information]: Forge-World Deimos declared lost to Mars and Mechanicus in ?.?.?.M31. | [Query, immediate]: Clarify current location.++
[Information]: Deimos given to Grey Knights in accordance with alliance pact between Ordo Malleus and Adeptus Mechanicus. Records destroyed or falsified to protect truth. Result: Deimos declared lost. Current location remains privileged information. Sincere apologies.
The bolt pistol lowered, slowly, and was then tucked into a hidden holster. Privately, Caecilius was impressed. Few within the Imperium would dare to draw a weapon on an armed and armored Astartes and hope to get even a shot off before dying violently. This tech-priest was either suicidally foolhardy, or more likely exceptionally brave, especially if employed in the service of an Inquisitor.
[Query]: State designation.
++[Information]: Enginseer Second Grade Severin Kjellet, Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars.++
'Well met, Enginseer. I apologize if I have caused alarm. I was merely–' he swung around as the door opened behind him, '...curious.'
Pellifex marched in, eyed him critically, and then leaned over slightly to check on her employee. 'All well, Kjellet?'
'Clarification required, Lord Inquisitor. Astartes Caecilius claims to be of Grey Knights Chapter, yet no relevant information was accessible.'
'The Grey Knights are a classified chapter, Kjellet. I suppose you may as well know, so I will transfer the required access codes to your cogitators later today.'
'Inquisitor, are you sure that this is wise?' asked the techmarine. Pellifex gave him a Look.
'Apologies, my Lord. I meant no offense.'
'Indeed. Kjellet, all seven Astartes currently aboard the Witness are of the Grey Knights chapter, and are to be treated as allies and honored guests. You have my permission to assist them in whatever way you can, should they request it of you.'
'Affirmative, Lord Inquisitor.'
'Now be a good boy and cancel the alarm, will you?'
'Affirmative, Lord Inquisitor.'
'As you were.' She turned and strode out, leaving a bemused Knight and a somewhat embarrassed tech-priest behind. As a servo-skull drifted past the closing door, Caecilius turned back to Kjellet.
'So… ever seen a psycannon before?'
Segmentum Tempestus
Uhulis Sector, Tetonis Sigma IV (Tulak-Nedh)
Hive city Tulaku
Even to a complete stranger, the halls and chambers of the massive termite-mound that was Tulaku City might seem to be deeply troubled. Nothing was visibly wrong; vendors hawking their wares and ordinary citizens scuttling about their daily errands in a dozen different directions, but the very air felt charged with a sense of impending violence. A closer examination would reveal the pinched faces and furtive, distrustful glances in every direction. These habitations might well see blood before long, and the sparks could fly any day.
In truth, Tulaku and all the other hive cities on Tulak-Nedh were merely in the lull between outbreaks of an ongoing cycle of brutality, spurred on by the Sons of the Light. A radical group that had first made an appearance about nine standard years ago, their slogans revolved around fighting for the minority population of psykers and latent psykers, and speaking out against the injustice of the Imperial Black Ships that arrived every year to steal away citizens found to have psykic potential. For every thousand citizens, maybe one would possess the mutations necessary to access the energies of the Immaterium, the perilous Warp.
These poor souls were sought out, rounded up, and dragged in chains back to Holy Terra to join the Adeptus Astronomica, fueling with their very lives the psykic beacon that was the Emperor's Astronomican, by whose light the Imperium's voidships navigated. The Sons spoke out for clemency, for mercy, to let these innocent people go free, to live their own lives in service to the Imperium, and over time their voices grew more strident.
Pleas turned to demands for justice, peaceful demonstrations turned into aggressive protests, and though the planetary government came down hard on such dissidence, hardly any progress was made at restoring order. Word began to spread of a mysterious and charismatic figure behind the Sons, who claimed a divine mandate from the Emperor himself.
'...for who is the Emperor but the most powerful and vaunted psyker in existence? Surely we, His people, deserve nothing less than to live out full and prosperous lives? How is it fair, brethren, that only those who – purely by quirk of evolution – become conduits of the Warp are wrenched from their homes and culled like grox while the so-called 'ordinary folk' grow fat and lazy on the profits, on the backs of our blood sacrifice?' — excerpt from Sons of Light propaganda voxcast
This secretive leader, known only as the Boundless Lord, called upon his followers to push against the 'thoughtless cruelty of the doddering fools in planetary government,' decrying them as spineless puppets of the Imperial Administratum, and inciting the people to harbor known psykers, slowly amassing a growing population of disenfranchised psykers away from the 'greedy grasping hands of the so-called High Lords of Terra.' Each and every soul a small, shining beacon into the Immaterium; mere candles before the blazing sun that was the Emperor, but dangerous in their own way.
No one seemed to know where the Sons of Light were getting their support, for not only did they appear to be surprisingly well-funded and established a mere ten years on, but despite the increasing government crackdowns there appeared to be more of them than ever. Their ranks swelled with every new devotee they found, and each budding psyker was being taught to revile the Imperium that birthed them and raised them like bogpigs for the slaughter.
And then the riots began.
Segmentum Solar
Approaching border of Segmentum Tempestus
Voidship Mendicant Witness, cargo bay
Perilous Warp Crack Minecraft
Justicar Argillander clanked softly into the cargo bay of the Inquisitor's yacht in a pensive mood. In his conversation with Pellifex on the bridge earlier, her incisive mind had raised a few questions about the Praetor that Argillander had never really brought himself to consider since the last time he had met the armored enigma. He now found himself unwilling to admit that he really knew very little about the man quartered next door to him, and the thought troubled his heart. Was it right for him to be so trusting of this soldier?
He had witnessed the Praetor in battle, and of his martial skill there could be no question, but what of the man behind the faceless visor? The Knights had no knowledge of any ulterior motives that could be in play on the Praetor's part, but that did not mean there were none. He resolved not to twist his thoughts further into doubt; such murky questions were for the Inquisition he served, not fit for a Knight. He must meditate, and clear his mind. The mission comes first.
'Justicar on deck!'
His squad snapped smartly to attention from their various activities around the hold, and as he quietly waved them back to their work, Argillander took stock of the situation at a glance.
Acanthus, wielding a durasteel staff in lieu of his power hammer, was engaged in a sparring bout with Fahim, the close-quarters combat specialist, who was armed with only a training knife. Neither appeared to show any signs of giving ground. Iotann, the relatively diminutive long-range arms expert, was training in hand-to-hand combat against Velox, the squad's combat controller and aspiring Master of the Signal. Each battle brother was a blur of strikes and counters that would have pulped any normal human, but by the divine grace and ingenuity of Him-on-Earth, a Space Marine stood above such mortal concerns.
Over in the far starboard corner, on a workbench made of storage crates, techmarine Caecilius was busily inspecting and maintaining the squad's heavy weapons, aided by the ever-cheerful Epulari. The youngest Knight on the squad, Epulari had been newly added to bring them back up to full strength after the tragic loss of Brother Mendinius a year ago. He was a specialist in explosives and demolition as his predecessor had been, and where Epulari lacked Mendinius' experience, he more than made up for it in sheer enthusiasm and dedication to his work. Pleased to see the younger Knight settling in well with his more seasoned Brothers, Argillander found himself a quiet spot to occupy and detached his gauntlets, clipping them to his armor.
He dusted his large, callused hands with chalk from a small pouch at his hip, pulled a smooth, round ball of white clay from another pouch, and began rolling it gently between his palms as he murmured prayers of purity and guidance.
The pila luto, as the Grey Knights call it, is a form of meditative focus taught to their Aspirants as a means of exploring, visualizing, channeling and eventually mastering their psykic energies. Beginning with a small ball of unformed clay, the novice squeezes it to compact it, and then rolls it between their palms, gently infusing it with power, smoothing out imperfections and extracting excess moisture, and focused in prayer all the while. The ball is left to dry while other duties are attended to, and then a layer of fine dry dust is added, and the ball is rolled again.
Over time, this results in a smoothly polished shell building up around the warp-infused core, whose moisture slowly spreads out to hold the whole spheroid together. If the novice is too hasty or does not maintain proper focus, the pila starts to crack, to flake, and eventually to crumble completely, and must be begun anew. – Archmagos Messiter, Reflections of Deimos, 942.M38
Argillander's own pila luto resembled a perfect sphere of polished marble. This was his twenty-eighth ball and the one he had kept going the longest, after those that were lost or damaged in battle over the years and all the abortive attempts made in his training so long ago. Novices were taught that the pila luto symbolized the soul of the Knight, brought ever closer to perfection through ritual and devotion, training and service, the better to withstand Chaos.
He had acquiesced to the realization that the little mud ball was never meant to last forever, and upon admitting that truth he understood what so many before him had; that for every Grey Knight that gave his life in service to the Imperium, another would be forged anew to take his place.
Thus his mind cleared, and he looked up from his seat at his Brothers around the cargo hold with a renewed sense of purpose; his was not to reason why. He was a Grey Knight, but he was not the Grey Knights. Older and wiser heads than his had accepted the Praetor into their ranks, and he already trusted their judgment just as he would trust his own armor and psy-blade. Whatever the man's motives were, he had not been told because it was not important for him to know.
He chose to have faith.
Voidship Mendicant Witness, crew quarters
Space Marine. Sitting silent and alone in his assigned chamber, the man whom the Grey Knights called Praetor rolled those words around his mind. He had been called a Marine himself once, a long time ago. It could be said that he was still a Marine, but now, after all he had been through, the only thing that could really be counted in common with that proud branch of the military was that he too served for the good of all Humanity.
He'd certainly been into space, for what it was worth. Several times, for a variety of reasons... None of that really mattered, anyway. There was only the mission now, the imperative to protect Humanity's innocent and defenseless by burning away the darkness until it could no longer threaten anything. Absentmindedly he handled that ornate double-barrelled shotgun, his hands rattling through the drills of field-stripping, cleaning, and reloading on pure muscle memory. One of the inscriptions along the barrel caught his eye, breaking his reverie.
VOLAR. To fly.
A fleeting memory of soft blonde hair and a brilliant smile lit his thoughts and was gone. Another name lost to time along with his own. Another comrade, a friend. There were new names and faces now, as there had been many times before, but after all this time there was little point in trying to remember them. They wouldn't last long either. None of them did.
He'd make do as always, with or without his new companions. The mission came first.
Glossary and notes
Civitas Imperialis: (High Gothic, 'The Imperial Rule of Law') The Civitas was set out at the founding of the Imperium, to 'guarantee the safety and assurance of any citizen of the Imperium of Mankind, wherever he or she travels or sets foot within the length and breadth of the Imperium.' The passage quoted here is intended as advice for an Imperial citizen who should find themselves beyond the borders of Humanity. In theory, at least.
Halo: The field of comets, asteroids and other interstellar debris that marks the approximate boundary of a star system. Fragmented records recovered from the Age of Terra (circa M1 to M15) refer to the Sol Halo as the Kuiper Belt.
Omnissiah: The Machine God, devoutly worshipped by the Cult Mechanicus as an aspect of the Emperor-on-Earth (though the Inquisition's Ordo Hereticus still harbours doubts as to whether it's the other way around).
Grox: A hefty reptilian creature, the grox is commonly raised on many agri-worlds as a food source due to its palatable and nutritious flesh and its ability to live nearly anywhere and eat nearly anything. Adult grox are unfortunately both highly aggressive and territorial as well as almost suicidally stupid, and most need to be effectively lobotomized to prevent them from harming themselves or others over the slightest provocation.
Masters of the Signal: The Adeptus Astartes' foremost battlefield communications specialists.
[A/N: Anyone catch any of the easter eggs yet?]
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu responded to Wednesday's passage of the first reading of the Knesset dispersal bill by reminding the public that politics is secondary to policy.He did this not merely by stating – as he and his key coalition partner, Blue and White chairman Benny Gantz, have been doing ad nauseam – that ministerial rivalries need to take a back seat to the needs of the country as it grapples with the health-related and economic ramifications of the coronavirus crisis. Rather, he highlighted his own recent achievements, both in spite of and in relation to the pandemic.This is not to say that he didn't finish his oratory without attacking Gantz. On the contrary, he let his defense minister/alternate premier have it.Blaming Gantz for 'being dragged to elections' by opposition leader Yair Lapid and Yamina MK Naftali Bennett, Netanyahu accused him of having formed an 'opposition within the coalition.'Gantz shot back. 'We all know the truth, and you do, too,' he said. 'If there weren't a trial, there would be a budget. If there weren't a trial, there would be a functioning government. If there weren't a trial, there would be unity.'This is Gantz's go-to mantra, the one chanted by the 'anybody but Bibi' camp that he was originally elected to head: the assertion that Netanyahu spends all his time fretting over his legal troubles and none handling affairs of the state. It's a comical notion, whatever one's feelings about the longest-serving prime minister in Israel's history.It's especially ridiculous in light of recent events. These include the forging of historic peace deals with Arab countries; conducting a covert war on Iranian infrastructure and operatives; and pre-purchasing COVID-19 vaccines from Western countries at 'warp speed,' to borrow the name of US President Donald Trump's program.But Gantz is in a bind. It's the same predicament he's faced since April, when he joined Netanyahu in a national-unity government. That was when his partner parties in Blue and White blew a gasket and split from the bloc, and when many of his supporters began to scream that he'd 'stolen' their votes.They had a point. His only appeal to them was his physical stature and military credentials, which they thought would make him the only candidate who could beat Bibi. He really didn't have much else to offer.As a result, the best he could do was make fun of Netanyahu for all the wrong things. Take the speech he delivered in February 2019 to announce his Israel Resilience Party's final list for the April 9 Knesset election, for example.Addressing his nemesis, in absentia, Gantz remarked, 'When I lay in the muddy trenches with my soldiers on frozen winter nights, you, Benjamin Netanyahu, left Israel to learn English and practice it at luxurious cocktail parties. On the days when I commanded the Shaldag Unit in life-threatening operations in enemy states, you, Benjamin Netanyahu, worked your way bravely and with determination between the makeup rooms of TV studios. While I trained generations of commanders and fighters, you took acting lessons in a New York studio. And during the nights of tension and stress, when I fell asleep in my uniform and boots, you, Benjamin Netanyahu, had the world's most respected tailors taking your measurements, and returned safely to your bed in your prestigious hotel.'Turning to the packed audience of adoring fans (most of whom have since become his detractors), he declared, 'In a month and a half, we will all go to choose between a ruler with Boston English, heavy makeup and luxury suits, and Israeli leadership – genuine, caring, not fake or artificial – leadership that can look you in the eye.'Even Netanyahu's worst enemies had to admit that this was a gross misrepresentation. Netanyahu's flawless English did not come at the expense of his military service as a soldier and officer in the IDF's most elite special-forces unit, Sayeret Matkal.NOR DID HIS having spent years studying and working in the United States prevent him from being wounded in battle and taking part in perilous missions. Prominent among these was the storming of Sabena Flight 971, hijacked on May 8, 1972, by four armed members of the Palestinian terrorist organization Black September. When Netanyahu participated in that hostage-rescue operation, Gantz was a month shy of his 13th birthday, likely practicing for his bar mitzvah.As for the makeup, well, Netanyahu has been in many TV studios over the decades, making Israel's case to a largely hostile foreign press. Gantz forgot to mention that Netanyahu additionally honed his language skills and dress code while serving brilliantly for four years as ambassador to the UN – before returning home, being elected to the Knesset, rising up the ranks with various ministerial positions and become prime minister, once from 1996 to 1999, and the second time from 2009 to the present.In contrast, Gantz's career has been marked by inadvertent good luck. As Jerusalem Post editor-in-chief Yaakov Katz noted this week, 'In July 2009, Gantz was serving as the IDF military attaché in Washington, looking at retirement. Then-defense minister Ehud Barak wanted Yoav Gallant to be the deputy chief of staff; then-chief of staff Gabi Ashkenazi wanted Gadi Eisenkot. In the end, as a compromise, they chose Gantz. Fast forward to 2011, when just months after retiring and hanging up his uniform, Gantz was called back to the IDF to serve as chief of staff after the appointment of Gallant had to be rescinded.'A similar stroke of fortune landed Gantz the leadership of the 'anybody but Bibi' bloc.The trouble is that his only draw to a disparate collection of followers was his vow never to sit with Netanyahu in a government. Once he reneged on that, it was the beginning of the end of his political career.He still has one flicker of hope, however. According to the coalition deal's rotation agreement, he is slated to become prime minister in September 2021. Of course, this can't happen if the government falls before then.To make matters more complicated, the deal has a clause stating that if a budget isn't approved by December 23, the Knesset automatically disbands and new elections are called. This is why Gantz keeps begging Netanyahu to push through a budget before the deadline – even while calling him a crook and berating him for failed leadership.It also accounts for his speech on Tuesday, in which he explained why he was going to vote in favor of dispersing the Knesset, yet simultaneously left an opening for himself to remain in the Netanyahu-led government. The public didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the transparency of his pathetic plea, which began with a verbal assault on the person he hopes will consent to it.Reiterating that he had entered the government 'with a heavy heart, but with conviction,' he assured listeners that he never had any illusions about Netanyahu.'I was familiar with his record as a serial promise-breaker,' Gantz said. 'But I thought that the citizens of Israel were more important than any [individual] leader, and that Netanyahu would rise [to the occasion]. That didn't happen.'He continued, 'Netanyahu promised unity? He promised. Netanyahu made a commitment that there wouldn't be tricks and shticks? He made a commitment. Netanyahu promised responsible management of the coronavirus crisis? He promised. Netanyahu doesn't keep his promises and the public pays for it.'For dramatic effect, he added, 'It wasn't to me that Netanyahu lied. It was to you that he lied. 'It wasn't me that Netanyahu led astray, but rather all Israeli citizens.'It's an odd way for someone who just voted for the Knesset dispersal bill to request that Netanyahu prevent another round of elections for the sake of unity. Whether Netanyahu grants Gantz's wish and approves the budget in less than three weeks remains to be seen.Even if he does, however, there are two things that Gantz must realize. One is that only a miracle will keep this government from falling in the near future. The other is that it's Bennett's soaring poll numbers on Bibi's radar right now. Gantz is history.