The Imperial Truth Read online

  'Clarify, special order, tower.'

  'That's a Legiones Astartes code,' Arcadius told Stentonox. 'Imperial Fists. It'll be the Warmason, or Dorn himself.'

  'Tower, I am Master of the Watch - how could I not have been informed of this?' The vox went silent. 'Heliosicon Tower, respond.'

  'We're collating that data for you now-'

  'No,' Stentonox interrupted. 'Connect me to the ranking authority on Arcus right now.'

  'Yes, shield-captain'.

  'This is a mistake,' Stentonox told Arcadius, his voice threaded with steely authority. 'An oversight of monumental proportions. I want to know how this happened.'

  Under the stabbing glare of Duesstra Edelstyne, Stentonox waited, the orbital plate moving through the clouds, kilometre by kilometre, into the Palace's airspace. At first. Stentonox was patched through to the orbital's stratoport admiral, who could not help him; then through a selection of gubernatorials, proctors and berg marshals who claimed that their authority on the plate had been superseded. Finally, with his anger rising, Stentonox was connected to the high commissary of the Danakil conglomerates, who told him that Arcus was currently under their mercantile sovereignty.

  'Commissary,' Stentonox voxed, making each word sharp and clear. 'This is Shield-Captain Enobar Stentonox of the Legio Custodes. I am giving you a direct order - cease your approach. Your vector and presence in our airspace have not been cleared with us. You are in violation of aegis protocols and imperata of the highest-'

  'Heliosicon Tower,' a voice intruded, as deep and sharp as Stentonox's own. 'This is Captain Demetrius Katafalque of the Imperial Fists Legion. I am in command aboard Arcus. This orbital will not slow or alter its vector. My orders are to see us in anchorage above the Fourth Ward and the concentrica between the inner and outer walls. These are my primarch's orders and it is not for me to deny them. Check your protocols, Heliosicon Tower. Check your protocols.'

  'Arcadias?' Stentonox said grimly.

  The sentinel-securitas turned from his conference with the tower sentry and the signum-complex.

  'Special dispensatorial order "Metacarp Three-Sixteen" authorises Arcus to moor above the Palace and supply millions of workers from the Danakil mineral conglomerates to the Warmason Vadok Singh, for the purposes of improving the Palace fortifications,' Arcadias reported. 'The orbital is to remain, providing mobile quarters for the imported workforce.'

  Stentonox shook his head. 'How could we not know about this?'

  'Metacarp Three-Sixteen is still in committee. Lord Dorn must be pushing ahead with the fortifications. It is unlikely that the primarch will be denied, given the present situation, but an objection was lodged with the Administrator Primus and a hearing scheduled. We have not been informed, because Three-Sixteen has not yet been authorised.'

  'Who lodged the objection?' Stentonox asked.

  After a moment's further clarification, the sentinel-securitas told him. 'Luna did - Lady Krole of the Silent Sisterhood.'

  The pair of Custodians turned to Duesstra Edelstyne- The commandress gave a shrug of her armoured shoulders that needed no translation.

  'Captain Katafalque,' Stentonox voxed. This is Enobar Stentonox, Master of the Watch. Your breach of our airspace puts the Imperial Palace and the Emperor at intolerable risk. The orbital plate Arcus is not authorised to be here. I urge you, captain - order your tugs to take Arcus away from this approach vector.'

  'Rogal Dorn does not have time to waste on your meaningless bureaucracy,' Katafalque returned brusquely. 'Permissions have been sought. Check your protocols. I have authorisation from my primarch, just as he has authorisation to fortify the Imperial Palace. These are my orders.'

  'I cannot allow-'

  'These are my orders,' Katafalque repeated, 'and I intend to follow them. I have no more choice in that than the sun has in rising above the horizon. Do what you must, shield-captain. This is Arcus, inbound on vector-Himalazia. Katafalque out.'

  'Katafalque!' Stentonox called down the vox, but the Imperial Fist was gone.

  Stentonox didn't speak for a few moments. Both Arcadias and Edelstyne stared at the shield-captain in silence as Stentonox glared at the distant orbital plate.

  'Arcadias.'

  'Yes, shield-captain.'

  'Contact Damari Ambramagne aboard the Aeriax,' Stentonox ordered. 'Tell him I want all available Legio Custodes gun-skiffs on station above the Fourth Ward, vector-Himalazia.'

  Arcadias nodded, but said nothing.

  'You think it premature?' Stentonox asked.

  'No, shield-captain.'

  'Good, because next I want you to signal-crash the Palace. Take us to Defence Readiness Xanthus. All Custodians, Sisters, armsmen and... aye, even the Imperial Fists, are to assume their alert postings, and await further orders.'

  'What about the Chief Custodian?'

  'Inform him of our defence readiness and status,' Stentonox said, his instructions heavy with the accountability they carried. 'And ask him to attend me on the battlements, for it is he who shall be issuing those orders.'

  ***

  AS THE ORBITAL plate descended, it eclipsed the bleak light of the rising sun. The Palace citadels and towers - having felt the reaching touch of dawn's light - were now plunged back into gloom. Terraces, parapets and balconades were crowded with Palace officiates and visitors, all alerted to the emergency by the sounding of situation-Xanthus alarms and the rapid movement of Palace defence forces. Viewing glasses, magnoculars and fearful faces were directed skywards to the monstrous approach of Arcus and the triple-tier lines of engagement being formed by the Legio Custodes gunships.

  Like a wall of gold plate, ornamentation and ordnance, the gun-skiffs, stratobastia and grav-monitors of the Legio Custodes extended the Palace defences into the sky. The battle line was pugnacious and imposing. The craft held position above the slums and conurbatia bordering the outer fortifications and walled enclaves of the Palace, and presented their ornate gunnery to Arcus.

  The colossal size of the orbital plate put it into an altogether different target category. As Arcus's approach swiftly became the unstoppable force to the gun-skiffs' immovable line of defence, a chorus of consternation rose from the gathered crowds upon the battlements and platforms of the Palace.

  From the flight deck of the Aeriax, Stentonox could survey the under-plate of Arcus. Leaving the sentinel-securitas to manage defence readiness about the Palace, Stentonox had accompanied the Chief Custodian up to the gun-skiff. Constantin Valdor had been in hololithic conference with Demetrius Katafalque of the Imperial Fists for only a few minutes, but the Captain-General was already infuriated. Pledges of mutual respect and fraternity descended quickly into a debate as to what was in the best interests of the Emperor's security. Katafalque claimed that his primarch's word was inviolable. Valdor reminded the captain that the Imperial Fists were welcome guests on Terra, but that the Emperor's security - and that of the Imperial Palace - had ever been the principal concern of the Legio Custodes. Anger got the better of men who should have been above such pettiness. Insults fell from noble lips. Threats were exchanged. Punishments were promised.

  'He's gone again, my lord,' a deck menial reported as the link was cut.

  'Damn the Legiones Astartes and their upstart pride,' Valdor seethed.

  'If it were not for such audacity there would be no need to fortify the Emperor's Palace at all.'

  'Indeed, Chief Custodian,' agreed Stentonox.

  'No service,' Valdor said, 'even one assumed in a master's name, should imperil the master served.'

  'Yes, my lord.'

  'It is madness,' Valdor muttered, almost to himself. 'It's officious madness, and it must be stopped.'

  'What are your orders, Captain-General?'

  Valdor stared out across the flight deck of the Aeriax. The sky was gone. There was only the orbital plate - its stratomoorings, skydocks and platforms creeping irresistibly towards them, dominating the deck view. 'The tugs and tenders?' he asked.

 
; 'I have gunships standing by to board or cripple them,' Stentonox reported. 'But in truth, inertial drift alone will carry Arcus to anchorage above the Fourth Ward.'

  'Then let us not waste time with that,' Valdor said. 'Opinion, shield-captain?'

  'Calibrated reversal of Arcus's gravitic drives will slow the orbital before bringing it to a stop.'

  Valdor nodded gravely. Nobody on the flight deck spoke as the Chief Custodian weighed danger against danger. The decision did not come easily to the Captain-General, but when it did it was delivered with confidence and grim determination.

  'Shield-captain?'

  'Yes, sir?'

  'Seize the plate.'

  IN A SLOW broadside of gold, their grav-attack craft streamed away from the launch bays of the Legio Custodes ships; the stately battle line was a vision to behold as it closed upon the great gravitic engine column and passed below the orbital under-plate. Through his transport's gunnery embrasure, Shield-Captain Stentonox caught sight of thousands of indentured workers watching in horror from the projecting observation decks. Stentonox could only imagine the confusion of the common man, as the reverent servants of the Emperor went head to head in the skies over Terra.

  He would preferred to have made a more direct insertion, but could not risk taking his grav-transports any closer to the structure. The powerful inverse fields fluxing about the gravitic drives and suspensor vanes would play havoc with the polarity of their own power plants. Stentonox had been warned that the grav-attacks could literally drop out of the sky - therefore, a safer, if less convenient, insertion site had been identified. The Legio Custodes would simply have to advance through the generatorium decks and take the engineering section at the head of the column by force.

  'Custodian,' Stentonox said to Gustus Doloran, his Cataphractii sergeant-at-arms. 'Extend Captain Katafalque my compliments and inform him that I intend to fire upon Arcus. Tell him that for the safety of his warriors, he should withdraw from the shell sections and platforms about the engine column.'

  'Very good, sir,' Doloran replied from the depths of his golden Terminator plate.

  Stentonox was confronted with an almost impossible task - here, on the orbital plate, he would need to combine his many years of both combat training and diplomacy. Constantin Valdor had commanded that Arcus be taken, but Stentonox was fully aware that in these times of distrust and rebellion, he could not afford to slaughter the VII Legion above the Imperial Palace. Like the pugilist paid to throw the fight, he would have to pull his punches.

  Unlike the pugilist, he still needed to win. A victory swift and unequivocal.

  The impending action was a logistical and diplomatic nightmare. It made the shield-captain's mind ache with the unruly possibilities of chance.

  'No reply from the plate, sir,' the sergeant-at-arms reported.

  Stentonox nodded. 'Tell Captain Ambramagne that he is cleared to fire.'

  'Very good, sir.'

  'And open a channel to our attack craft, if you please.'

  'Open, shield-captain.'

  'Custodians, this is the Master of the Watch. We have a daunting task ahead of us, a task I expect you to carry out with your usual precision and determination. The Space Marines aboard Arcus are our allies, but they are operating outside their jurisdiction. It falls to us to assert the supreme authority of the Emperor of Mankind, even amongst his most loyal servants. We will do this by force, if required. Your Captain-General has ordered the orbital plate taken. It will be so, but you will take no life in the execution of such orders. There will be no killing. Those are my orders. I am invoking battle proprieties. As our comrades-at-arms, I want all Imperial Fists classed as decora-intelligenta. Come the conclusion of this unfortunate action they will be questioned, and they will be debriefed, but they will be alive. But while you should consider their lives sacred, their blood is not. Punish them as your pride dictates. We may break them, but we will not butcher them. The galaxy has witnessed enough of such endings.'

  'Aeriax firing, shield-captain,' Sergeant Doloran informed him.

  'Stand by,' Stentonox voxed. 'Ten seconds.'

  A storm of fire erupted from the presented cannons of the skiffs and gunships, hammering into the shell plating of the engine column.

  Thick beams and blasts turned the generatorum decks of the column into maelstroms of light, sound and twisted metal. With the gunners' aim avoiding any of the critical systems keeping the orbital plate afloat, the grav-attacks of the Legio Custodes followed the bombardment in through the surface shielding and the wreckage of the hull superstructure.

  Arcus wasn't a military installation, and boasted no defensive weaponry of its own, but the atmospheric locks and thick metal shell of the exterior still presented an obstacle to arriving forces. In ordering the barrage, Stentonox had removed that obstacle.

  'Custodians, disembark.'

  The brazen doors of the grav-attack craft slid open. Foot knights, Custodians and Aquila Terminators stepped out into the inferno raging between the ruined decks. The reflected flames turned each warrior into a spectacle of blinding gold. Striding through the destruction, their towering helms scraping the ceiling and guardian spears cutting wreckage confidently from their path, the Custodians assumed formation on the blazing decks.

  'Pattern Draco,' Stentonox ordered.

  Moving away from the destruction and into the narrow corridors of the generatoria chambers, the invaders assumed a demi-sheltron formation, with foot knights hunkered and advancing through the engine column behind their thick, gilded shields, Custodian Guard squads aimed the boltguns of their power halberds across their comrades' pauldrons. Between them, Custodians in Cataphractii Terminator plate settled the barrel lengths of aquila-nozzled incinerators. Not only did the formation create a shield-wall for its conquering advance, but also extended a wall of flame that drove back potential defenders.

  Moving with his command squad through the generatorium complex, Stentonox had Doloran relay his cautionary commands while Sergeant Memnon coordinated the advance.

  'Anything?' Stentonox asked. It took a moment to recall confirmations from the advance teams spread out through the occupied decks.

  'No contacts on auspex,' Doloran told him. 'No sightings.'

  Stentonox grunted - that was either very good, or very bad. Demetrius Katafalque, confronted with the reality of an atmospheric assault and occupation of the plate, might have reconsidered his former bullishness, although Stentonox thought this unlikely. The Imperial Fists were experts in siege warfare, and in even the short window of opportunity provided, they could have mounted a determined defence. The narrow corridors of the generatoria were not without strategic virtue and Katafalque had, if he required, millions of indentured innocents to put between himself and the Custodians. With the passageways and engineering sections empty, it seemed that Katafalque had decided to make use of neither.

  As he advanced, the shield-captain's unease grew. Following their explosive entrance, the Custodians' unimpeded progress had taken them through the silent decks, almost halfway to their destination. Even if Katafalque had acknowledged his courteous warning and withdrawn everyone from the outer sections, Stentonox would have expected some resistance by now. At this rate, their mission would be completed within minutes and Arcus force-anchored to a dead stop.

  Stentonox's mind raced. This wasn't right.

  He thought of Demetrius Katafalque, his predicament no more comfortable than the shield-captain's own. The Imperial Fists captain wanted loyalist blood on his gauntlets no more than Stentonox did. Like the shield-captain, Katafalque would recognise the conflict as a diplomatic nightmare,' perhaps, like Stentonox, he had also prohibited the use of deadly force. Taking the orbital plate under such restrictions was difficult enough. How could-

  'Captain Katafalque's compliments, sir' said the sergeant-at-arms, announcing the opening of a new vox-channel.

  'Connect us,' Stentonox said, as they entered the engineering section.

  'Shield
-captain.' The Imperial Fist's dour voice echoed about Stentonox's high-helm.

  'Captain.'

  'I extend the same courtesy that you did me,' Katafalque said. 'Withdraw your men from the engineering section. Now.'

  'Demetrius, wait,' Stentonox called, but a burst of static told him that the captain was gone.

  As step after armoured step took them closer to their objective, Stentonox tried to put himself in Katafalque's position. How would he stop the Custodian advance, without the wilful spilling of blood? The shield-captain's steps slowed. His visored helm drifted towards the deck.

  'Sergeant-at-arms...'

  'Yes, shield-cap-'

  The detonations came from above and below. They were probably seismic charges, transported in with the indentured labour force for the Warmason's excavations, set into the perimeter of the structural deck and floor plating.

  Metal groaned. Beams fractured. Secondary blasts erupted.

  Six floors in the engineering section - through which the different Custodian teams were advancing - simply fell out of the orbital plate.

  The timing was perfect. The deadweight of girders, decking and industrial machinery was dragged instantly downwards. There was no time for orders. No vox-transmissions.

  As the deck fell away and the buckled ceiling came down to meet him, Stentonox fought against every instinct and moved towards the detonations. Two steps across the falling floor took him to within leaping distance of the chamber's edge - the jump was heavy and awkward, but it gave the shield-captain the lift he needed. Clawing at the wall with his gilded gauntlets, he latched onto a ragged ledge where the structural supports had been ripped away.

  Hanging by his fingertips, Stentonox looked down. The mass of wreckage buckled and crumbled into sections, falling away with the damaged plate hull. Custodians scrambled. Some found their way to the outstretched gauntlets of their anchored comrades. Some were snatched back by rearguard warriors who had yet to enter the engineering section. The rest tumbled with the descending wreckage, holding on to floor sections or machinery as it fell through the bottom of the under-plate.