The Imperial Truth Read online

  The shield-captain's arm shot out for a flailing foot knight toppling from the deck above and still clutching his shield. Stentonox snatched him out of the air, the digits of his gauntlet like a grapnel that buried themselves in the plates of the Custodian's armour. Heaving the warrior up to a hold on the ledge, Stentonox adjusted his own precarious grip.

  It reminded him of the Espartic Wall - that torturous climb of one of the Palace's most challenging fortifications. Many veterans among their number been forced to scale such obstacles as part of the ritual Blood Games. Stentonox could only hope that their training had not been forgotten.

  'Name?' Stentonox put to the foot knight beside him.

  'Vega, sir.'

  With one hand the Custodian took off his helmet and stared down at the dizzying vision of Terra that had opened up before them. He was shorter than most among the Legio Custodes, but squat and hungry for action. He spat his shock and disgust into the open void below.

  Like other Custodians about the empty chamber's ragged perimeter, Stentonox heaved himself up to a more secure perch, and Vega did likewise. The wind howled about them. Beneath the orbital plate - kilometres beneath, in fact - the shield-captain could see the distant Himalazian landscape. Even from this height, he could make out the conurbatia bordering the concentric outer walls of the Imperial Palace.

  The wreckage of the engineering decks disintegrated as it fell, crashing down along the busy architecture of the column's starboard side, scattering grav-foils, aerials and suspensor vanes. Stentonox tried to imagine the horror of those poor souls on the ground beneath them, looking up at this unfolding nightmare. He also watched his goldplated Custodians tumble and fall through the descending debris, their crimson cloaks whipping violently about them as they grew smaller and smaller to his eyes.

  The immense energies of the gravitic drives exerted their pull upon wreckage as it reached the strongest part of the conical field beneath Arcus. Shrieking and grinding, and in total defiance of the laws of physics, the remains of the shattered decks billowed outwards, scattering the last of the tiny golden figures towards the column's surface before settling into a lazy, listless tumble around it. Rather than plummeting all the way to the surface and inflicting untold devastation at ground level, the debris began to orbit the orbital.

  It was an incidental effect of the plate's construction, but one that would save the lives of Stentonox's men. For now, at least.

  Some tried to angle their descent and kick away from twisted support struts and heavy metal decking. Instead of falling through screaming emptiness, they smashed through nests of antennae and vanes on the gravitic engine column itself. The shield-captain was horrified at those velocity-arresting impacts; the rending and crumpling of armour plate as Custodians came to a precarious stop, tangled in the busy column sensoria. One warrior outfitted in heavy Cataphractii plate crashed straight down through the mesh of several maintenance platforms before clawing his way to a halt on the shell plating of the column's lowermost point.

  Then Stentonox saw Doloran, the sergeant-at-arms clinging like a bulky, brazen gargoyle to what was left of the ruined deck immediately below them.

  'Transports,' the shield-captain called out across the vox. 'This is Stentonox. Custodians overboard. I repeat - Custodians overboard. Track suit signatures and attempt a vectored rescue. Advise caution, wreckage in the air.'

  'Shield-captain,' a Custodian aboard one grav-attack replied. 'The fields about the gravitic column...'

  Stentonox smacked an armoured fist against the metal of the wall section. 'Damn you,' he barked back. 'You will attempt an intervention. You will not put Legio Custodes transports or personnel at risk.'

  'Received.'

  Within moments, Stentonox saw the small swarm of transports dropping into view, their hulls turning with the vectored descent and the gravitic acceleration of their own engine coils.

  'Custodians on the column,' Stentonox called across the open channel, with no idea if they could hear him or not, 'you are authorised to shed your plate, if required.' It was largely pointless advice, but it was all that he could give them. It might provide the warriors with something to concentrate on other than their impending death. 'In the event of freefall, use-'

  Bolter fire suddenly cut through the cold air before the shield-captain. On the far side of the wind-screeching emptiness created by the missing engineering section, Imperial Fists Space Marines were assuming cover at the cranked doors and airlocks on each of the decks that had formerly led to the demolished section. Sparks showered Stentonox as another stream of disciplined fire impacted about him.

  Stentonox shook his head. Demetrius Katafalque was a cold bastard. Even now, diplomatic protocols between the Legiones Astartes and the Emperor's Custodians should be maintained. Stentonox, the sergeant-at-arms and the rescued foot knight were all easy targets, clinging to the shattered walls - no challenge at all for the lethal aim of the Imperial Fists. Return fire from Custodian guardian spears hammered back at the sons of Dorn, mauling their blasted cover.

  'Kill classifications are still in force,' Stentonox ordered across the vox. At the opposite end of the ruined section, foot knights with their shields provided cover for Custodian marksmen in the gaping passages and demolished decking.

  'But captain-' Sergeant Memnon began.

  'Battle proprieties, sergeant,' Stentonox returned. 'Those are my orders. Suppression fire only.'

  'We can work our way around the section.'

  'Negative. Hold position.' For all the Custodians knew, the Imperial Fists could have wired the entire quarter to blow and drop out of the bottom of the orbital plate. 'Sergeant Doloran, Custodian Vega - with me.'

  Stentonox made a powered jump from the shattered ledge, across the howling open space and through the gunfire, down onto what was left of the lower deck and the sergeant-at-arms. He was swiftly followed by Vega, and the three of them edged their way along the jagged perimeter, swinging from several mauled struts before putting their boots down on solid decking. Above them the fire fight raged, bolter fire streaming back and forth across the open space, drumming into the ruined architecture.

  Suddenly, the lights on the airlock in front of them began to flash, and the Custodians pulled back into the the section wreckage. The bulkhead cleared its seals, and a combat squad of Imperial Fists filed through, the bright yellow of their plate almost in itself a challenge.

  They took up position on the shattered deck, ready to offer more suppression fire and seemingly oblivious to the intruders in their midst.

  Erupting from the twisted metal and sparking machinery, Vega surprised the Space Marines; he deflected a couple of bolt-rounds with his shield before slamming the two nearest warriors back into the Wall, sending the barrels of their weapons wide.

  Another Fist turned to find the sergeant-at-arms already at his side. A gilded fist smashed the Space Marine's faceplate, sending him back towards the lock. Tearing the ruined helm free, the Imperial Fist brought up his bolter, but Doloran already had his gauntlets on the weapon's casing, leaning in with the full weight of his Terminator armour. The sergeant smashed back with an elbow, slamming his opponent's skull off the compartment wall.

  Of the two remaining squad members, the closest turned to find Stentonox standing behind him. The shield-captain's face betrayed a cold fury. A wild bolt-round sang off the sculpted gold of his pauldron, but Stentonox kicked out and knocked the Space Marine from the edge of the shattered deck and into the yawning drop beyond it.

  Charging him back into a warrior that had wrestled himself free from behind Vega's shield, Stentonox grappled the last Space Marine, and rained a storm of heavy blows down upon them both. He heard servos creak and war-plate fracture beneath his relentless punches.

  'Ready?' the shield-captain roared at Vega, who still had one struggling Space Marine and his bolter jammed up against the wall.

  'Yes, sir!' The foot knight angled the shield and ran it along the wall like a dozer blade, ploughin
g all three Imperial Fists from their footing and over the edge into the howling sky. As they fell, Stenonox heard the futility of bolt-rounds fired back up at the under-plate.

  The shield captain turned. Doloran was standing with the unconscious body of his opponent hanging limply by one arm. Stentonox nodded, and the sergeant-at-arms launched the Imperial Fist after his flailing brothers.

  'Shield-captain,' chirped the vox. It was one of the grav-transports.

  'Report.'

  'We cannot reach the Custodians on the engine column, or hold station beneath it. The inverse gravitic interference is too strong.'

  'Damn,' Stentonox murmured. It had been a long shot. Mid-air interception would be impossible without sending the transports into a similar freefall. As the shield-captain peered over the ragged edge, down at the Imperial Fists now also smashing through the merciless nest of vanes and aerials, his only comfort was that Katafalque's men would share the same fate as his.

  As a second squad of Imperial Fists streamed from the airiock, weapons raised and demanding their surrender, both Vega and the sergeant-at-arms moved to counter them. Something had been unleashed in the pair - even without their sweeping blades and bolters, they were ready for battle. They were ready to pound Space Marines into the deck with their bare hands.

  'No,' Stentonox said. 'Stand down.'

  The order was quiet, but confident, and it was obeyed. As the Imperial Fists surrounded the Custodians, shouting commands and jabbing weapon muzzles at them, the vox crackled again.

  'What are your orders, shield-captain?'

  'Stand by,' Stentonox voxed back, as he raised his gauntlets in submission, with Vega and Doloran following suit. 'The game's not over. I've just introduced some new pieces to the board.'

  WITH LITTLE CEREMONY, diplomacy or respect, the three Custodians had their gauntlets bound and were bundled through the doors of a nearby freight elevator.

  As it rose rapidly through the crowded floors of the orbital plate, Stentonox felt the pull of ascension in the pit of his stomach. As the seconds ebbed away, he thought of his Custodians clawing and tumbling their way down the outside of the colossal gravitic column; he knew that they would keep their heads, removing their armour plate and using their cloaks and cardinals to create drag and tangle amongst the architecture.

  He also knew, however, there was no way back up to the under-plate, and that it was only a matter of time before they ran out of handholds.

  In tossing the Imperial Fists overboard, the shield-captain had consigned them to the same fate.

  The doors shuddered open, and the Space Marines sent them out onto the operations deck of the orbital plate with a rough shove. With boltguns in their backs, Stentonox, Vega and Doloran were marched between rows of consoles and servitor-manned rune banks to the centre of the large chamber. Blast screens rumbled aside to reveal the thin skies beyond and let in the brilliance of the Terran sun, casting mercantile menials, bridge staff and officials from the Danakil mining conglomerates in silhouette.

  From out of the glare strode an Imperial Fists officer, his eyes grim, his jaw taut and his white hair cut into a tonsure crown. He was flanked by a pair of legionary champions, who held Stentonox and his men in the unswerving aim of their ornate boltguns.

  'Katafalque-' Stentonox began, as the shield-captain was forced to his knees by his captors.

  'What the hell do you think you're doing?' Demetrius Katafalque demanded.

  'Katafalque, listen to me-'

  'No! Do you have any idea what you've done - in this, a time of war and betrayal?'

  'Don't lecture me, legionary,' Stentonox spat back. 'You think just because you use the unforgiving earth of Terra as a weapon rather than your boltguns, that you have not murdered my warriors - the Emperor's own Custodians? What dark diplomacy is that, Fist?'

  Katafalque sneered. 'You will pay for what you have done.'

  'I did what I had to,' Stentonox seethed. 'What you forced me to do, and I'd do it again. We will both pay for your stubborn refusal to see sense. You have no authority to be here.'

  'Rogal Dorn-'

  'Rogal Dorn's word might be law anywhere else in the galaxy,' Stentonox told him, 'but here, in and above the Imperial Palace, we all answer to a higher authority.'

  'The primarch seeks to secure the seat of that authority,' Katafalque stormed back.

  'And in doing so, he imperils it.'

  'That is your opinion, but we have official authorisation.'

  'No, you do not,' the shield-captain told him. 'Though you undoubtedly will. The Warmason will have his indentured labour and the Palace will be further fortified… but not today, Demetrius. Not today. I understand your desires - I share them. But terrible mistakes have been made in the name of expediency, and it is my duty to protect the Emperor from the consequences of such mistakes.'

  'I will see my primarch's orders through,' Katafalque assured the shield-captain.

  'Just listen to me,' Stentonox said, coming as close to imploring as his pride would allow. 'My men - your men, too - are desperately clawing their way down the gravitic column. When they slip beyond the drives' reach, they will fall to their deaths. We have no time for this. Give the order. Engage the gravitic anchor. Bring the orbital plate to a halt and in so doing, save our men.'

  Katafalque stared at the sheild-captain, his face contorting with hatred and disgust.

  'Engage the anchor, Demetrius, and they will be drawn safely down to ground level.'

  'I will not' Katafalque said finally. 'I will not be hostage to the games, perverse logic and trickery of the Legio Custodes, with your infamous disguises and deceptions. Some say it is wisdom to play at being the enemy and learn from simulated conflict, but all I see is a force at war with itself.'

  'And I need not lecture the Legiones Astartes about that!' Stentonox bit back his outrage. 'This is Lord Dorn's adamance, his obstinacy in you.'

  'A failing, perhaps,' Katafalque admitted. 'My men will die for it, as your men will die for yours. Ask yourself this, shield-captain - how much further will you compound this failure? Arcus is going to the Palace. Those are my primarch's orders.'

  Stentonox sighed. 'Demetrius, for the sake of the Emperor's blood that runs through your veins and those of your men about to die, please... Engage the anchor.'

  Demetrius Katafalque leaned in towards the kneeling shield-captain. 'No, Custodian,' he whispered. 'I will not.'

  Stentonox allowed his head to fall. There was nothing more that he could do.

  There was sudden commotion upon the operations deck. A report from a servitor was communicated urgently to an operations menial, who in turn passed it to the deck officer.

  'My lord,' the man called out across the operations chamber to Katafalque. The gravitic anchor has been engaged.'

  Shock, followed by anger, clouded Katafalque's snarling face. There was no exclamation. No confusion. No rage. He simply glared at Stentonox, his eyes alight with hatred and distrust.

  'I want confirmation,' he said.

  Lowering the barrel of his beautifully crafted boltgun and putting an armoured digit to the side of his helm, one of his champions sent the query. 'Our brothers confirm it,' he reported. 'The anchor has initiated gravitic reversal.'

  'How long?.' Katafalque asked, without taking his eyes from the shield-captain.

  'Two hours, my lord,' the deck officer informed him by way of an apology. 'Two hours for the column to complete its cycle and for us then to disengage it again.'

  Katafalque nodded slowly to himself. Stentonox looked up at him.

  The two observed a moment of grim silence. 'Our brother Fists, and the Custodians?'

  'Caught in the gravity well,' the deck officer confirmed. 'Along with some debris and loose fixtures from the conurbatia below.'

  'This will not help you,' Katafalque muttered to Stentonox.

  The Custodian was lost in thought, however. His men could not have been responsible for such an action, but he wasn't about to tell the
captain that.

  Alarms sounded across the operations deck.

  'What is it now?' Katafalque demanded. His other champion strode across the deck and cut through the small throng of menials about the sensorium console.

  'Gunships, inbound,' the Imperial Fist reported. 'Lunar designations. The Silent Sisterhood, captain. They're making an atmospheric approach.'

  Katafalque's lips found their way back to a snarl. 'Get me a vox-link.'

  'No need - we're receiving a hololithic transmission, my lord,' the deck officer announced.

  'On projectors,' Katafalque commanded. 'We shall hear of our sisters business in these great affairs.'

  The spectral representation of a woman misted into a fixed signal before them. Stentonox saw immediately that it was Duesstra Edelstyne Sister-Commandress of the Raptor Guard and Confidente-Tranquil to Lady Krole, who had first alerted the Master of the Watch to the threat of the orbital plate. The novice glossator stood at her ghostly mistress side.

  'Captain Katafalque,' she said, translating. 'Do you know to whom you speak?'

  'I do, my lady,' Katafalque replied. 'We have collaborated many times on the Palace fortifications. You have my utmost respect, sister-

  commandress, but do not think that will allow you to interfere in what are already crowded and unfortunate affairs.'

  'Listen to me, captain. I am going to prevent you from committing any further to this calamitous endeavour. Information has recently come to my attention regarding the indentured workforce on board Arcus. Records show that the Danakil mineral conglomerates assured you that each and every one of their workers had met the demands of security. Isometrics, gene-profiling and so forth.'

  'This is correct.'

  'I'm afraid to inform you, captain,' the glossator continued to translate, 'that the Palace has been put on high alert. It is currently at situation-Xanthus and will remain so while the orbital plate remains on station or approach. Situation-Xanthus requires a higher level of Palace clearance than conglomerate isometrics - Danakil's profiling does not extend to psionic screening and associated genetic mutations. It is the Sisterhood's suspicion that your labour population might harbour witchbreeds and unsantioned psyker-strains.'