Tergum Cultro Chapter 15

The forward base was a hive of activity, serfs and servitors' rushing between buildings to support their Transhuman Master's every need. Munition trucks and fuel bowsers raced to and fro as victuallers and quarter masters tried to get supplies packed up. From the templum hymns were projected via loud hailers but were completely drowned out as a Thunderhawk transporter began lifting supplies back into orbit.

Through the bedlam a single Marine walked calmly, wearing pale blue robes and unhurriedly taking everything in with one organic and one augmetic eye. Sergeant Toran and he had just spent two days in the Apothecarion, his gene-implants may have kept him alive during the mission but he had still needed intensive surgery afterwards. Still he had come off relatively lightly; Furion's injuries were so severe that would be laid out for another week, a troublingly long recovery period for an Astartes.

Toran was on his way to report to his Captain but his route took him near the sentry guns and razorwire of the camp's perimeter. As he walked he could see beyond the marked kill zones to where crowds of humans were gathered in tight knots. These were not the Heretic army, who had been decimated while Toran recovered, but civilian men and women whose only sin had been to survive amongst the heretics. At the heart of each gathering was a towering Space Marine in full armour, they were reading aloud from prayer tracts or making wild gestures as they preached to the masses. This was the Storm Heralds' typical practice following victory, but here the need had been dire: this entire world had blasphemed and the chastisement would be severe.

Toran could see the mortals were listening in rapt attention, but their faces betrayed no sign of religious devotion or adoration. Each and every face was etched with dread and apprehension, anxious that their efforts would be deemed insufficient and the Space Marines would punish them. This was not faith but fear at work. In one spot a Space Marine supervised gangs of men working around a bonfire made from burning books. They threw any text that did not laud the Divinity of the Emperor onto the blaze and watched it burn. Toran saw a gang of men dragging a gagged and bound woman over to the pyre, she kicked and struggled but could not stop what was coming. The gang dragged her up to the bonfire then heaved her into the flames. A terrible shrieking issued forth but the sickening part was that she was obviously no Heretic, she had merely been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The men however were not looking at her, instead they were glancing at the armoured Space Marine towering over them, wondering if they had earned his approval or censure. Sternly he stared at them as they hurried away to find more people to sacrifice. Toran knew that across the city this scene would be repeating itself as the populous desperately tried to appease the Emperor's Angels. Toran turned away in disgust and marched away, these dishonourable practices revolted him but he knew he was not in a position to change things, not yet.

Soon he approached an officers' billet marked with the insignia of Ninth Company. He walked up to the hatch and was met by a serf equerry who must have been expecting him and waved him in without introduction. Inside the billet was bare and functional, merely containing an armour stand supporting a glorious suit of artificer plate; there was also a weapons rack, a small reliquary and a cot. Most of the space was taken up with a luxurious Nalwood desk, one of the privileges of rank; it bore numerous data slates and one long thin box. and sitting behind it was Captain Phalros.

He glanced up from a data- slate in his hands and waved Toran to sit down without formality. Toran sat in a high backed chair and waited patiently as Phalros finished his reading. Eventually he set down his data-slate and then said "So Sergeant it seems your mission made quite an impression, Magos Castabore's report is almost gushing. She is even offering to allow our specialists to partake in select experiments on Forge World Crux Lapis. This is quite a coup for you, the Masters are extremely impressed."

Toran sat ramrod straight and stated, "The Magos and I formed a good working relationship Brother-Captain."

Phalros gave him a penetrating stare and said, "Yet your own report is somewhat bare, the injuries you sustained and the relics you brought back are not consistent with the mission profile."

Toran tried not to fidget or look nervous; there was much that had happened underground that he had been obliged to withhold from his report. It sat ill with him to withhold information from his superiors but the arrangement he had made with Castabore forced him to be economical with the truth. Above all the Chapter could not afford to be implicated in the death of an Inquisitor.

Phalros' face was filled with suspicion as he said, "There is more going on here I am sure."

Toran neutrally replied, "As I reported a Mechanicus shrine was threatened, as per standing orders to assist the Magos we diverted to provide assistance. The Magos was adamant that sacred Mechanicus secrets were not disclosed, we were obliged to swear a vow of silence on the matter." It was true; it was just not the whole truth.

Phalros leaned forwards and said, "I note that none of IXth squad have yet preached to the masses."

Toran felt he was on more secure ground with this and replied, "We sustained severe injuries and are not yet fit to engage in such duties."

Phalros rubbed his chin and said, "Somehow IXth squad is always conveniently occupied when the time comes to spread the faith. There is always some false alarm or an anomaly to investigate or a penance to be undertaken, once you even spent three days marching back to base rather than call in a Thunderhawk. Yet the oddest thing is the Chaplains don't seem concerned by this trend, Wrethan in particular seems to view you as his protégé."

He leaned back and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he said, "Someday you must tell me how you managed that."

"Sir?" asked Toran quite confused by this statement.

Phalros replied, "Come now, did not Furion tell you that our cause reaches the highest levels of the Chapter."

It took a long moment for Toran to understand what his Captain was trying to say, then his eyes widened in disbelief as he said "You mean to say you too oppose the proselytising?"

Phalros nodded, "Yes indeed, we have been watching you closely and are pleased by your progress."

"We?" asked Toran.

Phalros said, "I did say the highest levels, the very highest."

Toran's jaw dropped as he asked, "Chapter Master Gorgall believes as we do?"

"Indeed" said Phalros, "Long has he worked to restore the Storm Heralds to our true duty."

Toran was confused by this revelation and said, "But he is the Chapter Master, why does he not just command an end to the proselytizing?"

Phalros replied bitterly, "Because if Gorgall defies the will of the Chaplains and the Apothecaries he will not remain Chapter Master for long."

Toran was shocked to hear this; he had always assumed the Space Marines were bands of brothers united in purpose. True the lower ranks had been bickering but to hear that the flaws extended all the way to the greatest of them was a shattering truth. His delusions of the Chapter's unity were breaking and he gasped, "Surely First Captain Athead would not allow such a thing to pass."

Phalros snorted, "Athead would be first in line to supplant Gorgall, he has never forgiven the Chapter Master for being voted to the rank instead of him."

Phalros laced his fingers together and said "Understand some hold that Gorgall is the source of the problem, that his willingness to cooperate with Imperial Adepts is a sign of weakness. Even some of the Captains are saying we need a leader who will break us free of the confining rule of the High Lords."

"That is madness" retorted Toran, "Who could possibly doubt Gorgall's wisdom?"

Phalros grimaced as he replied, "Chief Apothecary Lessall."

"Oh," said Toran understanding the scale of the problem, he sat for a moment as the implications set in. Master Lessall was by far the oldest and perhaps most respected member of the Chapter save those heroes interred in Dreadnought armour. Even the most venerable Master could not remember a time when his stern gaze was not watching over them. When Lessall was but a young Apothecary he served in the Inquisitorial Deathwatch and after many years he had returned battered and scarred. Of the dark deeds he undertook in those times he would not speak, but his eyes were yet haunted by the horrors he witnessed and he retained a bitter hatred for all agents of the Imperium.

Toran swallowed to cover his thoughts then said, "Are there many Captains who would support Lessall?"

"More than would back Gorgall," said Phalros looking grim, "Understand right now only the absolute authority of the Chapter Master's office holds back the dissenters. A storm is brewing and it cannot be averted forever: we need supporters in the highest levels."

Phalros placed his hands flat on the desk and said, "Which is why your name has been presented to First Company for consideration."

Toran was shocked to hear that. He was yet young as Space Marines measured such things and had yet to earn glories enough to warrant such a promotion. First Captain Athead himself had seemed far from impressed and this would place Toran directly under his command. Toran realised then that this was purely a political appointment and that completely tarnished the honour.

He looked up and said diplomatically, "I am honoured to be considered for such glory but feel I am not worthy."

Phalros replied with brutal honesty, "No, you are not yet ready but the eyes of the Masters are upon you and if you continue to excel then you will someday ascend. The day will come when we need you to be our man in the First but in the meantime we have decided to present you with this."

Phalros opened the box on his desk and from it brought forth a shining blade. Toran peered intently for it was Canesh's sword but worked and reforged for a Space Marines' hand. It shimmered in the light calling to him with its radiance and purity. Phalros presented to him saying, "It was quite a challenge to reforge, the blade was inlaid with thrice-blessed silver and hexagrammatic wards of surpassing complexity. I suspect there is quite a tale behind its capture but that will have to wait, for now bear it with pride and know you serve the Emperor when you draw it."

Toran took the blade with reverence and said, "Thank you Captain I am humbled indeed… yet I must make one request."

"A bold request, what is it?" asked Phalros.

"That an inscription be placed upon the blade," said Toran, "Honour above all."

Phalros raised an eyebrow and said, "Does this have some special meaning beyond the obvious?"

"Merely a reminder" said Toran, "That life without honour is meaningless."

The Storm Heralds shall return in Omni Honore