'Thank the Emperor you have returned, Lord Boreas,' the colonel gasped, clambering out awkwardly. He stared for a moment at the Space Marines as if it was the first time he had seen them properly. It was then that Boreas realised it probably was, at least with their present appearance. Their armour was bone white, decorated with red, green and black heraldry, and festooned with purity seals that fluttered in the wind. Dents, bullet holes, las-scorches and pieces of embedded shrapnel still scarred their armour, despite Hephaestus's best repairs in the time he had been allowed. Damas's armour was covered head-to-toe in the neat script of the Opus Victorium, and the side of Boreas's own skull helm was covered in a bare metal plate where it had been punctured.
'Tell me everything,' Boreas demanded, turning so that he could keep a careful watch on the fighting. The battle started to move away as the Guardsmen protecting the colonel forced their way to the north with fusillades of lasfire, driving the armed mob away from the keep. Bullets and las-shots still occasionally whined overhead and the air was filled with the clamour of shouting, firing and intermittent explosions.
'I hardly know where to start-' Brade said with a shake of his head, glancing cautiously around.
'Tell me about the Space Marines,' Boreas prompted, directing Thumiel and Damas to cover the other side of the vehicle with a flick of his hand. He heard the bark of their bolters now and then as they fired at rebels who had broken through the cordon of Imperial Guard.
'How did you know-?' Brade asked.
'That is not important,' Boreas waved away the colonel's question. 'You must tell me about the other Space Marines.'
'No one is sure when they arrived, they certainly weren't seen getting off any ship or shuttle that landed,' the colonel began. 'I simply heard from the commander's enforcers that Space Marines had returned to the keep and I thought nothing more of it, assuming it was you and the others. Then the orks attacked again, in such numbers I haven't seen since the invasion. They overran Vartoth in an afternoon, and we threw up a line to hold them from coming further south. They broke through early evening yesterday and now we're desperately trying to hold on to Barrak.'
'I saw the fighting,' Boreas said. 'Where are the Space Marines now?'
'I don't know,' Brade replied with a shrug. He flinched as a shell detonated against the wall of a nearby building. 'I tried to contact you at the keep, but there was no reply, so I sent a delegation to ask for an audience. That's when they came out. I only have scattered reports, I'm not sure what happened next.'
'Tell me what you know,' Boreas urged him. 'Every detail could be important.'
'Well, the first group to emerge just ignored the messengers,' Brade said, his brow creased in a frown of concentration. He looked about ready to collapse, his face haggard, his eyes heavy and dark. There were three, maybe four of them. 'They were definitely Space Marines. Their armour was the same as yours, the Chapter symbol, the badges. My officers tried to speak to their leader, but they were shoved aside, and they dared not persevere for risk of offence.'
'How did they know who their leader was?' Boreas asked.
'He was dressed differently,' the colonel explained. 'He wore long robes like a coat over his armour, and carried two bolt pistols in low slung holsters.'
'A sword in a scabbard. Did he carry a long sword in an ornate scabbard?' demanded Boreas, feeling an unfamiliar chill of foreboding.
'Yes, yes, I think the survivor mentioned that,' Brade answered, nodding slightly. 'Do you know him?'
'Only of him,' Boreas replied. 'It is not your concern, continue. 'You said survivor?'
'Er, yes,' Brade said, visibly shaken. 'The first group headed south, towards the docks, and disappeared. I don't know where they went. My men didn't know what to do. They contacted me by comm to ask for orders, and that's when the others came out. They opened fire immediately, I heard Lieutenant Thene screaming over the comm, and bolter fire. One of the officers, Lieutenant Straven, ran immediately. He was the only one who got away, the others were cut down where they stood.'
'And then?' Boreas prompted Brade, who had lapsed into deep thought.
'Then they started the massacre,' the colonel said with a grimace. 'They advanced into the city, killing anyone in their path, destroying ground cars, tossing grenades into buildings. It was carnage. We didn't know what to do, and by the time a platoon arrived, they were nowhere to be found. But it was too late by then. Panic began to spread, the word got out that the Dark Angels had turned on us. I didn't believe it, but then everything descended into anarchy. There were riots everywhere, half my own men joined in, under the pretence of hunting the Space Marines down. After that, it just got worse and worse.'
'And the situation now?' Boreas asked.
'You saw for yourself, I'm sure,' Brade said bitterly. 'The entire city is in revolt, but the Imperial commander is safe, we have tanks stationed at all the roads leading to the palaces. Northport is in rains, no ship can leave or land, and the docks are little more than rabble.'
'I must attend to urgent matters at the keep,' Boreas said. Motioning the squad to follow, Boreas began to march towards the gatehouse of the keep. He had only taken a few paces when he turned back to look at Brade.
'Thank you for trusting in us,' Boreas said.
'I had to keep my trust in you,' the colonel replied, leaning back against the armoured carrier. 'I had to believe that you had not betrayed us. The alternative is too terrible to contemplate.'
'Yes it is, colonel,' Boreas agreed quietly. 'Hold the perimeter here for as long as you can, I shall contact you again shortly.'
The main gate into the citadel was sealed shut. Pressing the entry combination, the door slid aside and the Space Marines entered, weapons ready. As they stepped inside, the door hissed back into position behind them.
Three bodies lay in pools of blood in the entrance hall, the red-robed gatekeepers whose duty it had been to receive delegations from the Imperial commander. Examining them, Nestor pointed at the deep knife wounds across their chests and throats. The unarmed men had been butchered, probably as they had welcomed their unexpected visitors.
As they progressed, they found more evidence of coldblooded murder. Attendants, scribes and logisticians lay at or near their work stations, also brutally slashed and stabbed. Working their way up the tower, they found bodies on the stairs and in the hallways. With trepidation, Boreas followed Damas into the aspirants' chambers.
The veteran sergeant gave a howl of anguish and ran forward. The bodies of the youths were draped across their cots, sprawled on the floor and slumped against the walls. Damas checked each in turn, and when he got to the last he shook his head slowly.
'Their necks have been snapped,' he stated flatly, the corpses reflected in the red lenses of his helmet. He lifted up the hands of the boy at his feet, the youth called Varsin. His knuckles were bloodied and broken. 'They tried to fight, as I taught them. It would have been futile.'
'They died bravely,' said Zaul. 'They died fighting for the Emperor.'
'No!' Damas snarled. There was no bravery here, just desperation! Pointless, senseless slaughter. This served no purpose. None of this killing did. They were defenceless, all of them.'
There was a point, but Boreas chose not to share it with his distraught brethren. It was the final insult, the final challenge to the might of the Dark Angels. It was a statement of intent, as clear to Boreas as if it were written in blood on the walls - the Dark Angels had no future.
'We must check the vault,' Nestor said suddenly.
'The annihilus is obviously not active,' Hephaestus pointed out. 'If it were, there would be nothing left alive on the island.'
'They may have tampered with it,' the Apothecary insisted.
'Very well,' Boreas agreed. 'Nestor and Hephaestus with me. Zaul, Thumiel, check the upper storeys and the roof. Damas, go to the vehicle bay and ready the Rhino for combat.'
As he walked down the stairs, Boreas felt drained and empty. The Fallen had done more than simply kill the servants of the Chapter. By attacking here, in the Dark Angels' own outpost, they had driven a blade into the heart of the Chapter.
They passed signs of sporadic fighting as they travelled through the keep: bullet holes in the wall, a ragged corpse draped down the stairwell, trails of dried blood on the floor.
When they entered the vaults, stepping over the bodies of three serfs who had tried to defend the entrance, Nestor carried on past the operations chamber, deeper into the tunnels. Ahead, an armoured door hung open, twisted off its heavy hinges, the locking bolts ripped aside. Nestor dashed forward into the small chamber beyond. A few moments later he reappeared, and leant heavily against the wall.
'They have taken it,' moaned the Apothecary.
'Taken what?' demanded Boreas. He knew of the Apothecary's storage crypt and assumed it contained rare or possibly volatile medical supplies.
'The gene-seed, they have taken the sacred gene-seed,' Nestor replied, his voice a hoarse whisper.
'Gene-seed?' Boreas was confused. Then the realisation struck him and his anger welled up. 'More secrets! More lies and half-truths!'
'It was for the security of the Chapter, Boreas,' Nestor said, hanging his head. 'It would be folly for all of our gene-seed to be carried in the Tower of Angels. What if the unthinkable happened? What if the Rock were lost? Destroyed in the warp, perhaps? After we survived the loss of Caliban the Lion wanted to ensure the Chapter would always endure. It was decided that some of the gene-seed would be sent to distant outposts, hidden away, its location known to only a select few.'
'What do you know about Caliban?' demanded Boreas. 'What else have you kept from me?'
'Boreas, Brother-Chaplain...' Nestor's voice was tainted with a harsh laugh, edged with insanity. 'I am six hundred and seventeen years old, did you really think that after all this time I would not be a member of the Inner Circle? That's why a veteran like myself is here, on this forsaken outpost. To protect the future, to guard the gene-seed.'
The words of Astelan sprang into Boreas's mind: There was a darkness within Lion El'Jonson. A darkness you all carry within you. It surrounds you, yet you are blind to its presence. Intrigue, secrets, lies and mystery. They shrouded the Dark Angels Chapter, a veil of darkness they had woven around outsiders and themselves.
'We must recover the gene-seed at all costs,' Nestor insisted, having recovered from the shock, walking between Boreas and Hephaestus. The Techmarine was standing rigidly still, stunned by the turn of events. As Nestor pushed past, he seemed to snap out of it.
'First we must check the annihilus is intact,' the Techmarine said, looking at Boreas.
'Where?' the Interrogator-Chaplain asked.
'The main control chamber, I can access it from there,' Hephaestus replied, following Nestor down the dimly lit tunnel.
Entering the control chamber, Hephaestus crossed to the central platform and activated one of the central interfaces. Around him, screens flickered into life, bathing the room in an erratic green glow, and the needles of gauges monitoring the keep's power systems wavered in their glasses. On one screen to Boreas's left, the Chaplain saw a view of the courtyard outside, and watched as rebels surged forwards against the line of Imperial Guard, some mercilessly cut down by volleys of fire, others battering their way through with fists and rocks. Tearing his attention away, Boreas watched as Hephaestus's fingers danced over a runepad.
'Hurry! Every moment wasted takes the Fallen and the gene-seed further out of out reach,' Nestor snapped from just outside the doorway.
Meaningless numerals, letters and symbols scrolled up the screen as Hephaestus worked. The screen then went blank for a few seconds before an empty white box appeared at its centre.
'Authority cipher,' explained the Techmarine as he entered a sequence of runes. The screen went blank again for a few more seconds before a message appeared.
+CIPHER ACCEPTED - ANNIHILUS VIRAL FAILSAFE ACTIVATED+
'Something is wrong,' the Techmarine warned, stabbing at keys without response.
'What's happening? Tell me what this means!' demanded Boreas, staring at the words on the display.
Hephaestus ignored the Chaplain as he continued to desperately punch in security protocols and override commands. Stepping back, he smashed his fist into the screen, sending shards of glass spinning through the air.
'Hephaestus, tell me what's happening!' Boreas yelled, dragging the Techmarine around to face him.
'One last trick,' muttered Hephaestus. He looked back at the shattered screen and then at Boreas. 'They broke into the core machine spirit and gave it new commands. As soon as I accessed the annihilus, it was primed to activate.'
'Can't you stop it?' asked Nestor, taking a pace into the room.
'No, it's impossible, there's no delay,' Hephaestus told them. 'Activation is immediate. The annihilus was always intended to be a last resort. Why take the risk of it being deactivated during a countdown?'
'You mean the virus is spreading even now?' asked Boreas, looking around him as if he might see the deadly toxin flooding the air.
'Yes,' the Techmarine answered, slumping against the console. 'We failed.'
'What happens next?' Nestor asked. 'What type of virus is it?'
'Omniphagic,' replied Hephaestus heavily. 'It will devour all living matter. It can be airborne or waterborne, and will pass by contact. Kadillus Harbour will be infected within two hours of release, the island within half a day. After that it depends on wind strength and the currents, but the virus will wipe out every living creature, destroy every organic cell on the planet, within five days. As it spreads it grows more virulent, in a cyclical effect that will strip the planet bare. Even bones will be destroyed. Were it not for our armour and helmets, we would already be dead. We have failed.'
'Not wholly,' Nestor said, causing Boreas and Hephaestus to look up sharply. Hope flared within the Interrogator-Chaplain. 'We can still retrieve the gene-seed.'
'Zaul, Damas, Thumiel, assemble in the entrance chamber!' commanded Boreas, striding off the control dais. The other two fell in behind him. As he walked, he explained the situation to those who had not been present.
'Why would they do such a thing?' Zaul asked over the comm-net. 'What is the point?'
'I cannot say for sure, but I think it is a message,' Boreas told them. 'They want our brethren to know what happened here, but for what twisted reason I cannot fathom.'
'Why risk us not activating it?' Hephaestus wondered. 'To tie the activation in with the override seems a foolish thing to do.'
'The prisoner Boreas questioned in their base spoke of dissent,' Nestor recalled. 'Perhaps some of them did not agree, perhaps they were only after the gene-seed. The others might not have had the opportunity to properly set the annihilus and so had to resort to deception.'
'Or they just wanted to ensure they were clear of the planet before the virus was released,' suggested Damas. 'It would seem likely for such a cowardly art.'
'It matters not,' growled Boreas. 'When we take them, they shall tell us everything! I will personally see to that.' * * *
last to arrive in the entrance chamber, and fell in beside Boreas, who stood facing the sealed door.
'We must get back to the Thunderhawk. Kill if necessary,' the Chaplain told his squad. 'The Fallen will not escape us; I will hunt them under every rock and across every kilometre of space. For what they have done today, I will inflict pain upon them never before envisaged. I will make them live for a year and a day in agony as justice for their crimes.'
He took a step towards the door, and then stopped suddenly.
'Brother-chaplain?' Nestor inquired. 'Is there something wrong.'
'Hephaestus, tell me, where is the virus stored?' Boreas asked, turning to the Techmarine.
'In the lowest vault,' he answered. 'Of what relevance is that?'
'The first aim of the virus is to cleanse the keep of intruders, correct?' Boreas continued his chain of thought.
'Yes, the virus is released internally first, before spreading to the rest of the city,' Hephaestus confirmed.
'And how does it spread?' Boreas asked.
'Simple, if the keep has been breached or has been taken, there will be any number of ways for it to pass into the...' Hephaestus's voice trailed off as he followed Boreas's gaze towards the armoured entry portal. 'There has been no attack, no breach...'
'The tower is completely sealed,' Boreas said, looking at each of the others. 'As protection from gas or viral attack from outside, the keep is airtight. Until we break that seal, the virus is confined to the interior.'
'But as soon as we leave, the seal is broken,' said Nestor. 'I do not understand.'
'We will not be leaving,' Damas explained slowly.
'But the Fallen, the gene-seed-' Nestor protested bitterly. 'Piscina is already doomed. Although the circumstances of its activation may have been unorthodox, the virus bomb's purpose remains the same. Kadillus is in the grip of revolt, and the orks are attacking in overwhelming numbers. The planet is already lost. We shall simply be hastening its demise. The virus will cleanse the world as it was supposed to, denying it to the enemies of the Emperor.'
'No,' Boreas answered flatly.
'No?' roared Nestor. 'You would abandon the hope of our Chapter's future for a world already in flames, on the brink of destruction? You would sacrifice that for a dying world?'
'A world we swore to protect,' Boreas reminded him. 'A sacred oath to lay down our lives and guard it by whatever means necessary.'
'Piscina is lost!' declared the Apothecary. 'If the rebellion does not destroy this world, the orks will overrun it! There is nothing left to save, Boreas!'
'We are not leaving,' Boreas said stubbornly, recalling his arguments with Astelan. 'We live to serve the Emperor and mankind, not the Dark Angels.'
'This is heresy,' Nestor barked. 'Are you renouncing your oaths of allegiance?'
'No, I am remembering them,' Boreas snapped. 'We swore to protect Piscina, and that is what we will do. It matters not if the price is our lives, or even the sacred gene-seed; this duty overrides all others.'
