Deathwing (5 page)

"For
weeks.
I
lay
in
feverish agony
while
my
body
changed.
The
walls
danced,
and
my
spirit
fled
to
the
edge
of
the cold place. While I wandered
lost
and
alone, one
of the
Brothers
stood
beside
me reciting The Imperial litanies.

"In a vision,
the
Emperor came to me, riding Deathwing, mightiest of thunderbirds.
It was different from
that
which
had borne
the
Sky Warriors home. It was a beast
of spirit; the
other
had
been
a bird of metal, a totem cast
in its image.

"The
Emperor spoke
to me, telling me of
the
great
struggle
being
waged
on
a
thousand
thousand
worlds.
He
showed me
the
races
other
than
man
and
the
secret
heart of
the
universe,
which
is
Chaos.
He
showed
me
the
powers
that lurked
in
the
warp
and
exposed
me
to
their
temptations.
He
watched
as
I
resisted.
I
knew
that.
if
I
had
given in,
he would have
struck
me down.

"Eventually
, I awoke, and
I knew then
that
my spirit belonged
to the
Emperor. I had
chosen
to abandon
my
people,
my world and
my bride for his service.
I knew I had
made the
correct choice."

Cloud
Runner
glanced
around
at
the
other
Terminators.
He hoped he
had
told
the
story
well enough
to
catch
his listeners'
minds and
remind them of their duty
to the
Emperor. He hoped
he
had
reminded
them
that
they
had
all
made the
same decision
as
he had
and
that
they
would once
more make the
correct choice.

He
shook
his
head
and touched
the
charm
of
braided
hair
that
he
still
wore
round
his
throat
He
wondered
if
he
had made
the
correct
choice
all
those
years
ago,
if
he
would
have
been
happier staying
with
Running
Deer.
The
bright, bold vision
he
had
possessed
in
his youth
had
faded
and
lost
its
glamour
over
the
years
of endless
warfare.
I
never even
said
goodbye
to her, he thought,
and
that
somehow was the
saddest
thought
of all.

He
judged
that
he
had
swayed many
of
the
Marines,
but
when
Lame
Bear
leaned
forward
to
speak;
he
knew
the struggle
had
only begun.

'I
would
speak
of
Genestealers."
the
big
man
said
quietly.
'I
would
speak
of
Genestealers,
their
terror
and
their cruelty…"

Two
Heads
Talking
wandered
the
nighted streets.
They
seemed
empty
now
that
the
workers
had
returned
to
their barracks.
A slight
breeze had sprung
up, blowing flecks of ash through
the streets,
clearing
the
smog
slightly.
A
bitter ash-taste
filled his mouth.

He passed
by the
factories
where
giant
steam
engines stood,
still
working.
Their
din
filled
the
air.
Their
pistons
went up
and
down like the
nodding heads
of maddened dinosaurs.
He knew they
never
rested.

He strode
down a street
of rich mansions,
driven by morbid curiosity.
He felt as
though
he had
been
shown
the
pieces of a vast
puzzle, and
if he could
only locate the
last piece, it would all fall into place.

Each mansion he passed
had
wrought-iron gates
which bore the signs
of
the
Night-owl,
the
Puma
and
the
Rat.
These were the
totem animals of the
Hill Clans. Two Heads
Talking wondered
whether
the
chieftains
of these
people
dwelled within.
He could
well believe
that
they
might
make pacts
with
whoever
had
done
this. Those
people
had
dark reputations.

He
felt
anger
grow
within
him,
driving
out
the
sense
of
bewilderment.
His
life
had
been
rendered
meaningless. His people
had
been
betrayed.
His world had
been
stolen.
Even the
Dark Angels
had
been destroyed.
Ten
thousand
years of tradition
ended
here. There were no more bold huntsmen
of the
plains for the
Sky-Warriors to recruit.

The
Chapter
might
continue,
but
its
heritage
had
been
destroyed
-
it
would
never
be
the
same
again.
Two
Heads

Talking was of the
last generation
of Marines
recruited from the
Plains People. There would be no more.

As
he moved beyond
the
mansions,
toward the
polluted
river, his spirit senses
warned him he was being
followed. Part of him did not
care, he would welcome confrontation
with whatever
watchers shadowed
him.
From
up
ahead.
he
heard a groan
of pain.

"We
do
not
know
where
they
come
from."
said
Lame
Bear.
"Not
even
the
Curators
of
the
Administratum
know
that. They
appear
without
warning, carried in the
mighty space
hulks which drift on the
tides
of warp space."

A
shiver
passed through
even these
hardened
Terminators.
Cloud
Runner
saw
the
gaze
of
those
who
had
faced
the

Genestealer turn
inward. Their faces
reflected the
grim memories of the encounters.

Unconsciously,
they
sat
up
straighter
and
looked
around
nervously.
For
the
first
time,
it
was brought
home
to
the

Captain that
they
really did face the
Genestealers
once
more. They
faced a threat
that
could
kill them.

"They
are
dreadful
foes:
ferocious,
relentless,
knowing
neither
pity
nor
fear.
They
do
not
use
weapons, perhaps because
they
do not
need
them. Their claws are capable
of tearing adamantium like paper.

"They
do not
use
armour;
their
hides
are
so tough
that
they
can
survive,
for a
time, unsuited
in
vacuum.
They
have the aspect
of a beast,
yet
they
are intelligent and
organised.
They
are
the
most
terrible
enemies
any
Marine
has
faced since
the
time of the
Horus
Heresy.

"How do I know this?
I have
faced than,
as
have others
here."

Cloud
Runner
shivered,
recalling
the
times
he
had
faced
the
Stealers.
He
remembered
their
chitinous
visage,
their gaping
jaws and
four rending
claws. He tried not
to recall their blinding, insect-like speed.

"It is not
their fearsome battle
prowess
that
makes the
Stealers such
dreadful opponents.
It is something
else.
I
will
tell you
of it.

"One
hundred
and
twenty
years
ago,
before
ever
I donned
Terminator
armour.
I
was sent
with
the
fleet
that investigated
the strange
silence of the
hive world 'Thranx.

"The
Imperial
Governor
had
not
paid
tribute for
twenty
years,
and
the
Adeptus
Terra
had
decided
that perhaps
a gentle
reminder of his sworn
duties
was in order.

"The
fleet arrived
bearing
sections
from
the
Dark
Angels,
the
Space
Wolves,
the
Ultramarines
and
an
Imperial
Guard regiment
from
Necromunda.
As
the
fleet
moved
into
drop
position
we
expected
resistance,
rebellion.
But
the
orbital

monitors did not
fire at us,
and
the
Governor spoke
fairly to us
on the
comm-link."

"He claimed that
the
world
had
been
cut
off
by
warp
storms
and
Orkish
raids.
He
apologised
for
the
non-payment
of tribute
and
offered
immediate
reparations.
He
suggested
that
Inquisitor
Van
Dam,
who
was
in
charge
of
the
punitive expedition, descend
and
accept
his obeisance.

"We
were
naturally suspicious,
but
Van
Dam
suggested
that
any
chance
to
take a
world
back
into
the Imperial
fold without
the
expense
of
military
action should
at
least
be
investigated.
He requested
that
the
Dark
Angels
provide
an honour
guard.
We set
our location
and
teleported
down into the
Governor's reception
hall.

"Thranx
was
a
world encased
in
steel.
Its
natives
never
saw
the
sky.
The
Governor's
hall
was
so
vast. though,
that clouds
formed under
its ceiling and
rain fell on the
trees
that surrounded
the
Ruler's Pavilion.

'It was a sight
to stir the
blood.
Long
ranks
of
guardsmen
flanked
the
curving
metal
road
that
led
to
the
pavilion.
The pavilion
itself
floated
on
suspensors
above
an
artificial
lake.
The
governor
sat
an
a throne
carved
from a single industrially
cultured
pearl. flanked by two
beautiful
blind
maidens
who
were
his
court
telepaths.
He
bade
us
welcome and
showed
us
the
tribute.

"It
was brought
from
vaults
by
specially
bred
slaves,
grey-skinned
eunuchs
with
muscles
like
an
Ogryn's.
Even
so, they
could
barely
carry
the
chests.
They
paraded past
us
in
a seemingly endless procession,
carrying
industrial diamonds,
gold-inlaid bolters, suits
of armoured ceramite and
jade.

"All
the
time
the
governor,
Huac,
kept
up
an endless,
amiable
chatter.
We
watched,
dazzled
and
beguiled
by
his smooth
voice and
affable manner. As
the
long
day
wore
on,
we
began
to
accept
that
there
was
no
need
to
fight,
that we should
simply take the
tribute
and
go home.

"Our minds were pleasantly
befuddled,
and
we were prepared
to agree to
anything
our
gracious
host
suggested
when the
great
cryogenic
coffins were brought
forth. Huac claimed they
carried his greatest
treasures.
It is a
measure
of
how under
his sway
we were that
we almost took than.
without
thinking.

"It
was
Two
Heads
Talking
who
said
no.
He
stood
there,
for
a
moment,
like
a
man
bemused,
and
then
he
began
to chant.
It was as
if cobwebs
had
been
lifted from our eyes
and
we saw the
snare
that
had
been
so subtly
set
for us.

"The
spell
of
the Magus,
for such was
Huac,
was
lifted,
and
we
saw
to
our
horror
that
we
had
almost
taken
two Genestealer coffins back to
our
fleet.
All
that
afternoon,
as
our
minds
had
been
lulled
by
the
long,
slow
march,
Huac had
been
inserting
subtle,
mystical tendrils
into our minds.

"Still
, so
near to being
enthralled
were we that
we almost protested
when Two Heads
Talking riddled Huac and
his
two apprentices
with bolter fire. Only the
Living Dreadnought
Hawk Talon joined in the
firing.
We
reacted
slowly
when
he warned us
to defend
ourselves.
Huac's
guardsmen
almost had
us.

"But we were Marines.
No sooner
had
they opened
up with their lasrifles than
we returned
fire with our bolters,
cutting them down. Van Dam tried to contact
the
fleet
but
our
comm-links
were
being
jammed.
and
we
could
not
teleport
out. There was nothing
for it. We had
to fight our way to the
planet's
surface
and
hope
that
a dropship
could
reach us.