Descent of Angels (33 page)

‘That was different,’ shrugged Nemiel. ‘At least then there was the chance we’d see action. They were new worlds. Have you read the briefing files? They expect us to wait for months, twiddling our thumbs while some bureaucrat decides whether or not to declare the planet compliant. We’re Dark Angels, Zahariel, not guard dogs. We were made for better than this.’

They stood by a view-portal on the observation deck of the strike-cruiser,
Wrath of Caliban.
Through it, Zahariel could see the planet Sarosh, its size magnified by the enhancement technology cunningly concealed in the transparent substance of the portal window.

While Nemiel seemed to regard the blue ball of a world with ill-disguised disdain, its beauty struck Zahariel at once. He saw an expanse of turquoise seas, the broad landmasses of the planet’s continents presently hidden beneath a shifting layer of variegated cloud.

Set against the black backdrop of space and surrounded by distant shimmering stars, it could almost have been a round polished gemstone lying on a velvet backcloth amid a scattering of tiny jewels. He had only seen a few worlds from orbit in his time with the Crusade, but Sarosh was certainly one of the most striking.

‘I read the briefings,’ he said. ‘According to the reports, extensive areas of the planet are covered in woodland. I like the sound of that. It’ll be good to be in the forest again, to visit a world that brings back memories of Caliban.’

‘To do that it would have to be full of murderous predators, not to mention lethal plants and fungi,’ snorted Nemiel. ‘We’ve hardly been away for long enough for you to start getting nostalgic about Caliban. But you weren’t listening to what I’ve been saying about our mission. The point I’ve been making is that there’s no glory in it. They may call the 4th an expedition fleet, but really it’s little better than a secondary deployment group. This is what they send in once the fighting is done and they need someone to see to the cleanup. They don’t think we’re ready yet.’

‘I heard you,’ said Zahariel, ‘and I understand your point, but I see it differently. Don’t take me wrong, I’d like nothing better than orders telling us we are about to be dropped into the middle of a firefight. You said it yourself. We’re Dark Angels. We are made for war. But duty comes first, and, right now, it is our duty to watch over the planet of Sarosh as it is brought to compliance.’

‘Duty,’ said Nemiel rolling his eyes in sarcasm. ‘It seems to me we’ve had this conversation before, about seven million times at the last count. All right, I concede the point. You’re right and I’m wrong. I’ll admit to anything, just so long as you don’t launch into another long speech about duty. You could bore a man to death on almost any topic under the sun. I heard you delivering some supposedly stirring words to your squad yesterday. I pitied them.’

‘It’s called oratory,’ Zahariel smiled, recognising a familiar argument. ‘Don’t you remember what it says in the
Verbatim
? “The arts of the warrior include not only the techniques of combat, nor simply the understanding of strategy and tactics, but also the study of every skill that may have bearing on the leadership of men in times of crisis.”’

‘I remember it,’ said Nemiel, his face growing suddenly stern. ‘But you need to remember we are no longer in the Order. All that is behind us. The old ways are dead. I’m serious. They died the day the Emperor came to Caliban and we learned of the Lion’s true nature. From that moment on, we became Dark Angels and we put the past behind us.’

‘Excuse me, honoured masters?’ a voice interrupted before Zahariel could reply. ‘I hope you will forgive the intrusion.’

Turning with Nemiel, Zahariel saw a seneschal standing behind them. The man wore a grey tabard over a black bodyglove, the tabard marked with the livery of the Dark Angels Legion. The seneschal dropped to one knee on the deck floor, his head bowed in respect.

‘Chapter Master Hadariel sends his regards,’ said the man, once Nemiel had given him the sign to speak. ‘He reminds you that the transfer of command will take place onboard the flagship
Invincible Reason
in two hours’ time. He emphasised that your presence is required at the ceremony, and that he expects you will comport yourselves in the best traditions of the Legion.’

‘Our thanks to the Chapter Master,’ said Nemiel. ‘Assure him we will be there at the transfer, properly dressed as befits the ceremony. We understand the importance of paying full respects to our brother Legion.’

The seneschal stood, bowed once more, and withdrew. As the servant walked away, Nemiel turned to Zahariel with the ghost of a smile playing across his features.

‘It seems the Chapter Master is anxious lest we embarrass him,’ he said, quietly so the seneschal would not hear it.

‘I wouldn’t take it personally,’ answered Zahariel. ‘It is difficult for him. He is a great warrior, but he is not true Astartes. Even after all these years it must be hard to reconcile that fact, especially when we meet our brothers.’

‘True,’ said Nemiel as he made a sour face. ‘We can only hope that the White Scars appreciate his efforts.’

Zahariel raised his hand in quiet admonition. ‘Careful. Remember, our honour is at stake. If you say anything to offend them, it will reflect badly on Hadariel, our Chapter, and the Legion.’

Nemiel shook his head. ‘You worry too much. I’ve no intention of offending anyone, especially not the White Scars. They are our brothers and I have nothing but respect for them. Anyway, they had the right idea in leaving this planet and heading out to find real action. If I have cause for annoyance, it’s that someone chose us to take up their duties as guard dogs in their stead.’

C
HAPTER
M
ASTER
H
ADARIEL
had briefed his senior officers around the wide table of the strategium onboard the
Wrath of Caliban
nearly three weeks earlier.

‘We have received new orders,’ he had said. ‘We are to split our strength. A portion of the Legion is to continue on to Pheonis, while the rest will go ahead to relieve the White Scars at a planet called Sarosh.’

‘So, an emergency call for aid, then?’ asked Damas.

Always inclined to open his mouth before he thought things through, Company Master Damas was the first to speak. ‘Our brother Astartes have bitten off more than they can chew, eh?’

‘No,’ said Hadariel, his face, like a mask, betraying no sign of emotion. ‘From all accounts, the situation at Sarosh is peaceful. It is more a matter of the re-disposition of forces. We are being sent to Sarosh to enable the White Scars to be moved on to duties elsewhere in the galaxy.’

It was Nemiel who gave voice to the question forming in the others’ minds. ‘Forgive me, Chapter Master, but it sounds like you are saying the White Scars are judged more important to the Crusade than the Dark Angels, that we’re being shunted sideways to a quiet posting just so the Great Khan’s followers will be free to find a real war.’

True to form, Damas jumped to conclusions. ‘The Lion would never agree to this!’

Hadariel slapped his open hand down on the table, the noise like a gunshot. ‘Silence! You speak out of turn, Master Damas. You show yourself too full of choler. One more outburst and I will relieve you of duty. Perhaps a few days’ meditation would restore the balance of your humours.’

‘My apologies, Chapter Master,’ said Damas, bowing his head. ‘I was in error.’

‘Indeed you were, and, what of you, Brother Nemiel?’

The Chapter Master’s eyes turned like a laser. ‘I would have thought you would know better. If I want your opinion on any subject, particularly as regards the interpretation of orders, I will ask for it. Is that understood?’

‘Perfectly, Chapter Master,’ bowed Nemiel in a more grudging fashion.

‘Good,’ nodded Hadariel. ‘As Damas says, you were both in error, probably more so than you realise. Our orders are from the Lion and Luther, and if our leaders tell us we can serve them best by travelling to Sarosh, we do not argue.’

‘T
HIS IS A
weighty duty,’ said Shang Khan, the ranking leader among the White Scars. ‘There is no glory in it and no Astartes would gladly seek out this task. It is an onerous chore thrust upon us. There is no battle to be won here. Or, at least, not any battle of the kind we were made for. And, without battle, we lack all purpose. We are bereft. We are incomplete.’

Shang Khan stood facing the Lion on the observation deck of the battlecruiser
Invincible Reason
, flagship of the 4th Imperial Expedition Fleet. Luther and a White Scar named Kurgis stood on either side of them as witnesses to the ceremony, while Astartes from both Legions, as well as a delegation of senior officers and dignitaries from various arms of the fleet, watched the exchange from a respectful distance.

Zahariel watched with Nemiel as the solemn ceremony of welcome played out the last of its rites and their Legion accepted the task of maintaining law and order on Sarosh.

‘Such is the way with duty,’ continued Shang Khan. ‘It weighs down on our shoulders, but we feel its weight more keenly in our souls. Brother, do you accept this burden?’

The White Scar held out an ornate brass cylinder with a scroll rolled inside it.

‘I accept it,’ replied the Lion. He held out his hand and took the cylinder. ‘By my life and by the lives of my men, I swear to do honour in this matter by my Legion and the Emperor. Let these words be witnessed.’

‘They are witnessed,’ said Zahariel and his White Scar counterpart in unison. ‘It is good,’ nodded Shang Khan.

The White Scar crossed his arms across his chest in the sign of the aquila, saluting Zahariel and his Chapter Master. ‘You are well-met, Lion El’Jonson of the Dark Angels. On behalf of the White Scars Legion, I bid you welcome you to Sarosh.’

T
HEY CALLED IT
a ceremony, but it hardly merited the title.

To mark the transfer of command of the 4th Imperial Expedition Fleet from the White Scars to the Dark Angels, a scroll was passed from hand to hand and an oath was made. If anything, meagre as they were, the trappings of ceremony attached to the event outweighed the substance of the transfer itself.

The 4th was one of the smaller expedition fleets of the Great Crusade, incorporating seven vessels in total: the flagship
Invincible Reason
, the troopships
Noble Sinew
and
Bold Conveyor
, the frigates
Intrepid
and
Dauntless
, the destroyer
Arbalest
, and the White Scars strike cruiser
Swift Horseman
, soon to be replaced by the Dark Angels’ ship,
Wrath of Caliban
.

The handover of control between the two Legions had been carried out with due respect and reverence, but in reality the fact that there was an Astartes contingent present at all was something of an anomaly. Strictly speaking, the 4th was still a second-line fleet. Lacking the firepower, training or resources to mount a full-scale military campaign against a hostile world, its job was to oversee the transition to compliance among worlds that had already shown they were friendly to the Imperium’s aims.

With Sarosh, however, there had been problems.

Initial contact with the planet had been made nearly a year earlier, and, on the surface, its people were friendly. They had welcomed the Imperium with open arms, loudly proclaiming their willingness to accept the Imperial Truth. Yet, in the twelve months since, little or no progress had been made in bringing the planet to compliance.

There had been no violence, and no outright acts of resistance, but each of the procedures embarked upon by Imperial envoys to effect compliance had so far ended in abject failure. Each time a new initiative was launched, the Saroshi government promised to do everything in their power to ensure it would be a success. And, each time, the promised support had failed to materialise.

The government would make fulsome apologies. They would make excuses, citing misunderstandings caused by the differences in customs and language as the reason behind the impasse. They would blame the intransigence of their own bureaucracy, claiming five thousand years of stable ordered society had left them with a bureaucratic system that was both enormously top-heavy and remarkably complex.

Certainly, there seemed to be some truth in their claims. Experienced Imperial envoys, who had overseen the compliance of many worlds in their time, would shake their heads in despair whenever the vexing question of the Saroshi bureaucracy was raised.

The problem was that the bureaucrats of Sarosh were part-timers. The planet’s laws allowed its citizens to set aside a generous part of their tax burden by agreeing to spend a proportion of their time working as bureaucrats.

Accordingly, the latest planetary census, compiled at three-monthly intervals on Sarosh, indicated that twenty-five per cent of the adult population held some form of bureaucratic position, with the remainder comprising those who had failed to pass the planet’s exacting Examination of Basic Bureaucratic Proficiency.

Based on the same census data, that meant there were currently more than one hundred and eighty million bureaucrats working on Sarosh.

With so many bureaucrats taking part in the process, Imperial envoys had found it almost impossible to get things done. It did not matter whether the planet’s government agreed to a measure: for it to be put into practice it still had to navigate the apparently endless levels of local bureaucracy, including various pardoners, petitioners, notaries, exemptors, signatories, exegetists, resolutionists, codifiers, prescriptors and agens proxy.

Worse, the system had grown so complicated in the course of the last five millennia, it was often the case that even the bureaucrats had no idea how to make it work. By common opinion among most of those charged with ensuring Sarosh was brought to compliance, in the last twelve months they had achieved almost nothing in the way of real progress. The planet was still as far from true compliance as it had been on the day it was first discovered.

The
Swift Horseman
had lain at high anchor above the planet through the entire process, as the fleet’s envoys straggled to make sense of Sarosh’s bureaucratic labyrinth. It was a hangover from the planet’s initial discovery, left behind in the hope that the presence of the Astartes might focus the minds of the Saroshi leaders and encourage them to complete the process of compliance quickly.