The Death of Integrity (6 page)

The Adeptus Mechanicus reply was swift in coming, broadcast wide band, so any and all could hear it. It cut easily through the star’s voice.

‘This is Lord Magos Explorator Vardoman Plosk of the Adeptus Mechanicus. You will cease firing immediately upon the space hulk designated
Death of Integrity
and stand down your weapons.’

Galt licked his lips. ‘On whose authority?’ he shouted. ‘By what right do you command the defenders of humanity? By what right do you interrupt our given task of ensuring the safety of mankind? By what right do you halt the work of the Emperor?’

The vox hissed.

‘On the authority of the Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars, to whom all troves of archeotech are sequestered by right, custom and Imperial law. On the authority of the Holy Omnissiah and the God-Emperor, whose work we do.’ There was a pause, deliberate, calculated.

‘And upon the authority of my sponsors, the High Lords of Terra.’

Chapter 4

The Lord Magos Explorator

Galt and Caedis received the tech-priest delegation within Galt’s audience rooms. The two Space Marines sat side by side upon their thrones, clad in full armour. The room had been cleared of tables and chairs. Caedis and Galt’s chairs were raised on a dais under the ceiling depicting the ascending Emperor. Five Novamarines and five Blood Drinkers veterans stood beside the thrones of their leaders, helmeted, weapons ready. Forgemaster Clastrin stood at the foot of the dais, also fully armoured. The chamber’s hidden weapons had been uncovered, and were trained upon the space before the thrones. There would be no warm welcome for the mechanicians of Mars.

The magi came into the room in force. Twelve all told, strange creatures of flesh and metal clad in robes of deep red. They came bearing toothed power axes, and exotic firearms not all of which were of human manufacture.

Twenty-four lesser tech-priests and skitarii cybernetic troopers attended them, also garbed in red. Some carried short banner poles bearing holy machine plans, many were hideously altered. Five carried nozzled machines that belched smoke that smelled of burned oil and harsh chemicals. These came first, preparing the way for their masters. A dozen servitors followed in their footsteps, the flesh stripped back to their skulls, fusion weapons perched on armless shoulders. Servo-skulls dipped and buzzed around the delegation.

The tech-priests’ attendants and servitors stopped at the rear of the room in an arc. Nine of the twelve magi walked through them. They formed a second crescent, halted, and together they brought their axe hafts down, sending a ringing crash through the audience chamber. Their augmitters twittered and chirruped.

‘Lord Magos Explorator Plosk,’ one intoned. ‘Magos Cogitator-Lexmechanic Nuministon, Novo Magos Samin. Masters of
Excommentum Incursus
. Chosen Explorators of Mars, most favoured of the Omnissiah.’

The remaining three tech-priests passed through a gap in the centre of the crescent to stand before the thrones of the Adeptus Astartes. Smoke from the censer bearers billowed around them.

One of them pulled back his hood to reveal a jowled face. Their leader. ‘I am Lord Magos Plosk, of the forge world Triplex Phall.’ Plosk was a stout man. The metal of cranial implants studded his bald scalp, long steel-covered cables went from the rear of his skull to a machine concealed by a hump in the robes on his back. His face was otherwise unaltered, and presented an expression of equanimity. ‘I apologise to you, Lord Chapter Master Caedis of the Blood Drinkers, and you, Lord Captain Galt of the Novamarines, for the manner of our arrival. But we cannot allow any harm to come to the
Death of Integrity
.’

‘The hulk is the harbinger of doom,’ said Caedis. He gripped the arms of his throne sufficiently hard to cause the wood to creak. ‘For a third of a century I have followed it, determined to destroy it and spare the worlds of the Emperor infestation by the plague that it carries. And you would deny me at the moment of my triumph?’

Plosk stood firm in the face of Caedis’s anger. ‘I would.’

Caedis leaned forward. ‘I am a Chapter Master of the Adeptus Astartes, Lord of San Guisiga, with a rank equal to that of an Imperial commander. You stand before me impudently, you and your followers do not kneel as is appropriate to my station.’ He hissed his words between his teeth, spittle chasing them into the air.

‘I do not,’ said Plosk equably. ‘It is I who hold higher authority here, not you, my lord.’ He dipped his head.

‘Insolence!’ spat Caedis. Galt looked sidelong at him. Caedis’s face was contorted with rage. The Blood Drinkers Reclusiarch stepped forward and rested a hand upon the Chapter Master’s shoulder plate. Galt was surprised at this lack of deference. Caedis shook it off.

‘A fact, my lord,’ said Plosk with a shrug. ‘I deal only in fact.’

‘You are not beyond the customs and laws of the Imperium, tech-priest. You have interrupted a military operation against the enemies of the Emperor. I demand to know the meaning of this outrage!’

‘It ever was my intent to do so,’ Plosk waved his metal left hand.

From behind the clouds of incense, a pair of servo-skulls flew forward, red eye beams cutting through the smoke. They bore between them a man-high scroll that dragged on the air.

‘Behold,’ said Plosk. ‘My authority. The first part of it. You may see the other fifty-seven segments as and when you wish. This is the pertinent scroll, however, verified by the Masters of Mars, and the High Lords of Terra. This document grants seniority in any and all Imperial matters appertaining to the recovery of STC data. Without exception.’

The servo-skulls floated to a stop in front of Galt, the scroll pulling the smoke into curls. Galt stood, and read the scroll.

‘It is as he says, Lord Caedis.’ Galt picked up one of the heavy seals adorning the bottom; black wax, and smooth to the touch. ‘It is sealed by High Lord Garm, Lord of the Munitorum.’

‘Garm died a century ago,’ said Reclusiarch Mazrael.

‘Did he now?’ said Plosk. ‘I did not hear, we have been to the very edges of the galaxy and back, beyond the light of the Astronomican, searching for this hulk. And to think!’ he gave a watery smile. ‘Here it was, all this time, lodged as a thorn in the heart of the Emperor’s dominion.’ His smile fell away. ‘Nevertheless, the authority stands, whether Garm lives or does not live. His word is inviolate.’

‘How come you by such authority?’ growled Caedis.

The youthful Magos Samin answered for him. He spoke like a fanatic, and made no attempt to hide his sense of superiority. ‘Magos Plosk has been most efficacious in recovering archeotech. Very successful. The High Lords would see more of that success.’ Samin was barely augmented, some kind of apprentice, thought Galt.

‘I have reason to believe that this hulk contains many first and second generation STC printouts, perhaps still functioning. Even one is a treasure beyond reckoning from the Dark Age of Technology. And you would smash them like brutes!’ Plosk shook his head. ‘This I cannot allow. There are greater considerations here than the immediate destruction of mankind’s enemies. The death of a hundred worlds would be a fair price for such knowledge. Ask your Forgemaster there. He knows something of the inner mysteries, seek his counsel.’ He nodded in the direction of the Techmarine.

Clastrin shook his head. His mechadendrites twitched in the air. ‘I do not serve two masters. I am of the Novamarines and my loyalty is to them alone, not Mars. You misspeak, magos.’

‘But do you hold this hulk a treasure?’ said Galt.

‘Indubitably, brother-captain. You know this,’ said Clastrin in his twin voices. ‘A boon to all mankind, and should what the magos claims exist, of incomparable importance.’

‘I have studied this derelict for long ages, lords,’ said Plosk, gesticulating floridly with hand and mechadendrite. ‘From certain intelligences I have gathered the length and breadth of the galaxy, I have come to believe that at its heart are certain… vessels, that postdate the ascension of the Emperor to his golden throne by only a few millennia. Perhaps even that predate the time of the Great Crusade and our lord’s leaving the world of men.’

‘Where? We see no evidence of any such vessel within the agglomeration,’ said Galt. Next to him, Caedis seethed.

‘And you are expert in these matters, lord captain?’ said Plosk. ‘No? I humbly inform my lords that I am.’

‘Lord Magos Explorator Plosk has retrieved five first-generation STC printouts, my lords,’ said Samin haughtily. ‘He is an unparalleled master in this field.’

‘I understand why you cannot detect them,’ continued Plosk. ‘Their siting is uncertain, the stellar environment here is… difficult,’ he smiled. ‘And so our first task must be to map the hulk.’

‘Our task?’ said Caedis.

‘You would not have us simply withdraw, so you can be about your business? When that is completed, then we may conclude ours,’ said Galt.

‘You are shrewd, lord captain, but no. My authority gives me the power to sequester such forces as I see appropriate to the furtherance of my efforts, and as of this moment, you and your Space Marines seem appropriate to me.’

‘You mean us to cleanse the hulk?’ said Caedis. He licked his lips. A smile ghosted across them.

‘Indeed. I thought you and yours would find that prospect appealing, Lord Chapter Master.’

‘If we refuse?’ said Galt. ‘What then?’

‘I will lodge my objections with the High Lords,’ said Plosk. ‘I recovered the tech-trove of Ophilio the Twisted from the Maelstrom. I broke the ciphers of the long-dead Martusi and brought much power to the arm of man. I have great influence. Investigation of your Chapters by the Inquisition and a penitential crusade would be the most likely outcome.’

Caedis tensed at this threat. Mazrael shifted. Galt felt this more than saw it, but their concern was palpable.

‘And if we agreed? I admit, the thought of so great a challenge fires me,’ said Caedis. A brittleness had entered his voice. He is hiding something, thought Galt.

The third tech-priest, Lord Cogitator-Lexmechanic Nuministon, rolled forward. His movement was too smooth to have been produced by legs, and Galt suspected a track unit hidden under his robes. It would not have been out of place, for Nuministon’s arms and most of his head had been replaced by metal prostheses and implants. Only fragments of the original man remained. He resembled a spindly, iron skeleton, scraps of grey skin embedded in it to no immediately apparent purpose.

‘In recognition of your services,’ Nuministon said – unlike Plosk’s natural voice, his was that of a machine – ‘the fleet yards at the forge world of Triplex Phall will undertake to construct and present the Chapters of the Blood Drinkers Adeptus Astartes of San Guisiga and the Novamarines Adeptus Astartes of Honourum one strike cruiser apiece in a period not exceeding thirty standard years after date of construction, of a class of your choosing. This we swear by the holy will of the Omnissiah, and will agree to be bound by contract to be astropathically verified by the offices of the Adeptus Terra, Adeptus Administratum, and the Lord Magi of Mars. Let our promise be lodged for all to see, for we shall honour it, this we swear before you.’

Clastin turned to look at the First Captain. ‘Brother-captain, this is an unprecedented offer…’

Galt held up his hand.

‘What use is that to us, if we should lose one cruiser, only to gain another? I could withdraw my fleet now, and save the one I have,’ said Galt.

Plosk snorted, the fat on his face wobbling. ‘And abandon your sworn duty to defend the Ultima Segmentum? I think not. No, the records speak more highly of the Novamarines than that, lord captain. Do you mean to tell me that you are nought but mercenaries away from Lord Chapter Master Hydariko’s noble leadership? I should like very much to hear what he says in response to your words. In any case, your ship
Corvo’s Hammer
will not survive another transit through the warp.’ Plosk sighed, and inspected his well-manicured right hand. Unlike his metal left, only the smallest digit had been replaced there. Galt wondered at what obscure sub-sect of the tech-priests this man pledged allegiance to be so unaltered. ‘I will offer this also to the Novamarines: that my fleet shall undertake repairs on
Corvo’s Hammer
, beginning this very day, and make it warp-worthy at the least. Full repair is a possibility, dependent upon the extent of the damage.
Excommentum Incursus
is a Megiron-class forge vessel, lord captain. Such minor works are well within the bounds of its many capabilities. What say you? Aid me to the greater glory of the Imperium, or turn your back upon a legitimate request? All combat operations will remain under your purview. All I request is your aid in my venture, not your servitude.’

Galt sank back into his throne. The servo-skulls buzzed away, trailing the might of Terra behind them. Here was a knotty proposition. What path to take? For a moment he wished that Lord Chapter Master Hydariko was there to make the decision, and that the burden was far from his shoulders. He looked to the lord to his right.

‘Lord Caedis?’

Caedis fixed him with eyes the colour of pale amber. A look of longing entered into them; perhaps almost of fear. The Chapter Master was breathing heavily, his grin fixed. Sparse drops of sweat stood out on his dry skin. He squeezed the throne arms, then released them, and some of the tension in his face went. He glanced aside to Reclusiarch Mazrael, who gave the slightest of nods. Caedis let out a ragged breath, he had been holding it. When he looked back at Plosk, his features were calm. ‘I say let us do it. Yes. Such a challenge, Brother-Captain Galt; one worthy of the heroes of old, do you not agree?’

‘I see no legitimate objection I can make,’ said Galt. ‘Although it vexes me to say so.’ He touched his breastplate, his hand unconsciously searching out his pendant. ‘Very well. You have the support of the Novamarines, on the condition that you do not interfere with our operations beyond that which is needed to secure any archeotech that may lie within the
Death of Integrity
.’