Dan Abnett - The Beast Arises

‘There will be no memory. No monuments or songs. The name of the Fists Exemplar shall be struck from Imperial records. Every mention, every honour, every report shall be hunted down and expunged from history. It is our shame that ours is the first Chapter to fall to Chaos since the Heresy. We do not deserve to be remembered.’

Arcos stood in disbelief. ‘My lord, we must be allowed to salvage the honour of Oriax Dantalion. We cannot let his legacy die here.’

‘There is no honour left!’ shouted Thane, suddenly wrathful. His armoured fist slammed into the throne arm. ‘Stubborn, prideful, convinced of our own rectitude. So arrogant we remained that when our star fort fell we would not ask for aid from the Adeptus Mechanicus. Rather defy the wrath of a star, than admit to any wrongdoing! Those were the gifts of Dantalion to our Chapter. They have served us poorly. Our record shall be erased.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Arcos. He bowed his head.

‘You should have acted, you should spoken up. There is no situation so dire as to render an alliance with the Traitors expedient, and the Iron Warriors no less. As penance, you shall descend to Eidolica. You shall oversee the destruction of the records of the Fists Exemplar. Your tears will wet the relics of our order as you consign them to oblivion. As you watch our history burn to ashes I pray you remember: the Traitor can never be called friend.’

‘My lord,’ said Arcos. ‘We shall see it done.’

‘Our name shall be forgotten. Let none speak of it evermore. We are the Imperial Fists now and forever, let that be our legacy. It is a pure one,’ said Chapter Master Thane.

No mention of the Fists Exemplar passed Thane’s lips again in his long life, and he would not tolerate the name being said in his hearing until the day he died.

There was a shift in the cutter’s centre of gravity, a lurch in its smooth acceleration as mass detached itself. In the cramped quarters of the cutter’s command deck, Lady Inquisitor Wienand watched the infiltration craft speed away upon a hololithic display. Its matt-black hull was lost to sight quickly. When it engaged its sophisticated baffles and augur-blinds it winked out of existence, a ripple on the stars, and then it was gone.

She made a silent prayer to the Emperor, asking if she had done the right thing.

Lhaerial Rey piloted the infiltrator. The Imperium needed allies. She hoped the harlequin might be one, some time in the future. Wienand had no doubt at all that she would get away from Sol.

There were three crew on the bridge: a shipmaster pilot, an augur and weapons operative, and a transmechanic magos. All of them wore the Inquisitorial barred I as much in their minds as they did on their clothes. They knew better than to ask questions.

Wienand retreated to her quarters. She fell into a deep and dreamless sleep of the kind she only experienced in the void, until Rendenstein came and woke her gently.

‘Lady, we approach Saturn. I thought you might like to see.’

‘Thank you.’ Wienand touched Rendenstein’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. The two of them had drifted apart physically over the long months of the war against the Beast. Having her there still brought comfort. She hoped Rendenstein understood.

Wienand had felt better. Her teeth were furred and her breath stank. She needed to stop, soon. She considered stimms to carry her through, but that road ended badly for many. She needed to become tougher. There was precious little rest in the life of an inquisitor. There would be none for her, not while Vangorich reigned in all but name.

She rinsed her mouth out with water warm from the vessel’s recycling systems and tainted with iron.

Rendenstein fell into step with her as she left her quarters. These were relatively large and well appointed. The ship, though small, was designed to carry only a single inquisitor and their retinue.

Raznick waited outside. He too fell in with her, walking at her left shoulder, Rendenstein at her right. The cutter was two hundred metres long in total, the habitable section considerably less. They were on the command deck in seconds.

Wienand stopped at the threshold of the door. Through the oculus of the ship Saturn turned serenely, its rings shining in the sunlight over a striated body the colour of recaff mixed with dairy fats. Its many moons paraded round it like pearls. Wienand had been all over the galaxy, but this world had always been special to her, if only because Saturn was forbidden. Unlike its brother Jupiter, Saturn was not ringed by orbital habitats. Remnants of those predating the Imperium added to its flock of moons, but there was nothing inhabited, no mining platforms, no gas extraction or research stations. Compared to the rest of the over-exploited solar system, Saturn was pristine.

The cutter flew around the gas giant, skimming the rings at distances as little as twenty thousand kilometres. A caramel orb rose from the shoulder of the giant, massive as a planet, dwarfing its brother and sister moons.

‘Titan, my lady,’ said the captain. He adjusted his course, pointing the sharp nose of the cutter directly at the hazy world.

Red lights and alarms flashed over every display.

‘Halt, and turn back. This world is perdita by order of the Holy Inquisition of the Emperor of Mankind. Turn back or be destroyed. Halt,’ began a message, and then repeated on a loop.

‘Inquisitor Wienand, Marguerethe, A. Ident code Sigma Five Full Black Delta. Requesting permission to land.’

‘Code not accepted. Halt, and turn back. This world is perdita by order of the Holy Inquisition of the Emperor of Mankind,’ said the message again. Warnings bleeped. The ship’s master of augur and arms spoke.

‘They’re locking on to us. Not much, but it’ll finish us if they fire.’

Wienand flexed her hand. The implant that had burrowed into her flesh from Veritus hampered her movement, grinding against her tarsal bones. She yanked off her glove.

‘Give me a data reader, key it in to the vox. Broadcast it to the source of that message.’

‘Yes, my lady. In what form is the data to be read?’

‘I don’t know, try them all,’ she said. More alarms went off.

‘Halt, and turn back. This world is perdita by order of the Holy Inquisition of the Emperor of Mankind. Turn back or be destroyed,’ said the message.

The master of augur and arms indicated a green panel. She flexed her hand again and spread it over the glass. The machine tried every wavelength in the electromagnetic spectrum before switching to audible bands. Finally, the thing in her palm vibrated and the device chimed.

‘Halt, and—’ The message stopped.

The vox shifted. A human voice replaced the machine’s.

‘Veritus is dead,’ it said.

‘He is dead,’ said Wienand. ‘I am the Inquisitorial Representative to the Senatorum Imperialis, one of the High Twelve of the High Lords of Terra. Veritus nominated me as his successor as liaison between the Inquisition and the Grey Knights Chapter, Adeptus Astartes, number six, six, six. I wish to meet with Supreme Grand Master Janus.’

The reply was immediate. ‘Have your ship follow these coordinates to high anchor. Lady Inquisitor, you may break orbit and descend, but only you. Fail to obey these two instructions or any further forthcoming, and your vessel will be destroyed.’

The voice snapped off. The master of augur and arms attempted to raise them again, but the void remained silent.

‘Friendly, aren’t they?’ said Raznick.

‘We should come with you,’ said Rendenstein.

‘I’ll go alone,’ said Wienand. ‘I should be safe enough.’ But she didn’t believe it.