C. Goto - Dawn of War

“Yes, captain, it is an impressive sight,” responded Mordecai, recovering his composure and affecting a survey of the scene around him, “but I did not claim that Chaos had never set foot on this planet. I said, rather, that if the forces of Chaos were present, then the impending warp storm would eliminate them for us-saving us from needless conflict, and saving the lives of many of your Blood Ravens and Brom’s Tartarans. Sergeant Corallis, for example, would be alive and well,” he added, twisting the blade.

“Sergeant Corallis is alive,” replied Gabriel from between gritted teeth, “and he will be well.”

“I hope you are right, captain, since his death would be entirely on your conscience. And I would think that your conscience is crowded enough already.” Mordecai did not flinch away from the Blood Ravens captain, even as Gabriel’s muscles bunched in his neck. Sergeant Matiel stepped up to his shoulder, but Mordecai was not sure whether he intended to support or restrain his captain’s anger.

“As I have already explained, Inquisitor Toth, the Blood Ravens will remain until the very last minute-and, until then, we will pursue this unfolding riddle. There is still time-nearly two days,” managed Gabriel, his jaw still knotted in tension.

“Captain, I do not… presume to question your decisions concerning the Blood Ravens.” Mordecai’s words were carefully chosen. “But when it comes to employing the colonel’s Imperial Guard in your quest-”

“My quest!” cried Gabriel, struggling to control his outrage. “Yet again you accuse me of pursuing my own personal agenda, inquisitor. If you were not an agent of the Emperor, I would slay you where you stand for challenging my honour and that of the Blood Ravens. But the badge you hide behind also confers a duty on you, Toth,” said Gabriel, almost spitting the man’s name into his face. “It is your duty, as well as mine, to expunge any scent of heresy or taint of Chaos. My conscience is clear about my duty, is yours?”

“Now, it is you who overstep yourself, captain,” replied Mordecai, flinching inwardly against Gabriel’s words. This captain was not like any he had encountered before: his mind was sharp, and he had turned the tables on one of the Emperor’s inquisitors. The scholarly reputation of the Blood Ravens was not without merit, it seemed.

“Perhaps, but you have overstepped the mark and then marched off into the killing zone: they are not ‘the colonel’s Imperial Guard’. They have sworn their lives to the Emperor, not to Brom and certainly not to you, and it is by His mandate that I employ the Tartarans in this war against the forces of Chaos and the xenos here. Through the glory of this holy battle, I elevate them to a status worthy of their oaths of allegiance.” Better that than run away and hide like cowards, Gabriel added to himself.

“I can see now that coming here to Mount Korath to reason with you was a mistake. If you are set on this path that will lead nowhere except to the destruction of you and your Blood Ravens, then I can do nothing to stop you. But I will not allow you to drag the rest of this planet down with you. By Inquisitorial edict, I am taking control of planet Tartarus-all requests for planetary resources, including its military resources, must be approved by me. Captain, from this point on, you and your Marines are on your own,” concluded Mordecai dramatically, turning immediately and striding back up the ramp into the waiting Chimera.

For a moment, Colonel Brom stood at the foot of the ramp, looking from Gabriel to Mordecai and back again. The inquisitor’s voice boomed down the ramp, “Brom!” and the colonel looked up at Gabriel, apparently searching for a sign.

“Go,” said Gabriel quietly, releasing him. “Make sure that the spaceport at Magna Bonum is held against the orks until the last of the civilians are evacuated.”

The eldar force, arrayed in all of its glory, swept across the valley floor like a bristling dam of lethal weaponry. The gates of Lloovre Marr had been slammed shut hours before, and the remaining defenders of the capital city had hastened to the gun emplacements in the great wall. It was a testament to the tumultuous history of Tartarus that all of its major cities were walled-and Lloovre Marr was no exception.

The sheer, white walls curved around the southern perimeter of the city in a sweeping semi-circle. Each end butted up against the high cliffs of the Lloovre valley, and the northern sectors of the capital had been built in a great cave, scooped out of the rock itself. This unusual defensive design had withstood the test of time, and Lloovre Marr had only ever fallen once in its whole history: a revolt had erupted within the city walls, and the governor had been unable to escape the bloodshed, trapped in the impregnable fortress. Since then, a complicated system of tunnels and caves had been dug into the cliffs, in case the rulers of Tartarus ever needed to escape again.

Looking out on the awesome might of the Biel-Tan craftworld-the Bahzhakhain, the Swordwind, the Tempest of Blades, a maelstrom of alien power, silent, beautiful, and breathtaking-the leaders of Tartarus could have been forgiven for taking to the caves at once.

However, the leaders had already fled the city. The governor had been on the first transport to Magna Bonum, and then on the first shuttle to the Litany of Fury, when he had received word from Inquisitor Toth that the warp storm was on its way. The ruling council had left a skeleton force of Imperial Guardsmen behind to defend the city against looters and pirates until the storm broke. Then they would be airlifted off the surface by a Blood Ravens’ Thunderhawk.

Looters and pirates were one thing, the Swordwind army of the Biel-Tan was something else entirely. There were one hundred Guardsmen lining the walls of the city, and a smattering of others throughout the streets of the capital itself; not one of them had ever even seen an eldar before in their lives. Now they could see more of them than they had ever wanted to.

A single, impossibly elegant figure strode forward of the eldar line. Her slender and shapely body appeared to be female, but she was taller than most men. Her emerald green robes flowed out behind her like water, and the white detailing seemed to dance over the cloth, as though it was merely the echo of a life being lived in another dimension. A veil fluttered around her face, shedding the vaguest glimpses of an unearthly beauty beyond. In her hand she carried a long, simple staff. It was nearly two metres in length and perfectly smooth from one end to the other. It appeared to be completely without decoration. But it moved, or rather, it seemed to move. It was as though it was a tiny tear in the fabric of space, the merest crack in a window to another realm. The mid-afternoon light just seemed to fall into it, as though being sucked out of this world altogether. And something on the side moved, curdling and gyrating in a world of pure energy, pushing up against the tear, eager to break through.

The figure opened her arms to the city, holding them wide as though trying to take in the whole of Lloovre Mar. And then her voice was heard by everyone. Each of the Guardsmen stopped their preparations for war and listened, struck by the angelic lilt of the feminine voice. It was as though they didn’t have to listen at all, as though the voice just slipped directly into their heads, delicately caressing their ears with the idea of sound.

People of Lloovre Marr, I bring you a choice, said Macha, letting her thoughts drift across the valley and into the city. And choice is the greatest gift that you can receive from anyone. For a moment, the farseer thought about her own life and that of Jaerielle. Indeed, the whole of the Path of the Eldar was premised upon the annihilation of choice. Choice brought selfishness. And selfishness was the beginning of the end. But still, even a farseer had choices to make-the future was not an uncomplicated place. Either you open the gates and leave the city… or you die where you stand. The choice is yours, but choose, and choose now.