Chapter 193: It's Hard to Say Who's Bunking with Whom
"Tell me, Wolves of Fenris, why are you here?"
The comms channel crackled with harsh static, deliberately masking the speaker's vocal characteristics. The blunt question echoed from the vox-emitter.
Alm's ears twitched, and his brow furrowed immediately. What does he mean, why are we here? Hearing Azrael's familiar, imperious tone, he felt a wave of irritation. Right. This unpleasant flavour is exactly what I was expecting.
He turned to Romulus, hammered a fist against his chestplate in salute, and then cut into the comms channel himself.
"We answered the call for aid from Ultramar. We have every right to be here," Alm's voice was as cold and hard as the Fenrisian frost, a direct answer to the Consecrators' impoliteness. "As for you, my dear cousins, the Lord of Ultramar does not welcome uninvited guests who hide in the shadows, who bombard his planets and slaughter his people without leave."
The silence on the other end of the line lasted for several seconds. Alm could imagine the man's face turning purple with rage, which only made the light in his own wolf-eyes grow sharper.
"I am Alm Iron-oath, Wolf Guard of the Fenrisian Champions Great Company," he said, deliberately slowing his speech, his hand already resting on the haft of his frost axe. "By the grace of the Allfather, our paths have crossed in this vast galaxy. As is our tradition, we should hold an honour duel."
"..."
He was met with a long silence.
"We accept your invitation, cousin."
The static on the channel gradually subsided, replaced by a new voice, steady and powerful. It carried the characteristic solemnity of a Dark Angel, but with a degree of warmth that Azrael lacked.
"I am Ezekiel, Grand Master of the Librarius of the Dark Angels. I will lead our knights in this glorious duel shortly."
Aboard the battle barge, he raised a hand, signalling for Azrael to curb his hostility and begin preparations for the duel. The arrival of the Wolves was, in fact, a relief to Ezekiel.
"Lord Romulus," he continued, "the Consecrators Chapter will assist you in the reclamation of this planet."
"I will await you aboard the Dawnlight, Grand Master Ezekiel."
Ezekiel nodded, then, without another word, cut the connection. Romulus wasn't his Primarch.
"Lord Romulus," Alm said, turning to him after ending the call with the Dark Angels, "I hope this battle can be held under your witness."
"Thank you for the invitation," Romulus replied, acknowledging Alm's request. The Dawnlight was highly mechanized; clearing a space for a dueling ground would be a simple matter.
"The honour is mine," Alm said with a slight bow, and then departed, leaving the commander to his work.
At the same time, Romulus signalled for his companions to prepare. The reconfigurable structures of the ship, modified by the Ironwing, began to operate, reshaping the deck area.
"Is this the closest we'll get to bunking with Luther?" Ramesses quipped, leaning against a console as he began to weave a spell.
"It's hard to say who's bunking with whom," Arthur retorted, directing his own Dark Angels to make their preparations. They had no intention of annihilating an entire Chapter at present, but no one could be sure what the 40k-era Dark Angels were thinking. To minimize unnecessary casualties, the Dawnbreakers believed they had to be fully prepared—even if that meant striking first.
The two fleets relaxed their tense, aggressive postures. The murderous atmosphere that had hung between them dissipated like melting ice.
Within three short minutes, all primed weapon systems had been retargeted. A scorching barrage rained down upon the planet's surface, followed immediately by dense waves of drop pods and gunships plunging into the atmosphere like a swarm of angry hornets.
In less than an hour, a victory report came from the surface. The Chaos taint had been contained, the heretical forces annihilated. Post-battle recovery procedures could begin immediately.
Soon, a shuttle bearing a winged sigil detached from the Consecrators' battle barge. When its ramp opened on the Dawnlight's docking bay, Dark Angels in their traditional green-black armour and Consecrators in their stark black plate disembarked together, striding down the main axis corridor.
Along the way, mortal artisans and crew members bowed their heads in respect. Ezekiel noticed that the mortals' eyes held the expected reverence, but were unusually devoid of fear.
The Grand Master of the Librarius's psychic senses spread out like ripples, carefully probing every corner of the warship. As Dark Angels, they had to be vigilant against any possible corruption, even when dealing with a supposed Primarch. Only those who could withstand their scrutiny would earn the true recognition of the First Legion.
But a strange feeling of dissonance nagged at Ezekiel. When he tried to open his prescient eye, his psychic vision was met with large patches of blankness, just as it had been two hundred years ago when he had briefly lost his powers.
"..."
He took a deep breath, suppressing the unease in his heart.
He felt a strange sensation from behind. Ezekiel couldn't tell if it was his Astartes senses or a premonition warning him. The feeling of being watched was like a spike in his back. It was not the cold gaze of the ship's mechanical surveillance systems, but something more primitive, a stare projected from living organs.
Whoosh!
Ezekiel spun around, his force staff already glowing with a blue light, only to extinguish it abruptly when he saw who was there.
Standing before him was just an ordinary Dark Angels knight. The warrior was clearly startled by the Librarian's sudden movement, his right hand reflexively dropping to the butt of his bolt pistol.
"My Lord? Is something wrong?" the knight asked, his fingers still hovering over his sidearm.
"..."
Ezekiel's gaze pierced the knight's faceplate, staring at his slightly tense face. Familiar visions of the future flooded his mind. This knight, who had not yet been inducted into the Inner Circle, would live a life of martial glory and unwavering honour, and would die with that honour intact when a planet was shattered. The images in his precognitive sight were so clear they were almost tangible.
"No. It is nothing."
The feeling of psychic blockage was gone. He glanced around again, confirming his powers were still working, then led his knights to rejoin the main party, making a mental note of the incident.
[PRELIMINARY PREPARATIONS COMPLETE.]
[GRAND MASTER OF LIBRARIUS: EZEKIEL. THREAT LEVEL: HIGH.]
[COORDINATION WITH THE PRINCE AND RAMESSES REQUIRED TO ENSURE SUCCESSFUL INFILTRATION. ACTIVATE ANNIHILATION PROTOCOL?]
[NEGATIVE.]
Behind Ezekiel, Arthur watched the Librarian silently, walking side-by-side with the very knight who had just spoken with him.
As the party proceeded, an unremarkable cargo shuttle departed the ship, a transport agreement having just been signed by a tech-priest. Inside, within a stasis field, several knights lay in slumber. Through the viewport of one stasis-pod, a face identical to that of the knight who had just spoken with Ezekiel could be vaguely seen.
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