Chapter 197: I Have Tolerated You Long Enough
The Impech System, Planetary Orbit.
The colossal hull of the Dawnlight hung silently beside the Carcharodons' fleet. Its macro-cannon arrays were pre-heated, their muzzles aimed as one at the Chaos-tainted world below. Among this grim armada, the deployment of several warships was particularly aggressive. They were positioned extremely low, almost scraping the edge of the planetary defense grid, as if ready to dive into the fray and lead the charge to the surface at any moment.
Those were the ships of the Consecrators Chapter.
Romulus stood on the observation deck, his gaze piercing the armoured glass to rest on those vessels, poised for battle. He understood their urgency completely. From the moment he had received the Carcharodons' distress call, he had guessed what Ezekiel was truly searching for.
They had all read the Lion's chronicles. They knew what the Warband of a Thousand Eyes was, and they knew their purpose.
Pure Fallen.
After all, there had been no security breaches on Arthur's side. The number of individuals sleeping in stasis was already approaching three digits. The suspicion couldn't possibly fall on them.
So why had they come, risking a conflict? It was precisely because the Warband of a Thousand Eyes was here that the Dawnbreakers had to come. Otherwise, the Carcharodons and the Mantis Warriors would have likely been annihilated.
"So, we cannot directly destroy this planet at present?" Romulus asked.
"Correct, my Lord. At least not through orbital strike," came the reply from Tyberos's second-in-command, Shale. "And the Carcharodons are not equipped with Exterminatus-class warheads for surface detonation."
"..."
Romulus stared silently at the fluctuating parameters on the tactical table, the servos of his power armour humming softly. His mind processed the information at incredible speed, constructing two complete operational plans in an instant.
The first was simple and direct: dispatch landing forces to deploy Exterminatus devices at key locations and reduce the entire planet to ash.
The second was more complex: send in ground forces to destroy the ritual core, eliminate the warp contamination, and attempt to restore the world.
The former was brutal but efficient. The latter, though time-consuming, was not difficult given the Dawnlight Fleet's military strength, and would preserve a habitable world for humanity.
The problem was the current composition of their allied fleet.
"Ramesses," Romulus said over the internal comms after completing the data exchange with the Carcharodons. "Send an encrypted psychic message to the surface. And remember—" His fingertip tapped twice on the tactical report. "—do not mention any engagement records with the Warband of a Thousand Eyes. Just maintain silence and withdraw."
Simultaneously, Romulus's voice echoed across the bridge. "Patch me through to the Consecrators."
The comms officer immediately bent over his console.
"Lord Ezekiel," Azrael said on the bridge of his battle barge. Ezekiel did not hesitate and accepted the hail. At the same time, however, he ordered the members of the Inner Circle into their drop pods. The stasis-bomb was once again brought to a pre-launch state.
The repercussions of destroying the Dawnlight would be severe. The Dark Angels might not be able to withstand the furious counter-attack of dozens of Chapters. But as long as the secret was kept, it would be fine. And the Dark Angels were masters of keeping secrets, and they had decisive methods for doing so.
"Let us speak plainly," Romulus said, getting straight to the point. Although his own preparations were complete, he did not want to risk dealing with an entire Chapter unless absolutely necessary. "We are here at the request of our allies, to annihilate the enemy and eliminate the influence of Chaos." With that, he fell silent, watching Ezekiel, waiting for his response.
Ezekiel paused for a moment before replying, "As are we. The Consecrators received a distress call and came to provide support."
Beside Romulus, Titus and Drakus both frowned, clearly not believing a word of it. But their lord had always been cautious in his dealings with the Dark Angels. He would likely not press the issue.
"The operational strategy will be yours to formulate," Romulus said after a moment's thought. "The Dawnlight Fleet will provide necessary support. Our objective is to retrieve the untainted civilian population and the two Chapters from the surface." Compared to the more radical Ramesses, who wanted to simply use the Primaris Space Marines he'd purloined from Cawl to replace this entire Dark Angels Chapter, Romulus needed stability. It was best not to fight if it could be avoided. If the Consecrators were willing to serve as the vanguard, all the better. They would just extract the sharks and the mantises.
"..."
On the other end, Azrael and Ezekiel exchanged a look, both surprised. They had been too eager, and the Primarch had already sensed they were hiding something. But he had no intention of probing further. Ezekiel felt a wave of relief.
"The Consecrators can handle our own ground operations," he replied after careful consideration. "We do not require the Dawnlight Fleet's assistance. If you would be so kind as to guard the void against any threats, my Lord."
Since both sides had a tacit understanding, a pleasant cooperation was the best course of action.
"Mm," Romulus said nothing more and cut the connection. At the same time, he prompted Arthur and Ramesses to expedite their withdrawal. Regardless of the outcome, this planet had to be dealt with.
"Send the message to the surface. Then, we make planetfall," Ezekiel said, turning to head for the launch bay. "We cannot allow what has happened on this world to go unanswered."
Ansel, Capital of Impech Prime
Dozens of Thunderhawks and large transports hovered over the fortress's landing platforms. Under the protection of the anti-air grid, these vulnerable aircraft were able to land safely.
Hiss—
With the release of hydraulic pressure, the forward ramp of a Thunderhawk Gunship lowered. Ezekiel was the first to disembark, followed by the members of the Inner Circle, their boltguns at the ready, the scanners in their helmets analyzing the fortress's defensive layout.
Ansel was a forge-city of the Adeptus Mechanicus, not particularly large. The Mechanicus had established the city here because of a rare mineral deposit in the region, which could be used as a temporary substitute for the crystals required for Volcano Cannons. Compared to the crystals from the mining world of Coal-ash XI, these were more stable but less potent, and lacked the maddening side effects.
Because of the strategic importance of this mineral, the forge-city held the license to produce Shadowsword super-heavy tanks. And so, faced with a Tyranid assault, a Chaos invasion, and a ritualistic blockade, the Mechanicus, unable to move their entire city, had no choice but to reveal their hidden arsenal. Rows of Shadowswords had been rolled out of their warehouses and deployed at key defensive positions. In addition to the Shadowswords, Ezekiel saw a variety of other well-armed vehicles and a surprising number of Skitarii.
"..."
Ezekiel looked at the precious vehicles deployed on the front lines. There were enough to arm more than a dozen Chapters. Only in the most desperate of times do you learn just how much these parasites, feeding on the body of the Imperium, have hoarded. And the Imperium could do nothing about it. From the lasguns in the hands of the Astra Militarum to the colossal warships that plied the void, almost everything passed through the hands of the Mechanicus. Having grasped the lifeblood of the Imperium, they had gained unparalleled power and wealth, and had grown ever more audacious.
"Consecrators!"
Ezekiel, who had been discussing the defensive line with Tyberos, suddenly stopped speaking. The red light of his bionic eye locked onto a servitor that had abruptly approached. The members of the Inner Circle instantly raised their weapons and aimed at it. Ezekiel raised a hand, signaling them to remain alert, and took a step forward.
"Magos. State your purpose."
"Consecrators! Your response time is twice what I calculated! This forge-city continues to suffer losses due to your incompetence! And those meddling refugees in Ansel—" The synthesized voice suddenly rose in pitch. "—get them transferred immediately! Turning them into servitors would be an insult to efficiency!"
The Magos's words were deeply unpleasant, but considering that most of them were like this, Ezekiel bit back his anger.
"Magos!" he said, raising a hand to signal his men to lower their weapons. "We have a fleet in orbit. Reclaiming this planet will not be difficult. But we require data and intelligence on this world to proceed."
"What do you want to know? Fine. You are slightly more comprehensible than those silent savages." The servitor's optical sensors flickered rapidly, as if receiving a remote command. A moment later, a panel on its chest popped open with a sharp beep, revealing a bio-hard drive. "Data has been transferred. Be advised: my Skitarii defend this city, which is my property." The Magos's voice was filled with the typical arrogance of the Mechanicus. "Until these damned enemies are annihilated and my mines are reclaimed, I will not agree to any of your demands."
The transmission ended abruptly, leaving only an unpleasant static hiss echoing in the chamber. Ezekiel felt a surge of anger. Was this Magos on something, or was he allergic to promethium? He was as unreasonable as a shrew.
Tyberos, who had witnessed the exchange, shrugged indifferently. He was the one who had forced the refugees into the city, and he was the one who had forced the Magos to provide food. He had no choice. KPIs were on the line. Every civilian saved meant another shipment of wargear from the Dawnbreakers. Even if he didn't need it now, it was always good to stockpile. He didn't have to answer to the Mechanicus anymore. If he made an enemy, so be it.
"The Carcharodons and the Mantis Warriors will withdraw with the refugees," he said, and turned to leave.
Ezekiel nodded silently, and along with Azrael, began to review the forge-city's combat logs.
Suddenly—
"Wait, Chapter Master Tyberos."
The voice stopped the giant in his tracks. Tyberos turned his head, his lightning claws already crackling with power beneath his vambraces.
"The Consecrators require your assistance," Ezekiel said, placing a restraining hand on Azrael, who was about to erupt.
"The Carcharodons must evacuate the refugees," Tyberos replied, his head tilted as he watched Azrael's twitching form.
"By order of Lord Romulus, the reclamation of this planet is your responsibility," Tyberos's respirator grille hissed with a plume of white vapour. "We will not interfere."
A tense silence fell between them. The surrounding Carcharodons, as if smelling blood, began to close in.
After a long moment, having calculated the relative strengths of their forces, Ezekiel conceded. "Very well. I will communicate this to Lord Romulus."
"Good," Tyberos said, tossing out a single, cold word. He then strode away with his pack, leaving only the hiss of the closing hydraulic door to echo in the corridor.
Click~
"My Lord?" Azrael's voice was tight with suppressed agitation. Ezekiel could feel the impatience radiating from his soul—like a beast that had scented blood, its claws already digging deep furrows in the ground, desperate to drink the blood of traitors.
"Bring the Firestorm into attack position. Prepare the purification protocol," Ezekiel commanded coldly. "Target: Ansel Forge-City. After the clean-up is complete, you are authorized to use virus bombs."
"Yes, my Lord," Azrael's reply was so fast it was as if he had been waiting for this moment. He quickly departed. The surrounding members of the Inner Circle immediately dispersed. Their mission was clear: lock down the orbit, and ensure that not a single ship escaped this planet before Ansel was reduced to ash.
The defenders of Ansel had engaged the Warband of a Thousand Eyes in direct combat. And even more disturbingly, the Carcharodons had shown an unnerving proficiency in dealing with these Fallen Angels. Their tactical responses were so precise, so frighteningly accurate, it was as if they had fought such an enemy a thousand times before.
Ezekiel stared down at his data-slate, the scrolling information reflected in his bionic eye. He had no detailed records of this Chapter in his memory, but their performance... was too familiar. The Grand Master of the Librarius's fingers unconsciously tightened, and the edge of the data-slate creaked in protest. In the laws of the Dark Angels, some things did not require conclusive evidence.
Once suspicion was born, guilt was established.
Ezekiel did not relish the hunt for the Fallen, nor did he enjoy the practice of silencing secrets. He often felt a deep guilt over it. But for the honour of his Chapter, he had to do it. As for the surface... he looked up at the sky, shrouded in dark clouds. No matter. The one thing the Dark Angels had perfected over ten thousand years was making sure certain things never happened. Even if they did this, the Primarch would never know it was them. And if he didn't know, then for all intents and purposes, it wasn't them. And if it wasn't them, then what secret was there to keep?
A dense gloom descended from the sky. A frigate, under the observation of the Dawnlight Fleet, sank into the atmosphere.
"A pity," Arthur said to Ramesses at his side. They were, at the request of the Inner Circle, deploying a weapon called a Rift Cannon. It could fire a beam that would rupture reality itself at the point of impact, tearing open a warp rift. Enemies too close to the rift would be sucked in. Those who weren't would die from the twisting of the laws of reality and the materium.
Whine~ The frigate's hull groaned under the strain of the intense temporal distortion, its internal structure failing, nearly causing the steel behemoth to plunge to the surface. Fortunately, its ancient anti-gravitic arrays held, and the ship stabilized. Now, the great cannon, capable of tearing reality asunder, was locked on target.
"Indeed. I was actually hoping they could act like decent people for once. Cypher and the others are probably ecstatic," Ramesses clicked his tongue. He began to lock onto the members of the Inner Circle he had already marked, providing targeting data for their own Dark Angels.
"You don't have to phrase that as a question," Arthur said, shaking his head gently.
"Let's just watch the show. Let me know when it's time to take the whole Chapter." From his psychic sight, he could see red markers moving rapidly. Ramesses rubbed his hands in anticipation. He couldn't wait to see the looks on the faces of these Inner Circle members, who thought they were in control, when they realized they were the ones trapped in the jar.
Some things are just meant to be. No matter how much you dodge and weave, you can't escape them. This was the Dark Angels' Inner Circle. Still a ways from godhood, but not a shred of humanity left in them.
"Heh," aboard the Dawnlight, Romulus watched the events unfolding on the hololith and let out a short, sharp laugh of pure anger.
I tried to reason with you. I didn't want any trouble. I gave you all the face in the galaxy. And you took that for weakness?
"Arthur!"
"Acknowledged."
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