Legends of the dark ange.., p.19
Legends Of The Dark Angels, page 19
‘So what happened then? What caused the fighting?’ Boreas stood close again, his robes and skin bathed in the red light of the brazier, giving him a half-daemonic appearance.
‘There were some among our number, newly raised battle-brothers who perhaps slightly lacked the faith and zeal of the old Legion, who opposed our leaving,’ Astelan replied.
‘And so you attacked them, wiped out the dissenters.’ Boreas’s face twisted into a snarl as his anger grew again.
‘It was they who attacked first, and revealed their treacherous intent with the death of hundreds,’ Astelan corrected him. ‘We had prepared everything to leave, and were embarking onto the transports to take us into orbit where the battle barges and strike cruisers of the Chapter awaited us. As the ships began to leave, the traitors struck. Their orbiting ships opened fire on ours, they stormed the planetary defence batteries and opened fire on the transports. Defence lasers blew the transports out of the sky and they rained down in pieces onto us. Some tried to continue into orbit, and they were destroyed by the enemy, while others were blasted into shrapnel as they attempted to land. Their strike was short-lived, however, as we counter-attacked in force. Their ships fled, and those who had taken the batteries were driven out or killed.’
‘So they acted to stop you disobeying the primarch’s orders,’ Boreas suggested.
‘They had no right to!’ rasped Astelan. ‘I have already told you that the primarch’s wishes were as unknown to us as the state of the war against Horus. Theirs was the sinful act, firing on us.’
‘But you did not leave, did you?’ Boreas pointed out.
‘We could not,’ Astelan said with a sorrowful shake of his head. ‘We were afraid of what might happen if we left Caliban in the hands of the treacherous brethren. We could not leave until we were sure that Caliban was safe.’
‘And how did you hope to ensure that?’ demanded Boreas.
‘We hunted them down, of course,’ Astelan told him. ‘They hid in the deep woods, and struck with hit-and-run attacks, but eventually our numbers took their toll and we thought them exterminated. For three months, our guns were silent and it was then that perhaps we committed the only sin – that of complacency. Thinking our foe destroyed we relaxed our guard as we began to make preparations to leave once more. That was when they struck. They had hidden themselves away more thoroughly than we could have ever imagined, in the most inhospitable places on Caliban. Without warning, they gathered their might and launched an attack on the starport, taking several transports. Stunned, we did not react quickly enough and by the time the defence lasers were active, they were already amongst our fleet and we could not target them for fear of hitting our own ships. They concentrated their attacks on the largest craft in the fleet, my own battle barge, the Wrath of Terra. They stormed her, took control, and turned her immense guns and torpedoes on the rest of the fleet. The battle was short-lived, for the Wrath of Terra outclassed any vessel in orbit, and soon my Chapter’s fleet was reduced to smoking wrecks.’
‘And so you were stranded on Caliban, and those who had stayed true to their primarch had finally succeeded in preventing you from joining the Warmaster,’ Boreas said, sharing some pride in the desperate act.
‘It was not their final act,’ Astelan said bitterly. ‘They piloted the Wrath of Terra into Caliban’s atmosphere, where she burned up and exploded into fiery fragments that rained down onto the surface. Plasma reactors trailing infernos exploded in the forests leaving craters kilometres across and sending dust and rock into the sky to obscure the sun. Fragments crashed into the cities and castles, destroying them, and the largest portion of the ship plunged into the southern ocean, creating a tidal wave that wiped out everything within twenty kilometres of the southern coast. Not only had they marooned us on Caliban, they wrought untold destruction upon the planet that had now become our prison.’
‘If what you say is true, then how was it that you fired upon our primarch when he returned?’ Boreas said accusingly.
‘Caliban was then a ravaged, desolate place,’ Astelan continued, his voice dropping to a barely audible murmur. ‘The forests died, the life-giving energies of the sun blotted out by the clouds of dirt and ash that hung in the air. The world was slowly destroying itself, because we had failed to protect it from our own battle-brothers. You speak of shame, but it is nothing compared to the guilt we felt at that time, as the trees burned, and the light of the stars was taken from us.’
‘But why the attack on the Lion?’
‘Luther had taken up residence in Angelicasta, the Tower of Angels, largest citadel on Caliban and greatest fortress of the Dark Angels. I had taken personal command of the outer defences and the laser batteries, from a command centre hundreds of kilo-metres away. When we received a signal that spaceships had entered orbit, we thought at first that the traitor ships had returned – the ones that we had driven off in the first battle.’
‘And that is why you opened fire?’ asked Boreas.
‘No, it is not,’ Astelan replied with defiance. ‘It soon became clear that our primarch had returned. Luther contacted me to ask for my advice. He was troubled because he had intercepted a communication that claimed El’Jonson himself led the approaching ships. He did not know what to do, fearing the wrath of the Lion for what had befallen Caliban.’
‘And what did you tell him?’
‘I told him nothing,’ Astelan said grimly. ‘I gave the order for the batteries to open fire on the approaching ships.’
‘You gave the command?’ spat Boreas, gripping Astelan’s throat and pressing him back against the slab. ‘It was you who precipitated the destruction of our homeworld? And you say that you have no sins to repent!’
‘I stand by my decision,’ Astelan replied hoarsely, ineffectually trying to prise away the Chaplain’s vice-like grip. ‘There was nothing else I could do. El’Jonson was going to wipe us out, for I suspected that the traitor ships had met him, and their version of events would have damned us all. Our beneficent primarch would have had us all killed for what had happened to his homeworld. I also feared that our primarch was no longer loyal to the Emperor. We had heard little of the exploits of the Dark Angels during the Horus Heresy, and I did not discount the thought that this was due to El’Jonson having sided with Horus.’
‘So you fired because you were scared of retribution?’ Boreas snarled, raising Astelan’s head and cracking it back against the stone table.
‘I fired because I wanted El’Jonson killed!’ spat Astelan, pushing weakly at Boreas to free himself. ‘My loyalty was first and foremost to the Emperor, and to El’Jonson a long way second behind that. It was my duty to the Emperor to protect the Space Marines under my command – Space Marines that the Emperor himself had picked and raised, and who were now threatened by this primarch. Do you understand?’
‘Not at all, I cannot comprehend the treachery that pulses within your heart,’ Boreas said, letting go of Astelan in disgust and stalking away. He did not look at his prisoner as he spoke. ‘To turn on your primarch, to wish him dead, is the gravest sin that you could have committed.’
‘It was the primarchs who turned on the Emperor. Before their coming there had been no dissent, no civil war,’ argued Astelan, pushing himself into a sitting position. ‘It was the primarchs who turned the Legions against their true master, who furthered their own ambitions with the thousands of Space Marines under their command. It was the primarchs who nearly destroyed the Imperium, and it was Lion El’Jonson who had doomed Caliban with his own actions.’
‘Your arrogance was fuelled by jealousy, lubricated by the dark lures promised by Luther!’ Boreas roared at Astelan. ‘You turned on your primarch in return for power and domination by the Dark Powers!’
‘I defended myself from a madman who had already tried to destroy my Chapter and would not hesitate to do so again!’ Astelan snarled back. ‘I never swore to any Dark Powers, I was nothing but loyal to the Emperor! But I was also wrong.’
‘So you admit it!’ Triumph was written across Boreas’s face as he swept across the cell towards Astelan.
‘I admit nothing.’ Astelan’s words stopped Boreas in his stride, his elation turning to fury. ‘I was wrong in believing that Lion El’Jonson sought a reckoning with me. It was his mentor and friend, Luther, that he was intent on destroying. It was Luther, steward of Caliban, his saviour, that El’Jonson had grown to hate, to envy. His actions prove my point! Did he not personally lead the attack on the Tower of Angels, while his ships bombarded Caliban from orbit? Was he not seeking to destroy all evidence of his own weakness, striking out at those who had seen him for what he truly was?’
‘The Lion had indeed heard of Luther’s treachery and knew that to cure the malady, he had to act decisively and swiftly,’ explained Boreas. ‘He hoped that by striking at Luther, he could save Caliban from his evil influence.’
‘When the missiles and plasma came screaming down from orbit, it was all too plain to see the primarch’s intent,’ Astelan argued. ‘The seas boiled, the land cracked and the fortresses tumbled into ruins. I remember the ground lurching beneath my feet, and then tumbling into what seemed like a bottomless pit, before I lost consciousness.’
‘And there lies the heart of the evidence against you, the overwhelming proof of your guilt!’ Boreas bellowed. ‘At the end, as tortured Caliban tore itself apart, your dark masters reached out to snatch you from death. As the world shattered, a great warpstorm erupted over Caliban and spirited you away, along with all those who had turned on the Lion. That is why you are guilty, that is why no amount of justification and argument can convince me of another intent behind your actions. The Ruinous Powers saved you and your kind, and scattered you across time and space so that we might not have our vengeance against you. Luther was as corrupt as Horus, as you all were! Admit this and repent!’
‘I shall not!’ growled Astelan. ‘I renounce every charge you have laid against me! I have been loyal to the Emperor from the day I was first chosen to become a Space Marine, and I will stay loyal to the Emperor until my dying breath! Torture me, probe my mind with witch-powers! I refute your accusations! I see now what has become of the so-called pure gene-seed of Lion El’Jonson! You have become creatures of shadow and darkness, and I do not recognise you as Dark Angels!’
‘So be it!’ Boreas declared, shoving Astelan back against the slab. ‘I shall return, and I shall take up my blades, and my brands, and I shall call for Brother Samiel. Your soul shall know justice, whether you choose it or not. You have chosen the path of suffering, when you could have walked the path of peace and enlightenment.’
Boreas stalked towards the door and wrenched it open.
‘Wait!’ Astelan called out.
‘No more of your lies!’ the Chaplain snapped back, stepping through the door.
‘I still have more to tell!’ Astelan shouted after him.
The Chaplain stopped and turned around.
‘You have nothing more I wish to hear,’ he said.
‘But you have not heard the full story,’ Astelan told him, his voice dropping to a cracked whisper. ‘You have not learned the truth.’
‘I will find out the truth in my own way.’ Boreas turned to leave again.
‘You will not,’ Astelan told him. ‘Now it is your turn to decide, as must we all, which path your life will follow. Go now and return with your warlock and take up your implements of pain, and I will never divulge the secrets I keep within me. Not even your psyker will be able to probe them free from my soul. But if you stay, if you listen, I will freely tell them to you.’
‘And why would you do such a thing?’ Boreas asked, not looking back.
‘Because I wish to save you as much as you wish to save me,’ Astelan said, pushing himself to his feet, gasping as pain flooded his body. ‘Through pain and suffering, you will not hear my words, you will be blinded to the truth. But if you listen, as you asked me to listen, then you will learn many things you would not otherwise unearth.’
‘What inner secrets?’ Boreas turned. ‘What more could you tell me?’
‘An interesting thought, a concern of mine,’ Astelan said, meeting the Chaplain’s gaze.
‘And what is that?’ Boreas asked, stepping back through the door.
‘Though we heard little at the time, and accounts of it afterwards are hard to uncover, I have learned as much as I can about the siege of the Emperor’s Palace and the battle for Terra at the end of the Horus Heresy,’ Astelan explained as hurriedly as his ravaged lungs allowed. ‘It is a stirring tale, I am sure you agree. There are stories of the exploits of the Imperial Fists holding the wall against the frenzied assaults of the World Eaters. There is praise running into hundreds of pages for the White Scars and their daring attacks on the landing sites. There are even accounts, most false I suspect, of how the Emperor teleported onto Horus’s battle barge and the two fought in titanic conflict.’
‘What of it?’ Boreas asked suspiciously.
‘Where in all these tales of battle and heroism are the Dark Angels?’ Astelan replied.
‘The Lion was leading the Legion to Terra’s defence, but faced many battles and arrived too late,’ Boreas said.
‘So, Lion El’Jonson, greatest strategist of the Imperium, who was never once defeated in battle, was delayed? I find that hard to believe.’ Astelan’s strength failed him again and he slumped back against the interrogation slab, his legs buckling under him.
‘And what would you believe, heretic?’ Boreas demanded.
‘There is a very simple reason why Lion El’Jonson did not take part in the final battles of the Horus Heresy.’ Astelan let himself drop to the floor, his back against the stone table, his eyes closed. ‘It is beautifully simple, when you consider it. He was waiting.’
‘Waiting? For what?’ Boreas asked quietly.
Astelan looked into Boreas’s eyes, seeing the curiosity that was now there.
‘He was waiting to see which side won, of course.’
Boreas stepped into the cell, and closed the door behind him.
THE TALE OF BOREAS
PART FOUR
It took six hours for the crew of the Saint Carthen to die. In that time, the desperate heretics launched fourteen counter-attacks on the bridge in an attempt to recapture the control chamber and reactivate the environmental systems. Each assault was met with controlled, deadly salvoes of bolter fire. The chances of the bridge falling would have been slim in the best of situations – as implacable as they were on the advance, the Dark Angels excelled at ruthless defence, stubbornly refusing to give a centimetre of ground to wave after wave of wild-eyed crewmen. With their atmosphere leeching out of opened airlocks and deactivated vents, and contending with the lack of gravity, their assaults failed miserably and over two hundred corpses floated in the vacuum as a testament to their increasingly reckless attacks.
Only when the ship’s internal scanners register zero life signs outside the bridge did Boreas consider their position secure. Even then, there was much work to do. For over an hour, the Space Marines swept through the corpse-littered corridors and chambers searching for survivors, or evidence of the Fallen, but they returned empty-handed to the bridge. When they had mustered again, it was Nestor who raised the point that had been nagging at Boreas ever since they had stormed the bridge.
‘If this ship belongs to the Fallen, where are they?’ the Apothecary asked, turning from a view screen to look at Boreas. ‘What makes this ship different from any number of other pirate ships in the sector? Perhaps your information was incorrect, perhaps this slaughter was unnecessary?’
Boreas did not answer immediately. He paced heavily across the bridge to the command chair, the black leather now spattered with blood and shredded with shrapnel and bullet holes. He gazed over the sparking consoles, looked at the floating corpses and globules of blood rising and falling in the thin atmosphere left in the ship. Was Nestor right? Did the presence of the Saint Carthen mean the Fallen were in Piscina after all, or had he over-reacted?
‘This ship was once captained by one of the Fallen,’ Boreas told the others. ‘For nearly a century he waged war against the Imperium from this bridge.’
‘But he is not here now,’ Nestor said, pushing aside a body and stepping towards the Interrogator-Chaplain. He pointed at the uniform of one of the officers. ‘Look at this one. He does not look like a traitor to me. Look at their clothes, the badges and insignia. Imperial badges, Imperial merchant insignia.’
‘Of course they have civilian insignia,’ interrupted Damas. ‘They docked with the orbital station, they sent a shuttle down to Piscina IV. They were hardly likely to be bearing placards proclaiming their traitorous ways.’
‘Questions will be asked,’ Nestor said solemnly. ‘Doubts will be raised.’
‘Let them be asked!’ growled Zaul from where he was standing next to the breach in the wall, a cloud of bolter casings suspended in the air around him. ‘You speak as if we acted wrongly.’
‘We fired on an Imperial vessel,’ Nestor pointed out. ‘We boarded and wiped out the crew of another ship, with no evidence to support our claim.’
‘Evidence is inconsequential,’ Boreas said, turning from the tattered chair.
‘The Inquisition will hear of this, Commodore Kayle will make sure of that,’ Nestor sighed.
‘No!’ snapped Boreas. ‘It is their claim against ours. We swore to keep the secret of the Fallen, nobody must learn of it. Nobody! It matters not if we can prove it, because to do so will only declare our shame to the galaxy. We will be crushed, hunted down as heretics, and the Chapter will be destroyed.’
‘They were here,’ Hephaestus said quietly. He had been busying himself at one of the data consoles for some time. The rest of the command squad turned and looked at him.
