Vainglorious, p.10
Vainglorious, page 10
‘Indeed not.’ Vorspung appeared to have accepted the implied apology, his voxcoder back at its usual volume. ‘Their allegiance is entirely to the Dark Gods.’
‘That’s always been my impression,’ I said, trying not to think about the daemon engines I’d done my best to avoid on a number of battlefields over the decades. Whoever was capable of even conceptualising such abominations, let alone calling them into being, would have to be corrupt beyond even my worst imaginings. ‘I can’t see anyone that tainted being able to escape detection for long, let alone further their plans while doing it.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time the Great Enemy had infiltrated an Imperial institution,’ Morie persisted, ‘but your point is a reasonable one. You’ve had more experience with such situations than either of us.’[70]
‘True,’ I said, although none of that experience had exactly been from choice. I couldn’t rule out a Chaos cult entirely, but in my dealings with such things, they tended to crop up either amid the wealthiest stratum of society, where the search for novel diversions could lead down dangerous paths, or among the detritus at the bottom – those desperate enough to hazard their souls to upend the social order, as they felt they had nothing to lose in any case. Tech-priests didn’t fall into either category, having little interest in personal possessions and more than enough to occupy their time. The manufactory serfs were another matter, of course, but in my experience would probably be more inclined to vent their frustrations in more direct ways. Nevertheless, I made a mental note to ask Norgard about the riots she’d mentioned at our first meeting: whether anyone had been mucking about with suspicious-sounding chants, or daubing graffiti that made your eyes bleed to look at on the commissary walls, that sort of thing. ‘But if we are looking for a hidden cult, my money would be on genestealers rather than heretics.’
‘Genestealers could never infect tech-priests, surely?’ Vorspung demurred. ‘And the indentured labourers would lack the influence and resources to disrupt output as comprehensively as we suspect.’
‘I’ve known at least one tech-priest who carried the taint,’ I said, which must have come as an unwelcome surprise to him, given the length of the silence which ensued. ‘And it would make sense on a strategic level too.’
‘Indeed it would,’ Morie agreed. ‘The war against the hive fleets is the most pressing threat to the Imperium in the entire Eastern Arm. The materiel Eucopia has promised us, and the Imperial Guard, could make all the difference between survival and annihilation.’
‘The lord general is of a similar mind,’ I said. ‘But on the bright side, our alliance with the t’au against the ’nids seems to be holding across most of the sector, at least for the time being.’ Although neither of us trusted the little blue blighters not to cut and run the moment they thought it expedient, leaving us to bear the brunt of a tyranid onslaught while they annexed a few Imperial worlds left relatively undefended. (No doubt they felt exactly the same about our intentions, probably with equally good reason.)
‘Which means the t’au are hardly likely to be working against us,’ Vorspung said, while Morie and I exchanged pitying glances at his naivety. ‘Not to mention the fact that their techno-sorcery is unhallowed. Any tech-priest associating with it would face instant excommunication as a heretek.’
‘Well, I doubt they’ll be working with the orks,’ I said, feeling it was time to move the discussion on to more practical matters. Morie smiled at the jest, but, predictably, Vorspung took it at face value.
‘Indeed so,’ he said. ‘Their mechanisms are crude in the extreme, and of no conceivable interest to a disciple of the Omnissiah.’[71]
‘Which might incline them to value the services of more competent enginseers,’ I said, unable to resist pulling his leg. ‘Though what they might offer in exchange would be hard to imagine.’
‘It would indeed,’ Vorspung said. ‘Rare materials, or archeotech, perhaps? They might stumble across either in the course of their depredations.’
‘They might,’ Morie replied, ‘but if so they would be instantly claimed by one of their mekboyz, not traded to Imperial traitors.’
‘I’m inclined to agree,’ I said. ‘Orks aren’t noted for their willingness to share, and they definitely don’t do covert.’ Apart from their kommandos that is, who were as good at infiltration and sabotage as anyone else in the galaxy, but definitely too focused on blowing things up to bother with negotiating secret alliances.
‘Then the most reasonable assumption would appear to be that we’re dealing with an infestation of genestealers,’ Vorspung conceded. His voice remained as uninflected as ever, but I couldn’t help fancying I detected a certain air of relief about him now that we believed we’d identified the nature of the shadowy enemy we faced. We were completely wrong, as it happened, but perhaps that was just as well; if I’d realised what we were actually facing, I would probably have dissolved into gibbering panic on the spot, which would hardly have consolidated my reputation with our Space Marine hosts. ‘The question now is what we should do about it.’ He looked hopefully at Morie and I, and even glanced briefly in Jurgen’s direction, apparently under the impression that we’d have an answer for him.
‘I think,’ I said, after the ensuing silence had just passed the point of tipping from dramatic into awkward, ‘that it’s time we spoke to Norgard.’
Who was, of course, predictably disgruntled at being summoned to a facility which, as an Adeptus Astartes Chapter holding, was outside her jurisdiction anyway. She was, however, diplomatic enough to disguise her irritation as best she could, surprise replacing it almost at once as she climbed out of an aircar unnervingly similar to the one that had detonated in the skies over the Mechanicus shrine a few hours earlier.
‘Commissar.’ She grasped the hand I was holding out, and shook it, with every sign of genuine goodwill. Morie and Vorspung had readily agreed to my offer to meet her in the hangar bay, which still looked disconcertingly sterile to me, as the high regard she evidently held me in should go some way towards mitigating her understandable annoyance at being dragged out here in the first place. ‘This is a most pleasant surprise.’
‘Kind of you to say so,’ I said, relinquishing my grip, and beginning to lead the way out of the echoing chamber. As I did so, she turned aside to genuflect briefly in the direction of the icon of the Omnissiah on the wall, which I felt was an encouraging sign. It appeared to be a genuine reflex, rather than a performance for my benefit, so perhaps Vorspung’s confidence in her probity was merited. ‘Although after this morning, I’m just relieved to be here at all.’
‘Quite so,’ Norgard agreed, as we passed through the main doorway and gained the corridor, where we paused for a moment to let a covey of Chapter-serfs hurry past on some urgent errand. Several of them were now carrying autopistols holstered at their waists, something I couldn’t recall ever having seen aboard the Revenant,[72] and evidence that Morie had lost no time in raising the alert level of the entire installation.[73] ‘Our investigations are proceeding, of course, but I regret I have very little to go on at this stage. Or for the incident with the Kastelan, come to that.’
‘But you suspect sabotage?’ I asked, as casually as I could.
Norgard blinked, the non-ferrous portions of her face a picture of astonishment.
‘It can’t be ruled out,’ she said after a moment, ‘but I’ve been working on the assumption of a systems failure in both instances. The data seems to support that.’
‘Well it would, wouldn’t it?’ I said, turning aside to let a servitor plod past, dragging a trolley with an annoyingly squeaky wheel. ‘The question is whether the failures were assisted or not.’
‘Who by?’ she asked, rising a good deal in my estimation: no prevaricating or bleating about the impossibility of a tech-priest being party to such infamy, just straight to the point.
‘We have a working hypothesis,’ I said, holding the door of the briefing room open.
‘We?’ She entered ahead of me, taking in the presence of Morie and Vorspung, ignoring Jurgen as most people seemed to do whenever the opportunity presented itself, and turned back to me as I closed the door behind us. ‘What exactly is going on here?’
‘Commissar Cain suspects that our recent difficulties are the result of genestealer infiltration,’ Vorspung told her, ‘a suggestion which I’m inclined to agree merits further investigation.’
‘As am I,’ Morie rumbled, before the praetor could voice an objection.
‘I see.’ Norgard looked at me with manifest scepticism. ‘And your evidence for this assertion would be?’
‘Scattered across the hillside,’ I said, before remembering tech-priests generally didn’t do sarcasm.
‘It’s a simple matter of probabilities,’ Vorspung said, stepping in hastily. ‘The pattern of disruption to the manufactoria output is significantly greater than could be explained entirely by random factors.’
‘Not to mention the fact that our aircar exploded shortly after Magos Vorspung confided his suspicions to me,’ I added. ‘Discreet as he was, it’s not impossible we were somehow overheard. Any conspirators worth their soylens would have realised he was the most likely man on Eucopia to have deduced their presence, and kept him under observation.’ A suggestion which left the senior tech-priest looking both flattered and somewhat disconcerted.
‘I, too, would have been slain,’ Morie reminded us. ‘Anyone acting against the interests of the Imperium must have realised that the Reclaimers’ garrison here would be a formidable obstacle to their plans.’
‘Very much in their interests to silence the magos before he could enlist their aid,’ I said, to show I was still paying attention.
‘In theory, yes,’ Norgard conceded. ‘But you still have no hard evidence to back up your claims.’ Jurgen emitted a phlegm-laden snort of derision, which I pretended not to have heard. Norgard continued, equally diplomatically deaf. ‘If the aircar accident was a deliberate attempt to assassinate you all, how would the conspirators have known you’d be travelling together? And why would they have chosen to strike then, instead of picking you off one by one?’
‘Opportunity,’ I said. I smiled, without much humour, in Morie’s direction. ‘And I suspect that the brother-sergeant would be more than a little difficult to pick off in any case.’
‘As would you,’ Morie agreed, nodding his agreement at what he no doubt regarded as a compliment.
‘It would hardly have been difficult to infer that we’d be sharing a conveyance,’ Vorspung said. ‘Sergeant Morie and I had much to discuss, and Commissar Cain is an old and valued associate of the Reclaimers.’
Norgard nodded, clearly taking all this on board with some difficulty. ‘Assuming you’re correct about this,’ she said, still sounding far from convinced, ‘we should take immediate measures to safeguard the most critical systems of the Eucopian infrastructure.’
‘The which of the what?’ Jurgen muttered, as he handed me a fresh bowl of tanna.
‘Posting guards on anything the ’stealers might want to blow up,’ I translated for him, and my aide nodded, his hand straying absently to the safety catch of his lasgun, before diverting to scratch his buttocks. I made a mental note to avoid accepting a refill.
‘The first thing we need to do is arrange gene scans for the four of us,’ I said.[74] I expected Norgard to object to that, but she simply nodded, apparently mollified by me having included myself on the list of potential suspects. Having had rather more experience of genestealer infestations than the praetor, I knew that was precisely the kind of bluff I would have attempted to execute if I really was a member of the broodmind, but felt it wouldn’t be politic to mention that.
‘A sound suggestion,’ Morie said. ‘Then every serf and tech-priest in the Chapter holding.’
‘That would take some time,’ Vorspung said, ‘but I’m inclined to agree. If there’s anywhere on Eucopia we’re certain of being able to keep free of taint, it would be here.’
‘Then, I would suggest, we move on to the skitarii,’ Norgard said, sounding as enthusiastic about that as could reasonably be expected. ‘One maniple at a time. If any are compromised, the sooner they’re neutralised the better.’
‘Quite,’ I agreed. ‘You and your legion are the best line of defence this world has.[75] I pray to the Throne I’m wrong, but if not we may need you sooner than we expect.’ Something I was right about, unfortunately, but in a manner none of us could have predicted at the time.
ELEVEN
Although I would have been surprised to say the least if any of us had turned out to be carrying the genestealer taint, I have to admit to a profound sense of relief as the Reclaimers’ Apothecary glanced up from the screen of his genecode reader and shook his head.
‘None of you appear to be compromised,’ he said, as though failing to detect any trace of our subversion had been vaguely disappointing.
‘As I’d expected,’ I said, only exaggerating a little. I’d already been as certain as I could be that neither Jurgen nor I were secret agents of the broodmind.[76] My real concern had been that Vorspung or Norgard had been subverted. The commander of the local skitarii would have been a prime target, and a valuable potential ally, for any hidden infiltrators, while Vorspung, as I’d already pointed out, would be the most likely person to unravel the conspiracy; having him under the broodmind’s control would not only neutralise that threat, but also place Eucopia’s considerable resources at their disposal into the bargain. Of course, he’d been the one who’d drawn my attention to the potential threat in the first place, but for someone as paranoid as I am that didn’t really prove anything – it could have been an elaborate double bluff, or an attempt to lure me into an ambush. Little surprise, then, that he looked as relieved as I felt as we took our leave of the apothecarion, pretending not to notice the pair of Terminators loitering in the corridor outside, their storm bolters seeming even more ominously large and deadly than usual. (Which, given the size of the average Space Marine, not to mention their heaviest armour, was saying quite a lot.)
‘So, we can be sure of ourselves, at least,’ Norgard said, taking the only comfortable seat at the briefing room table, leaving me to lean casually against it as though taking a keen interest in whatever she had to say. True to form she didn’t include Jurgen in the appraising glance she shot around the room, which suited my aide; he made a beeline for the samovar instead, tutting in disapproval at the state of the tanna remaining within it.
‘Stewed, I’m afraid, sir.’ He made for the door again. ‘I’ll find you some fresh. And a hot grox bap or something.’
‘Thank you, Jurgen,’ I said, as he disappeared, leaving only a faint aromatic reminder of his presence. I had no doubt that if there was any refreshment to be found in the shrine Jurgen was the man to find it, his talent for scrounging bordering on the preternatural.
‘If you require sustenance, we can provide it,’ Morie said, looking a little discomfited at the implied slur on his Chapter’s hospitality.
‘Not at all,’ I assured him, despite feeling a trifle peckish now my aide had reminded me of quite how long it had been since breakfast. ‘Jurgen likes to feel useful, and perhaps we can talk more freely now everyone here has a sufficiently high security clearance. I’m sure we can trust him to find some tanna while we do.’ Not to mention any little snippets of information he might come across in the course of his scrounging which our hosts might be reluctant to share with us. It goes without saying that if you can’t trust the Adeptus Astartes, who can you trust?[77] But no one likes to play their cards face up, least of all me, and it never hurts to have someone easily overlooked making sure the deck isn’t stacked while the dealer’s attention is otherwise engaged.
‘An excellent point,’ Vorspung agreed, displaying a degree of relish at being able to use phrases like ‘security clearance’ with a straight face most unusual in a tech-priest; members of his order generally considered showing enthusiasm for anything which didn’t emit sparks or drip lubricant as distinctly undignified. I’ve often noticed the same sort of thing among civilian representatives of the local authorities sitting in on security briefings, who do like to think their opinions matter, even though they’re noticeably absent when the las-bolts start to fly. Norgard looked a little more sceptical, no doubt realising that anything Jurgen wanted to know about our deliberations in his absence he’d find out soon enough anyway.[78]
‘I would suggest we return to the Nexus as soon as we can,’ Norgard said, glancing at Vorspung and myself as she spoke; after a moment I realised she must have meant the shrine we’d set out from that morning. ‘If we remain absent for too long, our adversaries may realise we’re aware of their existence.’
Morie nodded. ‘I’ll remain here while we complete the screening process, and produce whatever stocks of wargear we can with the materials currently to hand.’ He looked at Vorspung a trifle ruefully. ‘Though it seems we’ll still be producing the traditional patterns for a while yet.’
Vorspung nodded. ‘The preliminary designs we’ve had for the new bolt rifles look promising, but retooling is taking longer than we expected. We hope to be able to commence full production once the supply issue has been resolved.’
‘Standard bolters will be more than sufficient,’ Morie said. ‘Our faith in the Emperor will always be our strongest weapon in any case.’
‘Well said,’ I agreed, because it was expected of me, even though in my experience it didn’t matter how much faith you had if that was the only thing you were armed with and the enemy had guns. ‘How long until you’re sure no one here’s been infected?’
Morie looked distracted for a moment, presumably consulting the Apothecary through the vox-gear built into his armour.
