Vainglorious, p.24
Vainglorious, page 24
‘I’ll try harder next time,’ I said, deciding that I heartily disliked this specimen even more than the average necron, which at least had the courtesy to kill you without making disparaging remarks beforehand. Come to that, I’d never previously encountered one which had shown the slightest interest in conversation, or, indeed, the ability.[138]
‘Commissar.’ Jurgen’s voice was in my comm-bead, hushed and urgent. ‘I can’t get a clear shot. Stand aside.’
The metal figure turned its head towards the door. ‘I’ll kill your pet unless he relinquishes the weapon.’
‘Jurgen,’ I said, ‘stand down. I don’t think we’re in any immediate danger.’ Which was something of an exaggeration, but there was no point in appearing too concerned. I didn’t doubt that the towering necron could make good on its threat, but the fact that it hadn’t yet meant that for some reason it was reluctant to, and if I could find out what that was it might give us some advantage.
‘Very good, sir.’ My aide complied as readily as he always did with a direct order, although the tone of his voice and the glare he bestowed on the metal giant as he lowered the melta left me in no doubt as to what he thought about the wisdom of that. ‘I’ll keep an eye on the corridor, then.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ I said, then glanced dismissively at Tezler before returning my attention to the necron leader. ‘I take it you’d rather your own pets were left intact as well?’ The tech-priest didn’t exactly bristle, but the attitude of their head altered a little, as though they were considering the full implications of the remark, and not liking any of them.
The necron nodded. ‘I would prefer it,’ it said, turning its own head to look at Tezler with an air of what seemed suspiciously like disdain. ‘You must have something useful to do.’
‘Of course.’ Accepting the clear dismissal with a creditable display of good grace, the treacherous tech-priest slunk out of their own quarters, sidestepping the immovable obstacle of Jurgen in a somewhat dignity-puncturing shuffle.
‘You heard our host,’ I said, more to rub it in while Tezler was still in earshot than because I thought he needed the instructions, ‘no shooting anyone unless you have to.’
‘Quite so, sir.’ Jurgen nodded, adjusting to the situation far more readily than most men in his position would, his singular lack of imagination proving as useful as it always did. ‘Good manners cost nothing.’
‘Couldn’t have put it better myself,’ I said, and turned back to the towering metal figure in front of me. ‘And speaking of which, I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced.’ Quite where that came from I had no idea, but I’d learned a long time ago that the appearance of being at ease put me in control of a situation, however much my mind was scrabbling around like a rodent in an exercise wheel gibbering in panic, and the occasional non sequitur went a long way towards keeping an antagonist off guard. Naturally, I had no idea what kind of mental processes a sapient pile of genocidal scrap might actually have, but it couldn’t hurt to try. To my surprise it inclined its head, in a parody of sociability.
‘How remiss. I am Aznibal, overlord of the Hapset Dynasty, suzerain of the Vodik Expanse.’ None of which meant anything to me, naturally.[139] ‘Your name and reputation I have been apprised of.’
‘Of course.’ I nodded too, and decided against offering a hand to shake, in the interests of keeping it. ‘A demesne you’re clearly expanding. You’d hardly have let Eucopia be colonised if you’d already owned the place. I’m guessing you came through the portal once the tomb was discovered and its systems activated in response.’ Which was more or less what I’d seen before on Simia Orichalcae, so it wasn’t all that much of a stretch.
‘Astute.’ The metallic monstrosity looked down at me in a faintly ruminative manner I found far from comforting. ‘Perhaps Tezler didn’t overestimate you.’
‘I’m sure they did,’ I said, more from the habit of maintaining my undeserved reputation for modesty about my equally undeserved one for selfless heroism than anything else. ‘But they do seem remarkably easy to fool. You have no intention of giving your dupes here necron bodies, do you?’
‘Of course not,’ Aznibal admitted. ‘It would be an honour far greater than they deserve, even if it were possible.’
‘So you never were mortal?’ I asked. To my astonishment Aznibal laughed, an echoing, hollow mockery of amusement.
‘That part is true. But we were not the ones who performed the transference. That was done by the old masters, before they were sundered and the shards became the slaves.’
‘I see,’ I said, entirely untruthfully. Elaborate metaphors have never really worked for me, although the gist of it seemed clear enough. The necrons had been turned into whatever they were by someone or something else, which was no longer around to perform the same trick. ‘And the resources you’ve cozened them out of are being used for…?’
‘This,’ Aznibal said, making a strange gesture in the air. An image suddenly appeared, floating in the space between us, as crisp and clear as a t’au hololith. An asteroid, seen from some distance away, rotating gently in the void between the stars. There was little to indicate its scale at first, our viewpoint moving in towards it, the refulgence of the spiral arm behind it striking glittering highlights from its surface. These, on closer inspection, proved to be the locations of metallic structures protruding from the regolith, weapon emplacements of prodigious size for the most part, bestowing a palpable air of menace on the benighted rock. Only when a starship, an image I remembered all too well from the destruction of the Omnissiah’s Bounty,[140] drifted into the field of vision did I realise that the void station must have been several kilometres across.
‘Once it has been restored to its full capabilities, my elevation to phaeron will be assured.’ The parody of laughter echoed around the room again, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. You never can tell with xenos quite how sane they are, especially a specimen like this, which, by its very nature, lacks the usual subtle clues of facial expression and body language, but I was pretty sure that if I’d been having the same conversation with a human, I’d have been keeping a wary eye out for medicae with sedatives and straitjackets by now. ‘Then those who mocked and patronised me will acknowledge my power or be annihilated.’
‘How very nice for you,’ I said, masking my astonishment that even necrons seemed to get embroiled in petty rivalries. ‘But I don’t see why you didn’t simply send your warriors to take what you need instead of resorting to subterfuge. With the element of surprise, you could have taken this world easily.’
‘Indeed I could.’ Aznibal was looking at me again in the same appraising manner. ‘But holding on to it once your Imperium responded would have required a bit of effort, and delayed the completion of the battle station. Once it’s mobile that won’t be a problem, but some work still remains to achieve that.’
‘Mobile?’ I repeated, hoping I’d misheard, but knowing I hadn’t. I’d seen the files on the necron World Engine which had ripped its way through the galaxy at the beginning of the century, and my blood ran cold at the memory. Stopping it had required the sacrifice of an entire Space Marine Chapter,[141] not to mention innumerable Navy vessels and personnel. The asteroid station Aznibal had shown me was nothing like the size of that, thank the Throne, but the amount of damage it could wreak if it became operational was incalculable.
‘Of course.’ The hollow voice took on a tinge of smugness, although that could just have been my imagination, I suppose.[142] ‘There would be no point in having a weapon that potent if it couldn’t reach something to destroy.’
‘I suppose there wouldn’t,’ I said. An awkward silence descended, like one of those moments at a formal reception when you’ve both run out of conventional platitudes to exchange, and are wondering how to go and find someone else to bore without appearing to be rude. ‘Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?’
‘Only that now you know I’m here, I’m claiming the planet,’ Aznibal said. ‘Keep the tribute coming, and you get to live. Otherwise it will be taken, and everyone will die. The first option is marginally preferable, because the battle station will become operational sooner, but another few years are neither here nor there to an immortal.’ He raised a hand, and I suppressed a reflexive flinch, before realising the gesture was one of mocking farewell. ‘You have seen the extent of my power. Choose. Spend your momentary flicker of existence serving a purpose greater than you can possibly imagine, or be annihilated by it.’
Then he vanished, with the familiar crack of imploding air left by a displacer field.
‘Neat trick,’ Jurgen said, in a tone which implied it had been anything but. ‘Do you think we were supposed to be impressed?’
Editorial Note:
Since Cain, predictably, skips over much of what happened in the next few days in the apparent belief that anything which didn’t concern him personally can be disregarded as of little interest to anyone else, I’ve interpolated another extract which touches on most of the essentials.
From In Blackest Night: The Millennial Wars Appraised, by Ayjaepi Clothier, 127.M42.
The revelation of the true nature of the foe which had so insidiously corrupted the weaker-minded among the Adeptus Mechanicus on Eucopia was to have far-reaching implications, not just for that world, but for the entire sector. The arrest of the conspirators was only the first step in mitigating the harm they had done, but, as ever, Commissar Cain remained undaunted, conceiving a plan remarkable in both its daring and its effectiveness. That it worked as well as it did can only be considered a result of his inspiring leadership, and the unparalleled martial expertise of the Adeptus Astartes.
Not that the outcome was by any means assured…
TWENTY-SEVEN
The conference room in the Reclaimers’ Chapter holding was pretty much as I remembered it, other than the presence of Vorspung, who had arrived in a Rhino a few hours before and seemed a little uncomfortable so far from his habitual haunts. Even though the back of the conspiracy had been effectively broken with Tezler’s detention, there was no telling how many of their associates had so far escaped the net Norgard had thrown over the Nexus, and no one wanted to take any chances with the magos’ safety; after all, he’d been the first to suspect that something clandestine was going on, found the courage to confide in me, and been instrumental in bringing the perpetrators to book. The last thing we needed was a stray traitor deciding to kill him in a fit of pique, especially as it felt as if we were going to need his intellect more than ever now.
He looked up as I entered the room, making a beeline for the samovar of tanna as soon as I arrived, and finding it full, to my intense relief. Though the afternoon seemed like it was going to be a long one, it should at least be more tolerable now.
‘Magos,’ I greeted him. ‘I’m pleased to see you so well.’ To my vague surprise I found I actually meant it; despite my initial doubts at our first meeting he’d proved to be a valuable ally, and at least there was a bit of flesh left on his face, which, after Tezler’s blank robotic visage, seemed positively homely. I finished filling my tea bowl, and, more from the dictates of good manners than anything else, indicated one of the surprisingly delicate pieces of ceramic beside the samovar.[143] ‘Can I offer you some refreshment?’
To my surprise he nodded. ‘Thank you. I require the ingestion of thirty-seven millilitres of fluids within the next day or so to maintain peak operation of my biological components, and doing so now would be an efficient use of the time while we wait for the others.’ Which for a tech-priest was being positively sociable. I handed him a full bowl of the fragrant liquid, which he sipped at, apparently indifferent to its tongue-scalding temperature, then nodded again. ‘Remarkably flavoursome.’
‘Not many non-Valhallans seem to like it,’ I said, ‘but I’ve picked up a taste for the stuff over the years.’
‘Remarkable,’ Vorspung said, though I wasn’t sure whether he was referring to the flavour again, or the fact that I found it palatable.[144] He took another sip. ‘Although efficiency dictates that taste is an irrelevance where nutriment is concerned.’
‘Perhaps so,’ I agreed diplomatically, ‘but sometimes it helps.’ Fortunately, I was spared any further attempt at small talk by the arrival of Morie, who strode into the room like a force of nature, visibly chafing at the delay in carrying the fight to the necrons. Though my attempt to contact him from the depths of the mine had been too garbled to make much of, enough of the message had got through for the Thunderhawk to be dispatched on a recon sweep, and the squad of Tactical Marines it had brought with it had proven more than helpful in rounding up Tezler and their confederates – especially since the treacherous tech-priest had been kind enough to inadvertently vouch for the loyalty of the skitarii garrison there during our earlier conversation, and the red-robed warriors had joined in with alacrity as soon as they realised what was going on. ‘Brother-sergeant. Some refreshment?’
‘Thank you, no.’ Morie took his place at the head of the table. ‘Time is of the essence.’
‘Of course it is,’ I said, taking my seat, and leaving Vorspung to manage as best he could on one of the oversized ones. As it turned out, though, he merely glanced at the nearest and remained standing, which seemed sensible under the circumstances, especially as he was the one with the augmetic legs. ‘With Tezler out of circulation, Aznibal’s bound to realise we’re moving against him sooner rather than later.’
‘Indeed.’ Norgard came bustling in, her robes flapping around her mostly metallic carcass, and came to rest next to Vorspung. ‘Tezler’s still refusing to cooperate fully with the interrogators, but has indicated that they’re in communication every few days. And Aznibal will no doubt be waiting for some indication of how we intend to respond to the ultimatum he gave the commissar.’
‘So the longer we can keep him guessing, the better,’ I said. Which is why we hadn’t simply flooded the lower levels with skitarii and Space Marines, and committed mass suicide by storming the tomb straight away. Aznibal was bound to have expected precisely that response, and I was certain that the hellish place would be swarming with necron warriors by now. ‘By not mounting an immediate assault, we’ve given him the impression that we’re considering capitulation.’ Which, of course, we weren’t. But Aznibal seemed arrogant enough to believe that we might, and that arrogance might just be the weakness we could use against him.
Morie nodded. ‘Which is buying us the time we need to formulate a strategy,’ he said, activating the hololith. ‘Although taking the tomb by direct assault will be far from easy.’
‘I concur,’ Norgard said, reaching forward to highlight the cavern Jurgen and I had driven across so precipitately, the missing portions of the map having been restored to the records almost as soon as the conspirators’ interference with them had been discovered. Both entrances to the tomb were marked, but the space beyond them appeared only as a vaguely defined void. ‘Our forces will be pinned at these choke points, and butchered as they attempt to force entry. Whereas the necrons not only outnumber us already by a considerable margin, but can also reinforce their defences through the warp portal at any time.’
‘That’s the thing that most worries me,’ I said, partly because it was true, and partly because I thought I ought to show that I was paying attention. ‘So long as it’s operational, Aznibal can launch an attack on the entire world through it. He said himself that he’d be willing to do that to grab the resources he needs to finish building his toy World Engine.’
Norgard and Morie exchanged concerned glances.
‘Which would be a far greater threat in the long run,’ Vorspung put in, somewhat unexpectedly. ‘If the battle station is as large and well armed as the commissar described, it could render a world uninhabitable in a matter of hours. Sooner, if it encounters no significant resistance.’
‘I’m afraid I wasn’t exaggerating,’ I said. ‘And I rather suspect that he’ll choose targets incapable of putting up any resistance, at least to begin with. It’s what necrons do.’
‘In my experience,’ Morie agreed.
‘Then the logical course of action would be to disable the portal,’ Vorspung said, before stumbling to a halt, his augmetic voice box somehow managing to take on a trace of embarrassment. ‘Of course, I don’t mean to impugn your expertise in this area, which far exceeds mine.’
‘I couldn’t agree more with your assessment,’ I said. Morie and Norgard nodded too, and Vorspung suddenly looked a great deal happier. ‘Destroying it has to be our highest priority. It’s the only way to secure Eucopia, deny Aznibal the resources to complete his war machine, and restore the flow of materiel the whole subsector so desperately needs.’ Which would still leave us an army of necrons to deal with, most likely, but the chances were I’d be dead by then, so it’d be someone else’s problem anyway.
‘Easier said than done, unfortunately,’ Morie said, returning his attention to the hololith. ‘Attempting to force either of these tunnels would simply channel our forces into a killing ground. By the time we forced a breach, our casualties would be too great to press our advantage.’ Which seemed to me to be an unwarrantedly optimistic prognosis. More likely, bearing in mind both the Astartes’ and skitarii’s propensity for pressing the attack even in the face of overwhelming numbers and superior firepower, both of which the necrons undoubtedly possessed, they’d simply be wiped out to a man before gaining so much as a toehold in the tomb. Given the way the metal horrors’ gauss weapons vaporised their targets, there wouldn’t even be the dead of earlier waves to provide some rudimentary cover, allowing subsequent ones to make a little more ground.[145]
‘Perhaps a kill team,’ Norgard suggested. ‘A sufficiently determined-seeming attack on the main access point could draw the defenders away from the secondary one, allowing a small force of specialists to infiltrate the tomb unopposed.’
