‘You do it adequately, but you are hampered by your partiality towards certain of your brethren. You indulge Brother-Sergeant Fornix to a high degree, when he should have been disciplined long ago for insubordination, perhaps even broken in rank.’
‘He saved your life!’
‘That is irrelevant.’
Kerne’s voice rose. ‘But for Fornix you would have been slaughtered like a lamb as you wept over the body of Biron Amadai. Who was guilty of irrational sentiment then, brother?’
Malchai blinked, and something twisted for a moment in his face. ‘It is true, I failed in my duties on that day. I allowed myself to be crippled by emotion. You and Fornix should have let me die then – it was what I deserved. In that moment, I failed our brotherhood utterly.’
Kerne shook his head. ‘We saved a brother Space Marine that day, who has done great service to the Chapter ever since. No one thinks the less of you for that moment of weakness, Malchai–’
‘I do. I have spent all the years since atoning for it, striving to expunge the sin of it. It is why, Jonah, I have always refused the title of Master of Sanctity. I am wholly unworthy to hold the position once held by Amadai.’
‘A man should not spend his life on his knees because he stumbled once,’ Kerne retorted.
Malchai shrugged. ‘Sophistry. The fact is that I see in Brother Fornix the same weakness which once I felt myself. He cares more for the lives of his brethren than for the mission they have been entrusted with.
‘Space Marines do not consider the possibilities of their own death when they go into battle. They think only of the orders they have been given and the most efficient way of carrying them out. All else is extraneous.
‘More than that, to begin thinking in terms of individual survival verges on heresy.’
‘You will not utter that word to me, brother. My company has the best fighting record of any in the Chapter. We have never failed to complete a mission, no matter what the cost. And we pay the price it exacts without stint.’
Malchai nodded slightly. ‘That is true. But I came on this expedition because I wanted to make sure that record remains unblemished, captain. I am not here to undermine you, but to be a necessary adjunct to your authority.’
‘If that be so, then you will refrain from voicing any of your doubts and misgivings about my command except to me, in private. I will not have my orders, or those of my officers, questioned in open forum. And that is a direct order, Malchai.’
‘An order I will obey, of course. But I question its logic. The task of a Chaplain is to steer his charges on the one true road of loyalty and orthodoxy. I mean to hold the members of this expedition to the very letter of the Codex Astartes, captain.’
‘Sometimes the Codex is not enough, in war, Malchai. There must be room for flexibility on the battlefield.’
‘That way heresy lies.’
Jonah Kerne took a step towards the Reclusiarch, eyes blazing. But his voice was very quiet as he said; ‘I told you not to use that word in relation to my company.’
‘It is not your company, captain. Mortai belongs to the Chapter, and ultimately to the Imperium and the Emperor Himself. You are merely a custodian, an artisan who helps wield the tool, for a time.
‘When a Space Marine – especially a senior Space Marine – begins to think in terms of his own ego, the denizens of the warp sit up and take notice. Only ask Brother-Librarian Kass. We are travelling towards a confrontation with the Great Enemy – creatures who once were Adeptus Astartes like us. Our discipline and our faith must be unshakeable in the face of such abominations.’
Kerne’s gauntleted fists clenched and unclenched. Malchai noted this. ‘I congratulate you on your self-control, captain. I know how hard it can be for you to restrain that temper of yours.’
The Reclusiarch set his fearsome skull-helm on his head, and there was a snake-hiss of atmospherics as it conjoined with his power armour.
‘I will go now, and with your permission, visit the troop decks. I wish to preach a sermon to Mortai while the lessons of today are still fresh in their minds. Is that acceptable to you?’
Jonah nodded mutely, not quite trusting himself to speak.
‘I will refrain from taking Brother-Sergeant Fornix aside for counsel, in deference to your orders. I leave that task to you.’
Malchai thumbed the lifter button. As the platform sped up to the ledge out of the dark, he said:
‘And I will of course be making a full report on these matters, to be sent back to Phobian on the next vox-link.’
He stepped onto the lifter platform, and Jonah Kerne watched the twin red lights of his eyes recede as the Reclusiarch disappeared, descending into the shadow below.
SIX
Hominum Fragilitatum
General Pavul Dietrich did not suffer fools gladly, which was unfortunate, since he sometimes seemed to find himself surrounded by them.
‘What do you mean, the vox is down?’ he asked with simmering impatience.
The engineer officer set a hand on the comms bench, and the stubbornly flashing red lights thereon.
‘Sir, Dardrek is offline. We no longer have any communication with our forces there.’
‘When was our last vox from them?’
‘Fourteen hours ago, general. Since then, nothing.’
‘Are we being jammed?’
‘Not that I can tell. We managed to bypass their jamming frequencies two days ago, and since then we had been getting regular reports. Colonel Brix is very reliable, sir.’
‘Thank you for pointing that out, lieutenant. You will keep trying until I say otherwise.’
‘Yes, sir.’
It was uncomfortably warm in the bunker, despite the ventilators, and with every passing day of the dry season it grew hotter.
Ras Hanem was a bleak world which had once, by all accounts, been beautiful. Several thousand years of Imperial occupation had seen the tropical forests felled, the rivers drained and the savannahs polluted. Save for the domed enclaves where intensive agriculture was pursued, the planet was now a sand-swept wasteland.
But below the sun-baked surface of the world the true treasure of Ras Hanem had been exploited for generations. Palladium, uranium, and above all adamantium ores were present in the guts of the planet in bright-seamed abundance. They had drawn the Imperium here, and led to the construction of massive armaments manufactoria. The Departmento Munitorum rated Ras Hanem as a priority asset, to be defended at all costs, and to its voice was added that of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
On this planet the chassis and armour plating of Titans were designed and forged, to be taken off-world in heavily escorted tranports to Cypra Mundi, the capital of the entire sector. On this planet, giants were born.
On this planet, I sit, waiting for the hammer to fall, Dietrich thought grimly.
‘Dardrek is gone,’ Commissar Von Arnim said. ‘That must be assumed.’
‘If it is,’ Dietrich grunted, ‘then they didn’t make much of a fight of it. Fourteen hours ago the planet was only just reporting the arrival of the enemy fleet. There was a full regiment under Brix, Cadian trained.’
The commissar took off his peaked cap and wiped his forehead. He was lean as a thorn, with a face so heavily lined it looked as though someone had whittled it out with a knife. His eyes were pale as rockcrete, and held about as much softness.
‘Dardrek is only three days away. They are taking down the system world by world, general.’
‘And leaving us until the last. Well, there’s honour in that I suppose. We have a timetable now, Ismail. We must keep to it.’
Three days. Dietrich shook his head. He had counted on more. The outer planets had fallen far too quickly.
‘Let’s walk outside. It’s too damned warm in here, and I’m sick of breathing other men’s air.’