‘Brother Sar Af, White Scars.’
‘Who made these tactical assessments?’ asked the White Scar, still reading the hololith display.
‘The basics were drafted by Strategic Operations,’ replied Gaunt, ‘but the better parts were modifications made by my men. The regimental scouts, in particular.’
‘Is it the usual nonsense?’ asked the Iron Snake.
Sar Af, the White Scar, ejected the wafer and handed it back to Gaunt.
‘It’s not actually useless,’ he said. ‘I’ve made some initial adjustments. There will be more notes.’
‘I look forward to discussing them,’ said Gaunt.
‘There won’t be a discussion,’ said Sar Af. ‘There will simply be notes.’
‘Then I look forward to adjusting them,’ said Gaunt.
‘You can’t do this without us,’ said Sar Af, a shadow passing across his face. ‘In truth, few can see why this would even be attempted. The odds are long, the risks unrewarding, the objective insubstantial. It’s a tiny and extravagant sideshow, and Brother Eadwine’s Chapter Master is clearly growing sentimental in his dotage to even humour you over this.’
‘If that were true,’ said Gaunt, ‘you wouldn’t even be here.’
‘They’re so…’ Ludd whispered. ‘They’re hostile. Like we’re not on the same side.’
‘We’re on the same side,’ Hark muttered.
‘But–’
‘The Adeptus Astartes Space Marines operate on a different level to us, boy,’ said Mercure quietly. ‘We fight the same war, wage the same crusade, but their operational context is far removed. They attempt what we cannot even consider. They undertake what unmodified humans cannot. We are brothers in arms, but our paths and concerns seldom overlap. It’s simply the Imperial way of war.’
‘So if they’re here…’ Ludd began.
‘If the angels of death have come,’ hissed Cybon, ‘because they deem this operation worthy of their attention, it means Salvation’s Reach is going to be an unimaginably bloody hell.’
FOUR
Bonding
Lamps had been lit throughout the complex of the Anzimar Barracks, partly to add to the festival nature of the Makeshift Revels, mostly to combat the gloom of the afternoon smog. It was especially oppressive that day, and would not clear before nightfall. Already, the camp and landing fields felt as though they were cast in an evening shade.
Gaunt returned across the outer quadrangle with Hark, Ludd, Edur and Fazekiel. They could hear exuberant music playing from the halls, the clatter of dishes and glasses from the refectory. The influx reception was underway.
‘At least we’re dressed for it,’ said Hark.
‘I thought the lord militant was going to become apoplectic,’ said Ludd, who was still processing the meeting they were coming from.
‘Lords militant don’t like to be slighted, Ludd,’ said Hark. ‘Not in favour of mere colonels. Not even for that rare beast the colonel-commissar.’
‘Cybon understood the game,’ replied Gaunt. ‘He was playing a part too. He knew they would want to make the bond personally, with me. But the Chapter Master wouldn’t have looked at my petition if it hadn’t come with the explicit backing of Crusade high echelon and a lord militant or two. Cybon was an enabler. He had to be present for form’s sake, even if it was just so they could belittle him.’
‘Are they ever polite?’ asked Ludd.
‘They’re Space Marines,’ said Gaunt.
‘But to be so disrespectful to a lord militant–’
‘They’re powerful beings,’ said Gaunt. ‘They like to remind people where that power lies.’
‘So they’re never cordial or–’
‘I don’t know them, Ludd,’ said Gaunt. He stopped sharply and turned to look at the junior. The others came to a halt around them, in the middle of the quad square. ‘I’ve made no particular study of their etiquette.’
‘No one knows them,’ said Edur quietly.
‘They know you, sir,’ said Ludd to Gaunt. ‘That’s what that was about. You’re calling in some kind of favour.’
Gaunt’s jaw tightened. In the gloom, his eyes seemed haunted by an uncanny light.
‘Not a favour,’ he said. ‘You don’t ask the Adeptus Astartes Space Marines for favours. It’s about compacts and alliances. It’s about doing enough to simply get noticed, so that when you ask them for something, they care who you are.’
‘You realise we all look alike to them, don’t you?’ said Hark.
Ludd laughed, and then realised it wasn’t supposed to be a joke.
‘What did you do?’ he asked.
‘What?’ asked Gaunt, turning to start walking again.
‘What did you do to get noticed?’
‘Just enough,’ said Gaunt and walked away.
‘Balhaut,’ said Fazekiel. The others looked at her. ‘The Tower of the Plutocrat. The Oligarchy Gate. The infamous Ninth Day,’ she said. ‘Gaunt’s Hyrkans stood alongside the Silver Guard at the height of the battle. He certainly would have had dealings with them, possibly with Veegum himself. His achievements would have brought him to their attention. Perhaps even won their respect. Certainly, made enough of a mark so that years later, when he asked them for help, they would bother considering it.’
She looked at Ludd. She was only a few years his senior, but there seemed a gulf of maturity between them.
‘It’s all in his case file,’ she said. ‘Standard biographic data. There’s more detail, some of it classified, but not hard for someone with Commissariat clearance to get if they’re prepared to dig.’
‘You’ve made a study of him?’ asked Ludd.
‘You seem surprised,’ said Fazekiel. ‘I am going to serve under him. I want to know about him so I know what to expect and how best to perform my duty. Any commissar would do the same before attachment to a new command. The surprise, really, would be that you haven’t.’
‘I don’t know why I would,’ said Ludd, blushing slightly.
‘So you don’t ask stupid questions at the wrong moment?’ Fazekiel suggested.
‘I think Nahum is probably a more intuitive servant of the Throne than you, Luna,’ said Edur gently.
‘It’s not a matter of intuition,’ she replied. ‘It’s not a privacy issue, either. It is in no way invasive to study and understand the career record of an officer you’re serving. It improves your performance. It’s common sense.’
A despatch officer ran up, saluted, and handed Hark a message wafer. Hark acknowledged receipt with a press of his biocoded signet ring. He read the wafer, and then put it in his pocket.
‘We should get to work,’ he said. ‘There are newcomers to accommodate, and final arrangements to be made. Here’s something for you to ponder, Ludd. Fazekiel has accounted for the Silver Guard’s presence. But the other two. An Iron Snake and a White Scar. Why three Chapters?’
‘I’ll find out,’ said Ludd. ‘Meanwhile, when do the rest arrive?’
‘The rest of what?’
‘The Space Marines?’
Hark smiled. ‘We get three Space Marines, Ludd. Just three. They are rare and they are precious. Long gone are the ages when they marched across the stars in their hundreds or thousands. We’re lucky to have three.’
‘Under most circumstances,’ said Edur, ‘three is more than enough.’
‘Let’s hope this is one of those circumstances,’ replied Hark.
‘How will you find out, Ludd?’ Fazekiel asked.
‘I’ll ask them,’ Ludd replied.
‘Why is that funny?’ he added.
Crowds had gathered around the infirmary, forming queues. Most of the regimental community wanted to get out and enjoy the last few hours of the Revels or, if they were permitted, join the influx reception in the barracks hall. They could hear the band music all the way from the infirmary. But there were certificates to get, and that meant getting your shots.