‘A threat?’
‘In the opinion of the Inquisition, yes.’
‘A xenos threat?’
She nodded.
‘They’re called… Chromes, aren’t they?’ asked Vangorich. ‘I did see the briefing paper.’
‘The Imperial Fists have undertaken the mission to Ardamantua to suppress a xenoform outbreak. The xenoforms are known as Chromes.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘What am I missing?’ he asked.
‘You tell me.’
Vangorich shrugged. ‘I don’t know. As I understand it, these Chromes are like vermin. Nothing out of the ordinary. They have to be dealt with. I gather their numbers are greater than usual. The Fists have mobilised in prodigious numbers, almost full force. I understood that was a political gesture, to show them being useful in peacetime.’
He hesitated.
‘Wienand, if it’s a threat that seriously jeopardises an almost full-strength Chapter, you’re starting to worry me.’
She cleared her throat.
‘No, the politics should worry you,’ she said.
‘Go on.’
‘Mirhen’s taken pretty much his entire Chapter to Ardamantua to deal with the xenos threat. He’s the only one taking it seriously.’
‘And why is he taking it seriously? Who alerted him to it?’
‘We did,’ she said.
‘Of course you did.’
‘The Fists are more than capable of dealing with the Chrome problem,’ Wienand said. ‘The point is, they shouldn’t have to. The Imperium should be meeting the challenge. Ardamantua should have been a joint undertaking between the Astra Militarum and the Navy, with a backbone of Fists as its cutting edge. Deploying the whole Chapter was ungainly and clumsy.’
‘Heth should—’
‘Heth can’t commit Guard forces without the cooperation of the Navy, and Lansung is more interested in the glory wars against the pathetic greenskins on the frontier. That’s where he’s sending his fleets. He’s fighting border wars and claiming territory practically in his own name. And with Udo backing him, he’s pretty much got a free hand to do that.’
‘Like too many seats on the council, Lansung places his own interests above those of the Imperium,’ said Vangorich.
She nodded again.
‘Ardamantua is just six warp-weeks from Solar Approach. It’s not a frontier war. It’s on our doorstep.’
‘And?’
‘We’ve been intercepting comm-traffic between the undertaking fleet and the Chapter House. In the last ten hours, relative, problems have begun to arise. We anticipate that Mirhen will be forced to request support and reinforcement inside a week.’
‘Against a xenos threat? Against… vermin?’
She held up a hand.
‘He will need it. And Lansung won’t give it. We must make sure we apply pressure today.’
‘Pressure?’
Wienand’s soft smile tightened.
‘Mirhen may have underestimated the nature of the xenos threat.’
‘Since when did the Imperial Fists underestimate anything?’ asked Vangorich.
‘Since, I think, they were forced to act without the combined support of the Senatorum,’ she replied. ‘I believe — that is to say that the strategic planners at the Inquisition, and my immediate superiors, believe — that the Imperial Fists will require direct fleet support within the next three months in order to complete the undertaking.’
‘Or?’
‘Or the xenos threat could actually threaten the Terran Core.’
Vangorich thought about that.
‘There hasn’t been a threat inside the Core for… centuries,’ he said lightly, much more lightly than he was feeling. ‘Xenos or otherwise. It’s unthinkable.’
‘Politics could make it happen. Power play.’
He considered her carefully.
‘These… Chrome things? Really? That dangerous?’
‘We believe there is a palpable and credible xenos threat. We brought it to the attention of Udo, Lansung, Kubik and Mirhen as a Critical Situation Packet. Only Mirhen agreed on its credibility.’
‘What aren’t you telling me, Wienand?’
‘Nothing, Drakan. Nothing at all.’
She fixed him with eyes as chilly as starlight.
‘It’s the principle of this matter. Personal ambition is allowing the Senatorum to become weak and inefficient. This is a matter we have discussed before. Now it threatens to become more than a theoretical annoyance. I will not stand by and see a core world burned or overrun just to demonstrate the fatal inadequacies of the Senatorum.’
‘What are you proposing?’ he asked.
‘We bring the issue into special business. Lansung, Mesring and Udo are too strong, and too many look to them, even if we swing Heth with us. Zeck too, perhaps, because the reputation of the Adeptus Astartes is at stake and he holds them in especial regard. The point is, we don’t try to change the world overnight. All we want is the Senatorum to recognise the problem, and get Heth to propose a fifty-regiment reinforcement expedition to back up the undertaking. We basically shame Lansung into approving fleet support. The Lord High Admiral does not want to go down on the parliamentary record as the man who refused support and left the core worlds wide open.’
‘Can he commit what we need? If we embarrass the man, we could corner him.’
‘I’ve reviewed it,’ she replied, ‘carefully. There are three Segmentum quarter-fleets he could mobilise easily enough, or two vanguard attack squadrons standing off Mars. He has the resources. Thank Throne, he hasn’t sent them all to the frontier.’
Vangorich sat back and watched the fish dart about.
‘Let’s not make it a hard vote,’ he said.
‘How so?’
‘Let’s not push him or humiliate him into compliance. Let’s make the case and give Lansung the opportunity to look magnanimous.’
‘You let him be the hero of the hour?’
‘Does that matter if the Terran Core is protected? Let’s give him the opportunity to look good in the eyes of the Senatorum and the populace. Let him take it as a win. Wienand, you get much more out of people if you let them feel good about doing what you want them to do.’
She laughed.
‘And if he does not?’
‘Then we apply pressure. Then we threaten him with shame. You have my vote. I have a little sway with Zeck, and I believe I can call in a favour owed by Gibran if necessary.’
‘Good,’ she said.
‘Good,’ he replied, smiling. ‘I like our little talks.’
She rose to her feet and handed him her empty glass.
‘This xenos threat, Wienand,’ he asked. ‘Really, what aren’t you telling me?’
‘I’m telling you everything,’ she said.
‘I see.’ He shrugged. ‘When will you allow me to know your forename, Wienand?’
‘My dear Drakan, what makes you think you even know my surname? Killing is your business, sir. Secrets are ours.’
Ten
The warrior-form came at Laurentis, jaws open, ropes of saliva stretched out between the points of laterally extended biting parts.
A force knocked it aside. The creature was smashed to the magos biologis’ right, splashing into the muddy slime that drooled along the tunnel floor. The impact that felled it was like the concussion of a demolition tool-bit working rockcrete.
The huge beast couldn’t get up. Something had it pinned. A humanoid form in yellow: an Imperial Fist.
A captain. Laurentis could see the rank marks, despite the wash of gore and mud plastering the Space Marine’s armour.
Slaughter. It was Slaughter.
Slaughter had brought the Chrome down, floored it and pinned it by the throat with his left fist. The Space Marine’s right fist was a piston, ramming a huge combat knife into the Chrome’s distended belly over and over again. Something burst. Brown liquid sprayed out across the tunnel. Laurentis recoiled from the vented reek of formic acid and rancid milk.
The warrior-form went slack. Slaughter got off it, but his combat knife was wedged between the integuments of its armour. A second large xenos thundered down the tunnel on the heels of the first, trailing the semi-articulated pieces of a driving servitor from one of its limbs.