In the last undulant slopes of the Owsen Hills, Lord Winterbourne watched through the vision blocks as the line of Hammerheads and Devilfish pulled back behind the ridge above his forces. The ferocity of the fighting had raged undimmed through the hills for days, and now, with Winterbourne on the verge of ordering a full retreat to Brandon Gate, the tau had ceased their assault.
'What the hell?' he muttered as the last of the tau spearhead vanished from the threat board.
'Sir!' cried Jenko. 'Vox-net has just cleared. I've got the captains of every Command on the horn trying to get hold of you! Every frequency that was jammed has just come back online!'
Winterbourne wiped a hand across his forehead, hardly daring to believe that the fighting might be over or that Uriel's plan could have succeeded.
'Any hostile contacts?' he asked. 'This could be a ploy.'
'None, sir,' confirmed Jenko, his voice rising with excitement. 'All tau forces are withdrawing further into the hills. They're going home! We saw the bastards off!'
Determined to see for himself, Winterbourne hit the hatch release and spun the locking wheel, opening Father Time's turret. He pushed his body upright, standing on his commander's chair as he looked along the line of dug-in tanks and fighting men of Lavrentia.
His fellow tank commanders had popped their hatches, and were watching in disbelief at the empty, shell-cratered wasteland ahead of them. Smoke from burning Leman Russ tanks and Chimeras drifted across the battlefield, and Winterbourne smelled the reek of scorched metal. Guardsmen in their foxholes were looking over to him to confirm what they were all hoping, that the fighting was over.
Captain Mederic of the Hounds, Father Time's guardian angel since the attack of the kroot, slung his rifle and said, 'So that's it then?'
Winterbourne was at a loss. 'So it would appear, Mederic.'
Mederic nodded. 'Good. Maybe I can get some sleep now.'
As Winterbourne watched the man turn from the hills, he felt incredibly proud of what his soldiers had achieved. They had fought courageously, and had done everything he had asked of them. Once more, the honour of the regiment had been tested, and, once more, the men and women of Lavrentia had risen to the challenge.
To think that he had been about to order the retreat…
'Contact all Commands,' said Winterbourne. 'Tell them that the war is over.'
AFTERMATH
Within ten hours of the truce being brokered between tau and Imperial forces, an armada of Mantas was rising into the air above Praxedes. Cheering Lavrentian Guardsmen watched them go, and Pavonis heaved a sigh of relief at its reprieve from invasion. Under the watchful gaze of the Vae Victus, the Mantas were recovered by their fleet, which turned and departed for the Tau Empire.
The aftermath of any fighting is always costly, and, though the tau had been defeated, the price of victory had been high. Thousands were dead, and many thousands more would forever bear the horror of their wounds. Scars, both mental and physical, would be borne by every man and woman who had resisted the alien invaders.
Much of Pavonis was in ruins, and yet again the loyalty of its leader had been found wanting. No longer could the people of Pavonis be trusted to guide their destiny, and though the yoke of alien overlords would not descend, the full might of the Imperium was sure to take Pavonis in an unshakeable iron grip.
In years to come, many would believe that the wrong army had won.
Uriel watched as the lifter servitors collapsed the last of the structures that had made up Fortress Idaeus, and loaded them into steel-skinned containers on the backs of heavy flatbed crawlers. Three Thunderhawk transporters sat on the wasteland of Belahon Park on the edge of the stagnant lake, ready to clamp the containers to their bellies and carry them to the hold of the Vae Victus. Warships from nearby systems, and a rapid strike cruiser from Macragge, had translated from the warp at the system jump point an hour ago, and were even now drawing near. Their might was no longer needed, but the threat of their arrival had won the day for the Imperial forces.
The Ultramarines presence on Pavonis was almost at an end, and, as the last of the containers was sealed, the time had come to return to Macragge.
The honoured dead and wounded were already ensconced within the Apothecarion at the Vae Victus, including the terribly wounded Techmarine Harkus, whose tenacity had kept him alive throughout the fighting.
Seventy-one members of the 4th Company, all those fit for duty, stood in ordered ranks before their captain and their Chaplain. Ancient Peleus stood at the centre of the warriors, the standard of the 4th Company flapping in a stiff wind blowing in from the south. Just beyond the Ultramarines, a deputation from the senior commanders of Pavonis waited a respectful distance from the Astartes ritual of closure.
Ancient Peleus lowered the standard towards Uriel, and he dropped to one knee before it. The fabric of the standard was blackened and tattered around its edges from the fighting at Praxedes, though Uriel would swear it was nowhere near as damaged as it had been when he had last seen it.
He took the heavy cloth in his hands, and touched it to his forehead before rising to his feet. Chaplain Clausel also knelt and touched the standard to his forehead before taking up position beside him once more.
Ancient Peleus lifted the standard, and reverently rolled the fabric around the banner pole before securing it with a soft rope of blue and gold velvet.
With the lowering of the banner, the Ultramarines were no longer on a war footing, and the sergeants turned and marched their squads away to their transports.
Chaplain Clausel said, 'It is done,' and Uriel felt a curious blend of sadness and relief wash over him.
'Yes,' agreed Uriel, 'although I cannot help but feel that we leave with a job half-done.'
'What do you mean?' asked Clausel.
'We drove the tau from Pavonis, but I fear we will have to fight those same warriors again.'
'If the Emperor wills it.'
Uriel nodded, knowing that there was no more to be said. As he made to follow his men to their transports, Clausel said, 'I meant what I said before we launched the drop assault. I truly believe you have paid the price for your transgressions against the Codex Astartes.'
The Chaplain paused, and Uriel could see that the skull-faced warrior was struggling for words, something he had never expected to see.
'It seemed impossible that a man who had abandoned the teachings of the primarch could ever find his way again, but you have proved me wrong,' said Clausel.
'Thank you, Chaplain.'
'I shall be sure to tell the Chapter Master upon our return home,' said Clausel, 'and any who doubt your loyalty or fidelity to the Ultramarines shall answer to me.'
Clausel hammered his fist against his breastplate, and bowed to Uriel before turning and following the rest of the Ultramarines.
Uriel watched him go, feeling a wholeness in his heart that came from knowing that he was truly home. Though he had felt welcome upon his return to the Fortress of Hera, only now did he fell fully accepted once more.
He heard footsteps approaching, and smiled at the sight of Lord Winterbourne and Colonel Loic. Both men wore their finest dress uniforms, a vivid panoply of gold and green, cream and bronze. The three-legged vorehound padded alongside the Lavrentian colonel, and Uriel saw a glittering medal hanging from its collar.
Winterbourne saw his glance and said, 'Old Fynlae deserved a medal as much as anyone. Saved my life back in Deep Canyon Six, after all.'
'I could not agree more,' said Uriel, shaking hands with Winterbourne. 'He is a credit to your regiment.'