‘Where are You? Why don’t You help me?’ he whispered. ‘Have I not served You faithfully? Put forward the interests of Your church where I could? So if I took a little pleasure for myself, it is nothing to the work I have done for You!’ He got onto his knees and lifted a hand, clawed as if it gripped his heart and he would offer it to his god. ‘Help me!’
The Emperor, His face so placid and commanding, looked everywhere but at Mesring. He gazed upon scenes from the past so distant no one could name them any more, a dead god unaware of His own irrelevance, dwelling on glories that would never be seen again.
A sharp pain stabbed through Mesring’s head. ‘You are weak! Self-absorbed! You denied Your godhood to the people who loved You, You used us, You use us still!’ His eyes strayed eastward, and he cringed in the direction of the great dome of the Throne Room. When no reprisal came he huffed in contempt. ‘But the orks, the orks!’ He lifted a finger skyward. ‘They are above Your Palace, and You do nothing! Why do You not smite them from the sky?’
A jangle of phantom noise shattered his thoughts. He blinked at the swaying images crowding his thoughts, his fellows gathered around his bed, jeering at him. The antidote had yet to complete its work.
‘It is because the Beast is stronger than You!’ he shouted.
Mesring got to his feet, and casting accusing looks over his shoulder, he went to the window of his chamber, flinging shutters wide that had remained closed for years. Acrid air flooded in. The Imperial Palace was a sea of lights shoaled by spires of metal and stone. Two moons shone down on it. Full of fear, he lifted his eyes heavenward. The ork moon’s brutal face stared down at him. Mesring met its gaze. The attack moon was surrounded by the pinprick lights of the Space Marine fleet. Surrounded by the mightiest warriors in the Imperium, and still it shone! He feared its great strength.
Strength. Undeniable, present, immanent, so unlike his deaf god.
There was something worthy of his respect.
Koorland waited to meet Thane alone in a minor shuttle bay of the Abhorrence. He stayed out of sight, watching Thane’s bondsmen go over their small craft. Vapour curled from its engines as the pilot put them through their pre-flight warm-up, while two others went over it carefully, checking its surface and various devices inside and out. There were so many tasks the servants of a Chapter performed. They were invisible most of the time, but without them the Space Marines would not be able to function. If he were truly the Master of a Chapter, he would have to acquaint himself with their activities to a level he had never considered before.
The lord of the Fists Exemplar entered the hangar flanked by two of his honour guard. They reacted quickly when Koorland stepped out of the shadows, training their boltguns upon him.
‘Koorland?’ said Thane. ‘What are you doing skulking about down here?’
‘I wished to speak with you before you departed. Privately.’
Thane looked over his shoulder at his men and nodded to them. They lowered their weapons and went into the waiting vessel.
‘What do you need to say to me that could not be said in front of the others?’ said Thane.
‘Nothing of great import,’ said Koorland. ‘I wanted to wish you well. You and I are in a similar position, both of us elevated to Chapter Mastery by the deaths of others.’
‘Your tragedy is greater than mine, brother,’ said Thane. ‘My Chapter survives.’
‘As does mine, so long as I live. I must use however much time is left to me well.’
‘A noble aim, brother,’ said Thane.
‘I wanted to impress upon you a need for great care. Not against the orks, but against hubris. Issachar is agitating that we should go further. The Last Wall has shown the efficacy of a large force of Space Marines gathered together. He has not done so yet, but it will not be long before he openly advocates the reformation of the Legion. I know you are sympathetic to his opinion. You must reconsider.’
‘I see it coming,’ Thane agreed. ‘Our own gene-father was against the division originally. He relented only to prevent further civil strife in the Imperium.’ He paused. ‘What if Lord Dorn were right all along? Perhaps Lord Guilliman was the one who was wrong. What if he divided the Legions in a panic, and it has been to the detriment of the Imperium ever since?’
‘A primarch does not panic.’
‘How can you be sure?’ said Thane. ‘They are all gone.’
‘We cannot countenance such a move,’ said Koorland.
‘Nevertheless, Issachar makes a compelling case,’ said Thane. ‘With our resources pooled, we can expand our numbers, bring the old Seventh to life in full, not this shadow. There are thousands of us here, but we are less than three hundredths of the full might of Dorn’s original Legion. Imagine what we could accomplish with ten thousand, fifty thousand, even a hundred thousand warriors? This entire war with the orks would never have arisen in the first place, but been crushed before it even began.’
‘That is exactly why Roboute Guilliman split the Legions. His foresight was great. Such power in the hands of one man, no matter how well intentioned, is dangerous. Our actions would undoubtedly start purely, but how many wrong decisions would it take for our successors to go astray, not realising their mistakes until it is too late and the Imperium once more burns in the fire of schism? The primarchs themselves did not manage to avoid that path. We will become tyrants, no matter our desire. The High Lords were put in place by the Emperor. We have no right to defy His wishes.’
‘That is the propaganda of the High Lords.’
‘It is the truth,’ said Koorland.
Thane exhaled heavily. ‘Then something must be done to return them to their original purpose. They are ineffective, divided. Their intrigues have brought the Imperium to its knees.’
‘Listen to the discussions between we Chapter Masters, who are brothers. Are we any different? We work in concert now, but already disagreement is on the horizon. I agree, something needs to be done. I will not bow to Udo’s demands and split the fleet before this crisis is resolved, but once it is, we must set the Senatorum in order, and go our separate ways.’
Thane thought a moment. ‘Maybe you are right. Power is seductive.’
‘Before that comes to pass, we have much to do. Udo presents us with a problem. Your departure will allay his fears for a while, but we must be prepared for strong resistance when you return. An increase in our numbers will anger him.’
‘I do not envy you, re-entering that snake pit.’
‘I am learning. Gather our brothers. I will deal with the High Lords. Find the Soul Drinkers, Brother Thane. Take our tidings to every Chapter that will listen, but when you return, do so in good conscience,’ said Koorland. ‘The Emperor set us above men, but He never intended us to rule over them. The moment we forget that, the Imperium is doomed.’
Thane and Koorland clasped arms, true brothers in every sense.
‘I will do as you suggest, Slaughter,’ Thane said, using Koorland’s wall-name. ‘You have proven yourself worthy of your office. There is wisdom in you. I will think on you often, brother, and hope it is not tested too sorely.’
Thane went to his shuttle. Koorland watched as the craft’s engines built to a throaty roar and it took off on four columns of fire. Angling its propulsion units backward, the shuttle sailed out of the hangar, through the integrity field, and into space.
Bells pinged. Servitors came out of their coffins to make the hangar good again, waving the nozzles of suppressant units about them in search of non-existent fires. Their limited awareness satisfied, they clomped back to their alcoves, leaving two others to buff the scorch marks from the decking. There was none of the bustle of the embarkation decks and major docks in the bay. Surrounded by the living corpses of the servitors, to Koorland it felt like a morgue.