‘You will be allowed to listen, I am sure. Private but for the ears of the Adeptus Astartes!’ said Gibran.
‘Not at all, my lord. Only the Lord Guilliman will remain, I assure you, High Lords. Now,’ said Berengard, holding up his hand to direct them. ‘Please proceed within. The Chapter Master is waiting.’
For the first time, Vangorich saw the mortal servants of the Imperial Fists upon Phalanx. Dozens of them issued from hidden servants’ doors, garbed in yellow, shaven-headed and bearing a tattooed fist on their left cheeks. Fifteen of them were armed and armoured in dark yellow carapace. Warrior serfs.
‘Please, this way,’ said the serfs’ spokesman. A large door was opened down the hall. Tantalising smells wafted out. The High Lords stood firm, however, looking at each other uneasily.
‘For the love of Terra, are we going to stand here all day?’ growled Zeck.
‘I shall dismiss my men. I have nothing to fear from the keepers of Terra’s walls,’ said Verreault eventually.
‘I too,’ said Lansung. The Lord Commander Militant and the Lord High Admiral purposefully did not look at Vangorich.
‘Very well then!’ said Ekharth shrilly. ‘I shall dismiss my servants.’
There was some tension from those others attending upon the High Lords, and they left their lords unwillingly. Wienand dismissed her entourage with a curt nod. Raznick left with several backward glances, Rendenstein with not a one. The soldiers and Naval armsmen saluted and crisply manoeuvred. If only the High Lords would behave so well, thought Vangorich. There was more muffled debate and pointed looks.
‘We are hardly covering ourselves with glory here,’ Wienand whispered to him.
‘All hail the mighty High Lords of Terra,’ Vangorich murmured back.
Finally, the High Lords arranged themselves into a group that suited everyone and walked through the door. Vangorich went at the back, a wolf shepherding sheep. He gave Berengard a broad smile as he passed. The First Captain frowned back. He knew a threat when he saw one.
The doors swung closed. The Senatorum Imperialis was in session.
Thane awaited them in a circular chamber walled for much of its circumference with sweeping, plain glass. There was a single mullion in the centre, a statue of a Space Marine, his hands clasped around his sword. The art required to make such broad expanses of glassteel sufficiently strong to withstand the void, let alone battle, was great indeed. In the elegant simplicity of it, Vangorich saw the hand of Rogal Dorn himself. The chamber was at the edge of a cliff and the carved expanses of stone and metals receded into the distance on either side. Spires and weapons batteries cluttered the view forward.
In contrast to many of the chambers they had seen in Phalanx, this was neither large nor ornate. A fine-grained black stone made up the floors, ceiling and those parts of the walls not fashioned from glass. A large, circular table made of the same stone filled half the internal space. Lumens set into the wall and the centre of the ceiling struck angular reflections from the stone’s finish. Twelve chairs sized for unaltered human beings were set at the table, these made of black wood. A single chair made for a Space Marine brought the number up to thirteen. Thane occupied it. He was fully armoured, his helmet and boltgun resting on the table in front of him. There was no rawer statement of power.
‘Lords. Welcome to Phalanx. Please, sit.’ He held out his hand to indicate the chairs.
The High Lords took their seats, approximating their positions back on Terra. Verreault and Lansung sat together, Verreault hesitating before taking a place by the Lord Guilliman. Zeck was an uneasy satellite to their alliance, drawn in by their adepta’s collective employment of force more than personal common cause. Ekharth sought reinforcement to his words through proximity to Zeck. Tull sat next to Gibran for their mutual interest in the void. Vangorich, who sat where he pleased outside the Great Chamber, upset Sark and Anwar by seating himself between them and Zeck. Wienand took a seat by Anwar. Veritus sat between her and Thane, even his power-armoured body made small by the presence of the transhuman.
‘I trust you will forgive me for the extra chair, but I thought it impolite to make Veritus stand again,’ said Thane.
No one answered.
‘We are meeting here so that you are under no illusion that what I dictate shall be made law.’
‘My lord…’ began Anwar.
‘You will wait, Lord Astropath. I thought Koorland rash to enter the high politics of Terra. I have been convinced otherwise. Let me make myself clear, it is your self-interest that made this disaster possible.’
‘How dare you, Chapter Master. What do you know of government? You are a warrior,’ said Verreault.
‘Now I am a High Lord. Explain to me, as a man new to politics, exactly where were the armies of the Imperium when the orks devastated worlds, Verreault?’
‘Heth’s responsibility!’ said Verreault.
‘And yours, once he was killed. His failures were compounded by yours. At least Heth died honourably. More than can be said for you, Lansung. You showed courage. You fought, but of all of the Lords here, you bear the most culpability. Your fleets should have brought word of the gathering of the orks. They should have acted in concert. Instead, you spent your years politicking to replace Udin Macht Udo. The debacle at Port Sanctus is but the least of your errors. You, my lord, were chasing glory at the expense of our species.’
‘How dare you impugn my honour?’ exclaimed Lansung.
‘And how dare you suggest you have any!’ shouted Thane. The High Lords fell quiet. ‘The only sense you showed was to hold back your flagship from the disastrous Proletarian Crusade. You are a fine naval tactician, Lansung, and a good strategist. Both abilities deserted you when you put yourself first. You are many things, but a good politician is not one of them.’
As much as Vangorich had enjoyed watching Lansung squirm in the past, he took little pleasure in it then. Lansung had lost weight. His complexion had once been ruddy, now he was grey, his bellicosity bled out of him along with his fat. He was a beaten man. Surely Thane could see that he had lost his confidence and that he should be replaced. Such a man was not suitable to lead the navies of the Imperium. Lansung would become hesitant when he should be bold, and rash when he should be cautious. Every successful large-scale engagement would only be another step towards catastrophe.
Thane turned his attention upon Tull next. ‘And that crusade… A fine sentiment, the desire to fight no matter the odds. But the odds would have been so much better, had any of you had the sense to consolidate the Imperium’s core worlds and withdraw a reasonable force to Terra to defend it. A billion armed men could have been within the Sol System in days. That was not the action taken. Instead, what? Scribes. Functionaries. Menials. An army of innocents sent to the slaughter. The level of ineptitude on display here defies all logic.’
‘The moon was over the Palace, it could have struck at any moment. We had no choice,’ said Tull. She spoke quietly; her heart wasn’t in her objection.
‘You would have, had Lansung here not squandered half the Imperium’s warfleets in pointless tit-for-tat actions. Koorland was right to blockade the moon. He acted well, you acted without thought. Our entire species could have been enslaved. “As you excel in war, so shall you excel in peace,” Roboute Guilliman, the first to hold this office, said of we Adeptus Astartes. For most of my life I have thought him wrong. There is no peace. There is only war. I thought there was no need for Space Marines to involve themselves in the ruling of the Imperium. I was wrong. With power left in the hands of men and women such as you, disaster will befall us all.’
The High Lords looked aghast.
Lansung swallowed hard. ‘What are you proposing?’ he said. ‘A coup?’