‘I must defer to your superior wisdom in this instance, admiral.’ Vangorich took a petty but encouraging satisfaction from the tic of annoyance in Lansung’s eye whenever the Grand Master did not use his full title. No matter what happened next, Vangorich could still get inside Lansung’s head when he needed to. ‘Like the others, I am on tenterhooks. Please, furnish us with the details of your plans so that we might debate and approve them.’
‘When the latest intelligence has been compiled, I shall lay before this council every facet of the coming strategy.’ This was pure dissembling and Vangorich knew that he had lost this round. ‘Until such a time, I would think it wise that the council airs its desires and aims for the coming offensive, so that the voice of all shall be heard and taken into account.’
This was nothing short of open invitation for the assembled senators to bring out every time-worn axe to grind again, to air every slight and disagreement brought forth in previous gatherings.
Vangorich stifled a sigh of boredom. This was going to be a long council. He would be sure to make Wienand regret her decision to be absent.
Three
Aboard the Adeptus Mechanicus ship there was stalemate.
‘Out of the question, Captain Koorland,’ said Magos Biologis Eldon Urquidex. The tech-priest’s telescopic eyes lengthened an inch, the closest equivalent to a glare that the man could muster. Secondary tool appendages waved disapprovingly around his midriff. ‘In the absence of data the most obvious course of action is your transit to Terra, or perhaps Mars. You are, in no vacillating terms, the last of your Chapter. Not only is your physical personage highly valued, both for physiological investigation and purposes of wider military morale, but your first-hand experiences of this latest orkoid threat are invaluable. There is, to be clear, nobody else like you in the galaxy at this moment in time. To even consider returning you to a position of active combat duty would be reprehensible.’
Koorland towered over the tech-priest, even without his armour, and was quite capable of ripping apart his heavily augmented and cybertised adversary, but Urquidex stared up at the gigantic warrior without any sign of fear. Small digital tools flickered in and out of the tech-priest’s fingertips as Urquidex interlaced his hands across his barrel chest.
Captain Koorland turned back towards the viewport. Outside was a field of stars, the very edge of the system. In a day or two they would reach the Mandeville point and be clear for translation into warp space. The Space Marine’s reflection was dark-skinned, almost blackened by the melanchromic reflex that had protected him from the radiation that had killed so many of his battle-brothers.
‘You must understand that I will not allow that to happen, magos,’ Koorland said heavily. He laid a hand against the wall, fingers splayed, as if reaching out to the dead they were leaving behind. ‘I am a Space Marine. It is my duty to fight.’
‘It is your duty to serve the Emperor, second captain, and you can best do your duty by returning to the Sol System with us to divulge all intelligence you have gathered on the nature of this menace. In the longer term that will be of far greater benefit to the Imperium you are sworn to protect.’
‘Logically, perhaps.’ Koorland swung around to confront the tech-priest. ‘I would not expect you to understand the creed of the warrior-born, the oath of the Wall.’
‘If such matters are illogical, as you say, then your assumption is correct, second captain.’ Urquidex slumped slightly, his mechanical appendages drooping a little. A look approximating pity crossed what remained of his face, as though some more primitive, biological part of the man-machine was now in control. ‘Do not think me totally impervious to your predicament. Thousands of the Machine-God’s servants have perished here, and millions more across many star systems. They gave their lives to improve our chances of victory at some future point. Unless we are to throw untold billions of lives at this problem and hope to defeat the orks’ raw aggression with untamed barbarity of our own, we must learn to fight more intelligently. At the moment we are outmatched on both accounts.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Koorland crossed the small cell-like chamber and sat on the fold-down cot along one wall. It sagged under his weight, the reinforced braces creaking. ‘Let me tell you, my brothers and I fought with courage, honour and discipline. There was nothing we could do to match the power of the attack moon.’
‘My point exactly, captain.’ Urquidex paused as the door hissed open.
Standing on the threshold was a mostly mechanical apparition, which Koorland at first took to be a servitor.
‘Good evening, Captain Koorland,’ said the thing, in a voice that had the thrum of artificial modulation but was unmistakably that of Phaeton Laurentis.
‘Emperor’s Throne!’ swore Koorland, standing up. ‘What happened to you?’
The tech-priest looked nothing like he had the first time Koorland had met him. He now stepped through the doorway on a tripod of legs, his mechanical lower torso clanking and whirring with pistons in an effort to maintain balance. Most of Laurentis’ upper body was covered with his robes but beneath their thick layer were unnatural bulges and twists of hidden cables, jutting pipes and trembling implants. His arms were double-articulated miniature cranes, tipped with quad-digit grabbing claws that clacked open and shut as Laurentis raised a hand in greeting. Nothing remained of his face except for a small patch of flesh and one eye, which had been relocated to a central position. The rest was heavily riveted metal plates, speaker grilles and sensor-cluster lenses and spines.
‘My physique has undergone a number of repairs and upgrades. No cause for alarm.’
‘When I saw most of you splayed out on that examination gurney I thought they would put you back together the way you had been.’
‘There were some very inefficient systems in that body,’ said Urquidex before Laurentis could offer an opinion either way. ‘Magos Laurentis’ newly adapted form is far better for the sort of tasks he will be performing.’
‘That sounds like a demotion,’ said Koorland, sitting down again now that his surprise had subsided. ‘Have you offended your superiors in some way, tech-priest?’
‘The offence is to the Machine-God,’ said Laurentis. ‘I perhaps spoke out of turn concerning the actions of my fellow techna-liturgia during the Ardamantua crisis. Only by thorough debriefing have I been allowed to continue in the role of magos. However, this body and these duties of which my colleague speaks are not a punishment. Most of my flesh was destroyed and many of my hard-lined systems corrupted. Fortunately my core data store remained intact.’
‘If I understand it right, I have you to thank, what little it is worth, for my life.’
‘Gratitude is not required, captain. I simply acted on a most illogical stimulus.’ The construct-man’s head rotated strangely to regard Urquidex with a cluster of red lenses. ‘I believe I have formulated a new axiom of research.’
‘Indeed?’ exclaimed the magos biologis. ‘That would be unprecedented. Are you quite sure that your faculties remained intact following your violent interaction with the orkoids?’
‘It is called a “battle”, magos. Not a “violent interaction”. I know; I was involved in it.’ Koorland could not help but feel some amusement at the irony of this statement. It was Laurentis that had once called the Chromes’ claws ‘digital blades affixed to or articulated from forelimbs’. Though his body had been rendered even more artificial and mechanical, Laurentis’ personality seemed to have lurched towards the biological.