Ghost legion, p.3
Ghost Legion, page 3
‘Security from the pirates their previous masters let plunder them. Freedom from the suffocating Imperial Creed that denies and persecutes their traditional faiths. A society where they can trade and deal with whomever they like, rather than be purged from existence for consorting with the xenos. This is how we will win – not by being the terror in the skies that plunges down to wet our blades in their blood, or the knife in the night that rips their world apart and leaves them to burn in the aftermath. Give them reason enough to do so and the souls that make up the Imperium will tear it down from within and flock to our banner, even if they never survive to see the reward they promise themselves.’
‘It is not our usual method,’ Vyrun Evale repeated, through gritted teeth.
‘Are we not the Alpha Legion?’ Solomon demanded. ‘Do we not adapt in whatever way is needed in order to prevail?’ He let his countenance cloud a little. ‘The difference, my lords, is whether you would prefer to win a battle, or a war. Treat the populace with the same respect you would the brothers of your own Legion, think of them in terms of provisioning and logistics and morale, and the war will be ours.’
‘We are warriors,’ Keros Asid reiterated. ‘Not administrators!’
‘You would be outdone by the Ultramarines?’ Solomon demanded in mock incredulity. ‘They will readily turn their hands to managing the Imperium’s archaic systems if they consider it necessary, and we are more than their equals.’
‘It’s not a matter of ability, Lord Akurra,’ Keros Asid retorted. ‘It’s a matter of pride! I am not one of your pets,’ he continued, eyeing Tulava and Kyrin. ‘I do not concern myself with the needs of mortals. I am a warlord, and I–’
‘And you will do as I tell you, or you will depart,’ Solomon interrupted him, putting a little more steel into his voice and thumping the butt of the Pale Spear on the wooden floor. ‘All voices are welcome in my Legion, Lord Asid, but not if they merely repeat themselves. You all selected me to be Harrowmaster based on my vision and my abilities, and so that is what I will pursue. By all means leave the Legion if you wish,’ he added, stepping closer, ‘and return to a nomadic existence, trying to stay one step ahead of the Imperium while you scavenge for resources from whatever poorly defended, half-forgotten outposts you can find. You can trade with the New Alliance, if you find anything that might interest us. But if you would seek instead to take what you want from us, I will have you hunted down. This is my empire, and I will protect it from any threat.’
He waited for a moment, letting his words sink in. To be a Space Marine of the Imperium was to have its leviathan war machine working for you, supplying fuel for your vehicles and ammunition for your weapons, ships in which to prosecute wars and crew to operate them. It was an oddly sheltered existence, for all that they were routinely thrown into the harshest warzones against the most dangerous enemies, because Imperial Space Marines rarely needed to do much beyond consider how best to defeat their next foe.
The same was not true for renegades. They did not have the luxury of targeting each operation with military victory as the sole consideration, because all too often they were faced with the more pressing matter of supply. Resources had to be plundered, which came with its own cost-to-benefit analysis of the defenders’ capabilities, or they had to be traded for from corrupted forge worlds or other New Mechanicum outposts, where the magi might demand the strangest of prices and the goods themselves were not always without issue. Grand plans usually became endless strings of minor raids, as a warband attempted to gain the materiel it needed for a larger operation and, inevitably, became bogged down in retaliatory attacks and replacing unforeseen losses.
The New Alliance was changing that. The forge world of Anthras was under their control, and the magi who now oversaw its manufactoria answered to Solomon. His expansion had been targeted and precise; a forge world was useless without raw materials, so the mining planets of Belezon II and IV and the Somia 7L4X asteroid colonies took care of that. People could not live – and more importantly, work – without food and water, so the agri world of Gionides and the great purifying stations of the ocean planet Tecrothea had been added to his conquests. The hive world of Droth Beta had provided recruits for the Astra Militarum in great numbers from its semi-feral underhives, and it took a laughably small change in authority for those recruits to be redirected into the ranks of the Ghost Legion’s militias, with most of the planet’s population being none the wiser about what had occurred. A mix of direct force, persuasion, manipulation, and subversion had brought half a dozen systems under his control, with elements of a dozen more feeding his empire in one way or another, wittingly or unwittingly.
It was easy for Keros Asid to pour scorn on the mindset or methodology of the New Alliance, but it would be far harder for him to leave the relative security of the Ghost Legion when, so long as he was within it, all he had to do to resupply his warriors’ magazines with bolt-shells was to say that he needed them. Even if he chose to leave, that did not mean that his warriors would follow him. Solomon had tasted the ambition of the Ghost Legion in the air – the notion that they were achieving something, that they were finally putting themselves in a position where they could deal a notable blow to their hated enemy. Hope was not just something to be offered to the enemy’s downtrodden masses. It was how he would seal the rank and file of the Ghost Legion to his vision, and break down the bonds of loyalty that still attached them to their former commanders.
Nonetheless, compromise was sometimes a required element of leadership.
‘I understand that my ways are not necessarily your ways,’ he said, looking Asid in his slightly rheumy eyes. ‘If you and your warriors cannot countenance doing as I require, then there will always be enemies whom we have no chance of converting to our cause. There is still a place in the New Alliance for those who wish only to fight… so long as they can do so in a manner that benefits us all.’
For a moment, Solomon thought that Asid, or perhaps Evale, was going to push the matter further. However, they both inclined their heads slightly, and stepped back. He knew better than to think this would be the end of the matter, but at least he knew where they stood now. In addition, although Jarvul Glaine, Roek Ghulclaw and the Alpharius had not come to his defence, neither had they joined their voices with their two comrades. Even if they had merely been biding their time, that implied they could still be swayed to his side.
Nothing was ever certain, but that was the way of the Alpha Legion. Every moment brought new challenges, but it also brought new opportunities.
-190.31.43
The governor’s palace had none of the resplendent gardens so often seen in the residences of the rich and influential on Imperial worlds where the climate and atmosphere were still hospitable to plant life. Underground, however, great caverns of natural crystal formations served that purpose, lit to their best benefit by artfully placed lumens. Solomon had seen them before in passing, but now he walked through them at the side of the governor he had installed some fourteen Sertran lunar months earlier.
‘…is proceeding very well,’ the governor was saying. She was a grey-haired woman named Dunna Tomorey, sharp-nosed and hollow-cheeked, as though her decades as a manufactorum overseer had burned all the spare flesh from her. Perhaps that was true. Still, her facilities had been the most productive according to the Imperium’s records, and therefore she was the obvious candidate for Solomon to elevate to the system’s highest position.
‘I understand that the yields in those sectors are slightly down,’ Solomon commented. Others might consider such things to be beneath the notice of a leader like him, but he knew the importance of detail. Inattention to detail meant you could not trust the structure held together by those details. In addition, demonstrating his knowledge meant that those under him knew their work was important and valued, and discouraged slackness.
‘They’re down by seven per cent, but the overall quality of those yields is up by fifteen,’ Tomorey replied levelly. She was still slightly in awe of Solomon and his warriors, and had appeared a little overwhelmed by her increased levels of responsibility, but she seemed on firmer ground with facts and figures. ‘Shorter shifts produce fewer mistakes. In terms of efficiency, it’s a net gain.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ Solomon said solemnly. ‘And what of the insurrectionists?’
Tomorey nearly missed a step at the sudden change of subject, and the lighting did nothing to hide the widening of her eyes in alarm. ‘My lord, I’m afraid I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not a military woman, and I–’
‘You are of this planet,’ Solomon said. ‘You know its people. Have there been messages we may have missed, messages in their actions that may only be apparent to Sertrans? Do you feel that the insurrectionists are Imperial holdouts, or have some other goal in mind? After all,’ he added, ‘I can imagine that having been freed from one master, some might feel that Sertra’s destiny lies in standing alone.’
‘My lord, I must beg your forgiveness – I’ve no further insight to offer you,’ Tomorey said with a low bow, touching her extended fingers to her forehead. ‘The attacks appear opportunistic, and they disrupt our work for you, but I’ve no idea what they hope to achieve overall.’
Solomon nodded. ‘Very well. Please inform us if anything occurs to you.’
‘Of course, my lord,’ Tomorey said. She extended a hand to point ahead of them at the crystal garden. ‘I believe your brother awaits you, so if you will excuse me…’
She backed off, then turned and hurried away towards the elevator that would return her to the palace. It was not just hers, of course; a gubernatorial palace was exactly the sort of Imperial excess that Solomon sought to eliminate. Tomorey still had generous living quarters – far larger than those allocated to her previous role – but much of the system’s administration work was now being done in the building, with former dining chambers and ballrooms hosting cogitator banks, scribes, and ordinates.
It was entertaining, Solomon reflected, how easily the Imperium’s machines could be turned against it. Every individual within the Administratum had been loyal to the Emperor, of course – or so they claimed – but it seemed that what they were really loyal to was information. Had Solomon arrived with fire and sword, seeking to burn down their precious archives, the menials would have taken up whatever poor weapons they could find and laid down their lives. Come in with the assurances that nothing would be destroyed and that worship of the Emperor would not be outlawed, it was just that there would be a higher tolerance of… alternative faiths, and the vast majority had somewhat uneasily elected to continue in the roles in which they had spent their lives. Those who had still decided to resist were small in number and easy to dispose of, and a few promotions had been made.
What was infuriating was how damned inefficient the whole thing was. What was even more infuriating was that despite the needless bureaucracy and rigmarole and insistence on archaic methodologies and ancient, half-working machines, it was still more efficient than much of what Solomon had worked with in his life. Worshippers of Chaos rarely paid much attention to detail – or if they did, the details were obscure and disturbing ones. It was why Solomon tried as much as possible not to have dealings with Chaos worshippers. The power of Chaos was a tool, to be used when necessary under strict controls, and to be treated with the same respect as the raging nuclear fire at the heart of a starship’s reactor. It could be a powerful ally when used with sufficient precautions, but carelessness – or over-enthusiasm – would see you consumed.
‘Kyrin?’ he called, proceeding further into the gardens. ‘Are you here?’
He was. Kyrin Gadraen stood in front of a gigantic, many-spurred crystalline outcrop, which caught the rays of light and reflected and refracted them in uncountable ways onto the whorled, ridged topography of his face. Kyrin had been badly burned when living as the fictional Tythus Yorr, supposed last survivor of the Crimson Consuls and sworn lifeward to Inquisitor Kayzen Hart. His mission had lasted years, and provided the Alpha Legion with invaluable intelligence about the actions of their enemies, but Kyrin had not come out of it well. His left knee had been rebuilt after it had been shattered by a bolt-shell – a bolt-shell fired by Solomon. Kyrin’s hypno-conditioning had been necessary to ensure he maintained his cover at all times, but it meant he believed he was a Crimson Consul, with a burning hatred for the Legion that had destroyed his parent Chapter. In their desperate struggle, Solomon had needed to incapacitate his friend for long enough to break the conditioning and bring Kyrin Gadraen back to his true self.
‘The governor referred to you as my brother,’ he said with quiet amusement, coming alongside his friend.
‘I suppose she overheard our standard mode of address, and took it literally,’ Kyrin replied. He did not look around.
‘I do not remember much of our life before the Legion took us,’ Solomon said. ‘I cannot recall what I felt for my family. Nonetheless, if there was anyone whom I would consider a brother above and beyond the ties of our Legion, it would be you.’
He paused for a moment, but Kyrin made no response.
‘When I first arrived, I considered that perhaps you used my title as a subtle reminder to the others,’ Solomon continued. ‘Now, I am not so sure. So tell me, my brother,’ he asked, turning to face Kyrin, ‘what is it that bothers you?’
‘What bothers me?’ Kyrin replied, still studying the crystal in front of him as though it held the answers to the universe. ‘All of this bothers me, Solomon. Your plans, my role in them…’ He turned, and his eyes settled on the Pale Spear, held in Solomon’s right hand. ‘Do you carry that wherever you go now? Even to a meeting with your brother?’
‘It has become my symbol of office,’ Solomon conceded. He tapped the bolter that was mag-clamped to his left thigh. ‘Besides, I carry my other weapons as a matter of course, as I see you do as well. And in any case, what else would I do with it? Mount it on the wall in my chambers?’
‘Never one to relinquish power once you have it,’ Kyrin said with a snort. ‘The same with the Unseen. You keep that hulk as your mobile throne room instead of being here, in your supposed capital.’
‘It took many years and much bribery of the New Mechanicum to have the Unseen ready for reliable warp travel,’ Solomon replied. The giant, multi-ship construct had served as a hidden base for many Alpha Legion warbands for centuries; commandeering it as his own had been a bold gamble which he only dared attempt once it became clear that his leadership was necessary. ‘To relinquish it to the command of anyone except Va’kai–’
‘Would weaken your position, I know, I know,’ Kyrin finished with a weary wave of his hand. ‘And the gods know you need your position as strong as possible, with these jackals prowling around. They’ve been here for weeks, did you know that? Always pestering me, demanding to know when you would return, where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing, like I’m your damned servant.’
Solomon frowned. ‘They have their own assignments to deal with.’
Kyrin snorted. ‘I tried to tell them that, but they pay no attention to me.’
‘You are my castellan, and the lord of the Serpent’s Teeth,’ Solomon began. ‘They should–’
‘They should nothing, Solomon!’ Kyrin snapped, rounding on him. ‘You gave me those titles – titles that are meaningless! The Serpent’s Teeth answer to you, not to me. While I was trapped behind my own eyes for ten years harvesting information on our enemies, you were taking command of the warband! You won battles, you plundered planets, while I played nursemaid to a fool! And now I’m finally back amongst my own, you place me at the heart of the little empire you built on the information I gave you, where I can do nothing to dispel the whispers that my time away broke me, that I am no longer battle-worthy, and that all I have has been handed to me by you!’
Solomon stepped closer to him. ‘Do they think I would trust just anyone with this responsibility? I meant everything I said to the other commanders. The success of this venture, the success of everything I have worked towards, is based on the New Alliance undermining the Imperium by showing how flawed the servants of the Emperor are. This is the most complex, most critical battle plan of all, and the centre must hold. It must be strong, it must be secure, it must work exactly as we need it to work. And I have entrusted it to you.’
Kyrin scoffed. ‘I’m a glorified sentry, nothing more.’
Solomon sighed. He had not realised how bitter his old friend had become, but he should have guessed at it. Kyrin had agreed to the necessity of the mission to deceive Hart, but what Solomon had considered a reward for his service – a central command position, with great responsibility – Kyrin saw as being sidelined. Of course he would have wanted to get back into the thick of the action.
But Solomon had told the truth. He needed Kyrin here.
‘Did you at least find what you sought while you were away?’ Kyrin asked. ‘This… xenos device, or whatever it was?’
Solomon grimaced. ‘Not yet, but the search is narrowing. I hope not to need it, but one can never be too careful.’ He smiled. ‘Tulava warns me against it.’
‘You should probably listen to her,’ Kyrin said seriously. He shook his head. ‘We’ve both seen warriors seduced by powers they thought they could wield without consequence. Whatever this weapon is–’
‘The Pillar of Dreams is no weapon, merely a divination tool,’ Solomon told him. ‘A way of finding the sure route to the solution of one’s problems. As I said, I hope not to need it, but the New Alliance is too important to be allowed to fail.’
