Pharos Read online

  ‘No. Torture these men as much as you will, but they will not speak, and they will rightly curse me if I do.’

  ‘Again!’ shouted Krukesh. ‘Flay that one slowly at my command. I give you one last chance, warsmith. I desire to see the city!’

  Night Lords produced flat-bladed skinning knives from rolled sheaths of human skin. They advanced on the one-eyed Space Marine, who stared resolutely ahead.

  All of sudden, the rumble of the distant quantum-pulse engines became audible and every Night Lord in Primary Location Alpha brought up his weapon.

  ‘Claw lord!’ said one of the Atramentar. ‘The wall!’ All of them were stirring, looking toward the Pharos tuning stage, amazed at what they saw. Krukesh turned from Dantioch.

  An image was coming into being at the front of the chamber. Unfocused, it grew in clarity as Krukesh watched. He stepped towards it, and it grew sharper still, until they looked upon the market square of Sothopolis.

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Krukesh. ‘Absolutely fascinating. You have been hiding this from me, this marvel?’ Krukesh’s delight overcame his anger.

  Dantioch felt no delight. The Pharos showed him a scene plucked from some primitive’s imaginings of hell. A sense of oppressive horror came over the empathy field. He was a veteran of dozens of campaigns. He had seen human and alien societies purged without mercy, but what he saw sickened him more than any sight he had ever seen. The market square had been transformed into a torture house. Bodies hung from poles in chains, or were trapped in gibbets, or pinned to frames. All of them bore signs of horrific mutilation. Large cages contained the few surviving people of the city. Their expressions were slack, blank, wide-eyed pictures of despair. The wickedness they had witnessed had driven all reason from them.

  ‘Did you do this?’ asked Krukesh. ‘Tell me how it is done!’

  Dantioch looked in disbelief at the scene. Oily smoke rose from braziers upon which burned human flesh. Through the empathic field of the Pharos he felt the citizens’ fear, the all-pervading, hopeless terror of those who were about to die in agony.

  ‘Did you do this?’ repeated Krukesh. ‘How did you summon the image?’

  A choice lay before the warsmith: tell Krukesh that it was the claw lord himself who had activated the Pharos, or lie and retain his usefulness.

  ‘Yes,’ Dantioch said. ‘I did it. To save the suffering of my comrades.’

  Krukesh smiled in triumph. ‘You see, I knew you would come around in the end.’

  Krukesh could not know that Dantioch had done nothing, and the warsmith was dismayed. The Pharos had taken Krukesh’s desire to see the square and provided. It had responded far more quickly than it had to Dantioch; it had taken the warsmith months to effect his first proper tuning. But his mind was iron, disciplined, imagination shorn and replaced with cold logic. The Night Lords knew no restraint, they acted on their dark desires without compunction. Was he, as a loyal servant of the Imperium, too fettered in mind to exploit its capabilities? A chill gripped the warsmith.

  ‘I… I can feel them, the people in the square. I can sense their despair!’ Krukesh held up his hands, spreading his fingers as if he might touch the pain of others as one can feel the current in a stream. The pleasure it brought him stoked a fire of hatred in Dantioch’s heart. ‘Ha! What a marvellous, marvellous machine,’ said Krukesh. ‘What else does it do?’

  ‘You are most perceptive, claw lord.’ Dantioch bowed his head in shammed humility. ‘It is a beacon, and it allows instantaneous communication. A modicum of empathy is transmitted along with the image. That is all.’

  ‘So this is how Guilliman maintains control!’ Krukesh walked to the edge of the transmission field. ‘I could never have guessed the reality of it. It is like being there. It is more real than being there!’

  ‘Miraculous technology,’ agreed Dantioch.

  ‘How does it work?’

  ‘I do not know. The Mechanicum do not understand. It operates to laws we are unaware of. The shape of the mountain’s tunnels seem to be the basis of its technology.’

  ‘Power source?’

  ‘None we can detect, claw lord,’ lied Dantioch.

  ‘As soon as your petty band is rooted out from the mountain, I will bring my own Mechanicum here. They are less bound by false morality than yours. They will discover its secrets, no matter what it takes.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Dantioch. ‘I doubt the masters of the Dark Age of Technology would have understood it. It is like nothing else either I or they have seen in the galaxy.’

  ‘And we have it!’ Krukesh’s enthusiasm overcame his enmity for the warsmith momentarily. ‘With this, I can communicate with Horus! I can bring the Legion together!’ Krukesh was close enough to the edge of the field that his lust for power radiated strongly from him.

  I will use it against him, Dantioch resolved. I will destroy this monster, I will extinguish the candle of his life if it is the last thing I accomplish. Let this be my oath of moment, and let me be forever bound to honour it.

  ‘Get him up, get him up!’ urged Krukesh. He gave his men a scornful look. ‘How can you treat this great mind so?’ He beckoned to the warsmith. ‘Come, Barabas, come to me. Let us forget our quarrel. This is a time for celebration.’

  Dantioch hobbled across the chamber towards the picture-perfect tableau of horrors. The image panned around the square in accordance with Krukesh’s subconscious desires, treating Dantioch to more unimaginable torments being heaped upon the inhabitants of Sothopolis. There was a pit from which echoed the most terrible screams. The force of emotion coming from it had bile rising in Dantioch’s throat. On a table, at the edge of the pit, was a stack of what looked like animal hides. He knew immediately what they were: all sizes, men, women and children, the flayed skins of the Sothans.

  ‘Feel the terror! This is the most miraculous aspect of the device!’ Krukesh shut his eyes and breathed deeply. ‘I can smell the blood!’

  The view changed again, and the marketplace disappeared. A view of the fire-blackened mountainside took its place. A Night Lord in sooty armour stood there, conferring with his warriors. At their feet lay a bound giant.

  ‘Skraivok!’ shouted Krukesh, then laughed as the other leapt backwards in surprise, his gun up. ‘It is I, Krukesh! We have the beacon, and I have it working.’

  ‘How are you speaking with me?’ said Skraivok.

  ‘This device, that the Ultramarines have been so selfish with.’

  ‘It is as if you stand in front of me!’ said the other in amazement.

  ‘How goes the battle on the peak?’

  ‘Slowly, claw lord,’ said Skraivok. ‘After your teleport I returned here to take command myself. The enemy have retreated to their second lines of defence. The tunnels are rigged with anti-personnel devices. We have yet to effect an entrance to the lower tunnels. But we have a prize for you, claw lord – here.’ Skraivok kicked his captive. ‘Without their leader, their resistance will falter soon enough.’

  At Krukesh’s interest, the Pharos turned its attention upon the bound warrior.

  ‘Captain Polux!’ he exclaimed.

  Dantioch’s hearts skipped several beats.

  ‘You have outdone yourself,’ continued Krukesh. ‘Your failure to breach the lower halls is of no matter. We have little to fear here; the way into this hall is well defended. Order your men to continue the fight, and join us here. Bring Captain Polux with you. We all have so much to discuss.’

  Krukesh turned to Dantioch.

  ‘The people of the town did not know much of use regarding your operations here, but they did tell us of your affection for the Imperial Fist. If pain is no motivator when applied to you, perhaps it will be when given to your friend? And we have no reason to be gentle with him, Barabas Dantioch, not like we were with you. You had better talk further, reveal the full potential of the xenos mechanism, or be prep
ared to watch your friend die in agony, piece by bloody piece.’ He turned back to the image. ‘Nothing will keep me from the truth.’

  Ten officers – company captains, praetors, shipmasters and others – stood in lithocast array. They watched Lucretius Corvo through the eyes of servo-skulls and pict-capture units embedded into the statuary of the Glorious Nova’s strategium. The officers were projected by lenses in the pedestals, each giant warrior imbued with an inner lambency that made them phantasmal in the dark room. Only the light and the occasional flicker of interference betrayed them as hololith images; all were aboard their own ships.

  ‘Warsmith Dantioch imparted a great deal of information to me before we set out,’ said Corvo. ‘Including a number of practicals based upon the situation as it was then, and several theoreticals as to how the battle might develop. We can only presume that the cutting off of the transit beam means that the Pharos has fallen.’

  The others watched silently, none more intently than Alcuis of the Dark Angels.

  ‘There is no method we have to confirm this assumption, but it is the most likely theoretical. Therefore our original mission, to reinforce Mount Pharos and prevent its capture by the Night Lords, must undergo adjustment as per Lord Guilliman’s orders. Data transmissions to each of you hold detailed practicals of what I expect from you all. Make no mistake, this will be a difficult mission. Many of us will die.’

  They expected this, and said nothing. Corvo did not speak at length often, when he did he was worth heeding. He walked between the hololith plinths.

  ‘Our goal has become one of distraction and delay. There are two eventualities we are to work against. The first and most important is to prevent the destruction of the Pharos. It is likely that the Eighth Legion will withdraw and destroy the site from orbit rather than relinquish it intact.’

  ‘And how are we to prevent this?’ asked Palaearch, captain of the 82nd.

  ‘In a moment, brother,’ said Corvo. ‘The other theoretical we wish to avoid is that the Night Lords discover how to utilise the Pharos. If they summon their own reinforcements to Sotha, we will surely lose the Pharos permanently. A worse scenario is that they will broadcast to their allies among the other traitor Legions what the light is, and direct it again upon Macragge. Whichever way this theoretical is postulated from position one – that being the Night Lords holding the Pharos for any length of time – the following chain of logic is unpalatable. In a best case scenario, communications will be disrupted all across the Five Hundred Worlds for some time. The worst case theoretical is the destruction of Macragge, the fragmentation of Ultramar and the loss of the war.’

  ‘Will the Warmaster redirect his efforts to Ultramar?’ asked Alcuis. ‘Is it not one gamble too many for him? Horus acts quickly. He has always driven for the heart. The tactics of his Legion are direct, as are his strategies. His strength must be within the Segmentum Solar.’

  ‘Your Legion brothers are the masters of secrets – you see that very shortly we shall have none,’ said Corvo. ‘Should Horus discover that three of his surviving brothers are in one location, there is a high possibility he will attack Ultramar in force no matter what goal he is currently intent upon. If he were to kill Sanguinius, the Lion and my lord Guilliman, the loyalist war effort would be crippled.’

  ‘Preventing the destruction of the Pharos, while preventing our enemy from using it – these theoreticals are contradictory. How can we fulfil both, brother?’ asked Captain Marcellus of the 29th company. ‘We are only two and a half thousand to their twenty thousand.’

  ‘Divide them. Confuse them,’ said Alcuis. ‘Strike and withdraw. That is what you are about to suggest.’

  Corvo gestured, and a hololithic map of the Sothan System blinked into life over the strategium’s primary projection plate. ‘It is the best practical under the circumstances. Our speed grants us a great advantage. Thanks to the transit beam’s residual effect we still proceed at close to the speed of light, and will continue to until we choose to decelerate. The image of our ships will arrive only hours before we do. They will not be expecting us, nor will they have time to prepare when they do notice our approach. As we all know, communication through the storm is problematic. The energy fields of the Sothan beacon make it worse. There is a high chance we will take them completely unawares. If we launch a spread of projectiles ahead of us, that shall greatly even the odds.’

  ‘We should be careful. Any impact from a solid munition going at such velocity could split the planet in two,’ said Shipmaster Javin of the Battle King. ‘We cannot afford to miss.’

  ‘All firing patterns will be calculated and recalculated, and approved by me before execution,’ said Corvo. ‘We shall use only minor ordnance. This will minimise the risk. I shall take full responsibility for any collateral damage. But we must see our velocity as an advantage. As you say, shipmaster, it is the speed of the round that will do the damage for us. A bolt-shell travelling at that speed could demolish a battleship.’

  ‘It is evident that you have thought carefully on this, brother,’ said Alcuis. His brow knotted. ‘It could work…’

  ‘The fleet will split. All ships will begin to reduce speed as soon as this conference is done. The Glorious Nova will decelerate to planetary assault velocity.’

  ‘Then you will be seen,’ said Marcellus.

  ‘Falling behind the main body of our vessels will hide our slower approach. By the time we are in visual range, you will be among them. Relative fleet velocities are in the detailed orders I have transmitted to each of you, but we will arrive six hours after the main body. Your role is to engage and divert the larger part of the enemy ships in orbit. With the foe occupied, we will effect a landing here.’

  A light blinked on an area of forest some kilometres away from the mountain.

  ‘This is sufficient distance from Sothopolis and the mountain to avoid the bulk of the enemy. There are unlikely to be patrols in force here.’

  ‘Will they not spot and catch you, brother?’ said Palaearch. ‘Theoretical – you are detected. Forward assault elements will engage within half an hour. Your advance will become mired.’

  ‘There is a tunnel. Dantioch assured me it would be left open for our use.’ A red mark flashed on the map.

  ‘There is a problem with your plan, brother Ultramarine, that will arise before that mentioned by Palaearch,’ said Alcuis. ‘The Glorious Nova will be at risk while you land. If you are destroyed all this will be for nothing.’

  ‘I trust to the speed of our engines and the skill of my shipmaster. I would not order another to follow us.’

  ‘Then I will volunteer,’ said Alcuis. ‘I will come with you. We shall hold off the Night Lords while you land. Then both ships can retreat together.’

  ‘I cannot allow you to do so. The predictive theoreticals for a covering ship offer a poor prognosis. The Night Lords will respond to two ships with greater force. Your vessel will be destroyed, and you and your men will perish.’

  ‘And how good are they for your ship without support? You say you will not order one of your own to take on this role,’ said Alcuis. ‘I will do this duty.’

  ‘Captain Alcuis, that is a noble offer. I cannot allow it.’

  ‘I am your equal in rank and of a different Legion. You cannot order me, captain. We of the First will fight when and as we see fit. I see fit to do so now.’

  Corvo’s face set. ‘Then you have my thanks.’ He returned to his holographic map. ‘I shall lead my veterans into Mount Pharos. We strike here.’ Mission critical icons blinked within the mountain. ‘Primary Location Alpha, in a cavern at the peak of Sotha, is the control centre for the beacon.’ The image zoomed in on a graphical representation of the cave. ‘The Night Lords will concentrate their efforts here, it is the obvious target. But it is Primary Location Ultra, the site of the devices’ quantum engines deep within the mountain, that is the weak point of the Sot
han operation.’

  He took a deep breath. The weight of what he was about to say was apparent.

  ‘Dantioch told me that in the event of the Pharos falling into enemy hands, the machines of the Mechanicum must be destroyed. The device itself will be undamaged, but without the intermediary control systems, the xenos engines that power the beacon cannot be directed. If we are successful in removing these, the Night Lords will not be able access any of the beacon’s functions. The rest of the fleet will then return from its diversionary action, and effect a landing. We shall engage the Night Lords in orbit and on the ground, with as many of our number as possible breaking into the mountain in an attempt to occupy the enemy until Lord Guilliman arrives from Macragge. It is the best chance of achieving both our goals. The only chance, perhaps. In the worst theoretical, we must position ourselves to destroy the Pharos.’

  ‘And we will die doing it,’ said Alcuis.

  ‘If needs be,’ said Corvo, ‘then so be it. Our opportunity for victory is slender, but there is only us. No one else.’

  ‘We march for Macragge,’ said the others.

  Corvo turned then to a detailed breakdown of the fleet action, and plans for the rest of the force to make planetfall. Further theoreticals followed, one to cover every eventuality, including one for his own survival, unlikely though it was.

  The sons of Roboute Guilliman were thorough in all things.

  TWENTY-SIX

  First Captain

  Momentum

  Planetfall

  Krukesh cast his eyes over Magna Macragge Civitas, spying upon its inhabitants through the Pharos. Already he had mastered its focusing. Full of confidence, he pushed hard to unlock its secrets. The warsmith was an unwilling yet useful resource. Polux hung from a cross with their other captives, and he had proved a most useful lever. Skraivok had had the pleasure of using his knife on the Imperial Fist – not too much, just enough to keep Dantioch’s mind on his job. He had ordered Kellenkir to hurt the others more seriously, a little demonstration to the warsmith of what awaited Polux if he felt in the mood for defiance. Skraivok enjoyed the work. It had been a while since he got his hands truly bloody.