Angels of Darkness

THE TALE OF BOREAS



PART FOUR



It took six hours for the crew of the Saint Carthen to die. In that time, the desperate heretics launched fourteen counter-attacks on the bridge in an attempt to recapture the control chamber and reactivate the environmental systems. Each assault was met with controlled, deadly salvoes of bolter fire. The chances of the bridge falling would have been slim in the best of situations - as implacable as they were on the advance, the Dark Angels excelled at ruthless defence, stubbornly refusing to give a centimetre of ground to wave after wave of wild-eyed crewmen. With their atmosphere leeching out of opened airlocks and deactivated vents, and contending with the lack of gravity, their assaults failed miserably and over two hundred corpses floated in the vacuum as a testa­ment to their increasingly reckless attacks.



Only when the ship's internal scanners register zero life signs outside the bridge did Boreas consider their position secure. Even then, there was much work to do. For over an hour, the Space Marines swept through the corpse-littered corridors and chambers searching for survivors, or evidence of the Fallen, but they returned empty-handed to the bridge. When they had mustered again, it was Nestor who raised the point that had been nagging at Boreas ever since they had stormed the bridge.



'If this ship belongs to the Fallen, where are they?' the Apothecary asked, turning from a view screen to look at Boreas. 'What makes this ship different from any number of other pirate ships in the sector? Perhaps your infor­mation was incorrect, perhaps this slaughter was unnecessary?'



Boreas did not answer immediately. He paced heavily across the bridge to the command chair, the black leather now spattered with blood and shredded with shrapnel and bullet holes. He gazed over the sparking consoles, looked at the floating corpses and globules of blood ris­ing and falling in the thin atmosphere left in the ship. Was Nestor right? Did the presence of the Saint Carthen mean the Fallen were in Piscina after all, or had he over­reacted?



'This ship was once captained by one of the Fallen,' Boreas told the others. 'For nearly a century he waged war against the Imperium from this bridge.'



'But he is not here now,' Nestor said, pushing aside a body and stepping towards the Interrogator-Chaplain. He pointed at the uniform of one of the officers. 'Look at this one. He does not look like a traitor to me. Look at their clothes, the badges and insignia. Imperial badges, Imperial merchant insignia.'



'Of course they have civilian insignia,' interrupted Damas. 'They docked with the orbital station, they sent a shuttle down to Piscina IV. They were hardly likely to be bearing placards proclaiming their traitorous ways.'



'Questions will be asked,' Nestor said solemnly. 'Doubts will be raised.'



'Let them be asked!' growled Zaul from where he was standing next to the breach in the wall, a cloud of bolter casings suspended in the air around him. 'You speak as if we acted wrongly.'



'We fired on an Imperial vessel,' Nestor pointed out. 'We boarded and wiped out the crew of another ship, with no evidence to support our claim.'



'Evidence is inconsequential,' Boreas said, turning from the tattered chair.



'The Inquisition will hear of this, Commodore Kayle will make sure of that,' Nestor sighed.



'No!' snapped Boreas. 'It is their claim against ours. We swore to keep the secret of the Fallen, nobody must learn of it. Nobody! It matters not if we can prove it, because to do so will only declare our shame to the galaxy. We will be crushed, hunted down as heretics, and the Chap­ter will be destroyed.'



'They were here,' Hephaestus said quietly. He had been busying himself at one of the data consoles for some time. The rest of the command squad turned and looked at him.



'You have found something?' Damas asked, crossing the bridge and looking past the Techmarine at the flick­ering screens.



'Yes, brother-sergeant, I have,' replied Hephaestus. 'I have found their navigational records. They have been in the system for several months, and have made frequent journeys to Piscina II. One of its moons, to be more pre­cise.'



'Aside from planets three and four, the system is uninhabited,' Thumiel said. 'A secret outpost of some kind?'



'That would be my conclusion,' Hephaestus agreed, looking directly at Boreas. 'I have also found data per­taining to a particular type of power plant, of which they picked up several before coming to Piscina.'



'And what does that mean?' Damas asked.



'Aside from the fact that nearly all of the ship's power requirements are provided for by its plasma reactor, the pattern of energy cell they brought on board is the same as that used in our own backpacks,' the Techmarine explained. 'An inventory of the ship's armoury and other equipment includes nothing that would require similar power cells. A suit of power armour is the only reason­able explanation.'



'So the Fallen have been aboard,' concluded Boreas.



'At least one, probably several,' Hephaestus added.



'Anything else?' Boreas asked.



'Most of the data storage was erased or destroyed when we took the bridge,' the Techmarine replied with a shake of his head.



'What are your orders?' Nestor asked, shouldering aside a corpse that had drifted into him.



'Damas, contact Sen Neziel, tell him to despatch a Thunderhawk to retrieve us,' Boreas said, straightening up, full of purpose again. 'Order him to load torpedoes for full spread and prepare to target this vessel. Hephaes­tus, transmit the navigational directions to the Blade of Caliban's bridge crew and have them lay in the most direct course to Piscina II.'



'Do you think destroying the ship will stop any enquiry?' Nestor said with a shake of his head.



'No, but it will destroy any evidence of the Fallen,' Boreas countered. 'We will locate and destroy their base as well, and claim to have rooted out a cadre of rene­gades.'



'A lie?' Nestor asked.



'A half-truth,' Boreas replied. 'We will leave sufficient evidence that Traitor Marines had been operating in this system. No one will ask which Legion they came from.'



'Do you think that will allay suspicion?' Damas asked.



'We have hunted the Fallen for ten millennia and con­cealed the true purpose of our quest,' Boreas explained carefully. 'The Inquisition will see what we want them to see. They may have their doubts, but there will be insuf­ficient cause for them to act or inquire further.'



'This makes me uncomfortable,' Thumiel admitted, turning his head to look at each of the others. 'I feel this deception dishonours us.'



'The dishonour is already ours!' rasped Zaul. 'Did you not hear the Brother-Chaplain's words? Did you not con­sider the oaths of secrecy we swore? Our past already damns us in the eyes of the Emperor, and we shall never be able to atone for that sin if that shame were discov­ered. Boreas is right, we would be hunted down as traitors, ten thousand years of service and loyalty tar­nished by a moment's weakness. Do you wish the Dark Angels to be remembered in history as heroes, or along­side the likes of the World Eaters and Alpha Legion?'



'Enough of this!' barked Boreas. 'Hephaestus, lead the way to the docking bay, we shall talk of these matters later. First, we must destroy this tainted ship and dis­pense with Captain Stehr and the Thor Fifteen. Then we will track the fiends to their lair and eliminate them. That is our only concern for the present.'



'As you command,' the others chorused.



Boreas stood on the bridge of the Blade of Caliban and watched the slowly expanding cloud of gas, plasma and debris that used to be the Saint Carthen. He felt relief as he watched the glittering mass dissipating across the backdrop of stars. The feeling went deeper than the elim­ination of a possible threat did, right to the core of his soul. Since he had first heard the ship's name again after the riot, it had been like a thorn in his mind, a reminder of Astelan. Though he was almost physically incapable of fear, the ship had come to represent something dreadful in the Interrogator-Chaplain's mind. Seeing its destruc­tion exorcised that anxiety, banished the lingering doubts and worries that had plagued him recently.



'Lord Boreas?' the comms officer interrupted his thoughts. We are being hailed by Captain Stehr.'



'Very well,' Boreas said with a nod, striding to the com­munications panel. He activated the speaker. Your presence is no longer required, captain, I wish you a speedy and uneventful journey back to orbital dock.'



‘This is intolerable!' Stehr's voice ranted back over the link. 'That vessel was a prize of the Imperial Navy, you had no right to destroy it.'



'I not only had the right, but the authority and a duty to do so,' Boreas answered sternly. 'I deemed the contin­ued existence of the traitor vessel to be a threat and have acted accordingly. I do not understand your misgivings.'



'That ship was a legitimate salvage by right of capture,' Stehr protested. 'My crew would have been paid hand­somely for recovering her.'



'Service to the Emperor is its own reward,' Boreas replied bluntly. 'Your financial status is not my concern.'



'I shall inform Commodore Kayle of this unprovoked action,' Stehr continued. 'Not only have you fired upon a vessel of the Imperial Navy, you wiped out an entire ship's crew and destroyed a prize ship.'



'I trust you will give Commodore Kayle a full and detailed report of the action,' Boreas said. 'Be sure that you include mention of your disregard for my orders not to board the Saint Carthen. You should also take pains to tell him how your disrespectful behaviour has angered me.'



'You launched torpedoes at us!' Stehr's voice was almost a shriek.



'I launched torpedoes close to your vessel to prevent you coming to further harm,' Boreas corrected the naval officer. 'However, I demand that you leave this area immediately and do not attempt further contact with the Blade of Caliban otherwise my next torpedo salvo will not be aimed to miss. I will tolerate this insubordination no longer,'



'I shall see charges brought against you for this,' Stehr replied. 'Even if it means I'm brought before a court mar­tial for disobeying orders. I will go to the highest authorities if I have to.'



'Your threats mean nothing to me, Captain Stehr,' Boreas replied. 'We are not of the Imperial Navy, neither Commodore Kayle, nor your admirals or even the Lord Admiral of the segmentum has any authority over us. Even Imperial Commander Sousan does not have authority over us, we answer only to the Supreme Grand Master of the Dark Angels and the Emperor himself. We fight alongside you because we share a common foe, but it is wholly at our discretion how we choose to fight the enemies of the Emperor. And now you are here only at my sufferance, and your continuing prattling threats begin to wear my patience. Your presence here also pre­sents a threat to the security of my vessel and my battle-brothers, and if I do not see you leaving within the next fifteen minutes I shall take action myself.'



Boreas slammed his hand down on the comms rune to cut the link, cracking the wooden panel around it.



'Power to starboard broadsides, target the Thor Fifteen,' he commanded, and this time the crew acted without hesitation. Several minutes passed before one of the monitoring officers reported the Thor Fifteen powering up her plasma engines and picking up speed. Boreas ordered the gun deck crews to stand down and swept out of the chamber, his mood foul.



It would take the Blade of Caliban six days to achieve orbit over Piscina II. Boreas felt the time passing slowly. Though the destruction of the Saint Carthen had been a deserved victory, they had yet to root out the Fallen themselves. Boreas was hopeful that whatever diabolic plan they had been trying to enact had been undone with the destruction of their ship. There was no way to be sure though, and the only course of action available to him was to follow the little evidence they had in the hope of finding the Fallen stranded in their base on Piscina II.



But there was another matter he had to address. On the day after the boarding of the Saint Carthen, he called his command together again in the briefing chamber.



'You are about to face a foe unlike any you have fought before,' the Interrogator-Chaplain began. 'You have all battled renegades in the past, but to fight the Fallen is to fight against a dark reflection of yourself. Some are utterly depraved, as physically corrupted as a Berzerker or Plague Marine, but others appear no different from you or I. They wear the livery of the Dark Angels Legion, they carry the same symbol upon their shoulder as us. But remember that they are not like us. They are traitors and heretics who turned upon the Lion and the Emperor.'



'This is nothing new to us,' Thumiel said, leaning for­ward. 'We are ready for them, as we were ready for them before.'



'You may think you are prepared, but you must steel yourselves for the reality,' Boreas warned. 'They will try to talk to you, to appeal to you as brother Space Marines. They will twist the teachings of the Lion, to sow doubt and weaken your resolve. Do not heed their words! Harden yourself to their lies, their falsehoods and warped philosophies.'



'I will hear nothing over the roar of my bolter!' exclaimed Zaul with a snarl. 'Let their corpses try to cor­rupt us!'



'And therein lies the danger,' Boreas said slowly. 'For the Fallen are not a foe we can execute out of hand.'



'What do you mean?' demanded Hephaestus. 'The punishment for treachery such as theirs is death and damnation.'



'But the quest, this crusade, is not just to erase the evidence of our dishonourable past,' Boreas said, his gaze directed over their heads, as if he could see through the wall to the chapel beyond. 'It is to expunge the sins of the past. It is not enough that we simply kill the Fallen, for the stain on our souls still remains. Yes, they are deserving of death, and we shall be the ones to bring it upon them. But first it is our duty to allow them to repent their sins. Only by offer­ing them salvation for their souls can we hope to achieve forgiveness for ourselves.'



'Salvation?' Zaul almost spat the word out and Boreas looked at him sharply. 'It is they who brought this curse down upon us, what hope is there of salvation for them? Kill them swiftly and rid the galaxy of their harmful pres­ence and we shall have atoned enough.'



'It is not for us to judge the wisdom of ten thousand years,' Nestor cut in before Boreas could reply.



Zaul looked at Boreas, his expression full of consterna­tion.



'Kill the mutant, the witch, the heretic, the alien,' the battle-brother said stubbornly. 'That is what we were taught.'



'And you have learnt well,' Boreas replied with a faint smile before his expression hardened. 'But now you must learn a new lesson, and learn it quickly. If we encounter the Fallen, they are to be captured alive. We will hold them until the Tower of Angels arrives, and then they will be passed into the hands of my Brother-Chaplains.'



'And then?' Zaul demanded. 'And then they die?'



'Yes, but not before we have laid bare the full extent of their crimes,' Boreas said. 'Not before they have the chance to save their souls by admitting their treachery.'



The others said nothing, guessing rightly what the Chaplain's words implied. The quiet of the briefing chamber was only broken by the background noise of humming power lines, the throb of the engines through the hull and the distant clank of machinery. Boreas looked at Zaul, staring deep into his eyes.



'If it is your will, Brother-Chaplain, that we take the Fallen alive, then it shall be so,' Zaul said eventually, dropping his gaze to the deck.



'It is my will,' Boreas replied.



The display screen of the briefing room flickered and shimmered with an image of the moon's surface. At the centre of a superimposed white grid sprawled the Fallen's base of operations in grainy red monochrome. Unsure what defences protected the renegades' station, Boreas had ordered the Blade of Caliban to approach cautiously, edging into orbit a few kilometres at a time, ready to pull back from any fire from the surface. No strike came, and now the rapid strike vessel hung just two kilometres above the moon's thin atmosphere, its augurs and sur­veyors directed towards the cratered surface.



At the heart of the base, Boreas could make out the blocky, square-nosed shape of a landing craft, some three hundred metres in length and fifty metres wide. The rest of the buildings expanded outwards from the landing craft like a ferrocrete spider web of enclosed walkways and bunkers half buried in flows of dust and grit. Thin shafts of light spilled from windows and ports.



The others were standing next to the Interrogator-Chaplain examining the image, pointing out features that looked like power generators, comms arrays and sur­veyor dishes.



'They have no weaponry capable of orbital attack,' Hephaestus said, confirming what Boreas already sus­pected. 'However, with the scanning equipment of the centtal ship, boosted by the relays to the sub-stations, I think we must assume they are now aware of our pres­ence, even if they are unable to act.'



'These look like weapons turrets,' Damas said, pointing at three separate emplacements, one on the ship itself and two others in towers a few hundred metres away to form a triangular defence. He traced his finger across the large screen to indicate their converging fields of fire. 'They're positioned well, no easy attack route. Wherever we strike from, they will have us targeted by at least two turrets.'



'They look like energy weapons, am I right?' said Boreas, glancing at Hephaestus. The Techmarine nodded.



'Yes, you can see the armoured power conduits running from relays built into the lander's central engines,' he said. 'Lascannons, I would say, by their appearance. Given their elevation and the low defraction of the atmosphere they would have an effective range of four or five kilomeUes, able to hit us as soon as we entered the upper atmosphere.'