The spotted blue-white orb of Lakshap turned beneath the glasscrete panes of the
Cunning of Gyrinx , interrupted only by the shapes of the Legion ships orbiting closer to the surface. From the tropic belt where the ice fell away and fishing or kelp farming fed the planet, to the permanently icelocked northern latitudes, the planet was beautiful, Zyanya thought to herself.
She stretched fitfully, letting the crimson ceramite flex around her and the Tepaxcuachtli shift on her shoulders, the skin of the great color-changing beast rippling through camouflage colors in a hypnotic swirl in response to her whirling thoughts. Unlike her siblings, she quite enjoyed getting regular sleep, and the initial phases were always restless, waiting for her scouts to return the data she would need for this mission. Scans could only offer so much: A planet of over a million islands in vast archipelagos, inhabited by space faring humans who had refused to integrate when asked as politely as the Imperium ever did. A direct assault would be costly, dropping troops into the atmosphere and recovering them into orbit under fire repeatedly could only be sustained for a short time before the casualties would be… prohibitive, to say the least. No, the two Primarchs on the
Gyrinx's bridge had been well assigned. Logistics and precision would carry the day here, not a mad rush into fire or a grinding siege.
"You've been quiet, sister." The feline Primarch rumbled. "Thinking of strategies to solve the deadlock?"
Ahurani had, indeed, been quiet. Her armour as ill-fitting as always, swathed in black cloth in an attempt to make it look less... martial. She has spent much of the time with her hands clasped, looking down, as if hoping she wouldn't be noticed. Were she not a primarch, it may have been successful, she has the kind of aura that would fade into any crowd. Yet, since she was addressed, she lifts her head.
"I am afraid I haven't many ideas, my sister. The files back home mentioned that the people there once used mighty oceangoing vessels called icebreakers. If we had similar things, we could control the space between the islands. With them isolated, they may be more willing to see reason and surrender, especially the more populated islands that rely on food imports. Yet, without those, and without a foothold I find myself lost." Her voice is soft, and her embarrassment from admitting her lack of knowledge clear.
"We could. The food disruption would be severe and require staying to keep the population from starving. I would prefer a more precise method. So, we need to wait on the psychological reports from my Cuauhtlahuilli. No point in destroying their government offices if they are very anarchically organized. In the meantime, we should address communication. It would be advantageous for our forces to hold, destroy, or disrupt their undersea cable networks, but my legion is… not well suited to naval matters. Do you have any tools that could attack the cables directly, or do we need to focus on where each island's cable surfaces?"
Ahurani thinks on this for a while, considering her options. "I do not think my legion is equipped for such matters. They possibly could, but it would be dangerous. Yet I believe one of my auxiliary regiments may have the expertise needed. I could consult with them to see if they are willing to assist us."
"We have perhaps two or three days for a full report. The Shadows will take their time to avoid giving away their position or spooking our targets. Go, speak with your auxiliaries. I," She yawns wide, sharp teeth glistening in her mouth, "Need a bit of a nap to be at my best. I'll see you at dinner tonight, I hope? We're having smoked michitsalkuet fillets. The large piscine that Ahuic's fin crests are from. "
The marine in question's helmet is adorned with two-foot tall spiny fins, preserved somehow and attached to the helmet like a pair of horsehair crests of ancient Terra.
"It would be my honour to join you, sister. I am sure the meal will be delicious. I thank you for the invitation, your legion has been so kind to me and mine so far. Would it be acceptable to you if I brought the general of the auxilia here, so she may answer any question you may have?"
"No, that's quite reasonable. We would be pleased to host you both, and any other of your command staff you would like to bring. My foster cousin is aboard as well."
Ahurani bows, as with all of her movements it is understated and soft. "Thank you for the hospitality as well, then. I will take my leave now."
Zyanya watched her go.
This isn't going to get any easier if she asks how my scouts got their information.
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Xochiquetzal, Tepaxcuachtli shimmering around her, crawled across the wall on her claws, digging into the permacrete with superhuman strength as she followed the government attache to his apartment. The day was ending, the light was low, and her pupils widened to take in the decreasing light as she tracked her prey across the wet and misting city. Even if a mortal looked up, they would only see a slight distortion in the darkness, her native camoline cloak blending her colors, breaking up her shape despite the rain pattering against it. Foolishly, the mortal turned to pass down an alleyway, avoiding a few protestors in the street. The noise and results would be disguised a bit by the weather, opening up a new option.
Thankfully, she thought to herself as she toggled open her helmet faceplace, the Cipactli-pattern helmet had a retracting section for the jaws so she didn't need to get her head wet for this. The lips underneath curled into a grin.
He never knew what hit him. Unfortunately for him, the phrase was all too literal: what hit him was several hundred pounds of ceremite and superhuman flesh falling two stories, feet-first into his shoulders, with an audible patter of gore as his unfortunate body absorbed the landing. Leaning down, she took a bone from the splatter below, fangs sinking into the ruin of the shoulder blade, peeling flesh from bone and picking suit jacket from her teeth. Absently, she took a finger from the pile, slipping it into a pocket inside her cloak. This would be a story for the dinner halls.
As her mind whirled with information, her body moved on autopilot, ascending the wall again as the sky washed the gutters red. She had more targets before she could call in her report, and before her night was done the gutters across the city would run red.
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There were thousands of cruisers just like the
Tireless Charge in the Imperium, it was ordinary in every way. There was no reason for it to be singled out from the rest of the 18th's auxiliary fleet, and yet every other ship was bypassed by Ahurani's shuttle without a second thought. The tireless charge was not special in any way, but the people inside of it were, each and every one, special to their primarch.
"This is Ahurani, requesting permission to dock to the
Tireless Charge"
"Of course, my primarch, hangar one is open and awaits you."
"Thank you, we will be abroad shortly."
The arrival of a primarch anywhere is no small event. They move through life as a vessel through water, their presence so much more real than the world around them. It was impossible to not turn around and look, to take your chance to see one of the demigods of the Imperium.
The work in the hangar ground to a halt when Ahurani departed her shuttle. The noise of a busy room seeped out into the void, replaced by an awed silence. She takes the time to wave, and say hello to some of the closest, and eventually the spell is lifted. A ship never sleeps, not even for a primarch.
The primarch is met by the ship's captain, and the general of the attached regiment. They both bow, but Ahurani waves a hand to bid them be at ease. "Captain Yedilev, your ship is as beautiful as I remember it. It brought me great joy to see it join the fleet last year. You have been the image of the dutiful and upstanding ship since then, my compliments to you and your crew."
The compliments make the captain beam from ear to ear. "Thank you ma'am," she replied, saluting. The crew in earshot also walked with an extra spring in their step. Being recognised was a good feeling.
"General Derviot, if I remember correctly your regiment is equipped for naval operations, is that correct?"
The general, who was a short and burly woman, nodded. "Yes, my primarch. We are equipped for amphibious warfare and coastal defence. It was an important part of Nuvoran culture to keep our oceans safe."
"Then you are just the woman I need, dear one. You see, the people of Lakshap have underwater communications cables that run from island to island. For us to most effectively win this war with as little loss of life as possible, we simply must sever them. We have the locations of the cables, would you be able to destroy them?"
Nyla Derviot considered this for a moment, and then turned and had a whispered discussion with her aide. Eventually she turned back. "Yes, my primarch, I believe that we can do that for you."
"Wonderful, I will do my best to make sure your people are safe, meanwhile, would you care to join me for dinner with my sister? It would be good to see who we are working with, they are wonderful people."
"It would be my honour," said the general, blissfully unaware of what she was signing up for.
-----------------------------------
That evening, the stateroom of the
Gyrinx was filled with laughter and boisterous Marines, the legionnaires of the Jaguars toasting their visiting cousins with fermented milk alcohol and great platters of spiced meats and grains passing up and down the long wooden table, apparently carved from a single great tree split from top to bottom. At the head, on a throne of carved bone, sat Zyanya, sipping from a golden skull as a bowl. Her plate was loaded with ribs, smoked meats and a small smattering of a green, shrivelled fruit of some description. To her left sat the helmetless form of the Chief Librarian, Itxli the Stargazer. On her right were Ahurani and her command staff.
Most of the Warden's command staff had chosen to come and visit their brethren, and of those the contingent around Rata the medic were most enthusiastically joining in the celebration. The atmosphere was more boisterous than several of the legionnaires preferred so they merely sat in amiable silence, glad for the warm welcome. The person most out of place of all was the general, an unaugmented human doing her best to sit at attention while eating. While she is a short woman, broad shouldered and scarred, any person would be dwarfed in such company, especially since she is sitting next to Ahurani.
The Primarch of the Wardens had changed from her armour into one of her many sets of long, flowing black robes. No need for the veil in such company, it would simply get in the way of the meal. She sat quietly while the feast went on, smiling politely at any of the Jaguars who looked her way and tactfully avoiding needing to look directly at the throne or goblet used by Zyanya. Occasionally, she would check on the general, to try to help her relax and enjoy herself.
Zyanya offered the general a rib, surrounded by flaky white fish. The beast this had been taken from must have been almost 4 feet across.
"So, my scouts have answered the call. The government building is located on an island in the southern Archipelago, called Vaskan. The government is parliamentarian, and we expect that a decapitation strike, with a collapse of the communications network, should allow us to broadcast their surrender over the satellites we already control, and leave the local forces no way to coordinate, letting us defeat the last holdouts in detail if and when they choose to resist."
She peels back the skin from the outside of the rib, cleaning it with a single swift motion through her fanged jaws. "If you can seize the communications cables, my sister, we should be able to pacify the planet without societal disruptions, loss of production, or more than a minimum of military and government casualties. What do you propose to attack the cables? What resources would you need from us to do your task quickly and safely?"
Washing down her food with a sip of the drink in her macabre goblet, she seems to yield the floor to the Wardens.
The general took the rib carefully, nodding thanks to Zyanya as she did so. Her anxiety seemed to be calming somewhat as the meal continued.
Ahurani put her hand on the general's shoulder. "My friends in the Fourteenth Guardian Regiment come from a planet much like this one, and they brought along depth charges, which can be rigged to explode and destroy the cables while being far enough away from their islands for them to easily contest it. General Dune here assures me she can make it work if we can secure her a landing zone and air cover. If you can provide us with the locations of the cables, we can do the rest."
"Why can these charges not be orbitally deployed?" asked Itzli.
"The equipment just isn't rated for that. It isn't used all the time, and we don't have the equipment to deploy it accurately at that range either." The general offers apologetically.
She looks out at the crowded feast hall, then back to Zyanya. "Would your scouts happen to be here now? I had hoped to thank them myself for their efforts."
"Unfortunately, no. Their deployment needs to be stealthy, and returning them to orbit would be obvious."
Itzli speaks up from in between dainty bites of rib.
"The Teleportarium can be detected by their sensors, which we found after our second fleet engagement with them. At this point they're deployed to the capital island and will remain there until the action is over."
"I understand. I will have to thank them later, their bravery and cunning will save many lives in the coming days. You must be proud of your daughters, Zyanya." Ahurani smiled, love for their children is something that all primarchs can surely relate to.
She looks quizzical at that statement.
"Of course, but I cannot expect less of them. They were bred for this. I am proud of the Tlamemeh. They fought like Astartes for the chance of their children ascending. With the strength of all Tlaxcala behind us, we cannot be less than exemplary."
The weight of that expectation seems to settle around Ahurani's shoulders as well. To be astartes, to be a primarch, was to be a warrior. She knew that was supposed to be true. "I suppose you are right. I too am deeply grateful for my auxiliary, they have braved horrors no man should ever face, just to see a brighter tomorrow. My daughters made the ultimate sacrifice because they believed in the Imperium, I love them all."
Zyanya nods solemnly. "Do not revel in their deaths, but remember and honor their sacrifices. The galaxy is not a safe place. Blood will always need to be shed for the safety of the many. As Astartes it is our duty to take up that burden for the mortals behind us."
She stands, banging her goblet on the table to catch attention before refilling it.
"To those whose blood staves off the darkness!"
The table roars with approval from the Jaguars, before all the marines present take a drink. The Wardens join the toast, and Ahurani stands for it as well. From her there is no roar though, only silence as she takes her drink and sits down.
"So, sister. Your auxiliaries are prepared. Hopefully there will be little resistance, but if any of the local armed forces decide to resist, I will leave it in your hands whether our troops strike together, or separately. Either way, your daughters should be ready to deep strike on their targets within two minutes of the order."
Her mood lower than before, Ahurani nods. "I too hope there is little resistance, for their sake and ours. My daughters will be ready, and the auxilia should be preparing as we speak. By the time we finish our meal, it will be time. We will... we will finally end this war."
"This battle, sister. The war will last lifetimes, before the galaxy is finally secure. Even then, we are immortal. We will see more wars, more battles, when the courage of the men behind us fails. Make your peace with it, knowing that our sacrifice can at least minimize the damage."
She leans over, wrapping an arm around the shoulder of the smaller Primarch and pulling her close.
"Steel yourself, sister. You are a Primarch, and that cannot be changed. As much as all of us are born for a purpose, yours is to protect Mankind, and stand as a pillar for mortals to look up to. You cannot hide from that. It is not fair to the mortals, to your daughters, to see you waver where you should be mighty. Remember, if you want to save lives, do your job well. Motivate them, command them, protect them, but you cannot save their lives by avoiding your purpose."
Ahurani lets herself be drawn in, and even returns the gesture. That way it looks like an embrace, and not like she is being chided. "I cannot be you, sister. I do what I can, I obey my orders, but this will always be a burden. I may not save anyone by avoiding what the Emperor demands, but if I do I see nothing but a sea of corpses at my feet. These hands were not made for bloodshed, Zyanya, I simply cannot believe that."
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "You are right in one thing though, it is... improper for me to display such cowardice to our children. I will steel myself, do not worry."
"My sister, your heart does you credit. But it is a choice between a thousand dead with us, or a million with a Primarch less interested in efficiency. That is the only choice we are given if we want to avoid another Long Night. If you want to avoid deaths, then prevent them yourself. No one else will live up to the standard you set for yourself."
She leans back again.
"Did I tell you how I got my cup?"
Ahurani leans back one the embrace has ended, back to being the image of a primarch. It is only in her eyes that her sorrow and guilt can be seen, and few besides Zyanya are close enough to make it out. "You have not, please, share your stories with me sister. I wish to know you better and get closer to you in doing so."
She holds the cup aloft, to eye level.
"This is Milintica, my adoptive father. He was king of our city, and we would often fight flower wars with the other cities for prisoners, slaves and technology from the wreckage of ships from before the Dark Age. As I grew, I realized that I could build machines from these wrecks that would let us finally overcome the great beasts of Cipactli. If we could ally with these cities, we could unite the planet and finally leave it, have plenty for all from the other planets in the system. "
She shakes her head. "So I was banished into the Jungle as a coward and traitor. Few survived without a city, alone in the wilderness where even the insects are the size of a man's chest. I did better than that. I went to the other cities, I showed them the wonders I had discovered and I promised them that if they aided me, I would overthrow him and end the wars. When I finally took his skull atop the Great Pyramid, I kept that promise, but I kept this as well, as a reminder… and a message. Nothing, not even my feelings, will stand between me and prosperity for our people."
"You are brave, my sister, resourceful too. I admire that, so too do I admire the conviction with which you champion the prosperity of your people. The more I see of you, the more I think you may be the best of us primarchs." A barbed compliment, but also a sincere one. Zyanya is a formidable figure, but a kind one, she is deserving of more love than Ahurani gives her. "Yet I also feel sorrow for your mistreatment that led you to needing to kill your own father, tyrant though he was. I hope this new family that we have found together can bring you the happiness he could not, and that we may help you protect and uplift your people."
"It already has. Now, I only wish to give you the same honor."
A bell rings, somewhere high in the vaulted ceiling of the dining hall.
"There. The battle will begin soon. We should go to our stations. We have work to do within the hour."
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It was four hours later, and the planet was secured. With the Imperium in command of the global communications, the government offices and Parliament, and the only military resistance scattered and crushed piecemeal, the wide city streets leading up to the Capitol building were cleared by the black and red ceremite wall of the Marines deployed to the island. It was a sight that would strike fear and awe into a collection of loyal Imperial citizens, let alone those who had been their enemies before dinner the night before. The sun was peeking over the end of the main boulevard running east from the capitol plaza, and the glare kept the unaugmented attendants from seeing the source of the rumbling noise that grew louder and louder, echoing down the street off the tall buildings to either side. But at the last possible moment, a black and gold Warden Stormbird became visible through the glare, before lifting its nose for a sudden landing that would have pulped an unmodified human passenger.
Its vast bulk settled to the pavement, duracrete cracking under the vast bulk of an Imperium flyer meant to defy gravity by thrust and willpower alone, and the loading ramp slowly descended to reveal two figures.
Zyanya on the left was flanked by Itzli, just behind and at the outside of the column, and the honor guard spread out behind her in two lines as she descended the ramp. Her helmet was down, but a ceremonial sunburst halo ringed her head, anchoring the white tiger-stripe pelt that was draped as a sash over the armor front, and concealing a rosarius force field generator. Her twin bolter was holstered, but the vast claws on her right hand could not be so easily overlooked. To her right strode Ahurani in full armour, lacking only a helmet. Only the barest of robes covered the bulk of her power armour, today, here she was a warrior. The spear that was her weapon sat uneasily in her hand, and her wings sat tight against her back. Her honour guard followed behind her in two columns, the light of the sun not reaching their golden gauntlets.
As their boots hit the pavement, the voxcasters began to broadcast. Thousands of years of human history had conditioned them to be affected by music, and though the colonies were culturally separated, the Jaguars scouts had provided samples of what the locals would understand. The music that was offered by the Warden remembrancers, then, was the Imperium's most stirring, awe inspiring music to fit the colonial sensibility. The drumbeat, set to the sound of a thousand boots striking pavement, seemed to shake the world as the procession travelled down the street, up the white marble steps to the podium placed there for this occasion by the troops that had prepared the venue. Standing there also was Garen Lavellier, the prime minister of the planet until quite recently. While his appearance was as controlled as it was possible for a human to appear under the circumstances, the awe of the surroundings, not to mention two Primarchs, was noticeable to their augmented senses.
"Minister Lavellier." Zyanya rumbled, her voice seeming to herald an oncoming disaster. "I understand that after the tragic loss of some of your parliamentary compatriots, you are ready to surrender to the Imperium and accept the Imperial Truth and oversight. I trust you have a weapon to offer us for this purpose?"
The voice seemed to shake him from his reverie, and wordlessly he slipped a hand into his vest to offer a small auto pistol, butt end first, to Ahurani.
The man seemed so small, so frightened, to have fallen so low in only the space of a few hours must have been so difficult. Ahurani took the pistol gently, and nodded. "Thank you, Minister Lavellier. You have made the right choice, and many people will live thanks to your decision today. If only others could be so wise." She reversed the weapon and offered it back to the man. "May we be allies in the future, and never again enemies."
Zyanya nodded. "Indeed." Turning to the podium, she addressed the crowd. "Indeed, your Minister has been wise. His swift surrender prevented more destructive, long lasting measures to bring your world into the Imperium. Now that it has been annexed, you shall receive the protection, reconstruction, and aid of the Imperium, until your society is entirely returned to full, functioning order. Your government will continue to function, with oversight from a small garrison and a sector governor, until such time as we are confident that you are fully integrated. Your laws and customs need not change, bar the minimum to conform to the Imperial Truth, nor will your autonomy be unduly infringed. This will remain, so long as you continue to be wise, dutiful residents of the Imperium of Man."
There is a slight dragging noise from behind Ahurani that draws attention. The sound of rubber sliding along marble. A man, perhaps 50 or 60, held aloft between a pair of Jaguars, boot-tips dragging on the floor. He has clearly seen combat, with a large purpling bruise on the side of his face.
"This man, however, did not choose to honor the surrender your government arranged, choosing instead to order his troops to continue fighting and open fire on our fleet with his orbital gun. He failed, but he does serve as an object lesson in the fate of those who choose to act without wisdom."
The Jaguars roughly set him on his feet, perhaps ten or fifteen meters from Ahurani… and then Zyanya nods her head to the other Primarch. "Let his fate be a lesson to all those watching. Rebellion and defiance brings only pain and death."
Ahurani's head whipped around to look at Zyanya. There's an anger there now, and a hint of danger in her voice. "Do not ask me to do this sister," she says, low enough for only the two to hear.
There's not much of a delay, but a Primarch's senses can see the disappointment pass over Zyanya's face, and hear the soft huff of air escape her lips. Then all sound is instantly annihilated by the report of the twin bolter, called to hand without visible movement, and all that remains of the general is a red mist settling to the pavement.
"The terms of our union are, I trust, clear and unambiguous. Minister Lavellier, citizens of Lakshap, I entrust you to the oversight of my sister, Ahurani of the XVIII Legion, until such time as your society is recovered and fully integrated. That will be all."
Weapon returned to belt, she paces inside, catching Ahurani's eye. The look in her own indicates that she intends to be followed, quite firmly.
"Laliya, please take over from here. My sister needs to speak with me." One of Ahurani's honour guards saluted, and her orders were drowned out as the primarch followed her sister. There was no bend to her now, no guilt or fear.
Zyanya is inside, standing, looking up at the dome of the rotunda, where a mural of the night sky is formed in the tiles.
"Is this world beautiful, sister? Are its people not worthy of our protection?"
"Of course they are worthy, sister. It matters not how beautiful the world, nor how good the people."
"So why do you let them suffer? Would you prefer that in a few months, you have to execute a hundred partisans in the square? Would you make your daughters do it then? One man's life could prevent the deaths of hundreds. My scouts killed and ate 16 employees of the government offices to get the information we needed for this strike. Would it have been better to dispassionately reduce it to rubble from orbit and declare ourselves rulers of the bombed ruin?"
"And if you're wrong? If you killed a man who would be our ally in the future? A man with a family, who fought because he loved his people enough to protect them? Are our only options brutality, or even more brutality?" Ahurani shivers, and looks down. "I apologize, I should not disrespect you or your daughters that way. I understand you simply want what is best for everyone. I just cannot believe that this is the best way."
"Perhaps, if everyone were like you. But they are not. The galaxy is full of cruelty, death and destruction. If there are gods, they are laughing, greedy, spiteful things. Xenos at best wish for their own self interest, and at worst are utterly inimical to human life. Humans are universally self-interested, and only periodic reminders of the horrors of war keep us from clamoring for it. Blood will always be spilled, because it greases the gears of this galaxy. It keeps us from another Dark Age, where perhaps all humanity would finally be extinct. Why else would we offer surrender? Why make such a vast show, if not to ensure that we not only take this world, we convince them that it is taken, and it is in their interests to stay that way. Once my planet fought a war every year, now we have been peaceful while our wrath is directed outwards. My planets, yours, the whole Imperium remains safe and secure while it is bent to the united task of galactic hegemony."
She sighs. "In forty years, he would be dead regardless. But we could prevent him from taking others along with him. We can give his great-grandchildren a chance to look up at this dome and marvel at the stars, every one a human world. Or, we can let them drown in civil war. A surrendered man needs a
casus belli to go to war again, to admit he is wrong, but a conquered one can always cry for the liberator and feel justified in their rebellion. It is not an easy task, but it must be done, and I…" She sighs.
"All I want is to make it as easy for you as I can, because if you do not adapt to the galaxy it will break you, and then? Then I fear what you may become if none of your hope survives it."
"It's not that I do not recognize your kindness, sister. I see it, I see it in the eyes of many of our siblings when they look at me with pity. Your point is well made, and your point of view is valuable, probably more valuable than mine." She looks down, hands clasped to keep from shaking.
When Ahurani continued, her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "But if the galaxy is as you say, Zyanya, then I would rather be broken than bend to it. Perhaps when that happens Father will finally look on me and be proud." The final words remain in the air, unsaid: I would rather die.
