you?’
‘Because the truth—’ Loken began.
‘—is amoral. So you said, but in serving your fine truth, invader, you make yourself immoral.’
Loken was surprised to find he didn’t know quite how to answer. He took a step forward and said, ‘I request you surrender to me, sir.’
‘You are the commander, I take it?’ the elderly man asked.
‘I command Tenth Company.’
‘You are not the overall commander, then? I assumed you were, as you entered this place ahead of your troops. I was waiting for the overall commander. I will submit to him, and to him alone.’
‘The terms of your surrender are not negotiable.’
‘Will you not even do that for me? Will you not even do me that honour? I would stay here, until your lord and master comes in person to accept my submission. Fetch him.’
Before Loken could reply, a dull wail echoed up into the tower top, gradually increasing in volume. The elderly man took a step or two backwards, fear upon his face.
The black figures rose up out of the tower’s depths, ascending slowly, vertically, up through the open centre of the ring platform. Ten Astartes warriors, the blue heat of their whining jump pack burners shimmering the air behind them. Their power armour was black, trimmed with white. Catulan Reaver Squad, First Company’s veteran assault pack. First in, last out.
One by one, they came in to land on the edge of the ring platform, deactivating their jump packs.
Kalus Ekaddon, Catulan’s captain, glanced sidelong at Loken.
‘The first captain’s compliments, Captain Loken. You beat us to it after all.’
‘Where is the first captain?’ Loken asked.
‘Below, mopping up,’ Ekaddon replied. He set his vox to transmit. ‘This is Ekaddon, Catulan. We have secured the false emperor—’
‘No,’ said Loken firmly.
Ekaddon looked at him again. His visor lenses were stern and unreflective jet glass set in the black metal of his helmet mask. He bowed slightly. ‘My apologies, captain,’ he said, archly. ‘The prisoner and the honour are yours, of course.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Loken replied. ‘This man demands the right to surrender in person to our commander-in-chief.’
Ekaddon snorted, and several of his men laughed. ‘This bastard can demand all he likes, captain,’ Ekaddon said, ‘but he’s going to be cruelly disappointed.’
‘We are dismantling an ancient empire, Captain Ekaddon,’ Loken said firmly. ‘Might we not display some measure of gracious respect in the execution of that act? Or are we just barbarians?’
‘He murdered Sejanus!’ spat one of Ekaddon’s men.
‘He did,’ Loken agreed. ‘So should we just murder him in response? Didn’t the Emperor, praise be his name, teach us always to be magnanimous in victory?’
‘The Emperor, praise be his name, is not with us,’ Ekaddon replied.
‘If he’s not with us in spirit, captain,’ Loken replied, ‘then I pity the future of this crusade.’
Ekaddon stared at Loken for a moment, then ordered his second to transmit a signal to the fleet. Loken was quite sure Ekaddon had not backed down because he’d been convinced by any argument or fine principle. Though Ekaddon, as Captain of First Company’s assault elite, had glory and favour on his side, Loken, a company captain, had superiority of rank.
‘A signal has been sent to the Warmaster,’ Loken told the elderly man.
‘Is he coming here? Now?’ the man asked eagerly.
‘Arrangements will be made for you to meet him,’ Ekaddon snapped.
They waited for a minute or two for a signal response. Astartes attack ships, their engines glowing, streaked past the windows. The light from huge detonations sheeted the southern skies and slowly died away. Loken watched the criss-cross shadows play across the ring platform in the dying light.
He started. He suddenly realised why the elderly man had insisted so furiously that the commander should come in person to this place. He clamped his bolter to his
‘Because the truth—’ Loken began.
‘—is amoral. So you said, but in serving your fine truth, invader, you make yourself immoral.’
Loken was surprised to find he didn’t know quite how to answer. He took a step forward and said, ‘I request you surrender to me, sir.’
‘You are the commander, I take it?’ the elderly man asked.
‘I command Tenth Company.’
‘You are not the overall commander, then? I assumed you were, as you entered this place ahead of your troops. I was waiting for the overall commander. I will submit to him, and to him alone.’
‘The terms of your surrender are not negotiable.’
‘Will you not even do that for me? Will you not even do me that honour? I would stay here, until your lord and master comes in person to accept my submission. Fetch him.’
Before Loken could reply, a dull wail echoed up into the tower top, gradually increasing in volume. The elderly man took a step or two backwards, fear upon his face.
The black figures rose up out of the tower’s depths, ascending slowly, vertically, up through the open centre of the ring platform. Ten Astartes warriors, the blue heat of their whining jump pack burners shimmering the air behind them. Their power armour was black, trimmed with white. Catulan Reaver Squad, First Company’s veteran assault pack. First in, last out.
One by one, they came in to land on the edge of the ring platform, deactivating their jump packs.
Kalus Ekaddon, Catulan’s captain, glanced sidelong at Loken.
‘The first captain’s compliments, Captain Loken. You beat us to it after all.’
‘Where is the first captain?’ Loken asked.
‘Below, mopping up,’ Ekaddon replied. He set his vox to transmit. ‘This is Ekaddon, Catulan. We have secured the false emperor—’
‘No,’ said Loken firmly.
Ekaddon looked at him again. His visor lenses were stern and unreflective jet glass set in the black metal of his helmet mask. He bowed slightly. ‘My apologies, captain,’ he said, archly. ‘The prisoner and the honour are yours, of course.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Loken replied. ‘This man demands the right to surrender in person to our commander-in-chief.’
Ekaddon snorted, and several of his men laughed. ‘This bastard can demand all he likes, captain,’ Ekaddon said, ‘but he’s going to be cruelly disappointed.’
‘We are dismantling an ancient empire, Captain Ekaddon,’ Loken said firmly. ‘Might we not display some measure of gracious respect in the execution of that act? Or are we just barbarians?’
‘He murdered Sejanus!’ spat one of Ekaddon’s men.
‘He did,’ Loken agreed. ‘So should we just murder him in response? Didn’t the Emperor, praise be his name, teach us always to be magnanimous in victory?’
‘The Emperor, praise be his name, is not with us,’ Ekaddon replied.
‘If he’s not with us in spirit, captain,’ Loken replied, ‘then I pity the future of this crusade.’
Ekaddon stared at Loken for a moment, then ordered his second to transmit a signal to the fleet. Loken was quite sure Ekaddon had not backed down because he’d been convinced by any argument or fine principle. Though Ekaddon, as Captain of First Company’s assault elite, had glory and favour on his side, Loken, a company captain, had superiority of rank.
‘A signal has been sent to the Warmaster,’ Loken told the elderly man.
‘Is he coming here? Now?’ the man asked eagerly.
‘Arrangements will be made for you to meet him,’ Ekaddon snapped.
They waited for a minute or two for a signal response. Astartes attack ships, their engines glowing, streaked past the windows. The light from huge detonations sheeted the southern skies and slowly died away. Loken watched the criss-cross shadows play across the ring platform in the dying light.
He started. He suddenly realised why the elderly man had insisted so furiously that the commander should come in person to this place. He clamped his bolter to his
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