Editing The Tales of the Emperasque: Part Ten (section)

==4-046-001-M42==
Lord Primarch Vulkan was, Tu’Shan noted, not an easily distracted man. No sooner had he disembarked from his shuttle onto the Chalice of Fire than he had gone about the task of meeting his new officers. Nearly the entire Salamanders chapter was present, since they had all returned to Nocturne after Armageddon.

He’Stan led the Primarch and his Chapter Master into the Chalice’s armory, where Vulkan could inspect the new armor they had made for him. Vulkan was speaking to the other two about the Emperor’s rescue. “I honestly don’t know how long the trench went. He just opened fire, and there it was. It was astounding.”

“I didn’t know what to expect when that Eldar informed us of the things the Emperor was doing behind the scenes,” Tu’Shan confessed. “The whole story was so unbelievable.”

“Understandable,” Vulkan nodded. The trio passed a lumbering guard servitor trudging the other way. “I had no idea what I was looking at the first time I saw him.”

“I wonder if we shall see him in person, when we arrive at Terra,” Tu’Shan wondered aloud. “I imagine we would. His summons was urgent.”

The three of them reached the armory, and Tu’Shan slid the hatch back. Vulkan stooped to walk through the hatchway and stepped in, taking in the familiar sights.

The Armory was arranged just as he had left it, if a bit worn. The carefully arranged sets of tools and racks of calibration tools had been shuffled around a bit by the previous users, and a whole rack of Mechanicum prayer scrolls were cluttering up one side wall. The central open space – a waste on a normal warship – was occupied by a low bench, with drawers tucked underneath. The ceiling was cluttered asymmetrically with track lights, each of which could be moved independently, and a few dangling power outlets on cords. The bench was lined down the middle with more outlets, and small sanding and air-compressing devices. There was no actual equipment on the bench, much to Vulkan’s approval: nothing got under his skin like sloppiness.

He’Stan walked past his Primarch to the sealed vault at the back of the armory where unworn suits of armor were kept. He tapped the activation runes and the hatch slid open. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Vulkan was following, but he wasn’t. Vulkan was standing at the middle of the workbench, idly rolling a tube of silicon gel between his fingers and tapping the runes on the calibration tool in front of him, lost in thought. After a moment, he glanced up at the two staring Salamanders and grinned self-consciously. “Sorry. It’s just good to be home.”

He’Stan nodded modestly. “Take your time, my Lord. We’re still days out from Terra.”

“Well not even I can be lost in nostalgia that long,” Vulkan said wryly, putting the lube and calipers away. He followed He’Stan and the Chapter Master to the door to the armor locker and stepped in. “Say, I like what you’ve done with the place.”

The Terminator suits of the Chapter, some undergoing minor repairs or upgrades, were stored in sanctified cradles on the sides of the room, with several inactive servitors lining the center, each with massive augmetic claws to lift the huge armor plates. A sculpted ceramite block stood alone in the back of the room, with the recovered Artefacts adorning it. Vulkan gravitated to the sculpture, and looked at each recovered Artefact in turn. “Let’s see…the Song, the Mantle, the Gauntlet, and the Spear. We’re in the Chalice…”

“…And the Eye is currently installed in orbit above Prometheus,” He’Stan finished. “The Song I recovered only weeks ago.”

“Interesting…” Vulkan said, hefting the Spear and balancing it experimentally. He grimaced. “I never did finish balancing this…I’ll have to tune it later.”

“If I may ask, your Lordship, what are the remaining three Artefacts?” Tu’Shan asked. He’Stan shot him a look of pure venom, but before he could say anything, the Primarch replied without looking.

“The Unbound Flame is an upgrade kit for a Terminator Suit. The Obsidian Chariot is a ship…I suspect Brother He’Stan already knows what the Engine of Woes is.”

“I do, though I can not for the life of me even begin to figure out where the hell it is,” He’Stan said. “I strongly suspect it to be a combat servitor you custom made, my Lord.”

“What? No,” Vulkan said, surprised. “It’s not a servitor at all.”

“Then…I see,” He’Stan said, crestfallen. Vulkan noticed and hastened to explain.

“Recall the prophesy, brother?”

“ ‘In an island of the neverending winter, the sons of the dragon keep the Engine of Woes. Never shall the sons of the Fire Drake defeat the sons of the dragon, until the sky is made hot again. The automatic arms of the Engine keep the sky company, and its activation will be the island’s end,’ ” He’Stan said from memory. “I assumed that to mean that the Engine was a combat servitor you had created, that it would be overrun by a cult, and that we would defeat the cult with the Engine.”

“Well, no,” Vulkan said, replacing the Spear. “I’ll cut to the chase, then. The Engine was a pair of the weapons taken from a wrecked Knight. The weapons could be mounted on the side turrets of a Land Raider, if its troop compartment were replaced with a larger engine and an improved suspension system.”

“Oh…” He’Stan looked positively heartbroken at the declaration that his interpretation of the Prophesies of the Book of Fire had been so grossly inaccurate. Tu’Shan leaned over to him while Vulkan was still engrossed with the sculpture.

“Take heart, brother. You did find one Artefact, that’s more than the prior forty Forgefathers did.”

“I suppose,” He’Stan said morosely. Tu’Shan’s voice hardened.

“Suck it up, Brother, you’re acting like an altar boy being chided for missing a line in a hymm."

He’Stan was on the verge of saying something stupid when Vulkan turned back to them. “Gentlemen, I am impressed with the extent to which my good old workshop was preserved. I crafted six of the Artefacts in these two rooms…so long ago.”

“If you so desire, Lord, you could wield them yourself, again,” Tu'Shan said, straightening up from his glowering friend.

“Oh?” Vulkan said, peaking one eyebrow curiously. “You have armor ready for me, do you?”

“We do indeed, Lord Vulkan,” Tu’Shan said, pointing towards the second of the two hatches out of the armory. Vulkan walked through into the third room of the armory, and his jaw dropped. A magnificent green and gold Terminator suit stood in the middle of the room, held in place by an internal lattice. A spotlight shone from directly overhead, casting shadows down the arms under the pauldrons. Vulkan slowly walked up to it and stared at the helmet. He clamped his hand over neck seal and popped it loose, then hefted it experimentally. He turned back to the two Salamanders who had followed him through, and smiled broadly.

“It is indeed good to be home.”