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

==9-042-001-M42==
The last of the shuttles docked with the Neverending, as the surviving ground units arrived. The Emperor himself was nowhere to be seen. Russ wandered on the bridge, drawing the quiet ire of the Techmarines and Navy personnel manning the controls. After a few minutes of meandering he glanced over at the auspex screen that had been tracking the Emperor’s position. The blip that had represented his coordinates had vanished. 

Russ frowned and turned to face the operator. “Astartes, why has the Emperor’s contact vanished?”

“He has teleported, Lord Russ, and his destination was not announced to us,” the Techmarine said, looking over the readout and fiddling with a brass knob. The screen zoomed out of its view of the surface, but the contact remained absent. 

The Marine turned back to Russ and shrugged uncomfortably. “He seems to already be off-planet, sir.”

“Of course he is,” Russ muttered. “Well, I’m sure he’ll turn up. Has Commander Dante withdrawn from the surface yet?”

“He has, Lord Russ, his Thunderhawk and the last few Aquillas are withdrawing at the moment. The Orks will enter the automated defenses’ fields of fire in…four minutes.”

Suddenly, a huge slash of bright red appeared on the atmospheric auspex screen. The cogitator bleeped an alarm, and nearly every eye on the bridge swiveled to stare. The region around the Ork landing site was aflame, and the fire was spreading fast. The inter-ship vox panel before the communications officer pinged a signal. “Neverending, this is Prize Team. Come in, Neverending.”

“Neverending here, Prize Team,” the comm officer replied.

“Can you confirm the impact of the wreckage?” the comm speakers blared.

“We confirm, Neverending,” the comm officer said, glancing over the sensor panel. “What just happened down there?”

“The Emperor ordered that one of the wrecked Ork Killkroozers on the outside of the Pyre’s hull be dropped on the landing site to exterminate the greenskins at that point, Neverending, less than five minutes ago,” the speaker aboard the Pyre said. “We’re to use this Battle Barge’s localized virus torpedo to kill everything within a designated area once the Orks are all clustered around the base.”

“They more or less are right now, Prize Team,” the comm officer said. “The Emperor did not inform us of this plan.”

“He communicated it to us via the Librarians accompanying Lord El’Jonson, directly, Neverending.”

“I’m not doubting Lord El’Jonson’s honesty, Prize Team, merely expressing surprise,” the Techmarine said, with exceptional care.

“Acknowledged, Neverending. Deploying torpedo.” Without another word, a tiny red blip on the ship’s auspex appeared, streaking towards the planet’s surface. Everyone on the bridge of both ships watched its progress until the blip intercepted the atmosphere of the planet.

“Well, that’s it then,” Russ said tiredly. “So much for Zargh 3.”

“A localized virus bomb just destroys all cell membranes within a two thousand kilometer radius, Lord Russ,” one of the Techmarines put in, “leaving the organic molecules and atmosphere largely intact. In a very few decades, the world will be completely habitable instead of merely partially habitable.”

“I suppose,” Russ said, slouching off towards the exit. “Brother-Captain, you have the helm,” he said over his shoulder, turning away from the man’s salute. He plodded down to the armory, where he started tiredly peeling off the Custodes armor with the help of a few servitors.

Several decks above, Jaghatai was grumbling to himself as he tossed and turned in his bunk. The fact that he was sleeping in an actual bed was as alien as the faint noises of the ship around him. He had managed to sleep on the planet below out of need, as any campaigner of his experience knew how to force rest, but now that he wasn’t leading an army or running for his life, the quiet of the ship sounded far too much like the infinite emptiness of the Webway.

After tossing about in his oversized bunk for nearly an hour, he tossed off the sheets and pulled on the Space Wolves jumpsuit he had been issued when he came aboard. He wandered the halls of the ship aimlessly, pointedly ignoring the gabbling clusters of refugees that cluttered every room and chamber. Finally, his aimless walking brought him to the small chapel of the Omnissiah that the Techpriests of the ship maintained. He leaned against the door and stared at the sight of his father as a clockwork devotional icon.

“Depressing, isn’t it?” Leman Russ asked, walking up behind his brother.

“Oh yeah, it is,” Jaghatai said. “Wasn’t this something we both – and he, for that matter – tried to prevent?”

“It’s a long story, brother,” Russ said, joining his brother in staring at the stained glass image of their father with mechanical skin. The single Techpriest inside noticed the two huge men at the hatch and started, recognizing both. He scuttled over on metal feet and bowed low.

“My Lords, you honor me. How may I serve you? Do you seek the Machine God’s blessing?”

“Heh. No,” Jaghatai said, keeping his distaste in check with an effort. “Just sleepless.”

“I see, Lord Khan. And you, Lord Russ?”

Russ shifted his arms uncomfortably. “No, sieur, just passing by on the way to bunking. May I ask when the worship of the…Machine God became widespread? I seem to recall it was somewhat more…muted when I departed the Imperium, though I remember it had always been around.”

“Oh, time immemorial, Lord Russ,” the Techpriest beamed. “Our worship of the words of the Machine began nearly when the Age of Strife did, if not sooner. It’s just…well, Lord, it became so very clear to the practitioners of the Mechanicus that the Emperor was indeed the Omnissiah when He ascended the Throne. A machine, maintaining the life of the most powerful man to have ever existed, who in turn became a god on His throne.”

Jaghatai grimaced, though it would have been hard to tell even in full lighting, as opposed to the muted brassy glow of the chapel. Russ was more polite. “Thank you, sieur. Good night.”

The Space Wolf grabbed Jaghatai’s elbow discretely and tugged him away from the chapel while the Techpriest bowed obsequiously. Jaghatai jerked his arm loose and glared at Russ, who pretended not to notice as the two men walked down the corridor. When they were out of the range of the Techpriest’s augmented ears, Jaghatai snorted. “Why the hell did you do that?”
“Because it never hurts to be polite to the people who maintain the air cyclers, brother,” Russ said, “and also because it looked like you were spoiling for a fight.”
“Bah.” Jaghatai said dismissively. “I have no more time for their lies than you do. We both know Father is not some…cyborg prophet.”

“Perhaps not, brother, but there’s no need to pick a theo-seminary fight in the middle of a ship packed full to the brim with refugees who are barely clinging to their sanity from terror, either,” Russ said, dropping his voice an octave. “Now. As I recall, you preferred to work off your troubles with tarot. Up for a few hands? I have a little backlogged irritation to work off, too.”

''Continued in [[The Tales of the Emperasque: Part Ten]]''.
[[Category:The Tales of the Emperasque]]