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

==4-031-001-M42==
The Rock was abuzz. The astropaths – in between bits of coughing and gasping for air – had announced that the Emperor Himself, along with Leman Russ, were due to arrive any moment. The two hundred Marines still stationed there were hurriedly assembling in the Great Hall, while Azrael and Lion El’Jonson prepared for their roles.

“Lord El’Jonson, if I may, do you think the Emperor will call upon us to serve directly? The Dark Angels will always be ready to deploy if He calls, but with eight companies fielded…” Azrael left the question hanging in the air.

Lion shook his head. “Doubtful. If anything, I suspect we’re going to be reinforcements for another group.”

“Which, sir?” Azrael asked, checking his plasma pistol, then sliding it into the ornate ceremonial holster he wore. “There are five dozen Imperial battlegroups in service in this segmentum alone.”

“If I know him, he’ll say the counter-Ork force that Commander Dante is leading,” El’Jonson said, distractedly pulling a formal uniform cap on. He still didn’t have new power armor, but that was no surprise: even after ten thousand years of inactivity he was still larger than the average Marine, and no artificer or Techmarine had managed to whip up a new suit for him yet. For a moment, he wondered what Vulkan would have said if he had been here.

“I’ve worked with Dante,” Azrael said, holding up his helmet and inspecting it for a moment, then sliding it over his head. His voice continued, through the speaker. “He’s a genius. He struck me as being a bit too hesitant to commit, at times, but he’s as smart as they come.”

“So I’ve heard, from you and Sammael,” El’Jonson said. “I’ve also heard he’s the oldest uninterred Space Marine. Any truth to that?” he asked as he tucked a grey sash over his dress uniform, decorated with the black wings of the 1st company. A Watcher waddled up and lifted a black-gilt chainsword and scabbard to him. El’Jonson smiled at the little xeno and strapped the blade on.

“It is true, Lord El’Jonson,” Azrael said, finishing his own preparations. “He has survived over a full eleven centuries as an Astartes.”

“Longer than I ever managed,” El’Jonson said wryly. “I’ll have to ask him how he did it.”

A loud CRACK from another part of the Fortress-Monastery announced the Emperor’s early arrival. El’Jonson started and jogged down the corridor towards the Great hall, with Azrael hot on his heels. El’Jonson came to a halt just inside the Hall, scanning the room, and finding the massive Emperor instantly. The other members of the Dark Angels stood at ramrod attention, their armored hands locked in salute. The Master of Sanctity was leading a ritual greeting, which the Emperor was looking oddly relieved by, and Leman Russ, that scraggly bastard, was already being presumptuous enough to breathe his air, and walk on his floor. Lion kept his face neutral as he walked across to Russ’ side.

“Lion,” Russ said casually, keeping his face free of whatever emotion he was feeling.

“Leman,” El’Jonson replied in the same tone. The Emperor was think/yelling at the Master of Sanctity Asmodai now.

“YES, I’M PLEASED TO RETURN. I UNDERSTAND A GOODLY PORTION OF YOUR TROOPS ARE AFIELD RIGHT NOW?”

“They are, my Liege,” Asmodai said reverently. “The second and fifth, seventh, fourth, and most of tenth, first, and third companies are engaging your enemies as we speak.”

“AND WHERE MIGHT THE NEAREST OF THESE BATTLEFIELDS BE?” the Emperor roared.

“The nearest is the Ork incursion on the planet Zargh 3, my Liege,” Asmodai said. “There used to be a vast population of feral-worlders there, numbering in the tens of millions, before an Ork Waaagh lead by Chief Warboss Skullwearuh descended on it. Apparently, they didn’t even know that humans were there, but the world holds some importance to the greenskin vermin. Long ago, several Ork Warbosses fought each other to the death there, and there’s been a very small population of native orks there since.”

“THEN THAT IS WHERE WE BELONG, ASMODAI,” the Emperor said decisively. Asmodai bowed, hesitant.

“As you will it, my Liege, but…I feel obligated to say, though of course your order supersedes his, that Chapter Master Azrael requested that at least four hundred Angels remain here for the recruiting and training of the several dozen Initiates and Neophytes we acquired after the Third Battle for Armageddon.”

“AS HE WAS ENTIRELY WITHIN HIS RIGHT TO DO,” the Emperor said, before seemingly noticing that Lion and Azrael were right next to him. Recovering quickly, he added “I DO NOT DISAPPROVE, BUT YOUR FORCES WILL BE NEEDED IN THE FIELD IF THIS WAAAGH IS LARGE ENOUGH TO REQUIRE MULTIPLE COMPANIES OF ASTARTES, AND IS THAT CLOSE TO US NOW. HOW MANY ORKS ARE THERE IN THE SYSTEM?”

“All but one world in the system is uninhabitable, even by Orks, but they have a Space Hulk in orbit, the Pyres of the Lost,” Azrael said smoothly, glad to be wearing a mask. “Aboard the Hulk, who knows? On the planet below – it has no moons – at least eleven million.”

“WHAT? HOW COULD THAT MANY ORKS HAVE SURVIVED ON A SINGLE SPACE HULK?” the Emperor said in genuine surprise.

“There were several dozen Roks docked with the Hulk, which had apparently been sucked into the Warp when the Hulk was,” Azrael said, stepping from beside El’Jonson and Russ, and saluting reverently before the Emperor. “We suspect that they also came from a nearby system, as well. We aren’t sure which one.”

“AND WHAT FORCES OF THE IMPERIUM ARE ARRAYED AGAINST THEM?” the Emperor asked.

“Five companies of the Blood Angels, eighteen frigates of the Segmentum Anti-Tyranid Rapid Reaction Force with their accompanying ground and boarding units, a Navy fleet from Kyrd, lead by Flag Admiral Thammond, and nearly one thousand additional Astartes from four other Chapters,” Azrael said. “They are joined by two thousand Battle Sisters of the Order of the Bloody Rose, and five hundred elite Skitarii of the Mechanicum, protecting the Archmagos leading the Space Hulk boarders and prize team. The Inquisition has dispatched four Deathwatch killteams to kill off the Chief Warboss. The Chartered Captains have been called to action, as well, their ships transporting several hundred Ordos Hospitaller to treat the wounded and transport equipment.”

“IMPRESSIVE FORCE DIVERSITY, BUT THAT CAN’T POSSIBLY BE ENOUGH TO FIGHT OFF AN ENTIRE ORK WAAAGH,” the Emperor said.

Azrael bowed. “Accompanying them are just over fifty regiments of the Imperial Guard, and six thousand men of the Rapid Reaction Force,” he said.

“Do not discount the fighting men of the Guard, Lord Azrael,” Leman Russ said pointedly. “They may lack our genetic superiority, but I have seen them overcome it many times.”

Azrael inclined his head, sneaking a look at El’Jonson’s compressed lips and clenched fists as he did so. “Yes, Lord Russ.”

“THAT’S STILL ONLY MAYBE SIXTY FIVE THOUSAND TROOPS, AT BEST, AGAINST OVER TEN MILLION ORKS,” the Emperor pointed out.

“Indeed, my Liege,” Azrael said, happy to return to a more comfortable topic. “They are not trying to retake the world, merely hold it long enough to evacuate what few people on the world are deemed salvageable. The ground troops will then transfer to the Hulk to help in seizing it.”

The Emperor’s massive body seemed to inflate, then he let out a loud sigh. “SALVAGEABLE. WHAT DARK DAYS ARE THESE THAT WE MUST ABANDON MILLIONS OF OUR FELLOW HUMANS TO ORKISH SLAVERY AND SAVAGERY? I SHALL LEAD YOUR FORCES INTO BATTLE PERSONALLY, LORD AZRAEL.”

The room was silent for all of one second before an astounded murmur erupted from nearly every one of the serfs and Initiates. The Neophytes and Battle-Brothers were more respectful, though several cast pointed stares at El’Jonson, who was looking as if he had been caught flat-footed by the announcement.

Azrael spoke up, very carefully. “My Liege, we would, of course, be honored to follow you into battle, but…”

“BUT THE HONOR OF LEADING YOU IN BATTLE SHOULD BE LEFT TO LORD EL’JONSON, EH?” the Emperor said reflectively. “VERY WELL. I WILL ASSUME OVERALL AUTHORITY OF THE FIELDED FORCES, BUT DARK ANGEL COMMAND SHALL REMAIN WITH YOU, LORD EL’JONSON,” he said, directing his chilling gaze to his son.

El’Jonson nodded, his clenched jaw relaxing a micron. “I would enjoy the chance to lead once more, Sire. Might I ask what role the Space Wolves will play in this battle?” Russ’s eyes narrowed to slits, but he said nothing.

“NONE, AS THEIR FORCES ARE COMMITTED ELSEWHERE AT THE MOMENT, THOUGH OF COURSE LORD RUSS WILL BE ACCOMPANYING US AS WELL,” the Emperor said. Russ nodded.

“I dare say ten thousand years of practice have left me in fighting trim,” he said nonchalantly. Now it was El’Jonson’s turn to glare.

After a few more minutes of deployment orders, the Dark Angels filed out, many already heading for the armories to prepare their personal equipment for deployment. Azrael stayed behind, waiting for El’Jonson. Russ turned to El’Jonson and sighed. “Shall we?” he asked, looking for all the world as if he were regretting it.

El’Jonson rolled his shoulders and grimaced. “Well, I’m frankly not sure. I don’t know if, after ten thousand years, smacking you around is even worth my time,” he said.

Russ’s face went blank as a ceiling tile. “Smacking me around? Really? From what I remember, last time, I whipped your moody ass so hard your tiny nuts switched places.”

Lion’s eyes shot open. Russ smiled wanly, shedding the fur-lined leather jacket he had donned for the trip. “Now…let’s see if I can make it two-and-oh.”

El’Jonson ripped his weapon belt off and tossed it to Azrael, who was torn between trying to break it up and covertly hitting the ‘record’ button on his helmet. He cracked his knuckles and tugged the top few buttons on his uniform shirt off. “Bring it, lapdog.”

Russ bared his elongated teeth and swung an open hand at Lion’s head. Lion ducked by a hairsbreadth, lunging forward under the blow. Russ feinted back a pace, before bringing his pivot leg forward in a brutal knee thrust. Lion barely dodged it, taking the blow across his guard. He spun to the floor, wincing. “Out of practice…” he said as he threw his center of gravity backwards and levered up.

“Excuses, excuses,” Russ snarled, dropping his heel mere inches from Lion’s boot. Lion took the bait, twisting his own leg to slam his knee sideways into Russ’, their feet nearly aligned. He shot both hands out in a palm thrust, catching Russ off-guard, but Russ grabbed Lion’s wrists and pushed, throwing the much lighter man back several inches. Lion rolled his arms to break Russ’ lock and raised his knee suddenly, slamming into Russ’ jaw and making his teeth click together.

Russ shook his head, dazed a bit, and Lion took the opportunity, sweeping his free leg at Russ’ waist. Russ was in the wrong position to block, and took the armoured boot in the hip. He wheezed with sudden pain, but locked his arm around the offending limb.

Lion smirked and kicked off the ground with his other leg, driving it laterally to slam into Russ’ other side, taking the red-haired Space Wolf completely by surprise. Russ dropped Lion’s leg and stumbled back a few paces, then glared angrily at his brother, who was rolling back to his feet.

“I see the Dark Angels haven’t forgotten how to fight dirty,” Russ said through gritted teeth.

“ ‘Dirty,’ says the only Primarch save Mortarion to ever have fleas,” Lion shot back, bringing his arms up to guard.

Russ laughed, a short bark of amusement, and threw himself forward, before suddenly leaping as high as he could at the last second. Lion didn’t get his guard high enough in time, and Russ slammed into his rising arms with the force of a bolter shell. “Fighting dirty is one thing,” Russ snarled as he landed four quick blows on Lion’s ribs before leaning back to dodge the hasty counter-shot, “but fighting crazy is a lot more…useful!” he said, slamming a balled fist sideways into Lion’s elbow.

Lion gasped, drawing the wounded arm back reflexively. Russ grabbed both of Lion’s shoulders and heaved, tossing the Dark Angels’ Primarch like a ragdoll, nearly ten feet to the side. Lion cannoned into a table, cracking one of its legs clean off. To his credit, he recovered fast, scissoring his legs forward and down, anticipating another blow from Russ.

Sure enough, Russ had gotten overconfident, and had followed up with a charge, hoping to pin Lion before he could get back up. With an aborted yell of triumph, Russ landed square on Lion’s raised feet. Lion planted his hands on the floor and tossed Russ overhead, his momentum carrying him into a tumbled mess on the floor on the other side of the now-ruined table.

Lion scrambled up, his knees aching, sure that he had at least stunned out of his larger brother, but it was not to be. Russ was already on his feet, and with a grunt of effort, threw himself into a slide across the polished stone floor. His outstretched feet crashed into the tottering table, which slammed into Lion in turn. Lion pitched over the table and landed flat on his back, winded. Russ used the last of his considerable inertia to rock forward, his legs straddling Lion’s. He slammed one hand across Lion’s strong shoulder, and placed a fist within a millimeter of his brother’s scarred face.

Lion’s eyes focused on the hand locked rigidly in front of his eyes and sighed. “Fine, fine,” he muttered, tapping his knuckles on the stone. Russ smirked and jumped to his feet, reaching down to pull his disgruntled brother off the floor. He slammed his hand on Lion’s back and grinned.

“Better luck next time, eh?” he asked with innocent humor.

“Suuure,” Lion said, dusting himself off. “I’m just tired from my, you know, ten thousand year coma. Your drunken ass is mine, next time, I swear it.”

“As I recall, you said that last time too, brother,” Russ pointed out, “but I won’t hold it against you.” He nodded sagely, feeling magnanimous after his win. “Who knows, you might get REALLY lucky next time.”

Lion glared daggers at his brother, then sighed, accepting his weapons back from the awestruck Azrael with a grin. “I’ve missed you, Leman. Don’t let anyone know.”

Russ smirked again. Before he could say something, the Emperor cut in. “IF YOU TWO SCHOOLBOYS ARE READY?”

“Naturally, Father,” Russ nodded.

“SUPER. LION, HAVE YOU A SUIT OF ARMOR YOU CAN USE DURING THIS BATTLE?” the Emperor asked, apparently satisfied with Russ’ answer.

“Yes, Father, the Techmarines have prepared a Deathwing suit for me. They had to cannibalize four damaged suits for parts, but they did it,” Lion said.

“EXCELLENT. RUSS BORROWED ONE OF THE ONES THE BLOOD RAVENS HAVE ACQUIRED, THOUGH IT’S NOT STANDARD ISSUE,” the Emperor said in mild disgust.

“Well, Azrael, there you have it,” Russ said, noting that the Dark Angel Chapter Master was looking a bit off-balance, even through his helmet. “Some traditions must be maintained.”

“So I see,”Azrael said, snapping back to himself. “Lord Russ, have you brought any additional forces with you to the Rock?” he asked, rather hoping the answer was ‘no’.

“I have, though they are not Astartes,” Russ said. Azrael started to relax, but Russ continued. “Lord Roboute Guilliman awaits aboard our ship.” Azrael couldn’t resist glancing up at the Emperor, who was deep in conversation with Lord El’Jonson.

“I…confess some surprise. Had I known he was coming, I would have made arrangements.”

“Beyond those you made for me and the Emperor?” Russ asked drily. Azrael stiffened.

“No, Lord Russ,” he said. Russ chuckled.

“Relax, Lord Azrael. Lord Guilliman will be accompanying us into battle as well, employing yet more of the Blood Raven’s lucre,” Russ said, privately enjoying Azrael’s discomfort.

“Beyond that,” he continued, another several ships are en route from the Ravenspire. The Raven Guard will be providing a few men, led by Corax himself. Though I doubt he’d claim to be in shape for it,” Russ said with mild irritation. After a moment, he shook his head. “That’s unfair. He’s dealt with worse than I ever did.”

“Lord Corax has returned as well, then, Lord Russ?” Azrael asked in surprise.

“Yes, Lord Azrael. All of we loyal Primarchs have returned now save Jaghatai, and I have no idea where he is,” Russ said, shaking his head. “I have heard rumors that he got sucked into the Webway when hunting Dark Eldar slavers, but he should have emerged by now.”