Editing Bleeding Out: A Custodian's Story (Warhammer High) (section)

=== The Secret Sanctum ===

Deep beneath the bedrock, protected by millions of tons of rock and steel, layered voids and the entire might of the Ten Thousand lay the final sanctum, the sanctuary bunker. There could not have been a more secure location anywhere within known space. Even if the whole planet above was subjected to an exterminatus-grade event, the bunker would endure it. The Emperor could withdraw there until help arrived, or use its teleporter to escape. Not that such an event was ever likely to happen. Since the fall of the Rangda and the demise of Ullanor, nothing existed that could ever offer an existential threat to the Imperium. Still, preparation was a key tenet of the Custodes and so they maintained the bunker should the day come that it was ever needed.

That day, it turned out, was today.

Skuratova and Quadriga disembarked to a solid wall of rock with a single door, a battle barge grade external bulkhead door set into the rock. No less than sixteen heavy sentry guns, ranging from Blaze Cannon Turrets to Adrathic Devastators faced them, set into the walls.

A series of red laser lines painted the two of them as they stood before the door.

“The biometrics here will identify us as a threat if our DNA signatures are off by even 0.9% of records.”

“That’s really assuring, honoured Custodian.” Skuratova sounded anything but.

“At least you know the security here is such that nothing can dream of breaching it.”

“Yes, but it might be leaning on the excessive.” Skuratova suppressed a shudder as the lines painted over them one final time.

With a hiss and a series of mechanical clunks, the locks disengaged, and in a single smooth motion the massive doors slid open.

“How many more of these doors are there?” Skuratova asked.

“Six.” Quadriga replied. “All with the same level of defences.”

Skuratova gave the slightest inclination of her head, enough to tell Quadriga she was somewhat annoyed. He gave her the benefit of offering no comment.

One by one they passed through tight corridors that Quadriga knew were riddled with las-traps and sentry turrets.

The final door was guarded by more than just sentry guns.  A pair of Custodians in highly ornate armour stood before them, still as statues, guardian spears at their sides.

Quadriga recognised them immediately, and behind his helmet his eyes widened. Lowering his own spear he approached them, head slightly down in a gesture of respect.

“Tribune Endymion, Tribune Coros, I am surprised to see either of you here.” There were no salutes needed, no outward sign of deference to authority. It was not needed in the Ten Thousand.

“Direct orders of the Emperor.” Diocletian Coros’ words fell from his mouth like bombs.

“Forgive Diocletian, he finds himself where he would rather not be.” Ra Endymion explained. “The Emperor ordered us to see to the security of the principals personally. Not exactly a taxing duty, but one that Diocletian would rather not be engaged in.” Diocletian gave a sharp click of his tongue in rebuke.

Ra and Diocletian were among the most senior of the Custodes, part of the inner council of ten Tribunes that commanded the Ten Thousand and advised the Emperor. Both had served the Emperor since before the Great Crusade itself, when the Emperor’s ambitions were confined to the unification of old Terra. There were few in the breadth of the galaxy who could boast more experience.

Skuratova bowed deeply before them, before straightening up and addressing Ra. “Honoured Custodian, you’ve been watching the Daughters,” she gestured to the door. “How are they faring?”

“Shock, confusion, numbness. Trying to reach for answers where there are none. The usual responses to trauma.” Ra’s voice was clipped and passionless. 

“Whatever you bring with you they’ll be eager to hear it, if only to help them sleep better tonight.”

“We both know that’s not likely to happen, Honoured Custodian.” Skuratova replied grimly. “But we need to speak with them, to update them on what we know and what must happen in the future.”

“The Captain-General has already messaged us. You may go on through.” With a hiss of pressurized air, the armoured doors slid open.

An open entrance space, with plush floors and stylized walls, was full of four dozen doors on two levels. Those doors were not made of metal, but instead real wooden doors of a kind extremely rare on Terra. The doors were not made for stout defence, but to set a statement and to make a more comfortable living space. A pair of grand staircases led to the upper level. There were dozens of potted plants ranging from colourful flowers to entire small trees in pots big enough that a human could have hidden within one. A set of chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lighting the room with a soft golden light.

“Second floor, first door on the left.” Ra called over. Skuratova returned a salute to him, before turning on her heels and marching through the open, gilded room and up the stairs at a brisk pace. Quadriga followed, his long paces catching up with her just before they reached the door.