- This insolent brat! [1] Feeling all-powerful and so clever, so wise! You are supposed to be an example and a symbol! – Malcador was furious and had been lecturing and scolding me for hours.
And I just stood there in silence. Not a single emotion showed on my face. Not a hint of sharpness, rudeness, or a suggestion that I was about to explode with a storm of indignation. And there were reasons for such behavior.
First, Malcador was right. I had, if not too much, overstepped. I should have settled for sparring matches and not let the situation escalate to outright bloodshed. Although deep down I felt I had acted correctly, the idea of taking them down a peg and reminding the Purples [2] to lower their pride wasn't a bad one. The execution had failed.
Second, Malcador was my superior. Above him was only the Emperor, and maybe a Primarch if one were to be found. And the correct strategy for relations between a superior and a subordinate is well-known and best described by the expression, 'You're the boss – I'm the fool, I'm the boss – you're the fool.' A joke and an irony, but there's a grain of truth in it.
So I stood and simply listened to the stream of irritation from Malcador's lips, responding with the correct phrases. Although, judging by the barely noticeable mocking glances from Malcador, he understood what I was doing, but it amused him more than it angered him.
– Buri. You are not a fool. Far from it. But your behavior is unacceptable. The Imperium and I have certain plans for you. So I advise you. No. I order you to calm down. Stop tugging on the dragon's tail and relying on luck. – Malcador sighed wearily and relaxed slightly on his throne.
– Because of you, certain changes will have to be made. Your duel managed to make noise and attract unwanted attention before I could intervene. Now the honour of the Honour Guard [3] will be performed not only by the Third and the Custodians, but also by your Grand Battalion. – This new task made my eyes open in amazement.
– I see you are surprised. And no wonder. You were supposed to receive reinforcements and go through a tribunal, later to leave Proxima for an operation in another sector. But the situation now requires your presence here. Thanks to that one-sided slaughter. Yes, a slaughter, boy. There's no other way to describe how you conducted those duels – and these words were spoken by one of the Custodians who saw everything from start to finish. So, knowing you and remembering what was written in the reports, I and the Custodians have no doubt that you haven't been resting on your laurels but have been developing. Which leads me to believe that your subordinates, veterans not greenhorns who have served only one campaign with you, will not yield to the legionaries of the Third. – Malcador rose from his throne and strode towards the table on which, besides scrolls and books, were a bottle of wine and a goblet.
Filling the goblet and taking a sip, he fell silent for a moment, one hand holding his staff and the other swirling the goblet of wine.
– You are deemed worthy to participate in the Ceremony of Accordance. [4] An additional show of force meant to drive another nail into the coffin of thoughts about separatism and disobedience among the locals. And therefore I order you not only to calm down but to become a model Astartes. You must show everyone that you are rightly called the Angels of Death. I hope you understand what I expect from you?
– Fully, Lord Sigillite. I just have one question. – My request made Malcador sigh wearily once again.
– And what is it, youth?
– Should we play the role of pretty statues and ceremonial decorations, or are we truly to be the Guard and bodyguards?
– Hm. Both roles. But the first is the priority. Proximo is pacified. Besides madmen and idiots ready for pointless stupidity, little awaits you here. The most stubborn were butchered like cattle during the fight for the planet, leaving only frightened and obedient inhabitants. – Towards the end of his speech, Malcador fell silent and pondered something. – But just in case, I will allocate a couple of enhanced and modified Land Raiders to you. Better to have a blade and not use it than not to have it at all. You are dismissed, Grand-Captain Buri.
As I was leaving, Malcador called after me – Make no further mistakes, Child of Terra. [5]
Having walked a sufficient distance, I exhaled, releasing the tension and letting go of the wound-up spring inside me.
– Right. Orders received. Now just to carry them out.
I didn't like the planet. And I disliked the capital completely. The reason was simple. The atmosphere of a recently conquered city. A strange mixture of fear, oppression, anger, and rage.
And I remembered this atmosphere all too well. The people are intimidated and try not to look at the conquerors too much, or they smile and wave their hands, but by force. I felt like spitting and cursing. They smile and grovel, and in the evening they bury mines or explosives, or take out autoguns and shoot, then hide, playing the role of innocent civilians. And in an urban environment, the number of problems they can cause only increases. Knowledge of the terrain, support from the locals, the inability to effectively use artillery or heavy vehicles due to the buildings.
All of this angered me immensely, and part of my anger came out in the form of increased drills for the troops. The equipment was checked, repaired, and polished to a blinding shine. The soldiers practiced their drill step while simultaneously conducting reconnaissance with maximum possible stealth. I had to split myself between ceremony and the necessity of ensuring security for the event.
But all this nerve-wracking ended when the Emperor arrived on the planet. The ceremony was to begin in the morning, and we had already taken our positions, waiting for the signal to move the column.
– Rork, let's go. We're moving with the senior command of the Third. – I put on my helmet and strode towards the standards.
There, Abdemon and a legionary in purple armor unknown to me were waiting. Despite the concealed animosity, the situation required us to look like a monolithic wall, and we simply greeted each other with nods and took our places.
Above our heads, vehicles with anti-grav technology flew past, and I saw HIM with my own eyes for the first time. The Emperor of Mankind.
The aura and charisma of the Emperor were so great that it pierced to the very depths of the soul. It was as if a wave of light washed over us. Our hearts beat stronger and faster. Our bodies were filled with energy, and it seemed we were ready to soar on invisible wings. Euphoria filled the air.
– Ave Imperator! Ave Imperator! Ave Imperator!
The words of greeting burst from our lips. Amplified by vox-casters and speakers, the words were deafeningly loud. The Emperor turned in our direction, and it seemed he was looking directly at you, and only you. A slight smile appeared on his face, and he waved his hand as if greeting old friends and comrades. A sign. It was time.
– Parade! Attention! For the Parade March! Forward! Quick March! – My voice made everyone wake up as if from the sweetest dream.
Engines roared to life loudly. The precise step made the ground tremble. And we, the city, straightened our shoulders and marched forward to meet the Emperor, who was already standing on a special platform and watching us.
Every step was filled with determination and pride, for we saw joy on the Emperor's face. Mistakes, inaccuracies, haste were unacceptable at that moment.
The moment of triumph began to fog my mind, but I did not yield to it. Weakness or carelessness could not be shown.
And that, apparently, was what saved me and many others that day.
For the unthinkable happened. A vile attack.
A sharp sound of static was like a knife blow. And then from under one of the buildings emerged a tall machine, resembling a short copy of a Titan. But that was only the beginning.
– Death to the Tyrant! Die, usurper! – A loud roar from the machine's speakers crashed onto the square.
– Alarm! Attack! Fifth Legion, to battle! Protect the Emperor! – I sharply gave orders, but it was all in vain.
The enemy managed to fire its monstrous cannon. A stream of fire collapsed onto the platform where the Emperor stood.
– No! – A cry of disbelief erupted from many throats.
Rage filled many Astartes, and I was no exception.
– RRRAaaaAARGH! – With a roar, dozens of Astartes rushed at the enemy, while the others poured a stream of fire onto the foe.
– Rork, give me a foothold! – I gave the command, pointing at the leg of the enemy walker, which withstood the barrage thanks to energy shields.
A quick exchange of nods, and we pushed ourselves and our armor to the limit, rushing towards the enemy. Rork grabbed onto the leg and knelt, waiting for the moment to enhance my jump. When he heard the sound of contact, he stood up sharply with all his might, throwing me upward.
It was enough for me to grab onto its torso. I pulled out krak grenades [6] and started shoving them inside where hydraulics and other important mechanics were visible.
– Fall back! – A loud command that made the others stop attacking the walker.
The landing wasn't the most pleasant because the walker began to jerk sharply from side to side, preventing me from jumping off safely, and I had to fall onto a pile of debris.
A roll to the side, and I saw the enemy turn to where the Emperor was. A bright golden light surrounded him like a shield, proving he was alive and unharmed.
This enraged the enemy; a frankly bloodthirsty roar erupted from its speakers, and it rushed towards the Emperor. But at that very moment, the krak grenades exploded, and the enemy began to fall forward sharply as if its legs had failed. But this was no reason to relax; the enemy was immobilized but alive.
– Everyone with armor-piercing weapons, close the distance and inflict maximum damage. – I gave orders while simultaneously providing target designation to the vehicles that had finally reached us, riding behind the parade.
– Everyone with power weapons, forward! Priority: the pilot's cabin and sensors! – Abdemon led his warriors into close combat.
– What are you doing?! We need to destroy the enemy, not wave swords! – I shouted at him.
– The bastard must be taken alive. He cannot be granted an easy death. Recall your men. – Abdemon answered shortly, and his warriors, with their blades like predatory pack animals, began tearing apart the walker's armor.
– I will not be captured by the slaves of the Tyrant and the Usurper! My death is nothing! My brothers will kill your master and avenge me! – The Third Legion warriors managed to pry open the pilot's cabin, but before they could grab him, the brave souls were incinerated by an explosion from an unknown weapon. The next second, helmet sensors warned of danger due to the unstable operation of the power generator or engine inside the defeated walker.
– Everyone, evacuate the square! Embark on the vehicles! Those who can't find room inside, hold on and ride on top. – A new set of orders, and I turned my head towards the platform where the Emperor was.
A golden shield enveloped him and the Custodians. The platform was damaged but could move.
I tried to contact the leader of the Custodes, and after a while, I succeeded.
– This is Grand-Captain Buri. We need to leave the city as quickly as possible. We will form a protective formation around you and break through. How copy?
– Acknowledged. Plan approved. The Emperor approves. – That cold, emotionless voice, as if coming from a machine rather than a living being, made me twitch nervously.
– Abdemon! We're breaking out!
– I'll take the vanguard; our vehicles were the closest to the end of the parade column.
– Acknowledged. Then the center and rearguard are on me. Good luck.
– And to you, Buri. We'll need it.
The Land Raiders became the crystallization points of the defense, and at the very center was the Emperor's platform.
We made it just in time, as traitors began to crawl out of every crack. There were hundreds and thousands of them. Bullets, laser beams, and rocket flashes – the enemies spared neither themselves nor us. Losses began to mount, but we stubbornly continued to push forward.
With every step, the attackers' persistence grew. Hordes of infantry were replaced by light vehicles. We simply ground them up, wrapping the enemies' guts around the tracks of our machines. The enemies fell into complete frenzy; now we were attacked by waves of suicide troops. Even dying, they tried to throw themselves under the tracks or latch onto an Astartes and then detonate explosives, taking someone with them.
At a great cost, they failed to stop us. But their goal was different. To slow us down in order to use their last trump card.
– Buri! Five enemy walkers ahead! And another, heavier walker of an unknown pattern. It's tougher and taller.
– Damnation! Everyone on the armor, dismount! We need to punch a way through! Attack! Abdemon, engage them.
– Acknowledged. Third! Kill the traitors and liars! For the Emperor! For Terra!
Our vehicles were moving at maximum speed, but the enemies met us with such a torrent of fire that losses were inevitable. And that was part of the problem; the strange walker, like a hunchback, carried a battery of huge mortars on its back, each longer than a Land Raider.
If the walkers needed to focus fire on a single target, the huge mortars, upon hitting, disabled vehicles and, worst of all, destroyed the road, leaving huge craters that slowed our pace even more.
Stubbornness and duty against the madness of the doomed. All or Nothing.
A loud impact, the screech of metal, cries of the wounded. My vehicle was hit by energy weapons, and this was far from the first hit, allowing this shot to pierce the weakened armor and kill the driver.
– Driver-mechanic dead. Taking control. – I pulled the dead warrior's body from the seat and took his place.
The electronics were out of order, and the only way to see was through a hole in the armor. It wasn't a small crack but a huge gash, as if someone had tried to pry off the front armor plate with brute force and a crowbar.
But the main thing was that the machine could move.
We managed to drive a few more meters when a long, thin barrel emerged from within the strange walker. And it was aimed precisely at the Emperor's platform. And then there was a shot that for some reason reminded me of that unusual explosion with which the pilot of the first enemy walker had killed himself.
– The Emperor is wounded! – Those words made my blood run cold.
I don't know why, but I climbed through the gash in the armor and looked towards the Emperor's platform.
The golden shield began to weaken and dissipate, and the platform itself was more seriously damaged than last time.
– No. No. I don't believe it. We must extract the Emperor. He is wounded. But HE is alive. – I felt a chill, but I was given no time to think.
The strange walker began to move towards the Emperor. And its deadly weapon, like a thirsting beast, began to lower, preparing to deliver the final, killing blow.
– For the Emperor! For the Imperium of Mankind! For Terra! – I was filled with rage and drove the Land Raider straight into a ram against this strange walker.
The other walkers fired all their guns at my vehicle, but I kept driving. And I made it at the last moment, as the weapon was preparing to fire. Impact.
– Ram! Contact! Hold on! – A sharp and painfully unpleasant screech of metal, and then a terrible hum.
When the shock passed, I quickly climbed out of the Land Raider using the gash in the armor and saw the fallen strange walker.
– Did I not make it in time? But the hum was after the impact. – Gritting my teeth, I looked up and saw, to my immense relief, a hole in the clouds.
– It worked. Rork, Lucas! Are you alive?
– I'm pinned by the reloading mechanism; will have to break it. – Rork answered first.
– I'm fine. Trying to open the ramp and release the embarked squad. The machine seems too damaged to move further. – Hearing Lucas's answer, I sighed in relief.
– Rork, hurry up. Lucas, form three teams of three Space Marines each. Take meltas [7] and armor-piercing grenades, plus demo charges if you find any. And quickly. We need to finish off this bastard. – I switched the comms channel to the Custodes channel.
– Get away as fast as you can. We'll deal with the walker and then hold the enemy for as long as possible.
– Acknowledged. The plan is acceptable. The Emperor has approved. – Again that emotionless voice, but this time I felt relief and joy.
– Forward, Astartes! Let's make them pay! – I left the vehicle and moved towards the walker.
On the way, the others caught up with me, and we split into three teams. Two were to damage the legs, and my team was to damage or destroy that damned gun.
Bullets and rare laser hits couldn't stop us, although one Astartes had his arm vaporized, but he handed his melta to another and pulled out grenades himself.
The walker began to rise, but not quickly enough, allowing us to get ahead and climb onto it.
– Right leg mined!
– Left leg too!
Lucas and Rork deftly handled their tasks. But I had a problem. There was no easy way to get to the gun; the armor was too thick. I had to improvise.
– Everyone, make bolas [8] from grenades and explosives! When ready, we'll throw them onto the gun barrel. – I pulled out my sword and with a sharp jerk detached it from its sling. As best I could, I tied and fixed the grenades. It took some time, but in less than a couple of minutes, everything was ready.
– Throw! Hit! Fall back! – I climbed down and jumped off a couple of meters from the ground, landing hard. – Run! Fall back! Rork, Lucas, detonate after us.
The delays were set to give us time to retreat. And we were a couple of meters from our Land Raider when the explosion happened. And then two more.
Looking closely, I understood we had succeeded. The walker had fallen on its back, and its gun was damaged, with gaping holes and chips in places.
Turning my head, I saw that the Emperor's platform had managed to break out. Victory.
And now, the final blow.
Somehow, breaking through the jamming, even with the Land Raider's comm system, I managed to establish a channel with the Polaris. [9]
– Grand-Captain Buri. Immediate fire support required! I repeat, immediately. Coordinates…
The Emperor was aboard His ship, watching the fire consume the planet.
– Reward according to deeds. – The Emperor whispered and turned His head towards Terra.
A brief moment, and an image of Malcador the Sigillite appeared before His eyes.
– Malcador.
– Emperor.
– I have seen him. The one you deem a worthy Child of Terra. And now I think so too. He is worthy.
– This news gladdens me.
– We will meet again soon.
The image began to thin until it disappeared completely.
The Emperor turned His head and looked at the ship that bore the name of the most beautiful star in Terra's sky.
– Yes. He is worthy.
Translation Notes:
[1] "This insolent brat!": The Russian "Распоясавшейся мальчишка" is quite vivid. "Insolent brat" captures the meaning well, though it's slightly less physical than the original idiom (which implies someone who has 'untied their belt', i.e., let themselves go, become unruly).
[2] "the Purples": A direct translation for "пурпурным" (purple ones). This likely refers to the Emperor's Children Legion, whose primary color is purple. The context supports this.
[3] "Honour Guard": Used for "почетного караула". The more specific "Honour Guard" fits the ceremonial context better than a generic "Guard".
[4] "Ceremony of Accordance": A translation for "церемонии приведения к Согласию". This sounds like an official Imperial ritual for a conquered world to formally swear allegiance.
[5] "Child of Terra": The title "Дитя Терры" is capitalized and used as a formal, significant title by Malcador and the Emperor, so it's translated directly.
[6] "krak grenades": The standard term for anti-armor grenades in Warhammer 40,000. The Russian "крак-гранаты" is a direct transliteration, so using the established English term is correct.
[7] "melts": Short for meltaguns, the standard Imperial anti-armor weapon. The Russian "мелты" is again a direct transliteration.
[8] "bolas": The Russian "бола" is a direct borrow, likely meaning a tied bundle of grenades meant to be thrown and wrap around a target. The English term "bolas" (though typically for weighted ropes) fits this context perfectly.
[9] "the Polaris": The ship's name, "Полярная Звезда", is translated to its English equivalent, "Polaris" (the North Star). This is a common practice for ship names.
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