V3 Chapter 60: You Shall Carry Out My Will During Our Time in the Maelstrom
In an Imperial system at the edge of the Maelstrom, an Imperial world was falling toward collapse.
This world had originally been nothing more than an ordinary fringe colony, its output limited, its strategic value low. But after the uprising at the Maelstrom's core, many enemies that had once lain hidden at the storm's edge had been stirred into motion.
The first to arrive was an Ork fleet.
Like beasts drawn in by the scent of war, they came crashing into the system with their crude warships and a mass of landing pods. The Planetary Defence Force suffered heavy losses in the very first round of orbital bombardment, with several major anti-air positions destroyed and its command structure collapsing along with them.
Soon after, a Chaos warband made up of World Eaters veterans and Khorne traitors arrived at the world as well.
They had not allied with the Orks. Fierce clashes broke out between the two on both the surface and in orbit, but this only dragged the entire world deeper into catastrophe. The Orks wanted war, the followers of Khorne wanted slaughter, and the mortals of this world had become nothing more than prey the two fought over.
The local defence forces had collapsed almost as soon as the fighting began, and the survivors could only look outward for help.
But the entire Maelstrom defence zone was ablaze at that moment.
The Astral Claws needed to hold Badab, and the Mantis Warriors were pinned down along the Endymion line. No one was willing to commit precious forces to a fringe world of so little value.
Only the fleet-based Chapter among the Maelstrom Wardens, the Lamenters, answered this world's call for help.
The moment their fleet arrived, they began organising evacuation and defence at once. They destroyed several Ork warships, and repeatedly struck at the Khorne traitors' advance routes on the surface, doing everything they could to draw the World Eaters and the Orks against each other.
But even so, they could not save the world outright.
There were too many enemies, too few transport ships, and not enough time.
At that moment, in the last major city on the surface still connected to the star port, a tall Astartes clad in golden-yellow war plate walked through a refugee camp.
Engraved on his shoulder plate was a weeping red heart.
The civilians around him had once feared these giants. An Astartes's stature and weaponry were enough to strike fear into any mortal, especially with the city already worn down this badly by war.
But over these past days, they had watched again and again as these giants charged into the line of fire to save them.
The Lamenters had carried injured children out of the rubble on their own backs, had led refugee convoys clear of Ork bombardment, and had used their own bodies to block Khorne traitor charges.
So now, as this Astartes walked through the refugee camp, the crowd did not draw back.
They only watched him with eyes full of hope.
The Lamenters' Chapter Master, Malakim Phoros, stopped before an old woman and bent his head to hear her out as she described where her son had gone missing. He deliberately kept his voice low, careful not to let his helm's vox-amplifier ring too heavily.
"I'll have someone search for him," Phoros said. "If he's still alive, we will bring him back."
The old woman lowered her head, trembling.
Phoros continued walking on.
He did his best to appear calm, and did his best to keep his tone gentle. But in his heart, he knew this city would not hold out much longer.
This was the last major city they could still hold, and the ground corridor to the star port. If it fell, the remaining civilians on the surface would have their evacuation route cut off entirely.
The enemy had already taken notice of it.
Those frenzied Orks and Chaos traitors would soon move to attack. The Orks wanted to seize the star port; the World Eaters would turn this city into a blood-sacrifice ground.
A Lamenters warrior strode up quickly and saluted Phoros.
"Chapter Master. An outpost has spotted World Eaters movement in the distance. They are massing Chaos traitors and slave-soldiers, and are expected to launch an attack before long."
Phoros looked out toward the edge of the city.
"What's the situation in orbit?"
"The Ork fleet is still pressing our own. The captain reports the evacuation convoys can still get off the ground, but the pressure on the escorts is climbing."
The warrior paused.
"We won't be able to get everyone out."
Phoros was silent for a moment.
He had already known that.
The Lamenters had a fleet, battle barges, strike cruisers, escorts, and landing craft capable of carrying soldiers and supplies. But they did not have enough transport capacity to evacuate an entire world's population.
All they could do was buy time, prioritise who left first, protect the route to the star port, and pray the enemy tore into each other long enough.
"Continue the civilian evacuation," Phoros said. "Fold every local defence trooper, militiaman, and constable still able to bear arms into the city's defence line. Spread our battle-brothers across the three main gates."
"By your command."
Phoros turned to look back at the refugee camp.
"Tell them the star port is still open. Tell them the Lamenters are still here."
The warrior saluted once more, then turned and left.
Phoros had no thought of abandoning these civilians.
Even as he comforted the refugees, he organised every fighting force still capable of standing, remnants of the Planetary Defence Force, city constables, whoever they were. So long as they were still willing to resist, the Lamenters folded them into the line.
Just then, another Lamenter came hurrying from the direction of the communications post.
His pace was even faster than the previous warrior's had been.
"Chapter Master."
Phoros turned to look at him.
"Speak."
"We've received a long-range confirmation signal. It's the Imperial Primarch, Lord Guilliman, answering our reply." The Lamenter's voice carried a barely suppressed tremor. "The Lord of Ultramar states he is bringing the crusade fleet in from the edge of the Maelstrom toward this system."
Phoros was silent for several seconds.
The refugees around them had no idea what that name meant, but every Lamenter nearby raised their head.
Lord of Ultramar.
Son of the Emperor.
Roboute Guilliman.
Phoros slowly let out a breath.
"Confirm the authenticity of the transmission."
"Already cross-checked twice, Chapter Master. The identification signal traces to the Macragge's Honour."
Phoros looked out toward the grey, distant sky.
"Pass the news to the fleet and the city's defence line."
He paused, then continued. "Tell everyone to keep holding. Reinforcements are on the way, but the evacuation does not stop."
"By your command."
Phoros put his helm back on.
He knew the city was not saved yet.
But at least now, they had a reason to keep holding on.
Aboard the Macragge's Honour, Guilliman looked at Duvette before him.
"What do you think?"
Duvette raised his head, making sure he had heard correctly.
"You want me as the one handling the negotiations?"
Guilliman gave a nod.
"Yes."
Duvette did not answer right away.
Guilliman set a compiled report on the Wardens of the Maelstrom down on the table.
"From the intelligence available, I can see that the Astral Claws' Chapter Master, Lufgt Huron, holds a strong Astartes-supremacist inclination. He believes the Astartes understand how to guard the border far better than Terra's mortal bureaucrats do, and believes front-line Chapters have the right to directly consolidate fleets, taxation, planetary governance, and mortal armies."
Duvette looked at the report.
"The Lamenters and the Mantis Warriors show similar tendencies, though to differing degrees," Guilliman continued. "The Mantis Warriors place greater weight on the Warden's oath and border autonomy. The Lamenters' distrust of Terra looks more like the result of prolonged unjust treatment."
Guilliman looked at Duvette.
"This is very likely one of the primary reasons behind their refusal to submit their tithes and gene-seed dues, and the conflict that has already arisen between them and Terra and the Mechanicus."
Duvette nodded. He was, of course, already aware of all this, and in fact understood the Mantis Warriors' and the Lamenters' situations even better than Guilliman did.
Of the two Chapters, one was more concerned that the High Lords of Terra and the Mechanicus would declare them Imperial traitors over their gene-seed mutations. Huron would later exploit exactly this fear, persuading the Mantis Warriors to stand with him using words to the effect of, "We remain loyal to the Emperor; it is only that corrupt pack of High Lords targeting us. We are merely resisting tyranny."
The other Chapter, worn down by Terra's long neglect and its own fear of being seen by others as some cursed, ill-omened source, would come to feel gratitude toward Huron for the loyalty of extending them help, and pledge in turn to support him later, ultimately being deceived into the tragedy that would follow.
Guilliman continued. "The reason I want you to serve as the one who conveys my will is to make one thing clear to the Wardens of the Maelstrom. A mortal's voice carries equal weight with me."
"The Astartes may guard the Imperium, but they must not stand above it. That is one of the reasons I wrote the Codex Astartes in the first place."
Duvette thought it over for a moment, then nodded.
"Understood."
He genuinely had not expected Guilliman to be willing to entrust him with a role of such importance.
It meant that from this moment forward, every word and action he took before the Wardens of the Maelstrom would be regarded as an extension of Guilliman's own will.
It was, at once, an act of trust and a burden.
"Having me fill this role isn't a bad thing," Duvette said. "At the very least it lets them start adjusting early, since a Primarch's side won't only ever have Astartes standing at it."
Guilliman gave him a look.
"I want you to remember, you are not going there to command the Lamenters. You are going to convey my recognition and my support."
Duvette nodded.
"I'm well aware."
Guilliman turned to look at the tactical projection coming through from the bridge.
The markers for the system holding the Lamenters kept refreshing. The scale of the Ork fleet had already been preliminarily confirmed, and extensive traces of the Chaos warband's advance had appeared on the surface as well.
"In that case, let us deal with the traitors and the xenos here first."
Guilliman's voice settled into calm.
"Let them understand exactly how foolish a battlefield they chose."
Duvette said nothing more.
He saluted Guilliman, then turned and left.
The landing operation needed preparing, the Astra Militarum combat groups needed reorganising, and the Astartes strike forces needed their drop targets confirmed. More importantly, once the fighting ended, he would go, on Guilliman's behalf, to meet Malakim Phoros.
He intended to see Phoros stand before Guilliman with the Lamenters still whole.
This time, the Lamenters would not bear all their suffering alone.