V3 Chapter 64: You'd Cry "Father" to Save Your Skin, Huron? You Absolute Piece of Work
Duvette passed Mantis Warriors Second Company Captain Metrus in the corridor.
Though the Second Company Captain passed him with an expressionless face, Duvette could still read the wavering beneath his silence. The veterans behind Metrus were no longer as tense as when they had first arrived, though they still carried the wariness typical of the Mantis Warriors.
Duvette did not look back.
He crossed through the corridors of the Macragge's Honour and arrived outside Guilliman's chamber. Two Ultramarines Honour Guard stood before the door, and saluted together the moment they saw him.
Duvette returned the salute, then entered the room.
"Finished?" he asked, quite naturally. Duvette knew that, in private, Guilliman's tolerance of him always seemed unusually high.
Guilliman sat behind his desk, holding the report the Mantis Warriors had submitted. It contained transit routes, enemy intelligence, supply nodes, and the Mantis Warriors' own compilation of recent anomalous activity within the Maelstrom.
The Primarch glanced up at Duvette and gestured for him to sit.
"They're not a problem," Guilliman said. "Only anxiety and doubt, which gave the Astral Claws' Chapter Master an opening to draw them in."
Duvette sat down across from him and nodded.
"If we hadn't arrived, the Mantis Warriors would have met a grim end."
He thought of the fate he knew from history.
Their homeworld stripped from them, their former Chapter Master killed in battle, his successor Neotera imprisoned for life, the entire Chapter thrown into a penitent crusade. Astartes who had kept watch at the Maelstrom's edge for centuries, ultimately dragged into a civil war that could have been avoided entirely.
Guilliman looked at him.
Duvette did not dwell further on the topic, and simply slid a data-slate across the table.
"Between what we've gathered from the Lamenters, the Mantis Warriors, the Inquisition, and other channels, we now have evidence that Lufgt Huron has unlawfully expanded his Chapter, refused to submit material and gene-seed tithes, and is preparing to resist a tithe-collection fleet by force."
Guilliman looked down at the data-slate.
It listed records drawn from a range of different sources.
The Lamenters had provided a summary of communications among the Wardens. The Mantis Warriors had added anomalous troop movements within the Badab defence zone. The Inquisition had intercepted leads on delayed tithes and fleet mobilisation, while Mechanicus records showed the Astral Claws' gene-seed tithe had been running short for years.
Duvette looked at Guilliman.
"So. What do you intend to do with them?"
Guilliman's gaze deepened.
He did not answer right away, only continued leafing through the report. The room fell quiet for a while, with nothing but the faint sound of the data-slate's pages turning.
After a moment, Guilliman said, "That depends on Lufgt Huron's conduct."
Duvette gave a broad grin.
He truly had not expected Guilliman to say that.
Guilliman glanced at him.
"That does not mean I will tolerate what he's done. The Astral Claws have crossed a great many lines, and he has turned Badab into his own personal domain. But until I have seen Huron with my own eyes, I will not push a Warden Chapter of the Maelstrom straight toward its destruction."
Duvette nodded.
"The fleet is already underway," Guilliman continued. "Within three days, we will arrive at Badab Prime."
Duvette thought for a moment.
"We may also need to pay closer attention to the recent unrest across the Maelstrom."
Guilliman looked up.
Duvette said, "Based on the Lamenters' and Mantis Warriors' reports, the traitors and xenos throughout the Maelstrom only recently began concentrating their assaults on the outlying Imperial worlds. The attacks are too synchronised. It's as though someone is pushing the surrounding fires of war toward Badab."
Guilliman considered this for a moment.
"I will keep watch on it."
Duvette gave a nod and did not linger further.
He rose, saluted, and withdrew from the room.
Once the door closed, Guilliman remained seated alone at his desk, continuing through report after report from the Wardens of the Maelstrom. His finger came to rest on Lufgt Huron's name, and did not move for a long while.
Three days passed quickly.
The vast fleet out of Ultramar arrived at the Badab system.
The fleet's scale far exceeded anything Badab Prime's facilities were accustomed to hosting. The outer star port and orbital anchorages of Badab could not accommodate every vessel at once, so the Macragge's Honour moved first into the inner docking zone, while the remaining ships distributed themselves across the outer orbit and designated anchor points.
Badab Prime came into view beyond the bridge.
It was a hive world of enormous population, and the core of the Astral Claws' rule over the Maelstrom defence zone. Its orbit was crowded with defence platforms, shipyards, cargo stations, and armed satellites.
Duvette stood behind Guilliman, the thirteen Shadow Wolves of Luna among the party accompanying him.
The retinue accompanying them this time was enormous.
Mechanicus priests, Knight nobles, senior naval officers, senior Astra Militarum officers, representatives from every Astartes Chapter present, Inquisition personnel, and a number of Ultramar Auxilia officers would all be attending the reception hall Huron had prepared.
The ship settled with a slight tremor as it came to rest.
Guilliman's Honour Guard were the first to step off the ship.
Once through the docking corridor, they deployed rapidly, checking the landing gates, structural supports, honour guard spacing, potential firing lines, and the surrounding energy readings. To them, any single detail could bear on the safety of their gene-father.
Confirmation of security came back quickly.
Guilliman prepared to move.
Just then, Duvette let out a soft, sudden sound of surprise.
Guilliman stopped in his tracks.
He turned to look at Duvette, clear displeasure on his face. With the fleet, the honour guard, the Badab delegation, and the Astral Claws' Chapter Master all waiting at that moment, he had no wish for anything unexpected right now.
"What is it?" Guilliman said.
Duvette glanced at the crowd around them.
Guilliman understood his meaning at once.
He raised a hand, signalling everyone else to step back for a moment. Duvette had Markus and the Black Shields cordon off the surrounding personnel as well, forming a brief closed-off area.
"Lord Guilliman, you should already be aware I have an ability that lets me perceive signs of Chaos corruption."
Guilliman narrowed his eyes.
He remembered, of course.
The Crusade Ground Force Unified Combat Awareness and Discipline Protocol, submitted by Duvette and folded into the crusade's internal classified system, had indeed mentioned something along these lines, concerning the red glow that marked Chaos corruption.
"You've seen a sign of Chaos corruption?" Guilliman asked.
Duvette did not mention the red dots on the strategic map, and simply nodded along with Guilliman's assumption.
"Yes."
Guilliman's brow furrowed.
If Huron had already turned fully to Chaos, then there could only be one outcome for the Astral Claws from here. Badab Prime would shift, in an instant, from a political inquiry into a war of purgation.
Duvette spoke up at once. "I don't think the situation is quite that simple."
Guilliman looked at him.
"There isn't much red, only nine," Duvette said. "But according to what the Honour Guard just reported, Huron has brought nearly an entire company to greet you, along with a great many Badab officials and support staff. If the corruption came from within the Astral Claws themselves, the number wouldn't possibly be this low."
Guilliman's expression turned deeply serious.
"Can you stand behind what you're telling me, Duvette?"
Duvette did not hesitate.
"Without question."
Guilliman held his gaze.
Duvette met the Primarch's eyes just as calmly.
After a brief silence, Guilliman fell into thought.
Just then, Duvette smiled and spoke. "I have a plan."
At the far end of the reception hall stood Lufgt Huron, clad in silver-blue Terminator armour.
Nearly the entire First Company of the Astral Claws stood arrayed along both sides, with Badab defence zone officers, fleet representatives, and administrative officials positioned further out. The whole hall had been arranged as a grand welcoming ceremony, the Imperial double-headed eagle, the Chapter's banners, and the Badab defence zone's insignia hung high above.
Huron intended to receive the Imperial Primarch here.
He would show Guilliman Badab's order, the Astral Claws' discipline, and how, over these many years, he had forged this fringe world of the Maelstrom into the core of a defence line.
Afterward, he would give the Primarch a tour of Badab Prime.
Let Guilliman see his own capability with his own eyes.
But the wait proved longer than he had expected.
In the distance, only the Ultramarines Honour Guard, along with a group of mortals, disembarked from the Macragge's Honour. They checked the surroundings carefully, formed up at the landing hatch, yet Guilliman had still not appeared.
An unwelcome thought surfaced in Huron's mind.
Could Guilliman intend to seize him outright?
Could the Primarch already hold sufficient evidence against him?
He forced these thoughts down.
This was no time to show anything out of the ordinary. Badab Prime, the Astral Claws, the entire system of the Maelstrom Wardens, all of it was watching to see how he faced the Imperial Primarch.
Just as Huron's anxiety was on the verge of surfacing on his face, that blue-and-gold-armoured figure finally descended from the Macragge's Honour.
Roboute Guilliman carried the Emperor's Sword, the armour of fate covering his towering frame. Countless eyes tracked his every step, and the reception hall fell silent as he moved.
Huron quickly noticed something that surprised him.
The one standing closest to the Primarch was neither the Honour Guard, nor a Mechanicus priest, nor any Astartes commander at all.
It was an Imperial Commissar in a black greatcoat.
The man was watching quietly in his direction.
Huron narrowed his eyes and let out a cold, silent snort.
A mortal.
That Guilliman kept a mortal at his side at all was, in itself, a statement.
But Huron's face still wore a smile of perfect sincerity.
He stepped forward and spread his arms.
"The Astral Claws Chapter..."
"BANG!"
A tremendous noise cut off his opening words.
Huron whipped his head around toward his right.
The sound had come from a large-calibre bolter.
A bolter round streaked across the reception hall, driving straight toward Guilliman. In the next instant, the Emperor's Sword, wreathed in fire, swept through the air and blocked the attack outright.
The detonation burst against the edge of the blade.
Guilliman did not give ground.
The smile froze completely on Huron's face.
"Who—"
"You dare make an attempt on the Imperial Primarch's life!"
Duvette's voice rang out before Huron's could.
He stepped forward in one motion, his hand already on the hilt of his power sword.
"Everyone, hear my order! Seal the reception hall! Anyone who moves without orders is to be killed on sight!"
The Black Shields scattered into position in an instant.
The Honour Guard raised their weapons at the same instant, sealing off every approach route around Guilliman. Naval officers, Astra Militarum officers, Mechanicus priests, and Knight nobles were all pushed back and isolated by the escort.
"Astral Claws, do not resist!" Huron roared almost instantly. "Everyone, lower your weapons! Do not—"
His order was not even finished before the second volley of fire arrived.
Nine Astartes in Astral Claws power armour raised their weapons from within the ranks at the same moment. Their movements were unnaturally uniform, with almost no hesitation at all.
A storm of bolter fire converged on Guilliman all at once.
Guilliman charged straight into the attack.
The armour of fate absorbed the blasts and the searing heat, the Emperor's Sword trailing fire through the air. The nine assassins' fire did not slow him by so much as a step.
Within a single breath, Guilliman had already closed on them.
The first assassin was cut open from shoulder to chest by the Emperor's Sword, flame catching inside his power armour.
The second had only just begun to raise his weapon when Guilliman shattered his chestplate with a single punch.
The third tried to fall back, only to take an Honour Guard bolter round through the knee joint.
Guilliman stepped forward, the Emperor's Sword sweeping across, cutting him and another assassin beside him both down into burning wreckage together.
The remaining assassins kept firing.
They did not roar, and made no attempt to explain themselves, only pouring every ounce of firepower onto Guilliman like puppets moved by a single will.
This only made Huron's expression grow even more grim.
The Astral Claws did not fight this way.
Even in open rebellion, his men should never have moved like this, silent and rigid.
The flashes of fire continued, and in the space of another breath, these assassins had all been cut down into burning wreckage by Guilliman.
Amid the crackling of the flames, the hall fell utterly silent, and Guilliman turned, slowly, with absolute weight, to look at Huron.
Huron was already gripped by pure terror.
His First Company veterans still stood along both sides, and many of them, under that crushing pressure, felt an almost instinctive urge to resist, the last struggling instinct of a living thing facing death, but Huron stopped it all.
Guilliman advanced toward Huron step by step, the Emperor's Sword trailing at his side.
Every step sent a heavy sound through the floor.
Duvette stood at a distance, watching the Primarch's back.
He knew Guilliman was perfectly in control of himself.
But right now, this display of pressure had to continue.
Guilliman came to stand before Huron, looking down at the Astral Claws' Chapter Master.
His voice rang out across the hall.
"Do you mean to betray the Imperium?!"
The words landed like a hammer blow on the heart of every Astral Claw present.
Huron opened his mouth, but for a moment no words came.
The Primarch's fury and majesty bore down on him without restraint, as though the very air of the hall were collapsing onto him. Huron understood perfectly well that a single wrong answer would turn Badab into a bloodbath before the day was done.
A heavy thud.
Lufgt Huron, clad in silver-blue Terminator armour, dropped to his knees.
This central figure among the Wardens of the Maelstrom, the true ruler of Badab, Chapter Master of the Astral Claws, bowed both his head and his pride before everyone present.
"These were absolutely not our men."
His voice trembled, impossible to suppress.
"We are loyal, Father! We are loyal!!!"
The entire reception hall fell into dead silence.
The Astral Claws lowered their weapons, not daring to move. The Badab officials had gone pale, and many of the mortals present had already dropped to their knees. The Honour Guard still had every angle covered, ready to answer any irregular movement with death.
Guilliman looked down at Huron.
His expression showed no softening at all.
Off at a distance, Duvette had to fight hard to keep himself from laughing.
Well, well.
So it's come to crying "Father" just to save your own skin, has it?
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