V3 Chapter 68: Huron, Your Chance to Prove Yourself Has Come
Though the sudden eruption of the Warp storm had thrown the entire Badab system into chaos and fear, Guilliman's presence alone still gave everyone the resolve to face the disaster ahead.
A son of the Emperor holding personal command here was, in itself, enough to steady every heart.
By now, all three of the Badab system's most vital population and military centres had entered a state of war.
The hive world of Badab Prime, home to the greatest population; the enormous orbital station above Badab III; and Badab Secundus, that death world, had all completed their first wave of emergency mobilisation.
Vast numbers of mortal defenders were moving into their designated positions.
Star ports began sealing off non-military transit lanes, orbital gun batteries were reloaded across the board, and ground defence positions rose to their highest alert. The crusade fleet built around the Macragge's Honour stood equally braced, every warship's void shields drawn up to full power, every weapon array already run through its warm-up cycle.
Guilliman kept trying, again and again, to reach the fleets scattered across the outer edge of the Maelstrom.
The result never changed.
Neither astropathic communication nor any of the fleet's pre-arranged backup contact methods drew so much as a single response. The fleets dispatched to their different sectors seemed to have all vanished into the Warp storm at once, unable even to confirm their own positions.
The Navigators had no better news to offer.
The Maelstrom had now fallen into an upheaval without precedent, and a great many routes that had still been barely passable were now sealed off entirely. Pushing into it blindly could well see an entire fleet scattered beyond recovery within the Warp.
At least until a new safe route could be found, the only thing left for them to do, it seemed, was wait for the storm to weaken.
By now, Duvette, carrying Guilliman's will with him, had already left the Macragge's Honour.
Led by two Astral Claws Astartes, he made his way, together with thirteen members of the Shadow Wolves of Luna, toward Huron's location.
It was a vast fortress complex, built atop a volcanic highland to the northeast of the hive city of Dominus.
The Thorn Palace.
Before the shuttle had even finished its descent, Duvette could already see, through the viewport, this seat of Huron's power.
A broad plaza of statues stretched all the way to the fortress gate, flanked on either side by towering warrior figures carved in stone. Great spire-mounted cannons rose from within the complex, and defence lasers and anti-air batteries kept swinging their aim, watching the sky, now stained with unnatural colour, without pause.
The gates of the underground bunkers already stood open.
Land Raiders and Predator tanks could roll straight out from within, and great numbers of armoured vehicles were already moving through the underground network toward their assigned defence zones. Heavy defence positions covered the entire highland, and the great void shield blanketing the core sector had already been raised.
Duvette watched for a moment, and a thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.
Maybe he really was one of Dorn's whelps after all.
But clearly, he was the only one here with the luxury of letting his mind wander.
A piercing alarm echoed across the whole of the Thorn Palace.
Astral Claws Astartes and Badab's mortal defenders alike were moving fast toward their assigned muster points. Ammunition crates and weapons were being ferried to the front, and a great many cogitator terminals kept refreshing with new orders.
Everyone knew it.
A war was coming.
Duvette walked through the vast armoured corridors, the thirteen Shadow Wolves of Luna behind him keeping their silence. The Astral Claws they passed cast the occasional glance at these white-armoured warriors, but no one asked a single question.
Amid all that grim atmosphere, Duvette found himself still turning over the words Magnus had left behind.
Facing your brother's wrath.
It couldn't really be Angron, could it?
Duvette's brow furrowed slightly.
Magnus's purpose was growing clearer by the moment.
Use the blood sacrifice of eight worlds, and the war and death across other worlds besides, to trigger a Maelstrom-wide upheaval, then use the resulting Warp storm to sever the Imperial Primarch's contact with the rest of his crusade fleet, leaving him isolated for the time being.
And after that?
Bring Angron down into the mortal realm, then have him kill Guilliman?
Duvette did not think it would be that simple.
Had those nine assassins actually succeeded in getting Guilliman to brand the Astral Claws as traitors, Badab Prime would very likely already be locked in full-scale war by now. The slaughter between the Primarch's crusade force, the Astral Claws, the mortal defenders, and the Wardens of the Maelstrom would have produced bloodshed and death beyond imagining.
At that point, Khorne's great host and every manner of Chaos warband could easily have used the widening war as their way into the Badab system.
But Duvette had already stopped all of that.
The Astral Claws had not turned traitor.
Huron still held Badab.
And Guilliman's fleet remained intact.
So how would the enemy carry out their next step?
The Warp storm alone, however powerful an anomaly it had already carved into reality, might not be enough on its own to let a Daemon Primarch like Angron descend and hold stable. To truly tear the veil of reality wide open would still require slaughter on a large enough scale, and an anchor within realspace itself.
Unless...
A massive Chaos fleet was about to invade the Badab system directly.
A force large enough to stand and meet their own fleet head-on.
Duvette narrowed his eyes.
He could already guess, in vague outline, what might come next.
If that was so, then what he needed to do was simple enough.
Crush every one of the enemy's designs.
As for Angron, ascended and daemon-risen, who might yet descend into the mortal realm... let Guilliman deal with that. Let Primarch answer Primarch, let Astartes answer Astartes. Well, granted, Guilliman would probably lose. But Duvette had an idea of his own he wanted to try, too.
His steps did not slow as the thought crossed his mind.
Led by two Astral Claws First Company veterans, he and the Shadow Wolves finally reached the depths of the Thorn Palace.
A massive armoured door slid slowly open.
Huron's private reception chamber lay before them.
The room bore little in the way of lavish decoration; what caught the eye first was the great metal table at its centre, its surface heaped with data-slates, a nearby holographic projection displaying the state of the entire Badab system.
Huron stood behind the metal table.
He still wore his silver-blue Terminator armour.
As Duvette walked in, the Astral Claws Chapter Master fixed the mortal before him with a gaze of the most complicated kind.
This man carried Guilliman's will.
He had just saved him.
And it was this same man who had dropped him back into a political crisis unlike any he had ever faced.
Even now, Huron still did not know quite what to make of Duvette.
An enemy?
An ally?
Or merely a blade in Guilliman's hand, one that could be turned against him at any moment?
Duvette had no interest in guessing what Huron was thinking.
He offered no more than the barest gesture of courtesy, then spoke directly.
"Chapter Master Huron. Your chance to prove yourself has come."
Something shifted faintly in Huron's gaze.
He raised a hand, gesturing for Duvette to come to the metal table.
The thirteen Shadow Wolves of Luna stopped behind Duvette.
The tall, white-armoured warriors said nothing.
Duvette stood across from Huron, looking straight into his eyes.
"Chaos's lapdogs have offered the blood sacrifice of eight worlds, and countless wars across the edge of the Maelstrom besides, up to their dark god."
"And they succeeded."
Duvette raised a hand and brought up the ever-expanding Warp storm within the holographic projection on the table.
"We can confirm now that we've lost all contact with the outside. The Badab system has become an island unto itself. Unless the storm dies down, or we find a new safe route, there's no leaving here."
Huron studied the holographic projection.
"The Maelstrom has thrown up Warp storms before."
"But nothing on this scale. I've never seen the like."
He raised his head once he'd finished speaking.
"What's the enemy's objective?"
Duvette did not hesitate.
"The returning Daemon Primarch."
He paused a moment.
"And your world."
Something darkened in Huron's eyes.
He looked at Duvette, and it was a moment before he spoke.
"So. What do you need from me?"
Duvette's answer was just as direct.
"The Primarch needs you to follow my command."
"Bring the Astral Claws and every mortal defender under it, and protect Badab Prime."
Huron froze for a moment.
"I... follow your command?"
An unguarded flash of astonishment crossed his face, then just as quickly hardened into resistance.
A Chapter Master of the Astral Claws, the true leader of the Wardens of the Maelstrom, the ruler of Badab.
"Now expected to take orders from a mortal?"
Duvette let out a cold snort.
"Put your Astartes supremacism away, Huron."
He paid no mind at all to the Chapter Master's temper.
Behind him, the thirteen Shadow Wolves of Luna turned their heads to look at Huron as well.
Duvette continued. "Standing before you is the ground commander-in-chief of the entire crusade fleet, the one who acts in the Imperial Primarch's own will."
"My words carry Guilliman's will down to the last syllable. Have you already forgotten the promise you made to him?"
Huron's expression froze.
Of course he remembered.
Only a short while ago he had knelt before Guilliman and sworn with his own mouth that the Astral Claws would cooperate fully with the investigation, that he would prove his loyalty.
Now, that chance had come.
It was only the shape the chance had taken that he found hard to accept.
Huron lowered his head and fell silent.
Duvette watched him, and his tone eased somewhat.
"We've certainly seen you withholding resources and gene-seed tithes. But we've also seen how many battle-brothers you've buried defending the Maelstrom."
Huron's head snapped up.
He stared fixedly at Duvette.
For the first time, his expression shifted, plainly and visibly.
How many years had it been?
Even Huron himself had nearly forgotten.
Terra only ever asked about tithes.
The Mechanicus only ever demanded gene-seed.
Officials from distant sectors only ever cared about the figures on a ledger.
Precious few had ever truly cared how many battles the Astral Claws had fought at the edge of the Maelstrom, or how many brothers they had lost doing it.
But now, a mortal stood before him, telling him the Imperium had seen.
Duvette gave a short laugh, holding Huron's gaze.
"The Codex Astartes is a code of law nearly ten thousand years old. For the galaxy as it stands today, it has admittedly grown a little out of step with the times."
"Lord Guilliman has his own thoughts on reforming it, as it happens."
Duvette looked at Huron.
"What you've gone to such lengths to hide, we've already uncovered. The Primarch may well come to understand it. As for whatever else you've done, and how it's finally dealt with, that decision belongs to him."
Huron said nothing.
Duvette went on. "This coming war may well be a brutal one."
"But show Guilliman your loyalty, and your capability, and you'll get what you're after, Chapter Master Huron."
The room fell into a brief silence.
Huron looked at Duvette.
He understood exactly what those words meant.
If the Astral Claws could prove themselves in the war to come, if they could hold Badab, if they could demonstrate their worth before Guilliman himself, then everything that had happened before might yet turn.
At the very least, the Primarch was willing to watch.
Willing to listen.
That alone was worth more than anything Terra had ever given him.
Huron was silent for a long while.
At last, he spoke, slowly.
"I understand."
Duvette gave a nod.
He turned to look at the holographic projection nearby.
The images of Badab Prime, Badab III, and Badab Secundus all appeared within it at once.
Duvette walked to the table's edge and raised a hand, enlarging all three regions.
"Good."
"Now then. Let's discuss the surface defence arrangements for these three worlds."