V3 Chapter 90: Huron: I Will Be Loyal Forever!!
"Colonel-Commissar Gaunt. Been a while. Support's finally here."
Stroud stood inside the rear command post, watching the tall man walk into the room. This officer, who likewise doubled as both commander and commissar, reminded him of his old boss Duvette, except Gaunt was clearly the more taciturn of the two.
"I've brought some news."
Gaunt unfastened the green camouflage cloak from his shoulders and hung it over the back of a nearby chair. It was a traditional garment from the Tanith homeworld, one of the clearest marks of the Tanith people, the other being their long knives.
"I know."
Stroud pulled off his cap and rubbed a hand over his bald head.
"You're here to tell me we're about to launch the final push into that latrine-stinking pit they call the under-hive."
"No."
Gaunt looked at him. "Marshal-Commissar Duvette and the Imperial Primarch Lord Guilliman have decided to personally lead the operation to finish clearing the under-hives of all four hive cities."
Stroud's hand stopped mid-rub.
"Both of them, going?"
"The plague's still confined to the under-hive and the border zones with the lower hive, for now."
Gaunt walked to the strategic map and tapped a hand against the areas marked in dark green.
"If the contamination breaks the containment line and gets into the main water supply pipes and air circulation trunks connecting lower hive to upper hive, the entire hive city becomes an unrecoverable contamination zone."
"Once that happens, the Imperium has no choice left but to seal every exit and carry out full sterilisation."
Gaunt paused.
"In the worst case, the whole hive city would need to be destroyed."
Whatever ease had been on Stroud's face vanished.
Exactly how many people lived in the under-hive, probably not even Badab's own administration could say for certain. Even if only half of them were still alive, that was still a number large enough to make most Imperial commanders simply walk away from the problem outright.
"So we're back working with the boss, then?"
A flicker of anticipation returned to Stroud's eyes.
That much, at least, was good news.
So long as Duvette led the operation himself, plenty of dangers that would otherwise be enough to wipe out an entire unit became manageable. The 112th had come through wars far worse than a Nurgle plague, and come out the other side alive every time.
Gaunt shook his head.
"No."
"We're operating under Lord Guilliman."
Stroud fell silent for a few seconds.
He slowly settled his cap back onto his head, then pressed the brim down hard.
"Think I could put in for a transfer to a different front?"
"I doubt Krieg would agree to that. But here's some good news for you: Anderson and the rest have to come here too."
***
Duvette returned to the surface with Guilliman, and the two of them entered the Thorn Palace.
Huron, Lord of Badab, was already waiting in the palace hall. At the sight of the Primarch approaching in his armour of fate, he lowered his head at once and saluted Guilliman.
"My lord Primarch."
"The Astral Claws have carried out every order Marshal Duvette issued."
Huron raised his head, his voice steady.
"The primary defence lines across Badab Prime have been re-stabilised. The assault by Chaos daemons and Ruinous warbands has been repelled, and the remaining enemy is being cleared out step by step."
Duvette stood beside Guilliman, watching Huron in silence.
The man was clearly angling for credit in front of Guilliman.
Still, everything he'd said was true.
At the most dangerous stage of the fight, Huron hadn't retreated, and hadn't abandoned Badab Prime. He'd personally led the Astral Claws in holding the hive city's defence lines, and had shouldered a share of the defensive burden that should never have fallen to a single Chapter alone.
Duvette hadn't quite expected that Huron, before his eventual betrayal, could show this much genuine loyalty.
Perhaps, at this point in his life, Huron still truly believed everything he did was for the Imperium. His ambition, his arrogance, his resentment toward Terra, all of it already existed, but none of it had yet outweighed his loyalty to the Imperium.
"Your conduct here is worth recognising."
Guilliman said, his tone grave. "Your judgment throughout the defence was sound, and you never lost your grip on the wider battle, even with Angron's descent."
"That Badab held out until reinforcements could mount a counterattack owes a great deal to you and the Astral Claws."
Huron's expression stayed composed.
But Duvette could tell the man had been deeply moved. Recognition spoken directly from a Primarch's own mouth was plainly worth more to him than any commendation a High Lord could ever issue.
Huron dropped to one knee at once.
"I will go on using every ability I have, in the Emperor's service, and the Imperium's."
Guilliman looked down at the Astartes kneeling before him.
"What you've done here doesn't erase your past transgressions."
"Unauthorised expansion of your Chapter's ranks, concealment of gene-seed records, withheld Imperial tithes, and obstruction of proper administrative function. All of it will still face review."
Huron's body tensed faintly.
The Astral Claws present in the hall stayed silent as well; none of them attempted to speak up in their Chapter Master's defence.
"I will hand down no final ruling until I've returned to Terra and completed a full review of the entire Maelstrom warzone."
Guilliman went on. "From this point forward, the Astral Claws will halt all unauthorised recruitment, and resume proper tithing of gene-seed and materiel."
"Badab's administration will also return to normal function."
Huron lowered his head.
"I accept whatever you decide, my lord Primarch."
He offered no resistance, and set no conditions.
Guilliman nodded, then stepped forward.
Under Huron's visibly startled gaze, the Primarch reached down and pulled him back to his feet.
"You've earned real credit in this battle."
"The Imperium won't overlook your failings. But it won't overlook your loyalty, either."
Huron looked up at him.
"Your reward is this: the Imperium will formally recognise the burden the Maelstrom Wardens have carried."
"I'll personally review the fleet strength, garrison numbers, and supply situation here, and see that you're given the resources this region needs to be properly held."
"Until formal orders come through, you'll continue as acting theatre commander of the Maelstrom Wardens."
Guilliman looked at him. "Once I'm back on Terra, I intend to push for a full reorganisation of the Maelstrom's entire defence structure."
"You won't have to keep carrying an entire warzone on the back of one Chapter that's been chronically under-strength."
Huron opened his mouth as though to say something, but for a moment no words came.
This was the very thing he'd spent years trying to win from Terra.
Ships. Weapons. Manpower. A clearer mandate over the theatre.
He'd explained the Maelstrom's danger to the Imperial administration more times than he could count, and had asked, more than once, for the resources to clear out the nearby Chaos strongholds on his own initiative. Every request had, in the end, been delayed or refused outright.
Now an Imperial Primarch had promised, in his own voice, to review all of it again.
Huron raised his fist and struck it hard against his breastplate.
"I will be loyal forever! The Astral Claws will forever stand as the Maelstrom's strongest shield!"
Duvette, standing off to one side, twitched the corner of his mouth.
Well, now.
Guilliman really did know how to win people over.
More to the point, this particular promise was one he genuinely meant to keep.
Astartes really did care about honour and loyalty, it turned out. Especially when the one granting that recognition was a Primarch himself; the weight of it was nearly enough on its own to outweigh every grievance built up over the years.
This Lord of Badab, who'd gone so long without Terra's notice, looked about ready to kneel down and knock his forehead against the floor for Guilliman.
"Finish the war in front of us first."
Guilliman said. "The plague on Badab Prime still hasn't been cleared. This isn't the time to be discussing what comes after."
Huron nodded at once.
Duvette walked over to the strategic projection and laid out the plan for clearing the under-hives.
The contaminated zones across all four hive cities would be cleared at the same time.
Duvette himself would go to the hive city with the worst contamination, the Krieg 1173rd and Mechanicus purification forces going in alongside him. Huron would lead the Astral Claws and the Badab Guard through the hive city they knew best.
The Lamenters and the Mantis Warriors would jointly handle the last remaining warzone, under the unified coordination of the Lamenters' Chapter Master.
The one hive city left over would go to Guilliman.
Gaunt, Stroud, and the veterans of the 112th Special Operations Legion would go with the Imperial Primarch, deep into that under-hive.
"But supreme command of every unit stays with me. Everyone else holds front-line command only, including you, Lord Guilliman."
Huron looked between the two of them in shock at those words, but Guilliman said nothing, only nodded, which left Huron staring at the mortal Marshal in even greater disbelief.
Duvette cleared his throat twice, pulling Huron's attention back, and continued.
Every unit entering the fight was to use fully sealed combat gear, with independent air supply systems. The infected were not to be brought back to the upper levels. As each section was cleared, the follow-up engineering teams would seal the passage behind them again.
The dead and any contaminated matter would be burned on site.
Until the operation concluded, every unit that went down into the under-hive would remain in isolation.
Once the assignments were finished, Guilliman didn't linger.
He turned and left the Thorn Palace, Duvette walking beside him.
The two of them made their way along the road toward the landing field, the waiting Thunderhawk gunships already visible in the distance.
"I expected you'd show a good deal more anger over what Huron's done."
Duvette glanced at the Primarch beside him.
"At the very least, I thought you'd strip him of theatre command on the spot."
Guilliman didn't answer right away.
He seemed to be turning a great many things over in his mind, and only after a moment did he speak, slowly.
"He's arrogant. He's overstepped. He lacks judgment when it comes to the political consequences."
"But his ability, and his loyalty right now, aren't in question."
Guilliman turned to look at him.
"He hasn't crossed a line that can't be walked back."
"The Imperium, as it stands now, needs people who are capable, and willing to carry responsibility. If all I give him is humiliation and punishment, I may well end up pushing a commander who's still loyal, still capable, straight into opposition against the Imperium, with my own hands."
Duvette raised an eyebrow.
He offered no further comment.
The two Thunderhawk gunships had already opened their hatches, waiting for the two of them to board, each on his own.
Duvette headed for the gunship assigned to carry him to another hive city. Guilliman would make for the warzone held by the 112th, to rejoin Gaunt and Stroud.
Four forces would enter the under-hives at the very same time.
The Battle of Badab, which had dragged on this long already, had finally reached its last engagement.