Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

Lin and his group withdrew to Cath Maximus without a hitch, encountering no obstruction whatsoever.

In fact, according to reports from the observation station, that warlord who had gathered up all the remaining greenskins did not even intend to linger at Cath Maximus any longer. He left two cruisers and an assortment of gunships within the Cath Maximus system, while he himself piloted his battleship toward the Mandeville Point.

Clearly he had already resolved to leave this system. Just as that tech-kid had said, rather than fighting tooth and nail over Cath Maximus, he would head outward to gather more greenskins.

The Imperial fleet, which had originally been at an absolute disadvantage in the fleet battle, had suddenly switched roles with the greenskins.

The greenskins left within the Cath Maximus system numbered, by conservative estimate, upward of five million. Although that figure was no fatal threat, for the Imperial fleet—already depleted and lacking maintenance—it would take a long time to fully eradicate them.

That was not a span of time the Imperial Fists, anxious to rush back and reinforce Terra, could endure.

Bohemond had awoken mere moments after returning to Cath Maximus. He held a brief, ceremonial meeting with the Ultimate Wall alliance led by Kurande. Although he stressed that he had come for the sake of the Ultimate Wall, he did not express submission to the Imperial Fists as Maximus Sorn had.

He clearly had ideas of his own.

The Black Templars were assigned to a relatively separate area to rest and recuperate. Bohemond, anxious to take stock of his losses, did not immediately put forward any pointed proposals, which gave Lin and the others some room to deliberate.

"The greenskin threat has been temporarily lifted; Cath Maximus can hold even without us. So long as Commander Hays remains here with his Astra Militarum, Cath Maximus can serve perpetually as a gateway leading to the Throneworld."

Kurande was the first to voice his opinion. He trusted and respected Lin, but that did not mean he held no subjective stance of his own. Anyone could see from his expression his yearning to return to Terra as soon as possible.

But Maximus Sorn, who had always supported Kurande, held an opposing view at this moment: "We have only three hundred and fifty Astartes left, and not many warships. Returning to Terra with a force of this magnitude would be no more than hurling an egg against a rock."

"Three hundred and fifty?" Kurande looked at Maximus Sorn. "The Black Templars have over six hundred surviving warriors."

"Yes, but they will not be at our disposal."

"They too are sons of Dorn who answered the call of the Ultimate Wall!"

"That is a separate matter from whether they will go to reinforce Terra," Maximus Sorn stated calmly.

A look of incomprehension surfaced on Kurande's face. He was about to say something more, but Lin spoke up.

"Trust Maximus Sorn. As a Brother who has come all the way from the Great Heresy to the present day, he clearly understands the Black Templars far better."

But Kurande still could not let go of his idea of returning to reinforce Terra.

"We cannot shirk our mission on account of our own weakness. If the Black Templars will not join us, then I will return to Terra on my own!"

"That would plunge the Ultimate Wall into a de facto schism." Maximus Sorn cruelly laid bare the truth. "If the Imperial Fists' intentions differ from those of the Black Templars, then how will the sons of Dorn who arrive later choose? Will they follow the Imperial Fists, or follow the Black Templars?"

Kurande's expression grew grave. This second-company captain, hastily elevated to Chapter Master, was not as politically adept as his predecessor, but with matters spelled out this plainly, he could of course foresee the consequences.

"Rest assured, I will not let things come to that."

Lin spoke, and both Kurande and Maximus Sorn turned their gazes upon him.

He led the two of them out of the meeting room and toward the outside. A transport carrying the Black Templars' Gene-Seeds was parked downstairs, and Issaga—whom Lin had long since instructed to wait there—leaned against the vehicle, waiting for Kurande.

"Before the Black Templars' battle barge sank, it launched out the Black Templars' Gene-Seeds—one hundred and thirty of them. We conducted no inspection whatsoever on these Gene-Seeds; they are all here, entirely untouched."

Kurande frowned. "Are we to use these seeds to threaten the Black Templars, to force them to return and reinforce?"

"No, we need only return them. Treat this as a gift—at the very least it is a goodwill the Black Templars cannot refuse."

Lin explained, looking at Kurande. "Hand this to the Black Templars personally; at the very least it will avert the worst outcome. You can also take the chance to persuade Bohemond—seeing as we saved the Black Templars and these Gene-Seeds, your conversation will not be an unpleasant one."

"I don't know what I could possibly say."

"Brother Issaga will go with you. He is an elder who once dueled Sigismund, the first Chapter Master of the Black Templars, and he has had close dealings with the Black Templars before. If you have any thoughts, you can discuss them with him first."

Issaga beckoned to Kurande, and Lin pushed Kurande forward to stand before Issaga. He bundled the two of them into the vehicle, then set the program for the driving Servitor to route to the Black Templars' encampment.

"I leave it to you, Brother Issaga." This was an internal affair of the Ultimate Wall. Lin could exert influence from the outside, even steer matters toward the direction he wanted. But he must never become involved within the Ultimate Wall itself; that would only add to the doubts of others.

"I will do all I can," Issaga nodded in assent.

The transport carrying the Gene-Seeds started up, and Maximus Sorn and Lin watched together as it drove off into the distance.

"Do you really think they can persuade Bohemond?" Maximus Sorn asked.

"I don't. But so long as Bohemond acknowledges Kurande's leadership, then no matter what the Black Templars do next, we can gather up the rest of the Imperial Fists' successor Chapters."

"But if he does not join us, our current strength can hardly accomplish anything."

"Don't worry, I have other plans."

Lin projected a star map. Maximus Sorn looked at it and found that Lin had placed a key marker on Port Sanctus.

"A gateway world to Terra, a fortress planet of the Navy. More importantly, it is the next target of the Ork battle moon." Lin explained, unhurried. "However slow the Council of High Lords may be, by now they should have grasped what is happening. The armed forces of the entire Sol star region must be mustering toward Port Sanctus."

"The Imperium's standing armed forces have nothing to do with the Astartes."

"In theory. But there, we can seize opportunities far greater than any we have now."

Lin spoke with deep meaning: "Three hundred Astartes won't make so much as a ripple in a war against the Orks, yet they can become a decisive force within the Imperium."

Maximus Sorn fell into thought.

These discussions, however, had nothing to do with Kurande for the moment.

Having been suddenly bundled into the vehicle, he looked at Issaga seated beside him. The mark of their shared heritage was clearly visible—the fist adorning Issaga's white pauldron was the same as the one on Kurande's yellow armour.

But Issaga's fist was red rather than black, and that fist gripped a yellow double-lightning bolt. Beyond the Chapter markings, Issaga's whole body bore a kind of ceremonial scarring—this stemmed from a self-flagellation ritual of the Castigators Chapter. They regarded the scars upon their power armour and their flesh as the inscriptions of their honour.

These scars, together with their Chapter insignia, made Kurande feel almost instinctively uneasy. They seemed to remind him that the glory which had once belonged to the Legion was now gone, that the sons of Dorn who had once been united under the Imperial Fists were now scattered across the sea of stars, each having developed a Chapter culture all their own.

They would never again be as inseparable as they once had been.

"I can see the sorrow upon your countenance, Brother Kurande." Unlike his face, made fierce by scars, Issaga's tone was quite gentle. "What is it that makes a strong Imperial Fist feel such grief?"

"We were all once Imperial Fists, and ought to shoulder together the mission of guarding Terra. But now there are differences between us that cannot be understood; we even quarrel endlessly over whether or not to return and reinforce Terra."

Kurande sighed softly. "This is not what I wanted."

"I understand you, brother." The sons of Dorn had never been good with words, but one who could serve as a Priest was clearly the exception. Issaga consoled him in a soft, gentle voice. "But I think there is not so great a difference between us—take, for instance, that power armour of yours, every bit as battered and scarred. I know you keep it that way as a reminder, unwilling to repaint it before your vengeance is complete. And that is precisely the origin of our Castigator tradition—every one of our scars is a mark born of a thought much like yours."

This notion made Kurande feel somewhat better. He raised his head to look at Issaga, but Issaga was already gazing out of the vehicle.

They had arrived at the Black Templars' station.

Although there was no proper monastery on Cath Maximus, the Black Templars had nonetheless arranged a crude one as best they could. In the center of the plaza they had placed an enormous stone statue, the Emperor upon it wreathed in holy light. And the Black Templars who had finished their routine training were praying to the Emperor at the statue's feet.

Kurande had no idea where these Black Templars, having lost their battle barge, had gotten this statue. By the look of its surface it had clearly only been completed recently.

"Although I believe there is no great difference between us, some are clearly far too superstitious," Issaga said.

"We don't really know them," Kurande retorted, though inwardly he agreed.

The Black Templars on duty came forward to inspect them; these warriors carried an innate arrogance. They respected Kurande and Issaga, but offered only a simple salute.

"High Marshal Bohemond invites you to meet with him. Do you require an escort?"

"No, Brother Kurande and I will make our own way there."

"Of course, my lord. That is your prerogative."

Issaga evidently wanted to talk with Kurande a little more. Once the Black Templar warrior had left, he shrugged and said, "Our Templar brothers are too noble—and perhaps a touch willful as well."

"The legendary Sigismund was the same. They say he was Dorn's favored son, and once the first-company captain of the Imperial Fists," Kurande responded reflexively, but it suddenly dawned on him that this might be the fundamental reason problems would arise within the Ultimate Wall.

"Perhaps," Issaga said noncommittally. "I once had a duel with Sigismund. He was a powerful warrior worthy of respect—he took off one of my arms within minutes. We bore no grudge over it; but through that duel I also saw clearly the true nature of the Black Templars."

"Their nature?"

"They regard the Emperor as a god—that is their nature. And as the offspring of a god, our gene-father is likewise regarded as divine, a notion that ultimately extends to every one of us Imperial Fists. Do you know what we are taken for? Demigods."

Such a notion ran far too counter to the Imperial Truth that Kurande firmly believed in. Fortunately, Issaga was a fellow traveler of his.

"Most of the mortals we protect think the same as they do, but let them worship as they will. The Emperor is a great man; our gene-father was created by his knowledge, not by miracle. Whatever we do, we must always know one thing—we are far from being gods."

"I have always been clear on that, Brother Issaga."

Issaga stopped walking. He met Kurande's eyes, his gaze full of expectation.

"This is precisely why the Castigators are more inclined to support you in leading the Ultimate Wall."

For a moment Kurande did not know how to answer, but Issaga merely smiled and patted his shoulder.

"Just don't let Bohemond know about what we just discussed—that's all."

The conversation ended there. They got out of the vehicle and entered Bohemond's chamber together.

Unlike the finely crafted stone statue of the Emperor outside, Bohemond's chamber could only be called austere. It had no windows or ornamentation of any kind, looking much like the meditation cell of an ascetic.

The High Marshal, only just recovered from grievous wounds, now wore no armour. He was clad in a plain robe of antique cut, but the Sword of Sigismund that symbolized his rank as High Marshal still hung at his waist.

The room held nothing apart from the documents Bohemond needed to attend to.

Kurande felt respect for such frugality, but it also made him realize that this High Marshal—whom Lin had teasingly called all appetite and no skill—likely would not be easily persuaded.

"Welcome, both of you, brothers." Bohemond rose to his feet, though his face betrayed not the slightest hint of welcome. "I imagine you must have come to discuss the deployments to come."

The matter of having been forcibly dragged away from the Orks' battleship still rankled the High Marshal to this day. His defeat in battle and the loss of the Black Sword were both bone-deep humiliations to him. He admonished himself not to vent his anger on Kurande, whose expeditionary force had in fact saved the Black Templars, but that did nothing to lift his foul mood.

"Just so, Brother Bohemond. But before that, Brother Kurande has a gift for you." Issaga, who had been first to take up the thread of conversation, stepped back and yielded the stage to Kurande. Kurande, for his part, pointed to the vehicle parked outside the door.

"The Black Templars' Gene-Seeds rescued from the Abhorrence are all here. We saw only to the seeds' survival and conducted no inspection of them whatsoever. Now, I return them to the Black Templars entirely untouched."

The Black Templars would leave their seeds on every planet they liberated, to cultivate fresh blood, which meant they kept few Gene-Seeds stored aboard their warships. Even so, over a hundred Gene-Seeds was a precious fortune all the same.

Bohemond's expression softened considerably, but he still did not address Kurande as leader. "On behalf of the Black Templars, I thank you for your aid. The glory of the Emperor's Champions ought rightly to be inherited by their descendants through their Gene-Seeds."

This way of putting it made Kurande quite uncomfortable, but the atmosphere between them had genuinely eased. Unwilling to delay, he chose to cut straight to the point.

"We should unite together and go to reinforce Terra—right now!"

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