To expedite vis progress to the higher levels of the akropoliz, Exasas sped to one of the vertical conveyors that had been shut down during the boarding attack. Ve summoned the car with a noospheric broadcast and likewise set the container into motion for the battery level after ve had curled vis form into its cage-like interior.
As ve ascended ve could see as well as sense Olvatia’s augmentatii spread around the akropoliz. Ve had counted one hundred and forty warriors disembarking from the skyspears and assumed a similar number had entered each of the bastions in the lower legs. Four hundred and twenty skitarii soldiers were nearly one hundred more than ve had commanded at the outset of the campaign, and quadruple the troops now at vis disposal.
It occurred to ver as the conveyor slowed towards its destination that ve should demand the noospheric access codes for the League soldiery. Through the authority of hierakos ve was the Imperator Dominus, and all battle-priests and skitarii personnel were vis to command.
Ve resolved to request – demand! – that right when ve spoke with Olvatia. If she was unwilling then ve would seek the authority of the princeps senioris, and ve would either be vindicated or would stand down. The noncommittal nature of the current arrangement was unacceptable.
Thus roused, Exasas ushered forth from the conveyor into the corridors around the immense turntable and gun tower of the main battery. There were more of the League augmentatii here, stationed at the gateways that led to the main battery and the flanking secondary gun towers, and a demi-squad outside the reinforced doors of the magazine itself.
They stepped aside to allow Exasas to enter, but closed ranks as soon as ve had passed within. Ve wondered if it was too late to summon any of vis own soldiers but decided that paranoid escalation would be seen as a sign of weakness rather than strength. Ve did not need to rely on such psychological trickery – ve was dominus by right of hierakos.
The magazine would have been a four-storey building in any other circumstance, consisting of an outer shell and the inner vault. The autoloader shaft ran from the centre of the vault chamber to the main battery above. Numerous arched windows with glass stained with scenes from the calendar of the Cult Metalica decorated the outer wall, which was lined by a shallow rampway that wound about its interior.
The flashing light of the storm cast Olvatia’s oval shadow from about halfway up the frontmost wall, hovering in front of a window triptych that displayed the Culmination of Disentropic Labours.
Exasas tried to extend a noospheric handshake but was met with a feedback shriek from a suppressive field. Recoiling, ve remembered the injunction for auditory exchange only.
‘I have no desire for subterfuge,’ Exasas announced as ve started up the ramp.
‘Nor I, magos,’ Olvatia replied. ‘It is for that reason and consideration for your prior service that I requested this interface.’
‘Prior service? I think you mean current service, as I am still Imperator Dominus of the Casus Belli.’
‘If you wish to remain so, then you must listen to me carefully.’
‘I analyse all inputs with equal rigour.’ The turn of the rampway took Exasas out of sight of the other magos, but her voice drifted back down the magazine hall.
‘Your literalism has held you back, and now I see why. You fail to embrace all of the routes to Higher Wisdom.’
‘What you choose to mark as a failure I see as a strength. Rather than split my efforts across many journeys to enlightenment, I have focused upon a narrower path with utter dedication.’
Ve reached what would have been the second storey to find that Olvatia had floated down towards him along the ramp above and opposite his position. It was vexing to rely upon only short-ranged physical scans, but ve boosted vis suite of sensors to compensate for the lack of noospheric interaction between them. Ve heard the subtle whisper of the suspensor motors as Olvatia came closer.
‘Then why have you not elevated yourself further in your time?’
‘I think you are poorly qualified to lecture on the merits of achievement, Olvatia. Your service is disparate, uncharted. You have no great standing in the Cult Metalica that I can discern, though I have looked for some reason that explains how you have attained the rank of dominus.’
‘I can help you, Exasas.’ She stopped a few metres ahead of ver and ve halted also. Olvatia’s hair-sensors bristled upwards, though Exasas had no means or experience to interpret the meaning of the display. ‘More importantly, I can help you to help yourself.’
‘You said that the security of the Casus Belli was under threat. I have surmised as much from the activity of late. What is your perspective on this phenomenon, and are you willing to make an alliance to rectify the situation?’
‘I am surprised – I thought you would be ignorant of what was happening, and I certainly did not foresee that you would wish to add your support to the cause. Perhaps I have underestimated you.’
‘I have not yet identified the cause to which you refer, Olvatia. It is obvious that two or more blocs within the Legio command echelon are in conflict and that the Casus Belli and its skitarii cohort are somehow implicated. I do not know nor care to know the individuals involved, only to ensure that it ceases imperilling the Casus Belli. Not only the Imperator but the battle group and the entire war effort as well are at risk if we do not return to Az Khalak without delay.’
‘Az Khalak? A small consideration in the greater scheme, confined to this one world. The Casus Belli represents a far more prominent instrument of power. Perhaps your role as skitarii dominus blinds you to the influence one can wield with the aid of an Imperator Titan, as you are such a redundant part of its operation.’
‘The Casus Belli would have been destroyed only hours ago if not for the presence of my skitarii.’
‘Your skitarii? Arrogance as well as ignorance, I see. You command only by the sufferance of your superiors. They are not your warriors – they are the defenders of the Casus Belli. If I were to command them the Imperator would be no less secure.’
Exasas searched for an argument to refute her assertion but was forced to concede the point, vis appendages drooping in acquiescence to her logic.
‘The role of dominus is essential, not the incumbent,’ ve conceded. ‘By that same logic I am as apt to fulfil the rank as you, preceding on the basis that this meander is a precursor to your demand that you assume the title of dominus.’
Olvatia drifted a little closer, frond-sensors tilting towards Exasas. Ve edged back, wishing to maintain the distance between then.
‘Your assumption is correct,’ Olvatia said.
‘Not an assumption – a presumption based on available data.’
‘Your inability to assume is one of your greatest drawbacks. I have seen your datalogs – you have removed all organic brain material yet maintain other elements of your old body. It is a very peculiar thing to do, and it hampers your strategic oversight. You lack imagination.’
Exasas shook the lensed apparatus that served as vis head.
‘You are mistaken. All action is governed by rules, even philosophy and human psychology. Imagination does not exist except as justification for illogical inferences.’
‘There is a place where logic does not hold sway, where the imagination creates rules rather than bending to them.’ Her voice was hushed, barely audible against the vehemence of the storm pounding the magazine windows. ‘Limitless potential, Exasas. Total freedom.’
‘You speak of the warp.’
‘I do. For millennia our kind have studied the Empyrean, trying to unearth its principles, to discern data from madness, structure from the unstructured. It is folly to analyse the warp – one must instead embrace it.’
‘This is the benefit of your imagination? To fool yourself that the energy of the warp can be a companion rather than a slave? No, the warp is anathema to the Machine-God. It exists only to be exploited, not befriended.’
A sigh issued from the other magos’ speakers. Her body tilted backwards as though looking up at the lightning that flashed multicoloured through the stained glass.
‘The warp is spirit incarnate, Exasas. We have enslaved the souls of countless trillions to the Machine-God. What if I told you that the Omnissiah had sought another way, so that the warp and humanity might have been equals?’
‘I would say that you have confused fable for fact.’
Olvatia’s sense-hairs stiffened into spikes, an unmistakable sign of annoyance. She said nothing for several seconds, during which Exasas reviewed the exchange thus far in an attempt to predict its trajectory and bring it to swifter conclusion.
‘As I declared previously, I refute your claim to dominus, and I am willing to lay the decision upon the judgment of the princeps senioris.’
‘Iealona will judge in my favour, but it is not going to come to that. You are going to comply with my demands – logic dictates it.’
‘How so?’
‘I am willing to use force to achieve my ends, even against you and your skitarii.’
She did not have to say more. At the instant Olvatia announced her willingness to engage in violence, Exasas had started four separate simulations based on the data ve currently had access to. All of them ended swiftly in defeat for vis soldiers. Ve tried three others but the outcome was unchanged. Only the severity of the fighting and loss of life varied.
‘Your victory is an absolute certainty, but I can make it costly for you.’
‘You will not. Conflict between our forces only weakens the defence of the Casus Belli. Lives expended in our dispute are wasted. Knowing the outcome, it would be illogical to expend your soldiers – one might even say it would be vanity.’
Exasas’ own calculations had arrived at the same conclusion and verified it several times by the time she had finished talking. Only one question remained, a selfish one.
‘What is to happen to me, Olvatia?’
The League magos slid through the air on gentle pulses of suspensor energy, trailing blue vapour. This time Exasas allowed her to close almost within reach. Ve puffed out a cloud of red incense, a last assertion of independence.
‘You will divert all of your command codes and skitarii access systems to me and officially denote my appointment as Imperator Dominus.’
‘Of course. The defence system must be unified.’
‘What happens after that is your choice, Exasas. You can serve as Imperator Secundus to me, or remain here under guard for the time being.’
Exasas extended vis sensor screen towards the armed figures at the magazine door below. With the noospheric jamming in place ve could not summon vis own warriors to affect a rescue.
‘There is a third option,’ said Exasas. ‘I decline to cooperate and you must kill me.’
‘That would be a waste, Exasas. For all your simplicities, you are an experienced war commander who would continue to be useful to the Casus Belli. The resistance would be futile, as your demise would defer command status protocols to my systems.’
Olvatia pressed forward, forcing Exasas almost against the wall to allow her passage down the ramp. Her tendrils focused on ver as she passed, like filaments drawn to a magnet, but she did not alter orientation or direction.
‘I thought your appearance was a collateral incident of this affair, but I see now it is part of the orchestration,’ said Exasas. ‘You have exploited the situation with efficient ruthlessness and left me no option but to comply.’
Exasas extended a data-spike and Olvatia stopped, parting two metallic segments to reveal a matching port. Exasas inserted the relay and partitioned vis command processors to transfer all authority protocols.
It took nearly two seconds for all of the data to be exchanged. Olvatia pulled away, severing the connection with a jolt of feedback. The segments closed and the new magos dominus of the Casus Belli hummed down to the gate without any further word. The doors rumbled shut, the shadows of the augmentatii outside showing for the last few moments before the two thick portals crashed together.
Exasas sensed a change in the light. Though lightning strikes still threw stark shadows from the high windows, those looking out over the front of the Imperator were perceptibly brighter between discharges.
The Casus Belli was coming out of the storm.
Exasas realised that, as of that moment, ve had become irrelevant.
Ghelsa stepped past Harkas, glad of the support of her exo-skeleton for her leaden limbs. She turned into the main corridor back towards the atrium, only dimly aware of her surroundings. On the level above the turntable of a secondary gun rumbled through the floor, but it had been some time since she had felt the thunder of the cannons.
Still she heard the bark of Delta 6-Terror’s phosphor blaster and the crackle of the burning rounds. Pained cries cut short by fresh fusillades punctuated the auditory hallucination.
Listless, she wandered to the atrium, passing a squad of skitarii heading to… She didn’t know where, nor cared. Stepping out onto the landing, the atrium suddenly looked vast, and Ghelsa felt tiny in the space, inconsequential in the grand scheme of the Imperator.
She sat down with her back against a frieze-sculpted wall, the multi-tool across her knees, her hands quivering. Everything Ghelsa looked at seemed out of focus, as if she were looking at it all through a viewing port misted with condensation. The white coats of the skitarii were just a blur. One of them emerged from the corridor beside her, walking with an oddly determined gait.
The scene faded as exhaustion caught up with her.
Ghelsa jerked awake with a grunt.
A quick survey of the atrium confirmed that only a split second had passed – the stairs were still crowded with skitarii and gun servitors.
The tributai stood up, her focus returning a little, a small remnant of meaning left to motivate her. It got her as far as the closest steps and then failed. Where was she going? Back to the downdecks? The hyperezia were still looking for her. Until Ossissiru Harkas revealed the plotters she was a fugitive.
She wondered where the inquisitor was. She recalled the figure that had passed her moments before and realised she had not recognised Harkas. It only took a few seconds to find him again, descending the steps to the lowest floor.
His objective became clear – at the far end of the hall a cluster of tech-priests had convened. One among them stood out, a spherical body hovering a short distance from the floor. She could tell that this one was a magos from the extensive cybernetics and the deferential manner in which the skitarii and other tech-priests carried themselves in its vicinity.
A dominus militaris.
Harkas was about to make contact with the leader of the skitarii, to unveil the conspirators and stop their vile plot. It would take time for the normal hierarchy to be restored and Ghelsa realised that the safest place, relatively, would be close to the inquisitor. Once he revealed himself and the purge began, his authority could protect her.
She started down the steps after him, moving quickly through the thinning numbers as the skitarii moved to the outer reaches of the akropoliz.
Ghelsa was going to call out, to ask the inquisitor to wait for her, but the open space intimidated her. She imagined her voice echoing over and over through the hall, drawing all eyes to her. Cowed by the thought, she kept silent and broke into a jog.
Something else about the situation nagged at her. There was something wrong with the scene in the atrium, but she couldn’t figure out what. It was the first time she had ever been there, so she had no previous experience with which to compare. She slowed to a walk again, trying to work out what was amiss. Her unease started to coalesce into specific facts.
The dominus was a hovering globe-like apparition, not the same commander they had seen outside the akropoliz. The skitarii uniforms were not quite the same as those she had seen so many times before. They wore the white of Metalica, but the style of their coats and the markings on their armour were not the same. Perhaps from a different part of the forge world, she concluded.
This led Ghelsa’s thoughts to another realisation. The dominus was not the same one that had been in command earlier. Unease knotted her stomach as she wondered why Magos Exasas had been replaced, but she dared not call out a warning.
Biting her lip, she hurried after Harkas, not sure what she could do.
The blackness of the storm gave way to a ruddy twilight. Exasas mounted the rampway to the top of the magazine structure, stopping at a series of narrow armourplas windows bereft of decoration. From this observation gallery ve could see the surrounding gun towers of the akropoliz and the view directly ahead.
Clouds swathed the sky, darkness swiftly encroaching. Exasas’ chronometrics told ver that duskfall would be in less than two standard hours. Though the view was limited, ve could see the mountains to either side of a broad plain, a pair of peaks almost directly ahead. Matching this to the cartographic archive, ve was able to triangulate their position to the mouth of the basin known as the Aza Fai Alessa. There was no sign of habitation and, though visual magnification was no substitute for the Casus Belli’s sensor sweeps, the plain appeared devoid of enemy, either on foot or in vehicles.
There were, fortunately, three other Titans of the battle group already waiting. The Warhounds Woundwalker and Sabreclaw stood alongside the Warlord Will of Iron. Outside the storm the air was still and the dusty ground was marked by the Titans’ deep footprints, showing that they had converged from several directions.
Exasas wanted to see if any of the other Titans were in front of or behind the Imperator, but the structure of the carapace fortifications blocked vis view. Ve had accepted vis usurpation by Olvatia as unavoidable, but frustration grew at the lack of data to process. The logic of her argument had been indisputable. Had ve resisted, Exasas would now be defunct, likely system-terminated altogether.
Ve touched a manipulator to the clear armourplas, swiping the tip across its surface with a screech. It did not even leave a scratch. Similarly, the reinforced buttresses holding up the main battery above were impervious to anything in Exasas’ body, and the doorway was likewise reinforced to contain any detonation from the ammunition vault within.
Escape seemed close to zero-possibility. Barring enemy action that somehow breached the massive hall from without – a breach that itself would likely slay Exasas – there was no way for the magos to exit the magazine chamber, and the noospheric jammer prevented any kind of non-physical extension beyond the walls.
Exasas might as well have been left blinded and crippled, such was the curtailing of vis abilities.
All logic urged ver to one of two courses of action. To continue with the submission and await some future opportunity, or to submit fully and join with the cabal of which Olvatia was clearly an important part.
Was ve right to assume their purpose was antagonistic to vis own? Though ve had never vied for exceptionalism, preference or patronage from vis superiors, ve had undoubtedly benefited as much as been hindered by the politics of the upper levels of the hierakos. By her own account Olvatia could have removed Exasas from the equation more forcefully and permanently. It was ego – the thought of being ousted and vis antagonism with Gevren – that drove out any thought of cooperation. Was vis unwillingness to adapt to this new situation the fault, rather than an objective wrong being perpetrated?
Yet Olvatia herself had mocked him for his lack of illogical assumption. It had been her presumption that Exasas would acquiesce without conflict. The very calculations at vis disposal had been turned against ver, and it was this more than anything else that irked Exasas.
Irked?
It was a very human response, but it was the truest. As much as probability suggested that it made little difference which power bloc within the Legio had control of the Imperator, it vexed Exasas on a personal level that they endangered the Casus Belli with their politicking. Though ve had initially arrived as dominus to expand the scope and implement the practical application of vis theorem, ve had absorbed fully the culture of the Titan and was proud of the duty ve had been called upon to perform.
Processors flared into rapid life at this revelation. It was not some organic instinct nor personal disagreement that agitated Exasas. The evidence to hand strongly suggested that Olvatia’s co-conspirators had been willing to risk the safety of the Casus Belli to achieve their aims. In itself this disqualified them from being entrusted with that guardianship.
They did not represent the best for the Imperator and that was reason enough to stop them. From this tiny kernel of contrariness, Exasas’ determination bloomed into full anger.
Ve had not felt – felt! – like this in many centuries. Even the Traitor Space Marines that had attempted to destroy the Casus Belli had not elicited hatred from the magos. Ve could not hate them, for they had simply fulfilled their purpose. On an intellectual level ve had wished them destroyed, but had taken no personal affront at their existence.
Conversely, Gevren and the others had betrayed all of those to whom they had sworn oaths, and all of those under their protection also. Olvatia’s meandering arguments about harnessing warp power made even less sense now, but were indicative of a flawed ideology.
Above all, Exasas railed against the idea that they had not only expected vis logic-induced passivity, but had depended upon it. Had they thought ve would provide more of an obstacle it was unlikely they would have set their coup in motion.
Invigorated by this train of thought, the magos turned vis efforts to the immediate predicament. How was ve going to fight back from vis current confinement?
Ahead, the knot of tech-priests turned at Harkas’ approach. Glinting lenses and multifaceted detector orbs coldly assayed him as they might an ancient circuit. A cloud of servo-skulls attempted to intercept the inquisitor but he pushed through them.
Ghelsa changed course, walking closer but not so directly, her instincts warning her not to get involved. She had done her part – now it was up to Harkas and the dominus to finish what had been started.
She stopped a short distance away. From this position she was not so near that she attracted attention, but close enough to hear the barked challenge from one of the tech-priests.
‘You are ignoring hierarchical protocol, skitarii.’ The tech-priest whipped a mechadendrite in admonition. ‘You do not have permission to approach the dominus.’
‘I have an important message for the dominus,’ replied Harkas. ‘Of grave importance to the Casus Belli and all aboard.’
‘Your concerns must be relayed through the appropriate communication channels, skitarii.’
‘I am not skitarii,’ declared Harkas, brandishing his sigil. ‘I am an inquisitor, and I will speak with the dominus now.’
Ghelsa could see nothing of the tech-priest’s face, but suspected there would be little enough left to betray any emotion even if she could. Despite that, she was able to read the body language easily enough – the sudden stiffening of limbs. She knew that an extension of secondary appendages was often a reaction to peril.
On occasion she had met with those outside the Cult Metalica – Imperial Guardsmen, Imperial Navy personnel and the like. They always laboured under the misapprehension that tech-priests were only machines, incapable of emotion. Ghelsa knew well enough from her own experience that having cybernetics didn’t change her brain chemistry or nervous system. The same was true for a tech-priest. It was impossible to wholly eliminate the thousands of continual signals that made love or hate, compassion or derision. The teachings of the Cult Metalica were not to remove these human factors through mechanical replacement, but to adopt a philosophy of higher understanding so that one recognised and controlled them. Unfeeling machines were easy to construct. Machines with humanity, no matter how repressed, were the perfect expression of the Omnissiah’s genius.
So she knew what she saw when the tech-priest recoiled from Harkas’ Inquisitorial sigil. She had seen it in the downdecks when a tech-priest was close to a direct hit or a dangerously malfunctioning system. It was fear.
Which was understandable. Few ever knowingly crossed the path of an inquisitor in their life, and there was little affection for the other institutions of the Imperium, but that did not explain the tech-priest’s very personal reaction. The momentary response betrayed an intimate, physical threat, not a general and intellectual one.
Unthinking, she stepped closer, fuelled by curiosity. As before, her desire to call out died at the moment of its conception, buried under a sudden need to remain unnoticed. She continued to watch in mute impotency.
The magos dominus swept aside the gaggle of subordinates with a flurry of hair-fronds, looming over Harkas as two undulating manipulators extended from beneath the segmented globe. Undulating sensor-vines tasted the air around the inquisitor, cutting lines through the bluish vapour that puffed from incense vents as metal plates opened and closed like gills.
‘You are an inquisitor?’ The voice was almost song-like, each word carried on a rising cadence.
‘I am Ossissiru Harkas of the Most Holy Orders of the Emperor’s Inquisition. I have discovered a techno-heresy that imperils the Casus Belli.’
‘You are most persistent, Harkas,’ the dominus said. ‘Moderatus Prime Gevren informed me that you had been apprehended and slain. Twice. It seems that you have a gift for survival that is equal to your penchant for heresy.’
Harkas retreated several steps and swept up one of the laspistols. He darted a look at the other tech-priests forming a semi-circle behind their commander.
‘I am an inquisitor of the Emperor!’ he shouted, looking around the atrium. He lifted up the Inquisitorial sigil for all to see. His next words were directed at the magos. ‘If you kill me, my order will visit vengeance a thousandfold upon you and your companions. Better to submit to your swift execution now.’
‘You overestimate your reach, Harkas. We are not intimidated by your claims to represent the Holy Order.’
Harkas again raised his voice, lifting the sigil high and turning to address the skitarii stationed around the atrium.
‘I am an inquisitor of the Emperor, and by my absolute authority I command you to execute these hereteks!’
Ghelsa withdrew as the soldiers turned their attention on the raving man standing before their commander. Silence greeted his proclamation. A buzzing sound broke the stillness. The magos was laughing.
‘That is an interesting badge you brandish,’ said the dominus. ‘A simple thing, yet you claim it possesses the power to command armies and condemn worlds. Such is granted to only the most brilliant minds, the most determined champions of humanity. You are neither, Harkas. Your delusions have betrayed you.’
Ghelsa shook her head, scrutinising Harkas’ face. He looked as confident as he had the first time she laid eyes upon him, but the magos’ words anchored deep into Ghelsa’s own doubts.
‘It is my authority incarnate,’ said Harkas. His glance roamed the atrium once more, seeking an ally. Any ally. His eyes passed over Ghelsa and she flinched, stifling any sound, fearing he would call upon her to intervene. He did not, his gaze moving on without pause. The opposite, in fact, if she understood his next words correctly. ‘You can strike me down, but the strength of this symbol is that it is the strength of all. There are others that answer the same call. Someone else will do what I cannot, and your heresy will be punished.’
‘Nobody is listening.’ A hint of discordant frustration crept into the magos’ voice. ‘You have nothing, Harkas, but a piece of wood. You have no authority here. Your badge is worthless. A greater power holds our allegiance.’
A mechanical tendril reached out, its three claws revealed to be a portable holo-projector as a wavering image appeared before the magos. It was dark blue, slowly rotating, shaped like a cog in the same style as the symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Ghelsa recognised the difference as the dominus continued speaking – eight lugs, not twelve.
‘Behold the eightfold gear of Knowledge Infinite. I possess the cardinal and the anti-cardinal, power beyond the imagining of the Machine-God.’ The magos drifted low, the segments peeling back to reveal a hideously contorted face, almost within arm’s reach of the inquisitor. The fakeskin barely moved as she continued. ‘Most importantly, these are my soldiers, Harkas. They have all been trusted with the Eight Rituals of Truth. Shout! Shout as loud as you can. Not even the corpse of the Omnissiah can hear you today.’