The Beast Arises

‘More than that, Grand Master,’ Yendl told him. ‘Kubik has several maximum security projects under excavation and construction beneath the surface of Mars. As yet, we have been unable to gain access to these projects. We know that one is located beneath the Noctis Labyrinth, with other larger excavations taking place at intervals below the Valles Marineris.’

‘What is the Mechanicus building?’ Vangorich demanded.

‘We don’t yet know, my lord,’ Yendl admitted, ‘but much of the data sent back to Mars from the secreted outposts and signum-stations focuses on the teleportation and vector technologies that the xenos use to transport their attack moons over sector-spanning distances.’

‘Kubik wishes to learn the heretical secrets of this barbaric technology?’ Vangorich said, before once again allowing his mind to dwell on the politics. ‘Perhaps the Inquisition’s interest in Kubik is less collaborative than the Fabricator General conceives.’

‘My lord,’ Yendl continued, ‘with respect, you are not thinking broadly enough. We believe that the Fabricator General’s interests lie not in what is best for the Imperium — but what is best for the Mechanicus. Kubik does not wish to learn the secrets of the xenos tech in order to destroy it or defend against it. He wishes to utilise it. Replicate it. Embrace its potential.’

‘You’re saying that…’

‘I’m saying, my lord, that in the event of a threat to the inner core, to the Sol subsector — from the invader or anything else — he means to remove Mars from the path of annihilation.’

‘Move the planet?’ Vangorich said, his mind struggling with the enormity of the proposal.

‘Save Mars,’ Yendl said, ‘and leave the Imperium to the ravages of the enemy.’

‘Does he have these secrets?’

‘Unknown, my lord. But if and when he does, beyond the defensive capabilities of such secrets, such techno-heretical wonders would make the Martian forge-world an intolerable weapon.’

‘Agreed,’ Vangorich said finally. He turned with the intelligence log under one arm and ventured soberly back up the colossal ramp.

‘My lord,’ Yendl called after him, after a moment of reconsideration. A little way up, the Grand Master of Assassins turned. ‘Understand, sir, this is speculation. We have no direct evidence of the construction of such a heretical abomination.’

Vangorich cast his eyes bleakly across the sleeper cadre.

‘Red Haven: Priority Primus,’ the Grand Master said to them. ‘Find some.’

TEN

Ardamantua

Ardamantua was a gravity-churned mess, a mass grave that had suffered tectonic upheaval. An aftermath of fresh earth and rotting bodies. It was fascinating.

Artisan Trajectorae Argus Van Auken was standing in a craterous hollow swarming with Mechanicus menials and seisomats taking readings and feeding the data back to the survey brig Subservius, which held position in low orbit above the expedition. Magi astrophysicus bombarded the ruined structure of the Ardamantuan crust with magnasonic arrays and powerful pulse-scanners, the dishes and receivers of which were directed down into the ground.

As soon as the distress calls from the surface had faded and the colossal xenos attack moon disappeared — which had happened as swiftly as the abomination had arrived — the Subservius had returned. Argus Van Auken had come back at the head of a small army of data-ravenous priests and adepts, all intent on understanding the mechanics of the catastrophe. They busied themselves with experimentation and observation, all the while trampling xenos corpses — both common Chromes and Veridi giganticus — and the shredded remains of Mechanicus support staff, and the shattered yellow plate of fallen Imperial Fists, into the disturbed earth.

Only knowledge mattered. The xenos cadavers were fearfully imposing, even in death. The honourable Adeptus Astartes — torn to pieces in the enemy deluge — deserved better. Argus Van Auken was incapable of such distractions, however. His work benefited from a lack of such sentimentality. Some might describe it as a disability. Others, a superhuman ability. It had been Van Auken’s cold logic that had held the Subservius on station, pursuing its observation protocols when lesser adepts like Magos Biologis Eldon Urquidex had urged the artisan to return and interfere with unfolding events. Perhaps it had been Urquidex’s devotion to the science of the living that had burdened the priest with such weakness. Urquidex had watched the data-streams of doom return from the planet’s surface. He saw an Adeptus Astartes Chapter on the brink of annihilation. He saw the physical perfection of the human form and a rich genetic history of conquest and supremacy on the cusp of extinction. He gave in to his baser, organic impulses and requested of Van Auken a last-minute retrieval.