The First Heretic

At the ninth hour, cheers echoed throughout every vessel in the fleet. The primarch appeared on the command deck of Fidelitas Lex, flanked by Erebus and Kor Phaeron. Both Astartes wore their battle armour – the former in the grey of the Legion, the latter in his brutal warplate of the Terminator elite.

A live pict-feed carried the image to the bridge of every warship bearing Legion colours, as thousands upon thousands of warriors watched their primarch return.

Clad in sleek armour of granite grey, somehow all the more regal for the lack of ostentation, Lorgar’s crooked smile spoke of some hidden amusement he ached to share with his sons.

‘I hope you will all forgive my absence,’ the words melted into a chuckle. ‘And I trust you have enjoyed this time of contemplation and respite.’

Around him, Astartes warriors broke into laughter. Kor Phaeron lowered his hollow eyes, giving a bleak smirk. Even Erebus smiled.

‘My sons, the past is the past and we look now to the future.’ In Lorgar’s grey fist was his crozius mace. He carried it over his shoulder with casual ease. ‘Those of you assigned to other expedition fleets will be granted leave to return to them shortly, but first, we will renew our bonds of brotherhood as a united Legion.’

Another cheer rang out across the decks of over a hundred of ships.

‘This is Forty-Seven Sixteen,’ Lorgar’s contemplative smile remained, though melancholy robbed it of some conviction. ‘A world of such great beauty.’

With his free hand, he smoothed his fingertips around his short brown beard, little more than neat stubble along his jawline. ‘I do not believe the people of this world to be irrevocably corrupt, but as we have seen, my judgement has its critics.’

More laughter. Kor Phaeron and Erebus met each other’s eyes, their chuckles joining the Legion’s. This levity was nothing less than an exorcism – a shedding of humiliation’s clinging stink – and both warriors sensed it clearly.

‘You have all seen the briefing details,’ said the primarch. ‘The First Chaplain and First Captain inform me that the Chapter leaders gathered this morning to discuss objectives and landing zones, so I will not waste your precious time.’ His dry smile bore little humour now, yet still it remained. ‘The Emperor wishes the XVII Legion to conquer with greater alacrity. If a world cannot be brought to compliance with haste, then it must be purged to its core. So we come to this.’

In unison, Erebus drew his crozius and lightning rippled in a jagged flow down the claws of Kor Phaeron’s gauntlets.

‘My sons.’ Their master’s smile died fast enough for many to doubt it had ever been there. ‘Forgive me for the words duty forces me to speak.’

Lorgar raised his maul of black iron, aiming it at the planet slowly spinning on the occulus viewscreen. Storms formed in a crawling, meteorological ballet as the Legion stood witness – the fleet’s low orbit was curdling the planet’s skies.

‘Word Bearers,’ said the primarch. ‘Kill every man, woman and child on that heretic world.’

Cyrene waited until she realised Argel Tal wasn’t going to continue. Only then did she speak.

‘And did you?’ she asked. ‘Did you do it?’

‘You didn’t feel the ship quake as it opened fire?’ The captain moved around the room. Cyrene wondered if he were pacing, or simply looking at what few personal effects she possessed. ‘I find it difficult to believe you slumbered through twelve hours of orbital barrage.’

Cyrene hadn’t slept at all. When the sirens wailed and the room shook two days before, she’d known what was beginning. The Word Bearers’ warships commenced their invasion with a full day of cannon-fire. At times, when myriad mechanical processes aligned just right, the main batteries hurled their incendiary payloads at the planet below in a united burst. The thunder rang in her ears for half a minute afterwards, and they were the worst moments: blinded and deafened, completely without senses. Anyone could enter her room, and she’d be none the wiser. Cyrene had lain on her uncomfortable bed in thrall to her imagination, praying not to feel unknown fingers on her face.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said. ‘Did you go to the surface after the sky-fire had ended?’

‘Yes. We landed in view of the only city that remained standing. It had to be destroyed from the ground. Our orbital weapons couldn’t pierce its defensive shield.’

‘You... killed an entire world in one day?’

‘We are the Legio Astartes, Cyrene. We did our duty.’

‘How many died?’

Argel Tal had seen the augury estimates. They put the number at almost two hundred million souls sacrificed that day.

‘All of them,’ said the captain. ‘A world’s worth of human life.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said, closing her useless eyes. ‘All those people. Why did they have to die?’

‘Some cultures cannot be re-educated, Cyrene. When a civilisation is founded upon poisoned principles, redemption is a forlorn hope. Better that they burn, than live in blasphemy.’

‘But why did they have to die? What sins had they committed?’