Deliverance Lost

Sergeant Dor had called the squad to order and given a disturbing speech.

‘We must learn to fight a new enemy,’ he had told them. ‘For decades we have honed our skills against savages and inferior foes, and faced strange adversaries such as the Isstvan Warsingers and the Ninturnian Devil-Blades. Now we face something entirely different. Now we must fight other Space Marines.’

It was an obvious thing to say but having the situation mentioned so baldly brought home to the legionaries just how much the galaxy had changed. There were mutters of discontent, but Alpharius held his tongue, not wishing to betray his own thoughts on the matter.

‘We train against each other every day,’ Lukar had said. ‘What difference should we expect?’

‘We have never tried to kill each other,’ had been the sergeant’s reply.

The squad had paired off, armed only with their monomolecular-edged combat blades. Alpharius had found himself facing Lukar, and the two of them had started at the sergeant’s command, thrusting and parrying, trying to find the weak points in each other’s armour, probing for the flexible joint seals, reinforced eye lenses and the gaps between armour plates.

Blades flickering, other pairs duelling around them, Lukar and Alpharius were a match for each other; equal in speed and strength. Their blades clanged against each other, were caught on shoulder guards or deflected by angled movements of their forearms, neither able to find an opening.

It was then that Alpharius had made his mistake.

Feinting high, he had dropped to one knee as Lukar’s blade had shot up to meet the blow. Under his opponent’s guard, Alpharius had reversed his grip on the knife and swung back-handed, driving its point towards the vulnerable sliver of material between Lukar’s upper thigh armour and his groin guard.

Lukar had frozen, Alpharius’s blade just millimetres from contact.

‘You have me,’ declared Lukar, stepping back, shaking his head. There was surprise in his voice. ‘Where did you learn such a move?’

Alpharius had hesitated, realising that the manoeuvre had been part of his Alpha Legion training, not replicated in the doctrine of the Raven Guard.

‘I saw a Traitor using it at the dropsite,’ Alpharius had said quickly. ‘I watched a Word Bearer take out one of our brothers from the Salamanders with that move.’

The rest of the squad had stopped their drills and were looking at Alpharius and Lukar. Alpharius did not like being the centre of attention. He had stood up and sheathed his blade as Sergeant Dor approached, helmeted head cocked to one side.

‘What was that?’ the sergeant had asked. ‘Using the tactics of the traitors?’

‘It seemed effective at the time,’ Alpharius had replied, remaining calm.

‘Pay attention,’ Dor had said, waving the rest of the squad closer. ‘Why don’t you show us that again?’

Alpharius did as he was asked, demonstrating the undercutting blow to the others. There were murmurs of appreciation and Dor had slapped him on the chest with a word of thanks.

‘This is what we must do,’ the sergeant had said. The red of his eyeplates had seemed to fix on Alpharius for some time before he continued, moving his gaze to the rest of the squad. ‘We need to learn from our enemies, adapt to the way they will fight. Any other i

‘Yes, sergeant,’ Alpharius had replied.

Though his cover had remained intact, it was later that same day that Alpharius had realised what he had done. One day, a Raven Guard might use that move on an Alpha Legio

Alpharius focused on what was important. He was an actor playing a part, learning more about his role with every day. In his heart he knew he was sworn to the Alpha Legion and felt no guilt at lying to those who he had once called his allies. It was not their fault that they had chosen the wrong side in the coming war. Alpharius did not feel contempt or pity for the Raven Guard, but had only a mild sense of regret that he could never genuinely call the legionaries around him brothers again. Their names slipped from his tongue as easily as the false declarations of allegiance and revenge, but he was not one of them. Like the rest of the Alpha Legion, he had been chosen for a greater purpose, one that the twin primarchs had assured him went beyond loyalty to the Emperor or Horus, and concerned the fate of the galaxy itself.

And like all of those who were blind to the greater truth, the Raven Guard were expendable. They would serve their part and then be destroyed, and he would be returned to his Legion to fight amongst his true battle-brothers again. It was this thought, this goal, that focused Alpharius as he lay awake pondering the unknown task ahead. He was Alpha Legion and so did not expect to be lauded or singled out – such glory-mongering was not in the Legion’s traditions. He would fulfil his purpose, take contentment from the knowledge of a mission accomplished and the praise of his twin primarchs, and become one of the many again.

FROM A GALLERY overlooking one of the impromptu mess decks that had once been a live firing range, Corax looked down at several companies of his Raven Guard filling themselves with ship’s rations. They stood at long trestle tables – chairs were another scarce commodity on board – and diligently ate from platters laden with synthetic meat and dry soybread. The fare was tasteless, but rich in the proteins and carbohydrates the legionaries needed to sustain themselves. Nutrient supplements were imbibed in the form of fortified water drunk straight from crude jugs turned out by the serfs in the lower deck workshops.

‘How are our stores?’ the primarch asked. He knew the answer but wanted to make sure that his commanders were abreast of every detail of the ship’s ru

‘Of no immediate concern, lord,’ replied Agapito. Bra

‘The Navigators are reporting the same difficulties as before,’ added Bra

‘They are guessing,’ said Corax, sighing. ‘The rising warp storms almost blot out the Astronomican. We’ve translated three times already, and every time we have been at least five light years off course.’

‘Do you think that the rebels have something to do with the warp storms?’ asked Agapito. ‘Is that possible?’

‘I would not rule out anything at the moment,’ said Corax. He knew more about the strange ways of the warp than the commanders with him, and it was not unreasonable to assume that Horus might have acquired some form of technology or other power that had allowed him to conjure the roiling tempest befouling the Immaterium. The nature of what that other power might be, the hints he had learned from the Emperor and gleaned from his fellow primarchs, was best not shared. ‘There is the possibility that this turmoil hampers our enemies as much as it does us, but only a possibility.’

‘If it is not impertinent to ask, lord, why are we heading for Terra?’ asked Bra

‘Horus might expect as much,’ said Corax, turning his back to the balustrade to face his commanders. There was noise from below as the assembled legionaries finished their meals and began to pile up the empty platters. ‘That is good enough reason not to go there. I have even stronger reasons for going to Terra.’