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‘This is the Avenger, battle-barge of the Raven Guard,’ replied Bra
There was a delay before the Imperial Fists communication returned. Even with audio-only exchanges, there was a noticeable time lag between message and response, indicating that the Wrathful Vanguardwas several hundred thousand kilometres away.
‘You are not authorised to proceed. Power down your shields and prepare to receive a boarding party. Failure to comply will be treated as an act of aggression and you will be destroyed.’
Corax laughed at this, but Bra
‘Watch your tone, captain! Lord Corax will be meeting the Emperor in person. If you have a problem with that, perhaps Rogal Dorn himself would like to come aboard and discuss it. If you have finished insulting my primarch, provide us with escort to get us to Terra without further interference.’
‘I am not at liberty to indulge you, primarch aboard or not,’ came Noriz’s terse reply. ‘All non-sanctioned vessels are to be inspected. If you have not noticed, one legionary’s word to another doesn’t count for much anymore. We will board and if you refuse, your vessel will be destroyed.’
His jaw clenching with anger, Bra
‘Captain Noriz, your attention to duty and protocol is admirable,’ said the primarch, his deep voice edged with humour. ‘I am more than happy to welcome a delegation from my brother’s Legion aboard, but please dispense with the threats. This is a battle-barge carrying several thousand legionaries; you have a strike cruiser with a complement of fifty legionaries.’
More silence followed, longer than the previous pause.
‘Please identify yourself.’
Sighing, Corax shared a glance with the others around him before he activated the transmit switch.
‘I am Lord Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard, Saviour of Deliverance, Commander of the 27th and 376th Expeditions, acting Marshal of the Therion Cohort and lauded conqueror of a thousand worlds. Please come aboard and I will show you my other credentials.’
Static buzzed across the network for a while, until Noriz had conceived a suitable reply.
‘I will lead the boarding party, Lord Corax. Please lower your shields in preparation.’
Corax gave a nod to the technicians at the defence control station and stepped back from the communications panel.
‘Be nice, he is only doing his duty,’ the primarch told Bra
‘Aye, but he doesn’t have to be so stiff about it, does he?’ said the commander.
‘He’s an Imperial Fist,’ replied Corax. ‘He can’t help it.’
Though he kept his tone light, the primarch was wary. He was sure there was nothing on board the Avengerthat would cause problems, but he had an instinctual aversion to close scrutiny. He suppressed his apprehensions and motioned for Bra
THE SCRAPING OF a rock chisel smuggled from the mineworkings rang ti
It was the one area Corvus really hadn’t known anything about. His technical knowledge was vast, encapsulating the greatest scientific learning of mankind. Corvus could identify the molecular composition of the walls, the door and the bed. He knew the biological processes that had formed the cataracts in Reqaui’s eyes. The old man had turned down Corvus’s well-meant offer to surgically remove them, saying it would arouse suspicion in the guards.
For all of that immense knowledge, Corvus knew little enough about people. It was if his education had been cut short before that lesson had been learnt, leaving him bereft of the subtleties of human nature, a blank slate waiting for more information to be written upon it. He was aware enough to know he was very naive in this regard, and his first tutor, Manrus Colsais, had swiftly exhausted his own store of wisdom concerning the human condition. So had begun the process of Corvus’s education, hidden amongst the masses of the prison-mine that he now knew was called Lycaeus.
‘That was the end of the third Facian dynasty,’ Reqaui was saying. Motes of detritus floated in the air and created a grey patch on the flagstoned floor around the elderly agitator. His chisel continued its work, seemingly independent of his whitening eyes, which were fixed on a point somewhere near the dim light globe set into the ceiling. ‘With the usurpation by Neorthan Chandrapax, the First Settlements began. Lotteries were held for the colonists, so great was the urge to leave Kiavahr’s smoke-ridden cities and polluted seas. In a way, it was the first time in seven hundred years that anything like a democracy was in effect. Regardless of station, every family was given equal chance to be crew on the ark-boats being built. Of course, the higher-ups weren’t being stupid. While everyone had an equal chance to participate, only the elite would be in charge as officers. The new colonies would have mayors from the old families, the College networks would still be in place and the workers would still be the downtrodden in their new lives.’
‘Someone’s coming,’ said Corvus, hearing beyond the walls the distinctive tramp of boots and the specific noise of the door at the far end of the corridor opening. ‘Flash inspection!’
‘Quick, lad, you know what to do,’ said Reqaui, bounding to his feet with sprightly energy.
Corvus rolled off the bed as Reqaui scattered the evidence of his hobby with a sweep of his foot. The old man stuffed the chisel and lump of slag into a pocket sewn into the bottom of the mattress, while Corvus moved aside the old tin bucket that served as a latrine. He could hear the clank of the locks being unwound from the main lever further down the corridor, and a moment later the latch on the cell door sprang open with a rusty screech. The door swung outwards on its spring, opening onto the brightly lit corridor, letting the thudding of the boots into the cell.
‘I don’t have to hide,’ said Corvus, hesitating as he lifted up the slab that concealed the crawlspace he had dug through the core rock beneath the prison block. ‘I can only hear six of them. It wouldn’t be any trouble to kill them.’
‘Oh, not trouble for you, for sure,’ said Reqaui, scowling. ‘But where there’s six, there’s six thousand. Think you can take on all of them, do you?’
‘I could try,’ said Corvus.
‘Not yet, lad,’ said Reqaui. ‘Not ’til you know what’s worth fighting for. Told you before, what you have is a gift, but it could be a curse too. Gotta be right, when you kill a man. Gotta mean something.’
Corvus sighed and slipped into the dark space under the floor. He dragged the slab back into place and fumbled in the dark for the matches and candle stub. The youth did not really need them – there was enough light trickling through from the crack around the loosened slab for him to see perfectly – but Reqaui had provided them for Corvus’s comfort and he felt honour-bound to make use of them.