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  Judgement

  Mark Latham

  ‘I suppose that concludes our business, Lord Konstantos. I must say that the… famously inhospitable nature of the Doom Legion has not been exaggerated.’

  Konstantos, the Chapter Master of the Doom Legion, looked down at the inquisitor with a mixture of cool cordiality and barely concealed contempt.

  ‘Given the nature of your mission, Inquisitor Hassan, I feel that I have been more than hospitable. You will be eager to return to your own ship, where you may seek more… comfort.’

  The Space Marine’s words were ice. The inquisitor sighed and nodded, handing the Chapter Master a holo-scroll bearing his seal.

  ‘Very well, I will depart immediately. Our agreement is contained within those documents, a copy of which will be sent to Holy Terra. I suppose, Lord Konstantos, that we must be thankful that your entire Chapter did not enter the Eye of Terror, or perhaps you would all have fallen from the path of righteousness.’

  ‘My men have ever been loyal. I cannot begin to imagine what horrors they must have faced to turn their backs on the Imperium, and I would not be so sure that you could have fared better. I warn you, inquisitor, that I will not tolerate insinuations about the loyalty of the Doom Legion. Four companies remain, and we will eradicate the stain on our honour. Be sure of it.’

  ‘Oh, I hope so. But I will not be sure of anything until the gene-seed has been tested. You know the procedure, my lord. Should your stock be found wanting, there will be great challenges ahead of you.’

  ‘The Adeptus Terra will find no hint of corruption. We were born of Guilliman himself and have fought proudly for millennia.’

  ‘Indeed you have. Then again, the Dionys storm claimed many a noble servant of the Emperor, did it not?’

  ‘Perhaps. Though we only have the word of a false saint to that effect. Tell me, inquisitor, do you seek to damn us with the word of Basillius? Is such a decision in itself not heretical?’

  It was the inquisitor’s turn to glare at the Space Marine who towered over him. He suddenly felt very alone on the bridge of the Faithful’s Deliverance. The large chamber had been vacated so that they may speak freely. Hassan had with him two servo-scribes, whilst Konstantos had kept Chaplain Vincenzo by his side. The Chaplain was silent as the grave, as always.

  ‘That was not my meaning, my lord,’ said the inquisitor icily. ‘I see that there is no more discussion to be had, though. I will take my leave, but must tell you this – just as you wish to prove your honour and loyalty, so does the Adeptus Terra wish to clear the Doom Legion of any blemish on its record. The tests will be rigorous, the sanctions harsh. Were you not entrusted with the stewardship of the Elusian Maze, you would already have felt the squeeze of the tithes. This is not my doing. I am but a humble servant of the Emperor, as are we all.’

  ‘Were it not for our duty over the Elusian Maze, inquisitor, we would all have joined the Abyssal Crusade. And what then? Could our combined strength have saved our brothers from damnation and visited swifter justice on the false saint? Or would we all have fallen? I ask myself this question daily. None can judge a son of Guilliman harder than he judges himself… You would do well to remember that.’

  The inquisitor held the Space Marine’s gaze. He seemed infallible, as did every elder of the Adeptus Astartes, but one thing that Hassan knew after a hundred years in the Emperor’s service was that appearances were often deceptive. And yet Hassan merely nodded, and turned towards the door.

  ‘Farewell, Lord Konstantos. Until we meet again.’

  He strode from the command centre, his cloak billowing out behind him and his servitors scurrying with him like children. Neither Konstantos nor Vincenzo said a word. Instead, they turned to the massive viewport that overlooked the main shuttle bay. It took Inquisitor Hassan some time to reach it, for the labyrinthine innards of the Faithful’s Deliverance were not easily traversed. The inquisitor’s honour detail loaded the precious cargo of gene-seed onto the shuttle. There was enough material to create fifty battle-brothers – Space Marines who would be sorely needed should the Chapter hope to rebuild after this disaster. But there was no arguing. The Adeptus Terra held the authority of the Emperor, and the Doom Legion would obey.

  Konstantos breathed easier when the hangar doors opened and the inquisitor’s craft left the vast star fortress to return to the nearby frigate. Even from here, the Elusian asteroid fields could be seen, floating against a purple scar in the depths of space. The Doom Legion had been all but forgotten for so long, left here in this distant outpost, fighting endless wars against the denizens of this accursed sector. And this was the thanks they received… He clenched a powerful fist until he felt calm restored. Only when the Inquisitorial frigate Talon of Vigilance engaged its warp drives did either of the Space Marines speak again.

  ‘Let us end this sorry business,’ said Konstantos. Vincenzo only nodded.

  ‘I thought you were going to leave me in here forever. Is this any way to treat an honoured brother?’

  The emissary’s words were calculating, but Konstantos did not rise to them. The Space Marine before him was garbed in dark green robes, like the Chapter’s own ceremonial dress, but stained and tattered. He smelled of death.

  ‘Captain Viktarion. You were once the first among us, and now look at you: fallen, piteous. You have invoked our ancient tradition of sanctuary, and you have parleyed with us, but negotiations are over. I have perhaps taken a step towards corruption, for I have shielded you from the Emperor’s justice. Am I like you? Could I become so? I think not, but I would rather you were far from my sight, so as not to remind us how far the mighty can fall.’

  ‘Pious words, but you have not shielded me from the Emperor’s justice, only from the justice of a weak man, who is like but an insect to warriors such as us. I offer you this chance once more, my lord. Join our cause, reunite brother with brother, and we will gladly follow you as we did before. Rebuild not just the Chapter, but a Legion in truth as well as in name, worthy to stand beside those mighty warriors of old, who still fight the Long War.’

  ‘Enough!’ Konstantos roared, losing control of his emotions for the first time in years; for the first time since the news had come that five of his companies had turned. ‘Never speak the name of our Chapter again. You call yourselves the “Vectors of Pox” now, do you not? You are a traitor and a heretic, and I will suffer not your presence here. Brother Werner, Brother Lazaric – take this… “emissary” to his ship and make sure he leaves.’

  Konstantos and Vincenzo returned to the bridge, now fully staffed with Techmarines and thralls. They watched as Viktarion, once captain of the First Company, boarded his sleek fighter. They watched as the hangar doors opened. They watched as the renegade vessel flew out into the purple void. And they watched as it was blown apart by a fusion warhead from the Faithful’s Deliverance.

  ‘He has our answer,’ muttered Konstantos. ‘Emperor save us all.’

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Author of the short stories ‘Kovos Falls’ and ‘Like Father, Like Son’, Mark Latham is an English literature post-graduate who has worked as a writer and editor for Games Workshop for nearly thirteen years. After cutting his teeth on Battle Games in Middle-earth, he went on to edit White Dwarf magazine for more than thirty issues. Mark is obsessive about classic ghost stories of a bygone age, and his writing tends to contain a dash of the macabre.

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  Mark Latham, Judgement

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