Hellsreach - Aaron Dembski-Bowden [48]
‘You requested my presence?’ I say to her.
The old woman suspended in the fluid licks her metallic teeth. ‘No. I summoned you.’
‘And that was your first mistake, princeps,’ I tell her. ‘You are granted permission to make only two more before this conversation is over.’
She snarls, her face hideous in the milky fluids. ‘Enough of your posturing, Astartes. You should be slain where you stand.’
I look around the cockpit, at the nine souls in here with me. My targeting reticule locks onto all visible weapons, before returning to focus on the Crone’s withered features.
‘That would be an unwise solution,’ I tell her. ‘No one in this room is capable of wounding me. Should you call the eight skitarii waiting outside the doors, I would still leave this chamber a charnel house. And you, princeps, would be the last to die. Could you run from me? I think not. I would tear you from your artificial womb, and as you choked in the air, I would hurl you from the eye-windows of your precious Titan, to die naked and alone on the cold ground of the city you were too proud to defend. Now, if you are quite finished with the exchange of threats, I would ask you to move on to more important matters.’
She smiles, but the hatred curling her lips is all I see. It is, in its own way, beautiful. Nothing is purer than hatred. With hatred, humanity was forged. Through hatred, we have brought the galaxy to its knees.
‘I see you do not show your face this time, knight. You see me revealed, yet you hide behind the death mask of your Emperor.’
‘Our Emperor,’ I remind her. ‘You have just made your second mistake, Zarha.’
I disengage my helm’s collar seals and lift the mask clear. The air smells of sweat, oil, fear and chemical-rich fluids. I ignore the others, ignore all but her. Despite the bitterness around me that deepens with each moment, it is comfortable to stand without my senses enclosed by my helm. Since planetfall, the only time I have removed my helm in the company of others has been on the two occasions I have spoken with the Crone.
‘I said when last we met,’ she watches me carefully, ‘that you had kind eyes.’
‘I remember.’
‘It is true. But I regret it. I regret ever speaking a fair word to you, blasphemer.’
For a moment, I am not sure how to respond to that.
‘You stand on difficult ground, Zarha. I am a Chaplain of the Adeptus Astartes, sworn into my position with the grace of the Ecclesiarchy of Terra. In my presence, you have just expressed the notion that the Emperor of Mankind is not your god, as He is for the entire glorious Imperium. While I am not blind to the… separatist… elements within the Mechanicus, the fact remains that you are speaking heresy before a Reclusiarch of the Emperor’s Chosen.
‘You are speaking heresy, and I am charged with the responsibility of ending any heresy I encounter in the Eternal Crusade. So let us tread carefully, you and I. You will not insult me with false accusations of blasphemy, and I will answer the questions you have regarding D-16 West. This is not a request. Agree, or I will execute you for heresy before your crew can even soil themselves in fear.’
I see her swallow, and despite herself, her smile shows her amusement.
‘It is entertaining to be spoken to in this manner,’ she says, almost thoughtful.
‘I can imagine that your perceptions offer a much grander view than mine,’ I meet her optic augments with my own gaze. ‘But the time for misunderstandings is over. Speak, Zarha. I will answer what you ask. This must be resolved, for the good of Helsreach.’
She turns in her tank, swimming slowly in the fluid-filled coffin before eventually coming back to face me.
‘Tell me why,’ she says. ‘Tell me why you have done this.’
I had not expected such a base question. ‘It is the Ordinatus Armageddon. It is one of the greatest weapons ever wielded by Man. This is a war, Zarha. I need weapons to win it.’
She shakes her head. ‘Necessity is not enough. You may not harness Oberon on a whim,