down at a map layout in front of him, “the location of passages that show up on no unclassified map
of the palace. Passages leading into your bedchambers, for instance.”
The governor swallowed whole the nut he had been gumming, and several of the figures at the
table stood, their voices raised. He felt his manservant Pierlo lean in close behind him.
“Shall I go and change the combinations on the access passage to your personal chambers, my
lord?” he asked quietly.
The governor nodded, and the man slipped out of the room.
“From the evidence garnered by the enforcers,” continued Kurtz, raising his voice over the
clamour in the room, “it is my belief that these covert groups are coordinating acts of rebellion and
sedition that threaten the stability of Shinar. These are not isolated groups of rebel salt workers that
are trying to avoid paying taxes. This is a well supplied and armed group of organised insurgents
that have integrated covertly into the institutions of Shinar and beyond.”
He held up a schematic map.
“This shows unsanctioned construction of a considerable size in the Shakos Mountains, not three
hundred kilometres from where we sit. I believe this is a staging post, a training facility perhaps.”
“Minister, these documents, I would like them to be studied by my own people. Please pass
them on to my aide once this meeting is concluded.”
“Governor?” said Kurtz, his face incredulous. “You… you do not wish to act upon the
information I have gleaned immediately?”
“I will act, minister, when and if I deem it to be appropriate to do so,” the governor said
forcefully.
“Now,” he said. “Colonel? I hear that the PDF is having some problems at the present?”
“I regret that that is so, governor. The Commissariat has been forced to execute a number of
officers for… various infractions. And as for the insurgents, I recommend that we pull more of the
PDF ranks into Shinar. I believe the popular unrest can be stemmed with a martial presence.”
“Popular unrest?” burst the minister of the interior. “This is coordinated cult activity, governor,
not popular unrest,” he spat. “It is my belief that these insurgents are worshippers of the Ruinous
Powers, and that…”
“That is enough, minister!” hollered the governor. He felt the pain behind his eyes increase, and
he took another sip of water. “I will not have such talk bandied without irrefutable proof!” He took a
deep breath. “Thank you, colonel,” he said. He turned towards the sweating cardinal. “And the
Ecclesiarch? Holy cardinal, what do you say?”
“More citizens are attending the sermons than ever, governor. I attribute it to the nearing
conjunction of planets. Scaremongering propaganda has been spread through the lower hab-blocks
claiming that it signals the end of the world. The superstitious salt farmers are afraid.” The cardinal
shrugged his thick shoulders, “Ergo, more citizens on pews in the daily hymnals.”
The governor grunted. “It certainly seems to me that this rise in insurgency, the riots, the
scaremongering, it all relates back to the conjunction. It’s just a damn planet passing, for Shinar’s
sake! Why under Throne is it such a big deal?”
“The red planet of Korsis circles our system in an aberrant, elliptical orbit, and on occasion it
passes extremely close to Tanakreg. On very rare occasions, Korsis passing us coincides with a
conjunction of sorts, when all the planets in our system are aligned. The last time this happened was
21
ten thousand, two hundred and ninety-nine years ago. Such a conjunction will occur in less than
three months time,” said a bespectacled, robed man.
“Thank you, learned one,” said the governor sharply. The pain behind his eyes was becoming
almost unbearable.
“If it pleases you, governor,” said the tech-administrator, “I would like to return to the
substation. I was in the process of blessing the machine-spirits of the turbines when your request for
my presence came through.”
“Fine, fine, go,” said the governor, waving his hand.
The Arbites judge turned around, his face emotionless. The room went deathly quiet, and the
severe figure let the silence grow. The governor felt his stomach knot.
“I have heard enough,” the judge said finally, the sound of his voice making Flenske flinch.
Varnus was bored. Once he had finally been filtered through the checking facilities on the subground
floor, then the third floor, the eighteenth and finally the ground floor of the palace proper, he
had been subjected to a rigorous security check from the regal, blue-armoured palace guards. They
had requested his weapons, and he had realised that he would be denied access if he refused to give
up his side arm and his power maul. With some reluctance he handed them over. He had even been
forced to relinquish his helmet—“comm security”, apparently.
He had been directed to a small alcove, there to await the Arbites judge. It was a small corridor
space linking two grand galleries, and there were dozens of other plaintiffs and officials already
sitting there, their eyes glazed. He took a seat at the far end of the corridor alcove.
It had been hours, and he was deathly tired of the whole thing. There was an impressive staircase
on the other side of one of the grand galleries that the alcove opened onto, and he watched it with
boredom. A heavy guard presence prevented anyone from climbing the stairs. Those that even began
to approach backed away after seeing the guards. At the top of the stairs was a massive pair of
double-doors, with another set of guards holding tall, high powered las-locks, vertically to attention.
They didn’t move, and their faces were stoic. They must be as bored as he was, he thought.
With a click he saw one of the large doors open briefly, and a man exit. The guards barely
looked at him as he lifted the hem of his red robe and quickly descended the stairs. Some tech, he
thought, as he saw the Mechanicus symbol on his chest and the bionics of his left eye. The man
looked flustered, and he hurried to the bottom of the stairs, looking left and right frantically. A man
that Varnus had not noticed before stepped out to meet him, and the tech began to talk animatedly.
The other man shushed him, and Varnus recognised him as the one who had exited the same room
earlier. The enforcer instantly disliked him: he looked like yet another arrogant, officious noble. The
pair hurried off, and Varnus sighed.
The governor licked his lips and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face as the imposing
Arbites judge stared across the room at him, his face a cold, expressionless mask.
“The local enforcer units have been sapped of resources and manpower over the last decade as a
direct result of the policies of the governorship, and as a result it is unfit to deal with the insurgent
threat. This speaks of gross and inexcusable incompetence.”
The accusation hung in the air, and none around the table dared make a sound. Governor Flenske
felt his world contract and heat rising up his neck. His eyes flicked around the table before him. No
one met his gaze except Minister Kurtz.
“I’m… this… perhaps we… misread the severity of the… the situation. Nothing that cannot be
rectified, I assure you,” said the governor, his voice sounding hollow and weak in his own ears.
“Shinar risks falling into anarchy and rebellion. The security of the city is compromised, and this
is an unacceptable situation. The time for bureaucratic pandering is over. Governor Flenske, I find
you in contempt of your duties. You are to be replaced by a stewardship until a more suitable
22
governor can be instated. I am locking down Shinar in a state of martial law until the insurgency has
been eliminated and the city secured.”
The governor’s face paled, and he felt his chest tighten. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t find
the words, and his mouth napped open and shut in rising panic.
The judge pulled his large, black autopistol from its holster and pointed it at the governor. Never
before had a weapon been levelled at him, and Flenske felt rising warmth in his trousers. He realised
that he had soiled himself, and he felt shame as he stared in horror and panic at the barrel of the
pistol.
“With the power vested in me by the Adeptus Arbites I hereby remove Planetary Governor
Flenske from his position.”
“No, no…” began the governor.
The autopistol barked loudly. Three rounds punched through Flenske’s forehead and the back of
his head exploded. His body was thrown backwards to the ground as his chair overturned beneath
him. Three empty shell casings fell to the marble floor with a musical, tinkling sound, and smoke
rose from the barrel of the gun before it was smoothly replaced in its holster.
The judge walked around the table, his boot steps echoing loudly across the room. Giving the
governor’s body a push with his heel, he righted his chair and sat down at the head of the table.
“I want all local PDF units retracted to Shinar,” he stated to the pale-faced group of individuals
staring at him in shock and horror. “I want a lock down of all traffic into and out of the city, and I
want armed checkpoints set up along all main thoroughfares. I want an indefinite curfew instated:
any individual found on the streets after curfew is to be shot. The palace is to be secured: I want no
one coming in or going out without my say-so. Contact the twin cities and order their local PDF
units to be recalled within the city boundaries. Tell them to be ready for potential hostile activity.”
He glanced around the table, his gaze hard.
“We have a lot of work to do, and I am not here to play your little political games. I am here to
bring this city back to order in the name of the God-Emperor. I am here to avert disaster, if at all
possible.”
Governor Flenske’s blood pooled out beneath his body. There was shocked silence around the
room. No one dared move. The acrid smell of the gun’s discharge was mixing with the stink of
blood.
“Tanakreg teeters on the brink of destruction,” said the judge. “This group is its only possible
salvation.”
Then the room exploded, turning into a roaring inferno. Everyone in the chamber was instantly
slain as the force of the detonations ripped the room apart. The marble floor exploded into millions
of tiny shards and the synth-hardened plex-windows shattered outwards. The force of the blast
rocked the entire palace and oily, black smoke billowed from the rising ball of flame that burst from
the shattered windows.
Varnus was thrown back through the alcove corridor from the force of the blast that smashed aside
the huge doors, throwing them off their hinges and hurling the guards through the air like rag dolls.
Varnus was thrown back over ten metres, flying clear of the corridor and smashing to the gallery
floor, amid a tangle of burning rabble and flesh. Dimly, he heard blaring alarms, and then he heard
nothing.
23
CHAPTER FOUR
Kol Badar glared around at his warriors, all members of the cult of the Anointed. The most vicious,
faithful and dangerous warriors within the Host, he had wanted them to accompany the Dark
Apostle on his drop assault, but Jarulek would not hear of it. Their Terminator armour was too bulky
for a lightning assault on the palace, he had said, and Kol Badar had reluctantly agreed with him. It
just did not feel right, though. He had always fought at the side of the Dark Apostle with his elite
brethren.
The horned helmets of the Anointed looked daemonic under the glowing, red lights within the
cramped hold of the Land Raider, and Kol Badar knew that he too looked like some malevolent
daemon of the warp in his ornate battle-helm. Barbed tusks protruded like monstrous mandibles
from his ancient helmet, which was crafted in the likeness of a snarling, bestial visage. The massive
tank roared across the plains of the planet Tanakreg, hauling its deadly cargo ever closer to the
central battle lines of the pathetic Imperials.
He was disappointed with the enemy, but then, he could not expect any more from them. The
Imperium had grown weak.
The Host was borne from the Infidus Diabolus in scores of smaller vessels, angry hornets
swarming from their nest towards their foe. They had landed on the planet surface as the harsh,
orange sun was setting and stormed the first defensive line, taking it within an hour. The Anointed,
borne within the belly of revered Land Raiders, had assaulted up the steep embankments to take the
most heavily defended sections, slaughtering all in their path.
The enemy artillery was next to useless against the powerful tanks, and the remainder of the
Host rampaged through the breaches carved by the Anointed and set up their own heavy weapon
teams atop the earthworks, raining death upon the Imperials mustered beyond. They marched
relentlessly through the trenches, killing and mutilating, and taking bunkers and strong points at
will. Kol Badar had been disgusted to see hundreds of the Imperials flee before the Legion, seeking
the false safety of the second defensive line. That second line had fallen almost as quickly as the
first, once its emplaced guns had been silenced. The third line broke almost as swiftly.
There remained only the last line, the one closest to the city. The glow of the Imperial city could
be seen over the horizon. This last defensive line was the shortest of the four, and had more
emplacements than the first. Kol Badar hoped that it would prove somewhat more of a challenge.
So far there had been little satisfaction in these battles: they had been nothing short of
massacres. The estimate was somewhere in the realm of fifteen thousand enemy troops slain, and
around five hundred tanks, aircraft and support vehicles destroyed. The losses amongst the Word
Bearers had been minimal.
The lascannon sponsons of the Land Raider screamed as they fired. The tank did not slow, and
hit a slight rise at speed. There was a moment of weightlessness as the front of the tank became
airborne before slamming back down to the ground. Dull explosions and detonations could be heard,
the sound muffled by the roar of the engines and the screaming of the lascannons. The vehicle
rocked as explosive shells struck its thick, armoured hide, and Kol Badar growled.
The Land Raider began ploughing up a steep incline, and Kol Badar knew that they were at the
earthworks. High calibre rounds pinged off the exterior but the powerful machine had carried the
