Fallen Angels by Mike Lee

Author:Mike Lee [Lee, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781844167289
Publisher: The Black Library
Published: 2010-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

SECRETS OF THE PAST

Diamat

In the 200th year of the Emperor’s Great Crusade

FOR THE NEXT two and a half weeks, the Dark Angels and the people of Diamat worked day and night to prepare for the coming storm. Governor Kulik sent troops into the countryside to locate camps of refugees, conscripting all the healthy men and women he could find and putting them to work constructing new fortifications under the experienced eye of Jonson’s veteran warriors. High above the forge, Jonson’s warships lay at anchor – even the near-derelict Duchess Arbellatris, which had been towed back to Diamat by the light cruisers of the scout force – and were being worked over night and day by Magos Archoi’s best tech-adepts. Flocks of cargo shuttles came and went daily, re-stocking the battle group’s depleted stores of ammunition and heavy ordnance. Other craft ferried Governor Kulik and Magos Archoi to and from the Invincible Reason on a regular basis to confer with Primarch Jonson and refine their battle plan.

Nemiel was busier than he’d ever been. When he wasn’t managing repair and resupply schedules or fielding requests from the captains of the battle group he was shuttling down to the planet’s surface to help supervise the construction of defensive positions throughout the grey zone and implementing Jonson’s organisational changes to the planetary defence force. He ate little and slept even less, devoting his full energy and attention to every task that was put in front of him. The officers of the fleet and members of Kulik’s staff commented on his dedication and zeal, and held him up as an inspiration to the men under their command. Nemiel would wave away their praise. He was merely setting a proper example, he would say, as any Chaplain ought.

In truth, he consumed himself with work because it kept his growing doubts at bay. He couldn’t help but think about his conversation with Jonson, and his evasive replies. The primarch wasn’t a brigand, Nemiel knew; he hadn’t come all the way to Diamat to sack its forges, as Horus’s men had done. Yet he couldn’t shake the notion that Jonson wasn’t telling him the entire truth, and that went against everything Nemiel thought that the Legion stood for.

More than once, he found himself wishing that Luther and Zahariel were still with them. He found himself sorely missing his cousin’s unwavering idealism.

It was late in the day when the primarch summoned Nemiel to his sanctum. He found Jonson seated at his favourite spot, beneath the towering viewports along the port side of the chamber. Red light shone along the side of Jonson’s face as he bent over a series of aerial images spread atop a low, wooden table. He glanced up at the Redemptor’s approach.

‘There you are, Nemiel,’ he said tersely, gathering the images together into a small stack. ‘You’ve been keeping yourself scarce of late.’ ‘Not by design, my lord,’ Nemiel replied guardedly. ‘There’s a great deal to be done before the rebels return.’

Jonson grunted in agreement. ‘True enough.

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