Honour Imperialis - Braden Campbell & Aaron Dembski-Bowden & Chris Dows & Steve Lyons & Rob Sanders by Warhammer 40K

Author:Warhammer 40K [40K, Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782514701
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2014-03-14T23:00:00+00:00

‘Speak, damn you!’ the canoness seethed, slamming her armoured palms into the table.

Mortensen’s eyes were glazed, his face – like his body – lifeless. He hadn’t spoken in what seemed an age, he just sat there watching Santhonax pace the oubliette, soaking up the battle-sister’s fury. Once or twice he caught her checking her chronometer or fidgeting with her vox-piece. It was probably already too late to get off the planet’s surface and she knew it.

Despite feeling emotionally drained and physically exhausted, Mortensen felt the irresistible pull of an utterance. He felt compelled to satisfy her demand to know his mind.

‘All those people, died…’

‘Yes,’ the canoness confirmed with unusual feeling, quick to exploit the opening. ‘But not for you or because of you. There are those amongst the fighting men of the Imperium who might trade in such untruths and poison your faith with their own heretical needs and ideals. But in Gomorrah’s death, men like you found new life. You wouldn’t have become what you are, had not adversity been your making.’

‘What, a cursed cripple?’ Mortensen lamented.

Santhonax turned his chair from the table and knelt down in her armour by his side: ‘Can’t you see? This isn’t a curse, it’s a gift.’ She stroked his battle-scarred chest with the cruel tips of her gauntlet. ‘It may not be divinely ordained, but whatever you lost in your world’s calamity, you gained the ability to achieve the impossible. You succeed where others fail. You walk tall where others have fallen. You live when you should die. Adversity gave you that.’

‘The assassin?’

Santhonax nodded slowly.

‘Krieg?’

More confirmation from the battle-sister.

‘That bounty hunter on Targretta Prime?’

‘Not one of mine,’ the canoness admitted, narrowing her eyes and coming in closer, ‘but the same principle applies.’

‘Why the pretence? Heresy? Why not just come for me?’ the major goaded.

‘There are those,’ Santhonax admitted with regret, ‘that do not share our vision.’

‘Really?’ the Gomorrian teased.

The Sister of the Immaculate Flame continued unfazed: ‘They are without the steel in their soul to do what is necessary. They do not understand and consider our ideas dangerous. In turn, we ourselves stand accused of heretical ideals. Surely you can empathise with that, Major Mortensen?’

‘Let me let you in on a little secret: I think your ideas are dangerous,’ he told her straight, ‘and since you included me in them, I’ve never been more than two decisions away from a horrible death.’

‘It’s easier to avoid your accusers if you appear to be one of them. See, adversity forced me to become stronger. My pretence was part of the adversity you are enduring right at this moment, but in time I have hopes that you will outgrow my protection.’

‘Protection!’ Mortensen guffawed angrily. ‘You’ve done nothing but try to kill me or get me killed. You talk of adversity like it’s some kind of necessary evil. You’re wrong,’ he told her sourly. ‘The end of my world gave me nothing but pain. And when it finished giving me that, well, it just gave me nothing.

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