Home Fires – Chapter Thirty-Seven: Induction
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Aboard His Hammer II, Antonius was led to a chamber he had not been in for more than a century. Unbidden, his mind remembered that day…
Antonius finished his last meal as a Scout when Atrus’ Techmarine Bodyguard entered the mess hall of His Hammer II. Their ceremonial Power Swords were drawn but the fields were not live. There was only one reason for them to bare steel in such a way. One of the Scouts was to be chosen to ascend.
Two walking before him and two behind, they escorted him through this corridor. To this door. Inside, there was only darkness.
“Step forward.” A voice called out. Antonius did.
*FLASH*
In an instant, Antonius felt the painful memories of the death of a previous Azure Flame. This was no ordinary memory. It felt real. Antonius knew in that moment what death was. When he came back to his senses, that death lingered. Pain wracked his abdomen. This trial shared the pain of the fallen.
“Step forward.” A voice called out.
Antonius had to force himself to continue, but he managed to send one trembling foot ahead yet again.
*FLASH*
Antonius fell. His shoulder partially cushioned his fall, but the fall was not what brought him anguish. The death he had just relived was not only traumatic, but it was also senseless. There was no glory. No honor. No guarantee that his Gene-Seed would return to the Chapter. What was the point? Why would anyone do this to themselves? A deep cough spurted blood, but Antonius could not see how much there was in the dark of the room. Slowly, his arm reached out, supporting him as he rolled. On hands and knees, he righted himself.
He would not give in.
With one solid push, he rose. He very nearly fell again. But, something within him drove him on.
“Step forward.” A voice called out.
It was madness. There was no hope that if another vision came that Antonius would survive. He felt cold. His hearts beat irregularly. He could barely breathe.
He took the final step.
Lights came on. Behind a mirrored wall, Antonius saw the Librarium of the Azure Flames. There, behind his rebreather, was Ory-Hara. The noble Sangamon who was the oldest of the Librarians. And there, massive and barely contained within the room, was the frame of a modified Dreadnought. To its right, a brilliant crystal shone in the cold light.
Atrus.
Antonius snapped out of his reverie. Once again, the undecorated metal hatch leading to the room where Scouts undertook the final trial before their ascension was before him.
“What is this?” he asked.
Perseus’ face was stone. “This is the final trial.”
“I’ve passed long ago. Why do I need to do this again?”
“You don’t understand.” Perseus said coldly. “Only Atrus and I have done this.”
Antonis was puzzled. “What do I do?”
The ghost of a smile played across Perseus’ face. “Just be yourself.”
Antonius raised one eyebrow. Then, he nodded.
Perseus opened the door.
Antonius stepped inside.
The first surprise was that the room was bathed in the white light of the overhead lamps. Antonius had never actually seen the extent of the room, at least not like this. It was dull, unadorned ceramite, and it was bigger than he thought, fifty meters wide in each direction. Of course, one wall was the mirror that Antonius knew form his previous trial was a one way mirror. Anyone could be behind it.
The next surprise was the furnishings. In the spacious expanse of the room, two chairs large enough to hold Astartes sat neatly arranged in the middle, a small metal table between them. Spartan and plain, they were made of plasteel. No arms protruded from them, but their backs were high. They shone in the harsh lights, possibly having never been sat in.
The final surprise was the man.
At least Antonius assumed he was a man, after Perseus saying that “he” was waiting. The figure stood with their back to Antonius, wearing what looked to be a suit of Terminator Armour unblemished by paint. The bare ceramite was a dull metallic gray that accentuated the rest of the room by comparison. He was a bit lopsided, as his left leg had been replaced by a chunky augmentic with a cruciform foot. A Power Fist hung idly by the figure’s left side, adorned with the only visible color in the room:
An Inquisitorial Signet that shone red and gold.
“Sit.” The man in the Terminator Armour said.
Antonius saw no reason to be defiant. He crossed the room to the chairs and took the one closest to him. As he made contact, the man turned to face him.
He was old.
An Inquisitorial Rosette in silver and gold dominated the center of his chest, with stylized laurel branches coming upward toward his shoulders. To his right, a small dagger was sheathed in easy reach of his right hand. But it was his face that drew Antonius’ attention. He seemed impossibly old. His beard was stark white but neatly styled into a sharp point below his chin, with a matching moustache. His eyebrows were tufts of snow in the field of crevasses that crisscrossed his ancient face. The shadow of what would have been a widow’s peak left the skin of his scalp almost bare save for a few whisps. Finally, a thick ponytail, also devoid of color, drooped around his left side.
“You.” He spat.
Antonius was taken aback for a moment. He briefly glanced away at the mirrored wall. Sure enough, the man was correct, it was indeed him. “Yes?” he replied.
“You are the little upstart that has spoiled my experiment.” The man said as he began to make his way to the center of the room.
“Experiment?”
“THIS!” he shouted, gesticulating wildly with both hands. “All of this! Your chapter! I created all of it.”
“Oh.” Antonius said. “Thank… you… I suppose?”
The man sighed as his bulky frame thudded into the chair, which surprisingly held.
“I suppose you think you’re terribly clever.” The man said.
“Honestly, I’ve been questioning that as of late.”
The man, whose wrinkled face had a look of pure exasperation, perked up slightly and looked at Antonius. “Have you now?”
“Well, yes. It’s been a long war. There have been…”
“Oh, I don’t give a fuck about your stupid little planet. If you had died there my job might have been easier. As it stands, even if I have you killed, everything I’ve worked for is ruined. It’s all your fault.”
Antonius’ mouth tightened. “I have known someone who speaks as you do. Someone who pinned their failures on me.” Antonius leaned out of the chair slightly. “He didn’t end up doing very well.”
The man gave one cluck of a laugh. “HAH, so, you have some backbone in you. I can see why he chose you. Good. This might not be a total waste.”
Irritation played across Antonius’ features. He refused to let this man bait him any longer. “Enough. Why have you called me here?”
“Why? Oh, lots of reasons. Some of them important. Some of them stupid. For example, did you know that you are a Heretic that must be put to death?”
Antonius’ frown deepened. “I suppose that is one of the stupid ones.”
The man rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, incredibly stupid. The governor of this world has made a formal protest about you specifically. Violating separation of powers. Usurping global hegemony. Undermining her ability to blah blah blah I’m sure you get the point.”
“You’re here on Sterling’s behalf?” Antonius said with a smirk.
“Don’t be fatuous. The Inqusition is above such petty concerns. At least some of us are.”
“…and I suppose you are one of those.”
“On my better days. I have much more important things to consider.”
“Such as?”
“Whether or not to simply kill you or to have your entire Chapter declared Excommunicate Traitoris and purged.” The man, no, the Inquisitor’s affect was flat and emotionless. He could have been discussing the weather.
“I thought you just said I wasn’t a Heretic.”
“Oh, you’re definitely a Heretic.” The Inqusitor said with a predatory smile. “That is beyond question. What remains to be seen is if your Chapter is destined to become renegades.”
“Nonsense.” Anotnius spat. “We hold our oaths.”
“Ah, that’s the rub.” The man said, his smile softening but no less present. “Your oaths. How good are they?”
“Unbreakable.” Antonius hammered.
“I didn’t ask how hard they were to break. I inquired as to their quality. How good are they?”
Antonius frowned. “What do you mean?”
The Inquisitor sighed. “I was afraid of this. Fine, we’ll go step by step. You have sworn to uphold and protect the Imperium, yes?”
“Yes.” Antonius said, full of confidence.
“All of it?” The Inquisitor’s bushy eyebrows raised into white arcs.
“I suppose, there was no mention of exception.”
“Even the people?”
“Especially the people!” Antonius shouted.
“Even that horrible harridan who runs your former homeworld? Starling or whatever her name was?”
“Ah… yes…” Antonius said, less sure now.
“Even knowing that the people of that world suffer under her rule?”
Antonius paused.
“Well?” the Inquisitor jabbed.
“I don’t think I could make an exception…”
“No? Not even if I told you she had imposed slavery on the homeless? Had political rivals assassinated? Hell, YOUR MEN assassinated at least one FOR her! He may or may not have been better, but he didn’t deserve to die just for thinking he could do better. Does Starling still deserve the full measure of your oaths?”
“I… don’t have a choice…” Antonius trailed off.
“Oh, come now, of course you have a choice.” The Inquisitor said in a mocking tone. “You could do what strong men do. Take the power for yourself. Rule this world justly, then move onto the next.”
“That is not our duty.” Antonius protested.
“But it could be!” the Inquisitor countered. “You could make that choice. You could bring justice to your home. No more slave camps. No more quotas. Uplift the poor. I know you did that at the same time you assassinated that politician. That woman must have hated the idea of your men building shelters for the unhoused. Think of the security you could bring to everyone. The happiness.”
Antonius’ stomach felt like ice. He shook off the doubt plaguing his mind. “Enough! What is your goal here, Inquisitor? To drive me to the Heresy you wish to see in me?”
“I just want you to answer the question. If your oath is worth upholding, then the Imperium must be worth it.” He paused briefly and leaned forward slowly, fixing his eyes right on Antonius’. “Well? Is it?”
“Is it what?”
“Is. The Imperium of Mankind. Worth. Upholding?”
“Of cour…” Antonius couldn’t finish. He couldn’t. He tried again. The word would not come.
“And so, you see.” The man awkwardly crossed his differently sized arms across his chest. “Doubt.”
Antonius couldn’t answer. He sagged in the chair. It felt like there was a storm in his mind.
“That seed of doubt will wear at you. It will grow. Every time you see how the Imperium really isn’t worth it.”
Antonius glanced up at the Inquisitor. “Even you think so?”
The Inquisitor, clad in his smugness, curled up his mouth as if he had bitten something sour. “Well, at times.”
“Then… how do you deal with it? The sorrow? The suffering? The sheer madness of it?”
He sighed. “You just tell yourself there is no other way…”
“But there is.” Antonius countered. “You said there was a choice. To go renegade.” Antonius picked up steam. “So, Inquisitor, turn that back around on yourself. Why haven’t you made that choice?”
“This isn’t about me. I am under no obligation to explain myself to you, but you, my young friend, must explain yourself to me. Why not do what is right in your heart? Go renegade?”
“That is not what is right. That is foolishness.”
“So, you would uphold an unjust Imperium instead…”
“I didn’t say that either.” Antonius snapped.
The Inquisitor paused. He stroked his snowy beard thoughtfully. “Go on, then.”
“Of course I’d love to replace the current Imperium with one of justice and happiness and light. Most sane people would. That doesn’t make us heretics, it just makes us observant. But no one can do that with a snap of their fingers or a quick word. The Imperium is awful. Is it the only way? Possibly. Possibly not. However, we’ll never find out if the whole thing burns down. And that is happening. Right now. The galaxy burns at the touch of traitors, xenos, and neverborn. How can anyone make the galaxy a better place for humanity if our light fades and gutters?”
“So, what do you propose?” The Inquisitor asked with a hopeful tone but a surprisingly sour look on his face.
“I propose to fight for what is right. I will preserve life. I will protect the weak. I will forge a path to a better tomorrow. I may not always succeed. I may even be forced back, time and again. But I will do my best to make the Imperium a better place. Now, you have my heresy in full view. Execute me or let me go.”
The Inquisitor’s face went red. “You…” he closed his eyes and sighed. His gauntlet reached up and pinched the bridge of his hawkish nose as if fighting a headache. “You have cost me a very fine bottle of amasec.”
Antonius, steeled and ready for anything the Inquisitor could say or do, rocked back as his eyes shot open.
The lights in the observation room turned on, revealing it empty, save for Chapter Master Perseus. Through a tinny speaker, Antonius could hear Perseus speak. “I told you.”
“Shove it up your ass, Liam.” The Inquisitor groaned. Perseus broke out into an avalanche of laughter.
“What, exactly, is going on here?” Antonius asked cautiously.
“Zeraf Antonius, meet Inquisitor Eric Boucher, Ordo Hereticus.”
“…and Ordo Astartes.” The elderly man said, extending his hand. Antonius took it, and Boucher shook firmly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Zeraf.”
“Actually, Inquisitor, on Altea the family name precedes the personal. Call me Antonius.”
“Fine.” Boucher said with an eyeroll.
“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Inquisitor, I suppose.” Antonius said unsteadily.
“Don’t bullshit me, young man. I’m quite insufferable.”
“At least you’re not a liar.” Perseus said.
“What is going on, my Lord?” Antonius asked turning to Perseus.
One of the mirrors opened like a door, ushering Perseus into the main room. “No more ‘my lords,’ at least not in private.” Perseus said. “You have just been inducted into the Scutus Sinistratum. A secret society within the Imperium.”
“It’s why I tried to make Astartes Chapters that were different from the baseline Astartes.” Boucher added.
“I knew it! You messed with our gene-seed! That’s why we don’t look like the Salamaders with dark skin and red eyes!” Antonius accused, pointing.
“What? No. The Ordo Astartes doesn’t alter Gene-seed. That’s Cawl’s baby.” Boucher said waving his hand dismissively.
“Then… why don’t we look like XVIII Legion stock?”
“I have no clue. But, I was there when the first Sons of the Salamander were created, and I can confirm you are most definitely Sons of Vulkan.” Boucher said with authority.
“So, what did you do to us?”
“He let us be human.” Perseus said warmly.
“That is a gross oversimplification.” Boucher scolded. “I merely changed the psycho-indoctrination protocols. Slightly.”
“…how slightly?” Antonius said with a bit of trepidation.
“Enough to let you remember your identity and memories more fully than baseline Astartes. Keep you grounded. Let you have empathy and sympathy.” Boucher explained.
“You… created super soldiers… with sympathy?”
“We have enough butchers.” Boucher spat. “I wanted to see if we could make your chapter into the best of humanity instead of the worst.”
“So, will all chapters be like us going forward?”
Perseus and Boucher burst into laughter.
“You didn’t tell me he was funny!” Boucher sputtered through wheezes.
“Antonius,” Perseus began. “…no one knows this but us. If it were to come out, we’d be denounced as heretics.”
“Ah…” Antonius said. “…then why did you do it?”
“Because nothing lasts forever.” Perseus said with sorrow. “We think that the Imperium will break. The decay of ten thousand years of superstition, ignorance, and hate has finally taken its toll. The cracks are widening, and the whole system is going to fall apart.”
“It is my job to explore ways to stop that from happening.” Boucher continued. “Even using methods that are… outside of orthodoxy.”
“How often have you succeeded?” Antonius asked.
“Well,” Boucher began, “…there’s you.”
“…and?”
“Ah, that’s it.”
“Just us?”
“Well, there were more experiments, but they all went Renegade.” Boucher said in an even tone. “Remember the Myridian Suns?”
“I was a scout during the cleansing of Myridia.” Antonius replied. “They were one of yours?”
“Why do you think I sent you to cleanse them? I had to cover up my mistakes. The Suns were supposed to be more open minded. I though it would let them adapt to a changing galaxy. Instead, they turned to the Ruinous Powers. Look on the bright side! You got their entire armory, including twenty suits of Tactical Dreadnought Armour.”
“We’re getting off topic.” Perseus said with a bit of heat behind it. “The purpose of the Scutus Sinistratum is to preserve what can be preserved. If that means the Imperium, then we save it. If we can’t do that, we at least try to save what is left of humanity.”
“Remember,” Boucher broke in, “…Humanity conquered a third of the galaxy before Old Night. A couple thousand years of darkness didn’t kill us. The coming storm won’t kill us either. At least if we have anything to say about it.”
“Then we shall face that storm together.” Antonius stated genuinely.
“Well said!” Perseus cried, clapping Antonius on the shoulder.
“Don’t get too positive.” Boucher warned. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better. Probably a lot worse.”
“I know.” Antonius said.
“How do you know?” Boucher said accusingly.
Antonius sighed. “I have a feeling.”