Chapter 34: Ma's Kander No. 2

After leaving the armory, Soshyan traversed a wide corridor, arriving at the rear section of the battleship.

Upon exiting the passage, a grand hall with a dome of black stone appeared ahead, its far end lined with a series of massive windows.

The center of the windows held nothing, through which Soshyan watched a stretch of orange-yellow wakes gradually merge into a brilliant, kaleidoscopic torrent; in the distance, the vortices were tinged with a smear of pink—in the Warp, all colors defy direct linguistic definition.

The edges of the hall's windows were stained with color, adorned with images of Space Marines, and the Emperor was omnipresent.

He looked down from a niche, supported by meticulously arranged stone pillars, pointing a sword toward the heavens.

This was the chapel of the *Starfire*, and simultaneously the temporary monastery of the Space Marines.

An Imperial battleship could be without weapons, but it must always have a chapel; it was the best way to maintain the loyalty and morale of the crew during long voyages, and another safeguard for Warp travel—the Emperor's gaze would watch over these vessels navigating the Sea of Souls.

Most of the works on the dome depicted scenes of Space Marines engaged in war, rest, the study of crafts, and sacrifice.

And on the prominent face of the Emperor, there was an indescribable sorrow, a sorrow that struck directly at Soshyan's soul.

He was looking down, his left hand extended forward, blessing his progeny.

Soshyan continued forward. The place was empty, devoid of any servants or servitors, for the monastery was the spiritual home of the Space Marines and their most private sanctum; mortals could rarely set foot here.

Subsequently, a black steel door was pulled open, and Soshyan entered a small chapel—there were many such small chapels within the monastery, where Space Marines facing inner turmoil would come to make confession to a Chaplain.

A solitary beam of light pierced through the thick walls, illuminating the center of the small chapel; on the other side, thirty yards away, was a rose-colored window.

The walls here were carved from black stone, inlaid with many rare minerals, with gold and silver embellishing everything.

Soshyan paused in the center of the light, dropped to one knee, and looked up at the golden Aquila.

Beneath the Aquila were six banners; one was the Chapter banner, while the other five were the company banners of the First, Third, Fourth, Sixth, and Seventh Companies. These had all been recovered from the wreckage of the *World Engine*, and none were intact.

Soshyan said nothing, merely gazing in silence.

It was not until half an hour later that the sound of light footsteps interrupted him.

"I have come here to meditate."

Soshyan did not turn around; he knew who had arrived.

"With all due respect, you have spent enough time on this. As mortals often say, what is past is past."

Yazdan Shahinian, wearing a skull helm and power armor dyed black, appeared behind Soshyan.

"You are our Chapter Master now; you must take up your responsibilities."

Soshyan stood up and turned to face Yazdan Shahinian, the Chapter Chaplain.

His power armor had been completely dyed black, every inch of it, and dense litanies were etched from his boots to his neck.

In his right metal gauntlet, he gripped a Chaplain's crozius, its head topped with a golden Imperial Aquila, its unactivated force field shimmering in the dim light.

"Losa just informed me that *Makande II* is approaching," Yazdan continued. "Are you ready, Chapter Master?"

As the Chief Chaplain, while Yazdan was technically under Soshyan's command, in practice, their relationship transcended simple hierarchy.

Because he was responsible for the soul and thought of the entire Chapter, that naturally included Soshyan's.

"I am ready," Soshyan answered firmly, meeting Yazdan's solemn gaze.

"The Chapter needs leadership now—strong leadership. Soshyan, you cannot afford to fall into doubt at a time like this."

"I will maintain a clear mind at all times."

"This mission is of utmost importance," Yazdan's whisper echoed in the private chamber of the monastery. "Our Chapter is currently like a person suffering from a severe, unhealed illness; our body is completely parched and cannot afford even the slightest failure. We must seize every scrap of nourishment."

"I will reclaim all those supplies. For the Chapter."

"This will be your first true test as Chapter Master."

"Then I welcome it, Chief Chaplain."

————————

Forge World Makande II, Terra Standard Time 0200.

"These documents encompass the review of the agenda."

General Sora, the commander of the orbital defense station, rubbed his chubby hands and turned his head. "Are there any other questions, Priest Loken?"

These words pulled him out of the dull, turbid thoughts that had occupied his mind for the past two hours. The Adeptus Mechanicus priest, clad in red robes, shook his head, which had not yet been fitted with many mechanical augmentations.

The strategy room was quiet; the image screens behind the commander flickered with dim light.

The clicking of the scribe-servitor in the corner ceased, as its automatic quill had finished recording minutes ago; all other Defense Force officers were staring at him.

"No questions, sir," Loken said, spreading his hands with a dry tone. "A complete and precise review. As always, you are as rigorous as a contemplative calculator."

"Is that so?" a young officer wearing a tilted military cap suddenly asked. The man's ruthless gaze was as forceful as the blunt strikes Loken liked to inflict upon servitors.

"It is a relief to have your approval. Next time I share the holographic briefing with Priest Farah, I will certainly convey your important insights to him."

The other thirteen local Defense Force officers did not react, but Loken could sense their secret glee.

He was infuriated. Most of his body was still weak organic matter, so it was only natural that he could not control his emotions.

Loken suppressed his anger, turning it into a respectful nod.

He had once been the Archbishop's favorite apprentice, but after his mentor died in an "accidental incident," his downfall had been swift and seemingly inevitable. He had been driven from the promising manufactorum to the orbital defenses, like a discarded defective product.

Those who envied him were all waiting for his few remaining metal prosthetics to rust in the dust, and even the Defense Force, whom he had once barely spared a glance, had begun to give him sidelong looks.

"Well then," the commander said, looking at Loken with a very amiable smile. "Priest Loken, could you please further clarify the last point I mentioned?"

"The last point, sir?" Loken tilted his head, pretending not to understand, as he had been listening to binary music through his internal headset.

"Yes, the one I mentioned less than a minute ago."

Loken said nothing. The silence in the room stretched to an unnaturally painful length.

Finally, the sound of a knocked door broke the tension. Loken truly wanted to grab the person who opened the door, give them a heavy kiss, anoint them with holy oil, and make an exception to chant a hymn for them.

"Who is it!"

The commander's amiable mask was instantly torn away. He roared loudly, though his gaze never left Loken.

The knocking sounded again. The commander frowned and lightly waved his sensor wand to unlock the door.

The door slid open, and a young man in the uniform of the Astropathic Department rushed in.

"What is it?" the commander barked. The man quickly saluted.

"An emergency briefing from the Captain, sir! The sensors just tripped! An outpost astropath at the edge of the system trajectory monitor has detected an independent vessel breaking from the Warp into realspace!"

"Identity?"

"We are still verifying, sir, but preliminary scans of the keel markings and identity codes suggest it... it might be the *New Phalos*!"

"*New Phalos*?" The commander frowned. "Did it not set sail for the Liminal Reach a week ago?"

Although the planet Makande II had long been in decline, it was still a Forge World. The High Lords of Terra still issued production quotas, requiring it to provide light weaponry to certain fortress worlds and Imperial Guard regiments.

Furthermore, Makande II was one of the few Forge Worlds still capable of producing Makardo-pattern heavy tanks; though these were relatively outdated, some Imperial Guard units still utilized them.

"Yes, sir, that is what the Captain said. We have attempted to signal it, but received no reply... communication may be blocked by the asteroid belt, but they have definitely received our messages."

"How far away is she?"

"Just entering the belt, sir. Once she passes, she will be only three hours' travel from the anchor point."

"Gentlemen, it seems we have a situation," the commander said to the gathered officers. "Defense systems, enter combat readiness immediately."

(End of Chapter)