Chapter 239: So-Called Truth (Patreon)

Inside the shifting corridors of the “Labyrinth,” the two parties who had stumbled into one another finally lowered their weapons. Hostility ebbed into wary cooperation as they exchanged information.

Grey relayed the current state of the Cadian Gate and the ongoing Black Crusade to Inquisitor Greyfax. He also explained the present date and mentioned recent events in the Talon Sector.

Greyfax, in turn, shared her own account.

“I saw a hunched silver figure. It looked as though it was forged entirely from iron. Then I was frozen in place… and the next sensation was as though I had slumbered for a very long time. When I next opened my eyes, I was here.”

She glanced behind her at the towering Space Marines clad in ceramite.

“They share my fate… only their sleep has lasted even longer.”

Grey studied the massive figures. Their armor was a mix of Mark III ‘Iron’ plate and the heavier Mark IV ‘Maximus’ suits, painted in a deep Ultramarine blue. The gene-forged transhumans shifted uneasily as the truth sank in. The very weight of history seemed to hang upon them, warriors displaced by millennia.

“The year… it is truly M41.999?” one finally asked, his voice strained. “Over ten thousand years have passed? That cannot be… impossible! What calamity befell us?”

For a long moment the Astartes were silent, disbelieving. Then their captain found his voice.

“I am Captain Gaius. We are warriors of the Thirteenth Legion. Tell us, does our Legion endure? Does Ultramar still stand?”

Grey hesitated.

“Legion? You mean Chapter. The Adeptus Astartes are divided into Chapters now, there hasn’t been a Legion for millennia.”

Greyfax interjected dryly:

“He’s correct. After the Horus Heresy, when half the Space Marine Legions turned traitor, the Emperor’s loyal sons still numbered in the tens of thousands. To prevent any one commander from ever holding such dangerous power again, the surviving Primarch decreed the Second Founding. Each Legion was broken down into smaller, autonomous Chapters, each a thousand strong, self-sufficient, and commanded by its own Chapter Master. The Legions no longer exist.”

Grey nodded, though his words were deliberately vague.

“The Legions were sundered into Chapters after the Heresy. But yes, I believe Ultramar still thrives.”

In truth, he could not speak with certainty. Ultramar lay far beyond the Talon Sector, and he had never journeyed there. Yet he remembered that during the battle for Cadia he had glimpsed warriors in blue armor fighting valiantly. Surely Ultramar still endured, and prospered.

The captain pressed further.

“And our gene-sire, our Primarch? What of Lord Roboute Guilliman?”

Grey frowned, he had no idea what “Gene-sire” meant. But Greyfax answered his question:

“You truly don’t know? Your Primarch was grievously wounded. He lies within a stasis-field, locked in timeless slumber, just as you were.”

That revelation shook the ancient Astartes. They bowed their heads in silence, as though struck by a blow heavier than any warhammer. To awaken to a new age, only to find their father broken and their Legion shattered, it was a grief too vast for words.

Meanwhile, Grot, who had listened in silence, finally asked:

“Wait… you’re not from ten thousand years ago?”

“Of course not,” Greyfax replied with a shake of her head.

Grey offered his own speculation:

“You weren’t simply sleeping. Something imprisoned you, and that same force has now chosen to release you.”

At those words, Greyfax’s eyes narrowed. She recalled the metallic skeletal figure she had glimpsed before her capture and nodded grimly.

After the exchange of intelligence, Grey produced a device that resembled a grenade, though it was not. It was a Talon innovation, a field projector capable of creating a vast protective barrier for teleportation.

“I can send you to Cadia, where you’ll have time to acclimate to this millennium… or—” he projected an image of Abaddon the Despoiler, the Warmaster of Chaos, “—you may remain with me, and help strike down the enemy commander himself.”

The Ultramarines’ answer was immediate and resolute.

“We will remain. To fight traitors is our duty.”

Grey turned to Greyfax. She inclined her head.

“To purge heretics is my sworn duty as well.”

Her words left a very good impression on Grey, though he did not realize that Greyfax’s true motive was more pragmatic. She wished to remain close to the Talonites and their strange, unsanctioned technologies, machines of dubious origin, operating outside the Mechanicus’ dogma. She would judge whether they were potential allies of the Imperium… or heretics to be purged.

The Talonites fought for Cadia’s survival, yes, but Greyfax had seen such zeal before. Many heretics she had burned alive had also once sworn undying loyalty to the Imperium, groups who once fought loyally for humanity, only to slide into damnation through unchecked zeal or forbidden science.

“Do you have ways of combating witchcraft?” Grey suddenly inquired. "There are many who wield sorcery among our enemies. As an Inquisitor, surely you know how to counter them.”

Greyfax’s reply stunned him.

“There is no such thing as witchcraft.”

The captain Gaius nodded, affirming her words.

“Indeed. There is no such thing as sorcery in the universe, only phenomena not yet explained by science. With sufficient understanding, all mysteries may be unveiled.”

His brothers voiced the catechism of the old Imperium, their voices solemn and unwavering:

“Heed the Emperor’s teachings: reject superstition, embrace reason, venerate science, abhor ignorance.”

Grey stared, baffled. Grot looked outright confused.

“That you even use the word ‘witchcraft,’” Gaius said sharply, “speaks of how far the Truth has fallen. Even in the far reaches of the Talon Sector, after ten thousand years, has Imperial Truth not yet been taught?”

One by one, they echoed the creed of the Great Crusade:

“There is no sorcery. Only science yet to be revealed.”

Grey and Grot exchanged baffled glances. The words sounded like blasphemy and revelation in equal measure.

In the Talon Sector, the Ministorum’s grip was weak; even Ecclesiarchal priests there were susceptible to the plague of disbelief, but that didn't mean the Talonians were all rational and scientific. Therefore, the Space Marines' teachings sounded unbelievable to Grey and the others.

Grot finally asked, almost trembling:

“The Emperor… is not a god?”

The answer was immediate and sharp.

“Of course not,” Gaius snapped. “Why would you think He is?… Wait.” His eyes narrowed. “Tell me, have men with scripture carved upon their flesh ever visited your worlds?”

The implication struck Grot like a thunderbolt. The very Angels of the Emperor were denying His divinity!

But Gaius was equally shaken. To think that after ten thousand years, humanity had slid back into worship, twisting the Emperor’s dream into a religion, it was unthinkable. Had the Great Crusade’s vision of enlightenment truly withered into ashes? Had the Imperial Truth withered?

The Astartes of the Great Crusade had been raised under the banner of the Imperial Truth, the Emperor’s dream of a galaxy united not by gods or faith, but by reason, knowledge, and human mastery of the stars. In their age, worship of gods was forbidden. The Emperor was not to be deified, but regarded as the greatest of men, a conqueror and scientist leading humanity into a new golden age. To them, the Ecclesiarchy’s creed of the God-Emperor would have been heresy.

Grey, sensing danger in the conversation, interjected quickly.

“We’ve always believed in science,” he said, patting Grot on the shoulder. “Otherwise, how could we, the Talonians, have built the Celestial Engine?”

Grot found it odd, but knew now was not the time to argue.

That mollified Gaius. He scanned the Talon technology around them and nodded approvingly.

“Yes. What I see here are pure scientific creations. Then your sector is not truly lost, merely… incomplete in its enlightenment.”

Grey smiled faintly and began leading the way. His entourage followed, Greyfax silent at the center, the Astartes falling into a classic tactical formation, securing the front and rear.

As they advanced, Gaius spoke again:

“When this war is done, I and my brothers will journey to the Talon Sector. We shall serve as tutors in your scholams and universitaria, until the Imperial Truth is fully restored.”

Grey forced a smile.

“That… would be most welcome.”

Greyfax said nothing, but her silence was heavy. She too had once embraced the Imperial Truth, but unlike these Astartes of the Great Crusade, she fell into slumber later than they. She knew well that across the Imperium of the 41st Millennium, outside of rare bastions, few still believed in reason. The great mass of humanity no longer remembered the creed of the Great Crusade. The Cult of the God-Emperor ruled unchallenged. These warriors of a bygone age did not yet understand that the dream of reason was dead, buried beneath cathedrals of faith and oceans of blood. In its place, only worship, zealotry, and fire endured.