False Gods

iterator was nowhere to be found and so Loken had returned to the training halls despondent. The smiling killer, Luc Sedirae, was clean­ing the dismantled parts of his bolter; the 'twins', Moy and Marr, were conducting a sword drill; and Loken's oldest friend, Nero Vipus, sat on the benches polishing his breastplate, working out the scars earned on Murder.

Sedirae and Vipus nodded in acknowledgement as he entered.

'Garvi,’ said Vipus. 'Something on your mind?'

'No, why?'

'You look a little strung out, that's all.'

'I'm fine,’ snapped Loken.

'Fine, fine,’ muttered Vipus. 'What did I do?'

'I'm sorry, Nero,’ Loken said. 'I'm just…'

'I know, Garvi. The whole company's the same. They can't wait to get in theatre and be the first to get to grips with that bastard, Temba. Luc's already bet me he'll be the one to take his head,’

Loken nodded noncommittally and said, 'Have either of you seen First Captain Abaddon?'

'No, not since we got back,’ replied Sedirae without looking up from his work. 'That remembrancer, the black girl, she was looking for you though,’

'Oliton?'

'Aye, that's her. Said she'd come back in an hour or so,’

Thank you, Luc,’ said Loken, turning back to Vipus, 'and again, I'm sorry I snapped at you, Nero,’

'Don't worry,’ laughed Vipus. 'I'm a big boy now and my skin's thick enough to withstand your bad moods,’

Loken smiled at his friend and opened his arming cage, stripping off his armour and carefully peeling away the thick, mimetic polymers of his sub-suit body, glove until he was naked but for a pair of fatigues. He lifted his sword and stepped towards the training cage, activating the weapon as the iron-grey hemispheres lifted aside and the tubular combat servitor descended from the centre of the dome's top.

'Combat drill Epsilon nine,’ he said. 'Maximum lethality,’

The combat machine hummed to life, long blade limbs unfolding from its sides in a manner that reminded him of the winged clades of Murder. Spikes and whirring edges sprouted from the contraption's body and Loken swivelled his neck and arms in readi­ness for the coming fight.

He needed a clear head if he was to think through all that had happened, and there was no better way to achieve purity of thought than through combat. The battle machine began a soft countdown and Loken dropped into a fighting crouch as his thoughts once again turned to the First Chaplain of the Word Bear­ers.

Liar…

It had been on the fifteenth day since leaving interex space, and a week before reaching Davin, that Loken finally had the chance to speak with Erebus alone. He awaited the First Chaplain of the Word Bearers in the forward observation deck of the Vengeful Spirit, watch­ing smudges of black light and brilliant darkness slide past the great, armoured viewing bay.

'Captain Loken?'

Loken turned, seeing Erebus's open, serious face. His shaved, tattooed skull gleamed in the swirling vortices of coloured light shining through the glass of the observation bay; rendering his armour with the patina of an artist's palette.

'First chaplain,’ replied Loken, bowing low.

'Please, my given name is Erebus; I would be hon­oured if you would call me by it. We have no need of such formality here,’

Loken nodded as Erebus joined him in front of the great, multicoloured vista laid out before them.

'Beautiful, isn't it?' said Erebus.

'I used to think so,’ nodded Loken. 'But in truth I can't look on it now without dread,’

'Dread? Why so?' asked Erebus, placing his hand on Loken's shoulder. 'The warp is simply the medium through which our ships travel. Did not the Emperor, beloved by all, reveal the ways and means by which we might make use of it?'

'Yes, he did,' agreed Loken, glancing at the tattooed script on Erebus's skull, though the words were in a lan­guage he did not understand.

They are the pronouncements of the Emperor as interpreted in the Book ofLorgar and rendered in the lan­guage of Colchis,’ said Erebus, answering Loken's unasked question. They are as much a weapon as my bolter and blade,’

Seeing Loken's incomprehension, Erebus said, 'On the battlefield I must be a figure of awe and majesty, and by bearing the Word of the Emperor upon my very flesh, I cow the xeno and unbeliever before me,’

'Unbeliever?'

'A poor choice of word,’ shrugged Erebus dismissively, 'perhaps misanthrope would be a better term, but I sus­pect that you did not ask me here to admire the view or my scripture,’

Loken smiled and said, 'No, you're right, I didn't. I asked to speak to you because I know the Word Bearers to be a Legion with many scholars among their ranks. You have sought out many worlds that were said to be seats of learning and knowledge and brought them to compliance,’

True,’ agreed Erebus slowly. Though we destroyed much of that knowledge as profane in the fires of war,’

'But you are wise in matters esoteric and I. desired your counsel on a… a matter I thought best spoken of pri­vately,’

'Now I am intrigued,’ said Erebus. What is on your mind?'

Loken pointed towards the pulsing, spectral light of the warp on the other side of the observation bay's glass. Clouds of many colours and spirals of darkness spun and twisted like blooms of ink in water, constantly churning in a maelstrom of light and shadow. No coher­ent forms existed in the mysterious otherworld beyond

the ship, which, but for the power of the Geller field, would destroy the Warmaster's vessel in the blink of an eye.

The warp allows us to travel from one side of the galaxy to the other, but we don't really understand it at all, do we?' asked Loken. ^Vhat do we really know about the things that lurk in its depths? What do we know of Chaos?'

'Chaos?' repeated Erebus, and Loken detected a moment of hesitation before the Word Bearer answered. 'What do you mean by that term?'

'I'm not sure,’ admitted Loken. 'It was something Mithras Tull said to me back on Xenobia,’

'Mithras Tull? I don't know the name,’

'He was one of Jephta Naud's subordinate comman­ders,’ explained Loken. 'I was speaking to him when everything went to hell,’

What did he say, Captain Loken? Exactly,’

Loken's eyes narrowed at the first chaplain's tone and he said, Tull spoke of Chaos as though it were a distinct force, a primal presence in the warp. He said that it was the source of the most malevolent corruption imaginable and that it would outlive us all and dance on our ashes,’

'He used a colourful turn of phrase,’

That he did, but I believe he was serious,’ said Loken, gazing out into the depths of the warp.

Trust me: Loken; the warp is nothing more than mind­less energy churning in