Helsreach

For a moment, I am not sure how to respond to that.

'You stand on difficult ground, Zarha. I am a Chaplain of the Adeptus Astartes, sworn into my position with the grace of the Ecclesiarchy of Terra. In my presence, you have just expressed the notion that the Emperor of Mankind is not your god, as He is for the entire glorious Imperium. While I am not blind to the… separatist… elements within the Mechanicus, the fact remains that you are speaking heresy before a Reclusiarch of the Emperor's Chosen. You are speaking heresy, and I am charged with the responsibility of ending any heresy I encounter in the Eternal Crusade. So let us tread carefully, you and I. You will not insult me with false accusations of blasphemy, and I will answer the questions you have regarding D-16-West. This is not a request. Agree, or I will execute you for heresy before your crew can even soil themselves in fear.'

I see her swallow, and despite herself, her smile shows her amusement.

'It is entertaining to be spoken to in this manner,' she says, almost thoughtful.

'I can imagine that your perceptions offer a much grander view than mine,' I meet her optic augments with my own gaze. 'But the time for misunderstandings is over. Speak, Zarha. I will answer what you ask. This must be resolved, for the good of Helsreach.'

She turns in her tank, swimming slowly in the fluid-filled coffin before eventually coming back to face me.

'Tell me why,' she says. 'Tell me why you have done this.'

I had not expected such a base question. 'It is the Ordinatus Armageddon. It is one of the greatest weapons ever wielded by Man. This is a war, Zarha. I need weapons to win it.'

She shakes her head. 'Necessity is not enough. You may not harness

Oberon

on a whim, Grimaldus.' She floats closer, pressing her forehead to the glass. Throne, she looks tired. Withered, tired and without hope. 'It is sealed now because it must be sealed. It is not used now because it cannot be used.'

'The Master of the Forge will determine that for himself,' I tell her.

'No. Grimaldus, please stop this. You will tear the Mechanicus forces on the world apart. It is a matter of the greatest import to the servants of the Machine-God.

Oberon

cannot be reactivated. It would be blasphemy to use it in battle.'

'I will not lose this war because of Martian tradition. When Jurisian accesses the final chamber, he will examine the Ordinatus Armageddon and evaluate the trials ahead in awakening the spirit within the machine.

Help us,

Zarha. We do not have to die here in futility. Throne of the Emperor,

Oberon

would win us this war. Are you too blind to see that?'

She twists in the fluid again, seeming lost in thought.

'No,' she says at last. 'It cannot, and will not, be reawakened.'

'It grieves me to ignore your wishes, princeps. But I will not have Jurisian cease his ministrations. Perhaps

Oberon's

reactivation is far beyond his skills. I am prepared to die with that as an acceptable truth. But I will not die here until I have done all in my power to save this city.'

'Grimaldus.' She smiles again, looking much as she did at our first meeting. 'I am ordered by my superiors to see you dead before you continue this course of action. This can only end one way. I ask you now, before the final threats must be spoken. Please do not do this. The insult to the Mechanicus would be infinite.'

I reach to my armoured collar and trigger the vox-link there. A single pulse answers - an acknowledgement signal.

'You have made your third mistake by threatening me, Zarha. I am leaving.'

From the pilots' thrones, voices begin to chatter. 'My princeps?' one calls.

'

Yes,

Valian.'

'We're getting auspex returns. Four heat signatures inbound. From directly above. The city's wall-guns are not tracking them.'

'No,' I say, without taking my eyes from Zarha. 'The city defences wouldn't shoot down four of my Thunderhawks.'

'Grimaldus… No…'

'My princeps!' Valian Carsomir screams. '

Forget him!

We demand orders at once!'

It is too late. Already, the chamber starts to shake. The noise from outside is muted by the Titan's immense armour plating, but remains nevertheless: four gunships on hover, their boosters roaring, black hulls eclipsing the moonlight that had beamed in through the eye-windows.

I look over my shoulder, seeing the four gunships align their heavy bolter turrets and wing-mounted missiles.

'Raise shields!'

'Don't,' I say softly. 'If you try to raise the shields and prevent my attempt to leave, I will order my gunships to open fire on this bridge. Your void shields will never rise in time.'

'You would kill yourself.'

'I would. And you. And your Titan.'

'Keep the shields down,' she says, the bitterness returning to her visage. Her bridge crew comply, reluctance evident in their every movement and whispered word. 'You do not understand. It would be blasphemy for

Oberon

to enter battle. The sacred war platforms must be blessed by the Lord of the Centurio Ordinatus. Their machine-spirits would be enraged without this appeasement.

Oberon

will never function. Do you not see?'

I see.

But what I see is a compromise.

'The only reason the Mechanicus is not committing one of its greatest weapons to the war to save this world is because it remains unblessed?'

'Yes. The soul of the machine will rebel. If it even awakens, it will be wrathful.'

Within these words, I see the way through our stalemate. If their rites require a blessing that is impossible to give, then we must alter our demands to the most basic, viable needs.

'I understand, Zarha. Jurisian will not reactivate the Ordinatus Armageddon and bring it to Helsreach,' I tell her. She watches me closely, her visual receptors clicking and whirring in poor mimicry of human expression.

'He will not?'

'No.' The pause lasts several heartbeats, until I say, '

We

will remove the nova cannon and bring it to Helsreach. It is all we needed, anyway.'

'You are not permitted to defile

Oberon's

body. To remove the