Salamander

'

Lay claim?

You may lay claim to nothing, and will release the

Archimedes Rex

to our charge in the name of the Emperor,' said Tsu'gan.

'Cool your temper, brother-sergeant,' Pyriel warned in a low voice, a spectator until now. 'You are addressing a captain of the Astartes.' Dak'ir noted that unlike him and his brother-sergeant, the Librarian showed no outward signs of discomfort from their enforced journey.

'You are wise to rein your sergeant in, Librarian,' said Vinyar and leaned forward into the light in order to show his face.

The captain's countenance was as adamantine as his voice. Callous eyes glared out from an almost square head sat on broad Astartes shoulders. Bald, apart from the sporadic tufts of closely-shaven hair infecting his scalp like hirsute lesions, Vinyar had a stubbled chin with a jaw like a hammer- head. Three platinum service studs punctuated a line across his brow above a bloodshot left eye.

Vinyar wore the yellow and black battle-plate of his brothers. Both pauldrons carried chevrons, the veteran ''hazard'' markings of the Marines Malevolent, and a ragged cloak of black ermine unfurled from his shoulders like old sackcloth. His left arm ended in a power glove, though the fingers looked to be fused, indicating they could no longer be opened. Dak'ir sensed that Vinyar had no use for gripping with it anyway, and needed it only as a hammer with which to brutalise his enemies.

A trace of amusement curled up his top lip in the approximation of a smile, but there was no mirth in it. If Lorkar was grizzled, then Vinyar was positively leaden by comparison.

Dak'ir noted that the hard-faced captain did not bother to ask Pyriel's or, indeed, any of their names. The fact was evidently unimportant to him.

'He makes a valid point, though, Brother-Captain Vinyar,' Pyriel asserted, stepping forward as Lorkar was dismissed by his superior.

'Oh yes…' invited Vinyar.

Dak'ir noticed armoured figures lumbering in the penumbral shadows at the edge of the throne room, just beyond the walls of victory banners. He recognised the forms as Terminators, but wearing an ersatz variant of the modern Tactical Dreadnought Armour. It was bulky with raised pauldrons surmounting a sunken, box-shaped battle-helm that had a rudimentary mouth-grille. The armour was much less refined with restricted dexterity, though it carried a fairly standard weapons array consisting of a power glove, but with a twin-linked combi-bolter in lieu of the more usual storm bolter. Despite their archaism, the Astartes wearing those suits were still deadly. Pyriel went on undaunted.

'That you will leave the Archimedes Rex at once and render the forge-ship to us.'

'You are welcome to it, brother.' Vinyar grinned. Dak'ir likened it to the expression a shark might make if ever amused. 'I only desire its contents.'

'Which you will also yield to us,' Pyriel replied, not rising to Vinyar's facetiousness.

Vinyar leaned back and was lost to shadow again, evidently tiring of the game he was playing.

'Bring it up on the screen,' he said into the ship's vox-link, situated on the arm of his throne.

A small antenna poked its way up insidiously from between the cracks in the deck plate a short distance from Vinyar's throne. Once it had reached two metres in height it stopped and expanded into three metre-length prongs at its apex, between which a holographic image was revealed. It showed the

Archimedes Rex,

or rather a close up view of a section of its generatoria unseen from the

Fire-wyvern's

angle of approach. The pict threw off grainy blue light, and cast Vinyar macabrely in the half-dark.

'The generatoria you see in the holo-cast provides power to the forge-ship's life support systems, amongst some others.'

The image panned out swiftly, showing the end of a scorched cannon turret. 'One of the

Purgatory's

many,' Vinyar revealed. 'Master Vorkan, do you have a firing solution?'

A disembodied voice replied from the vox-link. 'Yes, my lord.'

Vinyar turned his attention back to the Salamanders.

'A single lance salvo will critically damage that generatoria, destroying the life support systems and with it any chance of rescuing any survivors aboard.'

Tsu'gan bristled with barely contained rage. Dak'ir felt his knuckles crack as he subconsciously made fists. Such an act was unconscionable. To treat human life with such flagrant disregard; it made him sick to the stomach, so much so that his objections came out in a grating rasp.

'You cannot mean to do this. To appropriate arms, to steal from a crippled ship is one thing, but

murder?'

'

I am no murderer, brother-sergeant.' Vinyar's eyes were dark hollows pinpricked by tiny spots of malice as he regarded Dak'ir. 'Murder is an assassin's bullet or a hiver's blade in the back. I am a soldier, as are you. And in battle, sacrifices must be made. I act out of necessity, in order that my Chapter should prevail. It is your hand that forces mine, not the other way around.'

'Do that and I will have no other recourse but to order my Astartes aboard the

Archimedes Rex

to take custody of yours, the outcome of which would not end favourably for you,' said Pyriel, re-entering the fray. 'Would you condemn your warriors to that fate?'

The holo-pict shut off, killing the light as the broadcast antenna retracted.

Vinyar leaned forwards again, scoffing. 'Of course not, they would be extracted before the attack even took place.'

'How?' Tsu'gan's tone was scornful. 'Even the Raven Guard couldn't perform such a manoeuvre.'

Vinyar turned his attention to the brother-sergeant. 'In the same way we extracted you. Teleportation is much easier going out than coming in, hence the reason I favoured boarding torpedoes for our initial breach.'

The arrogant captain allowed a pause. In it, his mood of vainglory seemed to gloss over for a moment, replaced by a veneer of sincerity.

'We Astartes are brothers. We should not come to blows over this. There is no malice here; it is only war. I have fought in over a hundred campaigns, over hundreds of worlds and hundreds of systems. Xenos, traitors and heretics, witches and daemons of all forms - they have died by my righteous hand. Humanity owes a debt of gratitude to my Chapter, as it does all the Chapters of the Astartes. It is by our will and strength of arms that they are kept safe, ignorant of the terrors of Old Night.' He made an expansive gesture with his arm as if to suggest the universe was contained in his very throne room. 'What are the fates of a few balanced against a galaxy of trillions?'

'Bad deeds are bad deeds,' countered Dak'ir. 'There is no scale upon which they can be weighed against your victories, brother-captain, no measure that can account for monstrous acts.'

Vinyar held up his hand, his voice never more serious.

'I am no monster. I do what I must to serve the Emperor's light. But make no mistake…' And like a harsh wind blowing away the ash from a smothered fire, his plaintive demeanour came away. 'I am the master here. And it is I who shall dictate what—'

The crackling of the vox-link on the arm of his throne interrupted him.