Salamander

Salamanders who had already made the translation to Prometheus, or perhaps had never left, mingled in small groups, discussing the ramifications of what the Pantheon had uncovered in excited murmurs. Some readied weapons, checking and loading with methodical precision. Others knelt in solitude as they took oaths of moment, an icon of Vulkan's hammer pressed to their lips. The primarch's name was spoken everywhere.

In a large hangar section, eight Thunderhawks idled with landing stanchions extended. Directed by Techmarine overseers, crews of servitors and human engineers readied them for take-off. Huge pipes that chugged fuel into the gunships' tanks were trailed across the deck; operational scenarios were run on the fusion reactors; tons of munitions were trolleyed on massive tracked lifters, heavy drum mags slammed into ammo cavities or the vast power batteries of the nose guns charged to capacity. Techmarines incanted liturgies to the machine-spirits, flocks of votive servitors and cyber-skulls assisting them with their pious labours; troop holds were cleared and inspected by human deck teams; the instrumentation panels that ran the cockpits were assessed and put through exhaustive activation protocols; turbofans were ignited on low-burn to test performance; and every square centimetre of the gunships' structural integrity was checked and secured.

A strange atmosphere pervaded the docking bay - part parade ground solemnity, part campaign assembly deck resolve. Due to their dispersal across Nocturne, aiding villages and minor townships in preparation for the Time of Trial, the Salamanders did not arrive together. They appeared sporadically, after venturing to whatever sacred teleportation site was nearest. Squads were forming quickly though, filling up the docking bay with their armoured bulk, getting ready to receive their Chapter Master.

Tsu'gan was already present with much of his squad. Others too had started to assemble in ranks.

As he panned his gaze around the room, Dak'ir saw N'keln's Inferno Guard, Kadai's former command squad, waiting for their captain. Fugis stood amongst them, his head low in remembrance. The others fixed their eyes ahead. N'keln had yet to appoint his Company Champion, the role which Dak'ir had rebutted. Nor had he replaced his own vacated post of veteran sergeant - Honoured Brother Shen'kar acted as the captain's second-in-command for now - so the Inferno Guard numbered only three, the last position filled by Banner Bearer Malicant. The Assault squads of Vargo and Naveem assembled on the flanks, strapped up with their bulky jump packs. It could have been Dak'ir's imagination, but he thought he detected some tension between them. Likely, it was just anticipation of whatever was about to be imparted from the Pantheon council. Brother-Sergeants Agatone and Clovius were also present, together with the Devastators of Lok and Omkar.

Watching his fellow sergeants reminded Dak'ir of something he had asked Ba'ken to do before he returned to Nocturne.

'Have you spoken to Agatone and Lok?' Ba'ken nodded darkly, as if reminded of a bad memory.

Tsu'gan has approached the sergeants, 'those of Tactical and Assault at least.'

Dak'ir slowly shook his head in disbelief.

'His arrogance is boundless. I can't believe he still persists with this.'

'Agatone says several of the other sergeants will support him.'

'So, he moves against N'keln blatantly.'

'There is nothing blatant about it, far from it. Iagon's ways are subtle and oblique. There is no actual proof that Tsu'gan wants the captaincy.'

'No, but he is pressing for N'keln's dismissal. At best it smacks of misconduct, at worst it is treason.' Dak'ir paused, marshalling his anger. 'However couched, this cannot stand. Something must be done.'

'But what?' Ba'ken asked a fair question. 'Bringing it to the attention of the Chaplain is not an option at this point. Agatone made an oath of silence.'

Dak'ir faced his heavy weapons trooper. His expression was severe.

'I am not Agatone, Ba'ken. Nor am I bound to his oath,' he said sternly. 'This dissension must stop.'

'There is no choice,' Emek decided, entering the exchange for the first time since it had begun. 'Brother Elysius must be told.'

Dak'ir shook his head.

'Discord and division are rife as it is. An investigation by the Chaplain and his interrogators will only exacerbate that. N'keln wants to heal the wounds in this company. He will need our backing, and the backing of others, to do it. Forcing the sergeants to comply, making examples of the disaffected, will only deepen any resentment that already exists. Only by earning the sergeants' respect will N'keln gain their confidence and establish his authority,' reasoned Dak'ir, feeling his desire to act ebbing. 'Though it pains me to admit it, Tsu'gan is not a discontent for the sake of it. I'm not even certain he wants to replace Kadai at all. He wants someone he feels is worthy of Ko'tan's mantle. Once he believes N'keln is that person, he will capitulate.'

'Are you certain of that, brother?' asked Ba'ken.

Dak'ir's answer was frank.

'No. The fires of battle will temper the captain. He will burn or be reborn, that is the Promethean way.'

'Spoken like a true philosopher, brother,' said Emek wryly.

Dak'ir turned to him - a massive gate set into the far end of the docking bay was opening. It led to the inner heart of the fortress-monastery and the Pantheon. Tu'Shan and the council were coming, so Dak'ir kept it brief.

'Spoken like your sergeant,' he corrected. What came next included Ba'ken, too, 'Whose order will be followed.'

Both Salamanders nodded their understanding. The rest of Dak'ir's squad had joined them. The time for talking was at an end. The gate ground open. The Chapter Master entered.

Tu'Shan strode at the head of the Pantheon council, arrayed in his full panoply of war. His voluminous drakescale cloak writhed like a living thing as he walked and his deep eyes burned with all the inner strength of Deathfire's core. 3rd Company was fully assembled. Even Veteran Brothers Amadeus and Ashamon were present amongst their fellow Salamanders. The pair of Dreadnoughts stood stern and unmoving alongside the foremost Tactical squad led by Agatone. Brother Ashamon was an Ironclad. His seismic hammer rippled with electrical discharge, a meltagun appended to its haft, and the igniter flame from the flamer affixed to his claw-like power fist flickered dormantly.

Flanked by a squad of Firedrakes, clanking loudly in Terminator armour, Tu'Shan led the council down a wide aisle. It divided the squads in the company into two equal hemispheres, and was afforded for the ten 1st Company veterans, who were accompanied by Praetor himself. Behind the Chapter Master was Vel'cona, Chief Librarian and Pyriel's direct superior. The Epistolary walked alongside Elysius and N'keln, falling into lock-step with the Firedrakes on either side of them. The other Masters were either occupied on Nocturne's surface or prosecuting missions in distant systems.

Dak'ir's attention was fixed on Elysius in particular as the retinue of warriors past him to alight in front of 3rd Company.

The chest of Vulkan was in the Chaplain's hands.