Angels of Darkness

THE TALE OF ASTELAN

PART TWO

Astelan could not guess how long he had been chained to the slab in the cell. Boreas had visited him eleven times, that much he knew. Sometimes the psyker had been with him, at other times he had been alone.

His body was scarred with burns and cuts from the Interrogator-Chaplain's attentions. He had cut away parts of Astelan's black carapace to probe and bleed the exposed flesh beneath.

Hunger gnawed at Astelan, his throat was parched, his lips cracked, his mind dulled and fatigued. But he would not let himself sleep. He would show no weakness. In the moments of respite he was granted, he would fall into a meditative trance, allowing the pain to wash away from his body, leaving his mind clear. He was determined not to submit to them, for to do so would be the greatest betrayal of all.

Every ideal and principle Astelan believed in told him this was the true way, that it was his captors who were in the wrong. It was they who were ignorant and deluded, shackled by those who were scared of their power. It mat­tered not whether Astelan died or lived, he would stay true to the cause for which he had been created.

On his twelfth visit, the Interrogator-Chaplain was alone once more. He brought with him a goblet of water, which Astelan thirstily gulped down, ignoring the chill­ing spills across his face and throat. Next, he took the bread Boreas proffered him in torn chunks, mustering the strength to chew and swallow, though pain flared in the back of his dehydrated throat. When he finished, Boreas took a phial from inside his robe and sprinkled liquid on Astelan's wounds. The stinging wracked his body at first, but the pain subsided after several minutes.

'We must let the body recover, for it is weaker than the soul,' Boreas said, standing next to Astelan with his arms crossed. 'While the impure soul endures, the body must also endure.'

'Then you must preserve my physical shell for eternity,' replied Astelan. 'I will never submit to your misguided logic, your errant ways.'

'Tell me of Tharsis,' Boreas asked, ignoring Astelan's defiance.

'What of it?' Astelan replied with a shrug.

'I would know how a world could be so subverted from the service of the Emperor,' Boreas told him, walking to the shelves and picking up one of the blades that lay there.

'I did not subvert Tharsis, it was I who saved it,' protested Astelan.

'I do not believe you,' Boreas snorted, toying with the knife. 'You brought damnation upon that world.'

'No, that is not true, not true at all,' Astelan denied, shaking his head. 'I saved Tharsis from itself.'

'Tell me how such a feat could be accomplished,' Boreas said as he returned the knife to its place and walked to the interrogation slab, standing so that Astelan could only see his face.

'I arrived on Tharsis eighty years ago,' Astelan began. 'It was a beautiful world of high mountains and grassy plains, not unlike dozens of other worlds that I have seen in my long life. But that beauty hid a dark canker. The world was in turmoil, gripped by a vicious civil war.'

'A war that you began!' Boreas spat, crashing a fist down onto the stone table next to Astelan's head.

'No, I swear by the Emperor that it was not so!' Astelan argued, turning his head as far as possible to look up at his interrogator. 'We came for supplies. Tharsis is on the edge of wilderness space, self-sufficient and far from the daws of those who have turned the Imperium into a mockery of the Emperor's dream.'

'You said ''we''. Who else was with you?' Boreas's voice dripped with suspicion.

'I travelled for a century and a half before I came upon Tharsis and its woes,' explained Astelan. 'In that time, fate saw fit for my journey to cross with that of two others like myself. But we argued at Tharsis. They would not join me in my mission to deliver the planet from the tyrants who attempted to usurp the Emperor's rule.'

'They abandoned you there? Disloyalty even amongst your own kind, is there nothing so base?' Boreas scoffed.

'I let them go with goodwill,' Astelan replied with a slight shake of his head. 'Though they did not care to share the task I had set myself, I knew I had found a pur­pose again, a chance to do that for which I was created.'

'Which was?' Boreas asked.

'To fight for the Emperor, of course!' Astelan's hands subconsciously balled into fists and the chains creaked under the flexing of his muscles. 'The others left, but I remained on Tharsis. At first it was impossible to tell friend from foe, but I soon learned to mark them apart. Secessionism, heresy, rebellion, call it what you will, had taken hold. They had divided the population with grand, empty speeches of fraternity and equality. They defied the Imperial commander, and subverted members of his military. The war had waged for a year before I arrived.'

'A strange coincidence that such strife should herald your arrival.' Boreas made no attempt to hide his disbelief. His accusation was clear - Astelan had started the war.

'Not coincidence, fortuitous destiny,' the prisoner argued. 'Whatever it is that controls our fates had seen fit to bring me to Tharsis in its time of need. How could I not intervene? During the Great Crusade, eighty worlds fell to my Chapter for resisting the wisdom and rule of the Emperor. Eighty worlds! And here was another chance to prove myself.'

'What did you think you could do, a lone Space Marine in a worldwide conflict?' Boreas demanded, straighten­ing again and pacing away from the slab. He glanced back at Astelan as he spoke. 'Such arrogance is unbe­coming of a Space Marine.'

'No, not arrogance, it was a sense of purpose,' Astelan replied, his gaze following the pacing Chaplain. 'My heart told me that I would make a difference, and I did.'

'And how did you manage such a thing?' Boreas said, his back to Astelan so that his low voice echoed off the cell walls.

'At first I simply fought the rebels where I found them, but they were ill-trained and poorly equipped,' Astelan told him. 'It was more a just execution than a battle. But soon, I joined with others fighting for the Emperor. They welcomed me with cheers and cries of joy when I fought by their side at Kaltan Town, breaking through the enemy with bolter and fist.'

'Were they not surprised?' Boreas asked, turning to stare at his prisoner, arms crossed over his chest. 'Were their suspicions not aroused by a lone Space Marine?'

'They saw me for what I am, a warrior of the Emperor,' Astelan explained patiently. They took great heart from my presence. They were bolstered to know that I fought on their side, confirming the justice of their cause.'

'So you set yourself up as a symbol to be worshipped? You saw fit to replace the Emperor in their hearts and minds.' Disgust was written over Boreas's face as he con­sidered this grievous sin.

'Must you twist everything I say?' growled Astelan, looking away with contempt. 'Have your own endeav­ours become so hollow that you now seek to belittle the achievements of those who still fight for the true cause?'

'Your cause was blatant megalomania!' snapped Boreas, striding forward. 'You sought nothing more than to achieve your own ambition. A former Chapter com­mander, stripped of everything, you lusted after that power again!'

'Power? I will tell you of power,' Astelan said in a terse whisper. 'My word is the word of the Emperor himself. My sword is his sword. Every battle I have fought has been in his name. He had a vision - to drive back the aliens and the mutants, to unite mankind under his rule and guidance. He strove for humanity, to take back the stars that had once been ours, a vision we had thrown away for petty-minded goals and the wor­ship of technology. From the ashes of the Age of Strife, the Emperor arose to lead us back into the galaxy, to conquer the stars and to safeguard our future. He alone saw this, and it was the Emperor who created us to ful­fil his vision. It was we, the Space Marines, who were to be the instrument of creation. It was our duty, our whole purpose, to forge the Emperor's dream into a reality.'

'And yet, at the end, you turned on him and threatened everything you had shed blood to build.' Boreas's voice was filled with sadness rather than anger.

'The first betrayal was not ours!' protested Astelan.

'And Tharsis?' Boreas stooped low and spoke quietly into Astelan's ear. 'What has this to do with your enslave­ment of a world? The Great Crusade was ten millennia ago.'

'And in that statement, you confirm your ignorance,' Astelan replied, staring into the Chaplain's eyes. 'The Great Crusade was not intended to be an event; it is a state of mind. The crusade never finishes, it is never com­plete while there is an alien alive to threaten our worlds, and while discord lingers in the heart of the Imperium.'

'And so you continued the fight on Tharsis?' Boreas's voice was now little more than a whisper from the dark­ness as he stepped back out of Astelan's sight.

'Yes, and as I did so, I rallied support around me,' Aste­lan exclaimed proudly. 'In time, I had an audience with Imperial Commander Dax himself. He had heard of the victories I had won in the Emperor's name, and he was overjoyed.'

'And so your ego was flattered and the sin of pride grew in you.' Boreas's haunting whisper seemed to come from every direction, resonating off the walls like a crowd of accusers.

'I never sought aggrandisement, but I admit I was glad of the praise,' Astelan said, moving his head from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of Boreas. 'You cannot know what it is like to be abandoned, scorned by those who were once allies. I had been lost, I was searching for a way to regain my place, and on Tharsis I found it.'

'But there is still a long way from renowned warrior to despot.'

'Your insults deserve only contempt, they only prove your lack of character and woeful ignorance,' Astelan spat, tired of the Chaplain's attempts to disorientate and confuse him. 'Though we had won some battles, there was still much to be done if we were to prevail over the rebels. Though I was the greatest warrior on Tharsis, even I could not achieve victory by myself.'

'How modest of you, to accept such limitations.'

'If you listen, instead of poorly attempting to mock me at every instant, then you might gain understanding,' Aste­lan said slowly, resting his head back against the slab and staring at the ceiling. He cast his mind back to the first days he had spent on Tharsis. 'On my own I could not win the war purely by martial effort. But my skills, my knowl­edge, could still save Tharsis from the renegades. I handed my weapons over to the Imperial commander's tech­priests so that they might study them and turn the munitions factories over to production of superior arms. I had the hundred best soldiers sent to me at the capital. There I trained them in everything I knew. For half a year, I pushed and pushed them. Many did not survive, and at first there were doubts. The Imperial commander had full faith in me, but his aides expressed concerns over my methods. Their self-importance was galling - who were they, bureaucrats and priests, to argue with a Chapter com­mander of the Dark Angels on military matters? I ignored them, and the protests were silenced when I led my elite company into battle for the first time. They were not Space Marines - five of my battle-brothers could have achieved what those sixty men did - but they were better equipped and more deadly than anything the rebels had faced before. We stormed one of the strongholds in the Sezenuan Mountains. For five hundred and seventeen days the Emperor's loyal forces had besieged the fortress; we took it in a single night.'

'Yes, I remember facing your so-called sacred bands when we retook Tharsis. Fanatical, courageous, they were worthy opponents.'

'Worthy indeed!' agreed Astelan. 'Fifty-one of the first sacred band survived the assault, and I sent them out to the other regiments to each train a hundred men, and those that survived to train a hundred more. As the num­ber of sacred bands grew, the demand for bolters, ammunition, carapace armour, grenades and other weapons stretched the factories beyond capacity. The Imperial commander implemented my recommendation that we build more, for what use is farmland when the foe's hand is at your throat?'

There was silence in the cell for a moment before Boreas's disembodied voice replied.

'Perhaps to feed those you were protecting?' the Chap­lain suggested. 'When we liberated Tharsis from your tyranny, you had turned it into a wasteland. The sprawl­ing factory-cities you had built were rife with destitution and crime. Is that what you bring for humanity?'

'It was a means to an end, not the end itself,' Astelan explained. 'Do not judge me on this, I have seen the Imperium you protect. Hive-worlds covered in desolate ash wastes, the populace crammed into kilometre-high spires like insects, labouring every hour, leeching every last handful of resource from their dead worlds to supply other planets with metal ore, machine parts, chemicals. And, of course, weapons and warriors for the armies of the Emperor.'

'It is through mutual need that the Imperium is held together,' said Boreas. 'Each planet dependent upon another for food, or machines, or protection.'

'And that is its weakness, for it is a fragile structure,' declared Astelan, sitting up again as far as he could, filled with a resurgence of energy. 'Self-serving Imperial com­manders compete with each other, risking the defence of the Emperor's domains to further their own ends. The most heavily guarded system can fall if its neighbours are overrun, its food or water supplies taken away. It is a tee­tering labyrinth supported by self-interest and mutual fear, no longer driven by the great ideal that drove us to create it.'

'And this was the new way you were showing on Thar­sis?'

'No, I am a warrior when all is said and done, with a warrior's instincts,' confessed Astelan. 'Though we were winning battles, it was destroying Tharsis. Yes, the facto­ries spread and we began to conscript the citizens into the army, but it was needed for the war. As our strength grew, so our enemies became more cunning. They did not seek open battle, they clawed at us from their hiding places, sowing terror and uncertainty. From fastnesses in the wilderness they struck at our supplies, bombed our factories and killed our people. No matter where our armies were, they were never big enough to root them all out, and the victories died away to be replaced by stale­mate. We would find a cadre of rebels and crush it, they would slink into the towns and attack the factories and barracks. The larger the army grew, the more guns were needed, the more ration distribution centres, recruitment bases and supply convoys. And as these grew, so we needed more troops to protect them.'

'Your own ambition had become its sole purpose, your desire to rule fuelling itself.'

Astelan ignored the Chaplain's statement. 'The war dragged on for eight more years,' he continued. 'The army leaders were vague, the Imperial commander and his aides became passionless. Though we killed thousands of rebels every year, there were always more foolish and misguided souls to replace them. They had lost faith in the cause we were fighting for, the glory of the Emperor mired in the tribulations of battle and survival. The war had become an end in itself, not the victory'

'And so what happened?' asked Boreas. 'Your authority was absolute when we toppled you from power.'

'You deliberately misrepresent events,' said Astelan with a sigh. 'I grew sick of the slaughter of the people I had slaved to free from those terrible times.'

'Times you yourself created.' Boreas's low voice was now just behind Astelan, he could feel the Chaplain's breath on his scalp.

'Have you not listened to a word I have said?' Astelan snapped with growing exasperation. 'You must now see why we fought you when you attacked. A whole genera­tion of Tharsians died so that their descendants could fulfill their place in the Emperor's vision, they could not stand idle while you took it from them.'

'And so you took it upon yourself to take control, to usurp the Imperial commander and bring Tharsis your version of enlightenment,' Boreas said.

'No, not at first,' Astelan replied before stopping to cough, his throat dry. He heard movement behind him and Boreas's hand appeared with the goblet, filled with water. Astelan could not reach to take it, and the Chap­lain dribbled the contents onto Astelan's parched lips. Gulping down the refreshing water, Astelan savoured the moment before continuing. 'Long had I advised the gen­erals and colonels, but often they did not heed the wisdom of my experience. They continually doubted me, told me that what I asked of the army could only be expected of Space Marines. They were the old arguments, and though I spoke to them of striving towards greatness, of forging a new world in the crucible of battle, my impassioned pleas fell on deaf ears. It was after one of our regiments was ambushed and all but wiped out in the passes of Tharzox that Imperial Commander Dax appointed me commander of Tharsis's loyal armies. I swore an oath to him that under my leadership, I would bring him victory within a year.'

'A bold claim... Another sign of your conceit perhaps?' Boreas said, accompanied by the scrape of metal on stone as he placed the goblet on the floor.

'An achievable goal, now that I had been given supreme authority and direct control,' answered Astelan. 'My first act was to execute the existing army comman­ders. They were old planetary nobility, bred to hunt game and attend extravagant banquets, not to lead men in bat­tle. I replaced them with the best leaders from my sacred bands, men who were strong and capable, men with keen minds and iron discipline. I knew that to win the war against the renegades, there would be hard fighting ahead, and the men I chose to lead in my name were utterly loyal to the Emperor, men who would command without doubt and follow without question.'

'And did you fulfil your oath?' asked Boreas from the shadows.

'I did, within two hundred and fifty days,' Astelan declared proudly. ‘The old regime had been weak and short-sighted. Their narrow minds were unable to com­prehend the final goal, to understand the necessity of hardship and sacrifice. They had baulked at some of my measures, never truly understanding the ultimate goal of victory. Those two hundred and fifty days were full of tur­moil and trauma; blood flowed and there was much suffering. But it was necessary for the future of Tharsis. If I had acted as my predecessors, the war would still be continuing, the people of Tharsis forced to live a half-life in subservience and fear. It would have been a long, slow death for the world.'

'And so you found a harsh cure for this planetary mal­ady?' Boreas's voice was now tinged with anger, Astelan could hear the Chaplain breathing more deeply. 'You, their self-appointed saviour, led them out of the dark­ness.'