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The Long Promise – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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The Long Promise

Mike Brooks

The Unseen was a space hulk, a twisted mass of metal and other, stranger compounds thrown and blended together by the tides of the warp. The Alpha Legion of the Ultima Segmentum found it after it had been spat out again, and, once cleansed of the passengers such journeys left behind, used it as a hidden base. Now, many centuries later, these decks sat quiet. Serene. Peaceful.

Almost.

Tulava Dyne moved slowly between rows of oversized metal gurneys. Kazadin Yallamagasa, the biologis diabolicus, had been overambitious when furnishing his laboratory with equipment with which to mature the Alpha Legion’s new recruits, and the chamber was never full. There were currently only three occupants, and it was their twitches, ragged breathing, and occasional whimpers that disrupted the otherwise funereal silence. Tulava was no Space Marine; she had never even seen one until she laid eyes on the warriors of the Alpha Legion. Something told her that the practices of the loyalist Chapters were slightly more sanitary than what occurred here, but she doubted they were any less painful.

She stopped next to one gurney. It was in better condition than many, not that Yallamagasa cared. In his view, if an aspirant couldn’t handle a little rust then they were never going to survive the process in any case. The face of the youth on it stared up at Tulava – a face she recognised. Older now, of course, and already showing the distinctive signs of a Space Marine’s visage, but enough remained of the boy she had first met in the Aquilonis Porta Schola Progenium on Antimos.

‘Hello, Nazos,’ she said softly.

His eyes focused on her as a tremor shook one cheek. Nazos Zernas’ body was being altered in the same manner – more or less – as had occurred for ten thousand years: mysterious organs implanted and activated, bones fusing, muscle mass increasing. He wouldn’t be here were it not for her. She had pulled him out of that soul-destroying place and brought him into the Alpha Legion – the brightest and best of the Imperium’s youth turned against them.

‘Tulava,’ he rasped, his voice shaking and breaking between a natural, pleasant tenor and the sonorous baritone lent by his increased size and altered voice box.

‘Do you hate me for this, Nazos?’ Tulava asked. She was intrigued to know the answer, but would not be hurt by it. She had been called many things in her life: traitor, murderer, witch. All of them true, and yet also not.

‘No,’ Nazos managed. ‘I hate the Imperium.’

Tulava snorted. ‘You don’t. You resent them, yes. You hate the fact they lied to you. But you don’t hate the Imperium itself.’

She took a breath. Tulava Dyne was a sorceress, but that did not mean she was truly respected by the Space Marines of the Alpha Legion. Most only respected other Space Marines. Tulava treated them with irreverent humour, because it amused her, and because it was to some extent her natural manner, and because it was the most efficient way of delivering criticism in a way that did not provoke outright confrontation. Now, however, she let the humour drop away from her face.

‘Believe me,’ she said, feeling the old anger rise within her. ‘You do not know hate.’

They assumed it was an asteroid at first. It appeared from behind the auspex-shadow of the system’s gas giant and tumbled slowly inwards, showing no signs of moving under power. Only when it was within a few hundred million miles of Watch Station Zamarius did the sensors picked up the distinctive return of an escort-sized vessel. It did not respond to hails, and Watch Sergeant Karhaz of the Storm Hawks ordered it kept under surveillance, but intended to leave it be. Ghost ships were not his purview, unless he was specifically ordered otherwise.

Then it got close enough for imagers, and even scratchy, long-range returns showed enough to change his mind.

‘Those are definitely the marks of tyranid bioweapons,’ Karhaz said, as Hemarc brought the Thunderhawk in closer.

‘Cracked it open like an egg,’ the Angel of Absolution replied, his voice tinged with wonder and horror in roughly equal measure. ‘I’ve never seen such damage before.’

‘What’s an egg?’ Eldrök asked, staring out of the viewport with his thumbs ready over the activation switches of the Thunderhawk’s weapons.

‘You don’t know what–’ Hemarc began, then cut himself off and glared at the Wolfspear. Eldrök grinned at him, showing his fangs.

‘Enough,’ Karhaz said sharply. Hemarc and Eldrök had swiftly got past the resentment that lingered between their founder Chapters, and functioned as well together as any other members of his kill team. That did not mean, however, that the Wolfspear did not indulge his sense of humour at inappropriate moments; the only one of their number who had been created as Primaris rather than crossing the Rubicon, and as part of a primarily fleet-based Chapter to boot, he amused himself by pretending naivety.

‘Dreyvor,’ said Karhaz, ‘can you connect to its cogitator banks? I want to know where this ship was attacked, and how long ago.’

Dreyvor’s armoured fingers skated over the physical interface of his terminal. The Black Shield’s Chapter of origin was known only to Akrep Zie, Watch Master of the Eye of Octos, but he appeared to have some understanding of Techmarine lore, and Karhaz had come to rely on his affinity with machines.

‘And if any xenos filth lurk within,’ added Thayrus of the Aurora Chapter, from his navigator’s position.

‘I hope they do,’ Eldrök said, with a feral smile. ‘It has been too long since I hunted.’

‘We will not be boarding for sport,’ Karhaz said. ‘Thayrus, does the vessel’s trajectory intersect with any bodies in the system?’

Thayrus tapped his console a few times. ‘Negative, brother-sergeant. Its course will take it into the star, in time.’

‘Then any threat of contamination is contained,’ Karhaz said. ‘We will only board if there are signs of human life, or if Dreyvor cannot access the ship’s databanks. Otherwise, we will mark it as under quarantine, and leave it be.’

He waited, praying to the Emperor for the answers to come back fast and clear. A long-dead ship from a documented conflict was still a tragedy, but it would be a known one. A more recent, unheard-of attack posed the looming threat of yet another hive fleet splinter, perhaps even now arrowing unseen towards vital Imperial systems.

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