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Phalanx, the great star fort of the Imperial Fists, is playing host to Space Marines from half a dozen Chapters, alongside Inquisitors, Sisters of Battle and agents of the Adeptus Mechanicus. They have come together to witness the end of a Space Marine Chapter, as the once-noble Soul Drinkers, now Chaos-tainted renegades and heretics, are put on trial for their crimes against the Imperium. But dark forces are stirring and even this gathering of might may not be enough to guard against the evil that is about to be unleashed...
Read it because
The epic Soul Drinkers series concludes in this action-packed novel from the acclaimed author of Galaxy in Flames. Phalanx first appeared as a serialised novel in Hammer & Bolter issues 1 to 12.
412 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 15, 2011
Gethsemar and Daviks charged into the heart of the library labyrinth at the same time, charging in from two directions to catch Sarpedon off-guard.
Sarpedon was never off-guard.
Luko slid a hand into one of his lightning claw gauntlets. Its weight felt tremendous, and not just because Luko hadn’t yet donned the power armour that would help compensate for its size.Did you ever think you'd read about a Space Marine who had tired of war? I didn't.
‘I used to dream,’ he said to Salk, ‘of all this ending peacefully. At least, I told myself, an execution is not a battle. But there is one last battle now. You would have thought I’d have learned by now that there is always one last battle.’
‘Captain?’ said Salk.
‘I hate it,’ said Luko. ‘Fighting. Bloodshed. I have come to hate it. I have lied about this for a long time, Sergeant Salk, but there hardly seems much point now.’
‘I can barely believe you are saying these things, captain.’
‘I know. I disgust myself too, sometimes.’
‘No, captain,’ said Salk. ‘You don’t understand. You hate war, but you fight it because you know you must. There is nothing to disgust in that. Sometimes I take pride, or even pleasure, in it, and I take that and carry it with me to bring me through the worst of it. But without that, I do not know how I could fight. You are braver than I, Captain Luko.’
‘Well,’ said Luko, ‘that’s one way of looking at it.’
‘Let’s make our execution a little more interesting, brother,’ said Salk.
Luko clamped one of his greaves around his left leg. ‘Amen to that, brother.’
‘Explain,’ said Varnica. ‘As you would to a layman.’Did you ever think you'd read about Space Marine so self-aware that they could discuss their place in the universe? I didn't.
‘Think upon it, brother,’ said Gethsemar. ‘Here Space Marine fights Space Marine. There is nothing new about that. But will it be the final time?’
‘I think not,’ replied Varnica.
‘Then you begin to see our point. What is a Space Marine? He is a man, yes, but he is something far more. He is told that he is far more from the moment he is accepted into his Chapter, when he is little more than a child. His earlier memories may not even survive his training. He may conceive in his own mind of no time but one where he was superior to any human being. What might result from a mind so forged?’
‘He has no doubt and no fear,’ replied Varnica. ‘Such alteration of a man’s mind is necessary to create the warriors the Imperium needs. I see it as a sacrifice we make. We give up the men we might have become to instead serve as Adeptus Astartes. If you believe this is a mistake, commander, then I would be compelled to differ with you.’
‘Ah, but there it is! Do you see, Librarian Varnica? It is true that what we do to our minds to make us Space Marines is as necessary as teaching us to shoot. But what sin is locked into us through such treatment?’
‘Brutality?’ said Varnica. ‘Many times Space Marines have gone too far in punishing the Emperor’s enemies, and ordinary men and woman have suffered as a result.’
‘Brutality is a necessity,’ said Gethsemar. ‘A few thousand dead here and there mean nothing compared to the millions spared through the intimidation of our foes that our potential for brutality allows. No, it is a far deeper sin of which I speak, something not so far removed from corruption.’
‘Corruption is a strong word,’ said Varnica, folding his arms and straightening up. The threat was clear. ‘Then what is it?’
‘It is pride,’ replied Gethsemar. ‘A Space Marine does not just think he is superior to the ordinary citizens of the Imperium. He thinks, whether his conscious mind accepts it or not, that he is superior to other Space Marines, too. We all have our way of doing things, do we not? Would we all resist any attempt to change us, though violence may be the only route doing so can take? So prideful we are that Space Marines will never stop killing Space Marines. For every Horus Heresy or Badab War, there are a thousand blood duels and trials of honour brought about by our inability to back down. That is the real enemy we face here. The Soul Drinkers were turned from the Imperium by pride. It is pride that motivates us in destroying them, for all we talk of justice. Pride is the enemy. Pride will kill us.’
Varnica thought about this. ‘Throne knows we all have our moments,’ he said. ‘But the mind of a Space Marine is a complicated thing. Can such a simple thing as pride really be its key? And from the way you speak, commander, I would imagine you have a solution?’
‘Oh, no,’ protested Gethsemar. ‘The Sons of Sanguinius all accept that we are doomed. A Space Marine’s destructive pride is the only thing keeping us all fighting, and we are the only thing keeping the Imperium from the brink. No, it is our way to observe our in-fighting for the death throes they are, to understand what we truly are before the end comes.’
Varnica smiled grimly. ‘For all your gilt and finery, Angel Sanguine, you are a pessimist. The Doom Eagles seek out the worst atrocities the galaxy commits because we want to put things right. It will not happen in any of our lifetimes, but it will happen, and it is the Space Marines who will do it whether we are too prideful for our own good or not. Why fight, if you believe all is lost no matter what you do?’
Gethsemar shook out his hand, and the dust drifted away on the thin wind. ‘Because it is our duty,’ he replied.
Graevus let the battle-lust in him take over. It was a rare that he permitted himself to completely let go, to abandon everything that made a Space Marine a disciplined weapon of war and allow the born warrior, the celebrant of carnage, to take control.Did you ever think you'd read about a Space Marine blinking on the verge of victory? I didn't.
Graevus’s mutated hand clamped around the Howling Griffon’s head and dropped his axe among the burning debris. He twisted the Howling Griffon’s head around until a seal gave on his helmet, and the helmet came away.
The Howling Griffon was the image of Graevus himself, a gnarled and relentless veteran, the kind of man that could be trusted to hold any line and execute any order when the fire came down.
These are our brothers, thought Graevus.
They are the same as us.
The thought broke through Graevus’s battle-lust. He tried to force it down but it would not be quieted.
Graevus took a step back from the Howling Griffon. The Griffon, disarmed with his heavy bolter lying down in the wreckage, scrabbled away from Graevus. Graevus picked up his axe, not taking his eyes from his opponent.
‘Fall back!’ shouted Graevus. ‘Fall back! To your lines! Fall back!’
‘Then who will go?’ said Tyrendian.I wept when I read that, because I understood there was only one way this could end. Just thinking about that scene makes me tear up.
‘Sergeant Salk,’ said Sarpedon. ‘I ask that you select a squad and accompany me. I cannot do this alone. Captain Luko, you shall take command of the rest of the Chapter.’
‘You are our Chapter Master,’ replied Luko. ‘It is to your leadership that our battle-brothers look. Would you deny them that in their final battle? Let one of us go.’
‘No, captain,’ retorted Sarpedon. ‘I am faster than any Space Marine. Foul as they are, my mutations serve me well in that regard. Not to mention, I would send no man to face Iktinos or Daenyathos save myself. And I may be their leader by right, but ask any Soul Drinker what man he would prefer to fight alongside and those who are honest will name Captain Luko.’
Luko did not reply for a long moment. ‘If I was asked that question,’ said Luko levelly, ‘then I would say Chapter Master Sarpedon. Is it my fate that I will be denied that in these, our last moments?’
‘It is,’ said Sarpedon. ‘I promised you peace, captain. It will come soon. I did not promise I would be there when it arrived. Forgive me, but these are my orders.’
Luko said nothing, but saluted by way of reply.