"The Imperium will not help me, they have turned their back on my salvation. I must prove my worthiness; I must gain retribution against those who defiled my honor. My capture will not stem the tides of chaos, in fact my capture will destroy me and leave my enemies free to roam the universe tormenting others along the way." "The information you carry is my only hope of salvation. You have my story as requested; you have what you came for. I will discuss this no further." Pausing a moment to collect his thoughts the man then added a final statement. "Will you provide me with what I need?" The confessor noted that the frenzied speech had subsided and that the final minutes of the man's confession had fallen to a harsh whisper, full of purity and emotion. The man ended with a plea and a sigh. Having finished the first, the man now nursed the second bottle of Elgongua he had fetched just moments before. How he kept his sanity after so much of the insane drug contained within the bottle was beyond his comprehension. Reaching inside his tunic, he brought forth the plans for the Imperial Palace the man had requested. He was unsure how the architectural drawings could help his friend bring peace and order back to his life but as a helper of people he trusted in his faith that the grace of kindness was absolute. He trusted that this man had told him the truth, he trusted that his endeavors were for the greater good of mankind and he trusted that somehow this man could find peace in the knowledge provided on the tattered documents he possessed. Handing the man the object of his search, the confessor thanked him for providing insight into the torment that troubled him. Knowing that the man would not shake his hand, he bode the man 'good day' and headed for the exit. Upon reaching the doorway he paused for just a moment while opening the door. "I will be back tomorrow as we agreed to pick-up the documents and return them to their place of origin. Same time tomorrow as today." With that, the confessor exited the room and could be heard shuffling back down the corridor toward the exit. Parts of the city were still in flames when the confessor returned to the man's room to retrieve the documents. Forces of chaos had struck the planet during the night and had ransacked portions the Imperial Palace before returning to space. The confessor had witnessed some of the atrocities committed by the disgustingly disfigured chaos marines. Reaching the entryway, he noticed that the door was ajar. Tentatively, he started to knock, pausing to wait for the man to recognize that he was there. When no summons was forthcoming, the confessor knocked lightly and entered the room as he had done before. Quickly shutting the lone door to avoid permitting the continued escape of the stench from the room. Turning, he guided himself into the room from the hallway. As he got to the main portion of the apartment lights suddenly switched on within the room. Startled and squinting in the harsh beams of light, the confessor raised his arm to shield his eyes. He then noticed that standing within the room were four robed Imperial Space Marines in full battle dress each with an activated helmet light shining directly at him. In addition, a command figure in military regalia was seated in the ottoman. The marines were covered in dust and debris, their robes were slashed and torn in a thousand places and the paint on their armour was marred and gouged. Glancing to the floor, he noticed that large pieces of rubble covered the floor of the entire apartment except for a lone corner. Stunned, the confessor realized the only safe location in the room had been the area under the knife. Switching his view upward he recognized the cause of the damage. The ceiling had collapsed, catching those in the room under the weight of the debris. Thinking for a moment, he realized that all the empty bottles of Elgongua littering the floor had been crushed under the weight of the falling ceiling material. The marines must have been caught in the avalanche; their robes nearly destroyed by the rock and gouging glass and their armour horribly scratched. Scanning the remains of the room, he noticed an additional marine lying in the kitchen area. His right leg was twisted in an odd direction while his helmet had a large dent in the side, near his temple. His power-armoured gauntlets had been removed, revealing bloodied hands from numerous glass cuts. Returning his gaze to the remainder of the occupants he wondered if they too had been so injured by the collapsing roof. The ottoman, previously occupied by his friend, now contained a high-ranking official in a pristine Dark Angel's uniform. Much to the confessor's surprise, the man was holding the documents that the confessor was seeking. It was then that the confessor realized that in all the time that expired since he had entered the room, the officer had been staring at him; analyzing him. "Good morning confessor, what brings you to this disreputable establishment this not so fine day?" Asked the officer, while interrupting the silence in the room. As he spoke he shifted his hands to rest the documents in his lap. "I came on a mission of mercy, to visit a friend who lives here, to provide guidance to his humble life. I have been consoling him with the Emperor's mercy in an effort to relieve his troubled spirit." Thinking a moment, he then continued. "I am also here to retrieve a set schematics that I loaned my friend and return them to their place of origin." The officer stood and approached the confessor. "These diagrams?" asked the officer revealing the papers in his hands. "These are the architectural plans for the Imperial Palace here in this city. Do you realize that the traitorous Chaos Space Marines have just ransacked the palace and stolen a treasured Imperial Artifact?" The officer then drew forth a picture from the confines of his pocket and lifted it to the view of the confessor. "Is this the man you speak of as friend?" Seeing the confessor nod in concurrence the officer continued. "Do you realize that the man you have provided this information to is a minion of chaos? That he is a traitor to the Imperium from the days of the Great Heresy? And that because of your help he was able to plan a lightening strike on the Imperial Palace that circumvented the palace's automated surveillance and weapon systems? We have been searching for this man for generations; we were in route to this location to apprehend him as the enemy struck. Again this man has avoided our pursuit but it would appear that this time we have an accomplice to punish." At that moment, the confessor remembered the exact words the man had said to him the day before. "I will have what I came to this world to get." He had assumed him that he had meant the diagrams. Could it be that the truth had been otherwise? The object of this man's aim was apparently the artifact. It was too coincidental that the foulest enemy of the Imperium should arrive the moment his friend disappeared and elements of the Dark Angels had arrived to arrest him. But he the man had sounded so genuine, he had believed in the man's worth. Confused, the confessor did not know what to say. Dazed he stepped backward to avoid falling and attempted to steady his balance. Fear began to creep into his mind. Despite all his training in calmness and assuredness the adrenaline that coursed though his body had forced him to jitter. As his mind spun down the paths of redemption he was heard to mutter, "I had trusted that the man had told me the truth, I had trusted that the information I gave this man would not do damage to the Imperium, I had trusted." Taking his gaze from the confessor and motioning with his hand to one of the squad, the officer then added an order, "Arrest this man. Return him to our ship for further interrogation. Notify the rest of the detachment to question each member of Order of Perpetual Light for additional information. Leave no stone unturned. If anyone attempts to stop you, or generates any problems, arrest them. We will sort out the minor details later" With that said, two of the Dark Angel Space Marines grasped the confessor by the arms just below the shoulders. The pain of their squeeze was paralyzing as they lifted the frail, confused and anguished confessor up and then out of the apartment and back to an awaiting transport ship. The man sat in the galley of a small cargo ship headed across the Warp for another port in the known universe. He was having an incredibly disgusting meal, despite the freighter captain's assurance that the cook possessed awesome culinary talents. He reflected about how he should have known better than to believe a two-bit freighter captain. Unfortunately, his thought about trust returned his mind to the trusting face of the confessor. It was a pity that his brother marines had found and arrested the confessor. The religious zealot had provided the diagrams in the nick of time. Since even as he removed the Artifact of his search, his enemy was destroying the gates of the Imperial Palace. His flight from the palace provided him the opportunity to dispatch a few of his enemy's minions. Mere Chaos Marines were no match for his skills and five of the Emperor's once proud, now traitorous, marines lay dead in the corridor. With a quick swing of his right hand he had left his calling card for his enemy to find. Contained within his hand was his combat knife, the same knife he had used to hold up the ceiling of his apartment. By slamming the pommel at the temple of each of the vile marines he left the imprint of the base of the hilt on their helmets: The Angel of Darkness. The joy he felt as he remembered besting his enemy's warriors was short-lived. He found his focus again returned to the confessor onboard a Dark Angel transport ship, covered in his own blood and stench from the trauma of the interrogations. He had not wanted that to have happened, however it was impossible to recover or return the documents he had obtained. The Angels of Death's attempt to capture or assassinate him had commenced and he was fortunate to have survived. He realized how fortunate he had been to have heard one of the approaching Dark Angels he stepped on a bottle in the hallway, just before they had attacked. The sound of the breaking glass had provided him just enough time to collapse the ceiling on his attacking foes. It was not their fault that they wanted him dead and he would do nothing to kill one of them without dire circumstances being responsible. However, force had to be met with force and the only way to stop a charging marine is to put a wall between you and them. Fortunately the wall came in the form of a ceiling, the weight of the stone bought him just enough time to extricate himself from the apartment. It was only a brief jaunt to a skimmer, then across the planet to the small transport facility. Two weeks previous he had hired on to this freighter to perform small physical tasks in exchange for room and board. So far the work had been tedious but it was nothing a marine could not handle. Again returning his focus to the confessor the ex-Dark Angel knew he would have to do something to end this mans suffering. The chapter's interrogators knew no limits to the pain and suffering they could create. He did not deserve that treatment, he had probably told them the truth but like every other time the angels would be consistently belligerent. When faced with the truth, they would be convinced it was nothing but a lie. He is known as a member of the Fallen. His death, like all the other known members of the cult, is prophesized across the Imperium by every member of the Dark Angel Chapter of Space Marines. Their existence is a secret and is coveted in their history. However, nothing is ever, as it seems. There is no black, no white; there are only shades of gray. It is his destiny to complete his mission, to fulfill his ancient promise to himself and to return to his chapter. He will never rest until he is free. Free of the torment, free of the pain, free of the enemy that chases him in both the light and the darkness. THE END |
"WHEN TRUST IS VOID" By Mark Henry |
SAGAS OF THE FALLEN ANGELS |
