Seraphs of the Emperor’s Judgment

Chapter 171: The Lamenters Chapter

A brilliant beam of light tore through the darkness between the stars like a dagger, cutting a jagged rift through the very fabric of space and time.

Then, the rift expanded with unbelievable rapidity, growing until it became a gaping hole overflowing with blazing light.

Time seemed to stand still, each passing moment stretching into an eternity, until something began to emerge from the brilliance.

The first thing to breach into the Materium was the prow of a starship.

The emblem of a bleeding, blood-red heart wreathed in a teardrop was emblazoned upon the bow, a silent challenge issued to anything that dared impede its path.

She belonged to the Lamenters Chapter, one of the Successor Chapters of the Blood Angels, founded during the Cursed Founding.

After a powerful ripple shook the very fabric of space, the remainder of the battleship materialized from the rift, finally entering the Materium in its entirety.

Trailing closely behind were two smaller, severely battle-scarred frigates—compared to the massive flagship, they resembled remoras trailing a leviathan whale.

Then, the luminous portal trembled and snapped shut in the warships' wake.

Typically, the dark hull coloration of starships rendered them nearly invisible against the pitch-black backdrop of space. However, the surging light from the distant star of this system began to flicker, illuminating the silhouette of this mechanical monstrosity forged by Adeptus Mechanicus technology.Along her prow, the High Gothic inscription Mother of Tears was clearly legible. Above the lettering, the Chapter's emblem—the winged, bleeding heart of the Blood Angels—was proudly displayed.

Chapter Master Malakim Phoros sat upon the command throne on the ship's bridge, directing operations.

Though he rarely inspected the entire ship personally, everything appeared to be in perfect order.

Possessing an exceptionally handsome yet perpetually melancholic and somber countenance, he meticulously monitored every control panel to ensure the situation remained entirely under his control.

In their current predicament, any oversight was absolutely unacceptable. He was the undisputed master of everything aboard this vessel.

"Chapter Master, we have successfully transitioned from the Warp into the Materium. We are currently entering the Vorenus System."

A distinct sense of relief could be heard in the officer's voice.

Malakim absentmindedly stroked the Interrogator, his master-crafted melta pistol mag-locked to his belt. A golden rose dangled from a golden chain draped across his chest, while the winged, bleeding heart adorning his breastplate was faintly visible beneath his tabard.

His face was hidden in shadow; ever since the Badab War, he had grown accustomed to cloaking himself in darkness.

His Blood-Soaked Sabre, an ancient relic from Baal, rested near his left hand.

Though somewhat reluctant, Malakim had ultimately agreed to meet with the Chapter Master of the Astral Knights—if only to preserve the last shred of his Chapter's dignity.

He refused to allow his brothers to be treated like rats scurrying across the street. Despite everything they had endured, he firmly believed they could still stand proudly shoulder-to-shoulder with other Chapters.

"Distance to Gaethis?"

Malakim inquired, a subtle note of lamentation woven into his voice.

"Approximately fifteen million kilometers, my lord."

The Chapter Master of the Lamenters nodded.

"Vox-station, hail the Astral Knights. See if they respond."

With that, he rose from his throne and strode toward the communications array.

"My lord... yes, we have received a signal."

Malakim activated the primary vox-caster.

"This is the Mother of Tears. I am Malakim Phoros. Please respond."

He paused, waiting in silence.

"This is the Astral Knights. I am Soshyan Alexey. I offer my salutations to you and your Chapter."

A moment later, a young voice suddenly crackled from the vox-caster's receiver.

"Chapter Master Soshyan, we will enter low orbit above Gaethis shortly."

"The Imperial Navy has established a temporary orbital dock at Gaethis. Your fleet may anchor there."

A brief pause followed.

"I, alongside Lord Malakim of the Excoriators Chapter, await your arrival."

"Very well. It seems the guest list has grown."

Malakim attempted to mask his profound disappointment.

"It is absolutely not what you think."

"We shall wait and see."

The transmission ended, and neither side initiated further contact.

The Lamenters' flagship, the Mother of Tears, charted a direct course for the temporary orbital station at Gaethis—

The interior of the orbital platform was swathed in darkness. Only when the ship entered the atmosphere did the lighthouse beacons struggle to life, painting the sprawling structure in faint, sickly hues.

The silhouettes of tarpaulins indicated several aircraft awaiting repair beneath them. For the first time in nearly a month, the frayed edges of the tarpaulins were whipped into a frenzy by the downdraft of a Thunderhawk's thrusters.

On the landing deck, empty storage crates and cargo containers were piled high beyond the operational grid lines. Judging the distance through the frost-rimmed armaglass of the cockpit, Malakim carefully guided the gunship into its designated berth within the gloom.

As the gunship touched down, one of its landing struts clipped an abandoned tool rack, sending a pile of grease-stained engine components clattering noisily onto the deck.

From within the troop compartment, a Space Marine muttered a curse:

"A disgrace. Couldn't they even bother to clear the landing bay for our arrival?"

Malakim stood behind the empty co-pilot's seat.

"No one knew we were coming."

He replied in a low rumble.

"It was my request. We have entirely enough trouble as it is. We need not invite more."

The Techmarine powered down the engines and turned his head to speak:

"Forgive me, Chapter Master, but we have come here bearing good intentions. Is that truly worth nothing?"

Malakim shook his head.

"No, brother. No one cares about our good intentions except ourselves. We are still renegades."

A profound, crushing bitterness tainted the final three words.

The Techmarine muttered an aggrieved groan, rose from his seat, and maneuvered his remarkably heavily armored bulk around the cockpit to enter the rear compartment.

Malakim bypassed the auto-nav console, retrieved his helmet from the overhead storage compartment, and stepped out to join his men.

He ran a finger along the etched contours of the bleeding heart upon its brow, briefly contemplating everything it represented.

Then, he led his warriors out of the gunship.

The air here was freezing and stale. The deck plates of the corridor felt as uneven and coarse as loose gravel beneath the Space Marines' armored boots.

They encountered the personnel of the Sotha Orbital Platform. They were entirely logistics staff, but the vast majority were servitors and the elderly.

These men and women offered rigid salutes, walking with the stiff, mechanical gait unique to those who had spent their entire lives under artificial gravity, their hands covered in the thick calluses of endless, grueling labor.

They looked utterly exhausted; it was blatantly obvious they had been entirely forgotten by the Imperium.

Perhaps, just like the Lamenters who had just arrived: exhausted in body and soul, remembered by none.

With a heavy heart, Malakim traversed the corridor. At the far end of the docking bay stood a massive, reinforced metal bulkhead. Through those doors, he should find the masters of this station.

He paused before the sealed doors and activated his vox-caster.

"We have arrived, Chapter Master Soshyan."

A soft grunt of acknowledgment came over the vox, followed by the heavy grind of the massive metal doors slowly sliding open—