Interlude: Journey Through the Sol System (I)

The Lion El'Jonson led Haide hurriedly into a cabin that had just been cleaned. The decor was simple and not luxurious, but it had everything one needed.

Since its inception, the Edge of Reason has served the Lion El'Jonson, and its internal structure was specially designed with reference to the Primarch's own opinions; these compartments are one of the results. He demanded that mortals be given a place on the Edge of Reason.

This incident predictably drew criticism from many of the Lion El'Jonson, with those at the heart of the Imperium's political landscape unanimously expressing the same opinion: Does the Dark Angels Lord intend to return to the Legion era?

The Sigillites remained silent. But the Lion El'Jonson said the legion had never left.

Haide silently entered the cabin, his hands clenched into fists inside his worn-out sleeves. He had been like this ever since he learned the truth.

The truth was as cruel as a razor blade, ripping away his flesh and pride, leaving him pale and unsteady on his feet.

Nevertheless, the Lion El'Jonson did not slow down to wait for him—in fact, since the Judgment ended, he had not even expressed any form of sympathy for Haide verbally.

The security door slowly closed, the metal scraping against each other, a faint hum coming from within the walls. Haide looked around, his lips pressed tightly together, while the Lion El'Jonson strode towards a desk the size of an ordinary person.

On it lay an unopened military uniform, and the military boots, arranged according to a little superstition among soldiers, were gleaming and spotless.

Both the guards and the navy believed that not placing new boots on the ground would bring bad luck. No one knew if this superstition actually worked, but the soldiers were clearly too lazy to investigate its origins.

You have to do it; they're so convinced of it.

The new boots on the ground, like pendants, rosaries, and nameplates, possess a convincing power; whoever possesses them can briefly gain courage when the time comes.

The Lion El'Jonson reached for the uniform, then bent down to pick up the boots, placing them on top of the uniform; the hardened plastic used for protection made a soft, crisp sound. He turned around, Haide saw an invitation in his deep green eyes.

A genuine, bitter smile appeared on the old corporal's face.

"Sir."

"What is it, Haide?"

After a moment of silence, Haide finally uttered the second half of his sentence: "Is this some kind of compensation?"

The Lion El'Jonson stared at him solemnly, and after a long while, he slowly shook his head, giving a cold and resolute denial.

"Compensation is an insult to you. And it is the same to me."

"So, what is this, sir?"

"Isn't that obvious enough?" the Lion El'Jonson retorted.

Haide did not reply.

A courage too incredible for mortals was slowly sprouting within this aging body. Few in the galaxy dared to ignore the question of a Primarch, but Haide did.

In fact, it wasn't just that he ignored the Lion El'Jonson's question; he even showed a clear rejection.

Regardless of the reason—whether it was a moment of anger or some strange desire to die—he did it anyway.

The Lion El'Jonson nodded slightly, understanding and appreciative, and placed the military uniform back on the table. Immediately afterward, a moist scent unique to the forest began to permeate the air.

Haide's body stiffened.

"My time is very limited," the Lion El'Jonson said, unusually softly. "So be prepared."

In the next instant, his right hand rested on Haide's shoulder. For the old corporal, the feeling was indescribable; every part of his body seemed to stop functioning in that instant, yet his mind remained clear.

Haide saw—or rather, sensed—something the Lion El'Jonson wanted to show him very clearly.

A forest.

This was what Haide saw, but he didn't even know how to describe it.

The low-hanging tree canopies and lush grass he saw, along with a forest path that inexplicably appeared precisely in the center of his vision, were not muddy and had no footprints on the ground.

This tranquil green brought a kind of "perception" that transcended reason, as if he were truly in it. Before he knew it, Haide was covered in sweat, and he hadn't heard a single insect chirp or bird call in this forest.

All he had was an indescribable silence. Listening to his own breathing, Haide felt goosebumps rise on most of his hands. He felt a slight fear, but his body acted before his consciousness could.

He stepped onto the path. No one pushed or shoved him, no one forced him, Lion El'Jonson didn't even utter a word.

But it was only one step.

For some reason, Haide felt this very clearly. He only took one step, that much was true, yet that one step led him to a completely unfamiliar place.

The place is vast and expansive, with everything in sight forged from pure, cold gray steel. The lighting is dim, and darkness completely obscures the area just ten steps away.

Moreover, the silence here was eerily quiet, no less so than that of the forest. Haide felt a wave of dizziness and had to lower his head to calm himself. Thick cables, laid on rough steel, embedded themselves into the cold gray skin like veins, extending into the depths of darkness.

Haide quickly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again, looking up at the ceiling, only to be struck by another blow—the ceiling was practically unreachable, at least tens of meters high, with dim light slowly casting down from a place from which he could not discern direction, sending chills down his spine.

What exactly is this place? And what is lurking in the darkness?

Haide swallowed hard, trying to take a deep breath, but only inhaled a choking, icy cold. Only then did he realize how unbearably cold it was.

Then, he heard a voice.

"Lion Alderson. I remember you promised me last time that you wouldn't do it again."

The speaker called out the Lion El'Jonson's name without any respect, his words carrying an unmistakable accusation.

Behind Haide, the Lion El'Jonson calmly replied, "I have urgent business, brother."

Haide stood frozen in place, bewildered. He was mentally resilient, but even that resilience had its limits. The forest, the steel before him, and the Lion El'Jonson's words of brotherhood all weighed heavily on his heart like a thick, dark cloud, leaving him blind and dizzy.

Fortunately, this did not last long. After another giant calmly emerged from the darkness, all of this vanished into nothingness.

Haide stared wide-eyed at the person before him, a word slowly rising from the depths of his completely blank mind, then expanding and becoming a single word.

Steel.

"Urgent matters cannot obscure the true nature of your actions, Lion," Steel said calmly. "You can easily take that path and go wherever you want, but how many things do I have to consider?"

"Three seconds before your arrival, I received advance warning that the psionic monitors inside the fortress had simultaneously detected sixty-nine sets of abnormally active data. These data nearly made them faint, and twenty-two people had to be injected with emergency suppressants that would shorten their lifespans to counteract the impact of these data."

"The moment I received the message, the instant your boots stepped onto the ground, the automatic alarm inside the fortress was triggered, and I now have to turn it off manually."

"If I don't do this, all the Imperial Army in the vicinity, whether guards or Chapter, will rush here as quickly as possible after receiving the news, not to mention my guards."

"They're fully armed. And they're not me; they can't recognize who you are, and even if they could, they wouldn't be able to confirm your identity, so they'll open fire."

"So, what will happen if I'm not here next time, and you break your promise again by then, Lion?"

In these startling words, Haide heard the sigh of Lion El'Jonson.

"I apologize to you." After a moment, Lion El-Jonson said. "I sincerely apologize, Perturabo, I'm so sorry."

Perturabo nodded expressionlessly. "I accept. So, brother, what brings you here?"

I want to see Malcador.

Perturabo frowned slightly. "If that's the case, why don't you go directly to his 'Adeptus Administratum'? He spends 95% of the year in that dark, dreary place, battling with all sorts of documents."

I want to follow the official procedures.

Perturabo paused for a moment, then said, "A good joke."

The Lion El'Jonson said, "I'm not joking."

He raised his hand and gently placed it on Haide's shoulder, paused for a second, and then added very seriously, "Moreover, I will bring Haide, who served in the 23rd Third Company of the 77th Doomsday Guard, with me to the meeting."

Perturabo narrowed his eyes, as if he had realized something, and then he looked down at Haide. The old corporal couldn't help but tremble at that moment; he felt an overwhelming sense of fear, even though he already knew the identity of the person in front of him.

He wanted to kneel, but his body was stiff and wouldn't obey him. However, he was ultimately lucky, because Perturabo's gaze soon ended completely.

The Lion El'Jonson nodded to him and then made another request. "The sooner the better."

"I'll arrange it," said the Lord of Iron. "Also, if there's a next time, you'd better come back to me."

Why?

"Because Rogal Dorn's fortress wasn't designed like mine, his anti-psy energy devices will only have two outcomes when they encounter your abilities."

The Lord of Iron turned and walked into the darkness, his voice still echoing calmly.

"First, you shattered his anti-psychic device, damaging the fortress. Second, your abilities were reduced, causing unpredictable chaos. Where will you go then?"

His footsteps faded into the distance, Haide and the Lion El'Jonson remained where they were, staring into the darkness, one behind the other. A few seconds later, the old corporal heard a soft chuckle.

"What he meant was that he'd given me a special path, Haide."

"Sir."

"Cheer up." The Lion El'Jonson patted him on the shoulder.

An hour and a half Terra, they boarded a dark gray shuttle. Haide was assigned a window seat, which was probably designed specifically for mortals; it was slightly smaller, and the safety harness was a specially adjusted style.

Besides him, the shuttle passengers included ten fully armed Astartes, and the Lion El'Jonson himself.

He sat at the head of the cabin, and the design of that chair was simply torture for the eyes. Unlike the other seats, its edges were unusually sharp, like blades.

The Lion El'Jonson's furrowed brows betrayed his true feelings, and then, amidst the vibrations of the shuttle, he asked, "Has my brother always treated himself this way?"

"Grown ups--"

An Iron Warriors took a deep breath; he wasn't wearing a helmet, and a hint of barely perceptible frustration lingered on his face.

"--We couldn't persuade him."

The Lion El'Jonson suddenly uttered a phrase in dialect. No one knew what he said, but judging from the increasingly deep wrinkles between his brows, his words were probably not very gentle. Silence fell over the passenger cabin.

Haide carefully turned his neck and looked out the window.

Countless people in the Milky Way want to make a pilgrimage to the Sol System every day. Some wealthy worlds have already opened up special routes, but the price is very expensive, even for nobles.

The poor and needy could not catch this ride, but they had other ways. They would set off in their youth, following in the footsteps of their predecessors on a difficult pilgrimage, making a living mainly by begging along the way.

Captains are quite happy to take these pilgrims on board if they don't have too much cargo, then leave them on a planet along the pilgrimage route, letting them wait for passing ships.

Helping pilgrims was widely believed within the Imperium to bring good fortune, and besides, who wouldn't want to take a peek into the Sol System if not for the necessities of life?

When the journey finally ends, the pilgrims who have not died usually reach the last moment of their lives, dressed in rags, with sunken cheeks, and their wrists and necks adorned with the gifts of faith.

Those who cannot be like them choose to bring their piety to the eyes of the God-Emperor in this way, hoping that He will see it.

Whether He could see it or not, Haide didn't know, but he felt that if he were a pilgrim who had gone through countless hardships to finally reach the edge of the Sol System, he would be so excited that he couldn't breathe.

It's so beautiful. The old corporal gritted his teeth, trying to stop himself from trembling.

He had seen many sights in his life that most people never see in their entire lives. Leaving aside the burning hell on Soviet, he had also witnessed warships crashing.

The thing fell from the sky like a collapsing town, disintegrating and burning as it went. People screamed as they fell freely from the crumbling wreckage. A woman was instantly killed right before his eyes.

He had seen entire armies frozen to death by blizzards, their bodies gleaming in the sunlight. But now, he was so overwhelmed by the miracle before him that he could hardly utter a word.

Ultimately, what he saw was not the devastation of war on humanity, nor the terror brought about by the power of nature. At this moment, what Haide saw was a miracle created by humankind itself.

For the past ten thousand years, generation after generation has tirelessly devoted themselves to this seemingly endless undertaking. In the end, they succeeded.

Every planet in the Sol System has been transformed into a planet-sized fortress, linked together by unimaginably thick iron chains, and suspended in the void.

Countless smaller fortresses filled the empty spaces, collectively filling the cruel curtain of the void. Countless warships, aircraft, and shuttles moved back and forth, advancing along every planned route.

This is where Terra is located, the final line of defense.

And so he arrived here.

Haide suddenly realized the tragedy of the situation—what had he come here for?

He had no intention of making a pilgrimage, nor was he some Rogue Trader who could come to the Sol System to discuss business or other matters. He was just a dirty sailor who had recently settled a matter on his mind and learned the truth.

I imagine he will die soon.

But he did eventually arrive here.

With these complex thoughts in mind, Haide sat in the shuttle, waiting with mixed feelings. Their journey lasted for about two Terra hours, eventually ending at a starport.

The place was incredibly busy, with ships coming and going crowding the surrounding space. When Haide stepped out of the cabin, every staff member he saw was shouting loudly.

He looked around in bewilderment at the scene before him, astonished by the unexpected bustle. To his left, a group of officials in red robes were debating with others, both sides displaying obvious impatience.

A portly official roared breathlessly, "You can't just overstep your bounds like this! The formation of the Punishment Legion should follow Imperium Law, the law, do you understand?! This isn't your Ministry of Departmento Munitorum's dictatorship!"

His words drew agreement from his colleagues, while one of the men in military uniform responded with a disdainful sneer.

"All I know is that those who fight on the front lines, whether they are scum, criminals, or elite soldiers, are all fighting on the front lines, sir."

"Unlike fat pigs like you, they don't eat delicacies three meals a day. Where were the Imperium laws back then? Why were the prescribed supplies never delivered to us as scheduled?"

"Don't try to shift the blame onto us for your own embezzlement!" the fat official roared. "Every supply shipment I've handled has been processed to the highest standards!"

"Alright, that's enough," an old officer said casually. "There's no point in arguing any further. Let's go, get in line, and see what the Arbiter of the Sigillites has to say."

They stormed off, and what took their place in drawing Haide's attention was a group of tall Astartes clad in dark green Power Armour; they were even taller than the Iron Warriors standing behind Haide.

Their dark skin and crimson pupils made them look extremely intimidating, and coupled with their calm expressions, Haide couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine.

As a result, just a dozen seconds later, his trembling was shattered. He saw the Astartes surrounded by a group of civilians who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, cheering and chanting a name that Haide vaguely remembered.

"Salamanders?" he murmured the name.

A cold snort came from behind him, "Why not just send them some flower wreaths? I don't think they'll refuse."

Haide didn't dare turn around to see who was speaking, but he was familiar with this kind of situation, so he felt a strong urge to laugh. If the Lion El'Jonson hadn't stepped past him at the right moment and led the way, Haide might have actually laughed out loud.

At that point, things might get a little ugly.

Instead of joining the crowds, they opted to leave the sprawling, bustling area through a side door and a long corridor.

Another hall appeared before Haide. There were far fewer people here than in the port, and it was very quiet. Most of the people were either expressionless or frowning very seriously.

Moreover, they were extremely perceptive, far more so than the people in that noisy hall.

The moment the Lion El'Jonson appeared, they looked over, and then silently bowed and paid their respects. Surprisingly, none of them showed the same excitement as Haide had before.

"At least there's no more choir," Haide heard the Lion El'Jonson say in a deep voice.

He was talking to an Iron Warriors, the same one he had spoken to on the shuttle. They walked slowly, leading the way, while the others surrounded Haide.

This bizarre treatment made the old corporal extremely uncomfortable. He felt an extraordinary sense of absurdity and had to concentrate on listening to the conversation in front of him to distract himself.

Do you also dislike choirs?

"I doubt many people would like that—except, of course, for the psionic choir. How's the Sol System doing lately?"

"As usual, sir. Since last year's Emperor's Ascension Day, we have dealt with sixteen potential Daemon invasion incidents. Overall, the situation in the Sol System is good."

The Lion El'Jonson gave a noncommittal "hmm," then asked, "Are you still holding competitions?"

"Of course, sir," the Iron Warriors seemed to sigh. "To be honest, I don't object to exchanging combat techniques with the sons of Rogal Dorn, but the thought of this being broadcast throughout the entire Sol System is a bit hard for me to accept."

The Lion El'Jonson looked at him with slight surprise. "A full-scale broadcast? I've never heard of that before?"

"The new regulations have only been in effect for four years," the Iron Warriors said in a deep voice. "However, I must admit that the benefits they've brought are immediate."

"For example?"

"Economic and livelihood data have increased, and some items based on our Chapter's culture are selling extremely well within the Sol System. Applications to Chapter have also increased by fourteen percent. The Primarch says that people are gradually realizing that we are not so different from them."

The Lion El'Jonson chuckled. "A full-scale broadcast is a good plan, but it doesn't sound like the kind of decision Perturabo would make. So, tell me, how long did it take Rogal Dorn to convince him?"

"Half a century."

The Lion El'Jonson burst into laughter.

A few minutes later, they entered through another door, but there was no other passage behind it. Two bald men dressed in black were waiting in front of a tightly closed, embossed door, their foreheads adorned with intricate tattoos.

The Iron Warriors stopped in their tracks, and one of them gently nudged Haide, gesturing for him to step out of the ranks. The old corporal, bewildered, left the Iron and Gray bundle and, at the Lion El'Jonson's prompting, walked up to a bald man.

The man glanced at him, raised his hands, and suddenly made several hand gestures. Haide looked at him in confusion, not understanding what he meant. At that moment, the Iron Warriors had already turned and left.

The Lion El'Jonson spoke, clearing up his confusion. "He is the Silent Guards of Malcador, sworn to remain silent forever. He just asked you if you came here to see the Sigillites?"

Haide paused for a moment, then said, "No, it's not."

The Silent Guards continued making more gestures, Lion El'Jonson spoke again, "He asked you, 'Then what are you doing here?'"

"I don't know either," Haide replied in a low voice. He looked up at the Lion El'Jonson, and the Lord of Dark Angels returned his gaze with a calm stare, as if encouraging him.

The door suddenly opened, and a tall, silver-haired young man stepped out, his Aquila Staff surging with golden flames. Beside him were a dozen or so Servo-skull, their heavy documents humming and floating beneath their anti-gravity blades.

Haide was stunned, and the young man was already looking at him.

The old corporal was struck dumb.

The Emperor, those eyes

Haide almost thought he was seeing things, but the young man didn't give him a chance to ask. He simply beckoned the Lion El'Jonson and Haide inside, then returned to his own quarters.

"Let's go," said the Lion El'Jonson.

Haide was drawn into it with a blank mind.