The Phalanx
Command Room
Beneath the vast dome, countless conduits climbed the walls like a dense neural network, gathering the consciousness of the entire fortress-ship at the central command dais.
Outside the viewport, the light of Terra's star shone through the thick armoured window frames, gilding the metal surfaces with a cold white radiance.
Yet that light did not make the room feel any warmer. Instead, the air held a stillness like the final calm before a storm.
When Garro was pushed through the doors of the Command Room, a heavy metallic clang sounded behind him.
More than a dozen Space Marines of the Imperial Fists formed two ranks around him. Every one of them held a weapon, their Chainswords and Bolter muzzles silently trained on him.
No one spoke. Only footsteps echoed across the empty metal floor.
Garro did not resist.
The weapon mounts on his Death Guard armour had already been removed, leaving his waist bare.
During the boarding inspection earlier, the Imperial Fists warriors had confiscated everything on him, even his combat knife.
He walked down that passage of hostility and vigilance, his posture still straight.
His strides were steady, like those of a man already prepared to face judgment. All that sustained him were his eyes, which still held a weary light.
He was brought to the centre of the Command Room and stopped before the enormous Holographic Star Chart table.
Rogal Dorn stood behind the Control Panel.
He had not taken the enormous seat that symbolised command. Instead, he stood with both hands pressed against the edge of the Control Console, his fingertips sinking slightly into the cold metal surface.
He was fully armed, his distinctive yellow Power Armour reflecting a heavy sheen beneath the lights. The fist Insignia of the Imperial Fists was engraved