When would the war end?
"Hey, Cold-face, have you ever thought about life after the war?"
Titus looked at Naruf before him, a trace of uncertainty flickering in his resolute eyes.
"War will never end. Humanity's enemies throughout the Milky Way are as countless as the stars. Only endless struggle can give us room to breathe."
"I know, I know." Naruf looked exasperated. These Astartes, with their emotional faculties cut out, were all the same.
"I mean, suppose one day all humanity's enemies lay defeated at our feet."
"What would you do?"
For the first time in a long while, Titus found himself at a loss.
Indeed, where would the Astartes go when there was no more war?
Ever since their parting on Luna, that question had lingered in Titus's heart like an intangible spiderweb, winding gently around him yet impossible to escape.
The moment they became the Imperium's angels, a vast gulf opened between the Astartes and mortals, not merely physical, but psychological as well.
On the battlefield, the Astartes were the Imperium's blades, great warriors, fearless champions.
But once war disappeared, the Astartes would become the most volatile elements within the entire Imperium. Even the wisest ruler would not overlook these violent men stripped of basic human emotions.
After serving the Emperor until their strength was spent, the Emperor's warriors could retire, and even marry Sisters of Battle who had lost the ability to fight. Usually, though, that was nothing more than a distant dream.
A shrill alarm interrupted Titus's thoughts. He rose a moment later, the gold studs in his head gleaming brightly in the dim cabin.
"Prepare for battle!" Titus roared.
The Astartes in the cabin rose to their feet, their steps synchronized yet silent.
The Thunderhawk Transporter began shaking violently. The Orks' absurdly large-caliber antiaircraft