RAVENS’ BLOOD

Captain Atanaxis and the battle-weary Blood Ravens have been cut off from
the Imperium since the Great Rift tore through the galaxy. Renewed contact
with the Imperium brings unexpected gifts in this short story by Callum Davis.

Atanaxis hurried to the bridge. Chapter
serfs making repairs moved aside for him,
issuing salutes as he strode past. He did
not return them. His boots clanged loudly
on the deck – he had yet to remove his armour
from the fighting on Gatera. His plates and crimson
colours were chipped and worn, the indignium on
his right knee to the point that it was gone entirely.
‘Contact from Tyrant-class cruiser, designated
Argent, under Adeptus Custodes
command,’ the ship’s communications
officer had said. He went over the
words again and again in his head.
Astronomican had failed, this was the first word the
Blood Ravens had received from the wider
Imperium. They had attempted multiple times to
reach out to allies with no success. Many ships had
been lost with all hands. Now the Imperium had
reached out to them. What did the Custodes want?
Thanks to their thirst for knowledge and their large
Librarius, the Blood Ravens had not been
completely ignorant of the Adeptus Custodes
ranging on missions of great import beyond the
Imperial Palace over time. But so far as their
research and scryings could tell them, most of these
efforts were to deliver the Emperor’s judgement,
swiftly and mercilessly. To be directly engaged by
them was incredibly suspect.
The Blood Ravens strike cruiser Glory of Calderis was
floundering with its battlegroup of escorts near the
Storm of the Emperor’s Wrath. Containing the
horrors that tried to spill from that dread region
was a near-impossible task that had cost Atanaxis’
forces dear. The Sword-class frigate Raven’s Spear
was leaking atmosphere and coolant into the void
and was totally incapable of warp travel. The other
escorts fared little better. All were low on
munitions, and most of the crews had been
ordered to take stimms in order to keep manning
their posts. Many of the Blood Ravens themselves
were dead or grievously wounded, and there was
little chance of reinforcement.
When Atanaxis arrived, Valestis was already there,
as to be expected. Nothing escaped the Epistolary,
who was armoured in the blue ceramite of his order,
his left arm painted in the crimson of their Chapter.
He was carrying his badge of office, a long force staff,
the end of which he rested on the steel decking.
The bridge was alive with activity. Serfs and
servitors were hard at work repairing broken
screens and panels. Bright orange sparks fell like
rain. Officers shouted orders, passing on data and
readouts to colleagues, charges, and officers on
every other ship in the battlegroup. Atanaxis
listened to the voices. As the crew of an Adeptus
Astartes vessel, they were polished and
professional. But they were also tense. They were
aware of the Chapter’s visitors and the uncertainty
they brought. Noticing their captain’s presence,
the dozens of crew fell silent, came to attention,
and made the sign of the Aquila. Only the buzz of
datastreams and babbling of servitors remained.
‘Captain,’ the Librarian said. ‘I believe these are
good tidings.’ He wore a thin smile.
‘I pray to the Emperor that they are,’ Atanaxis said.
‘All non-essential personnel. Out.’
Without hesitation, every applicable member of
the crew filed out of the bridge. Only when the last
left and the bulkhead doors were sealed did
Atanaxis approach the ship’s command throne. As
he sat down and ran his gauntlets over the buttons
and switches on the throne’s arms, he felt the
gravity of the moment. Contact at last, he thought.
He almost hesitated as he opened up the
communications feed. Isolation from the Imperium
had had its advantages, but this was something he
could not ignore.
‘Argent, this is Captain Atanaxis of the Adeptus
Astartes Blood Ravens Seventh Company,
commanding Glory of Calderis. With whom do I speak?’
‘Shield Captain Apollus Pertinax of the Emissaries
Imperatus of His Imperial Majesty’s Adeptus
Custodes. I bring word from the Lord Commander
of the Imperium Roboute Guilliman from beyond
the Great Rift. Where is Chapter Master Angelos?’
Roboute Guilliman? Alive? What of the Tear? Impossible,
surely, Atanaxis thought. He took a split second to
process his thoughts. He looked to Valestis, who
shook his head.
‘Where is Chapter Master Angelos?’ repeated
Pertinax.
Atanaxis furrowed his brow. ‘The Chapter Master
has duties across many systems and brings war to
the Emperor’s foes. I, as a captain of the Blood
Ravens, have authority to speak on behalf of the
Chapter.’ Atanaxis steeled himself before
continuing. ‘I must ask you, how were you able to
cross the Tear? All of our attempts have failed.’
‘You will grant boarding rights to my warriors and I,
and hear the Primarch Reborn’s statements and
declarations.’
+Captain, you would be wise to agree,+ Valestis
said, speaking into Atanaxis’ mind. +There are
many questions, none of which will be answered
should we not acquiesce.+
They speak as if I am some kind of Chapter menial. We are
Adeptus Astartes, Atanaxis replied without speaking.
+That they do. They are the Adeptus Custodes, it
is to be expected.+
‘You will respond, Captain,’ said Pertinax.
+We have no choice, brother,+ said the Epistolary.
Atanaxis gritted his teeth. ‘The rights are given,
Shield Captain.’
The Custodians arrived via Orion gunship. Atanaxis
had never seen one before and could not help but
admire the beauty of its golden armour plating and
the unblemished crimson of its panelling. He
noted its strange weaponry and wondered what
devastation they could inflict on the Emperor’s
enemies. He and Valestis stood in the hangar bay
ready to greet them at the end of a Guard of
Honour with twenty of their brothers and forty
Chapter menials presenting arms. There had been
little time to prepare, and all of those present
stood in chipped and damaged armour. Atanaxis
noted with pride how they stood tall, each knowing
they were a veteran with nothing to prove.
‘A poor state indeed, for such an occasion,’
Valestis said.
‘Let them seem us in our true condition,’ Atanaxis
rebutted. ‘Let them see us as the warriors we are,
and know the sacrifices we have made.’
Five Custodians descended their gunship’s ramp,
resplendent in perfectly polished gold armour and
all wielding the guardian spears of their order.
Their helmet plumage and left shoulder insert
were the colour of freshly spilt blood, their robes
as white as old Cyrene’s polar ice. At their head
was a warrior whom Atanaxis took to be Pertinax.
He carried a strangely decorated box that did not
appear to be a part of his traditional wargear.
Atanaxis observed the Custodes eyeing their
surroundings, taking in every detail of the hangar.
‘They assess this place as if they expect to be
clearing it for the Emperor’s presence,’ Atanaxis
said over the internal vox. ‘Our warriors are many
spear-lengths apart, as they have requested – that
should be obvious.’
‘It is their life’s purpose,’ said Valestis. ‘They will
already know how they would kill us if they
deemed it necessary.’
‘They say they bring word from the “Primarch
Reborn”, and they expect we might fight them? I
can’t say I hold much confidence that what we will
hear will be good.’
Valestis laughed. ‘Have faith, brother. We will get
our answers. It is what the leader carries in that
box that intrigues me.’
The Custodians walked past the Guard of Honour
without acknowledgement and approached
Atanaxis and Valestis. They kept their distance
from the Blood Ravens officers. The box the
Custodian leader carried was wrapped in chains
and adorned with wards, sigils, and other strange
and esoteric symbols Atanaxis did not recognise.
His Chapter’s insignia, however, was plain to see.
‘Captain Atanaxis,’ the Custodian said.
Atanaxis bowed his head a fraction. ‘Welcome to
the Glory of Calderis.’
‘You will take us to a secure room to discuss the
Primarch’s words.’
Atanaxis stared into the eye slits of the Custodian’s
helm, pausing for a few seconds. He was not
impressed by the Custodian’s terseness.
‘Follow me.’ The Captain turned on his heel,
leading the party out of the hangar. Valestis
remained at Atanaxis’ side.
+Now I really want to know what they have
brought,+ said Valestis as they walked.
The briefing room selected by Atanaxis was big
enough to hold a demi-company of Space Marines.
The Custodians maintained their distance from the
Blood Ravens throughout, waiting for the Space
Marines to cross half the chamber before entering.
Neither party sat. Atanaxis doubted the Custodes
could have sat in the seating available, even had
they wanted to. Honour demanded that he not sit
while they stood. Pertinax placed the box on the
round table that dominated much of the space.
‘The Lord Commander of the Imperium Roboute
Guilliman bids you his greetings,’ said the
Custodian. ‘He has charged me with passing his
message and tidings. He has returned to the
Imperial fold after ten thousand years in stasis.
Much has changed in that time, but one thing has
not. He will fight for mankind with every fibre of his
being, and he will help those who would do the
same. Ten thousand years ago, the Primarch
Roboute Guilliman developed a way to improve on
the Adeptus Astartes with Archmagos Belisarius
Cawl of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Now, these plans
come into fruition. ‘Primaris Space Marines’, in their
tens of thousands, now fight for the Imperium. Lord
Guilliman extends to you the means to recruit your
own. To aid you in doing this, he provides Chapter
gene-seed taken from Mars itself.’
Pertinax gestured to the box. ‘In order to aid the
transition, a dozen magi of the Adeptus
Mechanicus, along with two hundred medicae and
tech thralls and servitors, will be incorporated into
the Blood Ravens structure. They have with them
all of the necessary equipment. All of these are on
the Argent. They will be transferred to the Glory
once this meeting has concluded.’
Atanaxis and Valestis stood in silence.
Gene-seed from Mars?, thought Atanaxis.
+This could tell us everything,+ said Valestis, his
excitement palpable.
‘If the Primarch has returned, knows of us here, and
can dispatch warriors across the Tear, why does he
not send fleets and armies?’ implored Atanaxis.
‘Our forces are at breaking point. World after world
is sundered by xenos and the Archenemy. What
few allies we have made contact with report
identical disasters. A few hundred thralls will not
tip the balance in our favour.’
‘Compliance is all that is required,’ Pertinax
answered. ‘You will accept the magi, thralls, and all
of their equipment and tools.’
‘Shield Captain,’ said Valestis. ‘We would be most
grateful if you could share with us what you mean
by “Primaris” Space Marines. We are ignorant – as
you are no doubt aware we have been isolated
beyond the Tear – what you call the Great Rift –
since it blighted the galaxy with its emergence.’
‘They are Space Marines. Of the second
generation. Argent carries the means to make your
own.’ Pertinax almost sounded angry about the
concept as he spoke.
‘Impossible,’ said Atanaxis. He almost laughed.
‘We know how to make Blood Ravens,’ said
Valestis. ‘We have thralls and magi. While the gift
of gene-seed is most welcome, it will take years to
raise aspirants.’
‘I care not. This is no debate. No discussion. It is
no negotiation. The Lord Commander decrees. By
extension, so does the Emperor Himself. Be of no
doubt, rejection will not be looked upon with
forgiveness. And you are in no position to resist.
You have said as much yourself.’
‘The Blood Ravens have stood steadfast with the
Imperium for thousands of years. We will not
tolerate being spoken to in such a manner. I have
sixty warriors to your five. Five ships to your one.
And you are on the wrong side of the Tear. You
never did say how you crossed it,’ said Atanaxis.
+Do not push them, brother. We need the geneseed.
Think of what answers it might give us,+ said
Valestis.
‘I am not threatened by your petulant
grandstanding. We are the Emperor’s chosen
guardians.’ Pertinax gestured to one of his warriors,
who stepped forward with a hololith. He pushed it
across the table to the two Blood Ravens. ‘Watch,
Blood Raven. This will be your last indulgence.’
Atanaxis picked up the hololith. It depicted
warriors clad in grey armour that sported the
instantly recognisable features of Space Marine
power armour, armed with weapons that
resembled boltguns but certainly were not.
These cannot be Space Marines, thought Atanaxis.
Valestis just watched.
The grey-armoured figures were running training
drills: fire and manoeuvre, boarding actions, urban
combat, static defence – impeccably. One of the
warriors smashed through several thick ferrocrete
walls in quick succession to reach an objective.
Atanaxis and Valestis watched, taking in every
detail. Foot placement, movement patterns,
aiming and reloading technique, grenade-throwing
stance – they analysed it all, assessing for the most
minute weaknesses.
+If these are not Space Marines, the likeness is
staggering,+ said Valestis.
The patterns are perfectly Codex-adherent, down to the last
detail, replied Atanaxis without speaking. They move
like Space Marines, fight like Space Marines. If I knew no
better, I would say they were. After a short while, the
grey warriors finished their final drill and were
lined in a neat rank. Five warriors, perfectly still,
their not-boltguns held tightly to their chest. The
Blood Ravens looked at each other when they saw
a Space Marine captain approach the rank.
The officer was clad in Mk VIII armour bearing the
quartered blue and white of the Novamarines.
They all saluted him as he approached. He was
more than a head shorter, and narrower at the
waist and shoulders. Neither Atanaxis nor Valestis
could believe what they were seeing.
What kind of sick mutation is this? Some kind of Chaos
trickery? thought Atanaxis.
+I do not think these are mutations, brother, nor
lies of the immaterium. The Novamarines are as
loyal as any,+ said Valestis.
Some failed result of a Mechanicus experiment gone awry?
For all we know they have been as far from the Emperor’s
light as we have – what secrets must they be hiding, ready
to be revealed once the eyes of the Imperium are turned?
+I cannot say they resemble a failure to me,
Captain. Were these warriors any of these things,
the Custodes would never bring such information
to us. I have no reason to believe what we’re
seeing is not real or legitimate. But there are more
questions now than when all this started. We
should take what the Custodians offer us. I see
little choice regardless.+
‘Blood Ravens,’ said Pertinax, stamping the butt of
his spear on the decking to break the discussion.
‘These are “Primaris” Space Marines?’ Atanaxis asked.
‘Yes.’
‘We will receive the Primarch’s gift,’ said Atanaxis. If
these were the weapons that would be arrayed
against them if they at all resisted, even should
they defeat the Custodes, they had no hope.
You still consider these good tidings, Librarian? Atanaxis
asked.
There was no reply.
The magi, draped in heavy red cloaks marked with
the sigils of Mars, chanted in dull binharic tones as
they escorted esoteric vats, containers, and
labatorium equipment through the Glory of Calderis
to the ship’s Apothecarion. Servo skulls flew
among them and around their technological
charges, jabbering senseless monologues and
technical data. The thralls, also wearing Martian
red, walked behind them. Each was a unique
fusion of human and machine. Some walked on
sets of bionic legs that clanked on the decking with
every awkward step. Others had bionic eyes that
constantly whirred and buzzed as their owners
took in their surroundings. More had hands
replaced with complex medical equipment or
engineering tools. Each was marked with tattoos of
a skull set inside a twelve-toothed cog.
Atanaxis, standing with Valestis observing the
bizarre procession, eyed them carefully.
‘The gene-seed is safe in the Apothecarion?’ he
asked.
‘Yes, Captain, thrice sealed,’ replied Valestis.
There is enough for over a hundred aspirants. This
will aid our Chapter’s fortunes immensely.’
‘Good. You, Apothecary Sergius, and Chaplain
Grumion will examine it closely. Yield all you can
from it. I will not have any secret left
undiscovered. Nor will I allow any impurity to
enter our gene-stock.’
‘It shall be done, Captain. We may yet learn the
secrets of our origins from this.’
‘That I hope. I would also have all of our new
guests questioned. Nothing heavy-handed – they
should not be given reason to report to their
masters anything that would put the Blood Ravens
in poor light. But they are to hide nothing from us.
I trust your skills will be sufficient to unpick what
information they hold in their minds.’
‘They will be, Captain. There will be much for us to
glean here.’
‘I have one other order.’
‘Yes, Captain?’
‘Angelos is not to know. Not until we have
something to report.’