Julio’s squad plodded on in the unstoppable manner of Terminators. They reached the glass frontage of the museum. One of Julio’s veterans smashed the glass with his power fist and walked through into the building. Bullets sparked off his armour as he disappeared inside. The sound of shattering glass tinkled down the pass as the rest of the squad forced their way in. More gunfire blasted at the squad. A grenade went off in the middle of their formation. They strode through the explosion and the bullets without hindrance, and the rest of them vanished from sight.

The shooting stopped. There was shouting, both of young men and that of the Ultramarines loudly amplified via voxmitter. Shooting broke out anew. Now the hard banging of bolters was intermingled with the pathetic popping of stubbers and autoguns. There were screams, more shouting, and then a final stutter of bolt explosions.

Similar exchanges were repeated as the unit went room to room. The rebels put up no coherent defence. They were easily overcome.

Half an hour later, a line of young rebels came out of the museum’s entrance, hands on their heads. They were ruddy-skinned, flushed with the excitement of combat, but with eyes downcast at their loss. If only they were aware of what their leaders would have taken from them, thought Calgar. He wondered if the deeper lies had set in yet, and how far these boys had been tempted. The promises of Chaos were false. There was no immortality, no freedom from suffering, no easy road to power. Their youth, their health, their vitality – all of it would have been stolen away, replaced with a life-in-death, where the only blessing was an inuring to pain. It began with a sincere desire to do good; it ended with damnation.

He had seen it too many times.

A single Terminator came out behind the boys. Calgar was appalled at how young they were. None were older than twenty, and the youngest looked to be eleven standard years. They were herded down the road and made to kneel twenty metres from the roadblock. The auxilia stood to leave their post and aid their masters, but one of the warriors held up a hand.

‘Stay back!’ he said, his armour transforming his voice to a terrific shout. ‘It is not safe. We have the device. It is biological in nature and unstable.’

The auxilia looked to Calgar. The Lord Defender of Greater Ultramar nodded his head, and they remained on guard.

A few moments later, Julio and his remaining Terminators came out of the building. They escorted nineteen more rebels, these ones adult, and led them to a space away from the others.

Calgar’s vox-bead chimed. He accepted the channel.