False Gods Read Free

said Jonah, already walking away.
    ‘Then watch where you’re going…’ hissed the man under his breath, before climbing back onto his gurney and driving off.
    ‘You be careful now!’ Jonah called after the driver, imagining the colourful insults the man would already be cooking up about ‘those damned Titan crewmen’ to tell his fellow ground staff.
    The hangar, though over two kilometres in length, felt cramped to Jonah as he made his way towards the Dies Irae , the scent of engine oil, grease and sweat not helping one whit with his hangover.
    A host of Battle Titans of the Legio Mortis stood ready for war: fast, mid-range Reavers, snarling Warhounds and the mighty Warlords – as well as some newer Night Gaunt-class Titans – but none could match the awesome splendour of an Imperator-class Titan. The Dies Irae dwarfed them all in size, power and magnificence, and Jonah knew there was nothing in the galaxy that could stand against such a terrifying war machine.
    Jonah adjusted his collar and fastened the brass buttons of his jacket, straightening it over his stocky frame before he reached the Titan’s wide feet. He ran his hands through his shoulder-length black hair, trying to give the impression, at least, that he hadn’t slept in his clothes. He could see the thin, angular form of Titus Cassar, his fellow moderati primus, working behind a monitoring terminal, and had no wish to endure another lecture on the ninety-nine virtues of the Emperor.
    Apparently, smartness of appearance was one of the most important.
    ‘Good morning, Titus,’ he said, keeping his tone light.
    Cassar’s head bobbed up in surprise and he quickly slid a folded pamphlet beneath a sheaf of readiness reports.
    ‘You’re late,’ he said, recovering quickly. ‘Reveille was an hour ago and punctuality is the hallmark of the pious man,’
    ‘Don’t start with me, Titus,’ said Jonah, reaching over and snatching the pamphlet that Cassar had been so quick to conceal. Cassar made to stop him, but Jonah was too quick, brandishing the pamphlet before him.
    ‘If Princeps Turnet catches you reading this, you’ll be a gunnery servitor before you know what’s hit you.’
    ‘Give it back, Jonah, please.’
    ‘I’m not in the mood for another sermon from this damned Lectitio Divinitatus chapbook.’
    ‘Fine, I’ll put it away, just give it back, alright?’
    Jonah nodded and held the well-thumbed paper out to Cassar, who snatched it back and quickly slid it inside his uniform jacket.
    Rubbing his temples with the heel of his palms, Jonah said, ‘Anyway, what’s the rush? It’s not as though the old girl’s even ready for the pre-deployment checks, is she?’
    ‘I pray you’ll stop referring to it as a she, Jonah, it smacks of pagan anthropomorphising,’ said Cassar. ‘A Titan is a war machine, nothing more: steel, adamantine and plasma with flesh and blood controlling it.’
    ‘How can you say that?’ asked Aruken, sauntering over to a steel plated leg section and climbing the steps to the arched gates that led within. He slapped his palm on the thick metal and said, ‘She’s obviously a she, Titus. Look at the shapely legs, the curve of the hips, and doesn’t she carry us within her like a mother protecting her unborn children?’
    ‘In mockery are the seeds of impiety sown,’ said Cassar without a trace of irony, ‘and I will not have it.’
    ‘Oh, come on, Titus,’ said Aruken, warming to his theme. ‘Don’t you feel it when you’re inside her? Don’t you hear the beat of her heart in the rumble of her reactor, or feel the fury of her wrath in the roar of her guns?’
    Cassar turned back to the monitoring panel and said, ‘No, I do not, and I do not wish to hear any more of your foolishness, we are already behind on our pre-deployment checks. Princeps Turnet will have our hides nailed to the hull if we are not ready.’
    ‘Where is the princeps?’ asked Jonah, suddenly serious.
    ‘With the War Council,’ said