Jonson folded his arms and stared at the fleet officers. 'One thing more. As far as the fleet - indeed, the rest of the Legion - is concerned, the Invincible Reason and the ships of the battle group are withdrawing for refit and repair at Carnassus. We'll be taking a number of damaged vessels along with us to maintain the ruse. Secrecy is vital. Horus is certain to have agents in the region keeping watch on us, and they must not suspect where we're really headed until it's too late to do anything about it. Is that clear?'

The officers responded at once with nods and muttered assents. Nemiel and the Astartes said nothing. It went without saying that they would comply.

The primarch nodded curtly. 'The battle group will weigh anchor and depart for the system jump point in ten hours and forty-five minutes. All ongoing repairs, resupply efforts and equipment checks must be complete by that time. No exceptions.'

Jonson turned his attention back to the hololith projector. 'I expect by now that the Warmaster has despatched a raiding fleet to Diamat to begin plundering the necessary supplies,' he said. 'When we reach the Tanagra system, eight weeks from now, we need to arrive fully prepared to fight.'

The tiny logic engines in the brass holoscriptor whirred softly as they wrote data onto the portable memory core. Zahariel paused while the buffer emptied, taking the time to review the facts and figures stored in his own memory. When the indicator light set atop the 'scriptor flashed from amber to green, he continued his report.

'Brother Luther's planet-wide recruiting efforts continue to show a steady twenty per cent increase each training cycle; for the third time in a row we have had to increase the size of our training chapters to accommodate the new aspirants, and the Magos Apothecarium reports that our new screening model has dramatically reduced incidents of organ rejection among inductees. In fact, not a single fatality has been reported for the last two training cycles, and the magos is confident that this trend can continue indefinitely.'

Zahariel straightened slightly, his hands clutched tightly behind his back and his head held high as he looked into the 'scriptor's lens and imagined himself speaking directly to the primarch and his senior staff. 'I am thus proud to present you with four thousand, two hundred and twelve new Astartes, ready to join their brothers in the Legion's front-line chapters. This represents a certification rate of nearly ninety-eight per cent; an extraordinary achievement by the standards of any of the Emperor's Legions. I am also pleased to report that the Magos Logistum has certified two thousand suits of new Mark IV armour, a hundred new suits of Tactical Dreadnought armour and two hundred of the new Thyrsis pattern jump packs for transhipment to the fleet from the forges at Mars. The manufactories here on Caliban are including two thousand new chainswords for the fleet armoury and twelve million rounds of bolt gun shells. We are expecting a shipment of armoured vehicles from the Mechanicum within the next two months, and will expedite the transhipment as soon as they have been certified. If all goes as planned, they will be accompanied from Caliban by two new divisions of Jaegers, who are performing their final training manoeuvres this month.'

Zahariel paused for half a beat, going over the figures in his head to make sure he'd left nothing out. Satisfied, he nodded to the 'scriptor. 'This concludes my report. By the time you receive this, we will have already begun our nineteenth training cycle. Brother Luther and the training masters concur that further reduction of the cycle time would only degrade the fitness of new recruits, so we've reached an optimal training time of twenty-four months, incorporating accelerated surgical implantation into an ongoing regimen of conditioning and instruction. Current projections indicate that we will have another five thousand new Astartes ready for battle by late 315. The Mechanicum has assured us that shipments of wargear will continue on an accelerated basis until you order otherwise.'

His face sobered as he reached the final item of his report. 'As a postscript, I regret to inform you that Master Remiel has taken his leave of the Legion at the age of one hundred and twelve. I am proud to say that he left on horseback, riding the Errant Road with lance in hand. All of us, especially Brother Luther, regrets his loss. We shall not see his like again. I trust this report finds you at the forefront of the Emperor's Crusade, driving back the shadows of Old Night and adding to the glories of our venerable Legion. On behalf of Luther the rest of the training cadre, we remain your loyal and dutiful brothers in arms.'

He bowed deeply to the 'scriptor. 'Victoria ut Imperator. This is Brother-Librarian Zahariel, signing off.'

Zahariel reached forward, shutting off the 'scriptor with a flick of a switch. The logic engines whirred and clattered, transferring the rest of the message to the memory core. As he listened to the machine work, he debated continuing further. Was he tempting the primarch's wrath? There was no way to know. On the other hand, he thought ruefully, what was the worst that could happen if he did?

The 'scriptor finished its work. He paused, composing his thoughts, then adjusted the dials on the face of the machine. As the machine clattered, setting up a new message header, Zahariel stepped back in front of the lens. When the amber light blinked twice, he said. 'Appended message file, classification four-alpha, standard cipher. Recipient: primarch Lion El'Jonson, First Legion.'

When the light turned green again, Zahariel took a deep breath and began his plea.

'I beg your pardon in advance, my lord, and I hope you will not think me speaking out of turn, but I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't make every effort to improve the fortunes of our Legion in these trying times.' He hesitated, considering his words carefully.

'Our training cadre has worked diligently for the last half-century, refining our recruiting and training procedures to meet the challenges that the Emperor has set for us. I believe that my reports - as well as the constant flow of warriors and supplies - testify to our dedication and success. We have achieved a degree of speed and efficiency unmatched by any other Legion, and we are rightly proud of our achievements. At this stage, our procedures have been well-established, and we have a highly-capable infrastructure in place to continue the induction process. What the Legion needs most is for veteran warriors to return home and share the experience they've gained over the last fifty years. By the same token, our brothers here on Caliban are acutely aware of the limited nature of their own experience, and are eager to hone their skills against the Emperor's foes on the front line. This especially applies to Brother Luther, whom I believe would serve the Legion far better at your side than conducting recruiting drives here on Caliban.'

Zahariel kept his face calm and composed, even as his mind struggled to find the perfect argument that would sway the primarch. 'I think it fair to say that we have done all we can here, and it would be in the best interests of the Legion if we were rotated back to our parent chapters in the fleet. This goes particularly for Brother Luther, whose skills as a warrior and diplomat are well-known. If you were to summon just one of us back to your side, my lord, let it be him.'

His hands, clasped behind his back, tightened into fists. There was more he wanted to say, but he feared that he had pressed his luck too much already. Zahariel bowed his head before the lens. 'I hope that after you have reviewed my reports you will see the logic of my request. We all have a duty to the Emperor, my lord; all we ask is for the chance to fulfil it as we were meant to - defeating his enemies and redeeming the lost worlds of mankind.'