Shadowbreaker

by Warhammer 40K

  This one time only, she wished it was still there.

  Around her, the rest of her operators covered the corridor and the breaches in the walls that the t’au had made. They didn’t turn to stare at their commander. Duty was foremost in their minds. Sorrow would have to settle for second place. They had a job to do. Right now, that meant covering the major while she made her farewell.

  She didn’t have time to make much of one. The t’au would hit them again, confident their numbers had been reduced. She pulled Vyggs’ tags off and pushed them into a pocket.

  I know you loved me. Thank you for not saying it. I couldn’t have returned it. I think you knew. It’s just not in me to give. But I’ll be seeing you soon. We all will. Hang back a while and meet us at the gates, and we’ll all go to the Emperor’s side together.

  Imagine that. Arcturus all together, marching into the Emperor’s light.

  Gently, she lowered his head to the floor.

  ‘Get tags from the others,’ she commanded, her voice taking on an icy hardness.

  ‘Already done, ma’am,’ said Morant, standing at her side. He put a hand on her shoulder.

  She shrugged it off and straightened to face him, eyeball to helm lens. ‘None of that,’ she growled. ‘You hear me?’

  Morant, tough as he was, as grizzled as any of them, looked at the floor, abashed.

  ‘Vyggs and the others got warriors’ deaths,’ she said. ‘Well earned. And we’ll be joining them soon enough. Before that, we’ve got a bloody job to do. I need the rest of you to take up the slack. Because now more than ever, how good you are is going to make all the difference.’

  Morant stepped back a wide pace and threw up his sharpest salute. ‘Ma’am.’

  Over the vox, Copley called in Caulsen and Morrow. ‘Leave the stairs. I need you here now. Move.’

  Seconds later, they joined the rest.

  She looked at what she had left. Eight men. And her. It would be enough because it had to be.

  She thought of Spear Team Three. They were out there under Broden’s command, searching the hangars for sign of Epsilon. She hoped they were faring better than this.

  The t’au had made two breaches in their surprise attack. Beside Vyggs’ body lay the snake-picter she had been looking at when the t’au teams attacked. She swept it up and walked to the nearest hole in the wall. There, she poked the lens around the fire-blackened corner and studied the screen.

  Satisfied, she handed the device off to Morant, who was standing beside her. He was the most senior man left alive, the last of her sergeants apart from Grigolicz, but Grig was out there leading Team Three.

  She told the others, ‘From now on, you’re all Team One. Morrow, sling your lasgun for now and pick up that grenade launcher.’

  Morrow crouched by the body of Drake, a man he’d fought alongside for almost two decades. There had been close calls before, but they’d always made it through.

  Archangel had always got them through.

  ‘It couldn’t last forever,’ muttered Morrow to the ruined body of his friend as he tugged the grenade launcher free of the dead man’s grip. ‘But I’ll keep making them pay while I can.’

  He stood with the weapon and nodded to Copley.

  ‘The rest of you,’ she continued, ‘strip the bodies of everything we can use. That goes for the blue-skins, too. They’ll have grenades. Be quick about it, because in four minutes, I want us inside that main control room.’

  She jabbed a thumb at the hole in the wall. ‘The blue-skins just gave us two new avenues of attack, and we’re going to make them regret it.’

  Fifty

  ‘What word, brother?’

  Four Space Marines looked at Androcles expectantly. It was Pelion who had asked, but it was to all of them that Androcles said, ‘Nothing. No response. I cannot raise Scimitar on the vox.’

  ‘So the t’au are jamming us now,’ observed Roen. He let the other possibility sit in the air unspoken.

  Striggo spat a curse and turned away.

  Gedeon frowned at the Carcharadon, then said to Androcles, ‘Broden knew he was putting his head in the lion’s mouth, going straight for the landing fields.’

  ‘The Black Templar is a contemptible bastard, but not a fool,’ said Roen. ‘The Stormravens could have picked us up and flown us in fast to support him, but he wanted us on foot. Why? So that we would be outside the t’au noose when they closed it. Broden was keeping us back for a reason.’

  Androcles voxed Captain Tarval aboard the Thunderhawk. The moment he heard Tarval’s voice, his heart sank. The t’au weren’t jamming after all. Broden and his kill-team were probably down.

  ‘I cannot raise Scimitar Alpha on the vox,’ the Son of Antaeus told him. ‘Can you?’

  The pilot tried, then reported that he could not.

  ‘Do you have a visual?’

  ‘Swinging back around. Hold on.’

  While Androcles waited, Gedeon told the others, ‘If Scimitar is out of the game, it’s all on us and Talon now. And Archangel’s people. We need to get to the landing fields fast.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ muttered Roen. ‘Coldwave knows our objective is Epsilon. All around the spaceport, the t’au armour is waiting. The blockades are for show. He knows all our elements will have to converge on the landing fields to get to her. He’ll lock the place up tight as soon as he thinks everyone has entered his trap.’

  ‘In our favour,’ said Pelion, ‘he has no real idea what constitutes everyone.’

  ‘So far as we know,’ said Roen.

  Tarval addressed Androcles over the link. ‘Black Eagle to Scimitar Alpha. The hangar is a ruin. Smoke, dust and rubble. No sign of Scimitar. No movement. The t’au have surrounded the site. Infantry and armour.’

  ‘So they are down,’ said Androcles heavily. ‘What of the Elysians?’

  ‘Spear Teams One and Two are engaged with t’au defenders inside the spaceport building. Spear Team Three has just hit the ground with Talon Six. They’re moving to search the hangars around Landing Field Three.’

  ‘What of Talon?’ asked Androcles.

  ‘Talon reports that they are en route to the landing fields. Still outside the perimeter. There are several t’au armour and infantry blockades between them and the objective, but they are pressing ahead as fast as they can.’

  ‘What were your last orders?’

  ‘Scimitar Alpha ordered us to circle the spaceport, keep t’au air support off their backs and provide close support when called on. Reaper Three is providing air cover to Spear Team Three. Reapers One and Two are on standby, watching for air threat, ready to provide close support as needed.’

  ‘Apprise me of any changes, Black Eagle.’

  ‘Of course, m’lord.’

  Androcles dropped the link. ‘It’s grim,’ he told the others. ‘Coldwave couldn’t have known about Black Eagle and Scimitar, or even how many survived the fall of the Tower, but he prepared ground forces here for a full assault. I don’t think we’ve seen the true extent of what we’re up against. Not yet.’

  ‘With Broden down,’ said Roen, ‘he’ll expect all other elements to race to the spaceport to try and fill the gap. He’ll know we can’t let Epsilon get airborne.’

  ‘What choice do we have?’ said Gedeon. ‘He knows where we have to go as well as we do.’

  ‘Androcles,’ said Gedeon. ‘How do you want to proceed?’

  The giant considered it only briefly. ‘We can’t let Spear Team Three run the search alone, and we can’t expect Talon to hold off Coldwave’s forces single-handedly once they’re on site. T’au air support is almost definitely on its way, perhaps additional infantry and armour, though it will be slower to arrive. We have to make the best of the situation we have now, before it gets worse. I can’t see any way to avoid Coldwave’s noose and still get to Epsilon. Our forc
es are stretched too thin. So we go, and trust to our strength as Space Marines.’

  ‘The xenos will fall before us,’ said Gedeon with feeling, ‘no matter their number.’

  ‘As will Kabannen and Lucianos,’ said Roen.

  ‘I will eat their primary hearts!’ rumbled Striggo.

  The others looked at him with a mix of amusement and mild disapproval. There was a good chance the Carcharadon actually meant it.

  ‘What about their secondary hearts?’ asked Gedeon with a grin.

  ‘Those I will crush with my boot,’ said Striggo.

  Gedeon and Roen laughed.

  Androcles grinned, but he said, ‘No, brothers. I seek retribution just as you do, but the objective is Epsilon. Stay focused. If the Emperor is smiling, the one will give us the other.’

  ‘Then may his smile be blinding,’ said Pelion.

  ‘Maintain stealth,’ said Androcles. ‘We’ll move faster if we can avoid engagements. Is that clear, Striggo? No killing until I say. It will only slow us down.’

  The Carcharadon’s black eyes flashed, but he nodded. ‘My killing I will save for later.’

  The increasing presence of drone patrols as they neared the landing fields made moving roof to roof a bad idea, and infantry walked the streets, so they moved through shadowed alleyways and evacuated buildings as the sky lightened above them.

  They passed barricades where Hammerheads and Devilfish sat shining in the rays of the new day, engines humming, the air beneath them shimmering and shifting.

  They went carefully past these places, well aware that the blue-skins’ advanced optics and scanning systems might pick up on the tiny thermal, infrared or ultraviolet traces they left in passing. Even air displacement and sound might give them away.

  Their modified scout armour was a blessing here. Without the power pack of full Adeptus Astartes power armour, there were no tell-tale traces of ionised air that the t’au drones might have registered.

  Shadow to shadow, cover to cover, they made impressive time, and soon they were stacked up behind a hangar on the northern edge of Landing Field Three. They could hear gunfire to the south-east.

  ‘Sabre Alpha to Reaper Three,’ voxed Androcles as he and his team circled around in that direction. ‘We have sounds of battle to our south-east. Status report on Spear Team Three.’

  Flight Lieutenant Dargen responded. ‘Spear Three found a mid-sized trans-atmospheric in Hangar Four East. They are assaulting with Talon Six. I’m on station providing close support, but the fighting is inside. I can’t help them directly.’

  ‘Four East,’ repeated Androcles. He pulled up the memory of the spaceport layout as he had studied it back at Chatha na Hadik.

  ‘Four hundred metres south-east of us,’ said Roen.

  ‘Reaper Three, be advised,’ said Androcles. ‘Sabre Squad is moving in to support. We’ll be breaching through the north wall.’

  ‘Acknowledged, Sabre Alpha. Will keep any blue-skins off your back. Spear Three is on channel eight-gamma-two. Talon Six, likewise. Good hunting.’

  Androcles moved Sabre at a run. Soon they were stacked up against the wall of the hangar. Like all the hangars around the landing fields, it was vast, large enough to house a heavy lifter or even an atmosphere-capable interstellar barge. It was two hundred metres on a side. Within it, brought to their enhanced hearing despite the thickness of the walls, Sabre Squad could discern the rattle and crack of a fierce firefight.

  For the first time that day, Androcles wished he was wearing an Adeptus Astartes battle-helm. He could have patched into a visual feed from Talon Squad’s Dreadnought and got an idea of what he was leading his kill-team into.

  Instead, he’d have to trust in rapid assessment and Space Marine reflexes. They’d never let him down before.

  ‘Sabre to Spear Three,’ he voxed. ‘My team is stacked and ready to breach the north wall. Request heavy suppressing fire on your targets, Spear Three. We will breach and smoke them, take them up close. Watch your fire when we do.’

  ‘This is Sergeant Grigolicz, Spear Three Leader. Confirmed, Sabre. Glad of the assist. We have a large Imperial craft dead centre of the hangar. I’d guess you’re going to recognise it. T’au infantry in heavy cover behind cargo crates and atop the fuselage.’

  He broke off to return fire at the blue-skins, then continued. ‘There’s an XV8 with two shield drones slaved to it. We’re having trouble with that one. So far unable to knock the shields out. Talon Six can’t slay the XV8 until we do. Your assistance there…’

  Androcles looked at his brothers. Pelion and Gedeon had finished planting charges on the outer wall. They moved to a safe distance and nodded to Androcles. The others stood with them, rounds chambered, safeties off.

  ‘Suppress now, sergeant,’ said Androcles. ‘Sabre breaching in three, two, one.’

  Chyron’s storm bolter chugged from under his massive power fist, spewing mass-reactive shells at the t’au positions.

  Helmed xenos heads ducked back behind plasteel crates and containers. Those on the back and wings of the black spacecraft dropped to their bellies.

  Around him, the men of Spear Three rose from their own cover and unleashed a furious volley of lasgun beams and grenade rounds.

  The hangar shook with the noise.

  Only the damned XV8 battlesuit dared to stand in the full fury of the human attackers’ wrath, flanked on either side by each of its troublesome shield drones and partially protected in front by a reinforced ceramic barricade.

  Hot-shot lasrounds smacked harmlessly into the invisible barrier around it. Everywhere they hit, the wall of energy rippled with incandescent colour.

  The battlesuit pilot was fixated on Chyron, the biggest and most dangerous target in his sights.

  For his part, Chyron wanted the XV8 just as dead, but he had already been frustrated in that, his twin-linked lascannon beams smashing against the energy barrier without effect.

  The XV8’s pulse cannon barrels whined as they spun. A torrent of bright blue rounds stitched the air in Chyron’s direction. A dozen smacked hard into the Dreadnought’s armour, staggering him, forcing him back behind a dull red container the surface of which glowed hot wherever it was hit.

  ‘I’ll take the wretch’s head,’ Chyron roared.

  There was a crump of explosives. The hangar walls shook.

  Smoke began to billow up in great, thick clouds around the t’au.

  Chyron emerged from cover and saw muzzle flashes and the bright flash of energy rounds lighting up the smoke from within. The fighting inside the dense veil was intense. Chyron saw a chance to press forward. On the vox, he ordered Spear Team Three to move up.

  The Dreadnought stormed forward on piston legs, shaking the ground. Sergeant Grigolicz and the six troopers still left to him – Loran and Rush having been gunned down mere moments ago – pushed up in Chyron’s wake, cover to cover, unable to fire into the cloud lest they hit Sabre Squad.

  Extractors in the hangar’s ceiling were starting to thin the smoke. Figures began to form, just shadows, but it was easy to distinguish friend from foe.

  The Elysians began firing again, gunning down t’au infantry while they were focused on the Space Marines attacking them at close range.

  The xenos on top of the ship were less pressured. They spotted Chyron and Spear Team Three pushing further in and sent a deadly rain of fire down upon them. Rounds rattled on Chyron’s massive shoulders like rain, biting into the ceramite surface but going no deeper.

  Corporal Skye went down screaming right next to Chyron. Plasma had struck him between plates of carapace armour and buried deep into his chest, incinerating the flesh and bone.

  Chyron sent a storm bolter burst at Skye’s killer, but the fire warrior dropped down again in the cover of the spacecraft’s broad back.

  A Space Marine emerged from the last of th
e smoke then, storming along the spine of the ship, his Stalker-pattern bolter spitting death at the t’au infantry lying belly down there. Within four seconds, Gedeon had cleared the top of the spacecraft.

  The smoke was all but gone.

  Striggo, bolter slung on his back, a short power sword in each hand, had found the shield drones in the melee and cut them down.

  The XV8 whirled on him, too close and too fast to dodge.

  He suddenly found himself on his back, swords cast aside, each hand gripping a barrel of the XV8’s pulse cannon as the pilot tried to force the weapon down towards the Carcharadon’s snarling face.

  Striggo’s muscles rippled under his tight-fitting stealth suit. Veins stood out like power cables on his thick forearms.

  For all his formidable strength, however, he was not winning the fight. The pulse cannon barrels were almost at his face.

  Had he still a man’s face, Chyron would have smiled. The ugly, bestial-looking Space Marine had just given him a gift.

  He fired.

  Searing lascannon beams as thick as a man’s arm lanced out and ripped into the XV8, centre-mass, blasting it backwards with a great smoking crater in its armoured torso.

  It hit the floor of the hangar and skidded, lifeless, its pilot and power systems dead.

  Striggo rolled and grabbed his swords. Rising, he nodded in Chyron’s direction and scrambled to cover as a volley of ion and plasma rounds chased him.

  Sabre Squad fired back while the remains of Spear Team Three flanked right.

  With the XV8 down and their numbers depleted, the t’au in the hangar were broken. The sounds of battle died off as the last of them were slain.

  Two had tried to surrender. Striggo grinned hideously as he separated their heads from their bodies.

  Androcles scowled. He approved of the execution, but not the way his squad brother revelled in it. There was no glory in killing a broken foe. As Alpha, he knew he would have to bring Striggo into line sooner or later. But not today.

  Sabre Squad, Chyron and Spear Team Three converged at the lowered rear ramp of the ship.