by Dan Abnett
‘Let’s make up some time,’ said Daur.
‘Got another one here,’ Haller called out, sweeping the junction ahead of them.
Merrt chambered a fresh round.
‘This should help with the pain a little while we get you to the infirmary,’ Dorden told Nessa. She nodded and tried to smile at him as he gave her the shot. Her multiple cuts were field-dressed. Patches of blood were already showing through the bandages.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Hark said.
Dorden got up from his patient, unsteady for a moment. He looked up at the commissar and gestured to the scene that lay around them in lateral hold thirty-nine.
‘The dead and dying surround us, Viktor, and barely enough medics to cope. How better could I spend my time?’
‘You know what I mean,’ said Hark.
‘No, actually,’ said Dorden. ‘Should I go off somewhere quietly and wait to die so I don’t become an inconvenience, or can I use what little life and skill I’ve got left to help the regiment?’
Hark shook his head. There was triage and field surgery going on all around them. Lesp was fighting to save Raglon’s life. Medicae from Spika’s crew were working on Maggs and Vadim.
‘I was sitting in the infirmary, Viktor,’ said Dorden. ‘I heard the casualty alert. Old habits.’
‘We appreciate your efforts,’ said Hark.
‘Let him work,’ said Zweil. ‘He just annoys the shit out of me when he hasn’t got anything to do.’
The ayatani bent down to whisper last rites to Marakof.
‘When do you go in?’ Dorden asked.
Hark shrugged.
‘We’re running way behind schedule thanks to this mess,’ he replied. ‘Captain Daur’s taken a clearance team in. We’re waiting for him to signal us to follow.’
Hark glanced over at Mohr and Captain Spetnin. Both shook their heads.
Dorden fished in his medical satchel to get some dressings for Major Pasha.
‘Waiting’s the worst part, isn’t it?’ he said.
Hark agreed, but he had a queasy feeling he knew what the old regimental doctor was really talking about.
Merrt took his fourth shot in fifteen minutes. The saline round punched the trigger cap clean out of the suspended tank of explosives. Perfect. Four for four.
Haller moved forwards to make the device safe and mark it up.
‘Major tunnel route opening up ahead,’ said Vahgner.
‘We’ve cleared quite a way,’ said Belloc.
Daur nodded. Maybe they had caught up a little time on Strike Beta after the disastrous start.
‘I’ll signal them to follow up,’ he said. He adjusted his link.
‘Daur to Gamma, Daur to Gamma.’
‘Gamma here, captain,’ Mohr answered.
‘Instruct Hark and Spetnin to start leading the strike inside,’ said Daur. ‘Follow the marked route and go slow.’
‘Understood.’
‘Inform command we are deploying.’
‘Understood.’
Daur looked at the others.
‘Let’s clear a little more of this path, shall we?’ he said.
‘Strike Gamma!’ Spetnin yelled in his thick, Verghastite accent. ‘Get up and get ready to deploy!’
‘We’re going in!’ Hark called out, walking the line as the Ghosts assembled. ‘Squad order. Get ready!’
‘The Emperor go with you,’ Major Pasha croaked to Hark, her throat bandaged. Hark nodded.
‘Come on!’ Spetnin cried.
‘Where are you going?’ Hark asked Dorden.
‘Intending to advance without a medicae?’ asked Dorden.
‘Oh, Throne. Come on, doctor, I haven’t got time for this.’
‘Lesp can’t leave his patient,’ Dorden said quickly. ‘He’s got his hands full. I trained him well, so he’s not about to walk off in the middle of surgery. I’m your only option. And the rulebook states–’
‘Don’t quote regulations at me, doctor,’ said Hark. ‘You’re not strong enough, and you’re not fit enough.’
‘Of course he isn’t!’ snapped Zweil. ‘He’s dying, you pompous arse. Look at him, he’s wasted away. He’s almost see-through, he’s so skin and bone. Let him have this much for feth’s sake.’
‘Father–’ Hark began.
‘Don’t you get it?’ Zweil asked. ‘He doesn’t want to die idle, and he doesn’t want to die on his own.’
‘Show him some respect, father!’ Hark growled.
‘Actually, I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ said Dorden. ‘That’s all I’m afraid of, Viktor. Dying in bed and thinking there was a little more I could have done.’
Dorden stared at Hark.
Hark found the pale, bright eyes hard to look into.
‘I swore,’ said Dorden, ‘on the Founding Fields at Tanith Magna, to serve the Imperial Guard and the Tanith First for the rest of my days. Are you, an Imperial fething commissar, really going to stand in the way of me performing that sworn duty? Because if you are, that’s one staggering irony.’
‘Get your things,’ said Hark.
Dorden looked at Zweil.
‘The Emperor protects,’ said Zweil. ‘Even stubborn old bastards.’
‘That’s why I never worry about you,’ said Dorden. ‘Look, I’ll… see you later.’
‘Of course you will,’ said the old priest.
‘Medic!’ Kolea yelled.
Curth ran forwards along the line of cover, her head down in an instinctive posture that anyone who spent time on the battlefield quickly learned to adopt. She dropped in beside him. Fairly continuous gunfire ripped over their heads from the Sons of Sek positions in the vault chamber ahead. Crew-served weapons on either side of them rattled out return fire. Flamers roared.
‘Are you hit?’ she asked.
‘Not me,’ Kolea replied. He pointed at Fazekiel beside him. A shot had clipped her shoulder and flecked her face with blood.
‘It’s nothing,’ Fazekiel said.
‘It’s light, but it’s bleeding a lot,’ said Curth, leaning in to dress it. ‘You’re no use to Gol if you’re faint from blood loss.’
‘Exactly what I told her,’ said Kolea, turning back to his scope.
‘Yes, well, from what I hear, you’re hardly demonstrating the most rational behaviour today,’ said Curth. She torn open a gauze pack.
‘You heard about that, did you?’ asked Kolea.
‘It was the most amazing thing I ever saw,’ said Fazekiel, wincing as Curth packed her shoulder. ‘I intend to have him shot for it later.’
‘Are we winning yet?’ asked Curth as she worked.
Kolea shrugged. After the charge had reestablished contact with the Space Marine push, Strike Alpha had made some serious ground, breaking through into a series of vast internal compartments beyond the hangar bay and the engineering depot. These vault chambers were towering spaces like the insides of bulk manufactories. Huge machines filled their cavities. Kolea supposed they had something to do with atmosphere or gravitics.
The Archenemy had fallen back to dig in here. Sons of Sek, some loxatl, along with cult troops and weaponised servitors, held the line across three vault chambers, and harried the determined Imperial assault via the networks of ducts and sally ports. Loxatl were also using the roof spaces and conduits to gain advantageous firing positions.
Kolea’s response was to systematically mine or burn out all ducts and hatches as they advanced, and scour the ceiling vaults and pipework with flamers. It slowed the whole force a little, but it was worth it.
It was costly, however. H Company, under Elam, was busy ferrying munition restocks up through the line from the hangars, where the landers and lighters that had delivered the troops for the assault were returning with cargoes of ammunition, flamer tanks, charges and rockets. Some of the lighters were turning around to make their third run of the day.
Jan Sloman scurried up.
‘The brother-sergeant wants you to know that he and
his brethren are about to make another push,’ said Sloman.
‘He could have told me on the link,’ said Kolea.
‘He tried. Distortion’s even worse in here.’
Kolea knew this was true. He’d had to send Rerval back through the depot to keep the vox-link open with the Armaduke and the other strikes. Rerval had seconded a team of runners to keep messages flowing.
‘Did he give any idea how long before this would happen?’ Kolea asked Sloman.
There was a punishing roar of cannon-fire from the left of their position. Kolea knelt up to look behind his shield and saw the three Space Marines striding towards the thickest part of the enemy line. Their gun-servitors came with them, weapon pods blazing. Withering fire rippled along the ranks of the Sons.
‘That answers that question,’ said Kolea. He gathered up his lasrifle.
‘Four! Nine! Twelve! Thirteen! Ready on my left!’ he shouted. ‘Eight! Fifteen! Vanette, your mob too! Get up and get ready! Suppressing fire on my order! Rockets, please! Objective is that processor hub!’
‘You heard the commander!’ Fazekiel cried, getting to her feet and buttoning her coat. ‘The Emperor’s watching you! He’s watching us all. He’s relying on you today so don’t let him down! Numbered squads as ordered. Load and get ready!’
‘For Tanith! For Verghast! And for the fury of Belladon!’ Kolea howled. ‘Into them!’
TWENTY
Salvation’s Reach
‘Wait,’ whispered Mkoll. ‘Wait.’
‘It was clean,’ Larkin protested, lowering his rifle.
‘Yes,’ Mkoll agreed. He adjusted his tagger beam. ‘You hit the pin, but look.’
The beam from the chief scout’s scope lit up a fat black cable wrapped in tape running down the side of the device Larkin had just crippled.
‘Secondary trigger,’ he said.
‘Feth,’ murmured Larkin.
‘What’s it set to?’ asked Gaunt.
Domor was busy with the auspex.
‘I’m reading some kind of sack under the deck flooring there. To the right. I think it’s a compression bag. Put your weight down and it squeezes air or fluid into the trigger cable. Throne, I almost missed that.’
‘Secondary triggers suggests tighter security,’ said Gaunt.
‘We’re about a kilometre and a half inside,’ said Mkoll. ‘If our friend’s plans and memories are accurate, we’re close.’
Larkin had reloaded.
‘I can sever the cable. The trigger’s partly obscured.’
‘Do it above the trigger,’ said Domor. ‘Even if you only partly snap the line, the pressure will vent backwards out of the breach. Do it under the trigger, and the force of the shot could blow fluid or air up into the trigger anyway.’
‘Thanks for the tip,’ said Larkin, taking aim.
‘It should work,’ said Domor.
‘“Should”?’ said Zered.
‘I like to leave room for circumstantial variability,’ said Domor.
‘Yes? Go feth yourself,’ said Larkin, taking aim.
Mkoll waved Gaunt to one side.
‘Larkin’s getting tired,’ he said quietly. ‘His hands are unsteady.’
‘He’s all right,’ said Gaunt. ‘He was born unsteady.’
The rifle popped. There was a thick slap of water and glass.
‘Aaand we’re still alive,’ said Larkin.
‘He’s taken out eighteen devices so far,’ said Mkoll. ‘The sustained stress is taking its toll.’
‘We all trained for this,’ Gaunt replied.
‘And part of that training and planning involved an agreement to sub out shooters or sweepers if they started to show signs of fatigue.’
‘Sub them out for whom?’ asked Gaunt. ‘You heard what happened to Gamma. Pylar and Curo were the two reserves with lanyards, and they’ve been called in to support Daur.’
‘We’ve got other shooters.’
‘Nobody who’s trained this hard. Nobody this good. That’s why we had so many wash-outs during preparation,’ said Gaunt.
Mkoll marked off the device with red chalk. They began moving up again along the rusty vault. The walls were so corroded they looked like they were dripping in green and white ooze. They’d barely gone forty metres when Domor called in another hidden charge. Larkin began to mark it out.
Gaunt signalled to the main force advancing at a distance behind them to stop and wait.
‘Raess then, or Banda,’ said Mkoll quietly. ‘Get Criid or Mktass to break off and regroup with us.’
‘Raess and Banda have both done a dozen or so shots each,’ said Gaunt. ‘They’re no fresher than Larks. We’re committed and we’re out of options.’
Mkoll sniffed.
‘It’s your call. But I don’t think Larkin’s got more than three or four sound shots left in his finger.’
Mkoll turned to help Larkin line up. Gaunt walked back to the main force.
‘The pheguth says we’re close,’ said Rawne.
‘How close?’ asked Gaunt.
‘He recognises this corrosion. He says two or three chambers on, we’ll reach a hatchway that leads into the complex proper.’
Gaunt looked at the etogaur. Mabbon was flanked by Brostin and Varl. The rest of the S Company detail was nearby. Mabbon had been allowed to make notes on a data-slate. He showed Gaunt his sketched plan.
‘You see?’ said Mabbon. ‘We’re very close. You should get the troops ready.’
Gaunt chewed his lip.
‘How sure are you?’
‘About ninety per cent,’ said Mabbon. ‘This is a vast structure, and my memories are not perfect. But I spent several years here, and everything on this route has looked familiar. It’s been what I expected. No surprises.’
‘Ninety per cent?’ Gaunt asked.
‘Yes.’
‘If Larkin was ninety per cent accurate,’ said Gaunt, ‘we’d all be dead by now.’
‘Then it’s a good thing I’m not the one shooting out the triggers,’ said Mabbon.
There was a pop behind them, another saline round. The world did not dissolve into light and concussion. They had survived another step.
Gaunt waved up the vox.
‘This is Strike Beta, Strike Beta. I want transport ready to follow us in. The route is marked, do not deviate. Wait for my word.’
‘Understood,’ Beltayn replied. ‘I’ll signal Captain Obel.’
Gaunt turned to the long, waiting line of Ghosts that formed his fighting strength.
‘Get ready, straight silver,’ he said. ‘It seems we’re coming up on it.’
The Ghosts fixed their warknives in place.
In the Armaduke’s preparation seven hold space, they were waiting by the Tauros units when the call came through. Obel listened to the vox, nodded a few times, and handed the horn back to his operator.
‘Unload the munitions,’ he ordered. ‘These eight vehicles here. Load them with the empty carry crates. One driver, one spotter in each. Come along!’
Blenner walked over to him.
‘Orders?’
‘Strike Beta’s called in transport. They’re about to get their hands on what we’re looking for.’
Blenner nodded.
‘I’ll lead this, then,’ he said.
Obel frowned.
‘I’ve been waiting all day for a chance to–’ he began.
‘I know you have. But this is just a transport duty. In and out, lugging freight. My kind of job. I’ll use bandsmen who can drive a unit as crew.’
‘I… I would like to voice my objection,’ said Obel.
‘I hear you, I do,’ said Blenner. ‘But I outrank you in this circumstance. Look, Obel, any minute we could get the call to send active fighting reserves to the excursion deck to support Strike Alpha. Combat drop, man. That’s your kind of job. Let me take the band in to drive the cargo. That’s just grunt work. Don’t waste your time with it. Wait here for your chance to do the thing you actual heroes do.’
Obel made to reply, and then stopped.
‘I just paid you a compliment, captain,’ said Blenner.
Obel shook his head and laughed.
‘Good luck, sir,’ he said.
‘Oh, I won’t need that,’ said Blenner.
Blenner walked over to Wilder. His heart was pumping harder than he really liked.
‘Time for work, captain,’ he said.
Wilder looked at him.
‘Really? Another munition restock?’
‘No, something much more stimulating. We’re going in to support Gaunt. Select eight drivers and five spotters.’
‘Five?’ asked Wilder.
‘The others will be you, me and the boy there.’
‘Shit, commissar!’ Wilder hissed. ‘Gaunt’s son? Really?’
‘He needs to do something before his confidence withers and dies entirely,’ said Blenner.
‘Come on now!’ he called to the bandsmen. ‘Let’s look like we know what we’re doing. Perday? You’ll be my driver.’
Felyx approached him.
‘You want me for this?’
‘It’s just a little trip. You’ll enjoy it. Something to do, Meritous.’
‘I’ll ride along,’ said Maddalena.
‘There’s no room, so you can’t. Sorry and all that. I’ll bring him back in one piece. Promise.’
‘No,’ said Maddalena.
‘Yes!’ Felyx exclaimed.
‘You are bound by Imperial Guard law,’ Blenner told her. ‘It was a basic condition of you remaining with this regiment. I know that as a fact. So I have authority and I’m exercising it. Go away. Let the boy do something today so that when it’s all over he can look his father in the face without feeling ashamed.’
Maddalena Darebeloved stared at him. Her jaw was tight.
‘I do not like you, Vaynom Blenner,’ she said.
‘They all say that at first,’ he replied. He stared right back at her. ‘My dear mamzel, if I worried about all the things in this fething galaxy that didn’t like me, I’d never get out of bed in the morning.’
He turned away.
‘Shall we go?’ he asked.
Criid shone her lamp pack into the darkness overhead. Her clearance team had entered a vast cavern that seemed to be a natural formation because time and compression had crumpled the walls and ceiling so much. Micas and alloys glittered and wrinkled like rock. The deck beneath their feet was rusting plates forming a path across oil-stained rockcrete surfacing.