by Gav Thorpe
They were only half a kilometre from Ravendelve; Orlandriaz had met them at the two-kilometre cordon to escort them in safely. Two Warhound Titans were blasting away at the curtain wall to the west, scourging the rockcrete with Vulcan bolters and turbo-lasers. The booming of artillery fire was near-constant, as was the ripple of detonations slowly cracking apart the thick outer shell of the main compound. Orlandriaz could see nothing of the new buildings, but the thick columns of smoke billowing up from where they had been erected did not bode well.
Sinking back into his command chair, Orlandriaz barked an order into the metal ear of the pilot servitor. The crawler lurched forwards and then settled, tracks churning through the slick dirt. The magos pulled back his hood and slipped on the communicator headset.
‘Colonel Kuerstandt, have half the Dominators redirect against the rebels,’ the magos said.
‘I’ll send the tanks too, they’ll be no use inside the wall,’ the skitarii commander replied. ‘What about the rest?’
‘We go in through the main gate and into the central courtyard. I am trying to raise a contact with a Raven Guard commander, but there is no response at the moment. However, our alliance broadcast is being received and secure approach signal has been sent back, so we are safe to enter.’
‘Affirmative, magos,’ said Kuerstandt. ‘I will personally command the counter-attack against these Omnissiah-damned traitors.’
‘Of course,’ said Orlandriaz. ‘With all speed, colonel. We must ensure the guilders do not breach Ravendelve.’
TWO OTHER DISGUISED Alpha Legionnaires guarded the door while Solaro, Nestil and Ort gathered up everything they could that was related to the gene-tech project. Ort and Solaro scoured the archive databases, copying thousands of files onto crystal chips while Ort used Sixx’s key to access the gene-template sanctum.
Nestil knew exactly what to do, and opened the stasis chamber. He still had the stasis container that had held the gene-virus, and into this he slipped the glassite tube containing the primarch material. It looked different now, darker and thicker.
‘Delete everything,’ said Solaro, slipping a data crystal from its slot in the main archive bank. ‘Let’s not leave anything to be found.’
Ort moved from console to console, activating the scour programme as Nestil started picking out test slides from a micro-analyser, gathering them into a belt pouch. Solaro powered up a vacant terminal and punched in the command access codes.
‘The Thunderhawks are still on the landing pad,’ he said. ‘That will be our extraction point. The others have formed a cordon to stop the skitarii reaching us. When we arrive, we’ll fall back by squads and then get out of here. I will signal Beta to begin her run into orbit for the rendezvous.’
‘Just because you’re pretending to be a commander, doesn’t put you in charge,’ Nestil said with a laugh.
‘Have you got a better plan?’ snapped Solaro. ‘We don’t have time for games.’
‘Calm down,’ said Nestil. ‘The Raven Guard don’t have a clue we are here. Let’s just move to the main gate and not draw attention to ourselves.’
The bead in Nestil’s ear crackled into life.
‘Effrit-hydra-omega. All contacts, report progress.’ The primarch’s voice was distorted and muffled.
‘Contact Three reporting,’ said Ort. ‘All three contacts have met with assistance forces. Mission accomplished. Establishing our exit route.’
‘You are a credit to the Legion, all of you,’ said the primarch. ‘You are ahead of schedule, so I have one final task.’
‘Yes, we’re ready,’ said Ort.
‘The Raven Guard moved their gene-seed store to Ravendelve to aid in the implantation process,’ said Omegon. ‘It is located in a vault adjacent to the infirmary.’
‘That is correct,’ said Nestil. He twirled the chain with Sixx’s digi-key around his finger. ‘We have the key-codes. What do you want us to do?’
‘Destroy all of it. Deactivate the stasis field and destroy every last scrap of gene-seed. I want there to be no chance of the Raven Guard recovering from this attack.’
‘Understood,’ said Solaro.
‘Before you do this, secure the gene-tech data. Give it to one of the assistance force and have him place it in the weapons locker at the east end of the north corridor. I will despatch another operative to retrieve it.’
‘Another operative?’ said Ort. ‘All three of us are here.’
‘That is not your concern, legionnaire. Do as I command.’
‘As you will it, lord,’ said Solaro.
He took a storage box from a nearby work bench and upended it, spilling long syringes to the floor.
‘Put everything in here,’ he said. ‘You heard the primarch.’
DUST FELL FROM the cell’s ceiling as another blast rocked Ravendelve. Navar and the others sat or crouched in a circle in the middle of the chamber, glancing up with every shell impact. They were under orders to stay where they were, but it was unnerving to do nothing while they knew Ravendelve was under attack.
A thud against the door caught their attention. Navar got up and waved for the others to be ready.
‘Careful,’ Kharvo said, exposing pointed teeth.
Navar nodded and raised a clawed hand to strike. He fumbled at the handle with the other, his talons making it hard to grip. Pulling open the door, he was forced to step back as a bloodied body fell into the room.
‘It’s Vincente Sixx!’ said Navar, kneeling over the wounded Chief Apothecary. Blood pumped from a poorly cauterised gash in his chest, soaking his white robe. Sixx’s wild eyes roamed across the ceiling for a moment as the other Raptors gathered around.
‘Traitors,’ whispered Sixx. ‘Infirmary. Protect… Protect the gene-seed.’
With a blood-caked hand, he pulled open the front of his robe, revealing the black bodysuit beneath. There was a bolt pistol in a holster at his hip. Navar nodded in understanding and pulled the weapon free.
‘No…’ said Sixx. He coughed up more blood and waved his hand weakly towards the inside of his robe.
‘There’s a pocket,’ said Kharvo, reaching inside. He pulled out a triangular piece of metal with a Raven Guard symbol embossed on one side. ‘It’s a command key.’
Sixx’s face contorted with pain, but he forced himself up on one elbow.
‘Weapons lockers, bay seven,’ said the Apothecary. ‘Was getting charges.’
‘We’ll fetch someone to tend you,’ said Navar, standing up.
‘Gene-seed!’ hissed Sixx. ‘Your future.’
‘We will protect it,’ said Benna, gripping Sixx’s shoulder with a scaled hand. ‘Keep strong.’
The Raptors moved out into the corridor, Navar leading the way with the bolt pistol. They came to the next door and opened it. Fifteen deformed Raptors looked up from their makeshift bunks.
‘Hef, take five others and bring back weapons, we’ll gather the rest of our brethren,’ said Benna, who had been a squad leader before implantation. He pointed towards the doors leading to the infirmary chambers. ‘Kharvo, keep watch down there.’
The Raptors divided without debate, Navar taking the digi-key from Kharvo. It was good to stretch his legs as he sprinted down the passageway towards the weapons lockers with Marls, Ghoro, Tandrad, Myka and Hal close on his heels. As they reached the doors, a huge explosion rumbled above them, followed by the thunderous crash of falling masonry.
‘Sounds like Turret Two is down,’ said Myka. ‘We’d better hurry up.’
Slamming open the doors, Navar looked left and right down the passageway beyond, Sixx’s pistol gripped tightly in both hands. He saw a Raven Guard legionary standing guard by the archway to the loading bays above the armourium. The legionary turned in surprise and lifted his bolter.
‘It’s all right,’ said Ghoro, lifting up his hands. ‘Raptors! The infirmary is under attack.’
‘Watch out!’ yelled Marls, barrelling into Ghoro as the legionary opened fire. The bolt caught Marls
in the arm, ripping through flesh and bone just beneath the shoulder.
Navar fired without thinking, acting out of instinct, his first shot catching the legionary in the side of the chest, sending the traitor’s next shot into the wall beside Ghoro and Marls. The next two shattered the legionary’s shoulder plate as he stumbled back to his feet.
The legionary turned his bolter towards Navar and time seemed to slow. The Raptor felt a ripple of cold racing through his body as he aimed the bolt pistol at the legionary’s face and pulled the trigger again. As he felt the recoil of the launch charge kicking the pistol, muzzle flare erupted from the legionary’s bolter. Two flickering trails of propellant passed each other.
Navar’s shot hit a moment earlier, punching through the grille of the legionary’s mask before detonating inside his helm. An instant later, pain screamed through Navar’s side as the counter-shot tore a chunk from his chest, sending fragments of white-hot metal into his fused ribs.
Navar stumbled back and was caught by Myka and Tandrad. He looked down at the wound, a fist-sized hole just beneath his pectoral on the left side.
‘Check him!’ snapped Ghoro, jabbing a finger at the downed legionary.
‘Why did he shoot?’ asked Marls. ‘What’s going on? If it’s our own legionaries, how can we tell who is on our side?’
‘Let’s just get to the infirmary,’ said Ghoro. ‘Sixx said they were there. Anyone else we meet, we’ll just have to take our chances. Get to the arms locker, I’ll help Navar.’
Navar was passed into the arms of Ghoro, who lowered him to the floor, back against the wall.
‘It’s not too bad,’ Ghoro said with a grin.
Navar looked down. The wound was already sealing over with a thick scab, the Larraman cells in his blood clotting almost instantly. The pain had already subsided to a dull ache as other compounds flooded his system.
‘Guess there are advantages to being a monster,’ said Navar. He gestured for Ghoro to help him up, feeling his strength returning.
The other Raptors returned a couple of minutes later, carrying plasteel weapon and ammunition crates between them, bags stuffed with grenades and other supplies slung over their shoulders. Opening up one of the crates, the Raptors armed themselves with the bolters inside and took several magazines each, tying the bandoliers around their thighs and arms.
Feeling a lot more confident, his injury almost forgotten, Navar opened the next crate. Inside was a melta-gun, and several spare casks of pressurised gas.
‘I’ll take that,’ said Ghoro, lifting the weapon from its padded cradle. He looked at the others, perhaps expecting protests, but there was no time for arguments. Shutting the lids on the boxes, the Raptors headed back to the cells where the others were waiting.
SEVENTEEN
Attack, Withdraw, and Attack Again
Cut Off the Head
The Truth of It
THERE DID NOT seem to be anyone in command, but the Raven Guard prided themselves on their autonomy and initiative. Lacking orders from their superiors, the sergeants mustered their squads to the defence of Ravendelve. Balsar Kurthuri found himself with Sergeant Caban and an ad-hoc squad of seven other legionaries, heading through the murk of the rad-wastes towards the enemy attack. Macro-cannon rounds screamed overhead from the remaining defence towers, answered by shells, las-fire and plasma bolts from the renegade Titans escorting the column.
The residual atomic fallout was interfering with Balsar’s auto-senses, leaving him half-blind in the thick fog, unable to use thermal or wide-spectrum scanning. He deactivated his armour’s sensors, relying on his own augmented vision to pierce the gloom. The black-clad warriors to either side of him were barely visible, but their armour transponders relayed their locations to a schematic in his visor. Sergeant Caban was at the front, and it was from him that there came a crackled warning over the vox.
‘We have movement, fifty metres ahead and right. Infantry. Disperse right, thirty metres. No friendly forces in the area, engage on sight.’
Balsar picked his way over a pile of slag, casting his gaze to the left and right. It would be so easy to open up his othersight, allowing the potential of his mind to flow outwards to detect the enemy. It would also be simple enough to incinerate them with a psychic blast once they were found, and the temptation to use his powers was almost overwhelming.
There were no Chaplains left within the Legion to enforce the Edict of Nikaea, and Balsar recalled Lord Corax’s words from outside the vault room. The situation had changed, and it was surely sensible to use every weapon available against the traitors. Balsar was still not sure what had happened next. He had definitely felt a connection with the psychic locks placed upon the door, intricately beautiful and impenetrable. It had been an urge from within to engage his psychic powers, and had Balsar ever wanted to discuss the event with another, he would have claimed he had been guided by the Emperor. It certainly had felt as if an outside agent had been controlling his thoughts for those few moments, and remembering the complexity of the seals placed on the door, Balsar was sure he would not have been able to dismantle them on his own.
If the Emperor had acted then, as seemed to be the case, then surely that was license for Balsar to use his powers again?
A deeper shadow emerged from the fog just to Balsar’s left. The Raven Guard fought back the urge to reach out with his thoughts. Instead, he brought up his bolter and opened fire, hitting the figure low in the torso with two rounds.
‘Enemy!’ he announced over the vox. ‘One down.’
He opened fire again at more silhouetted targets, telling himself it was not his place to second-guess the judgement of the Emperor.
THE AIR IN the antechamber was well below freezing point, the walls crusted with ice. Five more Alpha Legionnaires stood watch in the corridor outside, masquerading as Raven Guard, while Ort and Nestil went through the process of shutting down the stasis field generators in the main vault. Solaro stood ready with the digital key, idly snapping small icicles from the cover of the keypad with the tip of his finger.
‘Why the delay?’ Solaro asked, looking over his shoulder at Ort. The other legionary stood at an open power relay panel shaking his head.
‘Is this really necessary?’ asked Ort.
‘The primarch was specific,’ said Solaro. ‘Just shut it down.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Ort, stepping back from the relay. ‘It’s one thing to take the Raven Guard out of the war. It’s another to wipe them out entirely. When Horus defeats the Emperor, we’ll need allies to rebuild the Imperium.’
‘You’re an idiot,’ said Nestil, pulling out a transformer switch. ‘The Raven Guard will never serve Horus now, not after Isstvan. Corax is too stubborn. When we win, they will just disappear like they always do, and continue fighting us at every chance. Do you want to spend years watching your back, wondering when the Raven Guard will come for us?’
‘We’ve all seen what that mutagen did to the Raptors,’ said Ort. ‘It’s tainted, unnatural. And the Word Bearers? We all saw them at Isstvan, and I saw them up close at Cruciax. I don’t think it’s Horus that’s behind this war, it’s something a lot worse. You know what I’m talking about.’
Nestil turned, a cluster of wires in his fist.
‘More fool them,’ he said. ‘I know what you’re talking about and we all heard Corax’s speech. This war was coming, like it or not, and we had to choose a side. Better that we are with the victors than the losers. The Emperor’s forces were crippled at Isstvan. That could have been us between the guns of the Word Bearers and Iron Warriors. Be thankful the twin primarchs made the right choice.’
‘It’s too late to have second thoughts,’ said Solaro. ‘What the Word Bearers choose to do is up to them, we don’t have to pay attention to them any more. Let them dabble in their sorcery. It’ll burn them in the end and we’ll be the ones left laughing.’
‘Besides,’ said Nestil, returning to his work, ‘with this gene-tech, the Alpha Legion wi
ll be the ones who will hold the balance of power. Us, not Lorgar, Angron or even Horus.’
Ort said nothing as he stepped back up to the relay panel and began to disconnect the cables.
‘What was that?’ said Nestil, glancing towards the door.
Solaro had heard it too, a shot ringing out against the background of the bombardment.
‘Maybe those stupid guilders have actually managed to get through the curtain wall,’ said Ort.
‘No, that was inside, close by,’ said Solaro.
Suddenly the bark of bolter fire filled the corridor outside.
‘Keep working!’ he snapped, moving towards the door.
The Alpha Legionnaires on watch were firing down the corridor to the right, blazing away freely. Bolt-rounds were screaming past them from the direction of fire. Drawing up his bolt pistol and power sword, Solaro stepped out and turned just as one of the legionnaires crashed to the ground, armour riddled with jagged holes.
From the direction of the infirmary, a group of misshapen warriors were attacking, taking cover behind the roof supports that jutted from the bulkheads every few metres. Solaro looked into dozens of fury-filled red eyes, in faces contorted with horns, fangs and tusks. Some of the attackers were covered in scales of red or green. Some were muscle-contorted monstrosities whose biceps and shoulders bulged under the fabric of their robes.
All of them were armed, the hail of bolter fire intensifying as more poured through the doors at the end of the passageway and emerged from the chambers connected to the infirmary. A round glanced from Solaro’s shoulder pad, sending splinters of ceramite flying.
‘Forget that!’ he snapped, ducking back into the vault’s entry chamber. ‘We’re too late. It’s time to leave.’
Ort and Nestil stopped what they were doing and snatched up the bolters they had set aside to work on the energy relays. They closed in behind Solaro, who stepped to the corner of the door and snapped off a few shots at the incoming Raptors.
‘We’ll cover you,’ said one of the Alpha Legionnaires, slamming home a fresh magazine into his weapon as bolt detonations erupted on the stanchion he was sheltering behind.