The cultists faltered. We turned our attention to them. They had thought to trap us between themselves and their superhuman master. Now they were caught, exposed, in the narrow corridor. We cut them down. I moved, crouching low, back to cover, and added my fire to the assault. I was exhilarated. We all were. The ambush had worked better than we could possibly have hoped.
As the last of the heretics fell, I glanced back, and my heart sank. The enemy had been cautious after all. A second force, larger than the first, was approaching. With it came another Reaver.
We were outnumbered, we had lost the element of surprise, and our cover was useless against power armour and a flamer. If we fought, we would die.
‘Go!’ Marsec shouted.
We bolted down the side passageways, taking the route Lommell had mapped out for us. Our only advantage now was speed. We knew where we were going. We sprinted, once more putting distance and time between us and the enemy. As I took corners at high speed, I blinked away the effect of the glowing designs. It would have been easy, at this pace, to follow their lines straight into a black wall. I turned into a wider corridor, and took it back to the main hall. Our portion of the company linked up. Marsec looked towards the way back up, but there was the sound of more pursuit coming from that direction, so we plunged on deeper into the pyramid.
We went down three more levels. The heretics were close. We didn’t have time to set up another ambush. We kept moving forward, even when we reached a level that was ominously different. It still had a maze of corridors along its periphery, but the centre was a massive block. Its rectilinear designs were the most complex yet, and their light was the brightest, and most deathly. The main hall widened out before the monolith, and became a series of parallel tunnels that dropped beneath it. When we reached the tunnels, we paused. Their slope was steep, almost a fall. In their depths glowed a green mist.
And there was something moving. We could hear what sounded like the shifting of weights. Worse, we heard footsteps. The light flickered, as if something had passed between us and the source. There were other noises too. They were uncomfortably like voices. They spoke no recognisable words, and they could not come from any living throat. But down there, something walked and spoke. Whatever had built this pyramid was not done with it yet.
We couldn’t have been perched at the edge of that descent for more than a second or two. That was long enough for us to hear and see all that was necessary. Marsec looked at me. We were trapped, yes. But we had one option. Perhaps it would be enough.
‘We hide,’ I said.
Marsec nodded. He raised his arm, waved his finger in a circular motion, giving the order to scatter. There were plenty of side corridors within reach, and we took them, racing for their shadows where we crouched down, motionless, silent, waiting for the arrival of our pursuers.
Throwing the dice on the fate of Sixth Company.
The Steel Legion is a proud fighting force. It has every reason to be so. It did then, too, though its time of greatest glory and most painful sacrifice, which would also be mine, still lay over a century in the future. This, now, was not a moment relished by any of the soldiers of Sixth Company as we hid in the dark and hoped that the enemy passed by. Doing so grated against my self-worth as well. But the Steel Legion has not earned its triumphs by fighting blindly, or without sense. We had a chance of victory here, and to seize it meant swallowing pride. That requires its own form of courage.
We waited. I watched, as close to the exit of my refuge as I dared, as the cultists arrived. Even with the damage we had done, they were still three times our number. The Reaver towered over them. They advanced to the edge of the tunnels. The Reaver barely paused long enough to look ahead before he led the renegades down the central tunnel. I listened to their war cries as they descended. A minute later, the cries became screams.
The first screams were of fear. Then, as I heard what sounded like energy discharges of some kind, I heard screams of agony. The Reaver roared. Guns fired. The sounds of alien energy intensified. The green glow became brilliant, a strobing, slashing light. The screams stopped as if severed. The Reaver’s bellows filled with shock and pain. Then they too, fell silent.
Marsec stepped back out of the shadows. I joined him. We stared down into the tunnels. There was still movement down there, still the alien sounds. For the moment, at least, they weren’t moving upward.
Marsec whispered, ‘What’s down there?’
‘Something we are not equipped to fight, captain. But we can report its existence.’
‘Agreed.’
Moving quietly, limiting himself to hand gestures alone, Marsec signalled our withdrawal. We maintained silence for the first two levels. When it became clear that the pyramid’s denizens weren’t following, and that the last of our enemies had gone down to their annihilation, Versten went back to work with the vox, trying to raise the scattered elements of Sixth Company.
Marsec called him up to the front with us. ‘Anything?’ he asked.
‘No answer from Sergeant Hanoszek, sir. But I received a transmission from Sergeant Brenken on the Castellan Belasco. She and some armsmen have freed themselves and are fighting back. She says that the occupying force is small. The Traitor Space Marines were the ones who captured our ship, and they left behind only a minimal group of cultists. They’re armed, of course, but…’
‘But it wouldn’t take much to dislodge them,’ I finished.
‘That’s what she thinks, commissar, yes.’
I gave Marsec a significant look. Our Valkyries, some distance from the ridge, should still be intact. Even with our numbers reduced to not much more than two squads’ worth, we could retake the ship.
‘Good,’ Marsec said. ‘We’ll link up with Sergeant Hanoszek. With our company reunited, we shall purge the scum from our decks.’
I frowned. He was assuming that Hanoszek’s contingent still existed. Two Reavers had come after us. Unless some were mounting guard outside the pyramids, which seemed unlikely, that meant the other three were pursuing Hanoszek and his troops. Those were formidable odds. Marsec was basing his strategy on an assumption for which we had no evidence. I was uneasy, but decided to say nothing until we had reached the surface.
As we were climbing out of the crater, Versten managed to get through to Hanoszek’s vox operator for a few seconds. The other fragment of Sixth Company was being pressed hard, and driven deeper into the pyramid. There was no question of their being able to set up an ambush. The heretics and the Reavers were upon them. They could not break off.
‘Send a message that help is coming,’ Marsec said.
‘Belay that, trooper,’ I told Versten. To Marsec, I said, ‘Captain, a word.’
I expected him to be furious at my intervention. Instead, he seemed eager to talk, as if it was important to him that he bring me about to his perspective. We left the troops at the lip of the crater, and moved down the slope a short distance to speak behind a rounded heap of congealed slag.
‘We cannot rescue them,’ I said.
‘We have to try.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘we are duty-bound not to. Such an attempt would be doomed. You know that as well as I do. We would then be leaving a frigate of the Imperial Navy in enemy hands. That would be an unforgivable failure.’
‘I have already failed my troops once this day,’ Marsec said. ‘I won’t do it again.’
‘You will if you follow this course. They will all die.’
‘I have to try.’
I looked at him steadily. He did not blink. He knew exactly what he was saying. He knew the consequences. His ego had led us to this pass. He understood this, and sought redemption. But we didn’t have the luxury for redemption. We needed victory. Before me stood a good man. The Imperium needed him to be something more, though. It needed him to be a good officer. Instead, he was the ruin of one. He was, in this moment of crisis, proving himself unable to make the truly hard decision. He was throwing that responsibility onto me.
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘No, you can’t. But you cannot make me abandon my troops.’
I pulled my pistol from its holster.
Marsec gave me a sad smile. He got down on his knees. ‘Do what is necessary, Commissar Yarrick.’
‘Why are you forcing my hand?’
‘Stop me or let me do what I must.’
I put the muzzle of the pistol against his forehead. He closed his eyes. Peace suffused his features. I felt a grimace contort mine. I knew what I was doing was correct. I have had to use this ultimate sanction against officers more often than I care to count. Each instance is a tragedy, a necessity whose causes are so unnecessary. But never before or since have I encountered a soldier who accepted my judgement with such grace. I hope I never will again.
The hard decision was mine, as was the harder action. Silently, I cursed Marsec for this moment that I would have to live with for all my years to come. I curse him still. He was, even then, still not fully honest with either of us. He was seeking a martyr’s end as redemption for his failure. In this way, he turned away from the hard decision. He made it mine instead. Mine the choice, and mine the even harder action.
So be it.
I pulled the trigger.
I marched back to the company. A horrified silence had fallen over it. ‘We make for the landing site,’ I said. ‘We are retaking the Castellan Belasco.’ I didn’t mind the gazes, whether averted or hostile. They couldn’t add to the burden I was already carrying, or to the further weight I was about to shoulder.
‘Get Hanoszek,’ I told Versten. ‘Don’t stop trying until you do.’
We had reached the base of the slope when Versten passed me the handset. It was hard to make out what Hanoszek was saying. His words kept being cut off by what sounded like static, but I knew to be weapons fire. He was asking for help.
‘Sergeant,’ I said, ‘this is Yarrick. We cannot provide assistance. The ship is being held. That is the key to this mission’s success. Do you understand?’
More explosions and cries in the background. Then, ‘Yes.’
‘Is there any way you can bypass the enemy?’
‘No. We’ve already lost half our strength. They’re backing us down a tunnel. Commissar, there’s movement down there.’
I closed my eyes for a moment, hating what I was about to say. ‘Sergeant, go deeper. Head towards that movement.’
Another pause. I didn’t think it was only due to the fighting. ‘Commissar?’
‘What is down there will kill the enemy. Sixth Company will be victorious.’ Again, I asked, ‘Do you understand?’
There was no pause this time. ‘I do.’
‘The Imperium thanks you, Sergeant Hanoszek.’
‘This is simply our duty, sir.’
He would have made a fine officer.
‘I will remain on the vox,’ I told him. ‘All the way.’
‘Thank you.’
We had no more exchanges after that. He left the channel open. I heard the sounds of the end. I kept my promise, and stayed present, bearing what witness I could. I was there as we reached the landing site, and boarded the Valkyries. Hanoszek and his portion of the Sixth fought well and hard and as long as they could, luring the enemy inexorably to disaster. The fight was still going on as we reached the frigate, and the immoral, leaderless rabble that occupied the bridge was confronted with the anger of the Steel Legion.
I was barely aware of our victory on the ship. All of my attention was focused on the terrible victory inside that pyramid on Aionos. I was there to hear Hanoszek, in mortal fear but still fighting, cry, ‘Throne, what are they?’
He would receive no answer. None of us would for many years to come. Years of blessed ignorance.
But on that day, I still sought the pain of knowledge. I forced myself to learn the cost of my decision. I listened to the transmission until the sounds of battle ceased. I listened for almost an hour after that. I listened as the reclaimed Castellan Belasco prepared to leave the system.
I listened to the hollow, hissing remains of the hard choices.
About the Author
David Annandale is the author of the Horus Heresy novel The Damnation of Pythos. He also writes the Yarrick series, consisting of the novella Chains of Golgotha and the novels Imperial Creed and The Pyres of Armageddon. For Space Marine Battles he has written The Death of Antagonis and Overfiend. He is a prolific writer of short fiction, including the novella Mephiston: Lord of Death and numerous short stories set in the Horus Heresy and Warhammer 40,000 universes. David lectures at a Canadian university, on subjects ranging from English literature to horror films and video games.
The tale of one of the Imperium’s greatest living heroes begins here.
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First published in 2013 in The Black Library Anthology 2013/14.
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