Less than a hundred metres separated them now and Daekian could make out the terrible damage Princeps Fierach had managed to inflict on this warp-spawned beast before being dragged to his death. Huge steel plates were crudely welded across the Dies Irae's midsection and all manner of auxiliary mechanisms had been grafted to its legs to allow it to move.
Fire from the gatling blaster blasted off more of its void shields and as Daekian saw a single shell explode against its upper bastions, he knew that the beast was stripped of its infernal protection.
He pushed the Honoris Causa forward and raised the volcano cannon.
'This is for Princeps Fierach,' he snarled and fired.
He watched the searing beam of unimaginably powerful energy streak towards the Dies Irae's head, knowing, even as he fired, that the shot was true.
His triumph turned to disbelief as the beam struck on a void shield, repaired at the last second before impact. The Dies Irae ground its torso towards him, the white-hot barrel of its plasma weapon aimed directly at him.
'Evasive manoeuvres!' he bellowed, even as he knew it would be too late.
The Honoris Causa lurched sideways as the plasma bolt fired.
Princeps Daekian was almost quick enough. Almost.
The shot impacted on the Warlord's volcano cannon, instantaneously vaporising the weapon in a seething ball of plasma. The explosion ripped up the Titan's arm, the adamantium structure flashing molten in a heartbeat.
Daekian screamed in agony, convulsing as the flashback from his arm's destruction flared along the mind impulse link. Blood streamed from his nose and ears, but he kept true to his course, striding towards the hazy outline of the Dies Irae through the smoke filling the command bridge.
He reached the walls at the same instant as the Dies Irae, the raised ground inside Vincare bastion bringing him level with his foe's head. The Pax Imperator circled around to his right, its carapace running with plasma fire and limping as its leg joints trailed streamers of white sparks.
Daekian lashed out with the Honoris Causa's one remaining arm, his battle claw slamming against the Dies Irae's chest. The massive Titan rocked back under the powerful blow, swinging its arm against the lip of the bastion and smashing through the rockcrete and hammering into the Honoris Causa's upper leg.
Daekian felt the leg crack and heard the screams over the vox from the engineering decks. He had moments at best.
He swiped again at his gigantic foe, ripping the armour plating away from the Dies Irae's belly as it pummelled his wounded flank with its arms. It lurched backwards, attempting to protect its now vulnerable reactor.
The horrendously damaged Pax Imperator charged into the fight, its chain fist ripping through the upper bastions of the Dies hae, its blade shrieking as it tore downwards towards the war machine's bridge.
The Dies Irae's barbed tail swung and pulverised the knee joint of the Pax Imperator, shaking loose its chain fist and staggering the mighty god-machine.
Daekian watched the Dies hae turn and hammer the barrel of its plasma annihilator into the bridge of the Pax Imperator and fire at point-blank range.
The upper half of the Reaver vanished in a searing blast, enveloping the two battling Titans with liquid fire. The remains of the Pax Imperator crashed over the walls of the bastion into the ditch, huge plumes of black smoke trailing from its burning hulk.
But its death had given Daekian the opening he needed.
He rammed his battle claw against the heat-softened midsection of the Dies Irae's reactor chamber, through the wound first opened by Princeps Fierach. He roared as he punched through into his foe's guts, gripping its nuclear heart in his iron grip and crushing it with all his might.
HONSOU WATCHED THE battle between the enormous war machines through the drifting haze of smoke, willing the majestic form of the Dies Irae to smash its inferior foes to scrap metal. He sheltered in the lee of the breach, his armour dusty and bloodstained.
His frustration grew with every explosion above him. They could not force the breach like this.
He watched as the leviathans struggled on the far bastion, their battle shaking the ground as though a powerful earthquake gripped the world. 'Forrix!' he yelled over the din of shells exploding at the crest of the breach. 'One way or another, this battle will soon be over. It is time to withdraw!'
Forrix shook his head, sneering. 'I should have known your cowardice would finally come to the fore! We stay and take this breach.'
Honsou felt his anger flare and gripped Forrix's armour, shouting. 'We have to go! The attack has lost its momentum and the enemy will be regrouping behind the walls. We only reinforce failure if we stay. There will be another time!'
For a second, Honsou thought Forrix was about to rebuke him again, but the fury drained from his eyes and he nodded, turning without a word and scrambling down the breach.
Honsou followed him and the Iron Warriors retreated from the walls, falling back to the ditch in disciplined groups. As he clambered over an iron-bar-studded chunk of rockcrete, the day was lit by a terrible brightness. The sky was bleached of colour and everything before him was bathed in the blinding light of a star.
The Dies Irae was enveloped in a dazzling ball of incandescent fire, huge sprays of plasma gouting from its belly. The enemy Titan with the burning white eyes had its fist buried in its guts, tearing and destroying the magnificent daemon machine. Locked together, the two Titans wrestled to escape each other's grip, the ground heaving with their battle.
As Honsou watched, a terrible groaning rent the air as the two machines rocked past their combined centre of gravity and slowly began to fall towards them into the ditch.
'Run!' he shouted, all thought of a disciplined retreat forgotten in the face of this new danger. He sprinted past the ravelin and leapt up the rubble slopes of the ditch as the two war machines slammed into the outer face of the curtain wall between Vincare bastion and the gate. Their massive bodies scraped down its face, trailing flaming sheets of burning plasma and ripping another great tear in the walls.
Honsou scrambled over the lip of the ditch, desperate to reach the safety of the earthworks. Forrix ran alongside him, his new bionics enhancing his speed, despite the Terminator armour he wore.
The two Titans slammed into the ground, the impact throwing Honsou from his feet and hurling him forward. He smashed into the top of the earthwork, rolling over its top as a river of plasma spilled from the ruptured reactors of the Titans.
Burning plasma flooded the ditch, incinerating the corpses that filled it in an instant. The Primus Ravelin was destroyed, crushed beneath thousands of tonnes of armaplas and ceramite. Huge flames and geysers of magma-hot steam ripped along the ditch, vitrifying the rocks throughout its length.
Razor sharp chunks of white-hot debris rained down inside the citadel, one shard from the Honoris Causa's bridge section hammering through a section of ramparts less than five metres from Castellan Leonid.
Both war machines thrashed weakly in the molten soup that filled the ditch, grappling to the last as the searing fires consumed them.
The first attack had failed.
FIVE
CASTELLAN LEONID POURED himself a glass of amasec and drained his glass in a single swallow. He set down the glass on his desk and sat on the edge of his bed, his entire body aching. He winced as stitches from a dozen shallow cuts pulled tight across his arms and legs, rubbing his temples in an attempt to ease the pain of the last few days.
Such a miracle was beyond his powers. He poured himself another glass, looking through the armoured loophole in the tower's wall. A dim glow still radiated from the dying plasma fires in the ditch where the two Titans had fallen and he raised his glass to the light. 'Here's to you, Princeps Daekian. May the Emperor watch over your soul.'
He drank the fiery spirit and briefly considered pouring another. He decided against it, knowing he had much to organise before morning. He rubbed a calloused hand through his hair when a knock came at his door.
>
'Come in.'
Brother-Captain Eshara ducked his head as he entered the room, pulling up a sturdy chair from beside Leonid's desk and sitting opposite the citadel's castellan.
The pair sat in a companionable silence before Eshara said, 'Your men fought bravely today. They are a credit to Joura, and your kin would be proud of you all.'
Seeing Leonid's sadness, he added, 'I was grieved to hear of Major Anders's death.'
Leonid nodded, remembering the awful sight of an Iron Warrior casually butchering his brave friend in the Primus Ravelin.
'As did yours, captain. We all feel Brother Corwin's loss.'
Eshara's face was lined with sorrow, 'I do not pretend to understand what happened in that bastion, but I believe he gave his life to save us all.'
'As do I,' replied Leonid.
Reports of the battle in the Mori bastion were confused to say the least. The infirmary building was awash with soldier's ravings, telling of a giant warrior killing everything in the bastion by his voice alone and a whirlwind that fed on blood. Luckily, Leonid had been able to scotch these wild tales before they had reached the remainder of the garrison.
'Tomorrow will be the last day will it not?' asked Leonid.
Eshara didn't answer and Leonid thought he was avoiding the question, but the Space Marine had merely been considering his answer.
'If we do not pull back to the citadel's inner wall, then, yes, it will be. We have less than four thousand men, virtually no heavy guns and three breaches. The wall is too long and we cannot hold everywhere at once. We will make it a thankless, bloody battle for our enemies, but, ultimately, the citadel will fall.'
'Then we will give up the outer wall and fall back to the inner citadel. The wall there is unbroken and, despite its irregular coverage, we still have the protection of the energy shield.'
Eshara nodded. 'Aye. The sacrifice made by Princeps Daekian has bought us some time to regroup, and it would be best if we begin now.'
'I will issue the orders immediately,' stated Leonid pouring himself a last glass of amasec and taking out his vial of detox pills.
He swallowed one and shook his head at the dreadful taste, placing the vial on the desk.
'I have observed your men taking these pills as well,' noted Eshara. 'Might I enquire as to what they are?'
'What, the detox pills? Oh, of course, you do not need these do you? Well, I don't suppose any of us will need them any more really.'
Eshara looked puzzled and said, 'Need them for what?'
'Well, it's the air here,' explained Leonid, waving his hand around him, 'It's poisonous. The Magos Biologis of the Adeptus Mechanicus provide these pills to keep the men from getting sick from the toxins in the air.'
Eshara leaned closer and lifted the vial. He shook out a handful of pills and took what seemed, to Leonid, an unnecessarily deep breath.
'Castellan Leonid, are you aware of an organ unique to the physiology of the Space Marines known as the neuroglottis?'
Leonid shook his head as Eshara continued. 'It is situated at the back of the throat and is capable of analysing the chemical content of anything we ingest or breathe. If need be, it can shift the pattern of my breathing to divert my trachea to a genetically altered lung better able to process the toxins in any given atmosphere.'
Eshara replaced the vial on Leonid's desk and said, 'I am afraid you have been misled, my friend, because I can assure you that the air on this planet is quite harmless. Unpleasant to breathe, yes, but poisonous? Most definitely not.'
LEONID LET HIS anger grow with each step that took him towards the Machine Temple, situated deep beneath the citadel. He clutched the vial of detox pills in his left hand, his laspistol in his right, as he made his way along the antiseptic corridors that led to the lair of Arch Magos Amaethon. Captain Eshara was beside him and his honour guard of carapace-armoured Guardsmen marched in step behind him.
Now he knew why Hawke had not sickened and died on the mountains. Now he knew why the men stationed here were afflicted with headaches and constant nausea.
Now he knew why there were so many flags and regimental plaques around the briefing chamber. With these ''detox'' pills, it was only a matter of time until the citadel would need another garrison.
Eshara had sampled one of the pills, allowing the chemicals to swill around his mouth before spitting them into an empty water jug.
'Poison,' he declared at last. 'Slow-acting to be sure, and subtle in its effects, but poison nonetheless. There are many chemicals present in this tablet I know to be highly carcinogenic. It is my guess that after a few years of taking these, the victim would be suffering from one or more highly virulent cancers.'
Leonid was horrified and stared in revulsion at the vial of pills before the cold realisation of how long he had been taking them struck him. 'How virulent?' he whispered.
Eshara frowned. 'Debilitating after maybe six or seven years and fatal soon after that.'
Leonid was speechless with rage. The magnitude of the betrayal was unbelievable. That the Adeptus Mechanicus could have perpetuated such a lie upon their own people was staggering. Thinking of the hundreds of regimental flags in the briefing chamber, he tried to calculate how many men the Adeptus Mechanicus had murdered, but gave up, appalled, as the numbers spiralled into the millions.
'Why would they do such a thing?'
'I do not know. What is it that this citadel defends? Is it so valuable that not even its defenders can be allowed to tell what they know?'
Leonid shook his head. 'No, well, maybe, I don't know for sure. As far as I know, this place is some sort of way-station for xeno artefacts discovered in the sector. I was told that the facility was built upon a ruin from the Dark Age of Technology—'
'Again, I feel you have been misled. I do not believe the Adeptus Mechanicus would stoop to such base behaviour simply to protect recovered xeno artefacts. There is a secret hidden within this citadel that is worth the life of every man who serves here.'
Leonid vowed he would find out what that secret was, even if he had to wring Naicin's neck or threaten to put a las-bolt through whatever machine kept the remains of Amaethon alive. It might already be too late for the 383rd Jouran Dragoons, but Leonid would make damn sure the Adeptus Mechanicus were made to pay for their crimes.
Several corridors branched off the main one, but Leonid unerringly followed the path towards the Machine Temple.
'Someone is ahead of us,' whispered Eshara, drawing and cocking his bolt pistol.
Leonid followed suit as his honour guard raised their rifles and moved to surround him.
The armed party rounded a bend in the corridor as it widened into a vaulted chamber, with latticed iron girders lacing above them to form a web-like dome. Glow-globes floated in suspensor fields, the walls were inscribed with cog symbols and all manner of metal crates and bulky machines lay scattered around the room. Worker servitors and indentured labourers moved mechanically around the wide room, oblivious to the goings on around them.
At the far end of the chamber, a wide, semicircular cog-toothed door sat half open, a small group of people clustered around it.
Leonid immediately recognised Magos Naicin and the ungainly form of two Praetorian battle-servitors. Servitors were surgically altered slaves utilised by the Adeptus Mechanicus for a variety of manual tasks. Praetorians fulfilled the adepts need for heavy defence, featuring an augmented slave body atop a mechanised track unit, with a variety of lethal weapon combinations implanted in the servitors' arms.
The last figure was unknown to Leonid, but he was astonished at the hideous bulk of the man that not even his shapeless robes could conceal. His skin was the colour of black steel, his face more dead than alive.
Naicin saw them coming and darted through the door, dragging the enormous robed figure after him.
Leonid growled in anger and set off towards the closing door as the two battle-servitors rumbled forwards. Leonid was too intent on the door to pay them any heed. No
thing would prevent him from reaching Naicin and killing him.
The first Praetorian raised its weapon arms as Leonid's honour guard rushed after him, realising his danger. The fastest man of the team dived for his commander, knocking him to the ground as the Praetorian opened fire, the rhythmic thumping of a massive bolter filling the chamber as it hosed the chamber with shells.
The shells passed over Leonid, but the men behind were not so lucky. Three were thrown back, huge holes blasted in their chests. Leonid and his rescuer rolled into the cover offered by a huge tracked drilling rig as more shots filled the chamber, heavier auto cannon shells blasting metal chunks from the machine.
A flurry of las-blasts struck the Praetorian, which rocked back, bloody craters torn across its body. The battle-servitor didn't slow, it merely adjusted its aim and ripped apart yet more of Leonid's guard with deadly accurate gunfire, bullets spewing from the gun at a furious rate.
The man who'd saved Leonid's life spun from the cover of the drilling rig, taking careful aim at the Praetorian's head. He dropped as he was struck in the head and chest, blown apart by the mass reactive bolter shells as they detonated within his flesh.
Leonid scrambled away as the heavy bolter and auto cannon began tearing up the chamber. Glass, plastic and blood erupted all around, showering them with sparks as soldiers and worker-servitors went down, panels and glow-globes shattering.
The lobotomised worker-servitors were not programmed to react to such external stimuli and continued working at their posts. They died silently as the Praetorians walked the shells into them, raking their fire left and right, servo assisted muscles easily absorbing their guns' huge recoil.
Emergency lights flickered on as fluorescent panels were shot out and Leonid slithered towards Eshara, who had drawn his crackling power sword.
Human workers scrambled to disconnect themselves from their stations and seek shelter as the battle-servitors slowly advanced towards them. One dropped to his knees, begging for mercy.
The Praetorian shot him in the face.
The rest died in three controlled bursts of fire.
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