[Caiphas Cain 03] The Traitor's hand

by Sandy Mitchell

  'Second squad,' she reported a moment later. 'We've found a body. Civilian, shot in the back. Autogun by the look of the wounds.'

  'Any sign of a weapon?' I asked.

  'No sir.' Even at this distance I could see the angry set of her shoulders. 'This was murder, pure and simple.'

  'It looks like he was running away,' one of the troopers chipped in helpfully.

  'Rolled under here for cover, maybe.'

  'Well it didn't help him,' Penlan said. Something about the tone of her voice promised bloody vengeance on behalf of whoever it had been. 'He must have been working up here when they landed.'

  'If they landed,' I said.

  Jurgen looked at me quizzically. 'There's nothing else on the pad,' I pointed out.

  'Perhaps they took off again,' he suggested. It was possible, of course, but somehow I couldn't see our shadowy enemies leaving here until they'd done whatever they set out to do, and it all seemed far too normal for that to have been the case.

  'First squad,' a new voice chimed in, on fifth platoon's channel.[95]'We're in the boat dock. Looks like there's been a serious firefight down here. Lasgun and autogun damage mostly. Maybe a couple of stubbers.'

  Well that answered that. The raiders had come in aboard one of the scheduled supply vessels, probably after hijacking it on the way, unless at least some of the crew had been cultists to begin with.

  'Any survivors?' Lieutenant Faril asked, his habitual good humour absent for once, which was hardly surprising under the circumstances.

  'No,' the sergeant replied. 'Just bodies. Security personnel mostly, judging by the uniforms. It looks like they were trying to hold the attackers off while the workers got out.'

  They didn't seem to have got very far, judging by the complete lack of any signs of life we'd seen since our arrival. According to the data Detoi had pulled, there should have been nearly three thousand workers aboard. It was hard to believe that the attackers could have taken quite so many, but as the search continued and the body count rose, it became increasingly clear that this was precisely what had happened.

  'In other words, we're wandering around looking for a frakking army,' Magot said, apparently none too perturbed at the prospect. I nodded, flattening myself into the shadow of a companionway, while Grifen and her team moved ahead to the next mark.

  'It's beginning to look like that,' I said. An army would be something of an exaggeration, but it had taken a good few dozen raiders to fight their way out of the boat dock. Not all had made it either, I was pleased to learn, the outlandish clothing (or more often lack of it) of some of the corpses indicating that the dredger's crew hadn't gone down without taking a few of their assailants with them. After that, hunting down and murdering the panicked workforce in small groups would have been easy, especially if they already had confederates aboard who could point them at the most likely hiding places.

  I had little time to muse on this bleak prospect, however, as my thoughts were interrupted by the distinctive crack of ionising air which accompanied a lasgun discharge. It was followed an instant later by others, the harsher bark of an autogun and what sounded like a couple of pistols.

  'Contact,' a voice said in my comm-bead. 'Level twelve, sector two.' A moment later Lieutenant Luskom, the officer in charge of first platoon, chimed in on the company frequency.

  'Third squad's in a firefight,' she reported. 'Sector two, level twelve. I'm moving first and fourth in to support.'

  'Sector two,' I said, recalling the map Detoi had shown me and mentally comparing it with our own position. 'It must be down that way.' I pointed, although there was no need to really, the sound of gunfire intensifying in that direction as the fresh squads joined in the battle.

  'Shall we go in to support them?' Grifen asked, and I shook my head.

  'They seem to be handling it. I'm more interested in what the traitors are trying to defend.' And with any luck first platoon would be keeping them looking the other way while we went to find out.

  Unfortunately, while the enemy might have been mad, they weren't stupid. As we rounded a row of storage tanks, finally moving out of the constant wind into some degree of shelter, a crackle of las fire sent us scurrying for cover. An itchy rain of dislodged rust pattered on my cap and greatcoat, leaving a stain on the sable fabric that would be the Emperor's own job to remove, and I inched forwards on my elbows to peer cautiously around the corner.

  'Frak!' I said feelingly. The heretics had erected a makeshift barricade which looked solid enough for all that, crouching behind a rough assemblage of girders, packing crates, metal drums and other detritus. More to the point they'd set up a heavy stubber to cover the open space in front. Any attempt to get closer would simply get the whole lot of us killed. As if to emphasise the point it opened up, gouging a line of dents in the deck plating.

  'Well we're not getting in that way,' Grifen said as I wormed my way back hastily to join her.

  'We could work around and try to flank them,' Magot suggested. 'Lob a few frag grenades over the barrier. That'd give them something to think about.'

  'It might,' I said. 'The problem's going to be getting close enough.' By luck or by judgement the heretics had chosen their position well, without much cover for a flanking attack. The storage tanks we'd taken refuge behind were the nearest piece of solid cover; I could only hope that whatever they contained wasn't volatile. Even Jurgen's melta couldn't help us this time, the range was too great. He got off a couple of shots, which at least kept the heretics' heads down, but the thermal energy dissipated too much for the metal of the fortification to be anything more than mildly scorched.

  I sighed with frustration. 'We haven't got time for this. We'll have to go round another way.'

  This was easier said than done and looked like getting harder. As we pulled back, the mocking catcalls of the cultists echoing in our ears, I was getting a steady stream of tactical reports through the comm-bead. By now practically every squad in the company had encountered resistance, and the few which hadn't (apart from the ones Lustig had guarding the dropship) were being rushed in to reinforce their fellows.

  From training and habit I compared the positions of the firefights with the memory of the schematics I'd seen and nodded grimly. The heretics had sealed off sector twelve, reinforcing their perimeter to withstand a siege. Whatever they were up to was happening somewhere in that part of the dredger.

  'Detoi,' I said. 'We have to find a weak spot. If we don't break through soon it'll be too late.'

  'I know.' His voice was tight with frustration. 'But we don't have the numbers. The way they're dug in they can hold us off indefinitely.'

  'We can call for reinforcements,' I said, without much hope. Even if Zyvan was reachable now it would take far too long for any other units to get here. 'But I doubt they'll arrive in time.'

  'Maybe if we concentrate our forces,' Detoi said, his voice heavy. 'Pull everyone back and consolidate, try to force a breach in one spot.'

  His lack of enthusiasm for the idea was evident in his tone, and I could appreciate why. Not only would we be bottlenecked trying to get to a single fortification, the enemy would have time to reinforce the point we attacked. The fighting would be vicious and bloody and we'd take massive casualties. Even then the chances of succeeding were low.

  'There must be something else we can do,' I said, reluctant to commit us to so desperate an action unless we had to, but right then I couldn't think of an alternative.

  'Then we'd better think of it fast,' Detoi said, the flatness of his tone revealing that he was under no illusions about our ability to do so.

  'I've an auspex contact, inbound,' the dropship pilot cut in. 'Closing fast.'

  'Any vox contact?' I asked, the sinking feeling in my gut already providing the answer.

  'Not yet,' the pilot confirmed. 'But the IFF[96]says it's Imperial.'

  A sudden flare of hope lit within me. Maiden must have been able to get through to the lord general at last, and with extra troops at o
ur disposal we stood a chance of breaking through the heretics' defences and foiling their foul design. Whatever that might be.

  'Lustig,' I voxed. 'Keep it covered anyway, just in case.' Things were dicey enough right now as they were and the last thing we needed was to fall for some heretic stratagem using a stolen shuttle.

  'Acknowledged,' the stoic sergeant said, and I turned my attention back to Detoi. By this time the troopers, Jurgen and I were halfway back to the dropship, our boots ringing on the surface of the pad, and I could clearly see the captain and Lustig standing on the cargo ramp, shielding their eyes as they gazed to the west.[97]

  'Better get everyone primed to disengage,' I said, 'just in case.'

  'Already on it,' he responded. 'Their orders are to keep the enemy pinned, not expose themselves to fire, and be prepared to pull back.'

  'Sounds good to me,' I said, with some relief. That kept our options open, at least for a little while longer.

  I turned my head, looking in the same direction as the captain and the sergeant.

  The scream of an engine was audible now, dosing fast, and ahead of it darted a sleek courier shuttle. I felt a sudden jab of disappointment. Another dropship with a full company would have been a bit much to hope for, but I'd been counting on a cargo shuttle with a platoon or two at least. The courier couldn't have held more than a squad.

  I watched it touch down with a curious mixture of emotions I can only describe as inquisitive apprehension. Things were beginning to get out of hand again, and I didn't like the feeling. Its engines died down to an idle and I walked towards it, obscurely grateful for the familiar presence of Jurgen at my shoulder. Grifen and her troopers stayed at my back, a few paces behind, their hands on their weapons. As we got closer the ramp descended and a squad of Imperial troops disembarked at the double, lasguns held ready.

  'Tallarns,' Griffen said, surprised. I have to admit I shared her emotion. Behind the desert warriors came a familiar figure in commissarial black who pushed his way through the knot of troopers to stand in front of me. He was fighting to keep his face impassive, and losing badly; something akin to a smirk kept writhing to the surface of his pudgy features.

  'Beije,' I said flatly, sure that whatever he was here for was bound to be bad news. 'This isn't a very good time.'

  'Ciaphas Cain,' he responded, bouncing on the soles of his feet with an excess of self-importance. 'You are hereby charged with desertion, cowardice in the face of the enemy and misappropriation of military resources.' He gestured to the squad of Tallarn warriors, beckoning them forward. 'Arrest him.'

  Editorial Note:

  Without more background information much of what follows will appear to make little sense. Accordingly I have inserted another extract from Tincrowser's account of the campaign as a whole, which ought to go some way towards explaining what would otherwise appear to be a coincidence so huge as to stretch the credulity of even the most open-minded of readers. Cain, of course, concentrates purely on his own experience, barely bothering to speculate about the wider causes and implications of what's going on around him.

  From Sablist in Skitterfall: a brief history of the Chaos incursion by Dagblat Tincrowser, 957.M41

  WITH THE INVASION force now apparently stalled, thanks to Lord General Zyvan's bold and incisive strategy, the tide at last began to turn in favour of the beleaguered defenders. Encircled by no fewer than four companies of Imperial Guard, landed by dropship to fall on their undefended rear, the invaders attacking Skitterfall faltered and began to consolidate to.

  In space, however, things still appeared grim for the lone cruiser standing guard over Skitterfall highport, and the frightened huddle of merchant ships which looked like easy prey for the twisted leviathan bearing down on the besieged planet below. At ranges almost too great for the mind to grasp, combat was eventually joined, ravening energies of barely conceivable power reaching out to strike at the Imperial vessels in orbit.

  The Indestructible was to live up to her glorious name, however, despite the grievous wounds she suffered from that first strike, retaliating with her dorsal lance battery which alone could match the range of the formidable firepower unleashed by the Chaotic vessel. It was a heroic gesture, but seemed to some observers to be futile, since it was far less powerful than the shots she'd received, but if nothing else it served to goad the battleship into reckless action, increasing its speed in an attempt to close and decide the matter. To the astonishment of all, however, the Indestructible reversed her engines, giving ground and retreating slowly in the face of the aggressor.

  The despair which must have been felt by those merchant crews at such a sight is something we can only imagine, since it must surely have seemed that the Imperial cruiser was damaged beyond all reasonable effectiveness and hoping to withdraw. That was certainly the impression the marauder got, for rather than concentrating its fire on the limping Indestructible, its auxiliary weapons began striking out wantonly at the merchant shipping and it continued to accelerate towards the tempting array of targets laid out before it.

  This was precisely the intention of the Indestructible's heroic captain, Igor Yates, whose tactical brilliance finally began to become clear. Just at the moment her looming attacker was overcommitted, the Indestructible launched a volley of torpedoes, which impacted on the Chaos vessel with most gratifying results. Too badly damaged to launch torpedoes of its own, and with its dorsal armament now out of action, the cumbersome behemoth began burning retros in an attempt to bring its broadside to bear on the Imperial vessel. However the turn was too ponderous and the momentum it had built up too great; Captain Yates's trap was sprung.

  Still trying to turn, the crippled leviathan drifted into the middle of the fleet of merchant ships which, until now, it had considered nothing more than easy prey to be picked off at leisure. The feeble armament of a cargo ship would normally be no threat at all to such a mighty engine of destruction, but now it was surrounded by nearly a thousand of them, which, instead of attempting to flee as the murderous cowards aboard the battleship would no doubt have expected, began to swarm towards them, bringing their puny defensive batteries to bear as they did so. Just as a lumbering grox can be stung to death by a nest of maddened firewasps, the mighty warship died by increments as the sheer number of its assailants began to take their toll. Though its powerful weapons lashed out again and again, swatting one or two at a time, it could never hope to make much difference to so mighty a host, and once the Indestructible had returned to the fray, crippling its engines, the end was inevitable.

  For a moment, they say, a new sun blazed in the sky over Skitterfall, bright enough to dazzle the observers on the ground, and at that sight Guardsmen and PDF soldiers alike cheered in unison, knowing the back of the invasion had been comprehensively broken. All that remained was the scouring of the stain inflicted on our fair world, a task they set to with a will.

  In the years since, that engagement has been studied and considered by many, and a few have wondered at the Chaos captain's apparent recklessness. Surely, they ask, he must have had some reason for acting as he did, some compelling reason to continue on so suicidal a course?[98] Such speculation is, however, as futile as it is fruitless. What this undoubtedly teaches us is that the Great Enemy's greatest weakness is overconfidence, nothing more.

  EIGHTEEN

  'Well, that was unexpected…'

  - Last words of the Chaos Warmaster Varan the Undefeatable

  THE PHRASE ''UTTER ASTONISHMENT'' barely begins to convey my emotions at that moment. No doubt I would have stood there completely stupefied with Emperor alone knows what results, if it hadn't been for the troopers with me. But as the Tallarns stepped forward to obey Beije's order, Grifen and the rest of her squad brought up their lasguns to forestall them. The desert warriors hesitated, looking to their commissar for a lead.

  'This is mutiny,' Beije said, completely lost in a world of his own by now. He drew his laspistol and began to aim at the Valhallan sergeant. 'You're hereby
sentenced to death under section—'

  'Oh be quiet you absurd little man,' I snapped, bringing my own weapon up to cover him. 'No one's executing any of my troopers unless it's me. And if you even so much as think about pulling that trigger you'll be dead before she hits the ground, I promise you.'

  'Too right,' Magot agreed, stepping between Grifen and the outraged commissar. 'You want her, you'll have to go through me.'

  'Shoot them all!' Beije waved a peremptory arm at the Tallarns, who began looking from one to the other with the unmistakable air of men who've suddenly realised that they've walked blithely up to the brink of a precipice.

  'No one's shooting anybody,' I said calmly. 'Unless it's the heretics we came here to cleanse.' I gestured in the direction of the sounds of battle, still clearly audible, as the sergeant in charge of the Tallarns nodded almost imperceptibly to his squad. They lowered their weapons a fraction, and to my relief the Valhallans did the same.

  'In case you hadn't noticed, there's a battle going on here, and if we don't win it pretty damn quick, all hell's about to break loose. Literally.'

  'You can't hide behind posturing and rhetoric this time,' Beije snarled, taking a step forward and bringing his laspistol around to point at me. 'You ran away from the battle for Skitterfall and you took a whole company of soldiers out of the field with you. You've been obsessed with finding some excuse to hide out here as far from the fighting as you can get ever since that petticoat colonel of yours came up with her ridiculous theory—' He broke off, suddenly aware of the naked anger on the faces of the Valhallans facing him, and the lasguns in their hands.

  'You can accuse me of anything you like,' I said, playing to the emotions of the troopers with me with the ease of long practice. 'But you will not disparage Colonel Kasteen in my presence. She's one of the finest soldiers I've ever had the privilege to serve with, and the regiment she leads is among the best in the galaxy.'