Cadia Stands

by Justin D Hill

  He tried each of the levers in front of him and seemed satisfied.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Here goes.’

  The engines roared as he brought them up to full strength, then he put his hands to the controls and took a deep breath. The craft’s nose lifted unsteadily. It hung a hundred feet above the ground, its wings shuddering violently.

  Rath looked confused. He struggled to keep her level as the craft was buffeted by winds, then found the right lever and pushed the engine nozzles from lift to fly.

  It was a tortuous flight. Minka clung on and prayed. Warp creatures flew at them, swatting themselves against the viewport. One of them was sucked into the engine, which rattled for a moment.

  ‘Throne,’ Rath hissed, expecting the engine to rupture, but it coughed and spluttered, and then kicked back into flame.

  Cadia fell away behind them. Once they were out of immediate danger, the Space Wolf took over, ripping the captain’s seat out of its mounting in order to make room for himself.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Rath asked.

  ‘My brothers are waiting,’ the Space Marine said.

  They did not ask any more questions. It was more than two hours’ flight before the Space Wolf strike cruiser appeared before them. It was a grey slab of ceramite, hanging in the void, the bloody light twinkling off the vast turrets of cannons and lance arrays. Minka barely dared breathe as they flew into the shadow of the vast craft.

  There were dark openings along its side. It was to one of those that the Space Marine flew them. The yawning gap filled the viewport. Slaved guns tracked them as they flew into the shadowed tunnel.

  The Space Wolf brought the lander down with a thud that slammed Minka back against the wall. They were inside a brightly lit landing bay. The Space Wolf stood, kicked the door open and squeezed out, his power armour grating against the doorframe. He leaped the twenty feet down to the floor.

  Rath and Minka looked at each other. ‘I’ll help you,’ she said.

  Minka helped Rath down. The Space Wolf was waiting for them. ‘Come!’ he shouted, and waved them to the doorway as servo-attendants moved out from the wall on tracked carriages and began to attend to the lander. Minka slipped down behind Rath.

  Skarp-Hedin’s footsteps pounded out as he crossed the floor. There were five more Space Marines in grey power armour, standing in two files by the door. Rath needed a medicae, but she didn’t dare move. The scale of this ship was built for Adeptus Astartes, not human. Everything was too large.

  The Space Wolf called out to her. ‘Come!’ and she took a step forward.

  As she helped Rath along, the waiting Space Marines suddenly lifted their fists and made the sign of the aquila. Minka froze at the sudden movement, but Skarp-Hedin spoke. ‘Do not fear. They’re saluting you.’

  Part Four

  Cadia Stands

  One

  Agripinaa System

  Tithe-servant to Cadia, the forge world of Agripinaa was known as the Orb of a Thousand Scars, its inhabitants sealed within their hive complexes in order to protect them from the toxic atmospheres; eighty million industrial slaves sustained by the agri worlds of Yayor, Dentor and Ulthor.

  It was a bastion of a planet, with its own battlefleet and a trio of Ramilies-class starforts in orbit about its surface of mines, factories, refineries and industrial complexes. And it was to Agripinaa that the warp flung the Lord-Lieutenant Berwicke, its crew and passengers shaken and dislocated.

  Grüber had taken a brief rest. When he woke he found that Lalinc had somehow managed to salvage his dress uniform from Cadia. It was laid out in his antechamber.

  Grüber washed his face with a damp cloth and stood over the flat uniform. His fingers touched the rich brocade, and he let it fall back down.

  ‘I think I will stay in military garb,’ he said.

  ‘I understand,’ Lalinc said.

  Grüber nodded. ‘Has the Navigator’s chamber opened yet?’

  ‘Not yet, sir.’

  ‘Let me know when it does.’

  ‘I have asked to be notified as soon as,’ Lalinc said.

  Grüber stared at his dress uniform for a long time and picked up his sword. He’d been given it, a century before, when he had been made a full general. It had saved his life more than once. It felt good to hold it again. He pressed the power stud. A thin line of blue energy crackled along its single, curved edge.

  He gave it a few swings. It hummed as it cut through the air. There was a knock at his door.

  Grüber sheathed his sword, buckled his belt tight. It was now two holes tighter. He had lost weight. They all had. In many ways. Four months earlier, Cadia had had the best troops in the galaxy, but now they were leaner, tougher, harder. And it was his responsibility to lead them.

  The knock came again, more urgent this time.

  ‘Come in!’ he called.

  Lalinc stepped inside. ‘Captain Zabuzkho says that Lord Navigator Hyppolytus’ chamber will soon open.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Grüber said. ‘I shall come.’

  There was a flurry of activity as Grüber strode through the bridge corridors of the Lord-Lieutenant Berwicke and arrived at the doors to the Navigator’s chamber. Grüber sniffed. The twinned ratlings were holding each other’s hands. Grüber tried to ignore them as the doors to the chamber were unlocked. The seals opened with a hiss, and the doors slid open.

  Navigator Hyppolytus did not appear.

  Grüber strode forward. The air inside had a musty, dry smell.

  ‘Please,’ the ratlings said. ‘Do not go in.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘We will look,’ they said.

  The Lord Navigator appeared slowly, limping down the steps.

  The tall man was bowed and bent. The ratlings brought out a chair and held the Lord Navigator’s hands as he sat down. He coughed, and Grüber saw blood on the cloth that he held in his hand.

  ‘Lord Navigator?’

  Hyppolytus looked up. The silk cloth was knotted about his head. He looked close to death. When he spoke his voice was little more than a rattle.

  ‘General Grüber,’ he said. ‘We have arrived. Agripinaa Sector.’

  ‘That is correct. You delivered us,’ Grüber said. ‘Thank you.’

  Hyppolytus Fremm closed his eyes and swallowed. ‘It was more than I thought I could manage, general. The warp is in such tumult.’ He closed his eyes once more and an expression of sickness crossed his face for a moment. ‘This was as far as I could manage.’

  Grüber had never touched a Navigator before, but he put a hand out to the mutant’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘You did well.’

  ‘Did the others make it through?’ the Navigator asked.

  Grüber did not know how to break the bad news. ‘Some,’ he said. ‘A handful of tenders. Of the big ships… The Lady of Gygax made contact an hour ago. And we have made visual contact with the Venerable Warrior.’

  Hyppolytus frowned. ‘And the others?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Grüber said. ‘Yet.’

  The Navigator closed his eyes.

  ‘Maybe they will come through.’

  ‘Maybe,’ the Navigator said. He looked weary.

  ‘You don’t have any sign of them?’

  The Navigator shook his head. ‘Nothing. I tried to show them the way, but the gap was closing even as we made the transition.’

  ‘Have they been lost?’

  The Lord Navigator did not answer. ‘It is possible that they have been scattered. The warp storm was unlike any I have seen before. But yes, it is possible.’

  ‘Probable?’

  The Lord Navigator shook his head.

  Grüber took in a deep breath. ‘Well. As soon as we make it to Agripinaa, we will make contact with the High Lords of Terra.’

  ‘Yes,’ the Navigator
said. ‘Terra must know.’

  As the four surviving ships of the evacuation fleet limped towards the system, Grüber established the fighting strength of the forces that had made it through the warp. It was only ninety thousand men. Ninety thousand from a population of nine hundred million. One in a thousand had survived the fall of Cadia.

  Grüber’s staff left him alone. They were as stunned as their commander.

  An hour passed. Decisions had to be made. It was Marshal Shai Arrian, a survivor of Kasr Kraf, who had the courage to come and disturb the general’s reverie.

  He coughed. ‘Lord General Grüber…’

  Grüber slowly looked up. ‘Ninety thousand,’ he said. Arrian did not answer. ‘How is the Lord Navigator?’

  ‘He is recovering.’

  ‘Is there a way to Terra from here?’

  Arrian inclined his head. ‘I will ask.’

  ‘Yes, please do.’

  There was a long silence. ‘I’m not sure he could make another warp transit,’ Arrian said.

  Grüber nodded. He had dreamt of bringing the news to Terra himself. But it seemed even this small victory was to be denied him.

  ‘Any word from Agripinaa?’

  ‘No, sir,’ Arrian said. ‘Our astropaths have tried to contact the forge world. But there has been no response.’

  In the command chamber aboard the Lord-Lieutenant Berwicke, Lalinc went through the reports with General Grüber. They were assessing the armour that they had on board. ‘Three Baneblades. I see the Pugilist made it, and the Excalibur, and the Macharius Star.’

  ‘Is that Pask’s tank?’

  ‘No, sir. He drove the Hand of Steel.’

  ‘Of course. Any news of him?’

  ‘Unfortunately not.’

  ‘Witnesses report that his Titan hunters knocked out two squadrons of Warhounds of Legion Ignatum, before the end.’

  Pask was a fine fighter. A little quiet, but heroes often were, he’d found. In his mind, he went over the events on Cadia. The enemy had not planned the manner of Cadia’s demise. It had been an opportunistic attack. A lucky gambit. They had won the battle, he was sure.

  Lalinc kept talking, but Grüber had stopped listening. His mind wandered, and he sat forward and said, ‘We should decorate Pask. Posthumously. What medals does he have already?’

  Lalinc didn’t know. ‘Well, we should give him something else. Damn it, we should strike a new medal for all the survivors of Cadia.’ Grüber mused on the name. ‘How’s your High Gothic?’

  His aide made a face. He was a soldier, not a scholar.

  ‘Arrian!’ Grüber called. ‘How’s your High Gothic?’

  ‘Reasonable,’ the marshal said.

  ‘Good,’ Grüber said, rubbing his hands together, and started to explain.

  It was decided that the medal would be named the ‘Invictus Crimson’ and that all surviving troops would be awarded it. All Cadians, in fact, who had survived the war. Grüber had been energised by the conversation, but once the medal had been sketched, he sat down and appeared deflated once more.

  ‘What will happen to the Cadian Shock Troopers, now that Cadia is no more?’ Lalinc asked suddenly.

  Grüber nodded. ‘Well. We regroup. We raise more troops. Perhaps the Imperium will give us a new planet to settle.’ Grüber rubbed his eyes. ‘I can’t see the High Lords of Terra rewarding us for defeat.’

  ‘But the years of service,’ Lalinc said. ‘And besides, we did not fail.’

  Grüber nodded. ‘We did not. But we shall be blamed.’ When something went wrong, great institutions needed scapegoats. ‘There are many in the Astra Militarum who are jealous of our status. They are jealous, frankly, that we have always been the foremost,’ Grüber said. ‘They will see the fall of the Cadian Gate as confirmation that we have failed. They will want to take our place. They will want to demote us. I cannot let that happen.’

  ‘I agree. But what can we do?’

  Grüber stood. ‘We have to prove that we are a force worth keeping together. If we are in Agripinaa, then we must take the opportunity. I shall send word to Terra. They must hear the story from us first. The Imperium cannot function without us.’

  At that moment there was a knock on the door.

  ‘Yes.’

  Two men entered. One was a short, broad man; the other was young, with a thick mop of brown hair, a round face and the youthful beginnings of a moustache. Grüber did not know either of them. ‘Yes?’

  The young man hesitated. ‘The captain asked me to come and see you.’

  ‘Why?’ Grüber motioned him to come forward. On his chest, his jacket wore a familiar red warning label.

  ‘Sir. I am Sanctioned Psyker Ruut, currently serving with the Cadian Eighty-Fourth.’

  ‘Ah. And this is…?’

  The other man stepped forward. ‘I am Sergeant Ivann.’ He patted his laspistol. ‘His minder.’

  Psykers were a dangerous weapon. Sometimes they needed to be neutralised.

  Grüber turned his attention to Ruut. ‘We lost our last astropath in the warp. I want a message sent through to Terra. Can you do it?’

  Ruut blanched. ‘My astropathic ability is weak, I’m afraid, sir. Even at the best of times it would take an astropathic choir to send a message that far. I am a battle psyker. Telekinesis. Lower delta level. As an astropath, I am kappa at best.’

  The man seemed a little slow. Grüber nodded indulgently. ‘Can you at least reach Agripinaa? We have had no response from them. There will be a choir there that can relay the message on.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I will do my best.’

  ‘Good. Communicate to them that the Cadian High Command has evacuated the planet, following the collapse of the Cadian Gate. Let the hive lords of Agripinaa know we are in desperate need of provisions and medicae facilities. Reassure them that we are making for Holy Terra, and require a brief stopover. Do not tell them more. The less they know at this point the better.’

  Two hours later, Ruut returned. He had a worn look about him.

  Grüber looked up, expectantly. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I am afraid there is bad news.’

  Grüber laughed. He had heard enough bad news for one day. ‘Well,’ he said, sitting back. ‘You had better tell me.’

  ‘I have not managed to contact Agripinaa.’ Ruut shook his head. ‘I could project my voice out. But I heard nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  Ruut shook his head again.

  ‘What does that mean?’ Grüber said.

  Ruut said nothing. No one wanted to say it out loud. Grüber put his head in his hands. ‘Dismissed, Ruut. Lalinc, I am going to lie down. Fetch me as soon as there is news.’

  Next morning Grüber was woken by Lalinc knocking on his door. His adjutant looked like he had dressed hastily. ‘Yes?’ Grüber said, sitting up from his simple camp bed. He fumbled for the chrono, thinking he had missed his chime, but it was still two hours before ship dawn.

  ‘Sir, we have made first visual contact with Agripinaa.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, I think it is important that you come to see for yourself.’

  Grüber took the lift to the captain’s bridge, where the night shift was on duty. Arrian was there. The marshal had been working all night, and there were heavy bags under his eyes. Grüber strode across to the viewport. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at. ‘There,’ Arrian said. He pointed to a bright point before them.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It is one of the Ramilies starforts.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It has been destroyed.’

  Arrian passed Grüber a pict image. It showed what was left of the Ramilies-class starfort. The cathedral was broken and burned out, its plasma reactor dead.

  ‘And the others?’

 
There was one more. Both of the vast bastions showed significant signs of damage. ‘And the third?’

  Arrian made a face. ‘It is no longer here.’

  ‘What do you mean, it’s no longer here. Has it left?’

  ‘No,’ Arrian said. ‘From the debris cloud here, I think its reactors went critical.’

  ‘Destroyed.’

  Arrian nodded.

  ‘But to destroy a Ramilies… I’ve never heard of such a thing!’

  ‘Never mind three,’ Arrian said.

  As they drew closer to Agripinaa, visual contacts began to confirm their greatest fears. Agripinaa had suffered the same fate as Cadia, and she had not had the Cadian Shock Troop defending her.

  Her proud defences had been smashed. The wrecks of Battlefleet Agripinaa hung in sedate silence in the void, clouds of ice and gas and frozen flotsam sparkling in the light of the distant sun. The only movement was the front half of a battleship, quickly identified as the Theseus from the size of the dorsal lance turrets, which was turning slowly as its floors vented the last of its internal atmosphere.

  The majestic battleships and cruisers had been torn apart. Their escorts clung to them like piglets about their sow; but they too were frozen and still and dead.

  The Lord-Lieutenant Berwicke pushed on through the iron corpses, leading the small flotilla of survivors through the debris field. The sight of Agripinaa killed any hope they might have held on to. The planet – a grey ball of forge-world ash and pollution – was now a vast, black comet, circling slowly in its orbit, a long tail of rock, smoke and debris falling behind.

  There was stunned silence on the bridge of the Lord-Lieutenant Berwicke.

  ‘Agripinaa, too?’ someone said.

  No one responded.

  ‘Our enemies seem to have foreseen our every move,’ Grüber said.

  Again, no one spoke. At last Grüber said, ‘Say nothing of this. Nothing at all. Communicate that to the other captains. The men cannot know. They have to have hope.’ He looked at each of his commanders in turn. ‘Understood?’

  They nodded solemnly.

  Two

  Debris Field, Agripinaa Sector