Chapter Twenty-Two
Moaz covered the last hundred miles in less than four hours, found the designated spot and cursed. This was the place Kill Team Zeal were supposed to rendezvous, but he was two days late, and there was no one else here.
He had not slept for four days and the exertion was beginning to show. He crouched in a low hollow half a mile south of the tau space port and took out his magnoculars. The tau facility was well guarded. There was no sign of the rest of his kill team.
He ducked back as a flight of drones went overhead, one leap-frogging the other as they scouted the land. He could not vox so close to the enemy, but he risked a quick crackle of static on his personal channel: two crackles in quick succession.
Nothing. He had started moving round the space port when he heard his vox-unit come to life – just a hint of static, before the signal dropped. He moved forwards, keeping to the shadows, and the signal came again, closer this time. He crouched down, unable to see anything, and risked sending a brief signal back. Just a crackle of static in return.
Moaz moved forwards at a run now, dropping into an icy hollow as a Devilfish passed within twenty feet of him, blue screens lighting up the gunner’s face as he looked straight through the Raven Guard.
A hand clasped his arm. Moaz twisted, knife out, but already there was a knife at his own throat.
‘I have been waiting for you,’ Hadrian said.
Moaz laughed. ‘Well done, brother! I have taught you well,’ he said and put his own knife away. ‘Now, if I had slept in the last four days…!’
‘I wondered why you were making so much noise. What happened though? You should have been here two days ago.’
There wasn’t time to go over it all. ‘I was delayed,’ Moaz said.
‘Were you seen?’
The Raven Guard had to admit it. ‘Yes. Kroot hunters. I killed them all. It took longer than I thought.’
‘The jammers are fitted?’
‘All of them. They will start jamming in about…’ he checked the chronometer inside his helmet, ‘ten minutes.’
The Black Shield had dropped in three days after Moaz, manoeuvred slowly to within half a mile of the star base and, for the last three weeks, had watched and recorded all the little routines of the camp. The times of meals. The patterns of movement. The deployment of forces. He knew it all. They were almost ready to attack.
‘Get your bolter ready,’ Hadrian said. ‘You’re just in time.’
He opened the vox-link to the ships in orbit. ‘He is here,’ Hadrian said. ‘Yes. Yes. Understood.’ He closed the vox-link. ‘Nergui says we are ready to go.’
As he spoke he took a homing beacon from his belt, placed it down and set the signal pulsing. There was a slight hum as it started up, and then the note changed as the Nemesis locked on to it. A light flashed to show a drop-unit was inbound.
Hadrian loaded his bolter. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s give them room.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Northwind was running on almost no power, her systems barely ticking over as she slid through the thick gas clouds of the Distaf Nebula. In the Eyrie, Batbayar Khan had his honour guard in attendance. They stood with legs braced wide and arms folded as they stared down at the planet they were about to attack.
‘I have a question, great khan.’
Batbayar scowled, his brows coming together as Ganzorig stepped forwards.
‘Speak,’ Batbayar said.
‘Tell me, great khan, why does the Tulwar Brotherhood fight this war, when there is battle on our home world?’
There was a sudden stillness. Batbayar turned on the banner bearer. ‘Ganzorig, are you afraid?’
The other warrior smarted. ‘You know the answer to that,’ he said. ‘I fear nothing, except failure.’
‘I tell you why we fight today. We were born on a world of wide plains, good for riding and hunting. But we are Adeptus Astartes! We have been raised above others. We are stronger, fiercer, braver. The galaxy is our steppe land. We ride where we choose. We hunt our enemies and we kill them! That is the reason we fight. But more than that. We fight today because our brothers need us. Kor’sarro Khan is set on killing this Shadowsun. If we kill her then we bring two companies home to Chogoris… What a victory that would be!’
As he spoke something began to appear over the planet. It slid slowly into view, a pale cupola with an underslung array of pulse cannons and railguns that could even smash through a craft as powerful as the Northwind.
‘That is the orbital defence platform,’ Apothecary Khulan said as he stood at his khan’s shoulder. ‘Are you sure the Deathwatch will be able to destroy that?’
‘My brother has promised me,’ Batbayar said. ‘Let us see if he is true to his word.’
Ganzorig marched forwards. ‘Why do we not just blow it out of the sky?’
Batbayar smiled indulgently. ‘I know. That would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it? To sweep in now, before they even know we are here. But no. The Deathwatch want to help. Let them do their work for you.’
‘Maybe that is where Shadowsun is,’ Khulan said.
No one spoke. Batbayar scowled, but he said nothing. ‘If Shadowsun is here, she is mine. Make sure all the sergeants know that. The minute she is spotted, I want to know.’
There was a brief hiss as the lift opened behind them, and Nergui strode out.
‘I have just been in contact with my kill teams on the planet. They are in position. We can start the attack.’
Batbayar pointed towards the defence platform. ‘And your teams are able to take that out as well?’
‘Yes,’ Nergui said. ‘Three of our brothers are on the planet already. The rest of their team will destroy the defence platform. The others will ensure that there is no resistance to your strike. And then you can do the rest.’
Ganzorig spoke. ‘The Deathwatch are confident.’
Nergui looked at him. ‘It is a xenos construction. Killing xenos is what we do.’
It was little more than five minutes before Batbayar Khan was sweeping onto the flight deck, riding on his Land Speeder Tempest, legs braced wide. His bear-skin cloak flapped behind him, and his long moustaches trailed over his shoulder pads with the wind of his passing. The air filled with the roar of his warriors as they saluted him and Batbayar made a long, circuitous sweep about the chamber before he jumped down to the dais, where the lightning strike of the White Scars was emblazoned in red upon the wall. ‘We have hunted and killed, but there are always more foes for us upon the steppes. Some of you fight today for the first time. Some of you are scarred with years of battle.
‘We fight because Kor’sarro Khan needs our help as he leads the Eagle Brotherhood against the xenos. But first another brother needs us.
‘The xenos have crafted a new weapon that has driven our forces back over and over. They are weak in the face of it, and Nergui, my brother, has located their production facility. We go to destroy it. Will you ride with me, brothers? Will you follow in my wake and bring destruction to our foes? Will you bring glory to the eagle banner – for it shall be watching you, and the ghosts of our forefathers will see you fight and they shall remember!’
Each time he asked a question there was a roar of ‘Yes!’ Even Ganzorig roared as the bikers lifted their hunting lances in salute. Batbayar held out his arms. ‘The planet we strike today is hidden. The enemy think they can take worlds from our Great Father. Show them no mercy. Show them that there is no place they can hide from us! We shall hunt them, we shall find them, and we shall destroy them!’
Squad by squad the White Scars roared up the ramps, and one by one the Thunderhawks lifted, and then the gunships poured out into the silence of the void.
Part Three
The Kill
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kill Team Zeal had been the first into the Proth System, so it
was fitting that they made the first strike. While Moaz and Hadrian moved into their final positions, the others loaded into a boarding torpedo that burned a lone course towards the pale mass of Security Orbital VX-223. The single torpedo barely registered on the tau system monitors. Its size was, in space terms, barely a mote of dust, and compared to most celestial objects, it was moving at a crawl. It was not until a last defence drone picked it up on an automated sweep of the upper quadrant that the torpedo was even flagged as a potential threat.
By the time an alarm rang on the bridge and a remote gun turret lined it up in its sights, the torpedo was less than ten seconds from impact. Twin railguns fired a dazzling set of bracketing rounds at the object, but these coincided with the boarding torpedo’s impact thrusters firing on full. Its acceleration was so sudden that the carefully computed shots fell short, blasting out into the void.
‘Countdown commencing.’ The machine-spirit of the boarding torpedo had a stern female voice, full of bile and hatred for the xenos.
In the cramped space three warriors from Kill Team Zeal waited. Corith, Eadmund and Iason each stood ready in their black Terminator armour. The low red light of the torpedo’s core flickered as the auxiliary thrusters flared in the final moments before collision. Their harnesses braced them for the impact. There was a roar of melta charges, screaming metal, and then the staccato pop of stun grenades being fired into the cavity beyond.
The first tube held an automated assault cannon. As the ramps crashed down, the machine-spirit filled the empty chamber with a storm of shells. ‘Tube two,’ it announced, barely a second after the first, and the bracing straps dropped away as the tube entrance slammed down, filling the interior with light and smoke.
Corith, the Brazen Minotaur, led this mission. ‘Hatred is a gift from the Emperor,’ he voxed, tearing through an armoured bulkhead. ‘Use it well.’
As he ripped through the last of the structural bars blocking their way, Eadmund hosed flames from one side of the chamber to the other. They appeared to have hit a service conduit. There were the burning remains of an earth caste team in the far corner of the chamber.
‘We are too high,’ Corith voxed, but he had already planned the fastest route to the bridge and shared it via their helm displays. ‘Remember our mission. Disable, disorientate, destroy!’
The boots of the three suits of Terminator armour were like thunder. Eadmund went first, filling each room with burning promethium. At the third intersection a team of grey-armoured fire warriors made a brief and spirited stand, filling the corridor with micro-bursts of incandescent blue plasma, before they were driven back by Eadmund with heavy losses.
There were two more brief stands from the fire warriors as they put up a brave and commendable resistance. But in the close confines of the security orbital’s corridors and bulkheads, they were outgunned by the terrible ferocity of Kill Team Zeal.
Eadmund fought off ambushers with brief but deadly rounds of assault cannon fire. The tau commander responded with admirable speed, but even as the fire warriors were being marshalled, Kill Team Zeal were within a hundred feet of their target.
‘Hostiles,’ Corith voxed as he cut through the blast door and was met by a hailstorm of blue plasma. His armour flashed an amber warning. Corith slashed at the remains of the bulkhead, and then kicked his way through.
There had to be twenty fire warriors at least. Corith stomped forwards, lightning claws tearing through them. Kallos led the way as the other Terminators drove through and fired.
It was over in seconds. Promethium flames, assault cannon rounds and lightning claws turned the generator room into a smoking charnel house.
In the command hub of Security Orbital VX-223 sirens began to wail. The impact made the metal flooring tremble. There were shouts and orders.
Warning symbols flashed. An earth caste technician took a moment to locate the point of entry. ‘They have hit us just above the gunnery decks,’ he confirmed.
The air caste commander shouted desperately for the scanners to find something to shoot at: ‘We have been boarded. They have to have come from somewhere!’
The sound of fighting and explosions drifted up through the decks. Defence measures were being taken. Shas’vre Gru’eb was in command of the third shift. He was buckling on his body armour as he ran into the command hub with his elite warriors around him.
‘All combat teams scrambled. I have counter-assault drones. Fire warriors. Combat suits. I can confidently assure you that this assault will be contained.’
‘Gunnery decks compromised,’ another technician reported.
Shas’vre Gru’eb stared at the readings. ‘Seal off the Lower Third Quadrant.’
No one questioned his order. This was life and death now. There was no time to consider the fate of the tau who were locked into compromised sectors.
Shas’vre Gru’eb’s presence restored a moment of calm and control over the situation. He put in motion a series of countermeasures and the volume within the room rose as each took over a part of the defence. Raising shields. Redirecting power supplies. Shutting blast doors. Unlocking the close-quarter battlesuits.
‘Find where they are coming from,’ he ordered when there was a second thud.
‘Impact in the lower decks,’ a croaky-voiced earth caste technician reported.
‘Visuals!’ Gru’eb demanded.
The earth caste technician’s voice came back thirty seconds later with a visual from the gun drone sent to investigate. The boarding torpedo appeared empty.
‘Decoy,’ Shas’vre Gru’eb said with characteristic confidence. ‘Leave it.’
His voice betrayed the strain as he redeployed the station’s defence forces, but as he tried to get an answer from a commander in the Lower Third Quadrant, there was a third impact, much closer than the last two. The command deck shook violently. The lights flickered. Within seconds there was the scent of burning and the distinctive patter of bolters. Shas’vre Gru’eb’s response was immediate. ‘All cadres within two quadrants report to command hub. Gun drones redeploy. Kill on sight.’
There was an explosion and the blast doors rattled.
Shas’vre Gru’eb’s pulse carbine had remained slung across his back. He swung the strap back across his body, and loaded a fresh powercell. There was no time to get into his battlesuit. ‘I will try to hold them,’ he told the earth and air caste crew.
He took thirty fire warriors with him at a jog. The blast doors were sealed behind him and moments later the sound of fighting filled the corridor outside.
Cadmus, the Dark Angel, led the remaining members of Kill Team Zeal out of the third boarding torpedo. The Dark Angel knew all the known configurations of tau orbital stations. It took him less than a second to guess the mark of this particular platform.
‘Urchin four-three-zero,’ he announced. ‘The control centre is this way.’
The Imperial Fist, Cerys, cursed. His targeting matrix was ghosting. He reloaded his multi-melta and fired. The second time he compensated for the faulty system, and as the smoke cleared he saw that the blast doors had been reduced to dripping slag. The shower of molten metal had caused devastation in the corridor beyond. Searing beads of blue plasma lanced through the smoke. He snarled as a light dazzled him. A fraction of a second later there was a blast and a stink of burned flesh inside his helm.
He tried to find a target, but he felt tears on his cheeks and he could not open his eyes. ‘I’m hit,’ he cursed as he slammed into a bulkhead. He shook his head. ‘Visor.’
A hand caught his arm. ‘Got you,’ Cadmus voxed. ‘Nuoros. We’ll need you up front.’
It was not easy manoeuvring Terminator armour in the tight, low corridors of the tau orbital.
‘Covering you all,’ Nuoros, the Crimson Fist, voxed. There was a hollow patter as his storm shield took the brunt of the incoming fire.
‘Leave me,�
�� Cerys hissed, but the hand did not let go.
‘Can you see?’ Cadmus hissed.
The Imperial Fist shook his head from side to side. ‘Go on.’
‘We are not leaving you,’ Cadmus voxed.
The fire warriors had thrown up a hasty barricade of monitors and consoles and whatever else they could throw in the way of the attackers. Nuoros’ power axe smashed a way through in seconds. He drove the xenos off as Cerys tried to open his eyes. His left eye was gone, he was sure, but his right eye burned as he blinked away the tears, and there were flares of light and dark as the helm cleared of noxious fumes.
‘Helm systems are coming back,’ he said after a moment’s pause. ‘It’s getting better.’
The first thing he saw through his streaming eye was Cadmus’ black helm staring intently at him.
‘Can you see?’ the Dark Angel voxed.
‘Yes,’ Cerys hissed. ‘Just about.’
‘Good. Stay close,’ Cadmus told him.
The last stretch of corridor was crammed with fire warriors. Their leader was screaming as he sprinted down the corridor towards them. Behind him his warriors knelt and fired. Sparks flew. The air rang as grenades bounced and exploded. Two rounds hit Cadmus in the midriff, scorching insignificant marks in his Terminator armour. He clicked his assault cannon into action. The barrel whirled as he strode forwards. By the time he had reached the blast doors, his gun barrels were starting to smoke and the floor was slick with the blood of the dead.
Nuoros cut through another pair of blast doors with his axe. ‘We have reached the command entrance,’ he voxed as he kicked his way inside and punched the activation stud of his axe.
In the command hub the crew of earth and air castes looked at each other as they listened and tried to guess what was happening outside. ‘Surely our warriors will hold them off,’ the air caste commander said. His attendants nodded. Shas’vre Gru’eb had seemed so competent. There was no doubting his bravery. And he had thirty fire warriors, all armed and ready.
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