‘They say when shooting start everyone scatter,’ she tells me. ‘My people know way. Hope bring your people.’
It’s a long wait to see if that hope comes true.
We pass the time in quiet, watching over the dozing warphead, looking after the walking wounded and the worse-off. Over the next few hours the Colonel arrives with about two dozen folks in tow, Nazrek and Grot among them. He doesn’t know if anybody else made it, but in twos and threes for the most part a good chunk of the missing people keep turning up – sometimes just wasters, sometimes a lone waster leading underhivers. I’m pleased to see Olesh and his kin in one of the groups. It’s heading towards sundown when a silver-armoured figure appears through the smog, Old Preacher beside her. The wastes have made a mess of them both, grimed head to foot in ash and dust.
‘The Burned Man lives!’ the priest declares, hurrying forward to embrace me. ‘Blessed be! The Emperor has guided us right once again, I see.’
‘Nice to be appreciated,’ I say, prising myself out of his arms. ‘The Emperor is looking out for you too, Old Preacher.’
‘He has done that for many years, it is true.’
The priest heads into the makeshift camp, dispensing greetings and blessings in equal measure while the Sister Superior follows at his heel. The Colonel breaks from the group with Orskya.
‘Is most people,’ she says. ‘Dangerous to wait longer. Orks maybe hunt. Warpborn too.’
‘We’ll head to Kraken Station as quick as we can,’ I say. ‘The longer we wait, the worse it’ll get.’
‘We will return to the battle abbey first,’ says Schaeffer.
‘We left there, what’s the point of going back? It’ll take longer.’
‘Enough!’ The Colonel’s bark has heads turning in our direction. He doesn’t seem to care. ‘I am giving you an order. You will obey it.’
‘By what authority?’ I say to him. I stoop and pick up a handful of dust and let it trickle through my fingers. ‘That’s what your rank’s worth out here, Schaeffer.’
‘This is a mistake, you know it is,’ he says, not backing down.
Deniumenialis heads back towards us, obviously intent on intervening. Aladia follows with a few others.
‘You’re not running this mission, that’s the truth,’ I tell the Colonel. ‘If you want to be part of it, get used to doing what I tell you.’
That hits a raw nerve and he pulls out his laspistol.
‘I will not endure further insubordination,’ he insists, the threat obvious.
‘There is no need for violence, Colonel Schaeffer,’ says Old Preacher. ‘We all wish the same thing.’
‘I doubt that,’ growls the Colonel.
‘I believe that Kage knows best what to do from here,’ the priest continues. ‘We have seen the divine guidance that carries him forward.’
‘No more,’ the Colonel snaps. ‘No more of this living saint nonsense.’
‘Nonsense?’ Deniumenialis gets angry at the accusation, reddening from cheek to scalp. There’s angry muttering from the hivers that are gathering too. ‘How dare you, Colonel Schaeffer! I am a clergyman of the Adeptus Ministorum and I will not be mocked in this way.’
The Colonel glowers at the priest and then at me. His glare moves to our small audience.
‘He is a fraud,’ Schaeffer says. ‘The Emperor would never see anything holy in this corrupt shell. Any good in him comes from me.’
‘Such arrogance, Colonel,’ says Old Preacher. ‘You may be the God-Emperor’s messenger, but you are not His creator. The divine hand is held over Kage, the story of his life proves that.’
‘He is not a living saint,’ the Colonel says heavily, lifting his pistol. ‘There is no miracle that will protect him. I will show you all the proof you need.’
I hear the zip of the laspistol but I see a dark blur rather than the flash of light. The las-bolt hits Deniumenialis in the side of the head as he jumps in front of me. Charred skin and hot blood splash across my face.
I catch a glimpse of moving silver and an instant later Schaeffer is sprawling in the dirt, blood seeping from a wound over his eye, his hands empty. Aladia stands over him, muzzle of her bolter smeared with his blood, finger on the trigger. Some of the others are shouting now, begging her to fire, demanding the Colonel’s death just as they bayed for it in the underhive.
‘Wait!’ I shout, expecting the immediate execution of the Colonel.
Aladia does not move a millimetre but her voice comes to me in a clipped, quiet tone.
‘There is no need for trial, guilt is obvious. Had we the means, the execution would be arduous and long. In the circumstances, a bolt to the head will be retribution enough.’
‘Wait,’ I say again, wiping the mess of Deniumenialis from my lips and chin. ‘There is a message here that we’re missing. Old Preacher has died, but he died for me. His act saved me and in doing so shows us the Will of the Emperor. It is not the God-Emperor that has been stirring us to kill each other, but a darker power.’
She considers this for a few seconds. I expect her to pull the trigger, but it seems my plea has been heard. Stepping back, Aladia lifts up her bolter.
‘I will not tarnish my soul with this matter any longer,’ she says, stalking back to the group.
Under my urging, the others move away too, leaving me with the Colonel.
He gets to his feet, dusting himself down before picking up his laspistol.
‘We need to–’ he starts, but I cut him off.
‘You’re not coming.’ Words that seem easy to say but feel like poison in my mouth. The Colonel stares at me, jaw clenched. ‘Take it as a blessing.’
‘A blessing?’ he says slowly, as though grinding the words between his teeth. ‘This is insurrection, Kage.’
‘You. Are. Not. In. Command.’ How can I make it any clearer? ‘These people don’t want you, but they’ll follow me. For the good of the mission, you’re not coming.’
‘For the good of the mission?’ He seems unable to grasp very simple facts at the moment. I wonder if the blow from Sister Aladia maybe knocked something loose in his head.
‘You fragged a priest! That’s bring-down-the-wrath-of-the-Emperor stuff, you know. Bad. A bad omen.’
‘What about all that you said, it being a sign from the Emperor?’
‘That might be true, but on the other hand maybe you just murdered a priest. I’m not willing to risk having you around any longer.’
‘You cannot lead this mission, Kage. You will fail.’
I reach out a hand in consolation. This has been his existence for Emperor knows how long. At least one normal lifetime and likely more.
‘You can stop,’ I tell him softly. ‘You don’t have to try to win every war by yourself. You don’t have to throw yourself into the mouth of death this time. You’ve earned this… this chance at a little peace. For all that’s holy, Schaeffer, you can sit this one out.’
‘Peace?’ He grimaces like it’s the worst blasphemy to utter.
‘Yeah. Not war. Just keep an eye on the civilians and make sure nothing happens to them. Get them to the abbey like you said, maybe?’ I look up at the rift, at the moment a swirling storm the colour of an old bruise. ‘Don’t mention it to the others but we’re all gonna die up there, win or lose. That’s the warp bleeding through. You don’t get to ram a ship into it and then just come back. Worst option, we get thrown adrift in warp space without a Navigator. Best is we get torn apart by the energy of the warphead detonating in there. You don’t have to die. Just this once, back down and shut up.’
‘You think you can lead the Last Chancers, Kage? You think that maybe you’re the colonel now?’
‘We’ve been through a lot. Honestly, have you ever met anyone better qualified to take over from you than me? There’s a reason I keep coming back and it’s not because I like the ta
ste of the rations.’
‘You need this,’ he says, head tilting slightly. ‘That speech you gave on the wall of the abbey, that was a lie. You do choose this life, again and again. It might not be up to you where that fight is, but you are right, you keep coming back. But it is not because of the mission. It is because of me! I give your life meaning and I will give your death meaning.’
‘Can’t argue, Colonel. But I also need you to be here when I’m gone. I tried before, but for some reason I’m still here. Maybe the Emperor saved me for something better, like this. I can’t tell you whether I’m a saint or not, but I can tell you that right now, right here, this feels like I’m supposed to do this. This is where the story of Lieutenant Kage goes.’
I turn and walk away, ignoring his next words. Maybe he has been the foundation of my life these last few years, but I’ll be damned to the abyss if I won’t try to get out from under his shadow when I get the chance.
Reaching the edge of the camp there’s a couple of dozen people waiting for me.
‘Let’s get ready,’ I tell them. ‘We’ve got a starship to steal.’
Wasters, hivers, two orkoids and a Battle Sister.
Yeah. These are my Last Chancers.
Eighteen
KRAKEN STATION
Getting a shuttle or lighter capable of carrying us into orbit should be the most straightforward part of the plan. Erasmisa told us that the port works at Kraken Station were still operational – a detachment had been left to defend the facility after the withdrawal of the main force in case it was to be used as an axis of counter-attack.
Night falls before we finish crossing about four kilometres of abandoned fieldworks that separate Kraken Station from the rest of the wastes. I start having concerns when I see that the smudge of brightness on the horizon isn’t just navigational lights but the flickering red of fires. A few minutes later brings the sound of explosions, accompanying flashes of orange and yellow through the haze. Concerns become outright worry when a fireball races up a few hundred metres into the air, showering burning debris across a wide area.
I push on, driving my body with pure will to overcome lack of sleep and muscle fatigue. With me are twenty-three Last Chancers. Oahebs is the only one of the Colonel’s original team that has survived, and there’s Sister Superior Aladia too. With no chance of reconnecting with the rest of her order any time soon, she told me that this seems a better course of action than sitting around looking after the wounded and non-fighters. I also think she doesn’t want to spend time with the Colonel any more than I do.
Nazrek and Grot have been medal winners as far as I’m concerned, the smaller alien in particular proving something of a fungal alchemist when it comes to keeping the warphead sedated. Orskya and the most able-bodied of her people make up the waster contingent, twelve of them altogether, which leaves only nine followers of the Burned Man still capable of fighting from the hundreds that fled with me from the first attack. It’s still nothing compared to the four thousand that died between landing on Ichar IV and destroying Coritanorum, but as unplanned recruitments go I think I’ve ended up with a pretty handy bunch.
About a kilometre from the station it’s still no clearer what’s going on. There are aircraft duelling overhead, tracers and rockets cutting through the twilight murk. Smaller-arms fire rattles and zaps from the facility, hidden for the most part by a curtain wall about three metres high. I call a halt to take stock and discuss the plan with the makeshift platoon.
‘This is probably good for us,’ I say, trying to put the best shine on the situation. ‘In the confusion we can slip in and get a ship without anyone seeing us. We’ll be off the apron and heading to the stars before anyone knows we’re there.’
‘You think?’ says Orskya, pulling up her goggles to look at me with a dubious stare. ‘Easy in?’
‘Easy out,’ I say, though I don’t even believe myself. Nothing is ever easy for the Last Chancers. ‘Sister, do you know anything about the layout of the port?’
‘My company landed at Kraken before the battle abbey was raised,’ she replies. ‘Hexagonal wall, two kilometres across, encircling the barracks, airstrip and launch pads, plus a command-and-control tower near the eastern side. We’ll need to head to the orbital pads in the north sector, on the far side.’
‘And ways in? That wall looks pretty solid.’
‘There are two gateways, one east and one west, left and right of where we are. But they’ll be guarded or contested. I cannot envision us getting through unseen.’
‘The wall’s just too high to climb over without proper equipment,’ I say, looking at Orskya.
‘Have some rope,’ she tells me with a shake of the head. ‘We send up runners, find something to tie rope. Others climb.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ I say, glancing back at Oahebs. ‘How’s our sleeper?’
The warphead is strapped down to one of the waster’s drag-sleds, grumbling and dribbling, but otherwise comatose. Grot is riding on the sled too, watching carefully, bag of powdered soporific in hand.
‘Starting to come out of it, I think.’ Oahebs looks at Nazrek, who’s staring at the firefight in the distance, entranced by the occasional zip of tracer and flare of detonation. ‘Hey, does it have to be awake? The warphead, does it have to be awake to do its headbang thing?’
Nazrek stomps back and looks down at the weirdboy before shrugging.
‘Maybe.’ It turns its massive head towards me for a moment and then back to the other ork. ‘Need take off protection.’
‘What protection?’ says Oahebs.
‘Shiny metal stop green,’ says Nazrek, stripping away a torq from the warphead’s arm. ‘Take off metal, big bang.’
‘Let’s do that once we’re on the ship, yeah?’ I call out as Oahebs bends over the ork to pull off a bracelet. I turn my attention to everyone else. ‘It’ll take even longer to swing around to come at the station from the north, so we’re going to find the best place to cross the wall on this side and then cut across the airstrip itself. Remember, we’re here to get in and then onto a ship, not get stuck in a firefight. Keep low, move quick.’
‘There are going to be Astra Militarum troopers defending the station,’ Aladia points out. ‘They will not see us as allies.’
I pull down the scarf over my mouth and nose and wipe the sweat from my face with my cuff. The temperature is dropping now, but all the waster gear protecting us from the elements is hot work. I look at my platoon.
‘When I destroyed Coritanorum, there were hundreds of thousands of civilians there. Most of them weren’t traitors, their commanders were just dominated by an alien incursion. But we couldn’t let it spread. If the war was lost, if the city held for any longer, that contamination was going to get out and spread through other forces and maybe off-world. So, we blew the plasma reactors and incinerated five million people.’ I turn my stare to the star port. ‘We’re here to save Armageddon. Take out anyone that gets in our way.’
The first thing that becomes clear as we get closer to Kraken Station is that the battle isn’t as straightforward as I first thought. We lay up about a hundred and fifty metres from the twisted remnants of razor wire that used to guard the outer perimeter and I take stock.
I can see ork banners hoisted over the wall close to us, but the armoured vehicles pouring fire into the compound around the control tower are bastardised versions of Imperial war machines – the World Eaters. The flare of lasguns reveals the continued presence of the Astra Militarum garrison, concentrated to the north-west with a pocket to the far west. Divided, it’s only a matter of time before they’re wiped out. The good news is that the orks have smashed some sizeable breaches into the curtain wall, so if we want to follow them in, we can avoid the climbing.
‘Kage!’ The call comes from Sister Aladia. ‘We cannot allow the port to fall into the possession of our foes.’
&nbs
p; ‘Bigger worries at the moment,’ I say, pointing up to the rift that blots the night sky like a slowly expanding frag blossom. I think I can see dark shapes moving in its heart but maybe it’s just my imagination and the utter exhaustion that’s trying to shut down my body. ‘Nobody is gonna care about an airstrip once the World Eaters get their way.’
I almost want to tell her to go and join the defenders, but she’s useful to have around. She’s certainly the most capable warrior among us, even without her bolter and power armour. Her wargear simply makes her near-unstoppable, unless we run directly into the Traitor Astartes. With that in mind I lead the platoon on and left, heading to the westernmost breach, the smallest of the three.
Another stop and a quick scan with the magnoculars reveals that the orks have predictably moved on from their first assault. The remnants of several aliens clogs the shattered stone, and burning wrecks of half a dozen vehicles, both large and small, light the packed ground around the compound. There’s very little cover that might not explode, and even fewer shadows.
‘We get in, clear the wall and then just follow me,’ I declare, rising up from the last dune before the open ground around the curtain wall. The ash here has been set with rockcrete to solidify it. It’s not at all even but it doesn’t shift underfoot. I’ve spent so much time slogging through slopes of dust and stone that it’s jarring to run over unforgiving ground again. I almost trip, and several of the wasters look like they’re hobbling as we dash through the flickering orange of firelight.
The breach starts from about a metre up, a small ramp of ork carcasses running up to it. Nazrek pauses, tosses away its customised bolter and hauls a large-bore shoota from the debris, its ammo belt trailing a coil of slugs like small tank shells. Hefting it to one shoulder, the ork clambers after us, boots mashing the remains of its kind, oblivious to their deaths. Grot springs monkey-like from toppled stone to corpse and to the breach, a long, slender blade in its teeth.
Armageddon Saint - Gav Thorpe Page 24