Rauth glanced at Karras from the corner of his eye. ‘I will be better prepared.’
Around a slow bend in the tunnel up ahead, there seemed to be a source of light. Rounding it, Karras saw bright daylight filtering in through a natural gap in the ceiling.
‘There’s our exit,’ he said. ‘We need to hurry. And hope the Stormravens are still in vox range.’
Together, they jogged forward and began hauling their bodies up the rocky wall of the tunnel. Soon, they emerged into the baking heat of the day.
They found themselves on a spur of beige rock. All around them, golden dunes stretched out to the horizon. The sun was piercingly bright, the sky a deep azure, flawless in all directions but south. To the south, the remnants of the mushroom cloud were still hanging in the air, a great, broad column of smoke and dust that dominated the skyline.
The two Space Marines climbed to the top of the tallest dune nearby.
‘Talon Alpha to Reaper flight,’ voxed Karras. ‘Reaper flight, do you copy?’
Nothing. Just static.
‘Talon Alpha to Reaper flight. Respond.’
Again, nothing.
Karras squinted into the distance and saw smoke on the far horizon due west-north-west of their position. Tentatively, even somewhat anxiously, he sent thin tendrils of psychic energy questing in that direction and picked up familiar signatures. Talon Squad. Unmistakable. The only member who didn’t have a psychic signature was standing right beside him.
There were others, too – a mix of Adeptus Astartes and humans. Sabre Squad and Copley’s people, plus the pilots of the Stormravens.
‘That way,’ said Karras, gesturing with a nod. ‘They must have gone down on the periphery of the blast.’
He and Rauth set off down the dune face in the direction of the smoke.
‘It must have burned out their electronics.’
Karras nodded. That would explain the vox silence. ‘We run.’
As they put on some speed, carving a channel across the hot sand, Karras anxiously searched his consciousness for any trace of Aranye. Was she still in there, silently monitoring him? She seemed able to trespass upon his mind with such disturbing ease.
He found no trace of her. The eldar witch was gone. Her words, however, echoed in his mind, bothering him.
Remember your debt to me. Stand aside when I ask it.
He had sworn an oath on his life and on the honour of his Chapter. An oath to a filthy xenos, true, but a xenos that had saved his soul from damnation and disgrace. It was a heavy debt.
She was truly powerful, her gifts well beyond his own. He could never have survived without her intervention.
So now he owed her.
Did he dare break their bargain? She was xenos, and he, Deathwatch.
When the time came, would he dare to keep it?
Thirty-nine
Six powerful presences, their warp signatures far denser than those of the tribespeople that formed a seal of souls around them, the exception being Agga’s.
Unanticipated, these six. Troubling.
Karras detected them as soon as Chatha na Hadik began to emerge through the grey skirts of pouring rain in which the Stormravens flew.
From the hold of Reaper Two, Karras reached out to Agga’s mind. Her relief at his survival was foremost, and she welcomed him back warmly, but there was an unmissable undercurrent of tension and fear.
‘Others have come, my lord,’ she told him, mind to mind. ‘Resh’vah, like you, but not like you. Their leader has a turbulent soul. My people fear him greatly. He has ordered my son imprisoned under guard – a hostage to ensure our cooperation. Had there been a psyker among them, it would be I…’
‘I will be with you soon,’ replied Karras. ‘Do not risk your cover. You are unsanctioned. For now, let them believe they have the Speaker, as your people believe it. I will assess things when I arrive.’
Agga withdrew, emanating faith and gratitude, but her fear and tension had abated little.
As the landing platform finished lowering the Stormravens into the hangar, Copley ordered all her people to get their gear in order. The wounded would need to be taken to the medicae facilities immediately. Bones needed resetting, wounds needed stitching, and much more besides.
She caught Karras’ gaze and tilted her head across the Stormraven’s hold to the Space Marines of Sabre Squad. Oblivious to just how strong their enhanced hearing was, she murmured, ‘Will they commit to us, Scholar? Can you convince them to lend their strength to Arcturus until Shadowbreaker is over?’
Karras looked over and met Androcles’ gaze.
Wounded pride, thought Karras. Dishonour. Their handler and their Alpha betrayed them into xenos hands for some reason we don’t yet fully understand. And rage in abundance.
They will join us, he thought. Redemption in their own eyes demands it, as it would of me.
And what of his own honour? Epsilon had slipped his grasp. What of his redemption?
Arcturus could not afford to grant the t’au time to get the inquisitor offworld, but neither could they move until she was located again. For that reason, more than anything else, they had returned to the Kashtu stronghold. The Speaker’s haddayin would be watching. Word would come.
It had to.
Karras emerged from Reaper Two’s hold to see a Thunderhawk gunship, far larger than a Stormraven, beloved and trusted of all Space Marine Chapters. It sat silent, a great sleeping dragon with scales of black ceramite. Fuel lines snaked from its belly. The rear ramp was down, but all the lights were off.
He didn’t recognise it, but it bore the iconography of both the Deathwatch and the Ordo Xenos, and he could see that the armour was stealth-coated and that the engines and exhausts were modified for noise reduction.
Standing just in the shadow of its boxy nose, a few metres from the forward landing gear, was a large figure in distinctive Terminator armour, all black with silver on the left arm and pauldron.
Copley was busy barking orders at her people as they unloaded wargear from Reaper flight. The Space Marines of Talon and Sabre were filtering down ramps. Chyron was being uncoupled from magna-grapples.
Karras stood regarding the figure in shadow.
Neither moved.
He heard Talon come to stand behind him, lining up in silence, all staring at the figure in front.
Sabre formed up on Androcles and watched quietly from a few metres back.
‘Who’s the shy one hiding under the gunship?’ said Zeed as he stepped abreast of Karras.
Karras put a hand out and halted him. ‘Stay here,’ he told his kill-team.
Zeed shrugged. He and his brothers watched as Karras strode forward to meet the shadowed hulk.
As Karras neared, the other moved out to meet him.
An ancient, nigh-indestructible suit of tactical Dreadnought armour here on Tychonis when things were so precarious should have been a welcome sight, but Karras could read the aura of the wearer, and that aura was as dark as the Deathwatch black in which it was painted.
They stopped, facing each other. As tall as he was, Karras had to look up to meet the eyes of the Space Marine in front of him. The Terminator stood a full head and a half taller than he. At a glance, he registered the iconography of Chapter, kill-team, honour markings.
‘You are Jannes Broden, Scimitar Alpha, battle-brother of the Black Templars,’ said Karras.
‘And you are Lyandro Karras,’ said the other.
Karras inclined his head in a slight bow. ‘Well met, brother.’
Broden glared down at him, pointedly not returning the greeting.
The Templar’s face was of typical cast for a Space Marine. The brow was heavy, the nose strong and aquiline, the jawbone square and broad. There were structural similarities to Voss’, naturally, the Black Templars being a successor Chapter o
f the Imperial Fists, but here was none of Omni’s warmth and openness. Broden’s face was as hard and cold as frost-rimed rock, made all the more fearsome by the profusion of scars and claw marks, testimony to a life of intense close-range combat.
Couched in the gorget and cowl of that Terminator suit, Broden’s face was all the more fearsome. But Karras was unmoved.
‘You understand the reason for my presence here,’ said Broden.
‘I can guess,’ said Karras.
The Templar scowled, then cast his glance over the Talon members watching from further back. ‘Talon and Arcturus have proven inadequate to their mission. Epsilon evaded you. Shadowbreaker is a failure. It is over.’
‘It’s not over. Epsilon remains on Tychonis for now. We need only locate her and–’
‘No!’ snapped Broden. ‘It is I, Karras, who need to locate her. You need only do as you are told from here on.’
He stepped in close, towering over Karras like a Warhound Titan.
Karras cocked an eyebrow, utterly unimpressed. Was this really what passed for the best of the best among the Black Templars?
‘I have been placed in operational command, charged with salvaging this debacle,’ said Broden. ‘Archangel’s powers will be limited to tactical command of her people, as yours will be to yours. Both of you are now directly under my command.’
Karras cursed. ‘Show me,’ he demanded.
Broden held out his right hand and opened his fist. There in his palm was a red holo-crystal in a setting of silver. With his thumb, Broden activated it.
Hololithic light began to shimmer a foot above the crystal. The iconography of the Ordo Xenos rezzed into view, followed by the skull symbol of the Deathwatch, then several authentication codes that the sensors set in Karras’ power armour verified as current and legitimate.
Reams of data began scrolling before Karras, imprinting on his retina, coding itself into the memory centres of his brain.
Broden spoke the truth.
Sigma was handing Shadowbreaker over to the command of the Black Templar. All task force elements were now answerable to him.
The display ended, and the Templar closed his fist over the gem once again and dropped it to his side.
Karras searched his face for a sign of the smugness that had crept into his aura, but that face betrayed nothing.
‘I have also imprisoned the rebel leader, this Speaker of the Sands, to be executed if his people do not comply absolutely. He is unsanctioned and will be dealt with post-mission, but, for now, he provides leverage.’
‘The Speaker has shown nothing but full support for our mission,’ hissed Karras. ‘Rebels fought and died to ensure the t’au forces at Alel a Tarag were not reinforced during our assault. Your decision is an open betrayal of their loyalty to the Emperor. It will only cause resentment and alienation. It is not the way to play this!’
‘You had your chance, Death Spectre. You and Copley played things your way and got nowhere. Had you done your jobs, I’d not be here at all.’
‘Then go back,’ growled Karras, his fists clenched at his sides. ‘We have it in hand.’
He knew Broden was baiting him, getting him to display emotions he should have well in hand, but the Templar had attacked his honour and his pride – two things guaranteed to push a Space Marine to the edge of his self control.
Karras forced himself to calmness. He held Broden’s eye, saw satisfaction glinting there.
‘Scimitar Alpha has operational command,’ he said coldly. ‘Talon Alpha acknowledges. The Will of the Emperor will be served. Does the commander have instructions?’
Broden looked over at the members of Sabre Squad. They stood there, still clad in black bodysuits, watching things unfold in silence.
‘The remains of Epsilon’s kill-team,’ said Broden.
Karras nodded. ‘Betrayed by the rogue inquisitor and two of their own. One of those was their Alpha. A third was… killed by the t’au.’
‘The Son of Antaeus is the new Alpha by default. Cursed Founding or not, he’s the ranking member, so he will have tactical command of his team. Tell me of the others.’
Karras turned to look at them and ran through what he knew. The four remaining Sabre operators stared back, well aware they were being discussed, able to hear every word.
There was Striggo of the Carcharadons, whose aura, Karras noted, was so dark and stormy with feral violence that he seemed likely to lean towards berserker tendencies.
Next to him stood Pelion of the Marines Errant, somewhat fine-featured for a Space Marine but missing most of his left ear.
Gedeon of the Howling Griffons stood next to Pelion. The two were of equal height, but while Pelion was beardless and short-haired, Gedeon looked wild, his hair and beard the same bright red as Darrion Rauth’s. They framed his battle-scarred face like a lion’s mane, which was appropriate given the somewhat leonine cast to his features.
Roen of the Revilers was last – eyes black, skin chalk-white, both a genetic inheritance from his Chapter’s progenitor, the Raven Guard.
‘They look diminished,’ said Broden when Karras was done.
Karras snorted. The Templar could not see the fire that flared and danced in their auras. ‘Their wargear was never recovered. There wasn’t time. If diminished, then in number only. And defeated, not at all. They are eager to redeem themselves and see Epsilon and the traitors brought to account. And they long for t’au blood.’
Broden nodded. ‘They will operate under my command with the rest of you.’
‘That will be their choice,’ said Karras. ‘They are not Sigma’s assets. They have no obligation to you.’
‘If they seek redemption as you say, they have no choice,’ said Broden. He gestured with a tilt of his head to the Thunderhawk behind him. ‘There is no power armour for them, but we have weapons and other supplies. They will be equipped as well as we are able. I leave it to you to make sure they understand the new command structure. I will inform Major Copley of the changes myself.’
‘Her people fought hard,’ said Karras with genuine feeling. ‘They exemplified the qualities of ordo special forces. And without their systems intrusion work, the assault would have been a disastrous bloodbath. Archangel is highly capable. I advise you to ask her counsel on all operational matters.’
Broden waved that off with an armoured hand. ‘She failed in her command. If it were up to me, she’d face an ordo court martial. But your assessment is noted. I dismiss you now to see to your wargear and to inform Sabre Squad of the new order of things.’
A court martial? thought Karras with suppressed outrage. This one would cut off his hand to spite his arm.
‘If my team are to work with yours, Broden…’ he said.
The Black Templar was already moving off, each step shaking the rockcrete under him, but he paused and half-turned back towards Karras. ‘Introductions will wait, Death Spectre. Just make sure your people understand the situation. If anyone steps out of order, I will hold you responsible. And you will not find me very forgiving.’
Karras’ jaw rippled and his fists flexed as he watched the giant stomp away from him.
He knew already that he didn’t like Scimitar Alpha.
He had met such Adeptus Astartes before – overzealous, arrogant, inclined towards overkill tactics and unrefined force. Not uncommon traits among the ranks of the Imperium’s greatest warriors. It was something about the martial path – it led one either to humility or arrogance, and seldom anywhere in the middle.
To this Broden, Talon Squad, Sabre Squad and Arcturus would be little more than pieces on the board. He’d place his Scimitar Squad for maximum glory in whatever lay ahead.
So the real question, when the bullets started flying and the air was filled with deadly plasma, pulse and railgun rounds, was not so much if Karras would have to defy him, but when.
/> He and his Talon brothers had come a long way together.
He would not stand by and watch them die for the honour and glory of Jannes Broden.
Forty
No time. No time!
Azhan Amin had to focus hard to keep his hands from trembling. His heart was in his mouth. Its rapid beating drowned out everything else.
As for his vision, it was hyper-sharp, enhanced by fear and adrenaline.
Of all the haddayin in the spaceport town of Kurdiza, he alone had a cover role that granted access to part of the spaceport’s defence grid.
He alone could open the approach window for the Adeptus Astartes.
He sent word of the time, the place, the length of the gap he could create. Four minutes only, and those four fixed with no margin for error. If he messed the timing up, noble Space Marines would die, their craft ripped out of the air by t’au missiles and AI-controlled railgun fire.
Blue clip to white node.
Black clip to black wire.
Almost done. Almost done.
He looked at his wrist chrono. Ten seconds more to finish rigging the charge. Forty seconds to race back to his assigned work route, to checking the air-cooling control circuits on the first and second floors.
As soon as he was there, safely away from the blast, he’d watch the last seconds tick off, then hit the remote detonator in his pocket.
The earth caste would rush into action, desperate to find the problem and reroute power and control through secondary channels. That would take them four minutes, so that was the hard limit on the infiltration window.
By then, the resh’vah will be within the perimeter, and I will slip away in the chaos.
Almost done. Right on schedule.
His fingers released the last clip, its metal teeth cinching on exposed wire.
That was when he heard the shout from behind him.
It was in T’au at first, clipped and harsh, but the speaker soon switched to Tychonite Gothic on noting the full head of black hair and the nut-brown skin of the neck exposed above the collar.
‘Worker! Stop what you’re doing and explain yourself!’
Shadowbreaker - Steve Parker Page 31