Inferno Volume 2 - Guy Haley

by Warhammer 40K

  He saw his original kill rise again, its skull half-repaired. Achairas delivered a second killing strike with his power sword, cleaving it in two.

  Somewhere, a trio of frag grenade crumps sounded, showering the room with a spray of pulped meat as one of the acolytes targeted the corpse piles. That seemed to be where the tattered xenos machines were emerging from.

  Burning promethium showered the passage, creating a wall of roaring flames around the team, driving the flayed monstrosities back. Achairas shot down another one through the flames, only to see it rise again, its metal ribs knitting back together in a revolting manner as fire wreathed its form.

  ‘They… won’t… die!’ Astolyev roared, out of breath, even though his xenos weapon seemed more effective than every­one else’s.

  The ragged band of surviving acolytes, now at half-strength, clustered around the inquisitor in a defensive cordon. The Death Spectres bolstered them, anchoring their position with their power-armoured presence. Achairas used his last two magazines to assist his brothers in dispersing the surrounding onslaught, stepping out of the defensive ring to slash down any creature that managed to come through.

  And then, just like that, the assault was over. The remnants of the xenos simply phased out of reality, and those still standing disappeared back into the tunnels they’d come from. The rushing water subsided, and Achairas lowered his sword.

  Any respite they might have gained was short-lived as a tectonic shudder lurched the entire chamber, and the dull humming grew in intensity.

  ‘The tomb…’ Vemek’s servo-skull chattered, emerging from its high hiding place. ‘Something is happening. My readings indicate more and more of the superstructure seems to be coming online…’

  ‘Coming online?’ Astolyev growled, signalling the group to advance with due haste.

  ‘Yes, the other parts of the ruin are… powering up.’

  ‘Then we make haste,’ Achairas commanded. ‘Whatever this structure is, we cannot allow it to awaken! Its threat is clear enough. We must end this!’

  The tunnel converged into a larger passage, angling steadily down. More scarabs flitted to and fro, most of them avoiding the advancing group. The cavernous hexagonal hall continued on for a great distance, its end lost in the emerald gloom. All the while, the humming grew louder and louder, and the quakes grew in intensity and frequency, hobbling those not blessed with the stability granted by power armour with each tremor.

  More phantom auspex blips followed, but the device was rapidly becoming unusable, flickering in and out from moment to moment.

  ‘I’m afraid we don’t have long,’ Vemek’s servo-skull chirped. ‘Immense power fluctuations det–’ The crackling voice was cut off suddenly as the entire chamber shook, and a deafening roar echoed from further down. Several of the acolytes staggered and fell, their balance stolen by the seismic activity. All of the prisms and luminescent nodes on the floor and walls flared, painfully illuminating the darkness.

  Achairas’ auto-senses adjusted almost immediately, as did the acolytes’ photo-visors. An energy surge disrupted everything, and for a moment, his vision became crackling static, and his power armour seized up. Thankfully, its internal dampening systems quickly compensated.

  ‘Vemek?’ Astolyev called over the din of the tremors, shuddering as his own augmetics similarly restored functionality. ‘Status report!’

  There was no response, and moments later Vemek’s servo-skull clattered to the ground, its delicate circuitry evidently fried.

  ‘Throne of Terra, let’s move!’ the inquisitor shouted, and the group advanced, jogging down the massive tunnel towards the newly growing source of blinding jade at its end.

  The tunnel led them into what could only be the heart of the tomb, an open space of staggering size. More than half a mile across, the chamber resembled an amphitheatre of massive proportions. It was an inverted ziggurat, the ceiling soaring hundreds of feet above them. Massive pylons loomed in concentric circles around a central, colossal obelisk rising to a quarter of the height of the cavern. The obelisk was covered in gleaming geometric runes and prisms burning with the brightness of green suns. Even Achairas’ auto-senses could not adjust, and he was forced to look away.

  Millions of scarabs moved about in a wanton manner, scuttling along the walls and descending steps. More of the sinuous mantis constructs darted about while arachnoid machines the size of light tanks drifted between the smaller pillars jutting up everywhere. Achairas saw packs of metallic humanoids stalking about below, some draped in tattered flesh, others not. They seemed to chitter and claw at each other in fits of madness. It was some advantage as, at this distance, they had yet to notice their intruders.

  ‘This is it!’ Astolyev called over the distorted vox-net, gesturing at the central obelisk. ‘The power source!’

  Beams of energy lanced from the contained emeralds to immense prisms set into sockets on the walls, each a blinding solar flare that sent waves of heat and static resonating through the entire chamber.

  Around the obelisk, at the dead centre of the inverted ziggurat, was an elevated ring, and Achairas’ magnified vision noted four more metallic skeletons working on panels within its interior. They were adorned differently, with elaborate crests, and were slightly smaller and more hunched than the xenos they had fought.

  ‘Inquisitor, can you assess what we are seeing?’ Achairas shouted into his vox.

  Astolyev’s answer was interrupted by another sudden lurch and an increase in gravity, sending everyone but the Space Marines sprawling. Even the Death Spectres were hobbled. Surging gravity was a sensation Achairas knew all too well.

  The tomb was rising. Somehow.

  Astolyev struggled to his feet. ‘Blood of the Emperor!’

  Achairas’ vision centred on the obelisk in the middle, and the projections of energy beaming from it.

  The inquisitor motioned for his acolytes to take up defensive positions behind the various obelisks and pillars scattered around the upper tier of the inverted ziggurat, closest to the passage they’d emerged from.

  The Death Spectres did likewise, dropping into cover so that they might make observations with less risk of being spotted. Astolyev took up position beside Achairas.

  ‘That is the heart,’ the inquisitor said. ‘That is what we must destroy.’

  ‘Yes,’ Achairas agreed, glad that the inquisitor was of similar mind on what to do with it. ‘I assume your expertise on xenos technology might be able to discern some manner of weakness?’

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Where the energy bursts are emitted from, I’d wager my life on those being weak points. But… I have another solution.’ He reached into a satchel attached to his belt, and withdrew a fist-sized object that resembled some manner of exotic bomb.

  ‘A vortex grenade,’ Achairas muttered, actually impressed. Such relics were exceedingly rare.

  ‘Count on the Inquisition to have the right tools at hand,’ Astolyev returned. His mask displayed nothing, but Achairas assumed that beneath it he might actually be smiling.

  ‘Alarm! Contacts behind us!’ Brother Sevrim called over the vox-net, causing everyone to wheel around.

  What Achairas saw approaching was certainly not the threat he expected to see.

  Three dozen pale-robed skitarii ran towards them in two columns, with Vemek protected behind the first few ranks. Their weapons were in ready position. Somehow, the magos’ titanium legs had unfolded from underneath his robes, reverse jointed and loping.

  Another surge of gravitational pressure buckled everyone, including the Space Marines.

  ‘What in the God-Emperor’s name are you doing here, Vemek?’ Astolyev called.

  ‘Taking personal stock of the situation, and ensuring that our goals are met,’ the magos returned, emerging from the skitarii ranks as they fanned out and started taking up positions in cove
r.

  The inquisitor’s weapon was drawn.

  ‘I sense treachery,’ Achairas whispered to his brothers over the vox. They levelled their bolters in the direction of the skitarii. If this turned to violence, it would be a battle at very close range. That suited the Space Marines well enough.

  ‘How did you even get here?’ Astolyev snarled, aiming his xenos carbine at Vemek.

  Vemek held up his hands defensively. ‘I followed. A mind-linked servitor is maintaining vigilance on the data loom along with my gun-servitors.’

  ‘I did not give you the order to follow!’

  ‘Negative. I took initiative. It would appear, given the threats arrayed between us and the power source, that you will need additional assistance.’

  Achairas glanced down into the veritable valley below, and ordered Sevrim to keep watch in that direction. Thus far, the xenos there had not been alerted. The majority of the insectoid constructs continued to drift about aimlessly. The bipedal, skeletal machines shambled about in packs. If they were patrols, they seemed random and haphazard.

  Another gravitational surge struck, as if the floor were rising up beneath them. Thunderous tremors tore through the cavernous chamber, momentarily deafening everyone.

  ‘It feels as though the complex is rising,’ Achairas called to Vemek.

  ‘It is,’ Vemek returned, his elongated legs in a wide stance to keep him steady. ‘The final scans of my servitor proxy in central cogitation have suggested that the entire complex appears to be some manner of ship.’

  ‘A ship?’ Astolyev exclaimed, aghast. ‘You could have mentioned this! We need to hurry. We must destroy the heart.’

  ‘No!’ Vemek crackled, equally aghast. ‘I must get close enough to make an analysis of the power source, and we must capture one of those xenos engineers below.’ He gestured to one of the machine-men working on the interior console ring. ‘And it is of paramount importance that we harvest one of the emerald prisms on the central obelisk.’

  ‘We don’t have time for that!’ Achairas interrupted. ‘If this entire complex is a ship, it is far larger than even a battle-barge of the Adeptus Astartes. We are not yet aware of the danger it poses, but I will not allow an unknown xenos vessel of this size to threaten the Halo Region. If destroying this power source has any chance of crippling it, it is a risk we must take.’ He looked to the inquisitor. Achairas honestly did not know which way this would go, but if Astolyev decided to follow the magos’ exceedingly reckless plan to steal forbidden xenos technology, at the cost of allowing a potential threat to free itself from the prison of this world’s mantle, he would respond with whatever force was necessary.

  He tightened his grip on his power sword.

  Astolyev nodded. ‘Acolytes, we make for the obelisk. Cut us a gap through whatever stands in our path.’ He raised the vortex grenade in his mechanical hand. ‘We end this.’

  Vemek took a step back, his heavily augmented face betraying nothing. Achairas nodded in thanks to the inquisitor for seeing reason.

  ‘You must not!’ the magos exclaimed, drawing a pair of flechette pistols from his robes. His skitarii trained their weapons on the Inquisitorial acolytes and the Death Spectres.

  ‘Are you mad?’ Achairas cut in, levelling his power sword at the magos.

  The inquisitor raised his xenos carbine. ‘Vemek, don’t do anything we’ll both regret…’

  ‘I have invested far too many resources in the pursuit of the knowledge buried here!’ The magos’ mechadendrites twitched, and Achairas saw the madness then. Whether it was greed, ambition or something else, this tech-priest was not whole of mind. ‘I will acquire the data I need! My research must be completed if I am to return to the Consortium–’

  ‘You did this!’ Astolyev shouted back, accusation marring his augmetic voice. ‘You ordered the breach under my authority! That is sedition, treason and heresy!’

  The commotion was drawing attention. Already, one of the arachnoid constructs was drifting over, cloaked in a halo of shimmering scarabs.

  ‘Inquisitor…’ Achairas warned. His battle-brothers started taking up positions against the oncoming monstrosity. The inquisitor ignored the warning, squaring off against Vemek. The skitarii and acolytes mirrored their masters, kneeling into firing positions.

  Achairas shook his head, disappointed. ‘Inquisitor!’ he shouted. ‘The xenos!’

  ‘Vemek!’ the inquisitor roared. ‘We can settle our dispute later. For now, we have a common–’

  Vemek fired, a burst of flechette rounds pattering over the Inquisitorial group like raindrops. The inquisitor’s refractor field shimmered, absorbing the impacts targeting him, and several of his acolytes staggered. One fell. The skitarii fired in unison. Galvanic slugs, incandescent plasma fire and arcs of blinding electricity felled acolytes and forced the rest into cover.

  The acolytes recovered quickly, and immediately retaliated, turning the entire upper step of the inverted pyramid into a criss-crossing web of gunfire.

  ‘Fools!’ Achairas shouted. ‘Celaeno, burn the traitors! Sevrim, Nym, watch those xenos!’

  The spider machine was approaching, drifting up towards them like an immense spectre, a nightmare apparition of glowing optical lenses and scything limbs. The smaller, hovering scarabs flitted around it. His brothers immediately began to fire.

  Achairas dashed into cover as a plasma burst turned the small pillar before him into molten slag. Breaking from the destroyed cover, he charged the plasma caliver-armed skitarius, cleaving him in two and moving on to decapitate the next in line on the skitarii’s left flank. A third pounded him with a volley of close-range slugs. They struck his breastplate and staggered him, but did not penetrate. Another skitarius fired at his knee joint. Twisting, he took the impacts to the greave, barely keeping his feet as he rushed forward, slashing the first’s galvanic rifle in two, and bashing his fist into the skitarius’ titanium-plated skull a few times before it pulped. With a deft twist, he seized the falling corpse, raising it to absorb more fire from the skitarii ahead of him.

  Darting behind another pillar, Achairas feinted right but ran left, the skitarius corpse and his pauldrons absorbing most of the impacts, before he slammed into the traitors, hurling the carcass away. In close quarters, Achairas became a true spectre of death. Never breaking momentum, he weaved from cover to cover to avoid their fire, and delivered killing stroke after killing stroke with his power sword. The skitarii were competent, elite even. But they were no match for a Space Marine. Distracted by the last few acolytes’ assault on their main line, they were unable to stop the Death Spectre from making quick work of their left flank.

  On the right, the remnants of the Inquisitorial team retreated down one step of the amphitheatre, pinned behind a few pylons. They were being rapidly whittled down by the skitarii’s superior armaments. Galvanic slugs tore through the acolytes and thumped into Celaeno, even as the Death Spectre covered their retreat with a wide sweep of burning promethium from his flamer. Celaeno staggered, falling, his armour fractured in places from high-velocity impacts. An arc rifle flared, scorching another pair of acolytes to the bone before the inquisitor himself disintegrated the offending skitarius with a burst of dark energy. Celaeno rose again, stumbling, spraying more promethium to create an infralens-disrupting heat flare that would befuddle the aim of the enemy.

  Darting into cover, Achairas halted his advance, as Vemek himself, now exposed, drew some other manner of pistol from his robe. ‘I did not wish for it to end this way!’ the magos screeched.

  The sound of rushing water surged around Achairas once more, grasping at him with its inviting cold.

  The magos fired, a beam of energy shattering the toppled pillar that Achairas knelt behind. The Death Spectre immediately relocated, taking cover behind a taller pylon.

  ‘Fools!’ Vemek shouted, realising that he too had other problems. A trio of mantis-
like machines had descended on him from behind, tearing into his remaining skitarii.

  ‘Achairas!’ Astolyev called across the vox. ‘We must reach the obelisk! If we destroy that, we can end this!’

  Achairas relayed the command to his brothers and moved to disengage, taking a moment to survey how Nym and Sevrim were faring. They’d split up, attacking the spider construct from both sides, Nym darting from pylon to pylon as the engine focused on him, projecting emerald arcs of energy at the Death Spectre. But Nym was too quick, his momentum keeping him just ahead of the spider’s attacks as Sevrim closed in and lobbed krak grenade after krak grenade into the thing’s abdominal section, blasting away chunks of ­liquefied metal.

  Achairas left Vemek and his skitarii to fend off the mantis-like constructs, and rushed towards the inquisitor and his few remaining acolytes. They unleashed a volley of fire into a pack of oncoming humanoid machines. The shambling, taloned things scrambled up the steps of the inverted ziggurat, straight into the Inquisitorial retinue’s withering fire. Most fell to hotshot las-fire, even if over half of them seemed to rise again.

  Another spider construct reared up, dislodging itself from some manner of socket in the floor. A beam of white energy pulsed from the cannon on its back, blasting two acolytes to their molecular components and causing a rippling explosion that scattered the entire group. The spider drifted forward and reached down with a pincer-limb to grab Celaeno as he rose. It lashed down with its mandibles to seize the Space Marine’s arm. Nym and Sevrim rushed it, having finished off the first spider. Both hurled krak grenades, blasting limbs off and causing Celaeno to drop to the ground. The Space Marine’s left arm had been sheared off.

  Nym reached his brother, lifting the wounded Death Spectre to his feet. ‘No dying yet!’

  Celaeno didn’t respond, nor cry out in pain, but drew his bolt pistol in his free hand, his Larraman’s organ already clotting the wound.