by Gav Thorpe
Through the smog and gas, past the heaving mass of foes, Rann saw yellow plunging into the horde half a kilometre ahead from the left and right. As the armoured columns came around the defence spurs like ancient ships of the line rounding headlands into a harbour, flares of las-fire and muzzle flash lit the sickly cloud, the strobing of multi-lasers flashing like red navigation lights.
Caught between the tanks and the shield wall, the traitor horde finally slowed, unsure whether to press on against the infantry or turn to swamp this new threat with their numbers. The armoured columns linked up on the highway and turned inwards together, spaced so that they could shoot past each other, heading back towards the shield wall, weapons firing non-stop to both sides, turrets spewing lascannon blasts and autocannon rounds. The fusillade cut lines through the unarmoured enemy, their dead falling in waves like the spreading ripples of stones tossed into a pool.
‘Huscarls, gate formation!’ Rann bellowed when the lead vehicles were just a hundred metres away, approaching fast. Like a double door opening, the shield line divided, Rann at the right-hand end of one ‘gate’, Sergeant Ortor securing the other. They marched outwards, so that the line shifted but still faced directly towards the enemy. Rann could see mutants and traitors crushed against lowered dozer blades or speared by assault spikes as the column came on without slowing, punching through the horde like an armoured fist.
They roared past the line, guns falling silent at the last moment, tank after tank grinding through the gap between the two gates of the shield wall. They split again, peeling to the left and the right to form a support line behind the infantry companies, taking up positions beside the Dreadnoughts.
There were barely a few hundred foes left to target, many of them running one way or another in terrified confusion, some huddling among their dead to hide from the Imperial Fists’ wrath.
‘Permission to seek and destroy, commander?’ came the call from Lieutenant Leucid, leading the fast reserve.
‘Granted. Ten minutes only, then withdraw to the port.’
‘Understood.’
‘First Assault, withdraw by squads. Armour to provide cover fire and then withdraw by squadron.’
The last of the vehicles passed through the line, a Spartan assault tank that slewed around to come to a stop a few metres behind Rann, guns tracking back and forth over his head. The lord seneschal strode up to it and rested his shield against the side. Using the sponson for handholds, much to the audible amusement of the gunner within, he hauled himself up to the roof. The tank commander was standing in one of the forward hatches, the grips of a pintle-mounted combi-bolter in his hands. He slid the weapon aside and pulled himself up to join Rann, fist clashing on his chest in salute.
‘Welcome aboard, commander. That’s quite a view, isn’t it?’
The whine of anti-grav engines and scream of propulsor jets filled the air as six squadrons of Land Speeders swept overhead, just a few metres above the defensive line. Rann grinned as he watched them pass, a fist raised to salute them to victory.
‘Good hunting!’ he called over the vox.
The chatter of heavy bolters and hiss of missiles faded with distance as Leucid’s fast reserve chased after targets of opportunity. Rann looked back to the Lion’s Gate space port and then out along the highway. Multi-spectral filters flickered across his view, picking out the body heat of the cooling dead. It was as though the ground were carpeted with undulations of fading orange and dark red, as far as his enhanced senses could penetrate the smog banks.
With the Emperor’s Children and World Eaters inbound, it was just the beginning. However, he thought, three hundred thousand enemy dead in two hours was not a bad morning’s work.
Arabindian massif, ninety-seven days before assault
As far as anyone could tell, the train was moving at a conservative ten kilometres an hour, which surprised nobody given its immense size and weight, even with two plasma reactors driving its motors. Its purpose was to convey large volumes of people, but it was certainly not doing so swiftly.
Routine had been the cornerstone of life on the factory line and it quickly became the bedrock of Zenobi’s existence as a member of the defence corps. Each day was carefully scheduled and regulated, assigned duties moving through the platoons of the company as the roster and occasional punishment dictated. They drilled with their weapons – power packs removed – and turned spare mattresses into dummies for bayonet practice. The food was pretty much indistinguishable from day to day but given that they had all lived in the downhive spurs for their whole lives, such culinary tedium was of no remark.
The integrity officers were a constant, low-key presence. As warned, they started conducting interviews from the very first day. Names were called and troopers were escorted up to the top deck. They returned either within minutes or after more than an hour – there never seemed to be any absence between these two extremes. They were loath to discuss what they had seen, but persistence pried a few details from hesitant lips – though there was little enough to tell, as they had all been taken up the central ladder and down a narrow passage to a bare interview room. They had glimpsed the gunnery rondels and other doorways, which they assumed were the quarters of the crew, but little else.
A few of those that had been summoned had spied a little of the train’s surroundings through open turret doors and the firing slots beyond. Even so, there was nothing in their reports to excite, for they all returned with descriptions of endless grey sky and, if they saw the ground, an undulating expanse of dried seabed.
Of what occurred within the interview chamber even less was said, other than that there was nothing to worry about if everybody told the truth. Zenobi had expected to be interviewed early, being part of the command squad of the platoon and the company standard bearer, but days passed without her name being called. She had started keeping note of who had been in an effort to predict when it would be her turn, but after three days she was forced to conclude that either she had no idea what the criteria were for the order of selection, or the troopers were being taken upstairs at random.
About a week after leaving Djibou, the captain and lieutenants disappeared shortly after the midday inspection, ascending en masse to the mystery world of the upper deck. Like many others, Zenobi wanted to follow, to try to sneak a look at what delights and secrets were housed above. However, the dynastic enforcers were around in number, visible at the top of every ladder.
It was not just Zenobi’s company. Officers from the lower decks went past until it was clear that the whole carriage had been emptied of every rank above sergeant.
‘I hear there gonna be some big news, yeye,’ said Seleen. ‘Everyone gonna be told at the same time. No rumours, just one truth.’
‘No rumours?’ laughed Menber. ‘Then what are you saying? That’s a rumour!’
‘You know what I mean, fala,’ said Seleen with a shake of her head.
‘It’s got to be Horus,’ said Kettai.
‘Keep it down,’ shushed Menber, glancing towards the closest ladder to the top deck.
‘What?’ The trooper shrugged. ‘Saying his name a crime now, is it?’
‘It could be,’ growled Menber.
‘Nah, I been in with the integrity officers,’ said Seleen. ‘Our platoon is good. We’re all true to the cause and they know it. Volunteers, yeah? We were doing the recruiting.’
‘I don’t care if you’ve got a signed letter from the dynastic chiefs themselves,’ said Menber. ‘I don’t think those integrity officers need much to take offence.’
‘Even if the news is about Horus, it might not be bad news,’ said Zenobi.
‘It could be anything,’ agreed Menber. ‘But I don’t think everyone would be so subdued if they’d just heard Horus was dead.’
‘True, very true,’ said Seleen. ‘My bet? Horus’ ships are here, in the system.’
‘I�
�d not bet against that,’ said Kettai. ‘If the stories are right, that there was void war in the last few months, testing the defences, the main attack had to be coming…’
He trailed away as they heard footsteps above, lots of them. They watched the officers coming down again. Fewer than went up.
‘Where are the others?’ Zenobi asked, when the last of the officers from the lowest deck had gone – those that were now coming down wore the badges of Beta Company, quartered in the deck directly below. ‘Twenty went up, only fifteen came down.’
‘Special duties?’ suggested Menber, though even he didn’t look convinced by his answer.
Those officers that were returning were tight-lipped, glancing at each other with pointed expressions whose meaning was lost on the watching troopers.
‘Do they look worried?’ said Kettai.
‘They don’t look worried,’ said Zenobi. ‘Not scared for themselves, worried. More like guilty. I–’
She stopped as Captain Egwu descended the rungs of the ladder at the centre of the carriage. Okoye followed, as did most of the others from the company.
‘Three?’ whispered Seleen. ‘Who’s missing?’
‘Gbadamosi, Adeoyo, Onobanjo,’ said Kettai quickly. ‘All lieutenants.’
‘Adeoyo was a platoon commander!’ said Zenobi. ‘What does it mean?’
‘We’re about to find out,’ said Menber, directing their attention back to the newly returned officers.
Captain Egwu stood in the middle of the deck while most of the lieutenants made their way back to their respective platoons and squads. Okoye stopped a short distance away, eyes flicking from one subordinate to the next, agitated.
‘Eyes and ears on the captain,’ he said quietly, turning on his heel to face their company commander.
Egwu stood with her hands behind her back, pacing a slow circle to look at the whole deck. She kept glancing at the ladder to the top deck and the hatchway to which it ascended. It was impossible not to be drawn to the object of her attention, so that Zenobi found herself staring at the iron rungs with growing unease, transmitted from the captain though Egwu said nothing and kept any telltale expression from her face.
A succession of sharp reports followed by loud thumps on the deck above caused Zenobi to flinch – not alone amongst the gathered troopers. Around her, troopers were looking up, murmurs of disquiet rippling around the room.
There was no mistaking the noise, even muffled by the deck: gunshots.
Zenobi’s first reaction was to turn, wide-eyed, and look for Menber. He glanced at her, shook his head a fraction and returned his gaze to the ladder. Booted feet appeared a few seconds later, soon revealed to be those of an integrity enforcer. A score of them descended, followed by Jawaahir and her cohort of officers. Six assigned to the company remained and the rest descended with enforcer escort to the decks below.
The integrity high officer gave a nod to Egwu, who cleared her throat before addressing the company.
‘The forces of Warmaster Horus have reached the Solar System. Naval and Legion fleets are engaged in void warfare against these flotillas at the gates near Pluto and Neptune.’ The captain paced as she continued. ‘We have no further intelligence regarding the ongoing status of that battle and we do not plan to provide a running commentary. We will try to keep you informed of any major strategic developments, but the assumption from this moment forward is that Horus will, sooner or later, reach orbit over Terra and commence invasion.’
Whether it was discipline or shock that held their tongues, the troopers of the defence corps greeted this news in stoic silence. Though Zenobi had agreed with Seleen’s prediction and had been expecting something like this to be announced, to hear the actual words set her heart racing. For a great part of her life she had been prepared for the coming battles, and to think that they were weeks, possibly even days from combat was exciting and terrifying.
Mostly terrifying, the more she considered it, but it was tempered by the knot of duty she felt hard in her gut. She was no warrior-born. Not a legionary or even a proper soldier of the Imperial Army. But when the recruiters had come and spoken to her and the rest of her family they had all been in agreement. For Addaba, for future generations, they had to fight, and give their lives if needed.
She remembered not quite understanding what was happening, but feeling her mother’s grip on her shoulder, reassuring and proud. And every day since then, whether on the line or with the company, she had turned her thoughts to the time when the promise would become reality.
She was brought back to the present by the raised voice of Jawaahir.
‘The Warmaster’s forces are closing upon Terra.’ Her words were calm and assured, bearing no threatening undertone as they had on her first introduction. She might as easily have been telling them the latrine rota had been changed. ‘Nothing but the utmost dedication to the task ahead will be tolerated. We have completed our inspection of your officers in light of this news. Those that fell short of our expectations have been executed.’
Again, there was little reaction from the Addaba troopers. The noises they had heard had left little doubt as to the missing officers’ fate. There were, however, voices of consternation rising up from the lower decks. Zenobi realised that they could not have been forewarned and were hearing this news first from the mouths of their integrity officers.
‘Such action may seem harsh, and in a time of peace you would be correct,’ Jawaahir continued. She turned her gaze as she spoke, addressing them all, her eyes seeming to fall upon everyone present for a second each. Not long enough to register a reaction, but a feeling of constant scrutiny all the same. ‘The decision was not made lightly, nor arbitrarily. Do not grieve for them. Had they been left in their positions, their lack of commitment would have eroded your own, and jeopardised the integrity and courage of this fighting force.
‘Just as we will not allow any of you to waver from the course that must be followed, so we hold those that lead you to the highest standards. Hesitation in the face of the enemy will cost lives. Doubts that we serve a cause greater than ourselves will undermine discipline.’
Her expression softened, becoming almost matriarchal as she pivoted slowly once more.
‘We do not wish to terrify you into obedience. It is natural that you look upon the decisions you have made and wonder if you have done the right thing. Such lapses are understandable, but they have no place in battle. You must act without thought, without question, without regret. To do otherwise is to risk the victory towards which we all strive, for which we should all be prepared to give our lives.’
Silence followed, broken only by the background clatter of wheels on rails and the hum of energy cables. Zenobi felt herself swaying, thinking it the motion of the carriage at first, but increasingly so as a sense of unreality descended on her. She was reminded of the time she had been told of the Warmaster and what had occurred during the Great Crusade, of being subjected to ideas so much larger than she was that it was almost overwhelming to think about them.
A hand on her elbow steadied her.
‘Breathe, cousin,’ Menber told her with a concerned look. ‘Breathe…’
‘I will be working with the integrity officers to select suitable replacements for those…’ Egwu paused, glanced at Jawaahir and then continued. ‘Gaps in the command structure will be filled from the ranks. Just like on the factory line. That is all.’
Zenobi sagged, realising that she had been holding herself as taut as a wire for several minutes. The babble that erupted across the deck was immediate, divided between the two topics of conversation: Horus’ imminent arrival and the executions.
Before she could say anything, Zenobi felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find Sergeant Alekzanda looking at her. He took a step back and tilted his head towards the integrity officers. Zenobi looked past him, her gaze meeting the stare of Jawaahir
.
‘Interview time, Zenobi,’ said Alekzanda. ‘You’re up next.’
Charge of the berzerker
Loyalty scrutinised
The telaethesic ward
Lion’s Gate space port, surface approach, Highway Two, assault hour
The barrage of the Iron Warriors lit the peak of the Lion’s Gate like a candle. Red flames crawled across its hab-units and docks, long licks of scarlet that danced with a strange life. In the south-east, on the far side of the artificial mountain, purple flames silhouetted high shipyards and kilometre-long boarding quays – the twin beacon to Fulgrim and his Emperor’s Children.
‘That’s… hnnh. That’s the signal!’ barked Khârn, slamming his fist onto the roof of the Land Raider to alert the driver. All around him others were responding in similar kind, raising war shouts and cries to Khorne that rolled down the highway along with the sudden growl of engines coming to life.
It had taken all of Khârn’s willpower to linger with his brothers, fighting back the urge to charge headlong at the enemy. To do so would have meant throwing themselves into the teeth of the defence without any support from Perturabo’s Legion.
He lifted Gorechild in his other hand as the engines of five hundred transports and tanks grew to a roar, their tracks snarling over pitted ferrocrete – Rhinos, Land Raiders and Spartan transports flanked by an echelon of Predators and Vindicators. This support element was much diminished, for many of Khârn’s brothers were incapable of controlling themselves sufficiently to steer or guide a heavy gun. Slaves were chained into their positions, or servitors installed to take the place of the truly living. Freed from other concerns, the legionaries would be able to storm forth and slaughter without distraction once they reached their target.
