Shield of Baal: Tempestus
Page 4
Chavis was not his original name. It had been given to him twenty years previously, by a drill abbot who selected it from a long list of possibilities. He had been twelve years old at the time, the victim of a disaster he couldn’t recall which had taken place on a home world he could no longer remember. One of a hundred boys brought before the Schola Progenium that day, he had been sprayed with a hose, deloused, and told to forget everything about his past. This included his name. His name was Chavis now.
‘You should be proud,’ they had told him. ‘Each of the names on this list once belonged to a great hero of the Imperium. This man, Chavis, was known for his wisdom and commitment to success. Now, it’s up to you to carry on his legacy.’
He did his best to comply, and he did feel proud to have been awarded such a name. He even enjoyed the brutal rigours of training, remaining stoically silent through aching muscles and the occasional snapped bone. Suffering became the price to be paid for the honour of bearing the name of Chavis.
He did not, however, enjoy the Correction Throne.
It was a standard phase in the development of a Tempestus Scion. All of them would go through it. He accepted that much. What he would never understand was why such a terrible thing was given such an elegant name. He had imagined a magnificent chair, like the one the Emperor sat in, but when he was at last brought before it, he found it to be nothing of the kind. The Correction Throne was a metal frame with leather straps around the arms and legs. Suspended above was what appeared to be a bowl filled with spikes. He was forced into the seat. Rough hands cinched the belts tightly around his limbs. The bowl was placed over his head. A block of wood was inserted into his mouth to ensure that he didn’t bite through his tongue. Adepts in hooded robes, lurking in the dark corners of the room, muttered as they flipped switches and turned dials.
Then, like a billion young lads before him, he was mindscaped. The needles drove themselves through the back of his skull. The soft pathways of his brain were flooded with a neurochemical designed to wipe them clean. When he was at last allowed to rise from the Throne, his mind would be an empty vessel, fit to be filled with all the terrible doctrines of war. And fill it they did.
Two decades later, Chavis knew how to achieve any mission given to him. He knew when to take ground, and when to hold it; when to act with caution, and when to risk it all. And thus, despite the inquisitor’s unparalleled power and authority over him, Chavis was unafraid to question his decisions.
From the hab-crawler, the two transports sped easily over kilometres of barren and empty country. Above them, the skies darkened. Thunder could be heard even through the thick hull. By the time they entered the foothills of the Kephorous mountains, a deluge was coming down around them. Rain beat against the roof and firing ports, and the Taurox rocked from side to side as the independent tracks scrabbled over rocks and crevasses.
‘Is there a problem, tempestor?’ Margene asked.
Chavis’s head snapped up. ‘Why do you ask?’
The interior of the Taurox was divided into two sections. There was a piloting compartment up front, with room enough for two people. The remainder was a rectangular space large enough to hold eight. Chavis and Margene were seated directly across from one another.
‘The way you were staring down at the floor,’ Margene said. Her face was hard. A boltgun rested in her lap, and she drummed her fingers on its engraved frame.
‘The rain sounds very heavy,’ Chavis said. ‘I’m concerned that it may affect our timetable.’
‘Storms are common on Lysios, especially as one moves closer to the worldwave. They tend not to last long, but can be intense. It’s actually a bit ironic, because right now, on the other side of the planet, there’s a terrible drought.’
Abruptly, the vehicle came to a halt. Chavis leaned forward in his seat and called up to the piloting compartment.
‘Scion Cato, report!’
‘Tempestor,’ Cato replied calmly, ‘we have a potential problem.’
Chavis unbuckled his safety restraints and leaned in between the driver and forward passenger seats.
‘What is it?’ Chavis asked.
Cato pointed through the narrow window slot before him. ‘There are environmental concerns that should be evaluated before we proceed, sir.’
‘All right. Let’s have a look.’ Chavis activated his personal vox-unit and called to the driver of the second Taurox. ‘Erdon, join us up front.’
He returned to the rear section, shoved one of the side doors open, and jumped down into water that rose to his ankles. Behind him, he heard Cato and the inquisitor do likewise. Rain pelted his face. It tasted vaguely of salt.
They were half way up the slope of Mount Loraz, following a winding track barely wide enough to accommodate their transports. On the left rose a wall of rock and mud. To the right was a sharp drop-off that plunged hundreds of metres into the churning greenish waves of Lysios’s ocean. To fall over the edge was to fall into oblivion.
From behind them came the sound of sloshing footsteps.
‘Scion Erdon, reporting as ordered.’
Chavis adjusted his beret and the four of them made their way to the front of the lead Taurox. They stood in the glare of the vehicle’s floodlights and surveyed the path ahead of them.
‘Damn,’ Ulrich said. He began fishing about inside his coat.
A river of rainwater, a hundred metres wide, was gushing from a crevasse in the mountainside. It fell in a torrent across the road before spilling over the drop-off.
‘No way to know what condition the road is in under all that,’ Erdon said to Cato.
‘That’s the concern.’
Chavis moved forward slowly, testing the ground with every step.
‘Can you tell how deep it gets, sir?’ Erdon called out. The water was now swirling around the tempestor’s knees.
‘Deep. But I shouldn’t think that it’ll come up over the roof.’
Behind him, Ulrich had produced a square of paper laminated in plastek. He began to unfold it. ‘We can’t go through this,’ he said. ‘We’ll be swept over the edge for certain.’
‘I’ve been through wider water hazards,’ Chavis said. He looked out at the drop-off. ‘We’ll be fine.’
Ulrich lowered the sheet of paper. Chavis could see that it was a map of some kind, possibly part of an orbital survey. ‘I beg to differ. Look here, this shows another way to the plateau.’
The tempestor returned to Ulrich’s side and grasped one edge of the waterproofed sheet. After a moment’s consideration, he said, ‘No. That won’t work.’
Ulrich looked as if he’d been slapped, and Chavis wondered distantly how often the inquisitor, or any inquisitor for that matter, found himself being contradicted. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Respectfully, sir, it won’t work. Not given our time considerations.’ He traced a line over the map with a thick finger, leaving a trail of condensation. ‘The other route is kilometres to the west. True, it’s not as steep, but it would take us half a day to get there. By that time, we will have missed our opportunity.’
Ulrich looked unhappy. He pointed to the water pouring down across the trail. ‘You’re telling me that you can get us through that?’
‘Sir, I have twenty years of service to my name. I’ve yet to encounter the terrain that could best a Taurox.’
‘But if the road gives way beneath it…’
‘Sir,’ Chavis repeated. ‘If we want to capture the alien specimen, we need to stick to our timetable.’ He held up his right forearm, into which was built a small, glowing display screen. He wiped the beads of rainwater from it, and tilted it towards Ulrich. In the upper corner of the display, a string of numbers counted steadily down towards zero. ‘According to the information provided to me by the dialogus, we have just under four hours remaining. After that, the tidal swell of the worldwave will have moved past the mountain.’
Ulrich looked at Cato and Erdon, as if seeking a second opinion. He found none.
Chavis gave no reply. Twice he had stated his belief that the two Taurox would be able to make it across the raging water, and that was one time more than he was used to. Finally, Ulrich relented. He shook the water from the map, and began to fold it back up. ‘If you have so much faith in this machine of yours, then you won’t mind driving.’
‘Not at all, sir. However, I’ll need Scion Cato to sit next to me.’
‘Why?’
‘This could be dangerous, sir. Not only should there be a Scion ready to take over immediately should something happen to me, but you will be safer in the rear section.’
‘Fine, fine,’ Ulrich muttered. His shoulders were hunched and his arms were wrapped tightly around his body. His hair was plastered to his head by the rain. He climbed up into the passenger compartment.
Chavis and Cato made their way to the front. As Chavis fastened his safety restraints, Cato secured his helmet and faceplate.
‘Scion Erdon?’ Chavis said over the vox.
‘Ready here, tempestor. We’ll follow your lead.’
Chavis sent the Taurox forwards. Four status lights blinked on the panel in front of him, one for each of the machine’s quad tracks. The moment they entered the torrent, the lights changed from reassuring green to cautionary amber. Water surged against the left side of the vehicle. The Taurox began to lurch up and down as it manoeuvred over submerged boulders, but its grip on the flooded road was steady.
As they neared the midpoint, the front of the transport suddenly pitched down sharply. Chavis’s viewing slits became completely submerged.
‘What was that?’ Cato said.
Chavis bared his teeth, angry with himself for not having foreseen this. ‘A trench,’ he said. The constant rush of water had carved a deep fault in the mountain path, and they were falling into it, nose-first.
Erdon was shouting over the vox. ‘Tempestor, I’ve lost you!’
‘Erdon, exercise extreme caution. The middle section here is far worse than I thought.’
Chavis flicked a series of switches on the panel beside him, and the interior lights in the Taurox went out as power was transferred to the tractors. He pulled back hard on the controls. From somewhere underfoot came the noise of metal grinding. The Taurox shook violently and groaned before bursting up to the surface again, spraying mud everywhere. The water levels dropped back down below the firing slots. They were nearly to the other side.
As Chavis looked again at the track indicators, something heavy struck the side of the Taurox and rolled away. The passenger compartment reverberated with the sound of it. The tempestor’s head snapped up.
‘Rock, sir,’ Cato said. ‘Fell down from the mountainside after we passed through. I think maybe we–’
Through the vox, Chavis could suddenly hear a series of pings and bangs. At first, he took it to be gunfire of some kind.
‘Tempestor, I have a situation,’ Erdon said. ‘We’re being pushed over the drop-off.’
Cato let out a short, sharp expletive.
‘Transfer additional power to your tracks,’ Chavis ordered.
‘They’re at one hundred and twenty per cent, sir. It’s not a question of power. There’s nothing left to grip.’
Ulrich leaned into the compartment and demanded to know what was happening.
Chavis cut him off with a raised hand. ‘Erdon,’ he said, ‘prep your recovery gear. Cato, get outside, grab that line and secure it.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Cato said. Mounted into his left shoulder plate was a compact vid-lens. When he activated it, the lens glowed dark red. Chavis looked down at his own forearm display, which now showed the view from Cato’s vid-link. ‘Your monoscope data is coming in fine. Go.’
‘I asked you to tell me what’s happening,’ Ulrich said. ‘All of our equipment is in that other transport. If it’s lost–’
‘Not now!’ Chavis raised his arm.
Beside him, Cato reached up and unlocked a small round hatch. Rain and muddy water poured into his lap. He reached down beside his seat and pulled hard on the lever there, and with a sudden jerk, his chair rose up through the open hatch. The water coming into the front compartment slowed to only a few drops. On his monitor, Chavis could now see the road ahead, as well as the barrels of the battle cannon mounted on the roof of the Taurox. The picture inched around as Cato climbed up from out of the turret and made his way on hands and knees to the back of the roof.
‘Erdon,’ Chavis called, ‘fire your cable.’
A moment later, there was a scraping sound on the roof, and Cato said, ‘They’re latched on to us. We’re good to go, tempestor.’
Chavis pushed down on the accelerator, and the transport lurched forwards. Over the vox, Chavis could hear Cato grunting. After several tense moments, Erdon spoke.
‘That’s it. All of my track indicators are back on solid ground.’
The two vehicles ploughed through the last of the water and emerged safely on the other side. The seat next to Chavis dropped back down into place. Cato, covered in mud and soaking wet, removed his helmet and facemask. He exhaled loudly. ‘The cable’s released, sir.’
Ulrich was staring at him. ‘Your hands,’ he said.
Cato had left a pair of bloody imprints on either side of his helmet. He turned his gloves over to discover that several thick metal splinters had embedded themselves in his palms. ‘Oh. Must have gotten them from the recovery cable.’ He looked up at Chavis. ‘It gave me a bit of trouble, sir.’
‘Good work, Scion,’ Chavis said. ‘Get in the back and get those cleaned up.’
Cato nodded and squeezed past the inquisitor.
‘I thought you said that we wouldn’t have any problems?’ Ulrich said.
Chavis switched off the vid-feed to his monitor. The tiny clock reappeared and continued its countdown. ‘No, sir, I said that we would make it, and we did.’
‘But I was right. The road washed out.’
‘The road didn’t wash out. The mountain came down.’
Ulrich’s mouth twisted. ‘Just get us up to the plateau,’ he said quietly. He turned and went back into the rear compartment.
Chapter Five
By the time they reached the top of the mountain, the rain had stopped. The clouds were beginning to thin. The suns had set and the moon, Ixoi, was already visible in the sky as a massive, round, red disc. Nearby, the waves of Lysios’s vertical ocean washed up on the tumbled rocks. Their sound was like thunder, and the spray they sent up plumed high overhead. The two Taurox had stopped near a large slab of flat rock. Ulrich had insisted on being the first to exit. He stood gazing out at the ocean with a strange look on his face. Margene and the eighteen Scions climbed down from the transports and began to gather near him.
The bulk of the worldwave was to the south of them, a dark wall reaching up into the clouds. The dusky moonlight only made it seem more surreal. The entire horizon appeared to bend at a ninety-degree angle.
Ulrich turned and faced them all. His eyes were alight with excitement. The wind whipped his coat around his calves. He had to shout to be heard over the pounding surf.
‘I told you men before we landed that I had a plan to make our target come to us. Sister Margene, according to local legend, how often does the Brine Goddess come to the surface?’
‘Monthly, sir. She reaches out towards the moon, and when she finds that she can’t touch him, she despairs and causes tidal waves and storms.’
‘Nonsense, obviously, but it did get me to thinking. If there really was a Shelse living in the blackness of the ocean, why would it come forth with such regularity? I believe that the answer is the moon. Well, moonlight, to be more exact. I mean, look around you.’
Ulrich swept his arm in a half circle. Ixoi dominated the sky, casting everything in the reflection of the two suns. No stars could be seen. Night-time on Lysios was the equivalent of dusk
on most other Imperial worlds.
‘You believe the creature is attracted to light?’ Margene asked.
‘Light and gravity, but I’m willing to wager that light will be enough. Tempestor, I want your men to begin setting up the searchlight immediately. How long will it take?’
‘It’s a standard Sabre platform, sir. Routine assembly time twenty-five to thirty minutes. We’ll have it ready in fifteen.’
‘Excellent. In the meantime, I will prepare the containment chamber. Margene, you’re with me.’ Ulrich began to walk towards the Taurox that Erdon had driven. Margene hurried to match his long strides. Chavis barked to the Scions. ‘You heard the inquisitor. Unpack that platform. Get the light up and running.’
The Scions saluted, and hurried to their work. From the rear section of the second Taurox, they brought out four metal struts and a series of round floor plates. These were followed by a square bracket, and finally, a light that was nearly as wide around as Chavis was tall. Margene had seen such things before. The light they produced was blinding, and they were usually mounted onto buildings or used for signalling aircraft at night. Once the pieces of the searchlight were offloaded, the Taurox was empty save for her, Ulrich, and a tall cylinder.
It appeared to be made of sheet metal. The front contained a single narrow door with a round pane of glass in the centre.
‘You’re going to put it… in this?’ Margene asked.
‘It’s stronger than it looks, I assure you. Heavier, as well. Take one side.’
She shouldered her boltgun and helped Ulrich lift the container out of the Taurox and down onto the ground. The Scions had nearly finished assembling the platform and the massive light. She had thought perhaps the tempestor had been bragging when he said that he and his men could build it in half the time of regular soldiers. Now, she conceded that he hadn’t.
The waves were growing in intensity as the tidal swell approached. Their breaking on the rocks was deafening, and when the waves retreated, they seemed to suck the very air out to sea with them. Margene looked in awe at the approaching worldwave, when something farther down the shoreline caught her attention. In the distance was a procession of people. They were carrying torches.