Let The Galaxy Burn

by Marc

  Gunderson was a feared man. His name was spoken in whispers by the denizens of the Stank. It was a name to quell the worst of riots, a reputation to tell over flickering fires by older, wiser heads which nonetheless glanced furtively over their shoulders as though the mere mention of his name would somehow conjure him from thin air.

  At well over two metres, Gunderson was a giant of a man, radiating his authority and power like a threat. He was broad and powerfully built, with muscles like slabs of iron beneath his midnight blue carapace armour. He wore his non-reflective bronze captain’s badge over his left breast and was helmetless, tiny vox-comm beads attached to his larynx and the canal of his ear. A black, protective eye visor shielded his vision.

  The ragged residents ducked out of sight of the Enforcers, pulling rusted iron doors shut and hauling tattered strips of cloth over tears that served as windows in their prefabricated steel shacks. Children were dragged indoors, the adults fearing the soldiers of the Adeptus Arbites as much as the feral Stank gangs and tyranid monsters that roamed these regions of Erebus Hive.

  They’d intercepted a radio call on an unlicensed frequency moments earlier as they patrolled the outskirts of District Quintus, almost half a kilometre away. Strictly speaking, this area wasn’t within their patrol envelope, but a chance to nail that punk Snowdog was too good to pass up.

  Snowdog had been a thorn in Jakob Gunderson’s side for longer than he cared to remember. Several times Gunderson had almost had the diminutive ganger in his sights, but each time the slippery little fragger had managed to escape him.

  He was known to front for a couple of heavy hitters up in the refinery city of Desirata who synthesised Kalma, Spook, Slaught and Throne knew what else in secret factories, shipped it to every hive on the planet and, it was rumoured, off-world.

  Snowdog was a major player in the odious underworld of Erebus Hive. He ran a fair sized piece of turf with his gang, the Nightcrawlers, and supplied drugs and guns to the ever-hungry population of the hive. What was even more of an affront to Gunderson was that they knew portions of Snowdog’s territory included his own Precinct House 13.

  As well as being immensely satisfying, a bullet in Snowdog’s head would put a sizeable dent in the drag traffic entering the lower hive from Desirata.

  From the garbled communication his men had intercepted, it appeared that some kind of drug deal had gone wrong and there was a chance Snowdog was involved.

  Gunderson carried his shotgun as though it were part of his own flesh, grasping it tight in a vice-like grip. It was set to fire Executioner rounds, hunting shells that would zero in on their target’s location. He was taking no chances that Snowdog would get away this time.

  He and his squad of five Enforcers reached the collapsed factory their vox-comms had identified as the source of the signal and began climbing the rugged, metal slope of girders and debris towards the entrance, no more than a rusted iron cave mouth.

  From inside he could hear screams and gunfire, heavy shotgun blasts and the smaller crack of pistol fire. He racked the slide of his own shotgun, turned to face his men and said, ‘No one kills Snowdog but me.’

  SNOWDOG HOLLERED AND hurdled the crate, firing wildly. Silver rose with him and began pumping shells from the shotgun at the surviving Jackboy. He was well under cover and hopefully the fire she was laying down would keep it that way.

  He’d almost reached Lex when he saw he’d made a mistake. A big mistake.

  From his left, the light at the entrance to the factory was suddenly blocked as a team of Bronzes pushed their way inside. He swore to himself as he recognised the bulky form of their leader and twisted to snap off a couple of shots at him.

  He saw them hit, but cursed as they were deflected by the Bronze’s heavy carapace armour. Gunderson turned at the sound of the shots and a feral grin spread across his face as he recognised his prey before him. Snowdog veered off to find cover.

  Gunderson lifted the shotgun to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger twice.

  Snowdog saw the distinctive flashes of Body-Chaser shells as their tiny motors ignited. He knew he was a goner. Bagged ‘n’ tagged for sure. He kept running anyway, suddenly changing direction as an idea came to him.

  He dived forwards, pulling Lex’s doped-up body around and over him.

  Sorry, Lex, it’s you or me, buddy.

  And let’s face it. It’s you.

  He felt the double thump as the ‘Chasers slammed into his human shield, blasting a plate sized-hole in him. Lex didn’t even make a sound, and Snowdog knew he was so doped up that he probably hadn’t even felt the shells hit. Snowdog winced, thinking that if Lex lived, it was going to hurt like a cast-iron bitch when the Kalma wore off. He pulled Lex’s body closer as he heard more shotgun blasts. He tensed, expecting the agony of scatter shot flensing the flesh from his bones or a solid shot punching a giant crater in his chest.

  But he felt nothing – then realised the shots had come from Silver’s direction.

  ‘Run!’ yelled Silver, firing again into the group of Bronzes, forcing them to find cover. She’d bought him time and he mentally chalked it up as one he owed her. He scrambled to his feet and crawled round the flattened milling machine, reaching up to grab the petri dish as he went.

  Feeling pretty pleased with himself, he didn’t notice the last Jackboy until he almost crawled on top of him.

  For a second neither moved until Snowdog launched himself forward, lowering his head and slamming his forehead into the shaven-headed ganger’s nose. The Jackboy roared in pain, hands flying to his face.

  Snowdog sprang onto the squirming Jackboy and forced the barrel of his gun under his chin. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The Jackboy’s head exploded, showering Snowdog with blood and brains, the crack of the gun’s discharge lost in a cacophony of shotgun blasts that erupted around him.

  Splinters of concrete and glass showered him and he desperately attempted to squeeze himself into as small a target as possible. He could hear Tigerlily and Silver yelling colourful curses and threats at the Bronzes. He tried not to picture the images in his head.

  It was clear this situation had gone way too far. Something drastic was required. He checked the clips of each pistol. Each had less than half a mag left. He slowed his breathing, getting ready to go for it. Death or a blaze of glory. Muscles tensed, he was about to move when he caught sight of a dark sheen of metal underneath the Jackboy’s bloodstained overalls. He grinned as he reached down and pulled out a leather bandolier with crude, homemade grenades hung along its length.

  Some with his name on, he guessed. He was about to unsnap one of the grenades from the bandolier then stopped, smiling to himself.

  To hell with it.

  He quickly pulled the pins on all the grenades and rose to his feet, swinging the heavy belt round his head. Yelling an obscenity, he lobbed the bandolier towards the sheltering Bronzes.

  The boom of a shotgun caused him to duck back behind the crate. But not before he had time to savour the cries of alarm as the Bronzes realised the deadly nature of what he’d thrown them.

  The frag grenades simultaneously detonated in the midst of the Arbites troops. Razor-sharp pieces of white hot metal scythed out from the explosion and men died as the shrapnel shredded their bodies. Snowdog covered his ears at the terrific blast as the pressure wave rolled over him, tumbling him from his hiding place. The echoes of the detonation rolled back and forth, mixed with the shrieks of the survivors and the dangerous groaning of tortured metal.

  The roof now took on a noticeable downward bulge, water beginning to pour from rapidly developing cracks. With hundreds of tonnes of metal above him, that move with the grenades probably wasn’t the best idea he had ever had.

  It was time to get greasy and slip away.

  He stood and sprinted towards Silver and Tigerlily, sparing a glance at the carnage he’d caused. Three of the Bronzes were dead, a fourth on his knees, clutching his ruined belly, vainly trying to hold in his bl
oody entrails. The leader he couldn’t see. It was too much to hope that Gunderson had been killed; that fragger was way too slippery for that.

  Sure enough a black figure rose from behind the wreckage and levelled his shotgun at the running ganger. Silver fired on him, but he didn’t flinch. A fragger he may be, but he was a brave one, Snowdog admitted grudgingly. Silver’s shot impacted on his armour, but the thick breastplate deflected it. Snowdog ducked as Gunderson fired, feeling lashes of hot fire rake across his back as scatter shot scored through his leather waistcoat, shirt and skin.

  His ears were ringing with gunfire, but not before he heard the metal ceiling of the factory give out one last hideous metallic scream of protest, chunks of plascrete and metal crashing to the floor. He saw Silver discard the empty shotgun then, following Tigerlily, dart into the corroded sewer entrance they had earlier tagged as their escape route if things went loco. With a wild yell, he lurched and skidded along the floor, following them into the darkness of the sewer entrance.

  SNOWDOG BREATHED DEEPLY, then wished he hadn’t. The stench of the Erebus Hive sewer network was overpowering, shot through with the reeking odours of six million people’s waste.

  He stood knee deep in foetid, rank effluent, sludgy with refuse. Man, he was never gonna get this off his boots! The darkness was absolute; a number of turns in the sewer had cut off the little light that filtered down into the waste pipe. Snowdog reached into his pocket, granting as pain razored up his back from the trails the scatter shot had blazed, and withdrew his lighter. He flicked off the brass cap and struck the flint.

  Weak light flickered, revealing the full extent of their refuge. The steel pipe was perhaps one and a half metres in diameter and stagnant with filth. The murky liquid was unmoving, blocked further up the pipe by piles of trash and rubble.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Silver genuinely. ‘I was sure that Bronze had you tagged for sure.’

  ‘He almost did. He’s a stubborn one, that Bronze. He’s been lookin’ for me for Spirit only knows how long. Didn’t get me yet though.’ replied Snowdog.

  ‘I think we might be near the bug nests.’ said Tigerlily, the fear in her voice unmistakable. ‘We’re gonna have to step lightly, less we want to end up sliced and diced.’

  Snowdog nodded. Ever since the Space Marines had kicked the tyranids off this world, the local boys of the Imperial Guard and Defence Militia had had their hands full hunting the remaining tyranid creatures that had gone to ground in the underhive. Despite their efforts there were still broods of the smaller beasts nesting in the moist darkness of the lower levels of Erebus Hive. When the ‘nids had attacked the hive, Snowdog had fought hand-to-hand in a militia unit as sickle armed beasts burst through every culvert and recyc unit, slaughtering hundreds of the lower hive dwellers. Snowdog had seen enough bugs to last a lifetime and certainly didn’t want to see any more.

  But the war had been over for three months now and Snowdog had wasted no time in getting back to the serious job of dealing in illegal narcotics and guns. The devotional vids and posters might claim it was every citizen’s job to help in the eradication of the tyranids, but for Snowdog it was back to business as usual.

  ‘You get the Kalma drops?’ asked Tigerlily, a carefully hidden longing beneath her casually asked question.

  ‘Yeah, I got some. But nobody gets none ‘till we’re home free. Last thing we need is you smacked out if the bugs come for us.’ said Snowdog, stuffing the petri dish into the pocket of his waistcoat.

  He grimaced and pointed down into the rank depths of the sewer tunnel. It sloped downwards at a shallow angle, descending into darkness.

  Now that he had illumination, he noticed the walls were covered in a glistening ooze, a sticky residue that he didn’t like the look of at all.

  ‘Looks like we got a long walk ahead of us.’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s go. I don’t wanna be hangin’ round here longer’n we got to.’

  GUNDERSON THREW HIMSELF forward as tonnes of metal and concrete came crashing down. He yelled as a steel beam smashed into his back, slamming him into the ground and he rolled as blocks of stone and iron thundered around him, the noise drowning out his cries of anger and pain. He saw Enforcer Delano crouching next to him, blood streaming from his temple. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the sewer entrance he’d seen Snowdog go down.

  The ceiling continued to groan in protest and Gunderson knew that to stay here was to die. Rubble was sure to keep falling around them and it would only be a matter of time before they were crushed flat. Gunderson and Delano slithered their way towards the tunnel. Snowdog had a head start, but he wouldn’t be expecting any pursuit. Gunderson would make him pay for that lack of vision.

  THE INTERIOR OF the sewer tunnel wasn’t the worst place Snowdog could remember being in, but it came pretty damn close. The stench was appalling and he didn’t want to think what the wriggling movements within the effluent were.

  As escape routes went, he’d used better ones.

  But any gunfight you walked away from in one piece and with a pocket full of Kalma was a good one, so he guessed he couldn’t complain.

  At last the tunnel began to brighten slightly before emerging into a high vaulted chamber of dim light and dripping echoes. Tunnels branched off the chamber in all directions and without hesitation Snowdog dropped from the tunnel into the chamber. Picking an opening to his left, he began wading towards it.

  They had travelled perhaps ten steps when they found the bodies.

  Five Wyldern gangers, their skeletons picked clean of meat. The water around them was still stained with blood, so whatever had done this had reduced them to their bare bones in seconds. The underhive was full of creatures that could kill a man stone dead, but Snowdog didn’t know of any that could do this to a person so quickly. At least not ones of this world. The killing of the Wyldems reeked of tyranids and he knew they must be close to a nest. Time to get moving.

  The Wyldern nearest to Snowdog still clutched a shotgun in a death grip and he grinned as he quickly bent to pick it up.

  ‘Don’t even think about it.’ snapped a voice from behind him.

  He slid his hand towards his holster until the sharp click of a shotgun slide being racked convinced him that it would be unhealthy to continue. He slowly turned and raised his hands in time to see a pair of blood-streaked Enforcers emerge from the tunnel he and the girls had just come from. Gunderson dropped into the water-filled chamber while the second Enforcer covered them with his shotgun.

  ‘That weapon is Imperial properly.’ said Gunderson. ‘Touch it and I’ll blow you away.’

  ‘You’d like that, huh?’

  ‘More than you know.’

  ‘So why haven’t you?’ asked Snowdog.

  ‘Oh no.’ replied Gunderson. ‘You don’t get off that easy, punk. I’m taking you in Snowdog. I’m going to chain you up like the animal you are and let the world see me drag you in.’

  Snowdog looked over at Silver and Tigerlily, but, like him, they knew that reacting now would just get them all killed. The two Enforcers were on the edge. Their blood was singing and it would only take the slightest hint of resistance to start them blasting. He’d have to play this one ice cool.

  ‘Listen man. You see these skeletons?’ said Snowdog, nodding towards the bodies. ‘These boys got their asses fragged by the ‘nids that went to ground after the war and my gut tells me there’s a nest nearby. You start firing that cannon of yours, you’re gonna bring a whole bunch of ‘em down on us, so what you say we all just keep calm, ok?’

  ‘You killed my men!’ shouted Gunderson. ‘Don’t you dare tell me to be calm! I am calm! Delano, get down here with the cuffs.’

  A hoarse gurgling was the only reply to Gunderson’s order and he risked a glance behind him to see what the hell Delano was playing at.

  Enforcer Delano still crouched in the sewer outlet, but a massively long talon now protruded from his body, just above his hip. A look of almost comic surprise twisted his featu
res and he groaned in pain as blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

  ‘What the hell—’ managed Gunderson as the talon was wrenched from Delano’s body and the Enforcer toppled into the water. Behind him, its claws stained bright red, was a lithe, muscled creature with a ridged body and lethal looking talons. The beast hissed, exposing glistening fangs and its pale eyes burned with alien malevolence.

  Its powerful hind legs uncoiled like a spring as the creature leapt from the sewer outlet towards them. It exploded in mid-air as the solid shot from Gunderson’s shotgun blew it apart, the echoes of the blast ringing from the concrete walls. Hurriedly he chambered another shell and ran to help the struggling Delano to his feet as the sound of scrabbling claws and alien hissing came from all around them.

  It seemed to issue from every outlet. And it was growing in volume.

  ‘Damn.’ whispered Snowdog as he tried to pinpoint the source of the noises. ‘Look what you’ve gone and done now!’

  Another one of the creatures dropped from the roof of the chamber, landing with a splash just behind Snowdog. Its talons lashed out at his neck. He ducked and lowered his head straight into the second beast as it powered from the water, its bony skull smashing into his unprotected face. Blood burst from his nose and he yelled in sudden pain, splashing backwards into the water.

  Gunderson’s and Delano’s shotguns fired again as the outlet pipes erupted with dozens of the horrifying beasts, an alien tide of rippling armour plates, chitinous blades and fangs.

  Snowdog hauled himself to his knees as two of the creatures stalked through the foamy water towards him. The creatures were hunched over, the front pair of their limbs ending in long, scythe-like blades.

  He recognised them almost immediately as hormagaunts, and he’d fought enough of these beasts during the war to know they were in serious trouble. Their bestial faces were drawn and pale, white, lidless eyes seeming to glow with a killing light.

  The lead hormagaunt lifted its head, cocking it to one side, tongue darting in and out of its mouth like a snake’s. Snowdog put a bullet between its eyes as the second ‘gaunt launched itself at him. He threw himself flat and the creature sailed over him, landing in a thrashing pile of claws. As it picked itself up, Snowdog emptied the last of the clip into the back of its head.