by Gav Thorpe
‘You do not think they are ready?’ snapped Corax. ‘You sound like one of those Word Bearers Chaplains, speaking of empty duty and discipline. We are involved in a war that will decide the fate of the Imperium! I expect every warrior to carry himself with pride and to do his utmost to ensure victory.’
There followed an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds as Corax turned away, jaw churning with anger. When he looked at his commanders again, he had calmed himself.
‘The Raptors will learn discipline,’ he said. ‘In time, when there are more of them, we will be able to spread them through the Legion as we would any other recruits and the presence of the veterans will mollify their young spirits. Remember that most of them were little more than children only a hundred days ago. Your transformations took years, during which you learned patience and discipline. Branne, if you are so concerned, you must take extra effort to instil such qualities into your warriors, because we don’t have the luxury of several years to test their mettle and forge their battle-spirit.’
‘Aye, as you wish, lord,’ said Branne. ‘A few more turns through the rad-wastes will calm their humours.’
‘How soon will we move on Narsis, lord?’ asked Solaro. ‘Even with the Raptors, we cannot muster more than five thousand legionaries and other ranks.’
‘I aim to tackle the Perfect Fortress with twice that number,’ said Corax. ‘Sixx and Orlandriaz have received instruction to move to the next scale of implantation.’
‘Five thousand more Raptors?’ said Agapito, almost horrified by the suggestion. ‘We have no more than five hundred novitiates left to implant. Where will you get new recruits?’
‘From Deliverance and Kiavahr,’ said Corax. ‘As I told you before, the new gene-seed allows us to take younger and less fitting candidates with equal results.’
‘Forgive any disrespect, lord, but that does not make sense,’ said Agapito. ‘Just a moment ago, we were discussing the immaturity of the Raptors, who have each been subjected to Legion tradition and teaching for several years already. To take untested boys and turn them into super-soldiers seems rash.’
‘There is no alternative,’ said Corax, showing no signs of anger at Agapito’s criticism. ‘I understand your concerns, and considered them on the way back from Cruciax, but Horus’s treachery has backed us into a corridor with only one way out. Either we turn over Raptor production to its full potential, including casting our recruitment wider, or we must give up any desire to strike at Horus’s forces. As we are at the moment, it is a simple case of numbers: we don’t have them in our favour.’
‘I would like to register my disapproval,’ said Agapito. He looked at Corax, and then pointedly turned his gaze to Branne, with an expression of frustration bordering on desperation.
Branne sympathised with his brother’s position, but he had seen first-hand what the Raptors could do, even in their inexperience. To have five thousand such warriors would be an incredible weapon. There was also the question of loyalty to the primarch. Agapito’s strange behaviour since Isstvan gave Branne cause to doubt his motives for opposing Corax’s plan. Perhaps he feared that the Talons would lose honour and prestige. It was certainly the case that the seemingly preferential treatment – the armour and weapons – given to the Raptors rankled at Agapito.
There was another reason to agree with the primarch, a far more personal one. The action at Cruciax had not erased the doubts Branne felt about himself for his failings at Isstvan. It had proved to him more than ever that he needed to redeem himself in the eyes of the Raven Guard who had fought there. A large force of Raptors would make him the pivotal commander at Narsis, granting him an opportunity to prove his worth on a stage far more fitting than a raid on an isolated outpost.
‘It is fitting,’ said Branne, ‘that we extend the chance to become Raven Guard to as many as possible. We fought a war to liberate the people of this star system, so that they might enjoy the benefits of freedom. The Raven Guard prosecuted the Great Crusade across hundreds of worlds to bring that same freedom to others. Now it is time for them to answer our call and repay those efforts with their own.’
‘You’re not suggesting conscription?’ said Solaro.
‘No,’ said Corax. ‘I’ll not have that. I do not think we will be troubled by a shortage of volunteers.’
‘Word will get out, lord,’ said Agapito, gripping the edge of the table tightly. ‘So far we have kept secret our plans and our renewed strength. If you recruit on a scale like this, the news will travel back to the traitors and they will send a force to exterminate us entirely, a force we will not be able to resist. Surprise is our greatest asset, and we will surrender it with this sort of declaration.’
‘It will be too late,’ said Corax. ‘We will strike quickly enough that there will be no time for our enemies to prepare. We will begin with the implantation of the remaining recruits at Ravendelve as soon as possible. Branne will organise the mass induction of candidates and we will make our final preparations for the assault on Narsis.’
‘What about weapons and armour?’ said Solaro. ‘At the moment, we can make Raptors faster than we can manufacture Mark VI suits.’
‘I already have a manufactorum on Kiavahr stepping up production based on the designs brought to us by Captain Noriz,’ answered the primarch. ‘As for weapons, we have stockpiles worthy of a Legion that was once eighty thousand strong. A few thousand bolters are not an issue, despite the losses on Isstvan.’
‘Transportation?’ said Agapito, with the sigh of a man who knew he had lost a battle. ‘The Avenger and surviving ships cannot carry that many into battle.’
‘We will requisition transports from wherever we can,’ said Corax. ‘We don’t need dedicated assault ships, as long as they can launch Thunderhawks and Stormbirds. Whatever problems you foresee, we will overcome them. The Raven Guard will be prepared to attack Narsis within twenty-five days. I have waited long enough, and I can wait no longer. The fight back against the traitors has already begun, it is time to accept that and strike a blow that will make them nervous.’
‘Aye, lord,’ said Agapito, his reply echoed by the other commanders. ‘It will be as you command.’
FROM A VANTAGE point in the irradiated ruins surrounding Ravendelve, Omegon looked at the fortified facility through the magnification of his auto-senses. Contact Three had been able to transmit from Deliverance, warning of a step-up in activity at the Raptor base. Corax was showing no nerves and was plunging headlong into the implementation of his plan, judging by the number of vehicles and shuttles that had been coming and going over the last few days. Mechanicum and Raven Guard attendants in rad-suits had been extending the complex with prefabricated buildings, almost doubling its size.
He considered his options, none of them with any particular favour. The most obvious course of action would be to signal his operatives to destroy the gene-works now, before the Raptors could be increased in size. That almost felt like a failure to the primarch, when his prize was so close at hand.
The insurgents were nearly ready to attack Ravendelve, an army of several thousand. Fifty Alpha Legionnaires were also only three days away, aboard the Beta hiding out in the dust clouds beyond Kiavahr. They would be the spearhead of any assault. It was a balancing act. If he committed too early, without the full involvement of the rebels, his warriors would be cut down to no effect. If he waited too long, the Raptors’ ever-increasing numbers would prove insurmountable.
His only hope lay in a swift, decisive strike to secure the gene-tech and then destroy what remained. He needed time, just ten more days, and everything would be in place to see that plan come to fruition.
The scuff of boots on rubble caused the primarch to turn, his bolter ready. A lean, robed figure picked his way through the debris below: Magos Unithrax. It disturbed Omegon that the tech-priest needed no protection against the radiation and pollutants in the air. Looking closer, he saw Unithrax’s sallow face had a half-decayed appearance, only the metal implants
holding together the flesh beneath his hood.
‘I have a solution for you,’ said the magos. He dipped a withered hand into his robe and pulled out a canister the size of a grenade. ‘A genetic virus, tailored with the information provided by your operatives. If one of your agents can introduce this to the gene-template being used by the Raven Guard, it will halt their expansion.’
Omegon dropped down to the ground, rubble grinding to powder beneath his weight. He took the canister from Unithrax and looked at it. It hummed softly with a small stasis field, but otherwise looked like a rations canteen used by the Raven Guard.
‘What will it do, exactly?’ asked the primarch. ‘A polluted gene-seed is of no use to us.’
‘Exactly?’ said the magos. He coughed uncomfortably and looked away. ‘I cannot say exactly what the effects will be, though it will be severe. It will be a simple matter to extricate the virus from the gene-strands again once we have them in our possession.’
‘It is a blatant move and will raise the suspicions of Corax,’ said Omegon, tossing the canister from hand to hand. ‘They have already increased security at Ravendelve considerably. I cannot afford for them to lock down the whole facility.’
‘They will suspect themselves first,’ said Unithrax. ‘The virus will mutate the gene-seed from within and it will appear to be an unforeseen side-effect of the implantation process. Unless they specifically look for the viral contagion they will find nothing that cannot be explained by a random but explainable mutation of the genetic material.’
‘I will consider it,’ said Omegon. ‘What will my agent have to do?’
Unithrax produced a small crystal sliver, no larger than a fingernail.
‘This data-chip contains the necessary instructions,’ he said. ‘Pass it along to your operative with the virus container and he will be able to access the data through any terminal in Ravendelve. You should also tell him to destroy both the crystal and the canister on completion of the task.’
‘Of course he’ll destroy it, we are not amateurs,’ said Omegon. He looked at the container again and held out his hand for the data-chip. He slipped both into a pouch at his belt and fastened it tight. ‘How proceeds the work of the Order of the Dragon? Are they in position to act when I give the word?’
‘We are ready,’ said Unithrax. ‘Our supporters have made contact with sympathisers amongst the Kiavahr hierarchy. When your guild rabble is in a position to reveal themselves, we will put in motion our part of the agreement.’
‘The guilds need only a little more encouragement and then they will do as I please,’ said Omegon. He turned and looked out of a mangled window at the silhouette of Ravendelve and rested a hand on the pouch containing the gene-virus.
He would have it retrieved by his contact. It would not be long now.
FOURTEEN
Diversion
A Legionary is Born
The Poison Seed
THE CORRIDORS OF Ravendelve were filled with the din of blaring sirens. Alpharius was in the makeshift armourium, running through maintenance drills with several squads of Raptors.
‘Attack warning, form up in the main hall!’ he snapped, lifting his own helm from a bench behind him.
‘Is this part of the training, sergeant?’ asked one of the Raptors as they filed out of the room.
‘No, this is real,’ Alpharius replied, knowing that no exercise had been planned for that day. The attack warning could only signal a genuine threat to Ravendelve, and he knew exactly what it meant.
While the other warriors in the facility converged on the mustering area, Alpharius took a detour, passing by his squad’s dormitory. It was empty, his legionaries having already answered the call to arms. He crouched beside his bed and pulled out a box of battered metal from underneath it. With a glance towards the door, he opened the lid and sorted through the items within: bolter magazines, oils, paints, small replacement parts for his armour, a few fangs and other trophies belonging to the warrior he was imitating and a collection of ration packs and canisters. He rummaged through the last of these until his suit detected the minute vibrations of the stasis field holding the gene-virus. Placing this in his belt, he closed the box and pushed it back under the bunk with his foot.
He had already memorised the instructions for its introduction to the gene-template, and destroyed the data-crystal in Ravendelve’s incinerator. He brought to mind this information as he broke into a run, unslinging his bolter from his waist as he entered the main hall. Branne was on the stage and directed a scowl towards Alpharius, noticing his tardiness. Alpharius raised a hand in apology as he fell in with the rest of his squad.
‘As I was saying,’ Branne said. ‘Perimeter sensors have detected a large, unidentified movement out in sectors three and five. A patrol has been despatched. Armourium crews to man the defence turrets. Squads one through four are to embark on the Rhinos in the armourium and provide rapid response. Squads five through twelve will provide sweeps to the remaining perimeter. All other squads, get yourselves at Delta and Gamma gates and make ready for an extended counter-offensive.’
Branne stopped and cocked his head to one side as the buzz of a communication could be heard from his receiver. He nodded to himself.
‘Understood, Patrol One,’ he said, looking at the assembled Raptors. ‘We have confirmed the presence of at least one hundred anti-Imperial insurgents at the perimeter. They appear to be massing for an attack around the rail depot and ruins of the counting house. Squad orders will be forthcoming. You are warriors of the Raven Guard. Fight for the Emperor and Corax!’
‘The Emperor and Corax!’ Alpharius shouted the refrain with the others, banging a fist against his chestplate in salute to his commander.
Omegon’s timing of the diversionary attack had been perfect. Alpharius and his squad were on the armourium rotation, responsible for manning the defence turrets and securing Ravendelve. Alpharius ordered his squad to their assigned duties as the rest of the Raptors thundered from the main hall, heading to their respective positions.
‘Dieta, I want you to do a check of the new buildings,’ he told one of his legionaries. ‘There may have been dissidents amongst the work crews. Who can say what they’ve left behind.’
‘We conducted a thorough security sweep of all buildings after they left, sergeant,’ protested Dieta, obviously dismayed by the appointment of such a laborious and seemingly pointless duty.
‘Take Calden with you,’ said Alpharius, pointing to another legionary.
‘I’m supposed to secure the infirmary,’ said Dieta.
‘I’ll handle that, just get moving,’ snapped Alpharius. The two Raven Guard responded with smart salutes and set off at a run.
Alpharius headed directly for the gene-bank located in the infirmary wing. When he arrived he found several novitiates lying on the bunks, none of them older than ten years Terran standard, Vincente Sixx and Magos Orlandriaz tending to them. A number of robed orderlies stood close at hand with trays of phials and various surgical apparatus.
‘We have to clear this area,’ said Alpharius.
‘Impossible,’ replied Sixx. ‘These boys have just been given the priming agent for implantation. We cannot move them now, and we have to proceed with the gene-seed introduction before they go into cellular shock.’
‘If it must be so,’ said Alpharius, realising that the Apothecary and tech-priest would be too busy with the implantation to pay him much attention. ‘Do you have the gene-seed?’
‘Yes,’ said Sixx. ‘We have everything to start the procedure.’
‘Good, then I’ll lock down central storage,’ said Alpharius.
‘You don’t have access,’ said Sixx. ‘I will come with you. Orlandriaz can begin without me.’
Alpharius was taken aback by the offer and had to think quickly.
‘The codes will be changed the moment lockdown is over,’ he said, affecting a nonchalant disposition. ‘No risk to security protocol, and there’s no point in me draggi
ng you away from this important stage of the process.’
‘He is correct,’ said Orlandriaz. ‘I suspect the threat to the facility is minimal. Let us not waste time with this distraction.’
Sixx nodded and pulled a chain from around his neck, on which hung a two-tined digital spike. He tossed the necklace to Alpharius, who caught it easily.
‘Check none of my attendants are in there before you lock down,’ said the Apothecary, turning back to the closest bunk. ‘Command override is peta-orpheus-epsilon.’
‘My thanks,’ said Alpharius, heading through the ward at a brisk pace. The airtight door cycled opened at his approach, allowing him to pass from the main infirmary into the inner chambers.
He quickly got his bearings from the description he had been passed, locating the sealed stasis cell in which the gene-template would be located. He pushed the digi-key into the lock of the main door and spoke the override code. Bolts hammered into place with a loud clang, securing him against discovery.
Working quickly, he pulled out a cipher-breaker from his belt; an ingenious piece of Alpha Legion-devised kit that he had kept hidden since his infiltration had begun. Plugging Sixx’s digi-key into one of the ports on the reader, he activated the code sequence, unlocking all of the cipher signals held within the sliver of metal.
A tiny readout on the side of the cipher-breaker showed him what he needed to know and he took the digi-key to the stasis vault. Inserting the key brought up a hololithic display. Counting off the code from the reader, he entered the required sequence. A hiss of escaping air announced his success and the door to the sealed chamber opened out on two wheezing pistons.
Inside, a cylinder about half his height stood at the centre of a mass of coiled cables, wisps of hyper-chilled air drifting around it. Again, the lock on the storage cylinder gave way to the digi-key. A light flickered into life within, revealing a glassite tube no bigger than a bolter round, hanging in the air between two suspensor units. Inside, in a suspension of pale blue fluid, floated a single thread of genetic material, almost invisible to Alpharius’s eyes.
