‘The Silver Skulls will prevail.’
The adage was old, words that had become the Chapter’s unofficial motto of sorts. Porteus had always believed in it with all his heart, but now the doubts planted against the veracity of the Prognosticators took hold. In a low voice, he began to recite the Litany of Hate, certain that doing so would strengthen his resolve.
‘Will they, sergeant? Or has the time come at last for you to accept defeat graciously?’ The hideous, mutilated face moved so close that Porteus could feel the other’s rancid breath on his skin. His flesh crawled involuntarily. ‘Perhaps the time has come for you and your brethren to finally throw off the shackles of the Imperium and become all that you know you can be.’
‘The Silver Skulls will...’
‘Prevail. Yes, yes, so you said. And maybe they will. But you, sergeant?’ The Corpsemaster shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. ‘Very soon you will have to make a choice. It will be up to you whether you personally prevail or not. Think about that for a while. I have work to do.’
With those words, the Corpsemaster strode out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Porteus stared after him. It was only a door. It was made of wood, nothing more. He could break through it as though it were paper. If he were able to free himself of his restraints, he could tear this place apart. Just the opportunity to lay his hands on the Apothecary...
For the first time in his life, Porteus was genuinely plagued by the twin demons of doubt and uncertainty that had long lingered in the back of his mind. The Corpsemaster’s words had fed them and although his words of defiance had been spoken truly, there was now the tiniest nugget of irresolution.
Become all that you know you can be. The Corpsemaster’s final words haunted him and left alone, all that Porteus could do was brood on them. He had spoken truths that Porteus knew he had denied for many years. The Silver Skulls numbers were rapidly depleting. More and more experienced battle-brothers were lost with only young men to take their place. Once, the Silver Skulls had been a powerful presence in this sector. Once, the Silver Skulls had partaken in a raid on Commorragh.
Now...
Porteus yearned suddenly for the comforting blackness of sus-an sleep. His world was on its head, his fate in question. But he would never willingly betray the men he called brother. Of that he was certain.
THIRTEEN
BAIT
‘This is Curis of Squad Carnelian to the Dread Argent.’
The broken words came virtually unheard across the strike cruiser’s busy vox-net and went unnoticed for several minutes. In amidst the constant barrage of voices that had flooded the system since the comms tower had ceased sending the jamming signal, Brother Curis’s voice was lost somewhere in the incoherent babble. It was only after he had announced his presence on several more occasions that it was isolated by a servitor who was filtering through the entire network.
‘Brother Curis of Squad Carnelian is attempting communication,’ the slave said in a dull monotone. ‘I have acknowledged his signal.’
‘Isolate the transmission,’ said Arrun moving to stand directly behind the servitor’s terminal. ‘Get me a stable connection to him. I must know what is going on down there.’
‘Compliance.’
The servitor turned dials to adjust the modulation and frequency of the weak transmission that was being broadcast from the surface of Gildar Secundus. Eventually, Curis’s voice was modulated and adjusted enough so that he could be heard clearly. It was still broken and distorted, but the words could be filtered out enough to get the gist of what he was saying.
‘Come in, Dread Argent. I repeat. This is Brother Curis of Squad Carnelian.’
‘We have you, brother. We hear you. Speak.’
‘Captain Arrun?’ There was relief immeasurable in the warrior’s voice. ‘Thank the Emperor that we succeeded in damaging their communications blockade.’
‘Report, brother.’ Arrun could not keep the irritation out of his tone. There was no time to linger on any unnecessary pleasantries. He needed as accurate an appraisal of the situation as he could get. The very fact that Curis, one of the more junior members of Porteus’s squad, was the one who was making contact at all told a very definite story. The young warrior’s next words confirmed those suspicions. Every syllable thudded leadenly into place.
‘Squad Carnelian has fallen, captain. To the best of my knowledge, I am all that remains.’
‘How is that so? How is it that you have survived when the rest of your squad did not?’ There was the merest hint of accusation in Arrun’s tone, although he knew that Curis was as stalwart and stoic as any of the other Silver Skulls in his squad. If the other Silver Skulls warrior picked up any sort of implication in the words, he did not let it translate across the vox. Between crackles of static and broken sentences, he continued his report.
‘Brother Emetrius and myself were charged with holding the equipment at the top of the communications tower. Sergeant Porteus and the remainder of the squad were holding the entrance. When Porteus fell...’ There was a pause in Curis’s recital and Arrun sensed the rage implicit in the other’s voice. ‘Emetrius and I made the conscious decision to cause as much of a distraction as we possibly could. Amazing what a few strategically planted explosives will do to several ranks of cogitators and hololiths. It has not done the signal any good, but I spent some time trying to patch into a different frequency. I think that the raiders have a backup transmitter somewhere.’
Curis paused for barely a heartbeat. ‘Regrettably, I don’t believe there any survivors from the Red Corsairs who tried to stop us we could ask to confirm it.’
A flicker of a smile ghosted across Arrun’s face. The gallows humour of the moment was surprisingly welcome.
‘We did what we could and we made a strategic withdrawal. We needed to bring word to you and in Sergeant Porteus’s absence, we made that decision. I succeeded in getting clear. Emetrius did not. He was taken down by a traitor whilst we made our retreat. His sacrifice ensured I am here now, giving you this report and you can rest assured that he successfully dispensed of several more of the enemy before he was taken. He walks with the ancestors now.’ Another one of those brief pauses and the barest hint of uncertainty. ‘I trust my captain does not feel that I have acted in any way improperly?’
‘No, Curis, I do not. You did what you could, brother,’ said Arrun, although the embers of his annoyance were fanned once again. Squad Carnelian had been one of the best tactical squads in the company and they were now gone. Another fine unit of his company’s warriors destroyed as a direct result of the machinations of Huron Blackheart. Keeping his temper under control the best he could under the circumstances, Arrun focused on the situation at hand.
‘What is your exact location, Curis?’
‘I retreated south-west. Back into the mountains,’ replied the other. ‘I have not activated my locator beacon in case the Red Corsairs can track it. The numbers of Traitor Marines and cultists alike seems to be growing. There are more arriving almost constantly now. A steady stream of them. They are congregating in the compound. Massing their forces, I think.’
‘Your plan?’
‘To infiltrate to the best of my ability and learn whatever I can about their intentions and their firepower.’ Despite the gravity of the situation, another smile twitched on Arrun’s face. Curis was showing great initiative and acting very much in his sergeant’s style; which as far as the captain was concerned was more than acceptable.
‘I will be deploying support within the hour, Curis. Gather whatever intelligence you can, regardless of how little or seemingly unimportant it may be and report back. Do not engage with the enemy if you are discovered. In this instance, death at their hands is not a preferable option. Do whatever it takes to keep yourself out of their sight.’ He paused. ‘Consider that an order.’
‘Yes, Captain Arrun.’ A flutter of hesitation. ‘I think you should also know... the Corpsemaster is here. I have heard
them talking about him and from what I have overheard, he is stationed within the refinery.’
A dark, angry scowl creased Arrun’s face and he balled his hand into a fist, bringing it down on the damaged console hard enough to startle the Chapter serfs who were busy clearing up the broken table and other wreckage brought about by the fight between the two psykers. To a man, they backed away from the enraged Space Marine.
‘Let me reiterate my previous order,’ Arrun snarled. ‘Much as it pains me to say it, if you see him, do not engage. Much as I would like for you to terminate his evil, I can’t afford to lose this link with you. I doubt that you will get close yourself. Rest assured, brother, that we will make eliminating their precious Apothecary one of our primary objectives once we deploy. Report back to me when you have news.’
‘Yes, captain.’ The link was severed and Curis was once again on his own down on the planet’s surface.
Arrun took a deep, calming breath.
‘I am going down to see Volker,’ he said in a quiet, dangerous tone. ‘I want all arms and ammunition to be distributed and the entire company ready to deploy in ten minutes.’ He lifted his eyes and met those of Matteus. ‘Make it happen, brother-sergeant.’ The trust he was placing in Matteus was not random or completely unfounded; the young sergeant was proving himself to be smart, savvy and entirely competent. ‘Speak with those Prognosticators who remain. Ensure that the omens are good and that the auguries cast a favourable outcome. Once they have given their blessing and assent to our counter-attack, report back to me and not a moment before.’
‘Yes, captain.’ Matteus bowed his head and made the sign of the aquila across his chest. He spun abruptly on his heel and left the bridge with alacrity, practically radiating determination. Arrun gave a few remaining orders to the skeleton remains of his deck crew and followed Matteus from the bridge. His destination, however, was very different.
+++ Increase power to port-side rear thrusters by seven per cent. Maintaining position. Entering geostationary orbit in five minutes. +++
‘Volker?’
+++ Engines performing at eighty-two per cent of optimal power. Rerouting conduits from non-essential systems. Praise be to the Omnissiah. +++
‘The Omnissiah be praised.’ The resident priests intoned the words as soon as Volker spoke them. Arrun murmured his own prayers, although he had no idea if he was saying the right things. He slowly moved up to the figure in the tube and laid a hand on its surface. Far from being cool, there was a nascent warmth beneath his touch. He turned his head to the Techmarine who was still monitoring a number of readouts.
‘Should it feel this warm?’
‘The warmth you feel is the embrace of the Omnissiah.’ Arrun glanced at the tech-priest. He had not addressed him, but he felt that the comment deserved a response.
‘Then Volker is blessed indeed. You have outperformed yourself. He is not the only one so favoured.’ The tech-priest inclined his head, pleased with Arrun’s choice of words. The captain smiled thinly and looked at Correlan, directing the same question to him.
‘Aye, captain. The warmth you feel is also in part due to a chemical reaction caused by the fluid we are using to maintain the biological remains of Volker. It will not harm him, I promise you.’
‘The remains?’ The word was cold and callous, spoken in the same factual way that the Techmarine approached everything. Correlan set down his data-slate and looked up at Arrun properly.
‘Yes, sir. By the minute, there is less and less remaining of Volker; at least in his original guise. His consciousness has connected with that of the ship’s far more swiftly than I anticipated. Already he has begun to gain mastery of the flight controls. The project has gone far beyond successful. You should be proud.’
‘I wish to speak with Volker, though.’
+++ Altitude adjustment in progress. +++
Throughout his entire exchange with Correlan, the metallic grind that had become Volker’s voice had been giving a gentle, running commentary on what actions he was performing. Correlan gestured to him.
‘At the moment, he is not making all of those decisions himself. This is still very much an assimilation phase. He is working on information transmitted through the neural implant that connects directly to the helm.’
‘And if I wish to speak to him?’
We will be with you presently, captain. +++ Engines performing at eighty-seven per cent of optimal power. Maintaining surplus energy reroute. +++
The transition from a conversational tone to one of mechanical monotony not dissimilar to that of the servitors was seamless. Correlan considered the youth for a moment or two, then continued his conversation with the captain.
‘In time, he will be able to make such basic decisions by himself. Decisions as to appropriate moments to apply thrusters, or to adjust altitude without any intervention from the helm. Eventually, the helmsman will be able to hand over full control of the ship to him. In situations that demand fast reactions.’
‘During battle, you mean? Or in stormy sectors?’
‘Yes. Exactly as per your original designs, sir.’ Correlan nodded and took up the data-slate again. ‘I have instructed the servitors to run a battery of tests whilst I am on the planet’s surface. At this point however, I am pleased to report that everything is as it should be.’
Arrun nodded. ‘Your presence on the surface will be welcomed, brother. We have received word from Squad Carnelian. They are all lost to us, bar brother Curis. We fight in their name and that of those we lost on the Wolf of Fenris. I want the engagement to be swift and merciless. There is only one true objective and only one conclusion to this battle. The death of the traitors.’
Correlan rumbled his acknowledgement and obvious approval of the strategy. Arrun continued. ‘Your skills will be invaluable when we retake the refinery. We will need a full status breakdown of damage so that we can ensure repairs are undertaken where required and also a stock take of equipment. The Red Corsairs are likely wanting either to steal or hold the refinery to ransom. The latter we can deal with quickly through concentrated application of the Emperor’s vengeance.’
‘It will be my pleasure to deal with the last thing on that list, sir,’ said Correlan with a sudden, infectious grin, ‘and it will be my honoured duty to carry out the others.’ Arrun nodded, almost absently, and turned back to Volker. Disconcertingly, the youth’s eyes were fixed directly on his.
You wish to speak with us, captain? We must ask you to make all haste. We must concentrate on restoring full power and shields are operating at a fraction of their capability. It necessitates our prompt attention and we–
‘I will not take much of your time, Volker,’ interrupted the captain. ‘I wish only to speak with you before you become too...’ He hesitated, not wishing to cause offence. A brief smile found its way onto Volker’s lips.
We understand. Our view is much altered, Captain Arrun. We see... beyond human boundaries now.
‘Be that as it may, Volker, there is nonetheless something which I must say to you before I do not get another chance.’ Arrun studied the boy within the tube for a moment or two. ‘Your actions, your sacrifice and your bravery... Everything you have undergone to reach this point is worthy of any battle-brother of the Silver Skulls Chapter. You may have been denied the right to ascend to the ranks of the Adeptus Astartes, but I make you this promise. Your name will be passed back to Vashiro to be entered in the Book of Remembrance. As soon as this matter is settled, the astropaths have been instructed to send a message home to Varsavia. You will be entered into the Book and be remembered for all time as a Chapter hero, Volker Straub.’
For a fleeting moment, the expressionless face behind the tube lit up in pure, unadulterated joy. The remaining vestige of Volker’s humanity had heard and understood Arrun’s words and he knew sheer, overwhelming delight at the accolade. The moment was swift and passed quickly as his new consciousness filed the new piece of data away for future reference.
We
exist only to serve, Captain Arrun. +++ System Kappa Delta four-three-zero rerouted. Increase rear port thrust. Blessings of the Emperor upon... +++
The inhuman, mechanical narration resumed and the connection with Volker was severed.
Arrun remained with his hand against the tube for several more moments and then moved away. They had gained a phenomenal asset through this venture, but the cost, visualised as it was within the cocoon of embryonic fluid, had been high.
‘Those moments will become fewer and far between,’ observed Correlan who had remained silent throughout the exchange. ‘In time, Volker will cease to be... well, Volker.’
‘He will always be so to me,’ murmured Arrun. ‘May the Emperor guide your hand in the battle below, Correlan. On your return, we will discuss the future of the fleet – and perhaps more pertinent to you personally – your role within it.’ It was as close to words of thanks that the captain was ever likely to utter to the Techmarine and Correlan nodded soberly.
‘His light willing, it will be so.’
Arrun paused as though he would add something else and then strode from the chamber, lost in contemplation that was at one and the same time triumphant and thoughtful.
‘Is all in readiness?’
‘Yes, my Lord Apothecary.’
‘Good.’ The Corpsemaster surveyed the road approaching the refinery where many vast figures clad in the various assorted colours of the Red Corsairs were approaching. ‘These reaches of space may once again belong to the Imperium, but they will find us harder to remove on the surface. Our ground troops are hungry for battle and the refinery’s guns are trained on the skies above us.’
He smiled. It was not a pleasant or even friendly expression but was filled with a hatred that had burned for many long years now. A hatred directed at all the loyal servants of the Imperium.
‘This day,’ he said, more to himself than the warrior who stood with him. ‘This day we will bring about the beginning of the end for the Silver Skulls. Those who do not die here will, in time, become ours.’ Easy assurance and confidence dripped from every word. His companion nodded agreement, more than convinced by the Corpsemaster’s vision. The Apothecary’s smile broadened and his spindly finger pointed.
The Gildar Rift Page 27
