by Andy Clark
‘Kassar has never failed us,’ said Makhor. ‘And we have a route onwards again. These undersea maglev tunnels. We will complete our objective yet.’
‘Will we?’ asked A’khassor, busying himself with cleaning his narthecium’s blades. The device no longer auto-sanctified as it should. ‘Haltheus lost more of his precious gadgets in that crash than he’s letting on. We’re lucky he still has the Coffer.’
Makhor glanced at their ad-hoc Techmarine, hunched over Phalk’ir’s partially melted helm, muttering to himself as he worked at its plating with a stolen las-torch.
‘And Phalk’ir,’ said A’khassor, subvocalising beneath the rumble of the platform. ‘I’ve treated his wounds, but his plasma burns are extensive. He’ll bear those scars for the rest of his days.’
‘And you know who he’ll blame for that,’ replied Makhor.
The swordsman crouched in Phaek’or’s shadow, making no effort to hide the hideous, red-raw wounds that marred one side of his face. He stared fixedly at Kassar, where he stood speaking with Kyphas, Skaryth and D’sakh. Phaek’or’s helm was in place, leaving his expression unreadable, and he seemed wholly occupied with keeping watch.
‘What of his twin?’ murmured A’khassor. ‘Which way does Phaek’or lean, do you think?’
‘Blood is loyalty,’ mused Makhor. ‘But Phaek’or has been loyal to Kassar a long time, also. His character hasn’t… eroded… like his brother’s.’
‘Then there’s our erstwhile spymaster,’ said A’khassor. ‘And you know how I feel about him.’
‘His methods have certainly become less restrained,’ said Makhor.
‘His gauntlets are still red to the elbow!’ hissed A’khassor. ‘I care nothing for the suffering of mortals, don’t mistake me. But he enjoyed that whole interrogation far too much, and took far too long. I could have extracted the information we required in half the time, and with a lot less theatre.’
Makhor nodded slowly.
‘And then there is his reticence to impart the information he gathers,’ said A’khassor, warming to his subject. ‘I can’t be the only one to have noticed it. I don’t believe for a moment that he has told us everything he knows about this operation. The warp knows why, but he’s keeping secrets.’
‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with that business on the Bone Ridge, would it, brother?’ asked Makhor.
‘No!’ said A’khassor. ‘Yes. Somewhat. But that doesn’t change the fact that he has become untrustworthy.’
‘Perhaps,’ allowed Makhor. ‘But still useful, and very capable. Either way, we are loyal to Kassar, this much we know.’
‘We are,’ said A’khassor firmly. ‘D’sakh and Skaryth too, I’m sure. But is that enough to see this thing to its end?’
‘Our pact?’ said Makhor warily.
‘The canisters I carry are the only memorial our brothers will ever have,’ said A’khassor.
‘And they are the only hope of our Harrow’s future,’ replied Makhor. ‘I know, brother. And what I said before, it stands. If Kassar falls then I will ensure that you make it out alive. The Unsung must have a worst-case contingency, and we are it.’
A’khassor nodded, clapping a palm against his brother’s shoulder guard.
‘There’s someone else here who I don’t believe has told us all that he knows,’ said Makhor. ‘Perhaps we should let Kyphas have a conversation with the baggage…?’
Syxx had stayed close to Kassar ever since the battle in the processing plant, lurking behind him even now. The cultist’s body language radiated a desire to be ignored.
‘He certainly looks nervous, especially for one who professes to worship the Dark Prince,’ said A’khassor. ‘But then, wouldn’t you be, were your situations reversed?’
Makhor grunted noncommittally.
‘Be that as it may,’ he said. ‘If Kassar doesn’t wring some answers from him soon, I may take it upon myself.’
‘I hope you won’t need to,’ said A’khassor.
‘We’ll know soon enough,’ said Makhor, clambering to his feet and rolling his shoulder experimentally. ‘Feel that juddering? Braking. We’re nearing the bottom.’
The platform shuddered beneath Kassar’s feet, arrestor plates clamping to slow its descent. He had been discussing exit strategies and logistics with Skaryth, Kyphas and D’sakh. Now he broke off, and drew his bolter and blade.
‘Third cypher,’ he said. ‘Helms on.’
‘You’ll have to give me a moment with–’ Haltheus’ words were interrupted as Phalk’ir snatched the battered helm from his hands and clamped it in place. Kassar winced at the thought of the still-hot metal pressed against the swordsman’s wounds.
‘It’s fine,’ voxed Phalk’ir bitterly. ‘Pain reminds us we’re still alive, does it not? Unlike our brothers.’
Kassar sighed, refusing to rise to the bait.
‘Formation Arakhna,’ he ordered, dispersing the Unsung around the platform’s edge in firing crouches. Until it cleared the ferrocrete shaft, there was no telling on which side the platform’s exit lay.
‘Reading background life signs,’ said Kyphas, studying his auspex. ‘Energy signatures indicative of dormant machineries. Nothing that looks like warriors, or weapons.’
‘Vigilance,’ voxed A’khassor. ‘We’re not the only ones capable of duplicity.’
Amid strobing lights and grating hymns, the platform juddered to the base of the shaft. Massive ironclad doors were revealed, thick with warning sigils and runic lumen, currently all showing crimson. The Harrow snapped their weapons up as gears ground in the shaft walls, and another set of heavy doors rumbled out to lock together with a resounding clang above their heads. The shaft was sealed above them, leaving the Harrow inside a sizeable cell.
‘Perfect,’ spat Phalk’ir.
‘A trap?’ asked Kyphas.
‘Haltheus?’ said Kassar.
‘There are no access panels in the walls, Kassar,’ said Haltheus. ‘Nothing I can hook into to reverse those doors.’
‘Wait,’ said Skaryth. ‘Feel that? Pressure change.’
‘Yes,’ said Kassar. At his back, Syxx grunted in discomfort, working his jaw. ‘We’re a long way down now, deep enough for atmospheric change. This is an airlock.’
One by one, the runic designators flicked from red to green and then, with a rush of stale air, the automated doors before them cracked open. They slid slowly apart, grinding on rusted runners.
‘Nobody has come this way in some time,’ said Haltheus.
‘Move up,’ ordered Kassar. The Unsung advanced, filtering through the opening bulkhead and into the maglev terminal beyond.
They entered a broad, low-ceilinged chamber a good few hundred yards across. Aquilas and cogs mechanicus stood out in bas-relief on the walls, alongside peeling, faded bill-posts exhorting hard labour, faith, tireless vigilance and the like. Algae grew in patches on the walls, and water dripped slowly through the ceiling to pool on the ferrocrete floor. Two rows of thick columns ran down the chamber’s middle, girdled with heavy iron panels from which nests of wiring emerged. Gathered around these were servitors, their biological components wasted and their metalwork tinged with rust. Their foreheads rested against the pillars, whose wires flowed into their bodies.
‘One exit,’ said Kassar, gesturing with his bolter. At the chamber’s far end was another heavy bulkhead. Stencilled above it was MAGLEV TUNNEL XXI along with pictographs indicating that outgoing barrels should stay right, incoming left.
‘No hostile readings,’ said Kyphas.
‘Three groups, move up, one down the middle, two flank the columns,’ ordered Kassar. The Unsung responded smoothly, flowing apart and advancing on the far doors. The servitors twitched and murmured. Water dripped.
When they reached the chamber’s far end, most of the Harrow dropped into guard stances. Halthe
us moved up to the doors, which had remained obstinately shut.
‘They won’t open?’ asked Kassar.
‘Give me a moment,’ said Haltheus, running instruments across the bulkhead and tapping at its runic panels. ‘Could be they’ve locked down because the tunnel beyond is flooded? Hopefully not…’
Kassar watched as Haltheus ran wires into sockets, levered off an inspection panel, muttered ritual benedictions and applied unguents.
‘Ah…’ he said at last, stepping back.
‘Ah?’ prompted Kassar.
‘Code-locked,’ said Haltheus. ‘When they decommissioned this facility in favour of their teleportarium, they locked it all down for security. Without the binharic pass phrase, these doors are staying shut.’
‘Can we acquire the pass phrase?’ asked Kassar. ‘Kyphas, did the lieutenant tell you anything about this?’
Kyphas shook his head.
‘He insisted the route would be clear. My guess is that, even broken, he did his best to lead us into a dead end.’
‘And leave us entombed below the waves,’ said Phalk’ir. ‘What chance that we’ll find the elevator platform now locked down also?’
‘Impressive…’ said Kyphas. ‘For one so fragile.’
‘No,’ said Kassar. ‘Unacceptable. Haltheus, can we cut through?’
Haltheus blew out his breath.
‘We’ve no equipment fit for the job. Krowl could go at it with his power fist, but we’ll be here a while.’
‘Could the Coffer help us?’ asked D’sakh. ‘All those servitors?’
‘They’d be no use,’ said Haltheus. ‘Look at them, wasted and rusting. Besides which, they’re loader units. Strong, but only good for picking things up and putting them down. And I could only possess them one at a time anyway.’
‘Another route?’ asked Makhor, but Kyphas shook his head.
‘This is the only way,’ he said.
‘We don’t have time for this,’ said Kassar. ‘Everyone back. Haltheus, blow it open.’
‘Kassar,’ said Makhor. ‘We don’t know how stable this structure is, how much separates us from the ocean. If we should punch a hole through and flood this place we might survive, but the baggage…?’
‘It won’t be quiet, either,’ said Haltheus, though Kassar could hear the eagerness in his voice. ‘If anyone else is down here with us, they’ll definitely know we’re coming.’
‘Regardless,’ said Kassar.
Breaking ranks, Phalk’ir came to stand before him.
‘Not enough that you’ve killed four of us on this planet already?’ he snarled. ‘Now you aim to drown the rest? If this is all some elaborate adventure in self-termination to atone for your failings, I can just shoot you right now and–’
‘Phalk’ir,’ interrupted Kassar, voice steady. ‘Stop talking. Move back. Do it now.’
The two Alpha Legionnaires stood, still as statues, the jade lenses of their helms locked.
Nobody moved.
Water dripped.
Phalk’ir shrugged, turning and walking back down the chamber.
‘Very well, drown us then,’ he said. ‘Saves me a bolt.’
The rest of the Harrow followed, leaving Kassar and Haltheus before the doors. Syxx still hovered close by, clearly unsure what was happening or where he should go.
‘Cultist,’ said Kassar. ‘Stay close. Haltheus, do it, but do it safely.’
Kassar retreated, Syxx hurrying at his side. Haltheus folded his arms, staring up at the tightly sealed bulkhead and its thick, armoured panels.
‘All right then,’ he said with relish. ‘Machine-spirits, I’ll ask your pardon in advance…’ Haltheus began unhooking explosives from his equipment belts, and set to work.
The detonation was controlled, considering. Its roar faded quickly to echoes, as metal shrapnel pinged and clattered off the Alpha Legionnaires’ armour. Kassar held his breath at the distressed groan of metal and stonework, waiting for the black flood of seawater to pour in.
When no inundation was forthcoming, he rose from his crouch and led the way towards the smoke-shrouded bulkhead.
‘Unsung,’ he voxed. ‘On me. We have a long distance to cover, and a scarcity of time.’
He stepped through the ragged hole that Haltheus had blasted in the bulkhead, quietly admiring his brother’s work. Haltheus made a poor Techmarine, much of the time, for he had never known schooling in the deeper mysteries of the Mechanicus. But in the field of demolitions, he was an artist.
Beyond the doorway lay a gloomy terminus, an echoing space so huge that it vanished back into shadow, with a high ceiling of reinforced armourglass. Up there, the black waters of the deep ocean could be seen pressing to get in. No daylight reached this far down, and Kassar thought that – but for the strange, luminescent arthropods fluttering through the water – it could almost have been the void of space.
The rest of the hangar had clearly served as the loading and unloading terminus for maglev trains. Several raised rails ran in from cavernous entrance tunnels in one wall, dividing and flowing into sidings between raised metal walkways of considerable width. Chevron patterns marked loading corridors, and the chamber’s back wall was stacked high with industrial trolley units that would have borne the barrels to the trains.
The chamber was dimly lit by hanging lumen globes through which power still flickered, and dominated by two structures. The first was a blocky tower that rose at its centre, ringed with viewing bays and busy with aerials, auspex pickups, power cabling and machineries whose functions were a mystery to Kassar. The other was a huge maglev train, listing off its rails in the furthest bay like a slain beast.
‘That’s impressive,’ commented D’sakh. ‘I hadn’t realised the conveyances would be so imposing.’
‘I don’t know how far back it stretches,’ said Kassar, ‘but it must measure in miles.’
The train rose several storeys high, its carriages slab-sided and composed of pipework tangles, heavy fuel bowsers, walkways, ladders and transit compartments. The engine at its prow was monstrous and muscular, an ironclad beast of fusion drivers and crew decks emblazoned with an aquila thirty feet high. It was a monster, even canted at an angle and going to rust.
‘It’s more like a mobile refinery,’ said D’sakh. ‘A shame it is so clearly no longer mobile.’
‘Imperials,’ said Haltheus, moving to join them. ‘So bloody wasteful. They’ve just left it there to rust. No doubt they’ve trains to spare, and teleportation is so much quicker…’
‘Yes,’ said Kassar. ‘It would have been. Meaning we’ve no time for rumination. Haltheus, could you make it work?’
‘Highly doubtful,’ he replied. ‘I’ll need to look it over. Search that tower, which I’d guess is the control hub for maglevs coming from this terminal. It could take hours.’
‘Did you expect there would just be a ready train, idling here for us to take?’ asked Makhor.
‘I hoped for a stroke of fortune,’ said Kassar. ‘Something with crew, that we could take at gunpoint. I didn’t expect anything.’
‘Give me twenty minutes to run a quick sweep of the tower,’ said Haltheus. ‘I’ll exload the tunnel maps from their systems, scavenge anything usable in there…’
‘You have ten,’ said Kassar. ‘Tunnel maps are priority. Find us a working terminus, a running maglev, something to speed us along.’
Haltheus pipped acknowledgement and set off, gesturing Skaryth and Krowl to accompany him.
The Harrow deployed into a guard pattern. A recycled breeze sighed through the dark tunnel entrances, making them moan. Small, many-legged things scuttled and crawled in distant corners, fighting over vermin even smaller than themselves. Kassar, meanwhile, beckoned Syxx. Trailed by the Slaaneshi cultist, he strode away from his brothers, far enough to be out of earshot.
Stopping
on a walkway that soared high above an empty siding, Kassar removed his helm and leant against the railing.
‘What am I missing?’ he asked.
‘Lord?’ asked Syxx.
‘About you,’ said Kassar. ‘About all this? I’m Alpha Legion, cultist. We know things. It is what we do. But I am left with a lingering sense that, with regards this operation, there are things I do not know. Important things.’
‘Lord,’ said Syxx. ‘I will tell you whatever I can, of course. But what I could tell one so mighty as yourself–’
‘Alpha Legion also disparage blandishments,’ said Kassar. ‘Your masters revel in egotism. They expect worship. I value plain speaking. Such false idolatry irks me. I don’t want compliments from you, cultist, I want intelligence.’
‘Lord,’ said Syxx, wary. ‘Please. Ask me what you will.’
‘What do you know of the beacon?’ asked Kassar, watching glowing jellyfish the size of Rhinos quiver overhead.
‘It is the light that unites the Tsadrekhan Unity, lord,’ replied Syxx. ‘It is the prize that Excrucias and his rivals seek above all else.’
‘Yes,’ said Kassar. ‘But what is it? Do you know? Do they? Technology? A choir of psykers? Or has the Imperium become so desperate in this strange age that they have truck with other, darker entities?’
‘I do not know, lord,’ said Syxx. ‘I am sorry. Phelkorian said only that the beacon first shone after the great blackness came, and the rift split the heavens. He said that the corpse worshippers claimed that it was deliverance, sent by their Emperor.’
Kassar grunted.
‘And you,’ he said, dropping his gaze to pin Syxx in place. ‘Why, of all Excrucias’ many servants, has he sent a mere mortal to corrupt this thing? What is so special about you?’
‘I am one of Phelkorian’s longest serving acolytes,’ said Syxx. ‘He took me from amongst the bilge-tribes of the flagship when I was still young, and he was not kind. Has never been kind. But he taught me much. Rituals. Words of power.’
