Cadian Blood Part 3

The soldiers stood around the bodies after the killing was done. It was Kathur Reclamation protocol to speak short prayers for each of the fallen when time allowed. Captain Thade ordered his men on without a word. Time was not on their side.

The squad moved through a series of smaller chambers, each one a mosaic-rich tribute to Saint Kathura's deeds, paid for by hundreds of generations of pilgrims. Progress was fast until the squada's eleventh man, wheezing as he leaned upon an aquila-topped black staff, rasped the captaina's name.

Thade halted. a"Make this good, Seth.a"

a"I hear someone calling. Crying out, as if from a great distance.a" The sanctioned psyker wiped a fleck of foamy spittle from his lips with a trembling hand. His powers were erratic at the best of times, waxing and waning without his control. This campaign was a nightmare a- Kathur was wreathed thick in warp disruption, and the psychic toll on the Imperial Guarda's telepaths was immense. Five had died of embolisms in the weeks since planetfall, one of heart rupture, and a further two had fallen under possession by nameless horrors born of the warp.

a"Calling out to us?a" Thade asked.

a"I I cannot tell. There is something ahead.a" Here Seth paused to suck air through his teeth. a"Something powerful. Something old.a"

a"Primary threat?a" asked Janden. This was greeted by a short wave of chuckles from the gathered soldiers and Thade shaking his head. a"Not likely,a" he said.

The captain resisted the urge to sneer at the wheezing, thin-limbed psyker. Their eyes met and the gaze held for several moments. The captaina's eyes were the typical pale violet of the Cadian-born, while Setha's were a deep blue, bloodshot under the band of metal across his brow that sank cables into his brain to amplify his unreliable talents. a"Anything more specific?a" Thade tried to keep the dislike out of his voice and his expression. He was almost successful.

a"An agent of the Archenemy.a"

a"In the next chamber?a"

a"In one of the chambers ahead. I cannot be sure. The warp clouds everything.a"

Thade nodded, inclining his head and leading the squad on. a"Janden, what chambers are ahead?a"

The vox-officer consulted his data-slate, tapping a few b.u.t.tons. a"A series of purification halls. Pilgrims used them to bathe before being allowed entrance to the inner temple.a"

a"A bath house? In a cathedral?a" Zailen, the squada's weapons specialist, walked alongside Janden. The hum of his live plasma gun set the troopersa' teeth on edge. Thade felt his scalp p.r.i.c.kling, but fought down the sensation as he spoke.

It was Thade who answered. a"Saint Kathur, Emperor rest his bones, was famed for his purity. It makes sense those who came to see his remains would be required to ritually cleanse themselves.a"

Zailen shrugged and looked away a- a habit of his when he didna't have the words to answer.

Ahead of them, the great double doors leading into the purification chambers stood closed. Defiled engravings of female angels, carved of marble now stained with blood and body matter, stared down at the eleven men. Thade cleared his throat.

a"Trooper Zailen?a"

a"Yes, sir?a"

a"Open the doors.a"

a"Yes, sir.a"

Zailen raised his plasma gun and squeezed the first trigger. The baseline hum of the arcane weapon intensified in an angry whine of ma.s.sing energy. He breathed a quiet a"Knock, knock a" and pressed the second trigger.

The plasma gun roared.

CHAPTER III.

Count the Seven The Shrine of the Emperora's Unending Majesty Second Lieutenant Taan Darrick was having a bad day.

There were two reasons for this. The first and least important was more of a wearying ache than a real worry a- the 88th were mechanised infantry, and by the Emperor did Darrick hate having to walk everywhere. This monastery a.s.sault took a lot of foot-slogging, and while his fitness wasna't an issue it still irritated him that the regiment had been selected for this operation. Reinforce the idiotic Ja.n.u.sians on their vainglorious thrust into enemy territory? The fools had paid for it now. Sit in a d.a.m.n church and hold out for reinforcements? Ugh. It hardly screamed a"mechanised infantrya" to Darrick.

The captain, as the captain always did, took the orders without a complaint and made the best of a bad deal. But Darrick? Darrick was a complainer and d.a.m.n proud of it. He felt it gave him character in the stoic ranks of his fellows. It simply didna't occur to him that he was just being annoying.

The second reason for his bad day, and much more of a real problem, was the fact he was being shot at. Darricka's squad had met serious secondary resistance as they neared the top of the ma.s.sive bell tower. On Kathur, a"secondary resistancea" meant the enemy had guns, too.

Crouched behind a wooden podium once used by priests to lead choir singers, Darrick reloaded his lasgun, slapping a fresh power cell into the standard-issue weapon with a professional shove. A las-round scorched a black streak through the pulpit a handa's span from his left ear.

a"Wouldna't it be wonderful to have a little heavy support?a" he asked the soldier sharing his pathetic cover. The other Cadian grunted agreement as he fired around the podium. He was new to the squad, and found Darricka's endless banter distracting, not endearing. He was hardly alone in this opinion.

The enemy, ragged elements of the Kathur PDF picking through the bones of the monastery in disorganised packs, had entered the ancient chorus room at the same time as Darricka's men. A series of these same chorus chambers nestled atop each of the four huge spires rising from the monastery. The towers were crucial, both as a likely haven for Ja.n.u.sian survivors, and as the only decent sites Imperial forces could effect a supply landing for any regiment bottled in here for longer than they should be.

a"Ia'm good with a heavy bolter, you know,a" Darrick was opining to his captive audience now, and his squad shared grim smiles. The lieutenanta's declarations were punctuated by enemy fire cracking and pinging off the stone all around him. a"And I enjoy it. The kick of actually being able to shoot your d.a.m.n enemies without all this messing around, being denied any toys in case we mess up the architecture.a"

One of his men, Tomarin, grinned at Darricka's observations. a"Ita's a shame to be denied onea's pa.s.sions, sir.a"

a"That it is. That it is. Now, time to ruin some a.s.sholesa' days.a"

Darricka's rifle bucked in his hands with each shot, and each shot was a kill. You didna't train every day of your life from the age of six and miss too often. The second lieutenant had been firing the same rifle for thirty years, and while most junior officers withdrew more advanced arms from the officersa' a.r.s.enal upon achieving promotion, Darrick liked to stick with what he knew best. His one guilty pleasure was his never-ending supply of various grenades a- but they were in his storage bag back at the base. Along with heavy bolters and other support weapons of any significance, it was hard to justify taking grenades into a monastery when Kathur Reclamation objectives clearly stated the architecture of the shrineworld was to remain a"undamaged by reckless interferencea".

Denied his favourite toys, Darrick scowled as he gunned down the unarmoured soldiers of the Planetary Defence Force. When the soldier next to him fell back with hole in his head, Darrick had to concede that some of the Chaos-tainted sc.u.m over there were truly wicked shots. He broke cover to crack off three more rounds, killing two PDF soldiers and taking another in the belly. That one would take a while to die, thras.h.i.+ng around on the marble floor and turning his blue uniform red.

Counts as a kill shot, he thought, smirking as he reloaded again.

Darrick tapped the little pearl-like vox-unit in his ear. There was a rata's chance in the Great Eye hea'd be able to make a break for his vox-officer, Tellic, who was pinned down across the room with most of the others in Darricka's squad. Las-fire flashed through the chamber in lethal strobes.

Range on the micro-bead vox was awful at best, especially when the stone walls played all h.e.l.l with the signals, but Darrick pressed the throat mic against his skin and trusted his luck.

a"Alliance to Venator.a"

Nothing. Not even static. Tremendous. Really, just delightful.

Darricka's luck was dry, and so was his patience. A quick kiss of the aquila necklace he wore, and the lieutenant broke into a crouching sprint away from the altar hea'd been hiding behind. Las-fire slashed past close enough to warm his skin, but either the Emperor chose that second to bless him with fortune, or the Chaos-tainted sc.u.m who could actually hit anything were busy shooting elsewhere. Whichever was true, Darrick leapt behind the paltry cover of a row of pews, kissed his necklace again, and came up firing on full-auto.

The tower-top choir chamber with its high domed ceiling and rows of pews now played host to a tune far removed from Imperial litanies and hymns. Lasgun cracks formed an incessant chorus to the infrequent percussion of heavy bolters hammering out their high-calibre rage. Explosive sh.e.l.ls from these smashed into the white marble walls and detonated, leaving head-sized chunks of stone blasted free. Rubble rained on the Cadians from behind their makes.h.i.+ft cover.

a"How come they get to shoot the place up?a" groaned one of the Guardsmen to his lieutenant, sharing the pathetic and disintegrating cover.

a"Because,a" Darrick faked a thoughtful expression, a"ita's more fun this way.a" Those words spoken, he rose, rifle in hand.

Darrick fired the last shot in his power cell right into the open mouth of a shouting PDF sergeant, and ducked back under cover. With a silent prayer to the Emperor as he tapped his micro-bead, he repeated the words he was getting b.l.o.o.d.y sick of repeating. a"Alliance to Venator.a"

a"Venator,a" Thade said, a"acknowledged.a"

As he spoke, he fired his bolt pistol into the face of a young plague victim, doubtless a pilgrim or an acolyte of the cathedral. Now faceless, the child collapsed. The captain stamped on its throat to make sure it wasna't getting back up, wincing as the spine gave way.

a"Talk to me, Alliance.a" He glanced around the pillared chamber, which was swarming with third-cla.s.s threats staggering this way and that, uttering howls and piteous little whines. More were coming through the great double doors at the end of the hall. a"Faster, Darrick, faster.a"

a" resistance in force. In full force. Secondary targets, no fewer seventy, reinforced auxiliary pa.s.sages in the towers heavy bolters at the my grenades, do you hear me? Captain? Captain! The Remnant is a"

Thade held a hand to his own micro-bead as he fell back, trying to insulate it so he could hear Darrick over the bark of the bolt pistol. Weighty standard-issue boots found awkward purchase on the blood-slick marble floor.

According to the maps, this was the penultimate preparatory hall before the first of the primary altar chambers. For thousands of years, pilgrims had come here to be blessed by clergy before being allowed barefoot into the presence of the great altars raised in Saint Kathura's honour. Now it looked like an abattoir, smelled like a plague pit and sounded like the Emperor-d.a.m.ned invasion of Cadia itself: all gunfire and screams.

a"I copy,a" Thade said, holstering his bolt pistol and drawing his chainsword. He cleaved the head of the closest plague victim from its shoulders, and kicked the headless corpse back into two of its advancing fellows. a"Acknowledged. Remnant sighted in the bell towers by Alliance. Darrick, do you need Cruor?a"

a" would be lovely, Captain.a"

a"Copy that.a" Thade killed the link and gripped his chainsword two-handed. Las-fire flashed past him, scything down the walking corpses in waves, but there were too many. They streamed at the Cadians in a relentless tide, screaming, howling and sobbing.

a"Bayonets and blades,a" Thade called, a"for Cadia and the Emperor!a"

At the mention of the G.o.d-Emperor, the dead wailed as if through one voice. The Cadians locked ranks and answered with silence, awaiting the foe to reach stabbing range.

Seth gripped his staff, wheezing wetly as he stood by the captaina's shoulder. It was he who broke the quiet.

a"The warp is within them all. They have turned from His light.a"

Thade powered his chainsword to full throttle. a"Then we will illuminate them.a"

The staggering tide met the dispersed, outnumbered Guard squad in a roar of noise, and the soldiers set about tearing the plague victims to pieces. Bayonets knifed out to punch into eye sockets and laspistols flared at point-blank range. In the centre of the preparation chamber, Thade hewed left and right, his chainsword rising and falling in skill-less rhythm, spraying blood in all directions as it ravaged flesh. Cold droplets flecked his face, joining the sweat stinging his eyes. Hea'd always fancied himself a fair swordsman, but apt.i.tude played no part in this eye-to-eye slaughter. In a scene where there was no room to manoeuvre, against an enemy that never defended themselves, all the skill in the world meant nothing. Moments like this came down to defiance; sheer, gruelling endurance.

A year ago the room had been devoted to purification. As Thade moved from corpse to corpse, scything them down in a relentless repet.i.tion of motion, he could scarcely believe this place had ever been anything but a slaughterhouse.

He cut left, lopping the head off an obese plague victim, and unleashed three bolts into the wretches staggering behind it.

a"I hate this planet,a" he said for what may have been the fiftieth time that week. a"Janden, look alive! Behind you!a"

Jandena's heavy vox-caster backpack made him a slow target compared to the others in the command squad. Stumbling over a body on the floor, the vox-officer went down as he turned to face the plague victims reaching for him. A white shock of pain flared through his skull as his head hit the ground with a meaty smack. Hands mobbed him, grabbing and tearing, none of which he noticed.

Dazed and barely conscious, Janden didna't realise the dull throb in his leg was because one of the plague-dead had wrenched off his s.h.i.+n armour and was devouring his right calf. The others seemed intent on battering him to death with their rotting fists, though Janden was so out of it he didna't feel much of that either. A shadow fell across his numb, unseeing face. A dead man was leering at him, a sick visage of shrunken eyes and black gums.

The grinding blade of Thadea's chainsword burst through the chest of the corpse. With precise strikes and a few ungentle kicks, the captain cleared the walking dead away from Janden.

Five more came on with their characteristic shamble, reaching out for him. Each wore the soiled once-bright robes of Kathurite clergy.

a"Eighty-Eight!a" Thade cried, and threw himself to the ground. A storm of covering las-fire flashed over his head.

When it was done, the five plague-slain were holed and twitching on the ground, going nowhere. Thade dragged the delirious, bleeding vox-officer behind a pillar and sat him up.

Jandena's helmet slapped against the stone behind his head. Blood gushed from the bite wound in his leg, which Thade bound with a hasty tourniquet.

a"Pressure, Janden. You hear me? Keep pressure on this.a"

a"Captain,a" Jandena's eyes rolled back. a"Therea's blood. Blood on your medal.a"

Thadea's hand went instinctively to the Ward of Cadia on the front of his helmet. His gloved fingertips streaked even more dark gore across its silver surface.

a"Captain a" Janden nodded like a drunk, looking over Thadea's shoulder. a"Behind a"

The chainsword was in Thadea's hands, revving up as he rose and turned. The teeth, each sharpened to a monomolecular edge, met the shoulder of an elderly plague victim in the filthy robes of a senior monk. The sworda's teeth chewed down into the corpse with noisy efficiency. The holy man, dead for five months, screamed as Thade sawed him in two. Old, cold blood hit both Cadians in an icy shower.

Even through the burning in his muscles, even through fear-heightened senses and the adrenaline fuelling his instincts, Thade was annoyed enough to curse at getting sprayed again.

More corpses ran towards him, only to be cut down by precise swings of his chainsword and pinpoint fire from Jandena's laspistol.

a"I need a signal to base.a" Thadea's sword dripped blood as it idled once more, and the captain turned to the wounded soldier. Janden was pale, sweating and bleeding from a score of wounds, but he nodded to Thade while reloading his pistol.

a"Contact, sir?a"

a"Direct message to Colonel Lockwood. Demand immediate deployment of Strike Team Cruor. Authorisation: Thade thirty sixty-two-A. Cruor are to a.s.sist Lieutenant Darrick in taking objectives three through six. The bell towers. Alliance is losing the bell towers. Make sure the colonel realises that.a"

Janden left his laspistol on his knees as he punched in the code and voxed back to base. Thade was already moving away, running back to the heart of the chamber where his men were fighting their brutal melee. As he ran, he messaged Darrick to tell of Cruora's impending arrival.

Alliance had lost the bell towers.

Darrick never saw the wall explode, and never saw half of his squad blown out of the gaping hole. As the detonation went off and threw him aside, he was knocked momentarily unconscious.

He did, however, recover fast. Sharp senses and a thick skull meant he came to in a hurry and heard the cries as the soldiers still alive began their long fall. Even over ringing in his ears in the aftermath of the missile blast, he heard them falling to their deaths.

a"Alliance, come in.a" Thadea's voice crackled over the micro-bead. Darrick dragged himself, bleeding and battered, from under a pile of wrecked and smouldering pews. He reached a trembling hand to tap the earpiece.

a"Alliance,a" Darrick hissed through gritted teeth. a"Broken.a"

a"Repeat,a" Thade said. The signal was bad. Interference from the explosion that had raged through the choir chamber and destroyed a whole wall? Probably.

a"I am having absolutely no fun today,a" Darrick hissed, pulling out a chunk of shrapnel from his thigh. He looked up from where he lay. His men a- those that still lived a- were rousing. Too experienced to rise fully and face enemy fire, they crawled through the shredded furniture, finding cover wherever they could. Las-fire was already flas.h.i.+ng at them from the Kathurite positions across the chamber.

a"This is Alliance, captain.a" Darrick reached out bleeding fingers to pull his fallen lasgun closer. Hea'd carried that weapon since hea'd been a Whites.h.i.+eld over twenty years ago. Not a chance in h.e.l.l hea'd leave it here, no matter how battered it was. His fingertips snagged the strap, and he dragged on it. The rifle bore a palette of fresh burns and new scratches, but otherwise looked fine. He guessed it would still fire. a"Alliance: Broken,a" he repeated.

a"Acknowledged. Cruor inbound. Hold in the name of the Emperor,a" was Thadea's curt reply before cutting the link.

Easier said than done, thought Darrick.

A gang-ramp slammed closed. Thrusters fired. A machine came to life, taking its cargo into the sky on screaming engines.

The Valkyrie tore through the air over the city. Its downswept wings carried racks of air-to-surface missiles the pilots could never fire, and the twin autocannons on the guns.h.i.+pa's cheeks remained silent even as the Valkyrie flew over tertiary threat targets already beginning to flood the streets cleared by the Guard earlier in the day. The cannonsa' silence was not to save ammunition or, as in the case of the rockets, to prevent damage to the planeta's sacred architecture. At this speed, there was simply no way the pilots could expect to hit anything. Dead bodies wept at the sight of the troop transport as it shot overhead, en route to the Shrine of the Emperora's Unending Majesty. The Valkyrie, crow-black and dragon-loud, roared onward.

On one side of the c.o.c.kpit, which arched down like a sneering vulturea's face at the cityscape flas.h.i.+ng below, were two words in Imperial Gothic lettering. The name of the guns.h.i.+p itself: His Holy Blade.

On the opposite side was a simple word in High Gothic. The name of the guns.h.i.+pa's cargo: Cruor.