Storm of Damocles Read online

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  More Warhammer 40,000 stories from Black Library

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  2: PREDATOR, PREY

  3: THE EMPEROR EXPECTS

  4: THE LAST WALL

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  6: ECHOES OF THE LONG WAR

  7: THE HUNT FOR VULKAN

  8: THE BEAST MUST DIE

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  DAMOCLES

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Warhammer 40,000

  Illustrations

  Dramatis Personae

  Part One – The Search

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Part Two – The Hunt

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Part Three – The Kill

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  About the Author

  An Extract from ‘Blades Of Damocles’

  A Black Library Publication

  eBook license

  Warhammer 40,000

  It is the 41st millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.

  Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor’s will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst His soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Astra Militarum and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants – and worse.

  To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

  Dramatis Personae

  Deathwatch Station Picket’s Watch

  Jotunn, Space Wolf, Watch-Commander

  Domitian, Imperial Fists Librarian

  Watch Company Vigil

  Nergui, White Scar, captain

  Kill Team Primus

  Priam, Marine Errant

  Gualtino, Angels of Redemption

  Tula, Star Phantom

  Nidal, Warmonger

  Ellial, Mortifactor

  Kill Team Orion

  ‘Last’ Leonas, Black Consul

  Aslon, Brazen Claw

  Brand, Destroyer

  Branstonio, Ultramarine

  Solovax, Black Guard

  Kill Team Faith

  Konrad Raimer, Black Templar

  Cadvan, Storm Giant, veteran Techmarine pilot

  Sardegna, Scion of Sanguinius

  Harath, Salamander

  Nestia, Crimson Fist

  Atilio, Ultramarine

  Olbath, Aurora Chapter

  Elianus, Howling Griffon

  Ragris, Celebrant, Vanguard Veteran

  Imano, Lamenter, Vanguard Veteran

  Kill Team Zeal: on loan from Watch Fortress Talassa Prime

  Corith, Brazen Minotaur

  Eadmund, Brotherhood of a Thousand

  Iason, Carcharodon

  Hadrian, Black Shield

  Moaz Khileni, Raven Guard

  Cadmus, Dark Angel

  Cerys, Imperial Fist

  Mateo Nuoros, Crimson Fist

  Kallos, Ultramarines Tyranid War veteran

  Deathwatch Personae

  Loni Ferral, Shipmaster, strike cruiser Nemesis

  White Scars Fourth Company, ‘The Tulwar Brotherhood’

  Batbayar Khan, Captain, commander of White Scars Fourth Company, Master of Blades

  Khulan, Apothecary

  Ganzorig, Honour Guard Fourth Company, standard bearer

  Törömbaater, Scout sergeant, Fourth Company

  Sept Ke’lshan

  Aun’ui Hoo’nan, Ethereal

  Fireblade M’au, Base commander

  Shas’vre Gru’eb, Commander, Security Orbital VX-223

  Fio’ui K’or, Earth caste technician

  Shas’vre N’loo, Instructor

  Shas’vre O’man, Commander, Terrestial Defence Rig

  Bro’bul, Air caste commander, Kir’qath defender

  Kor’el Um’ng, Commander, Kir’qath defender

  Shas’vre Rs’tu, Defence force, Kir’qath defend
er

  Fio’ui Ph’al, Earth caste, chief technician, M’Yan’Ral Base

  Mu’gulath Bay Veterans

  Shas’vre Ch’an, Sept Au’taal, Stormsurge pilot

  Shas’el Sham’bal, Sept Elsy'eir

  Shas’vre Po’lco, Sept N’dras

  Shas’vre Mysto, Stormsurge pilot

  Shas’el Reet’u, Stormsurge gunner

  Cadet

  Shas’ui H’an, Sept Sa’cea, Stormsurge gunner

  Part One

  The Search

  Chapter One

  LOCATION: MOON QX-937, SEXTON SYSTEM,

  DAMOCLES GULF, 999.M41

  Captain Nergui of the Deathwatch stopped his bike at the top of one of the foothills and looked out into the void. To his left were the uncountable stars that made up the galaxy, the home of humanity, the hope for survival.

  To the right were the empty shadows of the Eastern Fringe, where the wide-flung spiral arms threw a last few fingers of light out into the vast night. The light of these lonely stars was bright against the black. But it was to the shadows between them that he turned his gaze, and stared into the darkness. It was always the darkness from which his enemies – the foes of all mankind – came.

  He unclasped his helmet and set it into the crook of his elbow. He had sent two kill teams out on this mission but neither of them had returned, and now he was desperate for answers, for a hint of what had happened to them.

  This was the third rock they’d visited in as many days, just one of thousands that drifted through the less hospitable parts of the gas clouds in the Damocles Gulf. But what was strange about this one was that it had an atmosphere: thin, sulphurous, but an atmosphere nonetheless.

  Nergui turned around. A light appeared over the southern horizon, coming low and winding towards him in great sweeping para­bolas. It was Cadvan, formerly of the Storm Giants, searching in the Corvus Blackstar.

  ‘Captain. There’s nothing here,’ Cadvan voxed as he approached to within half a mile. The moon was empty apart from an archaic tau communication hub on the southern pole, which did not look like it had been touched for decades.

  ‘No,’ Nergui said. ‘But this was the last known position of Kill Team Primus.’

  He could hear Cadvan grunt. Brother Cadvan was a big, flame-haired, thunder hammer of a warrior. He was the newest recruit to Nergui’s chamber and had proved himself the master of saying the obvious. He didn’t do subtleties. ‘Well. They’re not here now.’

  Nergui knew arguing with a Storm Giant would be a waste of breath, however sulphurous. ‘No,’ he said, ‘they’re not. But they were here, and I want to find out what happened to them.’

  He closed the vox-link before Cadvan could respond.

  Cadvan was right though. There was nothing here, so why did the air reek of xenos taint?

  Ahead of Nergui rose the lip of a great crater where some ancient asteroid had smashed into the moon, leaving behind a scar miles wide. Nergui skidded his bike – Ganbold – up the loose scree of the rise, using his knees to turn the handlebars. All Chogoreans learnt to ride horses as soon as they were big enough to balance upon a saddle, and they treated their bikes in the same casual way. Riding without hands was a trick White Scars learnt as Scouts, allowing them to fire and reload as they rode down their foes. He did it unconsciously now, knowing when to touch the handlebars just long enough to steady the bike over a rock or round a landmine, and turned towards the next low peak.

  Dust and pebbles sprayed out behind as Nergui accelerated up a bare slab of copper-veined black rock. A fissure opened up suddenly before him, and he swerved past, the engine note rising as the incline steepened. He only took hold of the handlebars when the scree got so thick that he had to zigzag his way up. He brought his bike to where the rim of the crater fell precipitously before him, and paused.

  Far below, the land was flat and plain, except for where sulphur pools slowly bubbled and spluttered, and the dark circles of smaller craters dotted the land in irregular patterns. Nergui was unusual among the veterans of the Deathwatch in that battle damage had not rendered it necessary to restore his vision. He looked out with narrowed yellow eyes over the boulder fields, craters and sulphur pools, silent except for the gentle hiss of atmosphere and the low revving of his bike. The Corvus made a low pass three miles to the west, banking off towards the polar region.

  ‘I’ve seen something,’ Nergui voxed and revved his bike forwards, over the edge of the crater. His wheels bounced once, twice on the rocks, and then there was nothing but thin air, and the exquisite sense of falling.

  Nergui’s bike crunched as the reinforced suspension took the impact of hitting the bottom slopes of the crater. Once, twice he bounced. He had to hold on with one hand as Ganbold hit rocks and loose scree, the wheels screaming and the tyres beginning to smoke as he reached dangerous speeds, but still he clung on, grinning with the challenge.

  In a few seconds the drop began to flatten out, the slopes less sheer as the crater wall approached the bottom. He gunned the engine, bouncing and roaring over fissures and boulders, until the crater levelled out as he approached the centre.

  The armour was half buried, about ten miles from the cliff top, in the empty boulder field. Nergui caught it with one hand as he brought Ganbold to a skidding halt. The ceramite was blistered and melted, the charred edges dented and scratched, but despite the damage it was unmistakably the shoulder pad from a suit of Mark VI Corvus armour.

  He looked around further. Just a shoulder pad. Nothing else. Nergui cursed. No body, no gun, no sign of what had stripped away the layers of ceramite plating. He dusted the dirt from the patches of unmelted armour. Enough of the insignia remained for him to recognise it as the badge of the Marines Errant: a flaming star on a background of midnight blue.

  This was Brother Priam’s.

  He engaged his vox, spoke tersely. ‘Cadvan. Bring Domitian here.’

  The Storm Giant’s voice crackled back. ‘What is it?’

  Nergui did not bother answering, but kicked Ganbold forwards.

  The last telepathic relay had come from this moon. Kill Team Primus were amongst the best the Chapter had – eight of the finest veterans, honed through decades of battle against the alien. Priam had more augmetic parts than an Iron Hand – ‘Easy to wound,’ he’d laughed, ‘but hard to kill.’ It was the same for Ellial. Tula. Octavian. Nidal, even. Each of these warriors could have been a captain, like himself. He had led them many times. They could not just have disappeared. There had to be more evidence. A clue.

  Searching further, Nergui found a few more scraps of Priam’s Mark VI power armour – a knee plate and an ankle fitting – and a spare underslung magazine for his combi-bolter. If he knew Priam, the Marine Errant had either made it away from the main battle, to draw the enemy off, or – more likely – he had been the last survivor.

  The Corvus Blackstar grew from a dark spot to a blur as it skimmed in over the eastern horizon, just yards from the ground, a line of dust rising in its wake. Even at this speed it would take fifty seconds to reach him. He was about to investigate a deep crater fifty yards to the right when he shivered – an involuntary response, as though ice were dripping down the back of his neck.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ he almost said, as Librarian Domitian’s psychic presence slid into his consciousness, but by then the mind of the Imperial Fists psyker was within him.

  There were no words, as such, just compulsions.

  I’m here,+ it seemed to say. +Show me what you have found.+

  Nergui held up the shoulder pad and inspected it as though he were looking at it for the first time.

  Ah.+ Domitian was seeing through his eyes. +Priam.+

  ‘Yes.’ Nergui shook himself and forced his gaze away from the shoulder pad, but the Librarian’s presence had gone.

  Nergui had served with all kinds of Librarians in his ti
me. His Chapter’s own Stormseers, of course, who revelled in shamanistic rituals and totems, creating a mystery of it all, and then many Librarians from other Chapters. Blood Angels. Space Wolves. The strangest had been the Black Dragon Epistolary named Ulgon. He had bony protrusions on his skull and arms that he used in combat, and he had kept himself very much to himself, and the rest of them had been happy about that.

  Ulgon’s Chapter had called him back. Nergui doubted he’d have lasted much longer. You could tell the brothers who were destined for death. There was a Lamenters Librarian who had dreamt that he was destined to die on Terra. He had joked about it for a while, but when they were given the mission to clear the drifting hulk named Heart of Terra, he had gone silent, and they knew he’d understood. He had held the genestealers back as the rest of his kill team withdrew to a defensible position. It was a good death. It helped, Nergui thought, when you knew it was coming.

  But Domitian, the former Imperial Fist, was almost normal, at times, Nergui thought. You could almost forget that he wielded such power. But he had the odd habit of entering your mind too much, too invasively, as if he forgot that others did not have his abilities.

  Domitian’s mind touched Nergui’s for a moment.

  We are nearly there.+

  ‘I can see.’ Nergui liked to speak the words aloud, even when his interlocutor was just a voice inside his head.

  Nergui watched the Corvus approach and lift for a moment, as retro engines fired blue flames. The down-draught threw up a great cloud of grit as it settled on its landing gear, and Cadvan waved as he powered the craft down and checked his screen readings.

  The dust was still settling when one of the fore-facing landing ramps lowered and a single figure marched down – small, for a Space Marine, slight, almost. Delicate. Poised. Intense.

  Domitian knew all that Nergui had seen, but sometimes he acted as if he did not have the access to others’ minds that he did.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘you have found Priam’s armour.’

  Nergui nodded. ‘Yes.’

  He held out the shoulder pad. Domitian took it and sighed. ‘Was it over there?’

  Nergui nodded.

  ‘I found these as well,’ Nergui said. He held out the other pieces. Domitian smiled pleasantly and nodded.

  ‘Yes, I saw. Now, stay back. Your presence will only obscure the traces. I shall go and see if there is anything left.’