Storm of Damocles Page 6

  ‘Recover the data,’ he said as they carefully unloaded the recovered xenos equipment, ‘and report to me as soon as possible.’

  The tech officer bowed. ‘We will do all that we can.’

  It was a week’s journey back through the warp to Picket’s Watch. A team of servitors re-established power for the databanks, repairing broken cables and then coaxing out the reams of tau information.

  The Space Marines had little need for sleep. They worked constantly, comparing Imperial star charts to those of the tau, finding known points of reference, and slowly piecing together a picture of tau movements to and from the Agrellan Warzone.

  When they had inputted it all, the holo-charts glowed with criss-crossing web-lines of xenos activity. Its scale and sophistication repelled them all. Supply hubs, refuelling stations, convoy protection teams, automated drone sentries, human worlds secretly compliant, all enabling the massive movement of the invasion fleet that had smashed through to Agrellan. Konrad located two new routes that had appeared only a Terran week before the appearance of the Stormsurges.

  ‘This is how they are transporting their new battlesuits,’ he said with grim conviction.

  Domitian’s slight face followed the lines on the chart that the Black Templar was pointing to. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘We will feed the information through to Navy command. But those routes are too well defended for us to attack.’

  They stared at the glowing charts.

  Konrad scowled. ‘We have to do something,’ he snapped.

  ‘You’re right,’ Nergui said. ‘We have to find the heart of the enemy.’

  Konrad snarled in frustration. ‘So where do we attack?’

  Nergui paused. ‘The question is not where, but what. I will speak to Leonas.’

  There was an honour guard of adepts assembled to watch Leonas’ return to Picket’s Watch. They stood by the front gate. Nergui let them celebrate, but he was tense. The Stormsurge had to be stopped somehow. The enemy had to be weakened. The coming meeting with Jotunn troubled him as he led his warriors up the steps and into the Westkeep. After so many setbacks, the return of Leonas should have put a fresh energy into their steps, but now they knew much more about the new suits the tau had deployed, and unless they could do something to hinder their foe, the future of the battle at Agrellan and the fate of the Eastern Fringe hung in the balance.

  The entrance hall was hung with Deathwatch banners, each proudly telling of victories over the xenos. It was a cold and draughty chamber, the red and black tiles usually unoccupied except for the door wards and the occasional servo-skull that hummed across the empty space.

  This time, as they crested the top step and nodded to the door wards, they saw a new kill team standing in the entrance way. It seemed that Jotunn’s request for aid from Talassa Prime had borne fruit, though one kill team was hardly enough in this battle. They should have been sent a hundred brothers, or more.

  Nergui stepped forwards. Their leader – a Brazen Minotaur – had a tyranid skin thrown over one pauldron. He was a square hulk of a warrior, with curly black hair and a face that must once have been handsome before half of it had been torn away. The steel plates beneath did little to soften his arrogant air.

  ‘I am Brother Corith,’ he said. ‘We come from Talassa Prime. Word is that you have lost two kill teams, against the tau.’

  ‘We have,’ Nergui said. ‘You are aware of the state of the battle for Agrellan?’

  ‘We are,’ Corith said. ‘And we are ready.’ He turned to the others. ‘We are Kill Team Zeal.’

  He introduced his brothers. A Carcharodon was the first to step forwards. He was almost softly spoken. ‘I am Iason. We are glad to join your fight.’

  Next was a Space Marine with a formal, almost bookish look about him, with a grey shoulder pad marked with the letter ‘M’ in black. Nergui frowned. ‘Greetings, brother. I do not know that sigil.’

  ‘Brotherhood of a Thousand,’ the warrior said, taking Nergui’s hand in a firm grip. ‘I am Eadmund.’

  ‘Ah,’ Nergui said. ‘I have never served with a brother of your Chapter. But I have heard of your exploits. You liberated the Mostar System from the Darellian.’

  Eadmund smiled. ‘The dog-soldiers. Yes. I was honoured to be part of that victory when I was a just a Scout.’

  Nergui gave a brief nod.

  The next was a Dark Angel, his black hood drawn over a lean and grizzled face.

  ‘I am Cadmus,’ the warrior whispered. Behind him was an Imperial Fist named Cerys, Mateo Nuoros, a Crimson Fist, and Kallos, an Ultramarine – but it was the last who caught Nergui’s attention.

  ‘Greetings, Black Shield,’ he said. The warrior bore no Chapter markings, nothing that might identify him, just plain black power armour, a silver left arm, and a helmet etched with threads of silver, which traced the faint outline of a skull.

  ‘I am Hadrian,’ the dark-haired warrior said. His eyes were violet, and his skin almost white. ‘Of the Deathwatch.’

  ‘Welcome,’ Nergui said. Black Shields were bad luck and they did not need any bad luck at the moment. As the kill teams shook hands, the Black Shield, Hadrian, turned and looked to Leonas. ‘I have heard of you, brother. You are the one they called the “Last”?’

  ‘Yes,’ Leonas said. ‘I am.’

  Corith’s skin pulled against the steel plates in his face as he snorted at the exchange. ‘The last what?’

  ‘I am Leonas of the Black Consuls Chapter.’

  The Brazen Minotaur clearly spent less time than his fellows in the librariums. ‘And what of it?’

  Leonas fixed him with a hard stare. ‘Do you not know? The Black Consuls were destroyed in battle at Goddeth Hive. Probably when you were still a Scout, learning how to clean a bolter.’

  The Brazen Minotaur sneered at the insult, but Leonas spoke over him. ‘At the time there were seven of us who were not with the Chapter. Three of us were on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of our Primogenitor on Ultramar. The other four were serving with the Deathwatch. For a while there was talk of refounding our Chapter. There still is, sometimes, but no decision came, so we resolved to join the Deathwatch. That was three and a half centuries ago. Brother Agrys died that same year, fighting the Demiurge Incursion. Brother Soktritas was lost to the Great Devourer. Brothers Cylus and Nikanos were sent to Vraks. Their gene-seed was never recovered. Brother Kyriakos was interred into a Dreadnought, on Watch Fortress Callax. He was last seen holding the breach, locked in combat with the dark eldar. Until six months ago there was only me, and Razlon. He served the Throne in Segmentum Pacificus. But now, I hear that he too is dead. I am the only one left. Deathwatch is my Chapter now. When I die the Black Consuls shall be no more than a note in the histories of the Imperium of Mankind.’

  The sneer had softened somewhat, and the Brazen Minotaur held his tongue. But the Black Shield, Hadrian, frowned. ‘The Segmentum Pacificus is far from here. How do you know he is dead?’

  ‘I saw it in my dream,’ Leonas said. ‘Just as I saw Brother Konrad would come to release me.’

  Iason, the Carcharodon, made the sign of the aquila, but Hadrian laughed. The Deathwatch was tolerant of all the Chapters who served with them.

  ‘Good,’ Nergui said. ‘I shall leave the pleasantries to you. Now, please excuse me, I must report to our watch-commander.’

  ‘Ah,’ Corith said. ‘The Lone Wolf? He said he would see you in the morning. He is busy.’

  ‘At what?’

  Corith smiled. ‘He did not tell me.’

  Chapter Eight

  Nergui spent the night in meditation, but no answers came. An hour before daybreak there was a scrape on his door. An adept bowed.

  ‘Here, lord,’ he said. ‘This has just arrived.’

  The parchment had come from the Tower of the Astropath. Nergui broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. It b
ore greetings from his Chapter, the White Scars.

  Nergui read the message and smiled. The Emperor had delivered.

  As Nergui made his way down to the feast hall the only light came from distant stars that glimmered in the high gothic windows. There was a pensive feel to the air, which Nergui did not think was entirely of his own imagination. The Lone Wolf only secluded himself when there was a matter of great import. The air smelt of burned meat and knucklebones were spread out across the floor. The Lone Wolf had been communing with the fates, escrying the paths in his own, particular way. Jotunn turned as soon as Nergui entered.

  ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘At last. The eagle returns. What have you found, Nergui? Have you brought me news?’

  The two of them met in the middle of the great hall. Nergui drew in a deep breath.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think we have good news.’

  Jotunn put his head back and laughed. His fangs glinted in the dim light and he rubbed his pale hands together. ‘Nergui – it is not often that you give me good news! Come tell, what have you found?’

  Nergui slowly laid out the data-slates for the Lone Wolf to inspect: vox transcripts, reams of picts, supply lists. The Space Wolf leafed through them all, taking it in, building up each fragment into a picture that made sense. At last he let out a low grunt. ‘We cannot attack the transport lines. They are too heavily guarded. But we could pass on their location to others.’

  Nergui nodded. ‘We have. The Imperial Navy could strike them here, at Major’s Point. Or here, even. But it would require a bold captain to go so far into enemy space and once there, how long could they remain exposed, so close to the Fi’irious Sept?’

  ‘These are not for us.’

  ‘No. But here. Look at this.’

  Nergui presented the information he had gleaned from the data banks and that Leonas had reported to them. ‘The battlesuits are coming from the tau empire. This was where Kill Team Primus discovered the tau base in the Sexton Sector. See these transport routes? After that they move here, to the Distaf Nebula. See, as I move time forwards, the routes of these ships changes. See the movements into this system. The tau call this place Sh’anshi. I have checked the records. It is the same as the Imperial planet Proth.’

  Jotunn frowned at the data-slate before him. ‘Proth. What is this place?’

  ‘Ice world, mainly. Limited mining. It was abandoned during warp storm Hades.’

  Jotunn’s pink eyes narrowed. ‘What use would the enemy have for a place like Proth?’

  ‘No one has any interest in Proth, which makes it invaluable to our foes. I think they are taking crew from Agrellan and training them how to use the new battlesuits. See. We have a plan of a base, here. It does not say so, but I would guess this is what was found by Kill Team Primus. And it is what has been built on Proth.’

  The Space Wolf looked. There was an orbital defence platform at the north pole. Three hunter cadres. Xenos auxiliaries. He snorted. ‘This does not look like a training facility, it looks like a fortress!’

  ‘Exactly. A training facility that is well defended.’

  ‘But why is this place so important that the enemy defend it with such strength? Why do they take such care to hide it from us?’

  ‘As they expand they are coming up against new problems that their old systems and structures cannot cope with. Here, in the outer regions, they are having to pool the strength of their septs. Evolution is something they have excelled at. What I saw from Ellial’s visions has to have been some kind of pilot training facility for the new Stormsurge. If we strike this place and destroy it, we will rob them of months of battle-trained warriors.’

  Jotunn smiled briefly. ‘I see, Nergui. But to attack this place would mean destroying it in one strike. Killing all the crews. And I have less than twenty warriors left. How can we attack such a place with hope for success?’

  Nergui returned his gaze. ‘We cannot.’

  The White Scar’s face was inscrutable, but Jotunn had a nose for such things.

  ‘You have a plan?’

  ‘I have more than a plan. I have this.’ Nergui held up the roll of parchment.

  Jotunn read it and scowled. ‘A White Scars strike cruiser has slipped out of the warp. A week’s flight away. How does this help? Kor’sarro is already engaged on Agrellan. He has sworn to find Shadowsun and kill her. If this ship has strayed off course, he will be eager for them to catch up. He will not let you take his warriors. You are chasing lightning. They will not help.’

  The Space Wolf screwed the parchment up and dropped it onto the scattered knucklebones at his feet.

  ‘The ship that has arrived is the Northwind,’ Nergui said. It is the flagship of the Tulwar Brotherhood, the Fourth Company of White Scars. Kor’sarro Khan leads the Third Company.’ Nergui let that fact sink in for a moment. ‘The Fourth Company are bound for Chogoris, to defend her from invasion. The warp has blown her off course. I have seen a little of the ways of the galaxy, and when a company of the White Scars loses sight of the Astronomican and becomes stranded, just as we need their help, then I am not one to pass over that opportunity.’

  ‘What good will they be to us?’ Jotunn demanded. ‘The White Scars do not serve the Deathwatch. If they are bound for Chogoris, then to Chogoris they will go.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  The Lone Wolf snarled. ‘Speak no more in riddles, White Scar. Tell me plain. If you have a plan, then announce it!’

  ‘I shall. The Fourth Company of White Scars is led by the Master of Blades. We were Scouts together, once, riding our bikes over the bones of our foes. I taught him how to strip a boltgun. His name is Batbayar Khan. I know how to persuade him to help our cause. In fact I have already sent word to his strike cruiser, telling him how he can gain his company great glory…‘

  ‘And?’

  ‘The eagle flies to the glove for the easy meal.’

  Jotunn let out a snort of laughter. ‘You are crafty as you are devious, White Scar. When does their cruiser arrive?’

  ‘Four days.’

  Jotunn slapped the White Scar on the arm. Nergui had to brace himself against the blow.

  ‘Go!’ Jotunn roared. ‘Meet this brother of yours. See if he will eat your scraps.’

  Chapter Nine

  Westkeep was crowned with a wonder of Dark Age technology: the double-barrelled defence laser that bore the name Dorn’s Fury. It had always been the last line of defence for the citadel, when secrecy failed. Back-up generators, batteries and overload circuits spiralled down into the keep’s core, deep in the rock upon which the citadel stood.

  As the White Scars strike cruiser Northwind approached to within five hundred miles, Dorn’s Fury turned towards it, the weapon’s machine-spirit locking on to the approaching craft, the double barrels tracking it as it sped closer.

  The captain of the Northwind sent a curt message. Nergui stood at Jotunn’s side.

  ‘Batbayar Khan is tetchy,’ the Lone Wolf rumbled in his chest. ‘He says he will not continue unless our defence laser is disengaged. He wants me to disarm our only protection? It is preposterous. Who is this khan and how dare he tell me what I should do?’

  ‘Do as he says,’ Nergui said. ‘He is not bluffing. If he leaves we lose a company of the Adeptus Astartes and the chance to throw back our foes. If we step Dorn’s Fury down you lose nothing but your pride.’

  Jotunn growled. ‘What is a warrior without pride? I do not like this. Are there things you are not telling me, Nergui of the White Scars?’

  ‘Yes,’ Nergui laughed. ‘Many things.’ The sound of laughter was a rarely heard sound within Picket’s Watch. But as the last echoes of it died away, Nergui’s face was serious. ‘But we need Batbayar. I do not think Jotunn of the Space Wolves, Watch-Commander of Picket’s Watch, will die from the loss of his pride.’

  Jotunn turned his back. ‘I am Jo
tunn of the Deathwatch,’ he hissed. ‘I was old when this Batbayar was a mewling babe at his mother’s breast. I do not take orders from a pompous young pup!’

  ‘Do as he says,’ Nergui said.

  The Lone Wolf turned his albino pink eyes on the White Scar. Jotunn loved Dorn’s Fury. It spoke to his soul. He saw the ancient gun as a kindred spirit. It was how he saw the Deathwatch: ancient, tough, defiant, isolated, deadly against its foes. Disarming the ancient gun was emasculation. Surrender.

  There was a long pause.

  ‘It will please Batbayar Khan. He is… proud. Overly so, at times, but if I meet him, I can turn him to our cause.’

  Jotunn growled deep in his chest. It was a low rumble that set the air vibrating. He nodded.

  ‘Have it done then. Order Dorn’s Fury to disengage. But I hold you responsible, White Scar.’

  Nergui put a hand to the Space Wolf’s pauldron. ‘Thank you. Trust me, I will bring him to our cause.’

  Nergui was in the librarium when the servo-skull found him, its lenses whirring as it focused on the White Scar’s face. Satisfied it had found the right recipient, its memory logs played back the broadcast message in a staccato voice. ‘The White Scars strike cruiser Northwind has docked with the orbital platform, captain.’

  Nergui took a deep breath. He was ready. ‘Is my Thunderhawk prepared?’

  ‘Yes.’ The skull hovered, lenses whirring once more.

  As he sat in the Deathwatch Thunderhawk that carried him up to the Northwind, Nergui prepared himself for his meeting with his gene-brothers. He felt apprehensive, in a way that disturbed him.

  There were ghosts in his past that he had long thought banished, but they haunted him now.

  The last time Nergui had fought with his gene-brothers was on Gastrond IV. He’d led the Second Company – the Firefist Brotherhood. His hand had shaken with the magnitude of this honour. The objective of that long campaign was to kill a greenskin war-chief named Blackfist. He’d cornered the xenos forces on the plains of Brenax Secundus, and Blackfist had led the whole ork horde against them. Nergui remembered how the flat plains were dark with the foe, a black cloud of exhaust fumes above their heads, the sky raining lead as the beasts fired their weapons wildly into the air.