Those who pulled out white nuts sighed and slipped away. Those lucky enough to produce a black nut – about one in three of the recruits – stepped into the room. They were the ones who would be next in line for the transformation.
Navar had seen the new Raptors training in the hall. They were an inspiration, more so even than the legionaries that Navar had looked up to for his whole life. He could remember each and every one of the First Nine when they had been like him, just a few weeks ago. Now they were sparring with the legionaries and practising fire drill with bolters and heavy weapons.
It was so close. If Navar could pick out a black nut, he would be one of the next cadre of recruits to become Raptors. The wait was agonising, taking one step at a time away from the door and then back towards it. When he had turned at the end of the corridor, by the double doors that led to the mess, Navar had realised how close he was to the back of the line. There were fewer than twenty other recruits behind him.
His hands were shaking with the excitement and his mouth was dry.
There were only five more recruits between Navar and Commander Branne. The next drew out a white nut: failure. Four more to go. The recruit who stepped forwards was Navar’s squad leader, a fair-haired youth a couple of years older than him called Molo. Navar could barely breathe as Molo reached into the box, one eye closed as if fearful of seeing what he brought out.
It was a black nut.
‘Good for you, Molo,’ whispered Navar, and received a nod of thanks and wink in return.
‘That’s it,’ said Branne, stepping out into the corridor.
‘Commander?’ said Navar, his gut tightening with disappointment.
‘That’s the next hundred,’ Branne explained. ‘Go back to your dorms and be ready for training at Falling Hour.’
Branne stepped back into the room and the door clanged shut, leaving the remaining recruits with sagging shoulders and scuffing feet. Navar felt like he had been kicked firmly between the legs, the knot of ache in his stomach much the same. He hadn’t been one of the First Nine. He wouldn’t be one of the Second Hundred.
‘Never mind,’ said Caol, slapping Navar on the shoulder from behind. ‘We might not be the first, but we’ll be Raptors soon enough. We can wait a week.’
A week seemed like an eternity to Navar.
ADJOINING THE COMMAND hall, Corax’s control chamber was a square room a dozen metres across, every wall filled with screens and analytical engines. Robed technicians and wheezing servitors busied themselves at the consoles, collating the data flow into revolving star maps and ever-changing tables of information.
Branne, Agapito, Solaro and Aloni sat around the glass-topped table at the room’s heart, while Corax stood to one side, a portable terminal in one hand. Apart from the others, silent in a corner of the chamber, stood Arcatus, invited out of courtesy by the primarch. Branne had just finished his report on the transformation of the second intake of Raptors. Two had died during the process; the rest were as impressive as the first wave.
‘Sixx says he has created enough gene-seed for two thousand more, though the facilities at Ravendelve only allow us to proceed with implantation on two hundred and fifty recruits at a time. He has requested that we shift the whole operation back to Ravenspire.’
‘Not yet,’ replied Corax. ‘What about the new armour?’
‘Tests are nearly complete,’ said Branne. ‘The Raptors are learning to use the enhanced systems quickly. I’ve had the first thousand suits painted up in Legion livery. We’ll need to finalise the squad organisation before I can pass on the insignia requirements to the armourium.’
‘I have drawn up a list of potential sergeant candidates,’ said Agapito, activating the touchpad on the table in front of him. ‘The Raptors may be well-prepared, but we’ll need to draft in Talons for some command experience.’
‘Agreed,’ said Corax. He glanced at the list. ‘All fine warriors, I’ll leave the final decision up to the two of you. Solaro, what is the vehicle situation?’
‘Poor, relatively speaking,’ said the commander. ‘The armourium has received three shipments from Kiavahr since we returned, mostly Rhinos, but we’re woefully light on heavier armour. Whatever you plan to do to get back at Horus, I hope you don’t have a tank battle in mind.’
‘It’ll be an infantry assault,’ said Corax. At a stroke of his hand, an image appeared on the surface of the table, of a star map showing the sector around Deliverance. A red circle highlighted a star towards the edge of the display and the image zoomed in.
‘Narsis?’ said Aloni. ‘That’s the objective?’
‘We’ve compiled reports from several Navigators who have been travelling in the vicinity,’ explained Corax. ‘While the warp storms are still raging, turbulence around the Narsis system is much reduced. Given the world’s proximity to several forge-worlds, as well as the resources of Agrapha, Chopix and Spartus, I believe that Narsis will be used by the rebels as a staging post to attack the sector.
‘The Perfect Fortress,’ said Branne. ‘The Emperor’s Children brought Narsis to compliance and built the Perfect Fortress there.’
‘Typical arrogance of Fulgrim,’ said Aloni. ‘No fortress is perfect. Still, we don’t have the heavy materiel for a siege.’
‘Nor the time,’ said Corax. ‘I have a plan for the Perfect Fortress, but that is not an issue yet. I need to know whether the Raptors will be ready for the fight.’
‘In theory, yes,’ said Branne. ‘But they’re untested in real battle. Drills and firing ranges are one matter. The fire of war is another. I wouldn’t want to pitch them up against the Perfect Fortress in the first engagement.’
‘What about Cruciax?’ said Solaro. He adjusted the table’s display so that it veered towards another star system, much closer to Deliverance. ‘Small moon base in a dead system. It was set up by the Word Bearers, probably a monitoring station. We can test the Raptors and close off one of the traitors’ intelligence channels in the sector.’
Branne rubbed his chin and studied the schematic, while Corax nodded.
‘How soon?’ asked the primarch.
‘How many do you want to test?’ replied Branne.
‘The first five hundred,’ said the primarch. ‘A proper battle, not some training skirmish. I expect the Raptors to fight independently of the Talons, Falcons and Hawks. They are our first strike formation.’
‘Ten days to complete implantation, another ten preparing and arming,’ muttered Branne. ‘Who can say how long it will take us to get there. Fifteen days at least given the warp conditions.’
‘Very well,’ said Corax. ‘You will lead the Raptors on a raid against the facility at Cruciax. I will accompany you for first-hand observation of their performance. What else do you need to be prepared in time?’
‘Just some sergeants,’ said Branne, looking at Agapito. ‘Other than that, we’ve got everything in hand.’
‘I’ll have the new squad leaders reassigned and sent down to Ravendelve in the next two days,’ replied Agapito.
‘You’ll still need some recon,’ said Solaro. ‘I can have my squads ready whenever you need them.’
‘We’ll rely on orbital data,’ said Corax. ‘This is just a small engagement. The force will deploy on the Avengeronly, no need to risk getting a flotilla scattered in the storms. We hit the Word Bearers, destroy the station and withdraw. That is all.’
‘Understood, lord,’ said Branne.
‘Are you sure?’ said Corax. He looked at each of the commanders in turn. ‘Narsis is our main objective. I want to be ready to launch a full-scale attack on the Emperor’s Children garrison within fifty days. We muststrike back at the traitors soon.’