‘Captain Vertz of the Talons, let me through,’ snapped Omegon, not allowing the officer a chance to speak. ‘I must report to Ravendelve.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said the officer, waving for his men to drag aside part of the barricade they had erected across the street. ‘There is a column from the sixth district assembling at Foundry Arc, responding to a request from your primarch. You might want to join with them.’
‘Thank you for the information,’ said Omegon, stepping past the skitarii leader. He was genuinely grateful for the knowledge, as it would mean the next phase of his plan would be made a lot easier.
He broke into a run, heading out of the city towards the edges of the rad-wastes.
THE CRASH OF falling masonry announced the destruction of another turret. Ravendelve’s main building shook with the impact as the lights flickered and warning sirens screeched. Agapito had no time to wonder about the significance of this development as he pounded down a flight of stairs towards the armourium.
He was met at the next landing by a squad of Raptors, who were assembling a multi-laser on its tripod. For the last few days, he had spent much of his time with Captain Noriz, taking his advice on the basic defensive strategies his Legion employed. Agapito’s mind was brim-full of attrition ratios, specific killzones and interlocking deployment patterns.
‘That’s no good there!’ he snapped. ‘If the enemy get this far in, it’ll make no difference. Move it to the south transept for a decent field of fire.’
‘Yes, commander!’ replied the squad’s sergeant, even as Agapito continued on his hurried course.
Besides, he thought, I still need an escape route open to me if things get out of hand.
AS AGAPITO ENTERED the armourium level he found the area almost deserted. A few servitors trundled back and forth, hauling ammunition onto the bed of a bulk carrier. They paid him no heed as he ran past. Hearing voices ahead, the commander sidestepped into one of the practice ranges. Footsteps rang on the floor outside and then passed away.
When the sound of the legionaries had faded, Agapito emerged into the main corridor, checking that he was not seen. If his presence was remarked upon he would surely be called upon to take charge in Branne’s absence, a delay he could not afford. He did not know how long he would have, but every second wasted might see his opportunity lost.
ALPHARIUS ENTERED THE gatehouse with a confident stride to find an assortment of Raven Guard already there. Most were Talons, but a squad of Raptors manned the controls of the lascannon batteries overlooking the approach. There were certainly too many legionaries for him to overcome in the same way he had disposed of Dor and Marko.
There was a commotion at the other door as Sergeant Nestil entered, flanked by two warriors from his squad.
‘Activate landing beacons,’ the sergeant ordered. ‘Reinforcements are arriving. Be ready to open the sub-gate to let them in.’
Checking a snarl of frustration, Alpharius moved away from the massive doors of the main gate. His task had been to secure the gates and open them for the arrival of more Alpha Legion troops, but with even more Raven Guard arriving it seemed like a foolhardy move. The implant in his skull was ticking madly, telling him that another Alpha Legionnaire was close at hand, probably within the bastion of the gatehouse. He could not risk arousing suspicion by revealing himself just yet.
Under Nestil’s instruction, the lock bars on a smaller gateway set inside the huge slabs of adamantium-sheathed ferrocrete were disengaged. The postern opened on hydraulic rams, revealing a view of the landing apron between the gatehouse and outer wall. The gatehouse was soon going to be very full, so Alpharius headed up the stairwell leading to the observation gallery that ran above the gates themselves. He found himself in the company of five other Raven Guard, sitting in the cradles of the quad-heavy bolters mounted along the gallery’s outer wall.
Ignoring them, Alpharius looked out of the metre-thick glasteel window. The flare of ramjets descended through the ruddy murk and he recognised the shape of an approaching Thunderhawk, another a hundred metres behind. Touching down on the apron, the black-armoured drop-ship lowered its ramps to disgorge several squads of legionaries moving at the double. As soon as the last Raven Guard disembarked, the Thunderhawk pilot gunned the engines and took off. The second touched down as the first wave of reinforcements filed towards the open postern gate.
At a loss, Alpharius glared down at the two lines of black-armoured figures jogging towards the gatehouse. He watched the second Thunderhawk lift off again as the first wheeled around a few hundred metres from the wall. Something struck him as odd about the Thunderhawk’s manoeuvre and he paid closer attention to the gunship’s approach.
Increasing the magnification of his auto-senses, he zoomed in on the gunship and saw that the locking arms on its missiles had been disengaged. It was about to make an attack run.
He sprinted back towards the stairwell. Four near-simultaneous blasts filled the gallery with flying shrapnel and fire, the shockwave hurling Alpharius through the doorway to send him clattering down the first flight of stairs.
Head ringing, he pushed himself to his feet as he heard the report of bolters from below. The vox was suddenly alive with shouted warnings, before being cut off by deafening static. Two Raven Guard backed into the stairwell beneath, one blazing with his bolter, the other sending a stream of burning promethium from his flamer at some unseen enemy in the main gatehouse.
Alpharius levelled his bolter and opened fire, cutting down the legionary with the flamer. His companion turned in surprise, weapon lifting towards Alpharius. Before he could fire, a ball of plasma screamed through the doorway, exploding against his left side, incinerating half of his body in an instant.
Holding his bolter in one hand to pull free his looted chainsword, Alpharius advanced slowly down the steps, eyes fixed on the doorway. He stopped as he reached ground level, hearing the sounds of fighting lessening. Bolter held out, he stepped around the edge of the arch. The ticking in his head was near-constant now.
He saw Sergeant Nestil striding through a pool of burning promethium, almost on top of Alpharius, flames licking from his breastplate and left arm.
Alpharius readied the chainsword and sprang at the sergeant, sweeping the weapon towards his throat.
Nestil saw the attack and pivoted, catching the side of the chainsword with his forearm to deflect the blow onto his shoulder plate. Monomolecular teeth screeched, churning through paint and ceramite.
‘Hydra!’ Nestil yelled, bringing up his combi-bolter.
‘Effrit,’ Alpharius replied instantly, the counter-signal. He stopped mid-swing, letting the chainsword drop to his side. Nestil also lowered his weapon.
‘Nestil?’ said Alpharius, not quite able to believe that the veteran sergeant was really an Alpha Legionnaire.
‘I am Alpharius,’ the sergeant replied. ‘Ort?’
‘I am Alpharius.’
‘So am I,’ said a voice behind the pair. ‘What a coincidence.’
Both Alpha Legionnaires turned.
‘You?’ said Nestil, shaking his head. ‘One of us is a commander?’
SIXTEEN
The Bombardment of Kiavahr
Ransacked
Sixx’s Revenge
THUNDERHAWKS AND STORMBIRDS were already soaring away from High Dock as Corax entered the landing area. Controller Ephrenia ran to keep up with his long stride, relaying the flow of information being sent to her by the command chamber.