‘No…’ said Sixx. He coughed up more blood and waved his hand weakly towards the inside of his robe.
‘There’s a pocket,’ said Kharvo, reaching inside. He pulled out a triangular piece of metal with a Raven Guard symbol embossed on one side. ‘It’s a command key.’
Sixx’s face contorted with pain, but he forced himself up on one elbow.
‘Weapons lockers, bay seven,’ said the Apothecary. ‘Was getting charges.’
‘We’ll fetch someone to tend you,’ said Navar, standing up.
‘Gene-seed!’ hissed Sixx. ‘Your future.’
‘We will protect it,’ said Benna, gripping Sixx’s shoulder with a scaled hand. ‘Keep strong.’
The Raptors moved out into the corridor, Navar leading the way with the bolt pistol. They came to the next door and opened it. Fifteen deformed Raptors looked up from their makeshift bunks.
‘Hef, take five others and bring back weapons, we’ll gather the rest of our brethren,’ said Benna, who had been a squad leader before implantation. He pointed towards the doors leading to the infirmary chambers. ‘Kharvo, keep watch down there.’
The Raptors divided without debate, Navar taking the digi-key from Kharvo. It was good to stretch his legs as he sprinted down the passageway towards the weapons lockers with Marls, Ghoro, Tandrad, Myka and Hal close on his heels. As they reached the doors, a huge explosion rumbled above them, followed by the thunderous crash of falling masonry.
‘Sounds like Turret Two is down,’ said Myka. ‘We’d better hurry up.’
Slamming open the doors, Navar looked left and right down the passageway beyond, Sixx’s pistol gripped tightly in both hands. He saw a Raven Guard legionary standing guard by the archway to the loading bays above the armourium. The legionary turned in surprise and lifted his bolter.
‘It’s all right,’ said Ghoro, lifting up his hands. ‘Raptors! The infirmary is under attack.’
‘Watch out!’ yelled Marls, barrelling into Ghoro as the legionary opened fire. The bolt caught Marls in the arm, ripping through flesh and bone just beneath the shoulder.
Navar fired without thinking, acting out of instinct, his first shot catching the legionary in the side of the chest, sending the traitor’s next shot into the wall beside Ghoro and Marls. The next two shattered the legionary’s shoulder plate as he stumbled back to his feet.
The legionary turned his bolter towards Navar and time seemed to slow. The Raptor felt a ripple of cold racing through his body as he aimed the bolt pistol at the legionary’s face and pulled the trigger again. As he felt the recoil of the launch charge kicking the pistol, muzzle flare erupted from the legionary’s bolter. Two flickering trails of propellant passed each other.
Navar’s shot hit a moment earlier, punching through the grille of the legionary’s mask before detonating inside his helm. An instant later, pain screamed through Navar’s side as the counter-shot tore a chunk from his chest, sending fragments of white-hot metal into his fused ribs.
Navar stumbled back and was caught by Myka and Tandrad. He looked down at the wound, a fist-sized hole just beneath his pectoral on the left side.
‘Check him!’ snapped Ghoro, jabbing a finger at the downed legionary.
‘Why did he shoot?’ asked Marls. ‘What’s going on? If it’s our own legionaries, how can we tell who is on our side?’
‘Let’s just get to the infirmary,’ said Ghoro. ‘Sixx said they were there. Anyone else we meet, we’ll just have to take our chances. Get to the arms locker, I’ll help Navar.’
Navar was passed into the arms of Ghoro, who lowered him to the floor, back against the wall.
‘It’s not too bad,’ Ghoro said with a grin.
Navar looked down. The wound was already sealing over with a thick scab, the Larraman cells in his blood clotting almost instantly. The pain had already subsided to a dull ache as other compounds flooded his system.
‘Guess there are advantages to being a monster,’ said Navar. He gestured for Ghoro to help him up, feeling his strength returning.
The other Raptors returned a couple of minutes later, carrying plasteel weapon and ammunition crates between them, bags stuffed with grenades and other supplies slung over their shoulders. Opening up one of the crates, the Raptors armed themselves with the bolters inside and took several magazines each, tying the bandoliers around their thighs and arms.
Feeling a lot more confident, his injury almost forgotten, Navar opened the next crate. Inside was a melta-gun, and several spare casks of pressurised gas.
‘I’ll take that,’ said Ghoro, lifting the weapon from its padded cradle. He looked at the others, perhaps expecting protests, but there was no time for arguments. Shutting the lids on the boxes, the Raptors headed back to the cells where the others were waiting.
SEVENTEEN
Attack, Withdraw, and Attack Again
Cut Off the Head
The Truth of It
THERE DID NOT seem to be anyone in command, but the Raven Guard prided themselves on their autonomy and initiative. Lacking orders from their superiors, the sergeants mustered their squads to the defence of Ravendelve. Balsar Kurthuri found himself with Sergeant Caban and an ad-hoc squad of seven other legionaries, heading through the murk of the rad-wastes towards the enemy attack. Macro-cannon rounds screamed overhead from the remaining defence towers, answered by shells, las-fire and plasma bolts from the renegade Titans escorting the column.
The residual atomic fallout was interfering with Balsar’s auto-senses, leaving him half-blind in the thick fog, unable to use thermal or wide-spectrum scanning. He deactivated his armour’s sensors, relying on his own augmented vision to pierce the gloom. The black-clad warriors to either side of him were barely visible, but their armour transponders relayed their locations to a schematic in his visor. Sergeant Caban was at the front, and it was from him that there came a crackled warning over the vox.
‘We have movement, fifty metres ahead and right. Infantry. Disperse right, thirty metres. No friendly forces in the area, engage on sight.’
Balsar picked his way over a pile of slag, casting his gaze to the left and right. It would be so easy to open up his othersight, allowing the potential of his mind to flow outwards to detect the enemy. It would also be simple enough to incinerate them with a psychic blast once they were found, and the temptation to use his powers was almost overwhelming.
There were no Chaplains left within the Legion to enforce the Edict of Nikaea, and Balsar recalled Lord Corax’s words from outside the vault room. The situation had changed, and it was surely sensible to use every weapon available against the traitors. Balsar was still not sure what had happened next. He had definitely felt a connection with the psychic locks placed upon the door, intricately beautiful and impenetrable. It had been an urge from within to engage his psychic powers, and had Balsar ever wanted to discuss the event with another, he would have claimed he had been guided by the Emperor. It certainly had felt as if an outside agent had been controlling his thoughts for those few moments, and remembering the complexity of the seals placed on the door, Balsar was sure he would not have been able to dismantle them on his own.
If the Emperor had acted then, as seemed to be the case, then surely that was license for Balsar to use his powers again?
A deeper shadow emerged from the fog just to Balsar’s left. The Raven Guard fought back the urge to reach out with his thoughts. Instead, he brought up his bolter and opened fire, hitting the figure low in the torso with two rounds.
‘Enemy!’ he announced over the vox. ‘One down.’
He opened fire again at more silhouetted targets, telling himself it was not his place to second-guess the judgement of the Emperor.
THE AIR IN the antechamber was well below freezing point, the walls crusted with ice. Five more Alpha Legionnaires stood watch in the corridor outside, masquerading as Raven Guard, while Ort and Nestil went through the process of shutting down the stasis field generators in the main vault. Solaro stood ready with the digital key, idly snapping small icicles from the cover of the keypad with the tip of his finger.