He ascended the stairs into the bowels of the fortress and the killing went on and on and on.
<Tightbeam commstream detection (0/419.h).>
<Servitor 56G/x attending (0/442.D). Telepath assistance declined.>
<Datastream reception only (0/491 .g).>
<Channel open.>
++Enduring Blade?++
[Received. Time reference 1632.17 (terracode), D. 5732341 .M41.]
[Carrier ident. recognised. Local link established.]
[Identify.]
++Colony 4356/E, Dolumar IV. This is Governor Meyloch Severus.++
[Hold.]
[Vocal analysis confirmation.]
[State secure-channel code.]
++I need to speak with the admiral.++
[State secure-channel code.]
++Who is this?++
[Servitor 56G/x (Rotho#2). State secure-channel code.]
++Oh, for throne’s sake...++
++Here. AGGE-2567-G.++
[Hold.]
[Secure-channel code verified.]
[State your business.]
++I need to speak with the admiral. Priority level alpha.++
[Requesting personnel.]
[Hold.]
[This is Ensign Kilson. The admiral’s busy — state your business.]
++It is essential that I speak with the admiral. Interrupt him, if need be.++
[I’m afrai—]
++Listen to me very carefully, ensign. You will tell the admiral that Governor Severus needs to speak with him urgentl—++
[But—]
++Quiet. If you do not, ensign, I will ensure that my acute displeasure, along with your name, is conveyed directly to the Officio Navis Nobilite. Is that clear?++
[...]
++Let me speak to the admiral. Now.++
[S-stand... stand-by.]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[Severus? What do you want?]
++Is that Admiral Constantine?++
[No. It’s Vandire himself, back from the dead. Of course it’s me.]
++So generous of you to bother.++
[Don’t waste my time, governor. I have a ship to run.]
++I need your help. My colony is under attack.++
[Emperor’s blood, man! You’ve got four warp-damned regiments down there! Plus the... special troops you requested last week.]
++They’re not enough. I’m facing an invasion.++
[Inva—? By who?]
++The tau. They’ve breached the treaty.++
[Terra’s Throne...]
++Indeed.++
++Admiral, I hardly need acquaint you with the seriousness of this situation... If my factories aren’t operating this subsector can consider itself unarmed.++
++There’s an enemy vessel in orbit. I’d appreciate your assistance.++
[We’re on our way.]
++“We”?++
[You’re in luck, Severus.]
[The Enduring Blade just rendezvoused with the Fleet Ultima Primus. We’re a two-hour warp jump from the edge of your system.]
[The tau won’t know what hit them.]
Kais waited until the flow of fluids from the pulverised corpse resolved into a sluggish ebb of arterial paste, then rifled through the creature’s pockets. The gaudier these gue’la dressed, he reasoned, the more important they seemed to be.
He found a wafer of brittle plastic, identified by the sensors in his helmet as having a shaped magnetic field, in a utility holster on one of the body’s lower limbs. A keycard, the helmet’s computer speculated. Kais found himself wondering abstractly about the appearance of the human’s hooves, hidden away like infant-flesh inside its bulky boots. The mad desire to rip them off to find out made him nod in amusement, despite himself.
The dead body crackled, startling him. It took him a moment to ascertain that the tinny voice derived from the comms-bead fixed to the cadaver’s stained lapel, its distorted reportage so unlike the clear tones of his own communicator.
“C-captain Praeter?” a gue’la voice said, stammering with (Kais assumed) nerves. “Sir? This is Warden Tiernen — I’m on the artillery ring. The men up here are dead... I... I think they’ve been shot, sir. Something’s got inside. Something’s in here with us...”
Kais scowled as his didactic memories translated the crackling voice, irritated that his presence should be discovered already. His search for an access point to the underground holding cells was not going well.
The gue’la fortress was a maze of shadows and angles, asymmetrical clusters of architecture distorting the expectations and unhinging the senses. It was a black brainstorm of metal struts, intestinal ducts, valve-like bulkheads scored by dribbling rivulets of oil and water and stained glass eyes, glaring down on every hallway in a kaleidoscope of insane colour and surreal iconography. To walk through it unguided was to be lost in an incoherent labyrinth, dissolving in the guts of some awful creature with blinking LEDs for nerve endings and cabling for its sinews. Only by carefully watching the positioning scanners of his HUD could he maintain any sense of direction, and focus his efforts around the sealed access yard at the compound’s heart.
Sneaking along a corridor, he shivered at the buttresses and load supports that branched from the walls like gnarled roots, chain-infested chandeliers of wrought iron and sputtering light drooping from the recesses above; like scraps of flesh clinging to a colossal ribcage that threaded with fossilised immobility throughout the prison’s structure.
A dull detonation somewhere outside ripped apart a stained-glass circle further along the hallway, sending a vivid hailstorm of colour chattering and tinkling across the floor. The jumbled noises of the battle outside seemed alien in this crypt-like space; an aural reminder of another world. Kais picked his way through the shadows and climbed a winding staircase, hugging the walls. The thick door at the summit lacked any obvious opening device, even one of the gue’la’s crude lever appendages he’d spotted elsewhere. His helmet sensors chimed, flickering graphics isolating a narrow groove in the doorway’s frame and matching it effortlessly with the keycard he’d taken from the officer’s body. He pushed the brittle shape into its slot and surged forwards, even as the door squealed open.
The two warden-guards lurking in the gloomy chamber beyond were too astonished to react effectively, bent over an array of switches, winking lights and clicking gauges. Unable to prevent himself, Kais grinned.
The first one fell backwards, legs flipping athletically as his pulverised chest arced away, smoke lifting from the wound. His head hit the console on the way down, an ugly krak that flipped the body over. It landed on its knees, forehead pressed to the floor.
“No!” the second one shouted, reacting mechanically, staggering backwards and groping for a weapon. Kais barely shifted position, carrying his body around in a perfect arc, as effortless as it was natural. He’d been born for this.
He squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. The untaulike desire to shout or curse in frustration bubbled up inside him, and he bit down on it hard.
The las-shot hit him like a sledgehammer.
He’d expected a sharp, ripping pain. He’d expected it to feel like a needle, sliding through his flesh, separating sinews from bones, opening muscles like ripe fruit.
Instead it was an anvil crashing into his shoulder, spinning him around on his spot and sending angry, nebulous blobs of colour dancing before his eyes. He crashed to the floor, feet trailing before him.
It was only when the initial shock had faded, when he blinked through the film of eur’ii moisture covering his eyes, that the sense of sharpened agony began to blossom. An ugly laceration marred his upper arm, a blistering mess of cauterised flesh and singed fio’dr fabric. The pain clouded the world and stole his ability to think.