‘Agreed, but what about the data-engine?’ asks Selaton.
‘Good question.’
Ventanus notices that his sergeant is holding a sack. He takes it from him and looks inside.
It is full of black daggers. Ritual knives. Some are black metal, some glass, some knapped flint; some handles are wire, some leather, some snakeskin. Selaton has collected them from the brotherhood dead.
‘You used Cxir’s weapon against the daemon,’ says Selaton simply. ‘Theoreticaclass="underline" these blades work. Their own weapons work.’
‘You may be right,’ says Ventanus. He looks into the sack. The blades shine and glint in the shadows of the bag. ‘But I’m afraid these things are as toxic and dangerous as the monsters we want to use them against. Throw them away, Selaton. Drop them into a well. Put a grenade in the sack and hurl it into the ditch. We can’t start using these.’
‘But–’
Ventanus looks at him.
‘Theoreticaclass="underline" that’s how it began with the XVII,’ he says. ‘Expedient use of an exotic weapon to turn back an unexpectedly resistant new foe. Strange daggers found in some xenos tomb or temple? What harm can they do? They cut daemon flesh. It’s worth the risk.’
A look of utter distaste crosses Selaton’s face.
‘I’ll dispose of them, sir,’ he says.
Ventanus walks to the stack room. He passes the chambers where Sydance is watching the magi trying to reconnect the vox.
‘Well fought,’ Sydance says, clasping his hand.
‘I was the thirteenth eldar this time,’ replies Ventanus, ‘but we won’t get that grace again. Is the vox up?’
‘They’re working on it. The datalink is still active. The server wants to see you.’
‘Good. I want to see her.’
Ventanus enters the stack room. Tawren has disconnected herself from the chattering data-engine. One of her magi, Uldort, has taken her place in the MIU link to maintain processing.
‘Captain,’ Tawren says.
‘Server.’
‘This data-engine is not powerful enough to seize control of the grid,’ she says flatly. ‘Moreover, it is not powerful enough to run the grid.’
‘So that’s it?’ asks Ventanus. ‘Our contribution now is... to collate and supply data to the fleet until such time as we are exterminated?’
‘That will be the fate of Leptius Numinus,’ she agrees. ‘However, please place that contribution in context. This is the only loyalist data-engine at work on Calth. It is not just a vital source of data. It is the only source of data.’
She shows him data-slate displays.
‘We have built a picture of resistance across the planet. It is broken and scattered, but it is fierce. Spread across hundreds of locations, as many as thirty thousand of your battle-brothers and two hundred thousand Army and Mechanicum warriors are still active. Coordinated, they can achieve more than if they remain uncoordinated.’
‘This palace can only provide coordination for a short time,’ says Ventanus. ‘The enemy is on its way.’
‘The picture is not totally dark, captain. About fifteen minutes ago, I made one profound discovery.’
The memory of that revelation makes Tawren smile. It is bittersweet, almost painful to think of, and yet uplifting. She found Hesst’s gift. She found what he was working on when he died, what he hid so scrupulously so it would be safe until she uncovered it.
‘My predecessor,’ she says, ‘managed to configure a killcode to combat the enemy scrapcode sequence. He achieved this feat shortly before he died. It was an act of desperation and genius. It is a sublime and intuitive piece of coding, and only Hesst could have done it.’
‘We can use it to purge?’ asks Ventanus.
‘Hesst hid the killcode in a secure data-engine which he then closed off and sealed. The data-engine is the manifest cogitator of the cargo handling guild at the starport. It is in a secure bunker in the industrial zone between Numinus Starport and Lanshear landing grounds. It runs cargo operations for both ports, and thus is more than powerful enough to manage the dataload of the planetary weapons grid. As a civilian engine, it was not a primary military target. Hesst cleaned it with his killcode and then shut it away.’
It was why he kept going until the very last moment, Tawren now realises. It was why he wouldn’t leave his post, even when the scrapcode had maimed his mind. He had to finish. He was determined to finish. He was hanging on as long as he could to get it done.
‘Can you control this engine remotely?’ asks Ventanus.
‘No, captain. I need direct MIU access to launch the killcode. Once I have purged a pathway into the system, I can create a new manifold and assume command of the grid.’
‘Getting to the port zone won’t be easy.’
‘Of course it won’t,’ she agrees. ‘There is an additional issue.’
‘Go on,’ says Ventanus.
‘The enemy is controlling the grid using a captured data-engine on one of the surviving orbital platforms. I can purge the system, but I cannot override that control. We need fleet assistance to target the platform.’
He nods.
‘What about the engine here?’ he asks.
‘It must remain functional for the greatest period possible,’ Tawren replies. ‘Magos Uldort has volunteered to stay with the engine and keep it running as long as she can.’
‘It is a death sentence,’ says Ventanus, looking at the young magos at the MIU link. ‘The Word Bearers are coming.’
‘Calth is a death sentence, captain,’ the server replies. ‘All that matters is how we face it.’
He is silent for a moment.
‘Prepare your staff for travel, server,’ he says. ‘See what you can do via the datalink to coordinate force response to support our assault on the port zone.’
He walks back to the vox chamber. In the doorway, he tells Sydance, Selaton and Greavus to mobilise the forces.
‘We’re evacuating this site,’ he says. ‘We’re going back to the port. Gather as much punch as you can. Fighting vehicles especially. We’re going to have to cut our way into it.’
‘This doesn’t sound good,’ says Sydance.
‘It sounds like it sounds,’ says Ventanus. ‘It’s the only worthwhile practical we have left. I need that link. I need the vox. We’ll be wasting our time without fleet coordination. Tell the magi I need vox.’
They move off, urgent. He waits. He thinks.
Arook appears.
‘I’m staying,’ says the skitarii.
‘I could use you.’
‘My duty is to the Mechanicum, Ventanus. This data-engine needs to stay alive for as long as possible. You understand duty.’
Ventanus nods. He holds out his hand.
Arook looks at it for a moment, baffled by the unfamiliar business of social interaction.
He grips Ventanus’s hand.
‘We march for Macragge,’ says Ventanus.
‘We stand for Mars,’ replies Arook. ‘It means the same thing.’
They turn as Sullus approaches. The captain’s armour is badly scratched and dented. He is limping. It will take a long while for his bones to knit.
‘I will remain here too, Ventanus,’ he says. ‘The skitarii could use a few Legion guns. Right now, I’m not fit to march far. But I can stand and shoot.’
Ventanus looks Sullus in the eyes.
‘Teus, this wasn’t your fault,’ he says. ‘It–’
‘This isn’t atonement, Remus,’ Sullus replies. ‘I don’t feel sorry for myself. This wasn’t anybody’s fault, but we’re all going to end up paying whatever we can. Take the port, win the grid, kill their fleet. Remember my name while you’re doing it.’
‘We have vox!’ Sydance yells.
Ventanus takes the speaker horn the magos offers him.
‘This is Ventanus, commanding Leptius Numinus. Ventanus, Ventanus. Requesting priority encrypt link with the XIII Fleet. Respond.’
‘This is XIII Fleet flagship,’ the vox crackles. ‘Your authority codes are recognised. Stand by.’
A new voice comes onto the link.
‘Remus.’
‘My primarch,’ says Ventanus.
‘You sound surprised.’
‘I thought you had officers to run vox-nets for you, sir.’
‘I do. But just this once. I was worried that your surprise might stem from rumours of my death.’
‘That too, my primarch. It will boost spirits here to know that you are healthy.’
The vox fizzles and whines.
‘I said, you’ve done a good day’s work, captain,’ says the vox. ‘The data you are sending is invaluable. Gage is coordinating our forces.’
‘It’s a bad day, sir.’
‘I can’t remember a worse one, Remus.’
‘This facility may not remain functional for very much longer, sir. Expect to lose the data feed in the next few hours. But we’re going to get the grid, sir. We’re going to retake the grid.’
‘Good news, Remus. It’s killing us. It’s killing the sun, too. I think the XVII want to kill everything that ever lived.’
‘It looks that way down here too, sir. Sir, this is important. We–’
‘The vox washes and crackles again.
‘–say again, Leptius. Say again. Ventanus, do you copy?’
‘Ventanus, sir. I read you. The interrupts are getting worse. Sir, we can’t complete our control of the grid unless the fleet can take out the orbital the enemy is running it from. We can purge their code once we’re in, but we can’t break it. The fleet needs to target and destroy their grid command location as a priority.’
‘Understood, Remus. A priority. Can you identify the target?’
Ventanus looks at Sydance. Sydance hands him a data-slate.
‘I can, sir,’ says Ventanus.