Fulgrim (6 page)

‘Yes, captain,’ said Gaius Caphen, his voice surging in the earpiece as Marius turned a corner into yet another twisting street of burrows and corpses.

‘Where are you?’ he demanded. ‘We’re trying to reach you, but these damned streets keep turning us around all over the place.

‘The main arterial route towards our objective was strongly held, so Captain Demeter sent us and Thelonius to flank their position.’

‘While he went up the centre, no doubt,’ said Marius.

‘Yes, sir,’ said Caphen.

‘We shall home in on your signal, but if there’s something else you can do to mark your position, then do it! Vairosean out.’

Marius followed the blue dot projected onto the internal surface of his visor that represented Gaius Caphen’s vox signal, though it faded with each turn they took through the maze of coral.

‘Damn this place! No!’ snarled Marius as the signal faded completely.

He raised his hand and called a halt, but as he did so a huge explosion erupted from nearby and a tall, curling tower of coral collapsed in flames not more than thirty metres to their left.

‘That has to be it,’ he said and searched for a way around the bristling lumps of coral. The streets wound away from the explosion, and he knew they would never reach Caphen by taking any of them. He looked over at the billowing black clouds and said, ‘We’re going over! Move out!’

Marius scrabbled up the face of a Laer burrow, easily finding hand- and foot-holds in the gnarled coral. He pulled himself higher and higher, the ground rapidly receding beneath him as he and the warriors of the Third made their way over the roofs of Atoll 19.

O
STIAN WATCHED THE
first assault craft launch from the
Pride of the Emperor
with a mixture of awe and irritation. Awe, for it was a truly magnificent thing to watch the martial power of the Legion unleashed on an enemy world, and irritation because it had taken him away from the unblemished marble in his studio. First Captain Julius Kaesoron had sent advance word of the launch to Serena and she had immediately come to fetch him from his studio to a prime spot on the observation deck.

He’d tried to refuse, saying he was busy, but Serena had been adamant, claiming that all he was doing was sitting looking at the marble, and nothing he could say would persuade her otherwise. Now, standing before the armoured glass of the observation deck, he was heartily glad she had dragged him away.

‘It’s rather wonderful, don’t you think?’ asked Serena, glancing up from her sketchbook as her hand dashed across its surface, capturing the moment with astounding skill.

‘It’s amazing,’ agreed Ostian, staring at her profile as a second wave of ships wreathed in the blue fire of their launch caught the sunlight on their steel flanks. The observation deck was hundreds of metres above the launch rails, but Ostian fancied he could still feel the vibrations of their release in his bones.

A final wave of Stormbirds launched from the other vessels of the Emperor’s Children and he turned from Serena to watch them fly, birds of prey shooting into space like great darts of fire. Kaesoron had said that this was to be a full-scale assault and, seeing the sheer number of craft being launched, Ostian could well believe it.

‘I wonder what it would be like,’ said Ostian, ‘the entire surface of a world covered by one enormous ocean. I can barely conceive of such a thing.’

‘Who knows?’ replied Serena, flicking a tendril of dark hair from her eyes as she continued furiously sketching. ‘I imagine it would be like any other sea.’

‘It looks wonderful from here.’

Serena gave him a sidelong glance and said, ‘Did you not see Twenty-Eight Two?’

Ostian shook his head. ‘I got here just as the fleet left for Laeran. This is the first world other than Terra I’ve seen from space.’

‘Then you’ve never seen the sea?’

‘I’ve never seen the sea,’ agreed Ostian, feeling foolish for admitting such a thing.

‘Oh, my dear boy!’ said Serena, looking up from her sketchpad. ‘We shall have to see about getting you down to the surface once the fighting is done!’

‘Do you think that would be allowed?’

‘I should bloody well hope so,’ said Serena, ripping the page from her sketchpad and throwing it angrily to the floor. ‘A very select few of us were allowed down to the surface of Twenty-Eight Two, and it was a magnificent place: snow covered mountains, continents of forests, and lakes the colour of a summer’s morning, and the sky… oh the sky! It was a wondrous shade of cerulean blue. I think I loved it so much because it was how I imagined Old Earth might once have looked. I took some picts, but they didn’t really capture it. Shame, really, as I’d have loved to have been able to mix it, but I couldn’t manage it.’

As Serena spoke of her failure to mix the colour, Ostian saw her surreptitiously pressing the tip of her quill into the flesh of her wrist, leaving a tiny weal of ink and blood on her pale skin.

‘I just couldn’t get it to work,’ she said absently, and Ostian wished he knew how to stop Serena from hurting herself, and to see the value in what she did.

‘I’d like you to show me the surface of the planet if possible,’ he said.

She blinked and smiled at him, reaching up to press her fingertips against his cheek.

G
AIUS
C
APHEN DUCKED
below the screeching attack of a Laer warrior and drove his chainsword into its guts, ripping the weapon free in a spray of blood and bone. Fire billowed around them from the shattered remains of a pair of Stormbirds that lay smouldering in the ruins of a Laer burrow complex.

The crew and passengers had died in the crash and the violence of the impact had almost toppled a rearing spire of twisted coral. It had only taken a handful of grenades lobbed into the shattered base of the tower to complete its destruction and bring it thundering to the ground. Marius Vairosean wanted them to mark their position, and if he couldn’t see that then they were as good as dead.

He and his squad had fought through the Laer burrow complexes as Captain Demeter had ordered, but the aliens had anticipated the flanking manoeuvre. Every burrow held a pair of monstrous alien warriors poised to slither from hiding to kill in a frenzy of flashing blades and energy bolts.

The fighting had been close and brutal, no room for skill or artistry, and each screeching snake-like warrior had pounced into their midst, where all that separated the living from the dead was luck. Caphen bled from a score of wounds, his breathing ragged and uneven, though he was determined not to let his captain down.

Sounds of desperate fighting came from all around him, and even as he watched, more Laer warriors spat from their burrows like coiled springs, deadly bolts of energy slicing through the air towards them. Coral and fragments of armour ricocheted around him.

‘Squad, make ready!’ he shouted, as another trio of Laer appeared behind them, weapons spitting fire and light. Screams sounded from nearby and he raised his bolter to fire on this new threat when the ground shifted violently underfoot and the entire atoll took a sickening lurch downwards.

Gaius dropped to one knee, grabbing onto a nearby spur of coral as more Laer emerged from burrow holes. A spray of bolter fire from above him cut one practically in two, and it thrashed in pain as it fell. Deafening reports echoed, and the Laer that had been set to overrun them were obliterated in volleys of precisely aimed gunfire.

He looked up to see where the shots had come from and laughed in relief as he saw a host of Astartes dropping from above, the trims of their shoulder guards marking them as warriors of Marius Vairosean’s Third Company.

The captain himself dropped down next to Caphen, the muzzle of his bolter flaring as he gunned down a Laer warrior that had somehow survived the initial volleys.

‘On your feet, sergeant!’ shouted Vairosean. ‘Which way is Captain Demeter?’

Caphen pushed himself erect and pointed towards the end of the street. ‘That way!’

Vairosean nodded as his warriors cut down the last of the Laer defenders with grim efficiency.

‘Then let’s go and link up with him as ordered,’ said Vairosean.

Caphen nodded and followed the captain of the Third.

A
NOTHER SIX OF
his warriors were down, torn apart by the energised blades of the Laer or with whole segments of their bodies rendered molten in the furnace heat of their ranged weapons. Solomon was beginning to regret casting off his helmet with such a cavalier disregard for communication, knowing that now more than ever he needed to know what was happening elsewhere on the atoll.

He had seen no sign of Sergeant Thelonius or Gaius Caphen’s flanking forces and though the warriors of Goldoara had attempted to punch through to them, they were not equipped with the weapons to fight in such brutal close quarters and had been forced back by the Laer.

They were on their own.

Solomon drove his sword through the stretched mandibles of a Laer warrior, the blade punching out through the back of its skull, and felt himself being dragged down by its weight. He fought to withdraw the blade, but its madly whirring teeth were lodged in the dense bone of the alien’s skull.

A screeching cry of pleasure sounded nearby and he dropped flat as a searing bolt of light flashed over him and gouged a furrow in the ground. Solomon rolled as the Laer slithered over the bodies of its fellows with horrifying speed and launched itself towards him. He rolled onto his back and hammered his feet into its face, feeling is mandibles snap with the impact.

The alien reeled, its whipping tail thrashing on the ground and a cry of pain gurgling from its ruined mouth. The sound of bolter fire echoed through the plaza as Solomon scrambled over the uneven ground and smashed his fist into the Laer’s face. The force of the blow burst one of its eyeballs and drew another screech of pain from it. His other fist slammed into its armoured chest, the bloodstained metal buckling under the assault. It spat a froth of hot blood and mucus into his face and he roared in anger, a red mist of fury descending on him as he grabbed its glistening flesh in both hands and slammed its head into the ground.

The creature kept up its keening screech and Solomon slammed its head into the ground again and again. Even when he was sure the creature was dead, he kept pounding its skull until there was nothing left but a ragged mess of sodden skull and brain matter.

He laughed with savage joy as he picked himself up from the ground, his armour covered from head to toe in the dark blood of the Laer. He staggered over to the first alien he’d killed and wrenched his sword clear as the noise of bolter fire intensified. It took a moment before the fact that he and his warriors had run out of ammunition could penetrate the red fog that had engulfed him as he fought the Laer.

He turned to the source of the gunfire and punched the air as he saw the unmistakable form of Marius Vairosean leading the warriors of the Third into the plaza with merciless perfection. Gaius Caphen fought alongside him and the Laer reeled from this fresh assault, their ranks thrown into disarray as Marius’s warriors cut them down.

Seeing their fellows, the Second redoubled their efforts, and tired limbs fought on with fresh strength. The Laer attack faltered and even though their features were utterly alien, Solomon could see the paralysis of indecision tear at them as they realised that they were surrounded.

‘Second, with me!’ he shouted and set off in the direction of his fellow captain. His Astartes needed no further encouragement or orders, falling in behind him to form a fighting wedge that carved through the stunned Laer like a bloody knife.

None of the Emperor’s Children were in the mood to offer mercy and within minutes it was all over. As the last of the alien warriors was slain by the overwhelming force of Vairosean’s veterans, the atonal howling of the rearing coral towers finally ceased and a blessed silence fell over the battlefield.

Cries of welcome passed between the Astartes who had survived as Solomon sheathed his sword and bent to retrieve his bolter from the carnage of the plaza. His limbs were stiff and aching from numerous wounds he didn’t remember receiving.

‘You went up the centre again, didn’t you?’ asked a familiar voice as he straightened.

‘I did, Marius,’ replied Solomon without turning around. ‘Are you going to tell me that was wrong?’

‘Maybe, I don’t know yet.’

Solomon turned as Marius Vairosean removed his helmet and shook his head to clear the momentary disorientation of returning to the employment of his own senses as opposed to those of his Mark IV plate. His friend wore a stern expression, but then he always did, and his salt and pepper hair was slick with oily sweat.

Unlike many of the Astartes, Marius Vairosean had a narrow face, its features sharp and inquisitive, his skin dark and lined like old wood.

‘Well met, brother,’ said Solomon, reaching out and gripping his battle-brother’s hand.

Marius nodded and said, ‘A hard fight by the looks of it.’

‘Aye, it was that,’ agreed Solomon, wiping some blood from the fascia plates of his bolter. ‘They’re tough bastards, these Laer.’

‘Indeed they are,’ said Marius. ‘Maybe you should have thought of that before you went up the centre.’

‘If there was another way to have done it, I would have tried it, Marius. Don’t think I wouldn’t have. They plugged the middle and I sent men around the flanks. I couldn’t have let someone else lead the attack up the centre, it had to be me.’

‘Luckily for you Sergeant Caphen seems to agree with your assessment of the battle.’

‘He’s got a good eye on him, that one,’ said Solomon. ‘He’ll go far, maybe even make captain someday.’

‘Maybe, though he has the look of a line officer about him.’

‘We need good line officers,’ noted Solomon.

‘Maybe so, but a line officer does not seek to better himself. He will never attain perfection by simply doing his job and no more.’

‘Not everyone can be captain, Marius,’ said Solomon. ‘We need warriors as well as leaders. Men like you, Julius and I will lead this Legion to greatness. We take our strength and honour from the primarch and the lord commanders, and it is up to us to pass on what we learn from them to those below us. Line officers are part of that, they take their lead from us and communicate our will to the men.’