The Beast Arises

‘I could say the same of you. We fought together, Magneric. We must do so again. The alternatives are poor. We can kill each other now, or let the orks slay us one after the other. Together, we have a chance. Together, we might leave this world.’

‘A few hours ago, you might have made your escape. But the orks fill the skies. You lack sufficient flight support to break free,’ gloated Magneric. ‘Your gunships would never make it to the surface to extract you.’

‘Air cover would be part of the price of our cooperation,’ said Kalkator. ‘We fight together, we leave together. You allow us to depart the system, and then if you really must you can continue this wasteful pursuit for another thousand years.’

Ralstan voxed the Dreadnought privately. ‘As much as I hate to say this, my lord, the warsmith does have a point. Together our numbers are doubled. Nearly one hundred and fifty Space Marines against the orks, we will prevail.’

‘They no longer have the right to name themselves Legiones Astartes!’ roared Magneric for all to hear. He stamped from one foot to the other. ‘They are traitors, nothing more!’

‘We are Space Marines, Magneric,’ said Kalkator. ‘Deny it all you will, but the same gifts your warriors possess are ours too. We must fight together, or we will all perish.’

‘Never!’

‘Think how much more good you will be able to do if you survive to continue your foolish crusades. How many xenos will live if you die, how many human worlds will call out for protection from the predation of mankind’s foes and you will not be there to answer? Neither of us want mankind to fall. Today we have a common enemy. Communicate your agreement with the Obsidian Sky, and I shall command the Palimodes

to fight alongside your ship. If they do not stand united, your craft will never make it to the surface either. Do not be a fool, Magneric. Remember our battles, and how often I was right then. I am right now.’

A long moment passed. No words were forthcoming. The two lines of Space Marines faced each other silently.

Kalkator shook his head, and replaced his helm. ‘You are making a grave mistake. I will return to my warriors, and we shall—’

‘Wait!’ said Magneric, his voice low and distorted, the aged vox-equipment popping. ‘I reluctantly agree. We will fight side by side, one more time. Hear me, warriors of the Black Templars!’ He rotated from side to side, addressing all his followers. ‘No member of our Chapter is to harm the Iron Warriors until our treaty is sundered. So swear I, Magneric, Marshal of the Kalkator Crusade. Ralstan, command Ericus to aid the Iron Warriors ship. Have him provide me an estimated extraction time.’ Magneric bent down, his sarcophagus slit glowing in the failing light. ‘We will leave this world together, Kalkator, or not at all. Do not think to betray me.’

‘You have my word that I will abide by the terms of our agreement,’ said Kalkator, ‘more for the sake of our old friendship than for anything else. Now come! Bring your warriors into the redoubt. We must make our preparations.’

Eighteen

Red Haven minus one, plus one

Water, so rare a commodity on arid Mars, ran wastefully from a loose pipe connector. Orange slime furred the join, a mix of rust and biological contamination that hung half a metre down the wall. The water ran down this trailing, slimy beard, dripping silently into a slick puddle more algae than moisture. This patch of errant water was the only distinguishing feature of the pressure-release chamber Yendl waited in. Rust streaked the walls. A dead servo-skull, perhaps the drone that was supposed to report on damage like the leak, lay dusty in the corner. No sign of water flooding was apparent; evidently no pressure release had been needed in this part of the system for a long time. It was unremarkable, overlooked. The ideal place for the cadre to meet.

Yendl was tense but calm. The sense of imminent discovery had lessened. She had a new identity, assumed at the cost of another’s life. The orange robes of a mid-ranking data-tech cloaked her stooped body, her limbs twisted into a new shape. Even waiting for her fellows she maintained the disguise.

Yendl blinked. Mariazet Isolde was suddenly there in the round door drain at the base of the chamber ramp. Her face was new, polymorphine-warped, but in the company of Yendl she did not keep up the rest of her pretence. She moved as an Assassin, without sound, every footstep deliberate, her body the acme of poise. She joined Yendl. They did not speak. Haast was the last member of Red Haven to come.

‘You are tardy,’ said Isolde.

‘I was followed,’ said Haast.

‘Did you lose them?’ asked Yendl.

‘Better than that,’ said Haast. ‘Wait.’

She disappeared for little over a minute, then returned carrying a man, gagged and bound hand and foot, over her shoulder. He was larger than her, but she bore him easily. Haast dropped him on the rockcrete. Hard.

‘He’s been trailing me a week now. I decided it was time to find out who he is.’