The Rose At War, page 18
‘Akemi?’ Melia’s voice was soft in the vox.
Akemi said, ‘There’s something here.’
Instantly Melia barked, ‘Hold!’
Caia and Viola stopped dead. The auspex gleamed green, but its screen remained still.
‘Still nothing,’ Caia said. ‘Not as much as a bilge-rat.’
Viola, both hands on the heavy bolter, twitched a frost-edged pauldron in a shrug.
Slowly, Melia turned around, her feet sloshing, her skin crawling with tension. She searched the walls, the hatches, the walkway, the corridors both ahead and behind – the living, twisting guts of the frigate…
What was it?
What had she not seen?
Then Akemi pointed, ‘There!’
‘Throne!’ The exclamation was out before Melia could stop it. ‘Again?’
And there it was, like a slap to an untrained novice: opposite the nearest hatch, hidden behind a conduit-cover, there was the empty case of a melta bomb. It was almost invisible, painted black, and mag-fastened to the wall.
Upon it was inscribed, in Augusta’s stern, cursive hand…
‘BOOM’.
‘Dominica’s eyes!’ Melia cursed again, lost her combat stance and slammed the flamer back onto her hip. ‘How did we miss it that time?’
‘We’re well within the blast radius,’ Akemi commented, ruefully. ‘Motion sensor, triggered as Viola passed – that would have killed all of us.’
‘Scenario failed.’ Caia’s tone was annoyed, though her ire seemed aimed at herself. She shook the auspex, glaring.
Melia let out her breath, frustrated. ‘All right, Sisters, exercise over. Regroup at my location. We’ll put together the report, and join the Sister Superior in the chapel.’
Her armour creaking, Viola came back to her feet, turned around. ‘I went straight past it,’ she said, coming to look at the black metal case. ‘I didn’t even see the thing.’ She glanced at Akemi. ‘How did you know?’
Akemi had plucked the case from the wall mounting and was turning it over. On the bottom, in the same hand, it carried the number four.
It was the second one they’d missed.
‘The Sister Superior,’ she said, ‘has a pattern. I don’t know if it’s deliberate, but she ambushes us in very similar locations, every time. It’s always at a tension-point, a place where we’re thinking about something else – concentrating on a junction, maybe, on an objective, or on hatches in the wall…’ She tailed off. ‘I think it’s deliberate, and I think it’s a part of her lesson – we’re not down here just to identify a threat.’
‘Everything has a pattern,’ Caia agreed. ‘Every type of xenos and heretic adheres to its own rules – we just need to know them so we can anticipate. They taught it to us at the schola,’ she turned to Melia. ‘Do you remember? Old Garvia used to say–’
‘“All things have an Operandus”,’ Melia finished. She took off her helmet, revealing dusky skin and a dark bob of hair, both now glittering with sweat. Her warm breath steamed. ‘“Know it, and your foe’s defeat is assured”.’ She held out her hand for the hollow bomb casing, then crushed it in her armoured fingers. ‘All right, Sisters, we’ll put together the analysis. What we got wrong, and how we can – yes, lieutenant?’
Her tone was startled; the others turned around.
Behind them, standing framed by the junction’s jittering lights, a young naval officer stood waiting for their attention. He looked out of place, all the way down here – his uniform was immaculate, and the sludge from the floor was starting to creep up his trouser legs. As Melia turned, however, he gave a perfect fist-to-chest salute.
‘Sisters. I apologise for interrupting your training, but the captain has requested your presence with the utmost urgency, and he does not wish to put this over the vox.’
Surprise flickered through the squad. The others, too, had started to remove their helmets and gazes flashed from Sister to Sister, though they said nothing.
‘For what purpose?’ Melia asked, her tone careful.
Looking pained, the young man said, ‘The captain… is in receipt of new orders, Sisters. He needs to relay them personally.’
Viola’s eyebrows shot upwards; Akemi frowned.
Melia said, ‘Lieutenant, the captain’s orders came direct from the canoness of our Order, from Elvorix Ianthe herself. We’re to return to the Convent Sanctorum.’
‘Yes, Sister, the captain is aware of this.’ The officer stood bolt-upright, but sounded increasingly apologetic. ‘But those orders have changed.’ He met Melia’s dark gaze, his eyes slightly wide.
‘You’re… wanted by the Inquisition.’
‘We’re what?’
Pulled from the chapel by a pale-faced aide, Sister Superior Augusta filled the captain’s office with scarlet shoulders and tightly controlled rage. Her expression a thundercloud, she said, ‘Captain Mulier, I trust you’re not accusing my squad…?’
‘No, Sister, of course not.’ The captain was an older man, with a truly spectacular set of whiskers. Defended by his gold epaulettes and by the heavy weight of his desk, he leaned back, refusing to be intimidated. Beside him, his servo-skull hovered silently, its red gaze glittering. ‘A poor choice of words, perhaps.’ He held Augusta’s iron-grey gaze for a moment, then said, ‘Sister Superior. At seventeen hundred hours, Solar time, the Kyrus was in receipt of a communication. And that communication was a demand – for our mission parameters, our cargo, and for the full roster of the forces that we carry.’
Augusta continued to glower. ‘That information is surely classified.’
‘Of course,’ the captain said. ‘But the demand came with an Inquisition signature. And when your name was mentioned, the inquisitor immediately commandeered your presence. She has a mission that… necessitates your assistance.’
‘Captain.’ Augusta’s voice held the faintest edge. ‘I am under orders from my canoness.’
But the captain was not backing down. ‘Sister,’ he said. ‘We are – you are – under orders from the Inquisition.’
Caught, she said nothing – an inquisitor had the rank to command any force or cooperation they required, including the obedience of a planetary governor, or of the Adeptus Astartes. And, captain or no, it would not be proper to show an emotional reaction to a member of the Imperial Navy. She allowed herself the luxury of rattling her gauntleted fingers on the butt of her bolter.
‘Did she detail the mission, captain?’
‘She did not.’ The man was still looking up at her, his whiskers bristling. ‘She merely issued the command. We’ve been given new coordinates, Sister – we’re adjusting our plasma drives now.’
His words made her notice the change in the ship’s engines, the ever-present throb intensifying as the million-ton weight of the Kyrus turned with slow dignity, like some vast creature.
Augusta said, ‘Our new destination?’
‘Sister–’
A sharp, metallic knock interrupted his answer.
He raised his voice. ‘Enter!’
A young officer pushed the hatch open, and immediately stepped back to allow four more armoured figures into the room – Augusta’s squad, helmets off and weapons slung.
Melia caught her gaze, and gave her a brief nod – their training had been completed – then came to stand at her side, feet apart, hands behind her back, helmet mag-locked to her hip. The other three stopped a pace back, their stances identical.
Their frost-rimed armour still radiated the chill of the lower decks; the small room was suddenly filled with the glitter of ceramite. Each purity seal caught the lumens and gleamed like a statement of faith, each merit-bead like one of accomplishment. And each face was perfectly schooled, both stern and proficient.
Sister Melia Kaliyan, now second-in-command. Augusta had been unsure about Melia’s confidence in her new role, but Melia had faced the challenge with no visible doubt in either herself or her abilities.
Sister Caia de Musa, Melia’s closest friend through the schola. Tall and bronze-haired, her auspex always to hand, her gaze was razor-sharp, and she missed little.
Sister Viola Taenaris, freckled and red-haired, with a noted streak of wilfulness. Her insubordination upon Lautis had cost Viola her single merit-bead – only the extremity of the situation had prevented her from making the trip back in the Kyrus’ brig.
And Sister Akemi Hirari, the squad’s newest and youngest, her skin pale and her hair shining black. Akemi had almost taken her vows to the Order of the Quill, and her lore surpassed that of all her Sisters combined. Upon their previous mission, it had been Akemi’s insight that had enabled them to banish the daemon.
Looking at them, Augusta felt her heart lift, felt it flush with faith and light. She gave them an approving nod and turned back to the desk, offering silent thanks to the Emperor Himself for her squad’s solidity.
Her darkness was nothing, and it shamed her.
Shamed them.
‘Sisters, thank you for attending.’ Respectfully, the captain came to his feet, his gaze travelling from one face to the next. ‘I understand that your training was not to be interrupted, but the situation is critical. Dismissed, lieutenant.’ The young officer saluted, then stepped back through the door and pulled it closed.
There was the metal rattle of the hatch seal.
Augusta said, ‘We are close to Compline, captain. Please, proceed.’
‘Sister Superior, Sisters Militant.’ He picked up his data-slate, waited as its glassy surface flowed with text. Then, with a sigh as though he were bracing himself, he said, ‘The orders I have received read as follows. “Effective immediately, Sister Superior Augusta Santorus of the Order of the Bloody Rose is to relinquish all prior mission instructions. She is to muster her squad, and to report to the following coordinates. A full deployment of weapons and battlegear will be expected. A full brief will be issued upon landing. Ave Imperator.”’ He turned the slate to show them. ‘It’s signed with Inquisitor Istrix’s personal seal.’
Viola muttered; Augusta silenced her with a sharp look.
Melia asked, her velvet voice cool, ‘What are these coordinates, captain? We should at least know where we’re bound.’
The captain sat down and laid the slate back on the desk, giving himself time.
After a moment, he said, ‘This is a quiet corner of the void, Sister – something of a rarity. And the Kyrus is an older ship, her armaments unsuitable for heavy combat. When the Tukril was deployed to Lautis, we were deemed… enough… to accompany her.’
Augusta studied him, wondering where this was going.
He said, ‘I would guess that we’re the only Imperial ship within reach.’
Melia said, voice soft with danger, ‘Reach of what?’
The captain turned to the pict-screen behind him, let its surface flow with an image – a single, reddening star, a single, ringed planet. He said, ‘There is a Class Four star three Solar days from here, Sister, that has a solitary, satellite world.’ The screen moved, closing its focus upon the planet itself. ‘It’s known to the ships of the region as a place to avoid. Some even call it notorious.’
Melia frowned at the word; the other three shifted, their armour scraping. The captain continued, ‘My orders, however, do not include the luxury of either speculation or avoidance. These coordinates will take you to Imperial Munitorum depot eight-nine-zero-point-four-five, upon the surface of the planet Lycheate.’
Augusta blinked – the name meant nothing to her.
‘Permission to speak, Sister.’ The voice was Akemi’s.
‘Granted.’
She said, ‘Captain. “Lycheate” meaning… industrial waste?’
‘That’s as good a description as any,’ the captain said. ‘Lycheate is local slang, a nickname – your map would name the world Vastum.’ The pict-screen shifted, closing focus upon the planet. ‘It was a forge world, founded during the Age of Redemption by the Adeptus Mechanicus. Its considerable output helped fuel the Macharian Conquest, among other things.’
‘But no longer?’ Augusta said.
She’d felt the others tense – they’d already had one experience with long-dead machinery, though it had come from a very different time. Melia indicated the planet’s encircling ellipsis.
‘What is the ring, captain? Debris? Or defence?’
‘Three hundred years ago,’ the captain said, ‘Lycheate had more than twenty moons, the largest of them barely two thousand miles across. They were finally stripped of all their resources when the Iron Duke Glevan stormed Bastoom.’ His smile was grim. ‘But you know the Mechanicus, they never waste anything. The moons were detonated at their cores to ensure that every last scrap of ore could be stripped for the war effort. The more valuable fragments were towed–’
‘And the rest now orbit the planet,’ Melia said. ‘A ring of wreckage.’
‘Just so, Sister.’ The screen closed in further, focusing on the fragments. Augusta could feel Akemi shifting, committing the images to memory.
‘There’s something you’re omitting, captain,’ Augusta said. ‘Why is this world to be avoided, if it’s so long dead?’
‘The world is far from dead, sadly,’ the captain said. ‘Only the spirits of the machines themselves.’ His smile was mirthless. ‘I regret to inform you, Sisters, that Lycheate is very much alive.
‘And our first problem will be getting you to the surface.’
CHAPTER THREE
In the back of the Aquila-class shuttle, the vox-grille crackled into life.
‘…ist… zzz… assist… urg…’
The five members of Augusta’s squad were seated in the old landing craft, each one fully armoured, and strapped into her chair. The shuttle was battered, its hangings and its dignitaries’ throne long since removed. It had tiny, double-layered glassaic windowpanes, and, above their heads, the observation dome was long since welded shut. Wherever this craft had been, it’d had more adventures than simply delivering persons of importance to critical locations.
Melia, sitting beside Augusta in the front row, leaned forwards.
‘Pilot? Can we investigate that signal?’
The pilot’s voice came back over the vox-grille, her tone politely firm. ‘We’re about to enter the planet’s debris field, Sister,’ she said, ‘and our course is very tightly plotted. If we’re to make planetfall in time for your briefing, we can’t be making side trips.’
Melia sat back, her expression closed. The squad’s new second was Hospitaller trained, had spent time with the Order of Serenity, and she had a unique streak of compassion that was both a blessing and a nuisance.
Augusta understood her concerns, but the squad was under orders.
‘Sister,’ she said. ‘You have never encountered the Inquisition, but believe me, we will need to arrive promptly.’
Melia glanced at her, her expression a question. Augusta said, raising her voice a little so the others could hear, ‘Only once, and only briefly – Inquisitor Tuccius and his storm troopers came to the planet Lyca, investigating the High Deacon. They wield fear like a weapon, authority like a banner – they answer to the Emperor alone. I know nothing of Istrix herself, but she is the holy servant of the Emperor, His will made manifest, and our service to her is an honour.’
Melia said, ‘Aye, Sister,’ and sat back, murmuring a prayer.
The vox-grille crackled again. ‘Approaching the debris field now. Be warned, Sisters, this could get rough.’
The engines fired and slowed.
Augusta touched a hand to the front of her armour, breathing the words of the litany.
‘By the Light!’ The awed whisper was Akemi.
They all turned.
Below them, the planet Lycheate lay waiting, the haze-blur of its atmosphere a dirty, reddish-brown. To their left, its star was sullen, red and swollen with vast age.
But it was not the star, nor its satellite, that had caught the squad’s attention.
Outside the shuttle, the first of the moon-pieces was now coming past them, a slow and silent tumble of shattered rock. It was oddly serene; a turning of glitter and angle, of dark, crystalline colours all frosted with cold. And soon, there were hundreds of them.
Thousands.
The Sisters sat staring, their breaths taken away.
As they passed, many of the fragments offered hints of their previous life – of the frozen edges of mine workings, of scaffold and steel, of vox-antennae and torn-open habitat. There was industry wreckage, like the shattered splinters of the great machine-spirit, all snapped and broken, its pieces still reaching out to the vacuum.
Augusta could almost imagine the moons’ endings, that silent boom of slow motion detonations, one after another, the spiralling of the pieces forming the ring that now orbited this lost Mechanicus world.
It was a reminder of the Emperor’s power, of His grace and strength, of His great might that spanned the vastness of space.
The shuttle slowed. Its engines fired as it curved carefully from side to side. Still watching, Augusta offered her voice in a Requiem. Around her, the others lent their song to hers – Melia’s velvet contralto, Akemi’s pure, clear harmony.
‘Dies Irae, Dies Illa! Solvet saeclum in favilla!’
The Day of Wrath! That day will dissolve the world in ashes!
The Sister Superior shivered. Under her vambraces, the hair on her forearms was standing on end.
The grille crackled again, shattering the moment.
‘Pleazzz… assist… oxy… deplet… hours…’
‘In the Emperor’s name,’ Melia said softly. ‘There can’t still be workers out there!’
‘Ignore it, Sister.’ The voice was the pilot, her tone still firm.
Melia sat upright, her expression hardening. ‘Pilot–’
