Above and Beyond, page 35
But, faintly, I could hear Shard counting. She had nearly reached one hundred.
Then light flared. Dim, but sufficient to divide the dark, as the Aenigma’s systems arose from their slumber. I felt a shudder as the craft fired its stabilisers, our descent slowing, until we were suspended in the black. Perhaps, far above, there would be a faint halo, the entrance to the pit. But, for us, our view confined to what could be seen through the cockpit, there was only an empty void.
‘Did he follow us down?’
Shard’s voice was barely a whisper. Somewhat pointless, as her words would never carry beyond the hull. But I understood the impulse. There was a sombreness to the place. I recalled Esec’s theory, that this vast expanse was the site of a detonation, some terrible weapon from before the Imperium’s founding leaving a permanent scar upon the world.
Rile was intent on the craft’s auspex.
‘He does not seem to have followed,’ he said. ‘I do not think his craft is capable of hovering. Not for anything other than a landing at least. If he wishes to descend, it is either slow enough that we could pick him off, or at terminal velocity. There would be no middle ground.’
‘He might think we’re dead,’ I ventured.
‘I doubt it,’ Rile replied. ‘Not after last time. According to the auspex there were still several Imperial craft in the airspace when we dived. I assume Cesh will seek to eliminate them before he heads down here.’
‘Returns.’
We turned as one to Uli, who was intent on a viewport.
‘Returns?’ I said.
‘I assume so. Who else would be using a webway gate?’
Shard and I exchanged glances, unsure as to his meaning. But Rile was staring intently at him.
Uli caught the acolyte’s expression. ‘It’s right there. To our left. Do humans even have functional senses? I’m surprised you are capable of dressing without a magnifying lens.’
I tried to follow his gaze, but there was only blackness.
‘It’s too dark.’
‘Try visiting Commorragh. There you will learn to appreciate the true meaning of that word. However briefly.’
Shard flicked a couple of switches, activating the external lumens. It was still difficult to see, but dimly I could identify an arch bound into the crystalline rock. It seemed to encircle us, though the light was insufficient to illuminate the full breadth of the chasm. Whatever this webway gate was, it appeared ancient. Weathered. The figures carved into the edifice lacked features, the detail long since eroded. But, though humanoid, they seemed a shade too tall and slender to be human, and the coiled runescript bore little resemblance to any human language I was aware of.
‘A gate to the webway,’ Rile said, voice hushed in awe. ‘Is it active?’
‘Not currently, or we would have tumbled through it.’
‘Could it be active?’
Uli shrugged. ‘I don’t know. There are many that have closed, or lead to nowhere. Or worse. I would strongly advise we keep our distance.’
He too spoke in hushed tones, his hand straying to a gemstone embedded in his armour’s chestplate. I only noticed it because it too seemed to emanate a very faint glow.
‘But an active webway gate would explain Cesh’s ability to appear and disappear?’
‘Yes. His base of operations could be light years from here.’
Shard turned to Rile. ‘Dare I even ask what a webway gate is?’
‘Like a bridge, linking one point in space to another. It was how the aeldari once traversed the galaxy, but most are now lost or destroyed.’
‘So, what I’m hearing is that we have inadvertently sought refuge in Cesh’s escape route?’
‘Possibly.’
Shard closed her eyes and leant back in her seat. ‘The God-Emperor really does hate me.’
‘In His defence, you give Him good reason.’
‘Can we destroy it?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Rile replied. ‘We must preserve it. Atenbach will want to… He would caution that, if it is an active gate, then attempting to destroy it could cause a catastrophic explosion. Indeed, a prior attempt might well explain this pit and the plain of glass above.’
‘But is this not a good thing?’ I ventured. ‘Surely we can arrange an ambush? Wait for his return and–’
‘Incoming!’
Shard lurched us to the side, avoiding the burning remnants of an Imperial craft as it hurtled down into the darkness beneath.
‘Cesh is dropping planes on us now?’
‘Why not?’ Shard said. ‘We are trapped down a proverbial mineshaft. There is no need to engage directly – gravity can do most of the work. We are fortunate his vessel has no bombs or missiles.’
She then frowned, looking to Rile. ‘It doesn’t, does it?’
‘We’ll soon know. Though I suspect, even if he does not, it won’t take Cesh long to find another way of casting ruin down upon us.’
‘Still, there might be one option,’ Shard murmured, turning her gaze to me. ‘You remember our ploy last time the odds were impossible?’
‘Conjuring a counterfeit armada? That was Plient’s work. Iwazar is not what it was, and neither am I. Besides, our foe is not a dim-witted ork. He will not be deceived by a handful of faux aircraft.’
‘No. Not a handful. But perhaps just one.’
The Aenigma’s airlock was little more than an enlarged dress closet. Sufficient space for Uli and I to stand shoulder to shoulder, despite my ill-fitted pressure suit. His attire was sleeker – the same perfectly moulded undersuit he wore beneath his cloak now topped by a helm tapering to a point at the crown, his face obscured by a smooth featureless dome, lacking either eyeholes or a visor.
Beside and above us, Iwazar waited patiently, its lenses intent on the door.
‘You ready?’ Shard asked.
Uli engaged his vox. ‘Let us just get this charade over with.’
‘Stand by.’
The door eased open into the dark. Even with the ship’s external lumens and my own shoulder-mounted version, it was like stepping into the void. Only I would not float, suspended like an insect skating a pond. No, it would be a drop into darkness. Rile had supplied me with a grav-chute, more for reassurance than anything else, for it struck me that such a device would not prevent my fall, merely extend it.
‘Well, so step forth the expendables,’ Uli sighed, before bending his knees and leaping into the dark. He moved an impossible distance, somehow finding purchase on the cracked crystalline walls of our tomb. Perhaps his attire possessed some micro-suction devices at the toes or fingertips. Perhaps.
I made no such attempt, gripping the safety line so tight that were I not wearing gloves, my fingernails would have bloodied my palms. But I had to be close. For while Iwazar needed little encouragement, surging into the darkness, its lenses were immediately intent on the webway gate, assessing its curious architecture. I gave myself a little to it, enough to guide the device without risking my grip.
‘Iwazar. Come,’ I murmured, even as I willed it to heel. It did, reluctantly, its lenses now focused on the ship, cataloguing its every crevice, mapping the shape. It still wouldn’t be a flawless copy. But perhaps it needn’t be.
‘Shard? I have it.’
‘Good. Uli? Are you in position?’
‘If I have to be.’
The Aenigma lurched forward, its stabilisers slowly taking it to the edge of the pit. Up close it was clear the glass-like crystal was worn, jagged, but Uli had secured a cable. As I drew near he reached out, attaching it to a clasp on my borrowed pressure suit.
‘Ready?’ he asked. I could hear the grin.
‘No. But we lack the luxury of time,’ I said, reaching out a hand. He took it, hauling me onto a narrow ledge.
On my departure, the Aenigma descended, disappearing into the darkness beneath, its lumens fading from sight.
Then there was nothing. Only the faint glimmer of my suit’s shoulder-mounted lumen. A candle against the night.
I waited. It felt an age, but Shard’s instructions had been specific. Uli would give the signal.
‘Nervous, propagandist?’ he asked.
‘Do you enjoy my suffering?’
‘A little, though less than some. It’s more curiosity. I rarely get to see the galaxy through eyes as naive as yours. Even Rile, human as he is, has seen enough to lose that innocence. And as for the flight commander? I do not think I need to tell you how disillusioned she has grown. But you are at the beginning of that journey. It’s like watching a child fall in love for the first time, then watching as their heart is broken. It’s… refreshing. Almost like experiencing it once again.’
‘Glad my heartbreak provides a service.’
‘See? Already you walk the path of the cynic. In fact, you probably think the journey complete. But there is so much further you can go. I will watch with great interest. If you survive.’
‘If we survive, surely?’
‘…Rile just gave me the signal. When you are ready, propagandist.’
In truth I did not know. I had never attempted something like this, despite my earlier bluster. Esec was the one who controlled Edbar’s transmitter, who had co-opted the Feed to issue forth his lies and mistruths. I did not even know how it functioned, but I felt Iwazar’s connection every time Esec dispatched a vid. It was like an electromagnetic sliver that threaded through Edbar to places beyond my reach. But I didn’t need to stretch that far, to broadcast my message across half a continent. All I needed was to send an invitation.
‘Cesh!’
Shard’s voice, her message pre-recorded whilst I fumbled into the pressure suit. Her face scarred and hardened. Esec had been foolish in his attempts to sanitise her image, for the scars gave authenticity.
‘It would seem you have me cornered,’ she continued. ‘I imagine you lurk above, ready to strike the instant I emerge. But I found your little secret down here. Your exit.’
I shifted the image, displaying the dilapidated webway gate, lit only by Iwazar’s lenses. The seer-skull was more than happy to trace its confines, relaying it through the data-veil.
‘This is a webway gate, isn’t it? Don’t be so surprised, we humans are less ignorant than you’d like to think. This is how you appear at will, vanish as desired. A place you can slink away to whenever you need to lick your wounds.’
I cut back to Shard’s grinning face.
‘Maybe I cannot best you. Not alone. But I bet even that xenos craft of yours requires some kind of fuel and ammunition. How long will you last without both? Months, for all I know, but in the end your engines will fail, leaving you stranded on this world. I may be trapped down here, but I can ensure you won’t escape either. Even if I must sacrifice myself to do it.’
‘Wait!’
Cesh. Panicked, I interrupted the playback, looping a few seconds and splicing in distortion, hoping to give the appearance of Shard pausing.
‘You cannot do that. You do not understand. If you sever that gate, you could inflict catastrophic damage to this planet. It could be an extinction-level event. And my people… This gate is vital. Stand down, let me depart and this is over. None of us have to die.’
A part of me wanted to believe him. But it did not matter, for Shard could not answer. Unless I interjected? But if I did so, he might suspect the ruse.
I had no other option, cutting the vox completely. Perhaps he thought we were debating his request. It was still possible. I could vox the Aenigma, at least present the option.
‘He lies. It is too late. This is now our path.’
Uli. I knew his voice, but had never heard him speak so. No mockery or wry wit. He was heartbroken, horrified. He knew what had to happen, had steeled himself for it.
Ants. Cesh had once told me that his people had less regard for human lives than they had for insects. If Uli shared these sentiments, then I could not imagine how it would pain him to sacrifice an aeldari life for ours.
‘There is no other way?’ I asked.
‘There are always other ways. But this is the right path, the only one that has a chance at setting us on the right course. And sometimes a sacrifice is required.’
I nodded, syncing fully with Iwazar. It had been years since I had attempted something this audacious. Not since Bacchus, where the seer-skull had conjured a small armada to support Shard. But this was nothing so ostentatious. I only needed one vessel.
There it was. The Aenigma. I doubt it would have fooled an aeldari up close, for even a human would have noted the image was not entirely opaque. But in the darkness? And relayed through the projector of a compromised seer-skull? It might be enough.
I released it through the Feed, giving Cesh a few moments to appreciate the image, before adding the final line of Shard’s monologue.
‘The Emperor protects!’
Her voice was thunder, and with her cry the faux-Aenigma fired, twin beams of light seemingly striking the rim of the webway gate. I let it sit for a moment, before projecting a series of apocalyptic explosions plucked from Iwazar’s memory. The Green Storm, the raid on the supply lines, even Cesh’s own airstrikes, the scraps of footage bleeding together until the hololithic eruption blazed so bright it lit the pit, the crystalline structure refracting the light and sending it cascading up and down the shaft.
Abruptly, I cut the feed. Darkness.
Would he take the bait? It was a gamble. I doubted he could see through the illusion, for it was but images. But he might possess a means of monitoring the gate. The plan depended on him reacting quickly, thinking his human foes were ignorant and violent enough to risk planetary annihilation just to spite him.
I suppose war is about playing to your strengths.
It seemed we dwelt an age in darkness. Then I saw a flicker. A light. It was impossible to judge its speed at first, for there was no frame of reference, but the spec of light expanded, the thrum of its engines echoing through the shaft.
Cesh.
He was moving quickly, hurtling towards us. In the final moments, he slowed, impossibly so – his vessel should have been ripped apart by the conflicting forces. It decelerated to a near crawl, emptying the xenos equivalent of docking stabilisers, until it sat, suspended a few dozen yards from us.
It was so quiet, its engines barely hummed.
Already, Cesh must have seen through our deception, for the gate was still intact. Perhaps he thought Shard’s rash attack had rebounded upon her, the crystalline structure refracting the blasts. Or perhaps he sought his deceiver, for the craft seemed to be slowly rotating, as though scanning its surroundings. I glanced to where Uli should have been, but he was gone, obscured by his cloak.
Then it faced me. A spectre suspended in the shadows. All I could think was how smooth the vessel appeared, the sections bound without rivet or bolt, the hull adorned with glittering gems. It was beautiful. And terrible. And slowly gliding towards me.
It was then I heard the roar echo from beneath.
The Aenigma. It was powering towards us, visible only by the light blazing from its multi-laser. Cesh responded immediately, not retaliating but instead fleeing, ascending from the darkness towards the waiting sky, where his speed and agility could be used to best advantage. His silhouette was already fractured into shards, their light mirrored in the crystalline walls of the chasm. In an instant it was impossible to separate him from the infinite alters manifested by his holofield.
But the same was true of the multi-laser.
Its crimson bolts ricocheted between the pit’s glass-like sides, the barrage multiplied each time it struck the chasm walls, lighting up the darkness. And no matter how fast he was, how nimble, Cesh could not dodge them all. There was an explosion as one struck his vessel. Then another. Still he accelerated, desperate to be freed from the passageway, to reach the sanctuary of the open sky. In seconds he would be clear.
Another explosion, though faint. Even through Iwazar’s lenses I could barely make him out. He was almost there, except smoke now gushed from his rear, his alters flickering in and out of focus.
‘Got him.’
Two crimson beams erupted from beneath. They struck, and his craft was torn asunder, its wreckage tumbling down the shaft. Moments later, Shard hurtled past, even as the gate went dark, her passage inflicting a shockwave of sound that buffeted me like a leaf in a storm.
I felt something give, the crystalline glass cracking above, the darkness below reaching out to me. I lurched forward, but stooped suddenly, my fall arrested. I glanced round, the movement impeded by my pressure helm.
Uli.
His cloak thrown back, hand wrapped about the torn clasp that once adhered me to the wall.
‘That’s two you owe me, propagandist.’
CHAPTER FIFTY
My hands trembled when they summoned me.
But I gripped my cane, steadied myself, and followed the clerk along the passageway, Iwazar trailing in my wake. It was my first time in this section of Edbar. The walls were polished marble, adorned with relics I assumed held some relevance to the population of Deighton. A dusty tome, sealed in amber, apparently containing the words first spoken when the God-Emperor arose from beneath the sands and gifted language to its people. Clay tablets, long since worn smooth, their original decrees a mystery. There were blades and busts, paintings and preserved fingerbones of former rulers.
I passed them all, cane tapping against the stone, my other hand clenched tight to conceal the trembling. The last time I had received such formal summons, the subsequent debacle had cost me my status, reputation and health.
