Scythes of the Emperor, page 24
Galerius thought for a moment. ‘Hmm. I’d say, under these specific circumstances, that you’ll have no objections from him. He will be protecting the gene-seed first and foremost. He’ll understand the need for urgency in our extraction.’
‘Excellent,’ the sergeant replied. Then he changed the subject entirely. ‘Now, I want to see a tight deployment again this time. We’ll be dropping directly into the Second Ward. Kenai, if we cannot find a clear patch then you must burn us one out with the flamer. Frag storm, anything. We must not become separated, or the xenos horde will swallow us up one at a time. Once we secure the landing site, we–’
Alarm sirens howled in the enclosed space. Esau tried to look towards the front of the hold, to gain any idea of what was happening, but once again he couldn’t see past Xristos’ suspended boots.
The pilot’s voice crackled over the vox-link. ‘We’re being shadowed – xenos contact, right on our tail, three hundred metres. Deploying countermeasure chaff. I’ll try to blind it.’
The gunship banked sharply, throwing the Assault squad from side to side in their cradle mounts along the drop-rail. Esau reflexively gripped the straps of his jump pack harness with both hands to steady himself.
‘Pilot,’ Cassander called out, ‘do you have visual on our pursuers?’
‘I can’t see, it’s too... Throne! Escort flights, break, break, break! Move to engage!’
There was a hard impact against the hull, one that sent the Storm Eagle slewing through the air, its engines shrieking in protest. One of the ‘Talons shot past them on the port side, opening fire with its assault cannons.
They started to climb hard, only for another colossal impact to shake the fuselage.
Galerius cursed with the force of it. ‘Holy Terra, that wasn’t a bio-weapon attack – something struck us!’
Esau opened his mouth to reply, but an almighty crashing blow knocked the gunship from the opposite side and stole the breath from his lungs. His legs came loose from the mag-lock runner, swinging wide and striking the wall as the Storm Eagle rolled drunkenly to starboard, and he felt something give in the cradle above him.
The left rail mechanism broke free of the ceiling in a shower of sparks, dropping Sergeant Cassander, Sorgn, Xristos and Esau to the deck. The gunship continued to roll, tangling them as the metal twisted under the combined weight of four Space Marines and their jump packs.
That was enough. Esau’s cradle links snapped free, taking the safety locks with them. He sprawled across the tilted wall of the hold, the Storm Eagle struggling to right itself. Sorgn at least had the presence of mind to release his own cradle manually – he pushed himself to his feet as smoothly as he could, moving up to free Brother Xristos next.
Sergeant Cassander was still pinned under the drop-rail. ‘Pilot! What in the name of–’
The gunship lurched maddeningly, the forward-starboard bulkhead caving inwards with a shriek of agonised steel. Air roared out through the rift in the fuselage even as a claw the length of a Rhino transport cleaved through and into the troop compartment.
Beyond, in the dazzlingly bright whirl of daylight and clouds, Esau saw a fanged maw that could have swallowed a man whole without even touching the sides.
They were in a flat spin now, falling from the sky in the embrace of this new terror. It bellowed, wrenching the hole wider and snapping at the front of the stricken aircraft.
There were others, too – smaller things, the diminutive winged gargoyles that Esau had seen in battle so many times before. They dived and clambered over the hull, or swooped around the unfolding struggle like carrion birds. The pilot’s agonised cries over the vox were punctuated by wild bolt pistol shots from the cockpit.
Sergeant Cassander drew his own pistol and tried to fire blindly at their attackers. ‘Esau! Sorgn!’ he called out over the deafening rush of the wind. ‘Get the others first! Get them down!’
Esau managed to stand, but the ungainly weight of his jump pack pulled him over to one side as they rolled. The gunship lurched again as the gigantic creature tried to claw its way in, tearing at the ragged hole with its teeth and nosing its armoured snout through the breach. The young Space Marine looked up to see Galerius, Kenai and Tolliver being rocked violently from side to side in their cradles, completely unable to release or defend themselves.
But before he could even think to do anything more, the hydraulics of the main assault ramp gave out, tearing the whole assembly from the front of the craft. In a single, dizzying instant, Sorgn was gone, knocked out through the opening in the tangle of twisted metal, and into the empty sky beyond.
The Storm Eagle was trailing black smoke as it fell, its engines stalling, locked in the clawed embrace of the creature that held them. The deck tilted further and further as they plunged through the air together, the pilot now either dead or having lost control completely – Esau couldn’t tell. The fallen rail began to slide, dragging Cassander and Xristos with it. They kicked and struggled, trying to gain any purchase on the metal floor, but to no avail. The sergeant managed to half-turn beneath the weight of the rail, just as he slid into the great, snapping jaws of the xenos beast.
He screamed in agony, his pistol and blade forgotten. His armour gave way beneath the titanic bite pressure. Blood scattered in the rushing air.
Then the tyranid’s fangs pierced the fusion cells of his jump pack.
The blast threw the creature’s head back, obliterating Sergeant Cassander’s body to the roar of the wind outside. Xristos was blown clean out of his jump pack’s harness, the dead weight of his armoured form skidding away across the angled deck, while Esau was hurled to the rear of the compartment. He narrowly avoided the sharp end of the broken jump rail only to slam hard into the sealed bulkhead, falling back down in a daze.
The gigantic creature, mewling and howling in pain as it spat broken teeth, released the Storm Eagle and soared away. It was evidently content to let gravity finish what it had started.
Galerius, still trapped on the second rail, called out to Esau over the vox. ‘They’re getting in, brother! Purge them! Purge them with fire!’
Shaking his helm to clear his senses, Esau looked ahead to the roaring breach. Even as the world outside rolled over and over in that disorienting view, he saw a handful of the most tenacious gargoyle beasts dragging themselves inside on their taloned wings.
On the deck beneath the second rail was Kenai’s flamer, dropped during the blast.
Esau scrambled forwards as best he could. Xristos’ limp form slid past him, bumping off the debris and out through the wide gap in the hull.
‘Move quickly, brother!’ Galerius urged him. ‘Use your mag-locks!’
Cursing himself for a fool, Esau magnetised his boots to the deck and lunged for the flamer. The tyranids hissed and growled as they scuttled towards him with murder in their eyes.
He snatched up the weapon, thumbed the safety off and squeezed the trigger.
Fire roared in the enclosed space, fanned by the raging winds. It set the xenos ablaze, their screeching howls almost deafening against the white noise of the gunship’s descent. They thrashed and flapped, their membranous wings too ruined to lift them away from the kiss of the flames. Esau swept the blazing stream back and forth until the reservoir was empty.
But the fire burned too hot, and too fast. Warning chimes sounded in his visor, the heat rising to dangerous levels. He cast about himself in desperation. Galerius was kicking in futility against the flames. Tolliver’s armour was alight.
‘Get out!’ Galerius shouted. ‘Save yourself!’
It was the only way out of this nightmare. There was nothing more that Esau could do.
‘Forgive me, brothers!’ he roared, hurling the spent flamer aside. He powered through the rising inferno towards the hull breach, and leapt out.
It was not a clean jump. His pack turbines struck the ragged edge of the bulkhead, jerking him into a spiralling tumble as the rushing wind snatched him away.
Then he was clear. He was in freefall.
The altitude’s chill leeched the heat from his scorched armour in seconds, and he struggled to orient himself towards the clouds below. The gunship’s embattled flight had brought them well into the airspace over Tamuero. He could see the city’s interceptor guns stitching the skies with fire, but of the Scythes’ two Stormtalon escorts, there was no sign.
He turned his head, following the Storm Eagle as it whirled ever downwards. Flames and burning bodies tumbled from the damaged hold, and he dearly wished he could convince himself that it was only tyranids he saw amongst them...
There was a flash as the backdraught caught the fuel tanks. The resulting explosion tore the gunship to pieces, scattering fiery debris across the clouds.
A huge shadow passed overhead.
Esau quickly angled his body to face the other direction, to catch any glimpse of whatever new horror awaited him. ‘Oh, holy Terra...’ he murmured.
It was not the great, wounded beast that had plucked them from the air, but its twin. A harridan, like a gargoyle writ large – its immense wings broader than those of a Thunderhawk transporter, its barbed tail whipping behind it as it rode the thermal currents up there in the unclouded light of the Brakur suns, seeking to feast upon its foes.
Evidently, its hungry gaze had settled upon Esau.
It roared to the winds, before folding its pinions and sinuously diving after the lone, falling Space Marine.
This was some hellish new game of predator and prey unfolding across the heavens. Esau did not spare another backward glance, but tucked in his arms and fired the turbines of his jump pack.
He sped down towards the cloud cover, accelerating hard. The pack could not keep him aloft, but it was perfect for boosting or slowing his descent, or angling it as required. It was doubtful that he could outrun such a creature for long, one that had been bred to flight as the harridans were – but it would buy him precious seconds to think, and the obscuring banks of cloud precious seconds more.
He levelled out and then cut back his thrust to almost nothing, feeling his stomachs yawning as gravity took hold once more. His vision was an almost complete whiteout among the clouds.
The beast’s roar came only a fraction of second before it soared past. Esau could not twist aside in time, and was clipped by an armoured, bony dorsal crest, throwing him into a new spin. He spread his arms wide to arrest the uncontrolled motion, only to break out into the open sky beneath the cloud cover, right on the monster’s tail. It almost seemed to be mirroring his movements in the broad sweep of its wings as it tried to circle back around to catch him.
The anti-air fire from the city below was becoming more focused and intense. They would be tracking the new target, coming in hard from high altitude, and likely prioritising it as a threat over the tens of thousands of smaller warrior-forms that darkened the skies of Brakur IV. Esau had no desire to be blasted from the heavens by friendly guns, even if the slaying of this monstrous creature would avenge the loss of his squad brethren in some way.
No – he would much rather live to witness its death. The problem was, between the heavens and the city below, he had nowhere else to hide.
‘Come for me then, beast!’ he cried, fumbling with the hilt of his chainsword.
A flak shell detonated beneath the harridan’s exposed belly, eliciting a howl of pain. Another burst nearby. The gunners on the ground were finding their range, the shrapnel scoring xenos flesh and the flank of Esau’s battleplate alike. Seizing upon the moment of distraction, he veered off hard to the right, but the harridan lunged for his outstretched legs and turned inside of his tightest possible trajectory, carrying it clear of the interceptor fire.
From there, it would easily snatch him up in its jaws. It roared as it made to lunge again.
The vox crackled in Esau’s ear. ‘Dive, brother!’
Without looking back, he folded and dropped just as Brother Galerius opened fire from above him and in the opposite direction. A flurry of bolt pistol shots tore into the harridan’s plated hide as the veteran soared over Esau’s shoulders, keeping tight to its outstretched neck. Almost as an afterthought, he struck at the great beast’s crested skull with his own blade as he passed, chipping the bony armour and causing the monster to recoil and howl in annoyance.
Esau raised his helm. ‘Oh, you’ve really got its attention now!’
‘Steady your descent,’ Galerius called back. ‘Between us, we’ll lead it back into range of the guns.’
The other warrior fired his pack and rolled away to the left. Sure enough, the harridan bellowed its fury and swept down to give chase, snapping at his heels.
‘By the Kraken’s unholy teeth! Be quick about it, brother!’
Not daring to question his good fortune, nor how Galerius had escaped from the gunship, Esau drew his own pistol and re-angled himself to follow in the creature’s wake. The veteran had given up trying to taunt it, instead using every reflex he possessed to keep just a few metres ahead of its jaws, and so Esau stung its rear quarters with a handful of well-aimed shots.
As the single-minded creature recoiled, he overshot it, trading places with Galerius once more.
‘This way!’ he cried. ‘Make for the tall habs!’
The cityscape of Tamuero spread from horizon to horizon beneath them. Esau could see winged xenos creatures flocking between the spires, though they were outnumbered by the sheer hordes of tyranids engaged against the human defenders on the ground. Firefights raged in the streets, with every intersection becoming a contested kill-zone.
But it was the anti-air support that the two Scythes were counting on.
Goaded by their bolt pistol shots and carefully timed, criss-crossing flight paths, the harridan breached the effective ceiling of the ward district’s emplaced guns for the second and final time.
Autocannon fire pierced its wings in a dozen places, and scored red blooms in the softer meat of its belly. Flak shells tore through its bony armour, shredding its muscles. The beast spasmed in the air once, twice, then folded to one side and went limp.
Its bulky carcass sailed down past Esau as he jinked away from another trail of interceptor fire. He spared it a backward glance as it crashed through the upper levels of a municipal stack, hurling shattered masonry to the choked roadways below, before slewing through the glassaic roof of a squat Administratum building. He turned to Galerius, who was arcing around in a wide, descending circle overhead, and they exchanged a clenched salute of victory.
Esau smiled grimly behind his visor, looking back to where the harridan lay with its spine broken amidst the rubble, and opened a vox-channel.
‘This is Brother Esau of the Scythes of the Emperor, to local Brakuran forces. Good shooting. We will confirm the kill. If you could cease firing at us now, we would very much appreciate it.’
To his surprise, the channel chimed with a response almost instantly.
‘Brother Esau, this is Apothecary Aratus. Forget looking for xenos trophies. We must evacuate immediately.’
Less than half a kilometre from the ruined Administratum building was the temporary facility established by the Chapter for recruit screening. Though gunfire echoed through the streets outside and great campanile bells tolled in warning, within the armoured walls of the strongpoint could still be found a measure of safety from the tyranid invaders. Heavy auto-turrets built into the gate approaches tracked back and forth, readily able to distinguish Esau and Galerius from potential xenos infiltrators.
Apothecary Aratus met them at the barricaded entrance, at the top of a wide set of stone steps. Empty shell casings and gritty debris crunched underfoot.
The Apothecary looked from one warrior to the other, and back again. He frowned.
‘Is this it, Galerius? Where is the rest of your squad? Where is Brother-Sergeant Cassander?’
Galerius mag-sheathed his chainsword and removed his laurelled helm, gulping at the dusty air. The entire left side of his face was swollen and blistered, the neck seal of his battleplate evidently broken by the fire on board the Storm Eagle.
‘We were intercepted before we even made our combat drop,’ he said. ‘Damned xenos snatched the gunship right out of the air.’ He ran his tongue over his teeth and spat a gobbet of red-tinged saliva onto the steps. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. These beasts are fast, faster than usual. And agile too. Young Esau and I barely made it down here.’
Aratus sagged, casting a glance back over his shoulder into the requisitioned building’s interior. ‘It’s Daedalus,’ he muttered. ‘The hive ship – its broods are hyper-evolved for flight, and aerial engagements. Who knows what kind of prey-worlds it must have feasted on to achieve that level of genic specialisation. I’ve been here since before the invasion began, but these winged hordes seem to be without end. Honestly, there is no way that the defenders can hold out much longer. It is regrettable. We had over a hundred potential recruits, far more than the gene-seed stocks I brought with me...’
He turned to Esau.
‘And I realised I know you too, brother. Your name sounded familiar. I fitted your eye, after Miral Prime. You’ve come a fair way since then, though. How is it serving you?’
Esau did not remove his helmet. He wanted to maintain some distance from the Apothecary for the purposes of their mission, and just a little emotional detachment, even if fate seemed determined to test him in that regard.
‘It is an acceptable replacement. You have my gratitude,’ he replied. ‘The focus is sharp, the resolution of the pict-captures more than adequate. I would say, however, it feels a little small in the socket – may I ask, where did you obtain it?’
Aratus pursed his lips. ‘You don’t really want to know the answer to that, brother. Come now. We are wasting time.’
He led them into the strongpoint, through a grand reception hall now fallen to ruin, then past rooms filled with empty archive shelves and uneven rows of scribe stations. Galerius twitched at the sight of civilians cowering in the unlit recesses.
