Defiant Echoes

[Dolnikan]

After the daily rituals of his awakening inquisitor Semplice asked: "Tech priest maioris Karnak, is there any news?"

"Test Subject Iota Tettares reported sighting a lander in the settlement designated Coveton. Later it demanded your awakening to make another report. Clearsigns of malfunctioning. I belief that the damage sustained during the complications while landing will also have induced faulty behavioural patterns. Censure clearly is in order "

"Have you let her report to you?"

"No my lord, otherwise it would only have encouraged such disobedience."

"Very well, I shall contact her at once, alert me when anything peculiar happens."

He turned away from the worshipper of the machine god, disappointed by his dogmatic thinking. Haskil would never have made such an error. He called: "Iota Tettares, respond at once."

"My lord, I am here"

"Are you alone?"

"No my lord, there are civilians in the building below me."

"Can they hear you speak?"

"No my lord"

"Good, tech preist maioris Karnak informed me that you wished to rouse me to make a report."

"I indeed made such an attempt my lord, I failed you."

"That remains to be seen, now tell me, what have you found?"

"The vessel I had observed was confirmed to be of the Thunderhawk class. It landed in the center of Coveton. I made my way towards it to investigate. Initially I did not reach it. On my way there I encountered a dreadnought which opened fire. I left its immediate area."

Semplice interrupted: "What sort of iconography did it bear?"

"It was painted red, like dried blood. It bore the rune of the Blood God and roared its name. I could not observe closely because I was forced to disengage."

"What else have you found?"

"When I attempted to find my way again I saw that I could not return to the apartment by a direct route. I had contacted tech priestess minoris Nogal and informed her of the situation. I decided to attempt to return to the apartment and am still on my way."

"You have done very well, Iota Tettares, you made me proud. I do not want you to return yet. Make your way to the landing site and note down any icons you see. Do not make contact. When faced with adversity disengage immediately. You must not allow yourself to be harmed."

"As you wish my lord."

[Koval]

He ducked behind a building as the Dreadnought opened fire again. The jet of nuclear fire from the Dreadnought's weapon roared past him and exploded against a ground-car, and Andreas felt a massive wave of heat from the plasma blast wash over him. He flinched involuntarily.

He'd seen the Dreadnought's pilot, and even though it was only for a split-second, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that the mutilated Space Marine had seen him as well, staring at Andreas with long-dead eyes even as Andreas found himself hypnotised by the arcane machinery keeping the pilot alive. He'd seen the mark of Khorne carved into the Dreadnought's shoulder, and a pattern of scars all over it that could only have come from the removal of Imperial icons. Where once had been devotional icons and a mighty Aquila emblem mounted proudly upon the Dreadnought's armour, now it seemed to be a walking altar of blasphemy instead, a shrine of slaughter with the power to turn men into ash, and sitting at its heart was the blasted remnant of a human being, twisted into Mankind's worst nightmare by centuries of endless war in the name of a dark god the very mention of whom was anathema.

A burst of bolter fire from under the Dreadnought's power fist had been enough to snap Andreas out of it, and he'd taken cover while the Dreadnought went about its merry dance of destruction.

Andreas swore the pilot was laughing gleefully.

"Miss Dovin?" Andreas ventured, hoping that she was still awake. Cautiously, he began to creep towards the corner of the building, but another burst of plasma caused him to duck back into cover as the Dreadnought fired at Emperor knew what.

"Receiving you, ser Tolnay," Dovin answered, infuriatingly calm in the face of a Chaos incursion -- although, Andreas recalled, all Dovin had to go on so far was reports from Iona.

"I don't mean to worry you, but I've found that Dreadnought Miss Tethras mentioned," Andreas reported. "It seems rather content to kill civilians with abandon, although I can't say for sure if it knows I'm here."

"Have you found Io... Miss Tethras?" asked Dovin, suddenly growing hesitant.

Andreas peered around the corner as the Dreadnought punched a ground-car into a nearby wall. The crunch of metal and glass made Andreas suddenly very hopeful that the car was empty.

"I was rather hoping that you would tell me that she's safe and sound," Andreas replied. "I'll keep looking for her."

"If you find her, then you need to ensure her safety," Dovin advised him. "Make sure that she does not come to harm."

"A rather welcome change of tone from earlier on, I must say," Andreas remarked. "I'll find--"

Andreas paused suddenly, aware of an uncomfortable rhythmic thumping from somewhere behind him, and he turned around on instinct but found himself facing only the wall.

"Ser Tolnay?" Dovin queried, unaware of what Andreas could hear. Andreas took two steps backwards.

"Miss Dovin, now might not be the best time," Andreas informed her, closing the comm channel in the same instant that he threw all caution to the wind and fled.

Barely two seconds later, the Dreadnought crashed straight through the wall at a run, the plasma cannon tracking Andreas and firing as he disappeared down a side street.

"YOU WILL SUBMIT TO KHORNE!" the Dreadnought thundered, and Andreas swore he could hear its monotone shrieks even over the noise from the explosion. "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! BLOOD! FOR! THE! BLOOD! GOD!"

He didn't even need to look over his shoulder to know that it was following him.

[Dolnikan]

 Iota Tettares was close to the Thunderhawk now. She could see it in a small square, surrounded by burning buildings. It seemed to be abandoned but she could not be sure. It bore no markings apart from the same red colour she had seen on the dreadnought and much superficial damage, reminding her of chain-weaponry.

She crept closer to the vessel. The heavy bolters attached to one of the wings turned towards her, without even thinking about it Iota leapt into a sidestreet and ran past the burning, wrecked buildings. The paired heavy bolters roared but their explosive warheads failed to touch her. She could not run as fast as she would have liked, there were remnants of people everywhere in the street, she had to run carefully or she would easily slip.

A shell exploded not far from her, causing a piece of metal to tear open her face and throwing her to the ground. She rolled and was running again almost immediately.

The barrage  stopped after only a few seconds. The already ruined buildings had suffered from it, whole sections of their walls had been blasted apart by the gunship. She had been hit just under her eye socket, A piece of metal was still sticking out of the wound. She touched it carefully, it hurt but the piece of metal had stopped it bleeding as heavily as it otherwise would have. Nevertheless she tore it out. Blood gushed after it.

She faintly heard the cries of the dreadnought in the distance, she could not determine where it was because of the many other sounds. She sent the inquisitor a short message: "My lord, I have observed the thunderhawk. It bore no visible markings. While attempting to come closer it engaged. I escaped but suffered injuries. A piece of metal penetrated the skin and damaged the os zygomaticum, it should heal quickly, funtionality remains at the same level as before. I will continue to the appartment."

The streets were empty, there were traes of destruction everywhere, houses were burning, walls had collapsed and many people had died while fleeing for their lifes. As she turned another corner she saw the dreadnought again. It smashed down a wall with its power fist. For a moment she saw someone fleeing from the thing, she immediately recognised Antero. The dreadnought had seen him and broke into a run, pursuing the man. 

Her instructions were clear, it was important that he remained alive. She sprinted after the dreadnought which again frired its plasma cannon. It kept running, proving that Antero had survived. He would not last long however and Iota knew what she had to do. She heard the thing screaming again: "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! YOU WILL DIE!"

She shot at it using the primitive revolver she had taken to first investigate the city. The bullet bounced off its armoured body without doing any damage but it did draw the thing's attention. It turned around to face her. firing its storm bolter. Again Iota fled, but this time she had a plan. She dodged into a small alley whcih was too narrow for it to enter. Once she reached the other side she turned left, the dreadnought was in pursuit but could only break through the houses relatively slowly.

[Koval]

Andreas noticed the lack of noise later than he should have done, and cursed his inattention. He ducked behind another building, somewhat sturdier than the houses the Dreadnought had been crashing through, and hazarded a glimpse behind him.

As he suspected, the Dreadnought had disappeared, apparently distracted by something else, something more interesting at which to shoot. Maybe the local Enforcers or PDF had decided to mobilise. Maybe there had been a large crowd in a nearby square. Or maybe it had found Iona.

He didn't want to imagine that last one.

"Loyalists!"

Andreas' attention was drawn to a loud, almost synthetic shout from just up the road.

"The shrine of slaughter calls you! The False Emperor has abandoned us! Our saviour from the sky has come!"

The voice was coming from a small civilian pickup truck, originally painted off-white but now covered in blood and patches of rust. Andreas could see two people carrying lasguns squatting on the cargo bed. In the cab, beside the driver sat a man holding what looked like a microphone pickup, apparently linked to a horn on top of the vehicle.

"Surrender and you will be spared!"

Andreas readied his own lasgun.

"Resist and you will be slaughtered!"

The two men in the back opened fire on fleeing civilians as the truck rolled closer. If anyone in the truck had noticed Andreas, they apparently didn't care.

"The False Emperor has rejected you! There is only the Blood God!"

He took aim at the driver and fired.

---

"Miss Tethras?"

Iota recognised Nogal's voice in her microbead, but it was difficult to make out over the noise from the Dreadnought. She turned left into another side street as the Dreadnought crashed through yet another wall, not even bothering to slow down as it battered its way through the obstacles in its way.

That Nogal was using Iota's hastily adopted alias was worrying, however, and Iota had to think for surprisingly long before responding.

"Receiving you, Miss Dovin," Iota answered. "The Dreadnought has engaged and is in pursuit. I have sustained only superficial--"

"Which street are you on?" Nogal asked, and Iota risked an upward glance at a street sign.

"YOU CANNOT ESCAPE!" the Dreadnought screamed behind her, firing up at a building in an attempt to collapse part of the wall on top of her. Iota sprang forwards, rolling as she landed, and the hail of burning masonry crashed down behind her, landing in the Dreadnought's path.

"Salis Road," Iota answered as she reached the end of the street and turned right onto a much larger main road. "Now turning onto Ferron Road, heading south."

"Keep going along Ferron Road," Nogal advised. "I procured a map. You are currently moving towards Antero's location."

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" the Dreadnought bellowed, breaking through onto the main road. Iota glanced behind her and saw that the Dreadnought's carapace was covered in dust and black ash, but the pilot seemed no worse for wear than he already did. Another shot from its plasma cannon streaked past and impacted on a tree, cremating it on the spot and setting other trees around it on fire.

A passing ground-car, formerly oblivious to the havoc the Dreadnought was causing, swerved wildly to get away from the metal monster and blindsided another vehicle in the next lane. Iota didn't bother stopping, but the noise distracted the Dreadnought and its plasma cannon disintegrated both vehicles in a searing fireball.

"THIS WORLD WILL BURN IN KHORNE'S NAME!"

"Miss Tethras?" Nogal asked. "Respond."

"The Dreadnought ... stopped to deal with an automobile accident," Iota replied. "It is now resuming its pursuit."

"The main carriageway should dip at some point to form an underpass, where Ferron Road crosses New Street. Can you see it?"

Iota looked up, her gaze following the road.

"I can see it," she reported, catching sight of the underpass.

"There should be a pedestrian crossing over it."

"What is its significance?"

"How close are you to the underpass?"

Iota ducked into a shop opening as a burst of bolter fire chewed up the pavement, before continuing her run. At this rate, the Dreadnought would be on top of her in seconds.

"Less than a minute at this pace. Why?"

"You are likely to arrive about half a minute before Antero."

"I am not certain that I follow," Iota admitted.

"He is heading north to meet you."

"North?"

"YOU WILL HALT!" the Dreadnought shouted, firing once again. Iota ducked just as the brilliant jet of plasma roared overhead, singeing the clothes on her back. Somewhere in front of her, several square metres of pavement melted into lava as the plasma blast hit the ground. A nearby ground-car driver panicked and started swerving.

Thinking quickly, Iota pulled out her revolver and shot out the closest tyre, blowing it out. The driver, already in a panic, failed to control his vehicle as it pulled heavily to the left, directly into the Dreadnought's path, and Iota rushed past the stricken ground-car as it slammed into the utterly oblivious Dreadnought. It managed a warbling scream as the ground-car impact knocked it sideways into the wall between two shops, and its plasma cannon fired into the sky as a futile reaction to its plight.

Before it could recover, Iota reached the bridge over the underpass.

"I am in position," she reported.

"Lower yourself over the northbound lane."

Not bothering to question the lack of obvious logic in Nogal's instruction, Iota vaulted the bridge railing, suspending herself directly over the main carriageway as the Dreadnought threw the ground-car off and got back to its feet. A burst of bolter fire to the ground-car's exposed underside put it out of commission permanently.

"Five seconds," Antero reported, apparently talking to Nogal. The Tech-Priestess must have linked the two microbead streams together through her own unit.

"Understood. Drop!"

Iota let go, twisting in mid-fall to land directly on top of a battered pickup truck without a windscreen.

"Hold onto something," Antero advised as the Dreadnought fired after the truck.

[Dolnikan]

Tettares looked back at the dreadnought as she held on to a part of the vehicle's side. The ancient kept running after her. It seemed not to notice the drop and fell directly to the ground. The impact broke the road and threw up enough debris to obscure the entire thing.

Moments later it emerged booming: "DIE! DIE! DIE!"

She closed her eyes as it fired the plasma cannon again. It hit a building slightly ahead of them, throwing a large piece of the wall directly in front of the truck. Antero managed to evade it but in doing so ended up in the opposite lane. Cars came directly towards them and had to brake sharply to avoid collisions.

The dreadnought unleashed a hail of bolt fire towards them  while it came closer, not obstructed at all by the jumble of cars. The drivers panicked, several even left the safety of their vehicles and fled on foot.

Iota looked through their truck and saw that the driver who had ended up in front of them was one of those abandoning his car. The  dreadnought was coming ever closer and charged up the plasma cannon to fire again. She looked directly into its scorched barrel, this time it would not miss. She shouted a warning for Antero and prepared to leap clear.

To her surprise the truck suddenly moved backwards, towards the dreadnought. It had clearly not expected this and its shot burned the paint from the top of the cabin but did no serious damage to the truck. It however directly hit the abandoned car that had been directly in front of the truck, throwing it into the air. Antero said: "That should clear the road."

He moved the truck forwards again as the dreadnought roared: "YOUR BLOOD WILL FLOW, YOU ARE VERMIN!"

[Koval]

"Satisfied, ser Arbiter?" Vargas sneered, watching Silon's face contort in half a dozen different ways as the Asculum's last message finished playing. "Whether you claim I have lost my way, or lost control of this situation, or am otherwise unfit for command, the Vice-Admiral's orders were clear enough."

"A pathetic excuse," Silon managed at last. "That was an order you should have disobeyed, Commodore."

"Excuse me?"

"Vice-Admiral Burnett was not of sound mind when he issued that order. As a result, ships that should have engaged the enemy vessel withdrew from the front lines. His fear compromised the entire interdiction fleet, and now there is a Chaos cruiser sitting unopposed in orbit around the planet."

"And you're blaming me for it?"

"As the highest-ranking Naval officer in what remains of the fleet--"

"You, Chaplain, are suggesting that I should have committed a capital offence!" Vargas interrupted. "You are suggesting that in order to have done my duty to the Navy and the Emperor, I should have refused a direct order, broken ranks, and effectively thrown down my life at the feet of the Great Enemy! At best, Arbiter, you are preaching idiocy in the name of a set of rules that have no bearing on the present situation! What good is the law, in the face of an enemy like that?"

"Dereliction of duty, and now insolence and heresy," Silon observed. "I suggest you remember your place and recant your words while you have the chance to do so, else I will see to it that you are relieved of your command."

"To hell with that," Vargas snarled. "You come onto my bridge uninvited. You stand here and accuse me of ignoring the very same duty I am carrying out, and heresy for remaining loyal to the Emperor."

"The Emperor himself will be the judge of that, Commodore."

"Court-martial me if you must," Vargas continued, "try me and condemn me, but the fact remains that this is my bridge, and I am following my orders."

Vargas pulled out a bolt pistol, removed the safety, and aimed it squarely at Silon's head. The Arbites behind Silon readied their shotguns, preparing to gun Vargas down if she pulled the trigger, but Vargas did little to even acknowledge them. Silon did nothing.

"And if you do not leave my bridge in the next ten seconds, Arbiter, you will quickly find yourself without a head."

[Inquisitor Sargoth]

Volos's laspistol was half-empty - he'd not been able to recharge it on the Demeter- and he only had four shells for his revolver, shells he kept in a sealed plastic bag. They looked rusted and the sigils he'd carved into them were hardly visible. These weren't designed to kill, at least not immediately, and they would be useless against powered armour. What little sorcery he knew required sacrifice, blood, and he doubted it would be strong enough to fell a space marine. He needed time, time to plan, time to summon something, to bargain and cajole the forces of hell for power, power that he knew came at too high a cost... More than anything else needed to sleep.

"Remiel."

Volos started. He hadn't heard the man come in. His shirt was spotted with blood.

"Only two space marines appear to have made planetfall, lord," Mordecai whispered, pale eyes watching Remiel's fingers as he signed, "One of them is a Dreadnought."

"I can hear it. It is attacking civilians. What Chapter do they belong to?"

"They do not. They are... they are from among the First Legions, my lords."

Sonneillon's pauldrons hissed into a new position. It was possible this was an expression of surprise.

"Which Legion?"

"The XII. The World Eaters."

Sonneillon smiled without warmth or mirth.

"Then this city, and every soul within it, is doomed. Perhaps this is the bloodshed I saw. Merely the butchery of the Blood God's favoured hounds. And yet... There was something more, I am certain of it..."

He fell silent.

"My lord?" said Mordecai.

"I will speak with them. They are, after all, my brothers in arms."

"I've heard of the World Eaters," Volos said. "Madmen. Crazed berserkers to a man. You want to talk to them?"

"How would you describe my sanity, Jacques?"

"I wouldn't, my lord, as a rule. Nevertheless-"

"Your concern is touching, Jacques. I had no idea you had grown so fond me."

"My lord is pleased to jest, but-"

"You heartbeat betrays you. You are afraid to leave this place. To face the chaos outside. The idea of facing down traitor marines terrifies you. For once, I cannot decry your cowardice. At least your sanity is holding out, eh?"

There was a strange, distorted noise. Possibly Sonneillon was laughing inside his helm.

"My lord-"

"You can hide in the shadows. I am sure Remiel and Mordecai will ensure your safety."

***

The night was filled with screams and gunfire and yet the toneless, snarling vox of the Dreadnought echoed above all, punctuated by the rumble of bolter-fire and the screaming whine of a plasma cannon.

The streets thronged with terrified refugees flooding towards designated shelters. Local militiamen, warders and former soldiers did their best to control the tides, erecting and manning barriers, yelling out orders and beating riot shields. In places skirmishes and running battles had broken out between militiamen, warders, opportunistic looters and determined rebels.

None of them had any idea how to react as Sonneillon walked through the streets, the crowd fleeing before him. One man fell and was trampled by the panicking mass. Others cursed him, even throwing stones.

"You abandoned us!"

"Astartes! They say it's the damn space marines who're attacking!"

"Murderer!"

"Imperial filth! We don't need you!"

"Where were you?"

Someone opened fire. Shells pinged harmlessly off Sonneillon's armour and he turned to face the trembling man who had fired. Slowly, inevitably, he raised his bolter.

"I am not your enemy. Nevertheless, if you fire upon me again I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand," he replied, he armour amplifying his voice loud enough for it echo through the streets.

The crowds moved faster, pouring over the barriers, more of them falling to the ground to be trampled by those behind them.

A few soldiers stepped towards Sonneillon, hesitantly. One, a woman in sergeant's stripes, spoke first.

"Sir!" she saluted "It is... it is an honour to see the Astartes here!"

Then the others spoke as one.

"Is the interdiction at an end?"

"Are you here to relieve us of duty?"

"Is the Imperium here?"

They stank of fear. Their hearts raced.

They were terrified of him, but that was only natural. There was more to this. They hated him. They saw him as an avatar of the Imperium that abandoned them. They feared it was the Imperium attacking, purifying this wayward world, and yet...  none of them could quell that last ember of hope. The hope that he was here to help. That the Imperium had come to save them. That this new nightmare might end in its infancy.

Now he could feel it, hear it in every trembling voice and panicked cry, taste in the air.

A single prayer, unspoken, but nonetheless echoing throughout the city.

Save us.

"Sir? Do you have any orders, sir?"

He turned to the woman, vapour hissing from the grille of his faceplate with every breath. Unbeknownst to Sonneillon, she held his gaze.

"Only one."

He turned away, heading towards disntant screams.

"Sir?"

"Leave me."

***

Sonneillon's armour whispered to his nerve endings. He was tentatively aware of the walls of the buildings around him. Though he could not see the bodies that littered the floor he could hear their bones snap as he stepped on them, smell the blood and fear. The World Eater had been here.

There was no point in attempting to communicate with the Dreadnought. Who knew how long the corpse had been interred, denied final rest so that it could share its death with others. He could hear it howling, feel it pulsing in the psychic landscape like a migraine. Mad. An blood-soaked avatar of hatred.

He could sense the chaos marine long before he even reached the street he stood on. He could hear the growl of powered armour, the twin-beat of his hearts, the heady stench of taint that emanated from him, overpowering even the blood.

Goruvich scowled. There was no sport here – they all fled before him, civilian and soldier alike. His sword cried out for blood and all he could offer were the wretches who had been trampled and left behind. The occasional fleeing figure was felled with a shot from his bolt pistol. Not one of them worthy.

His visor lit up with a new threat rune and he felt his armour's spirit soar, auto-injecting stimulants that set his hearts racing.

A space marine.

The newcomer wore armour of bare, naked grey. He could feel the excitement spreading to his blade now.

Blood. Blood for the Blood God.

"Hail and well met, brother," the stranger growled, any mockery hidden in the artificial tones of his vox. "I am Sonneillon of the XVII Legion. Tell me, brother. What brings the Eaters of Worlds to Sathvairg?"

[Inquisitor Sargoth]

Goruvich said nothing. His bolt pistol, aimed squarely at Sonneillon's face, did not waver but the Word Bearer knew the only thing protecting him was this warrior's confusion.

"Brother?" he called out.

Goruvich did not reply. Sonneillon's finger tightened on the trigger of his bolter. It would only be matter of seconds –

"What is Sathvairg?" Goruvich said, suddenly.

"That is what they call this world. You did not know?"

So he was just a berserker, Sonneillon mused, ignorant of any wider scheme. But why send only him and the Dreadnought? Was this how the World Eaters preferred to scout? Or was this only a tiny cabal rather than a true warhost of Khorne?

"No. You wear no insignia."

"Was that a question? Surely you can recognise a brother of the First Legions? Surely you can smell the genetic purity? I am no thin-blooded loyalist. I stood upon the soil of Terra, fought in the shadows of Titans at the Eternity Gate-"

"You talk too much. A habit of Lorgar and his scions. Why are you here, Word Bearer?"

"I asked first, brother."

"You are not my brother. Why are you here, Word Bearer? Do Lorgar's dogs have designs on this world?"

Sonneillon knew he should lie. He could tell this stranger that an entire Host was in orbit, perhaps, though he doubted this one would be moved by intimidation or appeals to common sense.

"No. I am alone. What, then, are the designs of Angron's war hounds?"

"We are here to fight. To kill. The Inquisition is here. That is all I know and all I care."

"Spoken like a true World Eater."

"Do you mock me?"

Oh, I like this one. You are brave, Word Bearer.

There was no sound. It was as though the words were seeping into Sonneillon's forebrain from his spine. It was distinctly uncomfortable, the silent voice stinging his body. 

"A daemon. You are possessed?"

"No. It serves me."

"Daemons never serve."

"Not by choice."

"And who do you serve? Who ordered you here?"

Goruvich fired. 

Whether due to offense or the exhaustion of his last reserves of curiosity, Sonneillon could not guess. Warning chimes sounded in his ears but he was already twisting his body so that the shell struck his pauldon instead of his neck.

He fired at the source of the noise, the first shell smashing into Goruvich's shoulder, the second his chest. Though hairline cracks were spreading across his breastplate the two detonations had barely slowed his charge. He was screaming a battle-cry, chaotic energy crackling along the edge of his blade.

Sonneillon fired another bolt that smashed into his helm. It smashed an eye-lens and for a moment the two of them were blind. Sonneillon drew his own blade, far shorter than his opponent's, and it flared into life.

Kill him, the daemon crooned. Sonneilon knew it spoke to them both. Khorne cares not from whom the blood flows.

"It doesn't have to end this way, World Eater."

"Coward," Goruvich replied, Agares howling in his hands.

[Koval]

It took Andreas a worryingly long time to notice that the sound of explosions was growing further and further distant, and that the bright flashes of the Dreadnought's plasma cannon had ceased.

"Did we lose it?" he asked Iona, still not bothering to slow the truck down.

"It's certainly stopped firing," Iona answered, ducking to the side as Andreas narrowly avoided another truck going the other way. "And I can't see or hear it behind us. Although that does raise a new question."

Andreas slowed down cautiously to a more sensible speed, glancing in the wing mirrors all the while to check that neither he nor Iona had missed anything.

"Would that question relate to where it is now?" he ventured.

"Keep driving and exercise caution. As unlikely as it is, the Dreadnought might be trying to ambush us."

"It's a Dreadnought, piloted by a barely sane and extremely loud pyromaniac," Andreas countered, turning left into Bridge Street. "We can more or less rule out anything less than collateral damage on principle."

"Perhaps, but you are relying too heavily on assumptions," Iona reminded him. "But if you are right, and it is elsewhere, then I must wonder exactly where it is."

---

Goruvich crashed into Sonneillon, his sword meeting the Word Bearer's blade, but strangely Goruvich had managed only a glancing blow with his charge, his off-hand reaching up to his face. The World Eater's bolt pistol was lying on the ground, already forgotten. Sonneillon had heard it fall.

The sword gave an impression of intelligence and control, pressing against Sonneillon's weapon independently of Goruvich's own effort to strike the Word Bearer, and although Sonneillon could no longer see the world, his mind perceived the daemon within the sword, a great red beast with a sharp mind and endless reserves of willpower. How it had not already taken over the World Eater's body, Sonneillon neither knew nor wanted to speculate.

They were next to the river, Sonneillon supposed, else the noise of water flowing was the daemon's doing as it toyed with his senses. He was tempted to imagine a river of blood flowing between banks of skulls and blackened bones, but neither his spatial awareness nor his memory had been dulled by his lack of sight, and he judged the sound -- and thus the river -- to be real enough.

Goruvich's helmet thudded into the road surface as he threw it away angrily, and he turned, faced Sonneillon, and brought his sword back.

Kill him. He is weak.

The World Eater stomped towards Sonneillon, roaring like an animal, and Sonneillon dodged to the left as Goruvich brought his sword down through empty air. On its own, the sword rotated Goruvich's wrist and pulled his arm sideways, and Sonneillon barely blocked the return swing as it arced towards his neck.

See how he dances, a puppet on a broken string!

Sonneillon listened to Goruvich's stomping as he turned around, his stance ungainly, his footsteps clumsy. He judged that the World Eater was not yet used to using his daemonsword against an enemy as worthy as another Space Marine, else the daemon within had drunk its fill of civilian blood and felt it could challenge Goruvich's control.

He hesitates! Strike him now!

Sonneillon listened, and his powerblade speared Goruvich through the abdomen. The World Eater shuddered as Sonneillon ripped the blade out through his side, angrily backhanding the Word Bearer and striking him in the face. He stumbled, tripped and fell sideways into the pavement, twisting as he fell to land on his back.

See how your enemy can be hurt. He is mortal.

Goruvich's footsteps were heavier now, though Sonneillon knew better than to assume a Berserker of the World Eaters might show weakness. He was aware of his injury, that much was certain, but Sonneillon suspected that it was more to do with the muscles and nerves in his abdomen having been destroyed than because Goruvich felt any pain.

"The Blood God demands blood!" Goruvich snarled. "Submit to Khorne's will!"

"The rhetoric of a man who knows he is losing," Sonneillon observed, getting up slowly. "Your sword is a more capable fighter than you are."

"The blinkered preacher claims to know what strength is? What victory is?"

Goruvich was interrupted by a tremendous crash from behind him, and then another, and Sonneillon backed away as quickly as he could as the Dreadnought lumbered out of a side street. Behind it, a broken wall collapsed again under its own weight.

"YOU WILL WITHDRAW!" the Dreadnought bellowed. Sonneillon couldn't tell whether it was talking to Goruvich or himself.

"What?" Goruvich retorted, his voice dangerously low as he struggled to keep his rage in check.

"THE SHACKLED ONE MUST SURVIVE! YOU WILL WITHDRAW!"

"Withdraw!? This is between the Word Bearer and myself!" Goruvich snapped. "You are interfering in--"

"THEN YOU WILL EXPLAIN YOUR FAILURE TO KHORNE!"

A massive thud met Sonneillon's ears as the Dreadnought's power fist slammed into the road. Goruvich leapt to the side, but landed poorly and fell on his injured side.

"What treachery is this!?" the World Eater shouted.

"YOU WILL BE SILENT! THE SHACKLED ONE MUST SURVIVE!"

The Dreadnought suddenly pivoted to face Sonneillon.

"YOU WILL WITHDRAW, WORD BEARER!"

Sonneillon didn't need telling twice, and put away his sword.

"This is blasphemy!" Goruvich protested. "This is madness! Your insanity has overtaken you!"

"NO," the Dreadnought answered. "BUT YOURS HAS!"

The last thing Sonneillon heard before escaping was a loud splash as a large body plunged into the river.

[Koval]

(3)657009.M42

Location Classified

"So what you're saying is that there are no two ways about it."

"What happened on that planet was not entirely her doing, Gelert," Filipowski reminded him. "Two and a half billion people dead, not because of her treachery, not because of the civil war, not because of Nemurax, but because of all those things and more besides."

Hesh shifted in his seat and not for the first time, Filipowski felt decidedly uneasy being in the same room as him. Of all the Inquisitors he'd come into contact with over the years, only Madoc Haines had possessed a larger frame, but unlike Haines with his cybernetics, Hesh was all muscle, and was arguably a more imposing figure.

The only reason Filipowski was communicating with Hesh directly, and in such familiar terms, was because Hesh was also his friend.

"I've seen the vid-capture. Hell, I showed it to you," Filipowski continued. "I'm not saying don't pin the blame on Memphis, but it's obvious that she wasn't acting alone. There's something bigger at work than one newly minted Inquisitor gone wrong."

"Fabian, have you seen Memphis' records?"

"I'm Malleus, for heaven's sake. You know perfectly well that I have."

"Then I trust you ran a search for those with a connection to her?"

"Ulfrik Tervakoski came back positive, but his own record suggests he had nothing to do with Memphis at all. He couldn't have, anyway, he died before she was born. All other names were deleted, all records of her ordination gone, and her history before that is blank."

"I suspected as much," Hesh sighed. "She's very good at covering her own tracks. We might've been none the wiser that she even existed if she hadn't made that recording."

"She wanted us to see it," Filipowski suggested. "Either that, or she's not just a traitor, but also certifiably insane."

"That doesn't quite explain what happened at Coriolis Alpha."

"Memphis isn't giving a straight answer."

"Which I'm sure lends credence to your theory regarding her mental health," Hesh sniped. "Barkley would have a field day with her."

"If he ever gets to see her," noted Filipowski. "By her own admission she's guilty, and quite unrepentant--"

"Not to mention a twisted mutant freak. Unless you've forgotten the Helbindi incident."

"True, but we've still got to do this properly. Anita's been banging on about it for the past month. She wants a Carta Extremis drawn up with all the bells and whistles, like a warning for anyone else that decides rebellion is a good idea," Filipowski answered, a note of irritation in his voice. "If they're sufficiently far gone to need a warning, though, then in my experience they're not exactly going to take any notice of it."

"In that case I'll see if I can get her to sign Memphis' death warrant," Hesh replied. "Doesn't hurt to stay off of Anita's hit list. Barkley too."

"You worry about the paper work. I'll get a team working on her rosette. See if that brings anything else up. Deletion teams on her ship, reclamators going through her personal effects, the works. Memphis is a dead woman, that much is certain, but anything else we can find on the Nemurax entity will be a huge asset."

"I'll send in another datacyte," Hesh nodded.

[Dolnikan]

Nogal was alone in the apartment, waiting both for Antero and Tettares to return and the arrival of Antero's master, Hanssen. From the window of the stairs she saw parts of the city burning. She kept watching the signs of violence. She found herself worrying about Iota Tettares and reminded that that was not the way of the Mechanicus. Emotions were weak where logic was strong. She had instructed the servitor to follow her closely. Her heart was beating in her throat from the fear of an attack. Logically the danger was far enough away to present little threat, but still she was afraid.

At long last she was contacted. As soon as her com-link gave the characteristic beep she said: "Miss Tethran, is everything in order?"

"Tech priestess minoris Nogal, you make an error. This is tech-priest majoris Karnak. I am contacting you to give new instructions for the handling of unit Iota Tettares. When the opportunity presents itself inject a dose of two micrograms of NFMDA. It has been disobedient. If it remains incompletely compliant increase dosage. Present behavior cannot be tolerated in a subhuman."

"It shall be done"

[Koval]

"Commodore, you'll want to see this," Hargadon reported, staring at the holodeck.

"If it's anything to do with the Arbites, Hargadon..."

"I'm fairly sure that this is worse, ma'am."

"Fairly sure?" Vargas queried dubiously.

"Judging by how close you and that Arbitrator came to shooting each other, I don't know how certain I can be," Hargadon answered. Vargas tensed, but allowed her helmsman a moment's levity to ease the earlier tension.

"Very well. Let's hear it."

"It's the grand cruiser, ma'am. It's... deploying attack craft."

Vargas' hand strayed back towards her bolt pistol on reflex, but checked the motion. Shooting somebody would no longer serve any purpose.

"Don't tell me it's decided to take us out."

"Even if it had, the Traitor Marine must know we have fighters of our own," Hargadon noted. "I can't count how many it's deploying, but they're heading towards the planet."

"Should I give the order to deploy Furies?" Kees suggested.

"Negative. We'd just be giving the enemy more fighters," Vargas responded. "Can we get a scan of those fighters?"

"Already returned a result," Hargadon reported. "I'll bring it up."

The holodeck's usual battlefield display vanished, replacing itself with what Vargas initially thought was a very large boomerang.

"What the hell is that?" Vargas asked, a split-second before she noticed the thrusters along the boomerang's concave edge -- two in the centre, one halfway along each wing -- and the long-barrelled guns on the convex edge, one on either side of the central point. As the image in the holodeck rotated, tag lines and labels started appearing, each one spawning long lines of text that Vargas couldn't be bothered reading.

"A Secutor-class bomber," Hargadon told her in the same instant that the name SECUTOR spawned on the holodeck. "Imperial origin, but Emperor alone knows what's been done to them. Or how many the bastard's deploying."

"What the hell does he want?" wondered Vargas. "This can't just be a campaign of annihilation. He'd have glassed the planet by now if it was. Or used us to do it."

"Off the record?"

"Off the record, Mister Hargadon."

"I'm not sure I want to know."

[Koval]

"Keep sailing!"

"Engine's going as fast as it'll go, boss, we've got too much weight on board!"

"You think I care about that? Get these people the hell out of here, maggot, or heaven help me, I'll throw you over the side! Bloody Imperium, first they bomb us flat, now they scare the viss out of us with bloody Space Marines. What next, a--"

A loud boom.

"Blast it, did you hit something again?"

"No, boss!"

"Throw her into reverse, you--"

Another loud boom.

"That ain't--"

Dozens of voices screaming.

"What the viss, we're sinking!"

"No, boss... we're being pulled down!"

"YOU ARE VERMIN!"

"What the hell...?"

"YOUR FEEBLE ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE WILL NOT AVAIL YOU!"

"Holy frak, that's--"

[Koval]

(3)659009.M42

"Well?"

"Well what, Fabian?" Hesh sighed.

"Did your datacyte manage to get anything useful this time?" Filipowski asked, already knowing the answer.

Hesh flopped down in the chair and reached for the amasec. "Useless. Worse than useless, in fact. I had to put him down as soon as I heard those bloody words again."

"What... ah."

"As if Memphis isn't already a Chaos-touched mutant with no history, she's also extremely good at repelling mind-scans," Hesh grumbled. "That, or she has psychic powers of her own. In any case I'm not wasting any more datacytes. They're hardly ten a credit, and they're not making any new breakthroughs."

"Is it always the same set of words?" Filipowski queried. "If it is--"

"It is."

"And those words are...?" Filipowski continued.

Hesh necked his amasec and reached for the decanter again. "I doubt even you'd be able to get anything out of that babble, Fabian."

"Try me."

"The darkness never went away," Hesh repeated. "It is still here. It is waiting to take our souls, and become whole once again."

"Generic cultist waffle upon first inspection," Filipowski remarked, "but you've heard it enough times by now to know there's something deeper in all that."

"There has to be. I think it's talking about the Nemurax entity."

"Or whatever made her fall from grace."

"The two could be one and the same," Hesh pointed out.

"We don't know that for certain, Gelert," Filipowski reminded him, sipping at his own amasec. "We need to dig deeper before jumping to conclusions like that."

"And speaking of digging deeper, have you managed to come up with anything?"

"Interesting development, actually, although you're not going to like it. Tech-Priest Hasek managed to kill himself earlier today."

"I wasn't aware either of us liked Hasek enough for that to be interesting," Hesh sniped.

"That's not the point, Gelert. Hasek was working on Memphis' rosette, and actually broke through the encryption around the biometric identifier," Filipowski continued.

"I'm guessing it was booby trapped," Hesh ventured. Filipowski nodded.

"She'd managed to install a melta charge in the damn thing," Filipowski explained. "By the time we'd put the fire out, all that was left of the rosette was a hole in Hasek's worktop."

"And Hasek?"

"Died at the scene. I barely recognised him, actually, half of him was either molten or cremated."

"We're now even further away from finding anything out about Memphis than we were before," Hesh growled. Filipowski topped up Hesh's amasec.

"Not exactly. The deletion teams are working their way through her travel history. She didn't think to wipe her ship's logs before we caught up with her. The reclamators aren't making much progress, I'll admit, but that's actually working in our favour."

"Fabian, how is a lack of progress a good thing?" Hesh inquired.

"Easy. The ship's crew haven't all been processed yet. I managed to pull the bridge officers off the mortis roster."

Filipowski took another sip of amasec before correcting himself. "The sane ones, at least."

"I can see where this is going. You want me to bring in more datacytes."

"Nothing of the sort, Gelert," Filipowski grinned. "I've a feeling we can get something useful out of them the old-fashioned way."

"You're wasting your time," Hesh sighed. Filipowski leaned forward in his chair.

"Maybe I am," Filipowski conceded. "But it's worth a try."

He held out his hand, palm up, and willed a glowing blue haze into existence, running from his hand all the way up to his shoulder.

"Besides which, I still remember how to make someone feel pain."

[MarcoSkoll]

Last evening:

Steren pulled out the rightmost of the lasguns and turned it over, studying the damage. It was battered, but with their almost legendary reliability, probably not enough to stop it working.

"Do you know what you're doing there?"
"I may be a doctor, Javix, but I have had cause to learn my way around a lasgun."

She reached for a power pack and pushed it into place. The welcome glow of a green charge indicator blinked at her for her efforts.
A subsequent sharp yank on the arming handle brought similar reward as the discharge generator hummed into life.

"This one's good.", she said, checking the safety and setting it down against the pod wall to start on the next, "Would you get Adept Penrose to see if there's anything left in the flight cogitator? Particularly anything to do with where we or any of the other pods are."
"Of course, ma'am.", the voidsman nodded, walking off in search of Jael.

When he returned a few moments later with a very reluctant looking savant, Steren had finished raiding the weapons locker, leaving a stack of lasguns and charge packs, and had moved on to the other storage spaces.

"You're back.", she met with Javix's eye briefly, and gestured at the rations spilling out of a an open door, "We'll need a week's worth of that into rucksacks for the five of us. Any other survival equipment too, if you can find it."

"And Penrose, the cogitator. Now", she ordered, forcing a layer of telepathic coercion into the words to dispel Jael's urge to run out of the pod again. It worked, but she shuddered, trying to ignore the unpleasant metallic after-taste of a partly augmetic mind.

~~~~~

Early morning:

Riley paused, rubbing her temples.
"I'm going to have to admit to hearing more of that than you'd like me to have."

"Please don't tell me you're about to run off into the city.", Madoc's voice betrayed weariness, brought on by scarce sleep and exasperation.
"No - not yet anyway."

Haines looked away, silently groaning.

"Look at me, Madoc - I'm not that naked. We need to have a straight conversation, and I've had worse people than you see me in worse states than this. Consider yourself granted an exception to chivalry."
As soon as he (finally) made eye contact, she continued, "Andreas is right. We need to get into town."

The objection was firm as it was immediate.
"No. You need to go back to bed."
"Madoc, I'm concussed, not an idiot. A grand cruiser isn't about to launch a one Thunderhawk planetary assault. It's either already worse or it's about to get worse. So we need to put some ground between us or we need to get somewhere better defended. We're dead meat out here - the pod will show up on auspex or augur."

Haines blinked, taken slightly aback by the sudden reversal of Riley's cogence.

"Let's not waste time with clichéd surprise.", she added, "Suffice to say I can just about hold my mind together if I try."
"How, exactly?"
"Mental techniques to gather myself against psychic influence. But please get on, it's not easy."
"Of course.", he nodded, "I suppose you're right - it's going to be better to meet up with Andreas and our possible leads than heading off into the wilderness."
"Exactly, at least we know what we're facing in Coveton. It's also an unlikely target for orbital bombardment while there's troops there. But out here, if Zagan's got any clue who we are and that we might have escaped, he's got plenty of reason to want to be rid of us three."
"So how does this fit in with the theory that someone wants us here?"
"I'd almost forgotten that. Good point. A very good point, in fact.", she admitted, "But it's a hunch, nothing more. And that someone may not necessarily be Zagan."

~~~~~

Approximately two hours ago:

Steren sniffed at the air, but it offered her only the scents of the flora and fauna of a mildly alien environment, as well as the far stronger odours of four humans drenched in their own sweat and blood, some of it still fresh. Javix had badly cut his arm as they had climbed the cliff in the half-light, and even now his cruor slowly soaked into bandages, too trivial an injury for Steren to give away her secrets.

She could feel his pain stabbing across the aethyr, jabbing at her focus and making it harder to follow the many animal minds that scattered away through the trees.

"Why in the nine hells do we have to walk through the middle of nowhere?", he moaned, for what was probably the sixth time.
She ignored him, long since unwilling to re-explain why they needed to avoid any law enforcement that might be searching for survivors, and batted away a twig that scratched at her face.

She stood at the edge of a slight channel  in the terrain that a rocky stream had made home. As had a new smell, blown along the passage between the trees by the sea air. Incomplete hydrocarbon combustion. Concentrated, so recent. Not good.

"I can smell fuel. We need to get moving before they find us.", she turned to the others.
"Agreed.", the voidswoman replied.

Steren jumped down into the shallow water, quickly followed by Jael and Rosa, a silence and success broken by Javix losing his footing and falling with a sickening thud on his already injured arm. What was said was lost under itself and the voidsman's roar of pain, with no-one able to make out anyone else's words for several moments.

"Look. I'm the doctor, let me deal with it.", Steren finally made herself heard as she crouched down next to him, "You're going to need to move off that arm if I'm going to have a look at it. Roll over onto your back. The middle of a stream is not the ideal place, but that's where we are."

The movement was accompanied by another yelp of agony. Steren winced, allowing her emotions to filter through.

"Ah. That's not pretty. You've broken something in there. But, I should be able to..."

She was cut off and blinded in the same instant, the culprits a dazzlingly bright light and laud-hailer distorted voice:

"You five! Drop the weapons and put your hands in the air!"

A quick feat of concentration adjusted Steren's eyes to the light instantly. A half-track was climbing the stream towards them, powerful searchlights on its roof. It stopped about thirty feet away, the doors opening to disgorge five well armed people in uniforms that were clearly meant to represent positions of law enforcement.

"We're not the people you're looking for.", Steren spoke as she stood.

Of the five, three immediately accepted the psychic suggestion, lowering their weapons. The fourth hesitated, but man bearing a sergeant's insignia. was of sturdier mind, it seemed. His hands tightened on his shotgun, recognising the mental trickery.

"Filthy witch! Surrender or we will fire!", he barked.

The mere mention of the word 'witch' immediately snapped the others out of it. Their body language oozing alert rage even with their faces hidden, it was a split second before Steren found herself looking down five barrels.

"Acceptable.", the psyker spoke.

She stepped over Javix, walking towards the sergeant. The thunderous boom of his shotgun was accompanied by a spray of pulped flesh from Steren's cheek, but this only sped her up. Despite the sizable heels on her boots, she went from a walk to an impossibly fast sprint in an instant. Barrelling into the sergeant, the impact knocking him back several yards to land on his backside.
Even under stress, his training shone through, as he racked the slide and fired several times from his prone position.

Even psychically boosted, the impact of half a dozen shotgun slugs delayed her a brief moment, an opening another officer took to vault from the half-track's roof, swinging his shock maul. The blow connected, the weapon's charge dissipating with a sharp crack, but to little effect - she barely reacted to the strike. She shifted away from his next blow and turned to meet him in the same movement, then again and again moved just enough to evade his swings. She allowed this to continue momentarily, but just as soon snatched his next strike from the air. Her fingers clenched around the haft of the maul, lightning arcing between her knuckles as she twisted it from his grip. His surprise barely had time to register behind his helmet before the heel of her other hand collided with his torso, cracking armour and ribs alike.

A spray of bullets flew past, denting and scratching the side of the half-track. Without looking, she threw the shock maul at the autogun wielding enforcer to her left.

"Catch", she ordered, forcing the command into his mind. And before he could stop himself, he obeyed. The shock knocked him out instantly, the electric charge compelling his fingers to grasp the weapon.

The two last enforcers stood, hesitating, near the front of the vehicle. Fixing both in her gaze, she blinked with deliberate slowness and willed the wound on her cheek to seal itself.

"Get on with it.", she spoke.

The two glanced at one another, a slight movement of the head an unspoken agreement of action,  before stepping forwards as one. The synchronism held as both raised weapons for the parry, and it all ended equally unified, Steren's hands utterly unslowed and coming together to bounce their heads off each other.

Behind her, the sergeant reloaded one last round into his shotgun, aiming for the psyker's back as he struggled to his feet.

"Put the shotgun down, Sergeant.", Steren spoke without turning around, "It won't work. But I will kill you if you try."

He hesitated, a dozen different thoughts running around his head, before dropping the weapon to the floor and stepping back hands raised. So much of his body willed him to attack, but he wasn't suicidal.

"Good. Now go to sleep.", she pushed her suggestion harder this time and was rewarded by a splash as he dropped like a ragdoll into the shallow water.

She looked back towards Jael and the voidsmen, rewarded by a sight she had entirely expected.

"Get away from me, you... you witch!", Rosa's lasgun was raised, and her face one halfway between panic and hatred.

Steren pulled aside the right shoulder of her dress, a brand partway between the emblems of the Astra Telepathica and the Inquisition smouldering into the formerly bare skin.

"Fully sanctioned in service of the Emperor and his Inquisition. Lower the weapon, I won't harm you."
"What do you want?", Rosa's voice was trembling, but she turned the lasgun away.
"It's your choice. I'd suggest you three came with me at least to Portiswade - you don't want to meet any more of the enforcers out here. When we get into town, it's up to you."
"You're not a doctor, are you?"
"No. But I can fix that arm. You might not like the 'how' though."