‘Hold,’ he said into the micro-bead. He flicked channels. ‘R Company lead, R Company lead, this is rearguard. Be advised, we have contact at the gate at this time.’
‘Copy, rearguard.’
Kolosim switched channels.
‘All positions, hold fire. Let’s see how busy this gets.’
A second flurry came in, stinging the night air with bright darts. The las-fire began to chop at the forward positions, cracking and splitting rock cover.
‘They’re correcting,’ said Bray. ‘Cutting in closer now.’
Somewhere out in the dark, a support weapon started to chatter. A hard round .30, crew served. The shots licked along a line from the outer fence post to the nearest transport. They heard the slap as the heavy rounds punched through bodywork, then a smash as a windscreen blew out. The firing stopped, then they heard it begin again, the distinctive clattering cough of a belt feeder. It was spitting blue tracers this time, every tenth round. The illuminated rounds seemed to float and drift as they came in, feeling the range.
‘Seena,’ said Kolosim into the link.
‘Sir.’
‘They’re giving us tracers. Are you sourcing that?’
‘Angle’s wrong from here, sir.’
‘Melyr?’ Kolosim said.
‘Sir. If he keeps chucking that at us, I can narrow it down to about a ten metre zone.’
‘Don’t be greedy, Melyr. Just make a mess of the whole area.’
‘Pleasure, sir.’
‘Pour it on, please,’ said Kolosim.
Forty metres from him, one of the support positions opened up. The .30 howled for about ten seconds.
When it ceased, the tracers stopped skimming in.
‘Thank you, Melyr. Do it again if he starts back up.’
Kolosim didn’t hear Melyr’s reply. The night opened up with an intense barrage of small arms fire. A rain of las and hard rounds swept across their position. The combined roar felt extreme after the long quiet. If these were insurgents, there were a lot of them, and they had coordinated with alarming effect. Kolosim guessed at eighty or ninety shooters. How did cells link up to deliver this?
For thirty seconds, the barrage was so intense it kept them down. The noise seemed deafening. A sheet of smoke and lifted dust rolled off the scree.
Kolosim rolled onto his back, and adjusted his bead.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘They’re determined to have this out.’
He lay on his back for a moment, watching las-bolts flit over him, dazzling against the black sky.
‘Full contact, full contact,’ he ordered. ‘All positions. Light them the feth up.’
The moment he spoke, four prepped and ready companies of Ghosts opened fire. The light-shock lit the entire gate area.
Now the noise was truly deafening.
Major Pasha strode down the burnished arcade of the Mechanicus station behind the two adept wardens. Elam and Ludd led a squad of Ghosts in her wake. Behind them, Criid, Theiss, Spetnin and the other company officers were deploying squads to cover the front half of the complex.
The place was vast and the layout complicated. There were floors of polished brass and ornate walls dry with rust. Deep turbine halls throbbed with energy, and were criss-crossed by suspended walkways that would easily hinder standard practices of cover. Machine shops thrummed with power tools, dancing with sparks. Side vaults gave access to cryonic bays, and were bathed in cold blue light.
Everywhere they went, servitors and cowled adepts stared at them in curiosity and suspicion. They could hear the muted tick and chatter of machine cant as the adepts gossiped to each other. Newcomers, outsiders…
Halfway along the arcade of the inner court, Pasha was met by a senior tech-priest and a slender young man in black. The two adept wardens stepped back and stood to attention, their dendritic fingers holding their stave weapons upright.
‘Pasha, commanding Tanith First,’ Pasha said, snapping the sign of the aquila.
‘Sindre, interrogator, Ordo Hereticus,’ the pale young man replied. ‘I present Versenginseer Etriun, the study lead.’
The cowled priest nodded. Mandelbrot-pattern electrodes in the flesh of his throat rippled with light. He emitted a soft buzz of code.
‘You are aware of our business here?’ asked Pasha.
‘The gatehouse relayed the details,’ said Sindre. ‘The Mechanicus formally objects to this invasion by the Astra Militarum.’
‘Invasion?’ asked Pasha, amused.
‘All these Guardsmen. So many. How many companies did you need to bring into the sanctity of the Mechanicore?’
‘Sufficient,’ said Pasha. ‘I note that the priesthood objects to the intrusion of the Militarum, but not to the presence of the Inquisition.’
‘You’re not terribly good at politics, are you?’ said Sindre.
‘Don’t have much call for it,’ said Pasha.
‘Well, for one thing, I haven’t trooped a regiment in here,’ said Sindre. ‘For another, I am attached to the study. The ordo has a fundamental interest in the items. And for another, the versenginseer requires my assistance as an intermediary. Unless you speak mechmata hyper-bineric?’
‘I do not,’ said Pasha.
‘That’s a shame, captain.’
‘Major,’ said Pasha. She tapped her collar studs. ‘Just dots. Not hard to remember. If you can’t tell dots from dots, I wonder how you can tell heresy from a hole in the ground.’
The tech-priest made an urgent, buzzing sound. Sindre nodded.
‘We find your tone aggressive, Major Pasha,’ said Sindre.
Pasha shrugged. ‘Aggressive? I am soldier. Aggressive is my mother. She would bite your throat right out. Grrrr! Bite it.’
Pasha clutched her own throat for emphasis.
‘Now, eagle stones please, thank you,’ she said.
‘This is untoward,’ said Sindre. ‘The stones are xenos artefacts, under safekeeping. Neither the Mechanicus nor the Ordo Hereticus has yet determined their potential or use. It was clearly understood that they should remain in our hands for the duration. This was a given, signed off by the Militarum, the office of the warmaster, the Intelligence Division, your company commander Gaunt, and my associate Sheeva Laksheema.’
Pasha nodded, as if chewing this over.
‘I tell you what is untoward,’ she said. ‘I am here, asking you for thing. It is not a matter of negotiation. My rearguard is already in hot contact with the Archenemy on your doorstep. My company commander, “Gaunt”, as you speak him with shocking lack of respect, is Lord Executor. Lord Executor? You know this thing? My orders are his will, and his will, it cannot be challenged by Ordo Hereticus, Mechanicus of Mars, Intelligence Division, my fething mother, whatever. Also, I have asked you very nicely, please. Now get me the eagle stones, ready for transport, or I will stick my boot up your arsehole and go get them myself.’
‘I’d do it if I were you,’ said Ludd. He was standing at Pasha’s side, his arms folded. ‘I’d run and do it. She doesn’t feth around.’
Sindre glared at them.
‘I will take this up with the ordo senior,’ he hissed.
‘And he will take it up with the Lord Executor,’ said Pasha. ‘Then everyone will be happy, as long as they are the Lord Executor.’
The tech-priest’s actuators buzzed.
‘This way,’ said Sindre, gesturing behind him.
Pasha grinned.
‘You are lovely man,’ she said. ‘No matter what the other boys in the ordo say about you.’
They followed Sindre and Etriun along the arcade. As he walked, Sindre gestured to one side and then the other. The two adept wardens stayed where they were, but six skitarii emerged from the shadows and fell in beside the Ghost party, three on each side. They moved in perfectly synchronised step.