Baskevyl heard a sound and looked up. An aircraft. Its engine noise was reflected off the low cloud, and he had to search to spot the actual object. It was a dot, cutting low and east across the city. After a moment, two more specks followed it, slicing fast across the clouds.
Domor frowned.
‘That’s not one of ours,’ he said quietly.
Somewhere, far away to the north, an anti-air battery opened up, a distant rapid thumping. Several more joined in.
‘Oh, feth,’ said Domor.
A vehicle was approaching along the hillside street. A cargo truck. Baskevyl stepped off the pavement and tried to flag it down. It rushed past, oblivious, hissing up standing water in a spray.
The distant rattle of gunfire got louder, like firecrackers in a neighbouring street.
‘We need to get back quickly,’ said Baskevyl.
Another vehicle was approaching, a Munitorum transport rumbling through the rain with its headlamps on.
‘Leave this to me,’ said Fazekiel.
She stepped into the road and stood in its path, one hand raised.
The transport ground to a halt in front of her. The driver peered out, regarding the commissar with some trepidation.
‘We need a ride,’ Fazekiel told him. ‘To the Low Keen quarter.’
‘Ma’am, I’m ordered to go to Signal Point,’ said the driver nervously.
‘Let me rephrase that,’ said Fazekiel. ‘Officio Prefectus. I am commandeering this vehicle, now.’
As they scrambled into the cab of the transport, Baskevyl heard more aircraft. He turned and looked up.
Planes were approaching from the south west, emerging from the heavy cloud. Hundreds of aircraft, grumbling in wide, heavy formations.
They weren’t Imperial.
‘Drive!’ Baskevyl ordered, slamming the cab door.
The rain had put a dent in the high spirits raised by Blenner’s proposed feast. Smoke and steam continued to billow out of the cookhouses, but the work had slowed down. People had drifted off, and only a few of the women and the camp cooks had stayed to keep things warm and stop them burning. The band had packed up.
‘They are coming here,’ said Yoncy.
Elodie had been playing catch with her in one of the billet hallways. Rain had driven the children indoors, and they were getting fractious. Yoncy had at least stopped complaining about her hair. Elodie was glad of that. She was pretty sure she didn’t have lice, but every time the child mentioned it, she wanted to scratch.
‘Who are, Yonce?’ she asked.
Yoncy frowned at her.
‘They are full up with woe,’ she said.
There was noise from the yard. Elodie went out to see, leading Yoncy by the hand.
The funeral transports had returned.
‘They’re back soon,’ Elodie said to Rawne.
‘That’s what I was thinking,’ said Rawne.
Criid got out of the transport and hurried across to Rawne. Elodie could see that Felyx was still in the back of the vehicle. Dalin was sitting with him. Then she noticed that the coffin was still in the back of the transport.
‘What’s going on?’ Criid asked Rawne.
‘About to ask you the same thing,’ he said.
‘The roads are shut,’ said Criid. ‘We got to the templum, and that was locked. The attendant said the service was postponed.’
Rawne made a face.
‘Felyx is upset,’ said Criid. ‘We had to bring the coffin back with us.’
‘Of course he is,’ said Zwiel, appearing at her side. ‘That won’t do at all.’
‘He’s actually angry more than upset,’ said Criid, glancing back at the transports. They could see Felyx yelling and gesturing at the sympathetic Dalin, though they couldn’t hear what he was saying.
‘Angry with everything and everyone,’ said Criid. ‘Angry at the whole fething galaxy.’
‘The dead must rest,’ said Zwiel, tutting, ‘they really must.’
‘Noted, father,’ said Rawne.
Across the yard, a Ghost shouted and pointed up into the rain at the lowering sky. Formations of aircraft were passing over them. There were packs of them, hundreds. The shrill scream of their chugging engines was distinctive. The formations seemed to slide across the grey sky. They were heading for the Great Hill.
‘Secondary order!’ Rawne yelled. ‘Get up, get up, get up! All companies! Secondary order now!’
Around him, the Ghosts scattered fast, heading for their bunk rooms and the arsenal.
‘Retinue into shelter!’ Rawne shouted. ‘Elam! Meryn! Get the retinue settled as best you can.’
Ludd and Blenner ran up. Blenner looked flushed and out of breath.
‘See to discipline in the camp, Blenner,’ said Rawne.
‘Yes, but–’
‘See to discipline in the damn camp now!’ Rawne snapped.
‘Yes, major.’
Rawne looked at Ludd.
‘Secondary order, and ready to move,’ he said.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘That includes crew-served.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do we have any transport?’
‘A few of the cargo-eights,’ said Ludd.
‘Load them up. Munition support, plus heavier weapons. Everyone else can walk.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Ludd. ‘Walk to where, sir?’
‘Well, it’s not happening here, is it?’ said Rawne. ‘Unless you want to take pot-shots at those planes? Something’s coming in, and we need to be ready to meet it.’
Ludd nodded.
‘Not dig in here, major?’ asked Zwiel.
‘Do you want the fight to be here, ayatani?’ asked Rawne. ‘Here where the retinue is?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘If we’re fighting here, it’ll be a very bad sign,’ said Rawne. ‘It’ll mean the enemy has taken everything south of here, and that’s most of the city. So if we’re fighting here, it means we’re neck-deep in shit.’
Oysten, Rawne’s adjutant, pushed through the milling crowds of troopers, and ran to him. She held out a slip of paper.
‘This from staff, sir,’ she said.
Rawne took it and read it.
notice of high alert ++ all stations in city zone to secondary immediate ++ await primary orders
‘No fething shit,’ he said, crumpling the paper and tossing it aside. He glanced at the flocks of aircraft droning overhead.
‘Like I needed brass to tell me that.’
Felyx got out of the transport and looked at the sky, mouth open.
‘By the Throne, what is this?’
‘Come on,’ said Dalin. ‘We have to move.’
Since accidentally overhearing Kolea and Hark, Dalin had been lost in worry about the prospect of Felyx’s secret coming out. But circumstances had changed so badly, that hardly seemed an issue. Felyx Chass’ stupid secret seemed insignificant now the city was under attack.
‘Will you come on?’ he urged.
‘But Maddalena–’
‘Move, now,’ said Dalin, grabbing Felyx by the arm.
Elodie scooped Yoncy up in her arms and hurried with the rest of the retinue into the billet houses. Elam’s company had opened up the basements and were sandbagging the windows of the lower storeys. They were urgently ushering the non-coms inside.
‘Downstairs,’ a trooper said to Elodie. ‘Quick now.’
‘I said they were coming, didn’t I?’ Yoncy whispered in Elodie’s ear as they bumped down the cellar steps.
Elodie looked at her.
‘The enemy? You meant the enemy?’
Yoncy nodded.
‘They are always really close,’ she said.
The wall batteries of the Urdeshic Palace began to fire, echoing the sustained barrage from batteries around the skirts of the high city. The storm clouds lit up with specks and flurries of light. The palace itself groaned and trembled. Deep-core generators kicked into life, and with a cough and pop of pressure drop, the fortress’ massive void shield system engaged, encasing the entire summit of the Great Hill in a globe of phosphorescent green energy against the incoming raid. The air stank of ozone.