In the war room, contained pandemonium reigned.
‘What are we looking at?’ demanded Cybon.
‘The situation in Zarakppan has deteriorated in the last hour,’ said Biota, scanning the data that flooded the strategium. ‘Faster than anticipated. Much faster.’
‘Urienz is on the line there, isn’t he?’ asked Van Voytz.
‘He’s en route, sir,’ said Biota. ‘But the line has already broken in three places. The enemy is progressing into the refinery district.’
‘Damn it!’ Van Voytz snapped.
‘But that’s just a feint,’ said Gaunt.
‘It is,’ agreed Biota. ‘It’s drawn our main power. Their main assault is coming from the south west, out of the margins of the Northern Dynastic Claves. A principal force, predominately infantry with fast armour support. Plus air cover, of course. Fast strike, slash and burn. They’re using the suburbs here on the south shore of the bay.’
The stained-glass windows of the war room rattled in their frames, shaken by the over-pressure of the massive void shield outside. Gaunt thought he could hear the first crisp stings of munitions spattering off the outside of the shield. On the hololithic display, the fuzzy patch of imaging that indicated the enemy aircraft formations was merging with the upper contours of the Great Hill.
‘We need to restructure,’ said Van Voytz, studying the chart and sliding the code-bars of brigade indicators around as if he were laying out playing cards for solitaire. ‘We need to pull garrison elements down from the north. Where’s Blackwood?’
‘Why do we need Blackwood?’ asked Gaunt.
‘Blackwood has principal command of the Eltath position,’ said Cybon. ‘This is his watch.’
‘This needs to go to the warmaster,’ said Gaunt.
‘The warmaster is indisposed,’ said Biota. ‘Marshal Blackwood has command precedence here.’
Gaunt looked around. The chamber was bustling with staff, but there was no sign of Blackwood.
‘For Throne’s sake,’ Gaunt said to Cybon. ‘Interim orders at least. Start the fething restructure! Blackwood can take over when he arrives.’
Van Voytz looked at Cybon. Cybon sighed, and walked to the balcony rail. He amped up the volume of his throat-vox.
‘Attention!’ he boomed. ‘I am assuming command until relieved by Marshal Blackwood! All data to my station! Await orders!’
He looked back at the table. Van Voytz and Biota were already pushing data blocks across the hololith map, suggesting deployment structures for the reserve garrisons stationed inside the city.
‘Good,’ Cybon nodded, considering their suggestions. ‘Confirm these routings and send them to the main table. Get them despatched now! And make sure the damn Munitorum knows where and what it needs to support.’
‘Yes, sir!’ said Biota.
‘Let’s look at the rest of the list,’ said Cybon. ‘Anything we can reposition in the western corner there?’
Van Voytz pointed at the city map.
‘That’s your mob, Bram,’ he said.
Gaunt nodded.
‘Any requests?’
‘I think they could make the south bayside in under an hour. Perhaps mount a support of the Tulkar Batteries?’
Van Voytz nodded.
‘Yes, and we push this armour in at their left flank. Cybon?’
‘Do it,’ Cybon growled, busy with the deployment authorisations for another eighteen regiments.
‘We have retinue with us, sir,’ Gaunt said to Van Voytz. ‘Permission to have them transported inside the palace precinct?’
‘Granted,’ said Van Voytz immediately, then paused. He gestured to the chamber’s high windows, lit by the eerie green glow outside. ‘But nothing’s getting in or out with the shield up.’
‘Once this raid is driven off,’ said Cybon, looking up from the chart, ‘we’ll have to drop the voids. Power conservation.’
Van Voytz nodded, and looked back at Gaunt.
‘Get them ready to move at our notice,’ he said. ‘They can come in once the raid has cleared.’
Gaunt nodded a thank you. He beckoned to his waiting adjutant.
‘Beltayn?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Get me a link to the regiment. Call me when it’s up,’ said Gaunt.
‘Yes, sir.’
Beltayn hurried off to the vox-centre. Gaunt took Van Voytz aside.
‘The warmaster must be on top of this,’ he said quietly. ‘Now.’
‘We can manage.’
‘This is his fight! On his doorstep!’
‘He’s busy with the big picture, Bram. This isn’t the only warzone on Urdesh.’
‘Someone should go and–’
‘His area is off limits to all,’ said Van Voytz. ‘I’m sure he’s been made aware of the situation. He will intervene if he thinks it’s necessary. It’s staff’s job to keep on top of this.’
Gaunt looked at him, unconvinced.
‘Dammit, Bram,’ said Van Voytz, ‘this is exactly what I’ve been talking about. Macaroth’s detached from everything. Everything. It’s all grand theory to him. He probably hasn’t even noticed we’re voids up.’
‘I can’t believe the warmaster is so divorced from reality,’ said Gaunt.
Van Voytz’s voice dropped to a whisper.
‘Throne’s sake, Bram. We told you. We told you plain. He’s not fit. Not any more. He’s not the safe hands we need driving this. Not this fight, not the theatre, not the damn crusade. He’s been holed up in his quarters for months, sending out strategic orders by runner. I don’t think he’s been out of the east wing in weeks.’
He put his hand on Gaunt’s shoulder and turned him away from the officers around the busy strategium table.
‘That’s why we need to settle this,’ he whispered. ‘And we need to do it now. In the next few hours.’
Gaunt looked at him, hard-faced.
‘You want to move against him now? Replace him? In the middle of this?’
‘If not now, when, Bram? When? The inner circle is ready to act. The declamation of confidence is prepared. All the formalities are in place. With your cooperation, we were hoping to act this week anyway. This crisis is forcing our hand. The Archenemy has shifted tactics, a hard turn. Throne knows what’s coming in the next few hours, here or on the Southern Front.’
‘At least wait until we’ve pushed back this assault,’ said Gaunt.
‘The enemy is hitting Eltath, Bram. Two days ago, that was an unthinkable scenario. This offensive demonstrates the failure of command. It’s primary evidence to support our demands.’
‘Barthol, I refuse to accept that the best time to enforce change at the very upper level of command is during an enemy assault. Macaroth’s hands need to be on the reins–’
‘But they’re not, Gaunt, they’re not! He’s not engaged with the matter at hand. He’s letting it happen. The warmaster’s hands need to be on the reins, all right. But not Macaroth’s.’
Van Voytz looked him in the eye.
‘We need theatre command, and we need it now,’ he said. ‘Not tonight, not tomorrow. We need it now. If we leave it a day or two, Throne knows what we’ll be facing across Urdesh. Throne knows how the game will have changed. I’m not going to wait to let a catastrophic defeat prove that we need new leadership.’
‘Barthol, you know the rest of staff knows all about it?’
Van Voytz made a careless shrug.
‘It’s been plain to me,’ said Gaunt. ‘Staff knows what your inner circle is planning, and significant numbers of them oppose the idea. Even those sympathetic to the idea don’t think this is the right time to consider it. Those against you would block it.’
‘We have the numbers,’ Van Voytz sneered. ‘It will be a procedural formality. Look at what’s going on, Gaunt. This is a shambles. After this, staff will thank us for it… If we get fresh blood to haul us out of this offensive with renewed vigour. Come on. Think about it. We should be thanking the Anarch for giving us the push we need. It trounces all counter-arguments.’