James Swallow - The Flight of the Eisenstein

So, keeping his distance, the housecarl threaded his way through the Eisenstein, keeping the convoy of containers in sight, careful to stay out of Mokyr's eye-line. The crates were halted in the service gantries that ran down the spine of the frigate. On either side of the open steel tunnel were loading gears and hopper mechanisms for the ship's primary weapons batteries. Large open gun breeches lined the walkway, ready to accept war shots from the ammunition magazines that towered above them. The crates were being shifted to the staging areas near the portside guns. Kaleb's face showed confusion and he let his gaze fol­low the length of one huge cannon out beyond the hull through the armoured slits of the sighting port. He saw the dim reflection of a planetary surface out there, drifting in the dark.

The work gangs had some of the crates open and he shifted forward to get a better look, slipping over the lip of seal plates where wide emergency barrier partitions would drop into place in the event of a munitions dis­charge or misfire. Kaleb's dismay grew stronger when he

recognised the tall, broad shapes of Death Guard stand­ing watch over the serfs while they worked. Bareheaded and intent, Commander Grulgor was at their forefront, shouting out orders and giving directions with sharp jerks of his hand. The crate closest to him gave out an oiled hiss and unfolded like a gift box. Inside there were hexagonal frames, and racked upon them were a dozen glass spheres. Each one was at least a metre in diameter, and all of them were filled with a thick chemical slurry of vomitous green fluids.

A black symbol made up of interlocking broken rings decorated each capsule, and some basic animal reaction made Kaleb's hands clench around the rail­ing he hid behind. A quick mental calculation told him that if all the crates were identical, then there were over a hundred of the spheres in Grulgor's cargo. Things added up: Mokyr's abrupt anger, the com­mander's presence at the unloading, the exaggerated delicacy with which the crewmen moved the cap­sules. Whatever the liquid was inside them, the glass pods represented something utterly lethal.

The thought crystallised in Kaleb's mind with such an impact that it pushed him back up to his feet. Suddenly, all the bravery he had felt at his clever litde disguise evaporated, and stabs of fear shot through him. The housecarl spun about to run and slammed into an ambling servitor with a tray of tools. The piston-legged machine slave tipped over and collapsed, sending its gear flying. The tool-parts sent up a cacophony of sound, drawing the attention of Grulgor's Astartes. Kaleb saw Mokyr start towards his hiding place and the housecarl fled into the deeper shadows.

Fear enveloped him as readily as the thick material of the ship-robes. It was only as his eyes adjusted to the dark that the housecarl realised he had backed

into a wide alcove with no other exits. The dead-end stopped with a sheer wall of hull metal and hanging catwalks overhead that he couldn't hope to reach. He would be found. He would be found and they would know who he was and who had sent him. Nerves in the servant's legs twitched. Grulgor would end his life, he was certain of it. He remembered the look in the commander's eyes back aboard the Endurance, the loathing. But that death would be nothing compared to the crushing failure it represented. Kaleb Arin would die and he would perish having failed both his master and the Master of Mankind.

Mokyr gave the servitor a sideways look and kept coming, straight towards Kaleb, one hand resting on the hilt of his combat blade. The housecarl prayed silently. Emperor, Lord of Man, protect me and hold me safe against the enemies of Your Divine Will-In the next second he was yanked from his feet and felt strong hands pull him off the deck, up and away. Kaleb thrashed, coming to face a serious aspect there in the dimness.

'Voyen?' he whispered.

The Apothecary put a finger to his lips and held Kaleb tightly. The housecarl looked down from the catwalk and watched Mokyr run a cursory glance over the alcove below them, then snort and stride back to Grulgor. After a moment, Voyen relaxed his grip and let Kaleb settle on to the scaffold.

'Lord?' whispered the servant. 'What are you doing here?'

Voyen's voice was a low rumble. 'Like you, my sus­picions were piqued. Unlike you, my skills in stealth are of a decent standard.'

'Thank you for saving me, sir. If Mokyr had found me there-'

'It would not have gone well.' It was clear the Apothecary was deeply troubled.

Kaleb looked back at the loaders and the glass spheres.

'Those orbs, what are they?' The work gangs were busy detaching the warhead cowlings from thruster-guided glide bombs, exchanging the explosive charges inside for the globes of liquid.

Voyen tried to speak, and it was as if the words caught in his throat, too distasteful for him to even bring to bear. Those are Life-Eater capsules,' he managed. 'It is an engineered viral strain of such complete lethality that it can only be deployed in the most extreme cir­cumstances, usually against the most foul xenos.'

He looked away and Kaleb felt a chill at the war­rior's mien. If an Astartes could be fearful of these things…

'It is a bane-weapon of the highest order, a world-killer. Only the largest capital ships are permitted to carry it in their armouries'

'They brought it from the Endurance!' Kaleb blinked. 'Why, lord? Why are they loading it to fire on the planet?'

Voyen gave him a hard look. 'Kaleb, listen to me. Go to the captain and tell him what we have seen. As fast as you can, little man. Go. Go now!'

And so Kaleb ran.

'What's this?' Decius heard the warning tone in Carya's voice and looked up from the hololithic dis­play and across the frigate's bridge. The shipmaster was speaking to Maas, the vox-tender. There aren't any scheduled movements in this battle sector. Did the deployment pattern get altered without my knowledge?'

'Negative,' said Maas. 'No recorded changes, sir. Nevertheless, this signal from the Lord of Hyrus is clear. A craft from the Andronius is on our scopes and it does not register a mission flight plan.'

The Andronius is Eidolon's ship/ said Sendek. 'Has he suddenly become eager to join our battle-brothers down on the surface?'

'Perhaps the scent of all that glory was too much to resist,' added Decius.

Captain Garro walked back from the far end of the chamber, grimacing a little as he limped. 'Are you sure?' he asked, addressing his demand to the com­munications officer.

Maas nodded and brandished a data-slate. Very sure, captain. An Emperor's Children Thunderhawk is passing through our engagement zone.'

A fine way to get yourself shot down,' murmured Sendek, drawing a wry nod from Decius. The Astartes toggled the hololith to show the data from Maas's report and his eyes widened. Not only was there a Thunderhawk arrowing through Eisenstein's patch of space, but behind it was a cluster of Raven intercep­tors and they were in an attack delta.

Garro was speaking to the woman, Vought. 'Smells like trouble. Put us on an intercept course.'

Decius looked to his commander as the deck officer relayed Garro's orders. 'Lord, is this some sort of test? First we are taken off our assigned duty station and now our own ships are launching without authorisa­tion?'

'I have no answer for you.'

'Captain!' Sendek called out urgently. 'The fighters trailing the Thunderhawk… They have just opened fire on it.' The shock was clear in his voice.

A warning shot,' suggested Carya.

Vought shook her head. 'No. Cogitators are detect­ing energy blooms on the vessel's hull. The drop-ship is taking hits.'

The familiar bell chime sounded once more, and Maas emerged from the alcove again. 'Battle-Captain Garro, I have a message sent in the clear on the gen­eral vox channel.'