Dan Abnett - Necropolis

The sky lit up again. Explosions were rippling along the entire stretch of Curtain Wall between Ontabi Gate and the Hass.

Varl got up, blinking. There was no sign of shelling. That had been mines.

He ran down the parapet, yelling into his vox-link as more explosions shook the wall. Detonating mines meant one thing only: the enemy was right on top of them, close enough to set charges.

Men were milling all around, confused. Equally useless barks of vox-traffic answered Varl. Varl grabbed the wall for support as another explosion went off close by, flame slicking upwards in a tight ball inside the Wall.

Inside the Wall?

They've penetrated! They've penetrated! he bellowed, not understanding it but desperate to get the message out. Almost at once, he came under fire. Las-shots flicked the air around him, coming up from the nearest Wall access stair.

Varl returned fire, rallying the Vervun Primary troops nearest to him. Crackling autoguns began to support him. He saw Zoican storm-troops spreading out onto the battlements from the stair access, their ochre armour dulled by dark, tarry stains.

Varl shot down one or two before realising many more were storming the battlement behind him too. How in the name of feth had they got inside?

A huge blast shook him to his knees. An entire section of Hass East collapsed with a roar and brick dust billowed into the sky, underlit by flame. Further detonations sliced through the top of the wall.

Varl saw gun emplacements ripped apart and exploded and he watched as entire sections of wall-defences blew outwards as mines set off ammunition silos and autoloader hoppers.

Like the wrath of a ruthless god, the war had come to Hass East at last.

TWELVE

DARKNESS FALLS

What is the strongest weapon of mankind? The god-machines of the Adeptus Mechanicus? No! The Astartes Legions? No! The tank? The lasgun? The fist? No to all! Courage and courage alone stands above them all!

Macharius, Lord Solar, from his writings

Distant thunder woke Ibram Gaunt from a dreamless sleep.

His bedroom, part of a small suite of rooms disposed to him, adjacent to House Command, was dark except for the dull amber glow of rune sigils on the small codifier by the desk.

He turned on the lamp and slid off the bed where he had lain down only a couple of hours before, fully clothed. Sleep had overtaken him in an instant.

By the light of the lamp, he crossed to the desk, where stacks of ribbon-bound papers and data-slates were piled up. He took a sip of last night's wine from a glass on a side table.

The thunder came again. Somewhere, deadened by the thick walls, an alarm was ringing.

He activated the call stud of the intercom set into the marble facing of the wall, blankly regarding the great framed portrait over the bare grate opposite. Its thick, time-darkened oils portrayed a pompous-looking man in the Vervun Primary uniform of an older age, bedraggled with braid, one foot raised to rest on a pile of human skulls, a scroll in one hand and a power-sword in the other.

Sir?

What's going on?

Reports of a raid at Ontabi Gate. We're waiting for confirmation.

Appraise me swiftly. I have men at Hass East.

Of course, sir. There is a visitor for you.

Gaunt checked the clock. It was nearly two in the morning. Who?

He bears the Imperial seal and says you requested him.

Gaunt sighed and said, Allow him in.

The suite's outer door slid open and Gaunt went into the sitting room to meet his visitor, activating the wall lamps.

A gnarled, elderly man in long, purple robes shuffled in, peering at Gaunt through thick-lensed spectacles. His hair, where it protruded from under his high-crested, red, felt cap, was grey and unruly, and he leaned on an ebony cane. Behind him came a tall, pale young man in grey cleric's coat, laden down with old tomes and sheaves of paper.

Commissar Gaunt? the old man wheezed, studying the officer before him.

Colonel-commissar, actually. You are?

Advocate Cornelius Pater of the Administratum Judiciary. Your request for legal assistance was received this night and Intendant Banefail directed me to attend you with all urgency.

I thank the intendant for his alacrity and you for your time.

The advocate nodded and wheezed his way over to a leather couch, leaving his assistant in the doorway, swaying under the weight of the manuscripts and volumes he carried.

Set them down on the table, Gaunt told him. You are?

The man seemed wary of speaking.

My clerk, Bwelt, Pater answered for him. He will not speak. He is training for junior advocacy and must perforce learn the protocols of question and address. Besides, he knows nothing.

How do we undertake this? Gaunt asked the advocate.

Pater cleared his throat. You will review the matter for my benefit excluding no detail you will show me any pertinent transcripts and you will furnish me with a glass of fortified wine.

Gaunt glanced round at Bwelt. There's a bottle on the side table in the bedroom. Fetch him a glass.

Pater refused to speak further until the crystal glass was in his withered hand and the first sip in his mouth. The cane lay across his lap.

Gaunt began. An Imperial Guard General Grizmund of the Narmenian Armour and four of his staff officers are charged with insubordination. They're being held in the VPHC stockade, pending prosecution by a VPHC court. The charges are spurious. I want them freed and back to duty immediately. I think the matter founders on a formality the VPHC cannot prosecute Imperial Guard personnel. If there is a crime to answer, it is an Imperial Commissariat matter. I am the highest representative of that authority on Verghast.

Pater adjusted his spectacles and studied the data-slate Gaunt handed him.

Hmm clear-cut enough, I suppose. You're citing Imperial Commissariat Edict 4368b. The VPHC won't like it. Tarrian, in particular, will hate you for it.

There's no love lost between us.

Bwelt? What is it? You gurn like a fool or a man with chronic gas.

It's 4378b, Advocate. The edict is 4378b. Bwelt's voice was almost a whisper.

Just so, Pater said, brushing off the correction and returning his gaze to the slate. It may come to court. Tarrian has a miserable record of dragging cases through all the due processes, even if he is bound to lose. To him, there's some satisfaction in prolonging the agony.

I want it thrown out before then. We can't be without Grizmund any longer. In the next few days, Vervunhive's future may depend upon skilled armour.

Tricky. But the edict is well-precedented. A brief hearing, perhaps at dawn tomorrow, and we should be able to pull the rug out from under the VPHC Pater looked up at Gaunt. I'll derive satisfaction from that. The VPHC have deemed themselves above Imperial Law for many years. It's been nigh on impossible to practise clean law in the hive. With your prestige involved, we can win.

Good. At least we know the VPHC can't act before then. However they argue it, they know an Imperial Commissar must be present for a tribunal to be conducted.

Indeed. Even if they press for a court of their own, we can stall them as long as you refuse to participate. Then Bwelt? Again, you screw up your face! What now?

Bwelt paused and seemed to choose every word with great care. The tribunal is in session now, advocate. You told me to collate all information relating to this case before we came here and that fact was diarised in the judiciary case-roll.

What?

Th-they are proceeding because they have an Imperial commissar present. Commissar Kowle has agreed to represent the Imperial interests and

Gaunt's vicious curse shut Bwelt up and made the old man start. Pulling on his jacket, cap and weapon belt, Gaunt reeled off a colourful and descriptive tirade outlining what he would do to Tarrian, Kowle and the entire VPHC in four-letter words.