Dan Abnett - Necropolis

We'll either be dead, or we'll be a noble lady and a soldier once again.

Then I thank the Emperor for this precious interlude of equality. Until the hour of my death, however far away that is, I will remember you.

I should hope so. And I hope that hour is a long time coming.

He kissed her mouth, stroked his fingers down her cheek, and then followed Daur out of the sacristy, pulling on his jacket and weapon-harness. At the door, he put on his cap and adjusted the metal rose Lord Chass had given him for honour. It was drooping in his lapel and he straightened it.

Sorry, sir, Daur said as Gaunt followed him down the hall.

Forget it, Ban. You should have woken me earlier.

I wanted to give you all the rest you could get, sir.

What's the situation now?

A holding pattern as before. Intense fighting on all fronts. The enemy has taken the north shore. And Hass West fell a few minutes ago.

Damn! Gaunt growled. They strode into the bustle of the Baptistry Command Centre. Additional cogitators and vox-sets had been added over night. Over three hundred men and women from Vervun Primary, the Administratum and the guilds now crewed them, working in concert with dozens of servitors. Major Otte was occupying the Font, as the command station was now known. Intendant Banefail and members of his elite staff assisted the major.

Many saluted as Gaunt entered the chamber. He acknowledged the greetings while taking in the details of the main hololithic display.

Just before it fell, Hass West reported seeing a massive mobile structure moving in towards them. We're fairly sure it is their main command vehicle.

Gaunt spotted the marker on the display. The thing was certainly huge, and now close to the western extremity of the Wall. The marker code ˜spike'?

Banefail joined them. The distinguished lord was almost dead on his feet with fatigue. My fault, commissar. I referred to it as a bloody great spike, and the word stuck.

It'll do. What do we know about it?

It's a massive weapon, but slow moving, Major Otte said, crossing the floor to Gaunt. I guess we can assume it's well armoured too.

What makes you think it's the command element?

It's the only one we've sighted, Daur said, and its size clearly indicates its importance.

More than that, Banefail said, gesturing at a vox-set manned by a female Administratum cleric, two servitors and a withered astropath. It's the source of the chatter.

Gaunt glanced at the woman operating the set. She dialled up the speaker and the air filled briefly with the coded, incessant growl of the enemy.

The enemy vox-traffic unites them all, lisped the pallid astropath thickly. Gaunt tried not to look at him and the festoon of data-plugs stapled into his translucent scalp. The astropath lifted a bionically augmented, wasted limb and pointed to data runes flashing across the instrumentation. We knew it was coming from outside the hive and we suspected the source was Zoica. But it's mobile now and audio scans confirm it is being emitted by that structure.

Gaunt nodded to himself. Asphodel.

Banefail glanced around at the name. He's there? So close?

It matches his recorded behaviour. The Heritor likes to be near to his triumphs, and he likes to maintain intense control. He commands by charisma, intendant. Where his legions march, we will not find him far behind.

Golden Throne Otte murmured, looking at the display with frightened eyes.

Gaunt forced himself to look at the astropath. The stink of the warp hung about the cadaverous wretch. Your opinion? This chatter: could it be the control signal of the Zoican forces? An addictive broadcast that maintains the Heritor's hold over his zealots?

It is certainly patterned and hypnotic. I find myself reluctant to listen to it for any length of time. It is a Chaos pulse. Though we can't daren't interpret its meaning, the flow of the enemy troops and armour seems to match its rhythmic fluctuations.

Gaunt turned away, deep in thought. The idea that had woken him reformed in his mind.

I have a notion, he told Daur, Otte and Banefail. Send word to Major Rawne's units and to Sergeant Mkoll and his scout platoon. He ordered other preparations to be made, and then told Daur to fetch him a fresh box of bolter shells.

Where are you going? We need you here, sir! stammered Otte.

You have my full confidence, major, Gaunt said. He gestured to the hololithic display. The defence strategies are set in motion. You and this staff are more than able to direct them. I'm a foot soldier. A warrior, not a warmaster. It's time I did my job, the job I'm best at. And with the grace of the Emperor shining on me, I may take this field yet.

Gaunt took Heironymo's amulet from his pocket and felt it whisper and chuckle in his hand. The flickering light patterns on its carapace roiled like the twisting flashes of the Immaterium.

In my absence, Otte and Daur have field command. If I fail to return, intendant, you should signal Warmaster Macaroth and plead for salvation. But I believe it won't come to that.

The amulet gurgled and quivered.

This could work, thought Gaunt. God-Emperor save us, this could fething work!

SEVENTEEN

OPERATION HIERONYMO

I believe this Gaunt fellow is singularly overrated.

General Noches Sturm to Major Gilbear,

during the assault on Voltemand

A scratch company met them at 281/kl to guide them in. The company was forty strong and had been conducting guerrilla work in the southern outer habs before the Shield fell. Their leader, a powerful, saturnine ex-miner called Gol Kolea, saluted Gaunt as he approached. Gaunt looked every centimetre a leader, though the braid of his cap had been rubbed with ash to dull its glint. He wore the powersword at his waist and his boltgun in a holster across his chest, under a short, black, leather jacket. On top of that, draped expertly as Colm Corbec had instructed him during the first days of the Ghost regiment's existence, was his Tanith stealth cape.

The roar of battle thundered down the ruined streets beside them, but this sector was clear and quiet. Cold, morning light filtered in through the crackling Shield. Gaunt signalled his units up to join Kolea's scratch company: thirty men, all Tanith, pale-skinned, dark-haired warriors in black fatigues and stealth capes, their skin decorated with various, blue tattoo symbols. They were the cream of Rawne's unit and the pride of Mkoll's stealth scouts. Amongst them, Bragg, Larkin, Domor, MkVenner, Dremmond, Genx, Neskon, Cocoer, the medic Gherran most of the very best.

Gaunt was beginning to outline Operation Heironymo to his waiting squad when Rawne heard movement down a side street. The Ghosts and scratches fanned out and made ready, arming weapons freshly supplied for the mission.

A fireteam of ten Volpone advanced down the side street, led by Colonel Gilbear. They were all Volpone elite troops from the 10th: massive, carapace-armoured and holding hellguns ready.

Gaunt walked out into the rubble-strewn open to meet Gilbear. They saluted each other.

Not going in without the Bluebloods, I hope, colonel-commissar? Gilbear said archly.

I wouldn't dream of it, colonel, Gaunt replied. I'm glad you got my message and gladder still you found your way here. Join us. We're about to move out.

Gaunt crossed to Rawne and Kolea as the Volpone meshed into the column spread.

I don't fething believe you invited them, Rawne cursed.

Keep your thoughts to yourself, major. The Bluebloods may be bastards, but I feel I have reached an understanding with them. Besides, we'll need their muscle when it comes to it.

Rawne spat in the puddles and made no reply.

I understand you're command now, Kolea said bluntly to Gaunt. May I ask what the gak you're doing here? Gnide and Croe never got their hands dirty.