Graham McNeill - Mechanicum

Dalia fought to free herself from the weight pinning her to… the ceiling? Which way was up and which was down? She couldn't hear any screams. Had the Kaban machine killed everyone?

A man's body lay sprawled across her, or at least half of him, and she cried as she pushed his bifurcated body from her. The metal beneath her - the ceiling, she was sure of it now - was sticky with warm blood, and she whimpered in terror at the sight of heaped mounds of corpses filling the corridor. The iron stink of blood was thick in her nostrils and Dalia couldn't remember a more awful smell.

She retched dryly at the sight of so many dead, terrified and numbed by the horror of how quickly their grand adventure had come to such a bloody end. Despite the stink of death, she took a deep breath and looked for her friends amid the wreckage and carnage.

Dalia saw Rho-mu 31 lying further along the buckled corridor with a jagged spar of metal impaling his shoulder. The Protector's biometrics were fluctuating, but he was alive.

Zouche lay in a heap of bodies, his face a mask of blood, but she couldn't tell whether it was his or belonged to someone else. Caxton was just behind her, pinned to the floor by a metal door in the midst of a spray of glass fragments. His eyes were open and pleading, a low moaning issuing from between bloodied lips.

Severine lay beneath a nutrient dispensing machine that had torn loose from the wall, her arm thrown out before her and twisted at an unnatural angle. Her eyes were closed, but her pained expression and rapid, shallow breaths told Dalia she was alive.

The carriage was still, no straining bodies or panicked shoving, and the only light came from smashed lumen globes that sparked and stuttered in the half-light.

After such a tremendous cacophony of violence and noise, the silence that enveloped her was as welcome as it was terrifying.

Dalia began to crawl towards Rho-mu 31. He saw her coming and shook his head, placing a finger to the grilled mouthpiece of his helmet.

At first Dalia didn't understand.

Then she heard it.

Over the creaking wreckage and tinkle of falling glass, she felt the vibration of the heavy machine through the ground as it crashed metal and ruptured bodies beneath its tracks. Dalia craned her neck to look through the shattered window into the sputtering darkness of the tunnel, and fought down the urge to cry out as she saw the monstrous form of the sentient machine rambling towards where they lay.

She felt the crawling pressure of its corrupted mind as it swept the carriage for life signs, and heard the rattle of its autoloaders feeding its weapons fresh ammunition.

It drew nearer with every breath and in moments its auspex would register their presence. Then it would kill them.

Princeps Cavalerio finished processing the feeds inloading into his casket at a rate of over six thousand data packets per second. The Martian networks had slowly returned to normal after the scrapcode plague, the diligence of the code-scrubbers and magos probandi all across the red planet finally re-establishing communications and information exchanges.

Fresh reports, petitions and pleas for aid from forges far and wide were streaming into Ascraeus Mons through the vox, across the noosphere and via optic feeds.

It was a bleak picture they painted of the Mechanicum's future.

Cavalerio let his mind swim up through the reams of liquid information that flowed around and through him. He saw Agathe's face before him, and set the biometrics of his casket from processing to consciousness.

His famulous nodded as she read the information on the slate fixed to the side of the casket and retreated to a subordinate position behind him.

Cavalerio's Manifold senses processed his surroundings. His casket sat in the position of honour in the Chamber of the First, raised on a plinth before the mighty, towering form of Deus Tempestus, the First God Machine of the Legio.

Princeps Sharaq stood before him, waiting to hear whether he would give an order of execution. Though Sharaq had correctly appointed himself the acting Princeps Senioris of the Tempestus forces on Mars, he knew and welcomed the fact that any order to walk should come from the Stormlord.

Behind Sharaq were his Legio brothers, each awaiting the Stormlord's decision.

Princeps Suzak, the grim-faced hunter who commanded the Warlord Tharsis Hastatus, watched with an impassive eye, while Princeps Mordant of the Reaver Arcadia Fortis strained like an attack dog on a leash.

The Warhound drivers - Basek of Vulpus Rex, Kasim of Raptoria and Lamnos of Astrus Lux - paced like caged wolves, and Cavalerio rejoiced in the fearful power he saw before him.

'Stormlord,' said Sharaq. 'The princeps are gathered as you ordered.'

'Thank you, Kel,' said Cavalerio, before enhancing his augmitters to address the princeps of his Legio. 'I know you're all waiting to see whether I give an order of execution, but before I tell you my decision we need to understand what might happen as a result. I've given great thought to this, because a wrong choice will have consequences none of us can imagine. The forges of Mars burn in the fires of schism, and factional violence is reaching epidemic proportions all across our home world. So far, that violence has been restricted to the Mechanicum. None of the Titan Legions have yet initiated any hostilities, but it's surely only a matter of time until that happens.'

He could see their hunger to be unleashed, proud of their courage yet saddened by their eagerness to fight their erstwhile brothers.

'Before you all rush to your engines, gentlemen, let's be clear on one thing. If the Titan Legions march to war, there will be no coming back from it; we will have unleashed the fire of a civil war that will only be extinguished by the utter destruction of one side or the other. I have always sought to keep our Legio free from the insidious poison of politicking. I believe that the Titan Legions should remain true to their warrior ideals and not be instruments of political will, save that of the Imperium itself. Mars faces the gravest crisis in its long and glorious history, and warriors of honour and courage do not stand idly by in such times, they act. They stand firm in the face of aggression and in the defence of their allies.'

Cavalerio paused, allowing his words to hit home before continuing. 'The idea that one Legio would fight another is anathema to me, but I am not fool enough to believe that such a time is not coming.'

'It has already arrived,' said Princeps Mordant. 'Mortis is spoiling for battle.'

'Indeed,' said Cavalerio. 'The blatantly provocative walk on Ascraeus Mons by the Mortis engines was little more than an attempt to bait us into a shooting war we could not win.'

He stifled their denials with a harsh blurt of impatient code.

'I admire your bravery and faith in one another, but had we fought we would have died.'

'So what do we do, Stormlord?' demanded Princeps Suzak. 'Do we swallow our pride and do nothing as Mars tears itself apart? We are a force for stability, use us!'

'No, Vlad, we do not swallow our pride,' said Cavalerio. 'I will unleash the power of the Legio and we will rise to the defence of the ideals for which our world stands. The fury of Tempestus will fall upon the enemies of Mars and together we will scour them from the face of the red planet in a tide of fire and blood.'

'You walk with us?' asked Princeps Kasim. 'How? The tech-priests say Victorix Magna is beyond their ability to restore.'

'I know that, Zafir, but still I will walk with you,' declared Cavalerio. 'I will walk alongside you as I have always dreamed I would make my last walk, with the First God Machine of our Legio. I will become one with Deus Tempestus!'

Princeps Sharaq stepped forward. 'Then is the word given?'