Dan Abnett - Know no fear. The Battle of Calth

‘Assemble all the strengths we have aboard this ship. Kill squads. Every heavy weapon we can find. Forget Chapter and company lines, just divide and group the men we have into viable fighting parties. Have the squad leaders mark their helms in red.’

‘Red, sir?’ asks Empion.

‘We do not have reliable vox, Klord, so I want firm and simple visual cues for the chain of command.’

Guilliman looks across at Thiel.

‘Besides,’ he says, ‘I think after Thiel’s efforts today, it’s high time that stopped being a mark of censure.’

‘Yes, sir,’ says Empion.

‘My lord!’ Shipmaster Hommed calls out.

‘What is it?’

‘The weapons grid, my lord. It’s firing.’

‘At whom?’

‘At... the sun.’

Thunder rolls through the glowering skies above the shattered palace of Leptius Numinus. It starts to rain torrentially. The weather patterns of the abused planet are convulsing again.

Ventanus stands for a moment and lets the streaming rain wash the foul black ichor off his armour. He feels the water hitting his face. He opens his eyes and watches Sparzi’s flamer squads burning the slime, the blubbery black flesh and the noxious inky entrails the daemon left behind when it exploded. The flame jets sizzle and hiss ferociously in the rain.

He walks up to what’s left of the palace atrium. Selaton is waiting for him.

‘You killed it,’ Selaton notes.

‘I don’t agree with your definition.’

‘You sent it away, then. How did you do that?’

‘Luck. Luck of the very worst kind.’

Ventanus glances back at the ruined gardens, the ragged walls, the rubble of the gate.

‘We can’t stay here,’ he says. ‘Cxir said other forces were coming. This place was hard to defend before. It will be impossible again. This was never a fortress.’

‘Agreed, but what about the data-engine?’ asks Selaton.

‘Good question.’

Ventanus notices that his sergeant is holding a sack. He takes it from him and looks inside.

It is full of black daggers. Ritual knives. Some are black metal, some glass, some knapped flint; some handles are wire, some leather, some snakeskin. Selaton has collected them from the brotherhood dead.

‘You used Cxir’s weapon against the daemon,’ says Selaton simply. ‘Theoretical: these blades work. Their own weapons work.’

‘You may be right,’ says Ventanus. He looks into the sack. The blades shine and glint in the shadows of the bag. ‘But I’m afraid these things are as toxic and dangerous as the monsters we want to use them against. Throw them away, Selaton. Drop them into a well. Put a grenade in the sack and hurl it into the ditch. We can’t start using these.’

‘But–’

Ventanus looks at him.

‘Theoretical: that’s how it began with the XVII,’ he says. ‘Expedient use of an exotic weapon to turn back an unexpectedly resistant new foe. Strange daggers found in some xenos tomb or temple? What harm can they do? They cut daemon flesh. It’s worth the risk.’

A look of utter distaste crosses Selaton’s face.

‘I’ll dispose of them, sir,’ he says.

Ventanus walks to the stack room. He passes the chambers where Sydance is watching the magi trying to reconnect the vox.

‘Well fought,’ Sydance says, clasping his hand.

‘I was the thirteenth eldar this time,’ replies Ventanus, ‘but we won’t get that grace again. Is the vox up?’

‘They’re working on it. The datalink is still active. The server wants to see you.’

‘Good. I want to see her.’

Ventanus enters the stack room. Tawren has disconnected herself from the chattering data-engine. One of her magi, Uldort, has taken her place in the MIU link to maintain processing.

‘Captain,’ Tawren says.

‘Server.’

‘This data-engine is not powerful enough to seize control of the grid,’ she says flatly. ‘Moreover, it is not powerful enough to run the grid.’

‘So that’s it?’ asks Ventanus. ‘Our contribution now is... to collate and supply data to the fleet until such time as we are exterminated?’

‘That will be the fate of Leptius Numinus,’ she agrees. ‘However, please place that contribution in context. This is the only loyalist data-engine at work on Calth. It is not just a vital source of data. It is the only source of data.’

She shows him data-slate displays.

‘We have built a picture of resistance across the planet. It is broken and scattered, but it is fierce. Spread across hundreds of locations, as many as thirty thousand of your battle-brothers and two hundred thousand Army and Mechanicum warriors are still active. Coordinated, they can achieve more than if they remain uncoordinated.’

‘This palace can only provide coordination for a short time,’ says Ventanus. ‘The enemy is on its way.’

‘The picture is not totally dark, captain. About fifteen minutes ago, I made one profound discovery.’

The memory of that revelation makes Tawren smile. It is bittersweet, almost painful to think of, and yet uplifting. She found Hesst’s gift. She found what he was working on when he died, what he hid so scrupulously so it would be safe until she uncovered it.

‘My predecessor,’ she says, ‘managed to configure a killcode to combat the enemy scrapcode sequence. He achieved this feat shortly before he died. It was an act of desperation and genius. It is a sublime and intuitive piece of coding, and only Hesst could have done it.’

‘We can use it to purge?’ asks Ventanus.

‘Hesst hid the killcode in a secure data-engine which he then closed off and sealed. The data-engine is the manifest cogitator of the cargo handling guild at the starport. It is in a secure bunker in the industrial zone between Numinus Starport and Lanshear landing grounds. It runs cargo operations for both ports, and thus is more than powerful enough to manage the dataload of the planetary weapons grid. As a civilian engine, it was not a primary military target. Hesst cleaned it with his killcode and then shut it away.’

It was why he kept going until the very last moment, Tawren now realises. It was why he wouldn’t leave his post, even when the scrapcode had maimed his mind. He had to finish. He was determined to finish. He was hanging on as long as he could to get it done.

‘Can you control this engine remotely?’ asks Ventanus.

‘No, captain. I need direct MIU access to launch the killcode. Once I have purged a pathway into the system, I can create a new manifold and assume command of the grid.’

‘Getting to the port zone won’t be easy.’

‘Of course it won’t,’ she agrees. ‘There is an additional issue.’

‘Go on,’ says Ventanus.

‘The enemy is controlling the grid using a captured data-engine on one of the surviving orbital platforms. I can purge the system, but I cannot override that control. We need fleet assistance to target the platform.’

He nods.

‘What about the engine here?’ he asks.

‘It must remain functional for the greatest period possible,’ Tawren replies. ‘Magos Uldort has volunteered to stay with the engine and keep it running as long as she can.’

‘It is a death sentence,’ says Ventanus, looking at the young magos at the MIU link. ‘The Word Bearers are coming.’

‘Calth is a death sentence, captain,’ the server replies. ‘All that matters is how we face it.’

He is silent for a moment.

‘Prepare your staff for travel, server,’ he says. ‘See what you can do via the datalink to coordinate force response to support our assault on the port zone.’

He walks back to the vox chamber. In the doorway, he tells Sydance, Selaton and Greavus to mobilise the forces.