Gav Thorpe - 13th Legion

'Yes they did/ Inquisitor Oriel confirms with a grin. 'Unfortunately their stockpile seems to have been used up by someone/

The watchtower and the security room...' Lorii makes the conclusion. Very neat/

'I thought so/ the inquisitor replies, scratching an ear.

Just then, someone shouts to us along the corridor.

'Surrender your weapons and you'll be dealt with fairly!' the anonymous voice calls out. 'Plead for the Emperor's forgive­ness and your deaths will be swift and painless!'

'I bet...' mutters Loron in reply.

You're the damned rebels!' Lorii shouts back. 'Ask for our forgiveness!'

That'll stir them up a bit/ Oriel comments. 'Only the com­mand staff are the real rebels/

'So why's everyone fighting us?' I ask. 'If they're still loyal, friey could overpower the commanders easily/

'Why should they?' he retorts, shrugging lighdy.

'Because it's what someone loyal to the Emperor would do/ I reply. It seems obvious to me.

'I don't get it/ Striden adds. 'I can see Kage's point of view/

4Vhy do you think they are rebels?' asks Oriel, gazing around at us.

Well, you, the Colonel, everyone says they are/ answers Loron, nodding towards the inquisitor and Schaeffer.

'My point, exactly/ agrees Oriel with a wry smile. "You know they are rebels because you have been told they are rebels/

'And the Typhons have been told that we are the traitors/ I add, realising what Oriel is saying. 'For all we know, they could be right, but we trust the Colonel. We don't decide who the enemy is; we just follow orders and kill who we've been told to kill-'

'And so do they/ finishes Oriel, glancing back down the access tunnel.

'So that's the reason why this rebellion at the sector com­mand is so dangerous and must be dealt with/ Loron follows on. 'If they wanted to, the command staff could convince admirals and colonels across the sector that anyone they say is the enemy. The command staff could say that any force that moved against diem was rebelling against the Emperor/

'It is one of the reasons, yes/ confirms the Colonel.

Our thoughts on the perils of the chain of command are interrupted by more las-bolts flashing through the door.

'Some of them have sneaked up through the bodies/ the Colonel tells us after a look outside. 'More are moving for­ward/

'Cunning bastards/ curses Lorii, kneeling beside me, bolter ready.

'Return fire!' orders the Colonel, levelling his bolt pistol through the door and firing off a couple of shots.

The firefight continued sporadically for the best part of another hour. There's no telling how many Typhons worked their way along the tunnel, skulking among the mounds of dead, almost perfectly camouflaged by the piles of uniformed corpses. I haven't fired a shot in quite a while. We're beginning to get seriously concerned about the ammunition supplies, and every bolt or las-shot has to count. The Typhons, on the other hand, are quite happy to blaze away at the first sign of one of us poking a head or gun into view.

I'm lying prone on the right hand side of the doorway, Lorii crouched over me. On the far side are the Colonel and Loron,

while Oriel and Striden are sheltering behind a panel of con­trols and dials almost directly opposite the entrance. A shuddering gasp from Gudmanz attracts our attention and I look back to see him staggering away from his terminal at the further side of the chamber, the neural plug whipping back into his skull.

'Have you done it?' demands the Colonel.

'Do you hear any warning klaxons, Colonel Schaeffer?' he rasps back irritably. 'I've set up blocks and traps so that the overload process can only be rectified from this room, not from another terminal/

'So how much longer?' I shout over to him.

'Not long now, but I will need some help/ he replies. The Colonel gives a nod to Striden, who rises from his hiding place, shotgun roaring. A moment after he's jumped clear the Typhons' return volley slams into the data panel, sending pieces of metal spinning in every direction. Gudmanz grabs Striden and pushes him out of sight behind the screen. My attention is snapped back to the corridor by the thump of booted feet.

They're charging!' snaps Loron, his bolter exploding into life, the small flickers of the bolt propellant flaring into the tun­nel. To my left I glimpse Oriel rolling out from behind the panel, autopistol in each hand, firing into die tunnel while he rolls. As his roll takes him to his feet, he drops the pistol in his left hand and sweeps the Colonel's power sword out of its scab­bard. With a yell he leaps straight at the attacking Typhons, the blue glare of the power sword reflecting off the corridor walls.

Meeting the charge head on, the inquisitor drives the blade through the stomach of the first Typhon, a spin and a back­hand slash opens up the throat of the next. The inquisitor ducks beneath a wild thrust of a bayonet, lopping off the Typhon's leg halfway up the thigh, arterial blood splashing across his coveralls. In a detached part of my brain I watch Oriel fighting, contrasting the fluid, dance-like quality of his movements to the precise, mechanical fighting style of the Colonel. The autopistol chatters in his right hand as he blasts another Typhon full in the face, the power sword sweeping up to рапу a lasgun being wielded as a club, its glowing edge shearing the weapon in two. Oriel bellows something that I can't quite catch over the scream of dying men and the noise of the autopistol, his face contorted with rage.

I see a Typhon rising out of a mound of corpses behind Oriel, left arm missing below the elbow, his remaining hand clutching a bayonet. Without even thinking, I pull the trigger of the bolter and a moment later the guardsman's lower back explodes, his legs crumpling under him, his spine shattered. The Typhons turn and flee from the inquisitor's wrath, the slowest pitched to the floor in two halves as Oriel strikes out once more. Las-bolts flare from the far end, kicking the corpses into jerky life again. One seems to strike Oriel full in the chest and a blinding flash of light burns my eyes. As I blink to clear the purple spots, I see Oriel still there, diving for cover over a pile of dead Typhons.

'He has the Emperor's protection/ Lorii says in an awed whisper.

Witchery!' cries Striden, eyes wide with horror.

'Or technology/ Loron adds, sounding just as scared.

'Conversion force field/ the Colonel tells us calmly as he clicks fresh bolter rounds into an empty magazine. We exchange bemused glances, none of us sure what he's talking about. Everything goes quiet again as Oriel crawls back to the door, and I can hear Gudmanz chanting a sonorous liturgy from behind me.

'And the fourth seal shall be raised, glory be to the Machine God/ he intones, voice echoing off the metal walls. And the departure of the fourth seal shall be heralded by the tone of the Machine God's joy. Now, if you please, Lieutenant Striden/

There's a clang of something ringing against metal and a hiss from a panel to my left. From somewhere above us, a high-pitched wail blares out three times.

'How much longer?' the Colonel shouts as Oriel hands him back the power sword, the blade a dull grey now that the energy flow is switched off.

'Four of the seven seals have been lifted, Colonel Schaeffer/ Striden calls back. 'Not long now, I gather/

'Here they come again, they're getting desperate!' Loron draws our attention back to the corridor. The narrow tunnel seems choked with Typhons pouring towards us, their faces masks of desperation and terror. I guess they've found out what we're doing, if they hadn't already guessed. They'll fight even harder now, battling to save their homes, friends and families. After all, like us, they've got nothing to lose. If they fail, they're just as dead.