Gav Thorpe - 13th Legion

I'd find the pointless slaughter sickening if it wasn't for the image of the pardon that lingers in the back of my head. That, and the piles of ash which is what the men and women run­ning towards me really are. All because some commanders have decided to dare the Emperor's wrath and fight for their glory and not his. I don't see any of them down here throwing themselves headlong at a wall of firepower for their ideals.

This isn't combat, they stand no chance at all. Switching the bolter to semi-auto, I send a hail of tiny rockets exploding down the accessway, punching Typhons from their feet, gouging chunks in those already dead. The guardsmen fire madly back at us, more las-shots zinging off the walls than coming through the doorway. They keep coming, hurdling over the dead and the dying. They're all shouting, at us or themselves, I can't tell.

It's only when the bolter starts clicking that I register its mag­azine is empty, I feel that detached from what's going on. My body is working on its own, without any conscious effort from my brain. Lorii drops one of her magazines next to me and I pull the empty out and slam the new one home. The attack is faltering by the weight of fire concentrated into the corridor, the Typhons can't physically get any further forward.

I fire: an arm goes spinning into the ceiling. Another shot: a man is thrown backwards, his intestines pouring from the gap­ing hole in his gut. Another shot: half a man's head disappears in a cloud of blood. Another shot; a lasgun explodes under the impact. Another shot: a helmeted head snaps backwards. Another shot: a woman hurls herself sideways, clutching the stump of her left wrist, hair matted with the blood of her com­rades. This isn't a battle, it's a firing range with living targets.

Most of the Typhons turn and run, and I fire into their flee­ing backs, knocking them from their feet, each roar of the boltgun followed by a man or woman losing a life. Someone's shaking my shoulders, screaming something in my ear, but I can't hear over the whine of the siren. My brain filters the infor­mation slowly and I feel like I'm surfacing from a dream. Yes, there's a siren ringing around, its screeching tones echoing off the walls and floor.

'We've done it!' Lorii is shouting in my ear. 'They're running for it! We've done it!'

'Kronin's dead/ I hear Striden say, and everybody turns to look at him, leaning against the wall over Kronin.

'Dead?' Loron asks, clearly shocked. I'm surprised too, I hadn't spared a thought for the wounded madman while I was batding for my life. I feel a touch of sadness tiiat he died alone and unnoticed. He was alone when he was still alive, it seems disrespectful that none of us saw him die. I offer a prayer for his departing, tortured soul, hoping it isn't too late.

'Internal bleeding probably/ Oriel proclaims, snapping me from my thoughts. 'Now it is time for me to depart as well/

We have not succeeded/ Gudmanz whispers heavily. We're just a short way from the nearest shutde terminal, on our way to life and freedom, but a few Typhons have decided that they're going to take us with them, forcing us to take temporary cover in a terminal alcove along the main corridor. Oriel went in the opposite direction, who knows where he was headed. A few minutes ago the blaring alarms stopped, which was a great relief to my ears and nerves. I don't need any reminders that in a short while tins whole city is going to be non-existent.

'What do you mean?' demands Schaeffer, grabbing the front of the tech-priest's robe.

"The warning siren should not stop sounding/ Gudmanz says, brushing away die Colonel's arm and pointing to the ter­minal. 'Let me go, and I will find out/

Everyone is staring at the tech-priest as he deftly manipulates runes and dials on the terminal. His shoulders seem to sag even more and he turns to look at us, face a picture of despondency.

'I am sorry, I have failed/ he says, slumping to the floor. 'I failed to find a hidden failsafe. The reactors will not overload/

'Oh frag/ I mutter, dropping to my knees.

'Is there nothing we can do?' the Colonel demands, visibly shaking with anger.

The coolant failsafe is located not far from here. It may be possible to dismande it/ Gudmanz replies, though obviously without much hope.

"Which way?' snarls Schaeffer, hauling the tech-priest to his feet.

'Back towards the plasma chamber, corridor to the left marked "energy distribution"/ he tells us. 'I did not think it was important/

'You fragging idiot!' Loron swears, grabbing Gudmanz and slamming his back into the wall. "You useless old man!'

'Let's just get out of here!' I tell them. This is the only chance of getting out of this city alive/

'Damn right/ agrees Lorii, staring at the Colonel.

'Enough of this!' snaps the Colonel, dragging Loron away from the tech-priest. We get to this failsafe and deactivate it. We must hurry before the Typhon guards and security realise they are in no danger. Otherwise, they will throw everything they have at us. The panic at the moment is the only thing in our favour/

The mission's failed/ I tell the Colonel, looking him squarely in the face. We have to get out of here/

The mission cannot fail/ the Colonel replies, pushing Loron away, staring straight back at me.

'Why not?' demands Lorii hotly stepping towards the Colonel. 'Because you say so?'

'Don't try to stop us/ warns Loron, raising the bolter in his hands so that it's pointed at the Colonel.

"You would not dare/ Schaeffer hisses at the white-skinned trooper, staring straight at him.

We are leaving!' Loron replies emphatically, his eyes just as hard.

'Coritanorum must be destroyed!' Schaeffer exclaims, and for the first time ever I notice a hint, just a hint, of desperation in his voice. I push Loron's gun away slightly and turn back to the Colonel.

'Okay, tell us/ I say to him quietly, standing between the Colonel and the others, trying to calm things down. If some fool shoots the Colonel, by accident or on purpose, we'll never get out of here. 'Why? Why can't this mission fail?'

We do not have time for explanations/ the Colonel says between gritted teeth. I lean closer, still meeting his icy gaze.

"You have to tell us/ I whisper in his ear, drawing his eyes to mine. He gives a sigh.

'If we fail, all Typhos Sector will be destroyed/ he tells us. He looks at our disbelieving expressions and continues. 1 do not know all of die details, only Inquisitor Oriel has those/ He pauses as we hear a door slam shut further up the corridor. The Typhons are doing a room by room search for us.

'In brief/ he says casting an eye at the door. The command staff of Coritanorum has fallen under an alien influence. A genestealer in fact/

'A genestealer?' I say, confused. "You mean, one of those tyranid bastards we fought on Ichar IV? They're just shock troops. Sure, they're deadly, fast and able to rip a man to pieces in a heartbeat, but there'd have to be an army of them to stand against seven hundred thousand guard. What's the problem?'

'As I said, I do not fully understand this/ the Colonel contin­ues, talking quickly. They are not just efficient killers, they are infiltrators too. Genestealers have some way of controlling oth­ers, some kind of mesmerism I believe. It creates an element within the society it has infected that is sympathetic to it. They protect it, allow it to control others, building up a power base from within. This can lead to revolt, rebellion and other insur­gencies, as it has here. More to the point, as the power of this influenced cult grows, it begins to send a sort of psychic bea­con, so I am told, as an astropath might project a message across the warp. Tyranid hive fleets can detect this signal and follow it. Hive Fleet Dagon appears to have located Typhos Prime and is on its way here now/