The Exterminator variant Leman Russ and the Manticores stationed around the building opened fire. There was no way they could miss. Explosive shells tore into the crowd. Autocannon fire scythed through flesh. Thousands died in seconds. The rest screamed and tried to run but it did them no good. At first the people behind them had no idea what was happening and kept pushing forwards. You could see them knocking down those who tried to retreat and trampling over them, and then in turn come face to face with the reality of intensive weapons fire.
‘This is mad,’ the New Boy said.
I looked at the slaughter and thought about what was going on. It came to me what was happening. ‘Not if you don’t care how many civilians die.’
‘You are a hateful man, Leo,’ said the New Boy. He sounded almost as if he admired me for it.
‘It’s not me. It’s the priests of the Angel of Fire.’
‘I don’t follow.’ The rest of them were looking at me now except the Understudy. All of them looked interested in what I had to say.
‘They want this massacre to happen. It will whip up the population against us. We fired on unarmed civilians. We massacred the locals.’
‘It’s them that’s leading the locals on,’ said Anton. He sounded outraged.
‘I suspect they will forget to mention that.’
‘It makes sense,’ said Corporal Hesse. He was half-looking at me and half-looking at the crowd that were being mown down by our superior firepower.
‘The priests don’t care how many of the hivers we slaughter. We waste our ammunition. We make new enemies. We reveal how strong we are.’
‘It’s a distraction too,’ said the New Boy as if he had suddenly seen the light. ‘While these people tie us down their armies are getting closer.’
‘It seems they’ve learned a lesson or two from Macharius.’
We looked at each other. Macharius was here. In the hospice. Surely the priests must know that. This could be a distraction of another sort. A massive frontal assault while inside…
The Understudy realised it at the same time as I did. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to get to the Lord High Commander – fast!’
Our floor of the hospice looked normal. Medical adepts and Sisters Hospitaller and soldiers in the uniform of the Guard were everywhere. Temporary field hospitals had been set up and the wounded were being treated. The Understudy ordered a passing sergeant to take his report to whoever was in command. He did not slow down on his way to the elevator though. We clambered into the pneumatic tube and headed up. It stopped on the nineteenth floor as if some sort of command override had been given.
‘All out,’ the Understudy said. He was frowning. It might have been a simple malfunction. Such things were common enough but under the circumstances, it was suspicious. We raced along the corridor, heading for the emergency stairs. There were guards there but I did not recognise any of them. Some of them had spots on their uniform, as if they had been splattered with dark, red liquid.
‘Password,’ one of them demanded. He had a local accent. I raised my shotgun and pointed it at them. They went for their weapons at the same time. I pulled the trigger and then dived to one side moments before a las-bolt flickered over my shoulder. The rest of the squad opened fire and cut the sentries down.
‘Why did you shoot them?’ the New Boy asked.
‘They were not our boys,’ said Corporal Hesse. ‘And look at the bloodstains on their uniforms.’
‘Might have been from old actions. Or maybe Leo put it there with his shotgun.’
‘No time to argue,’ the Understudy said. ‘Up the stairs. If you see anything suspicious shoot first and ask questions later.’
We nodded. There was something strange in the atmosphere. All of us could sense it now. Something had gone very badly wrong.
We rushed up the stairs as fast as we could. A short way up we found out what had happened to the sentries. A group of bodies lay there in their underwear. They had been stabbed. One of them still had a scalpel in his chest. Someone must have put it there after they took away his clothes.
‘Whoever did this was probably garbed as a medical adept,’ Corporal Hesse said.
‘Must have been damn good with a scalpel,’ said Anton.
‘Make sure you don’t give them a chance to operate on you,’ said Hesse.
‘Do my best,’ said Anton.
We hit the head of the stairs expecting the worst and we found it. Gunfire echoed down the corridors. It hit me that if this had happened a few hours later, it might have been Anton, Ivan or myself lying cold down there with a scalpel through the heart. The thought did not make me feel charitable towards whoever had done it.
Another idea sidled into my brain. This was a well-planned attack. We were a small group of men. We were most likely outnumbered and we might not be getting out of this alive. Even if we did, there was a city out there full of people who hated us and about to be invaded by an enemy army. I pushed the thought to one side.
‘One problem at a time,’ I muttered.
‘Look sharp,’ the Understudy said. ‘Find Macharius. If they get him, this whole thing is over.’
There were more dead bodies strewn around the corridor. Most of them belonged to our boys. A few belonged to men who looked like medical adepts except for the fact that such people don’t usually carry lasguns. Still, it looked like our boys had put up a bit of a fight. A number of the heretics had gone down. The burned meat smell of las-bolt wounds and the scorch-marks on their robes told the tale of how they had died.
‘Bastards must have put a regiment in here disguised as medical adepts,’ said Ivan said. His frozen metal features gave nothing away but his gaze flickered around the entrances. He was taking no chances.
‘What fool ordered Macharius put here anyway?’ Anton asked. It’s always easy to be wise after the fact. It was about the only time Anton ever managed it.
‘There’s something odd here,’ said the Understudy. I looked at the bodies and I saw that he was right. The dead heretics had all been shot in the back of the head with a very high-calibre slug gun of some sort. They lay sprawled on top of our soldiers.
‘It wasn’t our boys killed them,’ I said. ‘Looks more like the sort of thing a commissar would do if they were going to run.’
Ivan frowned. ‘What sort of lunatic would pause to execute a half a dozen of his fellow conspirators over the bodies of the men they had just killed? And in the middle of an assassination attempt?’
He was right. It made no sense.
‘Maybe somebody on our side took them by surprise,’ I said. I had no idea who it could have been though. It certainly wasn’t an Imperial Guardsman. Those weren’t las-bolt burns. The corpses did not have the exploded-from-the-inside look of bolter victims either so that ruled out Space Marines.
‘We don’t have time to puzzle this out,’ rasped the Understudy. ‘We need to move.’
We reached the head of the stairs and moved out into the corridor. The Understudy indicated we should push on. We were close to the ward where Macharius was resting now.
The sounds of fighting got louder. The Understudy looked at me. I knew what he meant. Close order combat is what the shotgun was intended for. I stepped around the corridor, saw a group of men in hospital uniforms carrying guns. None of them looked friendly so I opened fire, pumping shot after shot into my targets. As soon as they heard the thunder of the shotgun in the constricted space, the others stepped up. Las-bolts flickered past me, eerily silent by contrast to my weapon, except when their bolts sizzled into flesh.
The attack might have been well planned but the execution was sloppy. There was no one guarding the rear or keeping look out. Or maybe whoever had killed those heretics had removed it for us.
It seemed the fanatics were keen to take Macharius’s head. A few of them turned to shoot at us though and for a few moments it was touch and go. There was no cover in the corridor. I just had to stand there and trust to luck. I had the advantage
of not being taken by surprise. A searing pain in my right bicep told me it was not enough. I walked forwards. It was crazy, I know, but it meant I was moving and more to the point, I think it scared a few of them, fanatics though they were. The sight of a bloodstained maniac with a combat shotgun coming towards you shooting is rarely a reassuring one.
The air stank of roasting flesh and entrails suddenly released from bodies. Piss and excrement gave their usual testimony to the effects of terror. Plants and statues caught fire. Smoke billowed and then as suddenly as it started, it was over. The enemy were all down. In the distance, along the corridor from a different part of the ward, I could hear the sounds of combat. Some sort of slug gun was being fired. After every shot there was a scream.
I looked down. There were more bodies and not just of heretics. They wore the uniforms of Macharius’s personal guard, complete with lion’s-head insignia. They looked like they had died hard, but they were still dead.
The Understudy walked by me, stiff-legged as an automaton. ‘Lord High Commander Macharius,’ he shouted. ‘Are you in there?’
‘Is that you, Ryker?’ came back a familiar resonant voice. Somehow, Macharius had remembered the sound of the Understudy’s voice. Obviously he was not one of those generals who needed an aide to remind him of the names of those he had met.
‘Yes, sir. We’ve cleared the corridor. We need to get you out of here.’
‘Come in with your hands up. Bring a few of the lads from your unit with you, if they are there.’
He was cautious, give him that. I don’t know how he expected the heretics to impersonate the Understudy but he must have seen some odd things in his time. The Understudy nodded to me and we stepped through the door. For show I held my shotgun at arm’s length above my head. I did not want any mistakes made as to my intentions.
Macharius was in there, crouched down behind the bed he had been using for cover, an antique bolt pistol in his hand. He looked pale and his upper torso and head were wrapped in bandages. More of his guard were sprawled on the ground near him. They had died to the last man to protect him. Macharius himself grinned at us. There was a glitter in his eyes that was close to madness. I realised then why it was the Lord High Commander led assaults and how he had collected his wounds. He enjoyed combat, loved it with a burning passion. Some men do. He was one of them. The bolt pistol he pointed at us never wavered. I sensed without needing to be told he would be happy to use it if given any provocation at all.
As ever the Understudy gave no sign of fear. I wondered what it was he had seen when he was splattered with brains back in the Baneblade. ‘We need to get you away from here, sir. The heretics have taken the entire upper floor and they’re on their way now. The hive may fall any time soon.’ Macharius nodded, as unabashed by the situation as the Understudy.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
Just like that he took control of the situation. Newly risen from a hospital bed, drugged with painkillers, attacked by surprise in what was supposed to be a secure zone, he was ready to lead. It was strangely reassuring to have him there even though he was now the most wanted man on the planet.
The sound of shooting stopped. It was all eerily quiet as we walked out into the corridor ahead of Macharius. The door at the far end slid open and we turned to face whatever new threat it represented.
Much to my surprise, it was Anna. Her nurse’s uniform was covered in blood. She was holding a very large gun in her hand and showing no signs of strain. Her face was cold and calm. The weapon pointed directly at us. She looked as if she knew how to use it. She was looking directly at me. I think the fact she recognised me was all that saved us. Looking back now, I am certain of it. She was quite capable of killing all of us before we could react. The Understudy was already blocking Macharius from exiting the room. ‘The flesh of heroes is the bulwark of the Imperium,’ she said.
‘Don’t shoot,’ said Macharius. ‘She’s one of Drake’s. She knows the passwords.’
She walked towards us. She gave no sign of recognising any of us. She did not look like anyone I knew. Her eyes were cold as the vacuum of the void.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Anton. ‘Is that–’
‘Yes.’ I cut him off before he could say any more. I tried to remember what I had said when I was drunk. If she was an Imperial agent then I was in deep, deep trouble. I shrugged. I was one of a small handful of Imperial Guard survivors standing in a building being overrun by heretics. I was already in trouble. Being reported to the Imperial authorities seemed the least of my problems.
Macharius stopped for a moment to look out the stained armour-glass of the window. If he was daunted by the sight of the heretic hordes pouring into the plaza he gave no sign of it. He glanced at the emergency escape diagram on the walls beside the stairs. He seemed to memorise it in a glance then he turned to Anna and said, ‘You know your way around this place.’ It was not a question.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said.
‘Get us out by the fastest and most secure route.’ Whatever Anna was, Macharius seemed in no doubt that she would obey him.
Anna took us down the nearest fire escape. There were heretic guards at the bottom. Their backs were to us. Ivan pulled out his knife. He wanted revenge for what their fellows had done to our boys with the scalpels. He needn’t have bothered. Anna raised that long-barrelled gun of hers. There was a faint hissing sound, like a blow gun being used. Heads exploded in quick succession. A few of the heretics managed to turn, confused by the swift savage assault. All that got them was a bullet through the eye or forehead instead. The only accuracy I have ever seen to match it was from the Space Marines. Surely, I thought, she was not…
I let it slide. I had no idea what she was then and truth to tell I did not really want to know any more. All I knew was she was terrifying. It was as if something else had taken possession of the woman I thought I had known, if ever so briefly.
Macharius looked at the carnage.
‘Scout ahead,’ he said as she coldly inspected the corpses. ‘We’ll follow. Clear away any obstacles.’
Swiftly and silently she loped away as if walking into a hornet’s nest of heretics was no more than a feast-day stroll.
Macharius looked at the bodies. He stripped a corpse and put the chirurgeon’s gown over his jacket. ‘Take some of the heretics’ medical robes and put them on,’ he said. ‘No sense making your men targets,’ he said.
The Understudy rasped, ‘You heard the Lord High Commander, lads,’ he said.
‘No ranks, no insignia, no titles,’ Macharius said. He did not need to tell us why. All of those would identify him and the Understudy as the officers and make them targets. I don’t doubt that the enemy could have identified him anyway. He had the look of eagles, had Macharius.
Moments later, we were on our way, looking for an exit. Macharius bent over and picked up a comm-vocoder from one of the heretics. He listened to it for a moment to see if he could pick up any chatter and then we moved on as fast as our feet would carry us.
We dragged the bodies out of sight and moved down into the lower levels of the hospice. Ahead of us were more dead bodies all with the same head wounds. They just lay there, sprawled in death. There was no sign of Anna. I had stopped fearing that we would find her corpse among the enemy. The scale of the devastation she wrought seemed almost supernatural.
She waited for us at the foot of the stairs, looking relaxed and unafraid. There were no bodies but I knew from the way she held that odd-looking gun that there easily could be, if anyone came upon us unannounced. The building shook. The roar of the crowd was audible. I smelled burning flesh and molten metal.
‘The heretics are overrunning our forces around the hospital, sir,’ she said. ‘There is no safety there.’
‘How?’ Surprise tore the words from Anton’s mouth. ‘There were tanks out there.’
‘Psykers,’ said Anna. ‘And it looks like traitors from inside the hospice. If we join with them we will be overrun with
them.’
Macharius took this with more calmness than I could. ‘You know another way out? We need to escape from here and go to ground until we can regroup.’
Anna nodded and led us towards another exit. We emerged into an inferno of heat and noise and violence. The crowd surrounding the building had turned into a seething sea of flesh. I saw a Leman Russ with oily black smoke billowing from its turret and a flame-headed priest standing on its chassis, howling imprecations at the mob. Even though our regimental uniforms were covered by the heretics’ robes, I felt as if the massed crowd of enemies was bound to spot us. I expected them to start shouting and pointing momentarily. I decided if that happened I would not be taken alive. I did not want to end up in one of those cages.
All around us heretics howled for blood. The plaza was packed with a chanting crowd. Priests with halos of fire led them. They screamed and shouted with the best of them. There was an atmosphere of mania; a sinister hysteria that I sensed the priests were feeding on. Everywhere I looked the Angel of Fire stared down. Its gaze was everywhere. It seemed to be watching us specifically.
I smelled burning and heard explosions. Looking up I saw the entire top floor of the hospice was on fire. The crowd groaned ecstatically as if this had some occult religious significance. I caught sight of the expression on Macharius’s face. He seemed to be drinking it all in – the shouting crowds, the burning war machines, the fire-winged angels perched on the buildings all around. It was as if he wanted to memorise the entire tableau, as if he wanted to recall every face so he could seek personal vengeance on them all.
‘We had best keep moving,’ he said. ‘This is not the safest place to be.’
We began to shoulder our way through the crowd, which remained blessedly unaware that the man for whose blood they were howling was making his way through their midst.