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  It was a brave but costly tactic. The Stormbirds reached the pickets first, each squadron orientating on a target and thundering in at full power. Explosive shells and multilaser bolts hammered at the oncoming assault craft, but the heavily-armoured Stormbirds pressed on through the barrage. Here and there an enemy shot struck home; engines exploded or cockpits were shattered by direct hits, but the rest continued their attack. They swept in low across the destroyers’ upper decks, pummelling their hull and superstructure with cannon fire and melta rockets. Four of the pickets staggered out of formation, their bridges smashed and their decks ablaze.

  Seconds later the Imperial torpedoes struck. Seven of them hit their targets, blowing the rebel destroyers apart. The four surviving ships plunged onwards, doggedly trading blow for blow with the scout squadrons. Their void shields blazed beneath a rain of explosive shells and ravening lance beams as they plunged into the Imperial formation. At such close range the gunners could scarcely miss their targets; one by one the shields of the rebel ships failed and the concentrated Imperial fire ripped them open from stem to stern.

  But Horus’s ships and their veteran crews died hard. They concentrated their fire on the survivors of Destroyer Squadron Twelve, pouring fire into Rapier and Courageous. The void shields of the two destroyers collapsed beneath the onslaught; Courageous died a moment later as a shell found its way into her main reactor room. Rapier fought on a few seconds more, destroying one of the picket ships with her last salvo, before an enemy shell detonated in her torpedo magazine.

  Forty seconds had passed since the rebels’ first salvo. Captain Ivers, master of the light cruiser Formidable, sent a terse vox to the flagship: the way to Diamat was clear.

  ‘INCREASE SPEED,’ JONSON ordered, watching the telltales update on the tactical plot. They were less than a quarter of a million kilometres from Diamat now, well within range of the battle group’s surveyor arrays, and they were getting positional updates on the enemy fleet in real time.

  It had been more than an hour since the initial engagement against the rebel pickets. The Stormbirds had been recovered and were being rearmed for another sortie. Nemiel had expected that the surviving escorts would be withdrawn as well, but Jonson had instead sent the depleted force on a roundabout course that threatened to swing around the far left flank of the enemy squadrons that had weighed anchor and were forming a battle line between Jonson’s force and the planet. The rebel transports were still in high orbit above Diamat, surrounded by a protective cordon of eight cruisers.

  Nemiel felt the rumble of the battle barge’s thrusters reverberate through the deck plates as the Invincible Reason went to maximum acceleration. The battle barge and her flanking strike cruisers had adopted a wedge formation, presenting themselves as primary targets to the rebel ships. The Astartes’ ships, designed to force their way through a hostile planet’s defence network and deploy their landing companies, were even more heavily armoured than typical ships of the line. Jonson calculated that the enemy ships would focus the majority of their fire on the battle barge, buying his other ships precious seconds to close to effective firing range.

  ‘Any response to our hails?’ Jonson asked Captain Stenius. They had been trying to raise the Imperial authorities on Diamat as soon as they had come within vox range.

  Stenius shook his head. ‘Nothing yet,’ he replied. ‘There’s signs of heavy ionization in the atmosphere, though, so we might not get a signal through until we reach orbit.’

  ‘Atomics?’ the primarch asked.

  The captain nodded. ‘It looks like the rebels have launched dozens of orbital strikes, likely targeting troop concentrations and defence installations.’

  ‘Have the rebels succeeded in reaching the forges?’ Nemiel asked.

  ‘If not, they must be very close,’ Jonson said. ‘Otherwise those transports would have broken orbit as soon as we were detected.’ He nodded his head at the telltales representing the escorting cruisers. ‘They also wouldn’t have left behind such a strong reserve force to guard them unless they already contained something valuable, so we have to assume that the enemy has at least managed to breach a number of the planet’s secondary forges. If there are any defence forces still in action, they will be concentrated around the primary forge complex and Titan foundry.’

  ‘Titans?’ Nemiel asked. ‘There is a legion based at Diamat?’

  Jonson nodded. ‘Legio Gladius,’ he replied. ‘Unfortunately, their engines are embarked with the 27th Expeditionary Fleet, far to the galactic south. On Horus’s orders, I might add.’

  ‘What does that leave the defenders with?’

  The primarch paused, consulting his memory. ‘Eight regiments of Tanagran Dragoons, plus two armoured regiments and several battalions of heavy artillery.’

  Nemiel nodded. It was an impressive array of force. He wondered how much of it still survived. ‘What forces can the forges muster?’ Jonson shrugged. ‘An unknown number of Mechanicum troops. The scions of Mars are not obliged to share the secrets of their defences.’ He paused, studying the plot for several moments before straightening and shaking his head. ‘It’s looking unlikely that the rebels will detach any units from their main body to try and intercept our escorts. They’ll trust the reserve cruisers to keep them at bay, which leaves us facing no less than twelve ships of the line.’

  ‘Ten minutes to contact,’ Stenius announced. ‘Orders, my lord?’

  ‘Are the Stormbirds ready for another sortie?’ Jonson asked.

  ‘We have two squadrons ready for launch, and Amadis reports that they have one squadron standing by. Adzikel has a fire in her hangar bay from a crash-landed Stormbird. They estimate another fourteen minutes before they can resume flight operations.’

  ‘The battle will be over in ten,’ Jonson growled. ‘Very well: signal the scout force and order them to ready torpedoes and prepare for a course change on my mark. Transmit the same signal to the main force, and add that no ship is to fire until ordered.’

  Stenius bowed curtly and began barking orders across the strategium. On the tactical plot the distance between the two fleets was dwindling rapidly. They would be in extreme weapons range within moments. Nemiel thought back to the savagery of the initial engagement and prepared himself for the coming storm.

  The main body of the enemy fleet was centred on four grand cruisers; at this range the officers aboard the flagship had positively identified them as the Avenger-class grand cruisers Forinax and Leonis, and the Vengeance-class ships Castigator and Vindicare. To either flank of this powerful group of ships were arrayed a squadron of four cruisers each: a mix of Crusaders, their hulls bristling with weapon batteries, and swift, lance-armed Armigers. Against such a force, the Dark Angels had their battle barge and two strike cruisers, plus the Avenger-class grand cruisers Iron Duke and Duchess Arbellatris and the Infernus-class heavy cruisers Flamberge and Lord Dante. Though the rebels had a clear edge in numbers and firepower, they no longer had any ships capable of launching torpedoes – a slim advantage that Jonson intended to capitalise on.

  The seconds ticked by. Captain Stenius watched the readouts on the tactical plot. ‘We’re at extreme torpedo range,’ he announced.

  ‘Not yet,’ Jonson ordered. He watched the scout force slip past the main body of the rebel fleet, still accelerating towards Diamat and the vulnerable transports.

  Stenius nodded. ‘Two minutes to extreme firing range.’

  ‘Any signals from the planet’s surface?’ Jonson asked.

  ‘Negative,’ the captain replied.

  ‘Very well.’ Jonson turned to Nemiel. ‘If we don’t hear anything from the governor or his defence forces by the time we reach orbit, I’m going to send the landing force down around the main forge complex. Your orders will be to secure the forge and eliminate any rebel troops in the area. Clear?’

  ‘Clear, my lord,’ Nemiel answered at once.

  The battle group sped onwards, straight into the guns of the waiting rebel ships. Two m
inutes later the Aegis Officer called out, ‘Incoming fire!’

  ‘All ships brace for impact!’ the primarch ordered.

  Lance beams leapt from the prows of the rebel cruisers, raking the void with searing beams of force. They slashed across the prow of the Invincible Reason and the two strike cruisers, causing their shields to flare with incandescent fury. Violet light blazed beyond the reinforced viewports of the bridge and a powerful blow resounded through the hull of the great ship.

  ‘Hull breach, deck twelve, frame sixty-three!’ the Aegis Officer called out. ‘No casualties reported.’

  Captain Stenius accepted the news with a curt nod. ‘Do we return fire?’ he asked the primarch.

  ‘Not yet,’ Jonson replied. He was studying the readout on the plot intently. ‘Signal the scout force: come about to new heading one-two-zero and commence torpedo runs on rebel grand cruisers.’

  The Astartes ships ploughed through glowing clouds of plasma and vaporised deck plating as they continued to close on the rebel ships. As they closed to optimum firing range the enemy force began a slow turn to starboard so they could bring their fearsome broadsides to bear on the Imperial ships. But as they began their turn, Nemiel saw the scouts begin their course change. The nimble escorts swung around in a tight arc directly behind the enemy ships, their presence hidden by the rebels’ own reactor emissions.

  The trap had been sprung. Jonson smiled coldly. ‘Signal Amadis and Adzikel: target enemy grand cruisers and launch torpedoes. Captain Stenius, you may fire at will.’

  More lance shots leapt from the rebel ships, and now the enemy weapon batteries were going into action as well, hurling streams of blazing shells at the oncoming Imperials. At the same time, torpedoes leapt from the tubes of the Astartes ships and the oncoming scout vessels, bracketing the rebel grand cruisers from both fore and aft.

  Heavy blows pummelled the battle barge to port and starboard. Alarms wailed. ‘Multiple hits, decks five through twenty!’ the Aegis Officer called out. ‘Fire on deck twelve!’

  ‘Signal the main force,’ Jonson said calmly. ‘New course three-zero-zero. All units, target enemy cruisers to port. Fire at will.’

  Wreathed in a maelstrom of fire, the Imperial ships swung ponderously to port, aiming away from the centre of the enemy formation and instead towards the four rebel cruisers on the enemy’s flank. Along the dorsal gun decks of the battle barge, enormous turrets slowly traversed, bringing their massive bombardment cannons to bear on an Armiger-class cruiser. At the same time the battle barge’s starboard weapons batteries went into action, hammering at the rebel ship’s void shields with a hail of macro cannon shells. The enemy cruiser’s shields flickered angrily under the relentless barrage before collapsing entirely. At the same time her lance batteries lashed at the Invincible Reason, raking her void shields from stem to stern. Beams of force pierced the defensive field and clawed through the barge’s armoured hull.

  Seconds later the battle barge replied with a rolling salvo from her bombardment cannons. They boomed through the hull like war drums, each one growing louder as the volley marched closer to the bridge. The shells glowed as they sped through the void and smashed into the flanks of the rebel ship. Nemiel watched in awe as a series of massive explosions rippled through the cruiser’s decks, until finally it blew apart in a flare of escaping plasma.

  Farther away, the grand cruisers at the centre of the enemy formation were reeling beneath the blows of Imperial torpedoes that struck them both fore and aft. The Forinax staggered out of the formation, her bridge aflame, while the Castigator saw most of her starboard gun decks smashed by a trio of powerful hits. The scout force reduced speed and continued their run behind the rebels, lashing at the enemy ships with their weapon batteries and energy lances.

  The Imperial ships plunged through the rebel formation, exchanging thunderous broadsides with the enemy. The smaller cruisers suffered greatly under the punishing blows of Jonson’s larger ships; a Crusader received a broadside from both the Amadis and the Iron Duke that ripped her open and left her a burning hulk, while the second Armiger blew apart in another massive fireball as her reactor core was breached. Lances and shells hammered the Imperial ships as well; the flagship and the strike cruisers bore the brunt of the enemy fire, their armoured hulls riddled with multiple impacts and the glowing tracks of lance hits. Duchess Arbellatris staggered beneath a hail of fire; her hastily-repaired hull plating gave way beneath the onslaught, wracking the proud vessel with devastating internal explosions that left her drifting out of control. Flamberge and Lord Dante suffered as well, their upper decks and superstructure smashed by a hail of enemy shells, but the battered heavy cruisers held their course and returned fire with every weapon they had left.

  The exchange lasted barely fifteen seconds, though to Nemiel it seemed like an eternity. The void was rent with fire and streams of blazing debris. Ships and men died in the blink of an eye before the two forces drew away from one another on opposite courses. The scout force continued to harry the rebels as they sped away and began a slow turn to re-engage the Imperial battle group.

  ‘Damage report!’ Jonson ordered. The Invincible Reason shuddered like a wounded beast as she sped on towards Diamat. The air in the strategium was growing hazy with smoke as fires spread throughout the ship.

  Captain Stenius was bent over the Aegis Officer’s station, his augmetic lenses glowing green in the reflected light of the flickering readouts. ‘All ships report moderate to severe damage,’ he replied. ‘Duchess Arbellatris is not responding to signals. Flamberge and Lord Dante report heavy casualties. Iron Duke and Amadis have both sustained damage to their thrusters, and Amadis also reports that her flak batteries are out of action. Repairs are underway.’

  ‘What about us?’ the primarch said. ‘How hard were we hit?’

  Stenius grimaced. ‘Our armour stopped the worst of it, but we’ve got hull breaches all over the ship and a fire raging on three decks. The torpedo deck reports that the forward tubes are fouled, but they’re working to clear them.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not good, but it could have been much worse.’

  Jonson smiled grimly. ‘Don’t tempt fate, Captain. We’re not finished yet. Signal the main force to alter course to three-three-zero and launch the Stormbirds. We’ll head straight for those transports and see if we can force them to weigh anchor. I’m betting the reserve force will opt to disengage rather than risk those ships.’

  He turned to Nemiel. ‘Brother, it’s time you made your way to the drop pods. We’ll be over Diamat in another ten minutes.’

  FOUR

  UNCERTAIN ALLEGIANCES

  Caliban

  In the 200th year of the Emperor’s Great Crusade

  THERE WAS AN ill wind blowing through the halls of Aldurukh, and Zahariel feared he was the only one who felt it.

  The courtyard was much the same as it had been when he was a young aspirant; the white paving stones were kept spotlessly clean, the more to highlight the dark grey stone of the spiral that had been laid there many hundreds of years before. The Order had used it as a training tool, incorporating the curving lines into their sword routines and close-order drills, but Brother-Librarian Israfael claimed that its significance was far more ancient. ‘Walk the Labyrinth and meditate daily,’ he told his students. ‘Fix your eyes upon the path, and it will help to focus your mind.’

  Zahariel walked the spiral with slow, deliberate steps, his head covered by a deep woolen cowl and his hands tucked into the sleeves of his surplice. His eyes followed the endlessly curving line of dark stone, no longer truly seeing what was before him. The Librarian’s mind was turned inward, buffeted by an unseen storm.

  He could feel the energies of the warp whipping about him like a gusting breeze, angry and turbulent. Israfael had warned him on the trip back from Sarosh that the winds of the warp were far stronger on Caliban than any other world he’d ever visited, and the senior Librarian had spent considerable time studying the phenomenon since they’d return
ed. From Zahariel’s own observations, it seemed that the energies surrounding the vast fortress had grown increasingly agitated over the past few months. He knew from his training that the warp was sensitive to strong emotions – particularly the darker passions of fear, sadness and hate. Given the troubling events that were occurring beyond the walls of Aldurukh, the rising wind felt like an ill omen of things to come.

  The civil unrest spreading across Caliban baffled and troubled Zahariel, all the more so because it had evidently been building for a long time. He was dismayed to discover that the clues had been there all along. After learning of the situation from Luther, he had spent every free moment sifting through the vast message archives in the fortress’s library. The Imperium operated and maintained Caliban’s fast-growing vox and data networks, and every bit of message traffic – from personal calls to news broadcasts – were captured and archived as standard procedure. So far he’d managed to work his way back through several years’ worth of data, and his Astartes training had taught him exactly what to look for. The patterns were obvious to one educated in the myriad ways of waging war.

  There was an insurrection spreading across Caliban. It was well-organised, well-equipped and growing bolder with each passing day. It hadn’t been going on for months, or even a year, as Luther claimed, but possibly as long as a decade.

  Whoever was behind the unrest had been very careful, starting with small disturbances in scattered settlements and slowly expanding as their skill and experience increased. Reports of industrial accidents at weapon manufactories and other industrial sites had been written off in the past as the unfortunate consequence of a highly aggressive expansion program, but now Zahariel wondered how many of these accidents had actually been staged to cover up the theft of weapons and other military-grade equipment. Investigations by Munitorum officials and the local constabulary had been perfunctory at best, but the Imperial bureaucracy on Caliban was overworked and undermanned and there was good reason to believe that the planet’s law enforcement organisation had been compromised. There was certainly enough evidence to indicate that the constabulary had been covering up the extent of the problem for a long time, but yet…