The emergency security door completely blocked the cockpit. The door was designed to protect the crew from fire or debris. It must have activated on impact. Mikal tried to force the door open, but it wouldn't budge. He looked for something to use to pry the door open, but saw nothing. Suddenly, the shrieking sound of metal on metal pierced his ears. The sound was so intense Mikal had to cover his ears. Turning towards the source of the noise, he saw a claw protrude through the bulkhead of the Thunderhawk, and then the bulkhead wall simply ripped open. Standing outside the newly formed exit was the massive form of Dreadnought Gymir.
Mikal shook his head to help clear his senses. The once proud ship lay atop a pile of rockcrete and glass rubble, twisted and broken, like an animal with a snapped neck. Mikal could see plumes of smoke rising in the early light of dawn, and rubble in all directions.
'Mikal, it is good to see that you are alive.’ said Gymir the Dreadnought. Mikal thought that the electronically generated voice sounded relieved.
'Yes, ancient one, I am alive.’ Mikal said as he clambered out of the makeshift opening.
On its descent, Mikal could see that the Thunder-hawk had struck the top of a building, knocking apart the upper floors before crashing into the street, creating a trench as it gouged itself to a halt. The nose of the ship was completely buried in rubble and debris. Several Grey Hunters had set up a perimeter around the crash site, while others searched the wreckage for fallen battle-brothers. Mikal searched for Sigurd, but his comrade wasn't among the living. He glanced at the cockpit canopy where a large plasteel support beam jutted through the framework. Mikal bent his knee and mourned the loss of his old friend.
NINE
Dilemma of Belisarius
Smoke hung heavily in the air rank with the stench of burning flesh, machine fuel and the residue of promethium. Buildings that had stood for decades were nothing more than burned-out shells. Craters riddled the ground from repeated artillery bombardments. Pieces of bodies lay scattered throughout the ruins, all that was left of victims who were unable to get to the bunkers in time to avoid the shelling. Water from ruptured underground lines flowed freely through the streets, winding its way through the rubble and debris, filling craters and turning the newly exposed dirt to mud.
Impact tremors created ripple effects on the surface of the standing water, first one, followed by another, then another, the intensity increasing with
each one. A large beetle, disturbed by the vibrations, scurried out of one piece of debris in a mad dash for the protection of another.
A mechanical footpad crushed the beetle and the rubble beneath it. The Dreadnought Gymir the Ice-Fisted surveyed the landscape. He'd seen bombed out streets before, having served the Imperium for centuries. He had been recruited from some forgotten battlefield on Fenris, and served as a Space Marine for hundreds of years until he was so badly injured that even the Wolf Priests were unable to mend his wounds. However, they were not willing to risk the loss of Gymir's decades of experience and knowledge, so the honour of eternal service was bestowed upon him with the privilege of entombment within one of the ancient Dreadnought sarcophagi. From within his metal shell, Gymir was a living keeper of the Space Wolf lineage. He spent his time resting deep within the Fang until called upon to serve once more.
Gymir slowly traversed the rubble. His visual sensors, much more efficient than genetically enhanced eyes, swept the debris field as he advanced. The holy assault cannon that formed his arm tracked first left and then right. His power claw opened and closed instinctively, in anticipation of impending conflict.
His heavy footfalls sent vibrations through the ground. Dreadnoughts were not known for their ability to sneak up on the enemy. Gymir did not hide his presence. His visual sensors allowed him to separate organic heat signatures from artificial ones and identify them. He sensed a potential threat hiding
behind the rubble twenty metres straight ahead. Locking his assault cannon on the possible threat, he continued forwards, stopping fifteen metres from the target.
The signal was too small to be a Space Marine. Dark Angels were treacherous, but not cowardly. His quarry would not be able to hide from him for long.
'Stand and be recognised,' Gymir's mechanical voice commanded.
A solitary figure slowly rose from behind the debris, his empty hands raised above his head. Gymir recognised the uniform of a planetary defence force officer, although the cloth was tattered, torn and blood-soaked from the soldier's numerous injuries. The man's face was badly burnt, and his left cheek was swollen enough for his eye to be forced shut. Blood trickled from both of his ears.
'Don't fire. I'm not armed.’ the officer stated.
From this closer vantage point, Gymir detected eight other heat signatures, hidden throughout the debris. Gymir advanced towards the officer. 'Identify yourself.’ he said, his deep mechanical voice leaving no doubts as to his intentions. The officer limped slightly as he stepped further from cover, moving slowly so as not to appear threatening.
'My name is Lieutenant Paulinus of the Hyades defence forces.’
The Chimera crashed through the palace gate. Electrical sparks bounced off the hull of the transport as wires were severed and torn from wall conduits. The bent and twisted gate gave way to the war transport,
wrapping itself around the nose of the Chimera until it was dragged under the tank's persistent treads. Leaving its metal victim behind, the Chimera careened across the circular entrance road, tearing across the flower garden in the centre. A wave of dirt and vegetation flowed out of the garden splashing onto the pavement. The vehicle erupted from the opposite edge of the garden, losing speed before finally coming to rest on the front steps of the palace entrance.
The rumble of the drive system of the transport roared and then suddenly went silent, as if accepting that it had travelled as far as it could. Pressure seals gave way, sending jets of trapped dust and dirt from the hatch's seam as the internal atmosphere equalised pressure with the exterior environment. Hydraulic cylinders hissed as the rear hatch began to lower. The sound of metal against metal screeched in defiance, as if announcing that a long awaited dignitary had finally arrived. Slowly Ragnar and Jeremiah stepped from the vehicle, taking up positions on either side of the rear door, covering the deployment of the rest of the passengers. Haegr, Nathaniel and Elijah followed closely by Torin fanned out as they leapt from the Chimera.
The palace grounds appeared abandoned but untouched thus far by the conflict that surrounded them. The city outside the old walls was a different story entirely. Columns of smoke rose into the sky in the city surrounding the palace compound. The air was filled with the sounds and the scents of combat. The streets were devoid of activity, and paper and
other rubbish rolled across the ground, pushed along by the warm breezes. Grave concern crossed their faces as the sights and sounds reinforced their determination to bring this conflict to a quick end.
The Space Marines bounded up the steps towards the main palace doors. Torin and Nathaniel took the rear, watching for signs of trouble. As they entered the palace foyer, they discovered that the palace had been evacuated. Tables and chairs were overturned and papers lay strewn about the floor. The main power was out. Emergency lights dimly lit the rooms and corridors.
Ragnar directed the others swiftly through the palace. Gabriella should be in the command centre in the lower levels. When they had left the palace Magni had been with her and he could only hope that in the confusion that was still the case. So far however, attempts to contact him had been unsuccessful. Ragnar hoped it was just Cadmus's electronic jamming or promethium interference.
When the Wolfblade had first arrived, Ragnar had reconnoitred as much of the palace as he could, attempting to commit as much of its configuration to memory as he was able. He felt more comfortable and in control when he knew his surroundings. The hallways seemed longer and more maze-like than he remembered, but he knew it was just a trick of his mind.
His concern for Gabriella was distorting his perception. He needed to regain his focus, control his emotions. Ragnar cursed under his breath – he should never have left Gabriella's side.
The mixed squad of Space Marines had almost reached the command centre elevator when Ragnar scented blood. As he rounded the last corner before the elevators, Ragnar found the source of the scent. Bodies of the House Belisarius Guard were sprawled out on either side of the elevator doors. The stench of blood and burnt flesh hung heavily in the air. Ragnar summoned the elevator as the rest of the group examined the bodies.
'They were caught by surprise.’ said Torin.
'How can you tell?' Elijah asked.
The elevator doors opened, and the group entered the lift. 'They never drew their weapons,' Ragnar answered.
Torin and Haegr nodded. 'If it was their trusted commander, why would they?' Torin replied.
Elijah, Nathaniel and Jeremiah exchanged quick glances. Jeremiah subtly shook his head, not wanting to be noticed. He could not tell the Space Wolves their secret. Until this night, Jeremiah's perception of the Space Wolves was that they were barbaric, more interested in their next tankard than concepts like duty and honour. Ragnar and the others were proving that his beliefs may not have been wholly accurate.
The elevator came to a stop as the door slid open. Ragnar's senses were instantly assaulted by the overwhelming array of olfactory stimulus present in the command centre. The six Space Marines entered the room. Static danced across every display console, bodies of the House Belisarius Guard were everywhere, and another corpse lay in the midst of them. Ragnar
did not need the scent to know that it was Governor Pelias.
Ragnar continued to scan the room. His relief grew when he did not see Gabriella's body amongst the carnage. That relief fled from him as his eyes crossed to the body at the far side of the room.
'Magni!' Haegr shouted as he ran across the room.
Their young colleague was slumped against a wall. A trail of smeared blood stretched across the floor from where he had dragged himself. Haegr fell to one knee, sliding to Magni's side. Magni was clutching the burnt, curled remnants of his right hand to his chest. The plasma fire had cauterised the wound, slowing his blood loss. The stump that was now his left leg was an entirely different matter. Plasma had burned completely through his leg melting away power armour, flesh and bone. Severed arteries, strips of muscle and tendons hung from where the knee and lower half of Magni's leg were once attached. Blood had pooled around him where he rested.
'Magni, come on lad! Say something.’ Haegr pleaded.
Magni's voice was weak and raspy. 'By Russ, please don't let the last thing I hear be your whining, Haegr.’
Magni slowly raised his head. His skin was ash-grey and dark circles surrounded his eyes, giving him a deathly appearance. 'Cadmus is a traitor. He took Gabriella. I failed the Wolfblade! I failed her!'
'Try not to talk about it, lad. Save your strength.’ Torin said.
Torin looked at Ragnar, and his eyes spoke for him. Ragnar knew that Magni would not survive. Torin
turned to the other bodies, unwilling to watch as his fellow Wolfblade passed on. Ragnar saw anger and rage in Torin's normally calm eyes.