[Imperial Guard 04] - Desert raiders Read online

  A wide tunnel mouth nestled at the roots of the pillars, almost shielded by them, as if Khadar had started to yawn, and had forgotten to stop. The tunnel mouth was large and pressed into the earth like a thumbprint. Three Chimeras could drive into her, shoulder to shoulder, with little risk of bumping against one another. As it was, one Chimera was already sheltered inside the cavern’s mouth, gathering food and water for transport back to camp.

  The tunnel branched into a delta of smaller passages, some large enough to accommodate the chicken-legged Sentinel walkers under the command of Major Hussari. Bio-phos paint and lume-tubes illuminated the main tunnel, consigning the remainder to darkness. The corridors eventually stopped, leading back up to the surface, or reconnecting to the main passages. A mere handful dug down deep into the stone, eventually ending in what the Guardsmen had designated “Cavern Apostle”, and that was only the beginning of the network of giant caves.

  Apostle was huge, like the grand hall of the battle fleet’s cathedral ships. The ceiling arched high above the floor, while stalagmites and stalactites reached low and high. In a few places, thick columns that tethered sky and earth broke through the deep deposits of loam covering the ground.

  Captain Toria, who possessed some skill in caving, explained that the caves were formed from water passing through soft limestone, eating away at it until it formed chambers. He called them solution caves, and theorised that, given the dry river beds that scarred the surface, Khadar was once a water-fertile world. Over time, the rivers ate through the limestone, forming an underground network of tunnels, exposing reflective pyrite flakes that glittered and improved any ambient light. Over the millennia, erosion turned the tunnels into caves, and any water that evaporated from the heat condensed on the walls and ceilings and dribbled down in thick rivulets. Given the strength and thickness of the larger streams, Toria theorised that there were more caverns such as this, filled with a sea’s bounty in mineral-rich waters.

  What Captain Toria was at a loss to explain, however, was how the cavern could hold a rich, verdant jungle, an ecosystem unlike any the Tallarn had ever seen.

  2

  Kamala Noore stood on a high ledge overlooking the jungle canopy of Cavern Basilica. The cavern remained largely unexplored and partially dark, save for patches of bioluminescence. Thousands of light strings, which seemed to shine a soft white, glowed along the ceiling. Someone told her they were creatures that used their light to lure insects in for the feast. Kamala hesitated; did someone tell her, or was it another random thought plucked from their minds? She couldn’t tell. It was hard to focus.

  Several metres below her, the canopy glowed slightly, the fronds tipped with yellow glow bulbs that sent a sparkle across the jungle. Foliage rustled and the trees shifted, the bulbs dancing. She could hear the whines of the Sentinels’ servo-motors as they explored their new environment, their guide torches flashing through the breaks in the canopy.

  Unable to pierce the gloom with her eyes, her mind seemed to scramble wildly through the caverns, unfocused, untethered. Since arriving on Khadar, Kamala had been searching for some sign of an Imperial presence, of a massacre, but there was none. With the exception of a survey team that had made a cursory examination of the planet ages ago, Khadar remained pristine and inviolate.

  It wouldn’t be the first time a psyker had received distorted images and misidentified them, but this felt different. There was a ghost of something in the air, and it was maddeningly elusive. It slipped through her fingertips and haunted her with the haze of dead faces. She could almost see an Imperial banner half-buried in sand. She could almost see the vague faces with their dead eyes that stared up at the sky, but, like a name that was on the tip of the tongue, it remained formed and unformed. It was never complete, and without it, she felt incomplete.

  Whatever it was that Kamala believed was missing, she felt that the caves were critical to it. She reached out and sensed the enormity of the cave system. They spread out for dozens of kilometres, maybe more, and they pulled at her, stretched her thin. As always, the answer rested just beyond her grasp.

  A brush of boots against the ground brought Kamala out of her reverie. She didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Turk. With a nod, he dismissed the two Guardsmen watching her. Nisri wouldn’t allow her anywhere unescorted, the fear of psyker corruption a steady refrain in a psyker’s life.

  “Found anything?”

  “No,” she replied, staring out across the jungle. “Some animals and I — I wish I knew more.”

  “Well, all we need to know is that the Emperor has delivered us from harm. There is enough food and water, to last us for forever.”

  “Praise be to the Emperor,” Kamala said, her voice barely a whisper.

  Turk stood next to her. He glanced around, ensuring they weren’t being watched.

  “What is it, my love?”

  “I — I don’t know. I feel stifled, suffocated. I can’t focus. Something is pulling at my senses.”

  “What?” Turk asked. His fingertips touched her hand.

  “I don’t know,” she said. She quickly squeezed his finger before letting go. “I feel like I’m enjoying the last peace I’ll ever know.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Can’t I?” she asked. A flicker of psychokinetic electricity flickered across her skin. She seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but whoever sent the mortis-cry… he stood here as well, looking out across the same jungle. It’s as if he was here a few seconds ago. Did I just miss him?”

  “You’ve found the expedition?” Turk asked.

  “Just the whispers of their ghosts. No, not even that. It’s as if I’m seeing… hearing the echoes of their ghosts. It’s as if whatever killed them didn’t even leave behind enough of them to matter. Please, don’t leave me alone.”

  Turk nodded and held her hand gently.

  3

  The Sentinels crashed through the jungle, using their cannons to push branches and swathes of vines out of the way. Their torch lamps burned brightly, illuminating their surroundings. Major Hussari and his pilots marvelled at the jungle with its thick green trunks, giant fronds that brushed against the cockpit’s open frame, vines that girded the massive columns and walls, and thick roots growing from the soft loam. Captain Toria had surmised that the surface rivers had left behind thick deposits of fertile earth. In some places, where the vegetation was barest, rock and limestone peeked through, but in the places where trees were thickest, Toria estimated that the soil was dozens of metres deep.

  The major was under strict orders not to burn or clear any paths through the jungle, a point Colonel Dakar seemed feverishly adamant on. Hussari did as instructed, though the going was far too slow. At this point, they were better off on foot, like Ballasra and Toria’s squads.

  “Runner Two, what’s on auspex?” Major Hussari called into his micro-bead.

  “Runner One, the jungle’s thick, but we’re coming up on a shallow stream forty metres ahead. After the stream, there’s a wall with what appears to be a large cavern opening. It’s a big one. Shall I designate it Devotion?”

  “Negative, not yet,” Hussari responded. Toria warned us we might encounter maze caves with wall segments and partial half-walls. “Let’s make sure it’s another cave first and not part of Basilica.”

  “Understood, Runner One.”

  Suddenly, “Nobody move, nobody move!” Runner Two shouted.

  It was too late. Runner Three, moving ahead of the pack through a small gap in the trees, had entered what appeared to be a clearing. Hussari was almost through the gap when a sharp crack echoed across the cavern. Runner Three vanished in an instant as the ground disintegrated beneath his bird’s feet.

  The clearing was a crevice covered by a thin layer of limestone. Runner Three screamed in his micro-bead as his walker fell. Seconds later, his bird crashed to the ground and exploded.

  Major Hussari managed to pull on the steering levers in time, back peddling from the c
hasm that was opening at his feet and barely avoiding Runner Two.

  “I’m sorry, major,” Runner Two said. “Auspex didn’t pick it up until it was too late.”

  “This is Runner One to base.”

  “Acknowledged, Runner One. Did we just hear an explosion?”

  Hussari sighed. “Confirmed. We lost a bird. Warn the other squads to watch their step. Auspex doesn’t pick up crevices until it’s too late.”

  “Acknowledged. Return home, Runner One.”

  Major Hussari switched off his micro-bead. Both Sentinels lowered themselves to the ground, kneeling on reverse-articulated legs until their cabins were a metre off the jungle floor. Hussari and Private Amum Bak flipped open their canopy frames and dropped to the jungle floor. They approached the lip of the chasm, carefully, and peered down. Smoke billowed up from the wreckage of the fallen bird while the fire lit the surroundings. It wasn’t just a chasm, it was a rift in the ceiling of another jungle filled cavern. Fortunately, the forest was too wet for the fire to spread.

  “By the Orakle’s beard,” Amum muttered. “How big is this place?”

  4

  The tropical forest in Apostle was thin in comparison to the deeper jungles. The air was also more humid the further down one ventured, but with water rationing at a cautious end, Commissar Rezail gladly indulged his thirst and hunger. He sat on a rock at the treeline, staring into the yellow bulb-lights that seemed to float in the darkness. He chewed on one of the peeled fruits, relishing its freshness and aroma, both of which filled his nostrils and coated his taste-deprived tongue.

  Everyone at camp was clamouring to see this so-called paradise, but for now, the camp would remain where it was. Only when the fuel shortage turned absolutely critical would they establish another camp within the caves. At least, that was Turk’s wise contribution to the discussions. Nisri, however, seemed pensive and rather territorial about the entire matter. He wouldn’t commit to any answer, and instead loosened the water and food restrictions to just shy of luxuries like showers and laundry.

  Rezail was lost in thought when Tyrell cleared his throat. Colonel Nisri was standing, waiting.

  “A moment of your time?” Nisri asked, smiling and calm.

  “Certainly,” Rezail said, wiping the juices from his mouth. “Alone?”

  “No, your adjutant may be helpful in… facilitating an explanation of my request.”

  “All right,” Rezail responded, intrigued. There was still considerable tension between him and Nisri, but the colonel seemed oblivious to the events surrounding Raham’s death and the riot… a riot that had left others, including Quartermaster Kortan and his assistant, Sabaak, recovering in the med-bay.

  “I would like to formally announce my tribe’s interest in colonising Khadar.”

  Rezail was not expecting that. He glanced at Tyrell, who looked equally surprised.

  “But, service in the Imperial Guard is a lifetime commitment,” Rezail said, cautiously.

  “I know that, of course, but the High Lords of Terra have rewarded a home world with sister planets before. I am asking that my tribe, the Turenag Alliance, be allowed to colonise Khadar on behalf of the Imperium.”

  “That only happens under extraordinary circumstances: extended campaigns, meritorious service so far above the call of duty that the war is entered as a Holy Action in all Remembrancer accounts, and in the official history of the Imperium.”

  Nisri shrugged and smiled broadly. “I would call these extraordinary circumstances, would you not?”

  “No,” Rezail responded, “and the only times the High Lords have done this is in recognition of the efforts of the Adeptus Astartes, never for a regiment.”

  “Almost never,” Nisri said.

  “You’re splitting hairs,” Rezail said. “The fact is, colonising a world is such a monumental undertaking that it’s hardly done. And, whether I agree with you or not is beside the point, it is not my decision to make. Coming to me first carries no weight.”

  “Yes, but they would listen to a political officer more than they would a colonel, correct? Besides, there is a greater consideration here.”

  “And what’s that?” Rezail asked cautiously.

  “What I’m proposing would end the struggles between the Turenag and the Banna Alliances. I’m offering you the opportunity to end the threat of civil war on my world, something not even the Commissariat could do.”

  5

  Nisri had only just left when Rezail threw a cautious glance at Tyrell. “What do you think?” Rezail asked.

  Tyrell looked around. “I think that this is a very dangerous thing.”

  “A chance to end the violence? How bad is the fighting on your worlds?”

  “We skirt civil war constantly. The Banna and Turenag cannot battle openly without risking the wrath of the Adeptus Arbites, the holders of Imperial Law. But they can induce others to draw blood for them, and they’ve grown adept at manipulating proxies to war on their behalf. It is a civil war fought in back alleys and in assassination. But, nothing can stay in the shadows forever. This will not remain hidden.”

  “Would this be perceived as taking sides? Or favouritism?”

  “Indeed, yes,” Tyrell responded. “By giving the Turenag this world, you are rewarding them for their actions, for killing the Orakle, for every Banna they killed. The Banna would never allow this, and they are on the same expedition. Iban Salid has as much claim on Khadar as the Turenag has.”

  “If the High Lords of Terra agree,” Rezail said, shaking his head, “which I highly doubt, the undertaking would be massive: the ships, the logistics, the formation of a planetary governance, the inclusion of the Adeptus Arbites to ensure the colony is being built according to Imperial Law, a military presence to protect the planet, the redrawing of naval patrol routes to include Khadar… even to call it mammoth is to treat the matter casually.”

  “Of course, commissar.”

  “But, wouldn’t the Banna want to be rid of the Turenag?”

  “They would be sharing Tallarn, not owning it, so to speak. By the blessing of the High Lords of Terra and the Munificence of His Golden Throne, the Turenag would settle and colonise this world.”

  “And the Banna’s pride prevents them from allowing it.”

  “All the alliances would take umbrage. They would all be demanding a world to settle on this precedent. But for the Banna, it would say that the Turenag are right. More important, it means the Banna would be admitting that they are wrong, in the eyes of the Imperium.”

  “Damn,” Rezail said. “Your people are stubborn.”

  Tyrell nodded without hesitation. He was a patient man, which the commissar appreciated, especially in light of the tricky manoeuvring to be undertaken between the Banna and Turenag. Whenever Rezail felt like handling the situation with the rough bluster of the commissars, he looked to Tyrell for a calmer response.

  “Can I ignore the request, and contribute to the growing violence between your two tribal alliances?”

  “There is another consideration,” Tyrell said, scratching his chin. A sly smile crept across his lips, and Rezail knew he wasn’t going to like the suggestion, if only because it would be the prudent course.

  6

  “I have to admit,” Nisri said, standing next to the commissar at the jungle’s tree line. “I didn’t expect an answer so soon.”

  “I don’t have an answer for you, not yet,” Rezail replied. “I recognise the importance of this world in saving Tallarn from civil war, but I also recognise it as a shrewd move to legitimise your assassination of the Orakle and your conflict with the Banna.”

  “I assure you, that I’m only interested in obtaining this paradise for my people.”

  “Even if it required you and your tribe to ‘admit’ that you made a mistake in assassinating the Orakle?”

  Nisri’s smile remained, but there was a ruthless edge to his admission. He understood the game, far better than the more straightforward Turk. “Our assassination
of the heretic Orakle was righteous. To admit otherwise is to renounce our claim of serving the Emperor and, more importantly, our claim on this world.”

  “I understand that,” Rezail said, “but as an official representative of the Imperium’s interests, I must appear impartial.”

  “Of course,” Nisri said, “and as an official representative of the High Lords of Terra, you must also protect the security of the dominions of man. By giving us a home, Tallarn is made peaceful. Is that not in the best interests of the Imperium?”

  Rezail chuckled aloud, something Nisri was not expecting. It was obvious that Nisri enjoyed a position of power, and people followed his word, often without question or criticism. The laughter ruffled his feathers, and he appeared indignant.

  “Colonel Dakar,” Rezail said, still chuckling, “you’re trying to argue the politics of the Imperium with a political officer. You are a savvy man, I respect that, but I was trained by the Battle Orators of the Schola Progenium, so I’d appreciate not being ‘handled’. The fact is, you are making a request for consideration under the articles put forth by the Master of the Administratum, the ancient right of an Imperial Guard regiment to claim an uninhabited or conquered planet for colonisation by their homeworld, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Nisri said, trying to curb his impatience. “And—”

  “And, under those articles, your regiment is composed of elements of the Turenag and Banna tribes. So consider your course very carefully, because, as it stands, both the Banna and Turenag have an equal right to make a claim for their people.”

  “You have no right to make—”

  “Don’t interrupt me again, colonel,” Rezail said, his voice even and cold. “You have one option for your people to settle this world, Colonel Nisri, if the High Lords of Terra even entertain the matter, and that’s through the Administratum, after the High Lords’ blessings, of course. Now, seeing as your regiment is comprised of Banna and Turenag, I would bet my life that you never even discussed your plans for this world with Lieutenant Colonel Iban Salid. Am I mistaken?”