Chapter XIV
Every eye rested on them, as they walked from the landing platform, along the battlement to the plaza at the citadel's centre, which was now illuminated by dozens of lamps. The dead, both Humans and Tyranids alike still covered the ground so one could not even see the stone beneath them, but the fighting had ended for those stationed at the citadel, at least those up here.
Cyrus heard the chitin of the Gants, Gaunts and Gargoyles he stepped upon cracking, the Untouchable and Captain Pericles behind him. The medicae meanwhile was taking his brothers back to the Adrastos, as neither was still suited for battle with the injuries they had suffered. His own were minor in compassion, as was the pain. Thanks to his conditioning as a Space Marine, he was able to control his own nervous system to a certain degree, which lessened the ache noticeably even without the use of painkillers. Those kept in his armour he reserved for graver wounds.
As they walked he watched the soldiers, most of which seemed to be in the process of abandoning the plaza, taking whatever and whoever they could carry with them. Apparently the evacuation had been ordered and already various vessels were flying over their heads towards the skies. Regardless, quite a number stopped to look with awe and even fear at the Astartes, who was suddenly in their midst. Most of them had likely never seen one before in their lives, in fact most people of the Imperium knew Space Marines only from tales and legends.
Cyrus however ignored their stares and simply headed for the building Pericles had described earlier, most Guardsmen quickly backing off as to not get in his way. Similar to the same-sized cathedral next to it, its façade was richly decorated with frescos, while the great portal was flanked by statues of what appeared to be members of the Governor's Guard. Their armour was covered by robes, while fully concealing helmets with chests hid their faces, their hands holding halberds. Far above their heads loomed the double-headed eagle, though after the fighting one of its wings was now missing. It was probably now part of the rubble that was scattered across the plaza.
The soldiers still guarding the entry stepped aside the heavy gunners, who were taking apart their weapon, briefly held in to watch, when the Astartes reached them. "Guardsman." Cyrus looked at one, who had backed up to the doorway and now flinched as the Blood Raven suddenly spoke to him, face pale as marble. "Where can I find the General Militant Giovanni?"
The young man gulped, his fright apparent. "He…, he's on the second floor; from the stairway the room straight ahead." He spoke quickly as he looked up, trying to meet Cyrus gaze, but failing, looking away again after only a second.
Without another word the Blood Raven passed him and went to the staircase just beyond the portal at the centre of a great hexagonal entry hall, broad enough for half a dozen people to climb it at once. Frescos lined the walls of the hall, scenes of crusades fought long ago, occasionally interrupted by doors, most of which stood wide open.
Everywhere soldiers were preparing the evacuation, carrying objects out of the building, though some were of…questionable importance. Cyrus had only climbed a few stairs, when he grabbed a man by the shoulder, who was carrying two large oil paintings. Frightfully the Guardsman looked at Cyrus, his two comrades coming down the staircase behind him with more artworks, stopping now as well. The colour left their faces almost immediately.
"Where are you bringing these?" The Blood Raven asked calmly, his glare more than enough to intimidate the Guardsman, who was trembling beneath the Astartes' hand.
"They belong to the General Militant." The soldier explained hastily, his voice maybe a little higher than it should have been. "We were ordered to bring them to his shuttle."
Cyrus frowned, his displeasure obvious as the soldier flinched at the sight. "Don't you believe that his shuttle is better used carrying his men to safety?" Slowly the man began to nod, as if he wasn't sure that he was giving the correct answer. "Leave these and take some of the wounded with you; many will not make it on their own."
"Of course, milord." Almost at once all three let go of their cargo, some of the wooden frames breaking as they hit the stairs. As soon as Cyrus had released the man's shoulder, the Guardsmen ran off, one almost stumbling over his own feet.
"Well; that alone was worth coming along." He heard the Untouchable, standing next to him note amused, however Cyrus did not reply.
Instead, Pericles spoke as they headed upstairs. "If the evacuation is already this far, we won't have a chance of freeing the lower levels and stopping all this."
"No." The Blood Raven admitted. "The citadel is lost, but if what the Ship Mistress told us is only a few will be saved in time." Saving Seraphim Citadel itself had never been his intention; there was too little time, too few resources were at their disposal, but he didn't wish to abandon the people in the lower levels. Besides, for the time being the Inquisitor was down there as well.
Still, ever since Sammael had updated them about the situation, there was something he couldn't get out of his mind. Cyrene.
It hadn't been long since the Imperium had put his homeworld to the torch, he had learned about it only weeks ago and though it no doubt had been justified, thousands, if not millions of innocent had died as well. He had not been there, when it had happened, he had not yet seen the charred remains of that once fertile world and he could not deny the mix of sorrow and frustration he felt. Cyrus had been a Space Marine for a long while, but he hadn't lost all of his humanity yet.
Certainly it was partially what drove his actions here. Briefly he wondered if somehow, a part of him, sought for some kind of atonement. That because he hadn't been there to help Cyrene, he could now not stand idly by and watch these people here suffer a very similar fate. As he mused about this, he could not help but call these of his motivations sentimentalities, but he would only be fooling himself if he denied having them.
"The General Militant seems rather content with abandoning half his men." Taylor noted with some displeasure. "What if he refuses to help?" Such concerns were valid. As an Astartes Cyrus had much authority, at least respect, especially as he was additionally a member of the Inquisition for the time being. But he could not command a General Militant, the Imperial Guard's supreme commander of a designated theatre of operations.
As he spoke, Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "Aut viam inveniam aut faciam."
"What does that mean?" The Untouchable asked puzzled and with a hint of curiosity in his voice.
Captain Pericles chuckled briefly, but even from only the corner of his eye the Blood Raven saw an appreciative smile. "'I'll either find a way or make one.'"
They climbed the last stairs to the second floor and as the Guardsman had said, just ahead beyond an open, double-winged door, the leadership of both the Imperial Guard and the PDF had gathered. Light entered the great room through tall windows on the far side, while the other walls were covered with screens of various sizes, servitors, techpriests and soldiers working at the cogitators, presumably trying to bring some resemblance of order to the ongoing evacuation. At the centre stood a large tacticarium table, currently displaying Seraphim Citadel as a green hologram, symbols of varying colours indicating units and sections lost to the aliens; the outer districts were all completely red, others shone orange.
The officers gathered around it all looked up, lifting their head one after the other, when Cyrus and the two operatives walked in. The General Militant was simple enough to spot, his armour richly blazoned with gold, especially the chest plate with the Aquila upon it and the red shoulder guards covered with golden twines, which seemed to be in vogue in this sector. The uniform itself was blazing red, the edges covered with embroidery.
Though his hair was grey and he had spent certainly more than a century in the Emperor's service, not a single scar could be seen and no scratch was upon his armour. Considering what they had learned from Captain Pericles about this sector, it seemed certain that General Militant Giovanni had gained his position through political influence, rather than skill or experience.
The General bowed his head respectfully, when the Blood Raven reached the table, Cyrus only nodding briefly in recognition. "Milord; I was unaware that the Adeptus Astartes was already operating on this world."
"It is not." Cyrus corrected him. "I am with the Inquisitor."
This seemed to surprise him, as he lifted a brow. "As part of his retinue?"
"Such is not your concern, Lord Giovanni, but the situation of this citadel is." The Blood Raven's gruff voice now sounded colder, the other officers bandying looks, the General himself taking a deeper breath.
Lord Giovanni sighed and folded his arms in front of his chest. "I assume you have learned of the fleet's intend to destroy it."
"I have and that you wish to abandon your soldiers and the civilians, who remain in the lower levels of the citadel." No one missed the underlining, threating tone of his words.
"Nothing of the sorts, milord, but we are left with no choice." The elderly man defended himself, looking rather displeased with the Astartes. "The Tyranids are scattered throughout the lower levels and we have neither the time nor the capabilities to hunt them all down one by one. Those of our men still down there must sadly be sacrificed, while we save at least some of Victoria Primus' people."
"There is still time to recover at least some of those trapped and I will not see it wasted." The Blood Raven declared sternly.
When Lord Giovanni met his gaze the General stiffened, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Our troops are constantly under attack, making any attempt of evacuation either risky or impossible. If you have a plan, milord, you have our undivided attention." The man slowly conceded. "Otherwise we must focus on the evacuation here, before the fleet turns its weapons on us."
A start. "Interrogator Mandrake, I trust you read me?" Shortly before landing, medicae Pravin had managed to establish a link with the Interrogator, who had informed them about recent events at the central hub, its defences and the Inquisitor's unconscious state, whose wounds were currently being treated by a medicae. So far it was planned that they would leave the hub and return to the plaza as soon as the treatment was completed and the Inquisitor's condition stable.
"Yes, my lord…weak but…sufficient." Mandrake's voice crackled from the radio.
"Interrogator; see if there are Lictors among the dead Tyranids." After a day of battle there would be quite a number of corpses, littering the streets.
There was a pause as the Interrogator searched along the barricades. Hopefully a few Guardsmen were assisting him. "…Gants and…mostly…a few warriors…" He reported in after a while, until finally. "…two Lictors…killed many…to do with them?"
Some years ago the Kill-team had already encountered these Tyranids and Cyrus remembered everything he'd learned about their anatomy from Seneca both then and after Maccius had been killed by one here on Victoria Primus. "I need you to remove the glands at their throats; two separate ones should cover the larynx. Another should be beneath the breastbone. All three carry the pheromones that lure in other Tyranid creatures to a Lictor's location."
"What…intention, my lord?"
Even after death these pheromones could still lure Tyranids to the hub. The glands needed to be taken away and perhaps they could be used to the defenders' advantage. Cyrus studied the hololithic display once more closely, having zoomed to the hub's location, just down this spire.
"There is major crossing two blocks from your position, if you follow the street leading straight from the hub south. Spread the pheromones there. It would be best if you cut the glands into piece. Contact me once you are done." Every Tyranid in the vicinity would be lured in by such bait. The Astartes turned to Lord Giovanni, his glare enough to make the General highly uncomfortably again, his face briefly flinching. "You have some artillery at the central hub; perhaps your men can target the area and dispose of the Tyranids for us."
"Such will be an easy task." The General Militant assured him. "But this is not going to save the citadel."
"No; it will buy us time however and take some pressure off your men at the hub. I've heard a considerable number of civilians are being kept in the upper storeys of this facility." There were of course several buildings housing refugees like the central hub, but if the hologram had been any indication, several of those locations had already been lost. How fortunate those were, who had been housed up here. "Any vessel you can spare should be sent to get them out, while there is still time."
"There are only a few I might be able to send. Evacuating my men and the people here is already close to exhausting our resources."
"Perhaps you could part with a few more of your personal belongings, Lord Giovanni." Cyrus ignored the sudden anger the General displayed and without allowing him to reply, turned to another man, dressed similarly to the General Militant, but in blue and silver; Captain Militant Giacomo. "I trust the PDF can do its part as well." He noted with a friendlier voice.
"Certainly, milord. I'll have them land on the hub's rooftop; it is the most convenient location for the evacuation. And I will instruct my men to inform the civilians about our intentions." Having already met on the Adrastos this morning, the Captain Militant seemed a little more relaxed and less confrontational then the General.
Cyrus nodded. "Good; I will head down there myself to oversee the evacuation." Along with assuring that the Inquisitor and his Interrogator were recovered. "I hope you both are men of your word." Once more there was that threatening tone underlining subtly his words and once again it escaped none.
"We will do as you suggested, milord." General Giovanni promised somewhat coldly, yet he bowed his head briefly. "Emperor protect you."
"And you General, Captain." Giacomo bowed as well, before the Blood Raven turned to the operatives. "You both may remain here; if this plan goes ill, you could still escape."
"With all due respect, sir, but I should go as well." The Untouchable noted determinedly. "Not only are Inquisitor Nicomedo and Mandrake down there, but if there are indeed swarms of Tyranids, I can still be of some use."
Tristan Pericles nodded in agreement. "I too will not run. I have already failed the Governor and my men were almost all slaughtered by the Tyranids. I will not abandon Victoria's people now."
A ghost of a smile appeared on Cyrus' lips. "Very well; then let us not waste any more time." Without speaking another word all three departed again, hearing orders being passed behind them. Apparently the General would indeed send ships to the hub. They rushed down the stairs, back to the plaza, where Cyrus changed the channel. "Ship Mistress Sammael."
"My lord?" A female voice answered him promptly over the vox.
"Have all vessels at your disposal come to the central hub in lower levels at Spire Animus and extract as many survivors as they can carry." Even if it was a ship used by the Inquisition, the Adrastos could host a fair number of refugees, at least until they could be passed on to another ship; they didn't need to leave the hangars while on board. Hopefully the Ship Mistress agreed. "The Inquisitor will be among them as well." He added to further sway her.
There was a short pause, but she answered him once the three had reached the elevators behind the cathedral. "They'll be with you momentarily." Sammael promised him, ending their communication, just as the doors closed and the round cabin descended.
Neither of them spoke, not even Taylor, who over the course of the past weeks had proven the most talkative of the Inquisitor's Acolytes. But now he seemed in thought, his breathing mask hanging loosely around his neck, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
Cyrus' own thoughts turned back to the people in the citadel. There were still more soldiers, more civilians throughout the lower levels, who would be left to their fate. No, he should not focus on them. There were always casualties, something he'd come to accept long ago, after many wars. It was the cruel truth, nothing more.
Suddenly the Interrogator's voice interrupted the silence, the connection having gotten clearer, due to the closer proximity. "Glands have been distributed…heading back to the hub."
"Good, we're on our way down, as should be several transporters." Cyrus explained to him. "Bring the Inquisitor to the hub's rooftop; if everything is working according to plan, the civilians should already be heading up there. The Ship Mistress will have sent some shuttles as well." Inquisitor Nicomedo should return to his ship as quickly as possible.
"I will get him back to the Adrastos." Mandrake assured him, sounding a little out of breath; the Astartes hadn't paid attention to that until now, but it seemed the Interrogator was running.
"Then we shall meet you there. Cyrus out." The Interrogator didn't respond and silence returned. The elevator trembled, the lights flickered for a moment and the Blood Raven wondered if they would get stuck. Thankfully it moved on.
Cyrus checked his weapons one more time. As his sniper rifle was currently secured across his back, he was holding his plasma pistol in hands, which glowed even brighter than the dim emergency light. The pistol hummed peacefully as he examined it and its settings. Even if some Tyranids were distracted by the pheromones, the hub was not out of danger.
He saw both Captain Pericles and Taylor preparing themselves as well, the latter whistling quietly to himself. Cyrus didn't recognize the tune, but it was joyful, almost inappropriately so. Then again what else was to be expected of the Untouchable and so the Raven paid it no more heed.
The elevator continued on for some time, until it suddenly shook again. This time it was more violently, Taylor having to place a hand on the wall in order to support himself. "My lord!" Mandrake's distorted voice called out, clearly distressed. "The bombardment has begun!"
"What?" This soon? No, not now! He looked to the operatives, both of course having heard the same via the shared vox-channel and even in the dim green light one could see the captain's face paling.
The Interrogator answered without delay. "The eastern outskirts are under fire! The Tyranids! The Tyranids are fleeing towards us!" It was something the Blood Raven had feared.
"How far is the evacuation?" Cyrus asked. He couldn't anticipate how long it would take the fleet to bring the fire further into the citadel. In any case, they needed to hurry.
"Many of the civilians are getting on the transporters right now." Some good news at least. "We're about to leave as well. I cannot speak for the Guardsmen or most of the PDF."
If the Tyranids were attacking again, they were certainly caught up in battle. Without them, the evacuation would soon turn into a bloodbath. "Leave, get the Inquisitor out."
"As you wish." Almost immediately after Mandrake had ended the communication the elevator shook anew, some metal part whining as if in pain.
"So." The Untouchable began cautiously, once the tremors had stopped. "Is there a plan for this situation?"
"We defend the shuttles and assure they get out." If the Liberation Fleet was already so close, they also needed to get the soldiers to retreat as soon as they arrived, at least to a position from where they could fight off the Tyranids but also board the transporters without delay. Waiting for all the civilians to be gone first would certainly prove too long.
Taylor only nodded, putting on his mask again, while Pericles said nothing. A few minutes later, they finally reached the hub. As soon as the door had opened Cyrus stormed out, the other two men trying to keep up, though they needed to run. The ground was almost constantly trembling, the Astartes leading them east; he wanted to see how close the fires truly were. They passed several platforms, at some vacant trains still stood waiting and the sounds of battle reached them even there.
Men yelled, Tyranids screeched and tanks fired, everything mixing and echoing in the large empty halls. Staircases lead to the storey above and Cyrus could hear the faint voices of people. Once there was even the roaring of engines.
He however headed straight for the closest exit. Only now did they see that night had fully arrived, the darkness illuminated by muzzle flashes. Cyrus stepped out, finding himself behind a row of tanks, mostly Leman Russ. Beyond them were several storeys-high, uniform residential buildings, though partially destroyed or at least with damaged statues on the roofs, which looked down upon the battle with lifeless eyes.
As he looked around, Cyrus spotted some sort of improvised command post, slightly elevated and surrounded by sandbags. Two officers stood there, shouting at each other, likely due to the deafening ambient sounds of battle. One was of the Imperial Guard, the other of the PDF. He walked straight towards them, the officers not noticing the three men approaching them, not until they stepped over the sandbags and Taylor stumbled; it would seem he still wasn't entirely accustomed to his cybernetic leg.
In any other situation the widening eyes of the two soldiers would have been mildly amusing. "Space Marine." Cyrus heard the PDF officer whisper.
The dark-skinned lieutenant recovered fast and saluted. "Milord it's an honour, but I'm afraid there is not much that can still be done here." He gave a nod to the east, just in time for them to see a column of fire descending upon the citadel. The horizon, or what little they could see between the buildings and neighbouring spires was glowing in shades of red and orange.
"I very well aware of the situation, Guardsman." Cyrus replied sternly. "But if you don't pull back your men soon they will burn with the aliens."
The man shook his head briefly. "We've received orders to protect the central hub until all civilians have been evacuated. The few of my men I've sent up there are those too wounded to fight on."
The Blood Raven had to admit that he was a little impressed. In his long years of service, Cyrus had come across several regiments; some ran when battle took an ill turn, others fought bravely to the last man. It was gratifying to know that Victoria's Guardsmen seemed to belong to the latter category, especially now that both Tyranids and the Liberation Fleet threatened them with death. "At least you should retreat back to the first floor. The fighting out here will only attract more Tyranids and the staircases can serve as choke points your men can more easily defend." Cyrus looked across the defences, the soldiers still holding back the enemy, but more and more fell to Hormagaunts' scything talons and Termagants' guns. The lines would not hold forever. "And when the time comes a few more of them can saved as well."
The officer considered this for a moment, now too looking to his men. "I will have the entrances blocked with our tanks; won't keep them all out, but I bet a few will go around the hub."
"Very well." Cyrus agreed and nodded once. "You should act now; the Liberation Fleet will move quickly."
The lieutenant nodded and picked up the microphone of a unit, which was still attached to a fallen radio operator next to him, the body resting against a sandbag. Before he addressed his soldiers, the Guardsman turned to his fellow officer. "Lazzaro, maybe you want to pass on the news to your men as well."
Lazzaro; the same surname as the late Governor, probably related. The young man slowly nodded, still staring at the Blood Raven, causing the lieutenant to roll his eyes and finally give the orders. It was then that Cyrus turned once again to his companions, both rather tired-looking after the long day. "You ought to help with the evacuation of the remaining civilians. Help them to the transporter, but do not linger here too long: take a shuttle that will bring you back to the Adrastos." He looked at Pericles. "You too, Captain. The Inquisitor will want to speak with you."
"Of course." The former head of the Governor's Guard sounded less than enthusiastic. Cyrus himself was not certain what the Inquisitor would do to him, but given the secretive nature of the Inquisition, this man had only a few options left. Certainly Pericles didn't know, but perhaps he had his suspicions.
Taylor, the way the features around his eyes changed indicated that he was smiling again, patted the Captain's shoulder. "Let's go then. This planet is getting less friendly by the second and don't know about you, but I could use a shower." He took hold of the shoulder now. "Besides, you wanted to help your people; this is your chance."
Pericles nodded. "Emperor be with you, milord." He added and bowed his head a little.
Cyrus gave a nod in return. "And with you." As soon as he had spoken, both men turned around and ran back into the hub, only moments before the soldiers got moving as well.
Orders were shouted, the word was passing that everyone was to retreat back into the building. The men running past Cyrus looked at him with the same mixture of awe and disbelief, which those at the plaza had displayed. It were less than a hundred left as far as the Astartes could estimate.
The number of Tyranids had decreased and it seemed that the tanks were able to hold them back on their own. Of course, more of the aliens were out there and certainly would come across this place on their flight.
A Hellhound drowned the defence work in flames, the Gants and Gaunts turning to ash within seconds. One managed to avoid the fire, but a bolt from Cyrus' plasma melted its head. He still stood at the command post, waiting until the last soldier had made it inside, ever keeping an eye on the fire in the distance that was slowly but surely coming closer. "Milord?" A somewhat timid sounding voice addressed him.
"Lieutenant?"
The Guardsman stepped forward to stand beside the Blood Raven. "My men are inside; I'll have the tanks block the entry now."
Cyrus merely nodded and turned around, the lieutenant giving the final orders. Immediately three Leman Russ began to slowly drive backwards, continuing to keep the Tyranids at bay, while the other tanks' crews abandoned their vehicles. The last soldiers made it inside, the Astartes and the lieutenant among them. Cyrus watched as the Leman Russ drove into the portal, the three of them taking up the space from left to right, their turret-mounted cannon's grinding against the top, sparks flying. Only between the individual turrets there was still room for a man or a smaller Tyranid to fit through. Hopefully many of the aliens wouldn't try it as they fled.
The tanks' crews left their vehicles now as well and followed their fellow soldiers to the stairways. Two were close to the east portal, several men having taking position just where he stairs broke through the ceiling, allowing them to overview part of the hall and see the portal.
"Are there still civilians in the building?" Cyrus asked the lieutenant as they climbed the stairs.
"Yes, milord, but my men are currently helping the last to the transporters." When they reached the first floor, those words were confirmed. They found themselves in a broad corridor, another staircase straight ahead, while several doorways to their left and right lead to other rooms. About half the soldiers present here were supporting or even carrying civilians, most of which were of advanced age or stricken by sickness, probably patients, who had once been brought here from the cities' hospitals only to be abandoned now. Certainly there had been panic.
Two Guardsmen were carrying an old man, who was obviously incapable of walking for himself, up the last staircase, while three others were bringing a woman on a litter to the rooftop, one of them having to hold up the intravenous bags.
"Do we know how many transporters have been sent?"
The lieutenant shook his head. "I have not received a number or what type of vessels they've sent down here, but most should be gone by now…"
"Sir, the aliens are entering the hub!"
Cyrus turned around, seeing Hormagaunts running up the stairs, their screams soon mingled with the responding las-fire. Despite their speed, the dozen Tyranids died before they could reach the defenders. Suddenly there was more screeching from somewhere else.
"Do you see anything down there?" One soldier whispered worriedly to his comrades.
No, they were not in the hall. Cyrus's eyes narrowed as he listened for the origin of the sounds. The Tyranids had to be in some kind of confined space. He heard their steps on metal not stone. "Are there ventilation shafts in the ceiling?"
The lieutenant seemed confused. "I believe so. Why..?"
"Get off the stairway, now!"
The confusion lasted for a second, the soldiers stumbling up the stairs to the first floor, but quickly formed a line behind the Astartes, the sounds growing louder. They almost over his head. Cyrus looked up and not far away saw a grid above the upper most stair. Without a moment of hesitation he pointed his pistol at it.
And it was just in time.
The grid got torn from its hinges and even as it still fell more Hormagaunt poured from the shaft, the two getting burned by plasma, another four falling victim to the las-fire. However it proved not to be enough. Several landed on the ground only to immediately leap further, fletching their sharp fangs, talons outstretched.
Cyrus quickly drew his combat knife, while killing another with his pistol. The first Gaunt to get too close got disembowelled by the knife, but a second that reached him not a moment later, landed on his right shoulder guard, biting into it, hacking at his face with its talons. As he tossed the other's body away, a talon cut over his face, across the right cheek.
Quickly he grabbed the Hormagaunt by its head, tearing it from him, its teeth shattering. It tried to lash out with its talons, but Cyrus smashed it against the wall, breaking its skull and neck. He flinched briefly as the sudden movement tore the cut along his side open again. To his surprise, he heard nonetheless more than cracking bones. A human voice, a supressed shriek.
The Guardsmen at his side had done well in the meantime. Due to the size of the hole, only up to two Gaunts at a time could exit the shaft and so, as soon as the soldiers had taken aim, most of the aliens were cut down almost as fast as they appeared. Only three made it through, one hacking into a woman's shoulder, the other piercing a man's chest, its teeth digging into his throat, before their comrades could take the aliens down. Another had severed a man's throat with its talons and just as Cyrus had finished his last alien, the Gaunt leaped onto another soldier's chest only to begin tearing through the armour with all limbs and fangs, turning it and the flesh beneath it to shreds. The Guardsmen around the Tyranid quickly fired, their las-shots piercing both it and their dead comrade.
If this attacked had been coordinated by a synapse creature and timed with the one by the Gaunts on the stairs, the Guardsmen would doubtlessly have been slain. But now the soldiers formed a line, which these few Gaunts could hardly reach.
Finally the last xeno fell with smoking wounds and it became silent once more. Cyrus however had not forgotten the voice he'd heard and with the fighting over, he stepped through the doorway to his right. Parts of the ceiling in the room he found himself in had collapsed, rubble lying everywhere, some having crushed the furniture, several rows of benches. Apparently this had once been a waiting area, the large screens at the wall, which once had likely shown departure and arrival times, were now all black.
Cyrus looked around. What or whoever he had heard had been close by, probably just at the other side of the wall he had slammed the Gaunt against. There was a large piece of debris next to the windows in a corner. A shadow behind it moved and the Blood Raven heard the rustling of shoes on the floor.
He put his weapons away as he approached. The stone was not quite as tall as he was and he took it at the top, pushed it away from the wall, letting it fall to the floor. In the corner before him cowered now a young girl, maybe about a decade old. She was very skinny and wore simple grey clothes, keeping a cheap, slightly oversized, breathing mask pressed against her face that covered her mouth and nose. With widened, blue eyes full of fright she looked at the Astartes behind a curtain of long and curly, bronze hair.
The girl backed off, pressing her back against the wall. He was certainly the first Space Marine she'd ever seen and aside from standing a little over two meters tall, he was covered with blood, mostly from Tyranids and the wounds he had suffered this day were all quite visible. His appearance was perhaps not exactly inspiring confidence.
He managed to muster a subtle smile and went on his knees, brushing some of his blood-stained hair aside. She pulled her own knees a little closer, but at least made no attempt to flee or scream. "You must not be afraid." Cyrus told her calmly, though he wished to leave as soon as possible. Regardless, if possible he wanted to avoid having a shrieking child around. "But you cannot stay here." Very timidly she nodded, not taking her eyes off him. "Come."
He reached out for her and though she watched him nervously, she let him pick her up. This girl was truly only skin and bones beneath those clothes. As soon as she sat on his left arm, the girl immediately held on to the big silver letters of his pauldron, in fact she was clutching them. As it was his only his recently relocated arm, which already had been stressed in the short fight, he felt a painful tug, and though it dulled quickly again it didn't disappeared.
Not losing any more time, Cyrus got on his way to re-join the Guardsmen, but as soon as he had reached the doorway he was contacted. "Lord Cyrus, the bombardment will reach us shortly; I hope you don't mind that I pick you up myself." Medicae Pravin's voice addressed him.
"Not at all, medicae. I'll be with you shortly." He promised her and stepped back into the corridor, turning to the officer. "Lieutenant, I believe defending this place has become void. We leave now."
The man nodded, looking briefly at the girl, but apparently decided not to ask about her. "I was just about to give the order; I've been informed that the bombardment will soon have reached us. Victoria's 5th, we retreat!" He shouted, speaking over the vox now as well. "Everyone, get yourselves to the roof and into the transporters! This place goes up in flames in less than fifteen minutes! Move!"
The Guardsmen started running towards the second staircase, Cyrus with them, careful not to have the girl fall off his arm. Quickly they had reached the rooftop, a warm wind greeting them, created by both the transporters' engines and the spreading firestorm approaching them from the east. Pravin and the lieutenant had been correct. The Liberation Fleet had moved on and the first spires were falling victims to the flames, towers collapsing, metal melting. Already it was raining ash.
On the rooftop itself only a dozen vessels remained, while another was already in the air. Five had the blue of the local PDF, six the reds and greys of Victoria's Imperial Guard though there was one Aquila Lander in pitch black. The hatch was still open and Cyrus recognized the person standing there waiting.
As the lieutenant got his men on-board the other transporters, more soldiers from the other defences around the hub joining them, the Blood Raven made his way to the inquisitorial vessel. "Acolyte Taylor; you should have returned to the Adrastos already." Cyrus greeted the Untouchable coolly upon his arrival.
The younger man nodded. "Beg your pardon, my lord, but my aura is of no use up there. I thought to myself that I could stay a bit longer and keep the Gaunts from getting on this roof. After all that is why I came down here to begin with."
Cyrus smiled a little; he appreciated dedication and the decision had been reasonable as well. "True enough. What of the Captain?"
"Helped him carry some civilian up here and got him onto a ship leaving for the Adrastos." The Acolyte explained. "Last I saw him he was applying pressure to a heavily bleeding wound of one of the Guardsmen, who were on-board as well." It seemed only now that Taylor took notice of the Astartes' passenger. "What of the girl, sir?" He asked curiously, a warm expression in his eyes as he looked at the little girl.
Even though he was not a psyker, Cyrus felt an unpleasant coldness creep into his body whenever he was around the Untouchable, whose limiter was still turned off. The girl apparently felt the same as she pressed herself against the Blood Raven's pauldron, when the Acolyte looked at her. "She was still in the hub, trying to hide." It suddenly occurred to him that he had not even considered passing her on to one of the soldiers, but that hardly mattered now anymore; she would get off-world in any case. For a final time Cyrus looked about the rooftop, accessing the situation. The fires were already too close for his liking, illuminating the night with orange light. "We should leave; the Guardsmen are all boarding the other ships."
"I've heard there are still some on the first floor holding off more Tyranids." Taylor swiftly interjected.
The Blood Raven shook his head. "If we do not leave now we will all burn and they still won't be saved." Cyrus reminded him sternly and the Untouchable slowly nodded defeated, but didn't reply and stepped into the Lander, followed by the Astartes. A few civilians, but mostly soldiers were already on-board, some having taken seats, others sitting on the ground, but about all were staring at the Space Marine. Continuing to ignore the stares, Cyrus pushed the large button next to the hatch, which then began to close. It grew darker in the vesse'ls interior the small red lamps emitting only little light. The mechanisms locked, sealing them air-tight. "Medicae; hatch is closed."
"Taking off." The woman answered him over the vox and the engines roared as she brought them back to life.
The vessel shook upon lift-off, the girl clinging to him even more tightly, knuckles turning white and Cyrus looked over the small crowed once more, feeling a sudden sense of frustration. Once the Deathwatch had come to stop the Tyranids, prevent the invasion and spare Victoria Primus from destruction. And they had failed.
Extremis malis, extrema remedia
Extreme remedies for extreme ills
Author's note: And thus only one chapter remains, or one chapter and a short epilogue, depending on how much I write. If future exams don't distract me too much the final chapter will come out in May.