The shuttle’s cargo bay was cold.
Strapped into her seat, her back to the cold metal wall, Augusta cast an eye over their requisitioned gear – Phaeton-pattern reinforcement kits, field generators, new vox-antennae, everything they would need to secure the basecamp.
They were thirty-seven days out of Ophelia VII, and this trip down to Lautis’ surface was the very last leg of the journey.
She spoke into the internal vox. ‘Shipmaster, how long?’
The commander of the Imperial vessel Sorex, now in parked orbit about the planet, had insisted upon piloting the shuttle personally – perhaps to ensure that the Sisters were delivered safely, and that he’d discharged his responsibility without mishap.
His voice came back to them. ‘Two minutes ‘til we drop below the cloudline, Sister. Twenty-three to the landing point.’ The shuttle’s interior screen showed a continuous, passing rush of grey, soupy cloud. ‘Current data shows climate conditions at sixty-eight per cent humidity, atmospheric temperature at twenty-nine-point-five degrees. It’s a swamp down there.’
Caia muttered, ‘We know.’
‘Any communications?’ Augusta said.
‘We’re just getting static. Full surface scan commencing as soon as we hit optimum range.’
Jatoya asked, ‘Signs of hostility?’
‘Nothing that doesn’t belong,’ the shipmaster said. ‘Life signs are minimal and all fully indigenous. Just the local predators, Sisters, nothing you’re not expecting.’
The screen showed more clouds.
‘How long before we’re in visual range of the town?’ Augusta asked.
‘Fourteen minutes,’ he said. ‘Will keep you updated.’
‘Thank you.’
Viola, her heavy bolter now rested across her lap, voiced a curse. ‘I’ll be glad when we’re off this blood boat.’
‘Blood boat?’ Akemi asked her, puzzled. ‘What is a blood boat?’ The newest Sister had a little fetish that she toyed with constantly, a tiny, silver feather that she flicked endlessly between the fingers of her left hand.
‘Old Imperial slang,’ Augusta said. ‘It means a cargo ship that travels a very long way, usually to secure grox-meat or similar.’
Frowning, her small, pallid face ever-serious, Akemi nodded. Augusta could see her twisting the little feather and filing the information away, every last detail where it belonged. Akemi had a remarkable memory; she had almost taken her Oath to the Convent’s Order Dialogous, the Order of the Quill. Now, fielded for the first time as a sworn soldier and a member of the Bloody Rose, her tension was becoming apparent.
Yet Augusta had no doubts about the young woman’s readiness. The Sister Superior had spent the five weeks of their interstellar journey running her squad through endless pattern-drills and live-fire training manoeuvres. They’d jogged round the gantries, morning and night, in full wargear; they’d practised skirmish exercises until they knew and could anticipate each other’s reactions. And they’d observed their rituals of daily prayer – Matins, Lauds, Vespers, Compline – in the Sorex’s tiny chapel.
The screen showed a brief flash of Lautis’ bloated, orangish sun, and Akemi’s little fetish glinted in the light.
As if suddenly aware of her habit, she slipped it back into the cuff of her vambrace, then leaned back against the wall. Augusta could see her lips moving as she prayed.
Throughout their journey, the Navy crew had stayed well away from the Sisters – too intimidated or awed by their presence, or by the legends that accompanied them. Sometimes, greatly daring, they’d watched from the farthest walkways, and once, goaded by mocking colleagues, a young officer had called a lewd remark at Akemi’s armoured back. The shipmaster had slung the man in the brig and had reminded the crew that the Sisters were servants of the God-Emperor, and soldiers like themselves. They were not saints to be iconised – the thought was outright blasphemy – nor objects to be ogled.
Once the young man had been released, Sister Akemi had spoken to him face-to-face. Augusta didn’t know what she had said, but the man had left with his skin ashen and his knees shaking.
And so, Augusta had thought, do the legends perpetuate themselves.
But still, it had allayed any flickering doubt: Akemi had courage. The Emperor had called her to be a warrior, and a warrior she would be.
‘Reaching optimum range now, Sisters,’ said the shipmaster. ‘Scan of township commencing.’
The clouds had thinned to wisps and were parting completely as the shuttle dropped below their cover. The screen began to show a dull, greenish atmosphere, heavy with rising steam and trapped heat. Augusta studied it carefully, remembering an identical scan from their initial reconnaissance trip, now almost a Solar year before.
Her hand touched the fleur-de-lys on her breastplate.
‘Lautis.’ Caia, sat next to her, gave a faint groan. ‘Not somewhere I ever needed to see a second time.’
Melia said, ‘At least we know what to expect.’
‘Do we?’ Caia answered her. Always the sharpest of the squad, Sister Caia missed little. ‘Do we really?’
Her words were met with silence as their import sank home.
The shuttle slowed, descending further, and the passing seethe of jungle became more visible. There were the familiar festoons of creepers, and the marshy deceits of the underlying swamp. There was the dark, volcanic rock, jagged and pitted with holes. There was the rising outcry of the indigenous wildlife, the loud and colourful birds and the lurking monsters of the stagnant water.
Eyeing the waiting mire, Augusta’s belly tightened with the descent. Like Caia, she had not expected to come back here.
The area was secure, she reminded herself. We slew the warlord. We hunted down the scattered remnants of its tribe. We offered the town our protection.
She wanted to try her vox, to try to reach Felicity on the Order’s private channel, but she was still out of range. Data flickered across the bottom of the pict-screen, showing the angle of the planet’s rotation, its climate and weather systems, its twenty-two hour day. She reminded herself of the information as she studied the passing rush of the native flora, and searched for the particular pattern that marked the town itself – the habitation closest to the ruined cathedral.
‘Threat level green,’ the shipmaster said. ‘You’re in the clear. Requested landmark becoming visible in three… two… one…’ There was a faint note of relief in his voice as he said, ‘And there we are, right on schedule. Final approach now. Praise the God-Emperor, Sisters, we’re safe and sound.’
Augusta undid her straps and stood up, her back stiff. With one hand on the shuttle’s roof to steady herself, she came forwards to scrutinise the screen.
And there it was: the looming, crumbling mass of the cathedral’s ruin, and, slightly closer, the square, black shape that was the town’s ancient ziggurat, its icon, temple and government. Around it spread the familiar mosaic of dark, stone buildings and odd, right-angled roads. To one side, there was the brief, rippling flash of moving water.
Her belly lurched again as the shuttle slowed further.
That was the same town, the one they’d saved, the place for which Sister Kimura had given her life. They’d given Kimura her Last Rites in the ruined cathedral, but the townspeople had celebrated her memory and their own gratitude. They’d raised firebrands to the Emperor’s name, singing hymns of local tradition.
Carved into the stepped sides of the great ziggurat, Augusta remembered, there were armoured warriors, their features blunted, their weapons and armour stylised, but recognisable – symbols left over from the Great Crusade. Lautis was older than the Order, older than the Sisters themselves. And yet the town’s priest – she remembered the woman clearly – had understood the Sisters’ faith and their love for their Emperor. She had pointed at the ziggurat’s carvings and talked about their local legends–
‘No life signs,’ the shipmaster said.
What?
The comment stopped Augusta dead. Uncomprehending, she studied the screen. Though they were still too far away, she found herself searching for movement, for some way to deny the man’s words.
Behind her, her squad were suddenly tense. Viola’s hands tightened on the heavy bolter; Akemi’s fetish was back in her fingers, turning over and over. Surprise and concern shot from Sister to Sister along the inside of the cargo bay.
Augusta said, her tone grim, ‘Scan again.’
‘Aye.’ Side-rockets fired. The floor tilted as the vessel turned, and Augusta caught at a rivet-studded upright to keep her feet. After a moment, the shipmaster said, ‘Scan radius expanding. Two miles from grid one-niner-seven by three-forty-five.’ There was a longer pause, and he repeated, ‘No life signs, Sister. Nothing. Not even the predators.’
‘But…’ Viola sounded as shocked as Augusta felt, ‘…there’s a whole town down there.’
Felicity’s final report had said nothing about the town being threatened, nor about any incoming force or foe.
Augusta said, ‘That township’s home to over three thousand people.’
‘Sister.’ The shipmaster’s voice held respect, and complete certainty. ‘There’s no one down there.’
‘Can you get a signal?’
The others were standing up now, checking weapons and wargear. The first flickerings of combat-readiness were stealing through the inside of the shuttle.
‘No communications, Sister,’ he returned, his tone even. ‘Even this close, there’s no response from the basecamp. Will keep trying.’
‘Rotate frequencies,’ Augusta said. ‘Try every Imperial channel.’
‘Trying all Imperial and all known Mechanicus frequencies, Sister. There’s no response.’
Akemi dropped her fetish and leaned over to pick it up. In the faint, green light, her small face was etched with worry. Viola’s fingers traced the carvings and the purity seals on the Godwyn-pattern heavy bolter.
Aware of their tension, Augusta still watched the screen. The absence of the townspeople was a significant shift in their mission parameters – and removed almost all possibility that Felicity’s silence had been caused by some errant storm.
It also meant that the townspeople could offer them neither information nor supplies.
The Arvus was slowing still further now, dropping below the canopy; it smashed through the jungle, dense and green. Brackish, noxious waters reflected the vehicle’s belly-lights, and the pitted, dark stone of the town’s outer walls grew closer.
Akemi’s gaze flicked back and forth, reading the scrolling data. Melia’s hand touched her fleur-de-lys, while Caia fiddled with the sight on her bolter, clicking and unclicking it, again and again.
In the metal walls of the shuttle, the noise was oddly loud.
The shipmaster’s voice said, ‘Do you wish to return to the Sorex, Sisters?’
‘We do not,’ Augusta said. ‘Our mission is very clear. Take us to the landing point, shipmaster, and drop the hatch. Once our gear is unloaded, I want you out of here. Upon your return to the Sorex, please upload what we have found so far. We do not know what waits for us, but I wish the canoness to be aware of the situation.’
She didn’t need to add: In case we cannot make that communication ourselves.
‘Yes, Sister,’ the shipmaster said. ‘Landing point ETA, two minutes.’
The screen became murkier as the vessel passed into the treeline. The cargo bay seemed suddenly very dark.
Caia’s clicking stopped.
In the faint, greenish light, Augusta looked at her squad.
‘Very well.’ She was alert now, her mind sharp and working – they were in the field, and this was no time for doubt or hesitation. ‘Listen to me. When that hatch comes down, Viola, out and on point. Caia, Melia, you’ll take back up. Jatoya, Akemi, with me – we’ll need to unload our gear and let this shuttle get back into the air. It’s vulnerable, and I need it safely away.’
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘And once we’re down, our first priority is to secure the basecamp. Jatoya, take Viola, Caia and Melia. Do a full sweep and establish the perimeter. Akemi, with me – I’ll need you to access the camp’s records.’ She glanced at the young woman, her black hair shining. ‘You read machine dialect, yes?’
‘A little, Sister Superior,’ Akemi said. ‘My training was very basic.’
‘Good enough. See if you can get into Jencir’s records as well as Felicity’s.’ Augusta’s smile was grim, humourless. ‘You never know what you might find.’
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘I’ll take the field emitters and the gun emplacements, make sure everything is rearmed and fully operational. And once we’re secure, we’re going into that town.’ She was still watching the scan, watching the rising blur of stone that was the ziggurat, now looming close. ‘From this point, Sisters, we assume that Felicity’s squad has passed into the Emperor’s blessing, that the area is hostile, and that this is a full combat mission.’
‘Yes, Sister.’ They saluted her, fists to chestplates.
‘Helmets on,’ Augusta said. ‘And may His light be with us all.’
Akemi dropped her fetish back into her vambrace. She picked up her helm, dropped it over her head, and twisted the seal closed.
‘Approaching the landing point,’ the shipmaster said. ‘Dropping speed-flaps now. Thirty seconds.’
Augusta could feel the vessel lowering, slowing to a hover. Her ears popped, and she lifted her own helm and snapped it into place. She flicked off the safety on her bolter, checked its ammo for the fourth time, and laid her other hand on her chainsword.
From plague, deceit, temptation and war…
The alarm on the rear hatch started to blare. The lock released with an audible clunk. Hydraulics whined.
Like uncoiling ribbons, light and steam stole down into the cargo-bay.
Viola was already on her feet, heavy bolter in both hands.
To Augusta, she looked like she wanted to fight.
The Arvus hovered, jet engines thundering. The air reeked of promethium fuel and shimmered with oily heat. Bright belly lights showed the landing area – an open surface of cracked, dark stone that bordered the town on one side.
…Our Emperor, deliver us.
Under the engines’ noise, the words of the Litany of Battle flowed, steadying them. Line and verse wove from one voice to the next over the vox – where one Sister paused, another would take up the words, and the prayer rolled through and around them all, reminding them that this was His work, that they were here in His name.
Here, upon Lautis.
Again.
Perhaps, Augusta thought, they were hoping that Felicity would hear them.
The shuttle door lowered more fully, and the thick mist of the jungle flooded the back of the vehicle. Looking out at the swamp, the Sister Superior felt a pang of unease.
She came to the side of the ramp to see more clearly, and saw that the rock of the landing area was speckled with green. There was only a tiny amount, but gentle, curling fronds of jungle vegetation had crept between the slabs, up through the various cracks. Small, perhaps, but with enough time, they could shatter the rock asunder.
Obsessive to a fault, no tech-priest would permit such carelessness – no one had been out here in weeks.
The lowering hatch thunked to a stop.
Viola was already moving, boots crashing down the ramp, heavy bolter to her shoulder. She jumped from the ramp’s edge, landing in a combat kneel and moving her weapon in steady arcs. The heat of jet and jungle would confuse the preysight in her helmet, but Viola had the vehicle at her back and a clear field of fire – if anything moved, she’d see it.
Nothing moved.
Caia and Melia followed at a low run, dropping from the edge of the ramp. They crouched to offer Viola cover as she dashed forwards again.
The Sisters’ skirmish-deployment was perfect, a smoothly functioning combat-machine. Their voices came back over the vox, now together, united in a quiet, steady chant of the hymnal – not the harmonised rage of full-on warfare, but the calm, clear caution of routine scouting.
The still-firing engines drowned other noises out. The Arvus dangled in place, three inches above the stone ground, waiting.
‘Jatoya!’ Shouting to make herself heard, the Sister Superior instructed Jatoya to take the position at the ramp’s foot, flamer covering the approach. Then she gestured for Akemi to give her a hand with the gear.
One by one, the two women threw the heavy cases out of the back of the shuttle. Silently cursing the absence of loaders, Augusta kept her bolter and chainsword holstered, and gestured to the side of the landing area, where the walls of the township could be clearly seen.
‘Over there! Stack it by the watchpost!’
The cathedral, further back and on the other side of the town, had faded to a shadowy blur, drowned in the planet’s noxious mist and the colossal overgrowth of flora.
‘Viola! Advance and secure the basecamp area! Caia, Melia, with Viola. Jatoya, Akemi, with me! Let’s get out of here!’
Breathless from the heat, ducking the noise of the Arvus and its hot convection winds, the Sisters picked up their gear and ran for the camp.
Once they were clear, the shuttle lifted to the top of the canopy, its lights bright.
It hovered there a moment, almost as if it were waiting for something, then it turned, and was swallowed by the trees.