keep track of them all, not even the bridge crew under Boas Comnenus, and thus the gold-skinned landing skiff that launched from the civilian bay of the
The invasion fleet mustered in low orbit, orbital winds clutching at streamers of atmospheric gases and spinning them in lazy coils beneath the vessels.
As always, it was the Astartes who led the invasion.
The way in was rough. Atmospheric disturbances and storms wracked the skies and the Astartes Stormbirds were tossed like leaves in a hurricane. Loken felt the craft vibrate wildly around him, grateful for the restraint harness that held him fast to his cage seat. His bolter was stowed above him and there was nothing to do but wait until the Stormbird touched down and the attack began.
He slowed his breathing and cleared his mind of all distractions, feeling a hot energy suffuse his limbs as his armour prepared his metabolism for imminent battle.
The warriors of Nero Vipus's Locasta squad and Brake-spur squad surrounded him, immobile, yet representing the peak of humanity's martial prowess. He loved them all dearly and knew that they wouldn't let him down. Their conduct on Murder and Xenobia had been exemplary and many of the newly elevated novitiates had been blooded on those desperate battlefields.
His company was battle tested and sure.
'Garviel,’ said Vipus over the inter-armour link. There's something you should hear.'
'What is it?' asked Loken, detecting a tone of warning in his friend's voice.
'Switch to channel 7,’ said Vipus. 'I've isolated it from the men, but I think you ought to hear this.'
Loken switched internal channels, hearing nothing but a wash of grainy static, warbling and constant. Pops and crackles punctuated the hiss, but he could hear nothing else.
'I don't hear anything,’
'Wait. You will,' promised Vipus.
Loken concentrated, listening for whatever Nero was hearing.
And then he heard it.
Faint, as though coming from somewhere impossibly far away was a voice, a gargling, wet voice.
'…the ways of man. Folly… seek… doom of all things. In death and rebirth shall mankind live forever…'
Though he was not built to feel fear, Loken was suddenly and horribly reminded of the approach to the Whisperheads when the air had been thick with the taunting hiss of the thing called Samus.
'Oh no…' whispered Loken as the watery, rasping voice came again. 'Thus do I renounce the ways of the
Emperor and his lackey the Warmaster of my own free will. If he dares come here, he will die. And in death shall he live forever. Blessed be the hand of Nurgh-leth. Blessed be. Blessed be…'
Loken hammered his fist against the release bolt on his cage seat and rose to his feet, swaying slightly as he felt a strange nausea cramp his belly. His genhanced body allowed him to compensate for the wild motion of the Stormbird, and he made his way swiftly along the ribbed decking towards the pilots' compartment, determined that they wouldn't walk blind into the same horror as had been waiting for them on Sixty-Three Nineteen.
He pulled open the hatch where the flight officers and hardwired pilots fought to bring them in through the swirling yellow storm clouds. He could hear the same, repeating phrase coming over the internal speakers here.
4Vhere's it coming from?' he demanded.
The nearest flight officer turned and said, 'It's a vox, plain and simple, but…'
'But?'
'It's coming from a ship vox,' said the man, pointing at a wavering green waveform on the waterfall display before him. 'From the patterning it's one of ours. And it's a powerful one, a transmitter designed for inter-ship communication between fleets,’
'It's an actual vox transmission?' said Loken, relieved it wasn't ghost chatter like the hateful voice of Samus.
'Seems to be, but a ship's vox unit that size shouldn't be anywhere near the surface of a planet. Ships that big don't come this far down into the atmosphere. Leastways if they want to keep flying they don't,’
'Can you jam it?'
'We can try, but like I said, it's a powerful signal, it could burn through our jamming pretty quickly,’
'Can you trace where it's coming from?'
The flight officer nodded. Yes, diat won't be a problem. A signal that powerful we could have traced from orbit,’
Then why didn't you?'
'It wasn't there before,’ protested the officer. 'It only started once we hit the ionosphere,’
Loken nodded. 'Jam it as best you can. And find the source,’
He turned back to the crew compartment, unsettled by the uncanny similarities between this development and the approach to the Whisperheads.
He opened a channel to the other members of the Moumival, receiving confirmation that the signal was being heard throughout the speartip.
'It's nothing, Loken,’ came the voice of the Warmaster from the Stormbird at the leading edge of the speartip. 'Propaganda,’
'With respect, sir, that's what we thought in the Whisperheads,’
'So what are you suggesting, Captain Loken? That we turn around and head back to Davin? Ignore this stain on my honour?'
'No, sir,’ replied Loken. 'Just that we ought to be careful,’
'Careful?' laughed Abaddon, his hard Cthonic laughter grating even over the vox. 4Ve are Astartes. Others should be careful around us,’
The first captain is right,’ said Horas. *We will lock onto this signal and destroy it,’
'Sir, that might be exactly what our enemies want us to try,’
Then they'll soon realise their error,’ snapped Horus, shutting off the connection.
Moments later, Loken heard the Warmaster's orders come through the vox and felt the deck shift under him
as the Stormbirds smoothly changed course like a pack of hunting birds.
He made his way back to his cage seat and strapped himself in, suddenly sure that they were walking into a trap.
What's going on, Garvi?' asked Vipus.
'We're going to destroy that voice,’ said Loken, repeating the Warmaster's orders. 'It's nothing, just a vox transmitter. Propaganda,’
'I hope that's all it is,’
The Stormbird touched down with a hard slam, lurching as its skids hit soft ground and fought for purchase. The harness restraints disengaged and the warriors of Locasta smoothly rose
