13th Legion

currently fighting for: Inquisitor Oriel.'

They seem to be holding back/ calls Loron from the gaping hole of the doorway into the plasma chamber.

Their officers are probably cursing the architects of Coritanorum at the moment/ says Inquisitor Oriel, pushing

the autopistols into the belt of his coveralls. He is clean shaven, with a narrow face, and thin black hair. He exudes an aura of calm, tinged with a hint of menace. The whole inner circle is designed to be a final bastion of defence, which works in our favour now, not theirs. It's what makes this whole mission pos­sible/

I can see his point. The plasma chamber is octagonal, about twenty metres from wall to wall. There are a few free-standing display panels, still littered with dead Typhons, and power coils snaking from apertures in the walls to a central terminal in the wall opposite the entrance, shielded from view by a huge datascreen. The access way is four, maybe five metres wide, almost impossible to come down more than four abreast, and thirty metres long at least, a real killing zone.

'The Inquisition?' says Lorii, still dumbfounded. She's crouched next to Kronin, who's slouched against the wall, still out of it. He's barely alive, the lasblast caught him full in the chest.

'Makes sense/ I say. Who else would have the resources or authority to destroy a sector base?'

'It will not be long before they try another attack/ the Colonel tells us, calling us back to the matter in hand. 'Gudmanz, link in and start the overload. Revered inquisitor, how many ways into this chamber are there?'

'Just the main gate and the maintenance duct I came through/ he says, pointing to the gantry above our heads. That's why we can hold them off with just a handful of men/

'What about the duct?' I ask, casting a cautious glance upwards.

'I left a little surprise just outside for anyone who tries to come in that way/ he reassures me wim a grim smile.

'You've changed/ says the Colonel, glancing at the inquisitor, taking us all a bit aback. I'm surprised they've seen each other before, but then again I guess I shouldn't be. Between the inquisitor and the captain of the twins' penal battalion, I sus­pect the Colonel has been out and about a lot more than we realise.

'Mmm? Oh, the beard? I required a change of identity once the command staff learned who I was/ he tells us. 'It was the easiest way. That and a suitable alter-ego as a maintenance worker/

'Something's happening/ calls Loron, drawing our attention to the corridor outside. I can see some movement at the far end, heads popping into sight to check what's going on.

'Mass attack?' Lorii asks, taking up a firing position next to the gateway, the bulky bolter held across her chest.

There are no other options, it seems/ the Colonel agrees.

'Should we be building a barricade or something?' suggests Striden, thumbing more shells into the breech of his shot­gun.

'One way in, one way out/ Lorii points out, jabbing a thumb back down the access corridor. 'When it's time to go, we'll need to get out fast/

'I never even thought about getting out/ Striden admits, run­ning a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. 'Getting in seemed ridiculous enough/

'You don't even have to be here!' I snap at him. 'So quit com­plaining/

The attack is heralded by a storm of fire along one side of the corridor, las-fire in a deadly hail that rips along the wall, impacts into the doorway and comes flaring into the plasma chamber. As we're pinned back by the covering fire, a squad of guardsmen charges up the other side of the accessway, bellow­ing some kind of warcry.

The Colonel and I toss a couple of frag grenades through the doorway and the warcry turns to shouts of panic. Bits of shrap­nel scythe through the door as the blast fills the passage, and as the smoke clears, I look around the edge of the doorway and see the Typhons in a pile of twisted corpses, caught full by die blast as some of them tried to turn back and ran into the oth­ers behind them.

'Score one to the Last Chancers!' laughs Lorii, peeking above my shoulder for a look.

'How many do we need to win?' I ask her and she shrugs.

'Of the three and a half million people left in Coritanorum/ the inquisitor tells us from the other side of the doorway, 'seven hundred mousand are fully trained guardsmen. That's how many we need to score/

'Seven fraggin' hundred thousand?' I spit. 'How the frag are we supposed to get out?'

'When the plasma reactors go to overload, getting out is going to be die matter on everyone's mind, Kage/ the Colonel

answers me from beside Oriel. 'They will not be too keen to stand and fight when that happens/

'Good point, well made/ agrees Loron. The only fighting we'll be doing is over seats on the shuttle!'

'Another attack is being launched by Imperial forces on the northern walls/ the inquisitor adds. 'They have two fronts to fight on/

'What happens to our men when this place goes boom?' asks Loron.

Our banter is cut short by a succession of distinctive 'whump' noises, and five fist-sized shapes come bouncing into the plasma room.

'Fragging grenade launchers!' Lorii cries out, pushing me flat and then throwing herself across Kronin. The grenades explode, shrapnel clanging off the walls, a small piece imbed­ding itself in my left forearm. Another volley comes clattering in and I roll sideways, putting as much distance as I can between me and the entrance. More detonations boom in my ears and debris rings across the equipment around us.