chainsword was matted and clogged with the beast’s fluid and tissue, and steam was rising from the blade where it was being eaten away by the toxic deposits.
Gaunt cursed. Delane Oktar, his old mentor, now long dead, had given him that sword on Darendara, right at the start of his career, when he had still been green and eager. He had carried it ever since, all through his time with the Hyrkans until his service under Slaydo at Balhaut, and beyond to Tanith and every victory of his beloved Ghosts. Its destruction hurt him more than he could say. It took the past from him, took his memories and victories away.
He jammed the dying blade into the beast’s shoulder, kicking out a wash of toxic blood and bone chips. Wedged fast, the sword disintegrated and the power unit in the grip exploded. Gaunt was thrown backwards.
The thing lunged down after him, biting at his kicking boots as he scrambled backwards on his backside. Isak and two of the Volpone surged forward, firing to cover him and draw the thing away. As it wheeled on them, Gaunt found himself dragged clear. It was Gilbear. Blood flecked the front of his armaplas chestplate and there was rage in his eyes. He hauled Gaunt back towards the green bulk of the iron tank.
Another Volpone was caught by the beast’s clamping jaws and shredded by savage bites of its teeth. The walls and drapes of the audience hall were sprayed heavily with blood now.
The creature turned on Isak, snapping off his head and shoulders with one crushing bite. His body fell beneath its clawing, stamping legs.
“A gun!” Gaunt yelled to Gilbear.
“Lost mine!” replied the Blueblood colonel, referring to the hellgun that had been tossed aside with him. He had out his powerful sidearm, a long-barrelled autogun plated with chrome. He put shell after shell into the creature’s neck.
Gaunt scrambled forward, retrieving his boltgun, and slammed a fresh clip into the receiver. He would kill this thing before he died. By the ghosts of Tanith, he would.
The meat-beast slew one of the remaining Croe guards and flew at Daur and Kowle, trailing meat and blood from its mouth. Both men stood their ground, exhibiting levels of bravery as high as any Gaunt had ever witnessed. They pumped relentless shots into the approaching nightmare. Nothing slowed it.
Hastily they both dived aside. Daur rolled into Chass’ crumpled body and frantically tried to reload.
Kowle landed on a Volpone corpse. The creature headed for him.
“Get clear!” Gaunt bellowed. Kowle was apparently fumbling with the dead Blueblood’s equipment belts. Gaunt and Gilbear fired again in a futile attempt to drop the thing.
At the final moment, Kowle turned and rose. He faced the rushing beast with his arms held out. He was clutching a canvas web of grenades. The meat-beast bit his arms off at the elbows and Kowle tumbled backwards, blood jetting from the stumps. He didn’t make a sound.
The creature convulsed, retched and exploded from within. Its massive torso blew out in a rush of flame and body matter. A spinning section of rib, thrown out by the blast, stuck quivering into the wall near Gaunt like a spear. Flames gouted out of the huge mouth.
The beast collapsed onto the floor, pulling feed lines and wires out of the ceiling. The pool of stinking fluid spreading beneath it began to burn the carpet away.
With Gilbear behind him, Gaunt crossed to the carcass. “We need a flamer. We need to burn this abomination as soon as possible.”
“Yes, colonel-commissar,” Gilbear answered, turning to the surviving Volpone.
Kowle, on his back in a widening circle of blood, was still alive. Gaunt knelt beside him, soaking his knees.
“Said… you… didn’t have the balls,” Kowle said, his voice so weak it was barely audible.
Gaunt had no words for him.
“Envy you…”
“What?” Gaunt asked, bending closer.
“Balhaut… you were there at the victory, with the warmaster. I envy you. I would have given… everything to share in that…”
“Pius, you—”
“Shut up, Gaunt… not interested in… anything you have to say to me. You took my honour away, you… ruined me. I hope the Emperor… will forgive you for robbing Terra of a… great leader like me.
Gaunt shook his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Kowle’s rank studs and cap badge. Carefully and deferentially, he pinned them back in place. Kowle seemed to notice what Gaunt was doing, though his eyes were wide and dilated, and the blood was now merely trickling from his ghastly stumps.
“Goodbye, commissar. You gave your best.”
Gaunt saluted, a sharp, smart gesture he hadn’t made in a long time.
Kowle smiled, barely, then died.
Gaunt got up from the corpse of the People’s Hero and crossed to the awareness tank. “Get Lord Chass up. Get the Shield back on,” he said to Daur sourly. Daur nodded and began to raise the feeble Verghast noble.
Gilbear joined Gaunt at the tank. They looked down at the thickly glazed porthole.
“Come up with a way for me to pay you back as soon as you can,” Gaunt said, not looking round at the Volpone.
“What?”
“You pulled me clear of the beast. I don’t want to be in the debt of a high-caste bastard like you any longer than I have to be.”
Gilbear grinned. “I think I may have underestimated you, Gaunt. I had no idea you were such an arrogant swine.”
Gaunt glanced round. It would take another Ibram Gaunt and a whole different universe for there to be any trust or comradeship between him and Gilbear. But for now, in the thick of this nightmare, Gaunt couldn’t help respecting the soldier, for that was what he was: a devoted soldier of the God-Emperor, just like Gaunt. They didn’t have to like each other to make it work. A measure of understanding and honour between them was enough.
Gaunt bent down to look through the port glass, and Gilbear did likewise at his side.
Through the fog of murky, phlogistic fluid, they could just make out a frail, naked body, withered and corrupted, drifting inside the tank, its skull linked to wires and cables that curled upwards to the roof.
“We can call it quits if you let me finish this,” said Gilbear.
“He’s all yours,” said Gaunt.
Gilbear smirked, arming the hellgun he had just retrieved. “What about your due process? What about taking the law into your own hands?” he asked sarcastically.
“I can dispense it. I’m a commissar. That’s what you said,
