Helsreach

several times. They could just as easily set up airstrips in the wastelands much nearer the hive cities. In fact, we can already see they're doing just that.'

'What about the oil platforms?' he asked.

'The platforms?' she shook her head, not sure where he was leading with this.

'You're kidding me,' Ryken said. 'The Valdez oil platforms. Didn't you study Helsreach before you were posted here? Where do you think half of the hive cities in Armageddon Secundus get their fuel from? They take it in here from the offshore platforms and cook it into promethium for the rest of the continent.'

Tyro already knew this. She let him have his moment of feigned indignity.

'I paid attention,' she smiled, 'in basic economics. The platforms are protected from these southernmost raiders by the same virtue we are. It's just too far to strike at them.'

'Then with all due respect, ma'am, why did you pull me off the wall? I have duties to perform.'

And here it was. She had to deal with this matter delicately.

'I… would appreciate your assistance. First, I must disseminate this information among the other officers.'

'You don't need my help for that. You need access to a vox-caster, and you're sitting in a building full of them. Why should they care, anyway? What does a potential colony of the enemy on the polar cap have to do with the defence of the hive?'

'High Command has informed me that the matter is to be considered Helsreach's problem. We are - relatively speaking - the closest city.'

Ryken laughed. 'Would they like us to invade? I'll get the men ready and tell them to wrap up warm and lay siege to the south pole.

I

hope the orks outside the city respect the fact we'll be absent for the rest of the siege. They look like sporting gentlemen. I'm sure they'll wait for us to return to the hive before attacking again.'

'

Major.'

'

Yes,

ma'am.'

'High Command has informed me to spread the information and let all officers be aware of the concern. That is all. No invasions. And it is not what I require your aid with.'

'Then what is it?'

'Grimaldus,' she said.

'Is that a fact? Problems with the Emperor's finest?'

'This is a serious matter,' Tyro frowned.

'Fair enough. But talk from the Vultures said that he was finally getting involved. They apparently got one hell of a speech.'

'He performed his duties on the wall with great skill and devotion.' She still wasn't smiling. 'That is not the problem at hand.'

Ryken let his raised eyebrow do the talking.

Tyro sighed. 'The problem is one of contact and mediation. He refuses to talk to me.' She paused, as if considering something for the first time. 'Perhaps because I'm female.'

'You're serious,' Ryken said. 'You truly believe that.'

'Well… He has bonded with the male officers, hasn't he?'

Ryken thought that was debatable. He'd heard that the only commander in the city Grimaldus had treated with anything more than disdainful impatience was the ancient woman that led the Legio Invigilata. And even that was just rumour.

'It's not because you're female,' the major said. 'It's because you're useless.'

The pause lasted several seconds, during which Cyria Tyro's face hardened with each passing moment.

'

Excuse me?'

she asked.

'Useless to them, shall we say. It's simple. You're the liaison between a High Command that is too busy to care what happens here, too distant to make much difference even if it did care, and offworld forces that have no need or interest in playing nice with the grunts of the Guard. Does the Crone of Invigilata need to pass orders through you? Does Grimaldus? No. Neither group cares.'

'The chain of command…' she started, but trailed off.

'The chain of command is a system both the Legio and the Templars are outside. And above, if they choose to be.'

'I feel useless,' she finally said. 'And not just to them.'

He could see how much that admission cost her. He could also see that she didn't seem such a haughty bitch when her defences were down. Just as Ryken drew breath to speak - and tell her a more polite version of his current thoughts - her desk vox-speaker buzzed.

'Adjutant Quintus Cyria Tyro?' asked a deep, resonant male voice.

'Yes. Who is this?'

'Reclusiarch Grimaldus of the Black Templars. I must speak with you.'

The Crone of

Invigilata floated in her fluid-filled coffin, appearing to listen to the muffled sounds outside.

In truth, she was paying little attention. The muted sounds of speech and movement belonged to a world of physicality that she barely remembered. Linked with

Stormherald,

the god- machine's ever-present rumbling anger infected her like a chemical injected into her mind. Even in moments of peace, it was difficult to focus on anything but wrath.

To share a mind with

Stormherald

was to dwell within a maze of memories that were not her own.

Stormherald

had looked upon countless battlefields for hundreds of years before Princeps Zarha was even born. She had only to shut down the imagefinders that now served as her eyes, and as the hazy image of her milky surroundings faded to nothing, she could remember deserts she had never seen, wars she had never fought, glories she had never won.

Stormherald's

voice in her mind was an unrelenting murmur, a hum of quiet tension, like a low-burning fire. It challenged her, with wordless growls, to taste of the victories it had tasted for so long - to swim beneath the surface memories and surrender to them. Its spirit was a proud and indefatigable machine-soul, and it hungered not only for the fiery maelstrom of war, but also the cold exaltation of triumph. It felt the banners of past wars that hung from its metal skin, and it knew fierce, unbreakable pride.

'My princeps,' came a muffled voice.

Zarha activated her photoreceptors. Borrowed memories faded and vision returned. Strange, how the former were so much clearer than the latter, these days.

Hello, Valian.

'

Hello, Valian.'

'My princeps, the adepts of the soul are reporting discontent within

Stormherald's