Helsreach

His face was a grinning silver skull, the eyes staring a soulless red, right through her.

'Cyria Tyro,' he said in a deep, vox-crackling voice, 'greetings.' The Astartes made the sign of the aquila, his dark gauntlets banging against his chestplate as they formed the symbol. 'And Major Ryken of the 101st. Welcome to the north wall.'

Ryken returned the salute. 'I heard you gave the Vultures a speech earlier, Reclusiarch,' he said.

'They are fine warriors, all,' Grimaldus said. 'They needed none of my words, but it was a pleasure to share them, nevertheless.'

Ryken was caught momentarily off-guard. He'd not expected an answer, let alone this unnerving humility. Before he could reply, Cyria spoke up. She looked up at Grimaldus, shielding her eyes from the downpour. The hum of his armour made her gums itch. The sound seemed to be louder than before, as if reacting to the bad weather.

'How may I be of service, Reclusiarch?'

'That is the wrong question,' the knight said, his vox-voice a low growl. The rain scythed onto his armour, hissing as it hit the dark ceramite. 'The question is one you must answer, not one you must ask.'

'As you wish,' she said. His formality was making her uncomfortable. In fact, everything about him was making her uncomfortable.

'We have defensive positions in the wastelands, manned by the Steel Legion. Platoons of the Desert Vultures, among other regiments, have dug in to hold these against the enemy. Small towns, coastal depots, weapons caches, fuel dumps, listening stations.'

Tyro nodded. Most of these outposts, and their relative strategic value, had been covered in the command meetings.

'Yes,' she said, for want of anything else to say.

'Yes,' he repeated her reply, sounding amused. 'I was informed today exactly what is stored in the underground hangar of the D16-West outpost, ninety-eight kilometres to the north-west of the city. None of our briefings mentioned it was a sealed Mechanicus facility.'

Tyro and Ryken exchanged a glance. The major shrugged a shoulder. Although most of his face was masked by his rebreather, his eyes showed he had no idea what the Chaplain was inferring. Cyria's glance fell back to the towering knight's crimson gaze.

'I've seen little data on D-16 West's storage consignments, Reclusiarch. All I know is that a deactivated relic from the era of the First War is stored in the sub-level compound. No Guard personnel are permitted access to the innards of the facility. It is considered sovereign Mechanicus territory.'

'I learned the same today. That does not intrigue you?' the Astartes asked.

It was a fair question. In truth, no, it didn't interest her at all. The First War had been won almost six hundred years ago, and the planet's face was one of different cities and different armies now.

'Whether I find it fascinating or not is hardly of consequence,' she said. 'Whatever is stored there is impounded under orders of the Adeptus Mechanicus - I suspect for a damn good reason - and is a secret even from Planetary High Command. Even our Guard force there is a token battle group. They are not expected to survive the first month.'

'Do you know your history, Adjutant Tyro?' Grimaldus's voice was calm, low and composed. 'Before we made planetfall here, a great deal was committed to our memories. All lore is useful in the right hands. All information can be a weapon against the enemy.'

'I have studied several of the decisive battles of the First War,' she said. All Steel Legion officers had.

'Then you will know what Mechanicus weapon was designed and first deployed here.'

'Throne,' Ryken whispered. 'Holy Throne of Terra.'

'I… don't think you can be right…' Tyro told the Astartes.

'Perhaps not,' Grimaldus conceded, 'but I intend to learn the truth for myself. One of our gunships will carry a small group to D-16 West in one hour.'

'But it's sealed!'

'It will not be sealed for long.'

'It's Mechanicus territory!'

'I do not care. If I am right in my suspicions, there is a weapon there. I want that weapon, Cyria Tyro. And I will have it.'

She pulled her greatcoat tighter around her body as the storm intensified.

'If it was something that would help with the war,' she said, 'the Mechanicus would have deployed it by now.'

'I do not believe that, and I am surprised that you do. The Mechanicus has committed a great deal in the defence of Armageddon. That does not mean they have the same stake in the war that we do.

I

have battled alongside the Cult of Mars many times. They breathe secrecy instead of air.'

'You can't leave the city before dawn. The enemy—'

'The enemy will not break the city walls in the first day. And Bayard, Emperor's Champion of the Helsreach Crusade, will command the Templars in my absence.'

'I can't allow you to do this. It will enrage the Mechanicus.'

'I am not asking for your permission, adjutant.' Grimaldus paused, and she swore she could hear a smile in his next words. 'I am asking if you wish to come with us.'

'I…I…'

'

You

informed me upon my arrival that you were here to facilitate interaction between the offworld forces and those of Armageddon.'

'I know, but—'

'Mark my words, Cyria Tyro. If the Mechanicus has reasons for not deploying that weapon, they may not be reasons that other Imperial commanders will find acceptable. I do not care about those reasons. I care about winning this war.'

'I'll accompany you,' she almost choked on the words. Throne, what was she doing…

'I thought you would,' said Grimaldus. 'The sun is rising. Come, to the Thunderhawk. My brothers already wait.'

The gunship shuddered

as its boosters lifted it from the landing platform.

The pilot, an Initiate knight with few honour markings on his armour, guided the ship skyward.

'Try not to get us shot down,' Artarion said to him, standing behind the pilot's throne in the cockpit. They were set to fly above the clouds anyway, and take a course over the ocean and the coast before veering inland once they were clear of the besieging army and its fighter support.

'Brother,' the Initiate said, watching the city falling below as he applied vertical thrust, 'does anyone ever laugh at your jokes?'

'Humans sometimes do.'

The pilot didn't reply to that. Artarion's answer said it all. The gunship gave a kick as its velocity boosters fired, and through the cockpit window, the toxic cloud cover began to slide