D
ak'ir and
L
ok
parted company at the first intersection after leaving the bridge. Both sergeants had contacted their squads via the comm-feeds in their battle-helms. Salamanders were rapidly dispersing across the stricken decks, rescuing those who were trapped, quelling panic or opening up escape routes. The was well outfitted with lifters and deck-to-deck conduits, and though the strike cruiser was vast, reaching the crisis areas had been swift.
Reaching deck fifteen, Dak'ir was greeted with a scene of utter carnage. He ranged along darkened corridors lit by fire and filled by the screams of the injured and dying. Twisted metal and collapsed ceiling struts made progress slow and dangerous. Torn deck plates bled away into the darkness of the lower levels, pitch-black pitfalls that he discerned through his battle-helm's infrared spectra. Leaping across the miniature chasms, Dak'ir tried not to think how many bodies might be lying beneath him in mangled heaps.
Through the gaseous haze of a split coolant pipe, Dak'ir saw Brother Emek crouching by the slumped form of a wounded crewman. Liquid nitrogen was gushing everywhere, freezing whatever it touched. Crushing the pipe either side of the breach and cutting off its supply, Dak'ir effectively sealed the leak. When he reached Emek, his brother was already closing the slumped crewman's eyes for him.
'Dead…' His voice held a trace of sorrow. 'But there are more who still live. In the corridor beyond,' he added. Another survivor was strapped up to his back. The man's legs were a red ruin, crushed to paste by falling wreckage. Clinging on to Emek desperately, he whimpered in pain like an infant.
'Ba'ken is ahead,' he said, and got to his feet.
Dak'ir nodded and moved on, as Emek went in the other direction. Sparking terminals lit the way. They showed hollow-eyed crewmen, those who were still able-bodied rushing from the damaged deck. Continual reports from the Enginarium and Brother Argos issued through Dak'ir's battle-helm. More and more areas of the ship were being sealed off as entire sections of deck fragmented under the solar storm's baleful glare.
The trickle of fleeing crewmen became a surge. Lighting was more sporadic, until it failed completely and even the fires couldn't alleviate the darkness. Dak'ir ushered on the men as he went, telling them to cling to the edges of the corridors and watch their footing. He didn't know if they all heard him. Panic gripped them now. Something approaching that emotion spiked in Dak'ir's mind as he realised that fifteen minutes were up. Thunderous sirens shuddered noisily, communicating the fact that the deck was locking down.
Descending into steadily worse carnage, he started to run. Through his advanced hearing, Dak'ir detected the distant sounds of bulkhead doors slamming shut and zoning off the compromised sections of the ship. He tried not to think about the men that might still be trapped inside them, hammering on the doors with no hope of escape.
Rounding the next corner, barging his way through a flood of crewmen, Dak'ir saw the massive, armoured form of Ba'ken. He was wedged between a bulkhead door and the deck. It pushed down at him from the ceiling as it fought to seal off the section. Swarms of serfs rushed past him as Ba'ken urged them with curt commands. Strong as he was, the Salamander couldn't fight the power of a strike cruiser and hope to prevail. His legs were starting to buckle and his arms to tremble.
Dak'ir went to him at once, getting under the slowly descending door and adding his strength to his brother's.
Barely arching his head to see, Ba'ken caught Dak'ir in the corner of his eye and smiled through a grimace.
'Come to join me, eh, sergeant?'
Dak'ir shook his head. 'No,' he replied. 'I just come to see if this is enough weight for you, brother.'
Ba'ken's booming laughter vied with the lockdown siren for supremacy.
All the while, more and more crewman streamed - limping, running, even carried by their comrades - between the two Space Marines holding the way open for them a little longer.
'There must be thousands on this deck,' Dak'ir growled, already feeling the strain of the pressing bulkhead door. 'We can't hold this open long enough to save them all, Ba'ken.'
'If we only saved ten more, it would be worth it,' snarled the bulky Salamander, as he gritted his teeth.
Dak'ir was about to agree when the comm-feed crackled in his ear and a familiar voice issued through.
'Need assistance on deck seventeen…' Tsu'gan's tone was strained. 'Respond, brothers.'
Static reigned. All the Salamanders dispersed across the decks must either be out of comm-range or they were already engaged in evacuation operations they couldn't leave.
Dak'ir swore under his breath. Ba'ken was the stronger of them. Without him, Dak'ir could not hold the door himself. He would have to be the one to go to his brother's aid.
'Go, sergeant,' Ba'ken spoke through gritted teeth.
'You can't hold it alone,' Dak'ir protested, knowing the decision was already made Dak'ir sensed a presence behind him, the clanging retort of heavy footfalls echoing steadily louder as they closed on his position.
'He won't need to,' said a gravel-thick voice.
Dak'ir turned and saw Veteran Sergeant Praetor.
Close up, the Firedrake was even more formidable. In his Terminator armour, Praetor towered over them both. His bulk filled up half the corridor. Dak'ir saw a fire burning in his eyes, unlike that of his brothers. It seemed deeper, somehow remote and unknowable. Three platinum studs ringed Praetor's left eyebrow, attesting to his veteran status, and the immensity of his presence was almost tangible.
Dak'ir stepped aside, allowing the awesome warrior to assume his vacated position. Praetor lumbered beneath the bulkhead door and took the strain with arms bent like a champion weight lifter. The lines of exertion on Ba'ken's face eased at once.
'On your way, sergeant,' grunted the Firedrake. 'Your brother awaits you.'
Dak'ir saluted quickly and chased back the way he had come. Tsu'gan needed him, though he suspected that his fellow brother-sergeant would be less than pleased when he saw the identity of his saviour.
T
he Ignean…
T
he
thought was a bitter one as Tsu'gan regarded Dak'ir across the gaping chasm of twisted steel and fire. It wasn't enough that he had to capitulate and admit he needed aid; his rescuer was the one Salamander he desired to see the least.
Tsu'gan scowled through the swathes of smoke billowing up from below. He hoped Dak'ir got the message that he was disgruntled. The brother-sergeant was on one side of a huge pitfall some ten metres across. The deck plates had been ripped away as the ship was ravaged by the solar storm. A lifter, torn from its riggings and punched out of its holding shaft, had plummeted through the metal like a hammer dropped through parchment. It had come to rest several decks below, collapsed in a ruined heap, creating a new
Вы читаете Salamander
×