Salamander

'Of us?'

'Of something like us,' Emek replied. 'These people fled into the darkness for a reason and have stayed here for many years.' His eyes narrowed, as the tone of his voice changed to become more speculative. 'When we removed our battle-helms, they didn't seem shocked or even perturbed by our appearance.'

The domestic dwellings, the pseudo-caves of rock and metal, started to thin and fade away as Illiad then led them to another structure that loomed large ahead. A pair of grand blast doors, at least they might once have been grand, framed by ornate designs but buried under caked dirt and encrusted grime, stood before them like weary bronze sentinels.

'They may have seen Salamanders before,' Dak'ir ventured, unable to suppress a tremor of anticipation. If they had, it could mean…

Pyriel's voice intruded on his thoughts.

'I suspect the answers lie within.' He was indicating the bronze blast doors.

A few metres from the entrance, Illiad stopped the column with a gesture and went the rest of the way alone. All the while, the one called Akuma watched the Salamanders vigilantly, readjusting his grip on his lasgun every few seconds.

Rapping on the blast doors three times with his gun stock, Illiad then stepped back. Grinding gears broke the silence moments later as an ancient mechanism was engaged. Dust poured from the inner workings, dislodged with their sudden activation. The blast doors parted shudderingly and within yawned a barren chamber, more metal and calcified rock, but with thick buttressed walls and no exits.

'

You

mean to incarcerate us, Sonnar Illiad?' asked Dak'ir as he was confronted by the hangar-like dungeon.

'Until I can decide whether you are friend or foe, yes.'

Ba'ken stepped forward upon hearing this, the muscles in his neck bunched, fists clenched.

'This, I cannot abide.' His tone was threateningly level.

Apion backed him up.

'Nor I, sir.'

Dak'ir turned to regard Romulus.

'Are you of the same opinion?'

The Salamander nodded, slow and evenly.

Glaring down at Illiad, Dak'ir knew the time for indulging the humans was at an end. To his credit, the old man didn't flinch. He kept his warm, dark eyes on Dak'ir, staring up to him as a child might an adult. Yet, he did not appear diminutive. Rather, it only enhanced his stature.

'I am in agreement with my battle-brothers,' Dak'ir concurred.

Illiad matched his gaze, perhaps uncertain what to do next.

'How many are in your colony, Illiad?' the brother-sergeant asked him.

Akuma came forwards quickly, his mood agitated.

'Don't tell them, Sonnar,' he warned. 'They seek to gauge our strength and return with numbers. We should seal them in the vault now.'

Illiad looked at his second-in-command, as if considering his advice.

Ba'ken turned on Akuma, who retreated before the Salamander's bulk.

'How though, little man, will you do that?' he growled.

Akuma raised his lasgun protectively, but Ba'ken snatched it from his grasp. It was met by a frantic bout of lasguns priming as the human guards prepared for a fight. None of the Salamanders reacted, not without word from their sergeant.

Illiad raised his hand for calm, though Dak'ir could detect the increase in his heart rate and see the lines of perspiration beading the side of his head.

'Just over a thousand,' Illiad replied. 'Men, women and children.'

'This settlement you have fashioned for yourselves, it was once a ship, wasn't it?' said Dak'ir, the pieces falling into place as he spoke.

A Space Marine's memory was eidetic. It was a useful trait when reviewing battle plans or on long-range reconnoitre to ascertain the lay of the land or an enemy's strategic positions. Dak'ir used that flawless recall now to form accurate pictographic memories of some of the human dwellings they had passed, those where the extruding rock had crept over metal to obscure it. Examining details in his mind, cycling through images in milliseconds, interpreting and cross-analysing, Dak'ir stripped away the calcified rock. Clods of dust fell away in his mind's eye to reveal metal corridors, barrack rooms, minor strategiums, deck plating, defunct lifters, extinct consoles and other structures. Broken apart, forcibly disassembled, it was a ship nonetheless.

'One that crashed long ago,' said Illiad. 'Its reactor still functions and we use its power to generate heat, purify the air and water. The sodium light rigs are kept burning through the conversion of fusion energy.'

'And this, a sparring hall?' Dak'ir had stepped out of the column to approach the frame around the blast door. It had sunk into the rock; or rather the cave had grown around it. He tore at a section of it, gauntleted fingers prising off a layer. Grit and dust came with it and an origin stamp became visible beneath, fusion-pressed in blocky Imperial script.

154^TH EXPEDITIONARY

Dak'ir shared a meaningful glance with Pyriel. The shattered remnants in which the human colony had made its home had once been a vessel of the Great Crusade fleet. He tried not to consider the ramifications of that discovery.

'I cannot say, for certain,' Illiad replied. 'All we really know are legends, passed down by our ancestors.'

'Sonnar, don't—' Akuma began, but Illiad scowled and cut him off with a sharp gesture.

'They could have killed us in the tunnel, or at any point from there to here,' he snapped, ire fading into resignation as he turned back to Dak'ir.

The sound of a commotion echoing from the tunnels behind them interrupted Illiad. A young boy, Dak'ir recognised him as the one who had fled from Ba'ken earlier, ran into view. He balked a little at the sight of the armoured giants again - Ba'ken's posture seemed to relax upon seeing him - and was panting for breath.

'Chitin,' he rasped, forcing out the words between gulps for air, hands pushed down on his thighs as he fought to compose himself.

'Where, Val'in?' asked Illiad, concern creasing his features.

The boy, Val'in, looked back nervously.

'In the settlement.' Va'lin's eyes were wide with terror and filling with tears. 'My papa…'

Las-fire echoed down the corridor in sharp cracks of noise.

Screaming followed it.

'They don't stand a chance,' said Emek, his voice low. Dak'ir's expression hardened as he looked behind them into the half-light. 'Then by Vulkan, we'll even the odds.'

'W

e have fought

the chitin-beasts