Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies

She never got the chance to reply, however, as it was at that point a group of eldar came charging out of the passageway we’d been about to set off down, firing as they came. Fourth squad took the brunt of the surprise attack, but rallied fast, returning fire even as they dived for cover, while Magot responded as forthrightly as ever by lobbing a grenade into the middle of their ranks. Apparently surprised by the effectiveness of our resistance the surviving xenos checked their advance and took cover, a constant stream of shuriken from their small-arms keeping our heads down as they did so – but not quite well enough to stop me from blazing away with my laspistol from behind my own rock more or less in their direction. Not because I expected to hit any of them, of course, but for the look of the thing.

‘Can you see any more of them?’ Grifen asked, and I shook my head, damned if I was going to risk losing it by popping up for a proper look.

‘There’s a couple taking cover by the tunnel mouth, sir,’ Jurgen said, his distinctive bouquet arriving beside me an instant ahead of his voice, to be followed almost at once by his physical presence. He shrugged, unslinging the melta from across his back. Apparently unconcerned by the hail of razor-edged discs hissing through the air around him, he steadied the heavy weapon against the rock I was crouching behind, and caressed the trigger. Forewarned, I just had time to close my eyes before a vivid flash punched through my eyelids, the acrid tang of ozone displaced Jurgen’s halitosis from my nostrils, and the distinctive thundercrack of ionising air rattled my inner ear. As I opened my eyes again my aide nodded with evident satisfaction, so far as I could tell through the after images still tap-dancing across my retina. ‘Should have found a bigger rock.’

Noting that the blizzard of shuriken appeared to have abated I risked a glance over the rim of my own refuge, noting the presence of something down by the tunnel entrance which resembled nothing so much as a piece of overdone barbecue with a crispy shell; perhaps fortunately I was too far distant to catch the smell.

‘That gave ’em something to think about,’ Jurgen said, with a faint air of smugness.

Unfortunately the thing they were thinking about seemed to be vengeance for their fallen comrades, and the amount of incoming fire in our direction immediately redoubled, the xenos no doubt having realised that my aide was the greatest threat among us. Which made my position right next to him rather less than comfortable.

Grifen was issuing urgent orders, recalling the scouting parties she’d despatched so short a time before, although the chances were they’d heard the noise already and would be double timing it back to aid us in any case. Whether they’d arrive before we were massacred, however, only the Emperor could tell.

There was little time to think about that, though, as a shadow moved in my peripheral vision, and I moved aside by reflex just in time to avoid a swipe from a faintly humming chainsword of a peculiar ossiform appearance. A pair of eldar had flanked us in the lee of the covering fire their comrades had laid down, no doubt intent on neutralising the threat of the melta in the most direct manner possible. I reacted instinctively, drawing my own weapon, and blocking a second blow as my assailant tried to decapitate me on the backswing. He or she – it was impossible to tell inside the green-and-purple armour – had the advantage of height, looming over me as I still crouched behind the boulder I’d used for cover, and while they retained it this could only end one way. So I took a swipe at their leg, which they anticipated, turning with inhuman grace to block the blow.

Which was just what I wanted, cracking off a shot with the laspistol still in my other hand while their attention was elsewhere. The las-bolt took the xenos in the throat, where the helmet joint made the armour relatively weak, and they fell back, their carapace pitted and charred. Whether the wound was fatal, or even incapacitating, I never found out. I brought my chainsword up as I surged to my feet, the teeth whining as they chewed through armour, flesh and bone.

‘Jurgen!’ I turned to help my aide, already anticipating the worst, but to my mingled surprise and relief he wasn’t dead, having blocked the first blow aimed at him with the melta he was carrying. Sparks flew from the rugged weapon as he twisted it to disengage the eldar’s chainblade, tugging them forwards off balance, and aiming a vicious blow at the crested helmet with the butt.

‘I’m all right, sir,’ he assured me, although that probably wasn’t going to be the case for much longer. He took up a guard position with the mangled weapon, while the eldar regained its footing and took another swipe at his torso.