Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies

‘There’s something strange about the air down here. Not sure what, but it could be something toxic. It’s making us feel a bit light-headed.’ I glanced across at Jurgen, who seemed his usual imperturbable self, but who said or did nothing to contradict me. ‘I’d prefer not to expose anyone else to it unless we have to.’

‘Understood,’ Grifen acknowledged. ‘Pull back as soon as you can. We’ll vox a request to be met by a medicae team as soon as we get topside again, to be on the safe side.’

‘Good call,’ I said, somewhat comforted by the fact that if whatever was causing the smell didn’t turn out to be immediately lethal, and whoever or whatever was lurking down here didn’t finish the job for it the moment they got the chance, the odds of me escaping any lingering ill effects had just substantially increased. Not to mention adding incrementally to the illusion that I cared about the troopers watching my back. Encouraged, I returned my attention to the matter at hand. ‘Can you hear that?’ I asked Jurgen.

He nodded. ‘Sounds like voices. Can’t make out what they’re saying, though.’

‘Me neither,’ I admitted, keeping my own as low as I could. A faint murmuration was echoing through the tunnels, still muted, but undeniably growing in volume. When it first started I couldn’t have said, distracted by my conversation with Grifen, the sense-dulling effects of whatever was lingering in the atmosphere down here – or, probably, both. But it was definitely there.

I remained still, listening intently, all my old underhiver’s instincts rushing to the fore. The echoes were overlapping, distorted by the tunnel walls, but there were clearly a number of voices – how many I couldn’t discern. More than me and Jurgen, though, that was for sure. Probably more than the command squad too, if only because, in my experience, when things decide to go wrong they never do so by halves.

‘At least a dozen,’ I concluded after a moment, resolving to err a little on the pessimistic side, as any subsequent surprises were more likely to be relatively encouraging. It was hard to be sure, though, as the sound was curiously uniform, rather than the choppy gabble of overlapping conversations you normally get when a large number of people have been herded together in a confined space. Perhaps because of the way the peculiar scent and the muted glow surrounding us were dulling my senses, it sounded almost soothing, like the gentle wash of waves on a beach.

‘We’re pressing on,’ I voxed Grifen after a moment. I could see no good reason to linger here any longer, and the sooner we found out what we were facing the sooner Jurgen and I could make our way back to the surface, citing the need to report back to Kasteen, while her platoon took care of whatever little surprises the eldar had waiting down here.

Which would have been fine, except that the surprise, when it came, was to change the entire situation, pitching us into a battle more desperate than I could have imagined.

Six

The light suffusing the tunnels intensified by almost imperceptible increments as we went on, which I found a mixed blessing to say the least. On the one hand we could see where we were going, and were able to make better time, but on the other we’d be easier to spot if our shadowy enemies had left any sentries behind. Moreover, the more I could see of our surroundings, the more uneasy I became. Though the cleft we followed was undeniably a natural formation, the floor and walls too rough to be artificial, the sharp, jagged edges I would have expected to see were missing, every undulation smooth and rounded beneath the soles of my boots, or brushing smoothly against the sleeve of my greatcoat. That simply wasn’t natural, but whether the effect had been achieved by tools and long labour, or by more sinister means like warpcraft, I couldn’t imagine. From time to time the path we followed skirted deep clefts in the earth, clinging to narrow ledges, from which carelessly dislodged pebbles clattered into measureless depths. Every time this happened I tensed, expecting the faint shadow of whoever or whatever we pursued to pause, notice our presence and retaliate in some fashion, but they never did, simply hurrying on ahead completely oblivious to our presence.

Perhaps any noise we made was simply masked by the sound in the distance, which continued to grow in intensity, rising and falling, insinuating itself gradually into my brain as though the rock itself were infused with it. Intricate harmonies intertwined with one another, and it gradually began to dawn on me that it wasn’t speech I was listening to at all, but some kind of choral music.