Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies

‘Responding,’ Kasteen’s voice said in my ear. ‘We’re trying to get the defence force to put something in the air to support you. The Lightnings are still five minutes out at least.’

‘Acknowledged,’ I said, trying to sound calm, and probably not succeeding very well. ‘Any sign of the eldar?’

‘Not yet,’ Kasteen said. ‘But if they get below the smog layer…’

The fighter pilots wouldn’t get so much as a glimpse of them. Since there was nothing I could do about that, I immediately dismissed the matter; if I allowed myself to get distracted by potential threats now, I’d be dead from the actual one long before the flyboys turned up to avenge me.

The two sinister black air cars turned to follow my change of course, tracer rounds from their weapons floating lazily past my windscreen in the tenuous air. If any of the bolts hit, and there’d be at least five times as many rounds I couldn’t see, the flimsy civilian vehicle would be shredded – and at this altitude I couldn’t hope to stay conscious for more than a few seconds if the hull was breached.

‘Commissar,’ a fresh voice cut in. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it until it spoke again. ‘This is Governor Fulcher. I’ve despatched some of my personal guard to relieve you. They’ll be there in minutes.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, as politely as I could manage under the circumstances. Like the Lightnings, it sounded as though they’d be minutes I didn’t have. Seeing the tracer closing in on my position I cut the power to all four fans, dropping like a stone, and watched the two streams intersect exactly where I would have been a few seconds later. But though I’d managed to save my skin in the short term, in so doing I’d squandered the advantages of altitude. The pursuing air cars turned, and began to swoop towards me, their ventrally mounted weapons spitting again. I fumbled at the array of levers, and shot upwards and backwards – a good deal more quickly than I’d intended – before getting the vehicle back under control.

Once again the intended attack struck home against where I no longer was, but I couldn’t keep trusting to luck (and, if I’m honest, my lack of proficiency at the controls taking the pilots who knew what they were doing by surprise) for much longer. ‘Governor,’ I said, ‘does this thing have any weapons?’

‘Of course it doesn’t,’ he said, sounding faintly bewildered. ‘It’s an air car.’

‘So are the ones shooting at me,’ I said, a little more brusquely than I intended, ‘and that doesn’t seem to be stopping them.’

One day I’m going to learn to stop feeding the Emperor straight lines. No sooner had the words left my mouth than one of the explosive projectiles did hit home, detonating against the bodywork, and missing the front right fan mounting by a handful of centimetres and the grace of the Emperor. I felt the whole vehicle lurch, and fought to regain control, banking into the tightest dive I could manage in the hope of shaking them off. No such luck, of course; they both turned and dived after me, the civilian traffic scattering in panic as we powered down the side of the spire, close enough to make out faces staring from the viewports and the occasional void-suited spirejack, who broke off whatever they were doing to stare after us in astonishment.

To my relief, the passenger compartment didn’t seem to have been breached by the detonation, which, grateful as I was for the fact, confused me rather; only later did I realise that a vehicle intended to be ridden in by the governor was bound to be armoured rather more thickly than would be apparent at first sight.

‘Can you shake them off?’ Kasteen asked, and I found myself shaking my head from force of habit as I responded.