Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies

‘Any slang in the ear?’ Zemelda asked, and I nodded, mentally translating her idiosyncratic Gothic into an enquiry as to whether I was picking up any more transmissions from the Ironfound Defence Force.

‘Coming through more clearly,’ I said, with a mingled sense of relief and trepidation. On the one hand, it was distinctly comforting to know that we were getting closer to allies with guns, who’d pitch in to help us if we got into trouble; but on the other, most of the units I was listening to were already engaging the enemy, or getting ready to do so, which meant that we were just as likely to run into the eldar instead. I raised my voice a little, to get Amberley’s attention. ‘The enemy seem to be advancing up every tunnel the defence force are covering.’

‘Then we’ll just have to find another way down,’ Amberley said, as I’d expected she would but hoped she wouldn’t. By this time the webway portal would be positively gushing eldar, and however desirable cutting it off would be, getting close enough to try would be tantamount to suicide.

‘That won’t be easy,’ I said, trying to sound ruefully determined, rather than like someone trying to find a way out of the job entirely. ‘They’ll be swarming through every passageway they can fit down by now.’

‘Then we’ll look for a route only a few of them are using,’ Amberley said, meaning ‘we’ll have to fight our way through’ without actually saying so. Which I’m bound to say sounded like a truly terrible idea to me. Fortunately, before I could think of an adequate riposte, her attention became riveted on the auspex, which she’d continued to cling to as though it were an icon of the Emperor Himself. ‘I’m picking up movement ahead. Too many blips for an accurate count.’

‘Human or eldar?’ I asked, although I didn’t suppose the little device’s machine-spirit could tell them apart, or would care that much even if it were able to.

‘Both, probably,’ Amberley said, as the distant crackle of lasgun fire began to echo down the tunnel, underscored by the sinister hiss of eldar shuriken. I drew my chainsword again, having scabbarded the relatively unwieldy weapon after our little run-in with the face-eaters, and silently blessed the foresight145 which had led me to keep the laspistol ready for use in my other hand. Jurgen, of course, had kept the melta pointed ahead of us the whole way, and I moved up to join him, determined to get the full benefit of its protection if he needed to use it in a hurry.

‘Douse the luminators,’ I said, and darkness fell around us at once, in spite of my apprehension that I’d have to argue the point. For a moment or two the surrounding blackness seemed impenetrable; then, as I’d expected, my eyes began to pick up a diffuse glow in the distance, flickering faintly as the sounds of combat ebbed and flowed. ‘Good. At least we know where the enemy are.’

‘Coming this way, by the look of it,’ Jurgen said, aiming the melta carefully down the tunnel ahead of us. He was right, too; the glow was growing perceptibly brighter, while the echoing crackles and susurration of the firefight became correspondingly louder. ‘Looks like the locals have the eldar on the run.’

‘Or the other way round,’ I said, not quite willing to believe that we’d ever be that lucky.

‘Weapons ready,’ Amberley ordered crisply, ‘but don’t fire until you’re sure of a target.’

My aide emitted a phlegm-laden chuckle, and patted the melta. ‘I’m always sure of a target with this.’

‘Stay quiet,’ I said, as the rustling and clicking of guns being drawn and made ready to fire echoed in the air around me. I was under no illusion that whoever was approaching would pass by without noticing us, but the longer they remained unaware of our presence, the better I liked it. I listened to the voices in my comm-bead, which were growing clearer, and a little more excited than would be permitted by Imperial Guard vox discipline, but that was perfectly understandable given the circumstances. Lacking anything to orientate the combatants by, however, it was still impossible to tell yet whether we were being approached by planetary defence force troopers retreating from the eldar, or xenos interlopers being pushed back in the direction they’d attacked from. As the approaching lights grew brighter, however, I began to apprehend shadows in front of them, ducking and weaving, distorted by the wavering glow and the intervening distance as well as the rapid movements of people in combat trying to present as small a target as possible. After a while the shadows began to solidify, the profile of their crested helmets unmistakable.