Krieg (Warhammer 40,000) by Steve Lyons

Author:Steve Lyons [Lyons, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2022-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

AFTER THE GREAT RIFT

The Sacrifice

Ven Bruin felt smothered in the stuffy crew compartment.

His old bones rattled in sympathy with the Hades drill. His head rang with the screech of its diamantine-tipped cutters. He sweated under his heavy black cloak. He was wedged into his narrow seat, elbow to elbow, knee to knee with his kill team, nine Krieg grenadiers. None of them spoke, nor could he have heard them if they had.

From time to time, the drill would encounter an obstruction. Its shrill pitch would rise even further and an acrid burning smell would fill the compartment, masking the earthy scent of soldiers’ sweat. The grenadier in the driver’s seat would trigger the melta-cutter in the Hades’ throat; it would buck like a startled horse before ploughing onwards again.

Ven Bruin barely registered when they had come to a stop. His head still rang, his bones still trembled, but the driver checked his instruments and announced that their fraught journey was finally over. The Krieg watch­master slid the hatch open. He asked Ven Bruin to wait while he secured the area. Eight grenadiers clambered through the hatchway, closing it behind them. One stayed to watch over the inquisitor.

He looked at his silent guard. The grenadiers wore carapace armour including broad, flat breastplates. Like their colonel, in place of the standard rebreather, they carried over-pressured respirator units on their backs. They wore masks like the rest of their kind, but screwed into these were metal faceplates in the shapes of skulls, with nasal cavities and teeth. Even these showed no expression, not the hint of a smile nor a scowl.

The grenadier, feeling Ven Bruin’s eyes upon him, looked back at the inquisitor.

Ven Bruin felt the need to break the silence, so he asked, ‘How long have you served?’

‘Almost six years,’ the grenadier replied, ‘but I shall make my atonement soon.’

The hatch was thrown back again. The watchmaster had returned. ‘It is safe for you to disembark, inquisitor,’ he said. Ven Bruin thanked him.

It was a relief to heave himself out of the Hades, until the foetid stink of an underhive hit him. The drill rested in a low service tunnel. Dark water dribbled down rockcrete walls, pooling in the tunnel’s centre. He took pains to balance on a crumbling walkway. They had cut through tangles of wire, likely plunging some sector of the hive into darkness.

A grenadier turned on the spot, finding his bearings, checking plans on a data-slate.

‘Our goal is roughly four miles from here, watchmaster.’

‘And a hundred feet up…’ The watchmaster glanced up at the creaking roof. ‘We’ll get as close as we can on this sublevel, then look for a way to ascend. There are likely fewer orks down here, though the underhive will also have its predators.’

They set off along the tunnel, led by their map reader. While Ven Bruin stuck to the walkways, the Krieg didn’t mind sloshing through sewer water. Two of them had lumens, creating a bubble of soft light about them. Two more hung back behind the light, lest anything snuck up on them.

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