Mortis by John French

Author:John French
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-16T11:52:07+00:00

Command bunker, Shard Bastion, Mercury Wall

In the command bunker at the top of Shard Bastion, Nasuba winced and lowered the field glasses. The flare compensators had been disabled to help night vision. She had just seen an Ignatum Titan go up in a full reactor detonation. The neon light clung to her sight. She could see the two enemy engines that had made the kill, two ragged outlines in the fire, broken limbed but still moving, dragging the Titan down as it fought. There was a taste in her mouth, too, bitter and metallic, like spoilt milk and blood.

‘Summarise immediate,’ she called.

‘Engagement along the Lake Voss southern shore is intensifying,’ said an officer bent over a set of green-lit screens. ‘Full battle group is engaged. Enemy engines advancing. Eliminated hostile units activating amongst Ignatum engine formations. Distance to wall – one hundred and seven kilometres.’

‘Where is our link to the Ignatum command-and-control enclaves?’

‘Errors and intermittent failures on internal comms systems, general.’

‘Then send a unit and get one of them up here, now.’

She turned back to the viewslit and raised the field glasses. Even as she did, something big went up in the distance. Blue-white fire punched up into the night sky to light the underbelly of the clouds. Sweat was running down her skin inside her collar and that was only in part down to the heat.

‘Target and range units on the upper gun batteries say that they cannot distinguish targets for effective fire,’ said Sulkova.

‘Ammunition depletion?’

‘We have drained a lot of solid ordnance, but the wall plasma reactors and charge coils are functioning. Output at seventy-three per cent effective.’

‘Not that effective if we can’t pick targets to shoot at.’

‘General,’ came another shout, ‘signal from Curdir Bastion.’

‘Link,’ she replied, her eyes still on the magnified view of the battle. She could pick out almost nothing. Foe and friend identifier runes spun as unresolved amber.

‘General,’ growled a voice from the vox-speakers. It was heavy, laden by machine modulation and chopped by static. It was Oceano, designated commander for Curdir Bastion, sixty kilometres to the south, the second of the Mercury Wall’s sub-fortifications and command points. He was Astartes, or had been, a son of the primarch Sanguinius laid low in battle and returned to serve in the shell of a Dreadnought.

‘Commander,’ she replied.

A squall of distortion whooped from the speakers.

‘Gener-ralllllll…’ Oceano’s voice stretched into the fizz.

‘Clear it!’ Nasuba called.

‘General,’ came Oceano’s voice again. ‘We have reports from forward units in the blind zone. Mass formation approaching along Mid Elevation ridge, and spreading north towards current engagement zone.’

‘What position and strength?’

‘Multiple engines, full ground escort, Legion contingents – it is a full Titan legion advance. Close visual confirms. It is the Legio Mortis.’

Beyond the viewslit another blink of sun brightness, a strobing ripple of explosions.

‘Then who are we already fighting?’

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