Of Honour and Iron (Space Marine Conquests Book 4) by Ian St. Martin

Author:Ian St. Martin [St. Martin, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Games Workshop
Published: 2018-08-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter sixteen

In a maddening rush, Helios’ senses returned to him.

His armour’s auto-senses recalibrated, flooding his retinas with a wash of emergency icons. He checked the chronogram at the edge of his visor. Only seconds had transpired, yet the scene before him was wholly different to what it had once been.

The entire landing bay was on fire. Flames gushed like ink spreading through water from ruptured promethium tanks, ignited by the sparks of crashing metal and fed by pockets of trapped air still within the frigate.

The void beyond the hangar doors was turning at a violent speed, sending cargo crates and loose debris flying about in all directions. Through the flames, Helios could see the lighter was intact and still within the bay. He began to move towards it, as a titanic groan and a chorus of shearing metal pitched the world forward.

The internal gyros of the Chaplain’s armour whirred and locked as he fought to recover his balance, the magnetic soles in his boots keeping him upright. He felt the tendons in his legs strain and torque as he started to struggle towards the lighter. The small shuttle began to slide towards the open bay doors, sparks fountaining from its landing claws as they ground against the deck plating.

‘Seneca,’ Helios called out over the vox, the fire and debris that filled the air interfering with his ability to locate the squad’s armour transponders. ‘Ariston, Nicanor, if anyone can receive me, respond.’

Tongues of flame hissed against his armour, blistering away the ebon paint on its plates. Warnings trilled at the corner of his eye, informing him of dangerous internal temperature spikes within his suit. Helios bent forward, resisting the gale of escaping air, and pressed on.

Helios spotted a glimmer of cobalt in the corner of his eye. His visor display detected the transponder of a warrior approaching from behind him, manoeuvring through the collapsed network of twisted rebar.

‘Kyros,’ Helios called out through the flames. Turning back, he activated the power field of his crozius, hacking away at the debris that separated him and the Primaris Marine like a jungle world primitive clearing a path through suffocating foliage. With a snarl of effort, Helios pried away the remaining tangles of burning metal, and Kyros moved to his side.

‘Brother.’ Helios gave Kyros a curt nod and gestured towards the shuttle. ‘We must make haste, the ship is coming apart around us.’

The Primaris Marine’s helm was a mangled ruin, one side badly crushed and oozing a sheet of dark blood from a spider’s web of fractures. The area around his left eye had been torn completely open, exposing a bright orb of bloodshot hazel. They began to push forward through the inferno, watching the lighter as it slowly slid towards the void, further from their reach.

‘Salvation is just ahead of us, Brother Kyros,’ said Helios, the flames marring the vox into a static wash. ‘We will make it!’

They heard the clatter of armoured boot steps, and a trio of Iron Warriors emerged into the hangar.

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