Nemesis

Koyne smiled slightly. “I think we have some transport.” The Callidus took a

step, but a clawed hand grabbed the assassin’s arm.

“Could be a trap,” hissed the Garantine.

In the distance, another orbital strike screamed into the earth and sent a tremor

through the ground beneath their feet. “Only one way to find out.”

On the elevated platform above the street level a single train was active. The web of

monorail lines had been inert ever since the start of the insurrection against Terra,

first shut down by the clanner troops as a way of imposing order by restricting the

movement of the commoners through the city, and later forced to stay idle because of

the mass breakout at the Terminus. But some lines were still connected to what

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remained of the capital’s rapidly-dying power grid, and the autonomic control

systems that governed the operation of the trains and lines and points were simplistic

devices; they were no match for someone with the skills of a Vanus.

Another psyber eagle roosted on the prow of the train and it called out a strident

caw as Koyne and the Garantine sprinted on to the platform. The Callidus threw a

glance down the wide stairwell; some of the bolder refugees were venturing inside

the station after them.

“Quickly,” Koyne found an open carriage door and climbed inside. The train was

a cargo carrier, partitioned off inside by pens suitable for livestock. The air within

was thick with the stink of animal sweat and faeces.

As the Garantine climbed in, the eagle took wing and the train shunted forwards

with a grinding clatter, sending sparks flying from the drive wheels gripping the rail.

Ozone crackled and the carriages lurched away from the station, picking up

momentum.

The train rattled along, a dull impact resonating off the metalwork as it

shouldered a piece of fallen masonry off the rails. Koyne drew the neural shredder

and moved back through the cargo wagon, kicking open the hatch to the next

carriage, and then the two more beyond that. In the rear car the shade found the

corpses of groxes, the bovines lying where they had fallen on the gridded metal

flooring. They were still tethered to anchoring rings on the walls, doubtless forgotten

and left to starve in this reeking metal box after the fighting had begun.

Satisfied they were alone, the Callidus walked back the length of the train to find

the Garantine in the stubby engine car, watching the chattering cogitator-driver.

Through the broken glass of the engine compartment canopy, the elevated track was

visible ahead, dropping away down to the level of one of the main boulevards,

paralleling the radial highway’s course.

“If we’re lucky, we can ride this heap all the way out of the city,” said Koyne,

absently examining the charge glyph on the neural weapon.

The Eversor had his fang-mask back on, and he was growling softly with each

breath, peering into the distance like a predator smelling the wind. “We’re not

lucky,” he retorted. “Do you see?” The Garantine pointed a metal-taloned finger

ahead of the train.

Koyne pulled a pair of compact magnoculars from a belt clip and peered through

them. A fuzzy image swam into focus; grey blobs became the distinct shapes of

Adeptus Astartes in Maximus-pattern armour, moving to block the path of the

monorail. As the Callidus watched, they dragged the husks of burned-out vehicles

across the line, assembling a makeshift barricade.

“I told you this was a trap,” rumbled the Garantine. “The Vanus is delivering us

to the Astartes!”

Koyne gave a shake of the head. “If that was so, then why aren’t we slowing

down?” If anything, the train’s velocity was increasing, and warning indicators began

to blink on the cogitator panel as the carriages exceeded their safety limits.

The wheels screeched as the train raced down the incline from the elevated rails

to the ground level crossing, and metal flashed off metal as the Sons of Horus began

to open fire on the leading carriage, pacing bolt shells into the hull from the cover of

their obstruction.

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The Garantine blind-fired a burst of full-auto fire through the broken window and

then followed Koyne back through the wagons at a sprint. Shots punched through the

walls of the cargo cars, rods of sunlight stabbing through the impact holes into the

musty interior. The decking rocked beneath their feet and it was hard to stay upright

as the train continued to gather speed.

They made it to the rearmost wagon as the engine car slammed into the barricade

and crashed through it. The husks of a groundcar and a flatbed GEV spun away

across the boulevard, throwing two Astartes aside with the force of the collision.

Metal fractured, red-hot and stressed beyond its limits, and the guide wheels broke

away from the axle. Instantly freed from the monorail, the train lurched up and

twisted over on to its side. The carriages crashed down to the blacktop and scored a

gouge down the length of the street, spitting cascades of asphalt and gravel.