Wolf's Honour Part 5

Then the surviving raiders were gone, hurtling aft of the Fzst of Russ and opening the range while the battle cruiser's beleaguered crew struggled to keep the ancient vessel alive.

Flames billowed from the bridge, sending clouds of dark smoke roiling over the command deck. Men screamed in terror and pain as the emergency lighting flared to life. Officers picked themselves up off the deck and staggered back to their stations. Ragnar held on to Gabriella and peered warily through the smoky gloom, wishing to the Allfather for a foe he could come to grips with.

The senior damage control officer sang out through the smoke. 'Hull breaches on multiple decks! Dorsal lance battery out of action! Starboard gun decks report heavy casualties. Shields at fifty per cent. Our reactors are stable, but power output is limited.'

'Very well,' Wulfgar replied as he staggered back up to the pulpit. 'Helm! Can we still manoeuvre?'

'Aye, sir,' the chief helmsman replied. 'She's sluggish, but she's still answering the helm.'

'Bring us two points to port,' the ship's master ordered. 'Let's clear our wake and see where those raiders went.'

All starships were blind directly aft, where the roiling wake from their thrusters made sensor returns impossible. Slowly, ponderously, the battle cruiser swung around, streaming twisting ribbons of fire.

The seconds stretched upon the command deck as the ship's augurs searched for the Chaos raiders. Fire-fighting crews were hard at work on the bridge deck, and already the choking smoke was dissipating. Ragnar breathed slowly and evenly, allowing his enhanced respiratory system to filter out the worst of the fumes. He bent low over Gabriella. 'Are you all right, lady?' he asked. 'Shall I call for a medicae?'

'No, no,' the Navigator protested waving a soot stained hand. Her eyes were bleary from the smoke, but her expression was determined. 'The G.o.d-Emperor knows they've more serious problems to worry about.'

'Fire-fighting teams on the flight deck say they have evacuated the hangar and vented it to s.p.a.ce,' the damage control officer reported. 'The fire is out.'

'Very well,' Wulfgar replied. Where are the enemy ships?'

The chief auspex officer looked up from his screen. 'No contacts aft,' he replied, his voice tinged with relief. 'The remaining enemy ships have shut down their augurs and gone silent. They've disengaged!'

A ragged cheer went up from the command crew. 'Belay that foolishness!' Wulfgar bellowed. 'We're far from safe harbour yet. Gun crews and augur teams will remain at their stations. All other crew will report to local damage control stations and lend a.s.sistance.'

The ship's officers scrambled to obey. Wulfgar stepped wearily down from the command pulpit and approached Sigurd and Ragnar. Neither of the s.p.a.ce Wolves had moved from their places. Barely four minutes had elapsed since the battle had begun.

Wulfgar bowed his head to the Wolf Priest. 'We've fought our way clear for the moment,' he said grimly, 'but I fear the Fist of Russ is crippled, lord. A Thunderhawk can reach Charys...o...b..t in less than three hours. I suggest you and your warriors depart for the planet at once. The enemy could return with reinforcements at any time.'

Sigurd nodded gravely. The young s.p.a.ce Wolf Priest looked around the damaged command deck, apparently stunned by the devastation his orders had wrought. He slowly raised his crozius over Wulfgar's head. 'Praise Russ and the Allfather,' he intoned in a powerful voice. 'You and your crew are to be commended, Shipmaster Wulfgar. It was wrong of me to suggest that a man like you was without honour. The courage of you and your men shames me.' The priest placed his hand on Wulfgar's head and p.r.o.nounced the Benediction of Iron, an honour normally reserved for members of the Chapter. When Sigurd was finished, Wulfgar looked up at the Wolf Priest in speechless awe, nodded respectfully to Ragnar and returned quickly to his station.

Ragnar watched as Sigurd looked around the damaged command deck one last time, dearly shaken by the fierce battle. When the Wolf Priest's gaze fell upon him and Gabriella, however, his expression hardened once more. 'We will leave for Charys at once,' he snapped at Ragnar. When he turned to Gabriella, his voice was far more moderate. 'Will you accompany us aboard one of our Thunderhawks, lady? It is no longer safe for you to remain aboard, I fear, and it will be some time before the Fist of Russ has need of your talents.'

'Your concern is noted, holy one,' Gabriella replied smoothly, 'but I and my Wolves will follow in my personal shuttle.'

'As you wish,' Sigurd replied with a curt bow. To Ragnar, he said, 'Report to headquarters as soon as you've made planetfall.' Then he strode swiftly from the command deck.

Ragnar watched the young priest depart, admiration mixing with outrage. Later, he vowed, Sigurd would answer for his insults to Ragnar's honour. For now, they had a war to fight.

SIX.

Unto the Breach By accident or a pernicious twist of fate, the enemy rocket attack began just as the landing craft from the Fist of Russ began their final approach. Two kilometres north across the cratered and smouldering expanse of the Charys starport, the barrage siren began to wail from the central bunker complex, the notes barely perceptible above the rising shriek of the Thunderhawks' turbines. Seconds later a salvo of rockets roared in from the rebel artillery positions to the east, just as the first a.s.sault transport raised its armoured prow and flared in for a vertical landing. The unguided warheads fell at random across the ten-kilometre square starport, detonating amid empty revetments, burned-out warehouses and blackened administration buildings. One came down on the other side of a storage shed less than two hundred metres from where Mikal Sternmark and the a.s.sembled honour guard were waiting at the edge of the landing field. The blast hurled chunks of burning flakboard and pulverised ferrocrete into the air with a thunderous explosion. Neither the s.p.a.ce Marines nor the armoured platoon of Imperial Guardsmen seemed to notice.

Roiling clouds of dirt and grit sped in a widening circle as the descending craft touched down in a rough diamond formation at the centre of the landing field, less than a hundred yards away. The hot wind tangled Sternmark's dark hair and pulled at the tattered ends of the black wolf pelt across his shoulders. Needles of pain stabbed along the length of the ugly, ragged wound that marked the left side of Sternmark's head, but the Wolf Guard grimaced stoically into the hot, stinging wind and tightened his grip on the haft of the power axe in his left hand. He'd had little occasion to carry it recently, and he drew comfort from its familiar weight.

He'd carried an entire world on his shoulders for the last three weeks, and now he could gladly set that burden aside. It was one thing to lead men into battle and come to grips with the enemy face to face, Mikal had done that for more years than he could count, and he was good at it. Directing a planetary campaign from a dimly lit bunker, with thousands of troops and tens of millions of civilians to contend with was something else again. Once upon a time, he'd dreamt of rising to the lofty rank of Wolf Lord and holding the fate of star systems in his hands. Charys had shown him the folly of his ambitions. He was a warrior, and a leader of warriors, and he longed to return to the front lines where he belonged.

The ferrocrete landing pad trembled as the transports touched down. Mikal saw with some bemus.e.m.e.nt that one of the craft wasn't a Thunderhawk at all, but a richly appointed shuttlecraft with the insignia of House Bellisarius emblazoned on its flank. Must be some kind of advance party, he thought, and waited patiently as the transports' a.s.sault ramps lowered with a clang and the first troops clattered out into the late afternoon sun.

Dust swirled around the legs of the s.p.a.ce Wolves as they loped onto the ferrocrete and formed up in ranks. Here and there the billows of dust seemed to mask larger, more hulking shapes that stalked menacingly at the corners of Mikal's vision. He shook his head sharply to try and clear it, which only set his wound throbbing again. The h.e.l.lblade that had struck him during the frenzied retreat from the governor's audience chamber had not been poisoned as far as the company's Wolf Priest could determine, but the injury wasn't healing as it should.

Within moments, three large packs of s.p.a.ce Wolves were standing in ranks before their transports, heads held high and weapons ready at their sides. Blood Claws, Mikal noted with a slight frown. His expression of unease deepened when he saw that none of the warriors bore the heraldry of the Great Wolf on their shoulders.

Movement at the end of the line caught his eye. Mikal saw a Wolf Priest step forward and raise his crozius in salute to the waiting honour guard. The heavy mantle of wolfskin and the bulk of the priest's polished armour made the wearer seem almost childlike in comparison, like a son trying on his father's wargear. After a moment, he recognised the young, aristocratic face. Sigurd, son of a rich jarl in the Dragon Isles, young and unblooded, Blessed Russ, what is he doing here?

Off to the west, a heavy drumbeat shook the ground as the Earthshaker batteries of the Imperial Guard fired a counter-battery salvo against the rebel rocket launchers. Nearly a third of the Blood Claws flinched at the sound, weapons jerking in their hands. Sternmark's unease transformed to irritation.

He strode towards the Wolf Priest, lips curling back from his teeth. Silent as a shadow, Morgrim Silvertongue followed in Sternmark's wake, watching the scene unfold with a storyteller's eye. Marking my every mistake, noting every telling failure, the Wolf Guard thought sourly. Every king and hero wanted a fine skald at his side, but pity the warrior whose deeds were not worthy.

Sigurd watched Mikal approach and smiled, making the sign of the wolf. 'The blessings of Russ and the Allfather be upon you, Mikal Sternmark,' he intoned. 'All of Fenris knows of your deeds on Charys, and we have come to add our swords to your own-'

'Where is he?' Sternmark growled.

The Wolf Priest's smile faded. 'I don't... I don't understand,' he stammered.

'Where is the Great Wolf?' Mikal said, still advancing on the young priest. With his terrible wound and his battered Terminator armour, the Wolf Guard was a vision of war incarnate, looming over Sigurd and the front rank of the startled Blood Claws. 'When will he and his company make their landing? Has he been delayed by the s.p.a.ce battle?'

Sigurd lowered his crozius, an apprehensive look on his face. 'He... he's not here, lord,' he answered.

'Berek is lord here, not I!' Mikal shouted, suddenly struck with anger. 'I am his lieutenant and champion, and control of this war zone must pa.s.s to Grimnar as soon as he arrives.' He took another step forward, teeth bared, his face mere centimetres from Sigurd's. 'Can you tell me when he and his company will make planetfall or not?'

The Wolf Priest blanched at Sternmark's palpable fury, but gamely held his ground. 'He won't,' Sigurd said flatly. 'He can't. The Great Wolf's company is scattered across the war zone, supporting the actions of the other Wolf Lords.'

His answer stopped the Wolf Guard in his tracks. The shock left him painfully aware of the spectacle he'd made of himself. Sternmark fancied he could feel the skald's dark eyes burning accusingly into the back of his neck.

'I don't understand,' he said, not quite able to keep the stricken tone from his voice. 'Did he not read my report? Berek has fallen. Madox is here, with the Spear of Russ. This is where the war will be decided.'

Sigurd nodded, more composed now, but still unable to conceal the look of resentment in his eyes. 'Even so,' he replied, 'the Great Wolf cannot come. We have been sent in his place to aid you in whatever way we can.'

Once again, a tide of anger and despair threatened to overwhelm Sternmark. He shot a look at the waiting Blood Claws and choked back the words that first rose to his lips. How am I to save our Chapter with three packs of initiates and a boy-priest? Why has the Old Wolf forsaken'me?

Instead, he drew a deep breath and struggled to push his feelings aside. As he did so, he caught sight of another small group approaching the ranks of newly arrived troops. Though distant, he recognised their scents at once.

Ragnar Blackmane, and the Navigator, Gabriella, with Torin the Wayfarer and Haegr the Mountain in tow. What in Morkai's name are they doing here? The answer suggested itself almost at once. It's the Spear. Grimnar's sent them to reclaim it somehow. Either the Old Wolf is truly desperate, or he knows something I don't.

Sternmark chose to believe the latter. He'd banked a great deal on the report he'd sent to Fenris, believing that once Grimnar understood how dire things were on Charys, the Old Wolf would gather his warriors and take charge of the campaign. Mikal had clung to that hope for days, knowing he was not up to the task that had been thrust upon him. Now he would have to see things through to the bitter end.

With as much dignity as he could muster, Sternmark turned to the a.s.sembled Blood Claws. 'Praise Russ!' he declared. 'Look upon blood-stained Charys, and know that your deeds here will be remembered in the sagas of our Chapter. Glory awaits you, in the Allfather's name!'

The Blood Claws didn't respond for a moment, still stunned by the Wolf Guard's earlier outburst. Then Sigurd raised his crozius and added his voice to Sternmark's. 'For Russ and the Allfather!' he cried. 'Glory awaits!'

Harald, leader of the first Blood Claw pack, took up the cry. 'Russ and the Allfather!' he roared, raising his axe. Within moments the rest of the s.p.a.ce Wolves had joined in, banging their weapons against their breastplates and howling at the smoke stained sky.

Mikal Sternmark listened to the shouts of his young brethren and fought to master his emotions. Ghostly images played at the corners of his vision: huge, leaping shapes that were neither beasts nor men, and strange, distorted sounds whispered in his ears. The wound, he thought despairingly. That d.a.m.ned h.e.l.l-blade has laid a curse on me.

He looked to Silvertongue, and caught the skald staring at him with those unreadable eyes of his. Mikal could guess how his own saga would end. Not all the tales ended gloriously. Some ended in tears, or infamy. The thought shamed him, but he resigned himself to it.

Off in the distance, the barrage siren wailed.

The command bunker was red-lit and stank of unwashed bodies and bile. From what Ragnar could determine, the Guard commander in chief had chosen the starport bunker complex as her headquarters upon first arriving with her regiments on Charys, and what started out as a temporary post became permanent as the campaign wore on. Field cots and piles of empty ration tins in the corners of some of the low-ceilinged rooms suggested that Athelstane's general staff worked, slept and ate at their posts. Judging by the pasty faces and red-rimmed eyes he'd seen on his way inside, Ragnar thought that many of her staff hadn't felt the touch of sunlight in weeks.

That one observation told him all he needed to know about how desperate the situation on Charys truly was.

Athelstane's harried officers all but ignored the newcomers as they were escorted into a small auditorium that had been converted into an improvised situation and planning room. The hard pews had been cleared away, replaced with tables and portable work stations. Harried aides darted between the narrow aisles, carrying flimsy printouts to staff officers who were monitoring battle reports from half a world away. Tense conversations and muted orders rose above the dry clatter of logic engines and vox teletypes. Enginseer acolytes hovered in the corners of the room, muttering prayers and lighting votive candles to keep the data channels open.

Mikal Sternmark led Sigurd, Ragnar and Gabriella across the crowded room to a large, ornate hololith table that had been set up on the auditorium's former stage. There, he introduced them to Lady General Militant Esbet Athelstane. The commander of all Guard forces on Charys was a thin, raw-boned woman with a severe, patrician face and large, dark eyes. Her iron-grey hair was cropped as short as a rank and file sergeant's, and to Ragnar she smelled of leather, amasec and fine machine oil. Athelstane wore the Medallion Crimson among the many campaign ribbons and decorations on her officer's greatcoat, and from the faint sounds of servomotors and pistons, Ragnar reckoned that her right arm and both legs were expertly crafted augmetics.

Athelstane greeted them all with weary professional courtesy, and then introduced an older, balding man in a dark green suit, who reluctantly joined the gathering from a seat at the back corner of the stage. He was taller than the general, with a hook nose and red-rimmed, grey eyes. There was a defeated air about the man; he limped haltingly on his left leg, and his angular shoulders were hunched. As he stepped into the dim light, Ragnar saw that the right side of the man's face and throat was covered in a glistening film of wound sealant, and both hands were wrapped in flexible bandages.

'This is Inquisitor Cadmus Volt, of the Ordo Malleus,' the general said. 'He and his team have been on Charys for the last three years, investigating reports of forbidden practices among the local farming cartels. Since the uprising began, he has advised us on the enemy's capabilities and possible intentions.' From the steely sound in Athelstane's voice it was clear that Volt had been of little use in that regard.

Inquisitor Volt bowed cordially to Gabriella. 'May I ask what brings so esteemed a member of the Navis n.o.bilite to such a dangerous place as Charys?' he asked.

Gabriella acknowledged Volt with a cool nod and a narrow gaze. The Navigator Houses had a long, antagonistic relationship with the Inquisition. 'House Bellisarius and the Wolves of Fenris have been allies for centuries,' she replied coolly. 'Honour requires that we aid our esteemed friends in whatever manner we are able.'

'Without Lady Gabriella's a.s.sistance our reinforcements would never have reached Charys at all,' Ragnar said. 'Turbulence in the warp has all but isolated the system.'

'So we surmised,' Athelstane said with a nod. 'Whatever the enemy is attempting at Charys has taken a fearful toll on our astropaths. We have been awaiting your arrival with great antic.i.p.ation.'

Both Athelstane and Sternmark looked to Sigurd, and the Wolf Priest picked up on the unspoken cue and began his report of the war council on Fenris. The commanders listened carefully as the Wolf Priest recounted the Great Wolfs deliberations and their subsequent journey to Charys. Ragnar took the opportunity to lead Gabriella to a nearby seat. The Navigator was still somewhat unsteady on her feet, and though she took pains to conceal it, Ragnar could tell that she was deeply unsettled. Gabriella accepted the seat with an absent nod, one hand clinging to his forearm for support.

As strained as her manner was aboard the Fist of Russ, it had only grown worse once their shuttle had landed. There was something strange at work on Charys. Ragnar felt it, too, a strange sense of dislocation, as though the world around him had no more substance than a hologram. Shadowy shapes flitted at the corners of his vision, and faint sounds whispered in his ears. The agitation he felt on Fenris seemed magnified tenfold. It was all he could do not to rise and pace across the crowded stage like a caged animal. From time to time, his gaze wandered to Mikal Sternmark's grim face, and he wondered if the legendary champion felt the same as he did.

'Thanks to the Lady Navigator's skill, we emerged very close to Charys, whereupon we came under attack from a force of enemy raiders that had been at anchor in high orbit,' Sigurd continued. 'We had thought to find Berek's fleet waiting there.'

'The enemy has a sizeable naval presence in the system,' Athelstane replied. 'We believe that there was a large armada of raiders hiding within the outer asteroid fields for some time. Since the uprising began, they have been joined by a growing number of escorts and cruisers. Berek's fleet commanded the approaches to Charys for almost a week, and we were able to defeat a number of enemy ground offensives with their support. As the enemy was able to commit more and more ships against Berek's force, casualties began to mount, and it became clear that if they left the system to make repairs, they might not be able to return.' The general glanced briefly at Inquisitor Volt. 'It was decided that the fleet would withdraw to the edge of the system and make what repairs they could. They've remained there ever since, as our force of last resort. Much of the enemy fleet has been drawn off to hunt for them, although groups of raiders have appeared from time to time to bombard our positions from orbit.'

Gabriella straightened in her seat and drew a deep breath. 'How has the enemy managed to communicate with their fleet across the system?'

The general shrugged. 'We don't know. Sorcery, perhaps? That's not my area of expertise.' Once again, she gave the inquisitor a sidelong look. 'Maybe they aren't talking with one another. Their orbital attacks don't seem to coincide with their ground operations as far as we can tell, not that they aren't damaging enough all by themselves.'

'Well,' Sigurd interjected, clearly a little agitated by Gabriella's interruption, 'you've heard our tale. Now, what would you have of us?'

Athelstane rested her hands on the hololith table's smoked gla.s.s top and glanced at Sternmark. 'That's an interesting question,' she said slowly. 'We had been led to believe that Fenris would be sending a great deal more troops and heavy weapons to support us. We'd hoped for a spear that we could thrust into the enemy's heart. Instead, it appears that the Great Wolf has gifted us with a handful of brand new knives.'

The bald statement took all of the s.p.a.ce Wolves aback. It wasn't a disparagement, but a cold a.s.sessment of the facts. Ragnar saw the Wolf Priest stiffen nevertheless. This is the second time he and his men have been dismissed as irrelevant, the young s.p.a.ce Wolf thought, a hard thing to take, for the son of a powerful jarl.

When Sigurd didn't reply at once, Ragnar ventured, 'Even a knife can be lethal when used properly,' he said. 'Tell us, how goes the war on the ground?'

'Badly,' Athelstane replied. 'At first we believed the uprising was the work of a small cabal of government officials and officers in the local PDF regiments, but now it's clear that outside forces planned and organised this campaign for many years. More than two-thirds of the planetary defence forces mutinied over the course of a single night. What heavy weapons and vehicles they didn't take they managed to destroy. Bureaucrats in key positions sabotaged the planetary logistical network and crucial emergency response plans. By the time my regiments and I arrived, Charys was almost completely in enemy hands.' She reached down and keyed a control panel recessed into the edge of the table. A holo-map of the planet instantly appeared in the air above the table, showing nearly sixty small cities and townships scattered across the world's vast plains. More than half of the settlements had a skull superimposed over them. They existed in name only, having been abandoned or wiped out by the rebels. The rest showed a red aquila, indicating that they were battlegrounds where neither side could claim total control.

'We managed to establish footholds at a number of points around the planet, but we weren't able to achieve significant gains because we had been misled as to the size of the rebel force and the lack of support we would find on the ground.' The general turned a bra.s.s k.n.o.b and the view switched to an operational map of the capital city. Nearly eighty-five per cent of the districts were red, with only a narrow band of Imperial blue around the outlying sectors to the east that stretched back to the starport outside the city. 'When Berek Thunderfist and your brethren arrived, we attempted a lightning thrust aimed at decapitating the rebel leadership and retaking the capital.' She pressed a stud and a trio of broad, blue arrows leapt from the eastern districts and drove deep into the heart of the city. 'The orbital bombardment and follow-on attacks inflicted very heavy rebel casualties and allowed us to push all the way to the governor's palace.'

Athelstane's expression darkened. 'Unfortunately, the Wolf Lord's attack met with disaster. Sternmark and his warriors managed to break out of the enemy ambush and withdraw from the palace with Berek's body, and then linked up with our lead armoured elements.'

Ragnar glanced over at Mikal. The look in the warrior's eyes was one he knew all too well. He curses himself for retreating, the young s.p.a.ce Wolf thought, and no wonder, but what other option did he have?

'Where is Berek now?' Sigurd asked. 'Does he still live?'

'We think he lingers in the Red Dream,' Sternmark said dully. 'Our instruments detect faint life, but his body will not respond to our priest's unguents and balms. We had hoped that Grimnar would at least send Ranek or one of the senior Wolf Priests to tend to Berek...' The Wolf Guard left the rest unsaid, but the implication was clear.

'What of the palace?' Ragnar interjected.

'Before we could mount another attempt to retake the palace the rebel forces launched a ma.s.sive counter-offensive,' Athelstane replied. 'This time the rebels were supported by Traitor Marines and packs of daemons. The enemy struck out of thin air, exploiting weak spots in our lines with diabolical skill.' She sighed bitterly, clearly haunted by her failures stemming from that fateful day. 'Fighting raged around the city centre for almost forty-eight hours, but in the end we were forced to withdraw.'

Gabriella leaned forward in her chair. 'How are the Chaos Marines managing these feats of teleportation?'

Inquisitor Volt folded his arms and scowled at the holo-map, as though the secret was somehow hidden there. 'We don't know,' he admitted. 'It's not technological. They appear and disappear like ghosts, coming and going apparently at will, and not just here in the city, but across the entire planet as well.' He shook his head in exasperation. 'We've laid wards to protect the starport perimeter from attack. They seem to have worked so far, but the cost of maintaining them is enormous. If I knew how the enemy was accomplishing this, I could perhaps devise a better way of countering it, but I can't find a reference to anything like this in my records. The scale is unprecedented.'

Gabriella considered this. 'It is interesting that you mention the notion of scale, inquisitor. I have been studying the efforts of the enemy sorcerers at the sub-sector level. Perhaps if we were to compare notes, I might be able to give you more insight into the situation.'

Volt stared dumbstruck at the Navigator for a moment. 'That is... unexpected,' he finally managed. 'Of course, I would be happy to hear your thoughts on the matter.'

Gabriella nodded at Volt, and then gestured to Athelstane. 'Please forgive the interruption, general. Pray continue.'

The general keyed another stud, and the blue arrows shrank back from the palace. 'For a time we were able to stabilise our lines with help from the ships in orbit, but once they withdrew the tide turned against us. The enemy has pushed us back bit by bit. The Traitor Marines crack open our lines with precision a.s.saults, and their ground troops pour right through. Berek's company has been divided up among war zones all over the world in an attempt to stem the tide, but all we've done is slow their advance. At this point, we've been driven back to the edge of the city, and there are indications that the enemy is preparing another major offensive.' The holo-map shifted again, returning more or less to the thin blue line at the city's eastern edge. Their objective is the starport. If it falls, we lose our one and only air base and supply point. Our regiments will then be isolated and eventually overwhelmed.'

For a moment, Sigurd and Ragnar considered the map in stunned silence. Ragnar glanced up at the general. 'What about the Imperial Navy and the Guard?'

'When I left Coria.n.u.s with my staff, the lord governor subsector had sent out the call for more regiments,' she said. 'At best, the first units won't get here for another five months, even a.s.suming the Navy can get ships through the local warp turbulence.' She eyed the map grimly. 'We'll be lucky if we can hold out another five days.'

Ragnar walked over to the map table, studying the riot of symbols that depicted the locations of Imperial and enemy units across the city. 'You forget, general, that one ship has already made it through,' he pointed out, 'and, although they are untested in battle, you have almost fifty s.p.a.ce Wolves to add their strength to the fight. Do not be so quick to dismiss us.' He looked pointedly at Sternmark, but the Wolf Guard would not meet Ragnar's eyes.

Athelstane sighed. 'Your courage does you credit,' she said heavily. 'I've had the honour of fighting alongside the s.p.a.ce Wolves several times in my career, and I know very well what you're capable of, but you must understand, even with twice your numbers I doubt we could defeat the forces arrayed against us.'

Ragnar set his jaw and looked the general in the eye. 'You said you wanted a spear to thrust at the heart of the enemy' he said. He indicated the enemy positions on the map with a sweep of his hand. 'Suppose the Great Wolf had arrived with his company, where would you have employed them?'

The general regarded him appraisingly for a moment. 'For starters, I wouldn't have committed them to the city at all.'

She adjusted a set of dials and the map's viewpoint pulled back until it showed the countryside within sixty kilometres of the city. 'There is a large PDF base approximately twenty kilometres west of the capital. Before the uprising it was the supreme headquarters for the Charys defence forces.' The map shifted, focusing in on a large, fortified military base some five kilometres across. 'We've suspected for some time that the traitor regiments were still using it as their command centre. Naturally, we've bombarded it at every available opportunity, but the base's bunker complex was built to shrug off that kind of attack.'

With another turn of the dial the map zoomed in on the rebel base. Ragnar observed tall, thick perimeter walls sited with dozens of gun emplacements that commanded a flat, featureless killing ground for kilometres in every direction. He saw tank parks and reinforced barracks large enough to hold four or more armoured regiments, defended by Hydra anti-aircraft positions. The central bunker complex alone was over two kilometres across, and Ragnar suspected that it extended even farther underground.

'Once Berek's company arrived we inserted three packs of his scouts into the area around the base to see what we could learn,' she continued. 'Our suppositions proved correct. The rebels were indeed still using it as their headquarters, and recently they have observed the arrival of numerous high-ranking officers and their aides. They are still there, which is why we believe they've been gathered to plan a major series of offensives.'

'And you wanted the Old Wolf's company to destroy this base?' Ragnar asked.

'Not just destroy it,' Athelstane replied. 'We planned a lightning a.s.sault to capture the rebel high command and deliver them here for interrogation. Inquisitor Volt a.s.sured me he had the means to make the traitors tell us everything they knew.'

Ragnar nodded appreciatively. 'How many enemy troops?'

'A reinforced armoured regiment: at least fifteen hundred troops with heavy weapons and almost forty battle tanks.' She spread her hands. 'We reckoned even Grimnar's great company would have a tough time taking the base.'