‘Why didn’t you kill him?’

  Kal shrugged. ‘Why didn’t you shoot me while my back was turned?’

  Zoon stared at him for a moment. ‘I am not that sort of man,’ he said, finally.

  ‘Neither am I,’ Kal said. He stepped over the unconscious Redemptionist. ‘Feel like surrendering?’

  ‘Not in the least.’

  Kal shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t think you would.’ He shrugged. ‘Ah well.’ He leapt to the side, behind another set of crates. Zoon fired, stitching the air with his autopistol.

  ‘Perhaps you should be the one to surrender,’ the Redemptionist called out.

  Kal sidled through the stacks. He could hear the swish of Zoon’s robes as the Redemptionist followed him into the haphazard labyrinth.

  ‘A man of your skill could find a welcoming home among the faithful, Jerico.’

  ‘Recognised me, then?’ Kal called out. He turned, trying to spot Zoon through the haze of smoke and foam. But the Redemptionist was staying out of sight. He was smart. ‘But I’m smarter,’ he murmured. He sheathed his sword.

  ‘Hard not to.’ Zoon’s voice floated up from somewhere close by. ‘I once had the pleasure of hearing the honourable Cardinal Crimson conduct a six-hour oratory on your various perfidies and duplicities.’

  ‘Is that old ratbag still alive?’ Kal shook his head. He stopped, waiting, ears straining. He heard the crack of gunfire, and shouting. The roar of a shotgun, and the whine of Yolanda’s chainsword. ‘He’s harder to kill than a Goliath on a ’Slaught high.’

  ‘Spite can keep a man going almost as long as faith…’

  Kal heard the rustle of cloth against the opposite side of the crates to his left. He slammed his shoulder into them, sending the stack toppling with a resounding crash. Through the smoke and dust he saw Zoon stumble back, off-balance.

  Kal leapt for him, and caught Zoon by the wrists, forcing him to drop his weapon. They fell back against another stack, causing it to teeter. Zoon tried to wrench his hands free, but Kal drove his shoulder into the taller man’s chest, staggering him. He tried to whistle, but couldn’t find the breath. Zoon was stronger than he looked – almost frenzied.

  Abruptly, however, Zoon stiffened, and began to cough. Kal looked down and saw a spreading patch of darker red on the man’s robes. Zoon collapsed slowly, and Kal was forced to catch him and lower him to the floor.

  ‘What is this? Did you catch a bullet?’

  ‘Several – several days ago,’ Zoon said, hoarsely. ‘Too many wounds, not enough time to rest. Can’t rest. Not yet. Not…’ His words were lost in a fit of coughing. Kal looked down at him, uncertain how to proceed.

  He was saved from having to make a decision by the sight of a red dot dancing across the contours of Zoon’s mask. Kal recognised a laser sight when he saw one, and he ducked down, dragging Zoon behind the stack of crates. ‘Scav, scav, scav.’ Kal risked a look. Someone was crouched on one of the gantries overhead. He couldn’t see them clearly, but something about them made his skin crawl in an unpleasantly familiar way.

  ‘Is it an angel, come to carry me into His light?’ Zoon asked. He sounded as if the combination of blood loss and exhaustion was making him loopy.

  ‘You could say that,’ Kal muttered. As he watched, the sniper scuttled across the gantry, looking for a new position. The sense of familiarity increased – something about the way they moved. He paused. The sounds of shooting had faded. Something was going on, but he couldn’t see what.

  ‘Jerico. Jerico!’

  Kal turned. Yolanda was making her way towards him. She was crouched low, keeping the crates between herself and the sniper. Her chainsword was wet with blood and brain-matter, and streaks of gore marked her arm and cheek.

  ‘I hope none of that is yours,’ he said. He could hear voices, somewhere to his right.

  ‘Forget that – we’ve got trouble.’ She did a double take as she caught sight of Zoon. ‘Is that–’

  ‘Never mind. What were you saying?’

  Yolanda shook her head. ‘Someone is trying to horn in on our action.’ She jerked her chin towards the gantry. ‘They’ve got a sniper.’

  ‘Yeah, we met.’ Kal craned his neck, trying to spot the ore-hauler. ‘Where’s Scabbs? And Amanute?’

  ‘No clue where the runt got to. And as for the witch – I don’t really care.’ Yolanda stared at Zoon. ‘That’s him, isn’t it? Zoon?’

  ‘That is my name, yes,’ Zoon croaked.

  Yolanda made to push Kal out of the way. ‘Step aside. I’ll cut his head off. Easier to transport.’

  ‘She is very forthright,’ Zoon said. ‘A true daughter of the faith.’

  ‘Please shut up,’ Kal said. ‘And no, you’re not cutting off his head.’

  ‘For once, would you listen to me?’ Yolanda snapped. ‘We can still make a profit, here. If those new Cawdor get him…’

  ‘What new Cawdor? You didn’t say anything about new Cawdor,’ Kal said.

  Before she could reply, a voice called out.

  ‘Jerico? Is that you I hear skulking about among the crates?’

  Kal froze. The voice was familiar. It oozed condescension in a way few others managed.

  Yolanda looked at him. ‘No,’ she said, in disbelief. ‘Can’t be.’

  ‘It is,’ Kal said. Raising his voice, he called out, ‘Baertrum. Long time no see. I trust you’re well.’ He drew his laspistol and checked the charge.

  ‘Tolerable, old man, tolerable. But I’ll be better, once you throw out your weapons and surrender like the pragmatic fellow I know you to be.’

  Kal rolled his eyes. ‘That sounds like you don’t know me very well at all, Baertrum.’

  ‘I know you well enough. You’re surrounded, Jerico. I have men all over this warehouse, all just itching to put an autogun round through that vainglorious skull of yours. So be a good fellow and do the smart thing, eh?’

  Kal took a quick glance around. No sign of anyone creeping up on them. That didn’t mean anything though, given the smoke still choking the air.

  ‘We should just let Yar Umbra shoot him,’ a second voice rumbled.

  Kal grimaced. That was why the sniper had looked familiar. The Voidborn was hard to forget – no matter how much you might want to. And he recognised the second speaker as well.

  ‘Grendlsen, is that you?’ he called out. ‘How’ve you been? Last time I saw you was – what? Striker’s Folly?’

  ‘Pulaski’s Hole,’ Grendlsen corrected. ‘The card game.’

  Kal winced. ‘Oh yeah. Forgot about that. No hard feelings, right?’

  Grendlsen laughed. It was an ugly sound, full of unfriendly promises. Yolanda glared at Kal, and he made a helpless gesture.

  ‘It’s not my fault he’s holding a grudge. I drew that hand fair and square.’

  ‘By which you mean you were cheating,’ Yolanda said.

  ‘Obviously I was cheating,’ Kal said, more loudly than he’d intended. ‘Everyone was bloody cheating. That’s how you play cards!’

  ‘I wasn’t cheating,’ Grendlsen said.

  ‘It was just a small cultural miscommunication,’ Kal said, defensively. ‘Not my fault.’

  Yolanda shook her head. ‘Idiot.’

  Baertrum loudly cleared his throat. ‘Can we focus, please? Some of us are on a schedule. As I was saying, you’re surrounded. Throw out your weapons and come out, with your hands raised.’

  ‘And if we don’t?’ Yolanda shouted.

  ‘Then we come in after you,’ a third – female – voice replied. ‘And you don’t want that, Catallus. Trust me.’

  Kal looked at Yolanda, who’d gone pale. ‘Baertrum, Grendlsen, Yar Umbra and now Belladonna?’ he murmured. ‘This warehouse is getting crowded.’ He paused when he realised Yolanda hadn’t replied. ‘What?’

  ‘Maybe we should do what they say,’ she muttered.

  Kal peered at her. ‘Are you – are you scared of Belladonna?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Shut up, Jerico, or so help me…’ Yolanda bared her teeth. Kal laughed.

  ‘I never thought I’d see the day.’

  Yolanda lunged for him, grabbing his coat and slamming him back against the crate with one hand. ‘Keep laughing, husband. See what it gets you.’

  Kal carefully pried her hand off his coat. ‘Point taken. My apologies.’ He looked around, wondering where Gor and the others had got to. And where was Wotan? It wasn’t like the cyber-mastiff to be gone so long.

  ‘Well?’ Baertrum called out. ‘What’s it going to be?’

  The ore-hauler chose that moment to rumble to life. Its engines gave a pained growl, and black, oily smoke billowed from its vents. The floor trembled as the great machine suddenly lurched forwards, scattering boxes and shaking the gantries above. Cawdor scattered, shouting in surprise. Kal heard Baertrum cursing, and grinned.

  ‘Kal? Yolanda? You guys still alive?’ Scabbs’ voice echoed from the vox-casters still bolted to the hull. ‘If so, the rear hatch is still open.’

  The ore-hauler swerved on its treads, sending stacks of boxes tumbling with a loud crash. Dust and smoke swirled. Kal spied the open hatch, scraping against the floor.

  Kal looked at Yolanda, and then at Zoon. ‘Help me with him.’

  ‘I still say we should take his head.’

  ‘Noted. On your feet, priest.’ Kal stooped and awkwardly pulled Zoon upright.

  ‘Has the great heathen army reached our gates?’ Zoon asked, blearily, as Yolanda looped his arm over her shoulders. ‘Sing me a hymn, sister.’

  ‘I’ll sing you a dirge if you don’t shut up,’ Yolanda growled.

  ‘I spoke to the lord, our God-Emperor, in the wastes, and He showed me the way and the light and the life,’ Zoon mumbled in reply.

  Kal shook his head in disgust. ‘He’s out of it. Let’s get him aboard.’

  They hurried towards the hauler’s loading ramp, half dragging the insensate Zoon. As they reached it, Kal felt an itch between his shoulder-blades. Instinct made him turn. He spotted the Voidborn, creeping along a nearby gantry.

  ‘Scav. Hurry it up!’

  ‘Duck,’ someone growled, from inside the hauler’s bay. Kal and Yolanda threw themselves and Zoon down onto the ramp as Gor stepped into view, shotgun raised. He fired twice, sending Yar Umbra scrambling for cover. The beastman reached down and grabbed Zoon by the back of his robes, helping Kal and Yolanda to drag him into the cramped bay. ‘Lift the ramp,’ he snarled, as bullets struck the edges of the hatch.

  Kal saw Amanute and Wotan at the back of the bay. He pointed an accusing finger at the cyber-mastiff, who sat near the cylinder. ‘This is getting to be a habit with you.’

  ‘I told you that damn thing got put back together wrong,’ Yolanda said. She drew her autopistol and joined Gor at the hatch. The ramp juddered to a stop halfway up. Sparks spilled from the control mechanisms.

  He looked at Amanute. ‘Where’s Scabbs?’

  She didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on Zoon. He’d collapsed at the rear of the bay, near the cylinder. Kal doubted he’d last much longer without the attentions of a doc.

  Kal snapped his fingers in front of her face. ‘Hey! Where’s Scabbs?’

  She pointed to the inner hatch that led up into the hauler’s control compartment. ‘There,’ she said, without looking away from Zoon. ‘Is he dying?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Good.’

  Kal hesitated, but didn’t reply. He felt a terminal shudder run through the hauler’s frame as he ducked through the hatch. ‘Scabbs?’

  Scabbs, seated in one of the control-cradles, turned. ‘I thought you might want a quick getaway,’ he said. Sparks danced across the controls, and he yelped. ‘Maybe not so quick,’ he said, scrambling out of the cradle. Smoke began to fill the compartment, and he and Kal stumbled back into the cargo bay, coughing.

  Kal slammed the hatch shut, before the cargo bay could fill with smoke. He looked at Scabbs. ‘Good plan,’ he said. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Grab a gun and get shooting,’ Gor snarled.

  Kal looked around. There were crates of grenades, ammunition and disassembled weapons lying within easy reach. The half-raised ramp made for an adequate bulwark, but it wouldn’t hold back a concentrated assault.

  ‘How long would it take you to get this thing moving again?’ he asked Scabbs.

  Scabbs shook his head. ‘I’m not an enginseer, Kal. This thing’s engine is shot.’

  A ricochet whined off the hatch. Yolanda thrust her autopistol out and let off a burst.

  ‘Better think of something quick, Jerico. They’re starting to realise we’re not moving.’

  ‘I’m thinking, I’m thinking.’ Kal looked at Zoon. ‘Maybe we could offer them Zoon. Might buy us a few minutes.’

  ‘No,’ Gor said. ‘He’s ours.’

  ‘I’m with him,’ Yolanda said. ‘If they want him, they can come and get him.’

  ‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ Kal said.

  ‘I will not be going anywhere,’ Zoon said, hoarsely.

  Kal turned, and stopped. Zoon was standing, somehow. Swaying on his feet. He held a grenade in his hand.

  ‘And neither are you.’

  Baertrum waved a hand in front of his face, trying to clear away the smoke. He could hear Goeth and the others firing at the hauler, useless as it was.

  ‘Well. This could have gone better.’

  ‘Really? I think it’s going well,’ Belladonna said. She leaned around the crates they were using for cover and studied the hauler. ‘They’re all in there, looks like.’

  ‘Including Zoon?’ At her nod, he smiled. ‘Excellent. Once our masked friends take the hauler, we can step in, claim our bounty and exit this settle­ment post haste, before the situation degrades further.’

  ‘What about Nemo’s prize?’ Belladonna asked.

  Baertrum held up the locator Nemo had given him. It pinged faintly. ‘It’s in here somewhere. We’ll find it after we take care of Jerico.’

  ‘It’s in the ore-hauler,’ Goeth said as he made his way towards them.

  Baertrum frowned. ‘What? How do you know?’

  ‘I spoke to some of the others – those who came with Zoon. He didn’t know what it was, only that it was valuable, so he left it aboard for safekeeping.’

  Baertrum rolled his eyes. ‘Wonderful. And if I know Jerico, he’s already found it.’ He tugged on his beard. ‘We need to get them out of there, before something happens.’

  Big Sledge laughed. He and Horst crouched nearby. ‘That scrap-heap isn’t going anywhere. Look at the smoke.’

  ‘It moved well enough just a moment ago,’ Baertrum snapped. ‘I don’t want any more surprises like that. Not when we’re so close to ending this.’ He risked a quick glance around the crates. ‘Perhaps we should just storm the thing.’ He looked at Goeth. ‘And by we, I mean you, obviously.’

  ‘Why me?’ Goeth demanded.

  ‘Because these fanatics will listen to you.’

  Goeth’s Cawdor gangers had blended seamlessly with those already engaged against the intruders – likely, they thought Goeth’s men were reinforcements. So far none of them had seemed to notice Baertrum or the others. When they did, things would get interesting.

  ‘Only until someone they actually recognise shows up,’ Goeth protested.

  Baertrum gestured. ‘Then we’d best be about it. Get to it. If Zoon is in there, I want him before Jerico decides to slit his throat.’

  Goeth gestured suddenly, and Baertrum turned. One of the red-robes who’d been with the Cawdor was making his way carefully towards them. The Redemptionist wore a leering iron mask, and his robes were scorched black in places. He eyed them suspiciously as he drew close. He held a heavy chainblade in his hand, and the weapon idled incessantly.

  ‘Brother Clovik,’ Goeth said, hurriedly. ‘I’m pleased to see you. Truly, the Emperor shines His grace upon–’

  Clovik thrust up a hand, silencing Goeth. ‘What,’ he asked pointedly, ‘is that?’ He used his blade to indicate Grendlsen, who crouched some distance away, puffing on a cigar. The squat made a crude gesture in the Redemptionist’s direction.

  ‘He’s with us,’ Belladonna said.

  Clovik looked her up and down. ‘And who are you?’

  ‘Allies,’ Baertrum said quickly. ‘Friends of the Holy Redemption, true believers one and all. Why else would we come in company of such devout warriors?’ He gestured to Goeth.

  The Redemptionist looked back at Goeth, and his eyes narrowed. ‘I know you. You are the pastor of Two Pumps.’

  Goeth bowed his head. ‘It is my honour to serve the cause, brother.’

  ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Zoon’s words inspired me, brother. I could not, in good conscience, allow Perdition to fall to the heathen. Not if I and my few followers could help.’

  Baertrum nodded supportively, pleased by Goeth’s smooth dissembling. Clovik hesitated, but then nodded tersely, as if satisfied. He turned towards the ore-hauler.

  ‘Bounty hunters,’ he spat. ‘Working for the guilders, I suspect.’

  Baertrum didn’t look at the others. ‘I expect nothing less of such scum.’

  The Redemptionist paused again. Before he could speak, Big Sledge rose.

  ‘They’ve stopped shooting.’

  ‘Something’s going on in there,’ Belladonna said.

  Baertrum turned. The ore-hauler sat where he’d last seen it, smoke wafting from its vents and fuel puddling on the cracked floor. ‘Tell everyone to stop shooting,’ he said hurriedly. ‘One stray ricochet and this whole warehouse might well go up.’

  Goeth turned and shouted the order.

  Clovik glared. ‘Who are you to give orders to the faithful?’ He reached for Baertrum, but Big Sledge intercepted him.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44