‘Ready,’ Ngiri announced, cutting off Chetta’s reply. ‘Let’s move out.’ Her glowing red eye-lenses seemed to focus on the pair of them. ‘And everyone keep your comm-beads active, please. We don’t want to get separated out here.’

They began to trudge across the ground. It was hard going, Chetta was prepared to admit. She hadn’t been having a good day anyway, and it had been compounded by being on her feet for longer than usual – and surviving a shuttle crash was never going to help matters. Although, she conceded to herself, it was better than not surviving a shuttle crash.

In short, what it all added up to was that she was getting near the end of her strength, and even her usual bloody-minded stubbornness wasn’t going to be able to carry her much further. For a moment she thought wistfully of the gun-cutter’s hold, and staying behind with Kennevario, but idly awaiting rescue would have driven her to distraction in short order. Half her body might be in agony out here, but that was at least something she could set herself against.

‘Do you require any assistance?’ Nero muttered. She hadn’t turned her comm-bead back to broadcasting, in apparent defiance of the inquisitor’s instructions.

‘Your ribs didn’t appear to be in great shape,’ Chetta said shortly, wincing as another twinge shot up her right side. ‘I have my cane. You look to your own aff–’

The spitting snarl of a hellgun tore through the air. Chetta spun, her body objected, she started to fall and then Alyssana Nero was there, catching her and grunting in pain herself at the effort of supporting Chetta’s bulk.

‘Report!’ Ngiri was snapping.

‘It came from behind me,’ Wroze replied immediately.

‘And me,’ Grangar added. Chetta could just see her helmet, twitching this way and that.

A beam of ruby light stabbed out through the darkness, occluded but not smothered by the smog, and accompanied once more by the weapon’s distinctive report.

It was coming from the wreckage of the gun-cutter.

Final Preparations

Final Preparations

Radimir had already lost half of the Children, but he wasn’t overly concerned. After all, by the time this was through, he’d have lost them all. And weren’t even these small offerings still to the glory of the Great Powers?

The Smog Deeps were a grim environment, true enough, and many of the cult hadn’t had the proper equipment to survive it. Those with proper respirators were still with him, although a couple were starting to get short of breath as the devices were taxed to their limits. Many of those with old or corroded models had died. Every Child who had braved the choking atmosphere with no protection at all had perished within minutes… with two notable exceptions.