Minka took this all in as her command squad formed up about her. The other squads paused behind. ‘Harnesses on,’ she said. Minka stepped into hers, buckled it about her waist and gave it a sharp tug. She checked her pistol, grenades, tube charges, knife.

Orugi clipped the plasma charge in. Yedrin’s lascarbine was slung over his shoulder. He checked his pouch of fuses.

Minka paused briefly and looked about. Yedrin looked sick, Blanchez had a look of studied nonchalance.

The upper circuits of Tor Tartarus could not be more than five hundred yards away. The service wires were taut. They bowed slightly before them.

‘Ready?’ Minka said. She didn’t wait for answers, but clipped the g-clamp onto the wire and swung herself out into the darkness.

Three

THREE

Bendikt was only a few yards ahead of Prassan as the rest of the Cadian 101st marched the last mile along the assault pipes. Bendikt wore his ornate carapace armour and behind him came his command staff.

Behind Bendikt came the saint’s grav-bier, with Gerent Bianca in her golden armour, and Mere in kasrkin armour. Then the banner bearers: Flynt carried the banner of the Imperium of Mankind, the golden aquila on a field of black. On the right was Aaronn with the banner of Cadia, and in the middle was Diken, who carried the banner of the 101st, with its icon of Ursarkar E Creed fixed to the banner pole just under the golden aquila.

The golden light of the bier cast a warm glow over them all as the arched tunnels rang out with the crisp precision of their footfall. Prassan felt that not even the Mordians could be so smart. For the moment this was all there was. He inhaled it. The comradeship. The fraternal sense of being part of a body of the finest troopers in the Imperium of Man. The honour of being a Cadian Shock Trooper.

Prassan thought of the last months of Cadia and he felt a wave of emotion build within him. Tears formed in his eyes but he refused to let them fall.

They reached a large subterranean chamber, one of the great marshalling yards. While this had once been filled with penal legionnaires, now the chamber was host to an honour guard of Rakallions.

At their fore stood Klovis Plona-Richstar, still wearing a feather-plumed brass helmet, though his double-breasted kossack jacket was now largely hidden by a breastplate of polished black steel.

Bendikt strode forward to greet him, and as he did so, the bier carrying Saint Ignatzio was brought forward.

‘I transfer Saint Ignatzio into your care,’ Bendikt said. ‘May he inspire your troops to slay in the name of the God-Emperor.’

He also said farewell to Gerent Bianca. As most senior Richstar, she was going to fight alongside the Rakallions and Saint Ignatzio.