Black smoke poured out above her head as her landing craft turned straight on into the swell. Spray fountained up and water swilled over the deck.

They were two hundred yards off shore when a flare rose into the sky and then the traitors opened up with every gun they had. Lines of tracer fire and the hissing flashes of las-bolts lit up the night. The waves glittered with each shot that was fired.

The light show was terrifying; it was one of the most beautiful displays Minka had ever seen.

Four

FOUR

By the time Minka was landing on Tyrok Beach, the landings were already well under way. The first kill-teams, made up of First Company veterans, had been inserted by a flight of Val­kyries just after sunset. To avoid the traitors’ auspex they had flown so low their landing gears had cut through the tops of the waves.

Only as they reached the beaches did they climb. One Val­kyrie caught the cliffs and tumbled out of the air, bursting into flames. The remaining pilots struggled to retain control. They dropped their squads at the top of the cliffs as they were buffeted by winds that swirled up from below.

It seemed the surprise was complete. A few alarmed traitors fired into the air as the Valkyries hovered just above the ground. But they were poor quality troops, easily startled, and within seconds the elite veterans of First Company overpowered them.

Their target was the large winchhouse that powered the ­aerial cable­way that linked the island to Crannog Mons. The void shields over the Lone Redoubt threw a blue light on the underside of the low clouds, and a low breeze made the taut wires hum above their heads.

Captain Ostanko, commander of First Company, led them off at a low run over the tussocky scrubland. Bendikt had personally given Ostanko his orders. The captain had brought his finest warriors with him, and they moved forward in staggered bursts, snipers scanning the ground ahead through their scopes.

The void shield distorted the view of the wheelhouse within. The mists had been blown against the bottom of the void shield and caught there, like flotsam on a beach. It gave the Cadians perfect cover as they waited until all were ready.

On Ostanko’s signal the veterans moved cautiously through the void shield. There was a brief shock, like touching a bare wire, then they were on the other side. A puff of mist followed each trooper through.

The wind was lessened inside. It was strangely quiet. Before them was the winchhouse, a Guardsman outside, dressed in the padded greatcoat and criss-cross puttees of the Ongoth Jackals. There was a low flicker of light and the guard stood, hand to mouth, the glow of a freshly lit lho-stick in her mouth.

If she had heard about the imminent attack she was displaying what, for the Cadians, would be criminal neglect.