Part 21 (1/2)

He saw the Warhound, a graceful loping predator of red and silver, dart from the shadows of a collapsed forge-hangar, its turbos blitzing with hard light. Cavalerio felt the impacts on his s.h.i.+elds, but its angle of fire was poor and most of the shots were void-skidding.

<sensori, keep=”” an=”” eye=”” out=”” for=”” that=”” reaver,=””> he canted. <don't let=”” him=”” get=”” too=”” close.=””> *Yes, princeps.'

*Moderati, firing solution!'

The Warhound was nimble, but it had struck too soon, and without the shock value of its turbo lasers impacting on its target's s.h.i.+elds it was vulnerable. Data inloaded from the moderati's station, and Cavalerio saw the vectors of fire slide into his mind at the speed of thought. He felt the wordless bray of the gun-servitor's acknowledgement and opened fire.

A sheeting storm of explosive rounds roared from Cavalerio's mega bolter, obscuring the Warhound in a blizzard of detonations and flaring shreds of discharging voids. The Warhound staggered, pushed back against the brick walls of a weapon shop. Stone and steel tumbled to the ground, but Cavalerio knew the enemy engine wasn't out of the fight yet.

*Steersman, move in! Moderati, arm missiles. Sensori, where's that Reaver?'

*Moving in, aye!'

*Missiles arming!'

*Reaver still closing, princeps. Six hundred metres, bearing zero-six-three.'

Cavalerio's engine closed the gap between it and the Warhound. He had to kill it before the Reaver was in a position to help. Individually, neither of the enemy machines were a match for his Warlord, but working together, they could potentially bring him down if he were not careful.

The Warhound swayed as it picked itself up, its weapon limbs shaking like a dog climbing from the water. Its s.h.i.+elds burbled and sparked, and Cavalerio read a flaring convergence of energy gaps cl.u.s.tered around the engine's hip.

Information updates sluiced around him and he updated his situational awareness, feeling the danger of the closing Reaver and knowing he didn't have much time.

*Moderati! As soon as that Reaver comes into view, hit its upper carapace with a barrage from the carapace launcher. Three missile spread, five second intervals.'

*Yes, princeps.'

*Gun-servitor h.e.l.las-88, slave weapon to my command.'

The implanted servitor wordlessly acknowledged his order, and Cavalerio felt the rea.s.suring weight and industrial motion of the mega bolter as though it were part of his flesh. It was reckless to take command of the weapon from the servitor, who could fire it far more effectively than he could, but to make this kill, he wanted to feel the thunder.

Cavalerio surrendered to the engine's killing l.u.s.t, guiding it with his own need to defeat their foe. With a thought, the mega bolter engaged and sawed off a furious hurricane of sh.e.l.ls at the staggering Warhound's wounded hip.

At the same time, he felt the juddering shoom, shoom, shoom of the missiles mounted high on his carapace leap from the launcher. The Reaver had joined the fight and he had to finish the Warhound quickly.

*Multiple impacts on enemy Reaver, princeps!'

Cavalerio noted the update, but concentrated his attention on the Warhound. Its voids had collapsed under his barrage, detonating with a blinding thunderclap. The explosion atomised one weapon arm and cracked its carapace open. Flames billowed from its rear quarter.

Still it stood, defiant as a whipped wolf.

*Arming blastgun,' intoned the Moderati. *Plotting solution.'

*Belay that order!' cried Cavalerio, *we'll need it for the Reaver! We close and kill it with hard rounds!'

*Incoming!' shouted the Moderati, and Cavalerio felt the blistering pain of impacts on the voids. Missiles streaked from the enemy Reaver, fired from an under-slung rocket pod, and the relentless impacts staggered his engine. s.h.i.+eld energy ripped away from his Warlord, and Cavalerio heard the frantic cants of the Magos as he fought to rebuild them.

The limping Warhound stood its ground before him, silhouetted in the ruins of the collapsed building, and Cavalerio was forced to admire its pilot's courage. It was doomed, yet still it fought. Its remaining gun opened fire, punis.h.i.+ng his already weakened s.h.i.+elds.

*s.h.i.+eld failure on lower quadrant!' warned the Magos. *Critical collapse imminent!'

*Reaver closing, princeps!'

Cavalerio ignored the warnings, letting rip once more with the mega bolter. A storm of sh.e.l.ls and pulverised rock erupted around the Warhound, driving it to its knees with the force of the impacts. Its carapace cracked open and flames sheeted upwards as the remains of the building tumbled down around it. Cavalerio kept hammering the smaller engine until it was a ruin of splintered metal and fire.

Sudden, agonising pain speared into him, and he screamed as it felt like his leg was bathed in liquid fire. His awareness snapped back into wide-spread, and he saw the looming form of the Reaver closing with him, its immense bulk smas.h.i.+ng through the high walls of the refinery in its hunger to reach him. Its warhorn blared in triumph and its plasma blastgun was smoking from a sustained salvo. Cavalerio read the situation in a heartbeat.

It was on his exposed flank and had him dead to rights.

His s.h.i.+elds were almost gone, the metal beneath buckled and molten.

A volley of screaming rockets slammed into him and he convulsed with psychostigmatic pain. The Manifold erupted with warnings and damage indicators.

The chin station exploded, immolating the Moderati and steersman in a h.e.l.lish firestorm. The c.o.c.kpit shook as more missile impacts slammed into the Warlord's mighty torso.

<s.h.i.+elds gone!=””> canted the magos unnecessarily.

*Missiles!' he yelled, knowing it was too late. *Full spread, safeties off!'

Streaking rockets and laser fire pounded the air between the two engines as they unleashed the last of their a.r.s.enal at one another at point-blank range. Cavalerio screamed as his s.h.i.+elds failed, feeling awful, intolerable pain as the enemy engine tore the guts from him with an unending series of missile strikes.

Bright explosions of void failure flared around him, and at last both war machines were stripped of their s.h.i.+elds, naked and steel to steel.

Cavalerio grinned through the pain.

*Now I have you!' he roared.

With his last breath, Cavalerio unleashed the full power of the blastgun into his enemy's face and the world exploded in fire and light.

AGATHE WATCHED THE last moments of the unfolding battle on the hololithic projection table, admiring the skill of the Stormlord even as his engine was destroyed. Watching the miniature holograms of the engines stomping around the artificial landscape had been thrilling, but the tension in the warriors gathered around the table was contagious.

*He's doing much better now, isn't he?' she asked.

Princeps Sharaq looked over at her, his kind eyes and cropped, salt and pepper hair at odds with the killer she knew him to be. His eyes darted to the other side of the projection table where two fellow princeps, Vlad Suzak and Jan Mordant, stood watching the simulated battle. Suzak stood ramrod straight, as if on parade, while Mordant eagerly leaned forwards with his elbow resting on the edge of the table.

*Yes, famulous, he is doing better,' said Sharaq.

*But not well enough,' put in Suzak, the straight-backed slayer of engines.

*It takes time to adjust,' said Agathe, looking at the forlorn, naked form suspended in the steel-edged amniotic tank, linked to the projection table via a host of insulated cables. *To go from hard-plug connection to full immersion. It's not an easy transition to make.'

*No,' agreed Sharaq, *but the point remains, the Stormlord cannot command the Legio like this. Not yet.'

Agathe pointed to the projection table. *He took on and defeated three engines single-handedly. Doesn't that count for anything?'

*It speaks of great courage,' said Jan Mordant, looking over at Sharaq. *Maybe we're being too cautious?'

*It speaks of recklessness,' snapped Sharaq.

*It's just a simulation, Kel,' pointed out Mordant. *It's a whole different game when you're linked with the Manifold. We all know the risks you take in a sim aren't the ones you take when your neck's on the line.'