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Morkai's Breath – Josh Reynolds

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A Black Library Publication

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MORKAI'S BREATH

Josh Reynolds

Lukas braced himself as arctic winds buffeted the Stormwolf gunship. To the Blood Claws crouched in the assault bay, it sounded like a thousand fists hammering at the hull. Proximity klaxons sounded. Warning lights flashed as the gunship began its final approach.

'Think they've seen us yet?' Ogvai, one of the youthful warriors, growled.

The gunship lurched suddenly. The echoes of an explosive impact reverberated through the deck. A new set of klaxons added their screams to the cacophony.

'Aye, I'd say they've seen us,' Lukas said with a guttural laugh. He was older than the rest of his pack - the oldest Blood Claw in the Rout - a distinction that was at once a badge of honour and a mark of shame, though he paid little attention to either.

He glanced around. There were six of them crouched in the cramped compartment, bulky jump packs strapped to their backs. The pack was made up of troublemakers; the most reckless and stubborn of aspirants, culled from the Blood Claw packs of Dvorjac Stonewolf's Great Company. Lukas wasn't sure why he was there, since he considered himself neither especially reckless nor stubborn. Perhaps Dvorjac, humourless lump that he was, was just hoping that Lukas would get himself killed. Lukas looked forward to disappointing him.

He tapped a discreet rune on his vambrace. A set of hololithic schematics flickered into being above his forearm. A section flashed crimson. 'This is our target,' he growled, looking around. 'Once we breach the facility, we'll make our way straight there. Don't let the thought of killing orks distract you.'

'But killing orks is why we're here,' Ogvai protested.

'Yes,' Lukas said, dismissing the schematics. 'But I'm going to show you pups how to do it properly. Chainblades and bolt-rounds are fine, but there are better weapons to hand.'

'Passing over the target now, Trickster. If you're going to jump, best to do it now.' The pilot's voice echoed through the assault bay's vox-casters. Lukas grunted in satisfaction.

'Aye, Magni. Open the bay, and be swift about it.'

'No need to snap at my haunches, Trickster. The sooner you're off my gunship, the better,' the pilot growled. The deck shuddered as the bay swung open with a juddering whine. Wind boiled up into the compartment, carrying snow and the sound of thunder. The gunship's weapons systems howled with mechanical fury, strafing the enemy below.

'Ready yourselves, pups,' Lukas shouted. 'Red skies await us.'

The Blood Claws snarled in eagerness, and stomped their feet against the deck as they made ready to launch themselves from the gunship's bay.

'Tarben goes first,' a burly young warrior, with a neck like a keg, and a face like a lump of raw meat, bellowed. Like many of the pack, he eschewed the use of a helmet, hence the state of his face. He pounded his chest-plate, causing his necklace of bear fangs to rattle. 'Step aside, Trickster. Tarben demands it.'

Lukas stepped back. 'By all means, brother, show us how it's done.' Tarben sneered and made to stomp past. Lukas tripped the towering Blood Claw at the last moment, causing him to tumble down the disembarkation ramp and out of the Stormwolf. Tarben howled in fury the entire way. Lukas looked at the others, his yellow gaze mild. 'Next?'

'After you, brother,' Ogvai said, gesturing.

'My thanks, pup.' Lukas laughed as he leapt off the ramp, and let the wind take him. He spiralled towards the ice below. Frost crept in striated patterns across his battle-plate and obscured his vision. His helmet's internal display switched through available spectrums to compensate. The white expanse below was punctuated by flickers of orange and yellow.

His helmet's autosenses picked up the dull, rhythmic thud of the defences below.

The orks had been busy in the weeks since they'd come to the agri-world of Elixir. They'd scraped the surface grey and plundered its resources. The planet's ecosystem was in rebellion, after only a few short weeks. Complete devastation was held at bay only by the continued function of Elixir's climatropic array - isolated node-stations designed to regulate planetary weather patterns for optimum seasonal yield.

Just like the one Lukas was currently falling towards, at ever-increasing speed. From above, the climatrope resembled a circular thicket of gantries and winding stairwells, surrounding a hollow framework tower rising from a support dais. Smoke billowed from the structure, where the gunship's strafing fire had struck home.

His visual feed flickered, illuminating several observation platforms that extended from the gantries at seemingly random points, all slowly revolving about the central tower-axis. Orks swarmed across the platforms like insects, some firing anti-aircraft weapons in a vain attempt to bring the gunship down. Far above them, arcs of cobalt energy crackled about a series of antennas mounted on the uppermost section of the tower.

His armour's sensors registered a continuous fluctuation in the temperature and air pressure around the tower. Strong winds whipped about, and he was forced to employ the manoeuvring jets built into his battle-plate to remain on course. While the bursts of compressed air were intended for void warfare, they had other uses.

He grinned as the atmospheric fluctuation resonated with the rhythmic pulse of the stasis bomb grafted in the place of one of his hearts. 'Feel that icy wind, pups?' he called over the packs vox-link. 'That's Morkai's breath on your necks. The great black wolf lopes in our wake. Best to feed him someone else, lest he devour you, eh?'

'Tarben does not fear death,' Tarben roared, causing the vox-link to crackle.

'Tarben fears only his seasonal bath,' Ogvai cut in, much to the merriment of the others. Laughter and jeers flooded the frequency, as Tarben bellowed curses at his brothers. They were laughing so hard that they seemed to barely notice the explosions tearing at the sky all around them.

Lukas smiled. 'Careful, Ogvai. Tarben might take offence.'

'It's not Tarben who worries me - the Stonewolf will be angry we stole one of his gunships,' Ogvai said. Lukas snorted.

'It's his own fault for leaving the launch bay unguarded,' he said, blithely. 'Besides, he'll catch up with us soon enough.' The rest of the Great Company were still on the outer edges of the system. Dvorjac was a cunning Jarl - not for him the headlong rush into the jaws of the enemy. Instead, he would encircle the foe in a ring of steel, and tighten it only when he was certain none would escape.

'That's what I mean. He may kill us himself, if the orks don't.'

'We'll chew that bone when we get to it,' Lukas said. 'For now, concentrate on getting down in one piece.' Lukas had enlivened the Great Company's journey to the Elixir system with a carefully targeted campaign of mayhem and mischief. Dvorjac had repaid him with a scouting mission. He'd ordered Lukas and his pack to reconnoitre the inner system, and report back with anything of interest. Lukas, in a fit of inspiration, had decided that such orders were just vague enough to be open to interpretation.

Rather than the slower scouting vessel Dvorjac had offered them, Lukas and the others had borrowed one of the fleet's Stormwolf gunships. Magni, the pilot, had owed Lukas a favour, and had been only too happy to erase his debt.

Lukas rolled through the air, angling his descent towards the climatrope with an instinct borne of experience. The movement-patterns of the ident-runes on his display told him the others were following his example, as planned. He grunted in satisfaction. If the pack activated their thrusters too soon, the orks would detect them, and shoot them out of the air. Too late, and they'd slam into the climatrope's framework of shifting gantries.

Far above, the Stormwolf banked, weapons systems howling. The gunship was doing an admirable job of holding the orks' attention, but it would have to retreat soon. Explosions clawed at the air as the orks tracked it. Between that and the fierce winds, the gunship was at a disadvantage. The vox crackled as Magni tried to contact him, but the pilot's words were lost to the white noise of atmospheric interference. Lukas grinned. So it went. Whatever happened next, they were on their own.

A descent gauge clicked over on Lukas' display, marking distance. When it flashed, he activated his jump pack. His fall was stopped abruptly as the thrusters spat fire. Around him, Ogvai and the other Blood Claws did the same.

Lukas hurtled into the web of slowly revolving gantries. The air was warmer here, the arctic chill held at bay by the climatrope's internal systems, and it throbbed with the dull reverberations of the oscillating walkways. Overhead, electricity arced and snarled between towering pylons, casting dancing shadows across the lower walkways.

Greenskin glyphs marked the observation platforms and exposed sections of the central tower. There were signs of looting and tampering everywhere, and the broken bodies of Adeptus Mechanicus servitors and tech-thralls hung suspended from the revolving walkways, strung up like grisly trophies. The orks had no use for them, and had dispensed with the thralls' services in their usual brutal fashion.

Protected from the freezing temperatures by the energies of the climatrope, the orks had made themselves at home here, as they had everywhere on Elixir. Lukas knew that the orks had a fascination for technology - any technology. They had been inexorably drawn to the climatropes that dotted the planet, like hungry locusts, looking to loot them for their own purposes. That the facility still functioned at all was a wonder.

'Remind me why we're attacking an isolated climatrope again, rather than something more substantial?' Ogvai asked as the pack shot along the outer gantries, seeking the central tower. Greenskins crowded the walkways, shouting in alarm as the grey-armoured shapes hurtled past them. The orks unleashed wild salvoes at the invaders, more out of frustration than any real intent. The Blood Claws responded in kind, without slowing.

'I have a cunning plan,' Lukas said. His helmet's display registered glancing impacts from the ork weapons, but he ignored them. Lucky shots, rather than accurate. Explosions rocked the air as the Blood Claws lobbed grenades at the lower gantries, or fired their bolt pistols at unlucky orks, adding to the noise and confusion.

'Tarben has a plan as well - to kill orks,' Tarben snarled.

'Why kill a few, when you can kill all of them? As I said, pups - there are more effective weapons than blades and bolt shells,' Lukas flew under a gantry as it swung past. Behind him, the Blood Claws spread out, dodging and weaving with more enthusiasm than skill. 'We'll provide Morkai such a feast as to fill his belly to bursting.'

'You still haven't explained how we're - Skitja!' Ogvai spun, narrowly avoiding a crude rocket fired from one of the gantries. The rocket, trailing a tail of black smoke, struck a support beam, obliterating it. The gantry it had been holding up groaned as gravity caught hold, and the metal bent. Greenskins fell howling to the ground below, still firing their weapons with a stubbornness that Lukas almost admired.

More rockets criss-crossed through the air. Some shuddered and fell in mid-flight as a fault plucked them off course. Others slammed into the surrounding gantries, filling the path ahead with fire and shards of burning metal. Lukas cut his thrusters and dropped onto a gantry, breaking into a lope even as he touched down. A knot of orks, several of whom were armed with bulky rocket launchers, raced to meet him, bellowing savage war-cries.

Lukas flexed his wolf claw. Cryonic energies played around the heavy gauntlet, and crackled between its talons. It left a scar of frost on the air as he slashed out at the closest of the orks, and ripped its head from its thick neck. The orks hacked at him with heavy blades, or fired bulky pistols, trying to find a weak point in his armour. He laughed as he caught one in the jaw with his elbow, and shattered another's knee with a well-placed kick. A rocket corkscrewed past his head, spewing smoke. He snatched his plasma pistol from its holster and punched an ork off the gantry with a burst of coruscating energy.

The gantry shook as the rest of the Blood Claws joined the fray. Tarben howled as he dropped onto an ork, all but crushing the greenskin flat. The big warrior lashed out with a double-bladed axe, chopping through upraised arms and exposed necks. Ogvai was right behind him, bolt pistol booming as he descended on a plume of fire.

'You think to steal Tarben's kills, eh, Trickster?' Tarben roared. He spun and split an ork's skull from crown to tusk. As the brute sagged, another tried to tackle the big Blood Claw. Tarben drove his knee into the greenskin's midsection and slammed a meaty fist into its head, knocking it sprawling. Before it could rise, he buried his axe in its chest.

'What can I say - I wanted to beat the rush,' Lukas said. Around him, the rest of the Blood Claws had joined the fight. Narfe, a scar-faced aspirant, parried a wild blow and booted an ork in the face, before cleaving its skull with his chainblade. Hrun, hair matted into a halo of crimson spikes by thick applications of bear grease, traded blows with an ork, matching it bellow for bellow. And silent Ullr, a bolt pistol in either hand, stalked back along the gantry towards the observation platform, pumping shot after shot into the mob of greenskins that raced towards the pack.

'What was that you said about not getting distracted?' Ogvai growled, as he shoved his chainblade through an ork's torso. The beast pounded at him with its fists, refusing to succumb. Lukas caught the brute by the back of the head. Ignoring its struggles and Ogvai's snarl of protest, he drove it face-first into the gantry rail. As it stumbled, dazed, he kicked it in the back, sending it smashing through the rail. He turned to Ogvai.

'Good point. Best we finish this quickly.' A rune flashed on Lukas' display, signalling that his plasma pistol was recharged. He turned towards the approaching mob, pistol raised, his enhanced perceptions noting and discarding potential targets until he found the optimal one. The whole process took only a few seconds. 'Ullr - watch yourself,' he said, over the vox. Ullr activated his jump pack and hurtled backwards, out of the line of fire. Lukas pulled the trigger, and an ork toppled. The rocket launcher clutched in the brute's paws fired even as its body fell.

The rocket streaked upwards, striking a gantry that was passing overhead. The metal frame bent and ruptured, and burning greenskins dropped, wailing. The damaged section of gantry collapsed and tumbled down in a storm of fire and smoke. It slammed into the walkway the Blood Claws fought on, shearing through it with a tooth-rattling shriek of splintering metal, and the screams of dying orks. The wreckage continued down, striking other walkways as it fell, and the whole climatrope shook at the resulting devastation.

Ogvai looked at Lukas. 'Did you plan that?'

Lukas grinned and pushed past the Blood Claw. 'Come, brothers. Before they regroup.' They loped along the walkway towards a reinforced bulkhead leading into the central tower, Lukas in front.

Smoke filled the air to either side of them, and Lukas could hear the orks shooting wildly, either at shadows or perhaps each other. Alarm klaxons wailed, and vox-casters vibrated with the bewildered roars of the facility's new masters. Lukas had been counting on that confusion to buy them the time they needed.

Past the bulkhead was a short corridor. It had been torn apart, its deck plating cast aside and bundles of cable and wiring jerked loose from its housing. At the other end was a second bulkhead, leading to the internal transit shaft. Loose shell casings and bits of broken machinery crunched beneath the Blood Claws' boots as Lukas led them to the shaft. Garbled ork-speak echoed through the internal vox-system. He was familiar with the ork tongue, enough to understand their insults and reply in kind. It was a crude tongue - unsubtle, but potent. 'What are they saying?' Ogvai growled.

'They think we're a prelude to a greater assault.' A schematic overlay filled Lukas' display showing their destination. They were close - the central control chamber was an enclosed, circular platform that sat just beneath the crown of pylons, at the top of the transit shaft. 'Come. It won't be long before they figure out that it's just us.' He pried the bulkhead open with a grunt. The doors resisted, but only for a moment.

'Are we not enough for them?' Tarben growled. 'Tarben is insulted.'

'I'm sure they don't mean anything by it,' Lukas said, forcing the doors fully apart. 'If they knew you, I have no doubt they would be satisfied with killing you.'

Tarben peered at him, fangs not quite bared. 'Now you insult Tarben.'

Lukas laughed. 'You make it very easy, brother.' He grinned. 'Insultingly so, even.'

Tarben laughed and slapped Lukas on the shoulder. 'Ha! Good one.' He sniffed the air. 'Enough jokes, though. There are orks to kill. And close by.'

'Closer than you think.' Lukas peered down the shaft. The transit platform wasn't at its docking port. Instead, it was on a lower level of the tower, but rising swiftly, in a shower of sparks and the whine of overburdened accelerators. His visual feed cycled, focusing. Dozens of orks were crammed onto the ascending platform, bellowing and gesticulating. Several were fighting over the controls, jerking the levers back and forth in what he took to be an attempt to make it go faster.

One of the greenskins noticed him, and he was forced to duck back as a flurry of badly aimed shots struck the bulkhead. He plucked a grenade from his harness and sent it clattering down into the shaft. Just to be sure, he followed it with a second. Then a third. You could never be too careful when dealing with orks.

Fire momentarily vomited from the bulkhead, driving the Blood Claws back. When it had lessened, Lukas pointed upwards. 'Let's go.' He swung himself into the smoke-filled shaft and activated his jump pack, ascending rapidly. Ogvai and the others followed him. They spiralled upwards, along the transit shaft. Several times, orks fired at them from open bulkheads, but the Blood Claws were moving too quickly to be hit. The platform docking station at the top of the shaft had been twisted out of shape and wedged open by an explosion. Lukas cut his thrusters as he cleared it, and landed in a crouch on the edge of the aperture. The others followed suit a moment later.

The control chamber resembled a temple nave, lined by cable covered data-repository pillars and darkened servitor alcoves. A fog of leaking coolant and steam covered the deck, and left condensation on every surface. A crude camp occupied the centre of the cavernous chamber, where the control plinths for the climatrope sat on a raised dais.

The orks had torn down the internal walls and erected lean-tos made from hundreds of crudely stitched together robes of Martian red. The broken, gutted body of a tech-priest had been crucified against one wall, augmetic parts stripped free of the husk. Atavistic glyphs had been daubed everywhere, in blood and machine oil, and the still-twitching remains of servitors had been impaled on makeshift stakes of broken metal scattered about the nave.

Crouched atop the central dais was a hulking shape, twice the height of Tarben. The crimson contraption was bipedal, its bulky armoured chassis festooned with exhaust pipes and ammunition feeds. Two heavy machine guns were bolted onto either side of the war machine's torso, and the jagged outline of a power field generator jutted from the top of its chassis. The chassis was open, revealing a cramped cockpit, thick with leaking pressure valves, crudely patched neurofibre cables and sensor feeds. Gathered around the looming machine were a dozen orks, clad in patchwork armour and carrying guns.

The greenskins turned as the Blood Claws thudded down, and raised their weapons. Behind them, a much larger example of the breed snarled in what might have been annoyance as the other orks raced for cover behind toppled pillars or makeshift barricades. The hulking greenskin was easily recognisable as one of the sub-type known as a Mek, given the sheer amount of scrap machinery it wore. It was surrounded by cringing gretchin, all clad in filthy smocks and clutching tools that were far too large for them.

Loose neural feeds and cable couplings dangled about the brute's shoulders like hair, all feeding into its scarred, blistered pate. One of its eyes had been replaced by a feed-socket, and more such sockets dotted its skull and arms, the flesh around them puffy with infection. Bunches of cable extended from the compartment of the war machine and were plugged into several of these sockets. Every so often, the Mek would twitch as if gripped by a spasm.

'What in the name of Russ…' Ogvai began.

'Skitja!' Lukas snarled. 'Stop him before he gets into that thing.' But the Mek's bodyguards opened up with their weapons even as the words left Lukas' lips, forcing the Blood Claws to scatter. As Lukas swung behind a pillar, his targeting array swept over the Mek, focusing on it as the creature scrambled up into the open compartment, using its tiny assistants for a stepping stool. It yanked the bundles of cabling and sensory feeds after it as it crammed itself in, shouting orders to the other greenskins. Lukas raised his plasma pistol, but a blistering volley from the orks forced him to duck back. 'Ogvai, Hrun - take the left,' Lukas growled. 'Tarben, Ullr, hit them on the right. Narfe, you're with me.'

The Blood Claws launched themselves into the air with a chorus of howls. As the orks raised their weapons, Lukas and Narfe stepped into the open, firing. Plasma and bolt-round struck at the same time, and two of the orks were knocked sprawling, their bodies reduced to ruin. A moment later, the rest of the Blood Claws were among the greenskins.

'Come on, pup, we have to stop that thing before it powers up the device on its back,' Lukas said. He had fought orks often enough to recognise one of their energy field projectors when he saw one. If it became fully active, the Dread would be all but immune to conventional weaponry. Narfe followed him as he raced towards the Mek, and his hulking contraption. Narfe's bolt pistol thundered, the rounds punching into the sides of the armoured compartment.

The Mek bellowed something unintelligible and wrenched back on a lever. A heavy plate, wrought in the shape of a stylised greenskin skull, slammed into place over the compartment with a rattle of loose plates and a creaking of pistons. The grots scattered with squeals and yelps. The heavy guns mounted on the machine's chassis cycled up with a venomous whine. 'Narfe - move!' Lukas leapt aside as the whirring barrels spat a hurricane of explosive slugs. Narfe roared and lunged, chainblade swinging.

The massive war machine - a Deft Dread - pivoted, swiping the Blood Claw from the air with a blow from one of its power klaws. Narfe struck a support beam and crumpled to the floor, unmoving. Lukas jetted over the Dread, striking the back of its hull with the soles of his boots. Mag-clamps activated and he sank the tips of his claws into the apex of the compartment, holding on to the back of the war machine.

Lukas' fangs itched as the generator began to thrum, white flares of false lightning stretching across it. He levelled his plasma pistol and pressed it to the base of the device. Plasma engulfed it, and tore it from its housing. The swirl of energy sparked and ceased.

Extraneous optic sensors twisted towards him, and the vox-casters strapped to the Dread's exterior erupted in a gut-churning roar of rage. Its weapons depressed, firing wildly, as the Dread lurched sideways. Power klaws groped awkwardly for him, snapping shut on empty air as he rocked to the side. Lukas leaned sideways, pulling the war machine momentarily off balance.

The Dread's guns roared, scything through the preoccupied greenskins, killing several and wounding others. The flurry of rounds also punched an unwary Hrun off his feet, knocking him flat. Tarben and Ullr rocketed towards the Dread, narrowly avoiding the wild spray of shots. Ullr circled the machine, bolt pistols snarling. The Dread spun, reaching for the Blood Claw, its talons snapping shut just shy of his leg. Tarben brought his axe down on the machine's arm, severing pneumatic hoses and ripping pistons loose. The Dread flailed, and sent Tarben skidding across the floor.

'Ogvai, Hrun, lead it to the shaft,' Lukas shouted. He used the butt of the plasma pistol to smash one of the optic sensors. Ullr fired, shattering another. Ogvai dove for its legs, his chainblade drawing sparks from the armoured joints. The Dread clawed at him, rupturing the deck as he leapt aside. Lukas bent his weight to the side, dragging it off balance again. Power klaws sparked and hissed as they snapped at him, and he was forced to twist aside to avoid them. Ogvai ducked beneath the arms and scraped his chainblade against the compartment, drawing the Mek's attentions.

The Dread lurched after the Blood Claw as he retreated, gliding on the jets of his jump pack. Ullr circled the war machine, firing at anything that looked like a sensor, steadily blinding the pilot, even as Lukas and Ogvai infuriated it. Lukas thrust his plasma pistol into the nest of coolant hoses and pressure gauges that clustered like barnacles against the back of the compartment and fired. Burst hoses lashed at him like angry serpents as the Dread shuddered with sudden convulsions. His blast hadn't pierced its armour, but it had damaged something. Steam vented from the gaps between the hull plates, and he could hear the Mek howling guttural curses inside. It stomped forward, scattering Ogvai and Ullr.

The war machine crashed into a pillar, and Lukas lost his perch. He hit the deck amid a spray of rubble and dust, and rolled awkwardly to his feet. Warning runes crowded his display as his armour realigned itself after the impact. A power klaw arced out of the dust, aiming at his head. He fell back, and nearly went over the side of the shaft. Blinded, the Deff Dread lurched towards him, vox-casters throbbing with the Mek's roar of frustration. Its guns bellowed and Lukas twisted aside as the shots caromed off his armour, staggering him. He let the impact carry him over the edge, and the Dread lunged after him with a feral roar.

Lukas fired his thrusters as the Dread tumbled past him, power klaws tearing at the sides of the shaft in an attempt to stop the inevitable. It dug one klaw in, anchoring itself. Its guns elevated, firing wildly. Lukas dropped towards it, landing on the length of the klaw, took aim at the elbow joint and fired. The Dread dropped away with a roar, crashing into the sides of the shaft as it fell.

Lukas launched himself upwards with a laugh.

'Is it dead?' Ogvai asked, as Lukas joined the others. Lukas shrugged.

'If it's not dead, it's definitely not happy. If that one was in charge, we've bought ourselves some time while they sort out the line of succession. Narfe?'

Tarben shook his head. His features were even more battered looking, with a great bruise purpling on the side of his head. 'Snapped his neck bone. Unlucky.' He hiked a thumb back to where Ullr was helping Hrun to his feet. The latter's armour had numerous impact craters marring the grey plate. 'Hrun is still in one piece, more or less.'

Lukas nodded. 'Good.' He started towards the control dais, Ogvai on his heels.

'You still haven't said what your plan is. Why bother storming this place?'

'For this,' Lukas said, as he climbed up onto the dais. He moved among the control plinths, studying the readouts. 'It's the central control point for the entire climatrope system. It keeps the planet at its current idyllic state.' He tapped a plinth, activating a hololithic projection of Elixir. The climatrope network was illuminated, a series of energy grids intercutting back and forth over the world.

'So we're here to destroy it?' Tarben growled, hefting his axe. 'Then stand aside - Tarben will do the honours.'

'It's a nodal network,' Lukas said patiently as he studied the cogitator panels on the plinths. The controls were old, older than the Imperium even, but he'd seen similar devices before. 'Destroy one, the others will compensate. They'll bridge the gap, work around the problem. The machine-spirits are efficient and they've been doing this job for a very long time.'

'So if we can't destroy it, why did we come all the way out here?' Tarben demanded. The vox-casters mounted at the corners of the chamber rattled with greenskin curses and shouts. Lukas could hear banging, somewhere below. Given enough time, the orks would be able to jury rig a way up into the control chamber, once they'd decided who was in charge.

'Weren't you listening, pup? This is the main node. All planetary temperature modulation processes are routed through this climatrope. Which means…' Lukas tapped at the cogitator panel, and let out a soft growl of satisfaction. 'Ah. There we are.' The hololithic projection flickered blue, as the hovering temperature gauges began to drop.

'What have you done?' Ogvai asked.

'Altered its programming to something more resembling home.' Lukas stepped back. 'I've dropped the planet's average temperature to well below freezing. In a few weeks, this world will be a ball of ice. And the orks with it.'

'They'll freeze to death,' Ogvai said. 'All of them.'

'Not all of them. But enough to even the odds.' Lukas glanced at Tarben. 'Feel free to destroy it now, brother. I've no more need of it.' Tarben laughed and chopped into the control panels, ripping several of them loose from their bases and filling the air with sparks. The alarm klaxons fell silent and emergency lumens kicked in as the rest of the lights - and the heating systems - went out. A cold wind whipped up through the shattered aperture, bringing with it the sound of confused orks.

Lukas smiled. 'Feel that, pups? Morkai's breath, washing over their necks. As I said.' He lifted his plasma pistol and started for the exit. 'Now, let's go remind the greenskins why all sensible beasts fear the dark and the cold, eh?' He laughed.

'Maybe we'll even leave a few for Dvorjac, for when he finally arrives.'

About the Author

Josh Reynolds is the author of the Primarchs novel Fulgrim: The Palatine Phoenix, the Warhammer 40,000 novels Fabius Bile: Primogenitor, Fabius Bile: Clonelord and Deathstorm, and the novellas Hunter’s Snare and Dante’s Canyon, along with the audio dramas Blackshields: The False War and Master of the Hunt. In the Warhammer world, he has written the End Times novels The Return of Nagash and The Lord of the End Times, as well as the Gotrek & Felix tales Charnel Congress, Road of Skulls and The Serpent Queen. He has also written many stories set in the Age of Sigmar, including the novels Hallowed Knights: Plague Garden, Eight Lamentations: Spear of Shadows, Nagash: The Undying King, Fury of Gork, Black Rift and Skaven Pestilens. He lives and works in Sheffield.

Exiled Emperor’s Children Apothecary Fabius is drawn back to the Imperium in search of a secret that could save his life…

A Black Library Publication

Published in Great Britain in 2018 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

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(2) the purchaser of an e-book product from Black Library website (“You/you/Your/your”)

(jointly, “the parties”)

These are the terms and conditions that apply when you purchase an e-book (“e-book”) from Black Library. The parties agree that in consideration of the fee paid by you, Black Library grants you a license to use the e-book on the following terms:

* 1. Black Library grants to you a personal, non-exclusive, non-transferable, royalty-free license to use the e-book in the following ways:

o 1.1 to store the e-book on any number of electronic devices and/or storage media (including, by way of example only, personal computers, e-book readers, mobile phones, portable hard drives, USB flash drives, CDs or DVDs) which are personally owned by you;

o 1.2 to access the e-book using an appropriate electronic device and/or through any appropriate storage media; and

* 2. For the avoidance of doubt, you are ONLY licensed to use the e-book as described in paragraph 1 above. You may NOT use or store the e-book in any other way. If you do, Black Library shall be entitled to terminate this license.

* 3. Further to the general restriction at paragraph 2, Black Library shall be entitled to terminate this license in the event that you use or store the e-book (or any part of it) in any way not expressly licensed. This includes (but is by no means limited to) the following circumstances:

o 3.1 you provide the e-book to any company, individual or other legal person who does not possess a license to use or store it;

o 3.2 you make the e-book available on bit-torrent sites, or are otherwise complicit in ‘seeding’ or sharing the e-book with any company, individual or other legal person who does not possess a license to use or store it;

o 3.3 you print and distribute hard copies of the e-book to any company, individual or other legal person who does not possess a license to use or store it;

o 3.4 you attempt to reverse engineer, bypass, alter, amend, remove or otherwise make any change to any copy protection technology which may be applied to the e-book.

* 4. By purchasing an e-book, you agree for the purposes of the Consumer Protection (Distance Selling) Regulations 2000 that Black Library may commence the service (of provision of the e-book to you) prior to your ordinary cancellation period coming to an end, and that by purchasing an e-book, your cancellation rights shall end immediately upon receipt of the e-book.

* 5. You acknowledge that all copyright, trademark and other intellectual property rights in the e-book are, shall remain, the sole property of Black Library.

* 6. On termination of this license, howsoever effected, you shall immediately and permanently delete all copies of the e-book from your computers and storage media, and shall destroy all hard copies of the e-book which you have derived from the e-book.

* 7. Black Library shall be entitled to amend these terms and conditions from time to time by written notice to you.

* 8. These terms and conditions shall be governed by English law, and shall be subject only to the jurisdiction of the Courts in England and Wales.

* 9. If any part of this license is illegal, or becomes illegal as a result of any change in the law, then that part shall be deleted, and replaced with wording that is as close to the original meaning as possible without being illegal.

* 10. Any failure by Black Library to exercise its rights under this license for whatever reason shall not be in any way deemed to be a waiver of its rights, and in particular, Black Library reserves the right at all times to terminate this license in the event that you breach clause 2 or clause 3.