Read Online Helsreach by Aaron Dembski-Bowden - Free Book Online Page A

granted— said twelve voices at once.
    The crackling edge of the maul remained motionless, no more than a finger’s thickness above the lead skitarii’s skull. A small spark of electrical force snapped at the soldier’s face from the armed power weapon, forcing him to recoil.
    —Access granted— they all intoned a second time.
    Grimaldus deactivated his crozius hammer and shoved the augmented human soldiers aside.
    ‘That is what I thought you would say.’
    The journey was short and uneventful, through narrow corridors and ascending in elevator shafts, until they stood outside the sealed bulkhead doors of the bridge. The process of reaching the control deck involved a great deal of silently staring tech-adepts, their green-lens replacement eyes rotating and refocusing, either scanning or in some eerie mimicry of human facial expressions.
    The interior of the Titan was dark, too dark for unaugmented humans to work by, lit by the kind of emergency-red lighting the knights had only seen before in bunkers and ships at war. Their gene-enhanced eyes would have pierced the gloom with ease, even without the vision filters of their helm’s visors.
    No guards stood outside the large double bulkhead leading onto the command deck, and the doors themselves slid open on clunking rails as the knights waited.
    Artarion gripped Grimaldus’s scroll-draped paul dron.
    ‘Make this count, brother.’
    The Chaplain looked at the bearer of his war banner through the silver face of his slain master.
    ‘Trust me.’
    The command deck was a circular bay, with a raised dais in the centre surrounded by five ornate and heavily-cabled thrones. At the edges of the chamber, robed tech-adepts worked at consoles filled with a dizzying array of levers, dials and buttons.
    Two vast windows offered a grand view across the harsh landscape. With a shiver of realisation, Grimaldus knew he was looking out from the god-machine’s eyes.
    Upon the dais itself, a huge, clear-glass tank stood supported by humming machinery. Within its milky depths floated a naked crone, ravaged by her years and the bionics necessary to sustain her life under such conditions. She stared through bug-eyed augmetic replacements where her human eyes once were.
    ‘Greetings, Astartes,’ the vox-speakers built into her coffin spoke.
    ‘Princeps Majoris,’ Grimaldus nodded to the swimming husk. ‘An honour to stand in your presence.’
    There was a distinct pause before she replied, though her gaze never left him. ‘You are keen to speak with me. Waste no time on pleasantries. Stormherald wakes, and soon I must walk. Speak.’
    ‘I am told by one of this Titan’s pilots, as an ambassador to Helsreach, that Invigilata may not walk in our defence.’
    Again, the pause.
    ‘This is so. I command one-third of this Legio. The rest already walks in defence of the Hemlock region, many with your brothers, the Salamanders. Do you come to petition me for my portion of mighty Invigilata?’
    ‘I do not beg, princeps. I came to see you with my own eyes and ask you, face to face, to fight and die with us.’
    The withered woman smiled, the expression both maternal and amused.
    ‘But you have not yet completed your intended duty, Astartes.’
    ‘Is that so?’
    This time, the pause was longer. The old woman laughed within her bubbling tank. ‘We are not face to face.’
    The knight reached up to his armoured collar, disengaging the seals there.
    Without my helm, the scent of sacred oils and the chemical-rich tang of her amniotic tank are much stronger. The first thing she says to me is something I am not sure how to respond to.
    ‘You have very kind eyes.’
    Her own eyes are long-removed from her skull, the sockets covered by these bulbous lenses that twist as she watches me. I cannot return the comment she made, and I do not know what else I could say.
    So I say nothing.
    ‘What is your name?’
    ‘Grimaldus of the Black Templars.’
    ‘Now we are face to face, Grimaldus of the