And for what？
He hadn't fired a shot in anger in ten years！
In truth； he was bored。
Hawke was a hellraiser。 He wanted some action； a chance to show his stuff。 He picked up his rifle and shouldered it； imagining
some alien raider in his sights。
'Bang bang； you're dead；' he whispered； spinning and squeezing off more imaginary shots at his imaginary enemies。
He should be so lucky。 He chuckled to himself and put down the rifle； having won the battle。
Yeah； right； he thought。
THE HUNTER WHO was about to kill Guardsmen Hitch and Charedo had been stealthily approaching the surveyor station in the
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
darkness for the last hour； his enhanced vision turning night into day。
His name was Honsou and in the last hour he had advanced two hundred metres on his belly； centimetre by centimetre； the autosenses
in his helmet alerting him to the surveyor sweeps of the armoured bunker。 Each time his earpiece growled a warning he
would freeze as the questing spirits of the ancient machinery sought him out。
The other members of his squad were invisible to him； but he knew that they too were slowly approaching the station。 Two of
their targets had left the bunker。 Were they hunting？ Was it just a regular patrol or had someone inside the bunker caught
something suspicious on their surveyors？ Briefly； he wondered if the soldier within had reported yet。
Probably not； he thought； as he watched the two morons blunder about in the dust storm。 They'd passed within a metre of his
position as they headed to where they thought their quarry was； making enough noise to stampede a herd of grox。
Hopefully the third soldier in the surveyor station was as pathetic as these two。 He had waited； watching them wander aimlessly
for nearly half an hour before seeming to come to the conclusion that their hunt was fruitless； and beginning the trek back。
They stumbled away and Honsou wondered again how the Imperium had lasted for the last ten thousand years with men like these
defending it。 Would that all the False Emperor's soldiers were like them。
Slowly； he followed them； making better time on his belly than his prey did on foot until he was practically on top of them。 He
was now less than seven metres from the bunker's rear； and only； door。
He shivered as he saw the stubby； multiple barrels of the rear…mounted assault cannon and took a deep breath。
Patience。 He had to wait until they entered the code and opened the door。
Still flat on his stomach； he pulled his bolt pistol from its insulated holster and worked the action； chambering a round。 The storm
easily swallowed the noise。 He flicked off the safety and waited。
His targets entered the sheltered lee of the bunker and the tallest of the pair began punching the entry code into the keypad。
Honsou sighted on the soldier nearest him； lining the fore and back sight precisely on the gap between the man's helmet and flak
jacket。 He exhaled slowly； calming his breathing； preparing to shoot。
Everything faded from his perceptions。 Everything except the shot。
The code was almost entered。 His finger tightened on the trigger。 His vision narrowed to a tunnel； following the path his bolt
would take。
HAWKE GRIMACED AS the door to the bunker slid jerkily open； draining away the little heat left in the listening post。 Why the hell
didn't they put a two…door approach system on these places？ Not just for the security； but to keep the warmth in。
He glanced at the external pict…display as the door slid further open and did a slow double…take as the wind dropped and the
swirling dust abated。 Behind Charedo he saw a huge armoured figure with a raised pistol。
Without a second thought he leapt for the emergency door override and slammed it down。
The roaring of the wind drowned the first shot。
Hawke heard a second； followed by two dull thuds。 He swore； seeing Hitch and Charedo slump to the ground； gaping craters
where their faces had been。
He grabbed the handle of the rear cannon and yanked the trigger hard。 He swung the gun from side to side； not aiming； just
shooting。 The roar of the cannon was deafening； the rattling of spent shells ringing from the grey walls。
The supersonic shells blew up a storm； churning the mud and earth outside to atoms as thousands of rounds turned the area before
him into a death…trap； shredding anything within its arc of fire。
He screamed as he fired。 He didn't know whether he was hitting anything and didn't much care。
'You just messed with the wrong guy！' he yelled。
Dust blew in his face； filling his mouth and he angrily spat it clear。 Then he–
Dust？ He glanced quickly at the door。
Oh no…
Hitch's body was blocking it； preventing it from closing。
Indecision tore at him。 Door or cannon？
'Damn you； Hitch！' he shouted and jumped down from the cannon's firing step。 He grabbed Hitch's headless corpse and pulled；
hauling his former squadmate inside； out of the door's path。
A shape loomed up out of the dust。 He fell back as a bullet tore across his shoulder。
Hawke screamed and snatched up Hitch's fallen rifle as a giant shape loomed in the doorway。
He fired the rifle； laughing as his shot punched into the figure's chest。 The massive silhouette reeled； but didn't fall。 Hawke
unloaded the remainder of the power cell through the door； shot after shot。 He laughed as he finally managed to pull Hitch's body
inside the bunker and slammed himself against the door…closing handle。
'Ha！ Get in now； you fraggers！' he shouted at the closing door； whooping with excitement。
Something clattered on the ground as the door finally shut and the laughter died in his throat as he saw the two gently spinning
grenades at his feet。
'Oh no…' he whispered。
Instinctively he kicked out； sending them skittering across the sloping floor to the grenade sump； a deep and narrow trench cut
into the floor at the wall of the listening post for just such an emergency。 The first grenade dropped into the sump； but the second
bounced clear； rolling back towards him。
Dropping everything； he sprinted for cover behind the vox…panel。
The grenade exploded。
Fire and shrapnel； blinding light and ringing eardrums。 Blood and noise as the bunker became a raging inferno。
Guardsman Hawke screamed as fire and whickering fragments lashed his body。 The force of the explosion picked him up and
slammed him against the wall of the listening post。
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
Bright lights sunburst before his eyes and pain swallowed him whole。 He had time to scream once before the pressure wave
snatched the breath from his lungs； slamming his head into the wall and taking the pain away。
As THE DUST settled； Honsou stepped across the shattered threshold and surveyed the devastated remains of the bunker。 Blood
clotted on his chest where the Guardsman had shot him。
But that was the least of his concerns。 The Imperial lackey had turned his carefully planned assault into a bloodbath。
Two of his men were dead； blown away in the first roar of the assault cannon。
A couple of grenades into the bunker had silenced the cannon； however。 Frags weren't the most powerful grenades； but contained
within the cramped confines of this bunker they had been devastating。
He kicked the blackened； smouldering corpse of the Guardsman； venting his frustration on the dead body。 He ducked below the
lintel of the bunker； black smoke pouring from its interior； and stood erect。 Almost as tall as the bunker； Honsou was a giant of a
warrior。 He was clad in power armour the colour of burnished iron； its surfaces pitted and scored by three months of living in the
hostile environment of Hydra Cordatus。 He wiped the dust clogging his visor and engaged the illuminator on his shoulder。 The
powerful glow cast a stark light across his armour； shadowing his moulded breastplate and the symbol of the Iron Warriors on his
right shoulder guard。
He crunched through the dust and trained his gaze further down the mountains towards the spaceport。 He could barely make it out
through the dust clouds； and knew the storm was beginning to blow itself out。 They must move quickly。
He had lost two men； but； in the end； he supposed it did not matter。 With two listening posts down； they now had a narrow blindspot
running towards the spaceport and he had more than enough men to successfully complete his mission。
He voxed the remainder of his warriors。
'We are clear now。 All teams close on me and move out。'
TWO
JERICHO FALLS SPACEPORT squatted at the foot of the mountains； a glowing beacon of light in the greyness of the dust storm。 Such
storms were not uncommon on Hydra Cordatus； and were just one of the unpleasant phenomenon that simply had to be endured。
A typical Imperial military establishment； it boasted a collection of three dozen buildings； ranging from armoured hangars for
Marauder and Lightning aircraft； fuel stations and mess halls to barracks and maintenance sheds。 The landing strips and hardened
runways covered over eighty per cent of the ground enclosed by the three metre high perimeter walls； enough to land or launch an
entire attack wing of aircraft in under five minutes。 Vast supply shuttles； each capable of landing a Battle Titan； could be handled
by the base； though it had been many years since anything larger than a Thunderhawk gunship had availed itself of the facilities。
The command post of the spaceport was housed in what was known by the soldiers as ''The Hope''； due to an oft…repeated mantra
amongst the Guardsmen stationed on Hydra Cordatus that they hoped not to pull duty at Jericho Falls。 A thick； armoured tower
with a flattened disc on top； set on the northern edge of the landing fields； the Hope was protected by reinforced rockcrete walls；
which in turn were plated in sheets of adamantium specially commissioned from the shipyards of Calth。 Howling winds swept
across the open ground of the base； whipping the abrasive dust into every fold and crease of a soldier's uniform； getting into
mouths and behind goggles to choke and blind。
The only way in or out of the Hope was through an adamantium door that required four gigantic pistons to open。
Five companies of the Jouran Dragoons were stationed here； housed in reinforced barracks and a hardened hangar。 Green and red
lights winked on the numerous landing platforms and runways； and powerful arc lights fought to penetrate the swirling dust and
illuminate the outer perimeter of the base。 Patrol vehicles； their engines modified to resist the intake of dust； circled the base； their
headlights feebly piercing the gloom。
THE ATMOSPHERE WITHIN the Hope was subdued。 This close to dawn was always slow； no different from any other time of the
day。 An hour before the shift change； the staff were tired and restless。 The soft ticking of logic engines and hushed conversations
with patrolling vehicles and soldiers were the only sounds。
Operator Three； Koval Peronus； rubbed his grainy eyes and took a hit of caffeine。 It was cold； but did the job。 Once again he
leaned towards the vox…panel。
'Listening post Sigma IV； come in please；' he said。 A burst of static was his only answer。 He checked the time。 It had been two
hours and ten minutes since Hawke's last check…in。 He was late。 Again。
'Listening post Sigma IV； come in。 Hawke； I know you're there； so pick up