CADIAN BLOOD.

Imperial Guard.

Aaron Dembski-Bowden.

Dedicated to Mum and Dad, because theya'd kill me if I didna't.

It is the 41st millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the G.o.ds, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carca.s.s writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.

Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperors will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst His soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the s.p.a.ce Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their mult.i.tudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants a- and worse.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most b.l.o.o.d.y regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting G.o.ds.

PROLOGUE.

The Way a World Dies.

I.

At first there was silence.

People died, but there was no outcry. The bodies rested in noiseless repose in tower habitation spires; in the prayer rooms of great monasteries; in gutters by the sides of streets. The deaths went unnoticed. This was a world that saw ten million new pilgrims each month a- it was no stranger to off-worlders making planetfall only to die soon after.

The shrineworld of Kathur, named for the saint himself, was a beacon of faith and hope for the people of Scarus Sector. Faith flared or withered for those who came to tread the holy soil of this blessed world, seeking affirmation for lives lived without meaning. Hope flowered or died for those who landed here seeking to touch the relics of a long-dead saint and be healed of injury or illness.

When people began to die there was no planet-wide panic, no ringing sirens wailing across cities, and no distress calls to nearby worlds, crying of a devastating disease. The sickness spread, tearing through the population, but to those who watched for such things, it was just a spike in the numbers. These things happened from time to time.

A plague brought from off-world, the worlda's leaders said. Faith will scourge the taint from the righteous and pure.

No warnings. No panic.

Silence.

II.

The silence did not last long.

At the dawn of the outbreaka's second week, there were too many dead for the funeral priests to haul into the consecrated incinerators, and the Ecclesiarchy governors realised their planet was suffering no natural plague. The death toll was catastrophic, and the Kathurite acolytes traditionally tasked with funerary rites walked the streets in gangs, losing the battle to do their simple duty.

The initial astropathic cries for help reached out from Kathur. Several hundred psykers worldwide screamed their pleas into the warp, begging for a.s.sistance. Imperial forces in the sector responded to the cries for aid in impressive time: Scarus was forever the Archenemya's ripest target, and the Emperora's servants never relaxed their vigilance here. Fleets of ships powered up their engines and broke into the warp, chasing the source of the psychic screams like bloodhounds pursuing the scent of prey.

The stream of comm-channel messages and psychic transmissions from Kathur told of a plague without end, of millions already dead, of a planet dying.

The Imperium was no stranger to the Curse of Unbelief. Even now, the plague wracked dozens of worlds across Segmentum Obscuras a- but Kathur was the anomaly, the one world that broke the pattern of infection. The other infected worlds stood on the rim of the Warmastera's Black Crusade. Kathur, however, was far from the Great Eye and the systems drowning in the tides of battle.

All this death made no sense. There was no s.p.a.ceship of the Archenemy to spread the taint, no touch of heresy detected among the populace, and no sign of Chaos in the planeta's rule.

But it was the Curse.

The Curse of Unbelief ripped across the shrineworld now, taking those who lacked true faith in the G.o.d-Emperor. It rotted flesh and turned organs putrescent while the victims still lived. Many turned to suicide rather than decay in agony. Riots broke out over the planet. Funeral pyres burned endlessly, the streams of black smoke choking the sky around the largest cathedral-cities.

The Adeptus hierarchs receiving the first wave of communications from Kathur ordered the planet cut off from the Imperium at the first signs of the Curse of Unbelief. a.s.sembled in the heavens above the doomed world, a mighty fleet coalesced over the course of several days. They did not come to save the people a- they came only to stop the population evacuating. The taint, the fleet-captains knew, must never be spread. On the command decks of Imperial Navy vessels stationed in high orbit, stern-faced inquisitors oversaw the blockadea's management.

No vaccine had ever been found to ease the sufferings of the afflicted. In the words of Inquisitor Caius, as he stood on the bridge of the Gothic-cla.s.s vessel In His Name, a"We consign these souls to oblivion, for mercy now would d.a.m.n us all.a"

The blockade of Imperial Navy vessels hung in the reaches above Kathur, enforcing the quarantine with lethal vigour. Thousands of the Emperora's citizens died under the anger of Imperial guns as the blockade vessels fired on any ship fleeing the planet. It wasna't long before the attempts ceased. The people on the surface were either too ill to make the journey, or already dead.

Bizarrely, pilgrims sought to make planetfall, still wishing to walk among the cathedral-cities of the sainta's world and receive the blessing of Saint Kathur. Any attempts by pilgrim vessels to reach the surface were deterred by stern threats and the weapons batteries of Cobra-cla.s.s destroyers. Such warnings, a barefaced presentation of the Emperora's might, were enough for most ships. A single vessel had been filled with souls pious enough to run the blockade. This ship, a wallowing barge little more than a cargo hauler and packed with three hundred pilgrims, ultimately did make it down to the surface of Kathur. What remained of the ship after its brief encounter with Imperial Fury fighters flamed through the atmosphere and crashed into the western ocean.

Inquisitor Bastian Caius of the Ordo Sepulturum stayed in vox-contact with the Enforcer Marshal of Kathur, a man by the name of Bannecheck, until the very end of Imperial control. The commander of the planeta's Enforcers remained in touch with the inquisitor for seventeen days, describing the scenes of carnage and plague ravaging the surface as his men tried to retain order. Every word was recorded. Each syllable of his rhythmic cant, distorted as it was by vox interference. Through this crackling monotone, Caius learned of the erosion and breakdown of Imperial rule.

On the third day of contact, the marshal reported cults rising among the dwindling Kathur Planetary Defence Force, and of cultists within being spared the cursea's death. The Dictate Imperialis was broken, the Emperora's Law abandoned. By this time, the global law enforcement force was already effectively destroyed. It fell to the elite Enforcers to take to the streets, slaughtering cultists in a series of brutal raids on hidden strongholds.

Despite initial successes, they were doomed to fail.

On the sixth day, chanting rose from temples across the planet a- no longer in praise of the Emperor, but now pleading to the Ruinous Powers for mercy. Control across the planet was under threat, with the capital city of Solthane standing out as the final bastion of Imperial order. The Enforcers entered the cathedral districts of Solthane in unprecedented force, leading the shattered remains of still-loyal PDF and the still-living law enforcement officers. Their objective was to quell the rising cults across the planet in a decisive and d.a.m.ning half-week of fighting.

Bannecheck reported losses among his forces of ninety-three per cent on the morning of the ninth day. The cultsa' numbers were far greater than had been initially surmised. Those that were not already well-armed by the PDF defectors overcame Enforcer a.s.sault teams by sheer weight of numbers. The marshal produced evidence, in both audio and pict form, of his men dragged down and eaten by plague victims in some districts, and falling under fire from hordes of cultists in others.

Caius looked at other grey, blurry picts beamed up from the surface by Bannecheck. Here an Enforcer teama's Repressor tank flamed in the street; there a horde of plague victims surrounded a monastery filled with dying citizens.

Too many of the dead had not been destroyed. The still-living population were paying for the failure of the funereal priesthood now.

On the eleventh day, reports became increasingly choppy and erratic. The swelling cults claimed whole districts of the dying cities, each member saved from death by their new allegiance. Chaos emanations wreathed the planet, eroding all reliability in astropathic contact and paining all psychically-gifted souls aboard the blockade fleet vessels. The shipsa' Navigators and all present inquisitors had a lifetime of training to resist such invasive psychic agony, but they still suffered. The touch of Chaos infected many of those without psychic talents: incidents of homicide and apostasy broke out aboard the destroyer vessels. These were quickly crushed by inquisitor-led purges, though the Cobra destroyer Terraa's Spite was lost when the unrest within the shipa's bowels led to explosions in the enginarium. Three hundred souls lost, and the wreckage rained on the cathedral cities below a- a storm of fire from the heavens.

The inquisitors ordered the blockade into a higher orbit after the shipboard purges were complete. Kathur was now an unholy beacon within the warp, and proximity to the foulness sweeping the planet was deemed a moral threat to the Naval crews. Small cl.u.s.ters of destroyers...o...b..ted the planet in shifts, then broke away to allow others their turn. No captain wished to risk his men becoming tainted by the Archenemya's emanations rising from the doomed world below.

On the seventeenth day, the horde of curse victims besieging the Enforcer precinct headquarters battered down the final barricades, and the handful of still-living black-armoured peacekeepers fell. Inquisitor Caius recorded the Enforcer Marshala's final words for Ordo Sepulturum records.

a"We will stand before the Throne and we will not flinch before His judgement, for we die doing our duty.a" The inquisitor could hear the moistness of the mana's lips in each word. The marshal had been dying, coughing up mouthfuls of diseased blood. He finished with a strained a"The Emperor protects.a"

In truth, there had been more, but Caius deleted the mana's final oaths cried in agony and the wails of the plague victims in the room. Some stories didna't need to be told.

With the blockade in place, there was talk of Exterminatus, of bombarding the world from s.p.a.ce in the name of the Emperor. Such discussion was quickly quenched. Orbital bombardment would not be sanctioned: the damage to the planeta's precious architecture, as well as the loss of so many relics, would be the gravest sin. To use virus bombs would destroy all hope of resettlement for months to come, without guaranteeing the final deaths of the plague victims. To use cyclonic torpedoes would ravage the planet on the tectonic level a- blasphemy beyond belief.

So Kathur was allowed to die.

III.

Preparations were made on worlds elsewhere in Scarus Sector. The talk of outbreaks, quarantines and blockades became plans for invasion. Weeks pa.s.sed before these preparations bore fruit, but for all its slowness, the Imperial war machine was a relentless beast. How did this happen?

The question raged through the orbiting fleet, and through the echelons of Imperial rule that were even allowed to become aware of the situation. Nothing made sense. No response seemed without myriad flaws. The shrineworld was precious beyond reckoning, yet had fallen without cause. Elsewhere, under the shadow of the Warmastera's new crusade, all worlds falling to the plague had been besieged, a.s.saulted, or otherwise corrupted by the ma.s.s presence of Archenemy vessels.

With Kathur, there had been nothing but silence.

At last, it was decided. Regiments of Imperial Guard were withdrawn from the greater war effort around the Eye of Terror, and a.s.signed as the vanguard to a larger force of conquest. This blasphemy would not be tolerated. This desecration would not be allowed to stand.

In the heavens above the shrineworld, a small fleet of hulking ships drew close, falling into a restful orbit. The blockade of destroyers scattered to the warp, leaving their ward in the care of these new arrivals, the troopships of the Imperial Guard.

One other vessel of note broke from warp s.p.a.ce and glided into orbit alongside these monumental troop transports: a strike cruiser of the Adeptus Astartes, black as death in the night, bearing the marble corvid sigil of the Raven Guard. The fleet drew close to the planet, casting colossal shadows as the great ships blocked out the sun on the world below.

The Kathur Reclamation was underway. The Imperium of Man had come to take back its holy world.

Among the silent cathedrals and towering monasteries on the surface, the months-dead population sensed the presence of the Emperora's servants. They looked up, staring, waiting.

As the first troop transports came through the cloud cover, all over the planet a great cry was raised. The voices of fifty million dead men, women and children rose to the sky in a long and tortured chorus.

Words of Truth The Eagle & Bolter The Kathur Reclamation has commenced!

The following regiments of His Most Glorious Majestya's Imperial Guard and supporting forces are committed to retaking the shrineworld from the hated Archenemy: Vednikan 12th Rifles 303rd Uriah 25th Kiridian Irregulars Ja.n.u.s 6th 3rd Skarran Rangers Hadris Rift 40th Armoured Cadian 88th Mechanised Infantry Half a company of the Emperora's beloved Raven Guard Astartes Chapter.

Agents of His Divine Majestya's Holy Inquisition a- the Ordo Sepulturum.

Reports from Lord General Maggrig sent directly to the Eagle & Bolter cite that the initial troop landings are complete with minimal casualties and all resistance to date utterly destroyed. The main force of the Reclamation is due to arrive in several weeks.

The 25th Kiridian Irregulars are to be commended for their valiant defence last week of a vital communications tower in the capital city of Solthane. The Kiridians fought a heroic battle lasting several days, ultimately defeating the diseased dregs of the Kathur Planetary Defence Force (the so-called a"Remnanta") a.s.sailing their position. Casualties were light.

The Ja.n.u.s 6th has pressed deep into enemy-held territory, securing a monastery dedicated to the Holy G.o.d-Emperor.

Even as we go to press, they crush all remnants of the PDF that seek to oust their successful beachhead in Solthane.

The Cadian 88th Mechanised Infantry, proudly boasting a captain bearing the Ward of Cadia medal for his valour in the opening engagements of the Thirteenth Black Crusade, is tasked in the coming days to a.s.sist in the Ja.n.u.siansa' defiant infiltration.

Forward, the Ja.n.u.s 6th!

The Emperor protects!.

Part I.

Curse of Unbelief.

CHAPTER I.

Unbroken.

a"Wea're the Cadian Shock. In our veins beats the blood of a thousand generations of the Imperiuma's most devoted guardians. Wea'll never again see blasphemy as black as that which we face on this world. Take solace in that, sons of the Emperor. After this war, no duty will ever seem as dark.a"

a-Captain Parmenion Thade, first day of the Kathur Reclamation Solthane, Capital city of Kathur a"The Ja.n.u.s 6th is dead.a"

Vertain sat in his Sentinela's creaking c.o.c.kpit seat, monitoring the walkera's primitive scanner displays and staring out of the vision slits in the vehiclea's armoured front. Several hundred metres in the distance, through the buildings either side of the street, he saw the monastery burning. A pillar of orange rage and black smoke choked the sky, and he couldna't even report it to those who needed to know.

As recon missions went, this one was looking to end pretty badly. Vertain looked at his auspex display again, checking where the rest of his patrol group was. It looked fine. It felt like they were screwed, because Vertain was d.a.m.n sure this night was going to end in bloodshed, but tactically speaking, his Sentinel squadron were in perfect formation as they stalked and scouted the abandoned streets.

Ahead, the colossal monastery still burned. The captain had warned about this, d.a.m.n it. Hea'd said the Ja.n.u.s 6th was walking into their deaths.

And now the vox was b.i.t.c.hing around again. Nothing ever worked right on this d.a.m.n planet. The citya's silence amplified the rattling clank of his Sentinela's ungainly stride, and that didna't exactly help Vertaina's hearing, but the comms being screwed to the Eye and back were the main issue. Vox-ghosts, lost signals, channels slipping, vox-casters detuning h.e.l.l, theya'd seen it all on Kathur so far.

a"Insurgency Walker C-Eighty-Eight Primus-Alpha,a" the voice came over the vox again in a tone of agonising calm. a"Repeat, please.a"

This was a problem. The only half-reliable vox-channel Vertain had been able to use through Kathura's interference was a route back to main headquarters. Main headquarters was three dozen kilometres away in the wrong direction. Help wasna't coming from there, and they werena't the ones that needed to be told about this development just yet a- even if they couldna't already tell from orbital surveillance. Other ears needed to hear it now.

To make matters worse, they apparently had an idiot manning the forward recon channel tonight. So far Vertain had managed to relay his ID code, and that was about it. Hea'd been trying for over five minutes. a"Interference or not Youa'd think they coulda've boosted the signal by now. Ia'll bet a yeara's pay this b.a.s.t.a.r.d isna't Cadian.a"

a"This is Scout-Lieutenant Adar Vertain of the Cadian 88th. I am leading the recon mission to a.s.sess the progress of the Ja.n.u.s 6th. Put me through to Captain Parmenion Thade.a" He spilled out the rough coordinates where the rest of the regiment was based in the city for the night.

a"Repeat, please.a"

Vertain brought his walker to a halt. It stood in the dead street, juddering as its engine idled. The spotlight beamed forward into nothingness, slicing into a dark alley between two silent buildings. This city was a tomb.

a"In the name of the Emperor, the Ja.n.u.s 6th is up to its neck in it. Get me a vox-link to my captain, immediately.a"

a"Insurgency Walker C-Eighty-Eight Primus-Alpha. Your signal is weak. Repeat, please.a"

Vertain swore, and killed the link. a"I hate this planet.a"

Control sticks gripped in gloved hands, Vertain pushed forward and set the noisy Sentinel clanking ahead in a slow stride of graceless machinery. The searchlight bolted to the cheek of the walkera's pilot pod tore left and right in the darkness, cutting a harsh white glare through the deserted streets.

Abandoned buildings. Bodies here and there. Nothing but silence.

Vertain was unshaven, as if hea'd spent so much time hiding within his Sentinela's c.o.c.kpit that hea'd not had the opportunity to shave in a week. This wasna't too far from the truth.

a"Vertain to Dead Mana's Hand. Acknowledge signal.a" Four voices came back in turn as each member of the Sentinel squadron voxed to their officer. No one was dead. That was something, at least. a"Form up in parallel streets and proceed to the main plaza ahead. Stalking pattern: Viridian. Tonight wea're the Emperora's eyes, not his fists.a"

a"Acknowledge pattern: Viridian,a" came three of the four voices.

a"Copy that. No heroics,a" came the last.

The Sentinels, scattered but each within scanner range of all four others, strode towards the burning monastery. Occasional gunfire rang out as they annihilated small groups of plague-slain, destroying the tainted dead that clung to false life, roving the streets in packs.

Splayed claw-feet of battered, blessed iron stomped on the smooth stone roads. Vertain rode with the gentle side-to-side motion of his Sentinela's gait, as familiar to him as standing in his own boots.