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The Moon-Mines of Sciara Lone – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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THE MOON-MINES OF SCIARA LONE

by Danie Ware

Falling to its death, the Heart of Devotion shone.

The freighter tilted, nose down. It tumbled slowly, slowly, silent and serene. It offered no wake, no smoke, no flame, only the reflected gleam of the closest star. Like some great and failing creature, it sank towards the gas giant and the bright clouds of hydrogen below.

If its machine-spirit sang, the Sisters could not hear it.

Watching it from the Arvus, Sister Augusta raised her own voice, the words of the Requiem led by Sister Superior Veradis. The Heart had been taking them home, back to Ophelia VII, but a breach in its hull had proved irreparable. Through its tunnels, hounded by vox-cries and klaxons, by flaring red lumens and by hissing, failing seals, the squad had done everything they could to evacuate the crew. And now they hung still, watching as the Heart finally perished.

Dies irae, dies illa.

Augusta knew they had not evacuated everyone. They had simply not had enough time, enough hands. Many had taken to the saviour pods, many more to the shuttles, but not all… not even nearly. And so she sang, not only for the ship, but for those souls still aboard who would meet His grace, and soon. She prayed that they died with courage, their chins lifted.

‘God-Emperor who sees all,

Who saves those who are to be saved…’

Beside her, Sister Lucienne paused in her hymnal. In a shocked tone, she said, ‘Look!’

Still singing, Augusta followed where her Sister was indicating. The next line of the Requiem came out like an exclamation.

‘Guard us, O fount of courage!’

Out there, across the star-specked void and half hidden by the vast, striped glow of the planet, there rose a single moon. It was big, perfectly round, its curved edge glittering.

‘Once the accursed have been silenced,

Sentenced to acrid flames…’

‘Truly, He has blessed us,’ Veradis said. There was an unusual note in her voice, something Augusta did not quite recognise. ‘Pilot, can you scan the satellite?’

The convoy of shuttles hung poised and waiting.

After a moment, the pilot’s voice came back: ‘Sister Superior, we are saved!’ He seemed amazed, overwhelmed. ‘Truly, this is His design. He has shown us to aid!’

‘The moon has a colony?’

‘Miners, Sister. The data’s incoming now.’ The vox crackled and jumped as the pilot gathered the information. ‘Population estimate in excess of ten thousand. There’s a full city here – a landing pad big enough to handle the shuttles, an artificially generated atmosphere…’ He paused, seemed almost on the edge of weeping. ‘Our prayers have been answered – He is with us, He has guided us. I have coordinates to land!’

‘He is always with us, pilot,’ Veradis said, her tone severe. ‘Please forward all data to my slate.’

‘Yes, Sister Superior.’

The vox cut out, leaving Augusta and Lucienne exchanging a glance, both of them now singing, radiant with faith and thankfulness.

‘Call us thus with the blessed!’

Veradis said nothing further, but took up the hymnal once more. The Sisters’ words chimed out to the convoy of waiting shuttles, to the souls still upon the Heart. Below them now, the huge ship slipped gently between the planet’s clouds. There was no oxygen in the planet’s atmosphere, no detonation, no flare of flame to mark the passing of the great ship’s machine-spirit.

And the Heart of Devotion died without a sound.

‘Maintain your vigilance, Sisters,’ Veradis said. She offered no explanation, just the command.

‘Yes, Sister Superior.’

Augusta, her red armour sealed and her helm back on, moved down the Arvus’ ramp. Around them the landing pad was bleak, all black rock and dark ferrocrete. Great swathes of cables writhed across the floor; control panels gleamed, their lights in glittering colours. As the massive steel doors began to close, dirt rose in brief, angry spirals. It glittered in the overhead lumens, spattering and scraping on the outside of their armour.

And then, at the final, echoing slam, it fell back to the floor.

‘Sister Superior Veradis.’

Striding down the hangar ramp to meet her, his boots ringing from filth-blackened metal, came a lean, rangy man, his face lined, his hair greying and tied back. He wore long boots, a casual jacket and an ingratiating smile. A wide-eyed aide walked with him, and two heavier figures, both armed.

‘Governor Ido.’

Veradis, it seemed, had scanned all the information she’d been sent. She was helm-off, but her arms were folded, her stance wary.

‘Truly, your colony is His blessing.’

‘We’re a way off the main routes, Sister.’ Ido was relaxed, affable. Completely unintimidated – apparently – by five fully armed Adepta Sororitas. Looking out over the shuttles, he said, ‘How many of you?’

‘We lost the saviour pods to the planet’s gravity well,’ Veradis told him, her tone not changing. ‘My squad are five. The crew number seventy-two, many with injuries. They will need quarters, and medical care. And I will need access to your chapel, and to your vox-array or astropath. If you would be so kind.’

It wasn’t a request.

‘Of course, of course.’ Stopping at the ramp’s end, he offered her the sign of the aquila. ‘Ave Imperator, Sisters. Your presence is an honour. We have a fully outfitted hospice here, and we’re very happy to care for your crew.’

Gravely, Veradis returned the salute.

Knowing her Sister Superior, Augusta saw the flicker of stiffness that passed across Veradis’ armoured shoulders. It was more than just wary; she seemed disapproving of the man’s unusually cavalier attitude. Yet her vox was silent and whatever she was thinking, she did not give it voice.

Augusta prayed for guidance, clarity. Show me to the Light.

Matching the governor’s conversational tone, Veradis said, ‘Your colony are miners?’

‘Promethium, Sister.’ Ido waved a glib hand, freely offering the information. ‘Our mine workings are extensive. I’m happy to show you, if you’d like to see His work being done?’

‘I must first offer thanks for our deliverance,’ Veradis told him. ‘And pray for the souls of those we lost. Those with me here are the crew of the Heart of Devotion, and the servants of the Holy Ecclesiarchy. You will give them treatment, and rest.’

‘Of course,’ he said again. ‘Luca’ – he indicated the aide – ‘will see your crew to the hospice. And if you’ll allow me, Sisters, I’ll show you to the chapel myself.’

Behind them, a sudden blare of klaxons announced the crack and rumble of the doors. They parted like an opening maw, jagged teeth on both sides. Beyond them lay the huge, shining curve of the planet, and the hanging silhouette of a waiting shuttle. Dust spat, spinning in angry tornadoes. Landing lights flared, servitors and workers ran to clear the area. The signals officer gestured directions, showing the inward route.

‘The field emitters maintain the atmosphere!’ Shouting over the noise, Ido was gesturing at the guards, one to walk with him, the other with the aide. ‘The traffic is constant, and this is a perilous place to be standing! If you would please follow me?’

Veradis gave him a curt nod and the squad fell into double file, the Sister Superior at their head, Emlyn and Leona behind her, Augusta and Lucienne at the rear. The aide, Luca, fell back to speak to the crew.

Still murmuring her prayer, Augusta paused, her gaze on the incoming vessel. The Heart’s shuttles were still moving, lifting off the pads to leave the space for any incoming traffic. The arriving vehicle was an Aquila, black and trimmed in silver; it was a planet-lit outline, carrying no insignia that she could see. Carefully, it hovered, turned, then settled in the nearest circle of lights.

She eyed it for a moment. It seemed wrong, and she couldn’t work out why.

‘Sister,’ Lucienne said across the squad vox. ‘You must keep up.’

Conscious of her lapse in discipline, she ran up the ramp. At its top, the doorway was an open arch of stone, leading out to a plain, rocky corridor. Neat lines of lumens were joined by tidy wires, and signs offered directions – entrances and exits, numerous landing pads, areas for security or processing.

How big was this place?

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A Black Library Publication

First published in Great Britain in 2021 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Represented by: Games Workshop Limited – Irish branch, Unit 3, Lower Liffey Street, Dublin 1,D01 K199, Ireland.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Akim Kaliberda.

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ISBN: 978-1-80026-720-6

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