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Nightsider Imperialis – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Nightsider Imperialis

Victoria Hayward

Major Wulf Khan was choking on bone dust and dirt.

The blast from the t’au bomber had smashed through the jungle canopy like the burning fist of Him-on-Terra and rolled her violently along the ground. Her vision had flashed through a filthy kaleidoscope of blood and loam and starlight before she was slammed to a halt. The trees around her were shredded like parchment, ringing a bare clearing seared into the night-forest that glowed orange-hot in the darkness like the grave of a star.

Khan spat. Clambering to her feet, she wiped a hand across her mouth. The stench of burning forest, xenos incendiaries and copper blood filled her nostrils.

The explosion had torn her squad apart. More than half of her fellow Catachans were dead, or dying. Khan stared. A moment ago, she had been leading them quietly through the dusk jungle. Now she stood on the precipice of a small, burning hell that had been neatly punched out of reality. She felt the soles of her boots melting into the ground. One of the troopers on the blast’s edge was somehow still alive. He knelt despite the fact that half of his skull was missing, emitting a wet moan from cavernous, exposed nasal cavities.

Khan looked down at her hands. They were trembling with adrenaline, their usual brown colour char-blackened. Don’t think about the dead, she thought. The survivors need you. She slapped her blast-numbed ears. Focus. Think past the stench of cooked bone, and remember what you need to do.

Through the fug of shock, she heard the t’au bomber whining back around to take another pass. The bastards must be using thermal signals. The Imperium relied on abhuman nightsiders to navigate Nectria’s dark skies, but the xenos were always one step ahead.

She heard a call from behind her and turned to see three of her troopers standing thirty feet away.

‘Adair!’ she shouted to the nearest soldier. ‘Get everyone clear.’

Khan drew her plasma pistol, its blue coils glowing bright, and forced herself to look at the ruined soldier kneeling in front of her. Blood and saliva bubbled down his uniform vest. It might have been Trooper Frost, but he was so badly disfigured she wasn’t sure. As the whine of the returning bomber closed in, she shot him.

His sightless face was obliterated immediately into a burst of pink mist, his agony ended in an instant.

And if the t’au were hunting them via heat signatures, her plasma weapon would have lit up a beacon that would draw the bastards to her location. It might just save Adair and the other survivors. No guarantees, but it was the best she could do.

The sound of the t’au bomber became a scream as it appeared overhead. It was as sleek and spiritless as all t’au machines, the pulse bomb generator beneath the plane glowing brightly as it prepared to drop its payload. Khan exhaled heavily. The jungle called all Catachans home sooner or later. Now was her time. She’d had a longer run than most.

Then a Lightning Strike roared overhead, lascannon fire spearing through the floating ash. It dropped on the enemy plane like a falcon. Even as the Imperial fighter burst off a Hellstrike missile at the enemy, it pitched backward into a vector-thrust up and away, out of the t’au’s firing solution.

Khan felt a swell of satisfaction as the side of the t’au craft ruptured. It spiralled away, trailing smoke, ion cannons firing wildly. Khan dived to the ground as the beams strafed through the jungle. She watched horrified as the Lightning Strike was struck in the fuselage, strips of metal shearing away instantly. Its engines choked, and the plane lurched downward. Khan watched as the pilot somehow pulled the wounded bird into a slow dive. It skimmed low over the forest, greasy black smoke gouting from the cockpit, then disappeared into the treeline about a mile away.

The t’au bomber juddered off in the opposite direction, the engine emitting a high whine and flame-flicker as it did. Back to its masters, Khan thought, heart pounding.

‘They didn’t like that, sir,’ Trooper Adair called, swaggering out of the undergrowth, six foot seven of muscle and insolence. Her strong jaw and handsome face would have made her the perfect poster-soldier for a thousand recruiting drives if it wasn’t for her habitual smirk. As it was, Adair was exactly the sort of brash thug that other regiments imagined all Catachans were.

‘I told you to leave,’ Khan said.

‘We did, sir. Until the Navy turned up.’ Adair ran a hand through her white-blonde crop and jerked her chin skyward. ‘That looked like a dark plane to me.’

Khan swore. If they’d lost an intelligence spotter, the t’au would be trying to recover it first.

‘Is the vox operational?’ Khan called.

‘Yes, sir.’ Trooper Green jogged over to Khan and slung the heavy unit down. Communications were patchy on Nectria, but the young Catachan had a way with the kit.

‘Search frequencies,’ Khan said. ‘Let’s see if that pilot survived.’

Another soldier approached, coming to a stop beside the vox-unit. Khan nodded at Trooper Bass, who had his customary surly expression fixed in place. Despite his dour demeanour, Khan rated his general effectiveness.

Green looked up from the vox-unit, eyebrows raised. ‘I have her.’

Khan nodded. ‘Major Wulf Khan to downed Lightning Strike. Status report.’

There was a moment of silence, then a distorted voice blared out. ‘This is Lance-Corporal Nirael Roth, identifier Nightwatch Two-Six-Seven. Request immediate recovery of intelligence.’

‘You got any coordinates for us?’

‘No. But there’s a natural beacon for you. My aircraft is on fire.’

Khan barked out a laugh. ‘Hold fast, lance-corporal. We’re coming for you.’ She gestured to Green. ‘Get me General Klimt.’

Green held out the receiver.

‘General,’ Khan said. ‘We’ve a downed spotter. T’au in pursuit. Diverting to intercept.’

‘Aircraft identifier?’ the general said, clipped Mordian vowels hissing over the vox.

‘Nightwatch Two-Six-Seven.’

There was a pause. Over the vox distortion, Khan heard the low mutter of speech from orderlies back in the command room.

‘Leave it, Khan. You’re to return to base.’

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