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Sacrifice – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Sacrifice

Danie Ware

The detonation hit the Aquila like the fist of a Titan.

The lander bucked and shuddered with the force of the strike. Alarms blared, lights flashed, but there was no need for the warnings…

One of the vehicle’s engines coughed, guttered and died.

The pilot cried, ‘We’re hit!’

And then they were slewing sideways, broken, tumbling from the sky. Never one for heights, Augusta felt her stomach slam hard into the back of her throat.

Throne!

Caught, helpless, the Sister Superior controlled both nausea and outburst. She barked the order ‘Helmets on!’ and braced herself in her seat, praying for the pilot’s courage, and for the little machine-spirit that was guiding them down to the chem-hell below. Her squad were in full armour, and should survive a crash – but their charge, the Hospitaller Cerene, was not.

In the ruddy flash of the lights, however, the woman’s round, tanned face was completely calm. She held her bolter and case in her lap, and she too prayed, her faith in the God-Emperor complete.

Thankful for the Hospitaller’s composure, Augusta breathed the Litany over the vox.

‘From the lightning and the tempest…’

Around her, her Sisters took up the prayer.

‘Our Emperor, deliver us!’

And they plunged.

Wind screamed. Something struck the shuttle’s hull, clattering backwards along its body. A burst of turbulence caught at them, making them lurch and bounce. And then they were smashing, nose down, through a series of obstacles – roofs, fences, pipes, chimneys, they had no way of knowing. A long rent tore in one side, and air and dust were sucked out through the gap. Cargo banged, rattled, fell. Still praying, the Sisters clung to their seats as the shuttle picked up speed, careering downwards, wild and lopsided.

Its remaining engine screeched in protest.

The pilot’s voice came through the vox, cursing viciously. ‘Hold on!’ he said. ‘We’re going… shit!’

Something struck them, head-on, throwing them forwards in their seats.

Augusta continued to pray, striving to ignore the sickness, the knot in her throat. They were slowing now, and they bounced, twisted, rocked, skidded. The pilot was still swearing.

For a split second of pure tension, the injured Aquila seemed to stop, to hang in mid-air…

Domine libra nos!

And then it crashed, broken and belly down, dropping like a dead thing upon the planet’s surface.

Around the Sister Superior, there was stillness.

No alarms, no lights.

Smoke billowed, thick and black and full of grit. From somewhere, spark-flashes spasmed, tiny fragments of fire that lit crumpled steel, bent supports, fallen cargo…

But, by His grace and mercy, they were alive. They had landed safely.

A prayer under her breath, Augusta was already moving, reaching for her bolter with one hand, her seat-harness with the other. ‘Sisters,’ she said. ‘Roll call.’

Four voices answered her: Jatoya, Melia, Caia, Kimura. Her squad, all of them responsive. A moment later, Melia said, ‘Cerene is alive, Sister Superior. She’s injured, and has lost consciousness.’

‘Rouse her,’ Augusta said. ‘Then lower the crew compartment and deploy a full perimeter defence. Caia, check the fuselage – a pool of spilled promethium could send all of us to the Golden Throne. Pilot, can you hear me?’

The vox crackled and spat. ‘Yes, Sister, I hear you. I… I fear I can’t move.’

As Augusta got to her feet, the squad reached for their weapons, checking their gear. In the soup-thick smoke, they were glints of smooth, glistening scarlet, their armour faceless and efficient, their black-and-white robes bearing the Bloody Rose like a badge of defiance. In their midst, the Hospitaller was a ghost-white apparition, her face and garments streaked with filth.

There was a jagged cut across her forehead, but she was coughing, conscious.

‘Thank you, Melia,’ she said. ‘Your time with the Order of Serenity taught you much, I see.’

‘Compartment lowering,’ Jatoya said. ‘Kimura!’

‘Aye!’ The cocking of the heavy bolter was unmistakeable.

There was a hiss, the whine of hydraulics. The smoke eddied and swirled, but no fresh air came into the hold.

It was thicker and fouler than the air in the shuttle.

Leaving the outside to her Sisters’ competence, Augusta forced her way past the wreckage and up to the cockpit.

‘Pilot?’

‘Here!’ His voice was strained with pain. ‘I’m sorry, Sister. I did my best.’

‘You did well,’ she told him.

And he had. The shuttle’s armourglass viewport had been completely shattered, its control panel was cracked clean through, and the hololith projector was as black as the sky outside.

As Augusta reached the man, he didn’t look up. Instead, he stared at his thigh, at the thick red gore that oozed through his clenched fingers, at the piece of broken armourglass that stuck, glittering, from the wound.

‘Our Sister Hospitaller will see to your injury.’

He nodded, sweat beading his temples.

‘What happened?’

‘We took fire,’ he said. ‘Something on the surface, a missile–’

‘Jatoya! Full vigilance. There will be hostile activity.’

‘I hear you.’

‘Cerene, I need you up here.’

‘Sister Superior.’

From somewhere, sparks flared again, flashing like threats. They had to get clear of the vehicle – whatever had brought this lander down would be incoming on their location.

Augusta’s contemplation was interrupted as Cerene entered the cockpit and knelt carefully by the pilot’s side.

‘His femoral artery is damaged,’ the Hospitaller said, after a moment. ‘I can preserve his life, but he will need more care than I bear with me. He cannot be moved.’

The pilot’s face contorted. ‘Sister, I… I can walk if I must.’ His voice sounded like a plea, as if he thought they might abandon him – punishment for his failure.

‘You will stay where you are,’ Augusta told him.

Across a tight-beam vox-channel, the Hospitaller said, ‘I can grant him the Emperor’s peace, if that is your wish. It will be a gentler end than awaiting this planet’s denizens.’

Augusta responded, with some feeling, ‘Let us take stock of our surroundings. Whatever is down here, it means us ill.’

Click here to buy Sacrifice.

A Black Library Publication

First published in the Black Library Events Anthology 2019/2020 in Great Britain in 2019.
This eBook edition published in 2020 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Grant Griffin.

Sacrifice © Copyright Games Workshop Limited 2020. Sacrifice, GW, Games Workshop, Black Library, The Horus Heresy, The Horus Heresy Eye logo, Space Marine, 40K, Warhammer, Warhammer 40,000, the ‘Aquila’ Double-headed Eagle logo, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world.
All Rights Reserved.

A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 978-1-80026-394-9

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

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