Looking through my scope, I scanned through the milling crowd of the Brethren of Bones gang members. Many bore the brands of slavery on their faces, marking them as slaves. A small group stood apart from the rest, all mutated humans.
These were the hidden core of the Boners, better armed and better trained. Their mutations weren't just grotesque deformities; they were far stronger, faster and tougher than any natural human should be, able to shrug off wounds that would cripple, if not kill lesser men.
Their bloodlust further enhanced them, making them a nightmare. Unstoppable once they entered their frenzy. Even with the monsters, it was these mutants that had pushed the Court back the most.
The last few weeks had been catastrophic to the gang, with huge numbers of deaths. Not just the low-level grunts, but the veterans and champions too. I was lucky I had been injured and not called on for the first few days, which were the worst. The Brethren had hit hard and fast, their surprise attack tearing through the Court's defences and blockades.
After that, things had stabilised as we adapted, but it turned into a slow, brutal grind. The Brethren kept slowly forcing us back, both sides throwing bodies at key points in an effort to control them. It was these chaotic battles where the monsters (chaos spawn, I later learned) thrived.
Lanto said the chaos spawn were what happened when mutants lost control, turning away from the Emperor and becoming mindless beasts. How he knew, I didn't ask. I just didn't understand why they would risk it. But then, I had a sure-fire way to power. They didn't, so maybe I wasn't one to judge.
Movement in my scope snapped me back. Finally, what I'd been waiting for. A group of psykers or sorcerers, as some called them, led two chaos spawn and were surrounded by a couple of dozen mutant soldiers. Every one of them had the marking of chaos, several even had symbols that constantly wept blood. They were the worst, going into a berserk rage the moment the fighting started.
Once in their rage, they were nearly impossible to bring down.
The sorcerers carried the usual baton and orb, tools able to shield themselves from a ludicrous amount of damage and control the monsters.
I triggered the vox in my helmet with a thought, one of the few upgrades I'd managed in the last few weeks, scarce as the time had been. 'Zardelle, they've arrived. Five psykers, two spawn and thirty-plus mutants.'
'Good, target the chaos spawn on my signal. I'm curious to see what that rifle can do now it is repaired.'
'Got it.'
Shifting slightly to get a better angle, I pulled the gun tight to my shoulder, lining up my first shot. It was times like this I was thankful to have my monster back. The autorifles were fine, lighter, easier to carry, but there was something to be said about the ridiculous amount of firepower my railgun had, and they just couldn't compare.
It had taken weeks to fully repair it, far longer than it should have. But parts were scarce, and I was almost constantly deployed in one battle after another. That was part of the reason I worked on my helmet; I had the parts handy.
I gave it a connection to my impulse unit, upgrading the vox inside and just generally improved everything I could. It also ended up much smaller than the original, thanks to better parts.
Once I had my rifle back, it had taken days to readjust once more. I'd forgotten how bulky and awkward it was. But when I felt the coils spool up and felt the vibrations run into my shoulder, I couldn't suppress the grin from crossing my face.
No other gun could compare to the raw power this one gave me, and I loved it.
Once I was back on my feet, I expected to be put back to work on overwatch, but instead was assigned to the Red Corsairs. A huge honour, particularly for being so young and not a grizzled veteran or champion, which was pretty much a requirement to even be considered for joining.
It was one of, if not the best, units in the gang. Something the leader, the swordswomen, Zardelle, had built up from scratch. Only the best were selected, all handpicked killers, some of the most dangerous people the gang had. If you thought Zardelle leading it was nepotism, you'd be damn right.
She wasn't the daughter of the two bosses for nothing. Or that was how it started at least. Veterans were ordered to join her unit. That was very much not the case any longer. Now, many were fighting for a chance to get an invite. It wasn't just about the connections you could forge by regularly interacting with the gang's leadership. It came with prestige and access to top-quality war gear.
But the biggest draw now was Zardelle herself. Not just as the gang's heir, she'd earned her place. Not just a brilliant commander, but a ferocious warrior and every bit deserving of her champion status and the elite unit she led.
Their record spoke for itself. Just in the most recent conflict alone, they had been the most effective unit by far, with many confirmed kills. That first day, Zardelle and her team had killed the chaos spawn sent to their position, before coming to kill the one that almost had me.
It was whispered that without her team, we might have been overrun in those first few days.
When I was first assigned to her unit, Lanto pulled me aside, explaining the odd sensations around her and to ignore them if I knew what was good for me. He didn't quite phrase it like that, but I got the message. Loud and clear.
Even that first day, I barely felt it, and over time, exposure and the practice of my new knowledge fragments had only decreased it. But I did get to see what it did to others. One ganger even vomited as he came too close to her, passing out shortly afterwards. Which was weird, he always seemed so calm, and his instincts were normally so good, like he had a sixth sense for danger.
I learned she had some control over the field, able to shrink it down to just a few metres around her or expand it out to fifty metres. But she could not get rid of it completely. From what I gathered, it had caused her huge issues when she was younger. But I never had the guts to ask.
It clearly didn't bother her anymore. With her, the beast of a warrior that she currently was, very much an Amazonian warrior and not an elf, like I first thought. At well over six feet, attractive and packed with muscle, there was an intensity to her, making her electrifying to be around. And that was before she donned her fully enclosed heavy carapace armour, turning her into an absolute unit, towering above everyone.
And through my scope, I had front row seats of Zardelle in her ornate armour, dark gun metal grey with faint blue glinting on the plates, ornate symbols in enamel white across the chest and a thick skull on one of the bulky pauldrons. The other had silver spikes running down it, along her arm and ending in three prominent ones on her knuckles. Her helmet was as intimidating as the rest of her, a thick metal grill for her mouth and a single glowing red eye. Flanking her were her two bodyguards: Krayt, the axeman giant and Ryn, the female shotgunner. Both wore heavy carapace, although not as embellished. As she crashed through the line, gunfire erupted behind her.
That was my signal.
With the shot already lined up, I steadied myself and then prodded the gun with my mind. The boom echoed across the city—oh, how I had missed it, as my AP round liquified the chest of the leftmost chaos spawn. Even that wasn't enough to kill it, as even now I could see it rapidly regenerating. But it was hurt, significantly so, and once Zardelle got within range, that regeneration would stop.
She was already closing in.
She could finish that one off. I pivoted to the next target, the gun humming and then discharging another shot. Unfortunately, the chaos spawn was more prepared this time and managed to twist out the way. But it didn't escape unscathed, its left arm disintegrating. I could hear its shriek from nearly a kilometre away.
With both chaos spawn injured and soon to be dealt with by Zardelle, I turned my attention to the rest of the battle. First, I looked over the frontlines, but they were getting overrun with ease by the rest of the Corsairs, cutting through the enemy like a knife through butter.
The veterans backing them up moved far more cautiously, but that wasn't a major issue; they were mainly there for support. Seeing they had things handled, I zoomed back to Zardelle, Krayt and Ryn as they advanced. They'd already finished off the first chaos spawn, and it looked like the second wasn't long for this world.
But they were being slowed down by the sorcerers. I watched as another gout of green flame jetted towards them, only to dissipate before reaching its mark. I was about to target the flamer when a bolt of lightning flashed from the hands of another sorcerer. This one didn't dissipate, striking her armour and sparking across it.
She flinched slightly but otherwise appeared unharmed. Either way, I had my next target.
Sighting on the psyker near the back, the one who'd just fired the bolt of lightning and was preparing another. My first shot cracked into the energy field around him, just as I expected. But it was enough to distract him from casting, staggering him. It must have done more than that as he clutching at his head in pain.
Without pausing, I fired a second time, striking the shield once more. The psyker was clearly struggling under the powerful rounds, slumping to one knee. At the third heavy shot, the shield cracked and fell. The psyker flinched again and looked around wildly, blood trickling down from his nose. Not giving him a chance to find cover, I reached out through my impulse unit into the gun and adjusted the setting on the fly. The shot would be weaker, but faster, since I didn't need to charge the capacitors as long.
It might have been weaker than my other shots, but it was still more than enough to kill the unarmoured psyker, and he slumped to the floor dead. I shifted to the next, this one closer and was within Zardelle's influence. The first shot punched through her shield with ease, killing her instantly.
That distraction was all Zardelle needed; she was amongst them now. Knowing no more help was needed, I turned back to the rest of the battle, looking for where I could help the most. Picking off any leadership I could see, quite an easy thing to do, as most gangers had easy marking, highlighting them for me.
I then scanned for anyone particularly well entrenched, and that was when I spotted the heavy stubber set up in a crow's nest, providing a huge amount of suppressive fire. Thick plates surrounded the turret, giving the gunman more than enough protection from the shooters below.
But not from me. I threaded the shot through a small gap in the plating, taking him in the throat, killing him or at least wounding him if he was a mutant. I stayed focused on the turret to make sure no one else tried to take over. Once I was sure it was clear, I turned my sights elsewhere.
I fired a round at a heavily armoured mutant that was giving the trio some trouble. It wasn't enough to punch through his armour, but it made them stumble just enough for Ryn to finish them off by slipping her combat knife through a gap and into their brain.
I resumed my overwatch, picking off the occasional ganger but otherwise focusing on my secondary task, making sure we weren't being flanked. This was the fourth operation of its kind, and none had been as successful as this one, killing two chaos spawns.
My time in the Red Corsairs had been odd, bouncing from one battle to the next, always providing overwatch and scouting ahead. After that, I normally had front row seats as the rest of the team stomped through any opposition with ease. Through it all, I couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider. It was getting better slowly, but next to the grizzled veterans of the unit, I still felt out of place.
---
Snapping the barrel back together, I powered up the rifle and ran some diagnostics to make sure everything was in order. I was in the private building set aside for the Red Corsairs. I'd been spending more and more time there lately, mainly because the workshop had far more space than mine.
I had already gone over my armour, a major upgrade to what I had before. It wasn't a fully enclosed carapace armour, unfortunately, but it was far more protective than what I had before. I'd traded for most of it and patched it all together myself, but it was head and shoulders above my previous gear.
The door thumped open. Looking up, I saw Zardelle stomp in. She was clearly in a mood because as she got closer, I could feel the energy field around her was agitated and fluctuating. Ryn, who was cleaning her shotgun, rolled her shoulder uncomfortably, but I just let it roll over me, barely noticing it.
"The meeting went well, I take it." I said.
"The fucking worst. Three hours of boasting over nothing."
"What are they deciding on now?"
"The same as fucking usual. Trying to pin down how the guilds and nobles are actually going to support us. So it was three hours of painful negotiations to get fucking nothing." She said in disgust.
Fighting to keep the smile off my face, I said, "That's the fifth such meeting you've been to. Why expect anything differently this time?"
She flipped me off, making me laugh, then started to pack away her equipment. As she stowed the few bits, she asked. "Fancy a spar?"
I glanced at my mostly finished gun, the new miniaturised coil already in place and shrugged, "Yeah, sure." Standing up, I moved over to the large empty room that had been converted to a training space. Sparing with Zardelle had become a fairly common occurrence over the last few weeks, ever since she learned I was competent in hand-to-hand and melee combat.
Not that she was shabby herself. My hand-to-hand fragments, combined with my warrior fragments, made me very good, the equivalent of decades of experience. I had nothing to really compare it to, but I was the equal to many of the champions and better than most. Only those who had been around and trained seriously for years could compete with me by this point.
According to Lanto, I was good even compared to the guards, but nothing that would truly stand out, except maybe my accuracy. But then, if I were placed into a sniper squad, even that would've faded into the background.
With Zardelle, though, I could push her, giving her a real challenge. Skill-wise at least. If she put her full force into her attacks, I had little chance. But it allowed her to refine her techniques, pushing them to new levels, which she clearly enjoyed and against my better judgment, I did too.
That was about all we had in common.
She was definitely a combat Junkie, loved fighting and being in the thick of it. I blamed Lanto for that; he'd trained many of her skills. Although I was fairly sure she'd overtaken him, in skill at least, if not lethality.
I enjoyed testing myself in spars, but I still very much liked being as far away from danger as humanly possible. My recent brush with death only reinforced that.
Following behind her, I grabbed my usual practice longsword and squared off against her. The training weapons were very cool and surprisingly advanced. They had an energy field around them, blunting impacts, letting you swing as hard as you wanted, without doing more than bruising your opponent.
I'd been dubious when I first heard it and checked them out myself. I didn't want my head caved in if the field suddenly and inexplicably failed. But they were surprisingly simple and therefore reliable.
Zardelle picked up a sword similar in size to her chainsword and settled into her combat stance. Without a signal, she lunged forward, which I blocked and stepped away.
We circled each other slowly, blades raised. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the blades and our breathing. I let her make the first move, reading the slight shift in her stance as she lunged. I gave ground deliberately, baiting her into overextending.
I laid traps as I retreated, subtle shifts in my footwork and careful holes in my guard, to bait her in. Where I could, I deflected or sidestepped, my style far more agile than her heavy strikes.
I managed a couple of well-timed strikes, tapping her blade aside and landing a few taps on her. They wouldn't have stopped her in a real fight; they earned a slight narrowing of her eyes, her competitiveness flaring.
Her superior strength and speed began to press me harder. Each of her blow's landing like a hammer. I had to focus entirely, to keep her blade from slipping past my guard. I managed to counter a few more times, but they were rare; the rest of the time I spent defending, parrying and dodging where I could.
But I couldn't keep it up forever. Sweat was already soaking through my shirt, and my breathes coming out in ragged gasps. Until finally I made a mistake, small, but enough. She broke past my guard, in a move I hadn't seen before and rested her sword lightly against my neck.
I slumped to the floor, dragging in air to catch my breath. "That was new," I said, between gulps, "nice move."
Sitting down next to me, looking none the worse for wear, she said. "You still managed to land a few hits."
"True, but that was about it." I gave her a tired grin. "Just remember when you started, you fell for every one of my feints."
Clearly unconvinced, she asked, "Again?"
"Give me a few moments to catch my breath; we can't all be tireless monsters."
After a few more bouts, I pleaded for mercy and asked. "How about hand-to-hand? Think you can do better than last time?"
"You're on."
Hand-to-hand was one area I truly had her beat. Even when she went all out, I won nine times out of ten. It was clear her training with Lanto had not covered it in any formal sense. She relied on brawling, aggression and unpredictability. It was most certainly effective, but against me, it fell far short.
The same went for most people I had met or trained with. It seemed to be a very overlooked skill. Which I could see made sense. In a world where anyone might have a hidden blade, a shock implant or something worse tucked away, why risk it?
But I enjoyed throwing her around with ease. Wiping the smirk off her face the first time we fought was still one of my fondest memories, a reminder that for all her strength and power, skill still mattered. But then I wasn't the stick insect I once was. Two years of good food and training had put meat on my bones and a few inches to my height.
I had recently eclipsed 5'8 and had a solid, stocky build. I was desperately holding out hope that I still had a few more growth spurts within me. Zardelle still towered over me with her 6'3 frame, but the difference wasn't as stark as it would've been a few years ago.
I dropped into a deep squat, a stable base and let her come to me. In a classic judo flip, I put her on her back, controlling her head so it didn't smack onto the hard floor. Growling, she jumped to her feet once more and approached, but with more caution this time.
Even as she was losing, she had her unrestrained grin that lit up her face, one mirrored on my own.
Several hours later, I lay in a heap on the floor, well and truly wiped out. Zardelle sat on the nearby benches, chatting.
"How long until the guilds and nobles actually make a move?" I asked.
"Several more weeks I'd expect."
"Is that going to cause a problem?"
"Shouldn't do. We've put a dent in their elite forces, those last chaos spawn were numbers eleven and twelve. They can't have too many more of them. Dad's surprised and worried they had this many, to be honest."
"Do we even need the guilds then?"
"No, probably not. But at this point, we have no choice. Mum tried to get around them, but now… it's politics."
"Politics?"
"Yeah, they want the glory of killing the cult." She said, stressing the word and sneering at it. "They might start to cause us problems if we get in their way. Now more than ever. According to Peggi—"
"Peggi?"
"Huh? Oh, Peggi. This falls under the stuff to never speak of, got it."
Waving her words away, I said. "You know I don't speak about our conversations to anyone."
"True. Well, Peggi is the leader of our intelligence branch. Anyway, apparently, they need to be seen as doing something. Things aren't all rainbows and butterflies in the upper spire. It is not confirmed, but there are rumours that the planetary governor is dying."
I sat up fully now, that definitely had my attention. "Really?"
"Yeah. Normally it'd stay with his house, but the tithes from the Church are so high he has lost a lot of his support."
"Tithe?"
"There are two tithes to worry about. The Imperial tithe, mostly technology and bodies for the army. No one I've spoken to knows what happens if we fall short, but I doubt it is anything good. The other is the Ecclesiarchy tithe, going to the Church of the Saviour Emperor.
We both fell silent, imagining what might happen. After a moment, I steered the conversation back to something more relevant to me. "So, it's just a matter of holding them?"
"Yep." Zardelle said, popping the p. "Not much anyone can do, much to Mum and Dad's frustration."
Slumping back to the floor, my mind started to drift, flitting through designs of tech I wanted to try my hand at next, when Zardelle stood and held out a hand, pulling me to my feet.
"Come on, get some rest. There'll be more missions tomorrow."
---
Zardelle proved to be optimistic; it took almost two months before the support from the guilds and nobles started to roll in. At first, it was just new equipment, mostly consumables like grenades or missiles. Which was very useful, as by that point we had been pushed right back to the Fortress and were running low.
It was incredibly well defended, with me playing a large part of that, in my not-so-humble opinion. With a crow's nest at the top of the Fortress, I had almost uninhibited views in every direction, letting me snipe any larger threats long before they got too close. Pretty much halting most advances before they even began.
This did increase the pressure elsewhere, especially near the Bridge.
But that too was incredibly well protected. So, while we had lost a lot of turf, it wasn't all bad. Or at least that was what I was telling myself. I'm not sure the poor hivers trapped in with the cultist felt the same way. Both the Bridge and the Fortress had been under almost constant assault.
Waves and waves of gangers breaking against the defences. According to Zardelle, no one knew where they were getting the equipment. The manpower, they feared, came from the hivers now trapped within their territory, Emperor save them. It was actually the chaos spawn or the number of them that had Lanto and Selina concerned.
Mostly Lanto, as he was the only one with relevant experience of Chaos. It was actually because of him that we knew what we were up against. Apparently, he went on a campaign early into his career to fight back the forces of Chaos. He was one of the few that survived the encounter, part of the reason he wanted to stay in the hive.
Without him, I think it would have taken far longer for the alarm bells to start ringing, and by then it might have been too late. It was weird to think, but the Court could well have saved the hive.
And along the same line of thought, the Ash Stalkers, who started this war, could say the same, as without them, the Brethren of Bones would still be building support with no one the wiser. A weird thought.
When the equipment came through, the guild's enforcers and noble house's troops were not too far behind. Clad in shiny new armour, moving with a confidence that border lined arrogance, some even wore power armour. It was the nobles that drew most of the attention, dressed in their incredibly decorated armour, many in repurposed Space Marine armour, but some had sleeker sets, called Praevestora armour.
Just looking at them, I could tell they weren't Imperium design. Sleek, silvery power armour, made from materials I didn't recognise, and judging by the design philosophy alone, I was confident they weren't made by Tech-Priests. Little was known about the advanced suits, only that the upper nobles' houses acquired them through cold trade, the smuggling of xeno goods. Likely through Glow Gate.
I very much wanted to get my hands on one to see what made it tick, though the odds of that happening were slim to none, but a man could dream. One thing about the armour was universal, they were feared. Occasionally, nobles wore them down to the underhive to show off, hunt or for blood sports. Usually targeting the hivers.
But what really drew my eyes were the vehicles, heavy tanks rolling through, bulldozing everything in their path, and the gunships flying overhead, raining fire on the Boners.
With their support, the Brethren of Bones were pushed back in short order. Their heavy troops and tanks waded through the gangers with little fear; there were few, if any, weapons that could penetrate their armour. That wasn't the case for all; most of the bulk of the troops were outfitted more like the PDF. But those with power and influence were decked out with the best.
After only a few short hours of this relentless assault, the resistance crumbled almost entirely, gangers fleeing from the advancing soldiers. As ordered, we pretty much took a supporting role: securing territory as they took it and guiding the advance. Otherwise, we stood well out of the way.
Which was good for most of the gang, the constant pressure had been hard on many of us, me included. I couldn't remember the last time I had a good night's sleep. I was so drained that the Spark I gained just got slotted into the marksmanship fragment without a second thought.
Rather uninspired maybe, but always helpful.
Still, even better, this did push me to tier three, which was a rush. Just a tingle going down my spine, at first, no flood of knowledge. Just refinement. Building on what had come before. I knew, with absolute certainty, I could now make shots, no matter the weapon, right at the limit of what the weapon was capable of. No assistance, technology or aids.
Just decades of practice, day in and day out, mastering my craft, pushing it near the very limit of what was humanly possible.
That was what the third-tier fragment of Marksmanship gave me.
We followed in the advancing soldiers' wake, only occasionally stepping over a dead guardsman, who, as one noble I overheard put it, should be proud of their sacrifices for their betters. Puffed-up prick.
Within a week, they were right back to the Colosseum, their final holdout. Even as I watched, rockets spiralled out, breaching the walls in several places. Men and tanks soon followed, marching in. I was on overwatch in a building with a clear view, but I wasn't focusing particularly hard.
The gangers in the building across were paying even less attention, playing cards. Not that I blamed them. There wasn't anything to look out for, and even if there was, if the force below couldn't handle it, we were pretty fucked anyway. Not three hours later, the soldiers that survived left victorious.
Sighing, I slumped back, very glad it was over. I could sleep for a week. Not to mention, I would finally get my shinnies. The sudden conflict had put it on hold, but now they could finally get around to handing me my spoils of war. I couldn't wait, almost rubbing my hands together in anticipation.
As the soldiers left, the Ecclesiarchy moved in with their scented oils, candles and incendiaries to cleanse the place. I doubt anyone would go in there for some time. Assuming there was anything left, as part of it trembled from something exploding within.
And like that, Glow Gate was the Courts.