Destroy Me, Soldier

The palace gates were heavily defended. Crossfire swept toward the squad, countless blazing trails glittering in the night. An automatic mortar fired upward, sending strings of huge, slow-moving shells over Kewonei's head.

"Take it out! In anyone's name, I don't care!" Kewonei shouted. His orders were as blunt as the speech of his homeworld, Catachan. Amid the cluttered communications traffic, they stood out.

The squadmate carrying the plasma cannon obeyed without hesitation. In his Spartan armor, he held a weapon larger than his own body. A brilliant flash joined its muzzle to the automatic mortar in a thirty-meter band of searing light. The enemy gun became an expanding mass of flame that engulfed the whole stretch of palace wall. Dozens of defenders flew into the air and dropped like rag sacks onto the blackened position.

"Keep moving!" Kewonei shouted. A wild storm of bullets gnawed at their armor. The enemy's fire made it difficult to advance. They had no choice but to call for support.

Soon a Stormbird came screaming down through the barrage. It dropped a bomb, then climbed sharply into the sky, leaving only a white contrail behind. The explosion sent out an enormous shock wave. Stones and wreckage flew everywhere. Even Kewonei's squad had to shelter behind cover to survive.

The air strike silenced the guns ahead. The squad surged forward as the defenders scattered. Kewonei raised his bolt-action rifle and picked off the fleeing soldiers. With every sharp crack, another rebel fell.

The others followed his example, feeling their rifles kick and leap in their hands. The high-velocity rounds had tremendous penetrating and destructive power. Soldiers struck by them burst like swollen blisters, shattering like overripe fruit. Pink mist spurted from each torn body.

"Charge! For the Emperor! For Guilliman! Move! Victory is calling!" The Titans' war horns thundered with the soldiers' cries.

Kewonei's men broke into the palace grounds and met even fiercer resistance. Defenders on towers and elevated platforms poured fire onto them. Suddenly, a dazzling hemisphere of light erupted from the ground ahead and surged skyward. Their visors dimmed automatically. Visual systems sounded alarms. They had struck an enemy mine.

Only a mine meant to ambush starships could have such power. Daluoke's last defenders had gone mad. They had planted that terrible weapon inside the palace, prepared to die with their enemies.

"Fall back! Move, move!"

"Tactical squad requesting a medic! Combat squad requesting a medic!"

"Kalun's been hit badly! Half his body's gone! Emperor, what do we do?"

Even in Spartan armor, the squad had suffered terrible casualties. Harsh voices filled the channel. When the smoke cleared, Kewonei saw a vision of hell. His comrades were screaming. Pain overwhelmed men who had never feared death. Aizhuo's helmet and breastplate, forged from the newest alloy, had been twisted into a wrinkled hollow, like wax that had melted, flowed, and hardened again.

Only an arm remained of Nailuo. The rest had been vaporized. Kewonei would never have recognized him without the scar he had earned saving Kewonei's life. Tarui's legs were gone, shredded by the shock wave. Kalun had only half a body left. His heart was visible, its beating slowly coming to a stop. The assault force had been devastated.

Rage filled Kewonei. That man would pay for this. He left some soldiers to tend the wounded and led the rest onward. The enemy had suffered too. The enormous mine had destroyed their last defensive position, allowing the squad to break into the royal palace.

There they met Kaliguisi's final bodyguard. These were Daluoke's finest soldiers, but against the furious tactical squad, they could only become bleeding corpses. Their silver armor was exquisitely made, perfectly shaped and covered in intricate patterns. Red silk cloaks hung from their shoulders. They used the palace's firing positions to block the squad's advance.

Beside Kewonei, Nusi took a plasma shot that blasted his entire head apart. His headless body, still clad in Spartan armor, sank helplessly to its knees as blood poured out.

"Kill them all!"

Losing his squadmates was driving Kewonei beyond reason. They had been friends and brothers for years. He knew such losses were the price of victory. He knew that falling in battle was the best end a soldier could hope for. But that was release for the dead. The living were left with grief and the pain of parting.

After two empty clicks, Kewonei discarded his rifle and drew the chainsword at his waist. "For the Regent. For the great ideal."

He growled, putting all the strength of both arms into the blade. The Spartan suit responded to his will, running at full power. He gripped the weapon in both hands and struck hard. A guard in a red silk cloak gave a trembling cry as his entrails spilled out. Gutted, he staggered backward, trying uselessly to hold them in.

"For the High King. For the High..." he murmured, then fell heavily.

"Keep moving. Don't stop," Kewonei called. He advanced cautiously, with a hunter's steps. The guard lay facedown, his entrails scattered across the floor. Kewonei stepped over the bleeding corpse. At the far end of the passage, a broad marble staircase rose sixteen steps to a stone door. Its elegant portal was carved with intricate folds of drapery.

He climbed slowly. Mottled light passed through the portal, casting flickering shapes that made the place seem strangely quiet. Even the roar of battle around the palace seemed to fade. He could hear blood dripping from the chainsword he had just used. It left a string of scarlet beads on the marble steps behind him.

He passed through the portal. The tower's inner walls soared toward the clouds. He had entered the palace's grandest tower, more than a hundred meters across and a thousand meters high.

An agate platform encircled it beneath his feet, enclosed in glass or some other transparent material. He could see the battle outside in full, but none of its sound reached him.

This was only one of the many ring-shaped platforms spaced around the structure. More lay below. He was merely halfway up.

Glass, or some other transparent material, enclosed the platform. The battle outside was visible in every detail, yet its sound could not enter.

Kewonei went to the edge and looked down. The tower's base was as magnificent as the structure above him. Following the platform's edge, he found a carved stone stairway built into the wall. He climbed through one platform after another, alert for enemies. There was nothing. No sound, no figure, no movement. Only the glow of battle shone through the windows. He and his tactical squad kept going.

At the second-highest level, they could see the entire city. War had engulfed it. Some buildings glowed blood-red in the infernal light. Guns flashed. Energy beams danced through the dark. Fire lit the sky overhead. The sounds of fighting came from every corner of the city.

Kewonei felt no joy in victory. There was no glory in this war. It was only a small scene that condensed humanity's long history of mistakes. Countless humans died in meaningless wars. Such deaths brought no honor and did nothing to help their species survive in a dark universe. They merely paid for the greed of ambitious men.

He looked toward the last few steps and gripped his weapon tightly. The answer to all of this was within reach. Once Kaliguisi was captured, the fighting would stop.

The final ring-shaped platform formed the base of the tower's crown. Translucent, petal-like panes made a soaring dome, turning gently in response to the starlight outside. An iron throne stood to one side, its back to the windows. It was an impressive object. Three golden steps rose from its heavy base to a high-backed steel seat with curling armrests.

An old man sat there in a floor-length robe. His hair was fine and white, his face gaunt and bitter. His eyes, full of despair and pain, fixed on Kewonei's squad. "It's over, Kaliguisi," Kewonei said. "You'll pay for your rebellion."

Kaliguisi gave a cold smile. "Haven't I paid enough? How many of my people and soldiers have you killed? You poured war and destruction over my world. You destroyed the world of my ancestors. What could break a soul more completely than this? Death cannot frighten me, soldier."

"Your rebellion started this war. You attacked ships that begged you for sanctuary. You sent our own people to their deaths after they had clawed their way out of the darkness. You murdered administrators sent by Ultramar. Those innocent soldiers died because of you."

Kaliguisi smiled contemptuously at the accusation. "My family were the first settlers on this planet. My ancestors led their people with unyielding resolve and built a magnificent civilization. They fought through humanity's most terrible catastrophic wars. When Warp storms raged, they endured the cruel trials of the Age of Strife."

"They upheld humanity's rule and its harsh laws. They fulfilled the duty they were born to, keeping the flame of human civilization alive through the isolation of Old Night. They preserved this precious, essential fragment of civilization intact to the present day."

"The Emperor invited my ancestors to join his great work, to fight for humanity's restored glory. They agreed. They sent their finest troops and strongest Knights to help build that future. I won't deny that the books describe a glorious, brilliant age. But it exists only in books."

Kewonei frowned. "That's your excuse for betraying the Emperor? Ridiculous."

Kaliguisi waved a hand. The weight of years colored his voice. "I have never turned my back on the Emperor's light. I simply refuse to live under Imperial rule any longer. I've had enough of its endless wars. Every year, more Knights march away. My people are drowning in misery, but Terra and those stupid officers never care."

"They never hear the cries. All they know is the Emperor's glory. My people have no food, no clothes. Every winter, the bodies of those who starve are carried out of the city in an endless stream, thrown into grinders, and made into food. Fathers hold their children and weep for dead wives. Wives mourn husbands and children. Helpless orphans watch their parents carried away, then starve themselves. Terra only cares whether Daluoke can supply the soldiers it needs. Why should I be loyal to an Imperium like that?"

Kaliguisi stood, his back slightly bent. Kewonei frowned. The robe that had looked so splendid was patched.

"But you don't care. Men like you, chasing glory, know only war and blood. You never see how high your own people's bones have piled up beneath those wars."

"Destroy me, then. Do what you came to do, soldier. You've already destroyed everything else. Ha! Ha ha ha!" The old man laughed, tears running from the corners of his clouded eyes.