The old airfield lacked appropriate lighting. Only a few lamps, fastened to tall poles along the runway or hung above the doorways to the few surviving buildings, illuminated the decrepit installation. Some of the windows of the control tower were aglow and silhouettes pressed against the glass. Shadows drifted along the platforms outside the top of the tower. Traitor Guardsmen wearing a variety of uniforms and armors patrolled along the runway and structures. Power tools sparked and whirred as maintenance crews repaired the dilapidated Valkyries.

  Although the northern border was well defended by a string of interconnected bunkers and trenches, the other segments of the perimeter were not. A three meter high fence ran around the entire camp and many sections had fallen over. Two towers stood on either side of the southern gate and there was only a single Firestorm Redoubt anchoring the southeastern corner. Both of its automated weapons systems were absent. It was clear enough the Traitor Guardsmen thought themselves so far removed from the Imperial lines of communication they could afford to be lax. Such lapses in judgment were the mistakes Kasrkin enjoyed exploiting in their operations.

  Bloody Platoon, accompanied by Prince Constantine, Scout Sergeant Tōru, and several other Scout Marines, crept towards a breach in the perimeter fence a few dozen meters away from the gate. The reinforced barracks stood parallel to the gate and, behind it, the administrative center loomed. To their right was the control tower, overlooking the dust-covered tarmac.

  Crazy Stück followed behind Staff Sergeant Metcalfe and Marsh Silas. He was smiling and trembling with excitement. As a sentry passed by the breach, there was a thwip-like noise through the air. The subsonic Stalker Bolt struck the sentry so hard he was thrown off his feet and slammed onto the ground.

  Tōru had placed his four snipers and Isenhour on a low ridge overlooking the airfield from the southeast. They had complete coverage of the entire perimeter from the gate to the control tower. Stück stifled a snicker as they passed by the body.

  Next to the barracks was a collapsed warehouse. Broken windows, gaps in the wall, and fallen timbers presented a worthless building for the enemy garrison but an excellent place for the Kasrkin and their Astartes accompaniment to create a foothold. Marsh Silas divided Bloody Platoon into several teams. Staff Sergeant Werner and 5th Squad, Wulff and 7th Squad, and Messer and Ironsides from 6th Squad would remain in the ruin. Walmsley Minor would take the remainder of 6th Squad and its Heavy Flamers to clear the Firestorm Redoubt. Marsh Silas, the Scout Marines, and remaining Kasrkin squads would hit the tower. Once it was captured, they would leave 3rd Squad in the tower to hold it until the sniper section arrived. All the other squads would then assault the barracks.

  After seizing it, they would hold out for Captain Yori and his company. Once they overran the perimeter, their next target was the administrative building. Occupying the eastern part of the camp and tying down its defenders would leave a clear lane for Gabler, Bristol, and the Taurox Prime element to storm from the west and destroy the Valkyries where they were parked.

  “Walmsley Minor, Wulff, Werner: don’t assault your targets until I give the order,” Marsh ordered. “The Astartes have a lot of ground to cover and they’re already on their way. We need to take out the sentires in the tower lest our allies are spotted ahead of the appointed time. Once they make their move, we need to move fast, eliminating targets and absorbing much of their fire.”

  “Three blows, swift, deadly, and fleeting as shadows among the sunrise,” Tōru added.

  Marsh Silas looked over the edge of the busted window he crouched under. After evaluating the area around them, he ducked back down.

  “Move it out.”

  Crazy Stück eagerly went for the door with the rest of his squad. But Marsh Silas grabbed him by his collar and pulled him close. “Hear me, for I will only speak once. You had best maintain your composure whilst we embark on this affair. I won’t have you spoiling our infiltration by letting any amused emotions give us away.”

  “But sir, I ain’t ever let it happen before,” Stück protested.

  “That’s what I’m scared of,” Marsh said. “Do not let tonight be the first.”

  “I promise sir, I swear on the Emperor, the Throne, the Primarchs, all the Saints, and my own mother, bitch that she was,” he said with a toothy smile. “Oh, but it’s just so thrilling! I just can’t wait until we fire the first shot! Just let me at’em, sir.”

  “You may not have at’em. Not until I say so. Now, come along, the Emperor expects great things of us tonight.”

  Although disappointed, Stück was undeterred as he left the safety of their cover. The Imperials hurried across the open ground between the ruins and the control tower. Marsh fired a single shot from his Ripper Pistol and destroyed the bulb over the entrance. The two sentires posted underneath, unequipped with night vision, both jumped in surprise. Before either said a word, the Knight-Lieutenant shot them both down with his suppressed autopistol.

  Several Kasrkin pulled security at either corner of the facility while the rest stacked up on either side of the door. Marsh Silas slowly turned the door handle and it opened with a creak. He darted in and the others flowed after him. Yoxall took his squad to the left of the lobby and Monty Peck took his Kasrkin to the right. Instead of finding sleeping enemies or bored watchmen, they happened upon traitor commsmen operating cogitator and communications banks. The heretics were cut down by low-charged Hellgun lasbolts and knives. With the first floor secure, Monety Peck split his squad to cover the entrances while the remaining elements journeyed up the stairs.

  The base of the tower possessed only one floor and the staircase wound its way up the inside of the tower to the top platform. Crazy Stück and his squad leader Metcalfe walked behind Marsh Silas, Hyram, and Tōru. They all moved slowly up the stairs while one kept his weapon up to cover the upper well. The only doors the Imperials came across led out to the various catwalks which circled the body of the tower.

  Tōru held up his hand when the door to one of these platforms opened. An unsuspecting heretic sauntered out. The Scout Sergeant slashed the traitor across his throat, grabbed him by his collar, and slammed his skull against the wall with a sickening crack. He let go of the corpse as it stumbled backwards over the railing and fell down the tower.

  He and Marsh Silas checked outside the door for more targets. When they came back in, the platoon leader seemed puzzled.

  “What have they got covered with canvas on top of the administrative center?”

  “They have not revealed it since our reconnaissance began,” said the Scout Sergeant. “We must keep moving.” As Stück passed by the door, he glanced out. Something large, long, and bulky was hidden under a massive tarpaulin on the building across from them.

  Eventually, the Imperial force reached the stairwell which led to the top. Crazy Stück sidled up next to Marsh Silas at the corner. Silently, they crept forwards one step at a time.

  “Yes sir, the repairs are proceeding…the advance party is already in position…sir, with respect, this cannot be rushed. Every single aircraft has to be operational if we are to succeed; each one we can refurbish is one more chance to eliminate the target. Yes, sir…yes, it is still hidden.”

  They poked their noses over the top step. The speaker was holding a handset from a long-range Vox-caster to his ear. Other operators sat at a communications banks on either side of the tower.

  “I want that one alive,” Marsh whispered. “On my mark…”

  “Wait,” Tōru hissed.

  “Yes, Major. Over.” The traitor officer changed frequencies. “Hammerfall, this is Tower. Cancel sortie and RTB.”

  “They talk like we do,” Stück murmured.

  “It matters not. Tonight, their lives are ours,” Marsh whispered. “Mark!”

  The Kasrkin burst from the stairwell. Stück let his Hellpistol hang by the sling and charged at the nearest commsman. He grabbed the surprised heretic by the back of his head and repeatedly smashed it into the cogitator in front of him. The screen shattered and the internal mechanisms sparked. Shards stuck in his bald head and blood trickled down from his torn scalp.

  As low-powered lasbolts sliced down the other occupants, a nearby traitor stood and raised his pistol. Crazy Stück snatched the wrist of the gunman, yanked the assailant towards him, and headbutted the foe. His helmet cracked against the traitor’s skull. Still smashing the commsman’s head into the cogitator, he looped his arm around the second heretic’s to keep him pinned. Stück headbutted him a second time, then a third, fourth, and a fifth.

  “Stück? Stück!”

  The Kasrkin turned around. All the enemies save for the officer, frozen with the handset still in his hand, were dead. Kasrkin assumed positions overlooking the airfield and the perimeter. Lights were dimmed to obscure them from view. Marsh Silas kept his Ripper Pistol trained on the traitorous officer while Drummer Boy communicated with the sniper section to start moving to their location. Crazy Stück looked back at Metcalfe, who was holding up his hand. “They’re dead.”

  Stück glanced between the traitor in his arm and the other’s whose head was embedded in the cogitator screen. Both were still; the eyes of the one who attempted to draw a gun on him had rolled back into his head.

  “So they are!” Stück declared and let go of both. He whirled around and approached the officer.

  “Put that handset down,” Marsh ordered. The officer, red-eyed and leery, remained still. He did not obey the command and kept his other hand on a hip holster. “You have no chance. Kneel, answer my questions, and you will be gifted with a quick and painless death.”

  “Hammerfell, Tower; proceed with the operation!” the officer shouted into the handset. Marsh struck the traitor across the face with his pistol before putting a round into the Vox-caster.

  “Stück, hold him,” he ordered. Crazy Stück obeyed, put his arms underneath the traitor’s armpits and then placed his hands behind his head. The hold forced him onto his knees and made it impossible for the traitor to look up. “Drummer Boy, record this with your Monoscope. Traitor, heed me. You have three minutes to answer my questions. Spend them wisely; you now determine how quickly you die.”

  “You Cadians radiant arrogance. You think it is so easy to remain a loyal subject to the Emperor?” the officer spat. “Perhaps for you, the sons and daughters of this fabled planet. But have you heard of Armus XII? Plake III? Deveran, Salleera, Cor? Nay! Backwater worlds all! How can a man maintain his faith when he is continually refused rewards and gifts for his toil? Ripped away from home and forgotten on some Fortress World where he receives no thanks or glory. Go on, kill me, but I have fought for a just cause against a cruel overlord.”

  Marsh slapped him this time.

  “Spare me your mewlings, traitor. Tell me, what is the name of your regiment?”

  “Lieutenant, you cannot expect me to share such crucial information with my erstwhile foes.”

  “If you don’t answer my questions, I am going to have this man,” Marsh pointed at Metcalfe, “take his chainsword and slide it slowly down your gullet. Is that how you wish to die?”

  The officer gazed nervously at Metcalfe. The Staff Sergeant tapped his weapon confidently. Stück laughed and tucked his head around the heretic’s.

  “But not before we remove your tongue, eyes, and manhood with hot tongs first,” he snickered. “Now, the name of your regiment!”

  “We call ourselves the First of Minnath, for the system our homeworlds lie in.”

  “Are you in command of this regiment?”

  “I am its executive officer.”

  “Then who is the commander and where is he?”

  “Damn ye, I shall not betray her.”

  “Her?” Marsh Silas echoed. The enemy officer swore under his breath. “Where are those patrol aircraft going? What is your plan?”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “To snuff out those fat dignitaries and politicians.”

  “Where!?” .

  “Sir, we have less than a minute,” Walmsley Major said. Marsh Silas held up his hand before running it across his jaw. The platoon leader knelt in front of the traitor and gazed him firmly in the eyes.

  “Who are the spies?”

  But the executive officer smiled bitterly. He laughed a little and shook his head. Finally, he looked back up at Marsh Silas.

  “Oh, the games they’ve played against one another—what a dreadful waste. To imagine what we could have done if both served our regiment. We almost succeeded…”

  “The Naval Security officer you captured?”

  “The same. Burn him, for all I care, he has been a most troublesome obstacle for us. With him gone, perhaps we shall make our mark and finally one of our new gods will patronize us with his blessing. Then, we can flee this vile world and return to Minnath to liberate it from you Imperialis.”

  “What of the other spy? Your man.”

  “You already know him, Marsh Silas. He talks at length about what you’ve done to him,” the traitor said with a grin. “I shall say no more, even if you take the knife to me. I tire of these charades. Send me to my new lords.”

  “Sir, Captain Yori is beginning his attack,” Drummer Boy said. Marsh Silas stood up and pointed his Ripper Pistol at him. His finger slid over the trigger. But suddenly, he released a breath and held up his sidearm.

  “Nay, I shan’t.”

  “You do not keep promises well,” the traitor officer taunted. “Fine, take me away to whatever hole you keep the unfortunates in.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t bother with that. I have about all I need out of you.” Marsh Silas nodded at Stück. “Send him to the bottom of the tower. Oh, and do make it quick.”

  The platoon leader pointed to the entrance to the catwalk. Crazy Stück looked over his shoulder and then grinned at Marsh Silas. He forced the enemy onto his feet and guided him towards the exit.

  “You promised my death would be painless and quick!” the officer snapped.

  “I did; you will feel but one sharp pain and the descent will be very fast,” Marsh quipped.

  Stück shoved the traitor against the railing, released the headlock, grabbed him by the waist, and lobbed him over the railing. The enemy officer screamed all the way down. When his body finally hit, enemy sentries from the administrative center ran over. After briefly examining the corpse, they looked up.

  Crazy Stück looked over his shoulder. Marsh Silas took Drummer Boy’s handset. “Red Six to all stations: go loud!”

  “Aha!” laughed Stück. He pulled a grenade from his chest, yanked the pin, and dropped it over the rail. “A gift from the Emperor!” he yelled. The enemies below scattered and the fragmentation cut through their armor. Stück chortled gleefully as he bounced on his feet.

  Explosions rocked the northern perimeter. The Emperor’s Shadows advanced in a staggered battleline towards the airfield. Predator tanks pounded away with their autocannons while the twin-linked heavy weaponry of Razorbacks bombarded the enemy line. Squads of Astares jogged behind or abreast of their Rhino APCs. Land Speeders buzzed by; formations of the Tornado and Typhoon variants raked running enemy troops with ordinance.

  As the platoon filtered back down the tower, Stück took the opportunity to fire down at the enemies emerging from the other buildings. When he took a nonchalant step back as autogun slugs hammered the catwalk, he looked at the top of the administrative building. Teams of Traitor Guardsmen assembled around the tarp and unfastened the cables tying it down. When they pulled it away, they revealed an Earthshaker Cannon.

  “Sir, enemy artillery piece at our ten o’clock!” Stück cried. Marsh Silas ran out beside him. The gunners turned the massive cannon on the tower and loaded a shell.

  “Clear the tower!” Marsh Silas yelled, grabbing Stück by his arm and leading him out. All the Kasrkin and Scout Marines still inside stormed down the stairs and stampeded along the stairwell. Moments later, there was a deafening crash above them. Everyone crouched and pressed themselves to the wall. Chunks of rockcrete, sections of rebar, and shards of glass rained down, showering them with dust.

  When it finally cleared, Stück emerged from a pile of debris with his comrades. Marsh Silas coughed and took Drummer Boy’s handset.

  “Captain Yori, Red Six,” he hacked. “The enemy is in possession of a heavy artillery piece, over.”

  “Affirmative, Knight-Lieutenant. It has turned its fire on us, over. Proceed with the mission as planned,” came the stoic reply.

  “Sir, that cannon will cause heavy casualties among your Space Marines and vehicles.”

  “That is the price we must pay for victory. The Astartes of the Emperor’s Shadows accept our duty and what may come. Risk not yourselves to preserve us.”

  Marsh Silas shoved the handset back in Drummer Boy’s hand and growled. Walmsley Major tapped the Lieutenant’s shoulder plate.

  “Sir, I don’t like it either, but he’s right.”

  “We have our target to clear, Knight-Lieutenant,” Tōru added.

  “I won’t stand for it. I will not let your noble Battle Brothers suffer under that damned gun. Hyram, take my platoon against the barracks. Crazy Stück, you’re with me.”

  “What is it you mean to do, man? It is too risky,” Prince Constantine asked as the formation hurried off the stairs and across the first floor.

  “We are the Kasrkin; all we do involves risk! We will cut through that building, hit the top, and knock that damned gun out.”

  “I will go with you,” said the Prince.

  “As will I!” the Scout Sergeant declared.

  The four Imperials detached from the main body of troops, but not before Stück liberated his squad leader of his chainsword! Walmsley Minor and his echelon returned from the enemy redoubt; the bunker was ablaze. They rejoined Bloody Platoon as they assembled around Hyram. With a cry of, ‘with me, Kasrkin!’ Hyram led a charge towards the barracks. Roaring, they cleared the doors and surged inside like a flooding tidal wave. Lasbolts and gunfire flickered in the windows.

  Stück laughed as they bounded towards the administrative building. They killed the guards outside and stacked up on either side of the door. Marsh Silas turned around.

  “Remember when I said you will not engage the enemy in the way you delight until I give my word?” Marsh Silas asked. Stück nodded eagerly. “Have at’em!”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” he cried. Stück reached into his cartridge belt and procured a pair of syringes. Written on one label was, ‘combat booster,’ and the other read, ‘adrenaline booster.’ He popped the caps off of each.

  “Stück, wait, I didn’t mean—”

  Crazy Stück jammed both needles behind the plates on his thighs and pushed the plungers down. Immediately, an intense wave ran through his entire body and his vision was tinged with red. Every sinew bulged and his muscles tightened. He howled loudly.

  “I’ll have at’em!” he hollered. Running from the wall, he charged back and threw himself through the nearest window. Rolling onto the floor, he swept the revving chainsword in an arc and cut three heretics from their knees. Pivoting on his heel, he plunged the chainsword through the chest of another and stormed into an office chamber on the right. Just as he did, a traitor emerged and was pierced by the same blade.

  Kicking both off, he weaved around the corner, slicing and shooting as he went. In his vision, heretics fell into pieces on either side of him, reduced to chunks by the Hellpistol or tattered by the chainsword. As he ran down the hall, a cavalcade of enemy troops came down the other side. Suddenly, bolt shells ripped through the walls and splattered them on the opposite wall. Constantine emerged, the Black Bolter pressed into his shoulder. Walking quickly ahead of Stück, he expended the rest of the magazine into a second squad.

  A third group came around the corner but backed up when they saw the hall slick with organs, flesh, and blood. But those in the back pushed them forward. Constantine reloaded while Stück walked right by him. “I come for ye!” the Breacher cried as he rushed them. Throwing himself into the enemy squad, he sliced, jabbed, cut, and sawed them all to pieces.

  His armor covered in blood, Stück charged up a staircase. Marsh Silas was already on the second floor and fighting his way through the hall. He headbutted one opponent then opened his belly with his power sword. When a second tried to stab him from behind, he merely fired his Ripper Pistol over his shoulder directly into the man’s face. Two more heretics fired their autoguns at him but the rounds bounced off his heavy Carapace Armor.

  “Lilias, guide my hand!” Marsh Silas yelled as he ran at the enemies. Stück ran after him but a lasbolt struck his armor from an open doorway. When he pressed himself to the wall beside the entrance, more bullets flew through it. It was not rockcrete or metal, just mere prefabricated sheeting.

  “I want everything you’ve got!” Stück shouted. He stepped back then smashed through the wall. The heretics jumped in surprise and he riddled them with his Hellpistol. A survivor ducked through a side door into the next chamber. Stück merely thrust his way through that wall and dispatched the next clique of traitors, then proceeded through the next wall and the next until he arrived at the final room. He heard heretics up against the opposite side of the wall. Stück grinned madly, jammed the barking chainsword through the flimsy construction, and ran it from left to right. Screams rose from the other sides. When he pounded through the door, he found five bodies cut in half.

  Arriving at the staircase, he paused as he heard gunfire above him. Looping up to the third floor, he came across ten enemy corpses. Tōru drew his sword and advanced against ten traitors. One lunged at him with a power ax but he spun and sidestepped it. Driving his knife into the enemy’s back as he did, he ran a second through with his sword.

  Lasbolts and bullets deflected off his armor. Grabbing a traitor by his harness, he slammed him against the left wall, the right, then held the limp body in front of him as he continued to force the heretics back. Lobbing the body into a line of three heretics, he rotated with knife and sword together, cleaving the enemies. Only four remained now. Tōru grabbed the nearest enemy trooper’s autogun and used his superior strength to point it upwards. He shoved his sword into the head of another and didn’t even shudder as the third rammed his bayonet into the Scout Marine’s side. Tōru merely used the opportunity to relieve the heretic of his head.

  Shoving his sword into the belly of the first man he subdued, he yanked the lasgun bayonet out of his side and drove into the back of the last man. Just as he did, a squad of enemies equipped with lasguns stormed down the stairs at the other end. They unleashed a terrible fusillade and Tōru rolled to the left through an open door. Opposite from him, Marsh Silas appeared and returned fire with his Ripper Pistol.

  Stück pressed himself against a rockcrete pillar next to the closest door on the right side. Prince Constantine slid up to the one on the left, braced his foot against the face of it, and leaned out. He fired one three-round burst after another, reducing the squad. But each time he felled one, another heretic took his place.

  Constantine leaned out of sight, stood up, and reloaded. He placed the flat of his left hand on the wall and partially held the barrel of the Black Bolter. Just as he cut down a few, a hulking mass appeared. It was naught but pure, enormous muscle, had black trousers studded with makeshift armor plates, a gas mask, and a huge pauldron on its right shoulder. It hefted an autocannon up, roared, and fired.

  “Traitor Ogryn, get down!” Constantine yelled as the shells ripped by his head. The autocannon demolished entire walls and took out chunks of their rockcrete pillars. “I’ve not faced one in a long time. Blast, it may hold us before we get to that bloody gun. Listen to me, Kasrkin, I am going to—”

  “I am going to kill that!” Stück cried and he rushed around the corner. With Constantine’s cries for him to come back fading, he weaved from side to side of the hall. The slow Ogryn turned the weapon again and again but continually fired in the wrong spot. Marsh Silas leaned out, saw Stück barreling towards the target, and then lobbed a fragmentation grenade at the beast. Too focused on Stück, the Traitor Ogryn made no effort to avoid it. It detonated, peppering him with shrapnel, and distracted him.

  Stück roared happily, leaped towards the Ogryn, and drove the chainsword right into the monster’s bulbous belly. He tore it upwards and split the stomach. Guts and blood showered the Kasrkin. Groaning in agony, the Ogryn reached for him, but Stück demolished one of its gargantuan hands, then the other, and finally sank the spinning teeth into the creature’s neck. With all his might, he pushed the blade through its bulky neck until the head was sheared off. Stück stepped back as the body collapsed at his feet.

  Stück laughed. “I’ve done it!” Marsh Silas, Constantine, and Tōru raced by him and he quickly followed. They emerged onto the rooftop to the side of the enemy gun. The crew was just loading another shell but froze when they spotted them. Marsh Silas shot the spotter, Constantine killed the heretic holding the cord, Tōru shot an ammunition bearer with his Bolt Pistol, and Stück bolted for the loader.

  The man dropped the shell he was carrying and tried to draw his pistol. But Stück reached him first. Dropping the chainsword, he grabbed the man’s webbing and slammed him against the Earthshaker Cannon. He forced the dazed fellow’s head into the breech and bashed the mechanism on the back of his skull until he went limp.

  “Captain, this is Red Six, we’ve cleared the artillery,” Marsh Silas panted.

  “You have?” the Astartes asked. “Those shells drew near, but we have not lost one soul or vehicle to them. You have my thanks. We are making short work of the northern perimeter.”

  “The administrative center and the barracks are clear,” Marsh responded. He turned to the west and smiled. “Here comes Gabler and Bristol.”

  The four Imperials gathered on the corresponding side of the rooftop. In a massive wedge formation, with the two lead vehicles side by side, the Taurox Primes stormed down the tarmac. Maintenance crews ran for their lives as battle cannons, gatling cannons, autocannons, Hunter-Killer missiles, and pintle-mounted Storm Bolters ripped through the repurposed Valkyries. Bristol was up in the hatch of one, expertly shooting with the Storm Bolter. Gabler stood in the other leading APC, cycling the pintle-mounted weapon and racking up a tremendous amount of bodies on her side of the runway. Hitting a cache of promethium drums, the chain reaction of explosions led all the way into the hangar and detonated to the main store. The force blew out the walls and a column of flame broke through the hangar’s roof.

  “We have not had the occasion to work alongside the Kasrkin before,” Tōru said. “You are a credit to your name and more. You have more than proved yourself.”

  Marsh Silas glanced at Stück, drenched in blood. Shivering from the withdrawal of the stimms, he just tilted his head to the side and smiled. The platoon leader’s stern expression softened and he smiled.

  “Well, Kasrkin are capable of many things, including brief insanity as evidenced by our dear Crazy Stück,” Marsh Silas said. “But, I think that what might be insane to one man is just bravery for another. Wouldn’t you agree, Corporal Stück?”

  “Oh, yes sir! Even if I am a little mad!”

  “Indeed you are. But I will take it.” Marsh Silas approached the railing and rested his hands on it. “Well, we have just seized an airfield.” He nodded proudly. “That is a good night’s work. We have dealt a blow to the First of Minnath. But there are still hostile Valkyries out there and they are planning something immediate.”

  “He said they were after Imperial elites. The closest body of such individuals were the visitors at the awards ceremony,” Constantine said. “They’re due to leave the planet at sunrise—just a few hours from now. More than likely, they’re already at Port Narak. That’s the only spaceport large enough for a landing ship to bring them up to orbit.”

  “I suspect who this other spy must be, but that will have to wait. For now, we must mop up quickly here and make haste for Narak,” Marsh Silas said as he pulled away from the railing and marched towards the stairs. “Lives depend on us.”

  “It was not long ago we spoke of the waste and frivolousness of those very people we now aim to defend,” Constantine replied with an air of bemused sarcasm.

  “Even if they might object to my ways, they are still human, and I will do all that is in my power to help them,” Marsh Silas assured him.

  Crazy Stück silently agreed, although he was just as happy they would be getting into another fight very soon.