The acrid cloud swirled above the planet Constantix II. The Raven Guard battle fleet arrived from the Warp. Two small ships were missing from the fleet of 28. Praetor Corax studied the planet’s digital scans. Hundreds of barge cities floated on its surface, dredging the oceans. Several cargo ships filled with bioluminescent bacteria fled the system upon their arrival. Radio communication filled the airwaves. The vast majority warned of the surface of invasion—a few mentioned liberation.

“Praetor, we should prepare the assault.” Shadow Captain Kyrus Nayn of the third company loomed over the table. Red, oily hair covered the many scars. His grace was obvious among the other captains despite his muscled frame. “I’d bombard the traitor barges, followed by a spear thrust,” the other captains murmured.” Kyrus Nayn was rather mystifying; he forced attention and respect. He was rare amongst captains fighting for possession. It was his simple decency and kindness to his competitors. The fact they always welcomed him with open arms was a mystery.

“We need the cities intact, my captains.” Corax loomed above them all, his black feathered cloak shifting around him. “I accepted this mission knowing we needed precision. One man caused this treachery. So we remove one man.”

More murmurs. “10th company, forward.” A small man approached; for a human, he was taller than most. For an Astartes, he was a dwarf. Long black hair framed his ivory-skinned face. Jet-black solid eyes took in the entire board. “Captain Klaek at your service.” A raspy whisper sent visible chills down all attendees. Corax took no notice.

“We know the traitor is here.” The largest of the barges zoomed in. All visible pieces moved across the table. The city lumbered across the sky. A large palace complex occupied the heights. Corax pointed again. “His palace is garrisoned with a detachment of Word Bearers. At least 500 marines and support equipment.”

“well spotted sir.” The slightest hint of sarcasm.

“Klaek, cut the head of the serpent, it withers and dies.”

“as you wish.”

Klaek gathered his top squad—the six finest assassins in the imperium. Mor Deythan’s. “Sergeant Cybon, the mission is simple: Infiltrate the target area, find the mark, kill the mark. Stealth is the essence of the mission.” The palace complex and the image of Delvere, the rebels’ leader, loomed on the screen.

“Your team will board an incoming transport. Seven passengers are aboard and cleared for landing. One should leave in a body bag.” Cybon’s brow tightened. I would give 72 hours to infiltrate the complex; weak points are here.” The map highlighted unguarded walls, sewers, backdoors, and a raven tower. “On the surface, you will have no communication with us. Too much interference.”

Cybon nodded again. “Are all methods available?” His deep, soothing voice echoed in the mission chamber. Crystal blue eyes sparkled in the light. The black hair, speckled with white, hung around his shoulders.

“Yes, anything goes.”

The squad smiled at each other. “Stealth lads.”

The smiles faded. Setting off a nuke in a bed chamber was very effective at killing anything. Cybon spoke again. “Laan, Selles, study sightlines. Klaun, Maun, you take the patrol patterns. Laed, blueprints. You have 12 hours.”

The squad left, each one grabbing their datapad. Klaek’s hiss cut through the room again. “Sergeant, I have something for you. It is a letter to Delvere from me.” Cybon looked confused at the sealed scroll. “You aren’t going to kill him. I want him to have this; I want him to live.”

“Sir?”

“Those are my orders. Delvere lives. I want this ship to think he’s dead. Dismissed.”

Cybon hid the scroll in his suit. Klaek wasn’t ten paces down the hallway before his form disappeared in the shadows. He took the scroll to his chambers, which were drab and military to the core. Within a minute, the scroll was open, seal intact.

Delvere,

You are aware at this point of the ease in which the Raven Guard could kill you. My assassins are the best. We are not in the business of butchering politicians. Your actions have left us in a difficult spot. Surrender, remove the Word Bearers, and we can negotiate your sentence.

Praetor Corax

Like an artist, Cybon removed the seal intact and placed it on the small metal nightstand. Sitting on the military bunk, he studied it, searching for a clue or code. The light shone through, clear. Why send assassins to fake a man’s death? It went back to when Klaek met with a couple of sisters a few months ago. It was something he shouldn’t have seen. He couldn’t hear a word, but when they spoke to him. Klaek was uncomfortable.

He resealed the letter. His mind raced. The Praetor’s signature and seal? He opened his datapad. Idly, scrolling through old messages, and thinking about what Klaek could have gained. He would never command the legion.

The squad mobilized on the launch deck. Their light-absorbing spacesuits made them invisible amongst the stars. Cybon spoke. “Laed, you have command of our launch and approach.”

The engineer nodded. “My mark in 8,7,6,5.” The entire squad prepared to launch. “3,2,1,” a burst of energy. The six Mor Deythan exploded from the launch deck as one. “Set course, now.” Across each of their visors, a line guided their flight path. “Time to target 87 minutes, 12 seconds. Laed off.”

“Well done, squad stay tight.” Cybon. “Klaun, report.”

“Sir, there are seven primary patterns at regular intervals. Guard patrols consist of 5 standard marines. The patterns follow these routes.” Again, the visors flashed. “Based on Selles and Laan’s assessment, I recommend infiltrating the cargo tunnels here.” A green dot appeared. “It dodges all sniper positions from here and here. Ignores all overhead sensors.”

Maun spoke up, his voice indistinguishable from his twins. “The risk is tight quarters.” The visor changed again, highlighting tight corridors with long sightlines. “Our marksmanship places us at an advantage for much of the approach. It will be difficult if a terminator or dreadnought is down there.”

Klaun spoke again. “Intelligence suggests the palace has no heavy units in the garrison. They deployed to the defenses on our arrival.”

“Thank you all for your contributions.” Cybon took over the coms, muting the squad. “I concur with the plan.” His voice began to waiver. “I am of two minds asartes. We have an order from our superior to execute the target. I was also given another order. Fake the target’s death and give him a letter from Covax.”

His mind continued to race. How could he convince his squad? As leaders, they had followed him for years, never wavering in support. Laed attempted to chime in. “My coms Laed.” He tried again. “Go ahead then.”

“Sir, I am ordered the same.” Cybon’s breath caught. “Klaek visited my chambers about an hour after the briefing. I am to ensure Delvere lives.”

Cybon took over again. “Explain the plan.”

The squad entered the transport without a shot. All passenger’s throats were cut and discharged into space. Each member of the squad took the passengers’ clothes. The woman is inserted into a body bag. “Two minutes forty six seconds.” Cybon tapped his watch.

Laed “Off our game, those knickers get too tight Selles?”  The slightest of chuckles punctured the silence.

Two hours later the transport docked. The ship took fifteen minutes to equalize pressure. Amber warning lights flashed the door slowly opened. The Mor Deythans smelled the air first. Acrid sulfur and burning biofuel. Bright security lights illuminated the landing pad. A few dock workers went about their business, never looking at the new arrivals. They casually left the shuttle moving towards the exit.

They passed a squad of Word Bearers tactical marines. Three had their bolsters raised at a shaking sealed container. The sergeant was looking over his data pad with a dock worker. The last marine watched the group pass by. Klaun locked eyes with the visor. Maintaining eye contact until they rounded the corner to exit.

Cybon, attuned to the smoothness of space travel, felt the barge city moving on the acid sea. People moved about the city as if there was only one place to be. The streets are completely utilitarian. No decoration. Space was tight on the barges and resources scarce. Every major building is dedicated to harvesting and refining the bacteria used to create biofuels for the traitors. The food was bland and luxuries nonexistent.

The skyline was filled with the spires of the palace. There were 20, all blazing Word Bearers crimson. The squad didn’t chatter. The plan was simple, dangerous, exfil impossible. It is a kind of mission Mor Deythans excelled in.

 “Infil point’s two kliks east sarg.” Laed focused on his data pad. “Sniper’s should take leave for positions now.” Klaun and Maun turned off towards a thin tall apartment building with a signal tower on top. The streets were better lit as they approached the palace. Clean storefronts with basic goods, at this hour they were empty. “take this alley now.”

The squad turned to a narrow walking only alley. No light. Cybon took over command. “suit up” Within 60 seconds the four marines were in their armor. In the shadows they were invisible. “hand signals only until I say otherwise.”

The night was quiet. Laed’s path took them down a multitude of utility tunnels, no vids, no patrols. They entered the palace through a drain grate in a janitors closet. Cybon pointed to his watch and help two fingers down. 2 minutes behind schedule. Laed put a scope beneath the door.

He signed “clear, dark, go left.”

Cybon was surprised the corridor was dark, and empty. Eerily so. The padded souls of their boats made no sound down the stone hall. Laed signed again.

“hold, this door”

His small scope peered through the crack again. The faint blue light from the screen illuminating his face. “clear, go.”

Selles tried the handle. “locked”

Cybon took the small tool from his pocket. He whispered to Laed .”Any alarms?”

“None interior.”

The laser pen cut through the brass like butter. The door swung inward easily. Laed took over. “follow.”

Their next door took them outside. Cybon used his scope and looked at the tower. One of the twins held a small white object for the briefest second. They were in position and no difficulties. He signed to the squad “1 minute behind”

The approached the presidential wing of the palace. Four Word Bearers stood guard around the main entrance, less than 20 yards from the squad.

Laed led them towards a small alcove. There was a window forty feet up. “climb here.”

Cybon looked at Laan “cover”

Laan nodded and watched the courtyard, eyes scanning.

Laed put on special gloves of his own design. He gripped the wall like a spider. Twenty seconds later he was lowering a rope. Cybon followed. Six feet down from the window a tug at the bottom of the rope alerted him. Laan pointed towards the courtyard, six marines were walking with lights inspecting the perimeter.

Cybon dashed into the window and began pulling in the rope. Three were headed for the alcove. There was no cover there, Laan and Selles were dead. He looked at Laed “lets go”

A metal ting rung like a bell. The six marines turned away from the alcove towards the noise. Laed threw the rope down. Selles and Laan flew up.

“follow” He took charge again. Cybon glanced at where the marines were looking. A metal post within the sightlines of the snipers. Quick thinking on their part. How long till they noticed the bolter damage?

The corridors continued to be deserted. thousands of paintings linen the walls, imported from across the empire. Cybon didn’t think much of it, but there should have been servants and other support staff about. “Hold” a major intersection here. The squad deployed their cameras. A cleaning staff worked a dozen meters to their right.

Laed looked at his map. “Right, hold” He climbed the wall, scurrying across the ceiling. He maneuvered above the cleaning crew. Two older women, too ugly to breed, most likely simple. Laed fell onto them. Crushing their skulls into the ground. Blood spraying across the hall.

Cybon turned to the squad “move”

Their final corridor housed the presidential suite. Five tactical marines secured the area. The squad checked their weapons. Shooting would be too loud. Cybon brought his team in close. “Suggestions?”

Selles spoke too quickly. “Kill the power, approach in darkness, knife ‘em.”

Laed rebutted immediately. “Backup gen would kick on in less than a second.” He looked around, “roofs no good with their scanners.”

Laan mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Trojan horse sir. Dress as cleaners walk right in.”

Cybon looked at the others. “Laed, what was the original plan?”

“Weren’t any guards before.”

“Fuck, really? Fine, Selles, Laan secure the cleaning uniforms. Laed you’ll cut the power, you said one second, should be enough time.”

Selles and Laan pushed the cart down the hall. Desperately trying to hide their bulk. A marine halted them 20 feet too early. “Wrong way, this sector is under quarantine no one in or out.”

Selles spoke, “weeees got instructions lord command sur.” Cybon winced the accent was nowhere close to what they practiced. “A great mess and all, meessa tinks the bosss wuldnt wanna be mads ya sees.”

The marine looked back towards the door. The officer approached, “get the fuck outa here. We have our orders, no one enters or.”

The lights went black. Cybon pulled the trigger, his bolter aimed at one of the three remaining guards. The shot reverberating down the corridor. Two thumps indicated the commander and his comrade were also slain. The lights came back on. The two remains marines hadn’t even raised their weapons before Laed and his talons ripped the, to shreds.

Cybon kicked in the door. The palace suite was decorated in such finery that he never thought existed. Hand woven upholstery with intricate art afforded the furniture. Laed took them to the presidents chamber. He was fast asleep. A young girl, recently beaten, shivered uncovered on the floor.

Cybon covered his mouth, waking him. The president’s eyes were wide with shock. Cybon yanked the naked man up. “Read”.

Delvere’s eyes moved in a blur over the short text.

“Your answer?”

Delvere began to laugh. It was evil, possessed. He laughed harder. Cybon’s knuckles hit him square, teeth spilling onto the ground. “So you die”

“No, you die.”

Cybon turned around. A dozen grotesque abominations with horns and talons protruding from power armor looked at him. They charged.

2

The failed assassination attempt of president Delvere insured that a large scale planetary assault was inevitable.