The storage depot was slowly flooding with rust-water. Lux Allegra sat on top of one of the bulbous virus bombs. Every so often, Commander Tyrhone would wade over and crank the munitions cradle up another notch to keep both the life-eater and the priming demolition charge out of the rising water. The Marineer Elites were similarly sat astride or perched on the corroded torpedoes and ancient orbitals that were stored in the chamber. Many leant their lascarbines against the weapon casings and their chins against the carbines. Lamps cut through the murk of the deep depot and the soldiers listened to the distant rumble of Desolation Point coming down on top of them. The colony was collapsing. Perhaps another rock had struck the island. Perhaps the impact damage of the first was still being felt as building collapsed into building, bringing the haven down in an almighty mountain of smoking scrap. Perhaps the fires had a role to play.
Speculation was pointless, Commander Tyrhone had reminded his men, but there was little better to do than listen to the thunder of topside collapses or the sharp static of the vox. At intervals, Tyrhone’s vox-operator would attempt to raise the Marineer submersible
Allegra’s hands reached down to the flak about her abdomen, as was her habit. She found herself thinking of Lyle Gohlandr. The nights they had spent together and the baby growing in her belly. Gohlandr had been short-service — his duty due to end in only a matter of months. He had planned to return to Hive Galatae, apply to the harbour master for a security detail, and work the container stacks as his father had. Allegra would have been censured for conduct unbecoming an officer, but would still have received her gravidity leave. After having the baby, she would have joined Gohlandr at Galatae and got lost in the system. Forged identicodes were easy to come by if, like Allegra, you knew where to look.
The fantasy she had allowed herself, curled up in her berth, seemed a world away now. Undine had all but fallen. Galatae itself had actually fallen, crashing straight into the chemical seas. Gohlandr was dead and Lux Allegra did not have a world to bring her child into. The ocean world of Undine would be, at best, a warzone. At worst, Allegra, her child and her hive-kin could look forward to brutal existences as a xenos conqueror’s slaves. Such bottomless misery filled the captain that for a moment she thought that she had dissipated into the chamber gloom. Her thoughts turned to even darker considerations.
‘Commander,’ she called across the murk, shattering the silence. ‘You have been briefed on these weapons, yes?’
Tyrhone nodded. ‘What happens when we set this thing off?’ the captain put to him, tapping on the virus bomb’s rusty casing with her nail.
‘Is this necessary?’ Tyrhone returned.
‘Let’s call it an order, commander,’ Lux Allegra said.
‘They call it Exterminatus,’ Tyrhone said. ‘Typically the device is orbitally deployed. The priming charge on these should be enough to initiate detonation and release of the virus compound.’
‘Continue,’ Allegra said. ‘What happens after detonation? I want to hear it.’
Tyrhone stared at her. ‘The virus breaks down organic material — anything it comes into contact with — on a molecular level, and it breaks it down fast. Estimates based on observational records suggest complete planetary biological infestation in a matter of minutes. Everything rots. Everything is broken down and reduced to sludge. Nothing organic will survive. Rebreathers will disintegrate and the seals of armour and airlocks will fail.’
‘It will be quick?’
‘Yes, captain,’ Tyrhone said. ‘It will be quick. The swift release of resulting flammable gases will require but a spark to initiate a planet-wide firestorm.’
‘The oceans?’
‘Will boil away,’ Tyrhone said. ‘Undine will be left a dead rock. No oceans. No atmosphere. No hives. No hivers.’
‘No alien invader,’ Allegra added.
‘All will perish,’ the commander confirmed. ‘There will be nothing left.’
Lux Allegra nodded. One of the Marineers whimpered behind his lascarbine. The others remained deathly silent.
‘Why three, if only one is required to do it?’
‘The orbitals are ancient,’ Tyrhone said. ‘The potency of any one bomb might be compromised. Three should ensure mission success.’
‘Mission success…’
‘Yes, captain.’
‘Thank you, commander.’
The master-vox screeched.
Allegra’s heart jumped in her chest. The Marineers sat bolt upright.
‘
It was General Phifer.
The vox-operator went to respond but Commander Tyrhone snatched up the pack. Wading through the rust-water, he deposited it in front of the captain. Allegra took the vox-hailer.
‘Recieving,
‘Captain…’
‘Receiving,
