ected before him。 Each dot
indicated one of the orbital torpedo silos or air defence batteries； and operators hurriedly tried to contact the men stationed there to
ascertain what was happening。
Were they broadcasting？ Were they under attack？ What in the name of the Emperor was going on？
Cycerin returned to his monitoring station； placing his hands on the ridged； metal fixtures of the armrests。 Thin； wiry tendrils of
silver metal slithered from beneath his fingernails like gleaming worms and clicked into brass sockets on the ridges。 The adept
sighed； and his organic eye flickered behind a pale lid as information relayed from the multitude of surveyors and augurs
positioned around the spaceport flooded his senses through the technology of his mechadendrites。
Awareness flooded him； his mind…sense perceiving space and distance as vectors； ranges and coverage of ground。 His senses
reached into space； following the sweeps of the orbital augurs。 Information flowed through him； processed and compartmentalised
in the synthetic logic stacks of his augmented brain。 Even with his machine affinity； he could barely keep pace with the barrage of
sensory data。
There had to be something； this couldn't be happening without reason。 Logic dictated that there was a cause for this effect。
Something must be out of place…
There； in the north sector！ He narrowed his perceptions； shutting off areas of sensory retrieval that were extraneous to his search
and closing in on the anomaly。 Where there should have been washes of energy sweeping down from the mountains； there was
only black emptiness。 The surveyor stations on the northern slopes were silent； their auguries no longer active。 He immediately
saw that this left an open corridor； through which an enemy could approach undetected to the very perimeter of the base。
How had this not been seen？ Why had the operators here not reported such an unforgivable lapse in security？ The identity of the
surveyor station flashed up。
Sigma IV。
He cursed as he realised that the anomaly had been seen； but that the surveyor station's failure to report had been put down to
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
human error on the part of those within。 He swore again； uncharacteristically letting slip his emotionless demeanour； as yet more
sirens screeched around the control room。
Startled； Cycerin reopened his mind to other portions of his awareness and his breath caught in his throat as he felt the presence of
dozens of starships in orbit above Hydra Cordatus。 Inconceivable！ Where had these ships come from and why had they not been
detected before now？ Nothing should be able to enter even the outer edges of the system without them being aware of it… could
it？ Or was this another example of human error？ No； the logic engines would have screamed the place down many days ago if it
had detected this size of fleet approaching。 Somehow these starships had avoided detection by some of the rarest and most
precious equipment available to the Adeptus Mechanicus。
Briefly he wondered what technologies these ships had and how it worked； but shook his head at such irrelevance。 He had more
important things to worry about。 The defenders at the citadel must be warned that an invasion was imminent。 He opened the mindlink
to Arch Magos Amaethon's Machine Temple in the citadel and sent the psychic alert code。 The astropaths stationed there
would detect it and send a more powerful psychic distress call for aid to Hydra Cordatus。
Hurriedly he closed off his mind…link and withdrew his digital mechadendrites from the monitoring station； opening his eyes on a
scene of controlled efficiency。 System operators called to the torpedo outstations； authenticating launch codes and feeding their
operators firing solutions towards the collection of starships in orbit。 Time was of the essence now and they had to get the
torpedoes in the air。
Alert sirens would be ringing out in the pilots' barracks by now and soon there would be a swarm of aircraft in the air； ready to
meet whatever threat was approaching； and soldiers from the Jouran Dragoons were mustering even now to repel the attackers。
He had drilled the operators here for this eventuality time and time again； and now that it was happening for real； he was pleased
to note the calmness evinced by his staff。
'Adept Cycerin！' shouted one of the orbital monitoring operators。 'We have multiple signals detaching from several contacts in
orbit。'
'Identify them！' barked Cycerin。
The operator nodded； bowing his head to his station； running his finger down the slate beside his display。
'They're too fast for landing craft； I believe they are inbound orbital munitions。'
'Plot their vectors！ Quickly； man！' hissed Cycerin； though he feared he knew the answer already。
The man's hands danced across his slate； and green lines extended from the rapidly moving blips； reaching out to the
representation of the planet's surface。 Cycerin's vox…amp crackled in sudden fear as he saw the approach vectors of the incoming
bombs matched almost exactly the locator signals being broadcast from the torpedo launch silos。
'How…？' whispered the operator； his face ashen。
Cycerin lifted his eyes to the armoured glass windows of the Hope。
'There's someone out there…'
NEARLY A THOUSAND men died in the first seconds of the Iron Warriors' initial bombardment of Jericho Falls spaceport。 The battle
barge Stonebreaker fired three salvoes of magma bombs into the desolate rocky slopes surrounding the spaceport； blasting vast
chunks of rock hundreds of metres into the air and flattening almost all the torpedo silos in the mountains with unerring accuracy。
Alarm sirens screamed and the spaceport's weapon batteries rumbled into firing positions as their gunners desperately sought to
acquire targets before being annihilated。 A few hastily blessed torpedoes roared upwards through the orange sky on pillars of fiery
smoke and powerful beams of laser energy stabbed through the perpetually cloudless heavens。
More bombs fell； this time within the perimeter of Jericho Falls； demolishing buildings； gouging great craters and hurling
enormous clouds of umber ash into the atmosphere。 Flames from burning structures lit the smoke from within and bodies lay
aflame in the wreckage of the shattered spaceport。 Smashed aircraft littered the ground and more exploded as the heat from the
fires cooked off their weapons and fuel tanks。
Bombs slammed into the rockcrete； scything lethal fragments everywhere。 Others smashed into the runways； cratering them and
melting the honeycombed adamantium with the heat of a star。
The Marauders and Lightnings out in the open took the worst of the barrage； pulverised by the force of the explosions。
The noise and confusion were unbelievable； the sky was red with flames and black with smoke。 Heavy las…fire blasted upwards。
A number of shells impacted on the main hangar's roof。 Its armoured structure had absorbed the damage so far； though vast cracks
now zigzagged across the reinforced walls and roof。
The main runway was engulfed in flames； burning pools of jet fuel spewing thick black smoke that turned day into night。
Hell had come to Hydra Cordatus。
THREE
THE FIRST WAVE of drop…pods fired from the Stonebreaker landed in clouds of fire and smoke as their boosters slowed them after
their screaming journey through the atmosphere。 As each pod hit the ground； the release bolt on its base slammed home and the
sides unfolded to reveal their interiors。
Each pod in this wave was Deathwind class； equipped with an auto…firing heavy gun platform。 As they opened； the weapons began
to pour their lethal fire in a spinning； circular arc。 Fresh explosions erupted across the ready line as the bolts found their marks in
the exposed attack craft and pilots。 The volleys from the battle barge in orbit ceased as more streaking lines of fire followed the
first wave。 Gun turrets mounted on armoured bunkers engaged the weapon pods； methodically targeting them one at a time and
destroying them with well…aimed gunfire。 But the Deathwinds had done their job； keeping the gunners occupied as the second
wave of drop…pods slashed downwards； unmolested； through the atmosphere towards the base。
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
KROEGER GRIPPED HIS chainsword tight and repeated the Iron Warriors' Litany of Hate for the ninth time since his Dreadclaw
drop…pod had fired from the belly of the Stonebreaker。 The pod shook with the fury of its fiery journey through the atmosphere
and； as their passage became smoother； he knew that the curses and offerings to the Powers of Chaos had appeased their
monstrous hunger。 He grinned beneath his helmet as he watched the bone…rimmed altimeter unravel； counting the seconds to their
landing。
They would now be within the lethal range of the spaceport's guns； but if the half…breed； Honsou； had successfully completed his
mission； then there should be little or no incoming fire to meet them。 His lip curled in contempt as he thought of that mongrel
leading one of the Warsmith's grand companies。 It was unseemly for a half…breed to attain such responsibility； and Kroeger
despised Honsou with every fibre of his being。
He cast his gaze over the armoured warriors who sat aroun