Deathwing by William King, David Pringle, Neil Jones Page B

this
     matter.
     We
     must
     avenge
     our people.
     Our weapons
     must taste
     enemy blood.
     It would be the
     coward's
     way not
     to face them."
    "But if we fail..." began
     Bloody Moon.
    "If we fail. so
     be it. What
     have
     we to live for? How many summers have
     we left before we die of
     old
     age
     or
     are encased in the
     cold, metal body
     of a Living Dreadnought?"
    He fell silent and
     glared around
     the
     fire. To Cloud Runner's
     surprise,
     he looked down, and
     the
     fury seeped
     out
     of him.
    "I am old," he
     said
     softly.
     "Old
     and
     tired.
     I
     have
     seen
     more
     than
     two
     hundred
     summers.
     In
     a
     few
     more,
     I
     will
     be
     dead anyway.
     I had hoped
     to gaze again on my kin before then,
     but
     it is not
     to be. This is my only regret."
    Cloud Runner could
     see
     the
     weariness
     in
     him,
     felt
     its
     echo
     in
     his
     own
     mind.
     Every
     man about
     the
     fire
     had
     served
     the
    Emperor for centuries,
     their lifespans
     increased
     by the
     process
     that
     turned
     them into Marines.
    "If I had
     remained among the
     people,"
     Weasel-Fierce said. "I would be
     dead
     by
     now.
     I chose
     another
     path
     and
     I
     have lived long – longer perhaps
     than
     any
     mortal should.
    "It is time for an ending.
     Where
     better
     than
     here, on our homeworld, among the
     bones
     of our kin? The day
     of the
     Plains People is done.
     We can avenge
     them, and
     we can join
     them.
     If
     we
     fall
     in
     combat,
     we
     shall
     have
     had
     warriors' deaths.
     I wish to die as
     I have
     lived: weapons
     in hand,
     foes
     before me.
    "I believe that
     this
     is what we all want. Let us
     do it."
    All was quiet
     except the
     crackling of the
     fire. Cloud Runner looked from face to face and
     saw death
     was
     written
     in
     each of
     them.
     Weasel
     Fierce
     had
     voiced
     what
     they
     had
     all
     felt
     since
     first
     seeing
     the shattered
     lodges.
     They
     had
     become wraiths, walking in the
     ruins
     of elder days.
    There was nothing
     left here for them, except memories.
     If
     they
     departed
     now,
     all
     that
     loomed
     before
     them
     was
     old
     age and
     inevitable death.
     This way, at least,
     their ending
     would have
     a meaning.
    "I say
     we go in. If the
     contamination
     has
     not
     spread
     too
     far, we can free any survivors,"
     said
     Lame
     Bear.
     Cloud
     Runner looked at Bloody Moon.
    "Providing
     we command Deathwing to virus-bomb
     the
     planet
     if we fail," he said. The rest
     of the
     warriors
     put
     their
     right fists
     forward,
     signifying
     assent.
     They
     all
     looked
     at
     him,
     waiting
     to
     see
     what
     he
     had
     to
     say.
     He
     felt
     once
     more
     the pressure
     of command fall on him. He considered
     the
     destroyed
     lodges
     and
     his own
     loss
     and
     weighed
     them
     against
     his Imperial duty.
     Nothing
     could
     bring back the
     Plains People, but perhaps
     he could
     save
     their descendants.
    But
     that
     was
     not
     all
     there
     was
     to
     it,
     he
     realised.
     He
     wanted
     the
     satisfaction
     of
     meeting
     his
     foes,
     face
     to
     face.
     He
     was angry.
     He
     wanted
     to
     make
     the
     Stealers
     suffer
     for
     what
     they
     had
     done,
     and
     he
     wanted
     to
     be
     there
     when
     they
     did.
     He wanted vengeance
     for himself and
     for his people.
     It was as
     simple as
     that.
     Such
     a
     decision
     was
     not
     the
     correct
     one
     for an Imperial officer, but
     it was the
     way of his clan. In the
     end, to his surprise,
     he found
     out
     where his true loyalty lay.
    "I say
     we fight,"
     he said
     at last. "But we fight as
     Warriors of the
     People. This battle
     is not
     for
     the