Moments later, the Sky Eye launched smoothly, its augur arrays linking seamlessly into the planet's orbit. The ship's systems dimmed as the plasma furnace powered down. The crew activated the light-baffles, counting down three minutes until the Ebony Shadows entered full silent mode.
Three minutes passed. The Ebony Shadows became a ghost in the void, hidden by shadow and technology. The enemy would need blind luck to detect it unless they stumbled directly across its path.
The captain reviewed the data on his panel before addressing Kayvaan. "Sir, we've reached equatorial orbit. However, I must inform you we cannot provide immediate fire support from this position. I suggest shifting to geostationary orbit above the Fort Gallan. From there, we can deliver firepower on your command."
Kayvaan waved him off. "We won't need it. What's the situation down there? Have we contacted Fort Gallan?"
"We've established contact. Would you like to speak with them?"
"No need. Just tell them to have coffee ready. We're coming down." Kayvaan gave the captain a considering look. "By the way, what's your name?"
"Grant, sir."
Kayvaan nodded approvingly. "Good work, Grant. You keep the ship secure. I'm heading down." Leaving the bridge, Kayvaan descended to the launch bay on the lower deck. There, a Thunderhawk transport gunship stood ready. Unlike its gunship counterparts, this one carried no weapons, stripped down to serve purely as a landing craft. Upgrades were an out-of-pocket luxury—either through throne gelt or earned merits. Gelt, unfortunately, was often the more reliable option.
Kayvaan's squad was already inside, geared up and waiting. Elizabeth, sitting closest to the ramp, looked over calmly. "Are we starting?"
"Everyone, strap in. We're going down." Kayvaan tapped his earpiece. "Iron Hawk, this is King of Knights. Squad aboard. Take us down."
The comms crackled as the pilot replied, "Iron Hawk here. Welcome, everyone. This is Peter and Edmund at the helm. Belts tight and brace for turbulence."
With a hiss, the Thunderhawk's hatch sealed. Massive mechanical arms descended from above, locking onto the craft with heavy thuds. Red warning lights flared, and the launch bay's floor split open, revealing the planet below. The arms extended, lowering the Thunderhawk before releasing it into open space. Inside the cabin, Kayvaan glanced at the young recruit beside him. "Nervous?"
Darius stiffened in his seat, his hands gripping the straps across his chest. "No, Captain," he replied quickly, though the slight quaver in his voice betrayed him.
Kayvaan's sharp gaze didn't miss a thing. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Then why are your hands clenched so tightly? You'll snap those straps if you're not careful."
Darius stammered. "It's not fear! I'm just…"
Kayvaan chuckled. "Relax. It's your first mission, but don't worry—I'm here. You've got it easy, you know. Back in my day, we didn't have this luxury."
Darius looked up. "Sir, do you mean the airborne capsules?"
"Exactly. Those coffins aren't a secret. You'll learn about them soon enough."
"What were they like?" Darius asked, his curiosity betraying his nerves.
"Exciting," Kayvaan said with a grin. "You'll see for yourself someday. Until then, here's a tip—if you're jittery, focus on checking your gear."
The temperature in the cabin began to rise noticeably. Darius glanced around nervously, but to his surprise, everyone else seemed unfazed, as if they hadn't noticed the increasing warmth. He wiped his damp palms on his trousers and looked at Kayvaan suspiciously. "We're entering the atmosphere," Kayvaan explained, his tone casual. "It'll feel warm for a bit, but there's nothing to worry about."
The Iron Hawk plunged into the planet's atmosphere like a blazing meteor, streaking diagonally across the sky with trails of molten fire. This wasn't an accident—it was deliberate. The descent was a basic evasion tactic, meant to trick any observers into dismissing them as debris from orbit. As the gunship hurtled downward, the portholes revealed fleeting glimpses of land and jagged mountains growing steadily larger beneath the churning white clouds. The view was breathtaking, though the sensation of plummeting headfirst toward the surface made Darius's stomach lurch. It felt as though the very ground of Holy Terra was rushing up to punish him for his sins.
Darius's face turned pale, and his knuckles turned white on the armrests. Opposite him, Inquisitor Elizabeth frowned, her usual poise faltering just slightly. Even she looked displeased—this was not how a Thunderhawk was supposed to fly.
The craft tore through the lower atmosphere, gaining speed with every moment, until it seemed inevitable they would crash. At the very last moment—barely a hundred meters above the ground—the Iron Hawk suddenly pulled up hard. The engines howled as the tail belched streams of cerulean flame. The craft still dropped under its immense weight, skimming so close to the surface that Darius swore he could see individual leaves on the treetops. Then, in one final defiance of physics, the ship's nose pitched upward, its descent arrested at the final moment.
Inside the cabin, the tension shattered. Every man and woman exhaled together, even Kayvaan and the hardened Sisters of Battle. The near-disaster had rattled even the most stoic among them. Elizabeth, however, was far from impressed. Her frown deepened as she muttered a short litany beneath her breath before her expression shifted entirely. Her eyes widened with sudden realization.
"It's a miracle," she said softly, her voice trembling with reverence. "If we had dropped just five meters lower, we would have perished. The God-Emperor Himself is watching over us. His divine hand guides our path."
The Sisters of Battle, visibly moved, shouted in unison, "The Emperor protects!"
The cabin filled with fervor as the Sisters' faith ignited like an unquenchable flame. The squad of nuns looked ready to march into the eye of the Warp itself, their zeal unshakable. Elizabeth, sensing their energy, gave a small nod of approval but tempered it with a stern warning. "We must remain vigilant," she said firmly. "Faith does not excuse recklessness. The pilots must be reminded of their duty to those aboard."
Kayvaan sighed and rubbed his temple. "Leave that to me." He tapped his earpiece and growled, "What in the name of Dorn do you think you're doing up there? Have you lost your mind?"
A calm, unnervingly monotone voice replied, "Captain, please remain calm."
"Calm? Calm?! My squad nearly died because my pilot thinks he's performing for a hive carnival. Where did the Mechanicus find you lunatics? I swear, when we land—"
The voice cut him off, still maddeningly level. "Captain, the ship is under control."
"You're threatening me now?" Kayvaan's voice dropped into a dangerous growl. "Are you threatening your commanding officer?"
Another voice, noticeably more nervous, chimed in. "Captain, it's Edmund—the co-pilot. This is all Peter's fault! I swear! Don't shoot me—I didn't touch anything! He's the one flying!"
"Coward," Peter muttered. "Captain, this isn't my fault. The Iron Hawk has a spirit, and I respect it. The machine spirit likes flying this way—it demands it. I'm merely cooperating. And we did arrive in one piece, didn't we?"
Kayvaan's voice dropped to a whisper of barely contained fury. "There are important people on this ship, Peter. They don't appreciate your... technique. And they're all women."