Every vox-horn in the estate erupted simultaneously.
All units — hostile contact attempted entry at outer periter. All units, full alert status.
The mont the warrior had pressed Lady Zeppelin's hand against the biotric panel, the control room had flagged it. The steward had reported it to the General within thirty seconds.
General Zeppelin looked at the ssage, picked up a ga piece, and moved it forward several spaces on the Sector Command board.
"Your turn."
He and his wife had not shared anything resembling genuine feeling for years. The arrangent was well understood: separate lives, maintained discretion, a facade of household unity for the sake of the family na. What she did outside these walls was her business, as what he did was his.
When the steward returned and reported what had been found at the service door — a severed hand and Lady Zeppelin's head — the General was quiet for a mont.
"Arrange the cremation."
He studied the board.
The steward stood very carefully at the edge of the room, saying nothing.
After a while, the General spoke.
"You said the xenos failed to gain entry. Do you think she'll abandon this target and move on to soone else?"
"It's possible, my lord," the steward said, choosing each word with precision. "Her previous pattern suggests pragmatism over persistence. When she encountered the lta trap, she withdrew rather than commit. She may recalculate."
The General laughed — genuinely, briefly.
"Then I win." He moved his piece forward. "Your turn."
Kian leaned against the parapet with a lho-stick burning between his fingers, drawing on it at irregular intervals, not really tasting it.
His eyelid was twitching.
Since his Focus score had crossed fifty, he'd developed sothing he could only describe as a threat-sense — not prescient, not specific, just a general signal that the imdiate future contained sothing he wasn't going to like. It had fired reliably enough that he'd learned to take it seriously.
Right now it was screaming.
"Big Kae, Little Kae, Little Joel — get everyone to battle stations. Sothing's coming."
His soldiers moved. Weapons checked, positions taken, sightlines verified. The tension transferred from Kian to the n around him with the efficiency of long-established trust.
He kept smoking.
One pack, consud stub by stub, a growing pile of spent lho-sticks accumulating around his boots. The unease didn't diminish. It grew.
Where? What direction?
He knew sothing bad was imminent with a conviction that bypassed his rational mind entirely. He didn't know the source. He kept moving along the wall, repositioning the Lumberer-pattern guns — left side, then right side, then back — for no reason he could articulate, just needing to do sothing with the energy building in his chest.
His soldiers exchanged glances. Their commander was nervous. That made them nervous.
Then Kian's heart contracted like a fist closing.
And the world moved.
The tremor ca from directly below — not the surface vibration of distant machinery or artillery, but a deep tectonic shuddering, as if the structural bones of the Hive itself were flexing. The marble parapet cracked. Stone blocks dropped away from the wall and shattered on the ground. Sowhere across the garden, the servants' quarters collapsed inward. Every tal and plasteel surface in the estate began to groan.
Then the shockwave hit.
The detonation sound arrived a fraction of a second behind the pressure front — a concussive crack that reached past hearing into sothing physical, a sound experienced in the sternum and sinuses rather than the ears. Soldiers on both sides of Kian went down, hands clamped over their helts.
Kian was already behind a rlon.
He ca up when the pressure wave had passed and looked toward the tower's interior.
A section of the Spire's upper structure — several football fields of area, directly above where the General's deeper estate levels began — had dropped. Not collapsed outward. Dropped straight down, taking every structure and every person on it into the levels below, mixing them with rebar and plasteel fragnts in a compressive crush that left nothing recognisable.
"What in the—"
His helt's threat-assessnt system registered the answer before he finished the thought.
WARNING: RADIATION LEVELS EXCEED SAFE THRESHOLD BY 583×
The estate lighting died. Every illumination unit in the entire complex went dark simultaneously. Several thousand soldiers in various states of alert suddenly found themselves in complete blackness, and the sounds that ca out of that darkness were not encouraging.
Weapon-mounted luns and powered armour shoulder lights activated across the wall. Small pools of visibility in a very large darkness.
The unarmoured guards near the collapse zone were already showing symptoms — dizziness, nausea, sudden weakness. High-energy particles moving through unshielded tissue at close range, disrupting cellular processes faster than the body could register it as damage.
"Nobody moves!" Kian's voice carried over everything. "My people hold position! Weapons up, stay where you are, wait for orders!"
The response was imdiate. His soldiers — paid well, treated fairly, accustod to his judgent in bad situations — locked down.
Kian turned his helt's sensors toward the collapse zone.
Radiation readings at the epicentre: over a thousand tis safe threshold.
She found the fusion reactor.
The thought arrived fully ford.
Every major noble house in the Spire operated its own power infrastructure — the towers were designed to be self-sufficient for extended periods, independent of the Hive's main grid. General Zeppelin's tower, like all the significant ones, housed a controlled fusion reactor sowhere in its deep levels, near the Mid-Hive boundary, providing ergency power capacity.
The deep levels ant the access security was lower. It was infrastructure, not living quarters. The assumption was that nobody would target it.
The Aeldari warrior had found it, neutralised the guards, and done sothing to the containnt systems using techniques that were not in any Imperial engineering manual.
What detonated beneath them had a yield Kian estimated, from the structural damage visible above, at sowhere in the low tens of gatons — absorbed and contained by hundreds of floors of Hive structure, dissipated through the mass of the city until what reached the surface was a localised collapse zone, a radiation spike, and a power failure.
At the detonation point, dozens of plasteel floors had ceased to exist as solid matter. They had beco lava.
Kian stood in the darkness on a cracked marble wall, radiation counter still climbing, and revised his assessnt of the Aeldari warrior's operational thinking upward considerably.
She couldn't get through the door. So she went under it.
☆☆☆
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