The pirates' wails earned them the Emperor's mercy. As blades passed through their frail bodies, they finally remembered that the supremely formidable commander before them was an Astartes, one of the Emperor's Angels who should have struck fear into every living creature-including trembling humans.
The pirates felt as though they had plunged into an ice cellar. As the badly wounded fell, even those with lighter injuries dared not speak.
Given the choice, they would have boarded a warship and flown away immediately.
"The first rule of engagement. I don't need to repeat it, do I?"
Not a single pirate spoke. Only one utterly oblivious Astartes continued complaining to William. "Forget those idiots. In the time it takes to manage them, we could kill three hundred and sixty-six xenos."
William glanced at him. He finally realized something and turned away. Apparently feeling he had lost face, he muttered, "Three hundred and sixty-seven."
Besides Anti-psyker Armour, Iron Face's force had a small number of Indomitus-pattern Terminators. Some Blackshield warriors still refused Ascension Surgery and retained their ordinary Astartes forms.
Several pointed heads poked out of the great hole they had blasted in the tall spire, only to be immediately suppressed by gunfire.
"Ignore them. Attack this short spire."
William did not know why this spire was so low, but the more unusual something was, the more it warranted investigation.
The last Melta Bomb was planted. Iron Face's force had almost exhausted its stockpile during the earlier fighting.
As the bomb exploded, half a company's worth of troops charged into the little tower, while William remained motionless.
The Deathwatch and the Inquisitors tried to move, but the Crimson Tide's "exchange students" stopped them.
"What are you waiting for? I don't need your kind of Terminator to kill enemies." The Son of Dorn shoved