by Andy Hoare
‘Station nine!’ Lucian called. ‘Give me a near space reading, now.’
The servitor stationed at the adjacent console nodded, machine nonsense squealing from the speaker grill crudely grafted into the flesh of its neck. The main pict-slate at the centre of its console lit up with a representation of the gravimetrics readings of the area of space around the Oceanid.
Once more, Lucian’s mind raced as he attempted to assimilate the information presented on the screen. No wonder he needed so many servitors, he mused, dismissing the thought as his eyes fixed on an anomaly.
There, in the lee of the target, into which his vessel’s active sensors could not reach, there was a ripple in the fabric of the void, a signature he had seen before.
‘Sarik!’ He bellowed, the servitor at the comms station opening the channel immediately.
Through the wail of interference, Sarik’s voice came back over the bridge address system.
‘Gerrit? Go ahead, but make it quick. I’m somewhat busy.’
‘Sarik, divert all power to your port shield, now.’
‘Are you…?’
‘Do it!’
The communications channel went abruptly silent. Lucian held his breath, not realising he was doing so, before the holograph showed that the Nomad was rapidly bleeding power from its main drives while its shield was being raised. He let out his breath. He’d apologise later, he mused, if he got the chance.
An instant later, and the viewing port was filled with a great, blinding flash of purest white light. Having closed his eyes by reflex, it took a moment for Lucian’s vision to clear. Nevertheless, flickering nerve lights rendered him almost blind.
‘Report!’ He bellowed, not caring who answered.
‘Ultra-high velocity projectile, my lord. We’ve seen them before,’ Lucian’s ordnance officer replied.
His vision clearing, Lucian looked to the holograph. The projectile had struck the Nomad amidships, half way down her port bow. Looking up, Lucian saw from where the projectile had been fired, as a long silhouette glided into view against the turquoise oceans of Sy’l’Kell.
‘I knew it,’ Lucian said. ‘I absolutely knew the camel toed bastards would try it on.’
Exhilaration flooded through Lucian’s body as he sat in his command throne once more, gripping the worn arms as generations of his forebears had done before him.
‘Helm, twenty to port. Ordnance, prepare a broadside.’
As the helmsman laboured at his wheel and levers, Lucian watched as the opening moves of the coming battle played out before him. The target, towards which the stricken Space Marine frigate still sped, was now visible. A mighty space station, shaped like some giant mushroom, blue lights twinkling up and down its stalk, wallowed at the centre of the viewing port, its bulk black against the lurid seas of the planet around which it orbited. A vessel emerged from behind that station; the same vessel that had come so close to destroying, in a single shot, a frigate of the White Scars Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. Lucian’s grin became a feral snarl and his eyes narrowed as the tau vessel cleared the station it had been hiding behind.
‘Enemy vessel powering up for another shot at the Nomad, my lord,’ called the ordnance officer. ‘She’s going for the kill shot, sir.’
‘That’s what she thinks,’ replied Lucian. ‘Ordnance? Open fire!’
‘But, sir’, the ordnance officer sputtered, ‘I have no firing solution. We’ll…’
‘I said open fire damn you!’ bellowed Lucian. ‘Do it, or so help me…’
Lucian was glad to see that the officer had the presence of mind to order the broadside before his master could complete, or indeed enact, his threat. The Oceanid shuddered as the port weapons batteries unleashed a fearsome barrage towards the tau vessel. Lacking a solid firing solution for the war spirits of the super-heavy munitions to follow, the majority of the shells went wide, their fuses detonating them at random across the space between the two ships.
No matter. If Lucian had meant to destroy the tau ship he would have waited, but had he done that, the Nomad would now be smeared across a hundred square kilometres of local space. The tau vessel aborted its shot against the Space Marine frigate, its blunt nose coming around to face the greater threat presented by the Oceanid.
‘My thanks, Gerrit. I am in your debt.’ Sarik’s voice came over the address system.
‘You’re welcome,’ replied Lucian. ‘Good hunting.’
Now, he thought, I’ve got a tau vessel to take out before it ruins everything. As the explosions cleared, the greasy black smoke left in their wake almost entirely obscured the other vessel. Lucian judged that the distance between the two ships would level at an impossibly close five hundred metres before they parted once more. Five hundred metres, he mused, remembering just how deadly another tau vessel had almost proved at such a close range in a previous engagement. There was too little time for an effective broadside, but he had other tricks up his sleeve that the tau had yet to see. Besides which, he thought, it doesn’t pay to let the enemy get too used to one’s tactics.
‘Ordnance, I want a focused lance battery strike on the module aft of the central transverse,’ he said, indicating one of the many blocky, modular units the tau vessel appeared to be carrying slung beneath its long spine.
‘Aye, sir,’ replied the ordnance officer, Lucian noting with satisfaction that the officer was plotting the lance strike against the exact point he had intended.
At seven hundred metres, Lucian could make out the details of the flanks of the tau vessel, though he could not fathom the meaning of the many symbols or icons applied to its surface.
‘I have a solution, my lord,’ the officer said. ‘Fire pattern set.’
Lucian knew that even now, the sweating crews in the lance batteries atop the Oceanid would be toiling at the traversing mechanisms of their turrets, cursing crew chiefs threatening them with eternal damnation should they falter in their work.
At six hundred metres, the drifting smoke and debris of the broadside cleared enough for Lucian to pick out the point against which he had ordered the lance strike. At five hundred and fifty metres, he saw it clearly, and so did the ordnance officer, who communicated a series of final adjustments to the turret crews. A horizontal line of clear blue light appeared at the centre of the module, gaining in height as it was revealed to be an armoured blast door opening upwards. A row of armoured figures was framed against the blue light, the like of which Lucian had seen before, from a distance, the last time he had fought the tau.
‘You have fire control, Mister Batista.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ replied the ordnance officer, adjusting his uniform jacket, straightening his back and clearing his throat.
‘Now would be good,’ added Lucian.
‘Yes, my lord.’ The officer depressed the control stud that passed the fire order to the lance turrets. An instant later the lance batteries spat a searing beam of condensed atomic fire at the tau vessel, parting the smoky clouds, spearing the open bay, vaporising the armoured figures, and passing clean out of the other side of the module, accompanied by a rapidly expanding cone of fire and debris.
‘Target well struck, sir,’ the ordnance officer reported.
‘Well enough, Mister Batista,’ Lucian replied. ‘Prepare for a second strike.’ Lucian scanned the flanks of the enemy vessel as the range closed to five hundred metres, seeking further armoured bays from which the battle suits he had seen used before might deploy.
‘Negative, my lord,’ the officer replied, doubt obvious in his voice.
‘Negative?’ Lucian asked. ‘Report.’
‘Something’s blocking the targeting mechanisms, overloading their machine spirits, my lord. I can’t…’
‘The interference?’ asked Lucian, theorising that the incessant interference flooding from the rings of Sy’l’Kell was somehow confoundin
g the Oceanid’s targeting arrays.
‘No sir, there’s something else.’
Damn these xenos to the Gideon Confluence, thought Lucian, at once irritated and impressed by the Tau’s ingenuity. He crossed to the wide viewing port and looked out across the narrow span of smoky void between the two vessels. The ships were rapidly passing one another in opposite directions, the tau vessel veering to its port in a course that would take it away from the Oceanid and towards the station. Odd, thought Lucian. He had expected the enemy to close even further in order to make full use of the extra-vehicular armoured suits, as they had done against Korvane’s vessel in the last battle.
Even as Lucian watched, the wound punched in the tau ship by his lance strike slid past, almost filling the entire viewing port. He judged the hole to be at least twenty metres in diameter, and as it passed across the dead centre of the port, he was afforded a view right through the enemy vessel, to open space beyond. The Nomad passed across that space, the tau ship turning towards her.
Lucian realised why the enemy ship was seeking to disengage from his own: it was seeking to hold him off while it swung around on the smaller frigate. He drew breath to order a change in course, when another sight greeted his eyes. A shoal of miniscule white objects, each propelled by a small, blue jet, was swarming across the gap between the two ships. So these were the cause of the fire control failure, Lucian realised. They were some kind of decoy, each, judging by their movements, possessed of some manner of machine intelligence, their density and erratic course confounding any effort to get a target lock on their mother ship.
‘I can’t get a solution at this range, my lord,’ the ordnance officer reported. ‘Whatever those things are, each one has an etheric signature far in excess of its size. All together like that, at such close range…’
‘Saint Katherine’s pasty arse,’ Lucian cursed, causing the ordnance officer to blush and the helmsman to smirk. ‘They’re after the Nomad, and if they get her this whole operation will have been a waste of time. Mister Raldi, bring us in hard on the orbital, I want every ounce of power through the mains, but be ready on the retros.’
As the helmsman nodded his understanding, Lucian ordered a comms channel to the Nomad to be opened.
‘Sarik, do you read?’
Lucian glared out of the viewing port as he awaited the frigate’s reply. The tau vessel had passed from view, to reveal the tau orbital beyond, and in its shadow, the floundering Space Marine vessel. Fires raged across the Nomad’s port flank. Misty contrails snaking from her aft section betrayed a massive hull breach through which oxygen was bleeding uncontrollably.
An angry burst of static was followed by the distorted, barely audible voice of the Space Marine. ‘Aye Lucian, I read. We’re preparing for our run.’
‘You won’t make it at this rate, Sarik,’ Lucian replied, knowing full well that he was pushing the Space Marine’s bounds in speaking to him in such a manner, but continuing regardless. ‘That vessel has you in its sights, and in your state you can’t hold it off for long enough. Will you accept my aid?’
For a long moment, only hissing, popping static was audible over the communications channel. Lucian prayed that the Space Marine would put pride aside, just this once, and accept the aid of another. Then Sarik’s voice came back.
‘You and I shall have words, Lucian Gerrit, when this is over. In the meantime, speak your plan.’
Lucian felt relief flood his system, but saw that he did not have the luxury of time. ‘We’ll be with you shortly, Sarik. In the meantime, I suggest you continue on your course on momentum only, and shunt all available power to your aft shields. Understood?’
‘Understood,’ came the reply, this time without delay. ‘Nomad out.’
‘Well enough,’ said Lucian, as he sat in his command throne and turned his attention to the holograph. He took in the relative positions of the remainder of the fleet. He was gratified to see that his children’s vessels had maintained formation with his own, keeping a distance as ordered, yet close enough to respond to any order he might issue. He was even more pleased when he saw that the other vessels, even further out, had yet to close in on the action. He smirked as he imagined the scenes on the decks of those ships, picturing the various captains raging in jealously as they watched Lucian save the Space Marines’ bacon and take all the glory.
Steady, he thought to himself. The glory was not his yet, and he still had a Space Marine frigate to rescue, a tau cruiser to take care of, and a space station to capture. This would match the exploits of old Abad, if he could pull it off, Lucian mused. Abad had taken on a Reek voidswarm at the Battle of Ghallenburg, and single-handedly stemmed the tide of filthy xenos interface vessels as they made planetfall. Lucian would do likewise, he determined, and to hell with the others.
‘Approaching orbital, my lord,’ the helmsman reported, interrupting Lucian’s rumination. He looked to the holograph and saw that the alien space station lay three and a half thousand metres off the starboard bow. The tau vessel was completing a stately turn that would bring it directly behind the Nomad. It had yet to open fire, but Lucian judged that it would not be long.
‘Trim mains, Mister Raldi. Hard to starboard, full burn all port retro banks.’
Lucian stared at the holograph as the helmsman carried out his orders, feeling the enormous gravitational forces exerting themselves on his ship as it changed course sharply. The banks of mighty retro thrusters mounted along the length of the port side coughed into life as power was cut from the main drives, the Oceanid entering a manoeuvre that would see her slingshot right around the alien space station.
Then, the ordnance officer called aloud, ‘Brace for enemy fire!’ Klaxons echoed up and down the Oceanid’s companionways, warning the crew of incoming fire, but Lucian knew that his ship was unlikely to be the target, for the tau had a more choice prey in their sights.
Lucian closed his eyes against the bright discharge of the tau’s ultra-high velocity projectile weapon, his vision turning red for an instant, despite the fact that his eyes were closed tight. An instant later the viewing port dimmed automatically, once again, its simple spirit too slow to respond to the flash.
‘Nomad struck, my lord,’ called out the ordnance officer. ‘The enemy fired her port weapon, sir. Nomad’s shields took the worst of it, but I think her projectors took some feedback. Second shot any moment…’
The tau vessel fired a second time, and Lucian was thankful that the viewing port was still dimmed. Despite this, he saw the tau space station etched in stark silhouette, for the Oceanid was now on its far side with the tau ship on the other. He looked to the ordnance officer, who read off his report.
‘Nomad struck again, sir. Port weapon again. Her shields are almost gone. I don’t think she’ll survive a third shot.’
‘Hm,’ replied Lucian. He’d seen the damage Space Marine warships could take, and was prepared to gamble that the Nomad would hold together. He had no choice, for his vessel would not complete its manoeuvre for several more, long, potentially painful minutes. Furthermore, he considered, why hadn’t the tau ship fired its prow-mounted weapon?
As the Oceanid ploughed on, edging around the tau space station, Lucian’s eyes were glued to the holograph. He saw that the tau vessel was trying to overtake the Nomad. The enemy ship was seeking to line herself up with the limping Space Marine frigate, which was careening towards the space station by way of momentum alone, every last portion of energy devoted to maintaining its rapidly failing rear shields.
Lucian saw hope in the tau’s actions. If he could intercept their ship before they were lined up, he knew he would have them. If he could not, then all was lost, for the tau would have the perfect firing solution and the frigate would be doomed. Then the thought resurfaced: why hadn’t they used their prow-mounted projectile?
‘They’re launching something,’ reported the ordnance officer. ‘More o
f the decoys.’
Why were the tau launching decoys? Lucian’s mind filtered the possibilities, but he was interrupted before completing his chain of thought.
‘In position, my lord,’ reported the helmsman.
‘Open fire, sir?’ asked the ordnance officer.
‘Hold, Mister Batista,’ Lucian replied. ‘There’s something else going on.’
The Oceanid having completed its long arc around the tau space station, Lucian’s vessel was heading straight towards the prow of the enemy ship. Crossing to the viewing port and squinting to make out the enemy ship as the distance closed, Lucian yelped in elation.
‘I congratulate you, Mister Batista!’
‘Sir?’ The ordnance officer replied, confusion writ large upon his features.
Lucian laughed out loud for the sheer joy of it. ‘Your untargeted broadside, Mister Batista. Evidently, something struck.’
As the Oceanid closed on the tau vessel, a great gash upon its blunt, armoured prow became clearly visible. The position, Lucian knew from prior experience against tau cruisers, of its forward weapon turret.
The question remained, Lucian mused, as to why the tau had launched the swarm of decoys, which was closing in on the Nomad’s drive section even as he watched. Then it came to him, and he bellowed for the communications channel to the Space Marine frigate to be opened one more.
‘Sarik?’ Only interference answered him, louder and more intense than ever. Lucian realised that the decoys, combined with the static coming from the rings of Sy’l’Kell, must be blocking the ship-to-ship channels entirely.
‘Comms. Bleed all power from all available systems to near space vox.’
Lucian watched as the swarm of tau decoys arrowed towards the vulnerable aft section of the Nomad. They can’t fire on me, he told himself, not with their prow turret out of action, but running with no shields in the middle of a space battle was considered bad practice, even by his standards.
A flashing tell-tale informed Lucian that the near-space vox was receiving all the power it ever would. This had better work.
