The Ultramarines Omnibus

by Graham McNeill

  The meat was almost in the killing zone and Kesharq’s excitement began to mount. Blood pounded through his veins at the thought of inflicting pain on the corpse god’s warriors. The corners of his mouth twitched in anticipation and his fingers tingled at the thought. Kesharq decided he would keep one alive as a pet, mewling in constant agony as he watched his comrades slowly dismembered to provide new flesh for his excrents.

  ‘Dread archon, the prey vessel has entered weapons range,’ hissed his second-in-command.

  ‘Excellent,’ smiled Kesharq beneath his skin. ‘Power up the weapons and align the mimic engines.’

  The enemy ship was still too far away to see through the viewscreen, but Kesharq fancied he could sense its nearness. He returned to his command chair and slipped his axe from its scabbard. He liked to tease the onyx blade of the weapon as he made each kill and keep its soul hungry for blood.

  ‘Bring us in on his starboard forequarter with the sun at our backs,’ ordered Kesharq. He stroked the fractal edge of his axe.

  ‘PERMISSION TO COME aboard the bridge, lord admiral?’

  Tiberius turned from the lectern to see two robed men standing at the entrance to the command bridge and fought to mask his annoyance. Civilians on his bridge were something he tried to avoid, but this adept carried with him the highest seal of the Administratum and it would be impolitic to refuse his request.

  Tiberius nodded his approval and descended from his pulpit as the robed duo shuffled their way up the cloister steps to the command nave. One of the pair was a venerable ancient in thick robes who walked with an ivory cane while the other was a man perhaps in his forties with an unremarkable face and bland features. Tiberius reflected that the man looked like every other faceless adept of the Administratum he had ever met.

  The older man looked unimpressed by his surroundings, but the bland faced man positively radiated enthusiasm.

  ‘Many thanks, lord admiral. Most kind of you to allow us onto the bridge, your sanctum, your crow’s nest if you will. Most kind.’

  ‘Is there something I can do for you, Adept Barzano?’ asked Tiberius, already weary of Barzano’s incessant barrage of words.

  ‘Oh please, lord admiral, call me Ario,’ replied Barzano happily. ‘My personal scribe Lortuen Perjed and I merely wished to see the bridge of your mighty starship before we arrived at Pavonis. What with being so busy so far, we haven’t had much of a chance to admire our surroundings.’

  Barzano marched down the nave towards the viewing bay, which at present displayed the diminutive disc of Pavonis and the flaring ball of her sun.

  Barzano examined several of the servitor-manned stations as he passed. He turned back and indicated that Tiberius and Lortuen Perjed should follow him.

  The scribe shrugged and set off after his master, who was bent over a monitor station, waving his hand before the

  blank, expressionless face of a servitor. The lobotomised creature ignored the adept, its cybernetically altered brain incapable of even registering his presence.

  ‘Fascinating, absolutely fascinating,’ he observed, as Tiberius joined him. ‘What does this one do?’

  Controlling his impatience, Tiberius said, ‘This station monitors the temperature variance in the plasma engine core.’

  ‘And that one?’

  ‘It regulates the oxygen recycling units on the gun decks.’

  But Barzano had already moved on towards the surveyor stations through the arched transept, where Space Marine officers worked alongside the motionless servitors.

  A few faces turned towards him as he entered, but Barzano shook his head, saying, ‘Don’t mind me. Pretend I’m not here,’ He stood over a stone-rimmed plotting table in the centre of the chamber and rested his elbows on the side, studying the wealth of tactical information displayed on the embedded slate.

  ‘This is truly fascinating, lord admiral, truly fascinating,’ repeated Barzano.

  ‘I thank you for your interest Adept Barzano, but—’

  ‘Ario, please.’

  ‘Adept Barzano,’ continued Tiberius. ‘This is a vessel of war, it is not—’

  ‘Lord admiral,’ interrupted Philotas, Tiberius’s deck officer.

  Tiberius hurried over to the bewilderingly complex array of runic display slates that the deck officer operated from.

  ‘You have something?’

  ‘New contact, lord admiral. Sixty thousand kilometres in front of us,’ said Philotas, adjusting the runes before him and squinting at the readout before him, ‘I have just detected a plasma energy spike on the mid-range auguries.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Tiberius quickly. ‘A ship?’

  ‘I believe so, lord admiral. Bearing zero-three-nine.’

  ‘Identify it. Class and type. And find out how it managed to get so damned close without us detecting it before now!’

  Philotas nodded and bent to his controls once more. Ario Barzano studied the tactical plot on the central table and pointed to the blip that represented the unknown contact. Rows of numbers scrolled down the slate beside it, an exhaustive array of information regarding the unknown vessel.

  ‘This is the contact?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Adept Barzano, it is,’ snapped Tiberius. ‘But I do not have time to instruct you in the finer points of starship operations just now.’

  ‘Lord admiral?’ called Philotas.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have identified the unknown contact’s engine signature, Lord Admiral,’ confirmed the deck officer. ‘It is the Gallant, a system defence ship out of Pavonis.’

  TARGET APPROACHING LANCE range, dread archon,’ Kesharq ran his tongue across his teeth, tasting the stale blood congealed there and shivered with barely controlled excitement. Yes, the fools were taking the bait, believing the Stormrider to be one of their own. ‘Divert main power to the lance batteries and hold it in reserve. I wish to deliver a killing blow with one strike.’

  ‘Yes, dread archon.’

  TIBERIUS STRODE BACK to his captain’s pulpit and said, ‘Communications, contact the Gallant and pass my compliments to her captain.’

  ‘Yes, lord admiral.’

  The captain of the Vae Victus stared at the viewing bay, hoping to see the outline of the system defence ship, but the flaring corona from the star at the system’s centre prevented him from seeing much of anything. He turned back to surveyor control and felt his temper fraying as he watched Barzano standing over the data entry booth of one of his ship’s logic banks.

  ‘Adept Barzano?’ asked Tiberius.

  The adept waved a dismissive hand, too intent on the slate before him and Tiberius decided he had had enough of Adept Ario Barzano. Adept of the highest clearance or not, nobody showed the commander of a starship that kind of disrespect. Tiberius descended from his pulpit – as Barzano suddenly hurried from surveyor control to meet him.

  ‘Lord admiral, raise the shields and power up the weapons!’ ordered Barzano, his voice infused with sudden authority.

  Tiberius folded his arms across his massive chest and looked down into the adept’s tense face.

  ‘And why should I do that, Adept Barzano?’

  ‘Because,’ hissed Barzano urgently, ‘according to the Ultima Segmentum fleet records, the governor of Pavonis reported the Gallant destroyed with all hands five years ago, lord admiral.’

  Tiberius felt the blood drain from his face as he realised the implication and the scale of the danger his ship and crew were in.

  ‘Hard to starboard!’ he shouted. ‘Raise void shields and build power in forward liner accelerators!’

  ‘FIRE!’ SHOUTED ARCHON Kesharq as he saw the massive prow of the Space Marine vessel begin swinging to face them. The ship shuddered as the forward lance batteries hurled deadly pulses of dark energy towards its prey. In a heartbeat they had closed the gap. The viewscreen flashed as colossal amounts of energy smashed into the strike cruiser and exploded with unbelievable force.

  A bright halo exploded around the Vae Vi
ctus as the first impacts overloaded the vessel’s void shields. The following bolts detonated on the armoured prow of the ship, sending plumes of fire and oxygen flaring from her stricken hull.

  To see so much destructive power unleashed at such close range was truly exhilarating and Kesharq roared in triumph.

  Even at this range, he could see that the damage the pulse lances had inflicted was horrendous. Metre-thick sheets of adamantium had been peeled back from the starship’s structure like tin foil and jagged tendons of steel hung limp from the shattered section of the prow where they had struck.

  Jets of freezing oxygen crystallised as they spewed from the raptured hull, blast doors struggling to contain the breach. Kesharq knew that hundreds must have died in the initial blast and many more would soon have followed them screaming into hell as their compartments suddenly vented into space.

  Kesharq laughed.

  ‘Bring us about and move around to their rear quarter. Disable their engines.’

  THE BRIDGE OF the Vae Victus heeled sideways, flooring the entire command crew as the massive explosion rippled its force along the ship’s structure. Secondary blasts followed quickly behind, the detonations sounding like hollow thumps from the bridge.

  Warning bells tolled and the command bridge was bathed in red as the strike cruiser went to battle stations. Emergency teams battled fires and tended to the wounded as steam, smoke and flames burst from shattered conduits and monitor stations. Dozens of servitors slumped lifeless from their chairs.

  Tiberius picked himself up from the deck, a deep gash in his cheek. The blood had already clotted and he shouted, ‘Damage report! Now!’

  He ran to the ordnance station, wrenching the targeting servitor from the panel. It was dead, the ashen flesh burned and black and its controls shattered. The logic engines struggled to determine the extent of their hurt, but Tiberius already knew they had been grievously wounded. Not a fatal wound yet, but still a serious one.

  ‘Void shields overloaded and we have hull breaches on decks seven through to nine,’ shouted the deck officer. ‘Prow bombardment cannon are temporarily offline and main launch bay took a hit. We were lucky. The last few blasts only grazed us, lord admiral. Your turn into the fire saved us.’

  Tiberius grunted, feeling unworthy of such a compliment and returned to his command pulpit. Barzano’s warning had come not a moment too soon and it was that which had saved the ship. Barely had the shields come up before the Vae Victus shuddered as the enemy struck.

  Tiberius glared at the viewing bay, angry with himself for being caught out, watching as a fluid black shape, its graceful mainsail rippling in the solar wind, slid from the concealing flare of the sun and slipped out of sight around their starboard flank.

  ‘Eldar!’ cursed Tiberius. Where in the nine hells had that ship come from? How in the name of Guilliman had it fooled their surveyors and auguries?

  ‘Surveyor control! Give me a full amplification sweep of the local area. Tell me what in the name of holy Terra is out there! Starboard broadside batteries fire at will!’

  Philotas nodded, hurriedly relaying the lord admiral’s orders.

  ‘And someone stop that damned bell ringing!’

  The bridge was suddenly quiet as the sacristy bell fell silent. The hiss of damaged machinery, the crackling of sparks and the insensate moans of wounded servitors were the only sounds. He felt the vibrations of the starboard batteries opening fire, but without proper ordnance control, doubted they would hit anything.

  Tiberius mopped the congealed blood from his forehead as Ario Barzano staggered towards the captain’s pulpit, supporting the slumped form of his scribe. Perjed was bleeding from a cut to the head, but it was not deep and once Barzano had deposited the venerable scribe on the cloister stairs, he ran back to surveyor control.

  Tiberius shouted over to the adept, ‘My thanks, Adept Barzano, for your timely warning,’ He then called up the tactical plot onto his lectern, but the display was cluttered with anomalous readings and the close range surveyors were picking up dozens of return signals. Cursed alien magicks! Any one of them could be the eldar raider.

  He had to save his ship, but what could he do with such confused information? But a bad decision was better than no decision.

  ‘Helm control, hard to starboard and fire all batteries. Get us some distance from this bastard! We need space to manoeuvre.’

  ‘No, lord admiral!’ yelled Barzano from the tactical plot table. ‘I believe we face a ship of the eldar’s dark kin. I have read of such vessels and we must not move away from him.’

  Tiberius hesitated, unused to being contradicted on his own bridge, but the adept had been proven correct so far and seemed to know more about the capabilities of the enemy ship.

  ‘Very well, Adept Barzano. Time is short, what would you have me do?’

  ‘We must close with the enemy, barrage him with firepower and hope to strike a lucky hit through his holofields.’

  ‘Do it!’ snapped Tiberius to his helm officer. ‘Fire port manoeuvring thrusters and come to new heading zero-nine-zero!’

  KESHARQ WATCHED THE damaged ship turn about its axis on the viewscreen before him. The ruptured prow was swinging around rapidly and, he suddenly noticed, was getting closer. He cursed as he realised that someone on board that vessel must be aware of his ship’s capabilities.

  He pointed to the viewscreen and shouted, ‘Keep us behind it, curse your souls!’

  The bridge shook as the explosions of heavy battery fire burst around the ship. The enemy gunners could not pinpoint their location, but with such weight of fire, it would only be a matter of time until they were hit. And the Stormrider was not built to take that kind of punishment.

  The Vae Victus was struggling to match their turn, but such a contest could have only one winner.

  ‘Prow torpedo bays ready to fire, dread archon!’

  ‘Full spread,’ screamed Kesharq. ‘Fire!’

  ‘INCOMING TORPEDOES, LORD admiral!’ warned Philotas.

  ‘Emperor damn them to hell! Hard to port! Defensive turrets open fire!’

  ‘Broadside batteries lock onto the torpedoes’ origination point and fire!’ shouted Barzano.

  ‘Weapons control, do as he says!’ confirmed Tiberius.

  The bridge swayed violently and Tiberius gripped the edge of the pulpit as the Vae Victus reversed her turn.

  SIX TORPEDOES STREAKED towards the Vae Victus, alien targeter scrambling systems pumping out a distortion field that made it extremely difficult for their prey to intercept them. At such dose range, and flying through such heavy fire, it was inevitable that some of the torpedoes would not get through and two exploded as the broadside gunners found their mark. Another was deceived by the radiation flaring from the damaged prow and flashed harmlessly below the Vae Victus. The last three dosed unerringly on the strike cruiser and into range of the ship’s close defences.

  ‘THREE TORPEDOES DOWN!’ yelled Philotas hoarsely.

  ‘That’s still three left,’ said Tiberius. ‘Take them out!’

  ‘Close-in defensive turrets targeting now!’

  The giant viewing bay showed the dark of space, painted with bright smears of explosions and the icy contrails of the incoming torpedoes. The entire bridge crew could see the weapons hurtling towards them and every man felt that the warheads were pointed right between his eyes.

  The crew held their breath or muttered prayers to the Emperor as the Vae Victus’s last line of defence opened fire.

  EACH CLOSE-IN TURRET was manned by a servitor equipped with its own auguries which allowed it to independently track the torpedoes as they neared. The torpedoes were programmed with evasive manoeuvres, but it was in their final stage that they were most vulnerable. As they began to slow for final target point acquisition, their speed bled off to a level where they could not evade effectively and one of the torpedoes disintegrated in a spray of high-velocity cannon fire.

  A single shell from the defensive turrets clipped
another torpedo. The grazing impact was not solid enough to destroy the torpedo, but knocked its internal gyroscope off track. Its guidance system now believed the Vae Victus was directly above it and altered course to roar upwards for nearly three hundred kilometres before exploding.

  The last torpedo completed its final manoeuvre and closed for the kill.

  Every gun brought their fire to bear on the projectile and, at a range of less than two hundred metres, they brought it down.

  Hundreds of shells ripped into the torpedo, which detonated in a huge ball of fire and shrapnel. However, the wreckage was still moving at incredible speed and burning shards of the torpedo slammed into the hull, destroying a close-in defence turret, shredding a surveyor antenna and collapsing a number of external statuaries.

  The torpedo attack was over.

  TIBERIUS SAGGED AGAINST the pulpit as he watched the last torpedo die and knew he had never seen a sweeter sight. A ragged cheer of relief burst from the throats of the bridge staff along with fervent prayers of thanks.

  ‘Well done, lord admiral. We did it,’ sighed Barzano, limp with relief and drenched in sweat.

  ‘This time, Ario,’ cautioned Tiberius. ‘We were lucky, but let’s not break out the victory wine just yet.’

  He shouted over to his deck officer. ‘What of our return fire?’

  ‘Engaging now,’ said Philotas.

  ‘Good,’ said Tiberius with a vicious grin. ‘Time to show that we still have teeth.’

  KESHARQ COULD NOT believe the evidence of his own eyes. The torpedo spread had been defeated! The odds against such a thing was unthinkable. As he contemplated the sheer unfairness of it all, the bridge lurched sickeningly, pitching him to the ground. The massive vibrations of nearby explosions caused the ship to shudder violently. Lights flashed and smoke billowed from smashed machinery.

  ‘Dread archon, we have been hit!’ shouted his second in command.

  ‘Yes, thank you for that perceptive insight,’ sneered Kesharq. ‘And if I am killed, be so good as to point it out. How badly have we been damaged?’