“Launch torpedoes… brace for collision.” The chaplain’s voice remained calm and precise.
Torpedoes erupted from their launch tubes on course for the defence platforms. The Vinco Redemptor banked hard to her port side in a sluggish attempt to position her heavier armoured side to the enemy torpedoes, protecting the open launch bays from the destructive force careening in her direction. Not designed for manoeuvrability, the Redemptor resisted the unnatural movement, but slowly she brought her bow around.
The first of the torpedoes struck amidships. Ripples of blue energy radiated in waves out from the point of impact as the Redemptor’s defensive shielding absorbed most of the weapons’ energy. The next two torpedoes sent waves of blue energy rippling across the ship as they also wasted themselves on the defensive shielding. The fourth torpedo struck home just outside the forward launch bay. The defensive shield, already strained by the previous strikes, was not able to withstand another direct hit.
The explosion ripped through the weaker sections of the armoured hull and flames engulfed the launch bay. Shards of metal, fragments of ceramite plating and other debris ripped through crewmen manning the launch craft. Secondary explosions from ammo lifts and fuel carriers enhanced the destruction. Automated fire suppression systems activated, working to extinguish the flames and contain the damage.
Servitors moved into the damaged bay, clearing debris and rubble. Techmarines took their places near the wounded deck, beginning the ritual anointing ceremonies, which would allow them to reroute damaged systems and control functions.
“Damage control reports minor damage to forward launch bay, lord-chaplain,” reported the tactical officer.
The Vinco Redemptor returned to her course. She was almost in range to launch the landing force. The transport and cargo ships appeared as small green images on the tactical display, scattering as they attempted to avoid the coming conflict.
Vargas turned his attention away from the observation deck, back to the tactical display. As Vargas watched, he noticed something odd. Though the civilian ships were in disarray, one of them was following an escape course dangerously close to the Dark Angels battle-barge.
Collision alarms sounded.
Vargas spun back to the observation deck. “Report?” Vargas asked already knowing the answer.
“Proximity alarm, lord-chaplain. One of the transports is on a collision course with us.”
“I want that transport out of our flight path,” commanded Vargas.
“Lord-chaplain?” asked the fire control officer.
“All port weapons, bombardment cannons two and four, target that ship and fire.”
The transport ship rocked as the Redemptor obeyed its master. Laser and plasma fire sliced through the transport’s hull, cutting through the craft’s bridge. Then, the dreaded bombardment cannons struck the transport’s cargo bay. The ship listed, drifting lifelessly. Fire and electrical residue danced across her hull. Unexpectedly, the transport exploded.
The force of the blast was not like anything that the engines of a transport of her size should be capable of producing. The blast shot outwards, as if in dying, the ship had become a small star. The bridge of the Vinco Redemptor rocked violently as the shock-wave crashed into the ship’s port side. Flame and debris peppered the ship like shrapnel, causing secondary explosions to erupt across the ship.
Jeremiah deactivated his comm and took a deep breath. His mind flew back to the moment when the intelligence report for this mission had been presented. Commander Azrael, Supreme Grand Master of the Dark Angels, had been there for its presentation. After its reading, a debate among several of the interrogator-chaplains had begun about who would pursue this member of the Fallen, and how his apprehension would be effected. After several days of deliberation Lord Vargas had been nominated and approved. He remembered this quite clearly because after the chaplains had agreed they had turned to Commander Azrael who simply nodded his approval.
Vargas very quickly began to discuss his plans for securing the Fallen.
“My plan is quite simple: I will dispatch a kill team to Hyades to locate and secure the Fallen. Once our objective has been achieved, the Vinco Redemptor will arrive to extract the team. Should something go wrong or the team fails in its mission then I will deploy troops to search and subdue the city until he is found.”
There were no objections to Vargas’s plans, only a question from Commander Azrael. “Hyades is in a sector that falls under the protection of the Space Wolves. How can we explain such action on one of their protectorate worlds?”
There was a long pause before Vargas spoke. “Grand Master, the entire operation will not take long at all. In fact we should be in and out before they even know we are there. However, to ensure the highest possibility for success, I will deploy Kill Team Lion’s Pride, led by Captain Jeremiah Gieyus.”
Jeremiah knew that Chaplain Vargas had just absolved himself of any responsibility of failure. Everything rested squarely on the shoulders of him and his team.
He looked into the eyes of the members of his team. None of them knew the real reason why they had been assigned to this hunt. The path they were on would require more from them than he had ever asked before.
“My brothers, you are all aware of what’s about to happen. Chaplain Vargas will be launching the assault force in a matter of minutes. Our target has infiltrated the Hyades defence forces. That means they will be used as cannon fodder so he can make good his escape. We cannot allow this to happen. It is imperative we locate him and bring this matter to a swift conclusion.” The passion in Jeremiah’s voice rose.
“We are all with you Brother-Captain Gieyus. You have but to lead.” Nathaniel spoke for the entire team.
Jeremiah drew his sword and held it out in front of him. Each Dark Angel in turn placed his mighty gauntleted hand on the blade and they spoke in unison.
“Repent! For tomorrow you die.”
Vargas reached up and grabbed the pulpit, pulling himself back up to his feet. As the bridge lighting returned, he checked the bridge and the crew for damage. Adepts and servitors were pulling themselves up and doing their best to assume their duty. Some lay still and twisted on the floor; these would not rise again.
Vargas had seen many ships burn in space. He’d witnessed reactor explosions, but this was different. The explosion was much more powerful than a ship of that size should have made. Had the transport been any closer, it could have severely damaged the Redemptor.
“What caused that explosion? It was too big to be a reactor overload,” Vargas asked.
“Lord-chaplain, I’ve conducted a focused scan of the remaining transports. Most of them are empty, but four of them are loaded top to bottom with promethium fuel cells.” The tactical adept transferred the sensor information to the tactical screen. The holo images of the loaded transports glowed red to demonstrate their threat potential.
“Treacherous bastards! Damage report! How badly are we damaged?”
“Reports are coming in now, sir. We’ve lost our port weapons batteries, gravity generators on decks twelve through fifteen port side are down, and the port shields have been depleted to thirty per cent,” reported the tactical officer.
Vargas scanned the restored tactical display. The Vinco Redemptor’s initial torpedo salvo had severely damaged several of the planetary defence platforms, but they still posed a threat. It was time to bring this to an end. Vargas activated his armour’s internal comm system and patched directly into the ship’s speakers.
“Brethren, prepare for ground assault. The Lion will be with us on this day. All drop-pods prepare for immediate launch.” Vargas resumed his place on the observation deck.
Dark Angels from the Fifth Company along with support equipment reported to their assigned drop-pods. Marines passed by the Thunderhawks towards the drop-pod launch tubes. Each drop-pod could deliver a single squad of Marines amongst the enemy, hurtling through the atmosphere with incredible velocity, making them virtually im
possible for enemy weapons teams to target. Just before impact, powerful engines would ignite, bringing the pod to a safe touchdown. Only the toughened bodies of the Astartes could survive the pressures involved in such a descent.
The Redemptor closed on Hyades. Starboard and forward weapons batteries opened fire. Torpedoes and missiles raced from their launch tubes. Wave after wave of Thunderhawks burst from the forward launch bay, forming a shield in front of the Redemptor. Smaller and more manoeuvrable than their mother ship, they provided the perfect screen for the much larger battle-barge.
Hyades’s remaining defence platforms opened fire with everything they had, using torpedoes and lance batteries. Thunderhawks engaged the torpedoes, protecting the Redemptor until she was in range to launch her drop-pods.
Lasers from the defence platforms’ lance batteries sliced through the Dark Angels Thunderhawk shield. A few Thunderhawks broke off to conduct strafing runs on the slower and less manoeuvrable suicide transports, destroying them far from the Vinco Redemptor.
The Redemptor turned slightly, attempting to protect her weaker port side. With the bombardment cannons in range, she opened fire on the defence platforms. Massive projectiles ripped through the remaining platforms, turning them into clouds of metal fragments. With the sky clear of enemy fire the drop-pods were clear to launch. In moments, the Dark Angels would be on the planet.
Vargas stood on the bridge observation deck, watching as his battle-brothers entered the atmosphere.
“The Fallen will be redeemed,” he murmured.
With the assistance of the governor’s guard, the Wolfblade had just completed a search of the palace grounds. Ragnar and Torin had considered entering the mines to continue their search for the Dark Angels when they received a message from Gabriella.
“My Wolfblade, a Space Marine battle-barge has engaged Hyades’s orbital defence forces. Report to me immediately at the governor’s command centre,” she ordered.
Ragnar and the others were stunned by the news. Their encounter with a squad of Dark Angels in the capital was strange enough, but now a battle-barge had not only entered the system, but had actually begun an assault of the orbital defences. The foursome quickly broke into a run.
It took the four Space Wolves several minutes to reach the command centre, but upon their arrival they found themselves in the middle of a torrent of activity. Two large circular tactical screens filled the far wall. Control podiums and communication pulpits stood directly in front of the tactical screens, where a number of adepts delicately ran their fingers across runes, constantly feeding new data to the screens. Several of them glanced towards the Space Marines. Many had never seen a warrior of the Astartes before, let alone a Space Wolf, and they were afraid. Ragnar could smell their fear, it hung on them like a cloud, but even filled with fear they were not distracted from their duties, which impressed him.
Governor Pelias stood next to the consoles surrounded by advisors, all of whom seemed to be talking at once. Gabriella stood beside the governor listening as the reports came in. Upon noticing the Wolfblade, she immediately made for them.
“My lady, we’ve detected no signs of any other forces within the palace grounds.” Ragnar reported.
Gabriella swept her hand towards the tactical display. “We have. Our uninvited guest is a Dark Angels battle-barge.”
“They brought a battle-barge?” Torin said, shaking his head. “But why? Are they planning a planetary assault?”
“That appears to be their intent. What we don’t know is why they are attacking. The governor has made several attempts to make contact with them, but they refuse to answer.” Gabriella responded.
Ragnar searched his memory for some grain of information, some insight into why the Dark Angels were here. Why were they invading Hyades? What could they possibly want?
He replayed the fight with the Dark Angels over and over again in his mind. He must have missed some detail. He had first spotted them moving through the parade grounds, but where had they been heading? Ragnar pictured the palace grounds, trying to map out where the Dark Angels might have been going.
Ragnar scanned the command centre, podium to pulpit, looking for the adept that could provide him with what he was searching for. Finally he saw what he needed: a young pale technician who looked confused.
Ragnar walked over to the man. “I need you, now,” he said. The man nearly fell out of his chair as he stared up at the armoured Space Wolf. “Can you bring up a map of the palace grounds?”
“Yes, sir, Lord Wolf, sir, I mean…” With a few simple keystrokes, his screen came to life with a topographical view of the palace grounds. Ragnar traced the path of the Dark Angels through the parade ground. Torin and Gabriella leaned over, flanking Ragnar on either side.
Haegr tried to push through to see for himself, but there wasn’t enough room.
“Haegr, old friend,” said Torin, “why don’t you take Magni and gather the rest of the Wolfblade, I’ve a feeling that we are going to have need of our wolf brothers shortly.”
Haegr looked as if he wanted to protest, but he knew that planning and calculating were not among his strengths.
“Come, lad,” said Haegr, “Torin’s right, we’ll be around for the fighting, don’t worry.” Haegr realized what Torin was doing. There was a fight coming, and they needed to be ready for it. He and Magni would collect their brothers, and the Emperor help them when they met up with him.
Torin quietly asked Ragnar, “Care to share with us what you’re looking for, my friend?”
“A reason, something, anything that we may have missed during our engagement with the Dark Angels, anything that will give us some insight into why Hyades is so important to them. If we discover why they are here, we may be able to bring this conflict to a quick end.” Ragnar continued to analyse the map.
“You think that the answer is on this map?” Gabriella asked.
“I’m trying to work out where they were going before we engaged them,” replied Ragnar. “We’ve assumed that it was somewhere in the palace, that they were trying to assassinate you, Gabriella, or maybe Governor Pelias.”
Ragnar stepped in closer to the display and continued. “We detected them right here,” he said, pointing to the relative position on the map. “They moved along the parade ground, beside the Administratum building, on the opposite side of the atrium, leaving the parade ground here.”
“Yes, but then they moved around to the front of the Administratum building,” said Torin. Circling the area with his finger, he continued, “So you think they were searching for someone or something in the Administratum building?”
Gabriella leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. “I cannot imagine what they could have been looking for there. Information on trade or weapons, possibly, although it would take weeks to work out what.”
Ragnar travelled back in his mind to the moment when he and his companions had encountered the Dark Angels. He remembered making eye contact with the leader of the kill team. “They altered their path to engage us,” Ragnar said softly, not realising that he was speaking aloud.
“What’s that, Ragnar?” Torin asked.
“The Administratum building had nothing to do with what they were looking for. They altered their plan to engage us. They realised that they had been detected and they reacted to that threat,” Ragnar concluded.
Gabriella folded her hands, obviously aware of more activity and shouts. “So, if not to the Administratum building, then where were they heading?”
Torin turned back to the map. “We can assume that if we had not detected them, they would have continued along in this direction.” Torin traced his finger along the map. “So what lies in that direction?”
Gabriella stopped pacing. “The armoury, the physical training facility, and the barracks for the elite palace guard,” she said.
“Maybe they were hoping for a decapitation strike before the invasion began.”
“I don’t know,” Ragnar said, but he wa
s certain there was something more.
The command centre suddenly exploded with a flurry of action, as alarms sounded. “Excuse me for a moment,” Gabriella said, leaving to confer with Governor Pelias, who was speaking to someone on the comm; Ragnar guessed it was probably Cadmus.
Gabriella touched the governor reassuringly on the shoulder, and then left him to rejoin Ragnar and Torin.
“Come with me,” she said.
The Wolfblade joined her, flanking her on either side as she moved to the opposite side of the room and entered a lift. The doors closed behind them. Gabriella pressed a button on the control panel and the lift ascended.
“The time for speculation is over, my trusted Wolfblade. The Dark Angels have refused all our hails. They’ve destroyed our defence satellites, and right now several drop-pods are on course for Lethe.”
The doors slid open. Gabriella and the Wolfblade stepped out of the lift into a large, well-furnished office. Ragnar guessed it might belong to the governor or one of his aides. Gabriella walked over to a balcony on the far side of the room that overlooked the city.
The Space Wolves stood and watched the smoke trails from the drop-pods as they burned their way through the atmosphere. All three shared a moment of silence; this entire situation had rapidly spiralled out of control.
Gabriella placed both hands on the balcony rail. She leaned forwards, and for the first time, Ragnar could see the tremendous stress she was under. She was trembling ever so slightly. “The answer we seek lies with the Dark Angels in the mines. The Dark Angels sent a kill team to infiltrate the palace looking for something or someone. You somehow stopped them from achieving their objective. I should have let you go after them when you wanted to, but I thought we should secure the palace grounds first.”
“Your decision was the correct one, Lady Gabriella. We needed to make sure that your and the governor’s immediate safety were assured,” Torin explained.
[Space Wolf 05] - Sons of Fenris Page 11
