“Aye, sir,” Ensign Ruuben replied, “awaiting orders.”
Lucian grinned, letting the moment stretch out. Then, “All power to mains, Mister Ruuben, ahead full at best speed.”
The Navy helmsman worked the mighty brass levers, opening up the plasma core and bringing the main drives to full output. As the power mounted, the deck plates beneath Lucian’s feet vibrated jarringly, then settled as the drives stabilised. With a shudder that passed down the length of the entire vessel, the Oceanid came around, taking her position in the fleet.
“Incoming signal,” Ensign Katona said. “It’s the Nomad, sir. Patch through?”
“Please do, Mister Katona,” Lucian replied.
“Gerrit?” asked the unmistakable voice of sergeant Sarik of the White Scars.
“Go ahead, Sarik,” replied Lucian. He recalled the last time the Oceanid and the Nomad had fought side by side, and wondered whether Sarik would warn him off or welcome his presence in the line. You could never tell with Space Marines, Lucian thought.
“Lucian,” Sarik continued, “I owe you a debt of honour for your aid at Sy’l’Kell.”
Lucian was surprised to hear a Space Marine make such an admission. He allowed Sarik to continue.
“Should you find yourself in a position whereby I might repay that debt, you have but to ask, whether in the coming battle or at any point in the future.”
Lucian felt deeply honoured by Sarik’s words, knowing that they bore the weight and authority not only of Sarik and his small band of Space Marines, but of the entire Chapter of White Scars.
“Brother Sergeant Sarik,” Lucian replied, “you have my word that I shall do so.”
“Good then.” Lucian detected a shift in Sarik’s tone, as if the Space Marine’s mood had lifted. “With that out of the way, we have some fighting to do.”
Lucian chuckled. “Aye, Sarik. I’m with you. Just try not to find too much trouble!”
The bridge crew went silent at Lucian’s words, but he felt an understanding with Brother Sergeant Sarik. He knew he could say such things, where other men might fear terrible retribution.
“Lucian,” Sarik’s voice came back, rough humour evident in it, “what you and I consider trouble might differ considerably.”
Lucian laughed out loud as Sarik terminated the communication. He saw the Nomad heave into view through the forward port, before the smaller craft veered across the Oceanid’s path and powered on towards the fleet’s very spear tip.
“Holo,” Lucian ordered, and the holographic came to life as the bridge lights dimmed. The revolving globe of green light mapped out the immediate area of space, each of the fleet’s capital vessels clearly visible as glowing white icons, the names of each projected nearby Lucian saw that the fleet had spread out in a broad and shallow arrowhead formation. The escorts and destroyers screened the larger cruisers, which in turn were to protect the Blade of Woe. The rogue trader flotilla, the Oceanid at its fore, was positioned to the rear of Admiral Jellaqua’s battleship, from where Lucian’s vessels could respond to the situation as the battle unfolded.
Studying the fleet’s disposition and composition, Lucian was convinced it would take a major tau presence in the system to challenge it. His only concern, which he had expressed to Jellaqua at the crusade’s outset, was the fleet’s comparative lack of attack craft. It could not be helped, the admiral had responded, explaining how the only carriers within three sectors were laid up for major refits, or otherwise engaged in long-range patrols. Lucian reached up to a data-slate suspended from the ceiling above his command throne. He depressed a control stud, and the slate’s pict screen came to life. The text of Kor-vane’s hasty report was displayed upon it.
Although he had done so a hundred times, Lucian read over the report once more. The system into which the fleet was attacking was host to a small tau outpost. Kor-vane’s scout wing had located this presence, before coming under attack by a small force of tau patrol vessels. Korvane was convinced that no major tau forces were in the system, and before moving on he had recommended that the fleet move in to consolidate and stage for the next phase of the campaign. The council had agreed, deciding that a hammer blow assault upon the small tau presence would serve as a suitable demonstration in the fleet’s power, and intentions. If the tau mounted a defence of the system, or decided to counterattack, then they would be drawn into a war that they were ill-prepared to fight, one mounted entirely on the Imperium’s terms.
Lucian sighed inwardly as he read over his son’s words. Korvane was certain that the system was ill defended, yet Lucian knew better than to rely on such assumptions. As far as he was concerned, the fleet was moving into hostile territory, and should be prepared for any eventuality. Fortunately, Admiral Jellaqua was of the same mind, hence the fleet’s disposition as it ploughed on towards its target.
That target was the small satellite designated KX122/13, a moon of a larger, though reportedly unoccupied body. Even as Lucian watched, the planet appeared at the very edge of the globe, projected into the centre of the bridge by the holograph. Very little of its nature could be discerned at this range, and no enemy activity could be detected. The task of flushing out and engaging enemy vessels would go to the Space Marines of the various chapters that accompanied the fleet, from the Iron Hands in their strike cruiser Fist of Light, to the varied escort and destroyer equivalents of the Scythes of the Emperor, Ultramarines and White Scars Chapters.
“Signal from 27th Squadron,” called out Ensign Katona. “They have a sensor return on KX122/13. Stand by.”
If all was well, thought Lucian, it should be the tau outpost that Korvane had reported. He watched the holograph as the three Sword-class frigates of 27th Squadron peeled off from their position ahead of the line.
“Confirmed,” continued Ensign Katona. “The 27th reports corroborate the scout wing’s report. Fleet has ordered 27th to locate and engage tau outpost. Remainder of fleet to continue on present heading.”
“Well enough,” replied Lucian. “If we continue on our current heading we’ll pass by the satellite and skirt KX122. I want every station ready for anything.”
Lucian felt the old, familiar tension that had preceded every space battle he had ever been engaged in. The bluster was passed, and total concentration was required lest the enemy gain an advantage that proved fatal. He watched the holograph as 27th Squadron bore down upon the small moon, before disappearing amongst the background noise of the satellite and its parent world. He traced the fleet’s course forward, guessing that Jellaqua intended a slingshot of KX122, a manoeuvre that would flush out any enemy vessels lurking in the lee of either stellar body. Reaching for the control panel mounted in the arm of his throne, Lucian adjusted the holograph, panning forward, zooming in on the area between the satellite and its parent. The image blurred for a moment, before resolving once more, focused on the two planets and the static laced area of space between them. Something itched at the back of Lucian’s mind. It was a feeling he had experienced before in similar circumstances, and one he had long ago learned not to ignore.
“Comms, signal the Blade of Woe,” Lucian said, his suspicions mounting as the fleet ploughed on.
“Sorry, sir,” Ensign Katona replied, “receiving a signal from 103rd Squadron.”
It took only a second for Lucian to locate 103rd on the holograph. The two Sword-class frigates were running seventy-five thousand kilometres ahead of the fleet’s spear tip. With 27th dispatched to deal with the outpost, 103rd was the leading escort squadron.
“They have a return, in stationary orbit around KX122. The telemetry’s coming through now.”
“Main screen,” ordered Lucian. He had a dreadful sense of premonition as the pict-slate mounted above the forward portal came to life in an angry wash of static.
The screen showed the sensor returns gathered by the leading frigate of 103rd Squadron. Less than a thousand kilometres to the frigate’s fore was a large, solid return that was all too familiar to Lucia
n.
“Ensign Naveen,” Lucian said, addressing the Navy officer who had taken over station ten, “consult the archives. Compare that return to the tau defence station the fleet encountered at Sy’l’Kell.”
“Working,” Naveen replied, reams of text scrolling up the data screen before him. Lucian waited impatiently, his eyes on the main viewer all the while. Though undoubtedly more use in a fight, these men of flesh and blood communed far less efficiently with the Oceanid’s data stacks than did the servitors he had become accustomed to.
“Well?” he said, resisting the urge to cross to the station and stand at the man’s back.
“Data probe reporting, sir,” Naveen said, turning in his seat to face Lucian. “It’s the same return, sir, only the power output is off the scale.”
“I knew it,” Lucian spat. “Comms, get me Jellaqua, now.”
Lucian watched the holograph as Ensign Katona spoke, opening a channel to the Blade of Woe. Even as he watched, he saw the lead capital ships veer towards the return. Fools, he cursed inwardly. “Comms, where’s that channel?”
“The admiral is otherwise engaged, my lord,” replied Ensign Katona. “He is in closed conference with Cardinal Gurney.”
That explains it, thought Lucian. Gurney must have overridden Jellaqua’s authority, somehow, causing him to launch an immediate attack on the station.
“I want a masters’ conference, now!”
Lucian stood and paced the length of the bridge as he waited for the other ships’ masters to come on line. It felt like hours, but within a few minutes the pict screens clustered around the bridge’s ceiling were filled with the faces of the other captains.
“This had better be good, Lucian.” It was Captain Natalia of the Duchess Mclntyre, and she appeared distracted. “We have attack orders coming through.” A chorus of terse agreement went up from each of the other captains.
“Listen to me for me Emperor’s sake!” Lucian snapped. “That station is a major threat. We need to approach it with caution or someone’s going to get hurt, badly.”
“That’s simply not true.” It was Captain Joachim of the Lord Cedalion. It would be, Lucian mused, but he suppressed any response, for now. “The station we faced at Sy’l’Kell was only lightly armed. We can take this one on without any danger. To suggest otherwise is to admit that the tau are superior to us, and that borders on treason.”
“It might appear the same to you,” Lucian responded, forcing himself not to rise to Joachim’s insult, “but I’ve faced the tau in ship-to-ship combat before, and I recognise the signature of their weapons. I’m telling you, that station is upgunned.”
Lucian looked to the screen bearing Joachim’s image, only to see that the captain had cut the audio and was speaking to a subordinate. He looked to the other ships’ masters, to see that several were obviously listening in on some other channel.
“Lucian,” Natalia began, “I’m sorry. We have to…”
The pict-slates suddenly died, flickering to life again moments later. The distorted image resolved slowly, until Lucian saw what he had dreaded. It was Cardinal Gurney, and behind him stood Inquisitor Grand and Admiral Jellaqua. The trio stood on the command deck of the Blade of Woe, the flagship’s massive bridge a hive of activity in the background.
“This is Cardinal Gurney and these are my orders.” Lucian stood stunned as the image was repeated across a dozen pict screens. “The fleet will engage the xenos station immediately.”
Lucian could no longer restrain himself. “By whose authority do you presume to make such an order?”
The cardinal’s face took on a twisted leer. Lucian made a fist, imagining what he’d do to that face, were they in the same room. Gurney stepped aside to afford a full view of the inquisitor standing behind him. For the first time to date, Grand was wearing his Inquisitorial rosette, a large red seal emblazoned with the “I” of the Emperor’s Inquisition. Grand said not a word; he had no need to.
So, thought Lucian, Grand had finally decided to exercise the full extent of his power as an inquisitor. Lucian had known he would do so at some point, when he felt the circumstances matched some agenda known only to him, and probably to Gurney. No doubt the old bastard had been waiting for this moment for weeks, and had timed it to do the maximum damage to his enemies’ influence and credibility. Lucian looked to Admiral Jellaqua, seeing from his expression that he felt as Lucian did. Lucian knew that the admiral could not countermand the inquisitor’s authority, and although Lucian’s position as a rogue trader theoretically made him the inquisitor’s peer, that relied entirely on the circumstances of any dispute. No, there was no possible way Lucian could fight this, not here, not now.
“All commands,” Gurney continued, “will acknowledge receipt of this order.” The cardinal’s face bore the expression of one entirely convinced that he had won. Lucian swore that the cardinal would pay for this. At some point in the future, perhaps when the inquisitor was no longer around to provide his support, Gurney would pay.
Lucian listened as each of the ships’ masters and squadron commanders acknowledged the order. Most did so in clipped tones. When it was Lucian’s turn to respond, he allowed a long, tense silence to precede his answer.
“Acknowledged,” he said, hating the cardinal all the more for the expression of victory that passed across his face as Lucian gave his response.
“New heading coming through, sir,” said Ensign Ruuben. “We’re to follow the fleet in to engage the station.”
“Do so,” Lucian ordered, his mood black. “Ensign Sumiko?” The woman stationed at the shields station turned as her name was spoken. “I want the shields ready at a moment’s notice. If, or when that station opens up on us, I’m going to need one hundred per cent output, no matter the drain, do you understand?”
“I understand, sir. I’ve operated this mark of projector before. I know how to get the best of her.”
Lucian smiled, though his mood did not lift. “Well enough. Helm, take us in.”
The next hour felt like an impossible span of time to Lucian. He watched the holograph as the fleet closed on the tau station, looking for any sign of the attack he knew must surely come. If only the fleet had a strong enough complement of attack craft, he cursed. He was sure that one of the capital vessels would pay the price for Gurney’s pride, when a fighter attack ahead of the main line might have crippled the station’s weapons before they could cause the fleet any damage. As the spear tip of the fleet passed the five hundred kilometre mark, Lucian saw the energy spike he had anticipated. He looked to the holograph, and spat a colourful blasphemy when he saw which of the fleet’s vessels was to the fore.
“Sarik!” He surged to his feet as Ensign Katona patched him through to the Nomad.
“I see it, Lucian,” said the Space Marine sergeant. “I’m not as wet behind the ears as you seem to think, rogue trader, and I don’t need warning twice. Nomad out.”
Coming to the viewing port, Lucian watched as the distant speck of light that he knew to be the Nomad altered its course sharply to starboard. A second later, a brief, blue light flashed for an instant and was gone, its source invisible at this range.
“The enemy has opened fire,” Batista called out.
“General quarters,” said Lucian, calm, despite what he knew was coming.
“Disposition orders coming in, sir,” called out Ensign Katona over the wail of the alert klaxon. “The Honour of Damlass is being ordered to engage.”
“She’ll be savaged,” Lucian snarled, knowing he had no time to intervene.
“Reading a second spike,” Batista called out.
Lucian braced himself against the bulkhead, though he knew that Oceanid was unlikely to be the target of the second shot.
A second wink of blue light appeared in the darkness up ahead. An instant later, a bright spark appeared as the ultra high velocity projectile struck its target.
“Honour of Damlass hit!” Batista said calmly. “Damage reports coming in. Main
shield array out of action.”
“Fleet are ordering the Honour to withdraw,” Katona said. Seeing a third flash of light flaring against the blackness, Lucian knew that it was too late. An instant later and a second explosion blossomed, describing the fate of the Honour of Damlass better than any damage report ever could. Even from this distance, Lucian saw the light of the Honour’s main drives gutter and die, leaving her crippled and doomed.
“We have to do something,” Lucian spat. He turned from the viewing port and strode across to his command throne.
“Signal Jellaqua, in person.”
“Aye sir,” Katona replied, understanding the order fully. “Channel open.”
“Gerrit?” Admiral Jellaqua’s voice filled the bridge, the channel flooded with distortion and crackles. “Gerrit, I’m somewhat busy, make this quick.”
“Admiral,” Lucian said, “I know you have your orders, but you have to break off the attack on the station. At least send in the escorts first, you know the cruisers are sitting targets.”
“I agree, Lucian, but I must… Standby…”
The channel fell abruptly silent. Lucian looked quickly around at the various readouts, hoping to discern the cause of the interruption. His blood ran cold as he looked to the holograph. There, at the very edge of the three dimensional projection, was a cluster of sensor returns, edging out from the lee of KX122.
“Jellaqua! You have to redeploy the fleet, right now. If those cruisers outflank us, we’re all done for.”
“Agreed,” replied the admiral. “I’m switching to fleetwide command broadcast.” The channel was filled with distorted comms chatter, followed by a burst of angry machine noise. Then the signal stabilised and the admiral’s voice rang out, this time addressing the captains of each vessel in the line.
“All commands, this is Blade of Woe. We have multiple contacts closing from zero-zero seven two nine. All main line capital vessels will move to engage immediately. All escort squadrons to close on tau station and silence it. Form up on my lead and good hunting.”
[Rogue Trader 02] - Star of Damocles Page 21
