Age of Darkness

by Christian Dunn

  ‘Very well,’ said the praefector, opening his eyes to stare at the Raven Guard commander with resignation. ‘I shall return to my flagship and make the preparations.’

  ‘No, you will continue to serve here,’ said Branne. ‘As we agreed, you do not leave my side.’

  ‘You still do not trust me?’ The praefector sighed heavily. ‘What more proof do you need?’

  ‘When the primarch is safe and our brothers aboard, I might trust you then,’ said Branne. ‘Until that time, you stay here.’

  ‘You plan an evacuation under fire,’ said Valerius. ‘I’ll have my transports send over as many shuttles and drop-ships as your flight bays can hold.’

  ‘That would be good,’ said Branne. ‘Let us hope that we need that many.’

  With a growl, Delerax jabbed a finger onto the transmission key.

  ‘I do not care what problems you are having,’ he snarled. ‘Run the reactors at one hundred and twenty per cent.’

  ‘We risk plasmic extrapolation, lieutenant-commander,’ the engineer replied. ‘It could shut down the whole system.’

  ‘The greatest battle in the World Eaters’ history is about to take place on Isstvan V,’ said the lieutenant-commander. ‘Do you think I want to arrive late for that? You have your orders, I expect them to be obeyed.’

  Delerax cut off the response and whirled towards the navigation officers.

  ‘And you!’ he snapped. ‘I want to hear no more about gravity wells and safe distances. Get me to Isstvan V by the shortest route. No excuses!’

  The helmsman nodded nervously and turned his gaze back to the controls. Delerax continued to stalk the bridge, seeking any way to get to the battle even faster. Angron was due to initiate his final assault on the Raven Guard in six hours and Delerax was determined that he would be there to take part. Already the rest of the flotilla had been left half a day behind, unable to keep up with the battle-barge’s superior power. The Dedicated Wrath would be on hand to rain down fire on the remnants of Corax’s Legion, whatever it took. If all went well, Delerax would be able to join in the fighting directly. Drop-pods were being prepared for a combat launch.

  The World Eater smiled at the thought of butchering some Raven Guard. Kordassis noticed his commander’s expression and joined him beside his chair.

  ‘We will have our chance this time,’ said the captain. ‘The slight against us at the dropsite will be expunged.’

  ‘Did you not hear the Warmaster’s words?’ Delerax replied quietly, a sneer twisting his lips. ‘To take part in the fleet battle was a great honour, essential to our victory.’

  ‘It was an insult,’ said Kordassis. ‘The primarch saw it for what it was and did the right thing. To simply obliterate a foe from afar lacks glory. What honour is there when one cannot see the life fade from the eyes of a fallen enemy or smell the blood spilling from his wounds?’

  ‘None,’ agreed Delerax. His implant buzzed in response to his mood, sending a jolt through his thoughts. ‘The cowards of the Raven Guard will be shown the true face of war.’

  ‘And what of the Warmaster’s ambassador?’ whispered Kordassis. ‘What if he chooses to interfere again?’

  ‘He is but a single warrior,’ said Delerax. ‘He is no longer relevant.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Kordassis. ‘Do you want me to deal with him now?’

  The thought entertained Delerax, a murderous impulse stimulated by his implant. He quivered as he pictured Horus’s representative lying mangled at his feet but fought through the urge to kill.

  ‘No,’ he told Kordassis. ‘There is no reason to risk the Warmaster’s displeasure, as satisfying as it might be. Just be ready should I need you.’

  ‘I’ll be ready,’ said Kordassis with a grin. ‘Have no worry about that.’

  Delerax checked the chronometer again. Four hours until the assault began. He was pleased, knowing that he would reach orbit in time to take part. The drop-pods were prepared for immediate launch, his twenty-strong bodyguard ready for the attack.

  The lieutenant-commander sat in his chair trying to remain composed. It was a hard task; visions of what he would do to the Raven Guard kept flickering through his thoughts. His implant responded again and again, rewarding his thoughts of killing with surges of chemical stimulants.

  ‘Receiving word from Legion command,’ announced Kordassis. He gave an angry growl as he read the message. ‘An enemy fleet has been detected in the vicinity of Isstvan IV, lieutenant-commander. The fleet is being ordered to depart and engage them.’

  ‘Depart?’ Delerax snarled. ‘Now? What of the assault on the Raven Guard? We cannot let the Legion attack without orbital support.’

  ‘The orders come directly from the Warmaster,’ said Kordassis, directing a meaningful look at the lieutenant-commander.

  ‘I take my orders from our primarch,’ replied Delerax.

  ‘Legion command has confirmed the orders,’ said Kordassis. He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘They are authorised by Angron.’

  ‘Let the rest of the fleet deal with the problem,’ said Delerax. ‘They do not need us there.’

  The internal communicator crackled into life and a mechanical voice cut across Kordassis’s reply.

  ‘I have monitored a transmission from your Legion commanders,’ it said. ‘Why have we not yet altered course to deal with this emerging threat?’

  Clenching his fists, Delerax resisted the urge to smash the speaker. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as his lobotomiser initiated another flood of hormones and chemicals through his brain. With some effort he unclenched his fingers and flicked the comm switch.

  ‘I was denied at the dropsite, I will not be denied again,’ he told Horus’s liaison. ‘It is also tactically unsound to have no orbital support for the assault.’

  ‘That will be dealt with by other fleet vessels,’ said the other Space Marine. ‘Your orders are clear,

  lieutenant-commander. Obey them.’

  ‘Then let those other vessels deal with the situation at Isstvan IV,’ snapped Delerax. ‘The World Eaters should be protecting their own.’

  ‘You are part of an alliance, lieutenant-commander,’ replied the voice. Its sterile calmness, its assured tone, enraged Delerax more. ‘We each do our part for victory. Your part at this moment is to join the rest of your fleet moving to Isstvan IV. Do not forget you are Legiones Astartes. Maintain discipline and obey your orders.’

  Branne felt uncomfortable as he watched the glowing blips on the sensor return moving from orbit around Isstvan V. Not until he had come to the system had he known apprehension, but it had become his permanent companion since he had realised the extent of the treachery that was unfolding here. At least he maintained some semblance of composure, unlike Valerius.

  The praefector lurched between near-catatonia and panic. At the moment he was asleep, muttering to himself with head laid on a display screen. He twitched and mumbled, fingers dragging along the metal of the console on which he was slumped. Branne could only guess at the nightmare that plagued him, and was thankful that Legiones Astartes were not vulnerable to such terrors.

  ‘The World Eaters fleet is moving away,’ announced one of the scanner technicians.

  Branne looked back at the display and saw the signal returns drifting further from Isstvan V, heading in-system.

  ‘It worked,’ he said. Branne nodded towards the fitful praefector. ‘Wake up Marcus.’

  One of the aides shook the Imperial Army officer gently. Valerius rose from his dream with a moan and looked around the bridge, eyes fearful. He settled after a few moments and focussed on Branne.

  ‘What is happening?’ he asked, scratching a stubbled cheek with ragged nails.

  Branne directed Valerius’s attention to the screen.

  ‘It worked?’ said the praefector, disbelief written on his features. His expressi
on changed to a broad grin and he looked at the Raven Guard commander with wide eyes. He laughed. ‘They took the bait. They took the bait!’

  ‘Yes, they did,’ said Branne. ‘We have less than two hours to get into position. In one hour we will move to full drop formation. Brief your shuttle crews.’

  ‘Yes, I will,’ said Valerius, staggering towards the door.

  ‘Before you do, might I suggest you take a moment to make yourself presentable to your men,’ said Branne.

  Valerius looked down at his dishevelled uniform and ran his fingers over the bristles on his chin. He nodded and straightened his sash. With a nervous cough, he left the bridge, walking with slow, deliberate strides. When he was gone, Branne turned his attention back to his crew, glad to be free of the distraction.

  ‘Any more comm intercepts?’ he asked.

  ‘None that are good, commander,’ said the crewman in charge of the communications array. He swallowed nervously and could not meet Branne’s eye. ‘World Eaters signals suggest they believe the Legion to be below ten thousand strong. Angron is all over the frequencies, declaring the destruction of the Raven Guard.’

  ‘We will not allow that to happen,’ said Branne. He turned to the sensor console. ‘What orbital assets have the World Eaters kept?’

  ‘None, commander,’ replied the technician. He wiped sweat from his bald head and leaned back in his seat. ‘None that we can detect.’

  ‘Perhaps this is just an elaborate trap,’ said Branne, thinking aloud. ‘They could have ships lying in wait for us. Maybe they’ve been monitoring us all along and this is to draw us in.’

  ‘Unlikely, commander,’ said the aide. ‘At this range, even on lowest output we would detect any plasma readings. It’s only our dispersion reflex shield that stops us being detected. The World Eaters don’t have those.’

  ‘That makes no sense,’ said Branne, returning to his command throne. ‘Why leave a gap in their defences? Are any other vessels moving to provide orbital support?’

  ‘Negative, commander,’ said the scanning officer. ‘The only other vessel in the vicinity is a World Eaters battle-barge, and it is changing course to follow the main fleet.’

  Branne was immediately suspicious. It was not only a foolish oversight, it was inconceivable that a Space Marine would make such a mistake.

  ‘Ground defences in that area?’ he asked.

  ‘None that we are aware of,’ said the officer. ‘Archives on Isstvan V are quite up-to-date. The mountainous region is almost devoid of population, no defence installations. We are too far away to detect anything without revealing our location.’

  As unsettling as the apparent lapse was, it was an opportunity that could not be thrown away. Branne checked the display again, calculating scanner ranges and speeds for the enemy vessels. They were already too far away to respond to the presence of the Raven Guard fleet. The longer he waited, the greater the chance that the World Eaters would attack. Angron was known for his lack of patience and might well launch his assault ahead of schedule. Stealth had again proven its worth. Now was the time for swiftness of action to show its value.

  Branne swung in his chair towards the communications team.

  ‘Signal the fleet. Drop reflex shields and divert all power to engines and navigation. Inform all flight decks and drop-bays to prepare for immediate launch. Air crews to their craft. This is our chance to strike. The enemy will know that the Raven Guard are not yet dead!’

  Metal rang on metal, filling Delerax’s chamber with noise. Steel plate buckled and tore as he pounded his fists into the wall, every impact sending a shower of metal splinters into the air. He grunted and growled as he punched, every smashing blow delivered with a snarl. His mind was aflame with his anger, his implant feeding his rage with a cocktail of stimulants.

  He barely heard the sound of the comm alert through the thundering of his hearts. He ignored it and continued to vent his ire on the battered wall, slamming the cracked knuckles of his gauntlets into metal until he was pulverising the rockcrete bulkhead beneath.

  A more insistent noise broke through his frenzy: the battle alert. The communications system bleeped again.

  Shaking from frustration, the World Eater almost destroyed the communications panel with his stabbing finger. The speaker spat sparks but still worked, the voice of the chief scanning officer filtering through the rush of blood in Delerax’s ears.

  ‘Lieutenant-commander, we have detected an enemy fleet achieving orbit around Isstvan V. They are en route for the Legion’s position!’

  ‘Turn to engage, all power to engines!’ Delerax snarled. He did not care how the ships had eluded detection, or who they were. He felt a surge of vindication, his anger dissipating.

  He ran from his quarters and headed for the bridge, pounding along the corridors until he reached the mechanical conveyor. His personal comm-system chimed in his ear.

  ‘Lieutenant-commander, what are your orders?’ asked Kordassis. ‘Sensors report a Raven Guard battle-barge and two cruisers in escort.’

  ‘Attack!’ Delerax snarled as he stepped through the opening doors of the conveyor. He prodded the button for the bridge. ‘Make all speed to intercept the flagship.’

  ‘Is that wise? We are outnumbered.’

  ‘Show some pride, Kordassis. We have been made to look like fools by Corax’s cowardly subterfuge. We attack, as World Eaters should.’

  There was the sound of another communication connection for a few moments before Horus’s representative spoke into Delerax’s ear.

  ‘Why have we changed course, lieutenant-commander?’

  ‘Have you been asleep? The Raven Guard are attempting to escape.’

  The conveyor jolted as it reached the level of the bridge and headed towards the prow of the battle-barge.

  ‘That is not your concern, lieutenant-commander,’ said Horus’s representative. ‘The matter is being dealt with.’

  ‘How?’ snapped Delerax. ‘We are the only ship with a hope of intercepting the evacuation fleet.’

  ‘Your orders have not changed, lieutenant-commander. If you persist in this disobedience I will have you removed from command.’

  ‘This is my ship, I will not be threatened by the likes of you,’ Delerax replied. He pulled the comm-bead from his ear and dashed it against the metal wall of the conveyor. The doors slid open a few seconds later and the World Eater strode out into the corridor and turned towards the bridge.

  Inside, Kordassis was waiting, fully armoured, helm hanging from his belt. The scars on his face twisted as the captain smiled.

  ‘Not listening to your minder?’ said Kordassis.

  ‘What can he do to stop me?’ Delerax loomed over the navigation officers. ‘How long until we reach the Raven Guard ships?’

  ‘Twenty-six minutes, lieutenant-commander,’ the man replied. ‘Twenty if we overcharge the reactors.’

  ‘Do it. Every minute wasted gives the Raven Guard a chance to escape Angron’s assault.’ He turned his attention to the communications officer. ‘Any message from Legion command or the primarch?’

  ‘Negative, lieutenant-commander,’ the technician replied. ‘They may not even be aware of the fleet’s arrival.’

  ‘Signal them with the news and pass on that we are en route to engage the enemy,’ said Delerax. He addressed all of the bridge crew, looking at Kordassis. ‘We shall be lauded in the World Eaters’ roll of honour for today. It is we that shall bring about the destruction of Corax and his Legion!’

  ‘Contact established with the primarch!’ Valerius’s announcement that Corax still lived brought a cheer from the other members of the bridge staff. ‘The drop-ships are landing now.’

  Branne nodded his understanding and looked at the main display. The course of the World Eater battle-barge was being tracked by a red dot. It was heading directly for the Avenger.

&
nbsp; ‘Time until the evacuation is complete?’ he asked.

  ‘Thirty minutes, at least,’ came the reply from Valerius.

  ‘Too long,’ Branne muttered. He opened up the fleet frequency with an armoured finger. ‘This is Commander Branne to all vessels. We will remain in position for extraction. The evacuation is your only concern.’

  A series of acknowledgements came back. It was a gamble. The fleet was too low in orbit and too close together to properly engage the incoming World Eaters ship, but if they dispersed, the lift to orbit would take even longer. Once every shuttle and drop-ship was back on board, the Raven Guard could fight off their attacker and leave.

  ‘First craft laden and taking off,’ reported Valerius.

  There was a laugh from one of the communications aides.

  ‘Listen to this!’ he said, channelling a signal to the bridge’s speakers.

  ‘...ng away! Fall upon them, my World Eaters, do not let them escape!’ A bestial, rage-filled howl rang around the bridge. ‘Corax! I know you can hear me! Come back and fight like a Space Marine, you coward! I have promised your blood to my blade and your head to the Warmaster, and I shall deliver both. Face me, you dishonourable bastard!’

  Angron’s voice devolved into snarls and wordless pants. Branne signalled for the officer to cut the signal.

  The minutes ticked past slowly. Branne sat in his command throne, dividing his attention between the chronometer and the position of the enemy battle-barge. It was going to be close.

  ‘Corax is aboard the last drop-ship,’ Valerius said. He slumped back into his seat and looked at Branne. ‘Do you trust me now?’

  The Raven Guard commander crossed the bridge and gently grasped the red sash across the praefector’s chest.

  ‘Your life is yours,’ said Branne. He let go of the sash and soothed away the crease he had made. ‘Your family’s honour is upheld. I am sorry for my distrust, Marcus.’

  Valerius sighed and smiled.

  ‘It does not really matter, does it?’ he said, tugging at the sash. ‘Honour, loyalty, family. Horus will care for none of that.’

  ‘And that is why they are more important than ever,’ said Branne. ‘Especially loyalty.’