by Various
‘Is that really necessary, High Priest?’ Krom felt compelled to say. He had expected some friction, perhaps harsh words from the High Priest, who had lived long enough for the rift between their two Chapters to become a prejudice, but Krom had not anticipated such measures.
‘The Angels fought side by side with us. They have already known with us the cold touch of bar and chain.’
‘And they will know it again,’ Ulrik the Slayer said, ‘if they are to board the Canis Pax with us.’
The Space Marines in the troop compartment reached out for bars and supports as the Stormwolf banked. Before Krom could protest, the compartment voxhailer came to life above his head.
‘High Priest,’ a voice crackled across the voxhailer. It was the Space Wolf pilot, Rogan Bearsbane. ‘I have targets.’
‘Targets?’ Ulrik said.
‘Out here?’ Krom echoed.
‘The strike cruiser augurs told us nothing of this,’ the Slayer said.
‘They do now, my lord,’ the pilot said. ‘Canis Pax reports the approach vector between us and the cruiser crowded with enemy vessels. They were cloaked by the dust and some kind of alien field technology.’
‘Do you have numbers?’ Krom asked.
‘Hundreds of fighters and assault craft,’ Rogan Bearsbane confirmed, as the Stormwolf swerved this way and that on the approach.
‘And our foe?’ Ulrik asked.
‘Xenos pirates, High Priest.’
‘Dark eldar,’ Interrogator-Chaplain Balthus said.
‘Too many for a raiding party,’ Krom said. He looked at Ulrik. ‘There must be larger vessels in the area – veiled, like the attack craft.’
The Slayer reached up and clunked a thick switch on the voxhailer.
‘Canis Pax, are you monitoring this?’ the High Priest asked.
‘Aye, my lord,’ Shipmistress Asgir returned. ‘We are awaiting your instructions.’
Krom gave the Slayer a grim look. His Drakeslayers had been dogged by misfortune. Now they had brought the same misfortune down on the High Priest and his venerable strike cruiser.
‘Have the navigation officer plot his solutions and ready the warp engines for immersion,’ Ulrik ordered.
‘But, High Priest,’ Asgir protested. ‘We can’t leave you behind.’
‘You won’t have to,’ the Slayer insisted. ‘Have the flight deck prepare for our arrival.’
‘The enemy crowds the approach, my lord,’ the pilot insisted, as Ulrik threw the vox switch back. ‘They block our progress with their darkness.’
‘We are the claw that tears its way through such darkness,’ Ulrik the Slayer told him. ‘We make way for the Emperor’s light. Proceed.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Krom held on as the Rolling Thunder accelerated away. He heard the boom of harpoons and grapnels smashing against the gunship’s armoured hull as the dark eldar craft attempted to gain purchase. He looked up as thick spiked chains rattled cacophonously across the top of the Stormwolf.
Krom felt the gunship swerve suddenly to avoid a collision, pull up and then plunge into a further acceleration. Balthus stumbled back a little, his manacled gauntlets struggling to find anchorage on the compartment wall. Ulrik watched the Dark Angel, his optics burning bright, while the Space Wolves assigned to watch over him stuck close like a shadow. Krom felt the gunship’s skyhammer missile launcher fire again and again, before hearing the whoosh of detonations and a prang of debris wash across the hull. The explosions were followed by the searing blast of lascannons, underscored by the rhythmic chatter of heavy bolters. Krom marvelled at the number of targets the gunship crew were contending with. Rogan Bearsbane had not been exaggerating. The Rolling Thunder was punching its way through a veritable swarm of twisted dark eldar ships. Krom heard the rattle of heavy grade splinter fire shattering its way across the gunship.
‘Prepare for impact,’ the Space Wolf pilot called across the vox.
Krom readied himself. Everyone inside the compartment lurched forward as the Rolling Thunder smashed through the blizzard of dark eldar fighters and boarding craft. A shockwave passed down the superstructure of the gunship from the armoured prow to the engine columns. Space Wolves were knocked forward, their mag-locked boots clunking to new anchorage. Even Ulrik staggered, and the Dark Angels were forced to steady themselves as best they could with their manacled hands. Alarms and klaxons fired in the compartment, indicating the collision.
‘Report!’ the Slayer barked into the wall vox.
‘The Rolling Thunder is clear,’ Rogan Bearsbane confirmed. ‘But the enemy intends to pursue.’
‘Prepare for evasive manoeuvres, on the shipmistress’ mark,’ Ulrik said as the Stormwolf accelerated again. The Slayer changed channels. Shipmistress?’
‘Standing by, my lord,’ Asgir replied.
‘Load and prime your weaponry,’ Ulrik said. ‘We have company. I want you to welcome them with the primarch’s own thunder. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, my lord. Understood,’ Asgir said.
Krom moved up amongst his surviving Drakeslayers, checking in with his brothers. The blood and filth on their faces and the sorry state of their plate told him how much they had suffered. They were not beaten, however. The arrival of their brother Wolves had re-energised Krom’s men. As he moved through them they returned his enquires with an obedient eagerness. In the dark eldar arena they had been cornered animals: tormented and caged. Now, back among the ranks of Russ’ own, their eyes glinted with a predacious pack mentality. Their score with the dark eldar would not be settled with bolt and blade, however. The xenos challenge would be answered in fire and thunder.
Krom felt forces tear at him as the Rolling Thunder banked sharply to avoid streams of dark energy from pursuing fighters. The Wolf Lord could only imagine the swarm of dark eldar ships pursuing them. Vehicles of spike, blade and serration, trailing chains and razored anchors. Slave ships laden with miserable specimens forced to fight. Torture craft brimming with dark eldar warriors.
‘Rolling Thunder,’ Shipmistress Asgir said, her voice intruding on the compartment from the open voxhailer. ‘Cannons in range. You are cleared to leave your plane of approach and enact evasive manoeuvres.’
Krom felt the Stormwolf ascend. Already blasting through the void at maximum speed, the pilot put the gunship into a steep and sudden climb.
‘You are cleared to fire, Canis Pax,’ Ulrik told Asgir.
‘Very good, my lord,’ the shipmistress answered before the vox communicated the ear-splitting boom of the strike cruiser’s cannonry firing in monstrous unison. The Space Wolves in the compartment added their roaring cheers to the firepower, willing the pursuing swarm of dark eldar craft to be decimated.
‘Status?’ Ulrik demanded.
‘The enemy have sustained catastrophic losses, my lord,’ the shipmistress said, ‘but so great are their number that their pursuit continues.’
‘Shall we never be rid of this alien scum?’ Krom rumbled.
‘I’m priming the gundecks for another broadside,’ the shipmistress told him, but the Slayer seemed to have lost interest.
‘Belay that,’ the High Priest ordered. ‘One day the Wolves will return and raze the dark place that spawned these foul xenos to the ground, but today our escape must be clean and complete. Have the flight decks cleared for a high-speed landing. Make way, Shipmistress. I want my ship on a translation approach by the time we arrive.’
‘I await you on the bridge, my lord,’ Shipmistress Asgir said.
‘Rogan, take us in,’ Ulrik commanded.
The compartment rolled to one side as the Rolling Thunder changed coursed. Krom held onto the section wall. Firing its mighty sub-light engines, the Canis Pax pulled away, forcing the gunship, and presumably the pursuing pirates, to change the angle of their approach to meet the moving strike cruiser. The voxhailer crackled with the pilot’s countdown of the reducing distance.
‘Brace for impact!’ Rogan Bearsbane said finally. Kr
om put himself behind the Dark Angels to prevent them falling back. He saw that Ulrik noticed this gesture, although the High Priest said nothing. Krom felt the gunship bounce beneath his mag-locked boots. The pilot had brought the Rolling Thunder in at speed and on her armoured belly to save the landing gears. A horrific shearing sound passed through the compartment as the gunship skidded across the flight deck, leaving behind a shower of sparks. Krom prepared himself for the impact, but it never came. The gunship drew to a soft halt, lamps inside the compartment flashing. The ramp slowly lowered to the deck.
As Ulrik and his Space Marines filed out, Krom hit the stud on the voxhailer.
‘My compliments, brother,’ he told Rogan Bearsbane, before exiting with his Drakeslayers.
It felt good to be back on the void-chilled iron of a Space Wolf deck. It was only now, however, that Krom could truly appreciate what the Space Wolves had passed through. Krom beheld the swarm of dark eldar craft. Like an ink stain spreading across vellum, the dark eldar approached through the nebulous dust of the system – the obscurity in which they had lain hidden. Krom turned to see Ulrik behind him, taking in the dread spectacle. Interrogator-Chaplain Balthus and Brother Othniel were with them, under guard. The Slayer turned to leave, heading for the bridge. There was no time to lose.
‘Bridge, this is Ulrik,’ he said into his helmet vox. ‘Get us out of here. All I want these xenos wretches to see is the blaze of our engines until they can see it no more.’
‘Understood, High Priest,’ Asgir returned.
‘With me, Lord Dragongaze,’ Ulrik said. ‘Bring your prisoners.’
Krom bit back a snarl. He looked at Balthus and Brother Othniel and the Space Wolf guard that the High Priest had put on them.
‘This way, Interrogator-Chaplain,’ Krom said, leading them off the flight deck. Looking to Beoric Winterfang, he added, ‘Sergeant, get yourself and our Drakeslayers to the Apothecarion.’
‘And you, my lord,’ Grundar Greymane said, for indeed, Krom was a mess.
‘I will be along shortly,’ the Wolf Lord said. ‘In the event of a boarding action, you should be where you are most needed: defending this ship.’
As the mighty Canis Pax made its manoeuvres, Krom accompanied Ulrik and the Dark Angels to the strike cruiser’s command deck. The danger Krom had brought upon the High Priest and his ship became ever more apparent on the bridge, where reverse lancet screens revealed black tendrils of smaller craft reaching out for the Canis Pax like a monster of the deep. As the strike cruiser completed its turn, the shipmistress ordered the warp engines primed.
Ulrik growled to himself as the blaze of a full burn torched countless vanguard fighters and alien boarders intent on being the first to reach the Canis Pax’s hull. With the rumble of engines passing through the deck, both Space Wolves and Dark Angels watched as the dark cloud of raiders receded, the xenos pursuit craft no match for the colossal engine columns of the Spaces Wolves strike cruiser.
‘Forward screens,’ Shipmistress Asgir called as deck serfs took the Canis Pax at full speed towards the system’s Mandeville point. The bridge lancet screens admitted the bottomless glory of the void. The bridge lamps flickered. Runebanks and command deck cogitators faded for a moment and tripped in their workings, before returning to functionality. Deck serfs and servitors began calling out warnings as their instrumentation fed them new data. The shipmistress moved down the line of machines, checking the readings for herself.
Krom didn’t need the Canis Pax’s augurs and scanners. Standing with Ulrik, he could see the three vessels growing on the forward screen. The ships surfaced from the warp, piercing the static super storm of a dimensional transference. The opening bled colour as an agitation of alternate realities rubbed against one another. Even prow on, coming straight at the Canis Pax, Krom could make out the belligerence of Adeptus Astartes cruisers, the vessels smashing back into reality. The noble green of the hull was unmistakable. They were the proud vessels of the First Legion.
Ulrik the Slayer snarled.
‘Strike cruisers, my lord,’ Shipmistress Asgir reported. ‘They are arming their prow weaponry.’
Krom turned, but Ulrik was fast, even for a Space Wolf of half his age. The High Priest had grabbed Interrogator-Chaplain Balthus by his robes and slammed him back into the command deck wall. Even the Space Wolves guarding the Dark Angel were surprised at the sudden violence of Ulrik’s movements.
‘A little surprise for us, Interrogator-Chaplain?’ the Slayer said, their skull helms almost touching.
‘You seem surprised,’ Balthus replied evenly.
‘Ulrik,’ Krom called, grabbing both by the arms, trying to prise them apart.
‘Do you know why they call them Interrogator-Chaplains?’ Ulrik asked Krom.
‘Ulrik…’ Krom said.
‘They judge and are judged,’ the High Priest spat. ‘They are happy to keep their secrets while they expose the secrets of others.’
‘And I’m sure you have plenty,’ the Interrogator-Chaplain intoned.
‘My lord, we must act,’ Shipmistress Asgir warned. Krom Dragongaze feared what the Slayer’s next order would be.
‘Intensify forward shields,’ Ulrik barked, his blood-bright optics burning into Brother Balthus, ‘and ready the prow cannon. We shall end this before it begins.’
‘Ulrik, don’t,’ Krom said.
‘First blood shall be ours, brother,’ Ulrik told Krom before looking back at the Dark Angel. ‘For ’tis a dangerous thing to corner a wolf…’
It was too late, however. In that moment, looking through the lancet screens, Krom knew that he had been wrong. He saw the flash of the vessels’ prow cannons, engaging in unison.
‘The Dark Angels are firing,’ Shipmistress Asgir confirmed from her augurbanks and cogitator.
Krom stared at Interrogator-Chaplain Balthus in disbelief.
‘Fire!’ Ulrik the Slayer roared. Letting go of Balthus, he clasped his gauntlets around the pulpit rail, projecting his fury at the attacking Dark Angel vessels on the lancet screens.
Krom Dragongaze prepared for impact. Fired upon by three Dark Angel strike cruisers, the Canis Pax was about to take an incredible hit. The Space Wolves ship could even be destroyed. With the Wolf High Priest bellowing orders across the command deck, Krom grabbed Brother Balthus from where Ulrik had abandoned him. Snatching the Interrogator-Chaplain by the robes, Krom held him against the bridge wall. Something didn’t seem quite right to Krom, however. Like a scent out of place or a too-easy kill, the attack simply didn’t make sense. The Dark Angels seemed to know Balthus was on board and yet they would fire on the ship carrying him.
Krom grabbed for anchorage on the bridge wall and engaged the magnetic soles of his boots. The blasts rocketing away from the three strike cruisers converged upon the Canis Pax. They would hit any second.
‘Prepare for impact,’ Shipmistress Asgir called to her command deck, clutching the pulpit rail near her command throne.
But the impact never came. The Canis Pax didn’t buck or shake. Wiring didn’t cascade from the ceiling or flame roll through the section. Deck serfs and servitors were not knocked from their consoles and Space Wolves did not rage at the mendacious Angels.
A light rumble went through the strike cruiser’s superstructure as the blasts rocketed down the length of the Canis Pax. Ulrik stared at Asgir and then about the command deck.
‘They missed,’ the shipmistress said.
‘Not likely,’ Krom said.
‘Aft feeds,’ Ulrik barked.
With a sizzle of static, Asgir had a deck serf change the lancet screens to a pict-feed of the strike cruiser’s rear. Magma bomb warheads streaked behind the Canis Pax, and they did indeed appear to have missed.
But then their true target revealed itself. From amid the swarm of dark eldar fighters and assault craft the Canis Pax had left in its wake, three larger vessels were pursuing them. They had managed to avoid the Canis Pax’s augur arrays and pict feeds by using some kind of
exotic field technology to obscure their presence, but now they were shedding their ambush shielding.
Firing upon the pursuing shadows, the Dark Angel strike cruisers had turned the disguised torture ships into crackling tempests of erupting destruction. Krom got the brief impression of graceful, spindly craft – all blade-vanes and willowy darkness. One moment the piratical cruisers were stealthily moving up behind the Canis Pax, like great black scorpions of the void ready to strike – the next they were a chain reaction of ghostly explosions. As the ships detonated with alien energies, the shattered architecture flew in all directions, like a primed grenade of wicked, gargantuan shrapnel.
The bridge was silent. Krom looked to Brother Balthus, who gave him an emotionless stare. The Wolf Lord released his hold on the Interrogator-Chaplain.
‘Ulrik,’ Krom said, when no one else spoke. The Slayer put up his gauntleted hand.
‘Screens,’ Ulrik growled. The lancet screens returned the bridge to a view of the closing Dark Angel cruisers. The Canis Pax had struck the centre vessel with a blast of its own, turning the starboard sections of the dark green cruiser into a battle-scarred mess of mangled architecture and rupturing detonations. Ulrik ordered, ‘Open a channel with the Dark Angel cruisers.’
‘Which one?’ Shipmistress Asgir asked.
‘Any bloody one,’ Ulrik said. ‘And be lively about it.’
‘Balthus,’ Krom said. There was necessity in the Wolf Lord’s voice. The situation had to be salvaged. The Emperor’s Angels had fired upon one another. Damage had been done. Lives had been lost. The appearance of treachery once more dogged the Adeptus Astartes. Krom would not allow such misfortune to escalate. ‘Interrogator-Chaplain, please.’
When Balthus spoke, his words were heavy and cold, like the pitted steel of an ancient weapon. He pointed with a ceramite finger.
‘The Calibos,’ he said, identifying one of the vessels. ‘The ship you opened fire on is the Semper Fortis. Mine is the Repentance.’
‘Channel open,’ Asgir reported.
