The Space Wolf Omnibus - William King

by Warhammer 40K

  ‘I was there. I saw it. He was very brave. But then you all were.’

  ‘He saved my life, but I could not save his.’

  ‘Sometimes these things happen. You did save mine though. And I am grateful.’

  ‘I saved the talisman,’ he said, surprised himself by how coldly his voice came out. He was ashamed when he saw the tiny flicker of hurt, quickly concealed, flare in her eyes. He wondered why he had said that, and in such a way. Why did he feel threatened by the closeness that seemed to be developing between them?

  ‘No. You saved my life, and I am grateful. You could have taken the talisman and moved on, but you didn’t it. You came back for me.’

  He forced a smile. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘You should get some rest. Sergeant Hakon says he wants to have you back in harness soon. The others have repaired your wargear.’

  ‘That should please them,’ he said ironically.

  ‘I don’t think so. Sven told me to tell you that he’s a Space Marine, not a bloody armourer, and that next time you can fix your stuff yourself no matter what Sergeant bloody Hakon says.’

  Ragnar laughed in spite of himself. Karah’s mimicry of Sven’s voice was amazingly good. She obviously had a gift for it. ‘I don’t think he meant it. He has a good heart hidden behind a harsh manner, that one.’

  ‘I know that too. How goes the war on Galt?’

  ‘Imperial forces are moving into the sector. It looks as if there will be a massive spacedrop some time soon. We picked up some odd comm-net reports from the planet’s surface before we made the warp jump. It seems like the ork forces are starting to fall apart and fight with each other. It may be that Gurg is losing his power.’

  ‘Do you think it’s because he lost face when we escaped?’

  An odd grimace passed across her face. ‘Maybe. But I think it was more than that. I sensed something while we were down there. Gurg was more than just a strong warlord. He was a sort of psychic focus for all the orks. He meant more to them than a mere general. He was sort of their spiritual leader as well, in a very real sense.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I think he lost that power when we took the amulet. I think we somehow diminished him.’

  Ragnar did not really understand. This was psyker talk and he had no experience of this sort of thing to relate to. He found it confusing, but he could see one hole in her argument, much as he wanted to believe it, and heroic as it made their mission seem. ‘But if what you’re saying is true, he was their leader before ever he got the amulet.’

  ‘Yes, there is that,’ she admitted with a nod, ‘but being a psyker is as much about having belief in yourself as it is about being touched with the power. If we undermined his confidence in his abilities by besting him, it may be that we somehow undid his power as well.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s just a theory.’

  ‘Still, it means that we may have done some good for the people of Galt and for the Imperium, as well as for our quest.’

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  ‘Then that is a good thing,’ he said simply and smiled. She smiled back and opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. She reached out stroked his brow and suddenly upped and went. Ragnar listened as her footsteps crossed to the door, then heard it whoosh closed behind her. He tried to pull himself upright but it was too much of a struggle. He realised that he must truly have been close to death indeed, for he knew how tough his altered body had been made. Anything that had left him feeling this drained and taken all of its resources to heal must have been all but fatal.

  Still, he was alive, that was the main thing. And he had helped his fellows succeed in their mission. That was something too. It left him with a quiet sensation of accomplishment and pride. His thoughts turned back to the girl. What was really going on there? He was still wondering when he drifted off back to sleep.

  He woke when he sensed someone in the chamber with him. He came awake slowly for a Space Wolf and thus knew he was still hurt. He relaxed a little when he caught a familiar scent, and opened his eyes to a familiar face.

  ‘Brother Tethys,’ he said. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m sorry for disturbing your rest, Ragnar. I merely looked in to see how you were. But it’s good that you are awake. Now I can thank you for saving us. I thought my life was over back there on the roof.’

  ‘Everyone seems to want to thank me for that today,’ Ragnar said. ‘Inquisitor Isaan was just in and she said the same thing.’

  ‘She can’t have been, Ragnar. She has been locked up in her chamber for the past day fasting and purifying herself for the Ritual of Divination once more. I believe she came to see you two days ago.’

  ‘I have been asleep for two days?’

  ‘Yes. The chirurgeons say it was good for you. It gave your body time to heal itself.’

  Ragnar considered this. It was not a reassuring thought that he had lain unconscious and helpless for over two days. He must really have been hurt badly. Like a daemon summoned by an ill-considered thought, his pains returned. He was suddenly aware of a bone-deep ache that permeated his entire body.

  Brother Tethys must have seen him wince. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked with concern. ‘Shall I summon help?’

  ‘It is nothing but a minor ache.’

  ‘Your wounds did not look that way to me. I was surprised that any man could survive them. Yet they say that Space Marines are more than human, so perhaps I should not have been.’

  Ragnar wished that people would not dwell on how badly hurt he had been. It was not a comforting thought. It made him think of Lars, who had taken a wound from which no recovery was possible. Or was it? Could they not have been able to take him back to the Fang? The Wolf Priests had overseen his resurrection once, surely they could do it again.

  The knowledge that had been placed in his brain by the tutelary engines surfaced in his thoughts. He knew it was not so. Unless the resurrection procedures were accomplished immediately on the field of battle, the lack of oxygen would cause brain damage. Even if resurrected the dead warrior would be little more than a vegetable if he were not helped within minutes.

  He tried to push these dark thoughts aside, but he could not do so entirely. He felt them lodging deep in his soul along with something else, something that he knew he did not want to consider. To distract himself he asked Brother Tethys, ‘Are you coming with us? Don’t you want to go back to Galt?’

  ‘I want to go back very much but I don’t have much choice. The inquisitor is not going to turn his ship around just to take one unimportant monk back to his homeworld. Oh well, I always wanted to see other worlds. I suppose this is my chance. It’s not quite what I expected though.’

  Ragnar smiled at the little man’s cheerful acceptance of his fate. ‘You’ll get back eventually, I’m sure. The Emperor looks after his own.’

  ‘I hope so. Certainly the way you arrived to save me from the orks leads me to believe this is so.’

  Ragnar found himself wishing that he could share this belief – but he could not.

  ‘I am tired now,’ he said. ‘I must sleep.’

  ‘I understand,’ Tethys said. He bowed from the waist and left him to his thoughts.

  ‘The sleeper has bloody well awoken,’ said Sven, as Ragnar walked gingerly back into the stateroom. He still felt weak but he was far better than he had been two days before. He had fallen into a healing coma as his body repaired itself. Now he had some energy he was sick of lying in the hospital bay and had decided to visit his comrades. It was an odd feeling, moving around without most of his carapace armour. He had grown accustomed to it, and now he felt almost naked.

  Sven looked up at him and grinned.

  ‘Good to have you back in the land of the living. The others thought for a while that you might not make it – but I told them you would live just to be contrary and annoy me. See who was right.’

  Sven’s tone was joshing but Ragnar could scent the concern behind it and was grateful. ‘The witch helped too,
when she wasn’t casting her spells to see where this mad journey would take us next.’

  ‘She helped?’ Ragnar was perplexed.

  ‘She used her powers to help heal you. Must have cost her a lot too. She always looked pretty pale and drained afterwards although I suspect it was from the strain of looking at your ugly face for all that time. We can’t all be as good-looking as me, I suppose.’

  Sven was one of the ugliest men Ragnar had ever seen. ‘Thank the Emperor for that,’ he said.

  ‘No need for bloody blasphemy!’ Sven said.

  ‘Anything else new?’

  ‘Not really. Not that anyone is telling us Blood Claws anyway. Hakon has been closeted with the inquisitors and Gul, doubtless trying to come up with new ways of endangering our lives. The crew still treat us like we were corpse-eaters. I wish I knew what was bloody well going on there. Why do they hate us so much? We’re supposed to be the Emperor’s finest, after all.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why.’

  ‘You mean they envy me my distinction as well as my astounding good looks.’

  ‘No, I mean that many of those men were impressed into the Emperor’s service. You can’t expect them to look with favour on his representatives.’

  ‘No. But I can make them look on us with fear, and I have. I’ve knocked a few heads together.’

  ‘That will increase your popularity for sure,’ Ragnar said. Sven grinned his cheerfully ugly grin.

  ‘You know I think all this time spent closeted with psykers has affected you, Ragnar. I think you’re going soft. I mean you were always soft in the head, but now…’

  ‘Care to try that theory out?’

  ‘I don’t beat up sick fools.’ Ragnar sensed some menace in Sven now despite his jovial tone. It was a pack thing. They were like wolf cubs playfully testing each other, but testing each other nonetheless. Remembering how proficient Sven had been during their unarmed combat training, he wasn’t sure he felt up to fighting him, just yet. Not unless he did something sneaky.

  ‘Give me a couple of days, then I’ll make you the sick one. A fool you are already.’

  ‘I must be to waste my time in company like yours.’

  ‘Any ale around here?’

  ‘Some. And lots of other stuff too. Nils says the inquisitor has the booze of a hundred worlds on this ship. And the vittles are pretty good too, after what we had in the jungle.’

  ‘Then let’s go get some.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Sven agreed. ‘I’m starving hungry.’

  ‘So what’s new?’

  As they sat down to eat in Sven’s stateroom, Nils and Strybjorn entered. They looked at the piled table and sat down and began helping themselves without asking. Nils gave Ragnar an encouraging smile as he chewed. Strybjorn, however, looked as dour and surly as ever. Ragnar didn’t mind; it was good to see them all well. But sitting there, Ragnar felt there was something missing – then realised with a cold sensation that it was Lars. The Wolf had always been quiet but he had been there. Now he was gone, and his absence was tangible. The others sensed the change in his mood and responded. He could tell that they had done some of their share of grieving but he had missed out on it, being unconscious at the time.

  ‘To Lars,’ Sven said suddenly, raising his goblet to the light. ‘Wherever he bloody well is.’

  ‘To Lars,’ they all echoed, then fell silent once more.

  ‘Where have you two been?’ Sven asked, glancing over at Nils and Strybjorn.

  ‘We’ve been on the bridge, talking to the crew,’ Nils said between mouthfuls. ‘It seems we’re welcome there, at least, ever since we brought their precious inquisitors back. Gul wasn’t happy but then he never is.’

  ‘Why wasn’t he happy?’ Ragnar asked.

  ‘I don’t think he likes us,’ Nils said.

  ‘Nobody likes you,’ said Sven. ‘I would have thought you’d bloody well noticed that by now.’

  ‘It’s funny. They always tell me what a great lad I am. It’s just my idiot friend Sven with the bulldog face they don’t like.’

  ‘Come on, don’t mess around,’ said Ragnar. ‘What’s really going on?’

  ‘Well, we found out where we’re going,’ Strybjorn spoke up. His voice was deep and gloomy, and his manner of speaking was slow and considered. Ragnar could smell his current puzzlement. ‘And?’

  ‘And, it’s very odd. That’s all I can say.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we seem to be heading out into the middle of nowhere.’

  ‘We’re in space. Remember your training. There’s a lot of nowhere out here.’

  ‘But we’re going particularly far out. To a place where there are no inhabited worlds. To a dead sun called Korealis.’

  ‘What’s there? I thought we were looking for the third part of the talisman.’

  ‘We are. That’s where the witch told the Navigators to go when she came out of her trance. They are obeying her.’

  ‘Well, I guess we will find out what’s going on soon enough,’ Ragnar said.

  ‘I did hear one other thing, just as we were leaving the bridge,’ Nils offered. Strybjorn looked over at him with a sour expression. Obviously he had missed something.

  ‘What was that?’ Ragnar asked.

  ‘Two words.’

  ‘I’ll give you two bloody words if you don’t tell us quickly,’ Sven said eagerly.

  ‘Space hulk,’ Nils said with a nasty smile. Silence fell on the chamber. Ragnar reached for more meat and stuffed it into his mouth while he considered his battle-brother’s words. They were enough to place a chill in his heart.

  In training they had run through simulations of boarding space hulks. It was one of the things a Space Marine could be expected to be called on to do in a long career of serving the Emperor. Assuming he survived the experience, of course. Space hulks were among the most deadly environments known to mankind. Ragnar let his thoughts drift back to what the tutelary engines had taught him about the things. It was not reassuring.

  Space hulks were gigantic structures, agglomerations of many craft, of rubble and debris, which accumulated in the warp. No one quite knew how or why this happened, but everyone knew that it did. And there was something about the hulks that no one quite understood. They drifted in and out of warp space, seemingly at random, with neither rhyme nor reason to their movements. Sometimes they would disappear for centuries, only to reappear again somewhere far from the last place where they had been sighted.

  Most were harmless enough, mere junk in fact; sometimes a threat to navigation, sometimes containing secrets that had been lost in the dark depths of time. But sometimes they were the home to other things: to orks, and genestealers and far worse creatures. Indeed sometimes they were taken over by such creatures and used to drift from world to world. Come to think of it, hadn’t Gurg’s horde arrived in the Galt system aboard one? Was there some sinister pattern here that he could not quite see? Hulks were the common denominator in this sorry saga so far. He mentioned this to the others, but they did not seem impressed.

  ‘Orks use anything they can get their filthy claws on. You saw what they were like on Galt,’ said Nils. ‘They cannibalise hulks the way they cannibalise everything else. There’s nothing more sinister about it.’

  ‘So you say,’ said Ragnar. ‘But I’m inclined to suspect the sanity of any man who can tell me there is nothing sinister about a ghost ship that drifts for centuries between the stars.’

  ‘They’re not all like that,’ said Sven.

  ‘Enough are.’

  ‘You may have a point,’ said Sven. ‘But I’ll be damned if I can see it.’

  ‘The same goes for me,’ said Nils.

  ‘Look, I don’t know. It may just be coincidence. It may be something else.’

  ‘How will we be able to tell?’ Strybjorn asked grumpily.

  ‘You’ll all be able to tell soon enough, because you’re all going aboard,’ Sergeant Hakon said from the doorway. Ragnar was amazed that for all
their razor keen senses, the sergeant constantly managed to sneak up and take them unawares. Then again he had had several centuries of practice, Ragnar thought. If anyone ought to be able to do it, it was he.

  ‘When, sergeant?’ Ragnar asked.

  ‘Within the next six hours. I want your gear checked and all of you ready to go.’

  ‘Does that include me, sergeant?’ Ragnar asked, not sure which answer he wanted to hear.

  ‘Well, you’re up and about aren’t you? And you can hold a gun, can’t you?’ the sergeant snapped.

  Ragnar nodded, feeling the urge to challenge the veteran take a hold of him once more.

  ‘Then I don’t see what the problem is,’ Hakon said, striding towards the door. ‘Do you?’

  ‘No, sergeant,’ Ragnar said, abashed.

  ‘And since your fellow Space Wolves have been good enough to repair your armour for you, while you slept, I see no good reason for you to parade around here without it, do you, Blood Claw?’

  ‘No, sergeant.’

  Hakon turned at the door. ‘And Ragnar…’

  ‘Yes, sergeant?’

  ‘You did well back on Galt. Welcome back.’

  ‘Thank you, sergeant.’ Ragnar felt a little uplifted by Hakon’s words. Even so little praise from the taciturn old Wolf was praise indeed. His words of thanks fell on empty air. Hakon had already turned and left.

  ‘So Ragnar is the sergeant’s favourite now, as well as the inquisitor girl’s,’ Nils mocked. ‘What a crawler.’

  ‘Well somebody has to be a hero around here,’ Ragnar said. ‘But don’t worry, when the skalds get round to chanting the sagas I’m sure they’ll mention the fact that I had three trusty comrades who polished and mended for me.’

  ‘I can see it now,’ said Nils. ‘Ragnar’s Saga! A stirring tale of a warrior who died when his neck broke under the strain of carrying his huge head.’

  ‘Whose constant boasting so annoyed his trusty comrades that they murdered him in his sleep, more like,’ Strybjorn said nastily.

  ‘Who spent so much of his time lying around and snoring while his companions did all the bloody work, that they eventually booted him off their ship,’ added Sven.