Uriel took a deep breath and looked around the soaring peaks of the mountains. Distant specks spun in the starlit sky far to the west. He shook his head as a sudden premonition of doom passed through him and followed the Deathwatch into the gunship's crew compartment.
There was barely room for the Space Marines to move inside, with creaking pallets stacked to the roof and the gun-ship's other passengers taking up a great deal of room. There were no armoured benches to sit on, their weight deemed unnecessary, so he crouched with his back to the rumbling fuselage.
The ramp whined closed, shutting out the starlight, and Uriel's auto-senses took over.
A screaming whine built as the engines spooled up to vertical take-off power and Uriel offered a quick prayer that Harkus had not let them down and that Lord Admiral Tiberius was near. He felt the Thunderhawk lurch as it lifted easily into the air, and turn on its axis as Harkus set their course. He was surprised at the ease with which the gunship had lifted off before remembering that the problem was not now its weight, but its range.
It was all a question of whether they could reach their objective, carry out their mission and still have enough fuel to get them back.
Uriel felt the acceleration of the gunship as the engines built up to full power, pushing them eastwards across the mountain tops. There was cloud cover higher up and while nap-of-the-earth flying might keep them safe from being spotted, it was hugely inefficient and burned up vast quantities of fuel.
As the gunship sped eastwards, Magos Gossin, the most senior of their Adeptus Mechanicus passengers, tapped him on the shoulder and pointed through the vision port.
'Even if we succeed here, will this world ever truly be ours again?'
Uriel twisted his head to look outside.
Purple clouds boiled in the distance and streamers of multicoloured smog hugged the horizon, reaching into the upper atmosphere like a smeared painting.
Uriel wanted to lie, but felt he would choke on the words.
'No.' he said. 'No, it will not.'
The Thunderhawk streaked through the night sky.
The Vae Victus was a far cry from the gleaming vessel that had set out from Macragge so many months ago. Her central nave was buckled and splintered, the polished timbers blackened and scorched. Many of her previously manned console stations sat empty, their systems damaged beyond repair without months of time in dock. Wisps of steam gusted from hastily sealed pipes and many of her weapons were unable to fire.
Her surveyors were functioning at minimum capacity, most of the external auguries having been incinerated in the fiery blast of the refinery's destruction. Much of her hull had been melted or stripped away in the explosion and her engines would only allow her captain to perform the most basic of manoeuvres.
And Tiberius knew that they had escaped relatively lightly.
They had lost the Argus, most of the local fleet and the Kharloss Vincennes would never launch fighters again. He had been forced to order all hands to abandon the Dauntless cruiser Yermetov, when it became apparent her warp drives had been damaged in the blast and would soon implode. Her crew had escaped to the Sword of Retribution and sent her into the warp on her last voyage.
The two remaining vessels of Arx Praetora squadron and the Mortis Probati of the Mortifactors limped alongside the Vae Victus. Captain Gaiseric and his crew were eager to exact a measure of revenge against the tyranids.
One Overlord battlecruiser, two battered Space Marine strike cruisers and a carrier that could not launch any strike craft was not much of a fleet to take on the full might of a hive fleet, but it was all they had.
Tiberius ran a hand over his scarred, hairless skull and chewed his bottom lip.
'Any word from Uriel?' he asked.
Philotas looked up from the cracked plotting table. Its slate was dark and his deck officer had rolled star charts spread across its surface.
He shook his head. 'No, lord admiral. The last message we were able to receive was over an hour and a half ago saying they were on schedule.'
'I don't like this, damn it. We could be sailing into a trap!'
'Indeed we could.'
'You're sure there's nothing from Uriel?'
'As sure as I can be. Most of our vox-casters were smashed in the explosion or had their internal workings fried by the electromagnetic pulse. We were lucky to make contact at all.'
'Then we're going to have to do this the old fashioned way.' said Tiberius.
Philotas nodded and returned to his charts as Tiberius stared in anticipation at the viewing bay. The world of Tarsis Ultra spun gently before him, tainted with several bruised areas of colour that were spreading across its surface. He could see distant specks of tyranid organisms and felt his hate grow. Like parasites, they suckled on this world, draining it of its life without thought for the billions of creatures that called it home. Even as he watched them, several of the vanguard drone creatures altered direction to face the incoming Imperial fleet.
'All ships, this is Tiberius. Battle stations. They're coming.'
He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer that Uriel was currently hurtling towards his objective.
Whether he was or he wasn't, there was nothing Tiberius could do about it.
All he could do was lead his ships into battle and fight.
Spouts of mud and water were thrown up as the Thunderhawk touched down on the upper slopes of the eastern mountains in a cloud of shrieking jetwash. Its skids slid
briefly on the slippery ground before finally finding purchase. The front ramp slammed down into the mud and the five members of the Deathwatch and Uriel surged from its interior.
Uriel jogged to a covering position and crouched low behind a jagged black boulder, resting his bolter on it as he surveyed the slopes below him for threats. A thick, viscous rain fell and Uriel could tell that the temperature here was many degrees higher than at Erebus. Already tyranid mutagenic viruses were working to raise the temperature of Tarsis Ultra for ease of consumption.
The thick sheets of rain cut visibility dramatically and he could see no more than three hundred metres through it. Thunder rambled, followed shortly by jagged bolts of lightning that speared the sky, throwing patchy illumination onto the plains below: He cursed as he realised they would have little or no warning of any attack.
He signalled to one of the Deathwatch to take his place and climbed the mud-slick slope to where Bannon coordinated the unloading of the Thunderhawk's cargo. Another whip of lightning seared the sky and Uriel saw what they had come for, thrown into shadow by the bright atmospheric discharge.
From the outside it was nothing remarkable, simply an oversized rockcrete bunker some thirty metres square, with an armoured blast door leading within. A hemispherical dome topped with eight long gun barrels squatted atop the bunker, its bronze surface streaked with oxides.
Four lifter-servitors struggled under the weight of cargo pallets while Magos Gossin and his three drenched Adeptus Mechanicus tech-priests hitched up their robes and hurriedly made their way towards the bunker. Behind them, the servitors carried the precious cargo, fully charged capacitors to power the defence lasers, into the bunker with the utmost care.
Bannon strode downhill to meet Uriel, his black armour glossy in the heavy rain.
'Anything?'
'No, but they could be right on top of us and we wouldn't know.' replied Uriel, having to shout to be heard over the rain and whine of the Thunderhawk's engines.
Another tense half an hour passed until eventually the last of the charged capacitors was unloaded from the belly of the Thunderhawk and taken inside the bunker. By now the Adeptus Mechanicus should be hooking them up to the main power grid. Silently Uriel prayed they would work fast.
He slid downhill through the thick mud to his earlier vantage point and squinted down into the murk. Movement rippled below him, but was it incoming tyranids or a trick of the light and rain?
Then a sheet of lightning flashed in conjunction with booming peals
of thunder and the night was suddenly and vividly illuminated.
The slippery slopes of the mountain teemed with tyranid creatures, swarming uphill in their thousands. Leaping hormagaunts led the charge, but in his brief glimpse he saw a trio of lumbering, crab-clawed carnifex and a great winged beast with a long, barbed tail and a huge bony crest that stretched high above its bellowing jaws. Giant blades on its upper limbs cut the rain and a steaming bio-weapon oozed from its midsection.
He scrambled back uphill, fighting through the thick, sucking mud.
He opened a channel to the captain of the Deathwatch and Techmarine Harkus.
'Bannon, ready your men! Harkus, get the Thunderhawk off the ground.' he yelled.
Seconds later, the gunship's engines roared as it lifted off to assume a holding pattern until the Space Marines were ready for extraction.
Uriel looked back down the slopes of the mountain.
'And tell Gossin to work faster.' he said. 'They're here...'
'Fire bombardment cannon!' shouted Tiberius as the two pincered kraken moved slowly across the viewing bay. Without many of their targeting auguries, gunnery was a far from exact science and only his and Philotas's experience gave them any chance of scoring hits on their foe.
The bridge shuddered as the-ship's main gun fired and Tiberius winced as a fresh batch of red runes began flashing on the damage control panels.
'Hull breach reopened on deck six!'
'Come to new heading, zero-five-seven.' ordered Tiberius. 'Flank speed. We've got to get past their cordon.'
The entire bridge groaned as the battered ship forced itself into the turn, her buckled keel squealing in protest.
'Come on, hold on.' Tiberius whispered to the spirit of the Vae Victus.
Sprays of ichor burst before his ship as the bombardment cannon's shells impacted on the kraken's hide, detonating in a giant fleshy burst of gore. An angular prow slid into view as the Mortis Probati crossed the bow of the Ultramarines' ship. Her starboard guns hammered the listing remains of the kraken, blasting its thrashing body to expanding clouds of scorched flesh.
The second kraken ponderously moved to engage the Mortifactors' ship, its blade wings rippling as it changed course. Behind it, Tiberius could see the outline of one of the massive hive ships, limned in the glow of the planet's atmosphere.
'All ahead full.' shouted Tiberius. 'Twenty-degree down angle. Take us through the gap!'
Tiberius gripped the cracked timbers of his command pulpit as the Vae Victus shook violently and accelerated through the gap the strike cruisers had blasted.
Smaller drone creatures peeled off from their attack on the Sword of Retribution, swooping around to come for Tiberius's vessel.
'Lord admiral!'
'I see them, Philotas. Engage with port batteries.'
'We won't hit much without the targeting surveyors.'
'Fire anyway'
'If they board us, we will be unable to repel them.'
'Damn them! Our only priority is the hive ships. Stay on target!'
The Sword of Retribution pushed deeper into the swarming tyranid creatures, firing devastating broadsides from its many gun decks, filling the space around it with vast explosions. It had suffered the least of the Imperial fleet and its captain had volunteered to take the lead position in the attack.
Lethal strikes from the dorsal lances punched a hole in the tyranid fleet through which the smaller vessels of the fleet sailed. Alien vessels surged to close the gap, but the Space
Marine vessels were too fast, slipping past the vanguard organisms on a course for the hive ships.
The Kharloss Vincennes limped behind the Sword of Retribution, her ruptured hull and damaged engines causing her to fall behind the speeding Space Marine ships. As the tyranid creatures closed the gap in their forces, they also closed inexorably on the wounded carrier. Unable to launch fighters or bombers to defend herself, she was easy prey. Close-in turrets and broadside batteries kept the alien creatures at bay for a time, but as more and more closed with her, there was no doubting the outcome of the battle.
Snaking tentacles drifted forwards from a dozen cone-shaped drones, latching limpet-like to the hull of the battling carrier. Acidic secretions bound the creatures to the ship and their maws irised open, revealing caverns of giant teeth that burrowed into their prey at a horrifying rate.
Larger ships closed, then suddenly altered course to head back towards the planet, recalled by the hive mind to catch its attackers in a trap.
As the Kharloss Vincennes fought the losing battle for its life, the remainder of the Imperial fleet pushed on into the swarm.
The nearest hive ship lay before the Vae Victus, its gargantuan shape filling the viewing bay before him. Attendant guardian creatures formed an impenetrable barrier between her and her escorting ships.
'All ships, fire all weapons!' shouted Tiberius. 'We have to break through.'
Massive projectiles hurtled through space, exploding in vivid blossoms of fire ahead, but none were reaching their target. Kraken and drones moved in an intricate ballet that would have been virtually impossible for the Imperial Navy to emulate, screening the hive ship from the incoming firepower. Tiberius saw a handful of shots penetrate the living shield, but precious few were causing any real damage.
Tiberius opened a vox-link to the captain of the Sword of Retribution.
'Captain, you must clear us a path! Use whatever means are necessary.'
He snapped off the link without waiting for an answer and said, 'Philotas, try and raise Uriel. Tell him that whatever he's
doing, he'd better do it fast, because we won't last much longer here.'
Rain hammered the mountainside and lightning provided stroboscopic illumination across the rocky slopes as the thousands-strong horde scrambled up towards the bunker. Rivers of foaming water flooded downhill, sweeping great swathes of the aliens with it.
For once, the tyranids' metamorphosis of a planet's surface was working against them, saw Uriel. The glutinous mud was as much of a hindrance to them as it was to the Space Marines. Bolter fire raked the slopes, blasting apart horma-gaunts and other nameless horrors in stuttering blazes of shells. Uriel hurled a pair of grenades, ducking back behind a rock as they detonated, sending up showers of mud and alien body parts.
Screeching carnifex struggled in the mud, their bulk causing them to sink knee deep. The winged monster flapped above the horde, buffeting winds keeping it from advancing for now.
The Deafhwatch picked off aliens with single shots to their vulnerable organs, careful to conserve their ammunition. Ban-non scrambled across the slopes to Uriel's position, his armour caked in clods of mud, the symbol of the Imperial Fists barely visible.
'They're circling around behind us. We need to get inside!'
Uriel looked up into the filthy downpour, seeing indistinct shapes bounding across the rocks towards the bunker. Ban-non was right, given a few minutes, they would be surrounded.
'Let's get going then.' he said, rising from behind the rock.
Uriel felt the ground shift under his feet and leapt backwards as a huge portion of mud suddenly detached from the slope, sliding downhill as the torrential downpour washed it from the side of the mountain. He landed on his back and rolled, grabbing onto the rock as he felt himself slipping. His bolter clattered behind the rock.
He heard Bannon cry out and saw the captain of the Deathwatch desperately scrambling in the mud to keep from sliding into the mass of aliens below. Uriel braced himself on the rock and held out his hand towards Bannon. The two warriors gripped wrists and Uriel began pulling.
'Uriel!' shouted Bannon.
He looked up, seeing a monstrous beast with a fang-filled maw clawing its way up the slope. Its long, taloned fist clamped around Bannon's ankle and squeezed. The ceramite cracked under its awful strength and its black eyes locked with Uriel's. Bolter shells burst around the battle as the Deathwatch bought time for Uriel to rescue their captain.
U
riel roared as he fought against the tyranid's strength, knowing that he could not defeat it. Bunching the muscles in his thighs, he braced his boots against the rock and gave a herculean pull, reaching down to sweep up his bolt-gun with his free hand.
Feeling the tendons in his arm crack, he straightened his legs, the counterbalance of the tyranid warrior pulling him to a standing position. Gripping his bolter in one hand he aimed at the creature's head.
'Let go.' he said simply and emptied the magazine into its face, its brains mushrooming from the back of its skull as his bolts detonated within its cranium. Its grip spasmed and Uriel hauled Bannon to the rock, pulling him to his feet as another streak of lightning lit up the sky.
The two Space Marines slipped and stumbled their way towards the bunker through the torrents of water and mud. Twice, tyranid creatures came close to overtaking them, but each time the unerringly accurate bolter fire of the Deathwatch kept the aliens at bay. Uriel heard static-filled words in his helmet vox, but could make little sense of them. He recognised the voice as that of Philotas, the deck officer of the Vae Victus, but whatever he was saying was unintelligible.
Eventually they reached the rockcrete apron surrounding the bunker and slammed into its reassuringly solid bulk. As more lightning burst overhead, tyranid creatures slid downhill from the slopes above, skidding in the mud as they tried to find their footing. Silhouetted in the glare, Uriel saw the carnifex and the monstrous winged beast finally crest the plateau and lumber towards the bunker.
'Everybody inside, now!' yelled Bannon, firing at the carnifex as he limped backwards. Uriel stood beside him, loading and firing off another magazine to little effect. The monster's screeching roar echoed from the mountains as it charged through the rain. Uriel ducked inside the bunker grabbing the giant locking wheel and shouting, 'Bannon! Get inside, now!'
The Deathwatch captain kept firing and Uriel was about to repeat his order, when Bannon turned and ran inside, dropping his bolter and helping Uriel with the door. Armoured and sheathed in double layers of adamantium, the door weighed over four tonnes, and was normally closed by means of hydraulic pistons, but Uriel and Bannon pulled it shut in seconds, desperation lending their limbs extra strength.