easy. The stupid mon-keigh had thrown themselves on his mercy, not realising that he had none to give. He had ripped their souls screaming from their bodies and stolen that which they had removed from the asteroid.
It was unfortunate that some of the lumbering ships of the mon-keigh had been so close, but Kesharq had not been worried. They were no match for the Stormrider and he had arrogantly steered a course through them, trusting to his holofields to confound their primitive weapons. And so they had until damage suffered during their engagement with the Astartes vessel had caused the holofields to fail. He knew he could stay and fight. The Stormrider could easily defeat these vessels, but they carried the final piece of the key now and its worth was far greater than a few moments of hollow glory. The crewman responsible for the failure of the holofields had been executed and his replacement was working to repair them even now.
Thinking of the prize that lay in his hold, Kesharq pictured the form of Asdrabael Vect, weeping and begging for his life before he destroyed him.
He could taste his vengeance on Vect in the blood that coated his teeth and knew that this was the most critical time. The kyerzak would try and rob him of his prize, but his continued existence was only due to Kesharq allowing the Surgeon to practise his art upon his flesh. Kesharq knew that this alone would not be enough of a threat to prevent him from trying. He already knew that the kyerzak’s electro-priest they carried had made several attempts to distil an antidote to the toxin that daily ravaged his master’s body.
Kesharq knew he would not be successful. Before his disgrace by association, the Surgeon had been known as one of the finest Venomists of the Kabal and the threat of his lethal creations was the bane of every Archon’s food table.
No, the kyerzak would not be successful and soon he would allow the Surgeon to torture the pitiful figure to death over the course of the coming months.
He glanced up at the viewing screen, calculating how long it would take to reach Pavonis.
Not long. Not long at all.
‘DO YOU HAVE him, Philotas?’ whispered Lord Admiral Tiberius, as though shouting would somehow alert the alien vessel that sat in the centre of his viewscreen.
‘Yes, lord admiral, the alien ship appears to be without its disruption shields. Broadside batteries are establishing a firing solution now.’
‘Excellent.’
Tiberius drummed his fingers on the wood panelling of his pulpit and chewed his bottom lip. He did not like Uriel’s method of war. Despite the sense of it, it railed against everything he had learned after centuries of combat in space. Everything the Blessed Guilliman had set down in the holy tome, the Codex Astartes, avowed that ships should go into battle with their full complement of craft and no ship should launch boarding actions without first having disabled close-in batteries.
He did not like it, but he could see that Uriel was right. To return to the Vae Victus would mean their best chance at destroying the alien vessel would slip away. To launch an assault against an enemy’s bridge was the dream of every boarding party and, if successful, would usually mean the capture or death of the enemy captain.
He did not like it, but he would go along with it.
‘Broadside battery commanders report they have a firing solution. Target vessel has entered weapons’ range.’
Firing at a vessel at this range would be unlikely to inflict many hits, but then that was not the plan. Were he to wait much longer, the alien craft would in all likelihood detect them and evade. All he had to do was spook the alien captain and drive him towards Uriel’s approaching Thunderhawk, its engine emissions masked by the close proximity of the planet’s atmosphere.
‘On my command, order battery gunners to open fire. Then engage engines in full reverse and fire starboard manoeuvring thrusters. I want him driven over the polar-regions and into Captain Ventris’s path.’
‘Yes, lord admiral.’
URIEL SQUINTED THROUGH the pilot’s canopy, but could see little other than the flaring discharges of the planet’s atmosphere washing over the Thunderhawk’s hull. The feed from the Vae Victus gave them the position of the eldar vessel and if it would just move a little closer they would have him.
Tech-marine Harkus intoned the Chant of Dissolution upon the Thunderhawk’s boarding umbilical and the shaped breaching charges that would blast their way through the alien vessel’s hull. Chaplain Clausel led the Ultramarines in prayer, blessing each warrior’s gun and blade. Uriel had ordered chainswords issued to everyone, knowing that the fighting was sure to get close and bloody. Uriel rejoined his men and drew his power sword, bowing to receive the chaplain’s blessing.
‘DREAD ARCHON! I am detecting an energy build-up three hundred thousand kilometres directly in front of us!’
Kesharq hurried over to the warrior who had spoken and stared at the sensor returns in horror.
There was no mistaking the energy signature. An enemy ship was building power in its weapon batteries and preparing to fire.
‘Hard to port, take us low over the planet. Lose him in the atmosphere!’
‘BROADSIDE BATTERIES OPEN fire!’ ordered Tiberius. ‘Engage a reverse port turn!’
The enormous vessel shuddered as the entire port broadside unleashed a hail of fire upon the eldar vessel. Tiberius gripped the edge of the pulpit as the mighty war vessel began turning to face its foe and bring its prow bombardment cannon to bear.
They might not be doing this by the book, but by the Emperor, they were going to do it with their biggest guns.
EACH BROADSIDE BATTERY hurled explosive, building-sized projectiles towards their target. But at such extreme range, most flew wide of the mark, detonating hundreds of kilometres from the Stormrider. Some shells exploded close, but caused no real damage save peppering the hull and mainsail with spinning fragments.
The ship nimbly altered course, its needle-nosed prow sweeping left and diving hard towards the planet’s atmosphere. More shots were fired and a vast explosion blossomed above the ship’s position as the strike cruiser’s bombardment cannon entered the fray.
The Stormrider was an obsidian dart, knifing through the atmosphere of Caernus IV, its superior speed and manoeuvrability carrying it from the guns of its enemy.
The Vae Victus tried to match the turn and follow the Stormrider, but she was nowhere near as nimble as her prey.
The eldar vessel slowed as it angled away from Caernus IV. At this point, a ship was effectively blind as its sensors realigned from the fiery journey through the upper atmosphere.
As the Stormrider cleared the atmosphere, a streak of blue flashed upwards and settled in behind the tall sails of the graceful ship. The Thunderhawk’s powerful cannons stitched a path of fire across the rear quarter of the vessel, blasting off bladed fins and barbed hooks.
Before the eldar ship could react, the Thunderhawk swooped in across its curved topside. Drill clamps fired from the gunship’s belly, burrowing into the wraithbone hull of the Stormrider, and dragging the lighter assault craft down hard onto the eldar ship.
TECH-MARINE HARKUS TRIGGERED the firing mechanism of the boarding umbilical and shouted, ‘Fire in the hole!’ as he detonated the shaped breaching charges at its end. Even through the armoured deck plates of the Thunderhawk, Uriel could feel the tremendous blast. He spun the locking handle and wrenched open the circular hatch that led through the umbilical towards the breach in the eldar vessel’s hull.
Speed was essential now. Hit hard and hit fast.
‘Ultramarines! With me!’ he bellowed and dropped through the boarding umbilical.
URIEL HIT THE deck of the alien vessel and rolled aside as the next Ultramarine warrior slammed down behind him. He sprang to his feet and drew his power sword and bolt pistol in one fluid motion. He swept his pistol around the room as he took in his surroundings, a low-ceilinged room stacked with round containers.
He thumbed the activation rune on the hilt of his sword and the blade leapt with eldritch fire just as a pair of crimso
n-armoured warriors charged through an oval shaped doorway. Their armour was smooth and gleaming, adorned with glittering blades, and they carried long rifles with jagged bayonets.
‘Courage and honour!’ screamed Uriel, launching himself at the eldar warriors.
He smashed his power sword down on the first alien’s collarbone, shearing him from neck to groin. The other alien stabbed with its bladed rifle and Uriel spun inside its guard. He hammered his elbow into his attacker’s face, pulverising its helmet visor and breaking its neck.
He spared a glance behind him as more of the Ultramarines dropped through the hull breach. Pasanius was there, the blue-hot burner of his flamer roaring and ready to incinerate the enemies of the Emperor.
Uriel raised his power sword and yelled, ‘The bridge!’
He sprinted through the doorway, finding himself in a narrow, shadowed corridor, with smooth walls that tapered to a point above his head.
A strange, truly alien aroma filled his senses, but he could not identify it. Two curving passages radiated forwards, their ends disappearing from sight.
Uriel picked the left hand corridor, and charged down its length.
He shouted, ‘Pasanius with me! Dardino and Venasus take the right.’
Uriel heard the beat of footsteps from up ahead and saw dozens of the armoured warriors charging to intercept him. They carried the same bladed rifles and Uriel could see a number of larger, more dangerous weapons amongst their ranks.
Raising his flamer, Pasanius shouted, ‘Get down!’
Uriel dropped and felt the whoosh of superheated promethium as it washed over him down the corridor. Alien screams echoed from the glassy walls as the liquid flames cooked their bodies within their armour and seared the flesh from their bones.
Uriel pushed himself to his feet and charged forwards, hurdling the burning corpses and leaping amongst the eldar. His
sword slashed left and right and where he struck, aliens died. With a wild roar, the Ultramarines followed their captain, swords hacking and cutting amongst the aliens. Screaming, chainsaw-edged blades ripped through the flexible armour plates and flesh of the aliens with ease.
Chaplain Clausel bellowed the Canticles of Faith as he smote the aliens with his deadly crozius arcanum.
Uriel felt a close range blast of splinter fire impact on his arm. He ignored it, his armour absorbed the blast. Another blast slammed into his helmet and he snarled, spinning and beheading his attacker.
The last of the eldar died: the corridor had become a stinking charnel house.
None of the Ultramarines had fallen, though several bled from minor wounds. Pasanius fired short bursts of flame along a bend further down the corridor, deterring any counterattack. Uriel opened a vox-channel to his other squads. ‘Dardino, Venasus. What’s your status?’ Venasus answered first, his voice steady and controlled despite the sounds of fierce battle raging around him. ‘Strong resistance, captain. We have encountered what looks like a major defence point. Dardino is attempting to flank the aliens. I estimate six minutes until we overwhelm them.’
‘Make it four! Ventris out.’
Gunfire spat towards the Ultramarines, ricocheting from the walls and filling the air with whickering splinters. The same type of splinters Uriel had dug from the church wall on Caernus IV.
Pasanius was on the ground, a dark, smoking hole punched in his shoulder guard. Uriel could hear the sergeant’s cursing over the vox-net as the big man dragged himself away from the bend in the tunnel, never once releasing his grip on his flamer. Uriel could hear the sounds of more aliens moving to intercept them and thumbed a pair of frag grenades from his belt dispenser.
The weight of fire began to intensify and Uriel knew they had to keep pushing on lest the assault be halted in its tracks before it had even begun.
He rolled around the corner and fired two shots from his bolt pistol. The heavy crack-thump of bolter ammunition was reassuringly loud compared to the aliens’ weaponry. A pair of aliens fell, their chests blown open by the mass-reactive shells as Uriel flipped both frags down the corridor. He fired twice more before diving back into cover as the grenades detonated simultaneously, hurling bodies through the air in the fiery blast.
Uriel leapt to his feet and dragged Pasanius upright.
‘You ready for this, old friend?’
‘More than ever, captain,’ assured Pasanius hefting the flamer.
Uriel nodded and spun around the corridor, bolt pistol extended before him.
‘For the Emperor!’
The Ultramarines followed Uriel as he pounded towards a crimson door, embossed with intricate designs of curving spikes and blades. Even from here he saw it was heavily armoured.
Cross-corridors bisected this one and Uriel could hear the sounds of battle from elsewhere in the ship. Red armoured figures dashed along parallel corridors and he shouted to watch the rear. With so many cross-corridors, there was a very real possibility of being outflanked and surrounded.
He slammed into the door and smashed it from its frame.
Uriel charged through the door, battle-hungry Ultramarines hard on his heels. They entered a vast, high-roofed dome and Uriel grinned with feral anticipation as he realised they must be on the command bridge at last. An ornate viewscreen dominated the far wall, with wide, hangar-like gates to either side. Iron tables with black leather restraint harnesses stood in a line, alongside racks of horrendous, multi-bladed weapons.
In the centre of the chamber, standing atop a raised command dais, was a tall, slender alien wearing an elaborately tooled suit of armour, similar to that of his warriors, but coloured a deep jade. He wore no helmet and his violet-streaked white hair spilled around his shoulders like snow. His skin was a lifeless mask, devoid of expression, and a thin line of blood ran from his lips. He carried a gigantic war axe, its blade stained red.
Dozens of aliens filled the room, heavily armoured warriors, hefting long, halberd-like weapons that pulsed with unnatural energy.
The room reeked of death and terror. How many souls had met their end in this desolate place, wondered Uriel?
He had no time to ponder the question as the wide doors to either side of the viewscreen slid open. A horde of near naked warriors, both male and female, riding bizarre skimming blades and carrying long glaives, swept from each door.
Bolter shots felled half a dozen, but then they were amongst the Ultramarines, slashing and killing with their weapons. Uriel saw Brother Gaius fall, severed at the waist by the bladed wing of one of the flyers. His killer looped overhead as Gaius’s body collapsed in a flood of gore.
Uriel put a bolt round through the whooping alien’s head, watching with grim satisfaction as his limp body plummeted to the ground. The shrieking blade-skimmers spun high in the air, coming around for another pass.
Bolter rounds exploded amongst them as Dardino and Venasus led their squads into battle. Uriel shot dead another flyer as Venasus moved to stand beside him, his armour slick with alien blood. ‘My apologies, captain. It took us five minutes,’ Uriel grinned fiercely beneath his helmet. ‘I know you’ll do better next time, sergeant.’
A skimmer exploded as Pasanius’s flamer gouted a vast stream of liquid fire over its rider and fresh gunshots echoed through the dome. The vox in Uriel’s helmet crackled to life as the Thunderhawk pilot patched into his personal link.
‘Captain Ventris, we will have to pull back soon. The alien vessel is increasing in speed and we will not be able to maintain the umbilical for much longer. I suggest you begin falling back, before I am forced to disengage the docking clamps.’
Uriel cursed. He had no time to acknowledge the pilot’s communication as he smashed a leather-harnessed warrior from his sky-board and rammed his sword through his belly. He saw the jade-armoured, albino warrior cutting a path towards him and wrenched his sword clear.
Some shapeless mass writhed around the warrior’s legs, but Uriel could not discern its nature in the gloom. A trio of the
skimming war
riors swooped in towards Uriel. He blasted two from their boards with well-placed bolter fire and beheaded the third. The jade warrior cut down two Ultramarine battle-brothers with contemptuous ease as they tried to intercept him.
Uriel shouted at his warriors to stand fast.
‘This one is mine!’
From the icons on his helmet visor, Uriel could see that seven of his men were dead, their runic identifiers cold and black. His breathing was heavy, but his stamina was undiminished.
A space cleared around the two warriors as battle continued to rage throughout the bridge. The shapeless forms around the alien’s legs resolved into clarity and Uriel was horrified as he clearly saw the heaving mass of creatures that hissed and spat beside the alien leader. A repulsive, horrifying and piteous agglomeration of thrashing, deformed flesh, sewn together in a riot of anatomies, writhed at the alien’s feet. Each one was unique in its nauseating form, but all hissed with the same lunatic malevolence, baring yellowed fangs and jagged talons.
Uriel extended his sword, pointing the tip at the alien leader’s chest.
‘I am Uriel Ventris of the Ultramarines and I have come to kill you.’
The alien leader cocked his head to one side before speaking. His voice rasped, unused to forming human words.
‘You are nothing but a mon-keigh, an animal, and I shall feed you to the excrents.’
Uriel brought his sword back to the guard position as the boiling mass of loathsome creatures surged forwards, their shrieks both terrifying and pitiful. He slashed his sword through the first beast, stinking pus jetting from its soft body as the blade easily sliced through its flesh. He stabbed another, but there were simply too many to kill.
Fangs snapped shut on his calf and Uriel grunted as he felt hot pain lance through him as venom pumped into his bloodstream. His sword hacked the beast’s ranged appendage from the mass of its form, splattering him with its internal fluids.
Kesharq stepped forward and swung his axe in a crushing arc, hammering the wide blade into Uriel’s chest.
Uriel had seen the blow coming and hurled himself back, robbing the impact of much of its force. He rolled, slashing wide, a terrible screeching from another excrent his reward. He kept rolling as Kesharq’s axe hammered into the deck.