Persimmon. ‘Jorso’s magnetosphere is lively. But we’ve lost most of our auto-targeters, brother-captain.’
‘I trust your hands and eyes to guide the gun crews, brothers,’ said Galt. Not once did he take his eyes from the blazing hulk. The bombardment would now rest with the judgement and skills of the brothers. They were trained to solve the difficult calculations of combat over such a distance. The hulk was two light minutes away, and so what they saw was where the hulk had been two minutes ago. The actual position of the hulk and the differing speeds of the Space Marine projectiles all needed to be taken into account to ensure effective targeting. Taxing work, but this was better, the minds of adepts and not the spirits of machines bringing death to the unclean.
He was pleased that most of the rounds he watched hit home. More wreckage fell away from the hulk, some of it revealed to be burning as it floated across the hulk’s silhouette, before the fires were lost against those of the sun.
Ranial, who had remained silent and still, suddenly came alert.
The ship’s vox crackled, more laden with static than ever. ‘Lord captain,’ Van Heem’s voice was serpent-smooth and oddly accented. ‘Inbound fleet. Emperor preserve us, lord captain, warp translation imminent!’
‘What?’ shouted Persimmon.
‘We are receiving an astropathic broadcast. Mars-stamped,’ Lord Feldiol’s voice sounded over the vox. ‘We are decoding it now.’
‘I feel it, a powerful sending preceding a fleet.’ Ranial’s eyes shut. ‘They are coming in hard by.’
‘Where?’ said Galt.
‘Between the fleet and the hulk.’
‘All hands! Prepare for evasive action!’ shouted Persimmon. ‘Hard to starboard! Hard to starboard!’
Alarms wailed. Novum in Honourum ’s deck tilted as the ship pitched. Galt had the uneasy feeling of being trapped between warring forces far mightier than he, cosmic forces ignorant of the fragility of man: the inertia of the craft’s forward motion, the pull of the artificial gravity plates, the mass of the ship itself and its sudden movement to the side.
Between the hulk and the fleet space flickered, the fabric of reality wavered as if a blanket shaken. The star’s light took on an unnatural hue, a colour not native to this universe.
‘Translation underway!’ shouted Van Heem.
Thunderhawks darted nimbly from the warp point, escorts following swiftly. The Ceaseless Vigilance crawled around, thrusters and braking rockets jetting all over it as it sought to avoid the incoming vessels. Corvo’s Hammer trailed dangerously behind. Novum in Honourum heeled to the side, nose sweeping out and away from the star.
‘Throne! We’re going to end up right in the middle of them! All ahead full! Ahead full!’ shouted Persimmon.
Further pressures assailed those on the bridge. In a great, round arc, Novum in Honourum lumbered away from the ripple in the sky, the fabric of the ship groaning in distress.
There was a blinding flash. Reality folded into itself, torn asunder by warp engines. A third fleet disgorged itself from the warp, ships tumbling from nonsensical geometries into shapes suited to material space.
A great vessel, longer than either of the battle-barges and at half their mass again, floated serenely between Novum in Honourum and the space hulk as if it had always been there, its rust-red exterior betraying none of the violence of its arrival. Void shields flared as weapons fire intended for the Death of Integrity slammed into them.
‘They’re opening fire, brother-captain!’ shouted Persim-
mon.
Galt bared his teeth, ready to return the favour, but stopped. The arcane cannons that lined the vessel from prow to stern remained silent. Only swarms of interceptor missiles issued from it, not ship killers, and they slammed in their hundreds into shells still streaking from Lux Rubrum .
Galt saw what he expected to see, a skull, half-human, half-mechanoid, contained within a
‘I trust your hands and eyes to guide the gun crews, brothers,’ said Galt. Not once did he take his eyes from the blazing hulk. The bombardment would now rest with the judgement and skills of the brothers. They were trained to solve the difficult calculations of combat over such a distance. The hulk was two light minutes away, and so what they saw was where the hulk had been two minutes ago. The actual position of the hulk and the differing speeds of the Space Marine projectiles all needed to be taken into account to ensure effective targeting. Taxing work, but this was better, the minds of adepts and not the spirits of machines bringing death to the unclean.
He was pleased that most of the rounds he watched hit home. More wreckage fell away from the hulk, some of it revealed to be burning as it floated across the hulk’s silhouette, before the fires were lost against those of the sun.
Ranial, who had remained silent and still, suddenly came alert.
The ship’s vox crackled, more laden with static than ever. ‘Lord captain,’ Van Heem’s voice was serpent-smooth and oddly accented. ‘Inbound fleet. Emperor preserve us, lord captain, warp translation imminent!’
‘What?’ shouted Persimmon.
‘We are receiving an astropathic broadcast. Mars-stamped,’ Lord Feldiol’s voice sounded over the vox. ‘We are decoding it now.’
‘I feel it, a powerful sending preceding a fleet.’ Ranial’s eyes shut. ‘They are coming in hard by.’
‘Where?’ said Galt.
‘Between the fleet and the hulk.’
‘All hands! Prepare for evasive action!’ shouted Persimmon. ‘Hard to starboard! Hard to starboard!’
Alarms wailed. Novum in Honourum ’s deck tilted as the ship pitched. Galt had the uneasy feeling of being trapped between warring forces far mightier than he, cosmic forces ignorant of the fragility of man: the inertia of the craft’s forward motion, the pull of the artificial gravity plates, the mass of the ship itself and its sudden movement to the side.
Between the hulk and the fleet space flickered, the fabric of reality wavered as if a blanket shaken. The star’s light took on an unnatural hue, a colour not native to this universe.
‘Translation underway!’ shouted Van Heem.
Thunderhawks darted nimbly from the warp point, escorts following swiftly. The Ceaseless Vigilance crawled around, thrusters and braking rockets jetting all over it as it sought to avoid the incoming vessels. Corvo’s Hammer trailed dangerously behind. Novum in Honourum heeled to the side, nose sweeping out and away from the star.
‘Throne! We’re going to end up right in the middle of them! All ahead full! Ahead full!’ shouted Persimmon.
Further pressures assailed those on the bridge. In a great, round arc, Novum in Honourum lumbered away from the ripple in the sky, the fabric of the ship groaning in distress.
There was a blinding flash. Reality folded into itself, torn asunder by warp engines. A third fleet disgorged itself from the warp, ships tumbling from nonsensical geometries into shapes suited to material space.
A great vessel, longer than either of the battle-barges and at half their mass again, floated serenely between Novum in Honourum and the space hulk as if it had always been there, its rust-red exterior betraying none of the violence of its arrival. Void shields flared as weapons fire intended for the Death of Integrity slammed into them.
‘They’re opening fire, brother-captain!’ shouted Persim-
mon.
Galt bared his teeth, ready to return the favour, but stopped. The arcane cannons that lined the vessel from prow to stern remained silent. Only swarms of interceptor missiles issued from it, not ship killers, and they slammed in their hundreds into shells still streaking from Lux Rubrum .
Galt saw what he expected to see, a skull, half-human, half-mechanoid, contained within a
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