The Ultramarines Omnibus

by Graham McNeill

  ‘They are coming!’ she wailed. ‘They’re scratching my mind, scratching, screaming, roaring – so many voices. They’re coming for us – flesh and blood, body and soul!’

  Osric put his hands over his ears to shut out her screams as she staggered to her feet and reached out towards him with bloody fingers, pleading for him to stop the pain.

  But he could do nothing as she pitched forward and fell to the floor.

  Blood pooled around her head and her cries were silenced.

  URIEL JOINED LORD Admiral Tiberius and Philotas, his deck officer, as they examined the system map displayed on the stone-rimmed plotting table in the transept of the command bridge of the Vae Victus. A bewildering amount of information filled the embedded slate, displaying a topographical representation of the Tarsis Ultra system. Curling lines of system defence ship patrol circuits, orbits of planets and local celestial phenomena were picked out, as well as the major shipping lanes. Jump points at the system’s edge were marked in yellow and each planet glowed with a soft green light. Numbers scrolled across the side of the slate, though Uriel had no idea what they indicated.

  ‘Show me,’ ordered Tiberius.

  Philotas adjusted the runes on the plotting table and the background information faded from the display, leaving only the planetary details illuminated.

  ‘At the furthest extent of the Tarsis Ultra system lies the planet of Barbarus Prime,’ said Philotas, as curling High Gothic script in a gold edged box flashed next to the planet.

  ‘A mining world,’ noted Uriel. ‘Precious metals and gem mines mostly, though there are a few valuable minerals used in the production of the metals that make up starship hulls.’

  ‘Population?’ asked Tiberius.

  Philotas checked the information box and said. ‘Quite low, the last census puts it at a little over nine thousand souls, mostly scattered throughout the uplands of the eastern continental mountain ranges.’

  ‘What is being done about getting those people off there?’ asked the lord admiral.

  ‘A warning has been issued to the local adept, and there is a bulk freighter en route from Chordelis, though it will be touch and go whether it can reach Barbarus Prime before the first tyranid organisms.’

  ‘Damn,’ swore Tiberius. ‘The more worlds that fall to the tyranids, the stronger and more numerous they become.’

  ‘Further in towards the core worlds are two uninhabited planets. The first, Parosa, has an atmosphere largely composed of a benzene-hydrogen compound. Highly toxic and though the Adeptus Mechanicus have attempted to terraform its atmosphere several times, they have thus far been unsuccessful. The second is called Yulan. It’s a geologically unstable rock, wracked by volcanic storms, though it does boast several gargantuan hydrogen-plasma mining stations in permanent geo-stationary orbit.’

  Philotas zoomed in on the system map as they drew closer to the core worlds.

  ‘Next we have Chordelis, a small, but populous world, mostly given over to industrial manufacture. Population in the region of sixteen million, with a PDF strength of fifty thousand soldiers. Evacuation protocols are in effect, though I would advise giving Chordelis a wide berth. There are a great many ships arriving and departing and there have been several accidents already.’

  ‘After Chordelis, there are two agri-worlds, Calumet and Calydon, both with a largely caretaker population. These worlds are being evacuated as we speak. Then we have Tarsis Ultra itself, with a population in excess of sixty million.’

  ‘How long before we are in a position to intercept the hive fleet?’ asked Uriel.

  Philotas adjusted the runes at the side of the plotting table once more and a series of lines snaked across the surface of the slate. The line began at the group of icons representing the Vae Victus and the ships of the Imperial fleet and quickly extended through the system to Barbarus Prime.

  More numbers flashed across the slate. Philotas used a steel ruler and calipers to plot time and distance over the system map.

  ‘At current speed, it will be seven days before we can achieve orbit around Barbarus Prime,’ said Philotas. ‘The tyranids will get there first.’

  OSRIC NERU WATCHED the approaching cloud of objects in the viewing bay with genuine, bowel-loosening terror, prayers of protection he had not given voice to since he was a child spilling from his lips. He gripped onto his console as the alien cloud enveloped them and another explosive impact rocked the listening station. For the last twenty minutes, spore-like objects had drifted from the advancing fleet, floating aimlessly through space until they neared the listening post, whereupon they pulsated rhythmically and homed unerringly on their position.

  Some exploded like mines, others burst like wet sacks of liquid, spraying corrosive acids across the structure of the station. Already there were hull breaches all over the station where acids and viruses had eaten through the hull.

  The size of the approaching fleet was simply too vast to comprehend. Thousands of drifting objects surrounded the alien vessels, dead lumps that the station’s pitifully inadequate turrets had managed to blast apart before running out of ammunition.

  Osric checked the firing log of the various turrets, calculating how many rounds had been expended. Over twenty thousand shells had been fired into the approaching cloud though the losses they had inflicted were insignificant against a force of such scale. They were now effectively defenceless.

  Osric dropped to his knees and prayed as more of the alien spores drew near.

  ‘Neru!’ barked the senior magos. ‘Return to your post.’

  Osric stood as yet more explosions rocked the station and a fresh clutch of warning lights flashed into life on the console.

  ‘We’re going to die!’ cried Osric. ‘What does it matter if I’m at my post?’

  ‘It matters because that is what we are here for,’ said the magos with a calm he did not feel. ‘Yes, we will die, but we will die doing our duty to the Omnissiah and the Emperor. No man can ask for more.’

  Osric nodded, bowing his head and returning to his seat as the groan of buckling metal echoed from outside the control room. Another hull breach warning bell rang and the terrified crew of the listening station heard the grinding noise of pressure doors slowly sealing off the affected area.

  Then they heard the scratching of alien claws at the door to the control room.

  TYREN MALLICK SHUT out the pain of his torn shoulder and painfully reloaded his rifle, the trembling of his fingers making it that much more difficult. A blood-soaked bandage wrapped his shoulder and chest where fragments of an exploding spore had ripped into his flesh. Merria had pulled out the sizzling pieces of bony shrapnel from his shoulder, but the wound had refused to heal, weeping a constant gruel of infected blood.

  ‘Why’s the sky gone a funny colour, dad?’ asked Kyle, his voice trembling in fear as he looked through the molten remains of the sheet metal over the windows. The normally slate grey sky boiled a loathsome, bruised purple and unnatural lightning speared through the violet sky, lighting the mountains in a lurid, unfamiliar light. A rain of dark objects fell to the plains below, amid the burning rain that ate away at the metal roofs of Hadley’s Hope and had forced its people to abandon the barricades and take refuge in the schoolhouse, the only structure large enough to contain everyone.

  The men of Hadley’s Hope carried a mix of weapons, from ancient rifles that would be lucky not to misfire and take their

  wielder’s hand off, to freshly oiled lasguns earned in service of the local defence forces. Twenty-three crying children huddled in the centre of the schoolhouse, their mothers and teachers doing their best to calm them with songs and prayers.

  ‘I don’t know why, son,’ admitted Tyren, finally pushing the bullets home in his rifle. He rose from the table and joined his son at the window. Alien spores like grotesquely swollen and veined balloons had been falling from the sky since daybreak, and though most of them had been carried into the high peaks of the mountains by updrafts from the plai
ns below, more were drifting back down as night fell and the air cooled.

  At first, the people of Hadley’s Hope had watched them with fearful curiosity, until a pulsating spore with a frill of trumpet-like cones and trailing fronds had drifted into the settlement. Pastor Upden had confidently walked up to the mysterious object and shot it at point blank range, expecting it to simply deflate. Tyren had watched in horror as the vile globule exploded, showering the pastor with a thick, viscous fluid and his screams echoed from the farthest corners of the settlement. Tyren had run to help Upden, but it was too late, his skin was already blistering and sloughing from his bones as the alien acids ate his flesh away. He screamed piteously until his throat melted and his lifeless body dissolved into a stinking slime.

  Since then they had taken great care to shoot down any spores before they reached the settlement.

  ‘You stay alert, Kyle, and holler if you see anything,’ Tyren said, staring through the dripping, corroded holes in the metal. The lights from the townships below were gone, and he had been unable to reach anyone in Pelotas Ridge for several hours now.

  The lights here were failing too, as the acid rain burned through the cables that didn’t ran underground, and Tyren knew that soon the entire community would be in darkness. He tried to ignore the sobbing of the children and the trembling voices of the women as he saw movement on the road below. The ground undulated as though it was alive and the rain glistened from the carapaces of thousands of… things as they ran towards the small settlement.

  He knelt and fished a battered but serviceable pair of magnoculars from his pack and trained them on the road. The

  unnatural darkness made it hard to see much of anything, but his breath caught in his throat as he saw a sea of creatures, all fangs and talons, swarming uphill.

  ‘Emperor save us,’ he whispered, dropping the magnoculars. ‘Everyone with a gun get to someplace they can shoot from,’ he shouted.

  He grabbed a pale-faced man next to him and said, ‘Radek, take ten men upstairs and shoot from the balcony, the canopy will give you shelter from the rain.’

  Radek nodded and ran off to obey Tyren’s command.

  Tyren looked over to his wife and daughters, giving them a wave of reassurance before finding a loophole in the wall to fire his rifle from.

  Kyle shouldered his rifle and stood beside his father, a nervous smile creasing his face.

  ‘I’m proud of you, son,’ said Tyren and Kyle nodded.

  Tyren peered into the gloom, seeing the rippling swarm of creatures leaping and bounding across the barricades at the end of the road.

  ‘Here they come!’ he yelled. ‘Open fire!’

  Children screamed as the schoolhouse was suddenly filled with noise. Gunsmoke fogged the air and the crack of weapon fire in such a confined space was deafening. Tyren saw several creatures fall, hearing more shots from upstairs.

  Over the crack of gunfire, he heard a whistling scream, similar to that of incoming artillery fire, and flinched as something heavy smashed into the roof of the building. He heard timber splinter and screams from upstairs, but knew he could do nothing to help the men stationed there. The ground trembled as more objects fell from the sky and struck with incredible force.

  He shot again and again into the mass of beasts, their swollen skulls and armoured carapaces deflecting all but the most accurate shots. They swarmed into the town, spreading out and closing on the schoolhouse.

  A thunderous impart outside threw Tyren to the floor and blew out the windows facing the street. A section of wall collapsed and the sheet metal was blasted from the walls. Hot, reeking air blew in.

  Through the hole, Tyren could see that the generator building was on fire, and there was a huge object, like a

  lumpen boulder, rocking in the wide crater its impact had caused.

  Smaller creatures leapt towards the hole in the wall and Tyren rolled to his feet, firing wildly into the breach. Flames from across the street silhouetted the creatures and, together with another three men, they were able to kill all the monsters attempting to force their way inside. The roof of the generator building collapsed, sending sparks soaring into the darkness, a shriek of something in pain echoing from beneath the rabble.

  ‘Get something to block this!’ he yelled, firing into the mass of creatures until his rifle was empty. He fumbled for another clip as three women dragged over a heavy table and some desks, overturning them before the gap in the wall.

  Gunfire and the sound of screaming children filled Tyren’s senses as he reloaded his rifle. He heard impacts on the few remaining windows covered by the sheet metal and saw another give way as a horrific alien creature forced its way inside.

  It leapt into the room, rain steaming from its glossy, armoured carapace. Hunched over and six-limbed, its bestial face hissed in alien hunger.

  Tyren shot at it, but missed, blasting a chunk of plaster from the wall beside it. The beast ignored him, pouncing on the defenders at the northern wall. He screamed as he saw Kyle turn to face the monster and raise his rifle. But the creature was inhumanly fast and its scything claws slashed out, disembowelling his son before he could fire.

  ‘No! No! No!’ Tyren screamed, firing again. His bullet caught the creature at the base of its neck and exploded its head in a spray of dark ichor. He dropped his rifle and ran towards his son, but it was too late, his boy was already dead.

  He cried out in anguish, cradling his son’s body. Through a mist of tears he saw the ruins of the generator building heave upwards, as something vast hauled itself from the wreckage.

  He fumbled for his rifle, as more cries filled the school-house. A huge shape lumbered across the street and slammed into the side of the schoolhouse, smashing down the wall and tearing a portion of the ceiling with it. The thing’s body was on fire and it shrieked in fury and pain as it battered its way inside.

  Tyren felt his knees sag as a monster from his worst imaginings took a thunderous step into the schoolhouse. Larger than a mining bulldozer, it reared above him on powerful, hooved legs, two pairs of thick arms ending in long, razor-sharp talons raised above its head. Its tapered jaw was filled with hundreds of drooling fangs and its dark eyes reflected the fires that consumed it.

  The horrifying creature shrieked deafeningly, lashing out with its claws and hacking men in two with every blow. It stepped further into the schoolhouse, its weight smashing the floorboards and its deadly claws killing everything within reach.

  Tyren screamed and fired his rifle at the monster, its chitinous carapace absorbing every shot without effect. Another of the smaller beasts clambered through the window beside Tyren. He shot it in the head and pushed home another clip.

  The giant beast continued screaming as it demolished the schoolhouse, beams crashing down as its armoured head smashed through the ceiling. The upper storey collapsed, men falling to the ground floor, only to be crashed beneath its tread. Children wept in terror. The beast’s piercing shriek grew in volume, until a seething ball of greenish light vomited from its jaws, immolating the screaming women and children.

  Tyren screamed in horror and ran at the alien creature, knowing it would kill him, but unwilling to live knowing his family was dead. He fired his rifle until it was empty then used it as a bludgeon, smashing it to splinters against the monster’s armoured legs.

  The monster struck Tyren with its powerful claws, tearing off his arm and smashing him through the wall. He splashed onto the ground outside the schoolhouse, numb with pain and loss.

  The acid rain burned his skin and he could feel nothing below his neck.

  Hissing aliens gathered around him, stabbing him again and again with long claws like swords. Tyren felt nothing. His life ended in a blur of razor claws and fangs.

  FIVE

  A DYING WORLD filled the observation bay. Like monstrous, suckling parasites, the creatures of the hive fleet gathered around Barbarus Prime in a blurred, indistinct halo. Flickering lightning flashed through the atmosphere, and th
ough the effect from space was striking, almost beautiful, Uriel knew that it signified the world was in its death throes, ravaged by storms of titanic proportions strong enough to topple mountains and drown entire continents.

  The surface of Barbarus Prime heaved as its mantle cracked, split apart by gargantuan feeder tentacles that burrowed deep into its body, devouring anything capable of being broken down into its constituent organic components.

  There could be nothing left alive on Barbarus Prime: soon all the world’s genetic material would be absorbed by the tyranids and used as fuel for the ever-hungry reproductive chambers of the hive ships. Even now, the biological matter that had been the population of the planet would be churning within the belly of these beasts. The thought sickened Uriel and the hate he had felt on the fields of Ichar IV returned, bright and hot.

  ‘Emperor, watch over thee,’ whispered Uriel, swearing that the souls of this world would be avenged. He stood with Lord Admiral Tiberius on the bridge of the Vae Victus, powerless to help the world below, but ready to do anything he could to prevent any more Imperial servants losing their lives to the Great Devourer.

  Tiberius strode to his command pulpit and mounted the steps that took him to his elevated commander’s position. Unconsciously, he scratched at the spiderweb of scars that crisscrossed the side of his face, scars he had received fighting the tyranids at the Battle of Macragge, over two hundred and fifty years ago when he had been one of many deck officers to serve on this proud ship before rising to become its captain.

  He pressed his thumb to the pict-slate on the polished mahogany lectern in front of him and the tactical plot swam into focus before him, displaying the doomed world and the Imperial fleet that had come to fight its destroyers. Alongside the Vae Victus was the Mortis Probati, the Mortifactors’ ship, and to either side of them was arranged the might of an Imperial battlefleet.

  They could not save the people of Barbarus Prime, but the battle to avenge them would be fought in the shadow of their dying world.