The Ultramarines Omnibus

by Graham McNeill

  ‘All guns firing now,’ reported the gunnery officer calmly as the ship juddered with the recoil of its powerful guns. The vibrations running along the worn teak flooring did not do justice to the violence of his guns’ firing. Right now, hundreds of massive projectiles and powerful lasblasts would be hurtling through space to unleash a torrent of explosive death amongst these vile aliens.

  He watched a flurry of detonations explode around the nearest bio-ship, gradually drawing in as his gunners bracketed it. Some even managed to score direct hits, their shells blasting one of the creature’s giant, bladed limbs from its body. Vast streams of fluid pumped from the bio-ship’s innards as the remainder of his squadron opened fire and the flash of distant explosions momentarily obscured the tyranid ships. When the viewing bay cleared, he saw that one had been completely blown apart and another was drifting listlessly in space. He surged from his chair and punched the air in triumph.

  ‘Damn me, but that was some fine shooting. My compliments to the gun deck.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ replied the gunnery officer, proudly.

  He watched the viewing bay, seeing the remaining enemy ships shuddering, as though gripped by some form of spasm.

  ‘What in the Emperor’s name is that?’ he wondered aloud.

  Before he realised what he was seeing, bolts of gelatinous liquid spurted from the front section of the bio-ships.

  ‘All ships, hard to starboard!’ he yelled, suddenly understanding what was happening.

  The bridge of the Mariatus heeled sideway as emergency power was routed to the engines, but a ship of war does not react quickly, even if her captain does. With terrifying speed the bolts hurtled towards his ships, streaking through space in a tightly focussed stream. Payne gripped the armrests of his chair as his ship fought against her forward momentum to turn away from the incoming fire.

  Even as the bolts slid to the side of the viewing bay, he saw that it would not be enough. The Mariatus would escape significant harm, but there was no way either of her sister ships could possibly evade in time.

  THREE CORROSIVE ACID bolts struck Heroic Endeavour on the lower section of her engine compartment. In panic, her Adeptus Mechanicus enginseers shut the engines down, venting her combustion chambers as they realised the acid was eating away at the plasma cells that powered the engines. Their quick thinking undoubtedly saved the ship and, to their immense relief, emergency procedures were able to halt the damage before the acids could breach the volatile fuel stores. Four hundred and thirty-seven men lost their lives in the attack, but her sister ship, Von Becken, was not so fortunate.

  The full force of the tyranid weapons struck Von Becken broadside on, just behind her swept prow. The sheer force of impart smashed the bolts through the first layered sections of armoured panels, before the bio-acids ate through the remainder and the full force of the tyranid weapons engulfed the mid-level decks of the ship.

  Hundreds died in the first moments of impact, smashed to pulp or sucked into space as explosive decompression blew out adjacent sections of the hull. The acids filled compartments with burning fluids that dissolved flesh and metal in a heartbeat, the fumes as lethal as any nerve agent devised by the Adeptus Mechanicus. Blast doors rumbled closed, sealing off the area of the impact, but the corrosive fluid liquefied the doors and spilled onwards, dissolving decks and pouring down onto the screaming men below.

  The Von Becken’s hull, already weakened by the acids and under stress from the violent manoeuvring screeched in protest, finally buckling as the venerable ship split in two.

  TORPEDOES LAUNCHED FROM the Cobras of Hydra squadron streaked through space on blazing tail plumes, arcing for the nearest of the giant manta-like creatures. A cloud of spores drifted before the ship, and as the torpedoes closed the gap, a

  swarm of them surged forwards to intercept the missiles. Explosions rippled through the cloud of spores as the torpedoes smashed through them, some detonating prematurely, some broken apart by the acidic explosions of the spores.

  Not all the torpedoes could be stopped and a handful slammed into the body of the mantis creature, the primary warheads vaporising a chunk of its hide, before the tail sections exploded, thrusting the powerful centre section of the weapons deep inside the creature to detonate.

  The monster’s belly heaved as the torpedoes exploded one after the other and it listed drunkenly as its lifeblood poured from its gaping wounds. But as grievously wounded as it was, the creature was by no means finished, and it could still fight back. A swelling of intercostal motion pulsed along the top of the creature and a flurry of jagged spines rippled from its flanks, thousands hurtling towards its attackers like enormous javelins. At such range, the odds of hitting a relatively fast moving target such as a destroyer were huge, but if you factored in the sheer number and density of the spine cloud the odds changed dramatically.

  Two Cobras exploded as hundred metre spines hammered through their armour, smashing through the armaplas and ceramite hulls with horrifying ease. The lead vessel’s bridge was destroyed upon first impact, penetrated from prow to stern by a dozen spines, while the second was reduced to a blazing hulk as three giant spines penetrated her engine core and started dozens of uncontrollable conflagrations.

  The last vessel, shielded from instant annihilation by her sister ships, was nevertheless struck several glancing blows and suffered horrendous damage as several torpedoes being readied for launch exploded in her launch bays. Her crews fought to bring the damage under control, but her captain was forced to disengage from the battle. His ship’s primary weapon systems were damaged beyond immediate repair and there was nothing more he or his ship could do to alter the outcome of the battle.

  THE HIVE SHIP moved ponderously forward, explosions bursting around it as the incoming fire from the Imperial ships came within range. Hundreds of spores vaporised in the hail of blossoming explosions, but there were always more pumped into space from the ship’s churning reproductive vats to replace them.

  The Dauntless cruisers Luxor and Yermetov passed the listing remains of the frigates Von Becken and Heroic Endeavour, their lance arrays spearing towards the hive ship. Turning as a single entity, a number of smaller bio-ships sped forward, hurling themselves into the path of the burning lance beams. Three exploded, torn apart by high-powered energy weapons and another was cut in two along its length. A salvo of torpedoes launched from the Cobras of Cypria squadron slammed into the hive ship, passing through an expanding cloud of fire and spores and detonated against the craft’s stony carapace.

  Ichor spilled from the wound, but almost as soon as the fire of the torpedoes’ explosion had faded, the tear in the creature’s hide began reknitting as fresh tissue formed across the beast’s flank.

  Suddenly a fleshy fold in the bio-ship’s underside eased open and scores of finned creatures shot from its belly, trailing sinewy streams of amniotic birth fluids. A handful were blasted to atoms by fire from the Sword of Retribution as it powered forward and the Argus angled her course around the coreward flank of the hive ship, manoeuvring into a position to bring her broadside lances to bear. But none of the fleshy creatures launched from the hive ship were bound for either of the battleships of the fleet. They converged upon the Space Marine strike cruisers that escorted them.

  ADMIRAL DE CORTE watched the hive ship slip to the left of the viewing bay and counted down the minutes until his portside lances could fire. So far the battle was proceeding much as he had planned, though the durability of these alien craft had surprised him, despite the inquisitor’s warning. There had been losses, but precise figures and exact information was slow to reach him.

  ‘Mr Viert, status report,’ he demanded impatiently.

  ‘The Swords are out of action, Lord Admiral, and Von Becken has been completely destroyed. The Heroic Endeavour’s engines have been shut down though her enginseers are attempting to relight them. Hydra squadron has lost two ships and initial reports suggest that neither will fight again without spending years
in dock.’

  De Corte bunched his jaw as the scale of their losses became apparent. ‘I fear that we may have underestimated the cunning of these aliens,’ he whispered.

  ‘You would not be the first, admiral,’ observed Kryptman.

  ‘Did the tyranids lure us into this attack?’ demanded de Corte. ‘I have four ships out of action already and we have barely scratched the surface of the hive ship.’

  ‘Fighting the tyranids, you must be prepared to accept losses, lord admiral.’

  ‘Losses? Have you any idea how many men have died already?’

  ‘A great many, I know. But many more will die if we fail here. We must press the attack and destroy that hive ship.’

  Before de Corte could answer, Lex Viert intervened. ‘Admiral! We are at optimum lance range!’

  De Corte gave Kryptman a last, disgusted look before hurrying towards the tactical plot at his bridge’s centre. He saw that the Sword of Retribution had punched a hole in the hive ship’s forward screen of bio-ships with its lances and a well-placed volley of torpedoes. It raked the hive ship with its broadside guns, but only a fraction were impacting on the massive creature. A flurry of smaller craft were closing with the battlecruiser and the strike cruisers, but de Corte was confident that their close-in defences could handle them.

  ‘Order the lance decks to fire on the craft around the gap in the tyranid line, we need space for a clear shot at that monster!’

  ‘Aye, sir!’ said Viert, punching in the admiral’s orders. He placed a hand over the vox-bead in his ear and looked up, saying, ‘Sir! Captain Payne on the Mariatus requests permission to close with the enemy. He claims to be in a position for a strafing run.’

  De Corte could see that the Mariatus would not survive running so close to the hive ship without support. The Argus was almost behind the hive ship and the admiral felt the deck vibrate with the continued firing of his ship’s guns.

  ‘Tell him no, Mr Viert. We will need every ship in the coming days and I’ll not allow any needless heroics. Order Payne to withdraw and come about to support the Yermetov.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  THE SMALLER FLESHY organisms fired from the belly of the hive ship sped like bullets towards the Imperial fleet, streaking past the majestic form of the Sword of Retribution and arcing towards the strike cruiser of the Space Marines. Supporting fire from the nearby battlecruiser’s gun turrets obliterated the majority of the approaching organisms, and the combined guns of the Space Marine vessels and Arx Praetora squadron helped further thin their numbers. But still they kept coming.

  On the bridge of the Vae Victus, Admiral Tiberius sweated as he watched the swarm of approaching craft. Thus far their close-in guns were holding them at bay, but it would not take much for the balance to swing against them.

  ‘Sir!’ shouted Philotas in dismay. ‘The Mortis Probati is disengaging!’

  Tiberius saw with mounting horror that Philotas was correct: the Mortifactors’ strike cruiser’s engines were flaring brightly as she pushed forward, her course angled upwards towards the hive ship. Her defensive guns had stopped firing and she was leaving the Vae Victus in her wake.

  ‘What the hell are they doing?’ demanded Tiberius, even as he saw the answer. A gap had been torn in the defences of the massive hive ship, its protective screen of drone ships stripped away by the relentless fire of the Sword of Retribution and her escorting Dauntless cruisers.

  ‘They are going for the hive ship!’ said Philotas.

  ‘Can they make it before the tyranids re-establish their cover?’ asked Tiberius.

  Philotas consulted the plotting table, hurriedly scribbling distances and trajectories on a tablet beside him. He silently mouthed his calculations, shaking his head in exasperation.

  ‘I think they might, lord admiral, but they will be cut off almost as soon as they breach the alien’s defences.’

  Tiberius slammed his fist into the lectern, cracking the glass of the slate. ‘Damn them, what in the nine hells do they think they are doing? The codex clearly states that this kind of manoeuvre should only be attempted with a three to one superiority of fire.’

  ‘I do not think Captain Gaiseric is familiar with that part of the codex, sir. And we have more pressing concerns now!’ said Philotas pointing at the viewing bay.

  Without the supporting fire from the Mortis Probati’s turrets, perhaps half a dozen of the fleshy bullets fired from the hive ship had penetrated their defences and were, at best, seconds from contact.

  ‘Emperor save us, no!’ hissed Tiberius as he felt the impact of the tyranid organisms on his beloved ship.

  URIEL RACED TOWARDS where the stony-surfaced object had smashed through the hull, filling the width of the corridor. Emergency bells and a hellish red glow bathed everything the colour of blood.

  ‘Fan out!’ he shouted. ‘Make sure none of them get past you!’ he shouted, directing his warriors to other damaged portions of the ship.

  He kicked over a smouldering lump of chitin, approaching the cracked object that sat like a giant, toothed egg in the rubble of the corridor. Yellow slime dripped from its broken edges and hot steam billowed all around it. A piece of the object dropped to the deck, revealing an inner skin of a translucent, veined membrane.

  ‘Pasanius, get up here. I need your flamer!’ shouted Uriel as a ripple of motion shuddered through the membrane. He raised his bolt pistol and fired a succession of shots into the object, tearing the membrane and drawing an alien screech of pain from within.

  A long claw ripped through the membrane and a grotesque creature bounded from the object. Its hide glistened wetly, dripping fluids from its bony exoskeleton, its mucus-wreathed head filled with needle-like fangs. Two pairs of arms, each ending in vicious barbed claws, clicked together as it landed lightly on the mesh deck. It hissed at Uriel, its black eyes nictating as it adjusted to its new surroundings. A trio of identical creatures followed it from the steaming chrysalis. Uriel could see many more behind them and unloaded his pistol into the mass of creatures as Pasanius finally arrived at his side.

  Two of the creatures exploded as the mass-reactive shells detonated within their bodies, spattering yet more as they poured from the organism. A liquid wash of fire filled the corridor as Pasanius bathed the corridor in flame, simultaneously begging the ancient ship’s forgiveness.

  A burning creature bounded from the roaring flames, its teeth bared in its death fury. Uriel thrust his sword into its belly as it leapt, blasting its head from its shoulders with a single shot from his pistol. Elsewhere he could hear shots and screams of aliens as his men fought the horrific boarders.

  Even as the flames died, a host of fresh creatures boiled from the object and Uriel wondered how closely packed these beasts must have been to fit within it. He swept out his sword, hacking two down with a single blow and sidestepping a third as it leapt for his head, bringing its hind legs up to rake his body with its claws.

  It struck a stanchion, landing badly and Uriel stamped down on its neck, reaching for a reload for his pistol with trained economy of motion. Pasanius grappled with a pair of clawed beasts that tore at his armour with frenzied slashes of their talons. But Terminator armour had been designed with just this kind of close quarter battle in mind and they could not defeat it. Pasanius smashed their heads together, breaking their skulls open with a sickening, wet crack.

  He dropped the twitching corpses, his flamer lying useless beside him, its fuel tank raptured and leaking volatile fumes. Yet more creatures hurdled the bodies of their fallen siblings, desperate to reach their enemies. Uriel and Pasanius fought back-to-back as the alien tide threatened to overwhelm them, forced to fall back from the tide of clawed killers. They could not hold here, there were simply too many. Had they been reinforced from another boarding spore?

  Uriel granted as a razor edged claw slashed through the armour on his thigh, tearing into the muscle and ripping down to his knee. He toppled backwards, the alien’s claw tearing from his flesh in a w
ash of bright blood. Uriel kicked out, breaking its neck and pulled himself backwards. The reek of promethium in the corridor was intense and as Pasanius helped him to his feet, he snatched a grenade from his belt.

  ‘Run!’ he shouted, pushing Pasanius down the corridor and hurling the grenade back the way they had come.

  Pasanius gripped his captain’s arm and pulled him to the deck as the grenade detonated, filling the corridor with lethal, scything fragments and igniting the choking promethium fumes. Roiling flames exploded with a whoosh of roaring air and the entire corridor was engulfed in a fiery explosion that billowed along its length, incinerating everything in its path. Uriel felt the flames wash over him, watching the external temperature reading on his visor rocket skywards. But neither his nor Pasanius’s armour failed them and as the lethal flame wall burnt out, they found themselves in a blackened, corpse-choked passageway, littered with charred alien limbs and burning pools of promethium.

  The two Space Marines struggled to their feet as the sounds of battle continued to rage throughout their ship.

  There was more death yet to be done.

  ADMIRAL DE CORTE watched the charging Mortis Probati close with the hive ship with a mixture of anger and admiration. The Mortifactors had broken his battle line, but by the Emperor they were courageous! The strike cruiser’s bombardment cannon pounded the hive ship at, in spatial terms, point blank range, tearing great gouges in its hide.

  The long feeder tentacles at the hive ship’s rear lashed forward, swiping ponderously at the ship, but its captain swung his ship out of harm’s way at the last possible second.

  A host of bio-ships swung in behind the strike cruiser, blocking any escape as another cluster spun around and moved to attack. Bio acids and spurts of plasma struck the ship and flames erupted from her hull.

  Inquisitor Kryptman watched the uneven battle with fierce pride, his knuckles white on the pommel of his cane. He spun to face de Corte. ‘We must help them. Bring us about.’