The Ultramarines Omnibus

by Graham McNeill

  Swarms of aliens surrounded the refinery, many passing close, but none yet attacking. De Corte resisted the temptation to order the Argus’s nova cannon to fire until one of the larger beasts moved in to attack. His practiced eye watched the vanguard of the alien creatures smoothly part as they swept past the refinery, their movements as precise as the finest naval squadron’s display manoeuvres.

  ‘They’re not attacking it,’ said Jex Viert.

  De Corte chewed his bottom lip, pondering whether to order the nova cannon to fire. So long as the refinery drifted before his fleet, he was reluctant to order a general advance and the damned aliens weren’t taking the bait.

  Something was wrong. The tyranids had reportedly swarmed all over the refinery the Ultramarines had sent towards them beyond Chordelis, so why weren’t they doing the same now?

  Four enormous creatures approached the massive construction, rippling orifices on their elongated prows filled with rotating blade-like fangs. They surged past the refinery, their long, trailing tentacles snagging on its superstructure. Whether their actions were accidental or deliberate, de Corte was unsure, but he did not like the synchronicity with which they had moved into position. Hordes of creatures with spined crests rippling upwards from their bodies like bizarre, reflective organic sails, emerged from the swarm, moving with a grotesque, peristaltic motion to take up position before the refinery.

  ‘What in the name of the warp are they doing?’ wondered de Corte aloud as another group of alien creatures, with crackling arcs of electricity spitting before them moved to surround the tentacled leviathans.

  ‘Sir,’ prompted Jex Viert, ‘The kraken in the vanguard of the alien fleet are approaching engagement range.’

  De Corte snapped his gaze to the plotting table and the automaton-like logisticians moving the markers representing the tyranid fleet forward towards his battle line. The refinery would have to wait. ‘Mr Viert, order the monitors forward and issue clearance to engage to all ships. My compliments to each captain, and wish them all good hunting.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ nodded his flag lieutenant.

  LORD ADMIRAL TIBERIUS watched the same scenes from the bridge of the Vae Victus, his own confusion matching that of de Corte.

  ‘This is damned peculiar,’ he said, rubbing a hand across his jaw. ‘Why doesn’t de Corte shoot?’

  ‘I believe he is waiting for one of the hive ships to attack the refinery,’ said Philotas.

  ‘Then he has underestimated the ability of these creatures to adapt to new battlefield situations,’ Tiberius did not know how right he was.

  THE TENTACLED LEVIATHANS whose trailing appendages had caught on the refinery strained against its massive weight, their bodies little more than a colossal series of powerful, interlinked muscles. Though internal fibres raptured within them, and each creature burned so much energy in halting the refinery’s forward motion that they would soon be consumed in the process, they continued hauling on its gargantuan bulk.

  The vast overmind cared nothing for the individual creatures that made up the majority of its mass and directed its monstrous will at the muscle beasts. Even in death, the muscle beasts would not be wasted, their organic mass would be reabsorbed by the hive fleet and used to produce fresh warrior creatures.

  The hive ships lurked in the centre of the swarm, keeping a safe distance from the dangerous intruder in the midst of the fleet.

  Slowly at first, but with greater speed as they overcame the refinery’s inertia, the dying muscle beasts began dragging it behind them.

  Fluids and muscle fibre was shed from their bodies as the single-minded purpose of the hive mind continued to destroy them.

  And the refinery followed behind them, gaining more and more speed as it returned to the Imperial battle line.

  ADMIRAL TIBERIUS SUDDENLY realised what was happening and shouted, ‘Philotas, open a channel to Admiral de Corte. Now!’

  ‘Admiral?’

  ‘Hurry, Philotas!’ shouted Tiberius, descending from his command pulpit and running to the communications station as Philotas held out the brass headset and hand-vox.

  The vox officer nodded as the clipped tones of Admiral de Corte and hissing static crackled from the gold-rimmed speaker on the panel.

  ‘Admiral Tiberius, make this quick, I have pressing concerns just now.’

  ‘Destroy the refinery. Now. The tyranids are pulling it back towards our battle line.’

  ‘What? Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure, admiral. Check your auguries if you must, but do it quickly.’

  ‘You must be mistaken, Tiberius. How could the tyranids possibly even have the capacity to understand our intentions?’

  ‘They learn, admiral. I should have known that we could not pull the same trick twice with these beasts. Please, admiral, we don’t have time for debate. Destroy it now!’

  ‘I shall have my surveyor officers confirm what you say, but I am unwilling to destroy so potent a weapon on a whim. De Corte out.’

  Tiberius handed the headset back to the Space Marine at the vox station and marched back to the plotting table. Quickly he scanned the positioning of the Imperial fleet and felt his skin crawl as he realised the scale of the disaster that could soon befall the Imperial fleet unless they took swift action. Philotas joined the admiral, furiously entering figures into his navigational slate.

  ‘If we move now, we can intercept the refinery, lord admiral,’ he said.

  ‘Do it. All ahead full, divert all available power to the auto loaders for the prow cannon. I want to be able to hit that refinery with everything we’ve got. And contact Captain Gaiseric on the Mortis Probati and get him to join us, we’ll need his ship too.’

  ‘Aye, sir. All ahead full,’ shouted Philotas, relaying the admiral’s order.

  Tiberius felt the deck shifting and prayed that they were in time.

  ‘WELL?’ ASKED ADMIRAL de Corte, impatiently.

  ‘It would seem Admiral Tiberius is correct,’ replied Jex Viert, his voice betraying his anxiety. ‘The refinery does appears to be closing with us now.’

  Hot fear dumped into Bregant de Corte’s system as he realised the ramifications of this new information. He nodded to his flag lieutenant.

  ‘Order the nova cannon to fire!’ shouted Jex Viert. ‘Signal all ships to open fire. Now, for the Emperor’s sake, now!’

  No, thought Admiral de Corte, not for the Emperor’s, for ours.

  COLOSSAL ENERGIES HURLED the explosive shell from the breech of the nova cannon on the prow of the Argus and sent it streaking on a blazing plume towards the tyranid fleet. Travelling at close to five thousand kilometres per second, the shell closed the gap between the foes in a little under twenty-five seconds. As it closed to within fifteen thousand kilometres, blazing arcs of blue lightning surged outwards from the rippling plates of the creatures that surrounded the muscle beasts dragging the refinery, enveloping the missile’s shell. Instantly, the shell exploded in an expanding cloud of burning plasma, its shattered remnants spinning off into space.

  The crackling, lightning spitters and the beasts with giant sail-like appendages took up station before the refinery as a flurry of shells and energy blasts slashed towards it. A thick morass of spores and tyranid creatures swarmed forward, exploding and spilling their lifeblood as they absorbed the mass of firepower directed at the refinery. Lance beams cut through spores and burned alien flesh before finally striking the reflective sails of the winged beasts that escorted the lightning spitters. The sails’ honeycombed structure dissipated much of the lance beams’ strength, rendering them harmless as they scored the structure of the refinery, but failed to penetrate its metal hide.

  Starhawk bombers and Fury interceptors surged from the launch bays of the Kharloss Vincennes, attempting to punch a hole through the tyranid screen, but every gap they blasted was soon filled with even more alien beasts. Eventually, the commander of the furies, Captain Owen Morten, pulled his surviving craft back to the carrier to refuel and
rearm. Just because a task was impossible was no reason to give up.

  No matter how hard the Imperial Navy hit, they could not penetrate the screen of tyranid creatures protecting the refinery and without the drag of friction, its speed increased until it was hurtling towards the Imperial battle line.

  ‘NOTHING IS GETTING through!’ shouted Philotas.

  ‘Keep firing,’ ordered Tiberius, his voice strained.

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  Tiberius’s jaw muscles bunched in anxiety as he watched the rippling series of explosions bursting before the Vae Victus. Her firepower, normally so fearsome in battle, was availing her nothing as every shell from her bombardment cannon was intercepted by a tyranid creature sent to its death by the alien imperative of the hive mind.

  Hundreds of beasts were dying, but they were achieving what the hive mind desired.

  Nothing could touch the refinery.

  ADMIRAL DE CORTE gripped the arms of his command chair as the Argus canted to starboard. The massive vessel was slowly moving from the path of the oncoming refinery, but even without asking, he could tell they weren’t going to make it. The fleet was scattering from its path as quickly as it could, but even at cruising speed a vessel as vast as a Victory class battleship took time to turn, and even longer from anchor.

  Withering salvoes of massed gunnery from the defence monitors and system ships had prevented the approaching kraken from breaking their battle line, but nothing could halt the inexorable approach of the refinery.

  ‘Estimated time to lethal range, Mr Viert?’

  ‘Forty seconds, sir.’

  ‘GET US CLEAR, Philotas,’ ordered Tiberius. The closure speeds of the refinery and the Vae Victus was such that, in the time it would take to load and fire another shell from the bombardment cannon, the massive structure would be past them before the shell could arm itself.

  Tiberius angled his stance as the prow of the strike cruiser rose and the refinery swiftly vanished from the viewing bay. The admiral could feel the deck shudder beneath him as its hull groaned under the pressure of such violent manoeuvring and the thump of fire from her broadsides and close-in guns as smaller tyranid organisms shearing from the refinery’s protective swarm threatened to overwhelm her. Without her complement of Space Marine defenders, Tiberius knew that to allow the tyranids to board the Victus would seal its fate.

  ‘Estimated time to lethal range, Philotas?’

  ‘Twenty seconds, Lord admiral.’

  SALVOES OF TORPEDOES exploded amongst the vanguard of the guardian swarm, killing alien organisms in their fiery blasts, but nothing could penetrate the thick mass of creatures forced to give up their existence in service of the hive mind. Less than sixty thousand kilometres separated the fleet from the refinery now. And at its current speed, that meant about ten seconds.

  ‘ALL HANDS, ABANDON ship!’ bellowed Admiral de Corte as the proximity alarms of the Argus began blaring. The sacristy bell chimed again and again, warning – as though warning were needed – of the imminent collision of the refinery. He knew it was a wasted breath, none of the ship’s lifeboats would be able to get clear of the blast radius of the refinery, but he had to try. Their doom filled the viewing bay, hurtling towards them with awful finality and, in the few seconds left to him, he stood and marched to the centre of the command nave.

  He saluted his bridge crew and said, ‘It has been an honour to serve with you all. The Emperor protects.’

  As THE REFINERY flew into the midst of the Imperial fleet, the lightning spitters that had protected the gargantuan construction turned, whipcord fast, and lashed their former charge with raw tongues of blue fire. Metal ran molten beneath the assault and, like bloated ticks, the lightning spitters bored their way within the softened plates of the structure.

  Once inside, each creature pushed its magma-hot discharge before it like a drill bit, slashing through metre after metre of sheet metal to reach the storage chambers at its heart. The heat from their crackling arcs of energy rippled around them, melting their own armoured carapaces and scorching the flesh from their bones, but driven by the implacable will of the hive mind, each beast continued onwards until it reached its goal.

  As the first beast punched through the armoured chemical tanks, the flaring, electric arcs flashed across the fuel chamber, instantaneously igniting the volatile hydrogen-plasma mix. Others penetrated fuel chambers across the length and

  breadth of the refinery and in a heartbeat, the colossal bomb of the refinery was ripped apart in a cataclysmic explosion.

  HUNDREDS WERE BLINDED by the dazzling brightness of the explosion as it ripped across the heavens above Tarsis Ultra. The Argus vanished in the corona of the blast, its shields no protection against the violence of the detonation. Metres-thick sheets of adamantium were vaporised in an instant as the plasma fire engulfed the ancient vessel. Compartments vented into space, the oxygen igniting as the heat tore through the ship and its massive structure sagged as her keel melted in the incandescent heat. Thousands of men died instantly as their blood flashed to steam and the skin was scorched from their bones in the time it took to draw breath to scream.

  The fires of the explosion expanded rapidly, quickly eclipsing the doomed Argus and smashing into the other vessels of the Imperial fleet. Six defence monitors and as many system ships vaporised as their magazines and fuel stores exploded. The Cobras of Cypria squadron broke apart as their store of torpedoes cooked off in the launch bays, though the ill-fated Cobra of Hydra squadron miraculously survived.

  The launch bays of the Kharloss Vincennes blazed as fuel stores caught light, the blast doors melting shut and rendering them unable to recover previously launched squadrons of fighters and bombers. Well-practiced fire drills saved the ship and her captain’s quick manoeuvring put her prow-first into the detonation and lessened the buffeting shockwave’s effect.

  The Sword of Retribution, the Yermetov and the Luxor, shielded from much of the blast’s force, were spared the worst of the damage, though their corridors echoed to the sound of hull breach klaxons and yelling damage control gangs.

  BLOOD-RED LIGHT bathed the control bridge of the Vae Victus, the sacristy bell ringing as though the ship herself was screaming. Sparks and jets of hydraulic fluid spurted from shattered control panels, but Tiberius knew they were lucky still to be in one piece.

  The Vae Victus had been stern on to the explosion and its force had hurled her about like a leaf in a hurricane, but Admiral Tiberius’s quick thinking had put her clear of the main destructive energies of the hell that had engulfed the majority of the Imperial fleet.

  ‘Damage report!’ bellowed Tiberius.

  ‘We’ve got hull breaches on decks six, seven and nine,’ reported Philotas. ‘The engines are operating at fifty per cent efficiency and we’ve lost most of the turrets on our rear quarters’

  ‘What of the rest of the fleet?’ asked Tiberius, dreading the answer.

  ‘I don’t know sir. The surveyors are having trouble penetrating the electromagnetic radiation released by the blast.’

  ‘Get me Admiral de Corte, we need to get control of this situation, now.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  Tiberius lurched across the buckled deck to stand beside the plotting table, trying to make sense of the confused hash of imagery displayed there. A red haze filled the bottom of the schematic, the slate unable to display enough symbols to represent the tyranid fleet. Scattered blue icons faded in and out of focus as the surveyors fought to lock down the positions of the Imperial vessels.

  ‘Emperor save us,’ whispered Tiberius as names of vessels began flickering up next to the blue icons. Precious few, he saw. He frowned, scanning the table for the icon representing the Argus. Tiberius looked up as Philotas said, ‘The Argus is gone, sir.’

  ‘Gone—’ echoed Tiberius.

  ‘She caught the full force of the blast. There’s nothing left of her.’

  The lord admiral fought down his shock at the destruction of so mighty a ve
ssel as the Argus and the death of her crew.

  And the rest of the fleet?’ he asked, quietly.

  ‘It looks like the local ships took the worst of the blast, but we’ve lost the Cobras and the Argus. The Sword of Retribution is damaged, but under power, and the Kharloss Vincennes is still with us though her launch bays are out of action.’

  Tiberius nodded curtly, assessing the scale of the catastrophe and knew that the campaign in space was over.

  ‘Issue a general communication to all vessels. I am taking command of the fleet. Order all ships to disengage. Get clear of Tarsis Ultra and rendezvous at Calydon.’

  ‘Admiral?’

  ‘Do it!’ snapped Tiberius. ‘Fighting an unwinnable battle is of no value if by doing so we lose the war. Now do as I say.’

  Philotas nodded and dispatched the admiral’s orders as Tiberius gripped the edge of the plotting table. Nothing now could be gained by fighting the advancing tyranids in space and he would not be responsible for dooming every man of the Imperial fleet.

  Whatever came next, the defenders on Tarsis Ultra would have to face it on their own.

  NINE

  A COLD WIND blew across the tops of the Cullin Mountains, howling across the rocky ground below and stripping any lingering warmth from the bright morning. The air was crisp, but the sun was bright and low, preventing the foaming waters of the mountain springs from freezing over. Splashes of emerald green forests dotted the lower slopes of the mountains and, here and there, herds of shaggy yrenbacks made their way back down slope to the warmer plains from their drinking grounds.

  Suddenly, the motion of the herds halted, each animal raising its long, furry neck into the air, as though scenting a predator. The herds milled in confusion, drawing closer to one another, agitated at their inability to identify the threat they all felt. The animals brayed in confusion, ears flat against their skulls.