The Ultramarines Omnibus

by Graham McNeill

  Uriel hung on for dear life as the Rhino swayed crazily through the aliens, gripping his sword in his other hand as the vehicles crashed a path towards a monstrous, humped creature lurking in the centre of the swarm. Its glistening, segmented body rippled with motion and, even from here, Uriel could feel a sickening sense of dread permeate his soul as the Rhino drew nearer.

  A flash of gleaming claws brought him back to the present with a jolt as a hormagaunt leapt from the swarm towards him. He brought his sword up in the nick of time, hacking the creature in two with one sweep.

  The Rhino’s speed was dropping. Dozens of beasts clambered across the vehicle’s hull as it sped closer to its objective, alien bodies clogging the tracks and allowing others to climb over them to reach the prey on top.

  Uriel stabbed and slashed with his sword, keeping the monsters from reaching the gunner who continued spraying bolts into the mass of creatures. Wind whipped by him as the Rhino ploughed onwards.

  An explosion behind him rocked the vehicle with its force. He risked a glance over his shoulder, seeing the second Rhino burning fiercely, bright flames leaping from its raptured hull. Blazing Space Marines stumbled from the wreck, still fighting as they burned. Hissing creatures surrounded them and soon the warriors were lost to sight as hundreds of clawing, biting creatures buried them beneath their bodies.

  Uriel looked to see where the shot had come from, and saw a grotesque monster drifting above the ice, its long, sinuous tail whipping beneath its bulbous head. Withered limbs hung uselessly beneath its hissing maw and a crackling haze surrounded the rippling frill of skin beneath its armoured skull.

  As though sensing his scrutiny, the monster hissed, slowly turning its unnatural gaze towards the speeding Rhino. Uriel leaned forwards and rapped his fist across the shoulder guard of the gunner.

  ‘One o’clock!’ he yelled, jabbing his sword towards the floating beast.

  The gunner nodded, and the storm bolter roared, spitting a hurricane of mass-reactive bolts at the monster. Uriel saw a firefly blossom of purple light flare around the creature and cursed as he saw that the volley had left it unharmed. Almost immediately, a flaring corona of psychic energy built around the creature’s head, and Uriel gripped the edge of the Rhino, realising what would come next.

  A bolt of pure white light streaked from the creature’s over-large head, slamming into the front of the Rhino. Uriel was hurled from his perch by the impact. He sailed through the air, just barely grabbing onto the edge of the roof panel, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the running boards.

  The Rhino slewed sideways, but its recently blessed armour held firm against the abomination’s attack. Ichor-slick ice hurtled beneath Uriel’s feet as he fought for grip.

  A screeching creature leapt for him and he kicked out as yet more hormagaunts closed in. He lashed out with his feet and sword, breaking bones and splitting skulls.

  Finally gaining his balance, he sheathed his sword and swung himself back onto the roof as he felt the Rhino veer off to the side. Uriel knew that they would not be lucky enough to survive another blast from the warp creature and as he looked up, he realised that the Rhino’s driver had reached the same conclusion.

  The floating beast was directly before them, drifting backwards in an attempt to get clear, but there was no escape as the Rhino’s spiked bull bar slammed into its withered body and dragged it beneath the armoured tracks of the transport. Uriel heard a satisfying crack as it was crushed beneath the weight of the vehicle, seeing the giant stain on the ice of its crushed carcass as the Rhino drove onwards.

  Their charge had been broken up, but the four surviving Rhinos were now within striking distance of their prey. From

  his vantage point on the Rhino’s roof, Uriel could see a swirling motion amongst the swarm as its leader alerted its minions to the danger. With a precision unseen except on the parade ground, whole swathes of the alien beasts altered direction, abandoning their attack on the trenches to come to the aid of their master.

  Gunfire from the Rhinos hammered the disgusting beast, its antlered head retreating within its carapace as bolts exploded all around it. Crackling energies flared from its head and the sense of dread Uriel had felt earlier grew stronger still. His innate horror at this creature threatened to overwhelm him with its alien otherworldliness, until thoughts of the Bringer of Darkness surged, unbidden, into his mind, and the sheer evil of its existence made him laugh at the insignificance of this creature.

  Guardian warrior organisms rushed to the alien’s defence as the Rhinos skidded to a halt beside the lumbering beast and the Space Marines debarked with speed and precision. Uriel leapt feet first from the roof of his transport, hammering into the face of the closest monster. He felt fangs snap under his boots and rolled to his feet.

  He stabbed his glowing sword through its bloody head and charged across the snow to face the next beast. Giant claws scythed towards him and he dived beneath them, aiming a gigantic, disembowelling sweep at the organism’s belly. Black blood sprayed and its alien screech was cut short as Uriel hammered his blade through its neck.

  More creatures closed in around him as he fought his way towards the giant master of the horde. Claws and razor-edged hooves bludgeoned him, but he cared not for the pain as a dark mist closed on his sight and he hacked about him, severing limbs and opening bellies in his frenzied charge.

  He could hear a roar of animal hate and spun, searching for the source of such an atavistic howl, before realising that it was his own. Shocked at his loss of control, the battle snapped into a slow-moving ballet of utter clarity. He could see the Mortifactors forming a cordon around the seven members of the Deathwatch who jammed melta charges into the flesh of the thrashing, segmented body of the swarm leader.

  And he could see the soulless, black eyes of the monster as it realised its doom was at hand. Even as he watched, its

  horned, beetle-like head surged from its carapace and hammered into his chest, digging deep and lifting him high into the air. A massive, toothed orifice opened beneath its horns and Uriel was powerless to prevent himself from sliding into its fanged maw. He gripped its bony horns with one hand and desperately tried to pull himself free.

  The monster’s eyes rolled back as a nictitating membrane blinked and the orifice closed on his body. He felt the fangs bite into his armour, and knew that the incredible strength of the beast would soon break open its toughened plates. Uriel spun his sword, holding it blade downwards.

  He felt fangs pierce his flesh. Blood flowed.

  He stabbed the blade into the beast’s chitin-plated skull, roaring as he drove it into its brain as a dazzling brightness suddenly lit up the world.

  Sudden, intense heat flared as the Deathwatch’s melta bombs detonated, and he could feel the death-grip on his body relax. The snowy ground rushed up to meet him and he grunted as he slammed into the ice. A deathly silence fell across the valley and even Uriel could feel a keening sense of loss rip through the tyranid swarm.

  Swiftly he cut himself free of the giant tyranid beast’s maw and dragged his legs from the glutinous, sucking orifice. He felt a hand on his shoulder and pushed himself to his feet in time to see Bannon and the rest of the Space Marines backing away from the charred carcass of the monster towards the Rhinos.

  ‘Come on,’ snapped Bannon, his tone angry. ‘It is dead. We must get away’

  ‘Aye,’ gasped Uriel, staggering after the captain of the Deathwatch.

  As he climbed inside the scorched and ichor-stained Rhino he felt nothing but shame as he pictured his frenzied, uncontrolled raging attack.

  DARKNESS WAS SEVERAL hours old by the time the all clear sounded. With the death of the swarm leader, the tyranid attack had foundered, the alien creatures milling in panicked confusion as the controlling will was stripped from the majority of them. Furious counterattacks from the Space Marines and disciplined firing protocols soon dispatched any remaining creatures that still appeared capable of independent action and as the
temperature dropped to twenty below freezing, most of the tyranids froze to death where they stood.

  Some survived by burrowing into the depths of the snow, where their increased reserves of fat allowed them to enter a form of short-lived hibernation, but these were few and far between. There were not, however, the resources to hunt them down as the subzero temperatures prohibited all but the most essential movements among the defenders.

  Such a manoeuvre was even now being undertaken as the Imperial forces retreated to the second trench line. Realising that the first line would not hold against another attack, Colonels Stagier and Rabelaq had decided to pull back on the heels of what was being promoted as a great victory.

  But with aerial reconnaissance promising yet more incoming swarms, at least triple the size of this vanguard, and each counting towering beasts that rivalled the size of Battle Titans among their number, there were no illusions among the high command that this victory was anything other than a stay of execution.

  ELEVEN

  A BLUE GLOW filled the command bridge of the Capitol Imperialis, throwing the faces of the command staff into stark relief. Hooded servitors sat immobile before their consoles, insulated bundles of cables snaking from the backs of their robes to sockets in the grilled floor. A lilting chant of imprecations to the machine god drifted from bronze speakers on the ceiling. Sputtering recyc-units tried to keep the atmosphere cool, but the temperature in the command bridge was still stifling.

  Uriel did not like being in this armoured leviathan: it ill-suited the Space Marine way of war to be so static and the Codex Astartes frequently pointed out the need for mobility on the battlefield. But recently he had paid little more than lip service to the teachings of his primarch’s holy tome. Learchus had made no secret of his disapproval of Uriel’s helter-skelter journey on the roof of a Mortifactors’ Rhino, claiming it was a foolish stunt more in keeping with the Sons of Russ than a proud Ultramarine, and Uriel was inclined to agree with him.

  He shook his head clear of the memory and returned his attention to matters at hand.

  The situation was not good.

  A holo-map with a rippling green representation of the landscape surrounding Erebus filled the centre of the columned chamber, grainy static washing through the image every few seconds. Information received from various sources fed into the display, picking out Imperial units and positions of incoming swarms. Colonel Rabelaq stood at the end of the map, flanked by his aides and adjutants, while Uriel and Colonel Stagier stood on one side of the map with Chaplain Astador and Captain Bannon on the other.

  ‘It appears that Hera’s Gate and Parmenis have both fallen,’ began Rabelaq. ‘We’ve been unable to raise Imperial forces in either one of them, and the squadron of Lightnings we sent to obtain visual reports on Konoris and Inyiriam have failed to return. We must assume that the forces that destroyed them are now inbound on our position.’

  ‘And what of the forces that are already moving towards us?’ asked Stagier, still wearing his Krieg greatcoat and colback despite the heat.

  Rabelaq didn’t answer immediately, his consternation evident. ‘Ah, well, that we’re not sure of. It appears a great many of them have scattered or gone to ground, and we’re assuming that they’ve burrowed into the snow for shelter, as animals are wont to do in winter, to await the arrival of the other swarms. A great many of our reconnaissance assets have already been lost and I felt it would be unwise to lose any more for what would in all likelihood not gain us much more information than we already know.’

  Stunned silence greeted his pronouncement, before Bannon leaned over the map and said, ‘It is a mistake, Colonel Rabelaq, to assume that these aliens will behave like animals, and if there is one thing I have learned about the tyranids, it is that you do not want to let them out of your sight, even for a second.’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s as maybe, Captain Bannon, but if you look at the map, you’ll see that we have three distinct swarms of creatures closing on our position. Originally, the southernmost swarm would have reached us first, but it appears as though it has altered the speed of its advance so that all three will arrive together.’

  ‘Clever,’ mused Astador, ‘very clever. They have learned that we can defeat one swarm, and gather to overrun in one massive charge.’

  Uriel watched the icons on the holo-map crawl slowly across the flickering representation of the surface of Tarsis Ultra. Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he could not put his finger on what. He knew it was something simple, but of great import.

  ‘And what is happening in space?’ asked Captain Bannon. ‘Have we been able to make contact with the fleet?’

  Uriel said, ‘The Shadow in the Warp is still making astropathic communication impossible, but we have been able to make brief contact with Lord Admiral Tiberius over the long-range vox-caster. Communications are still very fragmentary and we are having trouble maintaining the link through the electromagnetic interference generated by the hive fleet.’

  ‘And what is his situation?’ said Astador.

  ‘The admiral has the fleet at anchor around the agri-world of Calydon, though he tells me that a great many vessels are heavily damaged.’

  ‘Have the tyranids not tried to engage him?’ asked Bannon.

  ‘Not in any strength, no. It would appear that there are only two hive ships remaining in orbit, so the aliens do not have the capability to effectively control their forces here and despatch an expeditionary force to destroy the fleet.’

  Bannon asked, ‘Then is the fleet in any shape to offer us support?’

  ‘Potentially,’ said Uriel. ‘Admiral Tiberius has suggested a plan of attack, but I need to confer with the Fabricator Marshal before expounding further on this. For the moment, no, we are on our own.’

  Heads nodded around the map table as each commander digested Uriel’s information.

  ‘Then, in short, gentlemen, we have no other choice but to pull back behind the city walls,’ said Rabelaq. ‘The trenches simply can’t hold against these numbers. The walls will prevent the smaller brood organisms from attacking and we have ample guns positioned there to pick off the larger beasts.’

  ‘I agree with Colonel Rabelaq,’ said Astador. ‘We must accept that the city will suffer under the attack. Better to fight on our terms than theirs.’

  Reluctantly, Colonel Stagier nodded, though Uriel could see it irked him to give ground, even when it would be suicide to stand and fight.

  ‘The Krieg regiment will provide the rearguard for the retreat,’ he said, almost spitting the words. Uriel looked at the map again and suddenly his nagging worry came to the fore of his mind.

  ‘Were there not four swarms approaching us earlier?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Captain Ventris,’ nodded Rabelaq, ‘but we believe that the smaller northern swarm has simply merged with the one moving in from Parmenis. They were, after all, less than thirty kilometres apart.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ asked Uriel.

  ‘Well, no, but where else could they be? The northern mountains are impenetrable, Fabricator Montante has assured me.’

  ‘With all due respect to Fabricator Montante, he is not a soldier. Can we trust our security to the conclusions of a logistician?’

  ‘He has local knowledge, Captain Ventris. Major Satria concurred also and having seen hololithic topography of the region in question, I am in agreement.’

  Uriel could see the others around the room were alarmed at the prospect of a potentially missing swarm, but since there was no proof as to its existence, none had any answer as to what could be done about it.

  ‘How long do we have before they reach us?’ asked Bannon.

  ‘Five, maybe six hours at most,’ said Rabelaq.

  ‘Then let’s get to work,’ said Stagier.

  SNOW SWIRLED IN obscuring blizzards around the crumbling hab units of District Secundus, gathering in windblown drifts and deadening the sounds of the column of refugees that trudged through the knee
deep white carpet that enveloped Erebus.

  Displaced by the rain of organic bombs and those creatures whose cocoon spores were able to penetrate the flak umbrella protecting the city, nearly six hundred people trudged through the blizzard towards a nondescript collection of buildings constructed against the rocky sides of the southern slopes.

  Armed men stood watch at the splintered timbers barring the entrance and a ragged tarpaulin flapped behind them.

  Since the first days of the tyranid attack, word had spread of the hero Snowdog who had saved the people of the Secundus shanties from the tide of alien beasts that dropped from the skies. That his reputation as a murderer and thief were well known was secondary to the fact that people said he had food and medical supplies.

  The winters of Tarsis Ultra were harsh and those without wealth or dwellings would soon perish without shelter.

  And there was a brutal killer on the loose somewhere in Erebus.

  Even amid the chaos of an alien invasion, its depredations could not go unnoticed: small, isolated groups of citizens found butchered like livestock, their bodies hacked to pieces and their flesh devoured. Fear whipped through the poorest quarters of the city, and those that could not escape to the high valley, where the soldiers of the Fabricator Marshal patrolled the streets and thoroughfares where the monied citizens of Erebus dwelled, were forced to band together for mutual protection.

  As the fear of this mysterious butcher grew, so too did its violence, as though the very terror it spawned drove it to new heights of slaughter. Whole communities were murdered in their homes and only the ruthlessly patrolled area around the territory of the Nightcrawlers seemed to escape the killer’s attention.

  For people with no hope, Snowdog was their only hope.