Ultramarines

by Graham McNeill

  The hills around these volcanoes had been seeded with fast-growing trees to provide hard timber, and it was from this dense wood that many of Styxia Prime’s buildings were constructed, with only the largest and most important edifices, such as the starport and governor’s palace, being supplemented with ferrocrete panels and ornamented with sandstone blocks quarried from the coastal cliffs.

  Plains Fall was located to the east of the continent; its name derived from the thousands of square kilometres of flat fields that surrounded the city. The highways that converged on the city traversed the length and breadth of Downland, crossing hundreds of rivers and canals. For much of their length, the carriageways were raised up on enormous piles fifty metres above the ground, enabling crops and livestock to be grown beneath and allowing the highways to traverse irrigation waterways without interruption. The longest of these stretches, the so called Minoran Gradient, lifted one of the east-west roads to the central highlands, not touching the fertile earth for two and a half thousand kilometres.

  A cursory glance at the strategic map confirmed to Cassius that General Arka was concentrating his forces to the west of the city. Sensor reports had shown that the majority of the tyranid spores from the dying hive ship had landed in the volcanic uplands. There was nothing to prevent them ravaging the lands further west – there being no settlement or natural feature upon which to form a defensive salient – and so Arka had rightly drawn a cordon across the highways leading from the highlands to Plains Fall, to intercept any swarm-broods advancing on the city. The rest of Downland would be sacrificed for the survival of the world’s only major conurbation.

  A much smaller, more primitive, map was mounted on a wooden easel in front of the stage, depicting Plains Fall itself. It was a mass of colour, showing defensive lines surrounding the city and the labyrinth of communication and supply lines linking the growing fortification complex together. Around this map were about a hundred seats arranged like an amphitheatre, empty at the moment with no briefing in progress.

  Far from the stage was a communications area. Several vox sets were lined up on wooden trestle tables, manned by staff officers and attended by more youthful runners. A single cogitating machine stood close at hand, spewing mathematical reports on ribbons of paper, which were then passed to a waiting tech-priest to decode. The tech-priest’s robes were marked with sigils that Cassius knew identified him as a lexmechanic – a statistical analyst who was expert at extrapolation and prediction. His hood was thrown back, showing the bulky metallic implants in the left side and rear of the tech-priest’s skull, linked to the cogitator by three coiled cables. Processing the data-flow from scouting reports and orbital surveys, the lexmechanic translated this pure data into something comprehensible to a group of officers uniformed with the badges of the general’s staff headquarters.

  Not far from these aides was the commander himself, immediately recognised by Cassius. The general was a tall man, with narrow shoulders and a somewhat chubby face that looked too big for his body, made to look all the fatter by the thick bushes of his greying sideburns. He removed his forage cap and stroked a hand over his balding head, sweat gleaming in the artificial light. His drab uniform was crisply pressed, his left sleeve stitched with a long line of battle honours, his right breast coloured by the ribbons of more than twenty medals of heroic service. He moved slowly, with a stiffness that spoke of aging joints and old battle wounds, but his gestures were as neat and meticulous as his appearance, if somewhat laboured.

  Arka was in conversation with a group of agitated-looking officers from the Astcarian Fourth, the gold frogging and gilded buttons of their dress uniforms a stark contrast to the general’s nondescript battle fatigues. The general noticed the arrival of the Ultramarines Chaplain and dismissed his audience with a few words and a crisp nod of the head. A few seconds later, he was waving for Cassius to join him.

  The general extended a hand in greeting, which Cassius shook gently, careful not to hurt the aging officer.

  ‘It was with some pleasure that I learned the Ultramarines had heeded the call to arms,’ said Arka. ‘When I learned that it was the revered Chaplain Cassius in command, I thanked the Emperor profusely.’

  ‘I was surprised that you were still on the Eastern Fringe, general,’ said Cassius, releasing Arka’s hand. ‘Pleasantly surprised.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Arka, nodding in acceptance of this rare praise. ‘As we just missed out on the fighting at Ichar Four, I decided we should look for another war. This is our third encounter with the tyranids so far. I do not expect it to be our last.’

  ‘I see that you have your strategy well in order, general.’ Cassius waved a hand towards the briefing area. ‘Do you have any request to make of me?’

  ‘I do, I do,’ said Arka. He gestured to Colonel Taulin, who had briefly conversed with the lexmechanic and his liaison officers. Cassius noticed that the general’s knuckles were red and swollen, the skin thin over his fingers. Many a man in his position would have undergone anti-agapic therapy or other rejuvenat processes, but Arka was clearly determined to grow old and die within his natural duration. As long as this had no effect on his mental faculties, Cassius was content to accept this foible without comment.

  ‘It seems our early predictions were correct, general,’ said Taulin, handing a schematic to his commander. ‘Storm trooper and Sentinel patrols have confirmed significant tyranid infestation in the sixth quadrant of the highlands. Vanguard organisms have been seen moving eastwards towards the city in the last two days. The closest was fifteen hundred kilometres, moving along the main highway.’

  ‘I would like you and your warriors to take the forepoint position at the heart of the predicted line of attack, Chaplain,’ said Arka. He handed the schematic to Cassius. ‘Three rivers and the highway intersect at a staging post called Cordus Via, some seven hundred kilometres west of here. The topography will force the bulk of any attacking force to convene. If Cordus Via can hold for a few days, it will allow us to finish the defensive perimeter closer to the city. I expect it will be the hardest fighting. How strong is your force?’

  ‘I have a total of one hundred Ultramarines,’ said Cassius. ‘I concur with your plan. We will hold the lynchpin at Cordus Via to stall any advance on the city.’

  ‘You’ll not be alone,’ said Taulin. ‘The Warlord Titans Victorix and Dominatus Rex are to be stationed in that quadrant too.’

  ‘Even better,’ said Cassius. ‘I will have my warriors drop directly to Cordus Via and will meet them there. We will have the position secure within five hours.’

  ‘Are you sure you want to land so soon?’ asked Taulin. ‘It will take the Titans at least twelve hours to reach their positions.’

  ‘Then it is even more important that someone is ready to guard the crossing,’ said Cassius. ‘Unless your reports are woefully in­accurate, we should not expect any significant enemy force to arrive before the Titans. I know that General Arka prides himself on the quality of his intelligence, and so I expect to meet only minimal resistance, if any. We are quite capable of dealing with any tyranid advance until the Legio Fortitudis reach the line.’

  ‘Are you sure you do not want any extra assistance?’ said Arka. ‘I could spare some storm troopers. Maybe move up some of the Astcarian self-propelled guns?’

  ‘That will not be necessary, general,’ said Cassius. ‘We operate best when we have full autonomy. Having to guard your forces will only present extra complications.’

  Taulin laughed at this, but his humour quickly wilted under the stare of Cassius.

  ‘I shall provide you with all of the relevant logistical data, Chaplain,’ said the colonel, looking away. ‘Comm net frequencies, contact protocols and such.’

  ‘Thank you, colonel.’ Cassius gave a nod to Arka and Taulin. ‘If I require anything else, I shall let you know.’

  ‘The Emperor protects,’ said Arka. ‘May He watch
over you, Chaplain.’

  ‘You should have no fear in that regard,’ said Cassius. ‘We are the Ultramarines, the Emperor’s chosen.’

  Chapter III

  Situated at the confluence of several fast-flowing rivers, Cordus Via was predominantly a long arc of the highway supported by spire-like struts that thrust up from the floor of the plains. It formed an intersection of several smaller elevated roadways that stretched hundreds of kilometres to the north and south, linking the mega-farms with the arterial route. The bulk of the settlement was made up of storage towers, a refuelling depot and thick-timbered accommodation blocks for passing convoy teamsters.

  Just a hundred metres west of the waystation, three rivers joined at a mighty cataract, plunging some two hundred metres down a gorge. The roar of descending water sent constant vibrations through the settlement, an oppressive noise that blotted out all other sound.

  The lead elements of Cassius’s force – three tactical squads led by Sergeants Dacia, Heletis and Octanus – had made planetfall less than thirty minutes after the Chaplain’s conference with General Arka. They had reported the site empty of inhabitants, though over the following hours, three columns of refugees passed through while the task force’s Thunderhawks had shuttled more forces from orbit. Questioning the fleeing farmers, the Ultramarines learned that the isolated farmsteads in the low hills to the west had been attacked by scattered tyranid broods some twenty hours earlier. The refugees had managed to fend off or escape the initial assaults for a short time, before abandoning their farms to head to Plains Fall.

  Cassius’s gunship arrived just as dusk was settling. The last Thunder­hawk run was being completed, another of the strike cruiser’s three gunships touching down beside the Chaplain’s transport on the wide, black surface of the main highway. A devastator squad disembarked, their heavy weapons in hand, and were met by Sergeant Dacia – as the most senior sergeant in the force, he had been marshalling the defence in Cassius’s absence.

  Dacia’s blue and white armour was covered with litany parchments and purity seals, testament to many battle honours. Along with his squad from the First Company, Dacia had been amongst a new generation of Space Marines promoted from the other companies to serve as veterans after the heavy casualties suffered against Hive Fleet Behemoth. They wore standard power armour for this engagement; the highly valued Tactical Dreadnought suits so closely associated with the First Company were in short supply too and had been taken with the Chapter Master for hive city-fighting in the Vortengard systems. The shortage of Terminator armour was a constant reminder to the veterans of the sacrifices made by their predecessors, and Cassius expected his First Company squad to be exemplars to the rest of his command.

  Dacia acknowledged Cassius’s arrival by raising his storm bolter in salute. The setting sun glinted from the weapon’s gold casing as the sergeant lifted it to the brow of his white helm. Cassius responded to the gesture, bringing a fist up to his chest. As all Chaplains did, Cassius wore the black livery of purity, only his left shoulder pad remaining blue to signify his allegiance. Atop a golden crux terminatus badge – a legacy from Cassius’s days in the First Company – the Chaplain bore the Ultramarines symbol fashioned from snow-white stone, hewn from the same quarry as the majestic pillars and halls of the Chapter’s fortress-monastery on Macragge. The symbol was riveted to the left pauldron by bolts made from shards of the crozius arcanum wielded by the previous Master of Sanctity, Agai Paulus, who had fallen in battle against foul xenos warriors in the Halo Stars.

  The Chaplain considered Paulus’s fate a noble one, and was resigned to his own death at the hands of the tyranids some day in the future. A day long in coming, he was sure. Styxia would not be his last war.

  Cassius had been in constant contact with his second-­in-command throughout the deployment, and the sergeant’s assessment of the position and his disposition of the Ultramarines force had been faultless, guided by the teachings of the Codex Astartes. While Dacia directed the devastators to their place in the defensive cordon, the two Thunderhawks lifted off – one to return to orbit for refuelling, the other to begin air patrols around Cordus Via. Dust and vapour billowed across the roadway from the plasma jets of the departing gunships, momentarily obscuring Cassius’s vision. The autosenses of his armour switched to a thermal scan, the vents of the Space Marines power packs flaring brightly against a backdrop of reds and blues.

  ‘Heletis and a combat squad are performing patrol two kilo­metres west,’ Dacia reported as the cloud dissipated. Cassius joined the sergeant as his view reverted to a normal-spectrum image. Dacia turned towards the buildings of Cordus Via and pointed to each Ultramarines placement as he continued. ‘From the roof of the dormitory building, two of the devastator squads cover the western and northern approaches. This third one will be at the fuel storage tanks of the waystation, providing support fire to the south. We have Corilinus’s assault squad in mobile reserve at the power plant, and a full-strength cordon of tactical brethren patrolling in combat squads. There are three subterranean chambers located beneath the warehouses to the north, with gate access from the garage complex beside the highway off-ramp. I’ve had all but two sealed and set with plasma charges. The others we can use as sally ports if necessary, to encircle any tyranids that breach the inner compound.’

  ‘Vehicle pool in the garage?’ said Cassius. The two of them began to walk down the highway slip road, which turned a lazy circle down to the tightly-packed buildings.

  ‘No,’ said Dacia. ‘Too difficult to defend, with the highway passing directly overhead. I have the Razorbacks at the roadway intersections to provide point support. The Rhinos are laagered two hundred metres south, should we require a withdrawal.’

  ‘There will be no withdrawal, sergeant,’ said Cassius. ‘We will hold Cordus Via.’

  The sergeant hesitated in his stride for a moment before continuing on towards the waystation.

  ‘It was my understanding that we are to delay the tyranid attack only. I have read the Imperial Guard reports. The tyranids have landed in strength on this world. We do not have the resources to halt any advance completely.’

  ‘Nevertheless, we will not be surrendering Cordus Via to the enemy. That is my command.’

  ‘As you say, Brother-Chaplain,’ said Dacia. ‘We stand ready to lay down our lives in the defence of this place.’

  Before Cassius could say anything further, a sharp noise echoed up from the buildings. It was the unmistakable crack of a bolter being fired, followed by several more shots.

  ‘Brother Liades is down!’ Sergeant Augustin barked over the comm. ‘Tyranid infiltration organism in warehouse six, south-west corner. Pursuing.’

  More firing erupted dully from the outskirt of the settlement as Dacia and Cassius broke into a run.

  ‘All squads in the south-west sector to converge on Augustin’s position,’ snapped Cassius. ‘South and west patrols increase peri­meter to overlap with established routes of displacing squads.’

  Affirmatives drifted back over the comm net. There were no more bolter shots until Cassius and Dacia had linked up with the sergeant’s squad, who had been stationed where the slip road met the ferrocrete apron of the refuelling facility. This time the firing came from Cassius’s left, to the north – the sound of several bolters being fired in unison.

  ‘Another lictor here!’ came the report from Sergeant Octanus. ‘We discovered it before it had been able to hide. Enemy destroyed. No casualties. Continuing patrol.’

  ‘I’ll start a second sweep to the north,’ said Dacia, signalling to his squad to move out.

  ‘Yes, sergeant,’ said Cassius. ‘I will join the southern perimeter. I want a street-to-street, room-by-room search. When the main attack comes, we cannot afford any enemies to have secreted themselves behind us. Stay alert.’

  With armoured boots pounding on the ferrocrete, the Chaplain ran down the street, heading t
o the main throughfare that cut across Cordus Via. He listened to the reports of the squads converging on the lictor’s position in warehouse six. The building was already quarantined, each exit covered, but the tyranid creature could well have gone to ground to launch another surprise attack inside. Locating it would be perilous.

  Though he was running fast, Cassius was still scanning every street, alley and building he passed. His eyes flicked across empty windows and shadowed doorways and passed over the roofs and balconies, missing nothing. His ears strained against the thunderous background noise of the cataract, his suit’s autosenses doing their best to filter out the blanketing cacophony.

  Cassius stopped suddenly, pulling free his bolt pistol with his left hand. With his right, he slid his crozius arcanum from his belt and pushed the activation stud. The winged skull-shaped head of the weapon shimmered with the red light of its power field as Cassius turned to his right and looked back at an alleyway he had just passed, his intuition telling him something was wrong. Examining the alleyway more closely, his gaze fell upon that which had sparked his subconscious: a line of darker patches leading across the alley to an external ladder that ran up the side of one of the warehouses. Magnifying his vision, the Chaplain’s suspicions were proven correct. The dark patches were splashes of liquid.

  One of the river banks was located less than fifty metres away from where he stood. None of his Space Marines had been into the water, so something else must have crossed the river, leaving the trail of drips in its wake.