Ultramarines

by Graham McNeill

  ‘I concur with your decision, general,’ said Cassius.

  He had memorised the topography between the highlands and Plains Fall and could understand the general’s quandary. Once the tyranids had passed the outer line of defence, the highways arrowing directly towards the city would bring them together again in one mass, capable of overwhelming whatever fortifications were put in place. Matis Via and Nexus Via did not benefit from the terrain that offered Cordus Via protection from encirclement. Any man staying there against the full brunt of the tyranid assault would be on a one-way mission. Though sometimes such sacrifices were necessary, the chances of inflicting significant casualties, or creating a delay in the tyranid advance, were minimal.

  ‘There is no need to endanger your troops further, general,’ the Chaplain continued. ‘It is clear to me that our flanks will be compromised at some point in the next twelve to fifteen hours, regardless of the efforts of your men and women. Withdraw your forward forces to the main line at Plains Fall and ensure the defence of the city is at its strongest possible.’

  ‘I had considered the same, Chaplain, but I would not wish to leave you without any support. I am able to redirect some of those forces to Cordus Via.’

  ‘That will not be necessary, general.’ Cassius had reached ground level and turned towards his chapelry in the depot. Several tactical squads were reinforcing the buildings as much as they could with crates and containers from the warehouses, blocking up windows and doorways with heavy furniture taken from the administration buildings and dormitories. The depot, with its open ground and clear fields of fire, was to be the inner keep of Cordus Via’s defences, and if necessary the Ultramarines would make their last stand there.

  ‘In that case, might I suggest a withdrawal of your forces to the position I have created at Attan Terminus, about two hundred kilo­metres east along the Minoran Gradient? You’ll be under the protection of our big guns at the city wall, plus I can move more of the Legio Fortitudis to support your defence.’

  ‘That will also be unnecessary, general. The Ultramarines will halt the advance at Cordus Via.’

  Cassius passed through the gate of the depot and glanced up at the devastators atop the silos to his left. He had noted the highly effective fire rained down by the squad during the last attack and resolved to mention the deed in his evening rites later.

  ‘Chaplain Cassius, as much as I respect your skill and experience, I think it would be unwise for your force to remain in its current position. Your position will be defensively untenable within eighteen hours at most. There is no shame in moving to a more secure position, and to stay at Cordus Via would be suicide.’

  ‘Do not trouble yourself with the fate of my warriors, general, that is my concern alone,’ snapped Cassius. ‘I am not in the habit of throwing away the lives of Ultramarines, no matter what you might think of my stubbornness. When I arrived, you correctly identified Cordus Via as the lynchpin in your defensive strategy, and so it remains. We will not lightly surrender the advantages we have here.’

  ‘Apologies, Chaplain, I did not mean any offence.’

  ‘I am no more concerned with taking offence than I am with making a precipitous withdrawal, general. The Ultramarines have arrived at Styxia to ensure its protection, and that is what we will do, in the manner I best see fit. Unless you have anything else to tell me, I would prefer not to engage in further debate on the subject.’

  ‘Of course, you are in command of your forces, not I,’ said Arka. ‘I will keep you informed as the situation develops. Arka out.’

  The comm cut abruptly, static hissing in Cassius’s ear for a moment before the connection was severed completely. The Chaplain grunted in irritation – he did not have the time or the inclination to deal with Arka’s sensibilities. He was one of the best Imperial Guard commanders Cassius had known, but even bearing that in mind, he was still only human.

  The tyranids came again in strength after nightfall, and as in the previous night the fire of rockets and blaze of lasers split the dark skies. Unlike the first assault, the wave of tyranids did not come as one in a large horde, but instead advanced along the line of the rivers and highway in smaller broods, perhaps seeking to avoid detection. Such a ruse was pointless; the sensoria of the Titans could pick up the encroaching aliens several kilometres distant, and each brood was destroyed in turn as it came into range of the Warlords’ weapons.

  Cassius was moving from squad to squad around the perimeter, ensuring not only that every warrior was alert, but also repeating his mantra that Cordus Via would not fall. As yet, the Ultramarines had not fired a shot in the latest battle, but there was no excuse for laxity. The vigil of the Titans was not perfect.

  On the roof of a warehouse overlooking the cataract, the Chaplain met with Sergeant Dacia. His veterans waited in darkness, their eye lenses glowing in the gloom as they peered out across the starlit spume of the waterfall.

  ‘Is all in order, sergeant?’ said Cassius, stopping beside Dacia as he stood at the ledge bordering the flat roof.

  ‘So far, Brother-Chaplain,’ replied Dacia. ‘Sergeant Octanus and his squad are mounting a patrol five hundred metres upriver, in case any lictors have passed the Titans.’

  ‘And the spirits of your men, they are strong?’

  Dacia looked at his squad, arranged like immobile statues gazing westward along the roof’s edge, bolters, plasma guns and heavy bolter held at the ready.

  ‘We are patient, brother,’ said the sergeant. ‘The enemy will come again, and we will be ready for them. There is no need to be hasty in our reprisal.’

  Cassius sensed a slight rebuke in the sergeant’s tone, his words hiding some other meaning.

  ‘You believe that we should have withdrawn from Cordus Via, brother-sergeant?’ Cassius asked.

  ‘If you had consulted me, that would have been my appraisal, Brother-Chaplain. The site itself is of no value other than its location. Abandoning it brings no dishonour if by doing so we continue to fight effectively. Now it is too late.’

  ‘I do not understand your reticence, sergeant.’ Cassius noticed that Dacia had not looked at him yet during their exchange. The Chaplain laid a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder pad, and applied enough pressure to make the Space Marine turn. ‘Be forthcoming in your reservations.’

  ‘Our enemy knows what we know, brother,’ said Dacia, his voice barely a whisper. Cassius could see nothing of the Space Marine’s expression, but his voice was earnest. ‘They will have us trapped here soon enough and will exterminate us at their leisure.’

  Cassius frowned inside his helm.

  ‘To hear you speak so, one would think we are already overwhelmed.’

  ‘I have been thinking about the riddle their latest attack poses. What is to be gained by their attempt at subterfuge? It is quite obvious that our defence is not hampered by the fall of night. Why then, would they come at us with dregs, sending their forces forward in broods small enough to be easily despatched? They have tested us with a full assault and not found us wanting. There is no logic, no matter how alien, that suggests this desultory effort will be successful.’

  The Chaplain pondered what the sergeant said, his frown deepening further, though now with consternation rather than anger.

  ‘The enemy are keeping us occupied,’ said Cassius, and Dacia nodded. ‘Why have you only now brought this to my attention?’

  ‘The answer has only just occurred to me also, Brother-Chaplain. As you were on your way here, I thought it better to speak to you in person rather than broadcast the fact over the vox-net.’

  Turning away, Cassius took a few paces, his boots thumping loudly on the boards of the rooftop. He did not waste time chastising himself for his oversight, but focused immediately on a resolution. Before any was forthcoming, Dacia spoke again.

  ‘There is also another reason for the piecemeal assault, brother,’ said the ser
geant, glancing back to the west. A blossom of fire spread across the farmlands, its glow shining over the desolated fields. ‘It is a waste of the Titans’ firepower to strike down only a dozen foes with each shot.’

  ‘They expend our resources with their lives,’ said Cassius, following the statement to its conclusion. ‘While the princeps waste missiles and gatler rounds on termagants, tyranid warriors and carnifexes wait for their supplies to be exhausted.’

  Cassius’s first instinct was to order the Titans to cease firing, in order to conserve their ammunition. He ignored the impulse, because if the Titans curtailed their attacks, it would fall to the Ultramarines to take up the fight and their supplies would be depleted instead.

  ‘It is a confounding situation, sergeant,’ Cassius confessed, reaching no firm conclusion. ‘At best, the Titans grant us more time, holding the mass attack at bay. While they still fire, the waiting horde is kept at arm’s reach.’

  ‘Yet with every passing minute, it is more likely that our Imperial Guard allies to the north and south will be overrun, brother. We will be attacked on three fronts, and we will not be able to hold Cordus Via. Should we begin to withdraw, I would stake my honour that the tyranids will know it and come at us hard, harrying us all of the way back to Attan Terminus.’

  ‘We will not be so easily trapped!’ snarled Cassius, his anger directed at himself for being too stubborn to foresee this outcome. ‘Extend the cordon by five hundred metres and have the Rhinos and Razorbacks brought to the access ramp. I must speak with General Arka.’

  Cassius strode away without waiting for Dacia’s reply or the inevitable questions the Chaplain’s orders prompted. He opened up a vox link to the command headquarters and as Cassius reached street level Colonel Taulin answered the communications request. The officer sounded tired, his voice a husky whisper.

  ‘Yes, revered Chaplain, how can we help you?’

  ‘I need to speak with the general now, Colonel Taulin,’ said Cassius. He crossed under the Gradient and in the background heard Dacia issuing orders over the tactical frequency. ‘It is imperative that I speak to Arka personally.’

  ‘The general is not at headquarters at the moment, Chaplain. He is doing his rounds at the defence line. Is it urgent?’

  ‘Of course it is urgent, colonel! Twelve Ultramarines have died in defence of this world so far, and unless I can speak to General Arka, their sacrifice and those to come will be in vain.’

  ‘I understand. I will try to reach the general for you, Chaplain.’

  The vox buzzed for some time as Cassius returned to his shrine room and began packing away his relics. Touching them brought a sense of purpose and peace to the Chaplain’s troubled thoughts, reminding him that the Ultramarines had faced countless perils and still they had endured for ten millennia. To be connected with that history, to be part of the legend of Macragge, was comforting. In turn, he picked up each relic and spoke words of devotion to his Chapter and primarch, and then he wrapped each in soft cloth and placed them in their metal containers, lining up the boxes against one wall.

  Arka had still not contacted him by the time he had finished, so Cassius switched vox-channels to check on Dacia’s progress.

  ‘All transports are mobile, brother. I have arranged a collapsing cordon, devastators first, tactical squads second and the assault squad last, to fall back on the Rhinos and Razorbacks. If you would inform the Titans of our withdrawal, they will be able to cover us from the west. There is no sign of the enemy to the east, if we are swift we will reach Attan Terminus without encountering any foe.’

  ‘You misunderstand my intent, brother-sergeant. Make ready to head westwards.’

  ‘Westwards, Brother-Chaplain? That is towards the enemy landing sites.’ As a Space Marine, Dacia could not feel fear but his voice betrayed confusion and consternation.

  ‘I am aware of that, as you know, sergeant. We will not be withdrawing from Cordus Via. We will be attacking.’

  Chapter VII

  The two Warlord Titans had moved back towards Cordus Via, overlooking the highway with their immense guns and rocket launchers. True to their oaths of obedience, the Ultramarines did not question their Chaplain’s command, but made an orderly withdrawal to their transports. A drizzling rain had started around midnight, droplets of water rattling from the hulls of the transports, reflected in the light of the Titan lamps. It pattered on Cassius’s armour as he left his sanctuary to join his warriors at the accessway.

  As Cassius’s force readied to embark on the Rhinos and Razorbacks, Apothecary Valion appeared, accompanied by Sergeant Acheon.

  ‘Brother-Chaplain, may I speak with you?’ asked the Apothecary. Receiving a nod in reply, he continued. ‘There are twelve wounded in my infirmary, brother. Though they cannot fight on here, if given proper attention they will make a full recovery and return to the Chapter whole.’

  ‘You may take one Rhino, brother,’ said Cassius, anticipating Valion’s request.

  ‘Brother-Chaplain, a Thunderhawk would be more suited,’ said Acheon, who had obviously been brought along to lend weight to Valion’s appeal. ‘The road between here and Attan Terminus may be in enemy possession. Brother Caphon is fit enough to pilot if necessary, and a lift to orbit would not require any able-bodied brethren to provide protection.’

  ‘You also misunderstand my personal intent, brother,’ added Valion. ‘The brethren have been stabilised and I can induce their sus-an membranes to keep them secure until they reach Fidelis. I will be accompanying the attack, brother. I am sure you will need me.’

  Considering his options, Cassius concluded that the Apothecary and sergeant were correct. The Thunderhawks were one hour from changing their rotation and it would be no further burden for the wounded to be taken directly to the strike cruiser on board the gunship returning for re-armament.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. A thought occurred to him as he reviewed what Valion had told him. ‘There are nineteen casualties under your care, Apothecary.’

  ‘I will administer the Emperor’s final mercy on three of the others, brother. If we are to leave, they will not survive being moved.’

  ‘The last four want to stay here,’ said Acheon. ‘Each of them has suffered serious injuries and they will no longer be suitable for combat duties with the Chapter. They request that they surrender their armour for return to the Chapter and they will defend Cordus Via for as long as possible. Of those that have fallen already, we will conduct their bodies back to the Fidelis along with the living so that they are not consumed by the foe.’

  Taken aback by this, Cassius had to consider his options carefully. The warriors he left behind would be slain, without question. His counterattack had already cost the lives of seven more Space Marines before it had begun. Yet such was the fate of a Space Marine, and Cassius hardened his heart to the decision. The tyranids had to be stopped, no matter the cost.

  ‘Their names will be entered upon the roll of honour and their sacrifice spoken of to the Chapter. I will speak to them myself before we depart and will conduct the rites of the fallen upon those who will not survive to see us leave.’

  ‘Thank you, brother,’ said Valion. Acheon nodded his own appreciation and Cassius felt a moment of strange pride in his brothers, and not for the first time. He was being thanked for allowing them to lay down their lives in the defence of the Emperor’s realm. Only the Adeptus Astartes could truly understand what an honour that entailed.

  No sooner had Cassius finished dealing with Acheon and Valion when the vox link chimed in his ear.

  ‘Taulin tells me you have something urgent to say, Chaplain,’ said General Arka. ‘Is everything all right there? I have to tell you, Matis Via has been abandoned. Sentinel sweeps indicate the tyranids have already reached the waystation there. Nexus Via is surrounded and will hold for no more than two more hours. I cannot give you any longer than that. If you plan to withdraw t
–’

  ‘We will not be withdrawing, General Arka.’ Cassius manipulated his vox controls, bouncing his conversation with the general onto the Ultramarines tactical channel so that all of his warriors could hear what was said. ‘It is my intent to strike back at the tyranids. Our initial assessment appears to be in error. The tyranids have far greater numbers than we expected from a single planetfall, and thus I am forced to conclude that amongst the creatures that made it to the surface is a norn queen – a breeder. This is not a battle that will be won by attrition, even by the Imperial Guard.’

  ‘I would argue that point, Chaplain,’ said Arka. ‘We have a highly defensible position, massed tanks and artillery and tens of thousands of men. Plains Fall will hold for a generation if necessary.’

  ‘We do not have the luxury of time, general. The other hive ships in the system are still active and it is possible that further tyranid ships will be brought to the system to reinforce the attack. I am sending the Victorix and Dominatus Rex back to Plains Fall to assist in the final defence.’

  ‘A sane man would come with them,’ said Arka. ‘You cannot hope to destroy this horde by yourselves.’

  ‘A sane man would retreat, it is true,’ said Cassius, and these were the words he wanted his warriors to hear. ‘Yet a sane man would not gladly march to battle, nor wake up every day of his life hoping that day will see him plunged into combat with a nightmare foe. Yet that is the truth of the Space Marines. We are not men, and you cannot judge us by the standards of men.

  ‘The tyranids will grow stronger the longer we delay. I am sure of it. Once they have a grip on this world, you might fight for a gene­ration, for ten generations, and never be free of the taint. This incursion is in its earliest stages, but I have seen planets where continents have been consumed and oceans drained dry by this many-headed beast. We have seen rocks scoured of all life by the tyranids, with not even bacteria or atmosphere left. Styxia is doomed to a slow, inexorable death if we cannot halt this attack in its infancy, and that is what I plan to do.’