Ultramarines

by Graham McNeill

  He was broken from his thoughts by a loud crack and a vibration that ran through the hull of the Rhino. He first looked to the sweeping scanner screen to his right, but all it showed were the haphazard heat registers of rippers returning to the spore funnels to throw themselves into the digestion pools surrounding the norn queen.

  The driver, Brother Exeletus, cursed suddenly and brought the Rhino to a sliding stop as another resounding detonation shuddered the vehicle from front to rear. The vox-net filled with inquiries as the column slewed to a halt behind the Chaplain’s vehicle.

  ‘Hatches open, ready weapons for quadrant defence!’ Sergeant Dacia’s voice cut through the noise, silencing all chatter. ‘Locate source of attack.’

  ‘I saw something, a thermal flicker just before the impact,’ said Exeletus.

  ‘Where?’ demanded Cassius. ‘What sector?’

  ‘That is the problem, Brother-Chaplain. It was right next to us. I think we must have...’ Exeletus’s voice drifted away and he leaned forwards, peering through the driver’s vision slit. He glanced at Cassius. ‘There is another one. Off to the right, thirty degrees.’

  ‘I have it,’ said Dacia. The veteran squad had opened the double doors of the armoured hatch above the troop compartment and were on firing steps, bolters and other weapons ready to repel any attack on the vehicle. The sergeant dropped down from the open hatchway, causing the Rhino to rock on its suspension for a few moments. He pointed his bolter to the right. ‘Spore mines, Brother-Chaplain. Take a look for yourself.’

  Cassius pulled himself up to the opening and looked in the direction Dacia had indicated, switching to thermal vision. Sure enough, several shapes resolved in his view. They appeared as bright red globes, trailing half a dozen tendrils of orange that faded to green. Increasing magnification, the Chaplain did a full sweep, turning around completely. He counted at least twenty spore mines within two hundred metres, and had seen the telltale glimmer of scores more further away. Focusing on one of the organic mines, he watched it drifting on the breeze, buoyed up by gases inside its spherical top. Its tentacles just touched the ground at their claw-like tips, so that it appeared to be walking, changing direction with flicks of its tendrils as its rudimentary sensory organs detected light, heat and sound.

  It had started to head towards the convoy, drawn by the idling engines. Checking again, Cassius saw that several more were heading in the direction of the Ultramarines.

  ‘Lights on, move forwards,’ said the Chaplain. ‘Batten hatches, remote weapons only.’

  He let himself drop to the floor of the Rhino, boots clanging on the decking as the veteran squad lowered themselves around him. With a wheeze of hydraulic pistons the overhead hatch doors closed. Cassius moved back to his command seat beside the driver and quickly surveyed the screens laid out before him. He activated the controls for the remote storm bolter situated on the hull above his head and another screen flickered into life, relaying an image from the weapon’s motion-pict. With steady movements of his fingers, the Chaplain brought the storm bolter to aim at a spore mine forty metres ahead. He thumbed the trigger button just as the Rhino lurched forwards and started to pick up speed. The mine exploded in a shower of hard carapace and acidic mist moments before the Rhino sped through the expanding cloud.

  Elsewhere there were other detonations as the storm bolters of the other Rhinos and the assault cannons and heavy bolters of the Razorbacks shredded more of the drifting organic bombs. Directing the fire of his storm bolter ahead, Cassius ordered the Razorback gunners to cease their firing; it was best to conserve ammunition for more worthwhile targets they would surely encounter once the attack on the norn queen began.

  Pressing on through the night and the spore mines, the column was sometimes slowed to a crawl by the weight of creatures in front, other times able to speed up the increasingly steep slopes. Despite the attention of the Rhino crews, it was impossible to spot every spore mine and destroy it if the column was to advance at any reasonable speed. Every few minutes a distinctive crack would sound as a Rhino or Razorback came too close to a spore mine.

  Hunkered in their vehicles, the Space Marines were safe from harm, though the irregular detonations grated on Cassius’s nerves and every time the column was forced to slow it was irritating in the extreme. For all that Cassius knew, the hive tyrant could be half a continent away, though it seemed unlikely. The sooner the attack on the norn queen could commence, the more swiftly the hive tyrant would be brought forth from the horde and destroyed, relieving the pressure on Plains Fall.

  Most of the night had passed when Sergeant Octanus reported that his Razorback had thrown a track and been forced to a halt. The other vehicles quickly drew up in a laager around the stricken transport, weapons directed out towards the moving field of spore mines. Only when the position was secured did Cassius open the rear ramp of his Rhino and meet Octanus beside his vehicle.

  Successive spore mine hits had gradually worn through the track links, every detonation splashing a little more acidic compound onto the vehicles, every explosion eating away another layer of metal. The transports looked in a sorry state, most of their livery eaten through by acid, their ceramite plates blistered with sworls of melted, cracked ceramite. Octanus’s Razorback had been the first to succumb to the speedy advance and the constant erosion of the spore mine attacks, but most of the other vehicles were in much the same poor state. Some had perforated exhausts, others suffered from compromised tracks or damage to the road wheels concealed behind the slab sides of the vehicles and one of the Rhinos had acid damage to its running gear, making it hard to turn to the right.

  Cassius ordered a full halt for repairs and replacements. It was necessary but frustrating – Cassius estimated they were perhaps only ten kilometres from the probable location of the norn queen. The sky above was swathed with dark clouds from the spore funnels, and what little starlight breached the fog of microscopic organisms showed the mountainous chimneys jutting in every direction.

  Swinging lamps outwards and using the lights of their armour to augment their autosenses, the Ultramarines kept watch at the perimeter, but it was taxing work. Starting with Octanus’s Razorback, one vehicle at a time was brought into the middle of the laager to be examined and have repairs effected by Brother Sesiphus, a member of Dacia’s squad who served in the Armoury and would shortly be elevated to the ranks of the Techmarines.

  The process was slow and laborious, but as the ever-increasing frequency of spore mine detonations at the perimeter indicated, there was no way to spare more warriors to effect the repairs. After two hours, only three of the twelve vehicles had been patched up by Sesiphus and the gunfire from the Ultramarines was ever more frequent. Through the strange web of the hive mind, the spore mines were being drawn in for kilometres in every direction; mindless, but driven towards this threat at their centre. Now, the heavy weapons troopers were having to expend lascannon shots and frag missiles to keep the crowding mass of explosive organisms at bay.

  ‘We cannot hold this perimeter for another ten or more hours,’ Dacia told Cassius. Along with Capilla, the veteran sergeant had been summoned by the Chaplain for a brief council of war. ‘As it is, if we move on now it will still require considerable effort to clear a path ahead.’

  ‘We cannot proceed on foot, that would be just as dangerous,’ said Capilla. ‘Speed was our best defence against this threat.’

  ‘And speed is the greatest risk we now face,’ concluded Cassius. ‘If we push the vehicles too hard now, with the damage they have suffered, we could end up stranded again – perhaps in an even more compromised position.’

  ‘The longer we stay here, the more mines will be drawn to us,’ said Dacia. ‘We need something else, a decoy to move them away.’

  ‘What would you suggest we use as a decoy, brother?’ said Capilla.

  ‘My squad,’ replied the veteran sergeant. ‘There is room for the Master of
Sanctity to travel with any of several other squads. We shall take our Rhino and draw the spore mines away from the perimeter, acting as a rod to lightning.’

  The sergeant’s tone made it clear that his mind was already made up, but Cassius needed to be sure that Dacia and his men understood what they were advocating.

  ‘We will not be able to wait for your return, brother,’ said the Chaplain. ‘We must press on to the attack against the norn queen without further delays. Are you sure you wish to do this?’

  ‘We are not only sure, we are adamant, Brother-Chaplain. Only a direct order from you would prevent us. It is not a fool’s errand, nor a suicide mission.’

  ‘There is considerable risk, brother,’ countered Capilla. ‘It is likely that you will perish. Perhaps one of the other squads should fulfil the role, rather than our prized warriors of the First Company.’

  ‘To be the First is to be above all others, in regard and in risk,’ said Dacia. ‘I would no more send another squad to act in my place than you would keep safe your life rather than risk it in defence of your brothers. We are the veterans, who have seen this foe at close hand a dozen times and more. It is our right to do this, as well as our duty.’

  ‘Head south and return to Plains Fall if you can,’ Cassius told the veteran.

  ‘Not before we have succeeded in freeing the column from this incessant menace,’ said Dacia. ‘Unless you have other objections, brothers, we will depart as soon as we are able.’

  Dacia nodded and sent the two Space Marines back to their squads. News quickly spread of Dacia’s decision and the First Company warriors mounted their Rhino with their names being praised by their battle-brothers, even as the guns of the force turned north and blasted a corridor through the spore mines for the squad to follow.

  After the frenetic barrage, the guns of the convoy fell silent. The sound of the Rhino’s engines was loud in the sudden quiet. With no ceremony, the driver gunned the engine and left the safety of the laager, heading into the gap opened by the earlier torrent of fire. When the Rhino was two hundred metres away, disappearing into the night, it suddenly lit up with a blaze of muzzle flare. Top hatch open, the Rhino slowed to a crawl while the veterans opened fire sporadically, a source of harsh light and sharp sound and exhaust fumes for the spore mines to latch onto.

  ‘It’s working!’ shouted one of Therotius’s men.

  ‘Quiet there!’ Cassius snapped back. The Space Marine had been correct; the spore mines had halted in their inexorable glide towards the laager and were now slowly moving in the direction of the veterans.

  ‘I will summon a Thunderhawk,’ Cassius told Dacia over a command link. ‘It might not be able to find you in the fume, but I will call for it anyway and they will search for as long as possible.’

  ‘Thank you, brother, for your leadership, your faith and your devotion,’ replied Dacia. ‘I consider it one of my greatest honours to have served as your second-in-command. I will see you again in the Cathedral of Sanctity on Macragge.’

  ‘You will, brother,’ said Cassius. He saw the Rhino speeding up again and it was soon swallowed by the gloom of night and spores. ‘The blood of the primarch is strong in you, Dacia. Fight hard and long.’

  Another brief spark of light betrayed the presence of the Rhino another few hundred metres away, seeming tiny in the blackness. A thermal sweep confirmed to the Chaplain that the nearest spore mine was more than a hundred metres away and drifting after the departing Rhino. There were some that would still cross the laager, but the perimeter could be weakened and the Space Marines put to better use aiding in the repairs.

  ‘No noise, let us get these repairs done quickly and quietly,’ Cassius told his warriors. ‘Honour their sacrifice with your diligence.’

  Chapter IX

  Once they had completed their repairs, thanks to the distraction offered by Sergeant Dacia and his veterans, the Ultramarines set off on their final thrust towards the spore funnels. Heading up into the volcanic highlands they encountered little resistance and by the time they were clear of the spore mine swarm, they were able to travel even faster, coming upon a handful of scattered broods; a few dozen hormagaunts and termagants without any synapse creatures to guide them.

  Cassius travelled with Tyrius’s squad, lending his experience and presence to the newly-promoted sergeant. The Chaplain knew Tyrius well, having inducted him into the Chapter as a neophyte, monitored his progress through the Scout Company and awarded him his colours upon becoming a full battle-brother – as he had done for hundreds of other Ultramarines. Tyrius was quiet and competent, calm when sometimes others would grow headstrong, which made him ideal for leadership of a tactical squad; all of which the Chaplain felt no embarrassment in telling Tyrius as the column delved into the heartlands of the tyranid landings.

  ‘What if the Guard don’t come?’ Tyrius asked. ‘Normal men are weak, cherishing their lives above honour.’

  The question had occurred to Cassius, but it was not his concern any longer now that his force was committed to the strike on the norn queen. That Tyrius had asked it suggested the idea that the Ultramarines would be abandoned to the tyranid horde was in the minds of other warriors in the force too.

  ‘Some men are weak, that is true,’ said Cassius. ‘Yet some men are strong. You and I were once normal boys, with the hearts of men. We were chosen because we were strong, because we had courage and honour. Not all men with courage and honour become Space Marines. Some die with their potential unfulfilled. Others find a way to serve the Emperor by other means, as missionaries or Imperial Guard officers. General Arka is a strong man, and his men are dedicated to him.’

  ‘It is reassuring to know that our attack will have purpose,’ said Tyrius. ‘To expend our lives in completion of this mission and yet not ensure the protection of this world with our actions would be vanity.’

  ‘We stay until we slay the hive tyrant, that is all we need to do,’ Cassius replied. ‘Our foes will take time to recover, with their synapse commander destroyed. With the pressure relieved at Plains Fall, Arka will feel confident that the Imperial Guard can launch their counter-offensive. Our focus must be upon the hive tyrant, unfettered by all other considerations.’

  ‘Of course, Brother-Chaplain.’ Tyrius’s words professed understanding, but his tone betrayed an element of doubt.

  ‘I know that it can be unsettling to rely so heavily upon a fragile and uncertain alliance, sergeant,’ Cassius told Tyrius. He opened up a company-wide channel to address the rest of the force. ‘Success, and our honour, must be placed in the hands of others at times. So it has been since the time of the Imperium’s beginnings. The Ultramarines are a powerful force, but even when mobilised in its entirety, our Chapter numbers but a thousand warriors. A thousand Space Marines can accomplish many things, but they cannot achieve everything.

  ‘There are perhaps one million Space Marines to defend the Imperium, and as old wisdom would have it, that is but one warrior per world that owes fealty to the Emperor. So has it been, from time immemorial to today, that the Space Marines must be the tip of the spear but the Imperial Guard are the weight of the haft behind it. We are the sabre that slashes, they are the hammer that smashes.

  ‘This is as true in Vortengard, where our brothers fight, as on Styxia. The Ultramarines cannot win this war by themselves, but it is our task, our purpose of existence, to make it possible for the Imperial Guard to bring victory. If one does not believe in this idea, one must doubt the Chapter’s duty to the Imperium as a whole.’

  With these stern words ringing in their ears, the Ultramarines pressed on. When daylight came, Cassius mounted the cupola in the roof of the Rhino to examine the surroundings. The spore-fume was thick, blanketing the bare rock and filling the air. The blue of the Rhinos and Razorbacks was hidden beneath a layer of the filth and Cassius was forced to continually wipe the lenses of his helm as the column sped on through the murk
.

  Despite the spore gloom, it was possible to see the immense chimneys rising up ahead and to either side. Like the volcanoes upon which they were erected, the spore funnels were conical in shape, spewing out a steady stream of blackness as an eruption vomits ash. Passing close to the base of one such structure, which reached up at least two hundred metres above Cassius, the Chaplain saw that it was still under construction.

  The chimney was a mass of writhing biomatter: grub-like growths and metre-long worms entangled each other in a mass of slimy strands, while six-legged crabs smaller than a thumbnail knitted together the hardening xeno-silk, followed by more larvae that excreted processed organic matter in dribbling rivulets, encasing the structure with a hardening outer covering.

  Absorbed by his study of this activity, Cassius at first did not notice the monstrous apparition looming out of the spore fog in front of him. A warning from Sergeant Menaton drew his attention forwards, where the column was slowing to a halt.

  The norn queen squatted amongst the spore chimneys, equally as mountainous in its bulk. The flanks of the monstrous brood-mother were covered with a swarming layer of rippers, hundreds of finger-sized larvae slipping from cord-veined incubator tubes while engorged, full-grown adults dragged themselves into puckered digestive tract openings to be absorbed back into the genetic material from which they had been spawned.

  Intestinal tracts like thick cables hung between the norn queen and the surrounding funnels, dripping with alien fluids. Like perverse celebration decorations, amniotic sacs hung from these organic chains, each foetal pendulum swaying with a life of its own. Four stunted limbs tipped with claws hugged the creature’s upper body, which was covered in segmented plates that expanded and contracted slowly as other organs half-concealed within contorted and spasmed.