[Space Wolf 05] - Sons of Fenris

by Lee Lightner - (ebook by Undead)

  Ragnar had never seen Gabriella like this before. She was afraid. Even in the most serious of situations on Terra, she had kept her composure. He remembered when they had come upon the dead elder Navigators of House Belisarius. She had wept, but stayed firm. He needed no other measure of the seriousness of this situation, although he wondered if she knew something more than she had told them. Had she seen some psychic vision?

  “Ragnar, Torin, go into the mines and locate the Dark Angels. Find out what is going on. We have no other options at this point.” Gabriella sighed.

  “Lady Gabriella, we cannot leave you unprotected,” protested Ragnar.

  “Whatever is happening here is bigger than my safety, Ragnar. Warriors of the Astartes have engaged in combat. We must know why so that we can bring this to a halt before it expands beyond Hyades.” Gabriella’s voice quivered as she spoke.

  “Then I will remain by your side while the rest enter the mines,” Ragnar replied.

  “A compromise then and I will speak no more of it, Ragnar. Torin and Haegr will need you, so you will go with them. Magni is still not fully recovered from his injuries so he will remain here with me.”

  Ragnar knew that the time for debate was over and Lady Gabriella’s wishes must be carried out. He and Torin straightened and bowed their heads in acknowledgment, then turned to leave the balcony. As Ragnar walked away he felt Gabriella touch his mind.

  Ragnar, I cannot express how imperative it is for the Wolfblade to succeed. I feel that everything rests on you.

  Ragnar made no acknowledgement of the words. They would find the Dark Angels, and they would tell him what they knew.

  SIX

  Capture

  Ragnar knew that he could never live in a city like Lethe. As the Wolfblade moved through the darkened — tunnels and refinery that still existed beneath the city, he had a new appreciation of how tenuous human existence was on this planet. All around him, promethium flowed through cooled pipes to keep it from exploding in the hot air of Hyades. Though he trusted in the tech-priests, still it seemed to Ragnar that the danger of this underground complex dwarfed that of the jungle surrounding the city. He wondered just how much promethium flowed through those pipes. Underground, Ragnar had hoped the temperature would fall, but the servants of the Machine-God had made minimal use of fans and vents. Keeping the oxygen content of this complex low probably made the promethium safer, Ragnar thought.

  The corridors and tunnels were cramped and narrow, meant to be only large enough for the workforce to run the refinery and maintain the pipes. The walls were alternately reinforced with ceramite and rockcrete or left as bare rock. Everywhere, servitors meticulously performed their duties. They smelled more of oil and unguents than sweat as they ignored the Space Wolves stalking past them. Whirrs and whines of machinery accompanied by a low rumble from the pipes echoed through the tunnels. The refining equipment and gauges provided the only light sources, giving what little could be seen an artificial blood-red cast.

  They had been searching for hours. Haegr panted as Ragnar led the Space Wolves as quickly as caution and stealth would allow through one of the bare rock sections of tunnel. He didn’t want to fall into an ambush. The other Wolfblade followed, constantly scanning the area for signs of the Dark Angels. Ten men from the planetary defence force trailed behind them.

  They all had to be careful how they reacted to a sudden strike by the enemy. Ragnar was sure that a wrong move or weapon discharge could burst a pipe and set off large quantities of promethium, cooking all of them in their armour. Ragnar hoped that the Dark Angels would fight as true Space Marines and not resort to shooting a pipe to end things for both groups. Still, while the Space Wolves conducted themselves with honour, the Dark Angels had a reputation as fanatics in their pursuit of their own interpretation of the Emperor’s will.

  Despite his protests, Magni had stayed to protect Gabriella, along with two other Wolfblade. The young Space Wolf had recovered quickly from his wounds, and Ragnar recognised his potential and prowess. Torin had told him that Magni was one of the best young recruits he’d met, despite the offence that had led him to the Wolfblade. Magni had disobeyed orders in his zeal to defeat the enemy, a sentiment that Ragnar found understandable. However, Ragnar could see that Magni still hadn’t learnt his lesson from the kill zone incident.

  Ragnar still had trouble believing that the Wolfblade hunted fellow Space Marines. Like all Space Wolves, he was well-versed in the rivalry between the primarchs Leman Russ and Lion El’Jonson. Yet, like his initial experiences with the Wolfblade, he had never expected servants of the Emperor to battle each other on Holy Terra. Now, two groups of Space Marines would engage in combat for the second time on Hyades. Perhaps in battling the Dark Angels, Ragnar might gain a better understanding of his primarch. In his heart he believed that Leman Russ would have ordered him to use the Spear of Russ to defend the Imperium.

  The mines shook, sending streams of rock down on the Wolfblade, making Ragnar suspect that a battle raged above their heads. He could imagine the PDF fighting the Dark Angels in the streets. He knew that Lethe’s defenders didn’t have much chance. Lasguns would be useless against the Dark Angels’ power armour, while the human troops would be mown down by the Space Marines’ bolter fire.

  Despite their superior troops, the Dark Angels wouldn’t have it easy. The city centre would hold out the longest with its strong defences and numbers of men, and the rest of Lethe was basically a series of rockcrete bunkers. He guessed Cadmus would have his troopers armed with flamers and heavy flamers. If the men stayed loyal to Cadmus and didn’t lose their heart, the Dark Angels would have to fight building by building to defeat the men of Lethe. He hoped that the troopers of House Belisarius could continue to hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

  Though he distrusted the commander, Ragnar liked the leader of the PDF unit ordered to search with them. The man, an offworlder named Markham, had learned to fight in a unit of deathworld veterans. Ragnar’s instincts and observations told him that Markham was a tested warrior who commanded respect from his men. He hadn’t questioned the Wolfblade and had managed to keep pace, even though the stifling heat of the tunnels and the sounds of warfare from above weren’t making it easy on his men.

  The members of Markham’s team were from Hyades, wearing carapace armour and rebreathers. They were some of the best-armed and armoured troops Ragnar had seen, virtually the equal of elite Imperial Guard storm troopers in regard to their equipment. Ragnar had asked Torin to keep an eye on the man who carried the flamer, and had given orders for its tanks to be disconnected while they were underground. Ragnar knew that if the Dark Angels escaped into the city above or the jungle, then the weapon would be invaluable, but the sheer madness of anyone having a flamer in these tunnels made his guts churn.

  The Wolfblade kept their assault weapons in hand. With the twists and turns of the tunnels, any corner could hide an enemy ambush, and they had to be ready to initiate hand-to-hand combat at a moment’s notice. At extreme close quarters, the Space Wolves might not have a chance to shoot, even if the pipes would allow it. Ragnar gripped the hilt of his personal sword, his Wolfblade. It had been a gift for saving the Celestarch of House Belisarius, and it was at least the equal of a frostblade, a weapon only given to the greatest Space Wolves. Torin had his sword out, and Haegr hefted his hammer. They were ready.

  Ragnar had an idea. He checked his comm, just as a precaution. He wouldn’t take chances with communications on Hyades any longer. His armour’s systems all appeared fully functional. He raised his hand, stopping the Wolfblade behind him and activated his comm. “Markham, take your men and continue the search. The rest of you, go with them and give them support worthy of the Wolfblade. Torin and Haegr, stay here with me.”

  “Wolfblade Ragnar, I have orders to assist you,” stated Markham. Even in the bad light, Ragnar could read enough of Markham’s expression to know that the man wanted to make sure he had the opportunity to battle the D
ark Angels.

  “The best assistance you can give us is to press on with the search. I want to try something. If it doesn’t work, we’ll rejoin you. Go,” said Ragnar.

  Markham saluted, “Yes, sir.” He signalled his men and moved forwards along with the other members of the Wolfblade. They turned down an intersection of tunnels ten metres past Ragnar.

  Torin and Haegr both gave Ragnar a hard look. “Little brother, what kind of scheme have you come up with?” asked Haegr.

  “Indeed, lad, what are you thinking?” asked Torin.

  “By the bones of Russ, don’t you trust my instincts yet, old friends?” asked Ragnar.

  “I’m still thinking you haven’t had a good thrashing in some time to keep the sense in you,” said Haegr.

  “I’m thinking like our prey. They are hunters and Space Marines. They don’t intend to go back as failures.” Ragnar activated his comm, pleased that it still worked. “Tech-Priest Varnus, this is Ragnar of the Wolfblade.”

  Jeremiah’s kill team had outmanoeuvred the city militia. A planetary defence force, even trained by one of the Fallen, was no match for the Dark Angels. He had not anticipated Space Wolves. Vaguely, he remembered some information about one of the Navigator Houses having an alliance with Space Wolves. Now, events had escalated to a full-scale assault on the city.

  Of all the Chapters of Space Marines, none had the rivalry that existed between the Dark Angels and the Space Wolves. Jeremiah knew that the Space Wolves had a reputation as savage berserkers, relying on brute force and animal cunning to defeat their foes. Their devotion to their primarch and their homeworld of Fenris was legendary. Few foes could survive the fury unleashed by the Space Wolves.

  For their part, Jeremiah believed that no Chapter inspired as much loyalty among its members as the Dark Angels. For thousands of years, the Dark Angels had kept their secrets, hunting down the Fallen and working to redeem themselves. They had an unwavering faith in the Emperor and in their primarch, Lion El’Jonson. Just as their primarch had before them, they used intelligence as well as power to defeat their foes. The mere presence of the Dark Angels was enough to send most enemies fleeing in terror.

  Reputation would not defeat the Space Wolves. Furthermore, they were the Wolfblade. Unlike their brethren, nay, Wolf Brothers, they had experience on Terra. They would be cautious, balancing the wild tendencies of their Chapter with the acumen needed to survive the politics of mankind’s homeworld.

  When Jeremiah had fled to the mines, he had hoped to find a way out into the jungle, through another maintenance hatch or engineering tunnel. While parts of the refinery were well marked beneath the main city complex, the outer sections had fallen into disrepair. The servitors might not need signs or markers to navigate these corridors, but men certainly would.

  Many of the tunnels appeared abandoned and in other places, the original engineers had made use of natural caverns. Jeremiah was accustomed to standard design patterns from Imperial engineers, but as his team passed through sections of the mines that curved back on themselves, he found himself disoriented. As yet, they hadn’t found a way out, just endless underground facilities containing mindless servitors working the promethium. Originally, they had merely dropped down four metres to the tunnels, but now Jeremiah suspected they were much deeper. Elijah had few readings on his auspex.

  What disturbed Jeremiah most was that the Fallen had known the attack was coming and had been able to prepare for it. The presence of the Space Wolves had to be his doing. The Fallen were clever and resourceful foes, with the skills to match the most dangerous members of his Chapter. Nonetheless, if the Fallen had known about the battle-barge in orbit and suspected the possibility of a planetary assault, then Jeremiah would have expected him to do his damage and make his escape. The Fallen had to have a contingency plan to deal with the assault, and it had to be something completely, incredibly dangerous. Their target had to have allies.

  Could the Space Wolves be more involved than Jeremiah suspected? What if the Fallen had made a deal with the Space Wolves to expose the Dark Angels to the Imperium in exchange for their aid?

  But from what Jeremiah knew of the barbaric Space Wolves, a deal with the Fallen made no sense. The Fallen would manipulate the Space Wolves, but he would have his own allies and his own resources. The Fallen’s allies would have to be extremely powerful for him to risk being trapped in a city filled with the Dark Angels.

  Ultimately, Jeremiah knew it made no difference. His faith told him that the Fallen would be redeemed. The Dark Angel shuddered when he thought of the redemption process. Few dared to gaze upon the interrogator-chaplains and they would stop at nothing to restore honour to the Fallen’s soul.

  “Jeremiah, the auspex is no longer functioning,” said Elijah. “I do not know where the Space Wolves are.”

  “The radiation of the machinery and promethium flows must be causing problems. Our adversaries will suffer the same difficulties. Even now, our brethren above attack, seeking to make certain our target does not escape. The time for flight has ended. The Sons of the Lion do not flee from wolves. Elijah, find a way back to the surface. Our target may send his dogs to hunt us, but we are the hunters. We have not failed in our mission. We will not return to our battle-barge without our prey,” said Jeremiah.

  Jeremiah’s battle-brothers nodded in unison.

  A Dark Angels Thunderhawk roared between the rockcrete buildings of Lethe, using them to evade the anti-aircraft rounds of the city’s Hydra platforms. From the ground and the upper floors of buildings, individual defenders targeted the low-flying landing craft with small-arms fire.

  Dozens of lasgun shots glanced off the Thunderhawk’s armoured hull, as ineffective as fireworks. As the Thunderhawk landed on a building halfway between the wall and the palace complex, its ramp was already lowered, and a squad of ten Space Marines opened fire on their unseen assailants in the surrounding buildings.

  The men of Hyades kept a constant stream of fire against the invaders, but to little avail. The power armour of the Space Marines rendered their defensive fire virtually useless. One Marine stumbled, but the rest forced their way through the roof of the Administratum building where they had landed with a combination of krak grenades and melta-bombs. The Thunderhawk was already gone, dispatching more troops on another rooftop.

  The same scene was being repeated throughout Lethe. To this point, the air defences of Lethe had only slowed the Dark Angels, but nothing Hyades had to offer appeared able to stop them.

  As more Space Marines landed, the planetary defence force took action, turning their Earthshaker cannons from their positions aiming at the jungle to target their own city. A terrible explosion shattered the night as the first shell smashed into one of the Administratum buildings, just as a Thunderhawk lowered its ramp to discharge more Dark Angels.

  The destruction of the building sent rockcrete in all directions, catching the evasive Thunderhawk in a shower of debris. The squad on its roof fell down into the rubble of the former building. Despite the blast, the power armour of the Emperor’s finest still allowed some of them to survive. The remaining Space Marines inside the Thunderhawk blew their way free of their wounded vessel and started to make their way through the rubble and smoke that was all that was left of the Administratum building.

  Cadmus had been watching everything from his command centre, assessing the enemy’s tactics and guiding the battle to the best of his ability. As he watched the Thunderhawk’s crash, he activated his vox. “Now,” was his only command.

  At that command, four Hellhound tanks emerged from hangars beneath separate buildings and raced towards the scene of the collapse. The tanks would incinerate the remaining squads of Dark Angels trapped in the rubble. Lethe would send the Space Marines to their own hells in promethium fires.

  Cadmus didn’t wait to watch the drama unfold from his command bunker. He had every confidence in the crews of his Hellhounds. And besides, he had other matters to attend to.

  “C
ommander, how goes the battle?” crackled his comm. The voice was hushed, barely a whisper.

  Cadmus paused for a moment before answering. As I told you, I will be able to hold out against the Dark Angels for a short while. “Everything will depend on the Space Wolves,” he said, keeping his own voice low.

  “Exactly, don’t be concerned. Wolves will be wolves,” came the reply.

  “I hope so. Now, with your leave, I have a battle to survive,” responded Cadmus.

  “Of course. Remember, with every moment, we come closer to winning the war,” said the voice.

  Cadmus clicked off the comm. He checked back on the scene of the Thunderhawk crash and building collapse. He could barely make out suits of power armour glowing from the heat of the Inferno cannons within the smoke. Three Hellhounds sprayed white-hot death into the rubble. With his tactical experience, he spotted the wreckage of the fourth Hellhound. A Dark Angels Dreadnought was moving away from the destroyed vehicle: a walking mechanical monstrosity containing the half-alive remains of a mortally wounded member of the brethren. It turned and levelled a twin-linked lascannon at another Hellhound which erupted into a fireball.

  “The Lion still has its pride,” he remarked. “Varnus, launch the suicide freighters filled with promethium. I want to give those Thunderhawks and the Dark Angels fleet something to think about.”

  Cadmus wiped his brow and smiled. The Dark Angels had arrived. Phase one was complete.

  Everything depended on the Space Wolf fleet arriving to patrol on schedule. It was all about timing and sequence.

  The Dark Angels kill team had begun its tactical withdrawal over two and a half hours ago. Jeremiah had decided that it was time for the withdrawal to become a redeployment. They had made the most of their head start on their pursuers, but with the enhanced senses of the Space Wolves, he knew that they would be found by their scent. He had hoped to get back to the jungle before things escalated, regroup and make another attempt to enter the city. That was not to be, however, and now Jeremiah had decided upon a new course of action.