Information passed back and forth across the bridge in various formats: verbal, binaric and noospheric. Though Olantor was not modified to receive noospheric communication, he saw Hestian sifting through invisible streams of data with efficient sweeps and stabs of his haptically enabled gauntlets.
‘Translation complete,’ said Pater Monna in his limp, boneless voice. ‘Navigation systems nominal and local space clear.’
‘Aether degradation is not yet low enough to ignite the shields,’ reported Hestian. ‘I estimate at least six point seven minutes.’
‘You appointed me because I was quicker than Lucian ever was,’ said Hestian matter-of-factly.
Olantor smiled. It was a familiar routine between Hestian and Altarion. Translating from the warp to real space was a dangerous and messy affair with all manner of celestial phenomenon affecting the time it took delicate systems to return to full readiness. Shields and weapons were, unfortunately, the technologies most affected by such violent transitions. Brother Hestian was one of the best Techmarines in the 5th company, and no one could bring the Indomitable back to life faster.
‘Power to weapon systems sequencing now,’ reported Hestian, seemingly untroubled by Altarion’s words. ‘Northern docking pier reports confirmation of readiness. Eastern pier reports readiness in two point four minutes.’
‘Actually, it’s one-nine-three,’ corrected Pater Monna.
‘The bondsman is correct, brother,’ said Hestian, reading the noospheric link from the Navigator’s station. ‘This was translation one-nine-three.’
That was Altarion’s second mistake. One was bad enough, but two…
Olantor felt Interrogator Sibiya’s gaze upon him and tried to mask his unease.
Before he could say anything, a shrill warning bell tolled and panicked screeches of binary spat from the mouths of every surveyor servitor in the chapel.
‘Contacts!’ shouted Pater Monna, all traces of boredom gone. ‘Multiple incoming tracks of sixty-plus fast movers! Torpedoes! Make that seventy!’
‘The rings of Aescari Exterio,’ said Brother Hestian, his voice calm and measured. ‘Pack hunter predators lying in wait.’
‘Lying in wait?’ snapped Sibiya, moving towards the nearest surveyor plotter as it came alive with traceries of light depicting the unfolding tactical situation. Olantor moved alongside her, watching in horror as the incoming track lines slid inexorably towards the blue icon representing the Indomitable.
Olantor took in the details of the torpedo tracks in an instant, knowing that the enemy commander was either incredibly lucky or skilled beyond all comprehension.
‘They’re targeted on the southern pier, and we don’t have any shields or weapons powered there,’ he said.
‘How could they possibly have known where we would translate?’ demanded Sibiya.
No one answered her, for the business of defending against an attack did not allow time to answer superfluous questions.
Olantor turned and made his way from the command chapel, unsnapping his helmet from his belt. Some of the incoming tracks were too slow to be torpedoes loaded with conventional hull-breaking munitions.
Bulk carriers.
Or worse, boarding torpedoes.
All through the Indomitable, alarms sounded, rousing the fifty warriors of the 5th Company from their training rituals and the six thousand Ultramar Defence Auxilia soldiers stationed in their many barracks.
Within a Stormcrow assault boat surging from the debris clouds and electromagnetic soup that churned with flaring bursts of dangerously unstable energy pulses, Honsou watched as the Indomitable went onto a war footing. Flickering bursts of light snapped and fizzled across the star fort’s craggy surface as its void shields fought to ignite in the face of interference from the planet’s unstable field and the normal translation delay.
‘Too slow,’ he said with relish.
A golden wire trailed from the augmetic grafted to the side of Honsou’s skull and plugged into the brass console at the rear of the Stormcrow. Through that wire, information flowed into him from the sensory perceptions of Adept Cycerin, the Adeptus Mechanicus magos he had captured on Hydra Cordatus and infected with a warp-spawned techno-virus.
Honsou kept his remaining eye shut, for the sensation of two optical inputs to his brain induced nausea and dizziness that not even his genhanced physique could counteract.
Though he felt the hard vibrations of the assault boat as it thundered through space towards the Indomitable, heard the droning chants of his warriors and felt its movements beneath him, it warred with the stillness he perceived. Through Cycerin’s multiple senses, Honsou saw this region of space as a three-dimensional sphere of data tracks, information light, arcing trajectories and numerical representations of visual media. Much of it made no sense, yet he felt limbs that were not his own manipulating that information as easily as he might field strip a bolter.
Agglomerations of numbers represented the fleet he had assembled at New Badab, an ugly collection of battered warships, bulk carriers, gunboats, system monitors and captured cruisers. Guided by Moriana’s sorceries, his ships had anchored within the concealing radiation of Aescari Exterio for almost a month before the screaming vat-psykers gibbered in anticipation of the Indomitable’s arrival.
Cycerin immediately plotted the sequencing of the star fort’s activation cycle and brought them in on its most exposed flank, and the attack had been launched. Like the wolf packs of old, Honsou’s fleet surged from concealment, predators striking before their prey was even aware of them.
Honsou yanked the golden wire from his forehead and shook off the vertigo that accompanied his vision returning to normal; all hard edges, solid bulkheads and twin rows of armoured Iron Warriors ready to take the fight to the hated Imperium once more.
Auto-firing defence turrets engaged the Iron Warriors’ torpedo screen as soon as it came within range and space blossomed with massive explosions. To hit something as swift and small as a torpedo was next to impossible, but with enough fast moving debris slashing through space, it might be possible to bring down enough of the incoming weapons.
Without central guidance from the command chapel, these weapons were firing blind, and their chance of stopping enough of the enemy torpedoes to matter was small indeed.
Wave after wave of torpedoes slammed into the southern docking pier. Hull-breaching charges blasted through the thick plates of armour before a secondary motor ignited and thrust the warhead deep into the superstructure. Mushroom clouds of debris and fire bloomed across the surface of the star fort as new suns winked into existence and flattened vast swathes of the mighty bastions that studded its surface.
Hot on the heels of the ordnance came fast moving raiders armed with deadly lance batteries that pummelled the explosion-wracked surface of the Indomitable with raking beams of white-hot energy. Launch bays were targeted with ruthless precision and entire squadrons were immolated on their launch rails before they could take flight.
Flocks of Iron Warriors ships swept towards the battered southern pier and the defences were overwhelmed with volley after volley of punishing battery fire. Secondary explosions detonated in the heart of the pier and defensive architecture crafted in a forgotten age by masters of their art was blasted to dust. Each ship pulled away after its attack run, chased by snap-fired torpedoes and lethal barrages from the fully operational defence batteries mounted on the central basilica.
The assault element of Honsou’s fleet bombarded the docking pier with devastating thoroughness, tearing it
open and flattening square kilometres of its structure. The damage was horrendous, and hundreds of bodies tumbled into space, snatched from the warmth of the star fort by screaming decompression. Jets of freezing oxygen and hydraulic fluid gushed into space, forming a glittering dome of sparkling crystal over the ruins below.
While much of Honsou’s fleet directed its violence against the docking pier, a sizeable portion stood off the main assault as the cruisers and escorts tasked with the star fort’s defence came about. High above the assault, the Ultramarines escorts dived into the fight with a vengeance. Yet more torpedoes criss-crossed the gulfs between the enemy vessels as they gave battle, and ferocious broadsides battered down shields and smashed open hulls in flaring bursts of pyrotechnics.
That the Ultramarines ships were outgunned meant nothing, their crews would have turned to fight even were they outnumbered a million to one.
Oxygen fires burned brightly and briefly across the southern docking pier, the Indomitable shuddering as it vented its lifeblood into the hard vacuum. Even as the fires died, assault craft were arcing down to the surface, hundreds of troop carriers and heavy bulk lifters packed with armoured vehicles and siege equipment.
The southern pier was wide open, but the rest of the star fort was undamaged. Wounded as it was, the Indomitable was more than capable of winning this fight on its terms.
But Honsou had no intention of fighting on its terms.
To conquer this star fort would require more than naval power, it would require the most determined and skilful warriors on the ground, battering their way to its heart.
The Indomitable was a prize that could only be won by the warriors of Perturabo fighting as they were always meant to fight; with battery upon battery of artillery and thousands of warriors ready to sweep all before them in a bloody storm of iron.
Brother-Sergeant Olantor sped towards the southern docking pier through the echoing cloisters and wide thoroughfares of the Via Rex on a servitor piloted skiff. The wide processional of machine temples housed the generators that provided energy to the lance batteries of the southern pier, and silent snaps of electrical discharge arced between the power spires. Panicked tech-priests and their attendant servitors fought to contain the damage from the bombardment as the skiff raced by.
Interrogator Sibiya sat next to Olantor, consulting a data-slate that projected rippling lines of text onto her pinched features. Occasionally she would speak into a vox-bead attached to the collar of her glossy black power armour.
Olantor had never seen a woman clad in battle plate, but Sibiya wore the armour like a natural. He knew she had come to the Indomitable with a force of Datian Saurians, a fierce regiment that had fought with honour alongside the Ultramarines during the Zeist campaign. Sibiya had made veiled mention of other forces at her disposal, but had been vague concerning the details.
Tolling bells sounded from the cloisters along the length of the bastion precinct as though calling the faithful to prayer. Flashing lumen globes set in the angled walls pulsed in time with his heart, reflecting from the sealed armaglass of the skiff’s canopy.
Information scrolled across Olantor’s visor, troop readiness levels, defensive topography overlaid with damage reports and schematics of the devastated southern pier. He processed this information as the voice of Sergeant Decimus apprised him of the tactical situation through the vox-bead in his ear.
‘They hit us hard, whoever they are, and they knew what they were doing. We’ll be lucky to hold the south,’ said Decimus, ever the pessimist. ‘The far end of Via Rex has been obliterated and the lance batteries are gone, as well as many of the surrounding launch bays.’
‘How many can we count on?’ asked Olantor. ‘We need fighters in the air.’
‘Impossible to tell. Some launch bays are destroyed and some are simply not responding.’
‘Which ones?’ said Olantor, fearing he already knew the answer.
‘The ones on the south-eastern quadrant,’ confirmed Decimus. ‘The ones spared the worst of the barrages.’
‘And where damn near fifty of those boarding torpedoes were headed.’
‘Exactly,’ said Decimus. ‘Bomber hangars and fighter wings, at least two hundred aircraft. The Master of Skies is working up a manifest on how many the enemy may have seized.’
‘Come on, Decimus, give me some good news. It can’t all be bad.’
‘Well, the Gauntlet Bastions are manned and ready,’ said Decimus. ‘Even if they come at us now, they’ll find a warm welcome awaiting them.’
‘Our warriors are already in place,’ said Olantor, a statement not a question.
‘Naturally. I’ve spread Ultramarines combat squads through the Defence Auxilia to stiffen their backs, and Chaplain Sabatina’s filling their hearts with promises of glory.’
‘Very good, Decimus,’ said Olantor. ‘Interrogator Sibiya and I are approaching the towers just now, so we’ll be with you shortly.’
‘Hurry,’ advised Decimus. ‘There’s lots of activity in the rubble, and it looks bad.’
Olantor shut off the link to his fellow sergeant and turned to Sibiya.
‘You get all that?’
‘I did,’ said Sibiya. ‘Decimus didn’t give you any clue as to who is attacking us?’
‘Brother Decimus,’ corrected Olantor. ‘And you heard what I heard.’
Sibiya nodded and scratched her cheek.
‘I still don’t understand how they knew we’d be here,’ she said. ‘They shouldn’t have been able to predict our translation point. Damn it all, we don’t even know who they are!’
‘No, we do not, interrogator,’ said Olantor. ‘But I have an enemy to fight, that is all that matters. As soon as I lay eyes on them from the tip of the Gauntlet Bastion I will know them. And when I know them, I will know how to defeat them.’
‘It doesn’t matter to you, maybe, but it matters a great deal to me,’ snapped Sibiya, her mind racing off on a tangent. ‘The whole point of these random jumps was to confound anyone who might try to find the Indomitable. The only way they could have found us is if our jumps haven’t been random.’
‘What are you saying?’ asked Olantor, not liking the insinuation he heard in her tone.
‘That our last jump wasn’t as random as it should have been.’
‘Brother Altarion chooses the translation points.’
‘My point exactly,’ said Sibiya. ‘Perhaps his lapses in memory are not simply confined to the name of the Techmarine who attends him or the number of warp jumps he’s made.’
Olantor wanted to contradict Sibiya, but her logic was faultless. It should have been next to impossible for an enemy to find them unless Brother Altarion’s venerable mind was no longer as functional as it should be. Had he fallen into a predictable pattern?
‘How strong are the Gauntlet Bastions? Really?’ asked Sibiya, changing tack completely.
‘I’ll show you and you can decide for yourself,’ said Olantor as the skiff emerged from the electrical flashes of the Via Rex.
The gargantuan footings of two vast towers reared above the skiff, impossibly tall and casting long shadows over the lower reaches of the star fort. Red light from Aescari Exterio bathed the verticality of the landscape with a light the colour of sunset. To the skiff’s left, the Tower of Corinth was the taller of the two, its splendid arches and immense solidity the very embodiment of the men who manned its guns.
The Tower of the First was a more sombre structure, a memorial to the heroic warriors of the Veteran Company of the Ultramarines who fell defending their home world from the Great Devourer. For all its solemnity, it was as strong and immovable as its twin.
Sibiya gasped in astonishment. She had been on the Indomitable less than a month, but it still irked Olantor that she had not made the effort to tour the outer defences of the star fort. Instead, she had spent the bulk of her time ensconced within the depths of the Basilica Dominastus. The skiff passed between the two towers, coming to a halt beyond them in the mid
st of a heaving mass of armed men in the sky blue and gold uniforms of the Ultramarines Defence Auxilia.
Clad in armoured environment suits and all-enclosing helms, the defenders of the Indomitable were ready to meet the invaders head on. Eagle-topped banners were raised and officers passed orders over the vox as soldiers climbed to firing steps and static weapon emplacements were powered up. The docking pier’s atmosphere might have been blown out by the enemy attack, but the gravity field generators were still functional.
‘Ready?’ asked Olantor as Sibiya craned her neck to see the top of the towers.
Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from the magnificent structures and fitted her helmet, the silver faceplate worked in the form of an Imperial saint, though Olantor did not recognise which one. Sibiya nodded and he disengaged the vacuum seals of the skiff.
Together they made their way through the press of bodies towards the edge of the wall. Olantor climbed to the firing step, the soldiers bowing to him as he reached the rampart. Decimus was already there and the two warriors greeted each other with respectful formality.
Olantor turned his gaze outwards, and the sight of the Gauntlet Bastions filled him with confidence. The twin redoubts guarded the inner rings of the fortress, hundreds of feet high and studded with weapon emplacements. Each one’s walls were precisely angled to allow supporting fire from its twin to sweep over its armoured face, and concealed guns set in recessed firing chambers covered the approaches to Varro’s Gate, the golden, eagle-stamped portal that sealed the route to the Via Rex.
Sibiya’s gaze took in the vast, implacable strength of the walls as devotional banners unfurled from the high ramparts and catechisms of battle were broadcast over the vox.
‘Impressive,’ she said at last.
Olantor laughed at her understatement. ‘These walls have a strength in them that has endured for centuries and will withstand this brazen attack.’
‘Let us hope you are right,’ said Sibiya with real feeling.
Olantor nodded and looked beyond the walls to where glittering clouds of frozen oxygen and fuel obscured the farthest extent of the ruined southern pier. It was impossible to tell exactly what was going on, but flaring bursts of retros and signs of great industry boded ill.
Iron Warrior Page 3