Space Hulk: The Novel

by Gav Thorpe

  ‘Sergeant!’ he called out, but there was no response. ‘Angelo? Germanus? Victis?’

  A glance at the sensorium confirmed that the rest of the squad were dead. A wave of wrath flowed through Claudio at the realisation, matched by the surge of power through his armour as he broke into a lumbering run, striking out to the left and right as he ploughed through the genestealers massed around him.

  ‘The Angel demands justice!’ he roared, gouging the entrails from an alien to his right. He cut through the spine of another and cleaved the leg from a third. ‘Death demands vengeance!’

  For all his anger, Claudio was surrounded. Alien claws scratched at his shoulder pads and raked across his chestplate. Leering fanged faces appeared out of the darkness, teeth clamped onto his arms and legs. He felt their blows punching through his armour, digging into flesh and bone. Pain suppressants and healing stimulants flowed through his suit, stemming the blood flow and washing away the agony. With a wordless shriek, Claudio threw back his attackers, lightning claws glittering.

  Blue lightning spat from the darkness, leaping from one genestealer to the next. Heads exploded and eyeballs steamed as the bolt continued its haphazard course. Within moments the corridor was empty of foes. Only their smoking corpses remained. A massive figure stepped into the lamplight, his armour painted blue in the heraldry of the Librarium.

  ‘Brother Calistarius!’ gasped Claudio.

  The figure turned his helmed head towards Claudio, as if noticing him for the first time. Motes of sparkling energy played around the sword in his hand and danced along the cables entwining the Librarian’s helm.

  ‘Brother Claudio,’ he replied in quiet recognition. ‘It is good that you are alive.’

  Claudio was not so sure. His battle-brothers had all been slain. He decided to change the subject.

  ‘What of Squad Lorenzo?’

  ‘They are alive,’ Calistarius replied. ‘For the moment. Come with me, we must hasten to their rescue.’

  ‘Rescue?’ asked Claudio as he fell in behind the Librarian.

  ‘An alien psychic attack has paralysed their nervous systems. They live but are immobile. I feel their desperation. The enemy will return and kill them if we do not reach them first.’

  ‘Squad Gideon is closer, you must warn them!’

  ‘I have already apprised Gideon of the situation,’ Calistarius said patiently. ‘They are still completing the annihilation mission. We will rendezvous with Gideon once I have revived Lorenzo and his squad.’

  They ducked in turn beneath the crooked lintel of a doorway, passing into a series of rooms with ceilings that bowed down as if a great weight were pressing on them. Ahead, the sensorium glowed with contact echoes.

  ‘It is just the two of us?’ asked Claudio.

  ‘You were giving good account of yourself before I arrived,’ said Calistarius ‘I can feel your determination like a furnace in my mind.’

  Claudio was uncomfortable with the idea of the Librarian sensing his thoughts, and then caught himself, wondering if these doubts were equally transparent. Claudio decided to occupy himself with another matter.

  ‘This psychic attack, I do not understand why we have not encountered it before,’ he said.

  ‘Something has changed,’ the Librarian replied. ‘There is a guiding force, a focus that I can sense. Something new, yet something… old.’

  There was something about the way Calistarius said the word that lurked in the recesses of Claudio’s mind. Space Marines could know no fear, but the Terminator had a feeling of foreboding, of an emerging threat not yet fully comprehended. It was an unpleasant sensation and he tried to dismiss it.

  ‘I will need you to protect me while I revive the others,’ warned Calistarius. ‘I must enter their minds and rouse them from their paralysis. I must be in close proximity to each one of them and my attention will be momentarily elsewhere.’

  ‘My claws will be your shield,’ Claudio promised.

  Ascending an open, winding staircase of rusted metal, the Terminators came upon a dense huddle of rooms. The genestealers were returning, coming from the right, while the markers of Lorenzo and his squad were to the left.

  ‘Let us be swift and bolster our numbers,’ said Calistarius, turning to the left.

  The Librarian stopped immediately and Claudio almost walked into his back. Ahead a heavy pressure door had dropped almost to the floor. There was enough of a gap that it seemed open on the sensorium, but in truth the warriors’ bulky Terminator armour was not capable of stooping low enough to pass.

  ‘Make way,’ said Claudio. Calistarius backed up, allowing his comrade to stand before the door. Diverting as much reserve power as he could find to his lightning claws, Claudio launched himself at the pressure door. Electricity crawled across its surface as he plunged the blades into the barrier. His suit protesting with groans and whines, Claudio carved an opening, metal falling to the floor in molten droplets, sparks bouncing from his armour. With a punch, he sent a door-sized portion of the bulkhead tumbling and clanging along the corridor beyond.

  ‘Hurry,’ Claudio said, ducking through the opening.

  The Librarian was close on his heel and the two of them stomped towards the closest flashing icon. Deino lay slumped in the corner of a small chamber that had once served as some form of medical facility. Dulled scalpels, oxide-stained drills and other instruments sat in neat rows on rusted workbenches, undisturbed for millennia. An overturned gurney scored with claw marks lay to one side. Deino was unmoving but his life signal was slow and steady. His storm bolter was still held tightly in his grip.

  ‘Rouse him,’ urged Claudio. Calistarius said nothing as he crossed the room. He sheathed his sword and a nimbus of blue energy swathed his empty hand. The Librarian laid it upon the brow of Deino’s helm and the light flowed over the unconscious Space Marine. Seconds passed and Claudio fretted, watching the closing sensorium signals.

  With a wheeze of mechanical joints, Deino sat up. He raised his storm bolter and looked around.

  ‘Eyes…’ he muttered. Calistarius helped him to stand. ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘Near at hand, and alive,’ Calistarius told him. The Librarian turned towards Claudio. ‘It was a psychic attack, but our battle-brothers’ sleep is natural. They can be woken normally. We should split up and restore the others.’

  ‘I will attend to the sergeant,’ said Claudio.

  Deino nodded and turned towards the door. ‘I shall find Brother Zael.’

  ‘Sergeant Gideon approaches,’ said Calistarius. ‘We need to link up with his squad as soon as possible. When Brother Zael is awake, send him to Gideon.’

  While Calistarius stepped into the ward next door, Deino advanced into the corridors on the far side of the medical bay. Claudio headed out the door by which he had entered. He steered himself towards the signal from Lorenzo’s suit, barely fifteen metres away. Looking at his sensorium, the Terminator knew that the first of the genestealers would be upon him before he reached the sergeant. Lightning claws crackling, he stalked along the passageway.

  The closest sensorium blip resolved itself into three life forms and within a heartbeat they raced along the corridor towards Claudio. More were moving, out of sight, towards Deino and the Librarian. Claudio stopped and took up a fighting stance, legs braced, lightning claws raised.

  ‘I am vengeance,’ he snarled as the first genestealer leapt at him. With a blast of energy, the Terminator’s lightning claws sheared the creature in half, flinging the ragged remains against each wall. Claudio punched the blades of his right fist through the chest of the second alien and carved the head from the third. As Claudio advanced the remains of the genestealer slid from his claws, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

  More genestealers intercepted Claudio before he reached Lorenzo. The Blood Angel seethed with fury as he hacked and slashed his way forward. Images of his battle-brothers burned in his mind: Sergeant Leodinus welcoming Claudio to the squad; sparring with Angelo at t
he fortress-monastery; Germanus winning the Swordsman’s Laurel Victis; using his chainfist to cut through the hull of a traitor tank. Last and most painful was the memory of Caladonis. They had joined the Scout Company at the same time, fought side-by-side in the Sixth Company and eventually became Terminators together. Truly they had been battle-brothers.

  Even as the rage threatened to overwhelm Claudio he found himself at the door to the chamber where Lorenzo had fallen. Panting he sliced the arm from a genestealer and cut open its throat. Claudio’s suit was making all manner of warning noises about his pulse rate and blood pressure, threatening even the superhuman system of a Space Marine. Composing his rampaging thoughts, he turned into the room.

  Sergeant Lorenzo lay draped over a pile of genestealer bodies, his power sword jutting from the spine of a dead foe. Checking there were no genestealers close at hand, Claudio deactivated his claws, the simple act calming him further. He laid a hand reverentially on Lorenzo’s shoulder and shook him. There was no response.

  ‘Sergeant?’ Claudio barked across the inter-squad, grabbing Lorenzo with both hands and rolling him to his back.

  In a heartbeat Lorenzo was up, shoving Claudio back. The sergeant swept up his sword, its blade stopping just short of Claudio’s head. Claudio grabbed Lorenzo’s wrist and pushed it to one side.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Lorenzo, stepping back, obviously disoriented. ‘I thought you were the creature. What happened?’

  ‘Explanations and apologies can wait, brother-sergeant,’ Claudio said, stooping to retrieve Lorenzo’s storm bolter from where it had been dropped to the decking. He handed the weapon to the sergeant and faced the door. With a thrum of power and a burst of electricity, Claudio activated his claws once more. ‘The enemy await their punishment.’

  The two of them headed back towards the others, Lorenzo providing covering fire for Claudio as he chopped his way through the warren of tunnels and rooms. Zael reported over the comm that he was awake and was moving with Calistarius to link up with Gideon’s squad. Deino had roused Valencio to consciousness and the pair were fighting back-to-back against increasing numbers of genestealers. Goriel had recovered also and was trying his best to fight his way through to his sergeant.

  00.25.08

  THEIR FORCES SCATTERED by the enemy’s psychic attack, it took several minutes for the Terminators to join each other. As Lorenzo and Claudio met with Goriel, Calistarius arrived with Gideon close behind. Zael had been despatched to protect their rear.

  As Gideon’s squad filed past, Lorenzo counted only four warriors. He realised that Brother Omnio was missing.

  ‘We shall grieve for the fallen even as we avenge them,’ said Lorenzo as Gideon stopped beside him.

  ‘He fell into the darkness,’ Gideon replied, anger in his voice. ‘No brother should die alone.’

  ‘A means for our revenge may be close by,’ Calistarius cut in. ‘When I reached into the mind of Brother Deino, I detected the lingering presence of something else, and I felt it also when I woke Brother Goriel.’

  Gunfire from further down the corridor heralded the arrival of Deino and Valencio. Their suits of armour were much scarred and bloodied, but both appeared to be free from serious injury.

  ‘I’m glad somebody realises there’s still fighting to be done,’ said Scipio.

  ‘Yes, we should join the attack on the main enemy cluster,’ said Gideon. ‘Every warrior will be needed.’

  ‘Wait!’ said Calistarius as Lorenzo turned away. ‘You have not yet heard what I have to say.’

  ‘My apologies, Brother-Librarian,’ said Lorenzo, turning back to face Calistarius. ‘Deino, Valencio, Goriel, set up a perimeter.’

  ‘Join them, Scipio, as you are so eager to fight,’ said Gideon. There was a grunt of disappointment from Brother Leon. ‘I have not forgotten you, Leon. Relieve Brother Zael as rear guard.’

  ‘Acknowledged,’ growled Leon and he set off at speed.

  ‘What wisdom do you bring, Brother Calistarius?’ Leon asked the Librarian. Storm bolter fire sounded along the corridors. ‘I ask only that you be brief in your explanation.’

  ‘Can you not sense its presence?’ said the Librarian. ‘Can you not feel a singing in your blood? There is some thing close at hand that calls to us. The Angel is guiding our feet upon a different path.’

  Lorenzo remained silent. He was aware of a strange sensation within. It was almost below awareness, a tiny nagging feeling in his mind. It felt as if a distant chorus was singing a war-hymn at the edge of hearing and its dimly heard refrain stirred his blood. The sergeant felt a little more energised than he had done before. The retorts of the storm bolters sounded sharper. The flash of muzzle flares appeared a little brighter. He felt more alive.

  ‘I feel it,’ the sergeant said.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I do not know,’ Calistarius admitted. ‘But I can find it.’

  ‘I feel it also,’ said Gideon. ‘Could this not be some trick of the enemy? We should join the others.’

  ‘It is the Angel’s siren song,’ said Calistarius, his words quiet, almost ethereal. ‘There is no taint, no impurity in that holy voice.’ The Librarian pointed over Lorenzo’s shoulder, towards Deino and the others. His voice was firm once more. ‘It is this way.’

  ‘We cannot be distracted from our primary mission,’ said Gideon. ‘The attack on the alien nest is our objective. Those are Captain Raphael’s orders.’

  ‘Go to your brothers,’ said Calistarius with no hint of annoyance. ‘With the Captain’s permission, I shall seek this object myself.’

  ‘My squad will escort you,’ said Lorenzo. ‘You are too valuable to lose in this manner, Brother-Librarian. I cannot allow you to go alone.’

  There was a moment of silence and Lorenzo detected the buzz of a secure transmission close at hand.

  ‘I have informed Captain Raphael of our plan and he gives us his blessing,’ said Calistarius. ‘We will see you again soon enough, Sergeant Gideon.’

  ‘Very well, I agree,’ said Gideon, though it was plain from his tone that he did not like the idea. ‘We shall return to the main force and Lorenzo shall follow our revered Brother-Librarian. Do not spend too long on this.’

  ‘May the Angel will it,’ said Lorenzo.

  00.26.11

  THEY ENCOUNTERED ONLY scattered groups of genestealers as Calistarius guided Squad Lorenzo through the twisting depths towards the source of the phenomenon; most of the aliens were concentrating their attacks on the main Blood Angels force. Now and then a burst of storm bolter fire or the crackle of the Librarian’s psychic powers echoed back down the corridors to Goriel, who was stationed at the rear of the makeshift squad. There was no threat to the rear and Goriel felt a growing frustration at his inaction.

  Ever since he had been roused from the psychic attack, Goriel had felt different. More whole. He could feel the emanating sensation that Calistarius had described. It was something that lingered in his mind and pulsed through his veins with every beat of his hearts. Something in the darkness was reaching out to him and his entire being was reaching back.

  They passed into a wide, open deck, with a high vaulted ceiling and a long gallery of tall arched windows. An immense shape blotted out the view of the stars, the bulk of a ship crushed into the side of the vessel they were currently investigating. The floor and ceiling of the chamber were buckled and the Terminators had to clamber over folded ridges of metal. In the wide space they spread into a line abreast and Goriel made his way over to the left flank, close to the windows.

  The further they advanced, the more Goriel felt the tug of the presence Brother Calistarius had detected. It seemed that each step filled Goriel with greater energy, that every stride brought him closer to some goal that he had longed for but never known. He swivelled to the left and right, suit lamps dancing over the haphazardly corrugated deck as he searched for enemies. He stopped and turned fully to his left, allowing the lights to penetrate the darkness beyond the windows.
What they revealed caused him to gasp in amazement.

  ‘Sergeant,’ he croaked, his wonder choking the words in his throat.

  ‘What is it?’ answered Lorenzo.

  ‘Look,’ Goriel whispered back.

  In the twin glares of his lamps the side of the neighbouring vessel was revealed. It was large and had settled against the hulk at a steep angle. The view from the window was restricted, but despite its unfamiliar tilt and partial obscurity, the blazon upon the side of the vessel was instantly recognisable: the winged blood drop of the Blood Angels.

  ‘By the grace of the Angel,’ said Lorenzo, hushed. The others looked on in dumbfounded silence.

  ‘We have been brought here for a purpose,’ Calistarius eventually said. ‘We all hear the call and must answer it.’

  ‘We have to find a way to gain entry,’ said Goriel, turning so that his lamps played over the walls of the large chamber. A tangle of wreckage sprawled from floor to ceiling where the two vessels had collided, creating a jarring vista of warped decks and contorted bulkheads.

  ‘We will find a way in,’ said Lorenzo.

  The sergeant led the squad as quickly as the undulating floor would allow, until the Terminators were standing before the wall of twisted metal and broken rockcrete. They split up along the length of the barrier, seeking a way to climb up or break through. Zael pulled at girders with his power fist and answering creaks from above warned that the mass was unstable. Goriel spied a half-hidden airlock portal about five metres above his head. His excitement growing, he sought some means of ascending to its level.

  ‘Careful,’ said Lorenzo. ‘Check the sensorium.’

  There were life signals beyond the mass of metal, inside the Blood Angels ship. The thought of genestealers aboard provoked two responses in Goriel. The first was hope, for if they had found a way to gain entry, so too would the Terminators. The second was anger, and his desire to get aboard and cleanse the taint of the alien from the sacred decks of the ancient ship fuelled his search.

  ‘Over here!’ Valencio called out. He was bent to one knee, his lamps shining into a dark hole that came up to waist height. ‘I think there’s a pressure door here, if we can get to it.’