The Emperor Expects

by Gav Thorpe

  He barely heard the servitor’s drone conclude the countdown. One moment Kulik was on the bridge of his ship, studying the lines of the basket hilt of his sword, the next moment he was adrift on the void of space, his soul bared to the flare of a billion angry suns, scorching his being from the inside out.

  And then they were back in realspace.

  Kulik took a long, deep breath, nostrils flaring and eyes wide like a charging bull as he fought back the somersault in his stomach with raw willpower. His hands were balled fists at his side, fingernails digging into flesh.

  Finally, the captain let out an explosive breath.

  ‘Full scan, cycle plasma coils, navigational shields to full power, void shield generators to maximum, targeting grids on full lock. All stations remain at battle readiness!’

  The orders were the same every time, issued without effort or thought. Similarly, the watch officers on the bridge, and no doubt the warrant and petty officers in the bowels of the Colossus, were acting even before the words left Kulik’s lips. They had been through the actions enough times on the long rimward patrols that they knew the post-translation drill by heart.

  There was a slight cough from Lieutenant Shaffenbeck, and when Kulik looked at his second, the lieutenant shot a glance towards the doors of the bridge. There was another command not so familiar.

  ‘Oh, and please extend my invitation to Admiral Price to join me on the bridge,’ Kulik added.

  As sensor vanes gathered data on the surrounding system, matriculation servitors analysed the information and cross-referenced with their memory stores of the surrounding star field. Saul double-checked the calculations of the lieutenant at helm control – Mathews – and nodded with satisfaction.

  ‘Confirmed, Vesperilles System. Seventy thousand miles inside the Mandeville point, heading oh-oh-five-seven, inclination thirty-eight.’

  ‘Captain!’ The sharp call came down from Ensign Daggan assisting Lieutenant Sturmfel at the sensor banks on the level above Kulik. ‘Reading multiple radiation sources, plasma discharge and other ordnance resonance.’

  ‘Evidence of an engagement,’ said Kulik, striding over to the scanner displays. ‘Boost power, we need more clarity on the full-spectrum scan. Comms, broadcast identifiers and scan battle frequencies.’

  Over the following minutes the situation became clearer. Sensor traces showed battle debris and munitions detonations ranging from several hours old to ten days. Residual warp backwash located more than fifty vessels already in-system, but scattered all around the perimeter as they had dropped out of warp space. A cluster of signals almost at right angles to the Colossus’ position on the system plane showed where Admiral Acharya’s fleet was gathering.

  The orks were even more numerous. Scores of escort-size and dozens of cruiser-class and larger ships flooded the system, operating in small battlegroups that were targeting the isolated Navy ships attempting to reach the converging fleet.

  ‘Sir, we have an Imperial ship under attack to port,’ announced Lieutenant Sturmfel. ‘Cruiser-class, three ork attack ships converging on their position. Read void shield overloads and superstructure damage. Radiation blossom indicates two destroyed ork ships in the vicinity.’

  Kulik watched as the relative positions of the ships were plotted on a sub-display while the main screen continued to fill out with system details – planetary positions, gas clouds, asteroid belts and fields, and the scattered dispositions of both Imperial Navy and greenskin vessels. There was a line of more than thirty red enemy sigils between the Colossus and the flag rune depicting Admiral Acharya aboard the Defiant Monarch.

  ‘Helm, come to new heading, nine-five-three, then all speed ahead,’ announced Kulik.

  ‘It’s the Saint Fatidicus, captain,’ said Shaffenbeck, moving away from the communications console. ‘Captain Havaart is issuing an all-channels request for assistance.’

  ‘Tell him we’re on our way,’ said Kulik.

  The doors growled open to allow Admiral Price to enter. He ran a quick, experienced eye over the screens and then turned to Kulik.

  ‘You intend to assist the Saint Fatidicus?’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ said Kulik. The captain paused, waiting to see if Price would overrule the decision. An admiral had no authority to countermand a ship’s captain in the running of his vessel, but he could issue orders to that captain to engage or break away if his vessel was not in immediate danger.

  ‘Very good. Carry on, Captain Kulik,’ said Price, his voice quiet, the tone formal as befitted a combat situation.

  Kulik nodded and returned his attention to Shaffenbeck.

  ‘Request that Captain Havaart come to starboard by fifty points, if he is able. On our current course that will ensure that the two ork ships are between the Colossus and the Saint Fatidicus.’

  ‘He’ll be showing his arse to the third ork ship,’ said Price.

  Kulik darted a glance at the admiral, who held up his hands to admit he had overstepped his mark. ‘Apologies, captain, please engage as you see fit.’

  ‘Saul?’

  ‘Captain Havaart sends an acknowledgement, sir.’

  ‘The Saint Fatidicus is burning retro-thrusters and coming to a new heading, captain,’ reported Daggan. ‘Flanking ork attack ships are manoeuvring to intercept.’

  Surprised, Kulik turned his gaze to the tactical display. As the ensign had reported, the two ork ships to starboard of the Saint Fatidicus had altered course not to head directly to the cruiser’s new course, but to overhaul the ship and attack from ahead.

  ‘That’s odd,’ he said out loud. Shaffenbeck came up to stand at the captain’s left.

  ‘Aye, captain. That’s not usual ork behaviour, sir,’ said the lieutenant. ‘Normally they would just head directly for their target.’

  ‘Yes, but what’s even stranger is that their current course will take them into the arc of the cruiser’s torpedoes. If they’re smart enough to attempt an overhaul, why can’t they see that they’ll be disadvantaged by it?’

  The two officers fell silent as they contemplated the problem. Ensign Daggan hesitantly provided the answer.

  ‘Sir, they think that we have torpedoes too. On our current heading the Saint Fatidicus will be beyond the ork attack ships, meaning we cannot fire torpedoes without risking the other ship.’

  ‘Emperor’s Throne,’ muttered Shaffenbeck, as much out of appreciation as surprise.

  ‘Don’t blaspheme,’ Kulik replied automatically. He examined the display and saw that Daggan was correct. ‘That would be a wonderful plan, but we don’t have torpedoes, do we? Let’s make sure these greenskins pay for the mistake.’

  ‘Pretty sophisticated thinking for a bunch of green-arsed savages, isn’t it?’ said Price, joining Kulik and Shaffenbeck at the command centre of the bridge. The admiral had a frown of concern. ‘There were reports that the orks were acting in a more coordinated fashion than we’ve become accustomed to, but I don’t think I really appreciated what that meant until right now. If they’ve discovered fleet tactics more advanced than simply charging full throttle and firing off everything they have, we could be in for even more of a fight here than I expected. The attack moon is going to be difficult enough; a properly organised fleet defence could make our mission here impossible.’

  Kulik looked at Price, surprised by the admission. The admiral looked genuinely worried, something Kulik had never seen before.

  ‘It would seem that Admiral Acharya was guilty of a similar underestimation, sir,’ said Shaffenbeck, indicating the Imperial fleet bottled up at the edge of the system. ‘I expect he was hoping to make far more inward progress by this stage, perhaps even catch the orks unawares.’

  ‘One thing at a time, Saul,’ said Kulik. ‘We’ll help the Saint Fatidicus first and we can worry about the fleet situation later.’

  ‘You mean I can worry about it,’ said Pric
e. ‘I know you’ve got used to commanding the patrol flotilla, but this is my fleet, remember?’

  ‘Aye, sir, of course,’ said Kulik, accepting the criticism with a slight nod of the head. ‘I did not mean to imply otherwise.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Price.

  The Colossus powered towards the other Imperial ship while the Saint Fatidicus turned towards them. As Price had predicted, one of the ork attack ships fell in behind the cruiser, directly aft where none of the Imperial vessel’s weapons could be brought to bear. Shell detonations and sporadic blasts of laser fire rippled along the cruiser, exploding in flares of purple and blue against the void shields. It would be a rough ride for those aboard, Kulik was sure, but alone the ork ship didn’t have enough firepower to breach the energy defences. Only when the other two ork ships came into range would the greenskins be able to punch through the void shields and inflict lasting damage.

  ‘I had hoped that the two ships would come and take us on once they saw we were attacking,’ Kulik confessed to Shaffenbeck. ‘They don’t stand a chance against a battleship, of course, but I’ve seen it happen before.’

  ‘But these greenskins are too smart for that, sir,’ said Shaffenbeck.

  ‘Well we know that now, don’t we?’ Kulik shrugged, dismissing his annoyance. ‘Havaart and his crew will have to weather a bit of rough treatment before we come into range.’

  ‘Aye, sir, I’m sure it won’t be anything they can’t handle.’

  Kulik could feel that Colossus wasn’t proceeding quite as he intended. There was something about the vibrations through the deck, the background hum, that dissatisfied the captain. He looked at the course projection on the screen and saw that they had made minor alterations to their heading twice since he had laid down their course.

  ‘Helm, can’t you keep to a straight line?’ barked Kulik, rounding on the navigational crew.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ replied Lieutenant Asterax, whom Kulik had brought across to the Colossus when he had been made captain. Kulik expected better of his helmsman. ‘There’s a two point drift to starboard, captain.’

  Kulik grunted to acknowledge the response and turned his attention to the Adeptus Mechanicus enginseer at the monitoring station on the upper level of the bridge.

  ‘Fastandorin!’ The captain’s bellow brought the red-robed tech-priest to the rail above. Her face was an articulated mask of silver and copper that showed no expression. An arterial cable spiralled away from her right temple to the cogitator behind her. ‘There’s a plasma flutter in the starboard engines. You have two minutes to stabilise it before I send Mister Shaffenbeck to take personal control.’

  Every ranking man and woman aboard knew what that really meant. If Kulik despatched the first lieutenant to anybody’s position, that officer would find themselves dumped dockside and on half-reparations at the next port of call. Kulik expected the best, and there were stories of unfortunates left abandoned on star bases and orbital stations deep in wilderness space who could not expect another Imperial vessel for many years, decades even.

  ‘Analysing, captain,’ replied the enginseer before disappearing from view. Her voice always reminded Kulik of something silky and smooth; beguiling and utterly at odds with her inhuman appearance. Fastandorin seemed oblivious to the effect it could have on the men around her, having devoted her life to matters of the machine above the flesh more than two centuries previously.

  There was no need for a further report. Kulik could feel the dissonance that had niggled at him dissipating as the engine crews fixed the power imbalance. A few minutes later and there had been no further adjustments from the helm crew.

  ‘Thank you, enginseer, please ensure such a situation does not arise again.’

  ‘I will recalibrate the monitors myself, captain,’ Fastandorin’s reply drifted down.

  The battleship was converging rapidly with Saint Fatidicus, with the ork ships approaching from behind and to starboard of the cruiser. As Daggan had predicted, the flanking ork vessels were between the two Imperial Navy ships.

  ‘When is Mister Daggan due to sit his lieutenant’s exam?’ he asked Saul quietly.

  ‘Next time we have any extended period at dock, sir,’ replied Saul. ‘It should have taken place at Lepidus Prime, but events overtook us before the board could be arranged.’

  ‘Well, ensure that he goes forward next time,’ insisted Kulik. ‘And make sure he is thoroughly prepared. He’s a good officer, Daggan, there’s a ship somewhere that will benefit greatly from his promotion.’

  ‘I understand, sir,’ said Shaffenbeck, nodding. ‘I will ensure he has my personal attention and tuition.’

  ‘Very good.’ Kulik raised his voice. ‘Fire arrestors and slow to battle speed! All flight crews to launch stations. Divert power to lance batteries and weapons matrices. Pilots and gunners prepare for launch orders. Lieutenant Sturmfel, what is the current condition of the Saint Fatidicus?’

  It was a few seconds before the sensor officer made his reports.

  ‘Her engines are running hot, but void shields are intact, sir. No additional damage yet.’

  ‘Very well. Lieutenant Shaffenbeck, launch all fighter and bomber wings as soon as we have attained combat velocity. Comms, signal Captain Havaart. When we have launched, he is to come about sharply and target the ship on his stern. We will engage the other ork vessels.’

  ‘Aye aye, sir!’

  In the flight decks pilots were warming up the plasma jets of their aircraft and ground crews were making last-minute checks on fitted ordnance and power feeds. Gun crews would be at their weapons, stripped to the waist, barefooted to get grip on the rippled floor of the gun decks. The gun captains and deck lieutenant would be reminding the crews to await their orders, to mark the targeting matrices. Energy was surging though the coils feeding the lance turrets, charging the building-sized capacitors that would power the devastating laser weapons.

  It was an illusion that Kulik thought he could feel the deceleration as the arrestor engines fired to reduce the battleship’s speed, but the change in the throb along the deck under his feet was as much a signal as any report from the engine stations.

  ‘Sir, ork ships are firing on the Saint Fatidicus,’ rasped Sturmfel. He flicked a sweat-drooped fringe of dark hair out of his eyes. ‘Extreme range, no hits yet.’

  Kulik waited, affecting an air of calm, though inwardly he was counting down the seconds as the Colossus bled away enough momentum for the flight bays to disgorge their lethal cargo. Price moved closer, his presence a suddenly unfamiliar factor in an otherwise familiar environment.

  ‘You have a bit of a flair for the dramatic, Rafal,’ the admiral said conversationally. Any worry Price might have shown earlier had completely disappeared. He now seemed as relaxed as if they were on a touring schooner taking a pleasure trip into orbit, not about to engage in a deadly exchange of laser and shell.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Combat deceleration, emergency launches. You know, Captain Havaart could probably survive the extra couple of minutes it would have taken to perform a, let’s say, more graceful entry into the combat sphere.’

  ‘Starboard wings launching, sir,’ announced Shaffenbeck before the bemused captain could reply. Then, a moment later, ‘Port wings launching.’

  ‘Lance arrays, target closest ork vessel. Attack wings are to engage second ork vessel. Helm, stand ready to come to port by twelve points, to bring starboard batteries to bear. Forward batteries, prepare to fire to starboard.’

  Kulik’s rattle of orders were relayed by the gunnery officers to the relevant crews. The captain crossed his arms and half-turned towards Price.

  ‘Dramatic, sir?’ Kulik’s lips twitched with a smile.

  ‘Positively theatrical, Rafal.’ The admiral grinned and turned away. ‘Not that it is any of my business, of course, captain. It is your ship.’

 
‘Sir, Saint Fatidicus is under intense attack from all three ships.’

  ‘On screen, now!’

  The main display disappeared and become a swathe of black. A sparkle of light flittered in the top-left corner. As the image resolved and magnified, the glittering patch became a scene of the four ships. The Imperial cruiser seemed to be burning along one flank, but Kulik realised it was simply the arrestor thrusts turning the ship sharply around as he had ordered. From turrets along the spine of the ship bright white beams of lance shots cut and swerved across the ether. The whole ship was surrounded by a purplish miasma of discharging void shield energy.

  The ork ship that had been on the cruiser’s stern was a squat, blunt-nosed beast of a vessel, perhaps no more than five hundred yards long, but almost half as broad and high at the front. Ten, maybe twelve decks of guns and launchers bristled from its prow, massively front-heavy but capable of unleashing the equivalent firepower of a vessel many times its size. As the cruiser turned, the ork slid amidships on the port side. Saint Fatidicus’ main broadside opened fire, engulfing the attack vessel with a welter of macro shell detonations even as the orks’ forward batteries spat out a hail of missiles and shells. The greenskin ploughed through the onslaught of the cruiser, debris spilling from impacts all along its hull, while its own fusillade continued, burrowing through the void shields before smashing with terminal force into the buttressed hull of the Saint Fatidicus. Gun decks exploded outwards as magazines were penetrated by the brutish salvo, spitting men and jagged metal into the void.

  Ahead of the Colossus the other two ork ships were turning away from the battleship, concentrating their fire on the prow of the cruiser. With the Colossus in its current position the cruiser could not launch its torpedoes. The battleship’s forward guns were within range and suffered no such restriction.

  ‘Open fire, all batteries.’

  Targeting past the dozens of bombers and fighters now cutting a course toward the ork ships, the prow batteries lit up space with a pounding flurry of plasma shells and small-scale atomic warheads. They did not need to hit directly, the force of their detonations enough to cause the shields of the ork ship closest to the cruiser to flare bright orange, creating a stark silhouette of its bulbous, almost spherical hull.