by Gav Thorpe
Your truth, thought Wienand, even as she bowed her head in acceptance of the proposal. And your truth will see the Senatorum Imperialis shattered and the Imperium brought to ruin. Over my dead body.
Eleven
Port Sanctus – outer system
‘This…’ There was actually spittle flying from the lips of Admiral Acharya, spraying onto the lens of the vid-link aboard the Defiant Monarch. The monochrome display flickered light from the wood panelling of the captain’s comms chamber, abutting the main command deck. ‘This is outrageous. Intolerable! The orks are massing and if we do not bring the fleets together one or the other of us will be destroyed!’
Face underlit by the screen, Price leaned forward in his chair, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped. Kulik could see the admiral’s effort to keep calm in the whiteness of his knuckles.
‘Which is why you must come to us, admiral. Elements of my fleet have been arriving over the last three days and are still arriving. If we try to break through the orks we will be leaving these ships to be destroyed piecemeal.’
Relaxing, Price slouched back. The screen went into a fuzzy static while the reply was transmitted. It would be a couple of minutes before the signal reached Acharya and his response was bounced back to the Colossus.
‘Sir, while Admiral Acharya moving his fleet to our position would be the best course of action, doing nothing is certainly the worst,’ said Kulik.
Price lazily spun to face the captain, who was sitting on the other end of a glass-topped oval table. A strategic display glowed beneath a scattering of translucent report sheets and pieces of paper. Three Naval regulations books were piled on one corner, tatters of parchment and plas-sheet marking various pages. Evidently Price had been looking for some precedent or rule that allowed him to assert command over the senior admiral; equally evidently, from their conversation, he had been unsuccessful.
The chain of command, even more so than in the Imperial Guard, was inviolate. A ship could spend anything from a few months to a decade away from port, and during that time the authority of its commander had to be absolute. If an Imperial Guard regiment turned on its officers it could do a lot of damage on the world it was on; if an Imperial Navy ship went rogue it could terrorise multiple star systems.
Though Acharya was senior by only a few months, it might as well have been centuries for all the difference it made in the eyes of the Articles of War. Price was under no obligation for his ship or fleet to obey any order issued by Acharya, but neither could he issue any command of his own.
Kulik realised that Price was looking at him intently.
‘No, Rafal, doing nothing is not worse. Doing nothing allows us and the arriving ships to remain close enough to the Mandeville point to translate out of the system if sufficiently threatened. Acharya has stuck his head into the noose, I see no reason why we should follow.’
‘You would abandon the coreward fleet, admiral?’ Kulik was shocked. Price’s calm manner at the prospect was even more chilling. ‘Tens of thousands – no, hundreds of thousands – of lives?’
‘And add our own to the tally for no reason?’ snapped the admiral. Price lurched to his feet and strode towards Kulik, snatching reports from the table as he passed them. ‘Emperor alone knows how they are doing it, but the orks are alert and responding quickly to any movements we make. That attempted ambush when we arrived is just the start of their cunning. Asteroid fields all across the system have been seeded with their rock forts, ready to launch missiles and torpedoes the moment a ship comes within range.’
Price tossed the handful of papers in front of Kulik and leaned forward with his fists on the table.
‘Any ship or small group – any – that comes near the orks gets pounced upon. If the rimward fleet commits to Acharya’s position, we are as good as hanging ourselves in front of the orks like the bait in a snare. I’m pretty damn sure that’s what Acharya intends but isn’t saying. As soon as we move closer and the orks come after us, he’ll either attack them from behind or move the fleet out towards the Mandeville point for translation’
‘But if the…’ Kulik trailed off as the screen crackled into motion again with Acharya’s reply. Price whipped round, arms crossed.
‘You’ve seen the dispositions, Price! The orks will destroy one or the other of the flotillas and then turn on the surviving fleet. But they don’t have the massed…’ Acharya’s desperate plea trailed off and the admiral turned his head away for a moment. When he returned his look to the vid-capture unit, there was an almost serene smile on his face. ‘Never mind, Price. It seems that events are overtaking us, anyway. Emperor’s grace be upon you.’
The screen went blank.
‘What in the name of the Emperor did he mean by that?’ demanded Price, rounding on Kulik as if the captain should know. Kulik shrugged.
The internal comm beeped and a light on a panel beside Kulik lit up green. The captain reached over and flicked the receive switch.
‘What is it?’
‘Captain, registering fresh translations at the system edge,’ said Shaffenbeck.
‘Yes, we’ve been doing that for the last three days. What of it?’
‘A lot of translations, sir. Sensor team estimates it at nearly a dozen in the last five minutes. We also have confirmation of one of the identifiers.’
‘A dozen ships? Who?’
‘It’s the Autocephalax Eternal, sir,’ said the lieutenant.
‘Lansung’s flagship!’ exclaimed Price. He moved Kulik aside to lean close to the comms pick-up. ‘Have your communications team open up a command channel with the flagship, right now!’
‘Aye aye, sir,’ said Shaffenbeck. ‘Captain, what are your orders for manoeuvre?’
‘Remain on station, lieutenant,’ said Kulik. He looked at Price and received a confirmation. ‘Repeat flag order to the rest of the fleet. Ships are to remain on station until further command.’
Kulik flicked off the intercom after receiving Shaffenbeck’s assent. Price moved back to his chair and flopped down.
‘What in all that is glorious on Terra is Lord High Admiral Lansung doing here?’ the admiral asked nobody in particular, waving his arms helplessly. He half-turned and looked sharply at Kulik. ‘You know he hates me, yes? If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d already made post rank I’d have never become captain once he rose to power.’
‘I have never heard the full story, sir. Something about a public disagreement.’
‘That’ll have to wait, Rafal. Find out where Lansung’s flagship translated and plot a course. I expect the Lord High Admiral will want us to come calling on him.’ Kulik gave Price a look that, whilst not openly disobeying a command from a superior, reminded that superior that he was captain of this ship, not some messenger ensign to be sent on errands. Price shrugged. ‘No time for bruised sensibilities, Rafal. Sorry, but you’ll just have to put up with me for the next few days until everything with Lansung and Acharya is smoothed out.’
‘Aye, and I’ll say thank you too, I’m sure,’ Kulik muttered as he stood up.
‘What was that, captain?’
Kulik stopped with one hand on the curved gilded handle of the wood-panelled door. He didn’t look back.
‘Aye aye, admiral. I’ll get right on it.’
And for the next two days, that was exactly what Kulik did. Price’s communications requests to the Lord High Admiral’s flagship were repeatedly ignored or refused, leaving the admiral short-tempered and sarcastic; a mood Kulik had no desire to endure. Kulik inspected each gun deck and gun, every lance battery, both flight decks, the ship’s shuttles and even the plasma core chambers in an effort to be wherever Price was not. In his absence Shaffenbeck, ever- patient Shaffenbeck, fielded any and all inquiries, requests and orders from the tetchy admiral, including the hourly demand for the comms officers to establish communication with the Autocephalax Eternal.
&nb
sp; During this time the other ships of the fleet did relatively little. Acharya’s coreward fleet maintained a defensive encirclement in orbit above the eighth planet, where it had been virtually trapped since punching in-system on arrival. The orks tried a few small attacks, perhaps hoping to bait the clustered Imperial vessels into a pursuit that would draw them out, but nobody was willing to break the relative sanctuary of the fleet.
The rimward fleet of Price maintained its own position just a few thousand miles from optimal translation distance, compact enough to defend itself but not so close that it could not disperse within a couple of hours to achieve translation separation. The newly arrived portions of Battlefleet Solar, eighteen more capital ships and twice that number of escorts, gathered on the system edge as they arrived, roughly equidistant between the two Naval flotillas.
They could not wait forever though, as the gigantic attack moon at the heart of the greenskin armada drifted ever closer to the docks at Port Sanctus. The orks were not to be distracted from their purpose by the presence of the humans, and their devastating weapon did not change course to meet the incoming fleets.
Under the guise of worrying about a visit from the Lord High Admiral, Kulik personally supervised gun practice and guard of honour drill. He instigated several new standing orders, including forbidding whistling and singing outside of crew quarters. Kulik individually briefed his officers on what to expect and do should Lansung decide to come aboard – all thirty-two lieutenants, flight lieutenants and ensigns. He was about to start going through the roster of sixty-eight petty and warrant officers, theoretically including the Navigators and tech-priests, when he received word from his first lieutenant that they had received fresh orders from Admiral Lansung.
Price received the ciphered communiqué in the comms chamber, with Kulik and Saul in attendance. However, before the admiral had entered his decipher codes the intercom buzzed with a message from the bridge. Saul took the transmission with the hand-held receiver, nodding and saying ‘Yes’ and ‘Understood, lieutenant’ every few seconds. After about half a minute he hung up and turned to find the captain and admiral staring inquisitively at him.
‘Sensor report, sirs,’ said Shaffenbeck. He cleared his throat. ‘Lieutenant Chambers reports that the Defiant Monarch is breaking orbit and moving towards the system rim.’
‘Acharya is leaving?’ Price seemed torn between incredulity and delight.
‘It would not be appropriate for me to venture speculation, admiral,’ Shaffenbeck said. ‘Nor did the fourth lieutenant care to offer any such opinion.’
‘Your orders, admiral? Perhaps they make mention of Acharya’s departure,’ said Kulik.
Price returned his gaze to the screen, still slightly euphoric if his distant smile and glazed expression were any indication. He keyed in a cipher code on the rune pad beneath the monitor and the display flared with static. After a few seconds, the fizzing monochrome resolved itself into the equine features of Admiral Sheridan Villiers, His Grace the Void Baron of Cypra Nubrea – Lansung’s senior fleet attaché.
‘For the attention of Admiral Price, Commander-in-office Rimward Flotilla, Fleet Navalis Segmentum Solar.’ Kulik was mesmerised by the bobbing laryngeal protrusion of Villiers, which looked like an ork attack moon in its own right. ‘You are hereby requested and required, immediately upon receiving these orders, to convene the rimward flotilla in accordance with the attached designations and dispositions, for preparation of immediate battle.’
The image halted, cut by flickering lines as Price paused the receiver. His expression had hardened at the words ‘immediate battle’.
‘Lansung intends to continue with this damn fool plan of Acharya’s,’ the admiral said without looking at his companions. ‘He really means to liberate Port Sanctus.’
‘Do you think that it was his intent all along, sir?’ asked Shaffenbeck.
‘But why send Acharya away now?’ said Kulik. ‘That doesn’t make sense if he was acting on Lansung’s orders.’
‘We might never know, gentlemen,’ said Price. He leaned forward and pressed the rune to continue the vid-flow.
‘According to said dispositions, the rimward flotilla will make all speed to the co-ordinates indicated.’ A series of nine numbers flashed up at the bottom of the transmission, somewhere within the orbit of the sixth world, Kulik judged on first glance. ‘At the same time, the coreward flotilla shall perform counter-manoeuvres with effect to break through to the same position, linking the fleets. As an added measure, the Lord High Admiral shall be leading the Fleet Solar elements on a corresponding course to intercept any enemy vessels attempting to reinforce at the rendezvous.’
Price nodded, pausing the playback again.
‘That’s not a terrible plan,’ the admiral admitted. ‘Given our current positions, those headings will break the ork presence in two places, with Lansung’s ships circling around to cut off the greenskins from the inner system where the attack moon is.’
‘Aye, sir, but he hasn’t taken into account the asteroid forts and other defences littered throughout that area,’ said Saul.
‘I think he has,’ Kulik said quietly. ‘He intends for us to clear that asteroid belt of the orks as we make our way to the rendezvous.’
‘Attack the rock forts and then straight into a head-on battle?’ Price frowned and leaned back in his chair to snatch a system-wide sensor report from the table. The creases in his brow deepened and the corners of his mouth descended even further. ‘Bloody madman, that’s what he is! I knew this was too simple.’
Kulik looked over the admiral’s shoulder at the schematics to refresh his memory on the strategic situation.
‘It is risky, sir, but it will place us in an ideal position to form up for an attack on the ork base,’ said the captain. ‘I really think Lansung intends to go for it as quickly as possible.’
‘None of this makes sense,’ complained Price, tossing the report back onto the table. He stabbed a finger at the playback rune and Sheridan Villiers’ distorted face sprang into life.
‘Stand ready to receive personal messages from the Lord High Admiral. For the eyes and ears of Admiral Price only.’
Kulik and Shaffenbeck both stepped towards the door but were halted by a wave from Price.
‘I certainly don’t care if you listen in,’ said the admiral. ‘If this is about Acharya it’ll save me the bother of telling you myself.’
Villiers’ elongated features disappeared, to be replaced by the bloated face of Lansung. It struck Kulik that the monitor controls had somehow malfunctioned, ballooning the one into the other. Lansung’s cheeks wobbled and his chins rippled as he spoke.
‘Listen here, Price. I know we have our history together, and I won’t say that I’ve forgotten or forgiven. But that doesn’t matter for the moment. That damned idiot Acharya has put the reputation of the Imperial Navy in jeopardy. Yes, I know what you’re thinking – it’s my reputation really, yes? Well, it’s yours too, Price. I don’t know why, or how, but someone got to Acharya and either persuaded him or forced him to make this attack. There’s going to be hell to pay for him when this is over. He’ll be lucky to command a garbage scow if he survives the judgement of the court martial he’s got coming. Anyway, that’s not of concern yet.’
Lansung shifted his bulk, moving further from the vid-capture unit. He splayed his hands across his chest, which bulged between the gaps in his buttoned coat.
‘We can’t afford to lose here, Price. It’s not common knowledge, but the Imperial Fists took a pounding at Ardamantua. They were almost wiped out.’
Kulik heard Shaffenbeck gasp at this admission, and was shocked himself.
‘We need a victory and damned quick if we want to salvage anything from the situation. Hate me all you like, but unless I return to Terra with a victory, and my authority intact, the whole Senatorum Imperialis is going to lose faith. And frankly, w
hether the other High Lords like it or not, this is a war that the Navy is going to have to win for them.
‘Acharya was far off the mark when he brought the fleet here, and it’s forced my hand. If we withdraw, our reputation will be worthless, and there’s half a dozen admirals lined up behind me just waiting to pull away the steps and take my place. We do not need a power struggle in the upper echelons of the Imperial Navy at this time. You think I’m a ruthless career-minded pig. In fact, those were your exact words, I recall.’
Kulik watched Price out of the corner of his eye, but the admiral was intent on the screen, eyes fixed, expression unmoving.
‘You are right, I probably am. But I am not a monster. Billions have died already trying to halt this greenskin tide. If we cannot hold them to a reverse now, all hope will be lost. I don’t care if we have to sacrifice the whole bloody segmentum fleet to win here, victory is the only option.’
The admiral wiped the sweat from his face with an embroidered handkerchief, which he stuffed up the sleeve of his coat.
‘When we have the fleets together, then we can discuss options. Until then, I request and require that you follow my orders to the letter. Believe me, it is our best chance to get out of this mess alive and with honour intact. May the Emperor guard you in the dark places where you must fight, Admiral Price.’
The screen went black. Kulik blinked a couple of times, trying to process everything he had just heard.
‘He didn’t seem so…’ Shaffenbeck let the thought drift away as Price turned a withering stare upon the lieutenant. ‘Shutting up now, sir.’
‘The fat oaf is right,’ said Price, lip curled with distaste at the fact. ‘Sooner or later we have to find out a way to destroy these moons, so we might as well start the job here. Damn Acharya, though, for going rogue. And damn Lansung for putting the bastard in charge of the coreward fleet in the first place.’
‘What are your orders, sir?’ asked Kulik, standing to attention.
‘I don’t know, yet. Decode the dispositions command and transmit to the flotilla. I’ll look over everything else and give more specific orders of battle once we are under way.’