Battle for The Abyss (21 page)

‘STAND ASIDE, ANTIGES,’ Cestus barked, bedecked in a stripped down version of his honour guard regalia and battle-ready with short-blade, power sword and bolter.

Adjusting to the half-light of the assembly deck, Cestus saw that his battle-brother was similarly attired.

‘I have told you before, Antiges. The sons of Guilliman will remain aboard ship in case anything goes wrong. I shall accompany the mission as its leader to ensure that it goes to plan.’

Cestus had gone over the plan several times since it was first broached in the conference room to the rest of the Astartes captains. If they were to make the most of the
Furious Abyss
’s current disposition, they would need to act in subterfuge and in secret.

Even with that caveat in mind, the strike would need to be brutal and at close-quarters. The World Eaters and the Space Wolves had no equals in that regard, save for the sons of Sanguinius, but the Angels were far off in another part of the galaxy. These were the tools at their disposal; they had but to unleash them.

The assault force was to infiltrate Bakka Triumveron 14, where the Word Bearers had made dock, in three teams in a classic feint and strike manoeuvre in order that they get close enough to scupper the ship at close-range. Incendiary charges, krak and melta bombs, were to be carried as standard. It was a faint hope, but it was hope none the less and all had embraced it. Even Brynngar, his demeanour sullen and belligerent, had acceded to the plan, doubtless eager to vent his wrath much like his brother captain, Skraal.

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‘With respect, brother-captain,’ said Antiges levelly, purpose-fully standing his ground. ‘You shall not.’

Cestus’s face creased in consternation.

‘I did not expect disobedience from you, Antiges.’

‘It is not disobedience, sire. Rather, it is sense.’ Antiges still did not move. His expression brooked no argument.

‘Very well,’ said Cestus, letting his battle-brother have this in-dulgence before he rebuked him for his insolence. ‘Explain yourself.’

Antiges’s face softened, a trace of pleading behind his eyes.

‘Allow me to lead the strike,’ he said. ‘This mission is too dangerous and our plight too great to risk your life, my captain.

Without you, there is no mission. Even now, we hold to our cause by a mere thread. Were you to be lost, then so too would be Macragge. You know this to be true.’

Antiges stepped forward, allowing the light to fall on his face and armour. The effect was not unlike a bodily halo. ‘I entreat you, liege, let me do this service. I shall not fail you.’

At first, Cestus had thought to deny him, but he knew his brother Ultramarine was right. Cestus was acutely aware of the other combat squads mustering on the deck behind him, readying to take to the assault-boats.

‘It would do me great honour to have you, Brother Antiges, as my representative,’ he said and clapped Antiges on the shoulder.

‘My lord,’ the fellow Ultramarine intoned and bowed to his knee.

‘No, Antiges,’ said Cestus, grasping his battle-brother’s shoulder to stop him mid-genuflect. ‘We are equals and such deference is not necessary.’

Antiges rose and nodded instead.

‘Courage and honour, my brother,’ said Cestus.

‘Courage and honour,’ Antiges replied and turned to walk away towards the assault-boats.

THE WORDS WERE distant now, and Antiges crushed whatever sentiment they held as he intoned the oaths of battle.

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The World Eaters were similarly engaged, their lips moving in entreaty to their weapons and armaments that they should not fail them, and rather that they be covered in glory and speak with righteous anger.

The warriors of the XII Legion were well-armed with chainaxes and storm shields. They bore side arms too, but Antiges suspected that they were rarely drawn. World Eaters fought up close, in face-to-face melee, where the force of a charge and the shock of their ferocity counted the most.

Antiges steeled himself and mouthed the name of Roboute Guilliman as the assault-boat screamed towards its destination.

THE DOCK-MASTER had demanded to know why prior notifica-tion had not been given for the arrival of such an enormous ship.

His obstinate and imperious attitude had faltered and withered upon the arrival of the Astartes on his deck.

Once Ultis had gained entry to the observation balcony, he had had the dock master put his deck crews to work to receive the
Furious Abyss
. Violence, at this point, was unnecessary. To the menials and underlings of Bakka Triumveron 14, they were still Astartes and as such their word carried the authority of the Emperor. No man of the Imperium would dare brook that.

From the observation balcony overlooking the battleship dock, Ultis could see the automated coolant tanks picking their way through the docking clamps and other dockside detritus towards the towering shape of the
Furious Abyss
. The dock was a hive of activity, tracked-servitors and human indentured workers bustling back and forth on loaders, carrying massive fuel drums and swathes of heavy piping. The frenetic scene, fraught with activity, was as a mustering of ants before the towering hive that was the Word Bearers ship.

It was the first time Ultis had been able to truly appreciate the vessel’s gigantic size. Like a city of crenellated towers, arching spires and fanged fortress-like decks, it dwarfed the puny dock, easily clearing the highest antennae and cranes. The book, res-148

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plendent upon the
Furious
’s prow easily eclipsed the observation building in which Ultis was standing.

‘We are in control,’ Ultis voxed privately through his helmet array, the dock master busied at his consoles with the massive ship’s sudden arrival.

‘Good,’ said Zadkiel, back on the ship. ‘Did you encounter any resistance?’

‘They accept the authority of the Astartes like the dutiful and deluded lapdogs they are, my lord,’ Ultis replied, looking around at the Scholar Coven.

These warriors had been assembled from the Word Bearers under Zadkiel’s command who showed the greatest adherence to Lorgar’s Word. They were all more recent recruits to the Legion, all from Colchis and all dedicated scholars of Lorgar’s writings.

They were motivated not by the glory of the Great Crusade, but by the ideology of the Word Bearers. Zadkiel greatly valued such followers since they could be counted on to support the Legion’s latest endeavours, which would be sure to bring the Word Bearers into conflict with elements of the Imperium before long. Ultis looked over at the man he would soon kill, once preparations were fully underway, and reasoned that the conflicts were already beginning to come about.

The fact meant absolutely nothing to him. Ultis had no loyalty save to the Word. There was nothing in the galaxy in that moment, other than that which was written.

The novice smiled.

This day, his destiny would be etched in the Word for all time.

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NINE

Infiltration

Ambush

Sons of Angron

THE ASSAULT-BOATS docked quickly and without incident, the pilot having avoided radar and long-range scans to insert the Astartes squads outside the main thoroughfares of Bakka Triumveron 14.

Antiges, clad in the blue and gold of his Legion’s honour guard, was first out of the assault-boat, speeding from the embarkation ramp. Chainsword held low at his hip and adopting a crouching stance, he moved stealthily across an open plaza of steel plates, flanked by towering cranes and disused craft in for non-urgent repairs. The few servitors meandering back and forth on tracks and slaved to an aerial rail system ignored the Astartes. Working through pre-assigned protocols as dictated by their command wafers, they were not even aware of their presence.

Close behind the Ultramarine, one of the World Eaters, Hargrath, gave the servitors a wary glance as he piled through the open channel with his battle-brothers.

‘Pay them no heed,’ Antiges hissed, looking back to check on his charges.

Hargrath nodded and continued on his way towards the massive crimson horizon ahead, visible across the entire length of the shipyard: the
Furious Abyss
, the largest vessel any of them had ever seen.

‘Keep in cover,’ said Antiges as the plaza gave way to a maze-like refuelling and maintenance bay full of passing loaders and
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stacks of drums. The Ultramarine was careful to keep his squad out of the view of the labouring indentured workers and other menials busying themselves at the dock. They clung to the shadows, using them like a second skin.

Once they had reached their destination, their targets would be the engines and ordnance ports. The Ultramarine checked a ban-doleer of krak grenades at his hip. There was a cluster of melta bombs flanking it on the opposite side and as the
Furious Abyss
drew closer, he hoped it would be enough.

BRYNNGAR WAS FESTOONED with trophies and fetishes: wolfs’

teeth and claws, and a necklace of uncut gem-stones, polished pebbles carved with runes. If he were to go to war at last against his brother Astartes then he would do so in his full regalia. Let them witness the majesty and savage power of the Sons of Russ in their most feral aspect before they were torn asunder for their treachery.

The Wolf Guard was focused on the battle ahead, crushing all thoughts of his altercation with Cestus to the back of his mind for now. There would be time for a reckoning later. It was only a pity that the Ultramarine had eschewed the mission in favour of overall command aboard the
Wrathful
. Brynngar wanted to think him cowardly, but he had fought alongside the son of Guilliman many times and knew this not to be the case. It was probably a display of the XIII Legion’s much vaunted tactical acumen.

The Space Wolves’ aspect of attack was a narrow cordon riddled with junked carriers used for spare parts. It was more like an open warehouse with machine carcasses piled high and banded tightly together to prevent them toppling when stacked.

Servitors slaved to loaders hummed back and forth amongst the towers of rusted metal like bees harvesting a nest. If they cared about the Space Wolf captain and his Blood Claws, tooled up with broad-bladed axes and bolt pistols, and weaving crisscross fashion through their domain, they did not show it.

Brynngar knew that he would spill blood this day, and it would be the blood of his erstwhile brothers. This was no fight against
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mere heathen men, misguided in their beliefs, nor was it foul xenos breeds ever intent on corralling the human galaxy to their yoke. No, this was Astartes against Astartes. It was unprecedent-ed. Thinking of the devastation the Word Bearers had already wrought, the Space Wolf took a better grip of Felltooth and vowed to make the traitors pay for their transgressions.

‘THEY ARE MAKING their final approach towards the dock,’ said Kaminska poring over the hololithic tactical display in front of her command throne. Having been preparing the other Ultramarines for potential combat and distributing them around the ship accordingly, Cestus had returned to the bridge and joined the admiral at the tactical display table.

Hazy runes moved over a top-down green-rimed blueprint of Bakka Triumveron 14, indicating the progress of the three attack waves heading for the immense swathe of bulky red that represented the
Furious Abyss
. The ship’s magos, Agantese, had tapped into one of the satellite feeds of the orbital moon and was using it to re-route images to the
Wrathful
’s tactical network. It had a short delay, but was an otherwise excellent way to keep track of their forces on the ground. Even so, Cestus felt impotent, directing the action from the relative safety of real space where the cruiser lingered to stay out of radar and sensorium range.

‘Antiges, report,’ he barked into the ship’s vox, synced with his fellow Ultramarine’s boosted helmet array.

‘Assault protocol alpha proceeding as planned, captain,’ Antiges’s voice said after a few seconds delay. The reply was fraught with static. Even with the boosted array rigged by the
Wrathful
’s engineers, the gulf of real space between them impinged greatly.

‘We will be making our initial insertion onto the dock in T-minus three minutes.’

‘Well enough, Brother Antiges. Keep me appraised. If you meet any resistance, you have your orders,’ said Cestus.

‘I shall prosecute my duties with all the fury of the Legion, my lord.’

The vox cut out.

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Cestus sighed deeply. To think it had come to this. This was no foray into the jaws of alien overlords or the misguided worship-pers of the arcane, not this time. It was brother versus brother.

Cestus could barely bring himself to think on it. Fighting across the gulf of real space was one thing, but to be face-to-face with those who had betrayed the Emperor, those who had killed warriors they once called friend and comrade in cold blood, was indeed harrowing. It felt like an end of things, and the sense of it caught in the Ultramarine’s throat.

‘Admiral Kaminska,’ said Cestus after the momentary silence,

‘you have risked much in the pursuit of this mission. You have done, and continue to do, me great honour with your sterling service to our cause.’

Kaminska was clearly taken aback and failed to hide her shock from the Ultramarine completely.

‘I thank you, lord Astartes,’ she said, bowing slightly, ‘but if I am honest, I would have chosen to undertake this duty, although perhaps of my own volition,’ she added candidly.

Cestus’s gaze was mildly questioning.

‘I am the last of a dying breed,’ she confessed, her shoulders sagging and not from physical fatigue. ‘The Saturnine Fleet is to be decommissioned.’