Legends of the dark ange.., p.51
Legends Of The Dark Angels, page 51
He looked sharply at Charon, his heightened awareness drawn by a slight movement from the Librarian. Charon returned Belial’s focussed glare with a calm expression. The Librarian darted a glance at Belial’s armoured hands, which were clenched into fists atop the display slab.
Belial’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. He relaxed his hands, interlocking his fingers in front of him. He smiled at Charon and signalled his gratitude with the slightest dip of his head.
The Master of the 3rd Company looked at the chronometer. Two more minutes had passed.
‘Time on target, six minutes,’ reported Hephaestus. ‘Undergoing atmospheric braking and energy capture. Weapons test arming complete. Awaiting targeting data from the ground.’
Belial checked the holo-display. The Thunderhawk was levelling out of its steep descent and blazing towards the East Barrens at several times the speed of sound. Validus’s squadron had encountered scattered ork infantry but had swept through the patrols and were due to crest the ridge above the geothermal plant at any moment. He looked at the comms panel in anticipation.
‘Validus to Master Belial. Enemy casualties at sixteen, no friendly casualties. We will achieve unimpeded augur coverage and visual sighting of the enemy in ten seconds. Energy waveform matches that of the teleporter prior to your removal of the relay device, brother-captain. It is reasonable to assume that the enemy have restored their previous level of reinforcement.’
There was a crackle of static, most likely caused by an inter-squad communication.
‘Collate squad comms,’ Belial told the technicians. They fussed at their dials and switches for a few seconds before the voices of the Ravenwing pilots and gunners hissed over the speakers.
‘…earing due east, brother-sergeant. Three enemy light transports heading directly to our position.’
‘What of the air defences, brother?’ This was from Validus.
‘Negative at the moment. Medium-calibre weapons and… Wait! There is something behind the power plant. Moving south-east for a better view.’ The silence made the seconds creep past. ‘What is that?’
Another voice cut through.
‘Sergeant, have visual sighting on a vehicle-mounted rocket battery. Two of them, in that stand of trees eighteen hundred metres north-east.’
The first voice returned.
‘Brother-sergeant! Sizeable missile system located south-east of the geothermal station. Looks to be anti-air capable, but who can say for sure with ork technology?’
More hissing from overlapping comm-frequencies filled the room. Everyone, Space Marine and serf, was frozen in place, awaiting the next report. Hephaestus’s deep voice resounded around the chamber.
‘This is Hephaestus. Weapons armed. Target sighted. Final manoeuvring for attack run. Lock-on in fifty seconds.’
Belial checked the chronometer ag ain. It was twenty-eight seconds until Hephaestus could pull out of his attack run and avoid any defences at the East Barrens plant. He decided against signalling Validus for a decision – by the time the message reached the Ravenwing sergeant and was answered there would only be a few seconds to issue an order to the plunging Thunderhawk. He had to trust Validus’s judgement.
Nothing was said for three seconds and then Validus broke the quiet.
‘Ravenwing-One to Hephaestus. Angel’s fall! I repeat, angel’s fall! Enemy air defence too dense. Abort attack run.’
Belial could imagine the roar of retro-jets firing as the Techmarine hastily altered course. The glowing sigil in the hololith turned sharply as the gunship banked away from the power plant.
‘Hephaestus to Master Belial. Abort code received, abandoning attack run. Redirecting to Northport landing facility. Weapons deactivated. Awaiting further orders.’
A tense silence filled the operations chamber. It was broken by a broadcast from Validus.
‘Ravenwing-One to Master Belial. Enemy are responding to our presence in strength. What are your orders?’
Belial activated the comm in front of him.
‘Perform a recon sweep of enemy forces as best you can and withdraw. Take up preparatory position fifteen kilometres west of the East Barrens station and await further instruction. Confirm.’
The company master sighed and looked at Charon. The Librarian’s expression gave away nothing of his thoughts. Uriel was gently rapping the knuckles of his gloved hand against the edge of the display desk, a sign of frustration.
‘Ravenwing-One to Master Belial. Confirm orders. Withdrawing fifteen kilometres west. Avoiding contact with enemy.’
‘So that is the end of that,’ growled Uriel. ‘What do we do now? Validus has confirmed that the orks have been able to connect the Barrak Gorge power plant to their teleporter and reinforcements have resumed. It is only a matter of time before the orks feel they have enough strength to attack again.’
Belial said nothing. He bowed his head as he thought, avoiding the inquiring gazes of Uriel and Charon.
‘You have the Grand Master’s orders, brother.’ The Librarian’s words were quiet but insistent.
Still silent, Belial adjusted the display controls to widen the scope of the hololith, until it showed the huge area encompassing Kadillus Harbour, Koth Ridge, Barrak Gorge, Indola and the East Barrens station. He looked at it for some time, staring at the runes highlighting the last reported sightings and strength of the orks.
He sighed and rubbed his chin. Only now did he meet Charon’s purposeful gaze.
‘I am not yet ready to concede Piscina to the orks,’ said the company captain.
‘Then you will prepare for bombardment, brother,’ replied Charon.
‘Not yet.’ Belial shook his head and stood. ‘There is still one path we can explore. An aerial assault has been ruled out, but we are not without other weapons.’
Belial spread a hand across the Dark Angel figure emblazoned on his chest plastron.
‘Ever since the orks arrived we have been trying to keep the enemy at bay. No more. I see now what we should have done from the outset. We are Space Marines! We are the sharp tip of the Emperor’s spear; the cutting blade of the Emperor’s sword. We attack, surely and swiftly, and sweep all before us. Ghazghkull has made us a garrison, a defence force, and we have paid the price for allowing that. No more! We will do what we were trained to do; the purpose for which we were created. We attack!’
He pointed at the ork dispositions on the display, his gauntleted hand passing into the fuzzy hologram.
‘While our forces have been stretched thin, we should not over-estimate the strength of the enemy or the concentration of their force. They have been defeated at Koth Ridge and paid a heavy price for their assault. Though Boreas ultimately failed us at Barrak Gorge, the orks suffered there also. We cannot be disheartened by the setbacks we have endured, for the enemy have not had such success that they are guaranteed victory.
‘It took the orks several days to build up the army they needed to attack Koth Ridge. If we strike now while they are divided, while fresh forces are still arriving, we can capture the East Barrens geothermal station. I saw for myself the slow progress of their reinforcements. If we cannot shut down the teleporter in its entirety, we can establish a position of strength overlooking their arrival zone and destroy them as they arrive.’
‘From where will the forces of this attack come?’ asked Charon.
Belial paced.
‘We must take a risk. Fresh Piscina defence forces are arriving at Kadillus Harbour in the next few hours. We will give over our positions in the city to these soldiers and create a strike force.’
‘What you suggest will weaken the defence of Kadillus Harbour.’ As usual, Charon simply stated the facts with no hint of reproach or opinion.
‘We will trust to our allies to hold Ghazghkull in place,’ said Uriel. ‘If done under cover of darkness, there is no reason for the enemy to suspect that our lines have been reduced.’
‘Better than that, they will think them strengthened,’ said Belial. ‘I will contact the commander of the reinforcement column and instruct him to enter Kadillus Harbour with as much show of strength as possible. I cannot imagine that Ghazghkull has a clear picture of what is happening outside the city. The sight of newly arrived troops and a minor offensive will convince the enemy that they are isolated and that we are preparing for the final attack.’
‘It is a worthy plan, brother,’ said Uriel, growing more animated the more he thought about Belial’s course of action. ‘When we destroy the ork landing site, we will be free to return to Kadillus and purge the city of the filthy xenos, as we should have done from the outset.’
Belial directed a sharp look at the Master Chaplain.
‘You believe I was overly cautious in my earlier actions, brother?’
‘I do not judge your actions with the benefit of hindsight, brother,’ said Uriel.
‘It sounds as if you do,’ replied Belial. ‘If you had concerns that I was being somehow timid in my reaction to the ork attack, why did you not speak to me?’
‘You misunderstand me, brother,’ said Uriel. ‘You acted to contain the ork menace in Kadillus Harbour and committed the greater part of the company to that effort. You could have sacrificed the city for the short term so that we might avoid getting divided and embroiled in the desperate stalemate that ensued. It was a choice of priority; neither option was better or worse than the other.’
Clearing his throat, Charon stood up and held out his hands, palms facing his two companions.
‘The past is set, the future is not,’ said the Librarian. He concentrated his attention on Belial. ‘Do you consider this attack to be the best course of action, brother?’
Belial raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘You think that I have concocted this plan simply to avoid the alternative?’ The company master sighed. ‘I would avoid any cataclysmic solution to the situation by any means that present themselves, but this is not simply a fool’s errand. It is our duty to protect Piscina, whatever the cost.’
Annoyed by the suggestion, Belial stalked back and forth a few paces. His eyes fell on Uriel.
‘Brother-Chaplain,’ said the captain. ‘These are your orders. You will remain aboard the Unrelenting Fury and take command in my absence. I will lead the attack on the East Barrens plant. If the attack fails, you will order the Unrelenting Fury into low orbit to destroy the defence laser site in the city, and also Northport. You will then commence bombardment of the East Barrens facility to destroy the orks’ source of power. If this proves insufficient to halt ork reinforcements, you will do the same at Barrak Gorge and, if ultimately necessary, the power plant in Kadillus Harbour. When the Chapter arrives, the orks will be stranded on this world, no matter the cost. Ghazghkull and his filth will not escape again.’
Uriel’s brow creased in thought.
‘Is there not a high risk attached to orbital bombardment, brother-captain?’ said the Chaplain.
‘There is,’ replied Belial. ‘Confirm your orders.’
‘Confirm, brother-captain. I will assume command of the Unrelenting Fury and use orbital bombardment to halt all ork reinforcements to the planet.’
Belial rounded on Charon.
‘Do you have any other questions, brother?’
The Librarian pursed his lips as he thought.
‘No, brother. I will join you in the attack on the East Barrens, if you concur.’
‘Your presence will be a great boost to our forces, brother.’ Belial looked at the two of them. ‘We will be victorious, brothers. The Third Company will not be remembered with shame for letting the orks take one of the Emperor’s worlds from his domain.’
He nodded for the Librarian and Chaplain to leave.
‘I have many preparations to make, brothers. I will reconvene the council when I have done so.’
When they had left, Belial sat down in the command throne and took a deep breath. It was a gamble: the lives of his warriors for an uncertain chance of victory. He gazed at the digimap and knew that there was no option; the alternative would simply be a stain upon his honour too dark to bear.
Dismissing his sense of foreboding, Belial focussed the hololith on Kadillus Harbour and started to analyse the disposition of the Imperial forces, looking for areas he could pull out his Dark Angels.
Lumbering servitors with hydraulic lifting arms thudded across the hangar deck carrying boxes of supplies to the waiting Thunderhawk. Their blank eyes stared straight ahead as Hephaestus stood on the gunship’s ramp, directing the loading work with clipped commands in the language of the tech-priests. Slack-jawed, cables and pneumatics puncturing their flesh, the servitors trudged up the ramp to stow their loads while robe-clad serfs amended manifest slates.
Chapter staff from the armoury restocked the gunship’s weapons caches and lockers with extra bolters and chainswords, power axes and flamers, heavy bolters and lascannons. The fighting of the previous days had demanded all of the resources of the battle-barge, but Hephaestus and his attendants had stripped the hold bare of every bolt, power pack and weapon that could be found. Even the non-Astartes crew of the Unrelenting Fury had given up their store of lasguns and shotguns and flak armour so that the Free Militia in Kadillus Harbour could be re-equipped.
This was the last of four runs down to the planet that Hephaestus had organised. At Northport, armoury crews were assembling two forgotten Rhino transports that had been found by the Techmarine on a delve into the deepest storage bays. Some of the long-range comm dishes had been removed from the battle-barge’s on-board array to replace the primitive sets the Piscinan commanders had been using, while one of the ship’s plasma reactors had been re-routed for several hours recharging fuel cells for sensors and heavy weapons.
As he watched the activity from a balcony above the flight deck, Belial knew that this was his last push for a decisive victory. He was sure of his plan; the alternative was to continue to fight a desperate war of attrition with an enemy who could constantly replace their losses. Defeat was certain if he followed that path.
There was more than simply strategy to recommend the attack to Belial. If the 3rd Company was to fail here, it would not be whimpering and bleeding from a thousand cuts, but in the furnace of battle, taking the fight to the orks. Weaker men would have called it vainglory, but Belial knew better. His Space Marines would fight even harder knowing that they faced victory or death. All of the surviving eighty-two Astartes under his command would rather decide their fate with a daring assault than be forced to fight on beneath the ignominious cloud of inevitable defeat.
The clump of boots on the mesh floor of the balcony announced the arrival of Charon. The Librarian’s face was hidden in the shadow of his robe’s hood, but his eyes glittered with psychic energy. From a sling across Charon’s chest hung a long, double-handed blade; its pommel was a single crystal the size of a Space Marine’s fist, fashioned in the likeness of a skull.
Seeing that the loading of the Thunderhawk was almost complete, Belial checked his own wargear. He unhooked the displacer field generator from his belt and inspected the power supply display. Shaped like a knight’s shield embossed with the head of a lion, the displacer field contained a proximity detector and compact warp-shift engine. When activated by enemy attack, the device would snap Belial into the warp for a fraction of a second, depositing him back into the material universe unharmed, reappearing a few metres away from the threat. It was an arcane piece of equipment, and despite the constant attention of the Techmarines was temperamental and did not guarantee absolute protection.
A holster attached to Belial’s right thigh with magno-clamps held the company commander’s bolt pistol, loading with seeking ammunition Hephaestus had scavenged from surviving stores in the catacombs of the basilica in Kadillus Harbour. Three more magazines of the precious bolts were carried in pouches on Belial’s belt. On his left hip he carried a plasma pistol, with a spare canister of fuel for the weapon. On a strap hanging across his chest, the captain carried grenades: fragmentation grenades for clearing out enemy positions, krak grenades for breaking armour and anti-tank melta-bombs.
There was not a foe that Belial could not destroy with these weapons, but he had one more: an ornate power sword. Its hilt and pommel were made in the shape of a gilded dark angel with upraised arms, a miniature copy of the sword extending along the blade, outspread wings forming the crosspiece. Belial drew the weapon from its malachite-studded scabbard and pressed his thumb to the rune upon the angel’s chest. The sword thrummed into life, forks of energy crackling along veins of obsidian smelted into the adamantium blade.
It was not simply a weapon, it was a symbol of Belial’s authority and experience. Grand Master Azrael had gifted the sword to Belial, bestowing upon him the honour of bearing one of the few relics to survive from ancient – lost – Caliban. As he gazed into the white fire of the sword’s power field, Belial remembered the deeds that had earned him that honour.
That had been a fierce battle also; perhaps even harder than the challenge he now faced. His foes had been renegades, traitor Space Marines who had turned their backs on their duty to the Emperor and broken their oaths of loyalty. Their commander, once a company captain like Belial, had fallen to the Dark Angels master, and his army had been torn asunder by Belial’s warriors.
Belial could think of no better tribute to the sword than to plunge its blade into the heart of Ghazghkull. The promise of vengeance against the warlord who had brought Armageddon to its knees, despoiled Piscina and threatened Belial’s reputation sent a thrill of excitement through the Dark Angel. He would stare into the ork’s eyes as it died, just as he had stared into the eyes of Furion as the renegade’s life had leaked away through the ragged cut across his throat.
‘We are ready,’ said Charon, snapping Belial out of his reverie.
The master looked down into the flight bay and saw Hephaestus at the Thunderhawk’s controls. The serfs and servitors were clearing the launch deck. Red warning lights flashed and a low siren sounded as the inner doors of the flight deck opened with a hiss of escaping air. Air flowed into the exposed lock, sweeping up scraps of wire and tatters of cloth that had been littering the deck.
Belial’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. He relaxed his hands, interlocking his fingers in front of him. He smiled at Charon and signalled his gratitude with the slightest dip of his head.
The Master of the 3rd Company looked at the chronometer. Two more minutes had passed.
‘Time on target, six minutes,’ reported Hephaestus. ‘Undergoing atmospheric braking and energy capture. Weapons test arming complete. Awaiting targeting data from the ground.’
Belial checked the holo-display. The Thunderhawk was levelling out of its steep descent and blazing towards the East Barrens at several times the speed of sound. Validus’s squadron had encountered scattered ork infantry but had swept through the patrols and were due to crest the ridge above the geothermal plant at any moment. He looked at the comms panel in anticipation.
‘Validus to Master Belial. Enemy casualties at sixteen, no friendly casualties. We will achieve unimpeded augur coverage and visual sighting of the enemy in ten seconds. Energy waveform matches that of the teleporter prior to your removal of the relay device, brother-captain. It is reasonable to assume that the enemy have restored their previous level of reinforcement.’
There was a crackle of static, most likely caused by an inter-squad communication.
‘Collate squad comms,’ Belial told the technicians. They fussed at their dials and switches for a few seconds before the voices of the Ravenwing pilots and gunners hissed over the speakers.
‘…earing due east, brother-sergeant. Three enemy light transports heading directly to our position.’
‘What of the air defences, brother?’ This was from Validus.
‘Negative at the moment. Medium-calibre weapons and… Wait! There is something behind the power plant. Moving south-east for a better view.’ The silence made the seconds creep past. ‘What is that?’
Another voice cut through.
‘Sergeant, have visual sighting on a vehicle-mounted rocket battery. Two of them, in that stand of trees eighteen hundred metres north-east.’
The first voice returned.
‘Brother-sergeant! Sizeable missile system located south-east of the geothermal station. Looks to be anti-air capable, but who can say for sure with ork technology?’
More hissing from overlapping comm-frequencies filled the room. Everyone, Space Marine and serf, was frozen in place, awaiting the next report. Hephaestus’s deep voice resounded around the chamber.
‘This is Hephaestus. Weapons armed. Target sighted. Final manoeuvring for attack run. Lock-on in fifty seconds.’
Belial checked the chronometer ag ain. It was twenty-eight seconds until Hephaestus could pull out of his attack run and avoid any defences at the East Barrens plant. He decided against signalling Validus for a decision – by the time the message reached the Ravenwing sergeant and was answered there would only be a few seconds to issue an order to the plunging Thunderhawk. He had to trust Validus’s judgement.
Nothing was said for three seconds and then Validus broke the quiet.
‘Ravenwing-One to Hephaestus. Angel’s fall! I repeat, angel’s fall! Enemy air defence too dense. Abort attack run.’
Belial could imagine the roar of retro-jets firing as the Techmarine hastily altered course. The glowing sigil in the hololith turned sharply as the gunship banked away from the power plant.
‘Hephaestus to Master Belial. Abort code received, abandoning attack run. Redirecting to Northport landing facility. Weapons deactivated. Awaiting further orders.’
A tense silence filled the operations chamber. It was broken by a broadcast from Validus.
‘Ravenwing-One to Master Belial. Enemy are responding to our presence in strength. What are your orders?’
Belial activated the comm in front of him.
‘Perform a recon sweep of enemy forces as best you can and withdraw. Take up preparatory position fifteen kilometres west of the East Barrens station and await further instruction. Confirm.’
The company master sighed and looked at Charon. The Librarian’s expression gave away nothing of his thoughts. Uriel was gently rapping the knuckles of his gloved hand against the edge of the display desk, a sign of frustration.
‘Ravenwing-One to Master Belial. Confirm orders. Withdrawing fifteen kilometres west. Avoiding contact with enemy.’
‘So that is the end of that,’ growled Uriel. ‘What do we do now? Validus has confirmed that the orks have been able to connect the Barrak Gorge power plant to their teleporter and reinforcements have resumed. It is only a matter of time before the orks feel they have enough strength to attack again.’
Belial said nothing. He bowed his head as he thought, avoiding the inquiring gazes of Uriel and Charon.
‘You have the Grand Master’s orders, brother.’ The Librarian’s words were quiet but insistent.
Still silent, Belial adjusted the display controls to widen the scope of the hololith, until it showed the huge area encompassing Kadillus Harbour, Koth Ridge, Barrak Gorge, Indola and the East Barrens station. He looked at it for some time, staring at the runes highlighting the last reported sightings and strength of the orks.
He sighed and rubbed his chin. Only now did he meet Charon’s purposeful gaze.
‘I am not yet ready to concede Piscina to the orks,’ said the company captain.
‘Then you will prepare for bombardment, brother,’ replied Charon.
‘Not yet.’ Belial shook his head and stood. ‘There is still one path we can explore. An aerial assault has been ruled out, but we are not without other weapons.’
Belial spread a hand across the Dark Angel figure emblazoned on his chest plastron.
‘Ever since the orks arrived we have been trying to keep the enemy at bay. No more. I see now what we should have done from the outset. We are Space Marines! We are the sharp tip of the Emperor’s spear; the cutting blade of the Emperor’s sword. We attack, surely and swiftly, and sweep all before us. Ghazghkull has made us a garrison, a defence force, and we have paid the price for allowing that. No more! We will do what we were trained to do; the purpose for which we were created. We attack!’
He pointed at the ork dispositions on the display, his gauntleted hand passing into the fuzzy hologram.
‘While our forces have been stretched thin, we should not over-estimate the strength of the enemy or the concentration of their force. They have been defeated at Koth Ridge and paid a heavy price for their assault. Though Boreas ultimately failed us at Barrak Gorge, the orks suffered there also. We cannot be disheartened by the setbacks we have endured, for the enemy have not had such success that they are guaranteed victory.
‘It took the orks several days to build up the army they needed to attack Koth Ridge. If we strike now while they are divided, while fresh forces are still arriving, we can capture the East Barrens geothermal station. I saw for myself the slow progress of their reinforcements. If we cannot shut down the teleporter in its entirety, we can establish a position of strength overlooking their arrival zone and destroy them as they arrive.’
‘From where will the forces of this attack come?’ asked Charon.
Belial paced.
‘We must take a risk. Fresh Piscina defence forces are arriving at Kadillus Harbour in the next few hours. We will give over our positions in the city to these soldiers and create a strike force.’
‘What you suggest will weaken the defence of Kadillus Harbour.’ As usual, Charon simply stated the facts with no hint of reproach or opinion.
‘We will trust to our allies to hold Ghazghkull in place,’ said Uriel. ‘If done under cover of darkness, there is no reason for the enemy to suspect that our lines have been reduced.’
‘Better than that, they will think them strengthened,’ said Belial. ‘I will contact the commander of the reinforcement column and instruct him to enter Kadillus Harbour with as much show of strength as possible. I cannot imagine that Ghazghkull has a clear picture of what is happening outside the city. The sight of newly arrived troops and a minor offensive will convince the enemy that they are isolated and that we are preparing for the final attack.’
‘It is a worthy plan, brother,’ said Uriel, growing more animated the more he thought about Belial’s course of action. ‘When we destroy the ork landing site, we will be free to return to Kadillus and purge the city of the filthy xenos, as we should have done from the outset.’
Belial directed a sharp look at the Master Chaplain.
‘You believe I was overly cautious in my earlier actions, brother?’
‘I do not judge your actions with the benefit of hindsight, brother,’ said Uriel.
‘It sounds as if you do,’ replied Belial. ‘If you had concerns that I was being somehow timid in my reaction to the ork attack, why did you not speak to me?’
‘You misunderstand me, brother,’ said Uriel. ‘You acted to contain the ork menace in Kadillus Harbour and committed the greater part of the company to that effort. You could have sacrificed the city for the short term so that we might avoid getting divided and embroiled in the desperate stalemate that ensued. It was a choice of priority; neither option was better or worse than the other.’
Clearing his throat, Charon stood up and held out his hands, palms facing his two companions.
‘The past is set, the future is not,’ said the Librarian. He concentrated his attention on Belial. ‘Do you consider this attack to be the best course of action, brother?’
Belial raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘You think that I have concocted this plan simply to avoid the alternative?’ The company master sighed. ‘I would avoid any cataclysmic solution to the situation by any means that present themselves, but this is not simply a fool’s errand. It is our duty to protect Piscina, whatever the cost.’
Annoyed by the suggestion, Belial stalked back and forth a few paces. His eyes fell on Uriel.
‘Brother-Chaplain,’ said the captain. ‘These are your orders. You will remain aboard the Unrelenting Fury and take command in my absence. I will lead the attack on the East Barrens plant. If the attack fails, you will order the Unrelenting Fury into low orbit to destroy the defence laser site in the city, and also Northport. You will then commence bombardment of the East Barrens facility to destroy the orks’ source of power. If this proves insufficient to halt ork reinforcements, you will do the same at Barrak Gorge and, if ultimately necessary, the power plant in Kadillus Harbour. When the Chapter arrives, the orks will be stranded on this world, no matter the cost. Ghazghkull and his filth will not escape again.’
Uriel’s brow creased in thought.
‘Is there not a high risk attached to orbital bombardment, brother-captain?’ said the Chaplain.
‘There is,’ replied Belial. ‘Confirm your orders.’
‘Confirm, brother-captain. I will assume command of the Unrelenting Fury and use orbital bombardment to halt all ork reinforcements to the planet.’
Belial rounded on Charon.
‘Do you have any other questions, brother?’
The Librarian pursed his lips as he thought.
‘No, brother. I will join you in the attack on the East Barrens, if you concur.’
‘Your presence will be a great boost to our forces, brother.’ Belial looked at the two of them. ‘We will be victorious, brothers. The Third Company will not be remembered with shame for letting the orks take one of the Emperor’s worlds from his domain.’
He nodded for the Librarian and Chaplain to leave.
‘I have many preparations to make, brothers. I will reconvene the council when I have done so.’
When they had left, Belial sat down in the command throne and took a deep breath. It was a gamble: the lives of his warriors for an uncertain chance of victory. He gazed at the digimap and knew that there was no option; the alternative would simply be a stain upon his honour too dark to bear.
Dismissing his sense of foreboding, Belial focussed the hololith on Kadillus Harbour and started to analyse the disposition of the Imperial forces, looking for areas he could pull out his Dark Angels.
Lumbering servitors with hydraulic lifting arms thudded across the hangar deck carrying boxes of supplies to the waiting Thunderhawk. Their blank eyes stared straight ahead as Hephaestus stood on the gunship’s ramp, directing the loading work with clipped commands in the language of the tech-priests. Slack-jawed, cables and pneumatics puncturing their flesh, the servitors trudged up the ramp to stow their loads while robe-clad serfs amended manifest slates.
Chapter staff from the armoury restocked the gunship’s weapons caches and lockers with extra bolters and chainswords, power axes and flamers, heavy bolters and lascannons. The fighting of the previous days had demanded all of the resources of the battle-barge, but Hephaestus and his attendants had stripped the hold bare of every bolt, power pack and weapon that could be found. Even the non-Astartes crew of the Unrelenting Fury had given up their store of lasguns and shotguns and flak armour so that the Free Militia in Kadillus Harbour could be re-equipped.
This was the last of four runs down to the planet that Hephaestus had organised. At Northport, armoury crews were assembling two forgotten Rhino transports that had been found by the Techmarine on a delve into the deepest storage bays. Some of the long-range comm dishes had been removed from the battle-barge’s on-board array to replace the primitive sets the Piscinan commanders had been using, while one of the ship’s plasma reactors had been re-routed for several hours recharging fuel cells for sensors and heavy weapons.
As he watched the activity from a balcony above the flight deck, Belial knew that this was his last push for a decisive victory. He was sure of his plan; the alternative was to continue to fight a desperate war of attrition with an enemy who could constantly replace their losses. Defeat was certain if he followed that path.
There was more than simply strategy to recommend the attack to Belial. If the 3rd Company was to fail here, it would not be whimpering and bleeding from a thousand cuts, but in the furnace of battle, taking the fight to the orks. Weaker men would have called it vainglory, but Belial knew better. His Space Marines would fight even harder knowing that they faced victory or death. All of the surviving eighty-two Astartes under his command would rather decide their fate with a daring assault than be forced to fight on beneath the ignominious cloud of inevitable defeat.
The clump of boots on the mesh floor of the balcony announced the arrival of Charon. The Librarian’s face was hidden in the shadow of his robe’s hood, but his eyes glittered with psychic energy. From a sling across Charon’s chest hung a long, double-handed blade; its pommel was a single crystal the size of a Space Marine’s fist, fashioned in the likeness of a skull.
Seeing that the loading of the Thunderhawk was almost complete, Belial checked his own wargear. He unhooked the displacer field generator from his belt and inspected the power supply display. Shaped like a knight’s shield embossed with the head of a lion, the displacer field contained a proximity detector and compact warp-shift engine. When activated by enemy attack, the device would snap Belial into the warp for a fraction of a second, depositing him back into the material universe unharmed, reappearing a few metres away from the threat. It was an arcane piece of equipment, and despite the constant attention of the Techmarines was temperamental and did not guarantee absolute protection.
A holster attached to Belial’s right thigh with magno-clamps held the company commander’s bolt pistol, loading with seeking ammunition Hephaestus had scavenged from surviving stores in the catacombs of the basilica in Kadillus Harbour. Three more magazines of the precious bolts were carried in pouches on Belial’s belt. On his left hip he carried a plasma pistol, with a spare canister of fuel for the weapon. On a strap hanging across his chest, the captain carried grenades: fragmentation grenades for clearing out enemy positions, krak grenades for breaking armour and anti-tank melta-bombs.
There was not a foe that Belial could not destroy with these weapons, but he had one more: an ornate power sword. Its hilt and pommel were made in the shape of a gilded dark angel with upraised arms, a miniature copy of the sword extending along the blade, outspread wings forming the crosspiece. Belial drew the weapon from its malachite-studded scabbard and pressed his thumb to the rune upon the angel’s chest. The sword thrummed into life, forks of energy crackling along veins of obsidian smelted into the adamantium blade.
It was not simply a weapon, it was a symbol of Belial’s authority and experience. Grand Master Azrael had gifted the sword to Belial, bestowing upon him the honour of bearing one of the few relics to survive from ancient – lost – Caliban. As he gazed into the white fire of the sword’s power field, Belial remembered the deeds that had earned him that honour.
That had been a fierce battle also; perhaps even harder than the challenge he now faced. His foes had been renegades, traitor Space Marines who had turned their backs on their duty to the Emperor and broken their oaths of loyalty. Their commander, once a company captain like Belial, had fallen to the Dark Angels master, and his army had been torn asunder by Belial’s warriors.
Belial could think of no better tribute to the sword than to plunge its blade into the heart of Ghazghkull. The promise of vengeance against the warlord who had brought Armageddon to its knees, despoiled Piscina and threatened Belial’s reputation sent a thrill of excitement through the Dark Angel. He would stare into the ork’s eyes as it died, just as he had stared into the eyes of Furion as the renegade’s life had leaked away through the ragged cut across his throat.
‘We are ready,’ said Charon, snapping Belial out of his reverie.
The master looked down into the flight bay and saw Hephaestus at the Thunderhawk’s controls. The serfs and servitors were clearing the launch deck. Red warning lights flashed and a low siren sounded as the inner doors of the flight deck opened with a hiss of escaping air. Air flowed into the exposed lock, sweeping up scraps of wire and tatters of cloth that had been littering the deck.
