Legends of the dark ange.., p.52
Legends Of The Dark Angels, page 52
‘There is another still to arrive,’ said Belial.
He left the balcony with a nod to the technicians behind the armoured glass of the launch control chamber. A set of steps led down to the flight deck, their stone worn down by generations of Space Marines. Belial told Charon to board the gunship and crossed to wait by the main doors leading to the hangar’s accessway.
The double doors rumbled open, hauled apart by two gigantic pistons. The decking shuddered as Revered Venerari stepped through, blocking out the light from the corridor. Swaying slightly from side to side, Venerari stomped into the flight bay, his armoured form towering over the company master.
The Dreadnought stood twice as tall as Belial and was as broad. Thick slabs of armour protected the central sarcophagus where the physical remains of Brother Venerari hung suspended in a tank of artificial amniotics. Connected to the massive suit, the Dark Angel walked and fought again, saved from death by the genius of the Apothecaries and Techmarines. Enclosed within his second body of ceramite, adamantium and hardened steel, Venerari was connected to his hydraulic limbs through a mind impulse unit that mirrored the nervous system of a normal Space Marine. The interred veteran sensed the world through augurs and scanners. So he had lived for the last eight hundred and seventeen years, following four hundred and six years as a battle-brother. Unless finally slain in battle, Venerari was to all intents immortal.
For a non-Astartes such a fate might have been terrifying, but for a Space Marine it was not only a great honour, it was an entirely natural extension to a life of battle: one that a Space Marine served enclosed in a suit of armour, connected to his vital systems through the miracle of his black carapace. A normal Space Marine saw and heard the world through his autosenses, and was just as much a machine as a man. The only difference between Belial and Venerari was that the captain could take off his armoured skin.
‘Greetings, brother,’ said Venerari, his voice grating from external speakers set into the ornately decorated sarcophagus; his vocal cords had been destroyed by the eldar power blade that had almost taken Venerari’s life. The artificial voice had no change in pitch or pace, but Belial could still sense the gravitas of the veteran’s words.
‘I thank you, brother, for joining us in this endeavour. Your might as well as your wisdom will surely bring us victory.’
Venerari lifted up a huge four-fingered hand and a shimmering blue aura surrounded it.
‘It will be good to fight the orks again, brother. It is I that must thank you for allowing me the opportunity for fresh glories. The enemy will not live to regret the day they dared the wrath of the Dark Angels.’
Servos and pneumatics hissing and clanking, the metal ringing under his clawed feet, Venerari strode across the deck and up the ramp of the Thunderhawk. Following behind, Belial raised a fist to Hephaestus in the gunship’s command deck and engines whined into life, the noise increasing as it reverberated from the walls of the flight bay.
Belial jogged into the Thunderhawk and slammed his palm into the control stud to bring up the ramp. The gunship shuddered as Hephaestus increased the power to the engines. Easing his way past the bulk of Venerari, Belial made his way to the cockpit and strapped himself into the harness beside Hephaestus. Through the canopy he saw the outer doors of the launch bay opening, vapour forming as the air within the flight deck streamed into vacuum.
The stars were blotted out by the dark silhouette of Piscina IV, the planet’s atmosphere glowing to the right with light from the system’s star. Day would not dawn over Kadillus for three hours. When it came, it would herald a day that would see bloodshed unmatched by anything the orks had yet witnessed.
The fury of the Dark Angels was about to be unleashed.
Colonel Grautz was waiting for Belial at the edge of Northport’s main apron. Landing lights blinked in the pre-dawn dark. As the company master stepped off the Thunderhawk’s ramp it closed behind him with a whine. Within a few seconds the craft was already lifting off again, heading for the defence line at Koth Ridge with its vital supplies: though Belial was set on victory in the East Barrens, he would not leave his back unguarded.
The Piscinan commander and his staff gazed in astonishment as Venerari stomped past, the Dreadnought’s metallic voice subdued as he talked to Charon who was walking beside him. Belial cut straight across the landing pad and strode up to Grautz.
‘Is everything ready, colonel?’
Grautz broke away from staring at the Dreadnought and focussed on Belial. The colonel was in his early fifties, most of his lined face hidden behind a thick salt-and-pepper beard, wisps of grey hair sticking out from beneath a high-peaked cap emblazoned with the Imperial aquila. Grautz held himself straight and was considered tall by normal standards, but his eyes were barely level with Belial’s collar. Those dark brown eyes looked up and saw a distorted view of the colonel in the lenses of the master’s helm.
‘Everything is as you ordered, Master Belial.’ Grautz was softly spoken but there was a stolid timbre to his voice. It was his world that had been attacked. ‘We launched an offensive through the east docks an hour ago. My troops are moving in behind a cordon of tanks while your warriors are withdrawing to the east gate. It looks like we’ve stirred up the orks and they’re preparing to retaliate. It’s going to be a long day.’
‘It will be a short day for some, colonel,’ said Belial. ‘Let us hope that it is not for too many.’
Grautz grunted and nodded.
‘We will keep the orks where you need them,’ he said. ‘Though we owe the Dark Angels much for what they have done to protect us, Piscina is not without its own men of valour.’
Belial looked into the colonel’s eyes and saw them glistening with pride. The captain had no doubt that Grautz would make his men fight to the last if necessary. After the disappointment at Barrak Gorge, Belial was pleased to see that there was someone else on Piscina who understood how important this war had become.
‘I have every confidence in your men and your ability to lead them, colonel,’ Belial said quietly. ‘The Dark Angels know that there is strength in Piscina, and not just on your neighbouring world. For six thousand years we have used your world; today the Dark Angels fulfil the oaths made and pay their part of the bargain.’
‘I have an armoured column standing by to follow you to the East Barrens,’ said Grautz. ‘If you need them.’
Belial shook his head.
‘The offer is appreciated, colonel, but not necessary. Your tanks are not fast enough to keep up with our advance. Keep them here in the city in case Ghazghkull makes an attempt to break out.’
‘You think that your attack will be so swift?’ The colonel made no attempt to hide his doubt. ‘There are still orks between Koth Ridge and the East Barrens.’
‘There are, colonel, but we do not intend to fight them all,’ replied Belial. ‘We are Space Marines: strike swift, hard and sure. Our force will cut through the ork army and descend upon the East Barrens like a bolt of the Emperor’s ire. Once we have taken the ork landing zone, we will defend it against all attack until the rest of the Chapter arrives. We will have time enough to destroy the orks at our leisure.’
Belial bent forwards and laid a hand on the colonel’s shoulder, his other wrapped around the hilt of his blade.
‘Today, my ally, you will see why the Astartes are called the sword of the Emperor.’
Exhaust vapours and the rumble of engines filled the air as the Space Marine column lined up on the Indola highway. The dark green livery of the Space Marines’ vehicles showed much wear and damage, but on each Rhino transport, Razorback armoured carrier and Predator tank, the Chapter serfs had laboured to repaint the Dark Angels insignia. The white winged sword gleamed freshly from a dozen hulls as dawn broke over the rocks of the East Barrens. A circling vapour trail through the orange-tinted clouds overhead marked the progress of the Thunderhawk.
In the lead Rhino, Belial left his seat and climbed up through the command cupola. He pulled himself up onto the upper hull of the transport and looked back at his company. Heat haze shimmered in the morning chill; grey smoke and billowing vapours hung like a fog about the armoured vehicles, lights carving nebulae in the fume, shadows softened by the strengthening light of the rising sun. The growl of engines brought to Belial’s mind the image of a hunting beast waiting to pounce, full of potential energy and terrible ferocity kept in check for the moment.
Hatches popped along the column as the vehicle crews and transported squads emerged to hear their commander’s address. Belial drew his power sword and held it aloft, blade glowing in the haze, shining from his polished armour.
‘This morning brings us to the day of glory we have been longing for,’ he declared. ‘For days we have laboured to keep back our wretched foes and have made them pay in blood for every patch of Kadillus that they seek to take from us. Now it is the turn of our filthy enemy to fight for survival.’
He swept his sword down to point eastwards.
‘It is to the new day that we attack, a fitting omen for the victory that will be ours. We will strike with the speed of a flashing blade and the strength of a crushing fist. No foe will stand before us and survive; no enemy will elude the ire of our weapons. Warriors of the Third Company, your brothers from the Chapter will learn of our actions today and they will be both proud and sad. Proud, that their battle-brothers fought with such honour and ferocity; sad, that they were not here to fight beside us and share in this great battle.’
Belial sheathed his sword and stalked to the rear of the Rhino, his boots ringing on the hull. His robe flapping in the strengthening morning wind, the captain stood with one hand on his sword hilt, the other resting on the holster of his bolt pistol.
‘We fight today with renewed purpose, brothers. Our mission is clear, our enemy known, our objective laid before us. We are the Lion’s sons of battle, raised for war and suckled on bloodshed. Today we fight not simply to fulfil our duty, but to punish those that seek to humble our honour. Today we avenge ourselves against those who have brought discord and anarchy to a world of the Emperor. Today we will give our foes the battle they seek, and teach them the folly of daring the wrath of the Astartes.
‘Above all else, remember the traditions of the Lion. We are the First. We are the Dark Angels!’
‘For the Lion!’ roared the answering cry from eighty throats.
Nodding with satisfaction, Belial returned to the hatch and lowered himself back into the Rhino. He sat in the command position and pulled on his harness, tightening the straps across his chest and waist. Activating the comm panel in front of him, Belial selected the channel set aside for the makeshift force he had tasked with remaining at Koth Ridge to bolster the Piscinan defence.
‘Brother Sarpedon, Brother Hebron, Squad Menelauis, Squad Dominus, Squad Annihilus and Squad Erinyes. Detach from column and move to your positions.’
Affirmatives echoed around the Rhino as the nominated Space Marines broke away from the company and moved out along the ridge to mingle with the Free Militia troopers staring with awe and anxiety at the Dark Angels force.
He turned in his seat and tapped the driver, Lephrael, on the shoulder. The Space Marine gunned the engine, the vehicle shaking with unleashed power. From external pick-ups Belial could hear the roaring response from the other vehicles along the road.
Belial switched channel.
‘Third Company, advance!’
The column rumbled down the ridge, following the Indola highway, picking up speed as they headed across the plains. Belial’s Rhino was at the front of the spearhead, and with him rode Charon and the battle-brothers of the master’s bodyguard, Apothecary Nestor amongst them. Behind followed two Predator tanks, twin lascannons in their turrets, heavy bolters mounted on armoured sponsons on each flank of their hulls. Following the heavily armoured Predators came more transports – two Razorbacks with heavy bolter gun turrets, each carrying a combat squad of five Dark Angels, and three more Rhinos with a full squad of ten Space Marines aboard each.
The Ravenwing squadrons – three land speeders and five bikes – surged ahead of the column on either side, following Sergeant Validus. Half a kilometre above, the Thunderhawk completed Belial’s force, Hephaestus, Venerari and an Assault squad on board.
Each was represented by a glowing rune on the tactical display to Belial’s right. It had been a difficult task to extract his warriors from the front line in Kadillus Harbour but they had managed the withdrawal without alerting the orks to what was happening. Two hours of hectic reorganisation had followed, with Belial reassigning the survivors of reduced squads to new sergeants, and promoting two of the battle-brothers to lead the ad-hoc combat squads being carried in the Razorbacks. Weapons and ammunition had been redistributed as needed, while the Apothecaries and Techmarines had worked their way through the force, treating wounds and repairing armour.
The 3rd Company had suffered, but they remained strong.
Belial was filled with a sense of freedom he had not felt since the orks had fallen upon Kadillus with thunderbolt surprise. The responsibility to protect Kadillus Harbour and the uncertainty of what the orks were up to had weighed heavily upon every decision he had made. All of that was forgotten as the Dark Angels raced down the road towards Indola. He had a force worthy of any commander, and an enemy to destroy. The sudden simplicity of everything was a thrill almost as great as the surge of excitement brought about by fighting a foe face-to-face.
Unseen inside his helmet, Belial smiled.
The Dark Angels swept down from Koth Ridge and were halfway to the Indola complex by mid-morning. The reports from the Thunderhawk and Ravenwing confirmed Belial’s expectation that there were no orks directly east of Koth Ridge: the company had an open route all the way to Indola.
The abandoned mine was almost certainly occupied by the orks. Only the day before as Validus’s squadron returned to Koth Ridge, the Ravenwing sergeant had detected significant enemy around the half-ruined installation.
Twenty kilometres from the mine head, Belial had to make a decision. The column could leave the highway and move cross-country through the East Barrens, ignoring the ork presence; or the Space Marines could follow the road to its terminus at Indola and clear the orks from the compound.
The first course of action would ensure the column reached the East Barrens intact and as speedily as possible. Belial weighed up whether any time lost in attacking Indola would be compensated by destroying an enemy that would otherwise be left behind his line of advance. With compelling strategic reasons for both attack and avoidance, Belial reverted to his instinct. It gnawed at him to leave an enemy with uncontested control of a position, and it seemed to the captain that he was simply leaving the orks at Indola for the rest of the Chapter to deal with. If nothing else, destroying them now would save the Dark Angels time later, when the orks might have scattered into the wilderness.
‘Master Belial to Brother Hephaestus. Conduct a recon fly-past of the Indola complex and report. Confirm.’
‘Confirm, brother-captain. Will commence fly-over in nine minutes. Stand by for report.’
The column sped onwards, tracks biting at the worn surface of the highway, dust trailing behind the armoured vehicles. The morning sky was cloudless and sunshine illuminated the plains as if to provide bright witness to the approaching battles.
‘This is Ravenwing-One. Wreckage on the road ahead, two kilometres east of your current position. No enemy detected. Will circle to provide perimeter watch until your arrival.’
The column slowed as it neared the site. Clambering into the command cupola, Belial increased the magnification of his autosenses. Less than a kilometre ahead he saw the tangled remains of two vehicles, one a battlewagon, the other a smaller half-track. From what he could see, they had crashed headlong into each other. The bodies of several orks hung limply from the wrecks.
It looked like a typically clumsy ork accident, but Belial had been tricked by the orks before and was not going to take any chances. He signalled his force.
‘Company halt. Caliban’s Wrath and Hammer of Judgement provide flank protection. Transports form up into double column.’
The two Predators slewed off the road and took up positions to either side of Belial’s Rhino, their weapons pointing to the north-east and south-east. Behind their guns, the Razorbacks and Rhinos drew up together, shortening the flank of the column.
‘This is Belial to Ravenwing-One. Confirm lack of enemy.’
‘This is Ravenwing-One. No enemy present. The only orks within a kilometre of here are rotting, brother.’
Given the unreliability of sensor reports on previous missions, Belial remained cautious.
‘Advance in formation. Gunners in position, direct weapons for circuit defence.’ He switched to the internal comm to speak to Lephrael. ‘Advance at twenty kilometres per hour. Divert power to cupola.’
‘Confirm, brother-captain.’
The Rhino slowly picked up speed, the other vehicles keeping pace with Belial’s lead. To the left and right, the Predators bumped across the uneven ground, turrets swivelling in arcs from the front to either side, gunners scanning for targets. The servos of the cupola beneath Belial whined into life. Taking holding of the storm bolter mounted on the cupola ring, Belial swung the weapon to each side to check it was moving freely. Behind him, other Space Marines were doing the same, rotating their weapons to cover the convoy in all directions.
As the column neared the wrecks, Belial could see the dust cloud of the Ravenwing bikes off to the left and the blurred black shapes of the land speeders to the right, circling around the crash. Had they detected anything, they would have reported immediately.
