Devourer - Joe Parrino by Warhammer 40K

Author:Warhammer 40K [40K, Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782517566
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2014-11-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

A calm machine voice broadcast across the Golden Promise as violent tremors afflicted the venerable frigate. ‘Stand by to repel boarders,’ it stated, repeating every thirty seconds.

Red lights and alarm klaxons flashed across the bridge. Servitors mumbled damage reports and sparks showered from blown-out consoles, broken by feedback and sympathetic damage.

Jatiel’s warriors stood with weapons ready and girded their souls for imminent conflict.

The walls of the spaceship, hidden by paintings of grand Naval warfare, popped open on steam-driven hinges. Shotguns and low-beam lasweapons waited, shiny and wrapped in plastek. They had never been called upon before, still sitting pristine in their original packaging.

Non-essential crew were gearing up, grabbing reinforced armour and assorted weaponry. Ratings brought rifles to enthroned officers, who were engrossed in the battle that they still fought, in order to destroy as many of the tyranid boarding pods as they could before they could breach the Golden Promise’s hull.

‘Your gunnery crews have reaped a fearsome toll on the aliens,’ said Jatiel. ‘That is a worthy achievement. You have my compliments, shipmaster. We could not have asked for more.’

Korbel accepted the praise stoically. Her face was pale and etched with stress. ‘It has been an honour, sergeant,’ she said. Finality undercut every word.

Jatiel knew that the situation was dire. He could see it on every one of the screens within the bridge. The Golden Promise’s primary batteries were still culling the tyranids that reached for them, but the swarm was everywhere. Point defence guns, smaller turrets mounted on the hull, spat at approaching tyranid organisms.

His hearts pounded, pulse beating behind his eyes. It formed almost a migraine, a painful pressure that mounted and mounted. Four drums thrummed in time with the beats of his hearts. His mouth was dry and yet thick with acidic drool, the prospect of battle bringing the Red Thirst to the fore.

His warriors, all four, watched the oculus screens. Emudor spotted it first. ‘They will break through amidships,’ the Space Marine calmly announced over the inter-squad link.

The ship endured a manic bout of shaking. Gravity generators failed and the mortal crew locked themselves into their seats. Jatiel watched them shoot nervous glances towards the massive adamantine doors that guarded the bridge.

‘Shipmaster,’ Jatiel said. He cocked his bolter. ‘We will repel the xenos from this vessel.’ His words were not impassioned. They were delivered with a resigned tone. ‘Cassuen, you will guard the bridge.’

The young Blood Angel nodded his assent, the gesture nearly imperceptible.

‘Shipmaster Korbel, die well,’ Jatiel said.

The high tombs of Kehlrantyr’s ruling Dynasts displayed the forgotten glory of necron civilisation. The decay so evident throughout the rest of the tomb world was nowhere to be found here. It was pristine. Perfect.

Gold warred with obsidian and other precious substances. Rippling curtains of chained metal partitioned the great chambers, forming complex runes announcing the majesty of the sleeping occupants. Glorious sights, beautiful reminders of the technology and mastery her race possessed, but rendered mundane by their familiarity.

Necron constructs swarmed everywhere, filling the tomb in massive numbers.

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