Into the Maelstrom by Marc Gascoigne & Andy Jones

Author:Marc Gascoigne & Andy Jones [Gascoigne, Marc & Jones, Andy]
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi, Warhammer 40K, Collection
Published: 2010-05-27T22:00:00+00:00

Captain Kaurl coughed gently to attract the admiral's attention. The senior officer pulled his gaze from the monitoring station and turned round, one eyebrow raised in question.

'We are in position to initiate the second attack wave, Lord Veniston.'

The admiral rubbed one haggard cheek with his hand, gazing at nothing in particular.

'Sir? Shall we proceed?' Kauri pressed.

Veniston's eyes were flints. Very well, Jacob. Launch Devil Squadron. Proceed with the attack on the engines themselves.'

With the debris of the Rock scattering slowly in their wake, the Marauders headed onwards towards the hulk. Pressing a series of runes above his head, Jaeger turned on a small viewscreen just above the front canopy, and a flickering, fractured image of the view behind the bomber crackled into existence. The flight commander watched as the Divine Justice moved in towards the hulk, its awesome plasma drives pushing it forward on great trails of fire. The two surviving frigates formed up in front of the cruiser, ready to defend their capital ship against the few remaining ork attack ships.

Jaeger could picture the commotion on board the massive warships, as gun and torpedo crews scurried to and fro, readying their weapons for action. He imagined the gun decks bathed red in combat lighting, the gunners sweating and cursing as they heaved power cells into place or loaded shells the size of his bomber into the breaches. In the torpedo bays, hundreds of men would be bending their backs to the chains, hauling the massive projectiles, ten times the size of a Marauder, along the loading rails. In the engine room, the men would be sweating heavily, the heat of the thirty plasma reactors permeating even through their thermal shielding and the crew's protective suits. He didn't envy them their task: hard work in very cramped conditions for little recognition or reward. Moreover, pilots were all volunteers, while many of the thousands of men who laboured in the depths of the fighting ships were criminals serving their penance to the Emperor, or simply unfortunate men taken unawares by the press gangs. And yet, he thought, everyone serves the Emperor, each in their own way. They will receive their due honours in time, whether in this life or not.

Something caught Jaeger's attention from the corner of his eye, but before he had a chance to look properly, Arafa was screaming in his ear.

++Incoming! Ork fighter-bombers, moving in on an intercept vector, closing fast. Where's our damned fighter screen?++

Jaeger was transmitting even before Arafa had finished.

'Storm Leader, Arrow Leader!' he rasped, throat dry with sudden fear. 'This is Raptor Leader, we need cover and fast! We have...' Jaeger checked the display in front of him '...eight fighter-bombers incoming!'

++Okay, Jaeger.++ the fighter commander came through immediately. ++We're on our way. Arrow Leader out.++

'Everyone, keep sharp!' Jaeger ordered over the squadron comm-link. 'Gunners mark your targets, watch for the crossfire. Tight formation. Don't let them get in amongst us. Drake, you're uppermost; cover the blindsides.'

Jaeger forced himself to calm down, loosening his white-kuckled grip on the control column.

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