Straken (Warhammer 40,000) by Toby Frost

Author:Toby Frost [Frost, Toby]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

13.

Greiss stood by the window as he sipped at his amasec, waiting for the warmth of the liquor to spread through him. A third of the window was taken up by the great blue sphere that was Purbech Alpha, a mass of roiling sea three times the size of Holy Terra. Construction yards and Naval bases hung in high orbit around the planet, much like the dock to which the Radix Malorum was now attached.

Down there, he thought, were the vehicles, the troops, that they needed – not just to retake Dulma’lin, but to avenge the ruining of Greiss’s army. Perhaps they would even find men alive on Dulma’lin. Greiss had spent the last few months trying not to hope.

How long could one docking sequence take? Scrollworked hands crawled around the face of the ancient clock mounted on the far wall. The porcelain face was yellowed and covered in fine cracks like veins. Everything looked old and broken to the general, himself included.

Four hours ago, the Radix Malorum had drawn alongside the Purbech orbital dock, and the docking clamps had boomed against the warship’s hull. Outside, the Adeptus Mechanicus were about their work, scanning the hull, performing rites and anointments, rituals of disembarkation. And to think that I am in charge of this army, Greiss thought, taking another sip. None of us is in charge of anything. Consider yourself in control, and there will always be something to trump you, some other factor to ruin your plans… We are all in the Emperor’s hands, he told himself. From the lowest common soldier lying in the infirmary, all the way up the chain. Let us hope He is feeling merciful.

He heard noises outside the room and flicked round. Nork’s voice was low and surly. ‘You go in then. But I’m watching you.’

The doors parted and the ship’s chief enginseer stood in the doorway. Magister Senex was human in shape, but the smooth grace to his movements spoke of heavy bionics. He slid into the room with a soft whine of hydraulics.

‘The rituals are complete. The airlock awaits you, general.’

‘About time, too. Have you any idea how long I’ve been waiting?’

Something huffed under Senex’s hood. ‘Air particles suggest some time, with considerable anxiety. I would advise against finishing your drink, general. For a man of your body mass, it could seriously impair your functionality.’

Greiss hadn’t much wanted to polish off a whole glass, but now he made a point of doing so. Before the alcohol could hit him he said, ‘The airlock, then.’

The walls grumbled with the racket filtering up from the ship’s workshops: even while docked, the tech-priests were labouring to repair the tanks and landers that had managed to escape the disaster on Dulma’lin. All the better for it, Greiss thought. The more armour of their own they could provide, the more likely that the army group’s request for support would be taken seriously. Without their own weaponry, they risked being treated like refugees.

Greiss, Senex and Nork Deddog squeezed into the lift.

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