Nocturne by Nick Kyme

Author:Nick Kyme
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-07-23T16:00:00+00:00

II

Stormriders

The tremors below decks subsided and Praetor whispered a prayer to the Emperor.

The launch bay was a vast space, but little more than bare metal with a strongly buttressed ceiling. A massive teleportation pad was well shielded towards the centre of the chamber where the Firedrakes had been received from Prometheus. It was dark too, lit solely by emergency lighting that ran in arcing lume strips halfway up the onyx-black interior. Both flanking walls were punctuated with circular docking hatches. Beyond each hermetically sealed, interleaved gate was a boarding torpedo. Thirty-two torpedoes were engaged for launch, each with a nose-mounted vulcan-drill capable of penetrating starship armour. The embarkation zone in front of each access hatch was delineated by warning chevrons. Currently, they were all occupied.

Praetor and a Terminator command squad were mag-locked in one; Halknarr and his Firedrakes in another. All told there were twenty five-man units ready to breach and board. Most carried storm shields, thunder hammers and melta weapons. Vo’kar had his heavy flamer. A warrior in Halknarr’s squad called Un’gar hoisted an assault cannon to bear. The deployment of even a solitary squad of the First represented a serious threat; to engage its entire complement for a single action smacked of overkill, but then their mission was one of necessity, survival for their Chapter its price. Overkill was what was needed.

‘Trust in Lord Dac’tyr,’ said He’stan. He had joined Praetor’s squad and since translation into the Flamewrought had waited silently at the veteran sergeant’s side.

‘It is not my brother-captain that concerns me,’ Praetor admitted. ‘It is the vagaries of fate and the capricious nature of the void. I have fought in void-wars before and they have a habit of seldom running to plan.’

The comm-feed in Praetor’s battle-helm crackled.

‘At least we are still in one piece, a sign that Vulkan is with us if ever there was one.’

In the next embarkation zone, Halknarr held his chainfist aloft. A flash of fire lit the retinal lenses of his drake-helm.

Praetor replied. ‘Why is it on campaign you are an obstinate, cantankerous bastard until faced with the prospect of imminent death, brother?’

‘I blame the years of my veterancy.’ He tapped the stilled teeth-blades of his chainfist to his forehead.

These are worthy warriors, all, thought Praetor. Let me honour them; let us honour Vulkan and the Chapter this day of days.

He looked up at the ready lights above the portal. One icon was lit green indicating that the boarding torpedoes were primed for launch. Two more were still dark.

‘Give the signal,’ he urged beneath his breath. ‘Unleash us into the fires of battle…’

A second light joined the first and Praetor declared down the company-wide channel, ‘All Firedrakes into boarding positions, mag-locked and harnessed immediately.’

The access hatches opened in quick succession. With a hiss of released pressure, the metal leaves retracted like an expanding iris that led into the darkened interior of the boarding pod.

Techmarines and their servitor crews wheeled the sentry weapons into the ten decoy tubes. The last two were occupied by Ashamon and Amadeus, hulking Dreadnoughts and warriors-eternal.

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