Space Marine 00 - Space Marine by Warhammer

Author:Warhammer [Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

62

The Titan was turning back, its missile swivelling.

A neighbouring Warlord was turning too…

The great splayed fairings of their target’s legs were painted with ochre volcanoes spraying hot

scarlet lava like blood from an artery. It sought to steady itself amidst plasma and shell-blast…

…and the missile erupted. More than one of the void screens had at last been overloaded. Just

before the missile could be launched Akbar’s laser had tickled it to detonate.

Lexandro’s eyes ached as energy whirlpooled. A local region of space itself seemed to writhe in

superheated paroxysm, tearing the Titan apart into a maelstrom of spinning vapour.

The nearby Titan lurched askew, its banner on fire, the multi-melta of its right arm warped and

sputtering. Its left arm aimed a lascannon at the Emperor’s carapace. Lexandro’s vision blurred

momentarily as their void screens fluoresced, soaking up incoming lances of light.

Yet another Titan was turning to confront the enemy at their backs.

And a third.

A fourth hesitated.

Obviously they must destroy this threat which was so much more puissant than that posed by the

Land Raiders.

However, those assault tanks were now concentrating lascannon fire on the other Titans, raking

upwards as high as they could—at fairings, legs, and belly—so that those Titans marched through a

dancing aurora of writhing spider-lightning.

One Titan’s lower shield flared and failed.

Land Raiders closest to the exposed Warlord redoubled their efforts, scalpelling away at its right

knee-joint just above the fairing.

The offended Titan lumbered forward and stamped upon one Raider, crushing it underfoot. It

gushed plasma at a small knot of Marines who were storming a trench crowded with troopers.

Suited bodies were thrown head over heel.

Yet then the Titan began to lurch arthritically; its right leg had locked up…

Its Princeps still tried to walk it, thrusting the rigid leg out—in vain. The Warlord toppled

backwards—slowly at first, then avalanching down on to the vitrodur surface. Marines raced at

power-speed to empty their boltguns into its heavy weapons, now laid low, so as to pierce casings

and blast actuators lest the Moderati recover from the stun and injuries of the fall…

Even before Juron ordered the targeting of the Titan that had been touched by the vortex

implosion, Lexandro wrenched his attention back to the immediate peril. He pumped cannon shells

at the lascannon on that Titan’s carapace—while searing light pulsed from it towards theirs.

From other quarters too. Those other Titans which had turned were hurling shells and plasma

and bolts of heat.

Exhilaration pulsed through Lexandro’s being.

“Though you fly through the ultimate fire”— he seemed to hear…

Yes, he was almost flying—so high above the ground was he. Explosions and convulsions of

heat clawed at the energy shields—an unending succession of ravenous monsters springing into

existence just outside, only to die because they could not feed yet, yet being born again instantly.

Lexandro wasn’t going to die in this battle. Not die, but be transfigured. Soon his shield must

fail. Soon those eruptive, blinding spasms of violence outside must reach in to snatch him, to tear

him apart, and vaporise his fabric. His flesh would become boiling plasma.

Yet his spirit, united with Dorn’s in that exquisite agonising pang, in that orgasmus of death,

would transmigrate into a being of boiling ionised gas.

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