“Macro Cannon, direct hit, port side! Decks 4-20 are being locked down!”
“Sir,
The Observer has taken several critical hits and is dead in space! Captain Memphis says that they will act as a rearguard and delay the traitors!”
The Astartes in the command throne stood up, his shining red armour through pools of blood against the walls as light reflected off the polished surface of the ceramite, the parchment white of his pauldrons stark in contrast with the dark ruby pigment of the main armour. The Marine stood fully armoured, helmet fixed to the next joint. On his right shoulder was an embossed image of a Skull, surrounded by a golden wreath. Every leaf and surface was polished in gold, shining like a beacon. His left shoulder was flat, simple paint, but the image was one that struck pride into the twin hearts of every marine who bore it. The symbol of a midnight black raven, wings outstretched in flight with a droplet of blood at its heart, stood proud and regal upon the left pauldrons of Gabriel Angelos, Captain and acting Chapter Master of the Blood Ravens, above the arm and hand which gripped the Grox-hide leather hilt of his mighty Daemon Hammer, God-Splitter, its silvered surface glowing with the power contained within, the striking face the styled I of the Inquisition. The most noble and respected man among the loyalist Blood Ravens cleared his throat and spoke.
“Bring them up on screen.“
Angelos hefted his hammer over his shoulderguard, despair flowing through him like a tide, burning his very soul. Captain Memphis led the 6th Company, a group of fierce and noble Astartes, and ones that embodied what a Blood Raven and Space Marine should strive to be. Their record as a company was inspirational and individuals within were great people, who deserved a hero’s death. Not struck down by the traitors who yesterday were their brothers.
The vid-monitor on the command dias flickered into life, the acrred and smiling face of Memphis set against explosions and fire as lance batteries and macro cannon’s ravaged the hull of the Observer, in itself as noble as any member of the Chapter.
“My lord, what seems to be the trouble?” asked Memphis. It was his way to make jokes, even in the face iof iminent death.
Angelos replied with a snarl that told everyone listening exactly the problem.
“Memphis, turn your ship around! You are not going to stall the enemy!” We can’t lose any more battle brothers today, that you know!”
“Aye, Chapter master,” came the grimacing reply. It was the words of a man who had accepted his end.. “That I know. But we have no choice. Our engines and warp drives are crippled beyond repair and we are only a burden to what remains of the fleet.”
“Memphis, you may be prepared to sell your life but you will not speak for the Astartes below you, nor the men and women who serve your vessel!”
Memphis looked at the pictscreen, and through that, his friend and Lord. And then Memphis spoke his final words.
“’Tis not I who speak for them, but rather, they speak for me”
And then the screen flicked off, dispite the raging protest of the Chapter Master, and with it the last image of the Captain of the 6th, and the Observer.
Angelos’ words fell silent as the screen went black, his ears fuctional but deaf as the casualty reports came flooding in.
The 6th, the 2nd, even his own company, the 3rd, have been lost. Destroyed. Their bodies obliterated or drifting in the darkness. Their own brothers, their murderers. Outside the walls of this bridge a furious battle raged between those loyal to the Emperor, under Angelos, and those who were loyal to the Dark Gods. 3 whole companies of Blood Ravens, in addition to the Honour Guard. It did not seem like many to face, but it was their fleet that posed the problem. Not only did the traitors possess the Fortress Monastery and Battlebarge of the Blood Ravens, the
Omnis Arcanum, but they also controlled
Scientia est Potentia, the chapter’s other barge. The combined firepower of those two vessels alone outmatched every ship under Angelos’ command, not to mention the 3 Strike Cruisers they had, as opposed to the 2 under the Loyalists. The
Ravenous Spirit and
Retribution, where he now resided
“...systems relating to warp drives are operational on all remaining ships and ready for immediate warp travel.”
Gabriel looked up, only just realising that the youth who served as his system processor was speaking. The Blood Raven shook his head. Now was not the time for sorrow, nor mourning. Should they escape that would be the time, and the Bell of Lost Souls would ring for 7 days, but now was the time of action.
“Helmsmen, port turn 103°, on my mark. Weapons commander!”#
A burly man at his station to the right spun his chair, the wires in his chest and neck tugging as they threatened to be ripped from the jacks.
“Aye sir! All weapons systems are operational bar the starboard side Lance battery on deck 7. Armed and ready for your command my lord!”
Angelos stood in front of his seat as he surveyed the room. If it were another, one might say the man in front was not one for speeches, but this was not another. This was not a silent killer like Scout Sergeant Cyrus, under whom many, if not all Blood Ravens had been shaped in one way or another, nor a babbling fool like Boreale. No, to hear the 3rd Captain speak was to hear fire that burned so bright it incinerated all doubt from ones mind.
All assembled turned to this crimson giant before them, save those who could not abandon their stations, but listen they did too.
“ Crew o the Retribution. Today the one who before, would have been the ones who served beside you as your ally, you friend, your brother, seek your death. They seek to obliterate you with every weapon at their disposal and take pleasure in doing so. It may not hit you hard, it may leave you empty and hollow inside. I can’t read minds.” A chuckle came from the crewman. It was a common joke from Blood ravens, for while many of them couldn’t read minds, the high number of psykers in the chapter meant that just as many could indeed. “But what I do know is that what you feel, and what myself and the other Astartes here and on the
Spirit are not the same. They shall never be the same. How could you? You as men of humanity could never understand what it is to be betrayed by those who are your brothers, in spirit, in battle and in mind.”
As the speech took a sombre tone, even the helmsmen glanced up from his station, normally devoted so acutely to his role sometimes he wouldn’t even leave the seat. Every person clung to the words of this god of war, complete with his sceptre of power and Hammer of the Sky.
“ But do not let that dissuade you from the truth. As of now, you are worthy of being my brother. In another life it may have been one of you up here, giving this speech while I prayed to the Emperor for salvation. Or it may be that we wouldn’t be on this ship at all. We could be on the Observer, or even the Omnis Arcanum, obliterating our brothers even as I speak.2
The room was at full tension, every word like a knife piercing the air. No one dared speak lest it com true.
Beneath his helmet, Angelos smiled, ready to deliver the words that word inspire his men to greatness. Even in the darkness of space, where ships died within seconds or lived for another millennia, courage was needed.
“But fear not, for that is not the case my brothers!”
And the trump card was played.
“You heard me correctly. Do not shake your head. From this point on you are more my brothers than the vile creatures we flee. Do not believe otherwise. From the moment you stepped on this ship you became a blood raven, in spirit if not in body! I consider you equal, or possibly even greater than some of those I once fought beside. You are not Astartes, you suffer from wounds that wouldn’t scratch my back, but you fight on. You fear for your lives yet you fight on. You face the most horrible creatures on the galaxy and the warp and you, fight, on!”
The words rang out as the breast of every human swelled with pride, their heats beating in time with the punctuating hammer blows of God-Splitter as it struck the arm of the command throne.
“You deserve as much reward as the Marines of this chapter! And should we survive then I’ll see to it you are entered into our records as heroes! But to do so we must defeat these creatures of deceit and betrayal, and strive through to victory, to avenge OUR battle brothers! Now onwards brothers! To victory!”
Angelos slumped into the dented throne as the men before him scrambled to live up to the praise lavished upon them. The Blood Raven took up his hammer, raising it in the air poised to strike. He turned his head to the window on the left, out of which he saw the Strike Cruiser of the 4th company
Rage of Erudition, one of those who had become renegades, the Eagle’s head on the bow staring him back. Angelos paused, waiting for the signal.
“Sir, the
Rage is moving into a counter attack position, we should fire now before they can bring their broadside to bear!”
“Not yet!”
The room once again fell silent to the marine’s words. To them it sounded as if he had just condemned them to their fate, despite his speech about victory and survival. The gunner ventured his request again.
“But sir no would be the perfect moment! We could take of several critical systems and reload before they could get a shot of!”
“No!”
Protests rang out like the chittering of animals around a kill, each squabbling to have their bit. A single, deafening strike of his hammer on the floor was all it took to silence them.
Angelos sat in the silence, waiting with baited breath. If his plan worked then the destruction of the
Rage would be certain. And if not…
The command bridge waited as the hip made its turn, agonisingly slow as if prolonging the act. However even still, within moments its guns were aimed straight for the Loyalist Cruiser. It weapons were fully operational and capable of destroying Angelos’ vessel in a single salvo.
“The enemy is charging weapons systems!”
Yet still they waited. And yet again as the first volleys impacted upon the shield of the ship.
“My Lord, please!”
Anglos paused one moment, making sure his plan was happening.
“Fire.”
One thousand streaks of light speared from the
Retribution’s lance weapons towards the renegade’s. At the moment they were about to breach the hull, they vanished in a flash as the void shields absorbed them.
“Now, fire Macro cannons on the enemy bridge!”
This time when the shots truck, yet against did the enormous rounds hatter in flash of light. However at that point the enemy shields gave out, collapsing enough to allow a hypervelocity round to smash through the hull and bridge, undoubtedly slaying all within.
“Sir, weapons are still powering up on the
Rage, its still active!”
“How long until lances are back online?“£
“ 32 seconds!”
Ample time.
Another volley lashed the void shields of the loyalist ship, breaking through after and handful. Fire blossomed on the hull, before being sucked away into the vacuum long with many men and Marines. The bridge shook as the attacks struck home, causing people to fly around and Angelos to grasp his throne for support.
“Damage control to the affected areas! Have medical standing by!”
“Aye sir!”
“Lance batteries operational, on your mark sir!”
“Mark!”
Once again the shots lanced out like beams of star matter, scything into the hull of the other, however the angle meant most of the damage was contained and superficial.
“Enemy weapons ready fire!”
“Void shields aren’t responding!”
“We’re doomed!”
At that moment, when it seemed the
Rage of Erudition was to destroy the
Retribution, a saviour appear. Beams of light shot out from the batteries of the
Ravenous Spirit, sistership of the
Retribution, hundreds of lasers striking the engines of the renegade cruiser, ripping through the length of the ship as the raking fire struck t rear systems. Cries of joy went up as they weapons of the Retribution sprung to life, the crossfire causing a chain reaction that tore the
Rage apart.
The victory was short lived as the
Spirit immediately exploded. Angelos sprung from his chair, demanding explanations. And then he found it.
Omnis Arcanum. Misshapen and unrecognisable as the heart of their chapter. Pillars of impossible design swept up from the Fortress-Monastery, made from warpflesh, covered with grotesque staring eyes and spikes. On the bow a massive warp cannon stood ready, energy billowing out from its recent shot, the sheer power overpower the
Spirit’s shields in seconds and demolishing the ship itself with equal ease.
Angelos stared in horror at this monstrosity, the home of his Chapter, in utter disbelief.
“Helmsmen, get us out of here! Activate the warp drivs! We won’t be here if that thing firs again!”
“Aye Captain, destination?”
Gabriel Angelos turned, considering his options. Anywhere they went they would be probably be destroyed for heresy, word of the chapter’s betrayal having already spread to other systems. Not that he blamed anyone for destroying a possible group of renegades. He would do the same. But right now they needed haven, somewhere safe where no one would seek their deaths while they recover.
There was one place.
“Set a course for Sector Solar.”
