Ultramarines Page 8

  ‘I still do not see how you can hope to achieve any meaningful objective,’ said Arka. ‘I am the first to laud the power of the Ultramarines, even when few in number, but the foe you face is of an order of magnitude higher than anything I would expect you to overcome.’

  ‘And that is why I need you to promise support, general,’ said Cassius. ‘As a soldier of the Imperial Guard, you swore oaths to serve the Emperor. As commander of this force, you pledged alliance with the Ultramarines.’

  ‘Have I given you reason to doubt my resolve now, Chaplain?’ said Arka, sounding hurt by the notion. ‘Have I not offered you support since the moment you arrived?’

  ‘I need more than support, general. I need your faith – your faith in the Emperor, your faith in the Ultramarines, and your faith in me as the embodiment of both. We cannot hope to puncture this horde and survive on our own, but if your forces attack in support of our advance, we shall destroy the source of this threat and survive to tell of it.’

  ‘You want me to abandon the defence of Plains Fall?’ There was a long pause. ‘You ask too much, Chaplain. You remind me of my oaths, but I must remind you that I also swore to protect the three million people sheltering behind my guns.’

  ‘They are dead if we do not act,’ Cassius told the general. ‘It is better to strike now while the Fidelis has the upper hand in orbit than allow the tyranids free rein on the surface. If I show you it can be done, will you attack?’

  ‘I will,’ said Arka, the words slightly catching in his throat even as he made the promise. ‘How will you do it?’

  ‘All tyranid swarms are controlled by a hive tyrant,’ Cassius said. ‘They are the focus for the psychic connection that drives the creatures onwards. The Mechanicus refer to them as synapses: nodes of intelligence alongside the warriors and other larger creatures that instil the need of the hive mind into lesser beasts. We will slay the hive tyrant controlling the swarm on Styxia. The tyranids will be in disarray, for a while at least. If the Ultramarines can kill the hive tyrant, will the Imperial Guard leave their positions and attack?’

  ‘If you can slay the hive tyrant, we will be ready to push the advantage,’ said Arka. ‘Are you positive there is no further assistance I can offer?’

  ‘Just be ready to attack, general. That is all I ask.’

  ‘Very well, Chaplain. The Emperor will guide you to victory.’

  ‘By His truth and the wisdom of the primarch, we will prevail,’ replied Cassius.

  Caught up in his discussion with Arka, Cassius had not noticed a group of five sergeants had gathered close at hand: Dacia, Heletis, Capilla, Xathian and Acheon. They were all looking at Cassius, and though their expressions were hidden by their helms there was something in their demeanour that irked the ancient Chaplain. Dacia stepped forwards.

  ‘Your plan is flawed, Brother-Chaplain,’ said the veteran sergeant. ‘The tyranid swarm covers tens of thousands of square kilometres. Even with scanning from the Fidelis, we will not be able to locate the hive tyrant before the main enemy attack reaches Plains Fall. We have less than forty-eight hours to find and destroy the hive tyrant.’

  ‘You have an alternative to suggest?’ snapped Cassius, looking at the cabal of sergeants. How long had they been whispering to each other, perhaps voicing words of doubt over his ability to command? It was now that the Chaplain understood what had irritated him about their demeanour. Their stance, the way they grouped together, spoke of defiance.

  ‘Brother-Chaplain, it is understandable that you wish to slay as many tyranids as possible, but your hatred of them clouds your judgement,’ said Capilla, slightly apologetically. ‘You are not thinking clearly.’

  Wisdom tempered instinct again. If Cassius issued a direct order, they would obey. It was not only their duty, it was an act ingrained into their psyche from the moment that had been brought to the Chapter as youths. If the Chaplain spoke the right words, his warriors obeyed without question, like machines whose logic circuit had been activated.

  Alternatively, Cassius could berate his subordinates for their craven behaviour. Their actions bordered on dissent, especially in the midst of a campaign. A verbal chastisement and threats of punitive action once they returned to the Chapter would be enough to bring the dissidents back into line.

  Yet Cassius did not want to lead automatons into battle, nor to exert authority for the sake of it. For centuries he had looked into the eyes of warriors who had known they would die and were glad for it. He had come to know the minds and spirits of the Ultramarines, as a whole and as individuals. Dacia and his companions did not speak against Cassius out of disobedience, nor were they cowards. Such was an impossibility for the warriors of Macragge. The concerns they expressed were genuine, and their doubts had cause. Such concerns needed to be allayed, not crushed.

  ‘It is an honour for us all to fight in such fine company as we have here,’ said the Chaplain, keeping the force-wide channel open so that all could hear his speech. ‘We shall be lauded as the warriors that saved Styxia. What we do in the next day will echo down the centuries, marked in the roll of honour for eternity. The people of Styxia will know the names of their saviours and they shall praise them for generations to come.

  ‘But that is not why we will sally forth against this foe today. It is not for praise or recognition that we plunge into the tyranids as a dagger seeking their heart. It is not for glory or even honour that we attack rather than retreat. It is something far more than strategic necessity that leads us to place our lives in the way of harm rather than seek sanctuary.

  ‘We will find the hive tyrant and we will slay it. We do this for the Emperor and the Chapter. We do this because we swore oaths to defend the worlds of the Emperor against all threats, xenos and human, from without and within. We will do this because we were created to be bright stars in the firmament of battle.

  ‘We will not show doubt, we will not hesitate. How do I know this? Because we are Ultramarines! For ten thousand years our ideals have been the bastion upon which the survival of mankind has been founded. We are the exemplars, the bright beacon of war to whom all turn in darkness! It is our privilege to destroy these foes for the Emperor, and in His name we will cleanse the unholy stain from His realm. Our hate for this foe, our righteous loathing that brought us to this place, will be our sword and our shield, cutting down our foes and protecting us from fear.

  ‘Do I hate this enemy? Yes! A thousand times, yes! I hate them with a passion that would scour worlds and extinguish stars. I hate them with a ferocity that breaches walls and topples towers. Yes, I hate the tyranids! I hate them because they slew millions who were under our protection. I hate them because they dared set their clawed alien feet on the sacred soil of Macragge, and defiled our home world with their spores and their beasts. I hate them because they killed my battle-brothers and brought Ultramar to its knees.

  ‘All of these are reasons enough to hate with a fire that melts adamantium and scorches the heavens. Yet I have one more reason to hate these creatures, one more cause to despise them with every fibre of my soul and every cell of my body. I hate them because they humbled us, the greatest Space Marine Chapter in the Imperium. We came so close to being destroyed – we, the light of the Eastern Fringe, the heroes of Ultramar, the sons of Roboute Guilliman, protectors of the Codex. We are the first amongst a thousand in the minds of a trillion men and women and our light guttered and almost died – on our own world!

  ‘We endured but there is a wound inside my soul that will not heal, and its pain is more bitter than any scar on my face and any puckered mark upon my body. It is an injury that cuts me to my core, virulent with the putrescence of failure that lights a fever in my heart. I hate the tyranids as water hates fire, and I would be the same and extinguish their presence with mine.

  ‘To hold on in a glorious last stand is as equally pointless as retreat. A Space Marine owes it to the Emperor and the Imperium
to give his life only at great cost to the enemy. To await one’s fate, to accept a death without meaning would be cowardice. I know the tyranids well and know how to hurt them. The Ultramarines will attack!

  ‘The task is daunting, but that is no reason not to attempt it. Remember this simple truth: Hatred finds a way. Where love for our brothers and Emperor might ultimately falter, hatred perseveres for eternity. It is the Emperor’s greatest gift to us and we have nurtured it in our hearts these long years of disgrace. Set aside your doubts and know that hatred will see us revenged upon this foe.’

  ‘Hail the Emperor!’ roared Dacia, slamming his fist to his chest in salute. ‘Praise the primarch! Honour the Chapter!’

  The cry and salute were echoed by the other Ultramarines. There was a growl to the sergeant’s voice as he stepped up close to Cassius. Dacia dropped to one knee. Behind him, the rest of the command followed suit, paying obeisance to their commander.

  ‘Show us the foe and we will slay them for you, brother. Forgive us the doubts of these past days.’

  ‘There will be no more doubt,’ Cassius said, laying a hand on Dacia’s bowed head, ‘only death.’

  Chapter VIII

  The Ultramarines mounted up, full squads in the Rhinos, five-man combat squads in the heavily-armed Razorbacks. They headed slightly north of west, away from the Minoran Gradient, directly towards the volcanic uplands where the tyranids had made planetstrike. Behind the Ultramarines, Cordus Via was lit by the flicker of bolt-rounds and the blinding blast of the Titans’ weapons as Ultramarines and Legio Fortitudis continued the pretence of defending the settlement, drawing the tyranids away from Cassius’s line of advance.

  Smothered by the dark, the engines of their transports growling, the Space Marines were kilometres away when Cassius received a final signal from Princeps Jasyn. The Titan commander’s tone was hushed.

  ‘No more defensive fire registering from Cordus Via, Chaplain. The last of your warriors have fallen. They took a heavy toll of their foes. We will honour their sacrifice.’

  ‘They will be remembered,’ replied the Chaplain. ‘Join the defence of Plains Fall, princeps. You have the gratitude of the Ultramarines.’

  ‘We will incinerate Cordus Via before we depart, to ensure the bodies of your dead are not defiled by these hideous creatures. We will re-arm and return. The Legio Fortitudis will lead the counter­attack when Arka commands it and we will be reunited soon enough, Chaplain Cassius. May the spirits of your weapons stay true and may the Omnissiah grant you his divine knowledge to destroy this enemy.’

  ‘Ave Imperator dominus,’ Cassius said before closing the link.

  He moved from the front of the Rhino to the main compartment, where Dacia and his squad were sat on the benches to either side; the seven surviving veterans were acting as honour guard to the Master of Sanctity. Cassius crossed to the rear door controls and lowered the ramp halfway. Above its rim could be seen the glow of Cordus Via burning on the horizon as Dominatus Rex turned its volcano cannons on the waystation. The depot ignited with a huge fireball that raced into the air, illuminating the gigantic war machines standing over the settlement.

  ‘We will avenge.’

  Cassius turned to find Dacia and his squad had stood up, kept steady by their power armour actuators as the Rhino bumped over the burnt earth. It was the sergeant who had spoken.

  ‘We will avenge,’ said Cassius.

  Dawn saw the Ultramarines more than two hundred kilometres from Cordus Via. Standing at one of the fore hatches of the Rhino, its mounted storm bolter tilted to one side, Cassius surveyed the ground ahead. The land rose steadily into a series of steep foothills, before rising higher still as the volcanic peaks thrust up from the fields and orchards. A dark smudge swathed the distance, which Cassius took to be ash from recent eruptions. The highlands constantly spewed new life to the surface, the influx of nutrients more than compensating for thousands of hectares of crops lost to flash fires and lava flows.

  Kilometre after kilometre of cereal fields stretched to either side of the column of vehicles, swaying in the ever-present winds. Not far ahead, less than a kilometre away, the grassy young stems were thrashing more violently. Beyond, in a swathe that was several kilo­metres wide, there was nothing but dark desolation stretching far into the distance.

  At the front of the convoy, Cassius’s Rhino was the first to come level with the tortured crops. From the vantage point of his cupola, by the light of the Rhino’s headlamps and the rising sun, the Chaplain could see a carpet of snakelike creatures with bulbous heads and pronounced mandibles chewing their way through the crop. Known colloquially as rippers, they were the primary means for the swarm to take on biomass; other tyranids had vicious jaws and fangs, but did not feed on flesh. Anything slain was left for the rippers to consume and return to the norn queens for reprocessing into new tyranid bio-constructs. The ripper swarm was like a conveyor belt, moving forwards, consuming and breaking down everything on the surface, while a steady stream of full rippers slithered back towards the mountains.

  ‘Our task has been set out for us,’ Cassius signalled his warriors. ‘We need only to follow the swarm back to its source and we will discover the location of the norn queen.’

  ‘The death of the creature will halt reinforcement, brother, but we promised Arka we would destroy the hive tyrant,’ replied Dacia.

  ‘I am confident, brother-sergeant, that if we threaten the norn queen, the hive tyrant will come to us.’

  ‘A good plan, Brother-Chaplain,’ said Dacia. ‘The beast will be lured to its doom.’

  ‘Squads Menaton, Heletis and Tyrius, use your flamers to set a blaze in the fields. We shall let the flames consume those beasts we cannot spare the time to destroy ourselves.’

  Even as Cassius spoke these words, the Rhino reached the leading edge of the approaching swarm. Rippers hissed up at him from the ground as the transport’s tracks crushed carapaces and fleshy bodies beneath plasteel treads. Those vehicles that were equipped with frontal blades lowered them, carving wounds through the near-continuous mass of creatures, until the hulls of the vehicles were encrusted with gore and chitin.

  Behind the Ultramarines, the flames grew, spreading to the north and south as the winds fanned the growing blaze. From track, blade and fire, thousands of rippers were slain, yet Cassius knew it was but a drop in the ocean of alien filth that still stained Styxia.

  It took two and a half hours to pass through the main part of the ripper host. The further the Ultramarines drove, the more desolate became the land they passed. They had not seen crops for a hundred kilometres, and seventy-five kilometres ago the half-eaten remains of grox and unfortunate farmers had disappeared also. Here, two hundred and fifty kilometres behind the leading rippers, the creatures were gnawing their way into the dirt itself, draining it of nutrients, viruses and bacteria, sucking every last vestige of life from the increasingly parched earth.

  It also became clear to Cassius that the darkness that engulfed the highlands was not caused by a cloud of ash. In the far distance, their bases beyond the horizon, large spore chimneys were spewing swathes of gloom into the sky. Dark streamers of spores lay like tattered cloth on the wind, stretching for hundreds of kilometres to the south and east. The microorganisms carried across the continent would work in conjunction with the rippers, breaking down all biomass to make it easier to consume by the approaching swarm.

  ‘Spore risk,’ Cassius warned the column. ‘Recheck ventilators and seals.’

  Individual spores presented little danger to a person, especially a Space Marine, but an unarmoured human caught in a cloud would be slowly eaten away, skin first, then fat, then flesh, then bone, turned to a mushy pool of constituent elements. To breathe them in was agonising, even for a Space Marine, and the spores had a nasty trait of settling inside airways to replicate, choking their unfortunate host to death.

  As at Cordus V
ia, the two Thunderhawks had been rotating combat air patrols around the column, ready to warn of any sizeable enemy force and engage distant targets if needed. On the ground, the spore cloud was still thin, but carried on volcanic updraughts into the upper atmosphere, the cloud was much, much thicker. The Thunderhawk pilots reported the filters on their engine intakes were becoming clogged with the tiny creatures, threatening their ability to fly. Rather than risk losing one of the craft, Cassius had to concede to the concerns of the crews and ordered the Thunderhawks to return to Fidelis to fit new filters and await further command.

  Onwards the Ultramarines pushed, into the heart of the wilderness, into the dead land left in the wake of the Great Devourer. Kilometre after kilometre passed by with monotonous regularity, the only features left being the mound of a hill or the empty buildings of a farmstead. All vegetation had been engulfed, the land stripped to rock.

  Night fell as the column passed one thousand and forty kilometres from Cordus Via. With no desire for comfort, their armour protecting them from bumps and bangs inside their vehicles, the Space Marines were able to advance at speed, their transport slowing only to negotiate some of the larger drainage ditches and irrigation trenches. The drivers turned off their lights, not wishing to attract attention now that they were approaching the heart of the tyranid drop-zone.

  Two hours after sunset, Cassius was studying the scanner reports from Fidelis. The ground ahead was uncertain; the strike cruiser’s scans had been affected by the volcanic ash and the growing spore cloud, which acted as a blanketing shield against some of the vessel’s sophisticated surveyors. The Ultramarines needed to head further north, where there seemed to be the largest concentration of organic matter. He could be wrong – it might be some forest hidden from the tyranids in an ancient caldera, but Cassius’s instinct told him that combined with the heat register that had been detected, he would find the norn queen amongst the spore funnels three hundred kilometres north.