Ancra Mortis: Chapter 1

994.M41

In deep space the stars do not twinkle, they blaze fiercely and unwaveringly unencumbered by clouds or wind, they blaze eternally upon all equally and today they shone upon a lonely moon. This moon was not beautiful like the magnificent desolation of Luna nor was it wrapped in a thick blanket of atmosphere such as Titan boasted. This moon was an ugly lump in the void, with a thin poisonous atmosphere that was not quite thick enough to support aircraft, it was neither one thing or another but it produced gravity and that was enough.

In orbit around the dark side of the moon was an ogre, the word ship did not quite do it justice for it was massive, a veritable city torn from the dirt and set to float among the stars. Its spine was festooned with towers, cathedrals, sensor arrays and missile tubes while its bow was a cavernous Thunderhawk bay. Meanwhile its flanks were plated with gigantic slabs of armour pocked with enormous weapon barrels that could only be supported by a Battle-Barge of the Adeptus Astartes. The vessel was running quietly in low orbit but illuminated upon its bow was the spiral inside a starburst that was the icon of the Storm Heralds Space Marines and the engraved name Light of Terra.

Standing upon the Battle-Barge's bridge was a space marine, he was a decorated officer with chains of rank upon his breast, a long red cloak and an Iron halo shaped like a double-headed eagle. His face was scarred and one eye had been replaced with an augmetic that shone a fierce red while at his hip hung a legendary relic blade: The Sword of Thiel. His name was Toran and he was a Captain of the Storm Heralds. Toran was stood upon the command dais and looked over the long cathedral-like interior of the bridge, watching the crew of mortal serfs working over consoles and servitors mindlessly chattering away to themselves. It was a sight of productive industry, a testament to discipline and excellent training, it should have made any man proud but Toran was unsettled.

He sighed and turned around to see five Space Marines of his command squad standing behind him with helms off as they waited for his orders, he looked them over and noted their scars and honours then said, "How long has it been?"

Brother Persion stood in armour with expanded comms- gear and said, "We've been sitting here for three days."

Brother Novak was bedecked in the laurels of a Company Champion and declared, "Three days sat waiting for the Imperial Navy to show up, that is a monumental waste of the Emperor's time!"

Brother Bylan's throat was a mass of augmetics and his voice wheezed as he droned, "+Three days is not unusual when one considers the effect Warp travel has on time itself, they may only be delayed+"

Brother Jediah had a predatory glint in his eye as he spat, "We don't need their sort, I say we attack without them, its only Orks after all."

He was rebuked by the looming form of Brother Furion in his brutal Mark III armour, "Do not underestimate the Greenskins, they have invaded Glaeba in significant numbers and we will need a full Imperial task force to meet this threat. We may be facing a full Waaagh, we need all our strength to meet it."

Novak shook his head and said, "Glaeba again, what is it with this world, we always seem to be coming back here."

Persion grimaced and said, "We are too close to the Serrati Stellas, the worst knot of gravitic anomalies and Warp squalls for a thousand light years in any direction. That place produces pirates and Orks like a corpse spawns maggots. No matter how many patrols we make they just keep breeding faster than we can shoot them."

Novak protested, "This is a colossal distraction, we should be fighting Tyranids with the rest of the Chapter, not putting down Greenskins!"

Furion admonished him by saying, "We fight the Emperor's wars where ordered, if we ignore this threat then the Orks will rampage over a dozen worlds while Imperial defences are distracted."

Toran agreed, "We will join with the Imperial Navy and drive these Orks out, remember we have the whole of Fourth Company on board, they will make short work of this invasion."

"Speaking of which…" stated Persion looking over Toran's shoulder.

The Captain turned about and saw three more Astartes striding towards him, all looking determined and proud. The first was Captain Jossat of Fourth Company, he was an aggressive and heavily scarred warrior who was filled with a vital energy and drive that made it seem like he always wanted to be charging into war. Toran had fought with him before and found him mindless and rash but that was before he had been made a Captain himself. Now he the grasped the need for a leader to be driven and ambitious, to make his men thirst for victory. It would have been an admirable trait but sadly Jossat was also a firm believer in the Emperor's divinity and that the Storm Heralds should stand alone, he had objected most strongly to being sent to fight alongside other Imperial forces.

The second Marine was Chaplain Wrethan whose armour was half battle-plate and half medical exoskeleton; he had been grievously wounded little less than a year before and still had not fully recovered. It spoke volumes about the extent of his wounds that he, a Space Marine, had not recovered yet but given that the sawbones had proclaimed that he would never walk again he was making remarkable progress. The last Marine was Apothecary Memnos, who served as the medicae of Toran's Demi-Company, he was also here to make sure Wrethan didn't try to charge into combat.

The three of them approached the command Dais and strode up the steps as Jossat made the sign of the Aquilla and said, "Captain Toran, anything to report?"

Toran saluted back and said to the senior officer, "Nothing to report, there is no sign of the Navy yet."

"Damn them" growled Wrethan, "We should be fighting Tyranids right now, not waiting for lollygaggers!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Toran saw Novak opening his mouth to speak but Furion swiftly kicked his greave with the side of an armoured heel and the Champion shut it again hurriedly. Toran stated, "We have three Gladiator frigates from Luctator Squadron sweeping the perimeter, they will alert us the second they detect anything."

Jossat stated, "Good, the sooner we eradicate these Orks and get back to the Tyranid front the better."

Toran caught the implication and said, "Is it as bad as we hear?"

Jossat's face fell and his brave façade dropped for a moment as he said, "Worse… every day brings a new defeat and the few victories we can claim come at too high a price, the Tyranids are advancing and we cannot stop them."

Memnos spoke up to say, "The casualty reports are staggering, the Chapter is being bled white and with our Fortress-Monastery in ruins, we cannot replace our losses fast enough."

Wrethan said, "Which is why it is vital we burn out this Greenskin infestation fast and get back to the real war, even if it means working with the Navy." That statement held the ring of uncomfortable truth for many Storm Heralds wanted to break free from Terra's rule, but as the forty-first Millennium drew to a close enemies surrounded mankind on all sides. The defenders of humanity were beset as never before and their only chance to survive was to work together, no matter how much they disliked it.

Jossat said "The situation is uncomfortable but it is what it is, when the Navy arrives will leave the cover of this moon and advance on Glaeba in force. First we break the Greenskin's blockade in orbit and then we sweep the planet clean. The fourth company will be the tip of the spear, Captain Toran you will remain in command the Light of Terra and provide orbital support." Toran heard his command squad draw in breaths at the thought of being left to guard the Battle-Barge but before they could speak he declared, "We will do whatever is required, my Sergeants, Priyar, Zeax, Mylos and Lorath stand ready with their squads to ensure our orbital supremacy."

"Excellent" declared Jossat "As the Holy Codex says, Always Seek Ye Secure The Highest Ground, There Is No Higher Ground Than High Orbit."

Toran was about to inquire about the planned ground campaign but their conversation was interrupted as a serf raised an alert from the sensorium, Toran waved Persion to check it out and the communication specialist hurried over. He bent over the consoles and declared, "Luctator squadron have picked up energy signatures, a large mass of signals is headed our way!"

Captain Jossat asked, "Is it the Navy?"

"Stand by," Persion said as he peered at the readouts then after a moment declared, "We have detected Imperial recognition codes, running authentication checks now… We have confirmation, it is the Navy."

"Finally" growled Chaplain Wrethan, "Do we know what they have sent us?"

Persion said, "Logic Engines are searching for identifications now… we have a score of troop transports, three cruisers and escorts. Machine Spirits have identified them as Triton Squadron consisting of three Firestorm class frigates. One Dauntless class, the Spetsai and one Defiant class light carrier, the Lemnos."

Jossat barked, "Hah, not very subtle of them."

Toran frowned and looked him saying, "I don't follow."

Wrethan said, "All those ships are armed with lances, not the weapons you send to fight Orks but perfect for cutting apart Astartes' ship hulls… they are here for us."

Toran was shocked to hear that and said, "You think they are here to attack us?"

"Nothing so blunt," Memnos said, "This is the Imperial Navy sending us a message: they are as unhappy to be fighting alongside us as we are with them."

Persion interrupted their conversation to say, "Logic Engines have a match on that last cruiser, it's a Lunar class... the Averof."

"The Averof?" said Toran in surprise.

Jossat glanced at him and said, "You know her?"

Toran nodded and said, "Yes, the Navy may not be as hostile as we supposed."

Persion called over, "Vox-signal coming in, it's a request for direct communication."

Toran ordered, "Put it through."

The comms array snarled with static and a long-delay occurred, at this range even vox waves travelling at the speed of light could take a minute or two to travel between ships, using Astropaths was out of the question for anything less than interplanetary communication. Everybody waited patiently for the signal to form properly and then an image of a man appeared on a hololithic pedestal, he was a ship's captain but unusually for an Imperial officer he was not weighed down with gold braiding and jangling medals. A simple white shirt and black trousers with a plain gold sash around his waist sufficed for him and he bore a broad naval cutlass on his hip, chipped and bloodstained from frequent use.

Toran faced the Hololith and a smile tugged at his lip as he said, "Captain Georgios Mandas, what a pleasure to see you again."