Dark Reflections
Part 2: Dead World
"I don't care what your manual says; Archie says it's wrong so it's wrong!" Volkovich hung by a harness suspended from a movable gantry, inspecting one of Archie's starboard road wheels, his accent starting to show through as it had a tendency to do when he was agitated, "Take it off and start again, and this time do it right!"
Hoban watched the scene unfold from a catwalk high above: in the six months since he had first met his Crew Chief on Alfheim, he had grown use to the Squats little outbursts, and learned to take them in his stride. While they were not exactly friends, they had certainly come to an understanding that allowed them to work well together.
At first they had been told that the damage Archie had received in battle with the Ork raiders would require returning to Mars for repair, something Hoban had looked forward too, as it would have given him a chance to see his wife, and the son he had never held. But then the Glory had arrived with a full repair crew and spare parts, and they had been told there had been a change of plans. This came at the cost of an even longer delay before he'd see his family, and he'd gone so far as to ask that they be allowed to travel to one of the worlds or bases the Glory was scheduled to call at, but his request had been turned down flat, with a note saying that it was better for all concerned that they stay on Terra where they could be 'looked after'. The threat was clear; do anything to seriously upset his superiors, and his family would pay the price. It wasn't the first time Inquisitor Lynch had made such a threat, indeed he seemed to consider it part of everyday life, but it still cut like a knife.
"Captain Hoban, sir?" A new voice brought him back to the present, "Lieutenant Pascal Duprée, reporting as ordered."
Hoban took a moment to look the young officer over; he was maybe a year or two younger, but taller at nearly two meters. His frame was best described as wiry, to the point of being lanky, with short, close cropped dishwater blond hair and a thin moustache that was all but invisible against his pale skin. He looked every bit the model young officer, straight out of a recruiting poster, but his slate grey eyes had the hard edge of someone who'd actually seen combat, seen their friends ripped apart by the enemies of man, and lived to tell the tale. His uniform was freshly pressed and immaculately clean, but that meant nothing in such a new and rapidly expanding unit.
"I'm Hoban." the Bolo commander returned the other man's salute, then offered his hand, "So, you're the one who drew the short straw?"
"Sir?" Duprée asked, confused.
"Don't worry, it's nothing you did wrong. It's just that I know how the other officers in the Legion see me: I'm the jumped-up ranker who had the luck to literally fall into a command when there are hundreds if not thousands of experienced Princeps better trained and just waiting for a chance like this." Hoban lent back against the railing, "Normally either Smalls or Hackenbacker would be handling your final assessment; they've done the rest, but you've come to us through the Imperial Guard rather than the Collegia Titanica, and knowing those two they'd probably consider it beneath them to deal with you. So instead you get Archie and me." He nodded down towards the Bolo, "And he will be writing half your evaluation; we need to know how you get on with a Bolo before we think of entrusting you with one. Because you don't command a Bolo in the same way you command a regular tank; you need to be able to work with them, and that often means listening to their advice and trusting their judgment."
"I...think I understand, sir." Duprée nodded slowly.
"Don't worry; it's not that bad." Hoban laughed, "There are only two new Bolo's ready for deployment right now, the first that have been build for thousands of years. And unlike Titans, that have a full command crew to hold them back, Bolo's only really need one person to give them orders; they can figure out the rest on their own. So we need to make sure that anyone who'd given command of a Bolo is up to the job." He turned around and looked at Archie, "I've read your file; you wouldn't have gotten this far unless they thought you had what it took. Now we just need to see how you handle an operational deployment. I'd say that an archaeological deployment should be easy, but that's what they said about Santa Cruz..."
In the hellish void that was the warp, forces dark and calculating moved silently as shadows. Their true drives and ambitions were totally alien to that of man, but that was not to say that they were totally beyond comprehension. Indeed, in their own twisted, macabre way, they were as intelligent and gunning as any human. It was by their design that the Murder class Cruiser Violent Fate, commanded by the Skulltakers war-band, picked up the transmission from the Cruel Deceiver and immediately set out to investigate.
"We think we've found something." The imposing bulk of Captain Malachi loomed over Hoban as he visually inspected the last of the repairs the Tech-Priests had carried out on Archie, "There is a magnetic anomaly in the foothills of a chain of mountains in the southern hemisphere; too regular to be natural, and in an area perfect for defensive fighting."
"Sounds hopeful." Hoban nodded, still feeling ill at ease around the Astartes, "Any chance we can deploy drones to get a better look?"
"I am afraid not; a storm front is moving into the area, and while the atmosphere is laughably thin, it is enough be on concern." the Space Marine shook his head, "No, we will have to go down our selves and look for any further clues. Maybe your Machine-Spirit here will be able to find something."
"I will do my best." Archie promised over one of his external speakers, "I have some Concordiat recognition codes, but we have no way of know if they would be accepted by the bases automated system, even if it is still operational after all this time."
"You're still operational, aren't you?" Hoban asked with a chuckle, "Inform Duprée and Volkovich that it's time to mount up." He nodded towards Malachi, "With your permission, my Lord."
"You may consider it given." Malachi smiled, "I'll see you on the ground."
Setting off at a slow jog, Hoban quickly covered the short distance to the nearest access hatch and climbed up into Archie's armoured hull even as the Tech-Priests and their assistance cleared away their tools and disconnected the power feeds and data-links. Hoban felt oddly at home as he made his way along the short passageway that lead to the command deck, thick bulkheads closing behind him, the faint hum of internal disruptor fields coming on line indicating that everything was at last back up to full operational status. Every so often he passed a purity seal or some other indication that the Adeptus Mechanicus has passed that way, each indicating a component that had been damaged or destroyed fighting the Orks. While each battle scar could be seen as a failure, Hoban instead chose to take comfort in the extra protection the charms and wards offered against the ruinous powers.
The command deck itself had undergone a few minor changes, with a dedicated engineering station built into the forward bulkhead with a crash harness adapted to take Volkovich, as well as a number of jump-seats for other possible crew members or passengers. The crew chief was already in place, running the last few diagnostics, but Duprée stood beside the armoured cowling of the central command couch itself, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself.
"Grab a seat and strap in." Hoban warned as he took his own seat and let the crash harness close around him, "This can get a little bumpy."
"Aye, an if me Nanna had wheels, she'd be a wagon." Volkovich chuckled, "All squared away and ready for drop."
"I don't understand, sir." Duprée looked even more confused as he started to fasten the straps on his chair, "I didn't see a hatch large enough for the Bolo to pass through; how are we to get to the landing craft."
"Archie doesn't need a landing craft." Hoban smiled as his hand hovered over a flashing red button.
With that he slammed down on the controls, and the massive hatch that made up most of the repair bays deck snapped open in less than a second. Still pulled on by the Grav plating even as the panels folded away, Archie dropped like a stone, falling towards the planet below as the ship thrust away. Duprée let out a surprised yelp as they suddenly went zero-g, almost floating out of his seat before Archie slowly brought his counter-grav generators on line, providing some semblance of normality while also smoothing out the ride.
"Angle of approach is good; all systems are operating within acceptable parameters." The Bolo announced as he activated the display screen around the cabin, showing a mixture of external camera feeds, data relayed from the ships in orbit and a projection of their landing zone on a topographical map, "The Blood Ravens Thunderhawk is holding relative position 25km off our port side."
"The Mk. 33 has internal counter-grav generators: they're were intended to allow rabid relocation on a strategic level, but they also allow for independent orbital assaults." Hoban explained calmly, "It's important to know the full capabilities and limitations of your Bolo, and vice-versa ; it's more of a partnership than a regular command, and you need to know you can trust each other."
"I'll keep that in mind, sir." Duprée nodded slowly, still feeling more than a little green around the gills as the entire room started to shake.
"Atmospheric interface; please remain seated." Archie informed them as he adjusted their angle of decent slightly, his battle screens redundantly protecting them from the inferno beyond his hull, "Would you like some music?"
"Yes, that would be nice." Hoban sat at his ease, totally relaxed, "Something from your historical archive; something I've not heard before."
"I have just the thing."Archie chuckled as the music started, "A little something from the late 2nd millennia."
"Love is a burning thing, and it makes a fiery ring. Bound by wild desire, I fell into a ring of fire." A long dead voice started to sing in a long dead language, "I fell into a burning ring of fire. I went down, down, down and the flames went higher. And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire. The ring of fire..."
Planet-fall itself was almost an anticlimax; with his counter-grav generators, Archie was able to touch down on a relatively flat stretch of exposed rock and he immediately deployed a number of sensor drones to scout out the nearby area.
"Gravity confirmed at one tenth Terran standard, atmosphere negligible, but there are traces of nitrogen, methane and carbon monoxide." He filled his screens with various charts and graphs, "Recommend extreme caution when venturing outside."
"So, the armoured suits it is." Hoban replied glumly, "By the Emperor, I hate those things."
"On the bright side, you won't need them until we find the base, and only then if it seems to be intact." Archie sounded amused at his commanders discomfort, "Request permission to deploy additional drones for long range scanning."
"Sounds like a plan." Hoban relaxed into his seat, "It's not like we've got anything better to do."
To Be Continued...
