Saeva Abyssi Chapter 9

In the murky depths of the gas-giant the Thunderchild drifted slowly, borne up by the thrumming energies of its anti-gravs. By merely human measures the ship was vast and ponderous but these conditions made it seem diminutive and small. It was a speck of dust upon the wind, a leaf caught in a raging current and it let itself be pushed along with no eventual destination in mind. Only tiny bursts from its manoeuvring thrusters kept it from being tumbled over, short bursts of plasma jets to keep it steady.

Deep within its decks Captain Toran was touring the ship, inspecting the crew and compartments as he went. He could feel the strange sensation of the Thunderchild rocking beneath his feet, the artificial gravity failing to compensate for the hurricane force winds battering the ship from all sides. It felt oddly like an aquatic boat riding over the waves, rising and falling with every step, occasionally lurching to the side as a crosswind rocked it. To a native of Lujan II, a planet dominated by vast oceans, it was a familiar and almost comforting sensation.

The sensations were stirring odd memories in Toran, thoughts he had believed were excised during his hypno-indoctrination. His subconscious mind kept returning to the life of a small child, being taught to trim a sail by a father he thought was a giant, collecting fishing nets alongside boisterous brothers and a mother's voice singing him to sleep. Toran shook his head and locked the memories back behind a mental wall, that child was long gone, sacrificed to make something harder and sterner and more noble. He was an Astartes now, a warrior of the Emperor and he would not trade that life for anything. Toran sighed as he recognised that he was distracting himself, trying to avoid thinking about their dire situation. He had led his ship and crew into deadly danger, leaving them trapped and imperilled within a trap, surrounded by enemies. He reviewed every moment of the battle and the decisions he had made but could find no alternatives, no other options he could have explored. He did not regret his decisions though, recriminations were useless, all that mattered was what they did next.

Currently Toran was making his way deeper into the ship, headed away from the Astropath's sanctum where he had been given disappointing news. His course took him step by step towards the Initiates' barracks, where the Sergeants were waiting for his briefing. It was not a meeting he was looking forward to, but it had to be done and he could only hope that one of them would have a good idea about their situation. Toran walked on, practising what he was going to say in his mind and as he did so he passed various Serfs going about their duties. The crewmen paused and saluted the Captain with the sign of the Aquila and Toran nodded respectfully in return to each and every one. He knew that their lives were in his hands, that the decisions he made would determine whether they lived or died and it was a responsibility he took most seriously.

Toran was aware that many Astartes looked down upon mortals, despising their frailties and their weaknesses. Chaplain Wrethan in particular was hard to impress, there were few mortals he genuinely respected. Yet Toran felt differently, he had seen mere men show tremendous courage when well led. Neither would he hate them for lacking his training or augmentations. Always he reminded himself of the teachings of his Primarch, and he quoted to himself, "All men are granted different talents and duties according to their station. Despise ye not the humble man in his labours for he is performing his Emperor assigned role, as are you."

Toran was startled when he realised that his feet had taken him to the barracks, where he would have to face his Sergeants. Toran swallowed his trepidation, he was determined that he would not show anxiety or regret. He strode through the doors and found himself in a large training room. Here there were practice cages with dormant servitors, duelling mats and firing ranges, all empty and deserted. The majority of the Company was absent of course, when the ship was at battle stations they would be dispersed to strategic posts around the critical areas. Toran heard voices from a smaller chamber off to one side and he strode over to it, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. He entered with a brisk stride and the Sergeants paused in their conversations, then they presented a salute which he returned. Toran took a moment to look them over, ten Sergeants, the mix of Tactical, Assault and Devastators that made up Third Company. They were all stood ready, swaying slightly as the deck rocked beneath them. Some of them Toran had known for years, others were relative newcomers, elevated or transferred to replace battlefield losses. There were also three squadron leaders from the Thunderhawk wings, the pilots were under Toran's authority but not part of Third Company itself.

Toran walked over to a Hololith pedestal set in one corner and activated it, then he addressed the assembled Sergeants saying, "Welcome Brothers, know there's are a lot of rumours flying around but I am here to give you the hard facts... and it's not good news."

Sergeant Matheus declared, "Give it to us straight Captain, we all stand with you."

Toran was glad Matheus had taken the lead for he was a respected veteran of the Chapter, staunch, indomitable and a firm adherent to the Codex Astartes. If Matheus was showing his support then this would be a constructive meeting, not a place to argue about blame.

Toran summoned an recording of the recent battle and as it replayed he explained, "As you probably know the Thunderchild has come under attack by a fleet of Dark Eldar raiders. We were outnumbered, outgunned and outmanoeuvred; our only option was to withdraw into the atmosphere of Astu itself. Currently we are holding at such a depth that the Dark Eldar can neither see nor reach us, but we are overextended and low on power. We can't stay here forever but neither can we climb out of the atmosphere. Even if we could there are Eldar escorts hunting for us and larger cruisers waiting in orbit."

Silence greeted that pronouncement as the Marines took in the situation then Sergeant Mylos stepped forward, clomping on an augmetic leg. He scowled and then spat, "So, in other words, we are completely shafted."

Toran sighed to himself, Mylos was the unofficial Naysmith of the Company but sometimes he seemed to forget the difference between criticism and constructive criticism. Toran replied in exasperation, "We are not lost yet, we still have a ship and crew. We have our weapons and the means to fight on; we will find a way out of this mess and make the Dark Eldar pay."

From among the circled Marines, Devastator Sergeant Zeax interjected, "I hate to state the obvious but have we considered sending out an Astropathic distress call?" Zeax was the most direct and straightforward of souls, calling for the simplest solutions. Usually that involved levelling absolutely everything from afar, regardless of collateral damage or civilian casualties, but sometimes he came out with surprisingly good ideas.

Unfortunately Toran had already thought of that and he answered, "I stopped by the Astropathic choir on my way here, it did not go well. They cannot reach any of their brethren, not even on Astu's moons. They speak of a haze in the Warp; I suspect the Xenos are using some form of psychic trickery to block our communications."

Mylos stated frankly, "Even if we could send a signal it would take weeks for aid to come from Lujan II or the naval base at Tectum. We can't wait that long, one failure in the anti-gravs and we all plummet to the core of this planet."

Assault Sergeant Lorath snarled, "Well then, we'll just have to fight our way out. I say we lift ourselves out of this murk, draw the Dark Eldar in and gut them as they come."

Matheus however demurred, "That action is not supported by the Codex Astartes."

Zeax sounded surprised as he said, "The Codex has passages that deal with fighting Eldar inside a gas-giant?"

Matheus replied, "Codex Volume VII, Chapter IX, Verse XV: Never fight an enemy on his chosen ground."

Toran declared, "He is right, to position ourselves out in the open merely plays to all the Dark Eldar's strengths. We need to change the situation, to find some other way to fight back."

Mylos said, "How exactly are we supposed to do that?"

Toran replied, "We still have some weapons capabilities and a full Company on board. The launch bay is temporarily blocked but repair teams are working on it, we should have the ability to deploy Thunderhawks in a few hours."

That declaration made the squadron commanders nod in enthusiasm but Mylos said, "So if needs be we can evacuate in the Thunderhawks and escape the planet."

That caused a stir, the idea of running from a battle sitting ill with any Astartes. There was also the unspoken thought that the Chapter's newest ship would have to be left behind; no warrior would willingly abandon such a prize unless the situation was dire.

Matheus spoke up to say, "Where would we go?"

Mylos said, "Astu has inhabited moons, we could get that far in gunships and then make our stand on solid ground."

There were nods from some of the Sergeants but Zeax put paid to that idea by saying, "We would be exposed the whole way, unless you think Thunderhawks can outrun Dark Eldar cruisers. They would pick us off long before we even saw the ground."

Toran declared, "He's right, we can't cut and run, we need to stay with the ship and find a new strategy."

Lorath said, "So how do we fight back?"

Toran said, "We are low enough to go undetected and have limited manoeuvring capability, if we ride Astu's winds they will carry us far from here. We can slip past the Dark Eldar and then formulate a proper strategy."

Mylos looked uncertain and said, "I thought we didn't have enough power to escape the planet."

Toran said, "Not to break into orbit, but we can manoeuvre around down here. Hevostan is in the Engineerium as we speak, if he can placate the spirit of reactor eight then we will have full power at last, that puts a lot more options on the table."

His statement caused many worried glances; Hevostan was an honoured Techmarine, holder of the sacred mysteries of circuit and science. Yet reactor Eight had gained a reputation, all had heard rumours that it was jinked or even cursed and that was not something that any man of the Imperium would take lightly.

Toran supressed their worries by declaring, "Now we have to make sure the squads are ready for anything, we need to tell them to…"

He was cut off by the harsh rasp of the vox and Chaplain Wrethan's voice came through saying, "Bridge to Captain Toran, bridge to the Captain, come in Toran."

Toran opened his link and said, "This is Captain Toran, go ahead bridge."

Wrethan declared, "Captain, Auspex is picking up an energy surge off the port bow, moving fast. We think it's an Eldar frigate."

Toran frowned and said, "Just the one? What's it doing all alone?"

Wrethan replied, "It's flying in circles, moving in a hunting pattern. They must have lost our trail and split up to look for us."

"Cocky pointy-eared scum," Lorath growled, "They are being recklessly arrogant to think that one frigate is a match for us."

Mylos muttered, "Either that or they know how bad our situation is."

Toran overrode them all saying, "Keep us deep and silent, don't do anything to give away our location until I get to the Bridge. Sergeants get back to your squads; it looks like battle has found us after all."