Diem Infamia Chapter 14
"All hatches secure, mooring lines are cast off," Commander Grenfeld announced to the bridge, "Ready to depart on your command."
"Very good," Captain Mandas replied, "Admiral, we await your word."
The bridge fell as silent as it ever could as all eyes turned to the command dais, hundreds of souls awaiting the order to depart dock. The Captain was wearing his dress coat, replete with medals, he normally left it in in his quarters but today he wanted to shine. His hair was slicked back and his jaw was clean-shaven, an effect spoilt slightly by the redness in his eyes that hinted of the stimms he had taken to stay awake during the mad rush to get the Averof ready. Captain Mandas half-turned and looked at the man beside him, Rear-Admiral Dimakos, who stood with his head held high. The Flag Officer had his hands folded behind him and his expression was inscrutable as he said, "Carry on."
Mandas accepted the order and turned back to the bridge calling, "Bring reactors to full, charge plasma drives but hold them in reserve. Manoeuvring thrusters, take us out straight ahead and try not to scrape the walls as we go."
The Averof sprang to life as the crew hastened to obey, chattering amongst themselves as orders were passed back and forth. Servitors whispered in Binaric as the ship's Machine Spirit flowed through them and the choir high above sang soothing hymnals beseeching the God-Emperor's blessing upon their voyage. It was a picture of brisk efficiency, a reassuring sensation to any void farer and far below their feet the engines began to rumble. Mandas felt the ship gathering herself to sail into the midnight sky and he ordered, "All Senior officers to the Oculus."
From across the bridge the senior officers gathered, walking across the length of the cathedral like space until they stood before the twenty metre tall armourglass window. Rear-Admiral Dimakos joined them as they stood in a parade line, gazing upon the dockyard as it began to slip past. Across the ship all officers who could be spared would be copying them, thousands of crew lining observation bays, portholes and shuttle bays. Hundreds of metres away the dockyard workers duplicated this, all standing still to witness the cruiser setting sail. It was a tradition that dated back to the murky past, in the ages predating mankind's expansion beyond the boundaries of their birth world.
As the walls of Athenea dock slid past his eyes Captain Mandas had a chance to examine Rear-Admiral Dimakos in detail. The Flag Officer was a tall man, with a starched uniform, glittering with medals and the heavy gold braiding typical of higher ranks. A pair of servo skulls hovered over his shoulders, each with a fat candle upon its polished bone skull that dribbled wax freely. Yet what was unusual about him was his golden skin and eyes. The Rear-Admiral had been heavily augmented, his body rebuilt with extensive replacement parts that replaced most of his body. His long coat and breeches hid it but his heavy gait made it clear his lower half was purely augmetic and his left hand was a gold-plated metal construct. The entire left half of his face was an amazingly detailed recreation of a human face, all shining gold that flexed like real flesh as he spoke and his eyes were purely mechanical. Were it not for a slice of skin over his right face and his right hand, one could have been forgiven for thinking that he was some Mechanicus construct.
Mandas could only assume this dazzling display was the result of the injuries Dimakos had sustained. It was an amazing piece of work, only the finest augmetics for a scion of a powerful household and a lord of the Admiralty. Yet for all his shining majesty he had been oddly reticent. Dimakos had come aboard a few hours earlier, with full pomp and ceremony, and undertaken a brief tour of the Averof. Yet he had barely said more than two words to anyone since coming on board and Mandas had no read of the man at all. Only Commissar Kaath-Dousmanis had managed to get more than a few words out of him, the pair freely discussing their family dealings and the various wrangles for dominance that consumed the old blood families.
Mandas realised while he had been examining his guest the dockyard had slid out of sight and he drew in a breath to order, "Back to your posts."
The Senior officers returned to their positions and the Captain said, "Admiral, do you wish to address the crew?"
"Maybe later," Dimakos replied disinterestedly, "Take us to the rendezvous as planned."
Mandas was surprised, in his experience admirals usually loved the sound of their own voices but he coolly declared, "Prepare to set sail, report status."
Mr Avergis called out, "We've cleared the dockyard, our escape vector is clear of traffic. We have a clear run to the perimeter."
Mr Rondis added, "Course laid in."
Mr Fotrum reported, "Weapons secure, all crew accounted for."
Magos Vista was last and he said, "Enginarium has completed the ceremonial Mass and sacred libations have been offered, engines ready upon command."
Mandas accepted this and ordered, "Engage plasma drives, take us to the rendezvous point at best speed. Activate Hololith and show us local space."
The Averof shuddered as the great plasma thrusters at her rear lit up, driving the ship forward with the flaring of captured suns. Mandas felt a familiar shudder run through his feet and he gripped the command rail as a three-dimensional projection shimmered into being over their heads. A blizzard of icons coalesced, representations of the countless ships and stations they were manoeuvring past. To anyone not familiar with starflight it would have looked like a snowstorm, but Mandas picked out the relevant details with the ease of long practice. The Averof was curving up and away from the dock, pointing her bow towards the stars and passing civilian traffic and military patrols as she climbed out of the gas giant's gravity well. The skill and precision of it was a beautiful sight to behold, yet what drew his eye was the sharp arrowhead of icons heading the other way.
"The Indomitus Crusade," Mandas breathed, "They've arrived."
"That is a lot of ships," Commissar Kaath-Dousmanis commented from behind him, "This Crusade outmatches Battlefleet Karyl in its entirety."
Hundreds of ships hove into auspex range, escorts, cruisers, supply ships, troop transports, strike cruisers and forge tenders. The fleet was sailing into the orbit of Greater Tectum, passing the outer watch stations and circling defence monitors with contemptuous disdain. Nothing stood in their way, their Emperor given authority quashing any and all challenges to stand down. Majestically the crusaders sank into the gravity well and broke up, dividing into squadrons as they headed for the waiting dockyards, eager to have their wounds tended and supplies refreshed.
Mandas picked out the largest and most powerful battleships among the fleets and he read aloud, "The Valhalla, Gyptus, Red Kite, Spiteful, Wildkat, Eternal Crusader, Blood of Iax, Old Ironside, Blade of Woe, Verminus, Diplomacy at Gunpoint, Moskva, Grand Duchess Arabella."
"Grand Duchess Arabella?" Kaath-Dousmanis asked mirthfully.
Mandas shrugged as he replied, "The galaxy is vast and there are hundreds of Sector Battlefleets, each with their own naming traditions. Battlefleet Karyl favours names of local heroes, cities, moons and legends, but they probably don't make much sense to anyone outside the sector."
Suddenly Grenfeld exclaimed excitedly, "Look, look there! There's Macragge's Honour!"
Mandas' eyes honed in on the icon and he ordered, "Magnify and expand!"
The Hololith zoomed in on a single point and projected a wire-frame extrapolation of the vessel. She was truly huge, an immense leviathan some twenty-six kilometres long and festooned with weapons, armour and launch bays. She bore as much firepower as a squadron of capital ships, no other vessel could come close to her size and power and Mandas whistled, "Glorianna class… what a beauty."
Grenfeld breathed in wonder, "Is he… the Primarch… is he on board?"
At that Admiral Dimakos spoke up, "Actually no, he was delayed on a state visit to Lujan II and left the fleet under the command of High Marshall Hellbrecht. Roboute Guilliman will arrive in a week or two to resume overall command."
Mandas had been so caught up in the excitement that he had almost forgotten the Admiral was there. He was pointedly reminded he was supposed to be impressing this man, not gawking like a scholam-girl at a passing soldier and hurriedly drew himself up. He glanced at a chronometer and then cleared his throat to say, "Admiral, we will be passing the outer perimeter in two hours. We have prepared the Line-crossing ceremony, would you care to join us?"
Dimakos sniffed at that and replied, "Not today, I shall retire to my quarters. Carry on Captain."
Mandas was surprised to hear that, but could only stand to attention as the Admiral turned and departed the bridge, flanked by a pair of armsmen in full carapace armour and blank mirror-helms. Mandas frowned as they were left alone, it was strange that the Admiral hadn't wanted to take part in the ancient rite but Dimakos hadn't seemed offended or aggrieved. Bemused the Captain ordered, "Commander Grenfeld you have the bridge, take us out nice and slow. All other senior officers come with me, we have some void-virgins to initiate."
The Captain led the officers from the bridge and out the armoured hatch. They walked together down the long passageway beyond, designed to bottleneck any boarders trying to reach the bridge, and Mandas asked, "So… what do we make of our Admiral?"
Avergis replied hesitantly, "He seems… remote."
Fotrum muttered, "He's a cold fish alright, can't get a read on him at all."
Mandas sighed, "Yet he is the one we must impress. Commissar, he talked to you the most, what was your impression?"
Kaath-Dousmanis chewed his lip and said, "Distant, apart from social gossip he wouldn't be drawn at all. He asked no questions and made no comments upon our vessel or conduct, overall he seemed content to leave the running of the ship to us."
Mandas nodded as he said, "Then we will have to dazzle him with our professionalism. We will schedule a series of wargames with the flotilla, after we rendezvous, a chance to show off our skills."
Yet Kaath-Dousmanis replied, "May I suggest a formal reception dinner too, to gather the ship's Captains together."
Fotrum looked scornful of that suggestion but Mandas quickly said, "Good thinking Commissar, I'll leave the menu in your capable hands. But first we have a tradition to observe, it's not every day a man crosses the perimeter for the first time."
Their walk had taken them to a large mess hall, which had been cleared of tables. As they entered the Captain saw a gaggle of midshipmen and junior officers gathered at one end, all looking excited and nervous. Before them stood a score of petty officers, all gripping bits of cloth and wet towels and grinning evilly as they formed into a double line. Then at the very end a petty officer sat on a chair set high upon a table. He was draped in a white sheet, made to look like a robe and had removed both boots to expose his feet. In one hand he held an old mop like it was a sceptre and he wore a wig and a false beard, made out of old rope. The man sat over the proceeding like a proto-mythical god of yore, elated at lording over his superior officers.
This was yet another tradition, whose origins were lost in antiquity. Whenever a naval officer left Greater Tectum for the first time, 'Crossing the Line' as it was called, he would undertake this ceremony. The uninitiated void-virgins would walk between the petty officers, getting beaten with wet towels, and then have to kiss Saint Karyl's toe, represented by the man with the mop. Only after this would they receive the coveted epithet of being called a true, 'Void-Dog'.
Throughout the ship similar rituals would be taking place, but the Senior officers were expected to attend at least one of them. Mandas had undertaken the ritual himself as a midshipman and had thought it a daft bit of fun at the time, a chance for the petty officers to reverse their lot over their masters. Yet time had taught him the importance of morale and a crew's comradery. This was an important bonding exercise, a common unpleasant experience to unite them in spirit. Yet there were rituals and then there were rituals.
Mandas turned to Fotrum and suspiciously asked, "You set this up?"
"Aye sir," Fotrum replied proudly.
"Good," Mandas replied, "Then I can be confident nobody has sneaked bars of soap into their towels or any other such nonsense. I mean, it's not like some unscrupulous cur would tell them how to inflict pain without leaving physical marks behind."
The Master of Gunnery turned green and mumbled, "Errrrrrm… well actually… with your permission I'd better have a quick word with the lads. Make sure they don't get carried away and remind them that tomorrow they have to go back to taking orders again."
Fotrum hurried off and began furiously whispering to the petty officers and Mandas sighed, "There's always one."
Rondis was eyeing the fretting crowd and he whispered, "Some of that lot have grey in their hair. How can a man serve in the Navy his entire life and never leave the orbit of Greater Tectum?"
Kaath-Dousmanis remarked, "There are those who take pride in not leaving the heart of the Sector. Many a rear-echelon staff officer considers it a badge of honour never to stray outside the bosom of Tectum."
"We'll teach them," Mandas declared, "Speaking of which."
The Captain stepped forward and addressed the room in the traditional manner, "Listen up you 'orrible lot! This here is your initiation, so get ready to pucker up. Today we make void-dogs out of the lot of you!"
And with that the Averof sailed for her rendezvous, expecting no real trouble at all.
