Darkness Falling
„Brace for impact!"
The thunderhawk came down upon hard upon the smooth metal of the landing bay, sending showers of sparks flying from its smashed landing gear and port engine. The Space marines inside were yanked around hard, the bulk of their blue armor and the Crash harness around their seats being the only things to keep them from flying through the shuttle's interior. Then the harnesses went up and the landing ramps in the back of the shuttle went down with a loud clang. The space marines got up in unison and stormed down the ramp to take up a defensive position around their crashed ship.
No sooner than the first squad, led by sergeant Adrius, set foot upon the floor of the landing bay they were greeted with lasgun fire. Most of the shots went wide, not even coming near to touching the battle armor of the space marines, but a few went by close enough to strike deep scorch-marks into the exterior plating of the crashed Thunderhawk.
No words wore needed, for the space marines knew their job from years of training and fighting in the name of the Emperor. With almost mechanical precision, they fanned out around the landing ramp, raised their bolters and answered the incoming fire.
By the time sergeant Cory's second squad exited down the ramp a few milliseconds later, the landing bay was already ringing with the deep booming staccato of bolters fired in answer to the heretics' lasguns.
There were about thirty of them, scattered in small groups around the landing bay. Some were hiding behind a few barrels and crates to the left, while two other groups had taken cover behind a cargo shuttle which had been stripped down for repairs. Twenty of them were ratings, who like thousands of others on board of imperial spacecraft were doing the hard physical tasks necessary to operate the ships, while the others wore the uniforms of imperial fleet technicians, stained and in part still bloody but nonetheless clearly visible. They had a mixed assortment of weapons, mostly lasguns and a few slugthrowners, but two of them were armed with shotguns.
It was over quickly. They were as ill-trained in using the guns as they seemed, so most of their shots never even came close to the marines. Their return-fire, on the other head, cut through the ranks of the rebels like a hot knife through butter. Explosive bolter shells from Adrius' squad detonated along the crates where the first group was hiding, showering them with shrapnel and direct hits tearing large holes through their bodies.
Meanwhile, Cory's second squad methodically advanced towards the larger group of rebels, firing controlled bursts through their ill-chosen cover. As the cargo shuttle disintegrated around them, the rebels were literally ripped apart by the bolter fire. Five of them went down within the first second or two of the engagement, huge bloody holes gaping where their uniforms had covered their chests earlier. Another one's head came into close contact with a shower of shrapnel from a nearby metal beam and was perforated by dozens of red-glowing metal shards. One of the rebels was aiming his lasgun at a space marine, but before he could get off a shot his weapon took a stray bolter shell and exploded to his face. He dropped down, dead, a ruin where his features had been a blink of an eye before. Six more were lying dead or bleeding on the floor as the space marines mechanically closed the distance to the shuttle, their blue armor showing no emotions or feelings on their inhuman features.
When Cory's marines rounded the cover of the cargo shuttle on the last six survivors from both sides, two of them threw down their weapons and tried to make a run for a door close by, but they did not even take three steps towards it before they were gunned down. Their four comrades had tried to made a stand, but to their horror their weapons proved to be ineffective against the space marines power armor even at such a short range. The marines made short work of them.
While the space marines spread methodically and efficiently throughout the landing bay, they silenced any last resistance the rebels dared put up. The marines were then joined by the last squad on board, the heavy weapons team lead by sergeant Tarstan, as well as Apothecarius Marcellus and the marine Theodeus, assigned as Assistant Pilot for the Gunship.
"Report!" said sergeant Adrius, the leader of the assault group, when finally silence had fallen again in the hangar bay.
"Brother Sergeant, the gunship's in pretty bad shape, but we can still rig it up to fly us out of here," said Theodus. "We still have most of our armor plating and should be able to withstand the fire they are going to throw at us on our way out."
"Unfortunately, while the Machine Spirit of the gunship is still operational, Brother pilot Samris suffered severe injuries while bringing down the Thunderhawk. I suggest you set up a defensive perimeter and continue your mission, while we try to see what can be done about it." The voice of Marcellus did not betray any emotion while he spoke and he might as well have been back on board their battle barge, from his manner of speaking.
"Well, see what can be done about it and advise me of your progress. I'm sure the rebels are going to come back in strength and will show up any time soon." Towards Cory he said: "Take half your men and post them on guard duty near the entrances. The rest will form up with us and we're going to retrieve the data core." Then he studied the ship's schematics on his lectern's viewscreen.
Underneath their feet, the ship began to rumble and a booming explosion began to sound along the outer hull.
"What was that?" asked one of Tarstan's marines on the open frequency.
"Explosive decompression." Said Cory, his voice almost as calm as that of the apothecary. "There still is a battle going on outside, remember? And we better hurry, before some lucky gunner hits something important on this ship."
"Like our landing bay?" that had come from Morian, the leader of team two of Adrius' squad.
"Well, could be. Ok boys, let's head out," answered Adrius and began to advance with his first team, quickly followed by the others.
Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Ultramarines cruiser Emperor's Fury, space marine captain Darius was busy giving orders to his heavily outgunned battle group. "Signal to escort squadrons two and four: they are to concentrate their torpedo fire on the enemy main battle units. We need to put them under more pressure or we won't be around long enough to pick up our boarding units."
His ship shuddered as another broadside from the two rebel cruisers slammed into it rapidly diminishing shields. While the enemy still had insufficient crew to man every weapon on board their ships, the rebel captains tried to make best use of what little they had at their disposal. And so while to only real danger the posed for Furys escorts, their fire was still sufficient to punch through their shields from time to time and inflict further casualties on board.
So far, the engagement was going well for the little space marine fleet and their imperial support squadron. They only had lost the imperial light cruiser Thorenson in the initial exchanges of the engagement and even most of their own escort ships were still operational. But the enemy's superior numbers in bombers and fighter craft were now really beginning to overwhelm their defences. The two remaining imperial light cruisers Salassar and Huntington were already streaming air from several hull breaches and the performance of their point defence was more and more degrading. But they needed to by their boarding team more time to retrieve the data core, or otherwise all would have been for naught.
They had followed this pirate fleet ever since their engagement in the skies over Quarham, but they still did not know the location of the base from which they were operating. Rumors that the rebels also were in league with the unholy forces of Chaos put them further under pressure to get their hands on that information. So far they had not been witness to any presence of Chaos among the pirates, but one could never know where the forces of the twisted warp where hiding their minions.
"Admiral Hendrickson is to launch his fighters. They are to take in the first wave and rearm them for a second strike, but he should wait till we give the signal."
The blackness of space was filled with a beautiful and deadly ballet. In the void between the imperial and rebel ships, which continued to exchange cannon fire and torpedo salvoes, both side's fighter pilots fought a desperate struggle for survival. In the blink of an eye, the small and agile craft flashed past one another and for a few brief seconds the void was illuminated by lasgun fire and explosions.
One of these pilots was Lieutenant Matheson, piloting an imperial interceptor. Together with his squadmates he was assigned to intercept a rebel bomber squadron. Unfortunately, the bombers were shielded by their own screen of fighters and so Matheson and the other pilots fought a desperate struggle against time to break through the fighter screen and get at their original targets.
"Yellow lead, you've got one coming from eight o'clock high." Hearing the warning from his wingmate, he pulled the flight stick back and left, turning his fighter and swinging around to face the onrushing enemy. He pulled the trigger while his crosshairs rested over the silhouette of the enemy craft, a fighter not much unlike his own. Green beams of searing energy struck out across the void, almost faster than the eye could follow, dotted a line of black marks across hull and fuselage of the other fighter and an instant later the ship vanished in an expanding cloud of superheated plasma as its reactor shielding overloaded. Continuing his upward spiral, Matheson formed up with his wingmate, to assist him in his dogfight. "I'm right on your tail, yellow 2, thanks for the warning."
"No problem yellow lead. Keep an eye on my six while I finish of this bastard."
"Okay. I got you covered."
While his wingman tried to get a mark on an elusive rebel fighter, Matheson kept formation a little behind the other craft. When one of the other enemy fighters swooped in for a quick kill, he did not see the shadow following his target. Before he could line up a shot of his own, Matheson swung his fighter a bit to the left, lined up his crosshairs with his enemy's rolling shape and his wing mounted lasguns sputtered another hail of green laser bolts, sending the enemy craft spinning out of control with a shattered front. Only an empty hole now gaped out into the void where the cockpit had once been.
"I got him, I got him!" yelled Yellow Two in that instant. Quick glances on his combat lectern mounted right above the flight stick showed Matheson that they now where through the fighter screen. While the other fighters were busy fighting of the remaining Imperials of Matheson's squadron, the group of eight enemy bombers spread before them.
"Ok, pick your targets and go get them. Their escorts could be back any minute, so make every shot count." Matheson said to his wingmate. He locked his missiles onto the nearest enemy bomber, fired two in close succession and raked the craft with his lasguns while he was closing in rapidly. The bomber's point defence swatted one of the missiles out of space, but the other one tore through its shield and armor plating and exposed the delicate interior to the lasgun's firestorm. An instant later all that remained of the bomber was a cloud of hot plasma. He switched targets and fired his remaining two missiles at another bomber from close range, while he sprayed a third one with his lasguns doing only minor damage on the bomber's armor plating.
Then, an instant later, he passed through the hail of close-in point defence fired by the bomber's turrets, most shots going wide because of his high speed. But one salvo from the lead bomber's aft turret scorched his fighter's wing and sending it into a roll. He fought hard to keep control of his craft and turned the roll into a wide arc to come around for another pass at the bombers.
"Wooohoooo!" hooted his wingman as he also passed the bombers, leaving one more gaping hole in the formation where two other bombers had been.
"Good shot, Yellow Two. Form up and we'll go in again."
The remaining four bombers kept heading towards their target, the by now not so distant Imperial frigate Valor. Their fighter screen was mostly still busy fending of the other imperial interceptors, but two of them had managed to get away from the dogfight and closed in rapidly with Matheson, lasguns blazing a deadly trail towards the Imperials. Matheson threw his fighter into a tight left roll to escape most of the barrage, but his wingman wasn't so lucky.
"Shit!" He said, pulled up and tried to get out of the rebel's line of fire, but the enemy pilot followed his movements and the stabs of angry green light came closer and closer. His shields flared for an instant and he tried to change his fighter's course once more, but the next salvo disrupted the fighter's engine shielding and ignited his fuel. The fireball quickly consumed what was left of the craft and its crew.
Matheson registered his wingmate's destruction from the corner of his eye. His attention was focused on the other one of the incoming fighters. While he tried evading his fire, he cursed himself for having spent his last remaining missiles on the bombers. He kicked in his craft's afterburners and initiated a corkscrew roll to his right, to shake the one fighter now closing in on his six o'clock position and trying to get a better shot at the other one.
But all he could do was manoeuvre to keep from getting hit, while the other fighter eluded him. Then, suddenly, the two enemies broke off their pursuit. Quickly he glanced at his lectern and realised that two of his remaining squadmates had now joined the fight.
He was just about to finish of the one who had shot down Yellow Two when he heard the message over the Fleet's general frequency. "This is Valor, we have inbound torpedoes, need immediate assistance!"
"Oh shit! Keep these two of my tail. I'll try to handle the torpedoes." In the heat of the engagement he had totally forgotten the bombers.
"Damn, they are close already." He realised when he swung his fighter around and kicked in the afterburners again to close with them. They already had launched their first salvo at the unlucky warship which had suffered damage to its drive room earlier in the battle. He sped past the bombers, disrupting their target acquisition and came into lasgun range on the torpedoes. There were four of them, one each for every bomber. He sprayed them all with a continuos stream of lasgun fire. One rapidly disintegrated as the searing bolt of light caused a premature detonation of its warhead while another one succumbed to the combined volume of fire from the frigate's point defence and his lasguns. The third lost target acquisition short of the damaged ship and passed by the frigate's rear. But the fourth broke through all defensive fire and shields and detonated on the frigate's armor plating. The explosion quickly spread along its surface and ate away at its interior, having already suffered battle damage earlier on. The hull ruptured in several places, the ship lost its main power systems and began drifting in space, streaming air.
Cursing, Matheson spun around to finish of the remaining bombers, as the first life boats began to emerge from the ship behind him.