Chapter Twenty-seven

The huge vessel lay quiescent at dock, its graceful prow facing outwards towards the vastness of space. Eyes of the Phoenix seemed pent, almost watchful, as if eager to continue its endless journeys between the stars. Yet, despite the size of the kilometres-long 'trade' ship, the hull remained dark and ominous, only a few mobile dock lights sparking an occasional glitter from the golden aquiline figurehead and the massive two-headed eagle on its great control tower. On that tower only a few high-up lights gleamed in the dark, almost too little to show that the ship was a construct built and crewed by men rather than some monstrous metallic creature spawned in an alien void between the worlds of humanity.

Behind those few lights, Phoenix's few crew were nearing the tail-end of an hours-long discussion that had covered recent engagements against both Imperial and xenos dangers, cargo ladings and manifests, budgets, and the somewhat vexed question about whether to recruit a Navigator. The argument had been unresolved and all involved had agreed to let it lie for the moment rather than allow any source of discord to interrupt the evening meal.

"So, Morgan, what's our course?"

Sedreth chuckled softly. "You're the captain, Sara. Don't you have any trades arranged?"

"Mummy, we still have two thousand tons of molybdenum for Schlereth LG. It's not due for four months, but it's only three weeks away at standard. We can do it in four short hops 'cos there's a few systems in between."

"Alright. Raise docking control and get permission to undock."

Schlereth was a dirty system. Sometime in the distant past one of the dozen planets in the system had met with a disaster, and pieces of it were scattered in two wide asteroid belts bracketing the sixth and seventh of its siblings. According to the AID, Schlereth LG was a chilly world, nearly two and a half AUs out from the blue-white intensity of its parent star. It was habitable, barely, home to humans who had arrived in search of the invaluable heavy lanthanum-group ores that the Adeptus Mechanicus used extensively in building power systems. Orbital refineries smelted asteroids dragged in by belt-miners and on-planet factoriums used those smelts both as catalysts to extract rare elements from the planet's crust and as raw materials to produce high-density alloys.

The Mechanicus had a large presence here, with hundreds of thousands of tech-priests and -adepts supported by a constant stream of ships carrying foodstuffs, condemned human work-gangs and servitors. The population of free Imperial citizenry was only a few million, mostly hardy miners looking to make enough credit to allow a move to somewhere more hospitable, or unluckily assigned Administratum and Ecclesiarchy staff. One single Imperial navy frigate was augmented in system defence by two of the Mechanicum's own vessels; the tech-priests were likewise responsible for planetary defence.

Phoenix came out of warp transition near system zenith, taking a smooth arc towards the unloading bay of refinery twelve. The order for molybdenum paid only a few hundred thousand credits; barely enough to cover their supplies if they had been normally crewed. As it was, with just the three of them plus the few servitors they'd picked up over the past year or two, the profit was sufficient to make the trip worthwhile.

Janey and Sara chatted back and forth with the system flight controllers, truing up their course and docking pattern.

"Mummy, there are more ships here than records would show as normal."

Sara looked at the screens. "Those are Navy vessels. And a lot of trade ships."

"Incoming signal, mummy. Not from system control." Janey switched channel, putting the call on the bridge speaker. "Trader vessel Eyes of the Phoenix, comm officer."

A slight crackle, and a uniformed woman appeared on the screens. "This is commander Denliot of the Emperor's 3712th Naval Patrol Squadron. By order of the Imperial Administratum you are ordered to join a guarded convoy to the Nalen planetary system which is facing attack by xenos. Civilian population will be evacuated on arrival."

Sara glanced to the big marine on her right and raised an eyebrow. She spoke into her headset pick-up. "Captain Sara Tarken, Rogue Trader licence 147-3863-ΨΓ, commanding Eyes of the Phoenix. Orders received and understood. Are we to offload cargo?"

The woman paused briefly. "How big a cargo?"

"Two thousand tons of molybdenum, commander, some of it in pressurised holds. If we unload it will increase our refugee capacity by about five hundred. Standard unlading estimate is three hours."

"Three hours is satisfactory, captain. We will need your capacity for passengers, supply needs for refugees, and any self-defence capability you have also."

"Confirmed, commander." She glanced at her daughter who nodded, already pulling up the files. Not the true files of course; but sufficient to indicate a converted warship with higher than average weapons and thus allay suspicion. "Sending standard specifications now."

"Thankyou for your co-operation, captain. You will be informed of your position with the convoy within the hour."

"Affirmative. Do we have permission to load the additional supplies of foodstuffs, water and medicine at dock?"

The woman might have smiled; it was hard to tell with the slanted scar across her face. "Permission granted, captain. Shuttles are being arranged for refugee necessities; you will be assigned additional supply shipments according to your stated capacity."

"Thankyou, commander. Eyes of the Phoenix proceeding to dock at refinery twelve for unloading. His Light on you, sir."

"And His Grace be with you, captain. Naval control out."

Lieutenant DT Raglan had been in the Imperial Navy all his adult life. Now thirty-seven, he was old for his rank, he knew, but since he'd started as a drafted ordinary crewman, assigned to scrubber maintenance in a las-gun battery when he was just fifteen, he was content in his service to the Emperor of Mankind. In the past twenty-two years he'd seen action several times on many ship types. He'd even had the honour to be part of an action with the legendary Silver Skulls space marines, whose strike cruiser Face of Death had joined his assigned squadron in a battle against orks four years before.

Now, as the flag lieutenant to a squadron rear-admiral, he held a post that suited his phlegmatic disposition and eye for detail. He nodded to the communications ensign as she placed the latest series of specifications on his desk. Hopefully this ship would have sufficient capacity to carry more than a few hundred refugees. One of the major problems with assembling a convoy from miner ships was the lack of pressurised holds; the ships were built to carry lumps of rock, not people. The Mechanicus vessels they had been able to requisition were in many cases not much better, being packed with arcane machinery. He reached for the file and opened it.

Jedoan Gaantt was a career naval officer, from a long line of career naval officers. His family had served the Imperium as far back as records went, and many had died gloriously for their Emperor. The rear-admiral knew he was not the finest tactician of that long ancestry, and nor was he the most brilliant and charismatic leader. Yet Gaantt had managed by dint of sheer hard work to make flag rank and command his own squadron. His little flagship, the Endeavour class light cruiser Piety, was the centrepiece of seven escorts – four reliable Sword-class frigates and three Cobra-class destroyers. From Piety he had patrolled this quiet sub-sub-sector of the Segmentum Obscurus for the past three years, with little incident barring a brief raid by renegades in a now-destroyed converted frigate fourteen months previously.

Now, however, he was faced with a true test. The foul xenos known as tyranids had long been a threat to the Imperium, and a small force of the monsters had been detected approaching the Eskalion sub-sector. Eskalion was not highly populated, but Nalen was an important agricultural world, producing vast quantities of grain and other foodstuffs that were shipped to several more industrialised and populous planets across the sub-sector. It was also famed for the quality of its artisans, producing from its local flora both expensive fabrics which were highly prized by Imperial aristocrats, and hard-wearing ones prized almost as much by the Imperial Guard. Already a powerful naval squadron, including the great Overlord-class battlecruiser Augury of Wrath, had been despatched to engage the menace, but initial action had been less successful than expected.

The Administratum, reasoning that the local militias would fight much harder if they knew their spouses and children were already safe, and wishing to ensure a continuation of fabric-making expertise within the sub-sector, had ordered the evacuation of Nalen's civilian population. That was his job, and he had so far assembled a convoy of forty-seven trader vessels which combined had a capacity of eight hundred and ninety-three thousand refugees. This latest trader would hopefully bring that total up above nine hundred thousand, and with supply expected to complete in less than four hours Gaantt was busy with final checks of his little squadron. He had no intention of letting any of his helpless merchant ships be destroyed by any foul xenos, despite his lack of resources.

His comms light flashed and he flicked the switch. "Yes, Raglan?"

"Sir, are you available for private conference? There's something I think you need to see."

The admiral blinked. His flag lieutenant was pretty much unflappable, and he considered the man a valuable asset. "Yes, lieutenant. You can come through."

"Thankyou, sir."

He cut the channel, wondering what the man wanted. The door chimed.

"Come." He pressed the stud to open and his aide came in, looking impassive.

Waving the man to a chair he nodded. "What's up, flags?"

A brief smile. "That latest ship, sir. She's a converted warship."

Gaanntt remained unimpressed. "Not unheard of. What class?"

"A Raptor-class strike destroyer. Obsolete type, but in almost all ways the equivalent of an astartes strike cruiser. In fact, the class was a predecessor of the current STD strike cruiser. She's about two-thirds the mass of Piety, but physically larger, with much bigger engines and fire-power. According to the specs they sent us, she would normally carry a full company of space marines." He paused, the continued. "This one, Eyes of the Phoenix, has most of her records under astartes-coded lockout. I can only assume that she is an agent or vassal to a space marine chapter."

Gaantt's eyes widened but otherwise he remained impassive; he prided himself on his self-control. "Astartes? Have you discussed this with anyone else?"

Raglan almost looked affronted. "No, sir. I thought it best to bring it to your attention first."

Gaantt smiled slightly. "Good. Anything on the ship's captain?"

He nodded. "Sara Tarken, planetary origin unknown – not unusual for rogue traders, of course. License to trade, and ownership of that ship, confirmed by Lord Calgar of the Ultramarines seven years ago. Known to have taken part in a naval action against renegade forces in the Plett system five years ago. Naval records also indicate a commendation for discovery of a space hulk, subsequently destroyed by the astartes Blood Angels. The only pict-image we have of her shows her wearing an astartes purity seal – Black Templars. No record of what she did to earn it, but they don't exactly send them up with the rations, so it must have been something insanely brave. Other than that, her records show a highly successful trader captain worth quite literally millions of credits. No real trade pattern although she tends to stick to ores and refined metals as cargo, often in large quantities."

The admiral steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Unsurprising, given the size of ship. Its holds must be able to carry hundreds of thousands of tons if she's removed the main batteries."

"Yes, sir. Except that, well, it appears she has not done that. Based on Imperial Navy records of the Plett action, and those she sent us just now, that ship is only part-converted. Reading between the lines, she's close to a fully functional frigate with armament to match. That's a fair drop-off from standard, of course. By spec, the main lances could almost match a Lunar-class heavy cruiser, and the full broadsides would be heavier than our own by a quarter, easily. Still, for a trader she seems to have significant fire-power."

"Indeed? I think we need to talk to this Captain Tarken, flags."

"Yes, sir. If we're very lucky, they may even have some space marines aboard."

Gaantt looked at him with a cynical expression. In his experience, that sort of luck didn't come along even when you needed it. Still. "I rather doubt we could be so fortunate, flags, but get me contact. Another warship certainly won't go amiss, even if all she's good for is escorting some of the refugee convoy while we engage the xenos."

The voice was masculine and deep through the audio pick-up. "Captain Tarken is overseeing the unloading, lieutenant. Is there a problem?"

"Not at all," answered Raglan. "Admiral Gaantt merely wished to discuss possible deployment with your captain. Can you put us through?"

"Of course."

There was a soft click, then a feminine voice. "Tarken here."

"Captain Tarken, this is flag lieutenant Raglan. Please hold for a priority private call from rear-admiral Gaantt."

The woman's voice was soft and precise. "Affirmative. Locking down transponders." A pause. "Go ahead, admiral. We're private; this call is cypher-locked."

Gaantt raised an eyebrow. "Captain Tarken, rear-admiral Gaantt, Imperial Navy. I command the squadron here. Captain, I shall be frank; the situation is far too critical for obfuscation. Are you an agent of the Emperor's astartes?"

There was a long silence. Then. "No. While I do hold certain authorisations from the astartes Blood Angels, which I regret must remain confidential at this time, I am not an agent for any astartes chapter. Unfortunately, admiral, if you are asking me to call for help, that is beyond my authority."

Gaantt nodded slowly, meeting his flag lieutenant's eyes with a tiny shrug. So much for that idea.

"Captain, I need to know; it is likely your ship will be in a combat situation. How accurate are those specifications you sent us? Confidentially. My word that it will not go on record."

Another long pause. "Admiral, I suggest we should meet. My tactical officer and myself can be at your disposal within half an hour. Less, if you can come to us."

Intriguing, he thought. "I am afraid I cannot leave my flagship at this time, captain. But if you can shuttle across, I can see you in forty minutes."

"That will be fine, admiral. I'm sending our shuttle id now."

Raglan nodded.

"Confirmed, captain," said Gaantt. "I shall see you shortly. I would appreciate it you could bring those authorisations."

"Affirmative. Emperor's grace, admiral. Tarken out."

The connection cut out.

Raglan waited on the hangar deck as the shuttle came in. Like its parent vessel, the little craft was almost unadorned, just a single golden wing emblazoned on the left of the nose. Precisely and without fuss, the pilot, invisible behind darkened armour-plex, landed exactly on his mark. As servitors and a pair of naval crewmen bustled around with the docking clamps, the side panel opened and a ramp extended with a slight hiss of pneumatics.

He stepped forward, leaving his escorting pair of naval troopers as he did so, to meet... he stopped as a huge armoured figure stepped down the ramp. He was not the only person to stop; all across the bay personnel were turning to stare in awe at the space marine.

Raglan blinked and moved forward. The man, resplendent in a rich gold-edged purple with a golden aquila on his chest and the same winged talon device as the shuttle on his shoulder-plate, turned his head slightly.

"Flag-lieutenant Raglan?" There was no question who was in charge; Raglan had to admit himself intimidated despite the placid tone. Inwardly, he also admitted a sense of relief. He didn't know which Chapter the space marine was from, but the very presence of an astartes on his ship would stiffen sinews and spines. He knew the grapevine would be passing the gossip before he'd even left the dock, but that news could only help morale.

He smiled slightly at the thought and saluted. "At your service, astartes."

He almost missed the black-clad woman walking down behind the armoured giant, who nodded politely and gestured an introduction with an open gauntleted hand.

"Brother-sergeant Sedreth, lieutenant. This is captain Sara Tarken."

The woman gave a brief nod; her fractional smile did nothing to soften a cold near-beauty that was strangely enhanced by the faint scar on her left cheekbone. "Pleased to meet you, lieutenant."

Raglan noticed she did indeed wear a Black Templars purity seal on her jacket's left breast. A single broad gold ring encircled her cuff, otherwise she was a dark contrast to the almost gaudy richness of her companion's war-plate. Both of them, Raglan noted, were seriously armed; Tarken bore a sword with a golden hilt and what was clearly an astartes-issue bolt pistol. The marine, well, he probably didn't need either the long powersword at his hip or the massive bolter clipped to his thigh anyway.

Collecting himself, Raglan returned the woman's nod. "The admiral will be pleased to meet you both. If you would follow me?"

Two nods. The space marine tapped something on his left wrist and the shuttle ramp pulled back on itself, the side access closing behind it. He walked slightly behind as Raglan led Sara Tarken towards the access-tube, the two troopers falling in behind looking slightly bemused.

Gaantt watched on his monitor. A space marine. He smiled quietly, not wanting any of his other aides to see him as other than unflappable.

The sense of relief was palpable amongst the other officers present. His flag captain, Erken Bramwig, had a smile on his face which he quickly removed on meeting his commander's eyes. Bramwig was a good solid officer, and a respected ship captain, but Gaantt often considered him to have a disturbingly optimistic outlook. It didn't mean the man took foolish chances – Bramwig was highly competent when it came to tactical risk assessment and combat judgement – merely that he tended to see the best in most situations. Perhaps surprisingly, he and his admiral meshed well together.

Gaantt looked round the table and addressed the naval troop commander, Colonel Avers of the 7491st Imperial Guard (Naval) Regiment. They had intended to offer Tarken, like all the other convoy vessels, the option of troop presence to assist them with refugees. "I hope your men are at their best, colonel."

Avers smiled faintly. "It appears my men may not be needed, sir."

"Let us hope so. We do not have any superfluity of guardsmen," said Commander Denliot, Piety's tactical officer, who was in charge of ensuring the convoy was properly organised and outfitted. Denliot was another veteran officer who had neither connections nor influence and was therefore at least a pay-grade beneath her extensive competence. Both Gaantt and Bramwig valued the scar-marred greying brunette immensely.

"Indeed," said Gaantt.

The door chimed.

Damn, the man was huge. Impossibly handsome, with sculpted features and short-cropped pale blond hair, the astartes dominated the room even sitting down. The chair barely held him, and Gaantt suspected the marine was using his armour to support the majority of his weight. Despite his best efforts it was hard not to be distracted.

Raglan looked up from his highest-security station. "Clearances confirmed, sir."

Gaantt nodded. "Very well. Captain Tarken, perhaps you should explain your presence in this system at this particular time and your ship's capabilities."

She nodded once, accepting the coded spool from Raglan and securing it in an internal pocket. "Admiral, our presence here is coincidental, I assure you. Not that we would have avoided the system had we known of your need, but we did not until we arrived. As to capabilities, I am sorry to dash your hopes, but brother-sergeant Sedreth is the only astartes on my ship. A liaison presence, nothing more. Much as I would have liked to able to bring you a company of space marines, I regret that I do not. My ship is capable of fighting a short space combat against most opponents; our shielding is sufficient to allow us to survive long enough to evade when we are outmatched, and our acceleration remains at full original specification, 6.7g at standard. When we were recently refitted, the main lances were also retained at full specification. I would expect to destroy any hostile ship smaller than a light cruiser. Eyes of the Phoenix also has classified automotive equipment aboard, based on, I believe, pre-Imperial technologies. This has proved reliable in combat and otherwise, but means that we have a much smaller crew than would be expected. Accordingly, I would appreciate any offer of assistance with personnel," she looked directly at Avers, "from the Imperial Guard to ensure any refugees are properly looked after. I have the capacity to house several thousand; I do not have the staff to take care of them, nor to ensure they do not do something stupid in panic should we be obliged to enter combat. In the past I have never carried more than a few dozen passengers."

"I see," said Gaantt thoughtfully. "Colonel Avers?"

"I can offer similar arrangements, sir. No more than a short company of troopers – about fifty men. I don't have the personnel for more."

She nodded. "That would be satisfactory, colonel. I have the facility to seal off control decks, gun batteries, and main engineering if I really have to. It plays havoc with life support in those sections if sustained for too long, so I'd prefer not to have to."

Denliot spoke quietly. "How are you off for munitions, captain? Do you need ammunition resupply?"

A shake of the head. "My stocks are at 87%, commander. Although I would like the facility to replace expenditure if it becomes necessary. My budget is not unlimited."

Gaantt nodded. "Acceptable. Commander Denliot can arrange the authorisations. Captain, I confess I am highly tempted to simply commandeer your vessel. Were it not for your astartes authorities, I would already have done so."

She nodded with a brief smile. "I understand. Would it be helpful if I accepted some Naval bridge crew? My people are experienced and highly competent, but are not actually trained for combat as yours are. Brother-sergeant Sedreth excepted, of course."

The astartes flickered what might have been a smile. "I have no objection. It is a minor matter to lock out mission logs and other classified systems."

Gaantt thought for a few moments. Yes, that would work. With his own people aboard, he would have an extra combat vessel, at least until it came to loading refugees. "That would be an excellent compromise, captain. Captain Bramwig, can you tell off a dozen suitable personnel?"

Bramwig nodded.

Avers tapped his stylus. "My Guardsmen will be able to board in forty minutes, captain Tarken. I suggest that captain Bramwig's personnel board at the same time?"

A series of nods round the table. "That would be fine, colonel. I shall ensure quarters are arranged. Fifty men, plus a dozen from captain Bramwig, then?"

Avers paused, then, "Fifty troops in squads of ten, plus two officers, company NCO, and company support staff – medical, galley, tech – oh, and a junior commissar, captain. Sixty in all."

"I'll send you two each for comms, scan, weapons, navigation, tactical scan, plus officers. Twelve in total, captain." added Bramwig.

She tapped her stylus and nodded.

"Admiral, there is one other matter which must not leave this room, and which I would prefer not to discuss with any other than yourself. No offence to your staff, but this is well beyond their security clearances."

Intrigued, Gaantt nodded. "Captain Bramwig, if you and the other officers would give us a few moments?"

Bramwig nodded and stood, the others following him obediently outside. Gaantt tapped the control that locked the door and activated the privacy screens. He watched with interest as the big marine placed a small device on the table. Lights flickered on the little dome-like thing and the man nodded in satisfaction. Tarken sat back and allowed the marine to take over.

"Admiral," he said quietly, "one of the things our fitted tech allows for is automated warp travel; something we are, naturally, assessing for the adeptus astartes. I'm sure you can understand the potential strategic and tactical advantages such a system could provide – if it works. While, thanks to the tech-systems aboard, we have experienced no difficulty in short-hopping the warp, long trips can be, ah, problematic. Would it therefore be possible to arrange an additional Navigator? Perhaps a trainee if you have one?"

Gaantt leant back in his chair thoughtfully. Whatever the astartes might have been about to say, he had never even considered this. Damnation. This was clearly an astartes directive; he knew that many space marine chapters objected strenuously to psykers, and barely tolerated even those who were absolutely necessary – such as Navigators. It was equally obvious that he could not allow this vital experiment to be placed at risk if he could avoid it.

"Brother-sergeant, might I suggest instead a senior Navigator? My own flagship has a highly experienced senior Navigator, and several juniors of sufficient experience both to navigate the warp themselves, and to lock on to his signal should warp transit have a problem. If Navigator Edsel were to take over, temporarily, aboard your own vessel, would that not be a better arrangement?" It would also remove a source of discord, as Edsel was from a different House than Navigator Baugh who he was supposed to be replacing.

The man looked at his black-clad shadow and their gazes met briefly.

She smiled. "Admiral, that is an excellent solution. Will the Navigator require additional quarters for support staff?"

Gaantt thought for a few moments. Edsel would expect certain facilities, and at least some of his own personal staff would have to transfer as well. "Yes, separate quarters, of course, for about twenty I should think."

"Not a problem. Many thanks, admiral."

She glanced back to the marine, who rumbled, "We have taken enough of your valuable time, admiral. You and your people appear highly competent. I look forward to seeing your skills in action. His Light on you." He stood, and both Gaantt and Tarken did the same. The marine retrieved his device and secreted it in his utility belt.

"A pleasure, admiral. Sedreth and I should return to our ship."

Gaantt nodded. "I shall personally see to the last matter we discussed." He led them to the door and smiled at Raglan standing rigid against the opposite wall. Clearly the flag-lieutenant had taken it on himself to ensure that no-one had the opportunity to overhear the last discussion.

Gaantt returned the astartes' salute. "Honoured by your presence, brother-sergeant. Captain Tarken. You have been most helpful. Lieutenant Raglan will escort you back to your shuttle. Emperor's Grace."

"And his on you, admiral," she replied.

Gaantt watched briefly as they walked with Raglan along the corridor and out of sight, then headed for his own office. Edsel might take some persuading, after all.