Chapter 24

On the bridge of the Thunderchild calm had been restored, serfs going about their duties in a measured fashion now the danger had passed. Yet Chaplain Wrethan was stood on the Command Dais, like a fierce judge holding court. He was watching the proceedings, making sure that nobody became too complacent about their roles. Into this marched Captain Toran, with his command squad in tow. They seemed to be in jubilant spirits and were congratulating themselves on a hard-won victory.

Toran saw the Chaplain stepping down to meet them and said, "The ship is secure Father Wrethan, what has happened here?"

Wrethan replied, "The last of the hunting dogs has been put down but we took damage. We must return to space within the hour. We are currently drifting at the edge of the atmosphere, waiting to break back into orbit."

Toran nodded in grim acceptance, "Then we still have those three cruisers to deal with."

Wrethan punched an armoured fist into a palm and said, "Take us straight at them and we will claim a bloody revenge!"

Toran held up a palm and said, "I think there's a better way, Magos Castabore, are the Reflex shields ready?"

Castabore floated over and said, "I am prepared, but I must reiterate that to use them leaves the ship without conventional shields."

"Very well," Toran said, "You may commence your rituals."

Castabore floated over to a large ceramic cube with a multi-coloured dial set into the front, the Primaris Harmonic Invertor. Toran climbed the command dais and waited as the Magos started her arcane procedures. He wasn't sure what to expect, flashing lights, strange noises, an eldritch tingle as the ship became invisible, but the reality proved far less exciting.

After a few minutes the Magos clapped her metal hands and said, "It is done."

"Really?" asked Toran in surprise.

"Yes," replied Castabore frankly.

"Open the Oculus" Toran ordered and the armoured louvres slid back to reveal the sky beyond. It was disappointingly normal, with perhaps only the faintest shimmer to suggest that strange processes at work.

Persion asked, "Are you sure it's working?"

Castabore sounded exasperated as she said, "Again… yes."

"Very well," Toran stated, "In that case let's make our move."

Under the cover of the Reflex shields the Thunderchild slowly climbed out of Astu's gravity well, inching its way back into the blessed stillness of the void. Gradually the thick gases swirling outside the Oculus fell away, revealing the shimmering stars beyond. The bridge crew went about their tasks in a muted fashion, whispering to each other, despite the patently ridiculous idea of sound existing in space. Toran understood their attitude, there was something furtive about flying in these conditions something that made one what to step quietly and speak softly. It felt like one of the field trials he had undertaken as a Scout-Novice, trying to sneak past the senior training instructors as they waited with shock batons. Many times he had slipped on a loose stone or jangled a piece of gear carelessly and felt the ire of the instructors, a painful lesson on the dangers of carelessness that he had taken to heart. This felt much the same, an urge to move slowly and stick to the shadows, all while the cold trickle of anticipation crept down his spine.

Toran realised that he was holding his breath and forced himself to breathe easily, to show the crew that he was not afraid. He spoke aloud, making everybody jump and said, "Report our position."

Furion replied, "We've cleared the atmosphere."

"Disengage the anti-gravs," ordered Toran, "Proceed on main drives."

In the background a rumble that nobody had noticed ceased, leaving an eerie absence behind. As the Thunderchild moved away from the planet the crew breathed a little easier and there were faint grins on a few lips as the Serfs accepted that they had escaped the trap set by their foes. Magos Castabore however was less reassured, flitting from console to console hurriedly taking in readings.

After a minute she turned about and said, "Tolerances are proving far finer than projections estimated. I am concerned that we may be bleeding energy despite our precautions."

Toran thoughtfully looked at the dial on the Primaris harmonic invertor, which was jammed well into the red. Then he said, "Reduce main drives and minimise reactor output as much as possible. Keep the Machine Spirits of the Auspex in passive mode, no active scans."

Persion commented, "That will leave us half-blind."

"It can't be avoided," Toran retorted, "Magos, has that helped?"

Magos Castabore checked and reported, "A significant improvement, the masking effect should cover any stray energy emissions. Now we should be able to move past any foe with only a minimal risk of detection."

Toran wasn't comfortable with the minimal risk part of that, but there was nothing to be done so he enquired, "Persion, any sign of the enemy?"

Persion checked, "There are three distinct distortion patterns present. The Dark Eldar are back behind their Shadow Fields and seem to be moving in a search pattern."

"They're looking for us," Chaplain Wrethan declared, "Making sure we don't try to make a run for it."

Toran declared, "Running was not my intention, Castabore I want you to implore the Machine Spirits to extrapolate the point where those distortions come closest together and then chart us an intercept course."

Castabore sounded shocked as she said, "Input error, you have a means to safely withdraw and instead you want to head back into battle?"

Chaplain Wrethan stood proudly as he said, "Astartes do not run while the fight can yet be won. The Dark Eldar have spilt the blood of our Battle-Brothers and we will make them rue their perfidy."

Castabore shook her box-like head but did as asked and swiftly programmed in the calculations. After a minute a sheaf of parchment spewed out of a slot and Serfs gathered this up before presenting it to the helm. Furion accepted this and then directed the crew to make it a reality. Slowly the Thunderchild came about, moving sluggishly as she proceeded towards the foe. Her drives were mere flickers of plasma and the whole ship silently drifted forward, protected only by the gossamer veils of her Reflex Shields. The minutes crawled by and Toran had to bite down on his tongue to prevent himself continually checking the crew's status.

As they waited Wrethan stepped up onto the Command Dais and said softly, "Toran, I approve of the spirit of your decision and yet this is risky. We will only have one shot at this."

Toran nodded and said, "It has to be chanced, we do not know how long these Reflex Shields will fool the enemy. It would be placing our fate in the hands of blind luck to run away. Besides we will never get a better opportunity to take the Xeno's unaware."

Wrethan nodded and they stood for long minutes until Furion called up, "We're in position."

"Time?" called Toran.

Persion replied, "Best guess, five minutes until the enemy ships reach their closest positions to each other."

Toran took this in and asked, "Then we had better be ready, weapons status?"

Jediah stated, "Bombardment canons ready, weapon are batteries loaded but the capacitors are dry. Once we drop Reflex shields it will take sixty seconds to charge them."

Wrethan said, "The second we do that we give away our position, the enemy will not be slow to respond."

"Then we had better be faster," stated Toran, "Bylan, once we reveal ourselves how quickly can we convert the Reflex Shields back to void shields?"

Bylan answered, "Unknown, we haven't even simulated it. Best guess… three to seven minutes"

"Make it three," Toran commanded, "Novak, hold torpedoes and Thunderhawks in reserve, we are going to need them to cover us while we are vulnerable."

The crew responded with brisk professionalism and the minutes ticked by as the distortions closed in. Toran felt the cold touch of dread touch his hearts as he waited, would the Reflex shields prove true? Would the enemy's witchery find them regardless? There was no way to know and nothing he could do save wait and see.

After an interminable wait Persion said, "All three distortions are in weapons range, thirty seconds to their closest pass."

"Stand ready, we are only going to get one shot at this," Toran ordered, "I want simultaneous broadsides to port and starboard, target one foe each, Bombardment canons target the third. Speed and precision are everything, the second we fire bring the ship to full power, I want void shields up within three minutes."

Everybody stood to, awaiting the order and then Toran commanded, "Drop Reflex Shields, bring the ship to full power!"

Wrethan stomped down to the deck shouting, "You heard the order, get those reactors blazing, weapon crews why aren't you charging those guns?! Set auspex to active mode, and raise the shields. Move it you dogs, move like your lives depend on it!"

The seconds crawled by, stretching into eternity then at last the weapons consoles flashed green and Toran cried, "Fire!" With a violent shudder the Thunderchild unloaded its batteries, discharging every weapon at once into the blackness of the night. Rank after rank of stacked weapons discharged, filling space with an inferno of devastation and crippling explosions. It was stunning in both its suddenness and ferocity. One second space was empty and blank, the next a starship appeared form nowhere and unleahed an overwhelming tide of firepower. The Thunderchild had taken its foes by complete surprise and unloaded everything it had at them from point-blank range.

As the bridge shook with the thunder of discharging weapons, Toran called, "Status of the enemy?"

Persion answered, "I'm detecting debris and energy surges from two of the distortions, we hit definitely hit something. The distortions are slowing down; I think we crippled a pair of them."

Toran questioned, "What about the third?"

Persion scowled and said, "No signs of damage, I think we missed."

Toran gripped the rail tightly and said, "Right prepare to…"

He was interrupted as an alarm began to shriek and the Hololith flared red, Persion's eyes went wide and he yelled, "New contact, new contact! I have a FOURTH distortion emerging out of nowhere. It's right on top of us and it's... it's… Captain its massive!"

Toran gasped in dismay as new icon blazed in the Hololith and he roared at the top of his lungs, "Shields! Shields now!"

But Bylan cried, "We need more time!"

The Thunderchild rocked as an energy wave washed over it, disrupting systems and making the Machine Spirits wail in distress. Alarms blared and the bridge shook as Toran held on and gritted his teeth. He looked out of the Oculus to see a shimmering distortion wave appear, peeling back to reveal something hidden behind it. The stars wavered in the Oculus and then they fell away as a massive double-pronged prow emerged. It was vast, totally eclipsing the Thunderchild's modest girth and it stretched away in a long cascade of armour and Lance canons. Beyond that emerged an elongated hull, section by section as the masking effect dissipated. The hull was bare of adornments but the sheer size of it was a display all unto itself. It boasted endless lines of guns and lances, piled up upon each other until they at last came to a high bridge that rose proudly over the bare metal of the hull.

It was a breathtaking sight, dwarfing the Thunderchild the way a shark would a minnow. It was a giant, utterly out-massing the displacements of all the other ships combined. It was a dinosaur in an age of rodents, a monster from a lost age that eclipsed the sun itself with its sheer bulk. No shipwrights in this lesser age could have dreamed of making such a thing, for it was beyond them in every way. It was a sight to loosen the bowels of any void-farer and worst of all it was a vessel Toran recognised.

On the bridge everyone stood aghast, unable to understand what they were seeing and how it had emerged from nowhere. Novak stared in horrified amazement at the sight filling the Oculus and said, "It's enormous, it must outgun every ship in the Chapter's fleet combined."

"But how can that be here?" said Persion in stunned disbelief, "Where did it come from?"

Toran replied grimly, "It's been here the whole time, lying low under the cover of its own Reflex Shields."

"This whole time," said Furion grimly, "Just laying in wait for us to walk into a trap."

Bylan didn't follow any of this and he said in confusion, "But I don't understand… what are we looking at? What is it?"

"It is a Gloriana-class Flagship," Toran replied in forlorn resignation, "We last saw her obliterating our homeworld's defences. That is the Shadow of the Emperor."