Vast hangar doors opened in its side to allow the shuttles entrance, and once we were within, tank after tank – Leman Russ, Baneblade, Shadowsword, Chimera – disembarked into the hold. I stood there watching as massive stowage lifts raised them into huge multi-level holding pens. Other cargo bays had been converted into impromptu barracks.
Macharius himself received quarters fit for a planetary governor, and the inner circle of his personal bodyguard such as Anton, Ivan, the Undertaker and myself were installed near him. There were a thousand battle-hardened troops on call. If we had needed to we could have taken over the ship, although what we would have done then eludes me.
The embarking of Macharius’s private army was not a quick business. Many shuttles needed to dock. We had most of the day to wait while it was happening. During that time, Macharius kept in touch with Sejanus over the comm-net, giving crisp orders for the disposition of the crusade’s forces long term.
He was taking no chances of things not going as he planned in his absence.
Of course, we had to be there to watch the company of Space Wolves arrive. Anton insisted. We stood on the platform over the docking bay watching their grey-blue Thunderhawks and transit-shuttles arrive. It had taken some quite spectacular feats of bribery on some of the ship’s crew to get us there, but we were known to be high in Macharius’s favour and that counted for something as well.
It was odd to watch the internal blast doors open and the small fleet of armoured vessels move into the holding chambers and be secured in metal cradles for the flight. It was even odder to watch the Space Wolves at a distance through the stained armourglass windows. In the vast interior of the ship, they lost some of the sense of scale they had close up. In some ways they were just armoured figures moving through routines familiar to all soldiers in transit. They emerged from their vehicles and looked around, studying their surroundings with watchful eyes. It took me a few seconds to realise what they were doing.
They were making sure they knew where every last piece of cover was. It was as if they expected that at any moment the interior of the loading bay might become a battleground and they were not going to be at a disadvantage on it.
By squad they moved to secure a perimeter. Their leaders did not seem to give any orders that I could see. They moved into their positions as if they already knew what to do, with an ease and a fluidity greater than any I had ever witnessed. In the Guard it would never have been so. There would have been confusion. There would have been sergeants bellowing orders. There would have been squads taking up the wrong positions and officers trying to organise the chaos and sometimes making it worse. With the Space Marines below, there was none of that.
Anton made a sour expression with his mouth. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘Disappointed they haven’t killed anybody? There’s time enough yet.’
He shook his head. ‘I always wanted to see Space Wolves.’
‘And now you have. If you’re really unlucky, you’ll get to fight alongside them too.’
‘Yes but…’
His lips compressed and his jaw went tight as he struggled to find the words to express what he was feeling. He didn’t really have to. I knew him well enough to know. This was something he had been dreaming about all his life and had never really expected to happen. And now it had, and his life’s long list of things to be looked forward to had been shortened by one.
‘Lost for something stupid to say, Anton?’ Ivan said. ‘That is a first.’
‘Ha-bloody-ha.’ His voice held a note of frustration as well as disappointment. ‘You think we’ll get to talk to them?’
‘What you want to talk with them about? You think you’ll exchange war stories? I have news for you, Anton, they might not be as impressed as your noble-born girlfriend by your tales of killing orks on Jurasik.’
He was frowning again, and I could tell he was still struggling with concepts that were not easy for a man like him to get to grips with. He really just wanted to make contact with them, to reach out and touch something greater than human, to speak with as close to a demigod as he was ever going to get. There was a religious component to his awe and his tongue-tiedness.
In the end, he simply turned and walked away, marching shoulders straight into the corridors of the vast starship.
‘I think you hurt his feelings,’ said Ivan, rather mean-spiritedly, I thought.
A few hours before we were due to depart, Helicon Blight himself came to pay his respects. He had greeted Macharius temporarily when welcoming him aboard, but this time he brought an invitation to the bridge of The Pride of Terra if Macharius wished to witness the ship depart. The Lord High Commander agreed to do so. I am sure he had seen such things before, but I guessed he wanted to see how Blight’s ship differed from others and to gain some insight into the way the rogue trader ran his vessel.
We accompanied the merchant prince to the enormous chamber. It had forward facing armourglass windows through which the blue and green surface of Emperor’s Glory was visible. Over all was a massive throne for the trader to sit upon and positions for his Navigator, astropaths and other senior officers on the ship. We were given pride of place beside the command throne. I was impressed by the way Blight took it for himself without offering it to Macharius. I am fairly certain this was the way protocol dictated, but there are those I have encountered who would have broken those rules in order to curry favour with the master of the crusade.
Macharius studied everything with his usual attention, and I followed suit. There were several massive control altars and lesser thrones for astropaths and other officers. Subalterns and messengers moved around the place. Tech-adepts made last moment checks on the altars.
The huge arched doorways swished open and Zarah Belisarius entered. Blight held one hand to his comm-net earbead and then said something quietly. It was picked up by the patch microphone on his throat. A few moments later klaxons sounded and warning lights flashed. With no sense of movement whatsoever we were on our way, the surface of Emperor’s Glory seeming to slide past through the viewport.
The Navigator strode up to where Blight stood, nodded to Macharius and looked out over the command deck. Once again I was struck by the fact that we were in a different world here, where Macharius’s rank and power counted for less. These people saw the world differently, were powers unto themselves, and I suppose it dawned on me then that once again we were, in a very real sense, in their hands. We would never get home without their good will.
‘Lord Blight,’ said one of the helmsmen. ‘I am picking up an unusual drive echo in our wake. It is possible that a ship has left orbit around Emperor’s Glory at the same time and on the same course as us.’
I saw Blight look at Macharius and then the Navigator. Some secret appeared to be communicated between them, although I could not guess what. I wondered if Blight knew about the Space Wolves.
‘Thank you, Squires,’ said Helicon Blight. ‘It is probably just another craft making for the out-system jump point, but if it plots an intercept course or shows any sign of threat, speak at once.’
‘Aye, sir,’ said the helmsman. Blight swivelled his chair and smiled. ‘Not much of interest will happen until we reach the jump point now and I hand over control of the ship to Navigator Belisarius. It’s a two-day transit until then. Perhaps you would care to retire to my chambers and take some refreshment.’
At Macharius’s agreement, he said, ‘Mister Blake, the command deck is yours,’ and we departed to his chambers in the company of the rogue trader and the Navigator.