Then the black shape proclaiming itself Necrostar Antiversal began to glow brightly from within, a red glare that started in its heart and spread through its tracery of red veins, straining with light and heat like a charred volcanic cone about to split and blow open under pressure from within.
A vast froth of red corposant enveloped the daemon ship’s prow, chained lightning that crackled and coiled like live snakes. With a sudden flash, the lightning boiled over and lanced a jagged red bolt out ahead of the ship, a whiplash discharge of immense aetheric energies.
The bolt wasn’t even a direct platform-to-target strike like a main plasma or laser weapon. The lash of it flew out sideways, wild and frenzied, untamed and unaimed. It coiled madly out into void space and only then whipped back towards a target, like a lightning strike jumping as it hunted for something to earth itself against.
The jagged, blinding discharge struck the Benedicamus Domino like the vengeance of a displeased god, blowing out its forward shields and exploding its upper decks. There was no sound. A snap shockwave of heat and debris ripped out from the impact, followed by a slow, widening ball of white light that was too hard to look at. Bridge viewers dimmed automatically. When the glare died, the Domino was revealed on fire and listing, sections of its upper structure and hull architecture annihilated or left glowing gold along burned edges.
Spika maximised the magnification to get a look at the frigate. The pict image jumped on the bridge screens, fuzzed, and then steadied and resolved.
‘By all that’s sacred…’ Gaunt breathed.
Screaming its name again, like a child driven to raving madness by a fever, the Necrostar Antiversal bled more corposant and unleashed another shot.
The second bolt of jagged red fury hit the Armaduke as it turned.
Gol Kolea realised he might have actually passed out for a few seconds. He hoped it had only been seconds. Something had made the ship shake like a toy rattle, and he’d bounced off the hallway wall and deck.
It was dark as he came round, apart from the emergency lighting and the flashing hazards. The air was full of smoke, and it wasn’t just the heat discharge from the fire fight. There was dark fuel smoke in the ship’s air circulation system, like blood in water.
They’d been hurt.
He snapped awake and got up, clutching his lasrifle. There was no sign of the assassin. He could hear bewildered and rapid vox chatter coming out of every duct and wall-link as the crew tried to re-establish control of the pole-axed ship. He felt as if he were standing at a slight angle to the horizontal, as though the deck were tilted. That suggested the inertial systems had been damaged. Kolea didn’t know much about warpships, but he was sure it wasn’t a terribly good sign.
The main lights blinked back on as power was restored. It made the smoke seem thicker. Kolea hurried down towards the cell hatch, keeping his aim up and wary. There was still no sign of the killer.
‘Varl,’ he yelled ‘Varl, open up!’
He knelt down. Mktally looked like he was asleep, but he was stone dead, a warknife transfixing his heart. Cant was a mess of blood, so much blood it was hard to look at. What appeared to be a noose of wire had almost decapitated him.
‘Oh, Throne,’ Kolea whispered.
Cant was alive.
‘Varl! Open the door!’ Kolea yelled, clamping his left hand around Cant’s throat to try to staunch the blood-flow. Cant was unconscious, but he was trembling with pain.
‘I’m not falling for that again,’ Varl yelled from behind the hatch.
‘Open the fething hatch, Varl. It’s Gol!’
‘Right, and last time it was Cant! I’m not an idiot. Suicide Kings, Gol. I’ve got a job to do! If you are Gol, you’ll know I’m right. If you’re not, go feth yourself!’
Kolea heard movement. He kept his left hand clenched around Cant’s neck, but hoisted his lasrifle in his right.
‘Identify!’ he yelled.
Figures appeared in the approach hallway, moving towards him through the smoke wash. It was Bonin, with Cardass, Nomis and Brostin. Their guns were up.
‘Kolea?’ Bonin called.
‘I need a medicae!’
Coughing, Zweil pushed past the B Company men and lowered himself beside Kolea.
‘Oh, the poor boy’s gone,’ Zweil said.
‘Are you a gakking medicae?’ Kolea snapped.
‘Not this week, major.’
‘Then could we get a real medicae before we resort to last rites?’ Kolea snarled.
‘Just let me give the poor lad some consolation in case,’ mumbled Zweil, fishing out a pocket icon of the Saint and a silver aquila on a chain.
‘Let me through,’ said Dorden. He looked down at Cant.
‘Gol, I’ve got it,’ Dorden said as he bent down and put his hand over Kolea’s. ‘On three, let me take the compression. Two, three.’
Kolea took his hand away. It was wet with blood.
‘Will he live?’ he asked.
‘He shouldn’t even be down here,’ said Zweil. The old priest glanced at Dorden. ‘Oh, you mean the boy. I get you.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Dorden. He began working at Cant’s throat, pulling back the neckline of the jacket. ‘Where’s my pack?’
Bonin ushered Kolding through. The albino was lugging a medicae supply kit.
‘I need wadding and some sterile gauze,’ said Dorden.
Kolding nodded, opening the kit and taking items out.
‘Sacred feth,’ Dorden murmured as he worked. ‘Look at this.’
Kolding peered in.
‘What?’ asked Kolea.
‘The badge,’ said Kolding quietly. ‘The Suicide Kings badge. This man had it fixed to his collar. It hooked under the garrotte. If it hadn’t got in the way, the wire would have gone clean through to the spine.’
Kolea looked up at Bonin.
‘Small mercies,’ said Bonin.
‘It’s still a damn mess,’ said Dorden. ‘We need to release the wire, but it’s pinching the carotids. If they’re torn, taking the wire away will make him bleed out.’
‘We can’t patch him without taking the wire off,’ said Kolding quietly.
‘Damned either way,’ said Dorden. ‘I’m not even sure how we’re going to patch the wound anyway.’
‘Tape and carbon bond,’ said Kolding.
Dorden looked at him.
‘Not a procedure I’ve heard of, Doctor Kolding.’
‘Not a medicae one,’ admitted Kolding, ‘but in the mortician’s trade it works well. I suggest it because once we take off that wire we’ve got to move quickly.’
‘You’re not serious?’ asked Kolea.
‘It’s the best suggestion I’ve heard,’ said Dorden, ‘and I’m senior medicae here.’
Kolea got up and looked at Bonin and the other troopers.
‘The killer’s got to be close by. He’s hurt. He fled when everything went dark.’
Bonin nodded. He had already started to search the hallway.
‘I’ve got a blood trail. Let’s go.’
‘Why did everything go dark?’ asked Kolea. ‘Did we hit something?’
‘Something hit us,’ said Judd Cardass. ‘I think we’re in some kind of battle.’
Kolea looked up at the ceiling. The superstructure of the ship was creaking and groaning.
‘Seriously?’ he asked. Apart from the bump, he wasn’t sure how anyone could tell.
‘Report,’ Shipmaster Spika was yelling through the smoke. ‘All departments report!’
The main lights of the bridge chamber stuttered and came back on. Damage klaxons were whooping. Some of the ornamental glass shades on the platform lights had been dislodged, and had shattered on the deck.