‘Aye aye, sir,’ said Shaffenbeck. ‘Captain, what are your orders for manoeuvre?’
‘Remain on station, lieutenant,’ said Kulik. He looked at Price and received a confirmation. ‘Repeat flag order to the rest of the fleet. Ships are to remain on station until further command.’
Kulik flicked off the intercom after receiving Shaffenbeck’s assent. Price moved back to his chair and flopped down.
‘What in all that is glorious on Terra is Lord High Admiral Lansung doing here?’ the admiral asked nobody in particular, waving his arms helplessly. He half-turned and looked sharply at Kulik. ‘You know he hates me, yes? If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d already made post rank I’d have never become captain once he rose to power.’
‘I have never heard the full story, sir. Something about a public disagreement.’
‘That’ll have to wait, Rafal. Find out where Lansung’s flagship translated and plot a course. I expect the Lord High Admiral will want us to come calling on him.’ Kulik gave Price a look that, whilst not openly disobeying a command from a superior, reminded that superior that he was captain of this ship, not some messenger ensign to be sent on errands. Price shrugged. ‘No time for bruised sensibilities, Rafal. Sorry, but you’ll just have to put up with me for the next few days until everything with Lansung and Acharya is smoothed out.’
‘Aye, and I’ll say thank you too, I’m sure,’ Kulik muttered as he stood up.
‘What was that, captain?’
Kulik stopped with one hand on the curved gilded handle of the wood-panelled door. He didn’t look back.
‘Aye aye, admiral. I’ll get right on it.’
And for the next two days, that was exactly what Kulik did. Price’s communications requests to the Lord High Admiral’s flagship were repeatedly ignored or refused, leaving the admiral short-tempered and sarcastic; a mood Kulik had no desire to endure. Kulik inspected each gun deck and gun, every lance battery, both flight decks, the ship’s shuttles and even the plasma core chambers in an effort to be wherever Price was not. In his absence Shaffenbeck, ever- patient Shaffenbeck, fielded any and all inquiries, requests and orders from the tetchy admiral, including the hourly demand for the comms officers to establish communication with the Autocephalax Eternal.
During this time the other ships of the fleet did relatively little. Acharya’s coreward fleet maintained a defensive encirclement in orbit above the eighth planet, where it had been virtually trapped since punching in-system on arrival. The orks tried a few small attacks, perhaps hoping to bait the clustered Imperial vessels into a pursuit that would draw them out, but nobody was willing to break the relative sanctuary of the fleet.
The rimward fleet of Price maintained its own position just a few thousand miles from optimal translation distance, compact enough to defend itself but not so close that it could not disperse within a couple of hours to achieve translation separation. The newly arrived portions of Battlefleet Solar, eighteen more capital ships and twice that number of escorts, gathered on the system edge as they arrived, roughly equidistant between the two Naval flotillas.
They could not wait forever though, as the gigantic attack moon at the heart of the greenskin armada drifted ever closer to the docks at Port Sanctus. The orks were not to be distracted from their purpose by the presence of the humans, and their devastating weapon did not change course to meet the incoming fleets.
Under the guise of worrying about a visit from the Lord High Admiral, Kulik personally supervised gun practice and guard of honour drill. He instigated several new standing orders, including forbidding whistling and singing outside of crew quarters. Kulik individually briefed his officers on what to expect and do should Lansung decide to come aboard — all thirty-two lieutenants, flight lieutenants and ensigns. He was about to start going through the roster of sixty-eight petty and warrant officers, theoretically including the Navigators and tech-priests, when he received word from his first lieutenant that they had received fresh orders from Admiral Lansung.
Price received the ciphered communiqué in the comms chamber, with Kulik and Saul in attendance. However, before the admiral had entered his decipher codes the intercom buzzed with a message from the bridge. Saul took the transmission with the hand-held receiver, nodding and saying ‘Yes’ and ‘Understood, lieutenant’ every few seconds. After about half a minute he hung up and turned to find the captain and admiral staring inquisitively at him.
‘Sensor report, sirs,’ said Shaffenbeck. He cleared his throat. ‘Lieutenant Chambers reports that the Defiant Monarch is breaking orbit and moving towards the system rim.’
‘Acharya is leaving?’ Price seemed torn between incredulity and delight.
‘It would not be appropriate for me to venture speculation, admiral,’ Shaffenbeck said. ‘Nor did the fourth lieutenant care to offer any such opinion.’
‘Your orders, admiral? Perhaps they make mention of Acharya’s departure,’ said Kulik.
Price returned his gaze to the screen, still slightly euphoric if his distant smile and glazed expression were any indication. He keyed in a cipher code on the rune pad beneath the monitor and the display flared with static. After a few seconds, the fizzing monochrome resolved itself into the equine features of Admiral Sheridan Villiers, His Grace the Void Baron of Cypra Nubrea — Lansung’s senior fleet attaché.
‘For the attention of Admiral Price, Commander-in-office Rimward Flotilla, Fleet Navalis Segmentum Solar.’ Kulik was mesmerised by the bobbing laryngeal protrusion of Villiers, which looked like an ork attack moon in its own right. ‘You are hereby requested and required, immediately upon receiving these orders, to convene the rimward flotilla in accordance with the attached designations and dispositions, for preparation of immediate battle.’
The image halted, cut by flickering lines as Price paused the receiver. His expression had hardened at the words ‘immediate battle’.
‘Lansung intends to continue with this damn fool plan of Acharya’s,’ the admiral said without looking at his companions. ‘He really means to liberate Port Sanctus.’
‘Do you think that it was his intent all along, sir?’ asked Shaffenbeck.
‘But why send Acharya away now?’ said Kulik. ‘That doesn’t make sense if he was acting on Lansung’s orders.’
‘We might never know, gentlemen,’ said Price. He leaned forward and pressed the rune to continue the vid-flow.
‘According to said dispositions, the rimward flotilla will make all speed to the co-ordinates indicated.’ A series of nine numbers flashed up at the bottom of the transmission, somewhere within the orbit of the sixth world, Kulik judged on first glance. ‘At the same time, the coreward flotilla shall perform counter-manoeuvres with effect to break through to the same position, linking the fleets. As an added measure, the Lord High Admiral shall be leading the Fleet Solar elements on a corresponding course to intercept any enemy vessels attempting to reinforce at the rendezvous.’
Price nodded, pausing the playback again.
‘That’s not a terrible plan,’ the admiral admitted. ‘Given our current positions, those headings will break the ork presence in two places, with Lansung’s ships circling around to cut off the greenskins from the inner system where the attack moon is.’
‘Aye, sir, but he hasn’t taken into account the asteroid forts and other defences littered throughout that area,’ said Saul.
‘I think he has,’ Kulik said quietly. ‘He intends for us to clear that asteroid belt of the orks as we make our way to the rendezvous.’
‘Attack the rock forts and then straight into a head-on battle?’ Price frowned and leaned back in his chair to snatch a system-wide sensor report from the table. The creases in his brow deepened and the corners of his mouth descended even further. ‘Bloody madman, that’s what he is! I knew this was too simple.’