‘I don’t believe it is,’ said Kiran. ‘I think that’s a ghost, the ghost of a friend.’
Heth and Maskar moved closer to the vast display, trying to work out what everyone seemed to be seeing.
‘This blip?’ asked the Lord Commander Militant. ‘This shadow here against the relative lower hemisphere of the planet?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Kiran. ‘Sensorus! Have the advancing picket ships direct their full-gain auspex and detector grids at that shadow. And the fleet too, for what it’s worth. Address all our scanning arrays, passive and active, at what the Lord Commander calls “that blip” and have the data streamed to my console.’
‘But what is it?’ asked Maskar.
‘It’s a ship, my dear general,’ said Kiran. ‘One of ours.’
Twenty
The ship emerged from the elemental fury surrounding Ardamantua, rising out of the radioactive soup and lashing ocean of charged particles like a wreck brought up from the seabed. Streams of energy and magnetic backwash, lurid and phosphorescent, spilled back into the pulsing blister of gravitational madness encasing the planet.
The ship rose, powered by its own half-failing engines, summoned by the frantic hails from Kiran’s ships, voices that gave it a direction to head in. It was ailing and damaged, they could see that. Many decks were blown out and the hull was ruptured as though titanic battles had been waged on every level. At least one of its main engines was dead and bleeding clouds of lethal atomic blood into the vacuum.
Two of Kiran’s most powerful cruisers, at the admiral’s direction, moved in closer to the struggling revenant and secured tractor beams, slowly hauling back and assisting its desperate ascent from the cauldron of seething cosmological destruction.
‘Identity?’ asked Lord Commander Militant Heth.
‘It’s Aggressor-class, my lord,’ said Kiran, ‘which means it has to be either the Amkulon or the Ambraxas. They were the two Aggressor-class cruisers assigned to the Chapter Master’s undertaking.’
‘Keel number and auto-broadcast codes confirm it is the Amkulon, sir,’ a sensory officer announced.
‘Let’s raise her now she’s clear of the backwash,’ said Kiran. He walked over to the main communication station, where plugged-in operators and servitors worked at the steep banks of titanium keys. They looked as though they were attempting to play some nightmarishly complex cathedral pipe organ, out of which only the clacks and taps of their keys would issue.
‘Connect me,’ said Kiran.
Eerie squeals and screams suddenly blew up out of the vox-speakers, the ambient sound of space being tortured by radiation and gravity. Beeping and pulsing signals resolved out of the screams. Hololithic energies crackled around the cable-fed and rack-mounted hoop of the station’s projector array, and then an image began to shimmer into place, suspended inside the rim of the hoop like soapy water inside a child’s bubble-blower.
There was a great deal of distortion. They could see a face, but it seemed like a face as seen through a white veil of mourning, or some cerecloth for funereal binding.
‘This is Admiral Kiran, commanding the reinforcement squadron. I am speaking from the bridge of my vessel, the Azimuth. Amkulon, can you hear me?’
Static. The moaning of vacuum ghosts.
‘Amkulon, Amkulon, this is Azimuth. Can you hear me?’
‘It is my pleasure to confirm that I can, admiral,’ a broken voice said from the projector and the speakers. ‘We thought we were lost. Lost forever. This is Amkulon. This is Amkulon. Shipmistress Aquilinia speaking.’
‘Aquilinia! By the Throne, it’s good to hear your voice,’ said Kiran.
‘Have you come to save us all, admiral? That will be quite a feat. The brave fleet is gone. Ardamantua is dying and it is taking the last of our best along with it.’
‘Shipmistress,’ Heth said, stepping up beside Kiran. ‘Forgive me, this is Lord Commander Militant Heth. I am commanding this taskforce that has come to reinforce and assist the Imperial Fists effort here.’
‘My most honoured lord,’ the pale, half-seen phantom replied. ‘I never expected that a man so great would come for us.’
‘Can you, shipmistress, account for the situation as you understand it? We have precious little data. Can you give any report?’
‘I have maintained my mission log since these events began,’ Aquilinia replied, the edges of her words shaved off by static. ‘I will link the data directly to your cogitators, so you may inload and review the information in full detail. To summarise — we were close to victory. The blisternest was under assault and due to fall. Ground forces had been despatched, and others were preparing to drop. Then the noise bursts began. You will have heard those. First the noise bursts, then the gravitational anomalies. There were not supposed to be any hazards of that sort in this system, but they ripped through the planet’s nearspace like a plague infection. One of them opened in my starboard drive and crippled us. Saved us, too.’
‘Explain, please, Amkulon,’ instructed the Lord Commander Militant.
‘It nearly brought us down. We had to drop our personnel and troop strengths by boat and teleport. But I managed to arrest our descent by ejecting the damaged core, and we were able to withdraw to a safer high anchor point above the planet where we began repairs. As a result, we were the only vessel a great deal further out when the full gravitational storm erupted. It destroyed the fleet, my lord. I saw ships torn apart, and others fall on fire into the planet. I saw the Lanxium die.’
‘Great God-Emperor!’ Heth whispered.
‘We were far enough out to survive the worst of it, but we were caught inside the wash of the storm, and blinded. All directional input was lost, sir. I could not move for fear of running directly into Ardamantua. I could not move until the sound of your voices showed me which direction was out.’
The battered Amkulon was still pulling clear of the worst spatial distortion. Debris trailed out behind it, whipping back into the gravity well like silver dust. Resolution on the communication image was improving, and the vox quality had got cleaner.
‘The Amkulon was transporting Lotus Gate Company,’ said Maskar to the Lord Commander.
‘Shipmistress?’ called Heth. ‘Did Lotus Gate Company get clear, or are they still with you?’
‘At my instruction,’ she replied, ‘they teleported to the surface. I personally gave Captain Severance the teleport locator wand so that I could recall them if the situation improved. But I lost all contact with the surface. Sir, I did not even know where the surface was. I have kept the locator’s transmission signal on automatic recall, but I fear the captain and his wall are lost to us.’
They could see her on the hololith now. Her bridge was a charred ruin behind her. The image distortion had cleared somewhat, but part of what they had first taken as distortion remained. Shipmistress Aquilinia, and those members of her command crew who were in view, were all swathed head-to-foot in white cloth. It was stained in patches, as if pink fluid was gradually seeping out from within.
‘Radiation burns,’ muttered Kiran. ‘Sweet Throne, I’ve never seen such extensive… They’ve shrouded themselves in protective veils, but they are burned, burned so badly…’
‘Shipmistress,’ Heth announced. ‘We are sending rescue boats to you. Medicae teams will—’
‘Negative,’ she said. Her voice was quiet but firm. ‘We are thoroughly and lethally irradiated, my lord. All of us, poisoned and scorched. We will not survive long. My entire ship is contaminated by the drive damage and utterly deadly. No one must come aboard. To board us is a death sentence.’