‘I have had my fill of questions, magos,’ the Space Marine said. ‘If you don’t mind, I should like to be alone now.’
‘Of course,’ Urquidex said. ‘If you would permit me one question more. For our records.’
‘What is it?’
‘What is your name?’
The Space Marine stared back out into the cold emptiness of the void.
‘My name is Koorland, Second Captain,’ the Imperial Fist told him. ‘Wall-name… Slaughter.’
Gav Thorpe
The Emperor expects
One
‘Colossus, this is orbital command. I say again, change heading to six-three-eight, ascent forty-one. You are set on collision course with the Noble Voyager.’
‘Ignore her,’ said Captain Rafal Kulik. ‘Continue on course.’
Kulik was a tall, heavy-set man with a face lined by years, though a life spent in warp space made any estimate of his true age impossible. His skin was dark brown, as were his eyes, though his hair was silvery grey, its tight coils straightened and parted formally by the application of much lotion and toil every morning.
He wore his service uniform — epaulettes and cuffs of golden thread on a coat of deep blue, but no medals except for an aquila holding the badge of the Segmentum Solar, indicating Kulik’s rank as a flag-captain and patrol commander. His black boots were brightly polished. A sturdy boarding cutlass was held on a hanger at his waist, with a blocky service laspistol hung at the other hip.
The atmosphere on the bridge was tense and quiet, sparked by the mood of the man who commanded the fate of everybody aboard the battleship. Kulik dominated proceedings with his presence. He stood square in the middle of the main command deck in a serene bubble of importance — genuine authority, not self-importance — while around him junior officers waited in anticipation of his next command and half-human servitors murmured and burbled a litany of reports from the battleship’s systems.
The bridge was a flattened semicircle in shape, nearly eighty feet wide with a vaulted ceiling sixty feet high; a command deck at the bottom and two mezzanine-like observation and navigation decks above. A multi-part viewing display, which could be formatted to create a variety of screens and sub-screens, dominated the chamber. It currently showed two main split-screens with a schematic of the packed orbital berths around Lepidus Prime and a scrolling list of the capital ships currently identified in the system. Black Duke, Kingmaker, Emperor’s Fortitude, Vigilanti Eternus, Fortune’s Favour, Saviour of Delphis, Neptune, Argos, Uziel: a list of forty-six and still growing.
The Colossus was a rare Oberon-class ship, fitted for extended solitary patrols. Her decks carried a mix of weapons batteries, high-powered lance turrets and flight bays. A dedicated tracking sensor and communications array for these systems and flight crews was manned by three officers on a sub-deck just in front of the captain’s empty command throne; beyond them was set a broad secondary display dedicated to the tactical disposition of the battleship’s flight assets.
With a hiss of pneumatics, the main doors to Kulik’s right opened; the two armsmen sentries snapped to attention and presented their shotcannons. First Lieutenant Saul Shaffenbeck entered at a brisk pace. Shaffenbeck was prim, proper, tall and handsome like the stereotypical image of a Naval officer used by the recruiters, although somewhat in his later years now. His hair had lost none of its lustre, due to an illicit supply of dye, Kulik suspected, and though several years his captain’s senior the lieutenant moved with an energy and grace that gave him the appearance of a much younger man. Shaffenbeck had never applied for his commission as captain and was the longest-serving officer on the Colossus. He had never explained why he was content to remain a first officer rather than a commander, but Shaffenbeck’s natural calm and enviable experience made him a valuable aide; like his predecessors, Kulik was silently pleased Shaffenbeck had never sought further promotion.
The captain noticed Shaffenbeck steal a glance towards the second lieutenant at the comms panel, Mister Hartnell, as he entered. It was the briefest look before Shaffenbeck sought Kulik’s permission to enter with a tilt of the head. Kulik granted permission with a nod in return. By the time Shaffenbeck was by his side Kulik had deciphered the lieutenants’ exchange of glances: having failed to convince his captain to change course as requested by orbital command, the officer of the watch, Mister Hartnell, had secretly sought support from the first lieutenant.
‘I do not remember requesting my first officer’s presence,’ said Kulik, not looking at his second-in-command but keeping his gaze on the main display.
‘I was monitoring communications, sir, and happened to overhear recent exchanges with orbital command. I felt it prudent to be on hand should we require sensitive manoeuvring.’
‘I’m sure that is entirely correct, lieutenant.’ Kulik looked sideways at his second and gave him a glance that conveyed that the captain knew exactly what was going on and was prepared to accept this white lie to avoid imminent debate, but would possibly raise the matter at a later opportunity. In return, Shaffenbeck’s slow blink and slight incline of the head transmitted equally well that he also knew exactly what was going on and was prepared to accept the consequences. Such a momentary exchange was possible only through a familiarity brought about by long years of extended, isolated patrol.
Having swiftly and silently reached this understanding, and in doing so received tacit permission to speak to his captain about the current situation, Shaffenbeck cleared his throat.
‘It would seem, sir, that our current heading would bring us to an orbital berth that is presently occupied by the Noble Voyager.’
‘I believe what you meant to say, lieutenant, is that our current destination, an orbital berth suited to a battleship commanded by a flag-captain of fifteen true-years’ seniority, is currently occupied by a grand cruiser under the command of a three-year newcomer.’
‘And Captain Ellis has responded to the situation how, sir?’
‘He’s done nothing, directly.’ Kulik stiffened and looked directly at his second. ‘I know you think I’m simply being obstinate, Saul, but the situation is intolerable. The whole Lepidus System is overrun with Navy ships. The fact that Admiral Acharya’s fleet arrived earlier does not grant them preferential status. Orbital berths are designated by size of vessel, rank and seniority to ensure that the most important vessels and experienced commanders have better access to the supply tenders and orbital stations. Ellis must have cried to Acharya that I want him to move further out, and now the admiral is leaning on orbital. Orbital command are out of order saying that I must defer to the damned Noble Voyager!’
Before the lieutenant could respond a fresh broadcast blared from the bridge’s speakers.
‘Commander of Colossus, this is orbital command. By order of Admiral Acharya, you are to stand-off orbital station, assuming berth designated sigma-seven. We are re-routing the Endeavour to accommodate this new heading.’
‘I understand completely, captain,’ said Shaffenbeck, and he seemed sincere. ‘However, it is hardly the fault of orbital command and your current course of action is more problematic for them than the source of your anger.’
Kulik shook his head, but his mood was already softening, the irritation he felt salved by quiet words of reason.
‘The logistarius have a lot to deal with at the moment, sir,’ Shaffenbeck continued. ‘More than forty ships of the line plus twice as many escorts have mustered here, and from the general order signal we received we might expect as many again to join us over the coming weeks. Lord High Admiral Lansung seems to be bringing in almost everybody except the Fleet Solar to combat these latest ork attacks.’