The Beast Arises

His subconscious reaction directed power to the main void shield generators and shut down reactor plasma inlets as he braced the starship for the inevitable attack. Anti-torpedo las weapons thrummed into life, though they were of virtually no use against surface-launched missiles. The targeting arrays would not have time to adjust in the moments between the projectiles breaking atmosphere and striking the ship in low orbit. Damage teams and repair servitors were despatched to their emergency positions while the more vulnerable parts of the ship were evacuated completely except for servitor personnel.

A vessel the size of the Cortix Verdana had no chance of evading the incoming attack. Instead, the ship assumed its maximum defensive posture, the equivalent of curling into a foetal ball and awaiting the worst.

They did not have to wait long.

Less than a minute after detecting the first defence activations, Zhokuv sensed a ripple of energetic particles erupting from one of the ground installations. In less than a second the beam struck the Cortix Verdana.

‘Gravitic attack!’ The warning raced through the ship’s systems. Klaxons blared. Those that could made fast to whatever they could hold.

The wave of anti-gravitic energy passed through the void shields without effect. It slammed into the planetwards decks, instantly crumpling metres-thick armour, tearing chunks of plasteel and adamantium from their housings.

The physical damage was significant, but worse still, the beam ruptured the basic fabric of the gravity well, dragging the ship towards Ullanor. The sudden acceleration created a form of weightlessness on board, overpowering even the artificial gravity. Personnel and equipment were sent flying from the decks, slamming into ceilings and bulkheads as though caught on an aircraft in horrendous turbulence. Zhokuv felt pressure doors bursting and vacuum seals shredding under the immense forces.

The dominus knew from all previous reports that even the massive engines of the Cortix Verdana could not resist the power of the gravity beam. Instead he diverted all remaining energy to the physical defences and energy shields.

‘Atmospheric entry in thirty seconds,’ groaned an alarm-servitor.

The strategium was a scene of chaos, tech-priests and servitors thrown like dolls as another wave of impossible gravitic energy flared along the Cortix Verdana. Zhokuv had no time to spare for the broken bodies littering the deck — every navigational shield and altitude jet burst into life at his command, easing the massive starship into a better angle of entry.

Even so, the flare of frictional heat from the thickening atmosphere overloaded the ship’s sensors. Blinded, the flagship of the Adeptus Mechanicus plunged into Ullanor’s skies.

‘Launch everything!’ bellowed Koorland. ‘Anything that can drop, get it off the ships. Any vessel that has already despatched must break orbit immediately.’

Thane was already barking commands at the vox-officer, demanding reports from the surface. Warning alerts wailed into life as the Alcazar Remembered took evasive action. The battle-barge fired its main engines, heading towards Ullanor in an attempt to break the target lock that had overloaded its surveyor systems a minute earlier.

‘Incoming missiles,’ growled Thane from a monitor station. ‘A dozen at least.’

The flat areas chosen as landing grounds by their forces had in fact been the covers to immense silos of anti-ship guns and missiles. Not just physical missiles targeted the orbiting fleets — powerful gravitic manipulators were turning ships inside out, pulling them down to fiery deaths in the atmosphere or tossing them into deep space. Strangely pulsating green rays sliced warships in two while cluster-missiles engulfed descending drop-ships with thousands of detonations, and rapid-firing flak guns smashed apart plummeting drop pods.

‘We can’t stay here,’ snarled Koorland. He started towards the door of the command bridge. ‘Alert all combat personnel to prepare for launch. Drop pods and Thunderhawks.’

‘We’re evacuating, Lord Commander?’

‘Attacking, while we can.’

‘And Lord Vulkan?’ asked Thane, following his Lord Commander. The remaining Space Marines left their positions, their roles handed to unaugmented officers and servitors. Fists Exemplar across the ship would be doing the same. Every warrior ready for combat would be at his drop-station in minutes.

‘I will speak with him myself,’ said Koorland. He took his helmet from his belt as the doors wheezed open. With a last look at Thane he fitted the helm.

‘Brace for impact.’ The mechanical tones of the alert servitor across the shipwide vox did nothing to convey the urgency of its message. ‘Impact imminent.’

Koorland grabbed a bulkhead, pressing close to the plasteel. The others found similar handholds and waited.