Editing End Times (Warhammer 40,000) (section)

==Part 7==

“Captain, scans indicate a ship in this system,” said Third Lieutenant Picus.

“Identity of the vessel?”

“Working... one moment,” she replied. “Battle cruiser. Overlord class. Identity unknown.”

“Is it one of the enemy's?”

“It may be. Preliminary scans match the recorded output of the Red Corsair vessel Aquiline,” she said. “Sir! They may not know we're here. They seem to be in the midst of repairs. Secondary scans indicate coolant leakage, which appears to reduce their effective scan range ten-fold.”

Captain Numitor of the Justus Dominatus, an Oberon-class Battleship of the Gothic Battlefleet, was not  known for his caution in battle. He pressed a single button on his command chair. “My Lord Primarchs, I request your presence on the bridge to discuss a possible attack plan.”


A few minutes later, the four Primarchs were assembled. “What are we looking at here, Captain?” said the Wolf-King of Fenris. 

Captain Numitor desperately tried not to bow. Lord Russ had already lectured him on how a captain should never bow onboard his own ship save to his superiors. When he tried to protest that they were Primarchs, the sons of the God-Emperor himself, and surely superior to a mere mortal such as he, Russ had replied they were not HIS superiors; they were of the Adeptus Astartes, not the Imperial Navy. 

“My Lord, tertiary scans have confirmed what we suspected: This is a Battle Cruiser of the Red Corsair fleet, known as the Aquiline. They are a traitor chapter. Their instruments are blinded by the coolant leaking from their engines. We spotted them as soon as we dropped out of warp to recalibrate our position, but they still don't know we're here.”

The Khan spoke next. “Blind, eh? Captain, does this vessel have boarding torpedoes?”

“No my Lord. We do, however, have a number of shark assault boats,” he said, then realized what he had said. “My Lords, my orders are to take you to Terra at all speed. I cannot risk -”

“We've spent ten millennia fighting things that shouldn't exist. I think we can risk fighting something that obeys the laws of reality for a change,” said Lord Corax. “Vulkan?”

“Tell me about this shark assault boat. I don't know of them,” said the Salamander Lord.

Captain Numitor described the vessel in question: small, heavily defended, and fast, designed to latch on an enemy craft and allow assault troops to board and capture enemy vessels. As he did so, Jaghatai Khan smiled widely. “Wonderful things, these Sharks. I've got a plan, my brothers. I think we can take that ship.”

Leman Russ laughed. “I thought you'd say something like that. Don't keep us waiting brother, I'm as anxious to get into it as a neophyte before their first battle.”

“We'll launch about one hour out from their sensor range and go in fast and hot with a fighter escort. Before we reach the edge of their sensor sweeps, we'll disengage engines and rely on the ambient coolant to mask our heat signature long enough for us to close to point blank. Then we do an emergency burn to kill our forward momentum, latch on, and board, while the fighters engage and keep them from retaliating effectively,” said the Khan.

“I like it.”

“But you won't like this part: one of us has to stay here in case things go horribly wrong.”

“You're right, I don't like that part,” growled the Wolf-King. “So... who's the unlucky one?”

In the end they drew lots and Russ lost. Grumbling, but resigned to the necessity of it, Russ bid his fellow Primarchs farewell as they boarded the Assault Boats. Russ was not alone in being left behind – the two Dreadnaughts in their motley band were too large to take part in the boarding action. One was Captain Thule of the Blood Ravens. The other was a Deathwatch veteran named Gygas. Thule had twin power claws as his armament, while Gygas had a twin-linked heavy bolter and a single power claw. 

On board the assault boats, the space marines checked their weapons while they could; they'd be within  enemy sensor range in less than twenty minutes, and boarding shortly after. Corax looked at the Blood Ravens accompanying him in his assault boat – the Force Commander, who claimed to have no name at all, carried a daemonhammer which had served him well in the Eye of Terror. He claimed it was a gift from a Blood Ravens company captain. The Scout-Sargent Cyrus had a raven-pattern assault shotgun and was exhorting his fellow scouts on the necessity of stealth in boarding actions. Tarkus held a heavy bolter, and led a small group of tactical marines from various chapters. Corax turned to his left and found Thaddeus, a young assault marine of no small ability, checking his pair of lightning claws. “Good choice, lad,” said Corvus Corax.

Thaddeus smiled at the Primarch. Years of battle in the Eye of Terror had brought all barriers between the Primarchs and the marines in their command down, and an easy familiarity had developed. “Thank you, sir. I see you feel the same way I do.”

Corax chuckled. “Yes, although mine were meant for a Terminator.” The sheer size of the Primarchs meant they had to search for weapons that wouldn't appear tiny in their hands. Corax favored a pair of Terminator Lightning Claws. “Can't beat them for close combat, can you?”

“No sir.”

The vox crackled three times – to any outside observer, it would be interference from the white dwarf star in the center of the system, but to the marines on the assault boats it meant “entering enemy sensor range in one minute.”

The boat shivered as the engines shut off. Their fate was in the hand of the Emperor now.