The Beast Arises полностью

‘Well we know that now, don’t we?’ Kulik shrugged, dismissing his annoyance. ‘Havaart and his crew will have to weather a bit of rough treatment before we come into range.’

‘Aye, sir, I’m sure it won’t be anything they can’t handle.’

Kulik could feel that Colossus wasn’t proceeding quite as he intended. There was something about the vibrations through the deck, the background hum, that dissatisfied the captain. He looked at the course projection on the screen and saw that they had made minor alterations to their heading twice since he had laid down their course.

‘Helm, can’t you keep to a straight line?’ barked Kulik, rounding on the navigational crew.

‘Sorry, sir,’ replied Lieutenant Asterax, whom Kulik had brought across to the Colossus when he had been made captain. Kulik expected better of his helmsman. ‘There’s a two point drift to starboard, captain.’

Kulik grunted to acknowledge the response and turned his attention to the Adeptus Mechanicus enginseer at the monitoring station on the upper level of the bridge.

‘Fastandorin!’ The captain’s bellow brought the red-robed tech-priest to the rail above. Her face was an articulated mask of silver and copper that showed no expression. An arterial cable spiralled away from her right temple to the cogitator behind her. ‘There’s a plasma flutter in the starboard engines. You have two minutes to stabilise it before I send Mister Shaffenbeck to take personal control.’

Every ranking man and woman aboard knew what that really meant. If Kulik despatched the first lieutenant to anybody’s position, that officer would find themselves dumped dockside and on half-reparations at the next port of call. Kulik expected the best, and there were stories of unfortunates left abandoned on star bases and orbital stations deep in wilderness space who could not expect another Imperial vessel for many years, decades even.

‘Analysing, captain,’ replied the enginseer before disappearing from view. Her voice always reminded Kulik of something silky and smooth; beguiling and utterly at odds with her inhuman appearance. Fastandorin seemed oblivious to the effect it could have on the men around her, having devoted her life to matters of the machine above the flesh more than two centuries previously.

There was no need for a further report. Kulik could feel the dissonance that had niggled at him dissipating as the engine crews fixed the power imbalance. A few minutes later and there had been no further adjustments from the helm crew.

‘Thank you, enginseer, please ensure such a situation does not arise again.’

‘I will recalibrate the monitors myself, captain,’ Fastandorin’s reply drifted down.

The battleship was converging rapidly with Saint Fatidicus, with the ork ships approaching from behind and to starboard of the cruiser. As Daggan had predicted, the flanking ork vessels were between the two Imperial Navy ships.

‘When is Mister Daggan due to sit his lieutenant’s exam?’ he asked Saul quietly.

‘Next time we have any extended period at dock, sir,’ replied Saul. ‘It should have taken place at Lepidus Prime, but events overtook us before the board could be arranged.’

‘Well, ensure that he goes forward next time,’ insisted Kulik. ‘And make sure he is thoroughly prepared. He’s a good officer, Daggan, there’s a ship somewhere that will benefit greatly from his promotion.’

‘I understand, sir,’ said Shaffenbeck, nodding. ‘I will ensure he has my personal attention and tuition.’

‘Very good.’ Kulik raised his voice. ‘Fire arrestors and slow to battle speed! All flight crews to launch stations. Divert power to lance batteries and weapons matrices. Pilots and gunners prepare for launch orders. Lieutenant Sturmfel, what is the current condition of the Saint Fatidicus?’

It was a few seconds before the sensor officer made his reports.

‘Her engines are running hot, but void shields are intact, sir. No additional damage yet.’

‘Very well. Lieutenant Shaffenbeck, launch all fighter and bomber wings as soon as we have attained combat velocity. Comms, signal Captain Havaart. When we have launched, he is to come about sharply and target the ship on his stern. We will engage the other ork vessels.’

‘Aye aye, sir!’

In the flight decks pilots were warming up the plasma jets of their aircraft and ground crews were making last-minute checks on fitted ordnance and power feeds. Gun crews would be at their weapons, stripped to the waist, barefooted to get grip on the rippled floor of the gun decks. The gun captains and deck lieutenant would be reminding the crews to await their orders, to mark the targeting matrices. Energy was surging though the coils feeding the lance turrets, charging the building-sized capacitors that would power the devastating laser weapons.