‘We need to wait for the armsmen, sir,’ said the lieutenant.
‘That could be another five minutes, we’ve got men fighting and dying right beneath our feet, man!’
‘All the same, sir, we can’t do anything for them yet, unless we want to join them in the Emperor’s locker box.’
‘This isn’t like you, Saul,’ said Kulik, pulling free his arm. ‘Never seen you back down from a fight, not in all the years we’ve served together.’
‘It’s the admiral, sir.’ Shaffenbeck looked away, ashamed.
Kulik knew the mannerism well; the lieutenant wanted to say something but considered it too far outside his remit to utter the thoughts.
‘Out with it, you know you can trust me, Saul. What about the admiral?’
‘I don’t trust him, not with the
‘Price is a decorated and capable commander, lieutenant,’ Kulik said sternly. He saw a sudden fear in Shaffenbeck’s eyes. Not the fear of the physical but fear of reprimand, of failing in honour or duty. It softened the captain’s mood immediately. ‘There’s a lot at stake, you heard what Lansung told him. Price is under a lot of pressure.’
‘I think he’s buckling…’ Shaffenbeck let the thought drift away as boots clattered on the stairs above them, heralding the arrival of Sergeant Latheram and his armsmen.
‘Reporting as ordered, captain.’ The gaunt warrant officer snapped off a salute. ‘Got fifty men from the lance crews, sir, with shotters and boarding gaffes. Shall I lead the way, captain?’
Kulik could hardly refuse as the wiry man almost pushed his way past and shouted to his men to follow.
The armsmen of the
Kulik started down the steps not far behind Latheram, with Shaffenbeck right behind him. The sergeant turned left at the bottom of the steps, heading aft, where the sounds of fighting were louder.
‘Captain, we have two more teleport registers close to your position. One astern of c-section, one in the prow sensor access tunnels,’ reported Lieutenant Cabriot.
‘Sergeant, we need to head for’ard. There’s another lot of greenskins attacking the sensor arrays. If they take them offline we’ll be blind and deaf.’
‘Right you are, sir,’ said the sergeant. He performed an abrupt about-face, power maul on his shoulder, pistol in his other hand. ‘This way, lads. Don’t dawdle!’
Flashes of gunfire shone from the bare bulkheads a couple of hundred feet ahead of the party — the watch lieutenants on each deck were issued with keys to the firearms lockers when a ship went to general quarters. There were sporadic snaps of laser fire, but far more bass cracks and bangs from the orks’ slug-throwers. Bestial growls and roars, punctuated by the wet slosh of blood, the snap of shattering bones and howls of pain, made Kulik glad he had listened to Saul and not dashed headlong into the melee.
In the light of the gunfight large, brutish shadows were thrown against the walls ahead. Kulik counted at least a dozen bodies strewn along the passageway before them, contorted and battered so badly they were barely recognisable as human. With a sinking heart the captain counted no orkish casualties amongst the dead.
‘Captain, the tech-priests have locked down the sensor chambers and secured the prow bulkheads, but they say that the orks have brought cutting gear with them. They’ll be through in a matter of minutes.’ Hartnell sounded calm enough over the comm, but Kulik could imagine the tension on the bridge. Fighting a battle was bad enough, but doing so while hulking alien brutes were rampaging through your ship — and capable of teleporting an attack seemingly at will — was probably testing the nerves of even the bravest officers.
‘Do you think they know what’s in there, sir?’ asked Shaffenbeck, looking paler than usual.
‘I hope not,’ said the captain. ‘Because if this is a deliberate attack to cripple our sensors, the orks know a whole lot more about our ships than I’m happy about.’
‘Best we stop them, eh, sir?’ suggested Shaffenbeck with a forced smile.
‘At the double, please, sergeant.’ Kulik tried to exude confidence with his voice but his words sounded slightly shrill. ‘Let’s kill these orks before they cut through into the sensorium.’
As the company broke into a run, Kulik and Shaffenbeck surrounded by armsmen and shotgun-wielding ratings, the captain’s hands started sweating profusely. It was odd, considering how dry his mouth had become.
