Space Marine Apocalypse (Extinction Fleet Book 3) Page 20

  So much of recent events was a blur to him, scraps of violent memories bubbling to the surface of his consciousness, one of the worsening symptoms of the rotting body forge. Ajax knew that every Einherjar was struggling just as mightily as he and those who had not blacked out had come up with their own rituals for keeping themselves fighting fit, or at least as close to it as they could. For Ajax, it was breathing, a deep and mindful in and out as taught to him by Hart so long ago. Not only was it how he managed to keep his awareness from slipping beneath the waves of fury and garbled memory, it was the cornerstone of his struggle with the psychic presence of the Hive Mind.

  He had been the Bloodhound for so long that such meditation was second nature to him, and that was a boon, considering how powerful the Hive Mind was now that they were in such physical proximity. The marine tasted blood on his lips, and realized that his nose was bleeding, though with his faceplate locked in combat position there was nothing he could do but push through the discomfort. He did not need technical readouts or visual confirmation to know that the Hive Mind was close, he felt it in the soft tissues of his brain and in the pressure of the alien intellect upon what he felt must be his very soul.

  It was out there, rising from the darkness to consume the last light of humanity's defenders, its every thought bent towards consuming the armada and returning to its plunder of human space.

  The pressure had been building in his mind, and he'd issued regular updates and confirmations that they were nearing a showdown with the enemy as the armada made its long journey. Ajax was thankful that the Watchman had seen fit to allow him to return to Hydra Company. If there was to be a last and bloody brawl with the garm, the marine wanted to be with his brothers, to march and fight and die as a common soldier. He might be the Bloodhound, but he was a marine first, and the Watchman appeared to understand that.

  "It won't be long now," offered Hart from across the dropship as he made a show of tapping his helmet, indicating his coms. "Skald Wallace reports that the Watchtower has engaged a hive ship large enough to breed starship class bio-vessels. He is positive the Hive Mind hides within the monstrosity."

  "I am inclined to agree with him," nodded Skald Omar from his position to the left of Ajax, the special forces operator had insisted to both Wallace and Jarl Mahora that he and skald sniper Hart should go into battle alongside Ajax. "Such a display of strength could only result in the Hive Mind itself rising to make the final kill. It completes the narrative."

  "Likely it is the Hive Mind simply displaying standard garm warfare methodologies, attacking the strongest point and working its way to the weaker elements. There may be no other forces at work beyond the instincts of the alien swarm," rebutted Hart, his voice flat as always, though each man in the ship who knew him could tell he lacked his usual critical edge, as if he was more providing a counter-point out of habit. "It could be that our human desire to glean meaning from the chaos of natural selection is crafting a narrative around events that are perfectly mundane."

  "When two species are playing the extinction game, perhaps it is not out of turn for we humans to arm ourselves with the power of story," said Omar, clearly enjoying himself in debate regardless of how dire their situation and Ajax found himself wondering if such discussion was meant to distract them from the void battle raging around them. "Yes, all of the events in recent years, from Heorot to Artemesia, could be the result of natural selection sorting out the universe on a grand scale. However, as a mortal man, I find it much more empowering to think of our struggle in terms of heroes and monsters.

  “Look at the fate of Skald Thatcher, a once great man who took the narrative strategy to such an extreme he made himself into Loki. Vile a traitor as he was, that betrayal fits flawlessly with the myths of Ragnarok, as does our current ride into death and glory at the blare of the Gjallerhorn. If such tales told can make us stronger, even if by the smallest of margins, then let it be so."

  "I just hope you shoot as well as you pontificate, skald," growled Jarl Mahora from the front of the dropship, "As long as we kill the hell out of the Hive Mind, you can spin it to be any story you like."

  "This is the last fight for all of us, so it might as well be Ragnarok, for just like the All-Father and the Einherjar of myth, we go into battle knowing we will perish." Skald Omar smiled, his eyes wide and glinting with a spark of something akin to madness, reminding Ajax that the skalds suffered just as much from the rotting body forge as the marine grunts. "The wolf dies with us, and the spark of humanity's fire makes good its rebirth among distant stars."

  "I do not believe that Ajax is Beowulf, or that we are experiencing the Ragnarok prophesied by some ancient and half-forgotten culture," stated Hart just before the dropship shook again from what the men knew could only be the impact of enemy ordinance. "Though I cannot deny that since Heorot we have been on a certain sort of path, one which lends itself to a narrative interpretation. That being the case, using the Norse myths as a predictive model has yielded tangible results. The Watchman has wagered the future of our species on we marines being those chosen slain, the Einherjar, and so we must become such warriors now. We must be as Loki, and make it real by our deeds."

  The dropship was silent as each man considered the skald sniper's words. The air felt heavy in the craft, and not a man among them flinched when a series of impacts shook the ship again. Deployment warnings began to sound through the interior coms, and they could hear the grind of bay doors opening for launch.

  The marines were not privy to the traffic on the ship's command channel, and it was clear that Jarl Mahora and the skalds were not going to share the progress of the battle outside with the grunts. The men continued their silence, Hart's words hanging above them like a gallows noose.

  Rama cleared his throat dramatically.

  "Well, that certainly sounds better than this whole thing just being one big bug hunt," announced Rama, his words getting a nervous chuckle from the assembled men that as he continued, turned into legitimate laughter. "I'd rather be remembered as a warrior than an exterminator. Einherjar in the service of humanity and the army of the All-Father sounds way better than space marine pest control."

  "There you have it, lads," said Mahora, his gravelly voice sounding in their ears as the launch bay decompressed and the dropships were released from their moorings. "We're on a one-way trip to the biggest nest of space cockroaches in history. If we win, humanity gets another chance. If we lose, the extinction fleet earns its name. We all die today, so act accordingly."

  "We all die today," repeated Ajax as he nodded his head, and soon the other marines said the same, each man among them making what peace he could in the seconds before launch.

  "Warriors of the Bright Lance," came the voice of Captain Yusef over the general broadcast, sounding in their helmets and the intercoms. "It has been an honor serving with you. Good hunting. Launch."

  The dropship's thrusters ignited, and each man was pressed against his seat by the power of the ship streaking out of the launch bay.

  Ajax turned his head towards the front of the ship, and over the shoulder of the co-pilot, he was able to see parts of the void battle ahead of them. At first, it appeared that he was looking at a strange amalgamation of bio-vessel and metal ship. After a moment, though, Ajax realized that he was looking at the remains of the Watchtower, swarmed by attacking garm vessels.

  The dropship streaked across open space, and the pilot deftly evaded oncoming anti-air fire being hurled at them from undamaged parts of the titanic hive ship. Though he could not see them, Ajax knew that there were legions of dropships behind them, a swarm of Einherjar equal to anything the garm had ever thrown at the All-Father's warriors. Bright Lance, in its usual way, had been at the forefront of the fighting, so it was the dropships carrying the Lance's legions that were at the vanguard of the assault.

  Through the anti-air fire, Ajax could see enough of the Watchtower that it appeared to have been intentionally attempting to ram into the hive ship but h
ad been driven off course. Silas, who was seated nearest the co-pilot, next to Jarl Mahora, saw Ajax looking and pointed to the mess.

  "Looks like the Watchtower took critical hits there and there," observed Silas, using his finger to indicate two tremendous spine projectiles jutting out from the forest of smaller ones that covered the ship's hull, "The whole side of the ship is corroded too. Must have gotten chewed on by one of the behemoth class bio-vessels before reaching the hive ship."

  "Probably punched a hole with the magna-cannon and put on the thrusters thinking they could ram it," said Jarl Mahora, having taken notice of his men peeking through the front of the ship, "They quit broadcasting a few minutes ago, just before our launch prep."

  Suddenly there was a bright flash that temporarily filled the entire viewport, and it was only thanks to the helmet's ocular assist that Ajax wasn't blinded by it. He saw the color drain from the co-pilot's face, and then Silas began shaking his head. Ajax couldn't see what it was at first, then as the dropship banked hard to avoid what appeared to be some kind of void-capable spore mine, he saw what the men were looking at.

  The Bright Lance was dying.

  Idris.

  Captain Yusef.

  Everyone.

  The ship that had been his home for more than a decade, along with every crew member who had served faithfully upon it, was gone in an instant. No time for goodbyes, no time for grief, so Ajax did the only thing he could and did not look away, he bore witness.

  The heavy warship Reaper's Lantern also appeared to have taken a direct hit from the enemy, either the hive ship or one of the multitudes of ships that closed in on it, and was listing badly. Ajax could see dozens of secondary explosions rattling the ship, and even though some of the gun batteries continued to fire upon the enemy it was clear that the ship only had minutes to live.

  The dropship banked again as the pilot lined them up for their attack run, and his last sight of the ships was the Lance drifting as it came apart and the Lantern being ravaged by the tentacles of some abominable bio-vessel.

  The deployment lights began to strobe, and Ajax knew that the pilot had found a suitable angle of approach. The hive ship wasn't exactly going to let them in, so the pilots would have to use mounted rockets and guns to punch their way in. He could see that the pilot had lined them up with what appeared to be the garm equivalent of a hangar deck, protected by a thick semi-translucent membrane. As they made their approach, the Angrboda streaked across their nose, firing rockets into the thick hide of the hive ship as it went. The impact of its weapons tore away pieces of the ship's armor, and as the pilot of the dropship opened up with his own mounted weapons, the Angrboda intentionally crashed into the gaping wound it had made. The traitor skalds, it seemed, were on the same close quarters warpath as the marines.

  "Brace!" shouted the pilot, and Ajax turned away from the rapidly approaching hive ship and pressed himself against his seat. Moments later the entire ship shook violently as the pilot, still shooting, slammed them into the tears in the enemy membrane. As they smashed through the interior it felt like the dropship was punching through some manner of interior orifice.

  "Fangs out, marines!" boomed Jarl Mahora as the hatch opened and their rapid-deployment seats ejected the marines in cascading order.

  Ajax sucked in his breath as his seat pushed him out the hatch and sent his boots slamming down onto a deck that was all-together too fleshy. Ajax rushed forward, giving Silas and Jarl Mahora room to deploy. The marine swept his rifle across the interior and saw that not only had the dropship made it through the hangar, it had torn through at least one interior wall.

  Hydra Company dropships followed, and in moments there were scores of marines filling the immediate area. The hive ship's membranes had already mostly regenerated, and the rush of air decompression went from gale force to barely a breeze in seconds.

  Their mission was a simple one, even if gruesome in the extreme. The warships and needle ships were to damage the vessel sufficiently that it wasn't able to immediately escape, buying time for the dropships to approach. Now it was up to the marines to board the hive ship and kill it from the inside.

  The Watchman had assumed that there would not be enough naval firepower to destroy the ship once they'd fought their way through its defensive swarms and he had been right. Even the mighty Watchtower lay dead, locked in its final embrace with the enemy. More importantly, they had to find the Hive Mind and make a confirmed kill. As with all things pertaining to the garm, that would be easier conceptualized than executed.

  Thousands of marines were assaulting this monstrosity, and in truth, their purpose was to cause as much chaos and damage as possible in their search. As if on cue with the marine's inner thoughts, the Jarl began barking orders.

  "Hydra Company split into fire teams!" ordered Jarl Mahora, his voice sending men scrambling to get into their fire teams as they began exchanging fire with garm organisms that looked to be a smaller version of WarGarm, apparently evolved specifically for shipboard fighting. "Bring up the blackouts!"

  It was no surprise that Mahora had chosen the blackouts he did to screen for Hydra Company. The handlers rushed to the front of the loosely formed battle lines, pushing the blackouts along on their binding staffs. Berserkers with the names Boone, Yao, and Sharif stenciled on their black armor, barely visible but for the glint of the odd lighting in the hive ship, stepped up to the firing line.

  Ajax knew it was going to be an apocalyptic boarding action, near point-blank fighting from start to finish. Without the berserker warriors, the Einherjar assault could have been stalled where it began. Already swarms of garm were boiling out of corridors and emerging from sickening orifices in the ceiling, and marines were dropping left and right from incoming fire of both spine and globule level ordinance. Ajax had already fired three bolts into a hive defender, his own sudden name for the diminutive WarGarm, without even realizing that he'd engaged in the fight.

  All of the marines were struggling with their awareness, as the body forge rot played havoc with their consciousness, though each of them had been a man at war for years on end, and their training made them deadly enough as they collected themselves.

  Ajax shouldered his rifle and combined his fire with Rama to obliterate another beast, then the blackout Sharif appeared at their side.

  The handler carefully handed the berserker an auto-pistol and the trademark sword of the blackouts. Sharif trembled from barely contained fury and now that he had his weapons it was all the handler could do to keep the blackout from sprinting into combat immediately.

  "Deploy blackouts!" bellowed Jarl Mahora.

  As one, all the handlers across the enemy hangar and immediate adjacent chambers unleashed their berserkers.

  "Marines, hold back and secure this beachhead!"

  Sharif leaped forward, covering the distance between himself and the first of the hive defenders in mere steps, bisecting the garm creature with a powerful stroke from his sword. The blackout lashed out with his sidearm and the auto-pistol riddled the bodies of two more hive defenders with bolts. As those two bodies exploded from the super-heated plasma, the berserker rushed through the cloud of gore and drove the point of his sword upwards to impale a defender crawling out of an orifice in the low ceiling. Sharif blasted another hive defender off its feet, and then barely flinched when the bio-blade of yet another sheared off his pistol arm at the elbow. The blackout spun on his heels and used the edge of his sword to send the garm's head flying from its body. Sensing enemies deeper into the ship, the wounded blackout disappeared down one of the nearby corridors, the sound of combat soon echoing from within.

  The blackouts, Boone and Yao, had made similar mulch of the hive defenders in their path and were both now moving deeper into the ship. Not all the blackouts had fared so well. Several of them were dead on the ground, while others so grievously wounded that they would not likely survive much longer, still plunged into combat deeper into the ship.

  In seconds, the
wave of berserkers had crashed into the growing numbers of hive defenders and broken the power of the garm counterattack. Ajax knew that this scene was playing out in dozens, perhaps scores of other areas of the ship, and hoped that the other boarding parties were making the same level of initial progress.

  Let the blackouts do their work, thought Ajax, stepping over to the supply crate that had been ejected from the dropship along with the marines, that's a good plan. Ajax opened the crate and began passing out flakboards, along with the wrist-mounted punch-knives that Skald Wallace had made available to selected marine companies. The skald forces were small, and he only had a thousand or so such blades, but he'd issued them to Bright Lance. Wallace had never been a believer in the narrative strategy, though he, like Hart, it seemed, had no illusions about the primacy of the Bright Lance's marine legions. The men of Hydra, Manticore, Gorgon, and Cerberus Company had been in the thick of nearly every pivotal conflict with the garm and hybrid forces ever since Heorot, and that was not lost on the skald commander.

  If anyone was most likely to fight their way to the Hive Mind, it stood to reason that it would be the marines who faced Grendel, hunted down Loki's brood, captured the traitor himself, and counted the Bloodhound amongst their ranks.

  Ajax slotted the wrist blade device onto his right arm, and then tested the blade ejector and cranked it back into position before picking up his rifle and stepping back into formation. Poole joined him, standing just behind the marine and to the right, giving Rama, Silas, and Ford room to step around him and form a shieldwall, with Ajax on point.

  "Okay, Bloodhound, time to pick a direction," snarled Jarl Mahora as he stepped in just behind Ajax, taking the overwatch position along with the grenadier Poole as he switched over to the company channel.