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Authors: Ben Counter
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her ship for a mission of dubious reasoning. Her attitude, he told himself, was to be expected.
‘You have your heading, admiral. There is little time to lose.’
‘The Wrathful is the fastest vessel in the Segmentum Solar. If your enemy is out there in the void then we will catch him,’ Kaminska assured him, and whirled her command throne back around to her instrument panels.
ADMIRAL KAMINSKA BRISTLED furiously as the Astartes departed the bridge. She had come to Vangelis to effect repairs and take on supplies and replacement crew. She had been looking forward to a week or so of recuperation. Yet, at the word of the Emperor’s Angels, lord regents of the galaxy it seemed, she and her ship were pressed back into service with barely a moment’s notice.
‘By the authority of the Emperor of Mankind’, those words were an unbendable edict that Kaminska could not refuse. It was not that she resented serving – she was a dutiful soldier of the Imperium who had distinguished herself on numerous occasions for its greater glory – no, she took umbrage at the fact that this particular mission was fostered on hunches and, as far as she could tell, whimsy. It did not sit well with Kaminska, not at all.
‘Lord admiral, the escort squadron is in position,’ said Helmsmistress Athena Venkmyer. Her long hair was tied up se-51
Ben Counter – Battle for the Abyss
verely, and her shoulders were forced to attention by the brocade of her uniform.
‘Good,’ Kaminska replied. ‘Screens down!’
The ring of viewscreens descended and glowed to life. The bright, hard gleam of Vangelis was visible from the assembly point, surrounded by a fuzzy shoal of lesser lights: satellite listening spires, fleets at anchor and orbital debris. A distant sun was a brighter point, automatically dimmed by the viewscreens’
limiters.
Icons blinked onto the screens, showing the positions of the other ships in the makeshift fleet. The four escorts – Fearless , Ferox , Ferocious and Fireblade – were flying in a slanted diamond around the Wrathful . The vessel of the Thousand Sons and Captain Mhotep, the Waning Moon , was a short distance away. Even at this distance, the Astartes craft was impressive, a sleek dart of red and gold. The Boundless , a cruiser like the Wrathful , but fitted out with decks for attack craft, was further out, still making its approach.
Satisfied that they were about ready to disembark, Admiral Kaminska flicked a control stud on the arm of her throne and the bridge vox-caster opened up. ‘Loose escort pattern, keep the Waning Moon in our lee. Advance to primary way point, plasma engines three-quarters.’
‘Three-quarters!’ came the yell from Helms-mate Lodan Kant at the engine helm.
‘Mister Orcadus, the Terraward end of the Tertiary Core Transit if you please,’ said Kaminska, having opened up a line to her principal Navigator.
‘At your word, lord admiral,’ was the dour response from the Navigator’s sanctum.
The Tertiary Core Transit was the most stable warp route from Segmentum Solar to the galactic south-east. It would take them to their destination expediently, and hopefully allow the Wrathful to gain some ground on whatever foes, real or imagined, awaited them in the void. It was also the route that any void-farer, if he or she did not want to take a four to five year detour, would take to 52
Ben Counter – Battle for the Abyss
arrive at the Calth system. The Astartes had been very specific about that. Admiral Kaminska would have liked to question it, but there was no bringing the Emperor’s Angels to account on such a triviality. She would defer to the Astartes’s order, since he was in charge. It would have been unseemly to do otherwise.
Kaminska resolved to discover the truth later.
The Wrathful ’s engines kicked in, banishing the admiral’s thoughts to the back of her mind. She could feel the vibration through the panelled floor of the bridge. The escort squadron moved into
‘You have your heading, admiral. There is little time to lose.’
‘The Wrathful is the fastest vessel in the Segmentum Solar. If your enemy is out there in the void then we will catch him,’ Kaminska assured him, and whirled her command throne back around to her instrument panels.
ADMIRAL KAMINSKA BRISTLED furiously as the Astartes departed the bridge. She had come to Vangelis to effect repairs and take on supplies and replacement crew. She had been looking forward to a week or so of recuperation. Yet, at the word of the Emperor’s Angels, lord regents of the galaxy it seemed, she and her ship were pressed back into service with barely a moment’s notice.
‘By the authority of the Emperor of Mankind’, those words were an unbendable edict that Kaminska could not refuse. It was not that she resented serving – she was a dutiful soldier of the Imperium who had distinguished herself on numerous occasions for its greater glory – no, she took umbrage at the fact that this particular mission was fostered on hunches and, as far as she could tell, whimsy. It did not sit well with Kaminska, not at all.
‘Lord admiral, the escort squadron is in position,’ said Helmsmistress Athena Venkmyer. Her long hair was tied up se-51
Ben Counter – Battle for the Abyss
verely, and her shoulders were forced to attention by the brocade of her uniform.
‘Good,’ Kaminska replied. ‘Screens down!’
The ring of viewscreens descended and glowed to life. The bright, hard gleam of Vangelis was visible from the assembly point, surrounded by a fuzzy shoal of lesser lights: satellite listening spires, fleets at anchor and orbital debris. A distant sun was a brighter point, automatically dimmed by the viewscreens’
limiters.
Icons blinked onto the screens, showing the positions of the other ships in the makeshift fleet. The four escorts – Fearless , Ferox , Ferocious and Fireblade – were flying in a slanted diamond around the Wrathful . The vessel of the Thousand Sons and Captain Mhotep, the Waning Moon , was a short distance away. Even at this distance, the Astartes craft was impressive, a sleek dart of red and gold. The Boundless , a cruiser like the Wrathful , but fitted out with decks for attack craft, was further out, still making its approach.
Satisfied that they were about ready to disembark, Admiral Kaminska flicked a control stud on the arm of her throne and the bridge vox-caster opened up. ‘Loose escort pattern, keep the Waning Moon in our lee. Advance to primary way point, plasma engines three-quarters.’
‘Three-quarters!’ came the yell from Helms-mate Lodan Kant at the engine helm.
‘Mister Orcadus, the Terraward end of the Tertiary Core Transit if you please,’ said Kaminska, having opened up a line to her principal Navigator.
‘At your word, lord admiral,’ was the dour response from the Navigator’s sanctum.
The Tertiary Core Transit was the most stable warp route from Segmentum Solar to the galactic south-east. It would take them to their destination expediently, and hopefully allow the Wrathful to gain some ground on whatever foes, real or imagined, awaited them in the void. It was also the route that any void-farer, if he or she did not want to take a four to five year detour, would take to 52
Ben Counter – Battle for the Abyss
arrive at the Calth system. The Astartes had been very specific about that. Admiral Kaminska would have liked to question it, but there was no bringing the Emperor’s Angels to account on such a triviality. She would defer to the Astartes’s order, since he was in charge. It would have been unseemly to do otherwise.
Kaminska resolved to discover the truth later.
The Wrathful ’s engines kicked in, banishing the admiral’s thoughts to the back of her mind. She could feel the vibration through the panelled floor of the bridge. The escort squadron moved into
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