Storm Heralds Reading List

Book1 Maledicti Venator, Serrati Stellas

Serrati Stellas

945.M41

In the vast darkness of space points of light moved, bright sparks against the infinite black. From a distance they appeared little more than cinders cooling to ash but as the viewer approached they grew in size and stature. At a closer range it was apparent each one was kilometres long, bearing weapons the size of buildings and armour equally thick with plasma wakes snaking behind them. They were sleek killers of the void, fast predators feared and beloved in equal measure by the citizens of the Imperium. Their dark blue and grey heraldry declared their fealty and even a first-year Naval cadet would have recognised them for being three Hunter class escorts and a Strike Cruiser of the Adeptus Astartes, from the Storm Heralds Space Marines. The cruiser was a scarred veteran of the void, a survivor of countless engagements and upon her hull was the name 'Manifest Destiny'.

Her bridge was a high vaulted affair with gargoyle infested arches and long naves, the multitudes of servitors and serf officers laid out like choirs in a Cathedral. Busy crowds worked in a controlled manner and though the noise was deafening, to experienced star-farers it was the reassuring sound of an orderly ship. In the centre of the bridge a Space Marine stood, surveying the crowds of serfs. His blue armour was well maintained yet still minuscule chips and scores attested to his decades of service as did the wisps of grey edging into his shorn hair. One shoulder bore the spiral in a starburst icon of the Storm Heralds and the helm at his waist had a gleaming Sergeants' gold stripe, while his knee bore the emblem of Ninth Company. The other shoulder was engraved with the name 'Toran' and he stood proudly, looking into the bridge's hololithic projector, examining the dank and dreary planetoid displayed high above their heads. It was an old world, aged and dour, like a weather-beaten statue.

Toran was joined by another Marine, this one a towering giant in the nigh mythic Mark III armour, engraved with the name 'Furion'. He stood at attention until Toran noticed he was there then briskly reported, "Astrogation reports orbital insertion complete, servitor probes deploying now."

"My thanks Brother," replied Toran, still looking at the dismal world below, "Yet another empty world to patrol, yet another disappointing survey."

He touched a rune on the rail before him, widening the projection field to encompass the stellar system then the whole region. Toran stated, "I had hoped for more from my first command: the Serrati Stellas, the worst knot of gravitic anomalies, ionic interference and Warp Squalls in the Sector. Den of pirates, slavers and Orks, I thought my final evaluation would be a time of daring battles and glorious victories, not a simple patrol cruise."

Furion looked at his brand-new Sergeant, if there was any hint of discontent at the younger Marine being promoted over him it did not show. Instead he said, "Space is vast and we are few, even between the Imperial Navy and the Astartes there are thousands of worlds beyond our grasp. We could be the first Imperials to pass this way in a thousand years."

"I know," replied Toran wistfully, "But how am I to prove to Chaplain Wrethan that I am worthy of this promotion if I do not have a chance to demonstrate my abilities."

Furion stepped closer and spoke softly, not as a warrior and commander, but simply as two old friends, "If you will excuse the familiarity, I have watched you grow these last fifty years into a fine Space Marine and a great leader. You have the potential to lead, you just need to be confident in your abilities. You understand the Codex as well as I, yet also have a gift to see unexpected paths to victory, but if you have one flaw it is that you are impatient with the less glorious aspects of our life. You need to prove to the Chaplains that you are as attentive to the mundane details of commanding a squad as you are when blasting Heretics."

Toran could not help but smile at the gentle prompt by his old friend and said, "I confess I had no idea how much paperwork a Sergeant has. If I have to read one more report on the number of training Servitors IXth Squad has demolished or plasma engine tolerances or Emperor forbid another treatise on orbital dynamics my brain will burst."

Furion laughed at that, then turned as he heard armoured boots approaching. Entering through the bridge's armoured hatch was another Brother, in shining new plate, polished so thoroughly it gleamed. His name was 'Novak' and he was fresh out of the scouts. Sometimes the gene-seed threw up odd quirks and here it had made Novak uncommonly beautiful, a strange trait for an Astartes. His unscarred visage, gleaming armour and parade-perfect march made it easy to underestimate him but with a blade in hand he was a prodigy. So proficient was he that the Chapter had allowed him to eschew a standard gladius and instead adopt an unconventional rapier blade, a rare honour but whispers had it that Novak was expected to one day win a Swordsman's laurel, a feat few ever achieved. Toran found it hard to believe that he had ever been so young and green, but the only real flaw within Novak was that he had a rather loose tongue. But Toran was sure that with some seasoning that flaw could be swiftly corrected so as a training exercise they had appointed Novak to be liaison with their escort squadron.

Novak marched straight up to the pair and made the sign of the Aquilla. Toran saluted back and said, "How is the squad?"

Novak stood like he was on parade and replied, "All is well, the squad is performing perfectly though Brother Persion says they grow bored below decks."

"Tell Persion we will find him a good fight soon enough," replied Toran ruefully for he, Furion and Persion were the old men of the squad. Their former Brother Hevostan had departed decades ago to train as a Techmarine on Mars. Then there was Mylos who had been a Brother in name and also in blood, having had a twin. Sadly Pylos had died in battle and regrettably Mylos had never been able to accept it and had soured his soul with blame and resentment. So bad had the situation become that he was eventually transferred out to Seventh Company. Meanwhile IXth Squad had been effectively rebuilt with new recruits and transfers, who for one reason or another never lasted more than a few years.

Toran reflected on this then said, "This ship feels empty enough without a full Company aboard, let alone with two-thirds of IXth Squad spread across the flotilla."

Furion butted in to say, "This mission is simple reconnaissance, it does not take a full Company to patrol a few dead systems."

Toran made sure no serfs were listening then asked Novak "And the other matter?"

Novak leaned in and replied, "I have spoken to each brother individually on the matter of Emperor Worship, it seems the discontent is more widespread than we thought. Every member of IXth Squad agrees that the worship has taken us from the true calling of battle, they are committed to our cause."

"Watch your tone young one," stated Toran, "You speak like this is some grand conspiracy or Heresy, we are not some coven of conspirators. Merely brothers discussing matters of concern."

Furion looked over his Brother's shoulder and said, "This is neither the time nor the place."

Toran and Novak turned to look towards the rear of the bridge and then they saw the intimidating silhouette of Chaplain Wrethan bearing down on them. He was clad in black armour, adorned with pearl white skulls and his breast bore a shining Rosarius. At his hip hung his doughty Crozius, Redeeming-Flame, a most blessed and potent weapon and the symbol of his spiritual authority. Wrethan's grim visage and grinding voice had been the bane of every Scouts' life for he could never fail to find fault in those he trained. Yet for those who earned his respect there was a sharp intellect and fierce sense of pride lurking behind that skull mask. Ultimately there was none in the Chapter more ardent in their zeal nor unwavering in their belief in the Divinity of the Emperor.

Wrethan marched up to the three Space Marines and gave Furion and Novak a glare that clearly indicated they should be somewhere else, so they hastily departed to various stations. Once they were occupied Wrethan regarded Toran then said, "Sergeant, your first command draws to a close, give me your evaluation."

Toran stood straighter and replied, "The flotilla performed well, the serfs completed their assignments ably and did not let repetition or boredom dull their edge."

"And the mission?" queried Wrethan.

Remembering Furion's advice Toran replied, "We have successfully patrolled a dozen systems and declared them free of enemies of the Emperor, an important duty completed with due diligence."

Wrethan gave him a penetrating stare and Toran felt like the Chaplain could see his thoughts so admitted, "I confess, I was expecting more action in this mission. I was eager to serve the Emperor's justice to his foes."

Wrethan's expression was unreadable under his skull helm but he said, "The Emperor sees all and all things happen in accordance with His Will. If He desires you to stand a lonely vigil or patrol uninteresting worlds you should feel honoured to do so."

"Yes Father," replied Toran, using the Storm Herald's traditional epithet for their spiritual guides.

He was about to ask what Wrethan's recommendation would be but before he could say anything Furion suddenly turned from the bridge consoles to call, "Sergeant, energy spikes detected in low orbit. There are hostile ships out there!"

Toran was instantly moving to the command dais yelling, "Sound Action stations! Close the blast shutters over the Oculus, run out the guns and bless the Plasma Engines for emergency manoeuvres. Sensorium, I want full Auspex sweeps, give me confirmed numbers, class and capability reports, put it all on the Hololith."

The serf's movements became frantic as they prepared for battle, Furion took up station at the helm to coordinate the ship and Novak stood by the communication suite. In only a few minutes the bridge stood ready and the three-dimensional image suspended over the bridge updated to show all the contacts and vectors. Toran stared glared into the projection and stated, "There are only six small signatures and they are slowly awakening reactors. Power levels are extremely erratic, I predict a high probability that these are Ork escort frigates."

"Excellent," declared Wrethan from the rear of the command dais, "Then the Divine-Emperor has blessed this mission with bloodshed after all, providence unfolds before us."

At his words the Serfs cheered and clutched devotional talismans like they would bestow divine favour. Toran however gripped the wooden railing circling the dais as he ordered, "Load bombardment cannons and take us into the gravity well. Novak, signal Venator squadron, they are to hold a higher orbit and prepare to run down stragglers."

With stately grace the Manifest Destiny lowered herself into the gravity well, guns presenting gaping maws of destruction and plasma drives flaring like captured suns. It was a sight to stir any man's heart and the bridge crew held their heads high knowing that they would soon win another glorious victory. Then unexpectedly Novak leapt up from the communication suite and yelled, "New contacts, New contacts! Venator squadron reports mass shadows moving up fast from behind the planetary terminus!"

He looked straight at his Sergeant and declared, "We have two Ork Kill Kroozers on an intercept trajectory!"