Chapter Text
They had been told since they had entered the service of the Crimson King that the Great Ocean was to be feared and respected, and those that respected it would find it easier to travel and to be fair so it had been for several years, until now. Captain Alim of the Thousand Sons Battle Barge the Great Traveller had his doubts, like the other Thousand Sons who were scattered the Imperium over on the Great Crusade he was finding it difficult to plough through the Warp to reach Prospero. The waves of the Empyrean were churning violently and the Geller Field around his vessel was barely holding her own. At first it had been calm and then the closer he got to the exit point that would put him within a day of Prospero, it was like someone had flipped a switch and the calm ride became a great storm. The blast shields were down saving the sensibilities of the human crew, there were things that resided in the Great Ocean that would drive a normal human insane. Alim held onto the arm rests of his command throne and cursed slightly as his vessel was buffered like some child’s toy. He could barely believe the summons that had come from the Crimson King; his beloved home world was going to be attacked,
He had thought that the Space Wolves had finally been unleashed against them and tried to think what punishment could warrant the sons of Russ coming to bring the Emperors Justice upon their heads. However, when he had been told the Space Wolves were with them, he had been stunned, like his warriors of the 23rd Fellowship and wondered if his father had finally succumbed to warp madness. There was no love lost between the Rout and the Psykers of the Astartes, in truth their animosity ran deeper than many believed, and there was nothing that Alim feared more than a Space Wolf in full frenzy. However, when he learnt who was going to be attacking his home world, he had cursed a thousand-fold. How dare the Red Angel and his deranged sons provoke an unwarranted attack on the beautiful world of Prospero and it made him more determined to ride this wave to the land of his birth. Angron and the World Eaters would find the children of Prospero not so easy to cull.
“We are through the worst of it Lord”
His thoughts were brought back to the here and now and he turned his attention to the Human Commander of his ship when he was not around. Admiral Acheri, a man with an olive complexion and Terran born. Alim smiled at the irony, Acheri hailed from the very land that Prospero drew its inspiration from.
His bald pallet sheened a little with the sweat he had draining from his body. Alim nodded and rose from his seat. They were indeed through the worst of it but there were still dangers in the warp and it would not do to be complacent.
“The command is yours Acheri” He spoke before placing his helm upon his head “Call me when we reach the jump point”
“Yes Lord” Acheri bowed his head and took his seat.
As the human gripped the rail before him, he found himself breathing a heavy sigh of relief and began to co-ordinate with the Navigator. The last stage of the journey could hold as much terror as the main part. There were occasions when a vessel exited a jump gate to find themselves on a collision course with another vessel. He really did not want that on his conscience and began barking orders to ensure that The Great Traveller would not endure such a fate, not on his watch and not in his lifetime. Alim glanced over his shoulders and took in the people working on the command deck of his bridge, he knew their names and he knew their backgrounds and if they were to die against the ferocity that was the World Eaters then he would ensure they were remembered with pride. Right now, he had drills to oversee. Still, he was relieved that was over and prayed to the great spirits that the remainder of their journey would be without further incident.
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The Legend of Deshara was like a shark as she cut a path through the tumultuous waters, focused not only on the prey ahead of her but getting to join the great feeding frenzy, the honour her name carried was singular to the Captain of the 36th Company they were on their way to Deshara when they were re-routed to Prospero. Captain Dietrich of the World Eater Strike Cruiser Legend of Deshara narrowed his eyes as he saw the Thousand Son Vessel ahead of him. He clenched his fist and forced his breathing to slow; he could attack here but this close to her his vessel would get caught in the backwash and damn it those Word Bearer pansies had told all the World Eater Command Staff that the Warp would work for them. He stayed just out of The Great Journeys sensor range and closed his eyes as he pictured what he would do once he was able to strike without risking his own vessel.
This would not have ordinarily bothered him but he did want to make the planet fall to Prospero and inflict death and destruction. He bashed his head with his closed fist to stop the whispering voices that had been constant in his mind since the conclave aboard the Primarchs commandeered vessel the War Hound. Kharn had The Conqueror for now. They were urging him to fire, to collect skulls for the great Skull Throne and draw blood for the mighty Blood God. Dietetic was slowly slipping into the madness that had beset his brothers but he needed to remain focused. None of the bridge crew dared utter any word to him, they had already heard what was happening to the human crew of other World Eater vessels who dared voice disquiet at their new orders the World Eaters had always been violent in the ways they carried out their battles but they had treated their Human crews with a modicum of respect, now they were liable to lash out at anyone that got on their nerves for the sake of it,
Sensor Officer Leraine Kelman nervously glanced over his shoulder and stammered “L-Lord, there is another vessel behind us”
Dietetic slowly turned his gaze onto the quivering officer and arched a red eyebrow “Is it another Thousand Son vessel or one of ours?”
“N – No Lord”
“Well speak up and tell me who it is man!” Dietrich roared, his already thin patience with the Humans growing ever thinner. He gripped his axe ready to dispatch himself of the annoying fly and maybe then the voices would stop. Before the terrified Human could tell him The Deshara was buffeted by the shock wave of an attack. Dietrich roared his anger and took the head off the unfortunate officer for being too slow in answering him.
“You take that station” He pointed his bloody axe at another human “and tell me who it is that is attacking us!”
Quickly the officer leant over the headless body of Kelman and read the data “Lord, it is a vessel of the Space Wolves…The Umbergora”
A feral grin spread across Dietrich’s face “Now we shall see who the most savage, turn is about and let’s meet her head on, and the witches can wait.” The crew did as they were instructed.
“Lord they are turning to face us” Olga Streniof, the Helmswoman of The Umbergora scowled deeply as she read her screen and then stared at the screen ahead of her. “Are they insane?”
Captain Anlaf sniggered exposing his canines a little “They are going to see which one of us is the better of the barbaric legions.’ Vox…let The Great Journey know that we have their back and we shall join them shortly. Inform them that if the winds flow smoothly then we will dispense of Angrons War Dogs before he even knows what is happening.”
“Yes, my Lord” The Vox-Officer, a young man by the name of Scarek immediately carried out his lords’ orders. “Sergeant Dragfinn”
“Captain?” The voice of his senior Sergeant came over the inter-ship Vox
“Prepare to board and be armed for bear”
The Sergeant chuckled at his Captains lucky saying and acknowledged his order. Anlaf turned to Admiral Dag. “Bring her to within boarding distance”
“Yes Lord”
“Lord” Scarek turned “The Great Journey are asking if you require their assistance”
Anlaf snorted, his nose flaring at the mere thought of it and his braided black hair moved vigorously “The Sons of Russ need no such assistance on this, we are allowing them the passage to get to the Jump point before Angrons puppies take them out. Tell him to carry on The Rout shall take care of this impudent puppy and his litter” He stopped by the doors that led off his bridge and saluted his bridge crew “May Russ guide your aim gentlemen and ladies and should we not all meet again I will see you in the great wolf halls where we will break bread, eat meat and drink mead until we are called to battle once more”
“For Russ” The crew roared and carried out their duties faster and with a renewed vigour that pleased the Space Wolf.
“Give them something to think about Dag, give us the cover we require to get there without too much of a problem”
“By your command Lord and Lord?”
“Yes?”
“Russ is with you” Anlaf nodded briskly and stepped off the bridge.
Anlaf could barely believe what was happening. He had always believed that it would be The Rout that would take down the witches of Magnus but here they were, working in harmony together. He did not like Psykers who abused their powers. Their own Storm seers were respected as they all took their power from Mother Fenris, they did not touch that which they were not meant to. The Thousand Sons, whilst potent at what they did sometimes did not know what the word stop meant. Now the ancient enmity between his father Leman Russ and his uncle Magnus seemed to have been buried. He wondered what had happened between them for Russ to walk alongside his witch brother. Indeed, he had seen the Cyclops on several occasions and he was a terrifying figure when roused to war, but he had seen Magnus’s weakness, knowledge and that would be his downfall. The thing that caused a frown to crease the wolfish brow of Captain Anlaf was that if The Rout knew this then so would the Red Angel and his sons. He kept his thoughts to himself for the moment, meeting his chosen warriors in the hanger bay. He directed them to their boarding pods and stared at the dreadnought that housed not only his company’s champion but his childhood friend Enoch. Battle Brother Loki Enoch had been cut down by the Eldar during the battle for Farogos Prime but, in respect of the fact that his tactical acumen and his sheer charisma made him a mourned brother the Wolf Priests placed him in a Dreadnought so that he would continue to serve the Father and the Legion.
“Enoch, old friend are you ready for this?”
“I have my orders Anlaf” The dreadnought boomed “I wish I could go with you and see the hounds of Angron run like whipped puppies”
Anlaf rested his hand on the sarcophagus that housed his friends’ remains In case they have the same idea my brother I need you here to guide the new pups in the company”
There was a murmuring from the Dreadnought which sounded like a begrudging agreement “Mother Fenris be with you brother”
“And Russ be with you brother”
Enoch turned his massive frame to watch the chosen warriors of the 16th Company head for their boarding pods and wished them luck. Anlaf stopped mid stride and turned to face Enoch.
“If we do not return brother, destroy their ship and join our kin at Prospero and avenge us”
The Dreadnought moved a little in acknowledgement and turning went to take his own post up. Several moments later, under the barrage of fire from The Umbergora the assault pods launched and streaked towards The Legend of Deshara.