The Death of Integrity Read Online Free PDF Page B

sword upraised, adding fifty metres to the ship’s height. A chalice hung from the angel’s other hand, spilling drips of metal, as if it were blood frozen solid in the chill of the vacuum. Novum was a hundred metres longer, its prow plating thinner, its figurehead a modest aquila set to the fore of the command section. Starbursts of gleaming adamantium were set over the eagle’s eyes, a skull on a chain about its neck. Sisters, then, not twins, these mighty fortresses of the stars.
    A flash of light winked halfway along the port side of Lux Rubrum . A half-second afterwards a small shape glimmered in the hard shine of Jorso: a ship, propelled by a blade of flame, navigation lights blinking. It crossed the space between the battle-barges rapidly, slowing only slightly as it entered a docking bay in the starboard of Novum in Honourum .
    Lord Caedis of the Blood Drinkers went to enjoy the hospitality of the Novamarines.
    The Thunderhawk’s turbines roared as it came in from the launch tube to hangar 73. It slowed to a hover, turning side-on to the tube as it did so. Heated air blew in all directions, causing the robes, banners and scrips of the Novamarines welcome guard to snap violently. Motors whined, deploying landing gear, secondary wings went up, and the ship touched down, sinking into the hydraulics of its claws.
    The deep red of the Blood Drinkers Thunderhawk was shocking in the muted colour of the Novamarines landing bay. Like a wound, or a cancer, an alien body alike and yet unlike to that which encompassed it. This contrast carried the imputation of inimicality, and Galt was perturbed by that.
    The Thunderhawk engines’ crescendo dwindled swiftly, humming to a stop. The smaller noises of the hangar took their place; the leaden clump of servitors as they dragged cables and refuelling lines to the craft, the three blaring notes of the all clear klaxon. The metal of the Thunderhawk creaked. Two of the Novamarines own Thunderhawks sat on mobile pads to the rear of the launch bay, their bone-and-blue sombre in comparison to the Blood Drinkers vivid livery.
    Galt, Odon, Mastrik, Aresti, Ranial, and Clastrin waited by the hangar bay’s doors in their full armour, bareheaded. A pair of serfs in Chapter colours attended each, dwarfed by the helmets and weapons they carried for their masters.
    The standard bearers of the Third, Fifth and First Companies stood behind them, silver-helmeted veterans carrying elaborate and ancient flags. Two files of Novamarines stood to attention, veterans also, flanking the standard bearers, four honour guard at their head. The fleet’s Master of Astropaths, a fleshy man by the name of Feldiol, stood with them, as did several of the higher ranking Chapter serfs; even Lord Navigator Gulfindan Van Heem had come down from his lofty perch atop the Novum in Honourum , looking uncomfortable out of his low-gravity apartments. His witch eye twitched behind its lid in the centre of his forehead.
    Long seconds passed.
    ‘Are they disembarking, or not?’ grumbled Mastrik.
    ‘Patience, brother,’ said Ranial.
    There was the muted click of mag-locks disengaging, and the Thunderhawk’s assault ramp opened. Gasses hissed outward, bringing with them strange scents. The air of the Novum in Honourum was dry and flavourless, reminiscent of the thin atmosphere of the Chapter home world; that coming from the Thunderhawk was rich with perfume and the smell of copper and iron.
    The ramp lowered to the floor of the landing bay, red light spilled outward.
    The Blood Angels disembarked.
    Galt had studied all he could on the Blood Drinkers while the fleet was in transit, but the data in their Librarium was old, the Novamarines having had few dealings with the other Chapter. The personnel detailed in the Librarium records were all long dead, and Galt did not recognise the five Space Marines who stepped out from the Thunderhawk alongside Chapter Master Caedis. Their markings made it apparent what ranks they held.