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The Red Path 3: Abaddon Denied – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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The Red Path 3: Abaddon Denied

Chris Dows

‘All ahead slow. Conduct full augur sweep of the bow rupture.’

Shipmaster Odervirk studied the lines of information streaming in from the sensors of the Malevolent Shade and frowned. Every auspex, scanner and augur indicated the heavily damaged White Scars vessel drifting in free space was ripe for the taking. Not one of its weapons was charged, most of its shields were down and there was a gaping hole in the port side of the strike cruiser that presented a perfect opportunity for boarding. The data before him was undeniable, but he had been in too many combat situations to ignore the tension mounting within his body. How had the vessel survived the savage attack that had inflicted such damage in the first place?

In his experience, there were only three reasons for a ship or flotilla not to have finished them off. The first was if they intended to salvage the cruiser and transfer their flag, which, despite its damage, was perfectly spaceworthy from what he could see. The second was if they had sustained greater damage in the exchange; the third was if the attacker had been destroyed. This was a possibility, but the lack of a debris field or another drifting hulk in the vicinity led Odervirk to discount it. Sitting back with a sigh, he drummed his fingers on the control panel set into his command throne, his gaze flicking from one screen to the other. He knew full well Locq would be impatient for information.

‘Ahead one quarter. Keep all weapons at readiness.’

Odervirk felt the rumble of engines increase deep in the bowels of the Malevolent Shade. He turned to face the forward viewing canopy. Its heavy blast doors were half open, giving him a wide slit through which to watch the slowly approaching White Scars ship. Scans could be manipulated to deceive. Nothing beat seeing things for yourself. With his one good eye he picked out the details of the wreck in the brightness thrown out by the three suns of this system.

‘Do we have a positive identification yet?’

Odervirk’s question did not arise from idle curiosity, but instead concerned the ship’s defensive capabilities. Many Space Marine vessels featured modifications and upgrades. At the cost of a few seconds, he wanted to know as much about any potential threat as possible before he committed his own ship to an engagement.

‘Wings of the Eagle, shipmaster.’

Odervirk looked down to the officer sitting at his station on the bridge’s lower level and acknowledged his report with a grunt. The vessel was not known to him, which did little to alleviate his caution. Turning back to the viewing canopy, he watched the massive hulk slide past to the background hum of crew and machinery carrying out their duties. It took the unmistakeable clanking of power-armoured figures moving down the bridge’s access corridor to break his concentration. Locq was entering the command deck with his entourage, and it was clear from the tone of his voice that he was less than happy.

‘Why are we going so slowly, shipmaster? I need to get on board that vessel.’

As Locq stomped closer, Odervirk continued to study the damage wreaked upon the Wings of the Eagle. Given the prickly, inelegant lines of the vessel, he found the name absurd. A ship should threaten even at the sound of its name, and for that he felt his own Malevolent Shade promised exactly what it could deliver – destruction and darkness. Odervirk could feel the hairs on the back of his hands begin to prickle as Locq came to a threatening standstill beside him. In all of his faithful years of service to Urkanthos, the shipmaster had never got used to the vibrations given off by power armour. He had known some bridge personnel so sensitive to the inaudible hum generated by the suits that they could barely stand to be in the same room, such was the physical discomfort they endured. An itching hand was the least of his problems; as he turned to face the glowering captain, he chose his words with care. Odervirk enjoyed his position as master of this vessel, and while all the members of the Black Legion commanded respect, he knew how mercurial the Hounds of Abaddon could be.

‘It is not imprudent to be cautious, captain. I appreciate your frustration at finding Haeleon abandoned, but all evidence points to an encounter with the White Scars.’

Odervirk watched Locq’s eyes flick over to the reinforced viewing bulkhead. They had arrived to find no berzerker ship in orbit, but they had quickly detected evidence of a battle on the planet’s surface. A brief inspection had shown the loyalist White Scars Chapter had been involved in the action.

‘The Betrayer is close – this is no coincidence. Bring us in.’

Decks below, the shipmaster knew, Locq’s Hounds of Abaddon were waiting impatiently to board the White Scars vessel. While he knew his caution could be seen as unnecessarily vigilant, cowardly even, Odervirk had gained the trust of Urkanthos himself and was not about to rush any decisions that might endanger his ship, regardless of Locq’s impatience. There was something about this captain Odervirk did not trust. Odervirk looked directly into Locq’s burning eyes without blinking. Locq knew the Lord Purgator had chosen him as shipmaster personally.

‘Given that the answers you seek to Khârn’s whereabouts are likely held aboard this vessel, I am doing everything I can to ensure you are able to get the information you need. This does not include thundering at full speed towards a potential trap.’

Odervirk’s face remained impassive. Unlike the rest of his crew, he was not frightened by the Black Legionnaires. He had long ago accepted he might die directly at their hands, and it had given him the peace to focus on his work. He could see Locq’s hand tighten on the handle of his chainsword. The shipmaster was not impressed.

‘I am led to believe the White Scars are a significant threat, Captain Locq. I do not doubt your Hounds will be victorious against them, but I need to ensure their weapons are as inoperative as they appear. This will take a few moments longer, and once I am satisfied, I will inform you immediately.’

Locq’s burning stare flicked from Odervirk’s eye to the steel plate that formed most of his face. He knew what Locq was thinking; the instant he delivered Khârn to Abaddon, Locq would execute the shipmaster for his belligerence. Odervirk tried not to show his derision; he was confident enough in his own abilities to believe Urkanthos would not allow it. And besides, the way things were going, he doubted the captain would live long enough to finish his mission.

The hole in the side of the White Scars cruiser was so large it could have accommodated a half-dozen drop ships side by side. Instead, a single gunship carrying Locq and a small boarding party glided into the smashed infrastructure. As the White Scars ship rotated, it allowed one of the three suns to illuminate the Thunderhawk’s way. It had not taken long to find a rupture large enough for the ship to dock against, and within seconds Locq was leading out a twenty-strong contingent of Hounds into the confines of the vessel. Meledorn, one of his veterans, took point. Like many of the cohort, he had served Urkanthos faithfully for decades. For all the oaths he had sworn to Locq, he would be reporting secretly to the Lord Purgator still. This did not concern Locq at all. Having a favourite of the Chaos Lord as his second-in-command to witness his actions would dispel any suspicions Urkanthos might have of Locq. Meledorn also happened to be an excellent warrior.

Locq was not surprised when their progress became hampered by the damage inside the ship. Even with their ordnance and augmented strength, whole areas were either totally impassable or would take too long to clear, the only route available taking them to the outer corridors of the vessel. What did surprise Locq was the total absence of White Scars and surviving mortal crew.

Coming to a large junction, Meledorn raised his hand and stopped. Locq walked forwards, chainsword in hand, and joined the scout. Meledorn nodded ahead, towards the poorly illuminated walkway stretching into the distance. Nothing appeared as a threat on his auto-senses and scanners, but of all the places they had moved through, the width of this passageway held the most potential danger. Locq smiled to himself. The Hounds of Abaddon were not ones to run from a fight, and gods help anyone who tried to ambush them. He nodded to Meledorn, and the scout moved ahead slowly. Locq signalled behind, and the rest of the raiding party formed up, hefting their blades and training their bolters in all directions.

A blinding flash filled Locq’s vision and something smashed into him, throwing him backwards onto the metal deck. The air was filled with a thunderous roar of escaping air and it took Locq precious seconds to get to his feet and realise what had happened. Before him, a White Scars drop ship had rammed itself through the corridor into the inner hull, having blasted its way through the outer skin of the crippled ship. They had lain in wait within the shadows of their own smashed vessel, tracking the landing party’s progress and timing their attack to perfection. Locq could see two of his raiding party had disappeared, either crushed by the attacking vessel or eviscerated in its fire. The ship had cut his group in half. Gunning his chainsword, Locq started towards the smoking transporter – just as a hole exploded in its side, allowing its occupants to charge towards him with a scream of fury.

Locq smashed into the first White Scar, ramming his duelling tulwar out of the way with his left shoulder while thrusting his chainsword up underneath his attacker’s pauldron. The teeth ground and tore into the upper chest armour, digging into the armpit of the Chogorian and rendering his left arm useless. The White Scar roared in rage, bringing his right knee up into Locq’s side. Locq took the impact easily and let himself fall back against the buckled inner hull plates. With the wall behind him, he put more pressure on his blade, not stopping until the Space Marine’s arm clattered to the ground, blood spraying over Locq’s helmet from the gaping wound. Locq pushed himself away from the wall, but he suddenly found himself with little room to move as the rest of his raiding party joined battle. Locq’s opponent took the opportunity to slash at him with his tulwar, undaunted by his crippling injury, but Locq forced himself enough space to block the attack and kick the White Scar back towards the smoking ruin of the drop ship. Somewhere behind him, two frag grenades went off, and he felt shards of metal thud into the back of his armour. Regardless of who had detonated them, there would now be fewer attackers for him to worry about.

Locq brought his chainsword high, carving through the tulwar from above and slicing into the abdomen of the White Scar. Still the Chogorian did not give up, pulling out a dagger and slashing it across the right lens of Locq’s helmet. Locq hurled himself forwards, driving the chainsword home as they both slammed into the side of the drop ship. The White Scar finally slid to the ground, shuddering in his death throes as he hit the deck plates. Locq sensed movement coming up fast behind him. Ducking and turning, he brought his chainsword out in a wide arc, slicing into the knee of the White Scar charging towards him and bringing him down. From the smoking corridor behind, two of Locq’s raiding party emerged through a pile of bodies, their armour battered and scored from their own battles. Such was his bloodlust, the first of the two denied Locq his kill by driving his axe into the top of the collapsed White Scar’s head, cleaving a gap wide enough for Locq to see the exposed scalp and black top-knot, then bounded into the hole cut into the side of the White Scars drop ship. The interior erupted in flashes of light, and Locq threw himself to the side as bolter fire tore out in all directions. His second Hound rolled below the stray fire and lobbed a grenade into the ship’s interior. The second after it detonated Locq was inside, chainsword at the ready. What met him were the remains of the overzealous Hound and the White Scars who had ambushed him, having lain in wait to attack after their first wave.

Through the hole blasted out of the opposite side, Locq was gratified to see Meledorn and several others grappling with around a dozen Chogorians. As he threw himself into the melee, two White Scars turned to attack, slashing and stabbing with their tulwars and ceremonial daggers. It was still difficult to move freely given the number of power-armoured figures, but Locq thrust forwards, the last surviving Hound from his side of the corridor joining in the attack with a volley of bolter fire. One Chogorian spun away, a shot passing through the grille of his helmet in a bloody cloud, but the other rampaged forwards, his weapon raised and pointing towards Locq’s head. Locq dived to the ground and rolled, hitting the White Scar below the knees and toppling him over onto his front as he fired. Turning to his side, Locq got up on one knee and thrust his chainsword two-handedly into the spine of the Space Marine. The blade churned its way into flesh, severing nerves and sinews to totally incapacitate the Chogorian. Unable to move his legs, his attempts to flip himself onto his back and face Locq were futile; Locq severed his head as tribute to the Blood God, a rush of pleasure coursing through his veins as he did so.

Locq was suddenly aware of a stillness in the corridor. Rising, he could see the remains of his boarding party regarding the carnage they had created. To the left, he could just make out Meledorn beneath a heap of White Scars bodies, the handle of a tulwar projecting from beneath his helmet. The enemy dead surrounding him were a fitting tribute to his sacrifice, but not one Locq was going to acknowledge. This left ten survivors – half of the original party. He had not anticipated such losses; the White Scars’ tactic had worked well, even if they had been wiped out. The cost had been high, but discovering where Khârn had gone would be worth the blood price.

‘To the bridge. We have work to do.’ Locq turned away from the corpses before him and opened a vox-link.

‘Odervirk.’

‘Yes, Captain Locq.’

‘Scan for drop ships hiding within the damaged infrastructure of the vessel. They will likely be powered down so you will have to move in closer.’

‘Captain, I would urge–’

Locq was in no mood for the shipmaster’s contradictions.

‘Carry out my orders, Odervirk, or I will find someone who will.’

There was a gratifying silence over the vox, which Locq took to be agreement.

‘Prepare a contingent of your machine priests to board this vessel once we have retrieved the information from the bridge.’

Odervirk’s answer was loaded with suspicion.

‘May I ask why?’

Locq signalled the Hounds to follow him. They did not have time to take their trophies for the Blood God.

‘We shall claim this vessel for the glory of Abaddon. See that it is done.’

Locq deactivated the link as soon as he had finished. He could not care less about the work involved in such a task. He needed to find this accursed berzerker, and find him fast.

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Published in 2016 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd,
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