The Imperium's Frontier: Thunderhawk Gunship

Imperial Navy warships are massive, truly massive. Each one is practically a miniature world where you can find everything you need: shops, hospitals, schools, churches, entertainment venues, and even black markets. It is, quite literally, a flying city.

No one can claim to know every corner of such a giant vessel. Without a map, anyone venturing into the ship's incredibly complex corridors and chambers could easily get lost for days, or even weeks, until they happen to stumble upon the nearest group of Imperial crewmen.

Vito does not understand every part of this giant ship, and he doesn't know if Cole does either, but everyone on board has their own familiar haunts. For Vito and the Astartes warriors of the Deathwatch squad, this place is certainly one of them.

A massive flight deck spans both sides, its wide expanse filled with numerous fighters, transport vehicles, and various spare parts stacked about. Fortunately, they didn't store ammunition and fuel here, or someone would surely be getting the lash.

Vito leaned against the platform at the top of the flight deck, overlooking the busy servitors, ground crew, and Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus below. They were all tending to the God-Machine, especially the big ones.

Thunderhawk Gunship, Star Shark Fighter, and Ground Landing Craft sat quietly, these weapons of the Empire waiting in silence for the next time they would be awakened by the fires of war.

"Everything is in good order here, Inquisitor," Lancelot said. He stood behind Vito, his hand resting on his Power Sword, his signature Dark Angels winged helmet tucked under his arm.

"Though our Boarding Torpedo might... need replenishing." "Indeed, we fired them all at once as decoys, which nearly drove Cole to his grave. He spent that whole night cursing me for being a spendthrift."

Vito shrugged helplessly. "I'll just get him another batch at the next starport." As Vito spoke, Lancelot chuckled. He pointed with a gauntleted finger toward a spot below, where a Thunderhawk sat. "Then we'll have to talk to the person in charge. You know, those techno-babbling lunatics."

Vito smiled silently, then gestured for Lancelot to follow. Generally speaking, Astartes hate being commanded by mortals—usually, it's the other way around—but things were different here. Lancelot followed immediately, without a hint of hesitation, delay, or complaint.

The tall giant carried his Power Sword and followed in Vito's wake with heavy, rhythmic steps. Wherever they went, the flight deck personnel bowed in salute, while Vito nodded back to everyone with a smile, looking far too amiable to be an Inquisitor. Well, he wasn't exactly the kind of Inquisitor the people of the Empire imagined, anyway.

No, no, I don't mean there aren't Inquisitors who love executing people and act like lunatics. But honestly, even within the Inquisition, those types are a rare breed. Why? Because such people usually don't live very long—for various reasons, you understand. They aren't particularly well-liked.

The two crossed the vast flight deck, passing between machines blessed by the Adeptus Mechanicus. Sparks from welding and patching gaps rained down from above like a strange, metallic snow.

Beside a blue Thunderhawk with a shark head painted on its nose, a Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus, busy with his multiple auxiliary mechadendrites, turned his head. He looked at them from beneath his crimson robes with mechanical eyes that swiveled like emeralds.

"Hello there, Octopus," Vito said with a chuckle. The Magos turned around, retracting his numerous mechadendrites to his sides, and responded in that mesmerizing, synthesized voice.

"Please call me Omega, Inquisitor. I am a Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus, not some flesh-creature like an octopus," the Magos stated.

Lancelot laughed. "Then you should ask old Olaf the Wolf. He'll talk your ear off about the dozens-of-meters-long giant squids on that freezing rock he calls home."

"That is clearly not me, Lancelot. Now, tell me why you are interrupting my work," the Magos said, turning back to his tasks as sparks and scanning beams continued to erupt around him.

Vito and Lancelot exchanged a look and shrugged. Vito walked over to the Thunderhawk and looked up at the great blue bird.

"How is she?"

"I have repaired the damaged sections, but the Machine Spirit remains agitated. Please do not charge directly into an Orks fleet next time, Inquisitor. This is a gunship, not a cruiser." "I'll do my best."

Vito smiled playfully, then noticed something on a nearby workbench—large, crude, ugly things. Vito walked over and picked up a massive gun, so large he had to hold it with both hands.

"Have you figured out how the Orks manage to make these pieces of junk?" Vito asked, then handed the gun to Lancelot, who grabbed it nimbly and weighed it in his hand. "I still don't understand why this Orks scrap doesn't just explode."

Omega did not turn around, instead using a mechadendrite to grab an armor plate, quickly cutting and melting the edges before replacing a damaged piece of external armor on the Thunderhawk.

"I do not know either. By the Omnissiah, I cannot analyze these weapons that defy basic physical laws, let alone the Orks' so-called wahgggggge energy."

He stepped back two paces, surveying the Thunderhawk. "I have tried dissecting Orks, but I cannot comprehend the mysteries within."

"Don't push yourself too hard, my friend. Some things aren't meant to be understood in a moment," Vito said, reaching out to stroke the surface of the Thunderhawk. He stared into the shark's eyes and smiled.

Omega looked at Vito and then resumed welding. "Tell me, Vito, what do you need? You aren't reading in your private library, so you certainly didn't come to me just for a chat."

"No, that is indeed part of it. We've known each other for many years, Omega. But you're right, I did come to you for a reason."

Vito continued to stroke the aircraft's surface. "I need you to get her ready, and this ship as well. We will have new trouble soon."

"As I expected. I suggest finding a starport as soon as possible, preferably one served by the Adeptus Mechanicus. We will make our final preparations there."

Vito smiled again and tilted his head slightly. "Of course. I heard there is a massive shipyard on the satellite ring around Victoria's primary star. You can resolve the specifics with your peers there."

The communicator chimed. Vito glanced at the data terminal on his wrist with surprise. After he raised his arm, Bell appeared on the screen. The Apothecary looked at Vito. "Vito, you and Lancelot need to return to the Bridge. I have already notified the two Wolves."

"What happened, brother?" Lancelot asked, stepping forward. "We don't know yet, but come quickly. We need to make a decision."

Bell's image vanished. Vito and Lancelot looked at each other and shrugged. Vito was about to speak, but was interrupted.

"I will have the Thunderhawk ready for deployment. Go," Omega said, grabbing another component. Vito smiled, then turned and walked away with the Dark Angel, leaving only the brilliant sparks of Omega's cutting torch behind.

Praise the Omnissiah, soothe the Machine Spirit with your monthly tickets, and then get ready to wahggggggge!