The Imperial Navy's warships were huge—very, very huge. Each one was practically a miniature world. You could find anything you needed aboard: shops, hospitals, schools, churches, places of entertainment, even black markets. They were, quite literally, flying cities.
No one could claim to know every corner of these massive vessels. Without a map, anyone venturing into their incredibly complex corridors and compartments could get lost for days, even weeks, until sheer luck led them to a group of Imperial crewmen.
Vito didn't understand every part of this massive ship, and he didn't know whether Cole did either. But everyone aboard had a place they knew best. For Vito and the Deathwatch Astartes, this was definitely it.
The enormous hangar stretched from one side to the other. Its broad expanse held numerous fighters and transport vehicles, as well as piles of spare parts scattered across the deck. Thankfully, they hadn't piled ammunition or fuel here. Otherwise, someone would definitely have been whipped.
Vito leaned against the stairs at the top of the hangar, looking down at the busy Servitors, ground crew, and Tech-Priests. They were tending to the God-Machines, especially the big ones.
Thunderhawk Gunships, Star Shark Fighters, and Ground Landing Craft sat quietly in their berths. These mighty Imperial weapons waited in silence, waiting for the next time the fires of war would rouse them.
"Everything's running smoothly here, Inquisitor," Lancelot said. He stood behind Vito with one hand resting on his sword, the Dark Angels' iconic winged helmet tucked beneath his arm.
"Though we may need to replenish our stock of Boarding Torpedoes." "True. We fired them all at once as bait, and it damn near gave Cole a heart attack. He spent the whole night calling me a spendthrift and worse."
Vito shrugged helplessly. "Can't I just get him another batch at the next Starport?" he said. Lancelot smiled too, then pointed with an armored finger at a Thunderhawk below. "Then we should tell the person in charge. You know, those electronic-voiced lunatics."
Vito smiled silently, then gestured for Lancelot to follow. Usually, Astartes hated being given orders by mortals; it was normally the other way around. But this was different. Lancelot followed at once, without hesitation, fuss, or complaint.
The towering giant carried his Power Sword and followed Vito with heavy steps. The hangar crew they passed bowed to them, while Vito smiled and nodded to each person. He was so amiable that he hardly seemed like an Inquisitor. Well, he wasn't the kind of Inquisitor the people of the Imperium imagined, either.
No, no—I wasn't saying that Inquisitors who liked executing people and acted like lunatics didn't exist. But honestly, even within the Inquisition, they were rare creatures. Why? Because people like that usually didn't live long, for all sorts of reasons. You know how it is: they weren't exactly popular.
The two crossed the vast hangar, passing machines blessed by the Adeptus Mechanicus. Sparks from welding and repairs rained down from above like a strange snowfall.
Beside a blue Thunderhawk, its nose painted with a shark's head, the Tech-Priest who had been working with several auxiliary mechadendrites turned around. Mechanical eyes peered at them from beneath his crimson robes. Several different kinds of lenses whirred, glittering like emeralds.
"Hey there, Octopus," Vito said with a chuckle. The Tech-Priest turned fully toward them, retracting his many mechadendrites to his sides before replying in that beguiling electronic voice.
"Please call me Omega, Inquisitor. I am a Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus, not an octopus—a creature of flesh," the Tech-Priest said.
Lancelot chuckled. "Then you should ask Old Wolf Olaf. He could talk your ear off about those dozens-of-meters-long giant squid on that freezing, miserable rock of theirs."
"That clearly has nothing to do with me, Lancelot. Now, tell me why you've come to disturb my work," the Tech-Priest said. He turned back to his task as sparks and scanning beams continued to flare around him.
Vito and Lancelot exchanged glances and shrugged. Vito walked over to the Thunderhawk and looked up at the great blue bird.
"How is she?"
"I've repaired the damaged sections. Her Machine Spirit is still agitated. Next time, please don't charge straight into an Ork fleet, Inquisitor. This is a gunship, not a cruiser." "I'll do my best."
Vito grinned playfully, then noticed something on a nearby workbench: several crude, ugly contraptions. He walked over and casually picked up one of the enormous guns. It was so big he needed both hands to hold it.
"Have you figured out how the Orks make these things?" Vito asked, then handed the gun to Lancelot. The latter caught it easily and hefted it once. "I still can't understand how these Ork heaps of scrap don't explode."
Omega didn't turn around. Instead, he lifted an armor plate with a mechadendrite, quickly cut and smoothed its edges, then replaced a damaged piece of the Thunderhawk's external armor.
"I don't know either. By the Omnissiah, I can't analyze weapons that defy the basic laws of physics, much less the energy the Orks call Waaagh!"
As he spoke, he stepped back to inspect the Thunderhawk before him. "I've tried dissecting Orks, but I can't understand the secret behind them."
"Don't push yourself too hard, my friend. Some things can't be understood all at once." As he spoke, Vito reached out to touch the Thunderhawk's surface. He gazed into the shark's eye, then smiled.
Omega glanced at Vito, then continued welding. "Tell me, Vito, what do you need? You're not here to read in your private library, so you must have come for more than just a reunion."
"No, catching up is part of it. We've known each other for many years, Omega. But you're right—I did come to ask you for something."
Vito continued stroking the fighter's surface as he spoke. "I need you to get her ready, along with this ship. We'll have new trouble soon."
"As I expected. I recommend finding a Starport as soon as possible, preferably one served by the Adeptus Mechanicus. We can make our final preparations there."
Vito smiled again and lifted his chin slightly. "Of course. I hear there's a massive shipyard in the orbital ring near Victoria's Capital World. You can work out the details there with your colleagues."
The comms device chimed. Vito glanced at the data terminal on his wrist in surprise. He raised his arm, and Bell's image appeared. The Apothecary looked at him. "Vito, you need to return to the bridge with Lancelot. I've already notified the two Space Wolves."
"What happened, brother?" Lancelot stepped forward and asked. "We don't know yet, but hurry over. We need to make a decision."
Bell's image vanished. Vito and Lancelot exchanged glances, then shrugged. Vito had barely opened his mouth before Omega answered for him.
"I'll get the Thunderhawk ready to launch. Go on," Omega said, picking up another component. Vito smiled, then turned and walked away with the Dark Angel, leaving only the brilliant sparks from Omega's cutting torch behind.
Praise the Omnissiah! Soothe the Machine Spirit with your monthly votes, then Waaagh! away!
Before you continue