03 - Savage Scars Read Online Free Page A

bone-hewed Chogoran charm
scythed through the air and cut a deep gash across Sarik’s scalp, before
shattering on the bulkhead overhead. Parchment strips affixed to terminals
fluttered wildly in the rush of air, and then fell still. Suddenly, all was
silent. Sarik opened his eyes to see that the flames, starved of oxygen, had
extinguished.
    Sarik pulled back on the lever, manually initiating the re-pressurisation
cycle. The purge valve irised shut and the hiss of oxygen inlets filled Sarik’s
ears. He took a deep breath, unaccustomedly pleased to taste the stale shipboard
air. The taste of burned metal would hang in the air for hours, he knew, and a
fine mist was already forming as the newly pumped-in oxygen condensed in the
chill space. Within thirty seconds the bridge was returned to one standard
atmospheric measure, the emergency averted and Loccum and the other bridge-serfs
saved.
    “Sound off!” Sarik called out. As a Space Marine, his genetically enhanced
biology was proof against the worst effects of the depressurisation, but Sarik
was less certain how his bridge crew might have fared.
    Coughs and splutters sounded from the darkness, before the first of the crew
replied. “Loccum!” the man called out. “Vox-net awakening, but Kuro is down.”
Sarik was filled with relief that Loccum had been saved from a horrible death,
and immeasurably proud at how quickly the conversi resumed his duties.
    “Nord,” the bridge-serf at the shield station called out. “Residual only,
projectors down.”
    “Understood,” Sarik replied, looking down at the blank, cracked screen of the
lectern. “If you’re out there…”
    “Incoming vox communion, brother-sergeant,” said Conversi Loccum, his
terminal awakening even as he spoke. A moment later the bridge was filled with
churning static as the ship-to-ship vox-channel burst to life.
    “ Nomad ,” a voice came over the static-laced vox-channel. “Pathfinders
are clear. Get your drives on-line and follow them out. We’ll deal with this.”
    Sarik grinned savagely as he recognised the voice of his friend and ally, the
rogue trader Lucian Gerrit, master of the heavy cruiser Oceanid.
    “You’re sure you don’t need help, Lucian?” Sarik replied. “It wouldn’t be the
first time, after all!”
    The rogue trader’s only reply was a devastating broadside, which struck the
closing tau vessel amidships and broke it in two. The enemy ship’s drive section
sheered away from its central spine, inertia and residual thrust carrying it
forwards to pass the Nomad at perilously close range.
    Two competing reactions welled up inside Sarik as he watched the spectacular
destruction of the tau vessel. Part of him knew vindication, revenge for the
deaths the tau had inflicted on his crew and the damage they had done to the Nomad . The other part, which Sarik rejected the instant he became aware of
it, knew something akin to jealousy, for it had not been him, but another, who
had dealt the killing blow. Sarik knew the emotion was ignoble, born of his
fierce warrior heritage and nothing to do with the noble traditions of his
Chapter or the Adeptus Astartes as a whole. He would confess his weakness to his
ancestors later, he vowed.
    As the flaming debris passed across the view from the bridge portal, Sarik
saw the Oceanid move forwards, assuming a vector that would take it into
battle with the three alien defence platforms.
    “Lucian,” said Sarik, his momentary weakness replaced by concern for his
friend. “You can’t take those platforms on alone…”
    “Don’t worry, Sarik,” the reply came back, and Sarik knew that the Oceanid was merely the tip of the spear. “We’ll save some fun for you.”
    Sarik moved around his lectern and strode along the length of the bridge,
coming to stand before the armoured glass of the forward port with his hands
gripping the stanchions. As he watched, the entire fleet came into view,
gargantuan battleships and