03 - Savage Scars Read Free Page A

staccato flashes of
distant weapons discharges, the opposing vessels were still far too distant to
be seen with the naked eye. The readout on the lectern, however, told the full
story.
    The scout vessel with the call sign of Nova-zero-three was being closely
pursued by a tau picket, the human pilot jinking sharply from side to side in an
attempt to avoid the constant hail of high-velocity projectiles streaming
through space towards him. The scout pilot was good, Sarik could tell, but so
too was his pursuer. The scout’s life must surely be measured in seconds.
    “Intercept?” Sarik said, denial welling up inside him.
    “Closing to long range now, brother-sergeant,” Conversi Kuro replied.
    Sarik activated the vox-net link to Brother Qaja. “Fire control,” Sarik said,
“Zero-three needs our help—I got him into this situation, and by the primarch
I will get him out. Fire when ready.”
    “Aye, brother-sergeant,” the other Space Marine replied. A line of targeting
script scrolled across the readout beside the icon representing the enemy
picket. “Fire control cogitation plotted. Opening fire.”
    A moment later, the Nomad ’s weapons batteries spoke, the report
shuddering through the frigate’s hull as titanic energies were unleashed. Each
shell was as large as a tank, and had been hauled into the breech of its cannon
by gangs of sweating Chapter-serfs, who even now would be racing to load the
next. A barrage of shells was propelled from the forward guns at supersonic
velocity, tearing across the intervening gulf of space in a matter of seconds.
    So close were the pursuer and the pursued that Brother Qaja had been forced
to take aim at a point in space aft of the enemy picket, hoping to catch the
alien in the shell’s blast and avoid damaging the scout. More callous gunnery
masters might not have taken such precautions, but Qaja knew his commander well
and was in any case of a like mind. The first salvo of shells blossomed into
raging orange fire, but Sarik saw instantly that the shot had fallen short.
    “Nova-zero-three,” Sarik hailed the pathfinder. “Cease evasion, full power to
main drives and hold on.”
    The scout did not reply, and Sarik had not expected him to, for all of his
efforts would be focussed on simply staying alive. Nonetheless, Sarik’s
instruction was heeded. The scout vessel ceased its jinking and powered straight
ahead, its forward velocity increasing now its path was true. Within seconds,
the gap between the two vessels had increased.
    A piercing shrill filled the small bridge.
    “Enemy has cogitated terminal lock,” Conversi Yosef announced.
    “Qaja,” said Sarik, his heart pounding with the ferocity of battle. “Do it,
do it now!”
    The frigate shook as its forward weapons batteries roared a second time,
unleashing another salvo of gargantuan ordnance into space. Even as the shrill
warning tone continued, Sarik finally saw that the two vessels were entering
visual range. The pathfinder streaked past to the Nomad ’s starboard, and
a second later the shells exploded violently to the fore.
    A sheet of raging fire exploded across space, the infernal orange chasing
away the serene blue of the nebulae. The glow lent Sarik the aspect of a
fearsome beast from Chogoran legend, his polished white and red armour gleaming
and his fierce eyes burning with reflected flames. His face twisted savagely in
the furnace illumination and he pounded the lectern with a clenched fist with
dark exuberance. The glass of the lectern readout cracked under the impact, but
Sarik didn’t notice.
    The icon representing the tau picket was engulfed in a rapidly expanding
circle that described the blast radius of the second salvo. The icon blinked out
of existence. It had been caught in the blast, and even had it survived, it
would not be in any state to continue the pursuit.
    “ Nomad ,” the vox-channel burst to life, “this is Nova-zero-three. Our
thanks, we are indebted