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Wolf Pack - Gordon Rennie

About the Author

A Black Library Publication

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Wolf Pack

Gordon Rennie

'Maintain formation, Macharius. All that matters is that the rest of the convoy makes it safely to Orar. Need I remind you that, as a senior adept of the Departmento Munitorium, the safe delivery of the three Guard regiments this convoy carries is my responsibility!'

Leoten Semper, Captain of His Divine Majesty's Ship the Lord Solar Macharius, stared at the flickering green image of the gaunt-faced Adeptus Terra official on the opticon screen for a moment before giving his carefully worded reply.

'Indeed. The cargo may be your responsibility - but the transports carrying them are mine. As commander of the convoy's Navy escort, it is my decision to recover the two lost transports. This system is a pirate nest. We lost four transports here on our last run and five the time before. I'll not lose any more this time. We will leave you the frigate escorts and as many attack craft squadrons as we can spare. Pray that they are enough. Macharius out.' Severing the comm-link, Semper turned away to face his senior command officers assembled before him on the bridge deck, catching their approving nods at the manner in which he had dealt with the Departmento Munitorium official.

'Orders, sir?' asked his second-in-command, Flag-Lieutenant Hito Ulanti.

'Bring us about, Mister Ulanti. Set course for the last known location of the Vanya and the Magnar, and take us there All Ahead Full. We've got two lost sheep to save from the Wolf Packs.'

Drifting amongst the cover of one of the system's many scattered asteroid fields, the commander of the pirate scout ship watched in satisfaction as the surveyor screen in front of him showed the larger target icon of the Imperial Dictator Class Cruiser detach itself from the rest of the convoy. As he watched, he saw a swarm of smaller energy readings suddenly appear in the cruiser's wake.

'He's turning back for the stragglers and launching attack craft to guard the rest of the convoy,' he noted, picking apart the enemy captain's battle plan. 'Starhawk bombers, probably. Even with those three frigates still there, he's not leaving enough firepower to protect the convoy's flanks.'

He paused, running a scarred hand over his face, feeling the strange new bone-shapes forming under the splitting flesh. It had only been recently that he and the other pirate pack captains had formally sided with the forces of Abaddon the Despoiler, but already the effects of the Mark of Chaos were starting to manifest themselves on all of them.

'Assemble the pack,' he ordered. 'By the time that cruiser returns, all that will be left for it to protect will be drifting wreckage and some burned-out hulks.'

Captain Madsen Chen of the Vanya looked round the battered command deck of his ship, steadying himself against the side of his captain's pulpit as another explosion rocked his ship. Somewhere, thousands of kilometres of space behind them, their sister ship the Magnar was in its death-throes, its main drive crippled and its internal atmosphere bleeding out into space as the enemy used lance weapons to punch holes through its hull. Both ships were what were scathingly called ''junkers'', ancient decommissioned hulks hastily refitted and pressed back into active service at the onset of the war. A convoy moves at the speed of its slowest ship but, travelling through the pirate-infested wilderness space between the Bhein Morr and Orar Sub-Sectors, the limping speeds of the Vanya and the Magnar had put the rest of the convoy in too much danger and so they had been left behind as the other transports raced towards the safety of the next warp-jump beacon.

Another impact, stronger this time, rocked the command deck. Captain Chen looked to the tech-adept monitoring the damage control systems. 'Damage report!'

The adept checked the runes scrolling rapidly across the screen in front of him. 'No incoming weapons fire, Captain, but something just penetrated our hull. One of the enemy ships is launching assault craft. We're being boarded!'

Chen swore, his hand automatically reaching for the hilt of the sabre hanging on his belt, a pointless gesture of bitter defiance. Underarmed and undermanned - most of the other convoy transports had holds filled with thousands of Imperial Guard troops, but his carried only equipment and supplies - the Vanya and its crew would be little challenge to any determined attacker.

Still, Chen was a loyal servant of the Emperor, and he knew it was his duty to ensure that his ship and its cargo did not fall into the hands of the Emperor's enemies. He activated a rune on his command lectern, opening a comm-net channel to the engine room sanctum where the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus nurtured and monitored the beating plasma core heart of the ship's power systems.

'Captain Chen to Magos Hensho. Commence your preparations for the Rite of Self-Immolation. Shut down the coolant systems and—'

He was interrupted by a shout from one of the crewmen manning the surveyor monitors.

'Captain! We're reading the energy signals of another ship coming straight towards us. Emperor's mercy, it's the Macharius!'

The hard vacuum around the lead Starhawk bomber was filled with bright energy bursts as the squadron commander pilot jinked his craft through the incoming enemy fire. He flinched as, several kilometres off to starboard, one of his wingmen suddenly exploded apart. The servitor behind him, hardwired into the ship's surveyor systems, counted off the range in ten kilometre increments as they closed in on their targets. Latest reports now showed fifteen pirate vessels prowling round the fringes of the convoy. They were keeping a wary distance from the formidable prow lances of the three Firestorm frigate escorts. But the Firestorms couldn't cover the entire convoy, and the pirates were making quick probing attacks up and down the line of transports, testing the four Starhawk squadrons left behind by the Macharius as a makeshift secondary line of defence. Now, finding a gap in those defences, one pirate squadron was making a direct attack run on the convoy, and Nemesis Squadron was racing to intercept.

Approaching optimum strike distance the targets came into view through the cockpit's opticon-enhanced viewing ports. They were system-class vessels, too small to be fitted with warp engines, and the pilot's experienced eye picked out the details of half a dozen other vessel types cannibalised in their construction. The remaining Starhawks launched as one, the engine trails of ten plasma missiles streaking away towards the pirate ships. Two of the pirates broke off and retreated, but the third was too slow, a line of missile strikes raking it along its midships. The pirate gunship's hull burst open and seconds later it exploded as its breached reactor went critical. Nemesis Squadron peeled away to avoid the debris cloud thrown out by the explosion. In his cockpit, Nemesis Leader checked his instrumentation, seeing that his bomber's payload and fuel reserves were now at less than fifty percent. Attack craft such as the Starhawks had a severely limited operating capacity, and without mothership support, Nemesis and the other bomber squadrons would soon be unable to protect the convoy from the attacking pirate pack.

The comm-net link crackled into life, his Navigator feeding him the coordinates of another reported incoming pirate attack further down the line of transports. Nemesis One relayed the orders to the rest of the squadron, bringing his swooping gull-winged craft round to the new heading. Vandire's Oath, he swore to himself, where is the Macharius?

The Macharius powered forward, armoured blast doors sliding open along the launch bay sections on either side of its baroquely armoured hull to unleash a wave of the deadly silver dart shapes of its Fury interceptor squadrons. The craft fell upon their targets with merciless abandon, and the void between the Vanya and its pirate squadron attackers was lit up by volleys of lascannon fire and the answering flashes of exploding assault craft. In the vanguard of the attack, Storm Leader eased back on the power flow to its engine systems and allowed the armoured limpet shell shape of its target to drift through into its weapon sights. Storm Leader watched a row of runes on his instrument panel flash green - Lock On! - and stabbed the firing trigger, sending volleyed streams of lascannon fire from his wing-mounted weapon banks. The pirate assault boat disintegrated and in the flare of burning gases escaping from the destroyed craft the Imperial pilot could see the bodies of the assault troops inside spilling out into space as he peeled away, already in search of his next target.

Aboard the Macharius, Leoten Semper watched as the pirate squadron disengaged from the attack on the Vanya, abandoning the assault craft wave to the marauding Furies.

'Targets dead ahead,' Master of Ordnance Remus Nyder reported. 'Torpedoes ready to fire on your command.'

'They're too close to the Vanya,' Semper noted. 'We can't risk any stray torpedoes locking on to it as well. Helm, give me ramming speed. All decks, brace for impact!'

The Imperial cruiser's plasma core engines sent it surging towards its target, and in the last few seconds before impact, Semper could clearly see the manoeuvring thrusters studded along the hull of the pirate ship flare into life as it futilely tried to slide out of the path of the oncoming thirty-kilometre long juggernaut. The adamantium-armoured prow of an Imperial cruiser was specifically designed for ramming attacks, although tactical orthodoxy, as taught in the naval academies on Cypra Mundi, said that such attacks should only be considered as a last resort. Thrown to the deck by the tremendous impact of the collision, feeling the shuddering tremors of his ship smashing a path through the body of the enemy ship and hearing the exultant cheers of his crew as the Macharius carried on through the debris cloud of twisted wreckage of what only seconds ago had been another vessel, Leoten Semper could only disagree with his naval academy tutors.

It was, quite simply, the most satisfyingly effective order he had ever given.

Semper climbed to his feet to find the impeccable and apparently unshakeable figure of his second-in-command waiting for him.

'Vanya signals her thanks and requests a safe escort back to the convoy. Remaining enemy vessels are escaping but still within range of our portside batteries. Gun crews are ready and waiting. We are also picking up urgent mayday signals from the main convoy. What are your orders, sir?'

+Firedrake reporting. Only two of us left, all payload expended.+

+Harbinger reporting. Payload nil; engine systems are running on vapours and prayers.+

+Mantis reporting. Minimal payload and five percent fuel reserves remaining. Requesting assistance - three enemy vessels incoming on our position.+

Nemesis One listened to the litany of reports from his fellow squadron leaders. Ignoring the flashing red warning runes of his own fuel monitor panel, he keyed open the comm-link channel.

+Nemesis to Mantis. We've just enough fuel left to reach you. We'll join you in a combined attack wave and—+

The comm-link frequency buzzed with static as a powerful new transmission source cut in.

+Macharius to all Starhawk squadrons. Stand down. We'll take it from here.+

''Wolf Packs'' these pirate groups were called, but to Leoten Semper they seemed more like scavenging jackals, attacking weak and vulnerable prey but fleeing at the approach of any larger predator. The Macharius and the Firestorms had pursued the pirate pack to the fringes of the asteroid fields, claiming another four kills along the way, before turning back to rejoin the convoy. Now, with all surviving Starhawks safely recovered and the Vanya escorted safely back by four squadrons of Fury interceptors, the convoy had reached the edge of the system and was preparing to enter the warp.

Semper looked out of the viewing port, staring at the pattern of now distant asteroid fields. The Wolf Packs were in there somewhere, hiding in their asteroid lairs and licking their wounds for now, but he knew they would be back again soon enough.

One day, he promised himself, one day when we've the time and the ships to spare, we'll be back in force to clean out these pirate nests. Then this scavenger pack and all the others like it will know what it means to face the full might of Battlefleet Gothic.

About the Author

Gordon Rennie is the author of the Warhammer 40,000 novels Execution Hour and Shadowpoint, both set during the Gothic War, the Warhammer novel Zavant and the Necromunda novel Blood Royal, with Will McDermott. He wrote many comics for Black Library, including Deff Skwadron, three volumes of the Blood Angels series Bloodquest, two volumes of Kal Jerico and a run on the Adepta Sororitas series Daemonifuge. He lives and works in Edinburgh, Scotland.

A Black Library Publication

First published in Warp Storm in Great Britain in 2000.
This eBook edition published in 2021 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Richard Wright

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