POV: Renegade Narexah Vune, Captain of the Infidel-class Raider: Dire Lament Vune shook off the slight disorientation from exiting the warp. The various Escort vessels and Raiders were spread out in formation, the smaller vessels taking point. The ships slid forward, gliding through the black void as their engines fired. Vune was a pirate through and through, he had been fine tagging along with Captain Nightscream's little raiding party, but even he had reservations about coming along at the behest of some warped monstrosity. Even if that monstrosity was paying well. Vune called out. "Alright get a scan going, we were here not too long ago. Keep your distance from those warp-cursed friendlies. Try to-" Clang! "The frak was that?" he asked, looking towards the lead viewport. "Sir, it seems like we've exited into a debris field. The auspex is reporting hundreds of metal chunks floating around." The Auspex operator replied. "Debris field? From what? We were just in the system not that long ago. The only ship to explode was the Hunting Spear and that wouldn't have left debris." Vune narrowed his eyes, getting a bad feeling. "The debrief mentions that the Magi sent some outside forces to soften the place. Maybe it was them?" One of his officers spoke. "Why would the debris be right at the Mandeville point?" Vune asked as he pulled up the sensor readouts on a nearby screen just as another bit of debris deflected off the ship's hull. He glared at the readout until he took note of how evenly distributed the 'debris' was. Suddenly the alarms blared as they detected an explosion off their port side. One of the other Infidel Raiders had run into a standard explosive mine, damaging a part of their hull. "This isn't a debris field. It's a bloody minefield!" Vune yelled out. "Full reverse now! Get point defenses online! Warn the fleet!" A much louder alarm blared as one of the Idolator-class Raiders spearheading the fleet hit a mine, only the explosion was far greater as the atomic mine struck them amidships, splitting the raider clean in half. The ship suffered a series of secondary explosions a moment later as the rear half of the vessel exploded. "Shit shit shit!" Vune yelled. "Turn us hard over! Right now!" He howled at his helmsman. Two Apostate Class Escorts that were too close together found the second incredibly potent atomic mine, one vanished entirely and their twin vessel was sent careening out of control as the armour and outer layers of structure on the side facing the explosion were vaporized which triggered a wave of module decompressions across the entire length of the ship. An Iconoclast-class Destroyer was simply overwhelmed by a swarm of normal mines striking the Destroyer until it suffered an unfortunate fire and failed to put it out before it spread to their main magazine. Vune tensed as the ship shuddered from a mine strike, the void shields taking a portion of the blast while their prow armour thankfully absorbed the rest. Luckily it was not one of the horrifying atomic weapons. He watched as the escort fleet scattered in all directions moving to circle back towards the main fleet of capital ships. Vune took a deep breath and watched as another Infidel found another atomic mine, blowing its aft end open and setting off its plasma reactor. A cold realization sank in. "They knew we were coming, " he muttered as he looked at the long-range scans. More streaks and clusters of 'metal debris' were sitting right in the way of their fleet. "Damage report!" He growled as another small explosion rocked the ship. "Minor damage to the prow. We got off lightly. Most of the larger vessels took minor hits as well. We're clear of the field, Captain, the fleet is signaling for us to fall back." His Vox master informed him. Vune shook his head as he watched the fleet start firing lasers and lances into the minefield. A plume of detonations followed, most were small but one shot resulted in a much larger detonation as they ferreted out one of the atomic mines. Half of their escort fleet was still struggling to extract itself from the minefield. —------------------------------------------------------- I stare at the readouts of the long-range Auspex scans and pictures relayed by the satellites flanking the waves of mines. Sitting next to Master Doll in the Argent Drake's war room. "That is quite a number of ships." I mutter even as one of the escorts at the fore vanishes in a flash of atomic fire. "The Prophet of Distortion is thankfully the only battleship. A Desecrator-class as advertised. It would appear they brought along a rather large space hulk as well, likely filled with troops and Dark Mechanicum forces." Master Doll says as he starts plotting trajectories. "The mines have certainly slowed down their advance, they're stuck performing clearing operations now. Ten enemy escort and raider vessels have been destroyed or rendered inoperable in the last hour. Many others took non-crippling hits." Xor says with obvious delight. "I don't think that Silver Tower is an original. I think it's a facsimile or a work in progress Tzeenchian Warp Palace." I say as I squint. "What makes you say that?" The Inquisitor asks having joined the meeting over Vox. "Well, the original nine Silver Towers operated by the Thousand Sons are aesthetically different. That tower doesn't have Prosperine architecture. According to your documentation, Eligael doesn't have any pull with the Thousand Sons." If the timeline is correct they're also currently going after Project Aurora. "Have we identified any of the other vessels? I recognize the two that originally chased the Star Dragons when we entered the system." I highlight the Hellbringer Class Light Cruiser: The Sky Scourer and the Infidel Class Raider: Dire Lament. "I recognize the drive signature of the Dark Mechanicus Corrupted Lunar Class Cruiser: Blood Moon." Master Doll points out marking another of the enemy vessels. "I have identified the Styx Heavy Cruiser, it's the Hive of Woe, along with the Astartes Strike Cruiser: the Malefic Eye, it's operated by The Scourged. The Astartes Escort: Slashing Claw is a Black Legion ship." Inquisitor Striker "However the second largest threat is probably the Repulsive Class Grand Cruiser: Wyrmsblood." The Argent Drake vibrates slightly and from the depths of the ship comes a deep and furious growling sound. "The Argent Drake would like to personally deal with that vessel and I ask that you focus your efforts elsewhere." I say as I glance over. Lord Drakios and everyone in the room can feel it. Argent is seething. Her misguided traitorous child will be punished with prejudice. "I see… Well, we have also identified the two remaining cruisers: the Inferno Class Cruiser: Conflagration and the Devastation Cruiser: Wounded Soul. The remaining Astartes Escort I have yet to identify its drive signature but it bears the emblem of the Emperor's Children rather blatantly. The Hulk does not match any in my records. It may be new, but it has obviously been modified." The Inquisitor marks the vessels in question. "The multitude of escorts are not noteworthy aside from their various classes. "They brought a lot of carriers. That Stix is problematic. It will likely try to keep a distance. It or the Strike Cruiser may be a decent target for PR-103 if we get the opportunity. As it stands they have the advantage in strike craft. We should expect Swiftdeath Fighters, Doomfire Bombers, and Dreadclaw Boarding Craft at the minimum. We should assume they also have at least one Fire Lord and Helldrake given Eligael's proposed penchant for daemon engines." I say as I watch the enemy fleet finally maneuver past the initial wall of mines. "That's one of the standard Chaos fleet doctrines, long-range lances and mass strike craft. Most of their vessels are faster but less armoured than their Imperial equivalents. Survivability and closer range firepower for brawling, you see it in each ship's design philosophy." Lord Drakios explains sagely before smirking. "But without a Nova cannon, they're not outranging the Argent Drake." "We have a few days. Even at their best speed the distance from the Mandeville point gives us time to prepare, the mines have slowed them further." Governor Aarark says with a nervous smile. "I'm sending dossiers on all the vessels and factions we found in my archives. We're naturally stuck on the defensive so the impetus is on them to take the initiative. These are Tzeechian cultists. I have no doubt they're plotting something unpleasant." The Inquisitor says with narrow eyes. "Zeta 9-Kane how long do you think it would take for you to install additional Flack Turrets on our new Clipper and perhaps a few other vessels? The Argent Drake has no need for them but the rest of the fleet…" Lord Drakios asks as he turns to raise an eyebrow at the Magos. "A few days each? Such defensive batteries are commonly requested as add-ons from the navy and more military-minded merchant families. They are easily fabricated in bulk. I will see it done." Magos Zeta replies with a nod. "We are also currently converting The Collateral into a fire ship now that it has laid all the mines we had prepared. I may be able to scavenge a second such vessel from the scraps. The surface forges are producing the plasma bombs and incendiary explosives required." —------------------------------------------------------------ Eligael sat on his command throne, steadily tapping a single metal digit on his arm as he watched the chaos unfold outside the viewport. His glorious entrance had been foiled, and the escort vessels his forge had spent time and resources building and repairing vanished in large explosions. Many of the captains panicked or reacted rashly, resulting in their termination as they failed to extricate themselves from the minefield. What a curious welcome that was, a three-layered minefield with the first layer on top of the Mandeville point. Someone had alerted the locals some time ago that they were coming. There was only one real candidate, as the Xenos and the Machine hadn't known his route. It would seem failures among his subordinates continued to vex him. They lost ten escorts and without his guidance now several vessels were attempting to clear the mines with lance strikes or in the case of the Astartes by wasting some of their limited nuclear payload. The loss of all three Iconoclast Class Destroyers stung the most. The other escorts could compensate, but it would not be as efficient as they had lost their main screen against enemy torpedoes. Eligael felt all nine of his eyes twitch. He reached a hand up to pinch the bridge of his beak-like nose. "I'm surrounded by idiots." When he didn't bother to wax poetically or rhyme the next stanza his bridge crew froze. They cast figurative glances his way waiting with bated breath. "Contact the Sundered Horror, tell them to pivot so their least important side is facing the fore. The rest of the fleet will follow in the hulk's wake. Magister, how has your plan progressed?" Eligael inquired as he continued his tapping. "The seed has been planted, my Lord, my pact was fruitful and the daemon I brokered with has assured me a gate can be opened using its temporary host." The robed individual hissed out with a grin. "Good, that vessel poses the largest threat, contact the Astartes before they start to fret. They must assault the enemy from within. Hold them back until I can release the djinn." "At once, my Lord" the figure of the magister retreated. "Sir, couldn't we navigate around the mines?" One of his officers asked, confused. "Negative. The enemy wants us to avoid the most expedient route to the planet. These mines are meant to delay. Such a route would add several days, giving the Imperials time to prepare, straight we sail into their lair. We shall not grant them reprieve, we shall make them suffer and grieve. We will move forward with haste and then lay waste." Eligael settled back into his throne waiting for the interference from the detonations to clear up so they could properly assess the state of the system defenses. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The Space Hulk would serve as a bulwark and break through the mines. Though it would take damage in the process, they had spent most of their efforts making it mobile, using its internals for troops and hangars for additional strike craft. It had some functioning weapons, but its main resource was its immense bulk and mass. "Plow the road." Eligael ordered with an air of finality —------------------------------------------------------------------- Ace looked out at the assembled pilots of his squadron, all sitting attentively. "Good news and bad news everyone. The good news is that we have been given detailed information on the composition of the enemy fleet." Ace paused. One of his wingmen spoke up "Aww frak, that's the only good news, isn't it, Sir?" Ace nodded. "I present to you the enemy flagship." He pulled up a projection. "Desecrator-class Battleship. It's pretty much a Desolator but some of the forward lances have been replaced with hangars for enemy attack craft on both sides." Ace made two tally marks on a separate touch screen. "The enemy has a Repulsive Grand Cruiser, a Corrupted Mechanicus Lunar Cruiser, and an Inferno Class Cruiser all Torps, Lances, Guns on both in spades. They have two Astartes Escorts and a Mark I Strike Cruiser." Two more tallies were added as Ace glanced around the room at the confused faces. "Next, in no particular order, we have a Hellbringer Assault ship; it's the light cruiser we fought off before." Two more tallies were marked. "A Desecrator Class Cruiser." Two more tallies were marked. "A Styx Heavy Cruiser." Four tallies were marked. "I think some of you have figured it out by now, but for those of you who haven't, the ships I've shown you are all carriers. In addition they have a space hulk which likely has additional launch bays. The enemy has at a minimum twelve launch bays worth of strike craft. Compare that to our humble six. They will likely be fielding Swiftdeaths, Doomfires and Dreadclaws at a minimum. You should all be familiar with those from the sims." Ace smiled grimly. "Our job is to neutralize the enemy strike craft. I have more 'good' news: the allied vessels are getting new flak turrets." There was a groan from the veterans that confused some of the younger pilots. "That means they'll likely be operated by crew that are new and poorly trained or servitors, neither of which are particularly good at aiding you in a dogfight." One of the pilots explained. Ace nodded and snapped his fingers. "Our orders are to fight off enemy strike craft attacks but given the disparity in numbers we have been told to remain strictly within the turret bubbles of our allied vessels. For those of you unfamiliar, the Navy has a system called a turret rating. It's basically a scale of how awful it is to try and operate a craft near a vessel. The higher the number the worse it is for pilots like us. Most cruisers and smaller rate around two or lower, the Repulsive's base rating is a three, that battleship's a four." Ace's smile turned vicious. "The Argent Drake, when operating at full capacity on its own without a defensive fighter screen, with all her enhancements was given the humble rating of six. That is one higher than a standard Imperial Emperor Class Battleship." Ace pulled up the Argent Drake and several bubbles at various distances "These bubbles represent the effective fields of fire of the various small turrets, they are your lifeline. Memorize them. We'll be operating on the defensive, so no fraking heroics. We're not alone, our new Astartes friends will be joining us, as will the local forces from the Halo, and from the Inquisitor." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ NoveI-Fire.ɴet Ace walked around to the front of the holotable where he surveyed the pilots. "Some of you know the score, some of you are new. The House Drakios does not settle for good, you are the best. You've been trained by the best, the craft you operate are maintained to the highest standards. Your life holds value and should come at the cost of no less than ten of the enemy. When this is all over I expect to be pinning enough ace pilot medals to make my fingers bleed. Trust yourselves, trust your wingmen and trust in the Emperor." "For the Emperor!" The call went out as the pilots and support staff all roared. "Good! We've got a lot of work to do because the enemy only arrived yesterday and the Mechanicus boys and girls are already up to ten ship kills." Ace added with a smirk at the end. Ace dismissed the pilots and went to check on his Fury Interceptor, only when he arrived several Tech Priests were huddled around a crate that was sitting in front of it whispering prayers. "What's that?" He asked them as he approached. "The Princeps has delivered you a grand gift, Captain Ace." The lead Tech Priest whispered reverently. The crate held two vehicle class missiles and even had a note attached. "To Ace pilot Ace. As the highest rated pilot aboard the Argent Drake, you get a present. In this crate are two Cyclonic missiles sized for your Interceptor. You only get two. Don't miss. Warning! Do not use in danger close range, or short range! You will die!" Ace read the note twice before he gave the missiles a wary look. "Tech Priest, I feel like I am lacking some context. These things dangerous?" "Nuclear fusion missiles, scaled down from the exterminatus sized torpedoes used by voidships. Combined these two missiles could cripple or outright destroy a small voidship. They are extremely rare and dangerous!" The Tech Priest declared, practically vibrating with delight. "Riiight… Go ahead and hook them up. Please put them in the secure internal missile storage bay." Ace said, slowly backing away as the cadre of red-robed priests performed their fourth canticle to bless the machine spirits within. —-------------------------------------------------------- POV: Lord Inquisitor Agatha Striker Agatha strode quickly towards the bridge of the Purest Shadow, having received a call minutes earlier. "You said there has been a change in the enemy formation?" she asked as she entered the bridge. "Yes, they've pulled back their fleet and let the Space Hulk take the lead position, they're already at the second minefield and progressing swiftly, Ma'am." The Captain replied. Agatha stared at the display and nodded. "Clever, using the hulk like that to clear the mines. It will scour most of the presented surface of the Space Hulk. Has it performed any major course or speed changes since it started moving?" She inquired, studying the projected path the Hulk was taking. "No, Ma'am, we detected the drive cones flaring initially during acceleration but no maneuvers since." the Auspex operator replied. "When they arrived they were towing it behind the Prophet of Distortion. I assume the engines on the Hulk are temperamental at best." The Auspex flashed for a moment as the Hulk impacted one of the Atomic mines in the second field. "If they maintain their current speed, when will they arrive in our combat theatre?" Agatha considered their options and a few ideas popped into her head before they were swiftly discarded. "At present speed three days to reach ideal combat range and four to reach orbit." The operator confirmed. "Contact the Argent Drake and any of the support vessels with torpedo tubes. I want a cold launch along that vector targeting the Hulk, Melta Torpedoes are preferred and have the torpedoes set to self-destruct after a week if they don't find a target in that time. With the Hulk leading the way and stripped of most point defenses it would be rude of us to ignore the opportunity." She said with a small smile. "Contact Zeta 9-Kane and request replacement torpedoes for those we launch. You may launch up to half our normal compliment. Don't touch the Cyclonics or the boarding torpedoes." —-------------------------------------------------------- Having spent a bit too much time in the forges lately, I make my way to the hallway that leads to the Cavalerio family storage and the Dark Age lab responsible for the original Nicole's... Our birth. I don't enter fully, however I stop in the middle of the hall to glare at the wall. As several minutes go by eventually Delta-A3 Inquires. "Is something wrong, Lady Cavalerio?" "I don't recognize the pattern of these Murder Servitors. They're quite old. The design conventions don't match the Heresy era or modern Imperial aesthetics. The machine spirits inside are aggressive and homicidal. They've all got power blades and a few have strange metal-bladed tendrils. They're all clad in a strange matte black shell and most have faceless rounded masks used by the Thallax. If I couldn't see and detect the human parts inside I'd be concerned they were automatons. There are no logs on the origin of these units either." I explain warily. They honestly make me think some crazy Mechanicus designer heard about the Flayed Ones secondhand and decided 'I can do that and make it more terrifying!' Most of them have long power claw hands but some of the units have hands with melee weapons. "I'm opening the first unit. Stand back." I tell my guards. The lead unit has a different head shape and what looks like a scythe strapped across its back. As the stasis container flicks off it immediately leaps free of the chassis in a storm of violently lashing limbs. It comes to an abrupt halt in front of me. Its mask is a fanged sneering pale-faced visage, the top of which is painted a bright blood-red color. It cocks its head in confusion, one arm with a wrist blade angled towards me but it can proceed no further with its attack. "Unit stand down," I growl. "Identify yourself." The Murder Servitor cocks its head the other way, the sound of its neck moving accompanied by the soft clicking of stiff gears loosening after a long period of disuse. It gives me a bow I can only describe as mocking. Whoever programmed this thing was a real piece of work. "I am unit zero one" It replies. "I am Matriarch Cavalerio. I own you. You are the lead unit. How many units are there in total, servitor?" I ask flatly. The servitor turns around and looks at the walls for a moment. "...200 Units… Status: Ready to slaughter." I sigh as it finally responds and acknowledges my command codes. That took far longer than was comfortable. "I'm not calling you Unit 01. Your new designation is… Redcap. Redcap unit, begin awakening procedures for all other units and prepare for deployment." Redcap seems to pause as I give it a new name. It reaches back and draws its power scythe, a wicked-looking thing that it twirls at high speed before slamming the base on the floor and kneeling. "I hear and obey." The servitor sounds oddly pleased with the new name. On both sides of the corridor, the hidden doors hiss open and the hunched lumbering figures of the Murder Servitors slowly slink into formation behind Redcap. The cadre of machines radiate with a palpable aura of blood-lust. I Vox the bridge. "Lord Drakios, I would like permission to load four boarding torpedoes." I also send him an image of the assembled servitors along with the full unit list. "Lady Cavalerio? … permission granted tubes 3, 4, 5, and 6 have suitable torpedoes available." Lord Drakios replies coolly. "I highly recommend not deploying them alongside any friendly units. My initial examinations indicate that these units are hardwired to ignore most forms of IFF. Once they are loaded, please use them as you best see fit." I say as I turn and start marching down the hallway, the small army of murder bots following me in lockstep.