‘Too easy,’ said Ericus.
An impact shivered the Obsidian Sky. Ericus kept his focus upon the cruiser.
‘Second wave of boarders reported, teleport. Multiple contacts on seven decks.’ The Master Augurum looked back to his instruments. ‘I have high-energy emissions close by. They’re coming for the command deck.’
Gunfire, feeble and popping compared to the thunderous rolls of the ship’s main batteries, sounded from outside. Men shouted in the distance, competing with the joyous roaring of orks at war.
‘Secure the deck. Close blast doors. Let free the spirits of our weapon emplacements,’ commanded Ericus. Red lights spun and flashed. A harsh klaxon heralded the sealing of the command deck. ‘Lord Rolans will deal with our uninvited guests. Every man aboard this deck must save his thoughts for the destruction of our target. The lives of our masters depend upon success. Do not waver from your purpose!’
The ork ship came closer, dominating the hololith. ‘Open the oculus once more, let’s set eyes upon the vessel. Gunnery, prepare for fire. Charge lances. Hold broadsides for passing. Attonax, Palimodes to perform the same, confirm.’
‘As you say, Ericus. One day I will make you regret ordering me around so.’
‘Perhaps you have a better plan?’
Attonax remained silent.
‘All hands, prepare!’ commanded Ericus.
The oculus shutters slid open. Bright planetshine chased away the dimness of the bridge. The ork ship was above them relative to the pull of the Obsidian Sky’s grav-plating. Its dorsal aspect faced the planet, the Palimodes cutting between it and the hazy caramel of Dzelenic IV’s atmosphere. In life it was even uglier than upon the hololithic tactical display, a mechanical parody of a diseased void-whale, its stone and metal skin pocked by cosmic impacts, back crooked. It was far from defenceless for all its primitive construction, and a hundred guns of all sizes spat orange fire from every side.
‘Prow up twelve degrees. Master Scutum, concentrate shield replenishment on prow. Gunnery, on my mark. Target amidships. Tear it in two.’
The underside of the ork ship moved down across the oculus as the Obsidian Sky pointed itself directly at the planetary equator. The fire from the other ork ships had slackened off, most having been destroyed, the rest fleeing in disarray.
‘Fire lances!’ ordered Ericus.
‘Firing lances!’
Five energy beams stabbed out from the Obsidian Sky. The ship was still moving upwards relative to the ork cruiser, and they carved a deep wound of molten rock into the asteroid that made up the middle section of the craft. The Palimodes opened fire a second later. Turrets sheared off and floated away to join the debris cloud of the battle. Fire and the explosions of touched-off munitions stores burst from across the surface. The ork cruiser continued firing. Obsidian Sky’s forward void shield blazed and winked out, and the mass projectiles cast out by the ork ship slammed into the vessel’s armour. Rumbling troubled the Obsidian Sky, and Ericus was obliged to shout.
‘Roll to starboard, eighty degrees! Increase forward thrust. Prepare to fire starboard weapons batteries. Palimodes, we shall go first. Hold back, or we shall hit each other.’ Only hours before, that was exactly what they had been trying to do. Now the two ships fought together as if they had been part of the same fleet for decades.
The ork ship slipped out of direct view. The surface of Dzelenic IV filled the oculus, nothing but debris from the battle between the Obsidian Sky and the rescue of the Marshal. Ericus watched the target upon the hololith for the perfect moment to strike.
‘Fire starboard battery!’ he yelled.
A ripple of shock waves shook the vessel as its main guns fired. ‘Give me a visual feed!’ shouted Ericus. The hololith representation was replaced by a pict feed from the starboard-side pict-eyes. Hundreds of shells slammed into the ork ship, each bursting into a perfect sphere of atomic fire. Then the Obsidian Sky was past. Ericus ordered a rear view projected, so that he could watch the Palimodes’ attack run. It came in the wake of the Obsidian Sky, unleashing its own salvo as the fires from the first were blinking out. Another blooming of atomic destruction followed. The Palimodes sailed past as the ork ship broke into multiple pieces, trailing gas and corpses.
A cheer went up from the command deck. Behind the Obsidian Sky the ork fleet was a shattered mess of metal, stone and frozen atmosphere. The sound of fighting outside the blast doors was subsiding.
‘Raise Lord Magneric and Lord Castellan Ralstan. We shall launch extraction craft as soon as they command,’ said Ericus.
From every window, boltguns fired, cutting down orks by the dozen. Time after time the orks attempted the walls, only to be thrown back. Breaching teams were targeted by disciplined Space Marine fire. Heavy weapons were neutralised, tanks and guns eliminated by long-range lascannon shots. The swarms of orks hurling themselves at the walls were further thinned by grenades and careful flamer bursts. Large-calibre ork bullets took chunks from the ancient rockcrete. Rockets spiralled in on corkscrews of black smoke, leaving smoking craters in the walls, but none could penetrate the building.
‘Slay them! Slay them all!’ roared Magneric. Unable to go within, he stood behind a berm of rubble torn from the desert sands by the Iron Warriors. His men fired from behind him, killing those orks that posed a threat to the ancient, while Magneric himself selected targets on the basis of size. The bigger the ork, the more likely they were to receive the attentions of Magneric’s assault cannon.
Within the building, Kalkator paced the buckled floors, shouting encouragement and curses at his men. Ralstan shadowed his every step, alert for treachery, but there was none. The Black Templars and Iron Warriors were thoroughly intermingled, fighting as one force. Ties to the old Legions were forgotten, treachery was put out of mind. They fought together as Space Marines, born of the same science, equipped with the same weaponry and armour. Blood and battle removed the differences between them. Ralstan’s misgivings were swamped for a while by martial pride. His desire to show the Iron Warriors who were the greater warriors had him exhorting his brothers to greater accuracy, smoother fire, wiser target selection.
‘Do not fear, my brothers!’ he shouted. ‘We shall meet them blade to blade soon enough. Kill them now at distance, lay their vile xenos hides low into the dust of this world. When they are bloodied and enraged, then shall we test ourselves against them!’
‘If this were a larger force, or better equipped, we would perish here,’ said Kalkator to Ralstan.
‘Maybe you would. The Black Templars will not be bested!’
‘A larger ork attack annihilated two of my worlds,’ said Kalkator, ‘and reduced my Great Company to this sad remnant. You speak from ignorance. You would have died.’
‘Never!’ said Ralstan. ‘Not while the Emperor watches over us.’ He left Kalkator, irked by his sniping, and went up onto the roof. Joy at battle filled him. Afterwards, he would have more words with the Marshal about disobeying the call to the Last Wall, but for now the reality of battle was a clean wind, scouring his soul and his thoughts of doubt. If they could not battle the orks with the rest of their Chapter, so be it. Here was the chance of great slaughter!
He looked out over the ork horde. There were thousands of them, but there was some truth to what Kalkator said. These were pirates, opportunists ranging ahead of the main fleets. They had little heavy equipment, and their fleet was locked in battle with the Palimodes and the Obsidian Sky. If there were an attack moon, the situation would be different. A scouting group, he thought. And still there were five thousand orks and more.