Void Battle

Screwing was one thing, but you are a servant of The Emperor. One of his naughtiest, surely, but duty and fun were hardly compatible in a void fight. You sigh inward, and take your place on the seat adjacent to the ship-masters throne. Anna chooses to place herself on the other side.

Captain Crick fails to pay attention to either of you. Many ship-masters choose to give helm control to their first officer; leaving themselves free to accomplish other duties, and to retain the view of the bigger picture in combat. Veraina Crick despises that Modus Operandi, enjoying, rather, a deep and intense link to the Martyr's Blood divine Machine Spirit. In addition to numerous implanted autogenous cortical processing units, she has many of the feedback pathways to the bridge's crew posts rerouted directly to her cortical input units, allowing the crew to attend more sophisticated tasks. The result is an extremely maneouverable vessel with a vast repertoire of technological tricks up its sleeve.

Perfect for the needs of the Holy Ordos.

"First Auspex Sweep up just... now!" the master of detection cries out. You blink as a vast star chart appears on the massive screen covering the command deck's 'front' wall. The Deverian Nebula was two light years in diametre. A dense cloud of helium gas slowly collapsing in upon itself; shining with the sick, violet, light of stars mere centuries before their deaths, On its outer fringe were numerous wide rings of asteroids, interesting for mining by the Adeptus Mechanicus. Some Rogue traders had already tried their luck, but so far all attempts to establish a mining base had failed, the crews were being either captured and ritually slaughtered by Archenemy forces, or driven insane and destroying themselves. It was your expedition's task to recon the region and determine the eventual fate of the poor souls and (more importantly) the equipment that had gone missing.

Apparently you had found it.

Two primitive orc RoK- spaceships are displayed in the middle of the tactica map. Auspex sweep information tells you they are powering up their generators, seemingly having noticed you. According to some occult techpriest algorythm they are still at only 15.826 % giving you valuable time. An opportunity Crick intended to exploit.

The odd chorus of a spaceship crew engaging continues. You are suddenly thinking of your youth, a child in a world of adults, able to hear but not understand, to be present but not to participate.

"Lances primed, target locked and in range in 30 secs."

"Crew habitation centralized. Non-crucial and peripheral posts sealed. Medicae Bay ready for triage."

"Plasma drive at 33 % and decreasing. Moving her alongside."

"Attack crafts report deployment. Ready for interception."

"Void shields alight and at full capacity Captain."

"Weapons locked on primary hostile. Torpedo tubes loaded. Targeting main reactor bay." A red circle appears around one asteroid.

All eyes on the bridge remain focused on their respective displays, but you can feel everyone's attention is on Captain Crick in her command throne. With the Helm device on her shoulders, her hands grip the armrests tighter for a brief moment. "In the Name of the Emperor. Fire!"

Even though you are seated in the centre of the ship you could swear you hear the faint buzzing of discharging laser lances. You watch the destructive beams cross the void between the ships like a pack of carnivores on chase, implode under-powered void shields, tear apart the first Rok's hull and set off secondary explosions. Nevertheless, the energy signatures keep rising. Again, the cacophony of bridge chatter fills your ears.

"Both Roks launching attack Squadrons!"

"Interceptors inbound."

"Torpedoes twenty seconds to target. Enemy flak active."

"Enemy ships launching torpedoes. Auspex sweep shows boarding parties."

"Tracking fire. Full power on starboard shields."

"Second Rok at 50 % energy."

"Lances recharged."

Again, Shipmistress Crick wastes no time: " Focus on sector 74 Kappa. Split series, fire!

You watch with a fair amount of satisfaction as the second volley of laser beams tear through the enemy ship; finally exploding the main reactor and crippling the giant behemoth. Through the holes punched by the lances you see secondary explosion raging inside it. You view the former asteroid, slaved to crude orc technology, disintegrate into submacromolecular particles as seventy-six nuclear void torpedoes engage the primary hull.

Yet there is no time to rejoice; the battle still goes on.

"Shock wave in 10 sec!"

"Orc torpedoes 50% destroyed. Impact imminent."

"Brace for impact!"

You barely have time to grip your seats armrests as you feel the ship riding out the kinetic blast wave of the Rok's explosion. A brief moment later a series of lurches go throughout the ship and a couple of lights turn to a menacing red.

"Damage Report!"

"Void Shields down to 67%. Local Breakdown in Sector 67 ALPHA. Environment Hub 912 opened to hard vacuum. Losses acceptable."

"Enemy Boarders in Section 48 and 182. Vostroyan contingents engaging."

"Reroute Energy from redundant Systems to Shields! Enginarium! Adjust course 3.2 degrees. Lets hide that wound in the hull." Crick barks out.

"14% Interceptor losses. Enemy voidcrafts down to 45 %."

"Orc Rok at 76% Energy and rising!"

"Inquisitor? Is there any orc psyker activity on that remaining rock? Inquisitor Evander?"

Waking from what feels like a dream you realize someone is addressing you. Without further reply, you gaze inside yourself, feeling over that tiny point in your consciousness elevating you in the face of evolution, and plunge into it. You reach out into space, swiftly making the distances between the ships. On your way you brush the presence of the void fighter pilots protecting the ship like a swarm of angered wasps. Their small, irritated minds form a disturbing cocktail in the void: anger, rage, hate, and fear.

You push on and break through the Rok's hull, sniffing for opponents like a predator daring a drove of cattle to challenge him. Suddenly you feel a presence. Complex and fragile, a fortress of glass, not as powerful as you, but with much more discipline. Too much discipline for any orc. Too graceful, too tempting, too complex, too...... Suddenly the presence recognizes you. You feel her stir and accumulate energy for a mental strike, you must go, go now, you break away....

Covered in sweat, you gasp for air. You are seated in your control chair, breathing heavily. There is an iron taste in your mouth and you know you have bitten your tongue. Gulping down your mental soreness you address the Captain, who looks at you with barely concealed disdain in her face.

"There's one psyker on the ship's bridge, Captain. An Eldar. Approximately Gamma Level or higher."

"Eldar, Inquisitor?"

"Yes."

"Now that's interesting." Your hear Anna muse as she sits in her chair like some Countess awaiting her entertainment, with her legs crossed and her palms folded together.

"Lances fire. Go for the shields and enginarium. Gunners? Clear these torpedo tubes!" The Captain barks.

"Void Shields 80% and rising! Compromised Sections sealed and purged."

"Positive hit on target. Enemy Shields down. Minor Damage to Enginarium. Enemy ship launching torpedoes again."

"Attack vessels intercept them! Machine bay, bring us in for close combat. Time for this to get personal!" Crick was performing six tasks at once, her hands flew over her control screen, engaged with entirely different tasks, as she drove on on an evasion curse, struggled to hide compromised hull sections and oversaw her crew.

You feel the ship lurch as she begins accelerating for a second time. Reaching out, you grab the vox in front of you. "Hailing... Hailing... Strike One this is Evander. Proceed with utmost caution! No Orc psykers on ship but one eldar psyker presence detected. Rating Gamma or higher. Your Mission Parameters are find and capture! And with capture I mean alive! You hear me Ri'ven? ALIVE! "

"Inquisitor this is Captain Kurikov. No prob at all. You know the boys here and me, we were getting bored with the prospect of just storming an asteroid packed with close combat fetishists. Give the mark and we board AND bring you that Xenos filth!"

"Martyr's blood is moving in for close combat support Kurikov. We'll isolate the bridge section with low powered lance strikes. And if you want to blame someone for your deployment, my acolythe will be at your side holding your inbreed Hivehand while you board that ship." Not wanting to waste any further breath on that drone, you shut off the vox and pay attention to the happenings around you again.

"Closing in for combat. Front batteries live already."

"Taking small calibre fire from Enemy turrets. Rerouting Energy to exposed shields."

"Bomber squadron Epsilon ready for first run!"

"Marty'rs Blood to Epsilon Squad! Begin first attack run! Gunners, give them cover! Lances, begin isolation of the bridge section."

"Starboard prow hit by boarding torpedoes. Ship Security engaging."

"Environment Hub 371 hit by Plasma beam. Losses Total."

"Seal off that section."

"Bomber squadron epsilon reports enemy main battery destroyed."

"Enemy bridge isolated Captain!"

"Hailing, Hailing Strike One this is Martyr's Blood. Commence Boarding."

"Hailing, Hailing Martyr's Blood this is Strike one. Commencing Boarding." As always, your acolythes voice sounds far to enthusiastic for your liking. You watch as the boarding craft penetrates into the holes the Martyr's weapons punched previously. The next hour is filled with tedious waiting as the orc Rok has been rendered combat incapable and the ships lie in a deadlock, waiting for message from Ri'ven's team.

"Hailing, Hailing Martyr's Blood this is Strike One. Mission accomplished. Returning with one prisoner. Charges set and intel gathered."

"Hailing, Hailing Strike One This is Martyr's Blood. About bloody time Ri'ven. Good work, though. First Rhazvod this evening is on me."

As the crew around you shout their victory into the recycled air, raising their fists in achievement, you rise and head for your Interrogation Chambers. Your work had just begun, You had a prisoner to break.