Funeral for an Iron God
The act of deicide began softly.
The Astral Stranger knifed through space, scattered starlight flashing off of its prow, as it moved into position. The engines had been carefully hooded and its sensor arrays were cranked to maximum, ancient sensorium rites having been unearthed from within tomes of held by the cowled tech adepts throughout the ship.
Money had already changed hands long before The Stranger settled into position, words in the dark and across encrypted communiques to ensure they would be perfectly in position and waiting. The dark of space held many secrets and tonight it held bright eyes within the murky depths. The contacts had told the truth, the information was accurate and that meant the first step of this plan was underway.
With power being diverted into the sensorium suites and routed through the astropathic choir, The Astral Stranger found the disturbance long in advance. Space crackled and hissed, it writhed and buckled and screamed, it grew pained and scourged as it was forced to go against the base laws that governed reality. For a moment it tried to hold, keep itself stable but it failed and how could it not against the behemoth that tore its way through the veil between worlds. As the universe wailed in agony the Terminus Est Divinitatus speared its way back into the mortal world, its shields popped and spat with errant bolts of violet and crimson lightning that settled down as it came to a standstill.
So great was the majesty of the flagship that it took concerted effort to read the sensorium reports to detect the fleet that had breached through with their voidborne commander. Frigates looked like toys beside it and even the two grand cruisers, supposedly in protective positions, looked more like sentinel walkers being tasked with bodyguarding an Imperial Knight. It would have been comical if all of their weapons hadn't been unshrouded and powered up as the fleet prowled deeper into the system.
Database scans aboard The Astral Stranger found entries against both of these larger vessels, they were fairly new constructions that had been suborned beneath Adamska's will; The Father's Fury and On Retribution's Wings, each of them richly decorated with frescoes and paintings of the Star Father's ascension from the forge and his triumph over the villains that dared to try and stop him.
The fleet was growing closer now and The Stranger gathered as much as it could before it turned and slid away into the shadows of the void once more. With a shudder and a pulse of energy it translated and moved back to the staging area where this war would be decided...
--
"Crates earmarked D-71 through to D-134, get them onto Echo Flight and over to The Exchange, they're down on macro-shells." Acting Captain Iskair roared over the hubbub of the docking bays on The Valhalla's Regards. He got a series of affirmatives and several of the loader servitors moved with some of the troops to pick up crates and get them onto the cargo lighters and aquila landers. He let out a sigh and looked down, scratching another few marks onto the slate he was carrying.
He understood the necessity of what he was doing but it felt terrible to not be going into battle with Arkangel's forces like they used to and he could feel that among the crew. They knew they were missing an integral part of who they were now and it wasn't something that could easily be remedied. The creaking of the stylus beneath his fingers snapped him out of his reverie.
At least they could be helpful.
"Hey, Katarina, are those Treeboys getting their asses moving yet? The Mortis got a new shipment of boarding shields and I want to make sure those damned things are put to use." He barked out to his VoxOp and she looked up at him, adjusting her goggles before giving a nod.
"Aye, sir, Majesty and Silver Winds report extra volunteers that are getting moved to some of the other ships. They're pretty excited by this, it seems like." There was a quaint smile on her face as she spoke but Iskair could tell she was tense just as he was, they should be getting a share of this glory, they should be roaring combat maneuvers and repelling boarders. They should be doing anything other than sitting there handing out shells and candy like it was fucking Sanguinalia.
Iskair took a breath and looked at his slate, pretty much everything was getting done anyway. "Katarina, you've got command here. I'm going to go get our shakedown done and put us in a ready position." She glanced at him for a second, lips pursed and a pleading look in her eyes, asking him to say more, to give orders for loading weapons and spooling up lances but he just shook his head, clapped her on the shoulder and walked on.
He gave some encouragement to some of the crew he saw around, smiles and jokes mostly, and shared out some lho-sticks when there was an opportunity. As he moved up the internal corridors he passed by a small alcove and forced himself to stop. It was a scene that was repeated across the entire ship, a small altar that had been set up and adorned with candles. A pair of picts, the heart and the soul of The Regards ripped out and put on display. Someone had taken to drawing little angel wings on the images of Lord Captain Rexuz and Primaris Tempus and no one had the callousness required to wipe them off.
Iskair set his jaw and bowed for a moment out of respect before he turned, heading into the Bridge, barking out orders to the officers assembled there to get The Valhalla's Regards in motion.
--
Across this system there were constant exchanges of Aquila Landers and cargo freighters as materiel and crew were transferred across. No one was under any illusions of this being an easy fight and every ship was equipping its armsmen as heavily as they could get away with. Every weapon was loaded and every reactor and shielding node was tested to ensure maximum efficiency.
Every ship was dealing with the upcoming tension in their own ways.
The Frank Exchange of Views was pure professionalism, they accepted cargo easily and swiftly, the shortest turnaround time by far. Motivational speeches were broadcasted across the internal vox to spur the labourers on as they loaded the macro-cannons and stoked the inner furnaces.
Zoya's Triumph was darkly joking, taking bets on who would die to bad luck next and writing up fake tombstones on flakboard with the dumbest deaths they could think of. The Tech Adepts were taking turns being extra grumpy to make it feel normal, it was better to joke than grow melancholic. Torpedoes and shells were all marked with ironic statements or requests to say hi to the Lord Captain.
The Glorious Endeavour broke out a toast before it was time to go in, all of them were dressed in their finest ready to greet death or glory with a smile and a jest. The hull had been polished to a mirror sheen and some of the spare golden plating they had lying around was being used to gussy up some of the torpedoes they'd be using to exact vengeance on the bastards in any ship fancier than their own.
Blade of Mortis sat silent, almost brooding and solemn. It had its own rhythms and rituals that needed to be performed, ancient and occult technologies being activated and giving a strange living atmosphere to the ship. These days everyone was long accustomed to the shadows in the corner of their vision or the feeling of being watched, some of the crew even grew to accept it deeper and now the interior of the ship was full of ambush alcoves, false walls and wicked traps for any unwary foe that tried to walk it's halls.
The Conception of Hope had high spirits, the ranges onboard were being put to liberal use to perfect boarding actions on both the offensive and defensive fronts and troops were joking with each other as they readied personal arms and equipment. The weapons were loaded and hot, coiled like a boxer waiting to be unleashed, controlled but powerful, angry but focused.
The Ultima Ratio calmed itself, its soul grew calm and meditative. Incense was lit through its halls and technologies once lost were being activated and nursed back to life by robed and cowled attendants. The ship shivered in anticipation, as though it already knew the outcome of the fight and was just waiting to reach it. The reactor thrummed like a heartbeat, resonant tones dancing through the veins and arteries of the ancient, weathered vessel.
Pride of Victoria was simply planning their next objective as though it was no different than any other. Maneuvers were discussed, optimal battle positions, the information from The Stranger was being put to proper use and combat plans were being spread out among the offensive fleet. This was another hunt, though the beast was mechanical, it was great, deadly and furious. The Pride had more than enough experience in this.
Dragon Fleet sat together in a tight grouping and every so often they would share boasts or brags among each other, or expand it out to shout out dares or challenges to the Arkangel ships in the system. They were all in high spirits and eagerly awaited the coming battle. The two cruisers leading the fleet; Majesty of Dragons and Proudest Roar seemed to be leading the boasts and setting quests for the rest of the fleet to adhere to.
Ganga-Van was solemn, they'd made great strides in their quest but it would all be for naught if they didn't survive this fight. So they focused on the defensive, ensuring their shields were working, that their Ironkin were active and ready to repel boarders and that apologies were made to those still in stasis. If the Ganga-Van died they'd all be lost but even if they were put somewhere safe... No one would rescue them. This was part of the final quest, the deathmarch, only victory or the grave awaited them now.
One ship rested alone, like a whale among dolphins, a great ironclad titan that looked more like a hive had taken flight than any regular vessel.
The Tyrannus Ex Machina awaited the completion of its final shakedown protocols. It communicated with the two other combat vessels that Explorator Fleet Kerris had sent; Codesworn and Mars Resplendent, two light cruisers that were fully armed and operational and sitting beside the Tyrannus like leashed attack dogs.
Within the bridge a hulking mechanical figure stepped up to the command plate and a series of neural links slithered out of concealed recesses and plugged themselves into the Magos Dominus' MIU links. There was a flutter of light and power through the consoles of the bridge before Varkesus' optics flared into life and they let out a deep roaring breath. Their awareness expanding outwards to encompass the entire ship, instinctively knowing how the shields were faring, how the machine spirits of the weaponry awaited with an eager energy, how the reactor throbbed and growled, chained and controlled for now.
"Contained Fury: The Usurper has slain an Angel of the Omnissiah and must be made to atone for this sin. Their blood and the remains of their vessel shall be of sufficient penance."
Their voice was dull, emotionless, but their hands shook with barely controlled rage as they gripped the silver railings around the command pulpit.
"I am abandoning emotional arrays. Activate secondary reactors and begin awakening procedures for the Empyric Tunnelers and the Inertia Drive. I want them active when we begin to kill." Varkesus felt a strange tension leave their shoulders as they disengaged their emotive arrays and accepted that they would only feel empty and vengeful until their task was done.
The secondary reactors spun up and machinery unknown to all but the crew of the Tyrannus Ex Machina awoke. There was a flash of power as Varkesus connected every imperial vessel to the tacnet routed through the computer systems of the Tyrannus.
"Destroy any attending vessels. The Tyrannus Ex Machina shall handle the Usurper. The Omnissiah knows no mercy. Kill them all. Speech ends." Varkesus spoke and with a twitch of thought and a sharp, resounding bang the void shields ignited around the Ark Mechanicus and it began to power forwards.
Engines ignited, shields fizzled and sparked and whooped on.
Weapons slid from ports, lances cycled to power, torpedoes knocked and clanked as they were loaded into tubes.
Space howled and was ripped open and snapped shut like the jaws of some great beast taking the fleet with it.
The Valhalla's Regards remained, solemnly watching the now empty space. Acting Captain Iskair stood, knuckles white with his grip on the railing of the command pulpit, straining not to give the order to follow them, to fight, to just do something... Anything.
His head bowed and he let go of the railing. They had done their job, there wasn't anything else for them to do, this was what The Captain's Table had ordered of him and this ship, it would never be his ship. He glanced back over his shoulder to where he knew the shrine lay even if he couldn't see it himself.
This was Rexuz's ship, always would be.
So maybe it was time to do like he did.
Iskair steeled his resolve and lifted his head, a fervent light in his eyes as he gave out a fresh set of orders.
--
There was no preamble. No squaring off of lines, no call and response or honourable battle between foes.
Arkangel and Kerris struck like a lightning bolt.
The data given by The Astral Stranger alongside the advanced computations of the Tyrannus with its psyber-linked Navigators allowed them to locate an exact position to strike from the moment they breached realspace.
The prime material shuddered and was ripped through by the advancing hull of the Ark Mechanicus. The prow lances of the great ship flashed out death and fury, pulsing blue-white lines that slammed into two frigates and turned them to nothing but broken hopes and dreams. Fighter screens puffed outwards like a cloud of sand around the massive ship as it roared forwards. Combat stratagems and tactical computations scrolled across the tacnet even as Varkesus spoke into the vox link.
"Kill them all."
The enemy fleet acted with remarkable alacrity, shields flaring into existence as they turned and The Terminus Est Divinitatus made itself known. Several weapons along its prow started to glow and let off searing, radiant beams that drove into the void shields of the Tyrannus and straight through the lesser shields of Codesworn burning it to cinders immediately and causing it to roll uncontrollably.
Then something changed. Deep within the Divinitatus machinery started to grind to life, energies contained and charging for many, many years were unleashed. With a sickening wave of violet light and an oppressive pall that seemed to seep in through the air vents of the ships assembled, something went wrong.
"Confirmation of an Immaterium Interdiction Generator. There is no escape. Death or victory."
Information, normally held hidden by the Cult Mechanicus and still mostly censored, flashed through the tactical net. There was no way out now. Ships could get in but once they were in they were stuck here.
Glory or the Grave; the only two options left to Arkangel.
The Glorious Endeavour powered forwards and was met by three frigates; Solar Domina, Wings of Rage, and Wrathspiral. Solar and Wings routed power to their engines and split, aiming to loop around The Endeavour and sandwich the ship between them while Wrathspiral continued forward unleashing volleys of macro-cannon shells that spattered like rain against The Endeavour's shields.
The Imperial vessel rolled and began to dive, letting out a spread of torpedoes as it tried to extricate itself from the jaws of the frigates around it. Wrathspiral was forced to execute a harsh rotation as a torpedo blasted its side plating and a few of its outer decks into scrap but the ship was still going and was even more furious as it began hunting down its glamorous opponent.
Wings of Rage turned and almost brought its broadside to bear upon The Glorious Endeavour until a series flashing beams punched through its ribs and ignited its reactor causing it to spew out coruscating energy while it twitched itself apart with internal detonations as the ammunition caches cooked off. Blade of Morti slid past like an assassin before turning to deal with another threat leaving The Endeavour with its two other opponents.
The Mortis was being pursued by Resistance, a light cruiser of Font manufacture, that although slow, was heavily armoured and the few shots that Blade of Mortis could get on it were simply sparking off the void shields or barely wounding the heavy front-plating of the ship. Any shots in return seemed to be precisely aimed towards the engines of the Mortis, causing most of them to miss or be ineffective.
With the ambush against Wings of Rage however, the Mortis had slowed itself and allowed Resistance to catch up. Heavy cannons roared silently into the void and tore through the void shields of the imperial vessel, ripping apart a couple of engine nacelles, drastically slowing the ship down and allowing the Resistance to close further. As it charged, it started to target point defense systems before drawing close enough to launch out something potentially more dangerous than macro shells.
Shark Assault Boats. They were going to board.
There were only two and the cruiser had been stripped of most of its powerful weapons and all fighter screens in order to accommodate them but these two parasite vessels shot out like birds of prey, and with engines flaring white hot they charged the wounded Blade of Mortis. Both struck home midships and locked themselves in place with heavy duty mag-clamps before the twin las-breachers mounted on the prow blasted molten holes in the sides of the ancient ship.
The ramps slammed down and heavily armoured breachers with shotcannons and boarding shields rushed forwards.
--
Zoya's Triumph and The Frank Exchange of Views lit engines and advanced as a team, they had fought powerful prey together before, though The Terminus Est Divinitatus might be just too big for them to chew on just yet, luckily The Tyrannus was already exchanging prodigious firepower with it. The Father's Fury however turned to face them and struck forth with glee, lances flashing across the prow shields of the Triumph while it unleashed a barrage of torpedoes against The Exchange.
The Frank Exchange of Views artfully swung to the side, lashing out with a barrage of macro-cannon shells to rip the majority of the torpedoes apart before sliding gracefully between what was left and lashing out with a hail of firepower itself sending a dancing lightshow across the void shields of The Fury. This maneuver caused The Exchange to slow, however, allowing the distance between itself and the Triumph to grow.
Seeing a moment to pounce, The Father's Fury ignored the Navis Imperialis vessel and focused on the star galleon. As the two ships drew closer there was another burst of precision firepower from The Exchange that blasted the shields of The Fury, detonating them with a pop of ozone and a short-lived storm of lightning across its prow.
Exactly what the Triumph was waiting for.
With a command, the cannon loads were exchanged with frightening efficiency and the new, overcharged ammunition they had received from the Votann were loaded and fired instead. Detonations stippled and striped the prow of The Fury, turning ceramite and plasteel to liquid and tearing them off in gobbets and molten chunks. Decks were stripped bare and bodies were pulled out through the vacuum. The weapons continued to fire, deck serfs sweating and panting as they loaded shells in to the detriment of their own bodies. The massive firepower raked down the side of The Fury, shredding armour plating and causing several cannon batteries to detonate before it managed to pull itself out of the line of fire.
And straight into the weapons of The Frank Exchange that had pulled around to hammer its undamaged side with lances and cannons, chewing through decks with surgical precision until they tore out the heart of The Fury leaving it drifting aimlessly through space, a burning husk that occasionally spat out evac pods or landers that were picked off by point defense systems or fled to sister ships. The two Arkangel vessels turned and continued their hunt.
--
The other Grand Cruiser had not been sitting idle however. It speared directly towards what it saw as the greatest threat that was less than ten times its own size; The Ultima Ratio. Several smaller ships shifted in around it including a light cruiser known as Aquatic Hazard that quickly split off to deal with the nearby Pride of Victoria so it couldn't assist The Ratio.
On Retribution's Wings was another heavily clad vessel with a curiously shaped prow that curved inwards almost like a maw. It barely seemed to fire anything as it ran red hot towards The Ratio. Withering firepower of esoteric and exotic forms lashed out from the Imperial vessel, twisting waves of gravity and snarling bolts of ghost lightning that left afterimages on the sensors struck it across the shields and armour but none of them seemed to deal enough damage to deter it from the single minded desire to close the distance.
It was too late when the crew realised what was going on and even straining the archeotech engines of the great vessel it couldn't turn itself fully away in time as the prow of Retribution punched through the void shields like a battering ram and the prow crunched midships on The Ratio. Several hidden ports slammed open and a series of boarding clamps snapped out to hold the other ship in place before a breaching ram fired out, opening a direct path from the Retribution into the flagship of the Tollman Dynasty.
The hatches opened and The Ultima Ratio prepared itself to repel boarders.
--
Aquatic Hazard, backed up by its two smaller sister ships; Tidal Warning and Shipwrecker, turned away from The Ratio to instead hunt down Pride of Victoria to prevent it from reinforcing its ally. Shells and lances were traded across the vastness of space as the Pride fought to keep ahead of the snapping predators behind them but they were long used to this scenario. Information came through the tacnet in reels and scripts and the Pride entered their own alterations to the plan.
Varkesus signed them off and the Pride turned suddenly, letting its undamaged port shields take the firepower. The three vessels were forced to slow down to execute the turn with the Pride and that's when the jaws struck from the darkness. With their augurs so tightly focused on the imperial ship the Dominion vessels hadn't noticed that one of Dragon Fleet's light cruisers and two of its escorts had drawn close enough to engage.
With a flash of light and firepower Under Golden Skies, Searing Maw Scatters the Darkness, and Scales Shimmer Under Burning Stars strike like quicksilver, hammering the two Dominion frigates and dragging them away from the Pride to begin their own hunt and sending apologies over the vox that they had to take the credit for this but understood it was the Pride's decision.
With the heat lessened Pride of Victoria turned and engaged the enemy vessel properly this time, weapons pumping out lead and death, crashing waves of shells sparking off the Hazard's shields until they popped with a shuddering bang that rippled through the superstructure of the vessel. It still managed to pull itself around to the rear and begin chasing the Pride once more.
At least until a chunk of the cargo decks of the Pride issued a gout of steam and disconnected from the ship itself, tumbling through space and directly into the path of the unshielded Aquatic Hazard which slammed into it at high speed, embedding chunks of the cargo container in the armour of the ship and crunching through the armour plating on its prow.
Then the vox traffic went wild with reports of creatures inside the ship, that crew were being eaten and the Hazard was forced to limp away as it aggressively tried to fight back the squig invasion within the ship before they were overrun and left dead in the water.
--
Ganga-Van was holding itself in a good position, trading firepower with a pair of destroyers that circled it, able to lash out against its shields but they were unable to break through the far more advanced defensive barriers, however equally skillful piloting meant that Ganga-Van couldn't bring enough firepower to deal meaningful damage to Grand Larceny or Wicked Designs, the two vessels circling it.
That was until The Conception of Hope came to its rescue. Soaring in like a cavalry charge it coordinated its targeting arrays with Ganga-Van's more powerful auspexes to synchronise the attacks, and The Conception tore apart the shields of Wicked Designs, sending the ship reeling before the Votann vessel struck it like a hammer, crushing its middecks and causing it to vent energy as it tried to pull itself around.
The Conception wasn't done yet, continuing its charge to pass the stricken vessel at short range and unleash another salvo into it, ripping the ship in half and casting it off into the darkness before turning to continue their assault. The Conception of Hope was on the warpath and nothing would deter it from bringing righteous fury to its foes.
Now that it only had to face one vessel, the Votann ship turned and poured hate into the Larceny, shredding through its shields but being unable to damage the vessel properly before it pulled out of the line of fire. It fired its thrusters and proved to be far too maneuverable for the Ganga-Van to handle, luckily their ally came prepared.
As the Larceny spun around it passed close by The Conception, not long enough for any reasonable firepower to be levied against it but that wasn't what The Hope had planned anyway. Instead there had been an awaiting stealth lander on loan from the BMTF that shot out like a tiny bullet and clamped itself to the back of the Larceny.
In their void suits came a squad of BMTF mercenaries, lead by one Sasha Saboteur and her sister Deborah Demolitionist who put the entire sapper squad to work carving into the ship near the reactor housing. It wasn't too long later that there was a grinding cough from within Grand Larceny and its engines shut down, leaving it a sitting duck for the combined firepower of Arkangel and the Votann, after they had rescued the sapper team of course.
--
At the center of the battlefield, constantly trading fire back and forth, the Tyrannus Ex Machina and the Terminus Est Divinitatus fought like elden heroes. Neither of them backed down and each of them began to use ever more esoteric means to attempt to destroy one another.
At one point all of the macro-cannons across the Tyrannus fired at once whether they were pointed at the Dominion Flagship or not seemingly into nothing but the emptiness of space, however just as the shells left the barrels of the macro-cannons thousands of micro warp-rifts opened up and swallowed the shells before a nearly equivalent number opened up again in clusters around more vulnerable parts of the Terminus Est, spitting the shells back out like shotgun sprays aimed at the relic vessel's vital points.
The Tyrannus fired back by unleashing multiple powerful teleportariums across the entire ship, launching insurgent forces into the heart of the Tyrannus Ex Machina. Each of the squads consisted of heavy grenadiers with boarding shields, autoguns and trench axes each of them commanded by a foe that the Skitarii defenders of the Tyrannus had never seen before; The Anointed.
Seeming to act as lieutenants, The Anointed were each marked with a bleeding wound in the shape of a circle with four points at the inter-cardinals and possessed some manner of odd power or unnatural physical capabilities. Combat reports started to come back of some of these Anointed dodging around and through hails of gunfire, some of them took multiple shots from plasma calivers only for their flesh to reknit itself together and for them to continue fighting.
Heavy enough firepower seemed to be able to kill them eventually but they broke lines easily, displaying enough strength to rip rangers in half with their hands and crush steel with their axes and maces.
In retaliation, the Tyrannus teleported some of its... less stable forces into the opposing capital ship. So it was that the armsmen of the Divinitatus suddenly had to fight off roaming squads of chanting, twitching priests that began unleashing arcs of electricity whenever they charged and swung the heavy metal gauntlets on their arms or long, heavy staves that crackled with barely contained Motive Force to carve through armour like paper.
Or they would come across the clanking of treads within the hallowed halls of the great vessel and turn in time to have Kataphrons mow them down with searing arcs of lightning or tear them in half with heavy hydraulic claws. The ships were locked together now, neither one willing to even think of retreat.
Withering clouds of plasma, explosive shot, lightning, and other more esoteric attack forms filled the space between the two ships. To inadvertently end up between them was to bring instant annihilation.
Unfortunately for one of the boarding crews aboard the Tyrannus they had never fought a Magos Dominus in the full of their might. So even as they breached the bridge and thought it an easy fight, moving at a speed completely unnatural to the hulking metal frame of their body, Varkesus' Omnissian Axe split two boarders in half with a single diagonal chop. Arquebuses opened fire around the Dominus, cutting down the other assailants but managing to miss the Anointed.
The strange, altered warrior attempted to engage the Magos Dominus with a pair of power axes only for a series of mechadendrites to lash out and wrap around their arms, swiftly followed by a series of sickening cracks and crunches as the steel tendrils snapped every bone in the Anointed's arms. He didn't even seem fazed by this and his bones started to knit together at least until Varkesus headbutted him, crushing the front of his skull flat and when it seemed like even it might come back together, Varkesus headbutted him again and turned his skull to pulp.
The Dominus dropped the lifeless body and went back to the command pulpit, seemingly unbothered by the blood, gore and bone shards covering their optics.
--
The Endeavour was unfortunately still fighting for its life despite all of this.
Wrathspiral and Solar Domina continued to hunt it down like rabid hounds, lances flared across the shields of The Endeavour as it fought back to the best of its abilities, it wasn't a ship designed for sustained combat however. Eventually the shields were pierced and the cannon shells and lances started to cause some proper havoc across the ship.
Frantic messages across the tacnet were brought forth and agreed upon and The Glorious Endeavour turned on a new heading, drawing its two attackers deeper into an assault they didn't see coming.
Majesty of Dragons, Riding Silver Winds, and On Iron Wings of Dragon Fleet drove themselves like a wedge between the two Dominion ships and The Endeavour, sending out lashings of might that crashed into the two ships. Wrathspiral was ripped apart by the assault, spinning away and scattering glittering shards of metal and ceramite across the void.
Solar Domina however diverted full power to thrusters and tore through the Arbour assault before slamming bodily into The Glorious Endeavour and grinding across its side, shearing the armour plating and decks of both ships. Solar Domina didn't survive long enough to capitalise on this however as it was swiftly ripped apart and the Dragon Fleet members advised The Endeavour to limp away and protect itself, its work was done now. Though On Iron Wings would be joining The Endeavour as the death gasp of Wrathspiral and the final ramming maneuver of Solar had managed to heavily damage the vessel.
--
The boarding parties that managed to land on Blade of Mortis were met initially with confusion. Not only were there no armsmen but the place's vaulted spaces felt distinctly wrong, alien even. This was supposed to be an Imperial vessel, why then did it feel so cavernous, so empty?
They advanced slowly through the lofty corridors and echoing vaults of the Mortis. At least until the first wall panels fell off and the shrapnel mines went off, coated in virulent toxins that killed with the faintest of cuts. A soft voice cut through vox.
"Armsmen, please greet our guests... Appropriately."
Several more bands were ambushed likewise, from the floor, the ceiling, the walls, small squads of dedicated armsmen armed with knives, smoke grenades and shotcannons made short work of the boarding parties. False floors were filled with spikes, stone effigies would vent out toxic or hallucinogenic smoke leading one boarding team to slaughter each other in a drug-induced frenzy.
Unfortunately not all was well upon the Mortis as one of the teams managed to make it to the reactor housing and set charges there. They fought like furies, the Anointed commander of this assault was at their head, a whip-thin woman with preternatural accuracy despite the blindfold across her eyes, her pistols snapshotting between gaps in cover and armour with inhuman ease. She died in the end for even accuracy could not save you when more exotic weapons were brought out to play.
She had bought enough time however for the charges to detonate, heavily damaging the reactor of the Mortis.
As Resistance finally closed in however, the Zoya's Triumph emerged from the lightshow of the battlefield and struck the ship when its shields went down as it moved in for a more thorough boarding action, riddling the ship with gouges and holes before a perfectly aimed shot blew through the bridge leaving the ship dead in the water.
It floated listlessly away to perhaps one day in the far future be picked up by a scavenging crew for use, though that tale could be repeated for many of the ships here.
--
A similar story was taking place on The Ultima Ratio.
Where the boarding ramp had driven into The Ratio like a gut wound from a knife, the fiercest boarding action took place. The Ratio was an ancient ship full of veterans and merciless killers. The Retribution spilled out zealots and furies but they were met with cold confidence and skill.
Stubbers equipped with hollowpoint rounds and flechette shotcannons tore apart the first wave. Autoguns chattered through the smoke clouds that came next and turned the ramp into a charnel pit with the remains of the warriors that tried to push through. Boarding shields and spare ceramite plating prevented the shrapnel of the fragmentation grenades from having any effect.
Then the Anointed struck and the battle changed. Everywhere else they had fought as sergeants or elites within a squad.
Thirty of them charged down the ramp at once and brought a bloodbath to the armsmen of The Ultima Ratio.
Axes cleaved and chopped, one of the Anointed unleashed bolts of blinding white lightning that burned out the eyes of anyone close to where they landed. Another seemed to move between shadows and threw photon flash grenades like candy, dancing in the dimness between flashes.
Only the arrival of heavier troops and armaments prevented it from becoming a total rout and though they managed to slaughter or drive back the various Anointed, at least one sapper squad had made it through. Despite being relentlessly hunted they were only slain after managing to detonate one of the power sources for an exotic weapon on the middecks, blasting out a chunk of the hull and heavily damaging the elden vessel.
This nightmarish grapple didn't last for much longer as The Conception of Hope and The Frank Exchange of Views came to the rescue, their weapons easily ripping chunks out of the Retribution while it was locked in place with The Ultima Ratio. It didn't go down without a fight though, choosing to focus all of its firepower on The Frank Exchange, piercing through its shield and carving chunks out of its hull with the rain of shells and lances it fired until the very last moment when it ran out of power and was torn from The Ratio, its prow left in the wound like a harpoon in the hide of a shark. The archeotech chimera limped away, gravely wounded but still alive.
--
Pride of Victoria, now free from being hunted, turned to try and enter back into the fight, ready to put its weapons to use. It powered through the void, assisting the Dragon Fleet members that had flown to its aid to clear off a few more frigates, though it ended up chasing one of them slightly too far.
Before they had fully realised where they were, sensorium signals went haywire aboard the Pride, several massive scale capital ship weapons were now turning on them; the Divinitatus had noticed them, and death was moments away.
Instead, however, the most peculiar of things took place.
Drawn by a powerful psychic signal that only they could feel, and with a desire to protect not just the origin of the signal but those that would protect it, space was gently folded open by a pod of graceful, floating star whales. Although they could not pull the Pride back into the immaterium as they attempted at first, they flew alongside it and around it, absorbing much of the firepower, or at least that of the heavier weapons. There was still plenty of damage being done to the ship but it hadn't completely crippled the vessel.
Several whales spent their lives gladly for this, there was no remorse, no regret among the psychic tones they sang, only the understanding that this was all for a greater purpose, one that would hopefully be known soon.
--
"Enough of this. Fire it."
A gruff, heavy voice laden with the psychic essence of command rang out across the bridge of the Terminus Est Divinitatus. The officers looked worried for a moment but reluctantly complied with the order.
Ancient generators and capacitors down the spine of the ship started to flare into life, drawing in energy from far beyond the materium, reaching deep into spaces left undisturbed for good reason. Space itself around the capital ship seemed to twist and grow strained. Several adepts near these generators or standing too close to the spinal weapon found their bodies twisted and stretched like dough, their bones turned to rubber and yet left completely alive despite all of this.
Distorted wails through broken, knotted vocal cords were a commonplace sound throughout the decks of the ship. The Star Father cared for none of them, he knew they should be glad to give their bodies, lives, or even their very souls for him.
"The weapon is charged, Lord of Lords." The master at arms intoned.
"Fire on the Tyrannus Ex Machina, I want it removed from my sight."
Aboard the bridge of Ark Mechanicus there was a horrendous squeal of distortion and the augur arrays started to howl with conflicting information as a pulse of power and wrongness made manifest travelled along the length of the Terminus Est Divinitatus. Varkesus felt their synthetic heart stop and sent a furious command through the mind link into the Tyrannus.
"INERTIAL DRIFT, TRANSMITTING HEADING!"
Their voice roared out, all volume moderation negated in their fear and zeal. All of the Tyrannus' forward momentum was suddenly into horizontal speed causing the ship to suddenly slide sideways instead of moving forwards.
The superstructure screamed in agony with the sudden, rapid change in direction and Varkesus blacked out for a moment before coming back to their senses, their legs locked to prevent them from slumping.
Then the weapon struck.
The pulse of mind-shattering, reality warping force tore down the starboard side of the Tyrannus Ex Machina instead of striking the ship head on. Wherever the blast touched simply... Ceased to exist. No energy emissions, no spalling, no fires, it simply vanished, cut and cropped out of the picture, beyond even vaporised.
Weapons ceased to be, decks were torn open, anyone hit by the blast simply wasn't anymore, nothing remained of them. One of the engine nacelles on the Ark Mechanics was only half annihilated and exploded, causing the massive ship to veer suddenly, structure groaning and howling in maddening pain. Varkesus grit their steel and sent new commands to the bridge and to the fleet.
"ALL SHIPS! TARGET AND DESTROY THE DIVINITATUS!"
Every ship, Imperial, Arbour, Votann and...
Space ripped and the Orks entered the fray, drawn here by the promise of a damn good fight and some real good diplomacy from some of them talky folks!
Vessels of every shape and size roared into the battlefield, hooting and hollering over the vox and unleashing a devastating amount of firepower against the massive capital ship and what few escorts it had remaining. It of course fought back but for every Ork ship that was destroyed it seemed like there were two more to replace it, an endless tide of red and green.
Several of the Ork ships even careened straight into the Divinitatus, though whether on purpose or simply because their engines couldn't be switched off no one was certain and thousands of Orks poured into the ship, butchering everyone they could get their hands on. It seemed like the Divinitatus was on the back foot even as it continued to fire and the spinal weapon charged up for a second shot.
"No more of this, let these mongrels chew on their prize and choke. My time is better served elsewhere."
The Star Father sneered, his fist crashing through a console of priceless, golden age cogitators, and told his crew exactly what needed to happen before he turned and stomped off to his overcharged Teleportarium and with it, safety.
The crew didn't hesitate this time, they knew they wouldn't be spared and they were far more scared of the Star Father than any of these Arkangel or Xenos swine. So they began to overcharge the reactors on the Divinitatus, waves of energy flooding off of them as they also released all safety locks on the spinal weapon. They'd take down this entire damn combined fleet in one last action.
They would become Glorious Martyrs.
The Interdiction Generator was still active, there was no escape.
Varkesus even drove the remnants of the Tyrannus Ex Machina into the Terminus Est, superstructure meeting superstructure with a destructive screech and crunch and yet it wasn't going to be enough.
The reactors were going to detonate. The terrifying warp weapon was going to detonate. Every last round of unused munitions was going to detonate.
All of the ships in this mighty conflict would cease to be.
Then they felt it, every navigator snapped their heads up. The last thing they expected.
Reinforcements.
"Warp emergence!"
"Warp ingress point!"
"Detecting Translation!"
"Realspace rupture."
And they could all see exactly where the ship was emerging: inside the Terminus Est Divinitatus.
A message came through the astropathic choirs.
"This is Captain Iskair commanding the newly blessed Valhalla's Farewell, the sensorum indicates you're in a bit of a shit situation. We've got readings on a massive power source in the Warp. So let us remember our dearly departed Lord Captain in a way that he'd be proud of us. We won't sit back and let anyone else win our fights, we won't let people die while we've got a gun in our hands, we won't live while others would fall. Raise a toast to Tomas for me, I won't be able to do it anymore.
The Emperor Protects and when he can't do it, he leaves it up to us."
Realspace split and like a spear from the heavens the ship formerly known as The Valhalla's Regards, resplendent and glorious with a pair of angel wings painted upon its flanks, split the Terminus Est Divinitatus in half through the middle as it warp-breached into the center of the ship.
It was torn apart in the process.
The Interdiction Field deactivated.
And the Arkangel Combined fleet fled into the Warp, leaving behind the shattered Ark Mechanicus, the Terminus Est Divinitatus... And the remnants of the Rexuz Dynasty.
Arkangel chose Glory Eternal... And two mechanical gods died for it.
