The Beast Arises

‘My lord,’ spoke the Black Templars Techmarine, Kant. His lips were stapled together — some show of contrition, Koorland had been told, although for what the Black Templars would not reveal. His voice was a miserable metallic drone, soullessly issuing from twin vox-speakers either side of his neck. ‘The ork moon exhibits a spiking of power.’

‘All hands, prepare for gravity attack!’ shouted Clermont.

An erratic flashing blinked in the moon’s hollow craters. From pylons set about the face, squirming ribbons of energy rose, binding themselves into a thick cord. A sufficient build-up of power achieved, it snapped out like a whip, shearing through the orks’ own vessels before flicking along the Excoriators arrowhead coming up below the Black Templars’ line of attack. One attack cruiser took a direct hit, void shields giving out simultaneously. It imploded, the prow and stern folding up around a middle compressed to vanishingly small size. For a moment it sailed on bent double, carried forward by momentum, before exploding, buffeting the ships coming behind it with the wash of its breached reactor.

‘This is a new weapon,’ voxed Thane. ‘I have not seen its like before.’

‘Some kind of gravity lash,’ said Quesadra.

‘Such power!’ hissed Bohemond.

‘They are gathering to fire again!’ warned Kant, the faintest hint of emotion creeping into his machine voice.

Once more the flickerings essayed from the towers on the surface, once more they gathered and shot out. Again the lash targeted the Excoriators fleet, grazing the fore section of the Remembered Sin, Issachar’s flagship, as it dissipated into a kaleidoscopic spray of particles. A portion of the Remembered Sin’s hammerhead prow collapsed into glittering clouds of smashed metal and air. The Remembered Sin

was twisted into a spin, as if swatted by a god.

‘Issachar!’ demanded Koorland. ‘Status!’

‘We live,’ replied the Excoriator. Alarms whooped in the background. ‘But we will not survive another hit like that. We must get in closer, attack the moon directly. If we can strip away its weaponry, we shall stand a chance. Push through the fleet.’

‘I concur!’ shouted Bohemond. ‘All ships, onward! Arm cyclonic torpedoes. Target the moon.’

It irked Koorland that he did not confer with him first, but he held his silence.

‘Fire control, liaise with the others,’ said Koorland. ‘Find a mutually acceptable firing solution. Multiple hits will give us the best results.’

‘Yes, lord Chapter Master,’ replied Bohemond’s bondsmen.

The Abhorrence’s engines opened up, pushing it with indomitable power towards the moon.

The sky around Terra was thick with debris. Shattered orbital fortresses and defence platforms floated in shoals of wreckage, making sailing hazardous for both sides. Ork fighters, keen to engage with the approaching ships, impacted with them in flashes of boiling fire. The Space Marine pilots, more cautious, better skilled, were taxed to the limit streaking through the metal-choked vacuum. The bigger ships could not avoid the debris, and all across the Last Wall void shields flashed and curled with impact flux.

‘Gravity lash arming,’ droned Kant.

‘Firing solution agreed, all fleets report readiness.’ The bondsmen manning the gunnery station looked to Koorland.

A number of impact points flashed up on the hololith of the ork moon. Koorland nodded.

‘All ships, open fire,’ he ordered.

Cyclonic torpedoes, each larger than a space fighter, slipped free of the launch tubes of twenty battle-barges and strike cruisers. Their engines flared, and they powered towards the moon with building speed, passing the emissions of the gravity lash coming the other way.

Now they were closer, the lash struck with redoubled violence. The tip of it took the battle-barge of one of the Black Templars’ subsidiary crusades in the centre. The lash writhed and coiled about it like a python, collapsing the ship’s midsection so comprehensively that the remains of the prow and stern drifted free of each other. The stern detonated with the sunburst of reactor death, engulfing its escort vessels in nuclear fire. The lash had not done: it twitched through the crusade’s ships, smashing two more of them into nothing before finally dissipating. When it shut off, a single vessel remained, heavily damaged. It was targeted by a flight of ork destroyers. Fire sped between the crippled Imperial ship and its predators, but there could be only one outcome. The ship disappeared, replaced by a perfect circle of brilliant light that winked out as quickly as it bloomed.

Bohemond roared at the oculus, slamming his fist into his palm. ‘They will pay all the more dearly for that!’ he yelled. ‘Prepare to fire a second volley of torpedoes.’

The first launch had reached the moon, slamming all over the surface. Explosions lit up tits face with domes of fire and light. The moon shook under the impact. Tall plumes of ejecta reared up, gnarled fingers reaching for the Space Marine ships.