When you pick the battlefield, make it your most loyal ally and your enemy's most implacable foe.
- Military wisdom of the ancient Terrans.
"I would burn a system to ashes to save but one of my Sons. Those who stand against us would do well to meditate on what I would do to protect the legion."
- Primarch Sevrah, in discussion with his expeditionary fleet commanders.
Ullanor
The battle for the Ullanor sector raged as strong now as it had for so many months. Astartes and mortals laid down their lives to further the cause of the Imperium, dying with a oaths of allegiance or cries of defiance on their lips. Fortresses were constructed, besieged and destroyed in the span of weeks. The greenskin numbers were uncountable, each xenos falling only to be replaced by a dozen others. In contrast, the massed ranks of mankind's forces seemed almost insignificant, so horribly outnumbered were they. They would be drowned in numbers, one might be lead to think, suffocated in a mass of orkish bodies. But at the forefront of the Imperial forces were warriors beyond compare, gods of battle and avatars of war; the Primarchs. Each one had a thousand undoable deeds to their name, innumerable foes dead at their hands and a legion of post-human warriors at their disposal.
Even so, the conflict raged with the ferocity of a forest fire and showed little sign of abating. The grand strategy employed by the Imperial forces was working, gradually splitting and separating the orks, but it was painfully slow going. The orks took time to move and there were always more to fill the gaps they left. Different legions funnelled the greenskins into killgrounds, ambushes and traps. Some took on their shipyards, others their ground forces. The IVth legion and its attendant Expeditionary Fleet had accepted the task of drawing the ork armada far from Ullanor Prime. The armada was a sea of orkish vessels, too many to count and far too many to fight. The armada's commander, under Urlakk Urg, was Big Boss Balgruck, a cunning ork of the Blood Axe clan who had heard of Sevrah's 'sneakiness' and wished to put it to the test.
For some weeks, the armada had chased the IVth legion across the sector, engaging them in small battles here and there but had been ultimately unable to pin them down to a conclusive conflict. Balgruck hoped that woudl change soon, believing his armada to be closing range as the IVth legion approached the volcanic world of Thereogis.
The Battleship First Fang slid through the void with a serenity that defied the unimaginable strain of the engines and suffering of the crew. On the command deck were a crowd of figures, some human, some Astartes and one who towered over every other. The gazes of almost every being on the deck were fixed on a visi-screen showing a wave of irregularly sized object pursuing them through the void. But the eyes of the being in the command-throne were fixed on the giant, glaring resentfully at the back of his bald head.
"You are upset, Fleet Commander Dowl."
The man in the command-throne stiffened and did his best to conceal his surprise. For a moment he wondered why he was trying not to show surprise when the Primarch wasn't even looking at him. But then he remembered that Sevrah had known that he was glaring without looking as well.
"No my lord, I simply feel that this course of action may not be the wisest."
There was a chuckle from one of the armoured giants in the room. First Captain Ipsa, currently helmless, flashed Dowl a pearly grin. "Has he ever lead you wrong before, Fleet Commander? Can you think of a single instance when his decisions have not been weighed to give us victory with as few casualties as possible?"
Dowl couldn't bring himself to answer because, in a way, the First Captain was right. The head of the IVth legion always made carefully considered decisions that would bring his legion victory with as little risk to his sons as possible, spending time and resources to make sure every battle was as favourable to his forces as possible. The problem was that the resources he often spent to protect his sons were the men, women and ships of the 42nd Expeditionary Fleet. Sevrah would use them to slow down, manoeuvre or cut off opposition forces and while he didn't spend lives carelessly, his obsession with the preservation of life stopped short when it came to all those outside his own legion.
"I just want to make sure that this course of action will not endanger the fleet."
Another laugh, this time from Fourth Captain Castus. His intricate facial tattoos shifted distractingly as he talked, something he doubtless knew and relished. "As opposed to what? Running away? Or engaging our foes head on? I do not think either will end well for us."
Dowl fought to not grind his teeth. Again, the Astartes was right but only partially. At this point, the only sensible course of action was the follow the Primarch's plan through, for it was now too late to do anything else. But Dowl wished he had been given the chance to object before now, perhaps even be told the plan before it was time to execute it. Instead of pursuing such a fruitless line of conversation further, he snapped a question at one of the Deck-Servitors. Its monotone response came quickly.
"ALL VESSELS MOVING A 40% SPEED STOP. APPROACHING DESIGNATION ZONE THETA COMMA T-MINUS 2 MINUTES STOP"
Two minutes until they came within firing distance of the dead world of Thereogis. Yes, far too late to pull back from the plan now, he would simply have to bare it for now and hope his men forgave him in whatever life came after this one. With a flick of a finger, he opened a Vox channel to the Cruiser Spear Tip.
"This is Fleet Commander Dowl, report in."
For a brief heartbeat, there was only static and Dowl dared to hope that the ship's captain would not be able to receive the order he desperately did not want to give. Then a voice cut through the hissing feedback and Dowl's hopes in one. "This is Captain Morbius receiving you sir."
With a heavy heart, Dowl gave the order. "Execute order Spear Thrust as soon as the fleet exits zone Theta."
There was a very slight tremor in the other man's voice but Dowl could hear the steel too. "Yessir. It's been an honour to serve with you, sir."
"You too, Johanus" murmured Dowl, once again glaring at Sevrah. "You too..."
Far behind the ships of the 42nd Expeditionary Fleet, a tide of Ork vessels hurtled through space with the reckless abandon characteristic of their race. Each ship was a different shape and bore a different cargo, some being asteroids with massive engines attached packed with missiles, others looted Imperial vessels stuffed with horribly beweaponed ork boyz. All were burning their fuel in a frenzy, trying to out do their companions to be the first to get into firing range of the distant enemy. Not that the orkish gun batteries weren't already vomiting ammunition into the void. If you give an ork a cannon, you can't expect him not to fire it just because there isn't anything to fire it at.
At the head of the unruly mass was a truly gargantuan ship made up of seemlingly a dozen different vessels crudely welded together with enlarged boosters bolted onto one end. In what passed for the command deck, a huge ork drummed his claws on a pulsing red button in front of him. He itched to press it but had heeded the warning of his mek, who said he should only press it when they came into range. It was common practise for ork ships to have all the overdrive and boosting capabilities linked to a single red button on the command deck so that when the boss decided they needed a burst of speed or simply got bored, he could hammer a fist down on it. But this boss, Big Boss Balgruck, was a singularly sneaky type and had resolved not press it until he was sure the resulting momentum would bring him into ramming range.
On the crackling feed of his visi-screen, Balgruck could see one ship peeling of from the group he and his armada were pursuing. The ship seemed to be turning to face them while the rest continued to flee. Was it making its stand by the burning planet? It mattered little because if his mek's kalkulashuns were right, he would be in big red button range in only a handful of moments! He snatched the skwak box from its cradle next to his chair and stabbed one finger onto the receiver.
"OI! Ladz! Get ready ta blast off! We're gunna give dat lone ship a good zoggin' kickin'!"
He was answered by a chorus of raucous yells and cheers, each ork promising that it would be his ship that would claim the kill. Balgruck tuned most of them out, staring intently at the distant shape of the Cruiser.
"Comin' ta get ya, 'umie, ready or not." he said, thumping the red button.
On the visi-screens, the shapes of the orkish armada all suddenly jerked forward at a terrifying speed. Many of the vessels started to fall apart from the force of it and some crashed into others but there were so many that such casualties barely mattered. The entire 42nd Expeditionary Fleet apart from the Cruiser Spear Tip had put a considerable distance between themselves and the planet Thereogis, a desolate, unstable world of lava and fire. The Cruiser, meanwhile, had completed a full 180 degree turn to face the ork armada and the planet itself.
On the Spear Tip's command deck, Captain Morbius scowled at the oncoming tide of xenos. "Filthy greenskins" he muttered "Just come a little closer, you disgusting animals. A little closer..."
He need not worry for the orks had no intention of stopping their mad dash rush to be the first into the fray. The distance between his vessel and their's was rapidly closing. At that very moment, a servitor spoke up.
"VECTORS AND SPEEDS REACHED STOP. OPERATION DESIGNATION SPEAR THURST READY STOP."
"Execute that order." Morbius kept his voice calm and unshaken, knowing the Servitors wouldn't be able to understand his order if he screamed it defiantly.
"AFFIRMATIVE STOP."
As the ship beneath him began to move, Morbius stepped down from the command-throne and looked out of the observation bays. The orks were now close enough he could see the flares of their ridiculously oversized engines against the sable backdrop of space. With nothing else to do, he shook a fist at their oncoming forms.
"To hell with you xenos! For Terra!"
His words fell only of the unfeeling ears of the servitors.
Fleet Commander Dowl watched the his friend's Cruiser move ponderously towards Thereogis. It picked up speed quickly, not altering its course at all but simply aiming straight for the planet's surface and accelerating. Were he a weaker man, Dowl would've looked away to spare himself watch Morbius die but he watched on, determined to honour his sacrifice.
The orks ships were now only second away from Thereogis, some of them slowing down as their ships turbo-boosted fuel supplies ran out or their extra engines stalled. The lead ship seemed to be trying to come about and turn but the ships on all sides stopped it from escaping. At that, Dowl felt a flicker of grim satisfaction. If Morbius was to die, at least he would likely take the enemy commander with him.
It started gradually, the Spear Tip's void shields catching fire as the Cruiser burst through the planet's scant atmosphere, but gained power and energy rapidly as the vast ship thundered down towards the surface. Its impact might've seemed trivial from the viewpoint of an orbiting ship but all auspex equipment focussed on the area would've detected a sudden surge in the thermo-nuclear activity of an already unstable planet. An informed observer would likely attribute this to the huge quantity of fuel, explosives, crude Promethium and other flammable materials stowed away aboard the Cruiser, all of which were down being deposited below Thereogis's crust by the earth shattering collision of the Spear Tip.
Eruptions burst across the planet's surface, subterranean gas pockets and fossilised plant matter igniting one after the other in chain reaction of momentous scale. From the First Fang's command deck, the planet's hue went from roiling grey to being shot through with lines of orange before it stopped being a planet at all with one glorious, cataclysmic detonation. Thereogis ruptured and split into a thousand shards of burning rock and cooking earth, chunks of the erstwhile planet hurtling in every direction like the offshoot of a frag grenade. Albeit, this grenade was the size of a small planet but its positioning was near perfect; the orks had no chance to do anything but scream before the vanguard of the armada was torn into pieces by the newly formed asteroids.
The armada was too vast to be truly destroyed but the first dozen ranks were pulverised by either the explosion of the debris, including almost every ship with one of Balgruck's inner circle upon it. The rest of the ships were all desperately trying to escape being crushed by the vast wall of ship parts, planet wreckage and general fragments that was coming their way.
"There, Fleet Commander Dowl. The ork armada has been beheaded, their leaders killed, many of their ships crippled, we have an asteroid field to launch raids from and it only cost us a single Cruiser." Sevrah's voice was calm and collected but tinged with satisfaction.
"And one man."
"Yes. Captain Morbius. He sold his life more dearly than most of will ever have the chance to. Is that not the perfect end to a warrior? Bringing death to the foe? Slaying enemies so that one's friends might live?"
"I... As you say, Primarch Sevrah."
"I have no doubt you resent me in this moment Dowl but is this not simply an ordinary, if exceptionally successful, act of war? We exchange deaths for deaths, trying to make sure we kill more than we lose."
Dowl had no words to respond. How could he presume to lecture a Primarch, as son of the Emperor, on honour, on a warriors's code, on the difference between a tactical suicide and going out with a fight? Sevrah's eyes were boring into his and the Fleet Commander was sure that the Primarch already knew everything he might say. He wanted to respond, to say that every planey in the system would pay for this destruction, that the slowly expanding asteroid field would cause many problems in the future and that Sevrah's cold satisfaction made everything so much worse. But he couldn't, the words would not come.
"While you think on it, make the fleet ready to sally through our new asteroid field to engage the ork armada. We will draw them into the field at zone Omega and set up an ambush when they penetrate through to layer Omikron."
It was easier to stand in a hurricane than disobey that voice. "Yes my lord."
