Chapter 110: Preparations

...

Above the low orbit of Talon III.

Where once only satellites drifted, three warships now materialized, followed by the sudden appearance of an orbital dock positioned behind them. 

Most of the planet's inhabitants dwelled beneath its surface, leaving this new satellite unnoticed for the time being.

Once the warships and dock were fully in place, ten regiments, along with a single knight, were transported to the southern pole of the planet, while the remaining ten regiments and another knight landed in the north.

Donna was stationed in the north.

While she stood guard, the other soldiers set about fortifying their position in the freezing winds and snowstorms, digging trenches.

Simultaneously, numerous logistical machines were deployed to Donna's location. These machines hovered as they gathered, beginning the construction of a towering structure. 

Equipped with materials, they printed structural components directly, and when supplies ran low, they teleported back to the orbital dock for resupply before resuming their work.

The towering structure was rising rapidly. Despite its imposing height, this presented no challenge to the logistical machinery.

Donna, piloting the Crimson Rose, continued her vigilance in the icy expanse. Soon, she spotted a cluster of green forms emerging from the white blizzard and immediately sent a warning over the comms: "Xenos sighted! Prepare for battle!"

The massive frame of the Crimson Rose echoed across the frozen landscape with a thunderous roar. Soldiers, alerted by Donna's warning and the sound, quickly abandoned their tasks and took cover in the half-dug trenches, ready for combat.

Every tank rumbled into position at the forefront, serving as shields for the infantry.

Unmanned artillery was strategically arranged around the half-constructed structure, prepared to offer fire support for the soldiers.

The infantry held their breath, eyes pressed against the scopes of their laser rifles.

As the tense anticipation thickened, a horde of green-skinned orks came into view, brandishing swords and charging forward.

"Waaagh!!!"

The orks' battle cries echoed across the snowy plain, their numbers seemingly endless as they waved their crude weapons in the air.

At first, the soldiers remained tense, but after seeing the orks' primitive weapons, they relaxed and resumed their tasks, seemingly indifferent to the threat.

Only a single Leman Russ tank hovered forward, its array of weapons aimed at the advancing orks.

Donna then heard an officer's voice through the comms: "Mind if I take care of these xenos, Lady Knight?"

"I don't mind," Donna replied. She had no desire to slay these orks. They were visibly weak, mere sword-wielding primitives. Engaging them with her knight felt dishonorable, beneath the family's code of glory.

The tank opened fire, cutting down the orks in swathes as if harvesting a field of crops.

The unmanned artillery joined in, launching shell after shell, exploding amidst the tightly packed ork horde.

In less than half an hour, the green tide was annihilated, their bodies scattered across the snow. The bitter wind howled from behind Donna, sweeping over the battlefield.

A few hours of eerie calm followed before Donna spotted another wave of orks. This time, the only difference was their equipment.

Their weapons had evolved into flintlock rifles, and their approach had grown more disciplined.

On the flat, desolate snowfield, the orks formed dozens of compact phalanxes, marching in unison.

At the forefront of each formation was a larger ork, his body crawling with grots. The grots clutched a variety of crude musical instruments.

As the ork phalanxes advanced, the grots began to play their cacophonous, metallic tunes, a discordant soundtrack to the march.

"By the Emperor!" Donna could hardly believe her eyes.

The formations pressed on, and at a distance of a thousand meters, they suddenly halted, waiting for the other groups to fall into place.

"Waaaagh!" The large ork raised his metal blade.

The front rows of each phalanx knelt, leveling their flintlock rifles, while the second row stood behind, preparing to fire.

"Waaagh!!!"

With another roar, the phalanxes unleashed their volley. Clouds of smoke erupted from their ranks as spherical bullets flew forward, filling the air with the sharp scent of gunpowder.

Simultaneously, cannons at the rear of each formation fired, their solid shells slamming into Donna's Crimson Rose, as well as the tanks and barricades scattered across the defensive line.

This time, Donna did not hold back. She charged forward in her knight, wielding her chainsword and power fist, cutting through the ork ranks with brutal efficiency.

The tanks joined the fray, working in tandem with Donna to obliterate the ork horde.

After the battle, a prolonged quiet settled over the field. Hours passed, and no third wave came, even as night fell.

The soldiers huddled around fires, eating and resting. Donna, bound by her knightly duty, remained inside the Crimson Rose, vigilantly scanning the frozen wasteland for any signs of the enemy.

The orks seemed to have been utterly wiped out. By midnight, no further attacks had come. Soldiers took turns resting and standing watch.

...

In the dead of night, five hundred meters from the camp, pairs of glowing eyes peered from beneath the snow.

An ork boy, clad in a patchwork iron helmet, crouched under the snow, pulling a grot's severed head from his pouch.

The grot's head had been crudely modified into a timer. As the ork boy watched, the grot's tongue began to twitch, emitting a low, rhythmic clicking sound.

High above, a squadron of biplanes circled, each plane carrying a grot-fashioned alarm clock. At the sound of the ticking, the ork pilots screeched in excitement and dove toward their target.

Back at the ork artillery line, a large ork in an iron helmet discarded his grot-clock and bellowed at the crew of grots and ork boys manning the cannons.

The time had come.

At the front, grots loaded a series of strange flares into crude launchers. The flares shot into the air, illuminating the human defenses in a harsh, brilliant light, revealing every bunker and firing position.

"Waaaagh!!!"

One ork's shout set off a cacophony, as hundreds more echoed the cry.

The ground erupted with orks, surging from beneath the snow, rushing toward the human defenses.

Shells whistled overhead, crashing down on the defensive lines with deafening explosions.

The biplanes swooped low, unleashing their payload of bombs onto the trenches.

These were only the vanguard. Behind them, the main ork force followed: a rumbling horde of makeshift tanks, green-skinned infantry flooding the battlefield.

The air was filled with the sounds of destruction, the deafening roar of Waaagh!