Chapter 56: Word Bearers: We Can't Win
Chapter 56: Word Bearers: We Can't Win
"Report. Entering orbit of the third planet. Estimated contact in thirty minutes."
The Inquisitorial fleet, acting as the vanguard for the joint fleet, reported in. The Word Bearers fleet, upon detecting the approach of the numerically superior joint fleet, had decisively chosen to disengage.
They folded a little too quickly. Almost as fast as that Drukhari Archon who had heard the name of Slaanesh.
This applied to both the Word Bearers and the Inquisitorial fleet. The former had started to flee deeper into the system the moment they saw the fleet. The latter, who had just been treating Aglaia with contempt, had immediately chosen to obey her orders.
The transmigrators watched this unfold with considerable surprise.
"The senior officers of the Ordo Originatus's direct fleet are all from the hereditary nobility of Terra," Aglaia explained on the encrypted channel, her slender white fingers tracing the glow of the tactical star-chart. "If their current cowardice were to be reported through normal channels, it would be enough for the High Lords to execute their bloodlines for three generations."
"These scions of nobility are the most loyal arm of the Ordo Originatus. Their true identity files are sealed only within the Grand Inquisitor's private data-vaults." A blue stream of data flickered in the Inquisitor's bionic eye as her armored glove tapped on a family crest on the holographic display. "From the moment of their embryonic cultivation, the principle of 'family first' has been branded onto their genomes. Some may not fear their own death, but none can bear the price of having their entire family erased from the records by the Officio Assassinorum."
As for the rare rebels? The few who didn't care about their families? Surely not all several hundred of them would be so detached? If that were the case, then these Terran nobles deserved to be purged by the Assassins. If they couldn't even fulfill their basic duty of cultivating reliable agents for the Emperor's chosen, what right did they have to live and serve Him?!
Of course, the Assassinorum wasn't afraid of receiving false intelligence that threatened these nobles. Those resourceful individuals had plenty of ways to verify the truth. At least in Aglaia's experience, no Inquisitor of the Ordo Originatus had ever successfully deceived the Officio Assassinorum.
"Therefore, as long as one possesses the true information of these deep-cover agents, and ensures that one's own position is absolutely loyal to the Golden Throne, they will obey like puppets on a string," Aglaia concluded. She also had her own channels for gathering intelligence within the Inquisitorial fleet.
"I see," Romulus said, understanding. It was like dealing with a daemon whose true name you knew. The overlap between the Emperor and the Four Gods was growing larger.
Still, this junior Inquisitor Aglaia was quite impressive. When they had first spoken on the Ark, she had mentioned that it had only been two years since she had officially left Terra. In such a short time, she had uncovered the Grand Inquisitor's secrets, tracked him to the Pierdra Sector, exterminated a Drukhari outpost along the way, roped in a crusade fleet and an Explorator fleet, and had also managed to get a complete handle on the Grand Inquisitor's underlings. Her professional competence was exceptional, even among the highly skilled ranks of the Inquisition.
Romulus couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. While the Imperial bureaucracy was full of vermin, the war machines at his side were trustworthy. The perilous galaxy and the Imperium's Schrodinger's-cat logistics had forged these people into an elite force capable of carving a path to survival from the jaws of despair.
Romulus's gaze shifted to the observation dome. The steel torrent of the joint fleet was weaving a net of encirclement, anchored by the star. The silver-gray ships of the Inquisition were like sheepdogs, herding the Chaos fleet, while the crimson energy trails of the crusade fleet carved deadly arcs through the deep void. This slow, precise hunt reminded him of the orca hunts depicted in documentaries from Old Earth.
When the Explorator fleet executed its third tactical maneuver, the pincer formation formed by eight cruisers bore a striking resemblance to the spiral formation used by ancient Terran marine mammals to herd schools of fish.
"Lord Romulus," Archmagos Cawl's voice came through the data-link. His thought-matrix was processing the battle through the secondary cogitators on each warship. "Give the order."
The enemy, under pressure, had entered the trap Cawl had woven. To escape now, they would have to overcome the star's gravity well. It was the perfect opportunity for the fleet to close the distance.
"Proceed according to your own plan, Archmagos," Romulus replied. He had no experience in commanding a naval battle; he didn't even understand the joint fleet's specific command structure yet. He was still a bit fuzzy on the principles of interstellar naval warfare. However, he could roughly judge that the enemy commander's brain was probably not very clear due to Chaos corruption. At the very least, he was still considering the effects of gravity while trying to flee.
Cawl did not stand on ceremony. The other's willingness to observe and learn in an unfamiliar field had earned his favor. In the current Imperium, there were few in high positions who were willing to delegate authority in areas they didn't understand. Most, even when completely clueless, would cling to power—because they could only trust themselves.
"Inquisitorial fleet, frontal insertion. Crusade fleet, engage boosters and proceed to the marked coordinates. Carcharodons, maintain route-sharing and engage at will."
The plasma batteries on a dozen Adeptus Mechanicus warships swiveled in unison. Beams of energy, heated to a brilliant white, wove a deadly web that instantly overloaded the void shields and melted three Word Bearers escort frigates into boiling clouds of metal.
The fleets of the Adeptus Mechanicus were generally not skilled at boarding actions. The trade-off for this deficiency was, naturally, a firepower that far exceeded that of the Imperial Navy.
The Word Bearers fleet abandoned the captured cruiser, Pride of Terra. They then formed a new defensive line around their flagship, a Desolator-class battleship. The writhing flesh-armor on the surfaces of their daemon-ships opened countless fanged maws.
A torrent of dark green plasma erupted from these flesh-batteries, striking the Imperial fleet's void shields and creating ripples of sulphurous light.
BOOM—
A Cobra-class destroyer was hit by successive volleys. The moment its void shields collapsed, its bow observation tower was dissolved into a skeletal frame by the plasma.
Sound could not travel in a vacuum, but the moment the flying debris struck the hulls of the other ships, it still carried a faint echo of the surging power.
"Nova Cannon charging complete," a voice from a servo-skull announced, its binary screech exploding across the bridge.
The moment the words were spoken, several more beams of light appeared in the dark void. Several ships went dark; the act of firing had drained their entire power supply, extinguishing their lights in the starry expanse.
Columns of light dozens of meters in diameter tore across the battlefield, instantly vaporizing the swarms of Chaos fighters in their path, leaving only a few ghost-trails on the sensors. The projectiles, accelerated to near light-speed, struck the cruiser that had lost its escort fleet.
In a brilliant flash of light, three Havoc-class Chaos cruisers were dismantled by a dozen beams of light, breaking apart into several pieces in the vacuum of space.
As the shockwave of debris swept across the combat zone, the sirens on the bows of all the Adeptus Mechanicus fleet's ships automatically sounded. This was the victory protocol set by the Forge Worlds of Mars, causing every ship to tremble in the void, transforming the destructive beauty of the Nova Cannons into a binary hymn of praise.
(End of Chapter)