The Idel Torment and the Emaciator Corsair-class escort vessels of the Dark Eldar slipped effortlessly out of the Webway and into a familiar holding formation in a lazy orbit around the third planet of the Thulu system, its small blue star casting a halo on the crest of the barren and rocky world off their starboard bows. The crews were veterans of the bountiful raiding campaigns around the Imperial world of Naxmi and its cluster of mining moons, and had been drawn to Thulu system following reports of unescorted civilian shipping. They didn't have to wait long. Sensors on the Emaciator picked up the heat signatures of a large ship on the surface of the planet below.
"Potential quarry?" inquired Eli Tahl, captain of the Emaciator. Tahl had led her crew for over ten years and had yet to return from a hunting trip empty handed.
"Looks big", replied the helmsman, "Must have had to put down. Maybe damaged. Too much interference from the planet's magnetic field to see life signs though".
Eli Tahl's raven black eyebrows met as she winced as the view screen, trying to spot the flickers that would indicate the scale of her prize; the number of crew and passengers to be taken back to Commorragh where their tortured bodies would provide physical succour for their new masters.
"We'll have to get closer. Hail the Idel Torment, tell Mal Raer to find his own meal. This one is ours." The Emaciator banked and prepared to descend on the stricken ship like the now extinct birds of prey on the Eldar homeworlds.
Aboard the Idel Torment lights of the communications panel illuminated the face sallow face of Di Kel, a uncommonly young member of the crew possessed of an all too common ambition.
"Incoming message from the Emaciator: 'Target acquired. Moving to lower orbit…no assistance needed."
Like most Dark Eldar, Mal Raer had a face made for scowling. His sunken eyes gave the Di Kel a look that could have extinguished a star. The leather on his command chair creaked as he turned to the helmsman "Set course for the planet's surface! Damned if that bitch is getting there first." Helmsman Jut Calal set approach vectors but his acknowledgement as interrupted by the shrill alarm of the sensor array.
"Contact! Just passing out from behind the second moon of this forsaken rock. It's huge"
Raer's lank hair whipped as he spun to face Calal then back to Bevel.
"Alter course, all ahead one-third. What is it Beval?"
"Information still coming in, but it's probably a cargo vessel. A freight ship, maybe even an ore transport. It's not spotted us yet, its holding course and speed."
"It's too far out to be Tau, and the Orks don't mine for trade. It must be human" said Di Kel, eager to prove his knowledge. "Almost certainly Imperial; world's outside the Imperium have neither the resources or the need to build on that scale."
"Get to the point!" spat Mal Raer "does it have a decent size crew? I didn't come here for a history lecture." Di Kel ignored the remark. He already know he'd kill Raer for control of the ship before the year was out. He even knew how; a blade slid slowly into the soft tissue behind the earlobe and up into the brain.
"Yes captain. Despite their regression of technology human ships can mostly travel unmanned, however this is considered tech-heresy, and so their ships are ridiculously over endowed with crew."
Mal Raer's sickly grin nearly bisected his gaunt face. "Ready boarding parties. Calal, identify the class of ship and send the data to the assault teams. Oh, and Di Kel, do let Eli Tahl know she'll have to look after herself."
The Avarice rounded the moon, maintaining its elliptical orbit while the Viceroy made repairs to its secondary hanger bay docks on the surface. Although Necrons could operate in the void of space, scarabs and other menial drones worked more efficiently while on firm ground, and both ships made use of the time to tweak the command nodes that tied the thoughts of the ship lord to the command protocols of the vessels.
Eli Tahl read the Mal Raer's message and suppressed a hiss. She'd made a mistake attacking the first ship she'd seen, though she could never admit so; showing weakness among the Dark Eldar was tantamount to suicide. She might as well slit her own throat and be done with it. No. She'd just have to make sure as many of the stricken crew were taken alive as possible.
"Message to boarding parties. I want as many taken alive as possible. Itchy trigger fingers will be sliced off, along with other appendages." The Emaciator arced down into the upper atmosphere of the the planet, the stricken ship still only a blip on the array display.
On the bridge of the Idel Torment, Jut Calal was sweating. "I don't know what to say, sir. There's no record of a ship matching that profile in our data banks."
"Our archives date back before The Fall," said Mal Raer incredulously, "keep checking, it may have been modified."
"But sir, the scanner's algorithms allow for such variables. There's nothing on that ship that could…" The iron tang of blood filled Jut Calal's mouth a moment after the dull twack he felt across his jaw. Di Kel stood over Jut Calal, whipping the hilt of his dagger clean of Calal's blood. "Answer the captain back again and you'll be doing so without a tounge". Di Kel preened at Mal Raer, every inch the loyal officer.
The hull of the Idel Torment hummed as the engines reached two thirds power. The lumbering Avarice now just visible on the radars of the close in weapons systems.
The Jenko Dynasty were not powerful or influential enough to be granted control of the Necrontyr's principle battle fleets, being granted only escort vessels and a clutch of older battleships to convey their merchant shipping throughout the empire. But what they lacked in purpose built warships, they made up for in ingenuity and resourcefulness. Enormous cargo vessels, bulky tankers, refinery ships and even pleasure liners were retro-fitted with as many weapons (both legally acquired and otherwise) that their shipwrights could get their hands on. Even the wreckage and debris of battle was trawled through in the hope of salvaging something usable. The result was an abomination of a fleet, an ensemble of civilian shipping bristling with a spectacular array of weaponry and countermeasures.
On the planet's surface, Shiplord Noltab watched the approaching Dark Eldar vessel with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. His ship, the Viceroy, had once been passenger liner, and it now served the Dynasty as a troop transport and prison ship. Thousands of Necron Warriors and Immortals stood immobile in the endless cabins and halls that once thronged with laughing children and overweight tourists. In the depths of the ship, in what had been the performance halls and swimming pools, the prison decks lay cold and empty, save for the lingering echo of ancient torment and despair.
"I want a targeting solution on those engines. Remember we want to cripple them, not destroy them" said Mal Raer as he glided elegantly to the weapons control bank.
"They're maintaining course heading and speed, responded the weapons office Gul Nu. "It shouldn't be this easy, even against knuckle dragging humans. Maybe they can't disengage the autopilot, imperial technology fails as often as it works nowadays."
Along the hull of the Avarice, recessed in what were once storage holds, sat bank after bank of broadside weapons, each plundered, borrowed, salvaged or stolen from capital ships which fought in the dying days of the War in Heaven. A third of the way along the port side hull, one such battery was spooling energy, it's coolant chambers gargling to life as targeting protocols from the command nodes in the bridge fed a constant stream of data on the rapidly approaching vessel.
Di Kel shouted "Energy spiking on target vessel, captain."
"Geller fields? Warp engines? Are they making a run for it?"
"Negative. The energy is concentrated in a very small section of the hull on the port side. Their course and heading remain unchanged. "
"They're manning the escape pods! All ahead full. Well catch them on their way down to the surface."
"What about the ships engines? Are we still going to fire?"
Mal Raer chewed his bottom lip. The pods could be a distraction, a decoy for the Idle Torment to pursue while the main ship escapes. Then again, it would be a shame to damage a ship unnecessarily. If the crews were in the pod they could take them with ease then capture the intact cargo ship. Just think of the prestige to be reaped in Commorragh, not to mention the sort of raids that ship could support.
"Keep a lock when you have it but hold fire. We'll only take out the engines if we have to."
The ship's intercom crackled "Boarding parties mustered and awaiting briefing. They want to know why they're going in blind."
"Is it everybody's turn to be captain today?! If they're scared of a handful of miners and engineers they're in the wrong trade!"
Necron Warriors, stripped of legs and hard wired into the broadside battery made silent adjustments to the targeting matrix on their gun as it rotated imperceptibly on its axis, tracking the oncoming ship. On the bridge, more Necrons absorbed the data stream, their faces impassive as they calculated likely adjustments to the target's course and fed the probabilities into algorithms that directed the interface between the ship's helmsman node and that of the weapons system. All was a beautiful ballet of angles, hull stress tolerances and pivot tables. Shiplord Yyan'tk gave the order to fire.
Along the port side of the Avarice, a rectangular panel creaked and pistons hissed as it slid into the recess housing above the gun, like a giant garage door. Necron gun attendants, needing neither light, food, water or even oxygen, worked in a perpetually unpressurised chamber, and scarcely noticed their sudden exposure to the cold of the void.
"A bay door is opening on the target vessel. Must be shuttlecraft rather than escape pods. Ready close combat missiles and prepare to accelerate to attack speed." Mal Raer enjoyed the efficiency of an easy kill as much as any, but deep down longed for the the occasional endorphin hit from the thrill of the hunt
"Look, that green glow. It must be their engine exhausts."
The port hull of the Avarice resembled a dull grey wall with a brick missing. From that hole came a meter wide emerald spear of light, scything through the void of space and piercing the bow of the Idle Torment. Jut Calal had been looking directly at the Avarice as the light slammed into the ship. Too late, his hands tried to cover his now ruined eyes as the bridge of the Idel Torment was brilliantly illuminated in green light. Calal's hysterical screams for his ravaged eyes were drowned out by a cacophony of alarms and sirens as the ship's systems failed and protested the energy pouring through them. Within seconds of the first shard of light being unleashed, a bulbous pulse of purple tinged green tore along the guidance beam. The speed of the unnatural weapon was such that it didn't impact with the Idel Torment like a missile or shell, but seemed to almost pass into the body of ship before shrinking to a physics defying density.
There is no sound in space. Those witnessing the last moments of the Idel Torment would have seen circular buds of green and orange flame appearing all along the hull of the ship like pores on a skin tissue sample. They spread and grew as if forced upwards and outwards by some tremendous force from within. Like a flower blooming under the gaze if a time-lapse camera they unfolded and consumed the ship in a majestic radiance of elemental forces. Then just a quickly, like the same flower's petals wilting, the oxygen deprived flames shriveled and fell in on themselves or floated off clinging to the scraps of debris that formed a metallic mist.
Neither regret nor joy flickered in the green eyes of the Necron gun crew. The hull panel slid back into place and bolts clanked locking it in place once more. The Avarice maintained it's speed and heading.