Fame Cimex Chapter 29
High over Angle's Redoubt stars moved, constellations of twinkling diamonds moving across the velvet sky. From a distance they looked tiny but on closer inspection each was revealed to be a massive fortress, a line of defence platforms and Starforts set to watch eternally over the billions below. Among their number moved the sleek lines of System Ships and the brutal, harsh lines of Defence Monitors, prowling in a ceaseless guard. Anywhere on the planet men could look upwards and draw reassurance from the chain of lanterns in the sky, knowing that a ceaseless guardian stood to their defence. Yet today that defence would be tested.
In the orbital stations thousands upon thousands of men raced to bring the defences to readiness. Most of these men had thought that they would spend their lives on these drab platforms, never seeing genuine battle, but now war had found them. Officers, Provosts and press-ganged men all bent to their tasks with frantic haste, knowing that the next few hours would determine whether they would live or die. The Tyranid splinter fleet had been detected and it would arrive soon. All across the defence platforms gun batteries were woken and prepared, hundreds of slaves struggling to hoist munitions into place as Tech-Priest chanted and blessed the arcane mysteries of the Machine. Targeting Cogitators were beseeched for their favour and servitors commanded to ferry ever more munitions from the magazines. The stations huddled together like a herd of cattle in a storm, seeking the shelter of each's presence and the strength that came from mutual support.
On the mightiest of Starforts the corridors rang with hymns as the naval clergy sought divine favour while senior commanders gathered around Hololiths and tried not to look scared by what they were seeing. Void shields were test fired and point defence turrets raised like a spindly forest over each bastion while inside arms men rushed to their counter-boarding posts. Elsewhere hanger bays thundered with a cacophony of noise as squadrons of fighters and bombers were fuelled and armed, flight crews making their own superstitious blessings before the being thrown into the void.
Alone in its own orbital lane the Inquisitorial Starfort looked lost and alone, caught between the danger of the oncoming Xenos and the loss of face that seeking support would entail. Whatever discussion raged among the shadowy Lords would go forever unrecorded, but after a while many noticed that the black Starfort was drifting closer to its kin. Edging into the defensive web, without looking obvious that it was doing so.
The defenders were alert and tense, each man preparing in his own way for the coming battle. Some of the lowest conscripts took drugs and illicit substances to escape the reality, while others prayed or wept or beat their chests and boasted that they were not afraid, a little too loudly to convince anybody. But then the heavens moved and there was no more escaping the onslaught.
On the dark side of the planet, far from the harsh light of the star, came the first hints of the oncoming threat. The stars seemed to shimmer and distort as a multitude of shapes blocked them out and then every surveyor began to scream as the first Tyranids swam into range. From out of the dark they poured in endless waves, millions upon millions of gnarled, pitted Bio-ships swarming forward, already poised to strike. No two bio-ships were alike, each a unique creation formed by mutating genetics and lifetime in the void of space. Many had claws and tentacles with thorns the size of gunships, while others spewed lesser beings that dashed ahead of the main fleet. Gargantuan mouths frothed with pyro-acid, and sphincters dilated to reveal shards of chitin just waiting to be spat at distant targets. The Tyranids were endless in number and variety, yet what they all shared was a fearsome hunger and the will to crush anything in their path.
The fleet barrelled forwards heedless of danger or counter-attack, seemingly contemptuous of anything the defenders could do. The defenders were aghast at the numberless horde coming at them and many officers stood dumbfounded, unable to believe what they were seeing. Thankfully the machine spirits were not as limited and responded as their programming dictated. As the fleet approached, vast minefields came to life. Tiny little pods, containing a single servitor and a potent plasma bomb, defended mainly by their ability to lurk undetected. As soon as the enemy violated their perimeter the minefields awoke, each servitor performing their one and only duty to fire tiny manoeuvring jets and fling themselves at the fleet. The clouds of mines drifted inexorably at the Tyranids, who responded by disgorging waves of spores to block their path.
The two swarms met and merged like two clouds colliding and the night sky was illuminated by the flashes of plasma warheads detonating as the spores triggered proximity auspexs. The explosions were premature, but not wasted, for despite failing to reach the Bio-ships themselves they had cleared out the mass of spores. Adhering to a carefully planned out strategy, a second line of defence came alive, a mass of deadfall torpedo launchers just waiting for their opportunity. As one the torpedoes awoke and fired, each launch destroying their platform as they leapt clear. By lurking until the spore clouds had been cleared the Torpedoes had a clear run right into the heart of the fleet and they tore across space like bullets from a stubber. Slews of contrails dashed into the fleet and then separated, each warhead seeking out its own targets before detonating in bright blazes of plasma fire.
Clawed monstrosities were helpless to resist as the torpedoes sought them out and in moments scores of escorts and cruisers were torn asunder. Hides were penetrated, claws blown off and entrails scattered into the vacuum as the weapons completed their deadly work. Bio-ships trashed in agony and spewed living forms from their cavernous interiors as they sank into the cold embrace of death. The first salvo would have annihilated a conventional fleet, it would have left them a gutted and hollow force, but to the Tyranids it was the merest pinprick. The scores of vessels lost made no difference to the oncoming mass of chitin and the rest of the fleet poured past their defeated kin without the slightest pause.
Men shuddered in dread and fear to see the oncoming horde, but they held their ground and waited until the ranges shrank and at last the Tyranids were in weapons range. As one a hundred weapon platforms erupted, hurling shells and las, plasma and graviton beamers out into the void. There was little to no need to aim, so tightly packed were the Bio-ships that anything thrown out into the void was bound to hit something. Desperate men hurried to reload guns, firing frantically into the mass of heaving chitin bearing down on them. These were the desperate acts of hopeless men, but no man amongst them dared to think of doing anything else.
The Tyranids were taking heavy losses but they came on regardless, bearing down on the defences with unstoppable force. The Bio-ships closed into their own range and the mighty beasts opened their maws and flexed their musculature to spit out a torrent of organic weapons fire. Pyro-acid, shards of chitin and even living ammunition tore into the defence platforms, easily overpowering their shields. Men screamed as the walls dissolved around them, torn apart in the violence and melted in burning acid. Those caught in the blasts were lucky enough to be killed quickly, while the rest suffocated slowly in the breached compartments.
The battle closed into close quarters and all semblance of order disappeared, everywhere swirling combats raged as men and monsters fought for supremacy. Platforms ringed themselves in coronas of fire, even as vast clawed beasts grappled onto them and began stabbing with their rending claws. Fighters pinwheeled through the stars as leathery spores chased them and bombers were torn apart by swarms of tiny, living munitions. System ships blasted away at anything that moved while Defence Monitors slowly cruised along, surrounded by spears of fire. These puny ships could not hope to break the back of the invaders, but they were determined to inflict every last scrap of damage possible before they fell.
In the heart of the battle a trio of Starforts grouped together to form a bastion of resistance, their guns and lances tearing out over and over to eviscerate all within reach. The stations were surrounded by masses of dead flesh, a testament to the killing power of their mighty weapons. Chitin shards and pyro-acid scored their hulls but their armour was thick and their shields strong. Though battered and bruised the Starforts stood proudly and fought on. Again and again the stations fired rolling broadsides, each time claiming scores of kills with their lethal crossfires, but the Tyranids were swift to adapt.
From the heart of the massed fleet swarmed a cluster of bulky, heavy shapes, with thicker hides and reinforced carapaces. These were the feared Kraken, the line breakers of the Hive fleet and they tore into range in a scrum of gnashing fangs and eager claws. The Starforts saw them coming and tried to fend them off, but the Kraken's thick hides took the blasts with remarkable fortitude and only a handful rolled over in death. The Kraken dashed into close quarters and latched onto the Starforts, tearing and biting in a rabid feeding frenzy. Where distant gunnery had failed, raw brutal strength prevailed and the Kraken ripped into the stations with savage fury, breaking them open like a used ration can. One by one the Starforts fell silent, as their crew died and their innards were ripped out and in doing so a massive gap was breached in the defence line.
Sensing that the way was open the Tyranids poured into low orbit, unleashing waves of mycetic spores into the atmosphere. The surface weapons below greeted them with towers of light and fire, seeking to deny the attackers. Tragically there were not nearly enough of them to halt the tide and soon millions upon millions of Tyranid creatures were setting foot upon the surface. The battle still raged in orbit, but for all their valour the defenders had failed to stop the invasion. The Tyranids had broken through with sheer brute force and now were spreading out, encircling the planet with endless lines of Bio-ships and attacking the remaining defence platforms. With a safe corridor to approach the remaining Hive ship at last emerged from the teeming masses of the fleet, coming to direct the ground war in total confidence of victory.
However what the Tyranids could never understand was that the Imperium was not finished yet.
From behind the planetary terminus emerged a new threat, a shining spearhead of proud vessels sailing to war with the bright sunlight behind them. They had been held back from the battle as the last reserve, waiting for the Hive Ship to reveal itself. Now the time had come to strike and the Imperials moved to engage, charging forth in one last sally to break the foe or die trying.
The armada was surrounded by squadrons of escorts and Strike cruisers, creating a lance intended to pierce the heart of the foe. Yet the true power of the armada lay with its big guns, the proud Navy ships refitted and rearmed for one last battle. At the fore sailed the proud silhouette of the Agamemnon, followed closely by the Hektor, with its gunports open. Guarding the flanks were the Averof and the Kilkis, and behind them the deadly spear of the Cadmus and the Spetsai, their lances charged and ready. But greater yet was the pair of Battlebarges that sat at the heart of the Armada, the mighty Thunderlord and its glorious twin the Light of Terra.
This was the sum total of humanity's power in the stellar system, the greatest defence they could possibly muster. But it remained to be seen if this would be enough to withstand the battle to come.
