Ancra Mortis Chapter 5

On the Light of Terra's bridge the tension could have been cut with a knife, the crew struggling to remain calm and focussed in the face of looming tragedy. The serfs were as well trained and disciplined as men could be, but their confidence had been shattered by the Ork's unexpected prowess and they were on the verge of panic. Only one thing was holding the hysteria at bay, the solid, unflappable presence of their Space Marine masters, each stoic and unwavering in the face of doom.

Standing on the command dais Captain Toran could have been carved from stone. He appeared utterly composed and unflustered by the sudden turn of events and he was calling out orders in steady tone of voice, "Signal the troop transports that they must increase speed, the fleet is accelerating and if they lag behind then they will be easy pickings for the Orks. Luctator squadron is bunched too tight, order them to increase their intervals by one hundred kilometres each."

The words sounded good but they were intended more to assure the men that he remained in control than anything else. Toran felt the tension as much as they did and knew far better than they how much danger everybody was in, but his training and hypno-indoctrination allowed him to master his anxiety and perform his duty regardless.

From the corner of his eye Toran spied Chaplain Wrethan and Apothecary Memnos re-entering the bridge, hurrying onto the command dais and hastily asking, "What's happening?"

Toran answered, "The Orks fired a Nova Cannon at us."

Memnos scoffed and said, "Surely not, Orks aren't capable of such a feat."

However Wrethan growled, "Apparently they are, the question is what are we doing about it?"

Toran answered, "I have ordered the fleet to increase speed and spread out to ensure one blast can't take out multiple ships."

Wrethan spat, "We could be travelling much faster, if we leave the Transports behind we could close the distance before they can fire again."

Toran answered, "No, hitting the Orks piecemeal would be futile, the fleet has to hit them as one massive sledgehammer to break through or they will crush us one at a time."

Wrethan said, "That is a mistake, have you considered…"

Toran cut him off with his formal title, "Father Wrethan, with all due respect I do not have time to be answering questions. I am in command here and cannot afford to have my decisions second-guessed in combat."

Wrethan blinked at the rebuke, not used to being addressed so, but Toran was no longer a novice or even a Sergeant, he was a decorated Captain in his own right and held greater rank in regards to tactical matters. Toran saw the conflict in the Chaplain's eyes; he had been held back from combat for almost a year and yearned to prove himself but Wrethan knew that his duty was to vouchsafe the morale and moral conduct of the Marines. Questioning the Captain before the crew could only undermine that role and the Chaplain had to be seen to support Toran's decisions, in public at least.

Suddenly the Sensorium rang with alarms and Persion cried, "Energy spike detected, the Orks are charging to fire!"

Toran bellowed, "Brace for Impact!"

All over the ship crewmen ran to close hatches and secure munitions or energy sources, but against all expectations they were not the target. A distant flash from the Ork ships was all the warning anyone had before a projectile was speeding past the Battlebarge to detonate among the fleet, wrecking terrible damage with its gravitic force.

As the bridge rocked from jarring gravity waves Toran roared, "What ship was that?"

Persion shouted back, "The Spetsai, she's hurt badly, energy emissions are diminished and she's bleeding air. They crippled her in one shot!"

Toran ordered, "Put me through to her Captain."

Persion bent to direct the serfs and in a moment the vox snarled with static but it was not a Captain's voice that came through, instead a profusion of tangled shouts and cries burst out, each racked with panic and terror. Toran listened to the overlapping cries and heard the distress in each as they shouted, "Fires raging on deck seventeen… seven hundred dead in the starboard batteries… Where's the damned Medicaes… shut that hatch, shut it now or we lose the ship… the Captain, where's the captain… Help us, for Throne's sake help us!"

Toran saw the noise was disturbing his crew, men looking fearful at the distress filled cries and he said, "Cut that off and get me Captain Mandas."

The vox cut out and the Hololithic pedestal sizzled before projecting the man's image. Mandas looked harassed and frazzled but he saw the link and blurted out, "I know, I know the Spetsai is hit, Captain Horatin and his senior officers are all dead. I've managed to get through to a lieutenant-Commander Grenfeld, they're taking command from the Spetsai's auxiliary bridge."

Toran wasn't surprised the veteran navy man had anticipated his orders and moved on, "Tell them the Spetsai must keep pace with the fleet, we need every gun she has left. And spread the word I am ordering the fleet to initiate the Ollonius manoeuvre."

Mandas raised an eyebrow and said, "Bold, but it just might work, the Imperial Navy will be ready."

Toran ordered, "Good, leave this link open."

He turned and called, "Persion, how long was it between shots?"

Persion answered, "Twelve minutes."

Toran addressed the helm and called, "Furion, how long till we reach effective torpedo range?"

Furion answered without having to look, "Fifteen minutes."

That announcement sent waves of panic across the bridge as Memnos muttered, "The Orks will get off another shot before we can return the favour." It seemed many men reached the same conclusion for hysterical babbling swept the bridge, mean sweating and shaking in fear. The Space Marines growled at the serfs and made them sit down but even their presence could not suppress the fear creeping up into men's hearts, wrapping around their souls and numbing their senses.

It was Wrethan who saw the fear take hold and boldly he stepped forwards, stamping his feet and as all eyes turned to him he lifted his voice in an ancient battle hymn of the Imperium. His voice carried through the hubbub clearly and every man could hear him, the words were ancient, the meaning almost lost to history but the spirit was undeniable. Wrethan sang of brave souls who had stood against the ultimate horror, he sang of noble sacrifice and unyielding defiance, he sang of courage and honour even in the face of death. Slowly a man in the gunnery pews took up the hymn, then those around him and those around them until the whole bridge crew was singing their defiance, their hearts filled with resolute determination.

Toran watched Wrethan march up and down the length of the bridge as the minutes crawled by, knowing that this was a sight he would cherish for the rest of his days. Brave souls defiant in the face of death, a vision of what humanity could achieve if only they were able to unite against every horror the malevolent universe could throw at them. The time crept by as the fleets hurtled towards each other and then just before they could cross into weapons range the alarms shrieked again and Persion cried, "They're firing, they're firing!" The Hololith flashed as the Orks fired another projectile into the fleet and the ship rocked once more from the gravity waves as the icon of a ship flared red.

Toran called, "Who was that?"

Persion looked aghast as he cried, "One of the Firestorms, Triton three is hit… no, she's gone, she's just gone!"

Toran gritted his teeth, knowing that the lives of three thousand brave men had been snuffed out in a moment, but he growled, "They shall be avenged, what are the Orks doing?"

Persion answered, "Rushing forwards, escorts are pulling ahead of the Capital ships, we are facing a wall of gunz, all headed our way."

Toran nodded, "Typical Ork behaviour, Novak is the ordnance ready?"

Novak called, "All set Captain and awaiting your order, everybody knows what to do!"

Toran watched the Hololith as the seconds crawled by and he gripped the command rail tight, but then the fleet crossed a theoretical line, too close for the Orks to use their Nova Cannon but perfect for Ordnance. Toran turned to the image of Mandas and said, "Georgios, would you care to join us in a torpedo volley?"

Mandas grinned savagely and said, "Captain Toran, it would be my genuine pleasure."

Toran nodded and ordered, "All crew begin Ollonius manoeuvre, launch torpedoes!"

The great ship rang as six massive plasma-fired cylinders leapt from her prow, streaking away into the midnight sky. They were joined by a salvo from the Averof and in moments twelve torpedoes were racing for the Ork fleet. Toran watched them in the Hololith as they crawled across the display and muttered, "Take the bait… take the bait."

Suddenly Persion cried, "New contacts, strike craft emerging from the Mork's Fist, Fighter-Bombers are moving to intercept the torpedoes!"

Toran said, "That's not a Kill Kroozer, it's a Terror Ship and it's played right into our hands."

On the Hololith the Ork strike craft moved to intercept the torpedoes and burned hard to match velocities, Toran watched them swing about and let them close, then when the moment was right he cried, "Novak, send the signal!" There was a heart-stopping moment when nothing happened but then the Hololith flashed as more strike craft emerged, right on the torpedoes' tail and pouncing upon the unprepared Ork fighter-bombers. First conceived by a long-dead Ultramarines Chapter Master, the Ollonius manoeuvre required a flight of fighters to fly right in a torpedo's wake and disguise their engine signatures in the plasma wash to surprise a foe. It required expert piloting but then Thunderhawk pilots were the very best the Imperium had to offer.

Toran watched the swirling icons in the Hololith, knowing the tiny dots represented brave men fighting and dying in the cold dark of space. He wanted to be among them, he wanted to meet the Orks head on but knew the pilots had their battles and he had his. He waited until all the Ork strike craft were fully engaged with the Thunderhawks then he turned to Mandas and, "Captain, you may signal the Lemnos, they are clear to launch their strike."

The man nodded and quickly more strike craft entered the fray, squadrons of imperial Starhawk bombers spilling into the dark, headed straight for the Ork fleet. With the Ork's fighter cover engaged there was nothing to stop the bombers and they met the oncoming escort frigates head-on. The void lit up with defensive tracers but the bombers kept going. Tiny flares signalled several bombers being swatted out of the vacuum but the flak barrage could not stop the others and as one the bombers fired their missiles at the escorts. Four brilliant explosions shone clear as day as a group of Ork escorts were obliterated in plasma fire, ripping a gaping hole in the Greenskin's formations.

Cheers erupted on the bridge of the Light of Terra and Persion yelled, "They've done it, we have our opening!"

Memnos muttered, "Still a bloody lot of Orks out there, this is going to cost us."

"We shall weather the storm and emerge unbroken," Toran stated then he ordered, "Signal the fleet forwards, into the fire of hell, into the valley of death!"