Planet Fall
"Attention, Imperial Citizens, Xenos attack imminent," Derosa's voice boomed over loudspeakers, breaking the early morning silence. "Proceed to your nearest Hab Shelter and await further instructions. Display identity badges at all times. Report Xenos sightings without delay. Imperial Guard units are moving to intercept.
"It is the responsibility of all under the Emperor's light to report Xenos activity to the nearest authorities. Failure to do so will be deemed an act of heresy. Vigilance in these dark days will be our greatest asset. Fear not the Alien, for he is beneath you, beneath all of us. Through our iron resolve, our great cities shall be kept safe! In the Emperor's name, we shall be triumphant!"
Zaritz was losing the fight in space. The Ork fleet had raced towards Meridian, firing relentlessly at the communications satellites, fleeing ships, and any other juicy targets. But when the Rok had begun strafing Harkoven, Zaritz's composure broke. Surely they had been spotted. Rather than wait for the Orks to pass before striking the rearguard of their fleet, Zaritz panicked, thrusting his task force into direct combat with the Xenos. The Battleship Ameratus stormed forward at the head of the fleet.
The eight kilometer long warship was designed to operate alone, used in sector patrols where allocating further battleships would be a waste of resources. Bristling with lance weaponry, gun batteries and a healthy complement of attack craft, in the right hands, an Oberon could overcome most threats with minimal damage. But such determination was only provided by the officer commanding the vessel. Zaritz was not one such individual. He could not handle the feedback loop the ship was funneling into his mind, attached to the vessel's machine spirit through a series of cables connected to his skull.
His woefully outnumbered ships drove recklessly at the massive Rok, every last wing of attack craft launching at once, lances firing ceaselessly, and all batteries unleashing their volleys. Wings of Starhawk bombers streaked out from the Ameratus's hangars, tearing a path through the rickety Greenskin fighter bombers that swung about to receive them. Squadrons of Fury interceptors tangled with the Ork crafts, disregarding coordination in favor of a mindless, swirling ball of weaving and spinning starfighters.
It was utter carnage, playing out against the silent vacuum of space. Zaritz's unrelenting assault against the Orks was doing tremendous damage to the Greenskin ships, but the toll it took on his own vessels was swiftly ramping up. A formation of six Cobra Destroyers, racing around behind the Rok, were suddenly obliterated as the asteroid's defenses awakened. The large, jagged outcroppings that Zaritz had taken as mere surface details on the Rok retracted to reveal a vicious array of heavy weapons batteries. Before the Destroyers had a chance to orient their ships away from the Rok's guns, the missile salvos struck each Cobra along their spindly broadsides, pummeling their shields before snapping the ships in two in a series of brilliant, silent detonations.
Arematus suddenly found itself missing a third of its escort craft. The Battleship's shields were still holding steady from the Kroozers constant barrages, but Meridian's orbit was fast losing ground to the Greenskin pressure. Zaritz watched the massacre unfold in front of him, his eyes glazed over, staring blankly through the Battleship's transparent metal windows. Zaritz's comm officer bellowed at the admiral for orders, but he never heard the man. Zaritz sat frozen in his chair, unable to think clearly, and incapable of responding. Flying sparks ignited a series of fires across the bridge, and several crewmen rushed to extinguish the blaze.
First Officer Marhawk watched the disaster unfold, doing his best to rally the crewmen and bridge operators. Zaritz's own negligence had caused enough damage, they didn't need the rest of the vessel falling into disarray. "Back to your stations!" barked Marhawk, "You are Naval officers, act like it!"
The crew either did not hear, or did not care about Marhawk's words. Sighing, Marhawk quietly motioned to a dark figure, lurking in the shadows behind the Admiral's throne. The man nodded, casually pulling his ornate laspistol from its holster and aiming it at Zaritz head. The shot echoed across the bridge, drawing the attention of the crew. The Fleet Commissar spoke plainly. "All shall do their duty or face my judgement. Commander Marhawk, you are in command now. Do not follow in your predecessor's footsteps."
Two ratings pulled the limp body of the Vice Admiral out of the chair, now splattered with blood and brain matter. Marhawk swept the worst of the mess aside, and seated himself on the throne. The device's mechanical fixtures extended, attaching to several wire placements embedded in his cranium. Marhawk shivered with the sudden surge of energy as the couplings activated, and suddenly, his consciousness was one with the Arematus.
He could feel the ship's wounds, the deep gullies scored by direct shots from the Ork Rok's batteries. The remainder of the fleet's ships spoke to him through their captain's mental links. It was time to turn events to their favor. Marhawk remained calm, speaking through the Astropathic Relay to the other captains. "All remaining ships, pull back to the Arematus, Delta Helix Formation. Drop to Grid 17 and await my signal."
The flotilla obliged, forming up into a three layered triangle, with the Battleship taking the spear point position in the center layer. The Orks had wisely pulled back from the combined forces, instead focusing on breaching Meridian airspace. Marhawk knew he could not stop the invasion now, but he could still prevent the Orks from escaping. If the Orks wished to land, they would do so, but on the Navy's terms. They would crash the dreadnought before they let them land.
The time was right. The Orks had moved sufficiently far enough away for Marhawk's plan to unfold. The Delta Helix formation involved a multi layered spearhead that struck an individual target by circling around a target and unleashing a cascade of broadsides into the ship. The continuous motion of the maneuver made it difficult for the target to track the multiple vessels, and with the proper timing, the overlapping helixes would allow ships to cover one another with their shielding. All through the movement, the ships would endlessly pour fire into the enemy ship. The maneuver required precise timing to avoid collision at such close range, but done properly, any ship caught in the center was invariably doomed.
"All ships, engage!" roared Marhawk. The ragged fleet formed up on the Battleship, forming their three layered triangle. A squadron of Ork Kroozers fell back to intercept them, only to face a punishing volley of lance blasts that seared their cobbled together hulls, obliterating them. The Rok's short range defenses began lighting up, anti strike craft weapons and point defense batteries arcing out from the misshapen vessel. Concentrated shots from the Frigate squadrons silenced a number of guns, taking only minimal losses in return.
At the crest of the Rok, the second phase of the maneuver began. The three delta formations split off in opposing directions, circling the Ork craft and unleashing punishing fire on the Xenos. Entire decks were opened to the vacuum of space, tiny specks of Greenskins being blown into the void by the sudden decompression. Marhawk's plan was working, and the commander rewarded himself a small grin. He would be a hero for this, surely. There was nothing that could stop the organized might of the Imperium.
The Rok's defenses claimed few ships in the second engagement. The disciplined naval crews had all but stripped the vast ship of its defensive armaments, leaving it little more than a mobile hunk of metal and stone. Marhawk pushed his advantage, targeting the Rok's primary engine clusters. The Arematus's forward lance cannons disintegrated the thruster packs in a brilliant explosion. The Rok began to break apart, massive explosions rippling through the ship's superstructure.
"The rest of the fleet is breaking off, Commander!" said the now elated Comms officer. Cheers echoed across the bridge, and Marhawk breathed a sigh of relief. With their flagship gone, the remaining Ork Kroozers had scattered in confusion. It was typical of their race. With no central leadership, they would be as confused as a grox calf separated from its herd. Marhawk proudly ordered the frigates to pursue the fleeing vessels, intent on scouring the skies of anything green.
The shattered Rok drifted along Meridian's axis, occasionally sparking and bursting into flames as deck seals burst. Within the mangled innards of the largest chunk, the former Mek's Grot assistants were clawing their way through the ductwork. Snigrot, their current leader, was leading the rest of his minions deeper and deeper into the bowels of the dead ship. Kicking a floor grate open, the Grots clambered into a large antechamber, dominated by a massive coil. The device sparked with electricity, the bulb on the end arcing towards sinks in the chamber's walls.
Snigrot gave the Grots a sharp kick. "You rememba wot da mek said! If da ship evah gets too dakka'd ta fight, we'z was supposed to meet 'ere, and turn dat fing on!"
The Gretchin on the receiving end of Snigrot's foot spoke. "But wot does it do? Da Mek nevah told us!"
Snigrot gave him another kick, sending the sap yelping away. "Idiot! Da Mek wouldn't tell you lot, you'z all too dim to undastand da propa tech! Only I know how da fing works! Now turn it on!"
Somewhat reluctantly, the Grots got to work. Snigrot watched with anticipation as the coil ignited, bathing the room with blue electrical bursts. The device was working. Of all the Mek's madcap inventions, this one had to be Snigrot's favorite. Who needed a personal teleporter when you could be everywhere at once?
The third Kroozer had barely made the Warp jump by the time Arematus had finished off its two allies. The chase had taken them to the edge of Meridian's space, just beyond the moon of Forestal. Though battered and bloodied (in no small part to Zaritz's inept performance), Marhawk had managed to achieve a hard fought victory for the Imperium. The Ork forces had been driven off at the cost of many lives. But it was worth the effort. Billions more would have died if not for their sacrifice.
"Attention fleet, break off pursuit and return to Meridian orbit," announced Marhawk. There was no sense in continuing the chase. The Greenskin Kroozers would pose little threat on their own, nothing that convoy escorts could not fend off. Hauling the remains of the Rok away before their orbit decayed would be their priority. "Lieutenant, contact Meridian ATC and relay our scans of the Xenos debris."
"Aye sir," said the Comms officer. After recounting his orders to the Air Traffic Control station, the Lieutenant's face morphed into a look of horror as he listened to their response. The lieutenant looked up to Commander Marhawk, fear in his eyes.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" demanded Marhawk. "Speak!"
"It's... it's the Greenskin ship, sir," said the officer weakly. "The Rok has set a collision course for Angel Hive."
Marhawk was aghast. The Commissar looked on impassively, watching the conversation from the shadows. "Impossible, we disabled their propulsion systems! How could they possibly alter their vector?"
"I don't know sir, but nearly thirty large sections of the Rok have altered course somehow. We are too far out to intercept them."
Marhawk quickly contacted the fleet. "This is Commander Marhawk, all ships, make for Meridian at full speed! Arrange yourselves in a geosynchronous orbit directly above Angel Hive, fire support pattern Gamma. We're not out of this yet!"
The grey sky was suddenly broken by a rain of fiery meteors. Breaking through the cloud cover, dozens of kilometer long rocks and metal frames were careening towards the surface of Meridian. The Orks had somehow reset their collision course with Angel Hive, throwing the split remains of their Rok at the planet with the use of some tractor beam device. Hundreds of smaller meteors, each filled to the brim with battle ready Boyz.
At their approach, the mighty void shields protecting Capitol Spire and Angel Forge activated, blanketing the vast complexes in a layered defense impregnable to all but the most powerful weapons. Planetary defense fortresses unleashed their salvos into the sky, missile barrages and flak turrets firing ceaselessly into the shower of Xenos vessels. The Navy air force squadrons scrambled to their fighters and gunships, taking to the skies to intercept the swarms of Ork aircraft that had followed their dying Rok into the atmosphere.
Valeris Hexus leapt aboard her Thunderbolt fighter, rocketing out of the Golgotha 3 Defense Fortress's hangar. Helios Squadron formed up at a level flight three thousand meters above Temple Hill, the tallest landmark of Golgotha Spire. Calling in, Valeris rambled off her call-sign. "Helios 2, standing by."
Squadron Leader Tyrell addressed the squadron. "All right, Helios, set course for heading Argus Two Four Niner. We're flying air superiority for the ground forces over Southeast Sector Grid 11. Gun Crew 77 will provide surface fire to bottle the junkers up. We form up with the 833rd Joint Interception Wing at Grid 11. Emperor's eyes on the skies, comrades."
Helios squadron peeled to the right, towards the inland hab blocks. Four significant Xenos constructs broke the cloud cover, melting the billowing snow with the heat of re-entry. 833rd Wing assembled at the coordinates, a mixed unit with both Thunderbolt Fighters and Marauder Bombers. The Bombers would act as mobile gunships and command centers, diving into the thick of Ork airspace as bait, while the Thunderbolts would pounce on the fighters that would close in on the slow moving targets.
"Flight two, engaging!" said Valeris. Half the Helios squadron banked left after her, six fighters in a diamond formation. The Mars Pattern-47 Thunderbolts had only recently been shipped into Meridian, but Valeris already adored the updated model. An incredibly improved roll rate at low altitudes, as well as minor tweaks to the vectored pulse engines provided her a craft that not only carried enough firepower to devastate an entire armored column, but also was able to outmaneuver anything the Greenskins could throw at them.
The Marauder squadrons smashed into the Ork formations, gunners fearlessly baiting entire hordes of fighter-bombas and Jet craft after them. At 1500 feet over an industrial park, Valeris took her first shots at the invaders. Deploying her flaps, she cut her speed in two, dropping behind a Fighta making a run at her wingman, Helios 4. Davoss was struggling to shake the red painted fighter, and the flyboy had already scored several hits across the 47's rear fuselage. Valeris angled her nose just above and to the right of the Fighta, her thumb sitting on the trigger.
Davoss pulled left, the Fighta pulled right, putting him directly in Valeris's sights. She jammed the trigger down, and her fighter's nose mounted autocannons blasted the junker to smithereens. The remains of the Ork fighter fell out of the sky in flames. "Thanks for the assist, Helios 2," said Davoss, relief obvious across the Vox.
"Any time, 4," smiled Valeris. "Form up on my six."
"Roger that."
The two Thunderbolts looped back into the dogfight. Through her canopy, Valeris watched the Rok continue to descend. The three smaller bastions had struck the Golgotha itself, while the largest had smashed into Lake Aradine. Valeris sighed. Uprooting the Orks would fall to the Guard now. Until then, the sky was still too green for her liking.
The anti air batteries were effectively keeping the Ork junkers contained. Buzzing like hornets around the Navy squadrons, most were easy targets in the crowded air. Some Orks were breaking for the skyscraper canyons below to avoid the AA guns, where their fighter bombers wreaked havoc on Guard convoys moving through the city. Helios squadron regrouped, and pursued.
"Incoming, get down!" screamed the guardsmen. The Vendoland 4th company convoy broke for the cover of the buildings as a swarm of Ork fighters swept down over them, tearing up the streets with machine gun fire. Kippler dove through the doorway, shots nipping at his feet. Troopers not fast enough were cut down in the street, others still trapped in their Chimeras when the Orks strafed them again and again. The whine of Ork turbines whipped past, followed closely by the sweeping roar of Imperial engines.
The Daredevils popped their heads outside just in time to see a flight of Thunderbolts passing overhead, driving off the Orks. The Vendolanders cheered at the navy's timely arrival, pouring back out onto the streets and continuing forward. The Guard's projections had been off. The Orks had landed in the city directly, rather than to the south as they had anticipated. The 85th Vendoland was pulling back to the interior. The nearest Rok base had landed just inside the Luesan Canal, that separated the Golgotha mainland from the Luesan Island based cargo warehouses. Every second wasted was time the Orks would use to spread out across the island.
Captain Uther was at the front of the column, alongside Connor and Lieutenant Hunder. Hunder produced a handheld chart for Uther. "There are six bridges crossing the Canal along the south side, sir," he explained. "We're on the heading for the Southgate Bridge here. It is large enough to ferry the convoy across without much trouble, but Trench Skipper squad says that they have sighed heavy enemy movements on the other side of the bridge."
Uther looked over the map, analyzing the crossing in question. "Have the Trench Skippers hold tight, Jorin," said Uther. "Get Daredevil squad up here, Connor, we'll use both Grenadier teams to clear the bridge for the rest of the convoy. I'll get on the vox with Lester and see if he can send some more air support our way."
"Aye sir," said Hunder, jogging off to collect Kippler's squad.
"Something on your mind, Commissar?" asked Uther knowingly, his voice filled with fake meekness. He knew well enough when Connor was annoyed. He gave her a small smile, looking at her expectantly.
"I am concerned about your choice of units for this mission, Lars," she said bluntly. Connor was very forward with her opinions. Obfuscating things cost lives. It made her difficult to deal with at times, however. Such as now. Uther did not need an argument at the moment.
"You don't think that the Daredevils are up to it?" asked Uther. "I put Kippler in charge because I trust him to get the job done. He's the best man I have with my sergeants unavailable. He hasn't let me down yet."
"And he was also suddenly given command of an entire squad today," countered Connor. "The men from the 46th aren't used to him yet, and he isn't used to them. If this turns out to be a problem, we could very well lose both the Daredevils and the Trench Skippers."
Lars was adamant with his decision. "Both teams are going, that's final. Now, unless you plan to join them, we can get back to putting this convoy on track."
"Very well," said Connor coldly. She pulled her bolt pistol from its holster, and unsheathed her power sword, electrical sparks running along the shaft. Uther squinted. She wasn't serious was she?
"Very well what?" he said cautiously, still unsure what Connor's intention was. Would she really try to kill him over a disagreement? But instead, Connor simply walked away, still brandishing both weapons. "Connor, what are you doing?"
"Joining them," she said without looking back. "Perhaps with me around, the damage can be focused on the Orks rather than ourselves."
"Fine then, as you see fit, Commissar," spat Uther. The lack of trust stung him, but the Captain put it aside. This was no time for personal feelings to interfere with his judgement. If Connor wanted to join them, that was her decision, and, as a Commissar, he had no say over her actions.
The Daredevils ran by, lead by Jorin and Connor. Uther jumped onto the lead chimera, intent on contacting Colonel Lester for some much needed air support. The skies were filled with crisscrossing trails of smoke from crashing fighters, and the air was filled with the smell of powder discharge and rocket propellant. The smell stung at his sinuses, and with the cold winds sweeping through the streets, Lars was glad to drop into the warm confines of the troop transport. Let Elle take the bridge, he thought. She'd see he was right.
The Trench Skippers were hugging the low wall that ran along the side of the Luesan Canal. Across the bridge, Sergeant Ennis could see dozens of Greenskins moving along the streets. Behind them, trucks and mechs trundled along, smashing shops open for the Xenos to loot. Ennis's troopers had managed to get into position unnoticed over the sound of gunfire and the air battle, but moving across the bridge would be suicide without backup. So the grenadiers waited, watching for anything that could give them an edge over the Orks.
As it turned out, the edge arrived from behind the Trench Skippers. A dozen guardsmen, some dressed as grenadiers, others infantrymen, moved in quickly, running at a half crouch to Ennis's men. A familiar, if pallid looking soldier with unkempt black hair spoke. "Daredevils at your service. Who do you need blown up?"
Author's note: Time for some fun.