Saeva Abyssi Chapter 5

In the silence of the void the predators moved, slipping inexorably closer to their prey like a pack of wolves upon a lost lamb. They moved with eerie grace no Mon-Keigh vessel could match, confident that their Mimic Engines would fool the target. The false face of deception was a tactic they had honed to perfection and it was one that they had performed countless times before.

Aboard the Rapture of Excruciation Athra J'rect was lounging back in his throne, peering up at the display above him. Projected before him was the green gas giant and he was carefully examining it, like a jeweller would an uncut emerald. He was entranced by its bands of clouds, its swirling storms and multifaceted hues, with just a few specks of flaws hinting at mysterious objects in the depths. Just because he delighted in pain and suffering did not mean that he could not appreciate natural beauty and he mused that there was still splendour in the universe. A shame, he thought, that it was wasted on brutish primitives like Orks, Fraal, Tau and Mon-Keigh.

The thought of that brought Athra back to the present and he sent a psychic impulse to bring up a tactical display. Instantly a projection appeared before him, showing his fleet closing upon the Mon-Keigh scow, all alone and isolated. He knew that the sight of the vessel would be a disappointment, the Mon-Keigh junker would possess not a hint of elegance or taste. The only thing more depressing than Mon-Keigh boorishness was their monotonous repetition. One vessel being pretty much interchangeable with any other, much like the members of the race itself. They had long since lost any hint of original thought and only aped the designs of an earlier, slightly less crude age. Truly the entire species deserved to be ground under the heel of Commorragh, they almost made it too easy.

Athra sighed, "I am almost sorry for this."

Behind him Dramaq loomed in his thick armour and growled, "You pity the Mon-Keigh?"

Athra scowled in annoyance, pity was as foreign to an Archon as compassion or trust and he spat, "I meant that it will all be over so swiftly. I would have liked to have drawn out their deaths, to savour their despair when they realised our innate superiority."

Dramaq sounded dismissive as he said, "Dead is dead and a foe that yet breathes is still a threat."

Athra shook his head as he considered his bodyguard. Like all Dark Eldar an Incubus fed upon suffering but they seemed puzzlingly uninterested in it. Instead focussing upon honing their skills and seeking out the most exquisite of blows, the most impeccable of killing strikes. It was a strange attitude but Athra knew it was most useful, if the Mon-Keigh Gene-Bulks came within sword range Dramaq would slice them into ribbons. Athra toyed with the idea of letting the Gene-Bulks board his ship, just for the thrill of the fight but then he dismissed it. He hadn't lived this long by letting enemies get within striking distance, not when he could obliterate them from afar.

Athra turned and looked at his other enemies, the tainted gene-bulks standing at the back of the bridge. Their hefty plate quite spoiled the lovely lines of his ship and their rank stench filled the room with a sweaty tang. It was insulting to have them here, the only compensation the knowledge that they were trapped and cut off here with him. Athra wondered if the Mon-Keigh had any idea of how badly they stank to Eldar senses, the way their filthy bodies reeked of sweat and dirt. Then he laughed to himself, who cared what Mon-Keigh thought, the entire barbaric race was beneath his notice.

Athra was shaken from his musings when a crewman turned and addressed him, "Great Archon, there is an issue."

Athra glanced at the crewman's face, making a mental note to have him tortured later on for daring to bring bad news before his lord. Outwardly though he said, "What is it?"

The crewman answered, "We have sighted the Mon-Keigh junk-heap but we cannot identify it, it does not match our records."

Athra frowned at that and sent a psychic impulse to bring up a projected image. The screen responded, displaying the prey with perfect clarity but the sight made Athra start. It was typical of its brutish makers, being all heavy armour, hefty guns and ridiculously oversized thrusters, but it was also different too. In a long lifetime Athra had seen every type of vessel and craft in the galaxy, but this matched none that he had seen before. Could it be, had the Mon-Keigh made something original at last?

Athra turned and called, "Sorcerer, come look at this."

There was a heavy crump and Beta approached and said, "Yes, how may I be of service?"

Athra said, "What is this?"

Beta sneered and said, "Oh dear are you out of your depth? Let me help you."

Athra gritted his teeth and snarled, "Just tell me what you see."

Beta looked up and paused then after a moment said, "Yes I see, most unusual. It reminds me of the Rogue Trader Explorators we dispatched during the Great Crusade but one of a non-standard design. A shame you did not let me bring my Flagship, the Shadow would make short work of this ship."

Athra spat, "Well it is not here, can you at least find me a weak point?"

Beta turned and reached out for a rune on Athra's throne but before he could complete the gesture there was a blur and out of nowhere Dramaq appeared, his Klaive poised one millimetre from the Sorcerer's jugular. There was a rush of air and suddenly the one called Gamma was behind them, his axe resting on the back of Dramaq's neck. Athra was thrilled by the danger in the air, the threat making a delightful frisson on his tongue. He savoured the experience for a moment then said, "Now, now we are all friends here, let us not spoil things with vulgar bloodshed."

Everybody slowly lowered their blades, eyes promising retribution and reprisals at later dates. Beta rubbed his neck and called, "Epsilon is our tech-expert, let him take a look."

Another brutish Gene-bulk stepped up to a console and shouldered aside the operator, then he bent down and peered at a readout.

After a minute he stood up and said, "The design is non-standard, neither Battlebarge nor Strike Cruiser. Priority target is a Thunderhawk bay located under the ventral prow, cripple that and you should enjoy total Strike Craft supremacy."

The crew bristled to be given directions by a primitive but Athra waved them to obey saying, "Send the targeting data to the fleet, I want a staggered barrage of Phantom Lances from all craft. Tell them anyone who misses will spend an eternity in my torture gardens."

As the crew obeyed Athra turned to Beta and said, "The prey is idle and vulnerable, soon you will witness the power of a superior race." Beta didn't reply, merely looking up and waiting as the long minutes slid by and the fleet closed upon the Mon-Keigh junker. The target seemed blissfully unaware of the threat hiding behind the power of the Mimic Engines and victory seemed assured. But then there was a loud chime and Epsilon called, "Energy spike, they are raising shields!"

Beta sounded smug as he commented, "So much for the power of a superior race, it looks like you now have a serious challenge on your hands."

Athra however merely grinned and said, "No, now it gets fun."

The fleet continued to close, the Mon-Keigh scow growing in the display and then Epsilon called, "They are sending a challenge, they demand proper authorisation or they will open fire."

Beta replied, "Tell them that we are the Inquisition, that usually cows the Throne-Worshippers."

Epsilon sent the message but nothing happened. Then there was a flash of light and an alarm wailed as a single shot flew past their bow, a clear message in any language. Athra smirked at Beta's poorly hidden flash of trepidation and let the moment play out for a heartbeat longer. Then he was calling, "Disengage Mimic Engines and raise Shadow-fields. Dive the fleet, take us underneath them!"

In moments the Dark Eldar fleet emerged from their false seeming, shimmering with haze as they raised their protective distortion fields. Simultaneously they were pirouetting and diving downwards, dropping below the horizontal and exploiting the three-dimensional nature of space. The manoeuvre caught the prey off guard, no Mon-Keigh vessel could hope to dance through the void in such a manner. The Eldar glided past the waiting gun batteries with ease, skipping beneath the scow's hull with unnatural grace. It was like they were somehow flying in a vacuum, soaring on gusts of wind rather than brute thrust.

The craft dove beneath the target and before the junker could hope to respond they pulled up and rose vertically, darting straight at the slab-like hull. There was a shimmer of power and then a searing bright burst of energy signalled a Phantom Lance spearing right into the target's shields. Another and another and another shot out in a perfectly orchestrated sequence and the shields shimmered as they struggled to cope. Then there was an electro-static bang and the shields collapsed, letting a ravening beam tear into the hull. The blast struck directly into the open and exposed launch bay, cutting into it at an acute angle. There was a bloom of fire and then a fierce explosion as power conduits blew out and fuel bowsers detonated, filling the open bay with fire and debris. The Eldar however did not sit still to witness the results of their labour, instead breaking off and scattering in all directions before their victim could fight back.

On the bridge Athra was laughing in delight and called, "Tell me how they bleed!"

Epsilon spoke out to say, "Launch bay crippled, their craft are intact inside but have no way to exit."

Athra declared, "Good, now we can pick them apart with ease."

The display shimmered and Athra saw his fleet circling the Mon-Keigh scow, each craft darting in and out like Mastiffs nipping at an Ursal's rear. They stuck at its recovering shields over and over, keeping their victim off balance and unable to restore its protection. The Mon-Keigh tried to respond with bursts of firepower but the Eldar darted back and forth, in a dazzling display of skill and the prey had no chance to focus its guns.

Athra was laughing at the sight, even as the stars pin-wheeled in the display and he cried, "Look how they bleed, they lumber about like one of the beasts in the Wych-Cult arenas!"

Dramaq commented, "But like those beasts, they remain dangerous."

As they watched the Mon-Keigh scow was rolling over, spinning on its own axis to bring a broadside to bear. It targeted one of the Dark Eldar's cruisers and then unleashed a rolling broadside of destruction. Ranked tiers of guns, las, missiles and plasma shot out into the void, inundating space itself in a swathe of destruction. The targeted Cruiser dodged and weaved about in a desperate attempt to evade. Its Shadow-field may have thrown off the targeting of the broadside but it provided no physical protection and there were explosions all around it. Athra saw a single plasma blast catch the Cruiser dead on, blowing apart its hull in a wave of burning destruction. Wraithbone dissolved in a blazing inferno and delicate mechanisms were shattered while the crew caught in the blast were turned to ash by crude, brute force. The Cruiser was hit hard but it survived and darted away, bleeding energy and bodies from a massive hole blown in its side.

Athra's jubilance disappeared and he snarled, "How dare they strike their betters!"

"Their Shields are still down," declared Dramaq, "Shall we gather the fleet for one overwhelming attack, a spear to the heart to finish them off? "

Athra waved the suggestion aside and said, "No, I have a more elegant solution in mind, we shall launch the strike craft. Let them see death descend upon them on a thousand black wings."