To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III

[Machine God]

Everyone on the Bridge waited in tense silence.

 

"Sir? We cannot be sure, but our cogitators estimate a 38% probability that the ident was one we have encountered recently. Battlefleet Tempestus, Light Cruiser, Endeavour-class, Leobardis."

 

 

Draak accessed internal files that he had trawled from the Daggers Thrust's cogitator banks on his return from Viorda Secondus.

 

 

"Captain Achard, I hope that you got a different paint job for your illustrious ship whilst we were at Elysium. I also fervently hope that your transponder signal is stronger and tighter this time." said Draak "You will not be Captain Gisborne this time!"

 

"Rhogau is to the southeast of Viorda and it is a backwater, so it is not surprising to see the Endeavour here alone and not with her sister vessels" stated Draak. "Unless on our next jump we meet the Spear Of Bakka!"

 

"Maybe she is the remains of her group after the Eldar raid?"

 

 

Theoretical. Maybe Jinsho's Master was Inquisitor De Corte? Maybe we a mouse to flush out a cat, but who is the cat - De Corte or Lord Admiral Griev?

 

Draak brought up his Thunder Hammer and admired it.

[Lysimachus]

Achard shakes his head.

 

"Sorry Sergeant Draak, but the Xant system is only a few light years from Viorda, and to the north besides. I fear it is impossible for this to be a coincidence. If that is the Leobardis hiding in that moon's shadow, they must be here on purpose, and so they must have known we would be coming here…"

 

He looks at Lang.

 

"Are you sure you didn't mention Rhogau to anyone? Not just the damn Interrogator, or your precious buyers, or your Hive scum allies. Anyone at all?"

 

Lang looks up from his charts, about to give a short, irritable response. Then he suddenly pauses and a look of worry creeps across his face.

 

"I… I did tell you… that when I was first left on Viorda Prime, I was trying to gather sufficient funds to charter a ship here, yes? (He did, linky) Well, of course… in order to do so I… I first had to find out… how much that would cost?"

 

"But it cannot be that," he pleads. "I was so, so careful! I told the truth when I said I never spoke of Rhogau to anyone! Two merchant Captains were asked about the price of passage, yes, but each of them were approached through several different sets of paid intermediaries. Each of those middle men were either unaware of what question was being asked or unaware of who was asking it. I did not use anyone who worked for that grubby thief Dexter, and I certainly never once explained to anyone why I wanted to go there! In fact, I thought it would be simpler and wiser to convince the Captain of whichever vessel I boarded to work with me only after we were safely on our way there!"

 

The cartographer looks around, dismayed.

 

"How could anyone have connected an unknown individual asking about the price of passage to Rhogau with me or the Pride? Who would have the resources to bring to light the truth from such a tangle among that filthy horde of Underhivers? It is impossible. It has to be a coincidence!"

 

The renegade Captain stops dead. For a moment he stares at the cartographer with a black, incredulous look, then snarls.

 

"Are you joking? Throne! If it is the Inquisition we are facing, they could just flash a damn rosette and pull down every last Hive across Viorda Prime one by one until someone gave them the answer they needed!"

 

Disgusted, he turns to the helmsman, but before he can give any order, the augurman shouts again.

 

"Captain! Multiple contacts now registering across the system!"

 

***

[Black Cohort]

Decimus places his helmet on and locks the seals.  on the internal squad vox "Our only chance in battle with a cruiser is to board them.  A decapitation strike."

[Machine God]

"Captain Achard can't we translate to the warp from here? We're not that far into the system, if Ensign Lang can give you a heading?" asked Draak hefting his Thunder Hammer.

 

"Lang, you keep on saying that you've nearly found the heading. Now think!" growled Draak. "Give us a heading or decide which Leg that you'd rather lose!" 

[Trokair]

"If we have a heading then we should keep it in mind, but we best leave the system in a completely different direction so as to not reveal anything."

 

Brynjarr walked over to Lang to carefully study the Navy mans workings. 

 

“As long as the warp currents are not to temperamental it should be possible to calculate the direction of travel compared to Langs direction and from there realign our curse. Would you concur Captain?”

Edited April 11, 2022 by Trokair

[Lysimachus]

"Navigation, plot all of those augur contacts on the main hololith!"

"Aye sir!"

As his Adepts obey his order, Achard responds to your questions.

"Going to Warp too far in-system is more dangerous than facing an entire Battlefleet, Sergeant! We must reach the Mandeville Point first. Agreed, Brother Brynjarr. Once our 'guide' figures out which star we actually want next, we can jump around a few others first to lose any pursuit before going there. But first we need to get out!"

In a matter of moments the hololithic display changes, moving outwards to show a map of all the celestial bodies within the Rhogau system. The triangular markers that depict the Dagger Thrust and the newly appearing vessels are shown at a vastly inaccurate scale simply to be rendered visible, but they are enough to provide you with a sense of what is happening.

There are enemies emerging from hiding on almost every side.

"Transmission coming in, sir."

The vox officer speaks quietly, worriedly, but the voice that follows his could not be more different. Brash, uncompromising, forceful.

And familiar.

+++This is Captain Martel of the Spear of Bakka. You stand accused of aiding and abetting known heretics during their vile attacks across the Viorda system. You will heave to, shut down all systems other than gravity and life support, and gather your crew in your hold ready to offer me your total surrender.+++

***

[Machine God]

"The Mandeville Point is behind us and we will have the whole of that group shooting at us the whole way" said Draak. "Whereas if we tighten our heading make for the Western boundary of the system we can translate to the Warp there. We would only have to evade the Naja that way. Your thoughts Captain Achard?"

[A.T.]

"Our greater concern should be pursuit as these vessels will track our path through the stars, and we cannot deviate if we are to follow the path laid out for us."

 

Stepping closer to the hololithic he inspected the disposition of the Imperial vessels, the trap they had set within the gravity well of the inner planets unsuccessful. The cobra ahead was small but too fast to evade, it would seek to slow their path with torpedoes and then make chase in the blind spot of the vessel as they pass unless their captain was reckless enough to risk a ramming action.

 

"Make best speed, give them no more than one salvo from their tubes with which to slow us and no room to maneuver until we have passed."

[Machine God]

"Captain Achard, make best speed on our current heading westward's! Prepare all your weapons for an alpha strike when we come in range. We kill the Naja!" said Draak "We punch out on our terms!"

[Lysimachus]

Achard obviously approves of this decisive strategy. His only answer is a nod and a cold half smile, followed by a roared command directed across the breadth of the Bridge.

 

"You heard the Astartes! Helm, maintain our heading west, directly towards the Naja, full speed ahead! Battle stations! Void shields up, gunnery teams to their weapons! They'll get a few torpedoes off, but…" he thumps a fist against the arm of his command throne, "...I'd wager on my Dagger against a Cobra any day of the year!"

 

The burly Captain then looks at the cringing mapmaker, who seems to have forgotten his task and is instead staring fearfully at the hammer brandished by Draak. Achard's voice drops to a seething hiss.

 

"Lang, pull your damn head out of your behind and figure out where we are going next, now! I want to be in the Warp the second we're past the Mandeville Point!"

 

***

[Black Cohort]

"Mortals are rarely logical when their blood is up.  Sgt, may I suggest that we send a mocking reply, perhaps questioning Captain Martel's own manliness, his mother's virtue and the known cowardliness of his homeworld/clan?'

[Trokair]

Brynjarr turned away from Lang’s workstation to glance over at Decimus.

 

“I don’t think that the Captain would fall such a simple ploy, this is not a militia major with something to prove but an experienced navy man with a tactical deck to advise.”

 

“A plea of ignorance, innocence and mistaken identity may buy as more time, with maybe a accusation that to us its looks like a pirate trap and not legitimate imperial authority hence why we are running. Though I doubt it.”  

[A.T.]

"Better to leave them with belief of our guilt, another raider on the fringes of Imperial space", states Odysseus, "there is no novelty in it".

 

To hunt down raiders was a duty but the unknown could drive starship captains to unusual stubborness, especially this far out. The irony of the thought was not lost on Odysseus given their current hunt for a mythical ship adrift beyond inhabited space.

[Lysimachus]

Achard listens as you discuss your options.

 

"The vox is at your disposal, sirs." he offers. "Though based on Captain Martel's accusations, I suspect we were close enough that their augurs have told them exactly what we are, regardless of what we or our transponder might claim? Whatever you wish to say, I advise saying it quickly."

 

The Dagger Thrust accelerates away from the bulk of the Imperial Patrol Group, but races even more quickly towards the also advancing Naja. The Cobra-class Destroyer is a deadly hunter, smaller and faster than even your Sword-class Frigate. Its sleek prow is broken only by its launching tubes, open black maws which now point directly towards you.

 

Minutes pass, then the Naja reaches torpedo range. Immediately it begins to fire. Tiny pips of red light appear on the main hololith as projectiles - that in reality are larger than most shuttlecraft - are spat into the rapidly shrinking gap between the two vessels.

 

Achard grimaces.

 

"Here we go. Point defence batteries, target those torpedoes. Fire as soon as they come in range."

 

The heavyset Captain turns to look at you.

 

"We probably won't take them all out. Fortunately, at this head-on angle of approach we present a very narrow profile and the prow is the most heavily armoured part of the ship. Still… brace for impact."

 

***

[Mazer Rackham]

Amused by Decimus' suggestion, the sobriety of Achard's advice wasn't lost on him.

 

Orphiel checked his pouches were closed and all gear trussed tight to his person.  With a blink-click, he triggered his magboots.

 

The void war was something he could do nothing about, a battle beyond his learning, beyond his control.  At least he could prevent the human crew being crushed into red ruin by his bulk.  He freed his hands, ready to catch anyone unlucky enough to fly in his direction.

[Machine God]

Draak moved away from Astrogation and walked off to a nearby support strut.

 

He watched Archard's crew in action and observed his squad. Draak engaged his mag-boots to anchor himself to the deck.

[Lysimachus]

Four massive torpedoes hurtle through the void, the Naja not far behind them. Its crew is undoubtedly reloading for a second volley, intending to deliver a follow up strike at what is in astral terms point blank range. But Achard smiles.

 

"Their Captain is too eager for the glory of the kill. If we make it through their first salvo, they'll be well within range of our guns. Main batteries, target and stand ready to fire!"

 

Tense seconds pass, then the ship's Gunnery Master speaks.

 

"Torpedoes in range. Firing point defences."

 

Moments later, two of the red pips flash and disappear from the hololith display and the Gunnery Master lets out a yell of triumph.

 

Then the third pip reaches the three-dimensional image of the Dagger, the fourth only a short distance behind it. Around you the entire vessel shudders and jumps as the third torpedo explodes against the curving prow. Lights and displays flutter into momentary darkness, impact klaxons sound, and a few of Achard's less experienced crewmen are thrown from their feet. The rest are barely fazed.

 

"Hit on the starboard side, Captain!"

"The prow absorbed most of it, sir, some damage to the superstructure on decks six and seven!"

 

"Sir!" the augurman suddenly yells. "The fourth torpedo must have an onboard guidance system! Its trajectory dipped for a moment to bring it under the prow, now it's coming back up amidships!"

 

Men and Astartes alike immediately grab hold of stanchions, balustrades or cogitators, bracing for a hit that is most likely about to rip the entire underbelly out of your ship.

 

However, when the weapon strikes, the impact is far, far less than that of the first hit, causing barely a tremor in the deck you stand on. The crew look around, confused for a moment, then they begin to report.

 

"Hit, sir… but barely any damage?"

"Must have been a dud, sir…"

 

"Figure it out later!" Captain Achard roars, focused entirely on the still approaching Cobra. "Before they can fire again; Helm, full ahead! Bring us past them on their port flank, close as you can! Batteries, you have one pass to knock them out, make it count!"

 

The Naja's Captain appears to realise his mistake and attempts to veer off to starboard, but it is too late. The Dagger Thrust sweeps past, less than seven thousand kilometres distant, its main batteries thundering as it goes. Macrocannon and plasma shells, impossibly bright in the black void, rake the smaller escort. Void shields blink and fail under the fusillade, and explosions chase the length of the hull, heavily damaging the port side launch tubes, then the port engine block. Secondary blasts, some even larger than those caused by the Dagger's munitions, further rock the Cobra and send it rolling away from the Sword, spilling heat, light, smoke and countless lives into the cold black.

 

Perhaps this damage is not irreparable, but the ship will not trouble you any further today.

 

Cries of relief and victory cross the bridge, but Achard is all business once more, the only sign of tension a trickle of sweat that he has not yet wiped from his balding head.

 

"Settle yourselves, men! We aren't out yet. Navigation, how long until we cross the Mandeville Point? How far behind us are the rest of them?"

 

"Sixteen minutes, sir!"

"Void Hunter is closest, Captain, but still forty-three minutes to intercept. The rest, nearer an hour. We're clear!"

 

Achard smiles tightly.

 

"Well done, men. Helm, maintain heading and speed. Lang!"

 

The cartographer looks up, shaken by the battle but triumphant in his own personal victory.

 

"Yes, sir, I have it! The next star is now marked in our data-logs and I have forwarded it to your Navigator!"

 

"Finally!" Achard breathes. "Looks like we get to live another da…"

 

The bulky Captain is interrupted by the ship's internal vox flaring to sudden life. The voice that speaks has the monotone, metallic quality of the followers of the Machine God, but it somehow still conveys a sense of urgency and even panic. The transmission is broken by the sound of raised voices and the snap of lasfire.

 

+...truders! Att… …gineerium! Send reinf…+

 

Achard freezes. Your enhanced hearing just picks up the words of sudden realisation that he whispers.

 

"...boarding torpedo…"

 

"Captain," the helmsman cries out, "reactor power is being diverted, plasma drives are shutting down!"

 

After a moment, the navigation officer joins in.

 

"Sir, even without drives our inertia should eventually carry us across the Mandeville… but the rest of the Imperials will intercept long before that happens?"

 

***

[Machine God]

"Captain Achard, get your comms section to scramble their comms out." said Draak.

"Cutlass will split thus: Decimus, Odysseus and Brynjarr go to the Engineerium. Orphiel, Vesalius and Svelk check out the Boarding Torpedo. I will guard the Bridge."

[Mazer Rackham]

Without waiting for the others, Orphiel broke into a jog, sending the Serjant a rune-signal of acknowledgement.

 

On the way out, some Armsmen were setting up a triage station, unravelling battle-dressings and helping those injured in the collision to sit down, nursing bruised bodies and broken limbs.  He deftly plucked a canteen from one of the orderlies, poured it over his hands, rubbing them together, before tossing the canteen back.

 

+Innocens ego sum a sanguine eorum.+

 

And ablutions completed, he ran on, passageways blending into one another, crew and Armsmen running against or with the thunderous tide of armour-plated Astartes sabatons against deck steel, following the red lozenge marking the position of the boarding torpedo.

[A.T.]

A leader at a thousand paces, so be it, there was not the time to question the wisdom or folly of Draaks deployment. This matter must be settled quickly.

[Necronaut]

Vesalius mag-locked his boots in place moments before the projectiles made contact with the Dagger Thrust, and braced himself for the inevitable detonation. Which never came. A dud perhaps? To be so lucky…

 

As the claxon sounded, he knew its meaning before the vox transmission from one of the tech-thralls in the lower decks. Boarding parties. How rare it is that our prey should come to us.

 

He was already in motion when Draak barked deployment orders at Cutlass, and he paused briefly to scowl at his new sergeant and his obscene maul before nodding curtly and following Orphiel and Svelk out towards the boarding torpedo's point of impact.

 

As he passed by the triage station, he fought the sudden, almost mechanical urge to take command of the ship's medical teams and organize treatment of the wounded. Such actions could wait for once they were safely out of the reach of the Imperial Navy. For now there was blood to be spilled. He blink-clicked the life runes and associated physical data-streams for the other two members of his demi-squad for priority monitoring and continued after them.

 

He voxed the other members of the demi-squad, +Let us not waste precious ammunition on this rabble without due cause,+ as he drew his blades. How strange, he thought to himself, that Lancet should be paired as a main gauche to such an inelegant and brutal meat cleaver as what he now held in his dominant hand, but such was the way of things in this line of work.

 

+Allow me to proceed ahead to reconnoiter and assess our guests's whereabouts and numbers before we give them a proper welcome.+

 

He privately whispered another command into his helm's augury systems as they worked their way down into the lower decks.

 

"Preysense."

 

OOC: I'll have Vesalius start off in solo mode to scout ahead of Orphiel and Svelk. Ideally I think we should attempt to coordinate a pincer attack with Vesalius moving in to support a primary assault made by Svelk and Orphiel. Vesalius would engage from stealth to cut off any path of retreat. Something to that effect.

 

Let me know what silent movement, concealment and/or tactics rolls need to be made.

[Beren]

Svelk had been silent, and motionless, and events had unfolded on the bridge. Watching, waiting. A tremble in his blood.

 

This would still be a small skirmish, as far as tales of void-battles went, but thoughts still flickered through his mind, the tales of ships burning before alien suns, fleets crashing in wroth. SKies full of stars, and every star a ship in the throes of death.

 

Orders, barked by Draak. Svelk's body uncoils, limbs fluidly dropping down to grasp axe and knife, hearts pounding in his ears as he speeds into a loping sprint alongside the two other squad members. Orphiel, the slippery blade, and Vesalius the fleshworker. Skilled killers both. Just like old times. His sights blaze with the heat-signatures of the surrounding mortals.

 

+++Agreed.+++

, he voes back in response to Vesalius' comments.

 

Three. Three hunters once more.

[Lysimachus]

You rush from the Bridge, travelling down from the command deck to hunt for these foolishly intrepid invaders. Just as you are about to break off into the fire teams assigned by your Sergeant and take separate routes to different objectives, Mister Holger appears suddenly from a stairwell, climbing up from the lower levels of the ship. He has one hand pressed to his ear, listening to a micro-bead as he moves towards you.

 

"My lords!" he calls, his voice raised to get your attention, but still calmly professional. "I am relieved to see you. The torpedo punched right through the lower maintenance deck and penetrated up onto the primary arterial corridor, approximately two-thirds of the way along the hull. Compartments that were void-breached by the strike have now been sealed by emergency bulkheads, and I have assigned squads of armsmen to guard those access points. Reports are… incomplete… but seem to indicate that several squads of intruders disembarked from the torpedo. However, they appear to have abandoned their transport entirely and headed aft in force. I suspect their sole intention is to fortify the Engineerium and hold out until the rest of their patrol fleet overtakes us? Bosuns and crew chiefs have been ordered to rally their teams and strike back at the Imperials, but I fear that gathering them in sufficient numbers will take too long?"

 

Then Captain Achard's voice breaks in over the squad vox.

 

"We are receiving another vox broadcast from the Spear of Bakka. I have not responded, but it is being played on repeat. Transmitting the message to your channel now." He pauses, then appeals quietly. "Please, get us underway again as quickly as possible. None of us want to still be here when they arrive."

 

The recording plays back. It is not Captain Martel. Another voice whispers, as soft and dry as the crumbling of millennia old bones, utterly calm and impossibly cold - like the void between galaxies itself. The bleak, tired, absolute conviction of its tone gives the words a deeply threatening edge, more so than any amount of fire and fury could have added.

 

+++Attention, Iron Gods. I am Inquisitor Syrus Von Lombart of the Ordo Hereticus. I knew that you would come here to Rhogau. I knew that you would try to flee from the judgement of your betters, and I knew how my troops could prevent your cowardly escape. Further, I now know that, just as planned, you will be taken from your vessel alive. I know that you will reveal unto me every guilt, every secret, whether of heinous deeds committed or of thoughts buried in the black depths of mind and heart. I know that you will then answer for each and every one of those treacheries with suffering and torment everlasting.+++

 

***

 

If Vesalius wants to scout ahead for the team, please roll a Silent Move and a Concealment Test. Then we can see what you are up against! (Everyone else, feel free to post your thoughts about Holger's information or the latest vox message!)

[Mazer Rackham]

Orphiel grunted appreciation for Vesalius' offer of reconnaissance.  The time spent in intelligence gathering would offset any lost by hesitation with useful dividend.  He and the others slowed to a more cautious pace.

 

As Svelk's agreement dropped over their shared channel, Orphiel deployed his assent to the plan in Astartes battle sign.  Once that was done, he slowly drew Zachariah's Steel, taking it in both hands.

 

The Surgeon was right - they should leverage the raw power of the Astartes in close quarters.

 

Holger erupted from one of the ship's ladders and gave them the updates on the intrusion.

 

+...I know that you will reveal unto me every guilt, every secret, whether of heinous deeds committed or of thoughts buried in the black depths of mind and heart..+

 

Orphiel allowed the message to repeat, before shaking his head, a rueful smile seizing his lips.

 

What did mortals know of secrets?  What did Von Lombard know of keeping them?  He killed the auxiliary channel saturated with bombast and dire threat.  He turned the edge of the blade so it disappeared in the flickering light of the lumenstrips above, only to flash back into reality as he loosened his wrists.  In truth the Inquisitor would be doing the Unforgiven a great service - and he would merely be a pawn in the game, removed from the board, but the bitter taste in his mouth wasn't just a spasm of his Betcher's Gland.

 

Perhaps some of these rogues deserved it, yet the old tales came to mind.  The Desperation of Iudas.  The Just Men of Chodam and Ormaggrah.

 

The truth, like the blade eluded his sight.  Truth - what is that?  Focus.

 

There were secrets to keep.

 

He smiled.  Good enough for now.

Edited April 15, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Black Cohort]

"If we are all heading to the engineerium than we should strike at two separate entry points.  They may attempt to damage the reactor to destroy us outright if it is clear they cannot hold long enough."

 

He turns to look at Holger.

 

"Can you give me shipwide vox?"