Week 8 - Finale

[IncubiLord]

Seasons change, and Centarius becomes a less-hospitable world.

While the world turns towards its harsher seasons, the Imperial fleet breaks orbit. Unprepared for such a prolonged siege and unsuccessful at their rescue attempt, they make a desperate final push to guard the Black Ship as it lifts off. Yet the skies are full of enemies, and there is no salvation for the Inquisitorial vessel which landed upon Centarius. Destroyed as it rose from the planet, parts of the Black ship smashed to the ground across Ionia and Mycenea, and it is possible that the human cargo within some of the larger fragments survived.

Defeated, the Imperial fleet could only fight for their lives as Ork and Tyranid vessels chased them from the system – whilst fighting each other. The survivors take with them a dark tale of the horrors this Tau-claimed world now offers.

As the long night of the Polar North circles ‘round to the Castellan mines, many Chaos forces leave the world, their job goal seemingly accomplished. They leave in their place a series of siege-works, bunkers, reinforced walls and fortresses – all manned by those cultists who were left behind. Darkness reaching the surface heralds more attacks by Tyranids, the shadows proving an effective ally for predators from beyond our galaxy.

Snow settles upon the ruined landscape of Genesis, the pure white lending an odd beauty to the land-locked corals and ancient structures which rose from the depths so recently. This barren land will likely be quiet for months to come, yet some of the scarce Tau and Chaos patrols claim that the ice-encrusted obelisks hold a faint, green light in their depths which can only be seen at night.

Summer’s heat at its worst strikes the islands of Aetna, and those survivors who find themselves stranded within these tropic lands are forced to seek refuge from the worst of the midday sun, lest the heat accomplish what their enemies have not yet done. The Tau have held these islands, but only barely – and the threat remains that some of those saved no longer feel camaraderie towards their rescuers.

The forests of Ionia bloom thicker than ever this summer, their growth no doubt aided by spores of Tyranids which haunt the ever-shadowed forest floor. So far, the guerilla forces which held off Imperial attackers have managed to keep the beasts at bay most of the time, but reports have begun coming in of entire settlements to the north which vanished.

In the Polar South, those Astartes who have chosen to remain behind battle constantly to remove the Ork settlements and Chaos Cultists which infest the darkest corners of the land. One particularly temperate valley is hotly contested, providing, as it does, the best locale in which to establish bases of operations.

Lastly, we have Mycenea.
The center of fighting for much of the past months, this continent is war-torn and bloody – and still hotly-contested. The Imperial presence is weakened by their attempts to withdraw, but there is no clear victory to occupy the space they vacated. Tau, Ork, and Chaos forces engage in skirmishes daily, with the surviving Imperial soldiers mostly attempting to regroup amidst the carnage.


With the Imperial rescue fleet gone, those who chose to remain planet-side prepare for worse to come – the Tyranid invasion now begins in earnest, and surely more remains to be seen upon this blighted world…

[IncubiLord]

Final Report- Chaos

Necrons had always been his favorite opponents, aside form the loyalists. You could blast them over and over again, and they would refuse to stop. They would simply pull themselves up and march forward to be blasted down again. Then, once they were close enough, he could shatter them with his power mace and be done with them. No other opponent provided the pleasure of the kill so many times in one battle. Today, Lord Epicurus felt no such pleasure.

Indeed, even when a green blast of Gauss fire stripped one of his tentacles apart, he felt nothing about it either way. The surging pulse of pain was there. The tingling after effects of the wound, pulsing with agony along with the pulsing of his own heart was there. Even the delicious feeling of blood congealing on the tentacles stump was there. However, it was as nothing to him. He had felt these sensations hundreds perhaps thousands of times previously. They simply ceased to elicit anything from him now.

He opened his voice box and cried out in frustration. The necron that had dared to fire on him was hurled backwards in a blast of unadulterated white noise. He toppled to the ground in a broken heap, only to slowly begin gathering himself up once more.

Lord Epicurus gave little thought to the metallic creatures swarming the tunnels around him and his followers. He was pressing onward towards the great temple the Iron Warriors had built. That was where that treacherous Oracle had gone, he was sure of it. His third eye had shown him the glittering trail of the Oracles passing. He could see the Iron Warriors pet wizard’s leading her there with his trail of twisting rhetoric.

She had to be punished, Lord Epicurus did not feel it. He simply knew it.

* * *

Before her the soul of the creature shrunk and cowered, as was proper. Koriaro’s power created a river of energy that flowed through the warp and provided her a safe passage. That river ended at the shrinking thing in front of her. The Oracle’s warp eyes gazed hungrily at its prize.

Soon, the last barriers between her and the material world would be broken. She would flood into this cowering soul’s vessel. She would have a new master.

As the sorcerer spoke the final words the river of energy burst through the wall of the materium like a flood crushing a dam. The Oracle was carried along with the current, unable to resist even if she wanted too. Her warp essence coiled and writhed as it forced itself down into the cramped confines of the girl’s body. The Oracle bulged the corporal body and contorted in into strange shapes in order to fit inside.

On the outside, the process would be hideous to behold, but it was nothing compared to the agony of the one being possessed. The offering’s suffering was felt in both the physical and the immaterial. It was a torture no mortal mind could conceive, but only experience.

In the past, the Oracle would simply consume the pathetic spirit she was dispossessing of its mortal coil. This one, would be different. She had a more interesting plan. Instead, she trapped the poor creature into a corner of her own shell. There, the unfortunate creature could watch and feel her body being punished by The Oracles possession. Then, The Oracle could feed off her tormented suffering at leisure, and tap her spirit as a machine taps a battery. Then, when the girl’s physical form was no longer of use to her, The Oracle would consume her. The months and days of torment would make the pathetic soul of the creature all the more satisfying.

The Oracle let her new hands glide over the thin silvered chains that bound her. The heat of their magiks coursed through her new flesh, and tingled her being. She listened as Koriaro finished the last of the rituals of binding, the strange words sounding harsh and grating in her new ears. She breathed in deep and smelled the strange aromas of the material world, earthy and subtle. Slowly, The Oracle opened her new eyes and looked upon the helmeted face of her new “master”. The Oracle opened her mouth, and laughed.

* * *

The vast number of Necrons was slowing his progress. His followers were being slowed down at every turn, and their numbers were dwindling. He couldn’t press onwards, and he couldn’t return to the surface. Lord Epicurus wondered if this was the end for him. If he would soon be dead?

Surely, the sensation of death would be a new experience, something he had never felt before. That thought alone buoyed his spirits, made him grateful to his patron for the unique opportunity. With his last breaths, he would make a glorious statement to the power of Slaanesh and slay as many of these foul creatures before he himself met his inevitable death. Finally, he would feel something.

He let out a bellow and surged forward with his followers close behind. He swung his power maul with a strength of purpose he had not felt since… He thought hard about when he last really felt this exhilaration and exuberance. Not since the Heresy. Lord Epicurus’ maul smashed his foes aside with an elegance and skill he had not exhibited in centuries.

Soon, there were no more opponents before him. Lord Epicurus puffed in a sudden rage. Where had they all gone? They had betrayed him his one wish… his wish to die and feel again!

He lashed out with his power maul and smashed one of his followers into the cave wall. His pulped body oozed out through his power armor. The Lord’s breathe came heavy and his exertions were plain.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw a flash of silver. He looked and saw a group of those beetle like necron creations scurrying along the ceiling towards their position. One of his underlings followed his gaze and began shooting at their. Their shots ricocheted off the stone, but the scarabs skittered over them.

Once above Lord Epicurus, they detonated in a marvelous green blast. It was followed by the deep rumblings only tons of rock could produce. A huge stalactite crashed straight through the slaaneshi marine beside him, impaling the damned soul. Lord Epicurus smiled as an avalanche of grey fell in upon him.

* * *

The Oracle followed her new master obediently to the Thunderhawk gunship. Inside, several of the iron warriors awaited. They were massive and scarred creatures, their grey and gold armor worn from use. They followed orders obediently, and without question. The Oracle marveled at their discipline. It was a marked contract from Lord Epicurus’ rabble.

As the door sealed them into the belly of the craft The Oracle let her mind drift across the courtyard outside. Thunderhawks were being loaded with servitor slaves, machinery, and unprocessed ores. Everything of value the Iron Warriors were stripping. The machines they could not take, they destroyed. Mine shafts were detonated to collapse in on themselves. Any slaves they could not carry, they killed mercilessly. The Oracle watched their souls drift helplessly into the warp. All ready packs of warp entities were being drawn to the feeding frenzy. Nothing would be left of value to those that came to the mine works after the Iron Warriors departure.

As the her Thunderhawk departed The Oracle let her mind look wider. As they gained altitude she saw a bright flare up of a Warp signature below. The Oracle could not repress the smile that crossed her avatar’s face. She was still adjusting to her new host body. The Bane of the Ancients was still there, waiting to be discovered.

* * *

Lord Epicurus awoke. Everything was dark. He tried to move, but his body would not respond. He could feel the weight of the ages on top of him, yet it did not crush him. He could sense his limbs, but he could not feel them.

The realization of his situation dawned on him slowly. St first, he wanted to deny it; but the truth was plain to him. He had been denied the sensation of death. Instead, he was trapped beneath tons of rock.

A small voice, no greater than a whisper entered his head, “I have now bestowed on you my final gift, the gift of eternal life.”

Lord Epicurus tried to scream, but he was met by silence.

[IncubiLord]

Final Report- Eldar

The “Star of Elhadir” had been waiting patiently in the sensor shadow created by the Gas Giant within the Centarius system. It had been waiting and silent watching for several weeks. The warship had not seen fit to reveal itself, and continued to lurk unobserved.

Farseer Leanarra had been prepared to commit her forces to provide a small nudge to fate, to help her people avoid the terrible fate she had foreseen. She watched the planet both with the conventional sensors of her people, but also the skeins of fate in her mind.

One thing was clear to her. The Bane of the Ancients had not been found. The creature was still lurking on Centarius. A possible future threat to her people. She was relieved to see that the Imperial forces had mostly departed, as had the Chaos incursion. However, the threat still existed.

However, she was satisfied that the immediate peril was over. She could return to her beloved Aliatoc, and view the events that transpired on Centarius with leisure. It appeared to her that Farseer Daltharon had been right all along. For that she was grateful.

[IncubiLord]

Final Report- Inquisition/Imperial

The Black Ship heaved and bucked as the behemoth lifted itself from the spaceport. Sporadic ork fire blackened the sky around the ship, but they were like pin pricks against the great vessel. They hadn’t had time to construct and deploy their larger artillery.

The inquisitor laughed out loud. A few weeks ago she would not have imagined she would be in this position. That her meager Imperial forces would hold out, and that she and her retinue would be escaping that Emperor forsaken rock. However, the Emperor protects, and his will must have worked to get her this far.

Some of the other Inquisitors had managed to make it back to the spaceport before the Black Ship had launched. Thoth still sat brooding in his cabin. His efforts in the jungles of Centarius had come to nothing. Zanatos in the meantime had busily begun working with the servitor scribes to chronicle his latest discoveries about the nature of humanities enemies. For him, the planet had been a treasure trove of information. What had happened to Inquisitor Kurlin she did not know. Presumably, he had left the planet sometime earlier. For that, Lady Jasper was grateful.

As for Lord General Veneris, he never managed to make it to the spaceport. She could only assume the worst for him. She was saddened for a moment. The Lord General had been a powerful force for Humanity and a loyal servant of the Emperor. It seemed as if another faithful servant of the Emperor had been laid low by the xenos heretics. However, she knew that he had not died in vain.

As she sat, the first time in days; the weariness began to overcome her body. Her conscious mind knew that there was still much danger ahead. The Black Ship still had to get past the various xeno fleets in the area, but that was a problem for the Navy. The long days of the siege were over, and her body slowly began to shut down from exhaustion. The acceleration chair molded to her form, and soon the lady was fast asleep.

* * *

Blaring klaxons quickly drew her from her slumber. Instinctively her hand went to her holster before she realized where she was. Red combat lighting flashed across the room, illuminating everything with a blood like glow.

“My lady, it appears we are under attack,” her adept jabbered. His eyes darted around the room.

At first she was gripped by fear. Sitting here shackled to her chair she was useless and helpless. That fear was soon replaced by an impotent rage. She had done too much to be cheated from victory now.

Above the wailing klaxon she heard a low rumble. The entire vessel shook menacingly, and despite being strapped into her chair, she gripped the arm rests. Her retinue began blubbering all sorts of rubbish. She heard prayers to the Emperor, worried questions, and random sobbing.
“Be silent!” she snapped. She needed to hear what was happening.

This time the ship shook with such force that small objects came free of their restraints and danced across the flooring. It was soon followed by an ear splitting boom, and a long low squeal. The Klaxons went silent, and the red lighting flickered for a moment. For a split second she felt the sensation of free fall. Survival masks dropped from the ceiling.

Without a moments hesitation she reached forward and grabbed hers. In a smooth motion she slipped it over her head. Some fools wasted time shouting in surprise or protest. She could sense more than feel the gravity of Centarius slow taking hold of her. That Emperor forsaken rock wasn’t giving her up yet.

Lady Jasper could feel the G-forces building as the Gravity of Centarius re-asserted itself. She knew they were plummeting back to the surface of the planet, and if it wasn’t for her acceleration chair, she would be dead. The blood began rushing to her head, and dizziness filled her. She wanted to remove her mask and throw-up, but her arms were pinned down. The corners of her vision began to darken.

She managed a silent prayer to the Emperor, and then everything went dark.

* * *

Sometimes, when you have been unconscious for a while, wake is like gently floating to the surface. Other times, it is like climbing the side of a sloping hill, and you gradually reveal yourself back to the world of consciousness. Lady Jasper did neither of these things. Her return to consciousness was greeted by a ringing flame of pain, and she awoke with a scream. The flames of pain raced across the edges of her brain.

Slowly, she fought to open her eyes to the harsh light of a sun. Each moment of its light brought the fires of pain, but it lessened as she continued. Slowly she opened her eyes fully, and looked into the dust shrouded sky. It was a sky she had seen many times in the past weeks, and this time it filled her with dread.

She looked around with her eyes. Everything was at an odd angle, a surreal angle. From the corner of her vision Lady Jasper saw a black carapaced stormtrooper standing nearby. His arm was in a makeshift sling, while a naval technician was looking into his eyes with a flashlight. It looked like they were talking, but she couldn’t hear. She couldn’t hear anything.

She slowly began to turn her head, but the flames of pain returned. They grew higher and higher, until the blotted out her vision. Gratefully, she fell back into unconsciousness.

* * *

This time, she was guided back to consciousness by a voice. A familiar voice. A stentorian voice. The voice that had brought her to this place. She couldn’t make out the words precisely, but she didn’t need to. She latched onto it, and followed it back to the realm of the living.

The aged face of Inquisitor Thoth greeted her. A hasty bandage was wrapped around his forehead, and his long white hair was matted to his face. He beamed intently at her.

“I apologize Lady Jasper, I can not let you sit at the side of the Emperor yet,” The inquisitor lord smiled a shark’s grin.

She lifted her hand to her head, and felt a similar bandage to the one Lord Thoth had about her head. She was shocked to find that she was short a pair of fingers on her left hand.

“What happened?” the effort of speaking felt like a forced march.

Lord Thoth stood straight, and gestured for a naval technician nearby. He came forward, and administered Lady Jasper a shot in shot. His uniform was dirty and ragged. She was sitting on a makeshift gurney inside a lean-to made of scrap metal.

“We didn’t make it off the planet after all,” Lord Thoth shrugged, “As we hit the upper atmosphere we seem to have been attacked by the xenos fleets. I don’t know for sure who or how many, and it matters little. What is important is that the Black Ship disintegrated in the upper atmosphere. The various pieces came crashing back to the surface. You, me, and a handful of others managed to survive.”

Lady Jasper gasped. Her mind whirled with questions. She glanced around again to see if any of her followers had survived.

Lord Thoth read her thoughts, “Sadly no. They have joined the Emperor.”

He looked solemn for a few moments in silent prayer, “The majority of the cargo of the Black Ship was lost. However, some survived and fled into the wilderness.”

“Where’s Zanatos?” Lady Jasper croaked.

Lord Thoth shrugged, “I’m not sure he survived.”

She sat silent for a moment. Before Lord Thoth’s booming voice interrupted her again, “We did make contact with a bastion of Imperial forces in the Polar South. They are besieged by orks, so they will be of little help to us now. However, their presence may prove useful. In the meantime, I need you up and about. There is work to be done.”

She nodded automatically, “Where are we? What part of Centarius?”

Lord Thoth turned to leave the lean-to, “Oh yes, we are in the South of Mycenae. I expect ork or Tau forces to be here anyday. I need you now.”

[IncubiLord]

Final Report- Necron

Lord Bacchus was pleased, or at least as pleased as a Necron Lord could feel anymore. He had fulfilled his primary function on this planet. The Necrontyr awakened ones were no longer a threat to his master. He had personally accompanied Lord Jet and his forces in destroying their stasis tombs.

They had managed to escape from Tiorl 7, but not this time. Their destruction was as complete. They’re tombs had been wiped clean of any memory of their presence, and the matrixes of the warriors that engaged them had been purged. They were simply a non-entity. As far as Lord Bacchus and his master were concerned, the aberrations had never existed.

He floated in the dark shafts and tunnels of the mine works. The darkness matter nothing to him, his eyes could see more things and more ways then he ever could as a mortal being. Even now, he watched the heat signatures of his scarabs and tomb spyders assembling the huge warp nullifiers.

Those who trafficked in the powers of the Old Ones creation were infesting the tunnels here. More than once, his warriors had had to drive them from this place. Now, all was quiet, except the clicking of his mechanical worker’s legs.

As he waited, he attempted to contact Lord Jet and ascertain further orders. Odd, he was not connected to the network. Lord Bacchus assumed he was no longer functional, and attempted a direct connection with the tomb ships orbiting the planet. Again, he could not connect.

Lord Bacchus knew that was not possible, yet here it was facing him. The only logical explanation was an internal error. He ran a diagnostic. Everything was in operational parameters. Impossible, then why could he not gain a connection with Lord Jet or the Tombships. He ran it again. All functions were still within operational parameters. Clearly, this was a more determined problem then he realized.

Lord Bacchus called a Tomb Spyder over, and had him run a full field diagnostic. The results were the same as his diagnostics. The lord began to see a yawning abyss in front of his logic coding, an abyss that could not be conceived of by his programming. It was a dark chasm that threatened to consume him.

He attempted to contact Lord Jet again. This time he was there, connected to the network.

“What happened. Why were you off the network?” Lord Bacchus demanded.

“Operational parameter errors. I suggest you run your internal diagnostics?” Lord Jet responded.

“Everything was within operational parameters. I could not connect with the Tomb ship. My logical circuits can not calcul…”

Lord Bacchus never finished his sentence. From high in orbit, and focused beam of pure green energy sliced down through the crust of the Centarius’ surface. It found the precise location of Lord Bacchus, and the lord was reduced to notion more than is constituent atoms.

Lord Jet nodded at the results. A gesture that came to him unbidden, a gesture that he had never performed previously. An oddly living gesture.

[IncubiLord]

Final Report- Orks

Alright yoose lazy gitz, dis is da Waagghhhbooss Dakkaslag. I know yoose gitz 'avent' 'ered from me in a while, but dats cause I acutwally do some fightin' unlike yoo weedy gitz.

Afta' ouw kommunications awway was destroyed by the 'oomies, we countinued to charge up onta dem islands. Soon, dere was beakies and oomie gauwrd everywhere. It was a right an' good fight. Millions of ouw gitz fought an' died on dem islands killin' tons of 'oomie gitz. Soon, da 'oomies 'ad to keep back up like da weedy gitz dey is. We smashed dem goods. I sent fowrf ma Leuwentaint Durguz to do sum Kommando fings an watnot. 'E rukked dem up really good an' destroyed one of dere small ships dat dey was gonna run away on.

Then we landed mo' bassies an' mo Stompas and bombed dem right an' good. Da 'oomies fired back and destroyed lots of ouw gitz douw. Dats when I knew dat the git Venewis was on dem islands. Da 'oomies fought 'ard an' lots of ouw gitz got krumpt, but 'eres da thing: orks can't loowse, dey is da bestest. So we sent in da Fighta-Bomba's to weaken dem up an' da kommandos to rukk 'em while we stomped forward. We fought troo many 'oomies an' what not untill we gotz to dere base.

Dere base was 'uge wif tonz of gunz. Dey kame chargin' ouwt to towards us tryin' to break through. Dat was brave an' all but dey forgot dat we was orks an dat da Orks krump any weedy git, brave or not. We smashed dem up until we found Venewis' vehical. I charged in an' tore dat weedy gitz 'ead rite off. Den da 'oomies got skarded kause dere boss was ded. We rukked em' up good den, an none escaped. We blew up dere fortwess an took all da good gubbinz an' tanks from it to loot an' build stuff wif.

So den, I fought of dis: wha' if I send Venewis' 'ead in da mail to da empawa'. Den 'e will really reallize dat 'e is messin' wif Warboss Dakkaslagg, da 'Ero of Tiorl 7 and da 'Ead 'Unter. For now dow, I 'as come back to da space powrt to rebuild all ma' gubbinz an' whatnot. From dere I will krump more gitz.

You 'aven't 'eard da last of me!

Dakkaslag Ouwt

[IncubiLord]

Final Report- Space Marines

It had been a hard thing to order but it must have been done.
Captain Alekseyev had ordered the Angels Draconis battlebarge to safety. It would await reinforcments and come back when they arrived. For things had become much worse.

Lord General Veneris had been killed in the final rush to try and breakout towards the starport. Captain Alekseyev was in command of the Imperial forces in the polar south. Many of Veneris' Imperial Guardsmen had died but some remained and would hold out with his marines to deny the xenos this planet as long as possible.

They were not alone, he had been appraised of the situation elsewhere by Lord Thoth and if he and his men could break out they would make contact with him again and meet up. But until then there was only one thing left to do: Kill all the enemies of the Emperor they could before they were overcome.

It was a sobering thought but the only one on his mind.

[IncubiLord]

Final Report- Tau

The Manta’s retro-jets fired and it slowly eased itself onto the concrete landing platform. A ground crew of Guel’la supervised by Tau Earth caste rushed out to meet it. Once the great aircraft had landed they clamored up ladders and began the after flight maintenance. They went about their duty with a practiced ease.

The rear ramp lowered itself with the hiss of hydraulic pistons. If settled gently onto the tarmac. Steam hissed from nearby exhaust jets, and it wreathed the unloading bay with mist.

Commander Bright Eyes descended from the craft. The warm sun of Centarius greeted him, as did the welcoming cry of coastal birds. He had toured the Salvation base many times before, but had never been so glad to see it as now. His forces had held the orks in the capital long enough to evacuate many of the Tau civilians from there to Salvation. The Shas’O had been the last to leave Burgundia, and his weary limbs were glad to be out of combat.

He was greeted at the bottom of the boarding ramp by Ro of the water caste, and a small delegation of fire warriors. As he stepped onto the tarmac itself, the group exchanged salutes and greetings.

“Well met Commander Bright Eyes. Your forces have fought valiantly. Even now the Imperials flee from your strength of arms,” Ro spoke with the honeyed words for one of his type.

“The teachings of Commander Puretide prove true yet again. However, the fighting is far from over.”

“Yes, the Tyranids and Orks presence are still strong here. Our surveillance has all ready picked up spore landings here on Ionia,” one of the fire warriors responded.

Commander Bright Eyes turned to Ro, “I’m afraid your skills will be no use against the foes we still face.”

Ro nodded, “Yes, but I can help keep our Guel’la friends united.”

Commander Bright Eyes frowned, “Yes. They are proving to be more fractious than I had hoped.”

“Bah,” one of the other fire warriors stepped in, “I doubt their commitment to the Greater Good.”

At this the Shas’O wondered what had become of Duke Hammermill. The last he had heard, the old man had fought his way out of the city and taken to the hills. Perhaps to take up the ways that had existed with the Guel’la before the coming of the Greater Good. He mentally shrugged. If they were to meet again, they would meet again. He reflected on the Guel’las' commitment to the greater good before answering the fire warrior’s challenge.

“This may or may not be true. The hearts of Guel’la are fickle,” Commander Bright Eyes looked over the sprawling base, “Look at what they have helped accomplish here. Surely, they can recognize the benefits we provide to them. The Ork and the Tyranid will give them nothing.”

Bright Eyes began to walk towards the command bunker, “One thing is clear to me. Without the Guel’la here, we are not here. They are as much a part of our Empire now as the Kroot, Vespid, and Nicassar. As such, we will continue to defend them. This world will be necessary in our steps to the fourth sphere expansion.”

Ro nodded agreement, “Wise words indeed Shas’O.”

“Centarius is still within our grasp, and I intend to keep,” Commander Bright Eyes added forcefully.

[IncubiLord]

Final Report- Tyranids

The Sword class Frigate launched a salvo of torpedoes before changing course and darting away from the ork ship. It had been distracted firing at the escaping Black Ship and hadn’t noticed the smaller craft. The torpedoes raced along their targeted path burning away the miles in seconds. The ork ships point defenses opened fire at the last instant, but it was too late to get all the torpedoes. They sliced deep into the rear of the Ork ship before detonating.

Captain Treg watched through his implants as the Ork ship’s sensor signature was dwarfed by a burst of radiation, heat, and static. It was the death mark for a warship, and he recognized it well. He soon at to turn his attention back to the remaining battle.

All ready, his navigation servitors were calculating a flight path that would allow them to skirt the approaching Tyranid pickets. His weapon’s crews were feverishly loading a new salvo of torpedoes.

“Whoever wanted the Tyranids involved was an idiot,” Captain Treg cursed.

Through his command systems he saw the vanguard of the Hive ships begin to attack the Black ship as well. The Imperial forces were doing there best to keep the orks and tyranids away, but things were looking grim. He doubted the ship would escape. The xenos had converged too quickly.

He brought eh sword around the curvature of the planet and prepared to use the planet’s gravity well to snap him back around the equator and accelerate on another attack pass. Then, the Black Ship disintegrated under the assault of the Hive ships lashing tentacles and living cannon.

Immediately, the inter-fleet communications array opened, “Imperial Fleet, begin withdrawal to staging point Ro/Gamma 5648. Execute per Admiral Rudolpho.”

* * *

The Hive Queen was pleased. True, the Mind song prey had escaped her grasp, but this new development would ease this problem. The prey thing trying to escape Centarius had been destroyed, and its cargo of mind-song prey was unleashed back onto the planet’s surface. Now all she needed to do was send her children to harvest them.

They had all ready made gains in the Polar North, and with the departure of the cursed hard shelled prey, she would have little resistance there. In addition, her children were moving along one of the Equatorial continent. There her genestealer minions would spread their infection amongst the prey creatures.

The children still near her strained to do her will, and she unleashed them to the harvest below.