The Beast Arises

‘He never died,’ the first woman said. ‘We all saw him die, and we were always wrong. He always returned. Never close to where we thought he’d died. Always somewhere else. In the end, he drew the greenskins away from us.’

‘They didn’t care about Laccolith anymore,’ said the scarred man. ‘They went after him. Their entire army.’

Koorland pictured Arouar’s hand gesture over the map. The illogical pattern now made sense. He thanked the group. They left to continue rebuilding Laccolith’s defences.

And if we find the primarch, Koorland thought, and we depart with him, what happens to these people?

He knew the answer. There would be no one guarding Laccolith. All of its walls had fallen. And as the orks sent more and more of the planet’s crust into orbit to join the attack moon, the point could very well come that volatile Caldera tore itself apart.

He turned around. Thane was a few steps away. His face mirrored Koorland’s thoughts.

‘We’re fighting to save the Imperium,’ Koorland said.

‘I know. I have to wonder when the sacrifices will be enough.’

‘They are all too great.’

The Finality’s starboard broadside took out the midsection of the ork cruiser as it turned to make a ramming charge at the Absolute Decree. Admiral Zdenek Rodolph savoured the moment. He saw the greenskin vessel’s own ammunition reserves trigger still larger explosions. The upper portion of the hull blew outwards. The ship continued on its trajectory, bleeding flame and wreckage, its shape distorted as if being devoured by a greater beast.

‘Come on, damn you,’ Rodolph muttered. ‘You know you’ve been killed. Die.’

The engines had been ruptured by the spreading catastrophe. They erupted now, swallowing the rest of the ship with light of their destruction.

Rodolph grinned. And then the proximity alert tocsins wailed. Captain Groth yelled, ‘Portside! Brace!’

All too late. An ork frigate in full disintegration slammed into the side of the Finality’s command structure. The impact hurled Rodolph over the command pulpit. He bounced off a workstation. His right arm snapped and he landed on the deck with his limb twisted at the elbow and folded beneath his body. Slabs of plasteel from the bridge’s vault plunged to the deck, crushing equipment and officers. Power flickered, then surged. Electrical fires started in the smashed stations.

‘Admiral!’ Groth called. She helped Rodolph to his feet. His breath hissed through clamped teeth as his arm swung loose.

‘Get me back up,’ he said. He coughed, breathing smoke and pain.

Groth led him back up the stairs to the pulpit. As she did, the auspex master warned of more vessels incoming.

‘Bring us above the Decree,’ Groth ordered. ‘We’ll shield each other.’

The edges of Rodolph’s vision greyed. The rhythm of the grand cruiser’s barrage was muffled. He tasted blood in his mouth. This was more than a broken arm.

Someone was giving a damage report, but he couldn’t make out the words.

‘Are we…’ he started to say.

‘Still in the fight, admiral,’ said Groth.

Rodolph leaned against the pulpit. He gripped the aquila’s wing with his left hand. ‘Get me Broumis,’ he said. The feel of the iron in his hand grounded him. His head spun, but he could think.

A moment later, the captain of the Absolute Decree was on the vox.

‘Our position is untenable, admiral,’ Broumis said. ‘The orks are…’ An explosion drowned his words.

Rodolph could guess the rest of the captain’s sentence. ‘Agreed. We’ve done our duty here. The forces have made planetfall.’

‘You can’t be calling a retreat,’ said Groth.

‘No. An attack. Set course for the ork moon.’

Broumis was silent for a moment. ‘Admiral,’ he began.

‘I understand the consequence of my order, captain.’

‘Understood.’

Rodolph exchanged a look with Groth. She nodded, and relayed the command.

On the oculus, a swarm of ork frigates closed in.

‘And if the forces on the planet find the primarch,’ Groth said, ‘how will they leave?’

‘If the fleet is destroyed in this location, they are no better off. We have to try to change the conditions of the war. At the very least, we’ll keep the ork fleet occupied.’

More ork torpedoes shot through the defensive fire. The void shields held, but the kinetic energy of the hits still translated through them into a shudder that rocked the Finality. Rodolph winced and kept his feet. He clutched the aquila hard enough to cut his palm. His blood ran down the wing. ‘Let me speak to the Alcazar,’ he said. His vision was blurring again. ‘Someone get me some stimms!’ he shouted. He would not go dark before the ship. He would not. He would–