During the private screening arranged specifically for Pex, the Captain became markedly more cooperative.
He offered no violent resistance, though when it came time for blood draws and tissue sampling, he remained haughtily insistent that no commoner possessed the right to touch his person.
He performed the extractions himself, handing over the vials with cold disdain.
The results returned clean.
The bio-scans confirmed that Pex was an intact human specimen, untainted by xenos corruption and carrying no lethal pathogens.
In the station’s opulent reception hall, Cornwatt received Pex with practiced warmth.
“These are local specialties of the Oronia System,” Cornwatt said, gesturing to a velvet-lined case.
“Do not let their modest appearance fool you; the mining process is perilous, and they are exceedingly rare.
Throughout the neighboring sub-sectors, these gems are considered the pinnacle of luxury.” Cornwatt spoke with fluid eloquence, carefully laying the groundwork for the bribery and political alignment he sought.
“Governor!” Pex barked, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Lock down this station immediately!
Genestealers have infiltrated the facility!” “!” Cornwatt stared in disbelief.
Simultaneously, his private encrypted vox-channel chimed with a frantic urgency.
The reports were catastrophic.
Of the eight boarding parties sent to the Glorious Knight, six had been ambushed by swarms of Genestealers; the other two had blundered into an Ork counter-attack.
Worse, the station’s secondary screening center had just flagged the “survivors” from the life pods.
Tyranid genetic markers had been detected in several individuals who were now actively butchering the medical staff.
“This…
this…
how can this be?” Cornwatt stammered, his composure shattering.
He was a young Governor, and he had never faced an existential threat of this magnitude.
Then came the final blow.
The Glorious Knight, which had appeared dead in the water moments ago, was now under power.
It had already liquidated two of his destroyers and rammed his most precious asset, the cruiser Guardian!
“The Orks are piloting the Glorious Knight toward Oronia III!
Governor, what are our orders?” a frantic voice cried over the vox.
“I…
I…” “There are two billion Imperial souls on that world!” Pex roared, leaning over the comm-lectern.
“Ignore the damage to your cruiser and the boarding teams!
This is total war!
You cannot allow the greenskins and the swarm to make planetfall!
Pursue them!
Destroy them now!” “…Governor?” The officer on the other end hesitated, confused by the unfamiliar voice but terrified by its authority.
“Do as Captain Pex says!
Immediately!” Cornwatt shouted, regaining a sliver of focus.
In that instant, Cornwatt realized his own inadequacy; he knew nothing of void warfare, but Pex was a veteran of the Imperial Navy.
Finding a pillar to lean on, the Governor’s panic began to subside.
“Oronia is facing a cataclysm, Captain Pex.
You have the experience we lack.
Will you help us cleanse this system of the xenos?” “It is my duty,” Pex said with a humble incline of his head.
“These horrors followed my vessel here.
It is my responsibility to see them extinguished.” … Darrius watched the tactical display as the human cruiser accelerated in pursuit, its blue lance beams lashing out at the Glorious Knight’s void shields.
If this continued, his shields would overload long before they reached Oronia IV, which was still a full day’s burn away.
To survive, he couldn’t just run, he had to think, he had to fink.
By the grace of Gork (or perhaps Mork), a plan began to form after only ten minutes of studying the star charts.
The void was not truly empty; nebulae, asteroid belts, and planetary moons were all strategic assets waiting to be exploited.
The Glorious Knight began a banking turn.
To the humans, it looked like a desperate attempt to evade lance fire; in reality, Darrius was positioning the ship for a counter-stroke.
“Ironklaw, are da decks clear uv runts yet?” Darrius voxed.
The bugs and the humans remaining inside the ship were wild cards he couldn’t afford.
Through the Weirdboyz, he maintained a tenuous psychic link with his sub-commanders.
“…Almost, Boss…
almost,” Ironklaw’s voice was suspiciously shaky.
“Almost?
Why ain’t dey dead yet?
Ya lot ‘avin’ a squig-roast down dere?” “Da humies are mostly krumped.
We hit ’em from da back an’ nicked dere boats, an’ dey broke pretty quick.
But da bugs…
deyre tricky.
Kunnin’.
Dey wunt fight us proppa, just keep crawlin’ into da narrow pipes…” Ironklaw’s explanation trailed off into a mumble.
“I dunt wunt excuses!
Get da Burna Boyz down dere an’ flush ’em out.
If I see one bug on my bridge, I’m gunna knock yer teef out so hard dey wun’t evva grow back!” After threatening Ironklaw, Darrius contacted every Mekboy he could find.
“I wunt bombs.
Big wuns.
Wuns dat float in da void, got magnets, an’ stick to humie ships.
Make ’em killy, an’ make ’em lots.” To ensure the Meks understood, Darrius scrawled a crude schematic on a nearby data-slate.
The Orkish genetic aptitude for technology was staggering.
The Meks not only grasped the concept of void-mines instantly but immediately began “improving” them.
Some added larger explosive payloads; others increased the sensor range or magnetic propulsion.
One particularly inspired Mek created “chain-mines” designed to trigger an entire field once a single contact was made.
Darrius rubbed his bald green head.
He wondered how the War in Heaven had ever been lost if even these “devolved” Orks were this inventive.
Leaving the command to the Meks for a moment, Darrius personally led a team of three Meks and a swarm of grots to the damaged macro-cannon decks to oversee emergency repairs.
As for the bridge…
Darrius looked down.
Smarty was clinging to his massive leg.
Was the grot getting bigger?
Darrius was now five meters tall, yet Smarty didn’t look nearly as small as a grot should.
Ork Boyz were prone to rushing headlong into a scrap.
Grots, however, were cowardly, and that cowardice made them cruel and cunning.
“I’m gunna move da ship in a zig-zag, da ‘S-turn.’ It’ll give da side guns a clear shot at da humies behind us to slow ’em down.” “But I gotta go fix da big guns.
Can you make sure da lads keep da ship on course?” Darrius asked the grot.
Smarty hopped off Darrius’s leg, snapped his heels together into a perfect military posture, and offered a crisp salute.
“Yes, Sir!
Smarty garanteez da jobz a guddun!” To prove his authority, Smarty turned to the surrounding Orks and bellowed: “Boss Sneaky gave an orda!
Dunt ya lot ‘ear?
Stand straight loike Blood Axe Boyz!
Salute!” The other Orks looked baffled, but under the intimidating gaze of their new Warboss, they mimicked the grot, standing stiffly and saluting Darrius.
“We garantee da jobz a guddun, Sir!” Satisfied, Darrius turned to leave.
He didn’t doubt their natural talent for war.
“You’z doin’ it wrong, ya squig-brain!
Use yer roight hand!” a nearby Ork yelled, booting a comrade who had saluted with his left.
Well, Darrius thought, I just hope they don’t blow us up before the humies do…