Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

Admir recognised immediately what those green creatures and massive totems represented — and it was precisely because he knew that he found it so hard to believe.

"Orks…" he murmured under his breath.

"To be precise, an Ork Battle Moon," said Lin, having finished manoeuvring the ship clear of danger. He stepped up beside Admir, and together they looked down upon the 'living' planet below.

The Battle Moon's intentions were unmistakable. Having punched straight through the Warp directly above the planet, it had wasted no time slipping into orbit and opening fire on whatever lay beneath.

Lin had started forming theories from the moment the anomalous gravitational fluctuations first struck. Now that he could see it with his own eyes, it all fit perfectly.

Even a dozen battleships welded together into a space hulk couldn't generate gravitational waves this powerful. What else could possibly be responsible for disrupting gravity on this scale, except a Battle Moon dropping out of the Warp directly onto a planet's doorstep?

Admir's reaction, though, was not quite what Lin had expected. "You never encountered one of these during the Great Crusade?"

"I've seen Ork Gargants. I've seen Ork Mega-Bosses. I've even traded blows with those lumbering giants," Admir said, shaking his head. "But I have never seen a fully converted, armed satellite of this size — and this one can travel through the Warp. How long must they have been developing to build something like this?"

Lin had a rough idea.

The Battle Moon had always been one of the most beloved topics among players who favoured the greenskins back in his old life. In practice, however, it made relatively few appearances. Orks had to evolve continuously through battle, drawing out the scientific knowledge buried deep within their own genetic code, before they could construct something this vast and rational atop their instinctive "I reckon it'll work" engineering philosophy.

During the Great Crusade, the cataclysmic Battle of Ullanor had broken the spine of the entire Ork species — so thoroughly that no Ork faction had been capable of ravaging multiple star sectors for a long time afterwards.

Humanity, of course, had not fared particularly well either. The main reason being that the battle had produced Warmaster Horus, who used that victory to claim the title of Warmaster — and then, several decades later, broke humanity's spine in turn.

The humanity left broken by Horus had gradually decayed into the sluggish, moribund Imperium of today. The xenos that had once been repeatedly swept clean during the Great Crusade had, under the Imperium's vast territory and woefully inefficient communications, found fertile ground to fester and multiply once more.

The Orks, who had once seemingly lost the capacity to ever build another Battle Moon, had now shoved one directly into everyone's faces. And the humanity of this era seemed capable of doing nothing but taking the beating.

Lin was still turning the situation over in his mind when the bridge hatch slid open and the Astartes — who had been ordered to remain in their quarters during the ship's emergency sprint — came pouring in.

They had come to find out what had happened. The Battle Moon outside the viewport silenced every single one of them.

"Magos Lin, we were heading for the Solar System before, correct?" Deputy Aibo finally broke the silence, turning to Lin for confirmation.

"That is correct."

"And while we're not in the Solar System right now, we should be somewhere nearby?"

"You may have a Navigator's talent, Deputy Aibo — but what exactly are you getting at?"

"Are you absolutely certain that the human Imperium is dominating the galaxy the way you described?" Deputy Aibo pressed his face against the viewport, eyes fixed hard on the Battle Moon outside. "Because I have never heard of a galaxy-dominating empire getting its front door blocked by a pile of Ork scrap!"

Lin shrugged. "You're not wrong. But that's the Imperium for you."

Ruling the galaxy didn't necessarily mean a nation in its prime. It could just as easily mean a bloated corpse. The Imperium could crush the vast majority of its enemies through sheer mass — but it could not stop those enemies from feasting on its rotting flesh before they were finally ground under.

"This is a completely different age from the Great Crusade," Lin said, by way of summary. "Every one of us will have to learn to adapt to it."

He issued his next order without further preamble: "Give the Battle Moon a wide berth. We're taking cover on the far side of the planet it's orbiting."

This cobbled-together ship carried not a single shipboard weapon. Lin had no intention of being foolish enough to fight an Ork force fielding a Battle Moon in a straight-up engagement.

Thanks to the ship's genuinely minuscule size, the careless Orks had apparently failed to notice one small vessel slipping away from the Warp rift they had just torn open, making for the far side of the Battle Moon and putting as much distance between them as possible.

The Orks, deep in their battle-frenzy, bellowed "WAAAGH!" and piled onto hollowed-out boulders, then hurled themselves at the planet below like meteors.

This crude, brutal landing method would obviously kill plenty of greenskins — but they clearly didn't care, not when they were simultaneously firing the Battle Moon's gravity weapons on the way down.

Lin and Admir stood together on the bridge and watched as the Battle Moon used gravity to claw at the planet's surface. Countless chunks of rock and underground ore veins were siphoned upward, forming a bridge of debris between the planet's crust and the Battle Moon above.

As the Hunter slipped around to the planet's far side, the Battle Moon — still drinking the world dry — disappeared from view. But the planet's convulsing surface continued to remind them at every moment of what was being done to it. And the mushroom clouds blooming intermittently in the distance told them that someone down on the ground was still fighting back.

"Is that an Imperial force?" Sergeant Arlo asked. "Shouldn't we go and help them?"

"Based on the yield of those detonations, those are standard Imperial nuclear warheads…" Lin said. "We will help them — but not yet."

He searched the star charts loaded onto the Meditator. Mechanicus vessels tended to keep thorough records, but this particular Meditator, originating from M41, carried no record of the planet below — which was, in effect, an indirect confirmation that this world was doomed to be destroyed in this battle.

He would need to work out exactly which planet the Orks had chosen to assault. But that question wasn't worth risking his neck over right now.

Lin was not in the habit of gambling everything on a deal that could only lose.

He had originally planned to reach Terra before the War of the Beast began and position himself accordingly. But the Battle Moon overhead made it rather clear that the War of the Beast had already started.

Given that, he would need to be considerably more careful in drawing up his plans.

They drifted in orbit for three days. Only after the Battle Moon had swaggered away from the husk of the world it had drained, and Lin had confirmed there were no other active vessels left in orbit, did he issue the order to descend.

The ship punched through the planet's atmosphere — already thinning and peeling away from the surface — and finally held station ten thousand metres above the ground.

The Orks on the surface had cobbled together rudimentary anti-air weapons in just three days. Lin had no intention of risking his only ship by flying any lower.

After arranging a signal with Deputy Aibo and the skeleton crew remaining aboard, Lin led a small strike team on a light-load orbital drop to the surface.

Admir made short work of a handful of greenskins who had been boiling mushroom soup at their landing site, chopping them down with his tachi like cutting vegetables. With the area clear, Lin addressed the ten-man squad he, Admir, and Instructor Arlo now led — all clad in yellow power armour — and laid out their mission objective.

"Find any surviving Imperial personnel. Approach them as rescuers. Extract whatever intelligence they have on the current state of this war."

He swept a grave look across the ten warriors before him, and drove the point home one final time:

"Remember who you are. Every one of us here is a proud son of the Seventh Legion, defenders of Terra, conquerors of the Mekanik fortress, the sharpest spear the Imperium has ever forged —"

"We are the Imperial Fists!"

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