Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

In the lexicon of the Black Templars, the word 'retreat' had never existed.

Endless battle was the only goal they craved.

The members of the crusade were swiftly mustering at the torpedo launch bays. Led by the Sword Brethren, they readied themselves to board the boarding torpedoes.

Before that, however, under the guidance of Brother Issaga, they were conducting a simple but solemn pre-battle prayer.

As the most widely known Chapter that did not organize itself according to the Codex Astartes, the Black Templars cleverly exploited the Codex's stipulation that 'so long as one remains on crusade, there is no limit upon numbers.' They divided the entire Chapter into several crusades, each independently responsible for recruiting fresh blood, which meant that in practice they were forever expanding their ranks without limit.

Although the savage fighting often consumed them faster than even this unlimited expansion could replenish, their numbers still far exceeded those of a regular Codex Chapter.

At the very least, the Astartes mustered here alone already numbered over a thousand.

At their head were the members of the Sword Brethren, the most superbly equipped of all. They were the most elite warriors among the Black Templars.

Unlike other Chapters, which concentrated their veterans in the First Company and placed their recruits in the Tenth Scout Company to be trained, the Black Templars — apart from the Marshal's guard that protected their commander — distributed their elite warriors throughout every Crusade squad in the Chapter.

Each of these Crusade squads was led by a full member of the Sword Brethren, followed by several full Astartes battle-brothers, with the remainder being recruits who had only just joined the Chapter.

They would be tempered by blood and fire in true battle, and only the recruits who survived would earn the right to be elevated to full Astartes battle-brothers.

That was the principle, but in a situation such as this — boarding an Ork battleship — the difficulty far surpassed any 'true tempering.'

For the Black Templars Chapter as a whole, a battle like this was one of the most severe trials they had faced in centuries.

Yet the Black Templars recruits showed not the slightest fear, and this pleased Bohemond greatly.

"They will become true Black Templars," he remarked to the brother at his side.

Lancelot said nothing, only gripping the battle standard tighter. And Travis, clad in the Armour of Faith, replied in a low voice, "I only hope there will still be true Black Templars left to survive."

He carried a melancholy that did not belong to a son of Dorn — and yet his melancholy suited a son of Dorn perfectly.

Bohemond did not refute Travis. He did not know why Travis had been chosen by the Emperor to become the Emperor's Champion this time. But he would not question the Emperor's decision.

Besides, even he himself held little hope for this plan.

Not only these fresh-blooded Black Templars — perhaps every last one of them would be buried in this boarding operation.

But what of it?

As the pre-battle prayer ended, he strode forth to appear before all the Crusade warriors.

Seeing the High Marshal appear together with his battle standard, every recruit's expression turned solemn. Though no one spoke, a fervent atmosphere spread among these warriors.

They gazed in reverence at the High Marshal, and at the battle standard in Lancelot's hands. The pride of the Chapter coursed through the heart of every warrior in that moment, and Bohemond knew it well.

He walked up before these warriors and delivered the briefest possible exhortation.

"Accept any challenge, whatever the odds of victory!"

Every member of every Crusade squad answered as one: "No path of life for the unclean!"

Bohemond swept his hand down. "Board the boarding torpedoes!"

The Crusade warriors filed in one after another. The specially modified torpedo launch bays carried enough torpedoes to fire all one thousand warriors out at once.

Before boarding his torpedo, Issaga found Bohemond and proposed, "Perhaps I could prepare a teleportation ritual."

Bohemond refused outright: "Brother Issaga, we never win our victories by sorcery!"

This too was why the boarding plan was held in such little hope.

The Black Templars loathed psykers. Apart from the necessary number of Astropaths and Navigators kept within the fleet, there was not a single Librarian in their Chapter. Even with a teleport homer, they had no Librarian who could work a psychic teleportation.

This not only made it impossible for the Black Templars to join the battle by teleportation, it also meant that even if the boarding succeeded, the Black Templars warriors could not teleport back to their own warships.

Unless they could seize the entire Ork warship, or seize the chance to deploy return torpedoes, this all-in boarding action would, in all likelihood, be a journey of no return.

But Bohemond did not care about that.

The Emperor would shelter every champion who gave his life for Him. There was only one thing they had to do.

And that was to attack, and attack again!

Under its captain's command, the Abhorrence brutally broke through the Orks' barrage. Although some of the Orks' assault boats seized the chance to lodge themselves in the Abhorrence's hull, the Abhorrence likewise seized the window to launch its boarding torpedoes at that damaged Ork battleship.

"Honoured battle-brothers, the Abhorrence wishes you fortune in war."

The captain held a final exchange with the warriors of the Black Templars.

He confirmed the launch of the boarding torpedoes, then turned his head toward his adjutant at his side.

"Ensure that the self-destruct sequence can be initiated as normal," he ordered.

"I will not let the Abhorrence fall into the hands of these loathsome xenos. Never."

This warship was just like the warriors of the Black Templars.

They were all rushing headlong toward their own destiny.

The Ork warship moved sluggishly, and the aim of its point-defence was absurdly poor. The Black Templars reached the Ork battleship in an almost unscathed state.

As the boarding torpedoes plunged headfirst into a refuse heap aboard the Ork warship, Bohemond was the first to leap out.

With no time to draw his weapon, he beat two greenskin boyz to death with his bare fists as they swarmed him, and only then drew his own High Marshal's blade.

He raised the point of his sword on high and roared, "Black Templars!"

The warriors emerging from the boarding torpedoes answered in an even greater voice: "No mercy! No remorse! No fear!"

Their momentum even overpowered the Orks bellowing "Waaagh!" The Orks who had meant to charge in were left hesitating for a moment by the battle-cry of the Black Templars.

These black tin-can boyz — how did they look even more Waaagh than him?

Although after a moment's hesitation the Orks still chose to press their attack, their momentum had clearly been overwhelmed by the Black Templars. These Orks who tried to stop the Black Templars from boarding, though far more numerous than the Astartes, were swiftly slaughtered to the last by the Black Templars at the height of their fury.

Bohemond beheaded the last greenskin boy that dared launch an attack at him. The tech-sergeant accompanying the squad had already determined that the basic frame of this Ork battleship was a strike cruiser that had once belonged to the Imperial Fists.

So they had activated the Ultimate Wall even as their own vessels were seized from them?

He had now formed a vague judgement of the situation his distant kin were in. But now was not the time to dwell on such matters. The tech-sergeant had already pointed out to them the path toward the bridge.

They had to seize command of this warship.

Bohemond flicked the Orks' filthy blood from his sword and issued a new order.

"The galaxy belongs to the Emperor alone! Brothers, attack!"

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