Boarding to Seize the Ship

Peter and five battle-brothers sat inside the boarding torpedo as it launched from the Blackrock toward the armed freighter. As the torpedo approached the enemy's void shield, it decelerated sharply, then accelerated violently after piercing through. This was a common trait of void shields and most Imperial shields—they stopped fast objects, not slow ones.

With a violent jolt, the melta cannon at the torpedo's front blasted directly into the ship, melting the hull, and the torpedo plunged through the liquefied shell straight into the enemy vessel.

Peter judged that the enemy wouldn't dare open fire; even if they did, with a merchant ship's firepower, they'd likely miss anyway.

As the boarding torpedo's hatch opened, Peter, with a boarding shield in one hand and a bolter pistol in the other, leaped straight down from the torpedo, his five brothers following close behind. The corridor around them filled with rapid footsteps as a group of sailors in flak armour came running over. They kept their weapons slung at their waists or over their shoulders, safeties engaged, not daring to provoke these Angels of Death.

The leading officer snapped to attention, crossed his hands over his chest, and performed an Aquila Salute:

"My lord, I—" Bang!

Before the officer could finish, a bolter round blew his head apart. Peter held his boarding shield steady, the barrel of his readied bolter pistol still smoking. The other brothers opened fire as well. Against a group of sailors with their weapons still holstered and safeties on, this was nothing but a slaughter.

The other six brothers had already landed on the Rogue-class Freighter under Anthony's command, both sides synchronizing to take both ships as quickly as possible.

After clearing the landing zone's enemies, Peter's order came through the internal vox:

"Kaelen, Greggor, you two come with me to seize the bridge. Freddy, take the remaining two brothers and secure the engine room."

"Into the Furnace, All Forged into Steel."

Peter and the warriors all roared their battle cry.

Boarding was a specialized tactical skill, and this was the standard boarding tactic for merchant ships. The bridge was the ship's brain, the engines its legs. Against a vessel like this, securing both locations first was paramount. Once successful—whether by slaughtering the command crew or blowing up the engines—the ship would be a lamb for the slaughter.

Of course, different ships called for different tactics. For example, securing the armory first, prioritizing the elimination of enemy Space Marines, seizing control of enemy autocannon turrets, or teleporting directly to the bridge.

Regardless of the tactic, it was definitely not like those bastards in purple armour, who'd jump straight into the lower decks and massacre tens of thousands.

Then leave the enemy enough time for trained sailors to set up heavy weapons and mount a counterattack, while Space Marines from other ships returned to reinforce. In the end, they'd get their teeth kicked in, forcing Peter and his squad to come clean up the mess. Peter was absolutely not letting any personal grudges color that memory. Damn it!

The two temporary squads split up. Peter's three-man team headed straight for the bridge. In these narrow ship corridors, a Space Marine was less like an infantryman and more like an armoured vehicle.

Occasionally, a few sailors armed with laser guns or autoguns appeared, still dazed. Hearing the gunfire, they grabbed their weapons and stood guard per the captain's orders.

Then suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed—each step like a sledgehammer slamming into the deck, producing a dull, booming thud—followed by a massive boarding shield appearing in the corridor. A few more bolter rounds fired, and many soldiers fell before they even knew what hit them.

But gradually, the ship's captain finally caught on. These Space Marines were killing everyone they saw, heading straight for the bridge and engine room. They weren't here to capture any fugitive at all. He'd been deceived.

An emergency broadcast rang through the ship, ordering all armed personnel into combat readiness. The Space Marines aboard were enemies; permission to engage.

But by the time the order came down, it was already too late. Peter had reached the bridge's vicinity. As he turned a corner, a powerful laser beam slammed into his boarding shield.

It was a twin-linked lascannon. The sheer firepower and rate of fire knocked Peter back, leaving over a dozen shallow craters on his boarding shield.

He should have expected this. Even if this was a merchant ship, the command bridge was the crown jewel—there was no way it wouldn't be heavily defended.

Retreating back around the corner, Peter saw the enemy's heavy firepower blocking the intersection and reached for a frag grenade at his waist.

But Kaelen spoke up beside him:

"My lord, shall I handle this?"

Peter looked at his Flag Ship Guard, who carried a heavy flamer and a bolter pistol at his hip. He nodded, stepped aside, and gestured for him to take over.

Kaelen moved directly to the corner, extended the flamer toward the twin-linked lascannon's position, and pulled the trigger. A dragon of burning promethium surged toward the enemy's position.

Kaelen loved the flamethrower. In boarding actions like this against mortals, flame weapons were incredibly effective. Though the flamer's range was short, it didn't need to directly hit a mortal to kill. The heat wave from the blazing fire, the massive oxygen consumption—the exhaust fans couldn't vent fast enough. In an instant, the mortals manning the lascannon behind the barricade collapsed from extreme heat and oxygen deprivation.

Brother Filon had once told him that an ancient historical text describing Old Terra's martial arts mentioned, "The most potent poison is oxygen."

Kaelen breathed in the cool air inside his power armour with excitement. Looking at the mortals sprawled on the ground from oxygen deprivation, his brothers didn't even bother wasting bolter rounds on them. They simply stomped over them mercilessly, eliciting the crunch of breaking bones.

Finally reaching the command bridge's door, Peter fired a few bolter rounds to create a weak point, then punched a gaping hole through it. A few laser shots came through the opening, and Peter sidestepped to dodge, but several struck his pauldron. He paid them no mind.

This time, he pulled the grenade's pin and tossed it through the hole. With a loud bang!, the command bridge must have been thrown into chaos.

Peter followed up with a kick to the door, and the three of them charged in together. A dozen or so sailors still holding weapons remained in the bridge, each taken down with a precise bolter shot. Kaelen, holding his heavy flamer in one hand, fired his bolter pistol with the other.

The three aimed their weapons at all the senior crew present. Peter switched on his external speaker and looked at the middle-aged man in the captain's uniform.

"Captain, this ship is ours now. You have two choices: surrender or die."

The short-bearded captain glared, teeth clenched, and roared in fury:

"You damned heretical traitors! I will not surrender to you. The Emperor will punish you!"

He reached for the lasgun at his belt.

Bang! Another precise bolter shot. Peter blew the captain's reaching hand clean off.

"Stupid, but at least he's got some guts."

Peter gave his impartial assessment.