"My lord, the right flank has been breached. The Third Destroyer Squadron's last resistance node just went dark. The Orks' numbers are still increasing, with new fleets pouring in from the flanks and rear."
"Report: the Glory's Recompense has sent an emergency transmission. Captain Kais reports that over eighty percent of the ship's interior has been confirmed lost. There are too many Ork boarding troops. The defenders are resisting deck by deck, but total loss is only a matter of time. Captain Kais said..."
The communications officer paused, seemingly drawing a deep breath before continuing in as steady a voice as he could manage:
"He said, 'This may be the last clear transmission the Glory's Recompense can send. My lord, please tell the Primarch and the Chapter Master that it was my honor to stand beside the Word Bearers.' Then the signal cut out."
Klas Noda stood on the scarred Bridge of the Pride's Recompense, his back ramrod straight. His gaze pierced the enormous observation window, webbed with fine cracks, and settled on the merciless void filled with explosions, flames, shattered hulls, and countless tiny green dots.
He heard every piece of bad news. The lines of his face remained as still as carved stone, without the slightest twitch.
Just then, beyond the observation window, an especially dazzling point of fire at the edge of the right-flank battlefield caught his eye.
It was the Glory's Recompense, a Revenge-class heavy cruiser.
Its massive hull had been breached in multiple places, thick smoke and flames pouring from several enormous rents. Its port-side main engine array was completely engulfed in ominous orange-red fire, trailing a long, burning wake. Yet its speed had not fallen. It was accelerating.
Surrounded and battered by volleys from countless Ork ships, the burning giant adjusted its remaining thrusters