On the bridge of the Glory Knight, Pex looked troubled. The battle had not proved as simple as he had imagined.
The hit rate of the three rounds of Macro-cannon fire had been disappointing, too. Macro-cannons were immensely powerful on a planet, but on the vast scale of space, they were only barely adequate.
The powerful shells lit up enormous mushroom clouds across the Ork warship, their tremendous explosions blooming like beautiful fireworks.
But the Ork warship's armor was too thick, and its hull too large, for such damage to be fatal. Ork creations were like that: crude, ugly, and prone to minor faults, yet functional, tough, durable, and immensely powerful.
"Tell the gunnery crews to speed up reloading and fire a few more volleys. All hands, brace for impact," Pex ordered. He knew that unless they could wear down the Ork warship's structural integrity while outside its range, they would be at a disadvantage once both ships began exchanging fire. Human warships had slightly less firepower than their Ork counterparts.
"Sections eighteen, thirty, and three have been hit by Ork torpedoes!" a damage-control officer reported.
"Contact lost with Macro-cannon sections two through five! Unable to fire!"
"Useless! Absolutely useless! What are the point-defense batteries doing? How could they fail to intercept all the Ork torpedoes?" Pex snarled.
"Begin turning! Bring the Macro-cannons on the other side to bear and keep firing!"
The Macro-cannon batteries ran along both sides of the warship. Turning like this was extremely dangerous: it required slowing down and turning to cross the enemy's T. But the Glory Knight had lost many of its weapon systems in the earlier ambush, including its immensely powerful lances...
So if they wanted to keep attacking the Ork warship with maximum firepower, turning was their only option.
The Lunar-class Cruiser-most warships of the Imperium of Man followed a similar design: a ram, a cathedral, and Macro-cannon batteries along both sides.
"The Ork boarding forces have broken through our defenses. Their boss is advancing toward the critical areas around the bridge."
"The Void Shields in sections A3 through A6 are under bombardment from Ork starfighters! Power-system output is rising, but it's still five increments short of overload."
Misfortune never came alone, and good fortune never came in pairs. Bad news followed bad news.
"We cannot afford any problems with the engines. Concentrate the Void Shields' protection on the stern. Bring the internal battle reports up on my terminal. How can they fail to deal with a few Ork boarding parties? This is what happens when the Astra Militarum gets too big. Some units are simply useless."
Pex watched the battle reports while cursing the Astra Militarum troops fighting back. "If those Orks weren't causing trouble aboard the ship, things wouldn't be this bad."
"Sir! The Ork warship is accelerating again!"
"What? Get the feed onto my screen, now!"
On Pex's blue screen, the Ork warship's engines were visibly shaking. The flames blasting from them had grown considerably longer. Its speed was not merely increasing-it was skyrocketing.
The Ork warship shook as though it might fall apart at any moment. A green Ork head seemed to loom over it, opening a bloody maw to bellow a mighty "Waaagh!"
The Orks' gunfire arrived ahead of their ship. Devotees of the cult of many turrets, the Orks believed that more and bigger were always better, and their ships carried plenty of turrets on the bow as well.
For ships of the same specifications, Ork warships generally had a third more firepower than Imperial warships.
Alarms sounded across the bridge, and every light turned red as Ork shells slammed into the Void Shields.
"Damn it!" Pex grabbed a nearby railing, barely keeping himself from falling.
The Imperium of Man's Void Shields could absorb most ranged damage, and the faster an object traveled, the more effectively they absorbed it. But that did not make them invincible. Slow-moving objects and water could pass through them, while shock waves from explosions could still affect objects inside.
"No, we can't turn fast enough... and the gap in firepower is too great..." Feeling the force of the Ork shells, Pex had lost his initial confidence. His mind raced. "If only the Glory Knight were undamaged!"
A large hand settled on Pex's shoulder. When he turned, his heart nearly skipped a beat.
It was Japhard, the Commissar stationed on the bridge to oversee all the Imperial officers.
Meeting Japhard's cold, murderous gaze, Pex nearly dropped to his knees, ready to confess every sin he had committed since childhood.
"I'll take my men and hold the approaches to the bridge. You will stay here and do your duty." Japhard's gaze grew sharper. "Serve the Emperor faithfully. Do you understand?"
With that, Japhard straightened his collar and swept his gaze over everyone on the bridge once more, as though warning them with his eyes: I'm watching you.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when Japhard left the bridge with his Kasrkin Kill Team. A Commissar's power over life and death was a sword of Damocles hanging above every head. His mere presence exerted tremendous pressure and intimidation.
Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Pex straightened his trembling legs.
"Helmsman, keep turning. Have the Macro-cannon crews on the other side speed up their loading... prepare to bombard the enemy ship." Pex stole a glance at the Gellar Field generator outside the bridge, then another at the three-eyed Navigator.
"Engine Room, keep enough power in reserve for the engines, and warm up every engine unit."
At that order, everyone tightened their safety harnesses. They had a feeling their captain was about to floor it.
The Glory Knight began turning along a forward-curving arc. The Ork warship kept advancing, cutting into that arc.
Once its straight course brought it inside the arc, the Ork warship opened up with everything it had. All manner of guns hurled oversized payloads at the Glory Knight as though ammunition cost nothing.
Countless explosions and shells wove a beautiful web around the Glory Knight. If sound could have traveled through space, the scene would have been just like the night of New Year's Eve.
The five-kilometer-long Lunar-class Cruiser was the brightest sparkler in the night sky.
The downside was that the accuracy left a lot to be desired. Most shells exploded around the Lunar-class ship like decorative lights. But Orks never bothered about such things. Fire enough shots, and accuracy stopped mattering so much.
The Glory Knight was enduring its hardest moment. Alarms rang throughout the warship, its hull shook violently, and gunfire had scoured many of its external installations.
Despite the punishing bombardment, the Lunar-class Cruiser held together thanks to its sturdy construction. At last, the Glory Knight completed its turn, bringing the intact Macro-cannon array on its other side to bear across the Ork warship's T.
All the punishment it had endured during the turn was repaid in that instant. At such close range, the Macro-cannon array's successive salvos achieved a hit rate of eighty percent! The Ork warship reeled under the barrage, a fifth of its structure blasted apart.
On the bridge-on the Glory Knight's bridge-everyone broke into cheers.
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