Mistanbol was eating a freshly cooked bowl of mushroom soup. The mushrooms grown in the deepest parts of the iron mine were big and thick, perfect for soup. The Ork cooks left something to be desired, though. What a waste of good ingredients.
Suddenly, with a boom, a massive metal head crashed into the yard in front of the mining district. Inside, Boomblasta was left dizzy and dazed by the impact and barely managed to crawl out.
Orks quickly gathered to see what was happening. Thinking it was an enemy attack, they charged at Boomblasta, howling.
In the council hall, Mistanbol looked at Boomblasta, who had fallen from the sky and been knocked senseless. Now he lay on the floor, trussed up like a dumpling.
"You really blew up a whole bunch of big tin cans?"
"Every word's true! The Big Boss tin can leading 'em was huge, with shiny gold patterns on his front. I saw him and eight other Big Boss tin cans walk into my precious Gork Dreadnought, then it blew up. Reckon they're dead as dead gets. There were dozens more tin cans around it, too. At least half went down."
Mistanbol knew how powerful that explosion had been. Even from the mining district, he had been able to see the mushroom cloud towering dozens of kilometers high by enhancing his eyesight. Honestly, not even a body as tough as his could have survived an explosion on that scale.
"Well done! Someone untie him and give him two thousand teeth." Mistanbol's voice rang throughout the Iron Mine Base. That was a fortune, enough to buy more than twenty Deff Dreads from the other Big Boss meks.
"But you lost the Gork Dreadnought. Uh, sure, you built it, but you still need punishing. Go work on stuff that can fly. Those space tin cans have been bombing us too hard lately. No reason we should let humies beat us down." Clear rewards and punishments were the foundation of leadership. Of course, the news delighted him. Trading an idol walker for a Chapter Master was a fantastic bargain.
"Oh, right. Put one of those flying heads on my Morkanaut, too."
Mistanbol calculated how much time remained. The Ork army had already bought him a day. With their headquarters hit this badly, the enemy would probably need another day to recover. The dawdling Weirdboyz had yet to engage the enemy, so he could have them delay their attack a little longer and tell Ulutan to speed things up. That would get them through three days. Round it off, and victory was practically in the bag.
Boomblasta left the warlord's council hall and returned to his quarters. Almost all his Mekboyz and Big Boss meks had gone up with the Gork Dreadnought, leaving him on his own again. But now he was a completely different Ork. Mistanbol's words had opened his eyes. A flying head alone was not enough; he needed to build an even more waaaaaagh flying machine. What could he do? He had just received two thousand teeth. No more pretending. Time to lay his cards on the table: he was rich.
The Fourth Company's Third Squad was about to reach its designated position. The small Auspex mounted on the Motorcycle showed a strange energy signature at the very limit of its underground scanning range. Deputy squad leader Kshevich immediately activated the specially modified sonar on his Motorcycle.
The vast sea of snow seemed endless. The Astartes circled above the strange energy source but could find no entrance.
"Could it be ancient wreckage buried underground?"
"You mean there might not be any way down from the surface? What do we do, blast our way down?"
"You wasteful idiot. Is that what Melta Bombs are for? Call the Imperialis Militia over to dig." William was the first to reject the suggestion.
"I think we could call in an orbital bombardment from the fleet."
"Gajie, has your brain shorted out? You don't even know what's down there, and you want to bomb it? What if it's a massive reactor or a bomb? You could blow this whole area sky-high."
"Exactly. Who taught you that bad habit of wanting to blow up everything you see?" Evan had barely finished speaking when Gajie fixed him with a stare. Me? I don't want to blow things up that badly. Not that badly...
"Do you think it could be an ancient STC Template?"
"Impossible. Absolutely impossible."
STC Templates were mechanical creations left over from the Dark Age of Technology. They were repositories for almost all ancient human technology, commonly known as Standard Template Constructs, and could combine different technologies according to the user's requirements. They had once been humanity's final guarantee that its colonies could maintain their technological standards. Nearly every colony needed an STC Template's assistance to design colonial buildings and construct essential technological facilities such as shelters and power stations.
Over time, most had become damaged, unreliable, or riddled with errors that rendered them incomprehensible. Every STC Template, even an incomplete one or a mere fragment, was a treasure the Adeptus Mechanicus dreamed of possessing. The Adeptus Mechanicus would spare no expense to extract useful ancient technology from them, however incomplete it might be.
A complete, properly functioning STC Template was considered a perfect creation that existed only in history. If one could be found, it would restore the Imperium of Man's technological peak and return humanity to the throne of the galaxy.
"Do you think the people on this planet are idiots? Haven't they scanned their own world? Something like an STC Template broadcasts a stable signal. From what we're seeing, this signal probably only started recently. Could it be a Necron tomb pyramid that's been disturbed and awakened?"
As their discussion grew heated, an unexpected voice interrupted them.
"Bzzzt... bzzzt... Can you hear me? Third Squad, can you hear me?"
An unstable transmission came through the Astartes communications channel.
"Third Squad receiving. Repeat, Third Squad receiving. Go ahead."
"Third-bzzzt-assemble immediately in sector A5C8. Rapidly-bzzzt-proceed to the-bzzzt-pit in B2C1. The enemy has badly wounded-bzzzt-the Chapter Master-bzzzt-attack with everything!"
The communications channel seemed to be suffering severe interference. Fourth Company Captain Zhanke's voice kept cutting in and out.
But none of them had time to worry about communications now.
"What? The Chapter Master's badly wounded?"
"Don't jump to conclusions. We haven't confirmed that the Chapter Master was wounded. It could mean the Chapter Master issued new orders after hearing someone else was badly wounded."
"Whatever happened to whoever, we need to get there immediately."
Everyone pushed their Jetbikes to maximum speed. They had a bad feeling. Whoever had been badly wounded was important enough for the news to be broadcast across the entire Chapter.
All seventy-three Astartes of the Fourth Company rapidly reached the assembly point. By the time William arrived with his squad, the other Astartes had already established defensive positions.
"Captain Zhanke, we're here. Our communications suffered unknown interference earlier. What's the situation?"
"William, the Storm Will Chapter Master walked into a trap and was gravely wounded. Many of their First Company veterans were badly wounded or killed."
Everyone in Third Squad fell silent. The war had gone so smoothly until now that none of them had expected anything like this.
"Chapter Master Deika has ordered us to remain vigilant and join the main force in sector B2C1. That's where the Ork warlord first landed, and it's their main base."
"Now, here are my orders. Wherever more than fifteen Astartes assemble, the first warriors to arrive must immediately establish defensive positions. Wherever more than thirty assemble, those positions must include dugouts to shelter against bombardment. Listen up, all of you. From now on, we fortify our positions and fight methodically."
"But, Captain, our advantage..."
"Our advantage is superior numbers and equipment. The seven warships overhead have already begun a nonstop orbital bombardment of the mining district. If sixteen hundred Astartes can't defeat an Ork invasion whose technology tops out at idol Dreadnoughts, we might as well all go on a Penitent Crusade."
Seventy-three motorcycles set out in force, heading straight for sector B2C1. Along the way, they raided multiple Ork foundries and mushroom farms. Swift as the wind and devastating as fire, they embodied both to perfection. Evan learned solid, practical combat skills.
Elsewhere.
The Storm Will Chapter and the Shadow Venom Blade Chapter advanced rapidly. Any Ork army they encountered, whether Killa Kans, Weirdboyz, or other bizarre armored contraptions, was torn to pieces by the furious Astartes.
You great rats hiding in the mining district-the Emperor's punishment had come!
The veteran force led by Deika, Chapter Master of the Green Templars, swiftly raided numerous vital Ork supply sites, including the Weirdboyz' dwellings, the Mekboyz' workshops, and their crude airfields. Large numbers of mortals carrying Promethium flamethrowers followed behind, alongside conscripts from the North Pole Fortress. They would avenge their fallen brethren.
All the Astartes were closing in on the Iron Mine Base, encircling it from three sides. They swore to grind their enemies' bones to dust and scatter their ashes.
"Lord Mistanbol, the big beauty's ready."
"Good, Ulutan. You've done very well."
The Ork warlord Mistanbol had also been driven into a desperate corner. The relentless orbital bombardment had left the entire base on the verge of collapse. Three of its Force Fields had already burned out. If he had not ordered Boomblasta to make five spares, they would have been blasted to ash long before now.
The Orks under his command had long been itching to act. To them, gunfire was the sweetest music in the world. But outside the spherical space enclosed by the force field, everything had been reduced to ash. Without the smoke, the whole base would have looked from a distance like a watermelon skewered on a chopstick: a pitiful sliver of rock below supported the enormous spherical base. Soon, the bombardment would snap that chopstick, dropping the base farther down, then blast another chopstick into shape. However brave the Orks might be, none dared venture into fire like that.
Mistanbol headed down to the base's lower level with Ulutan beside him. The colossal killing machine Ulutan had begun building on the great warlord's orders as soon as he arrived at the iron mine-the culmination of his life's work-was finally ready for inspection.
Meanwhile, Boomblasta had won the admiration of a great crowd of Mekboyz. Surging waaaaaagh energy poured into him, sending the growth hormones in his body skyrocketing. By the time he finished recounting his heroic deeds, he had visibly grown a size larger.
After installing his spare flight apparatus on the Morkanaut, he needed more hands to complete his other grand vision.
Before he came to this planet, Boomblasta had been a Mekboy, repairing weapons for ordinary Ork Boyz in his little den every day. He had been born aboard an Ork "spaceship," a hollowed-out asteroid. They also stored many meteoroids, hollowing them out to use as landing pods.
Someone would often come to recruit Mekboyz to build "landing pods" at the front of the asteroid. The work paid plenty of teeth, so everyone fought for a chance to go. Boomblasta rarely got the opportunity to earn that "big money." Back then, he had thought how waaaaaaaagh it would be if he could build his own meteoroid drop pod.
Later, Boomblasta and a few of his poor friends boarded a drop pod under Big Mek Ulutan's command and descended to the surface with the main force. Watching several Orks seated near the outside get smashed into meat patties, he had thought it would be nice to add a braking system.
Later still, he grew especially fond of bombs. Or rather, all Orks loved waaaaaaagh things that could blow up a huge area, but he especially loved making them. Every time he built something that made a big boom, he felt an immense sense of achievement. Then came the day he blew apart that sewer grate, and his life as an Ork changed completely.
Then he saw the Imperium's Lightning Strike Fighters and Thunderbolt Heavy Fighters. Those beautiful warplanes traced smooth arcs through the sky while unleashing ferocious firepower. Boomblasta wanted to build one himself.
Now he had experience building a flying head. He would combine everything he knew to create the most waaaaaaaaaagh flying machine of all.
With the great warlord Mistanbol's authorization, he could now openly recruit workers and build what he envisioned. But whether he ultimately let Mistanbol use it would be his own decision.
Without his noticing, the waaaaaaaaagh energy surrounding Boomblasta had grown immense-so immense that he could spark a massive Ork frenzy all by himself. He had not even realized that he no longer regarded the great warlord's words as absolute commands.
War was cruel. An Ork extermination campaign that had assembled sixteen hundred Astartes had already cost nearly a hundred of them. It was a grievous loss. Every one of the Emperor's Angels of Death represented an enormous investment of the Imperium of Man's resources, and no one wanted those losses to grow. All the Astartes had surrounded the Iron Mine Base. Sparing no expense, the warships' Auspex systems had scanned the planet three times, confirming that the largest waaaaaaaagh field was here. In other words, the Ork warlord was here.
Finish it all in one battle. Slay the xenos. Repay blood with blood!
On this desolate battlefield, the spherical base in the center of the vast crater ahead stood out starkly. The gene-sons of the Imperial Fists, renowned for their defense, would redefine their Legion's name with their own hands. They were the Imperium's mightiest fist, and now they would strike the enemy it hated most.
Deika, Chapter Master of the Green Templars, stood on a large rock, drew a deep breath, and roared at the enemy ahead. "Worthless Orks! Spineless scum who only know how to hide at home! Our Gene-Father slaughtered your ancestors on Ullanor! The head of that pathetic Ork warlord Urlakk Urg still hangs in our history museum! I could hunt you to the ends of the earth before, and I can slaughter every last one of you now! Come out, cowards! Come and face the Emperor's punishment!"
The orbital strikes had stopped. Even a Chapter as wealthy as the Storm Will could not maintain such intense, continuous bombardment forever. After the Storm Will Chapter Master was gravely wounded, overall strategic command had passed to Deika, Chapter Master of the Green Templars.
Deika had chosen the right moment to order a simultaneous volley from six warships, successfully disabling the Orks' last invulnerability field. The fleet needed twenty minutes to reload, while the Orks would probably need only ten-odd minutes to repair their invulnerability field generator. Those ten-odd minutes would decide the final battle between the Space Marines and the Ork warlord.
There were no more speeches. Mistanbol finally awakened the Deff Dreads. Thousands of them stirred around his Morkanaut, their polished blades and enormous gun barrels displaying their formidable combat power. The Weirdboss Sancher, a great sorcerer among the Orks, sustained powerful waaaaaaaafg energy to strengthen the Morkanaut's Force Field. An entirely elite Ork army, a rare sight in past campaigns, finally bared its fangs.
The Leman Russ Tanks and Baneblades under the Shadow Blades' command had already established numerous firing positions and opened fire. Rocket-assisted ammunition, doomsday cannon shells, and Baneblade cannon shells rained down as though they cost nothing. They needed to collapse the enemy's field quickly. Overhead, Lightning Strike Fighters and Thunderbolt Heavy Fighters also poured down fire. The Imperialis Militia did everything in its power to support the Space Marines.
The Astartes acted as well. Who said only Orks could wield psychic powers?
The Chief Librarians of the Storm Will and the Green Templars removed their helmets and acted together. Roiling black clouds gathered overhead. After a long buildup, a powerful bolt of Waaagh! Lightning crashed down, instantly overloading the Orks' invulnerability field. The bloody melee began.
More than a thousand Astartes charging the enemy from every direction was a magnificent sight. The Green Templars, famed for their speed, reached the very front of the battle line almost instantly.
Evan stayed close behind squad leader William, with deputy squad leader Kshevich at his side. Everyone fired their Bolters rapidly. The enemy's firepower was no less fierce. Ork weapons might have poor accuracy, but with thousands of Deff Dreads shooting, precision was entirely unnecessary. They just had to blast away.
On the Gorkanaut, an idol walker dedicated to close combat, the Chainaxe roared. Its enormous morning star whipped up fierce gusts as it swung.
The Cataphractii Terminators charged at the forefront. A relatively rare pattern among the Green Templars, the Cataphractii finally stepped forward when it mattered most. Though they suffered heavy casualties, they successfully covered their comrades' advance into optimal combat range. Veterans from the various Legiones Astartes were the first to plunge into the enemy ranks.
Within three feet of each other, life and death come down to a single stroke. Sorry, but when it comes to speed, I, a son of the White Scars, have never lost.
Before you continue