On the Sword of Vostroya, the first battleship produced by the Vostroyan shipyards, Pell Koschelny stood upon the bridge.
In every field of training he had taken first place, including the many courses involving voidcraft.
After completing the voidship training required of every Shadow of Order candidate, he was recognized as possessing the qualities of a voidship commander.
Thereafter, Pell and the other candidates began advanced training in voidship command.
Ballistics of the void, fleet tactics, formation command, simulated fleet battles…
As the top student in every subject, Pell naturally beca the only recruit entrusted with the captaincy of a battleship.
Recruits whose overall evaluations reached the "excellent" standard beca frigate captains or part of a battleship's command crew. Those rated rely "qualified" were given smaller escort ships. Pell braced himself as the bridge deck tilted sharply beneath him.
The Sword of Vostroya's power was diverted to void shields and weapons. During ergency maneuvers, a battleship had to rely partly on its own mass and gravity.
"Port side, eleven degrees," Pell commanded with fervor. "Take it out."
All screens flickered with runes, friend-or-foe signals filling the void, while the molten husks of ruined starships lit the darkness with fire.
A Cobra-class destroyer flashed past, an Astartes Legion's smallest independent warship.
Its failing engines vented blue-white fire, sparking like fireworks as it scraped past the massive battleship's hull.
"Accelerate."
Pell's voice dropped, his black eyes gleaming. His transhuman brain simultaneously mapped attack vectors and evasive maneuvers.
The recoil from lance fire shook the deck. On the screens, forward scans vanished beneath a searing yellow glare.
The fleeing Ork ship lood ahead, even larger than the Sword of Vostroya.
Prismatic ether-fire lashed its shields, crackling until the barrier collapsed.
"Ork fighta-bommas closing starboard!"
"Port-side void shield five has failed!"
"Lances at ninety-five percent charge!"
Data stread through Pell's mind, flowing seamlessly into the tactical flood.
The Sword of Vostroya, under his command, swept through the void. The prey could not escape.
"Target locked!" the gunnery master roared.
"Fire!"
Two blazing beams speared through the enemy's roaring engines.
The unstable balance of their drive shattered. The Ork ship began to tear itself apart.
The Ork fleet broke in rout. As the 6th and 11th Legion pressed the pursuit, the flagship of the Space Wolves approached the Attack Moon.
On its bridge, Enoch looked through the viewport at the black ships in perfect formation.
The Shadows of Order's five battleships held the key orbital nodes. Frigates and destroyers spread out in escort screens, while lighter craft sward.
The 11th Legion controlled the Attack Moon's periter. No vessel could pass their blockade.
The Wolf Lord slamd his fists against the console, roaring.
"What do they an by this?"
Anger glinted in Leman Russ's golden eyes. His voice was ice.
"Hold course. Maintain speed."
"Send word to Nareth's whelps, clear my path. I will go to the accursed moon."
"Tell them the Blood of the Wolves was spilled there."
Encrypted ssages flashed back and forth.
The Shadows of Order warned the Wolves not to approach. Yet the Wolves stalked nearer, step by step.
On the Attack Moon's surface, after seizing the third gate, Nareth received an urgent report from his Astropath.
He paused a mont, recalling the words Russ would one day speak to Magnus during the Burning of Prospero.
"Tell him, the Shadows of Order found this Attack Moon. It is mine to dispose of."
"And ask him this: must the wolf beg from a better hunter?"
Monts later, the Wolves' flagship crossed into lance range.
On its bridge, the Astropath relayed Nareth's words, trembling beneath Russ's murderous gaze.
Enoch's fury erupted, his fist smashed the screen from its mount, sending it crashing into a servitor.
The servitor collapsed, its abdon split open, sparks crackling from ruined systems.
The bridge fell silent. Only the hum of instrunts broke the stillness.
All eyes turned to the Wolf King, awaiting his judgnt.
"By the law of Fenris, the prey belongs to the hunter who brings it down," Russ growled.
"The pack does not steal another's kill."
Relief spread among the Legion.
Russ stepped beside the Wolf Lord, clapping a hand upon his shoulder.
"Enoch, vent your wrath on the greenskins. Prove yourself in battle against his whelp."
The Wolf Lord slamd his fist against his armor with a resounding crack.
"Father, I will win."
Russ withdrew his hand, gaze returning to the void.
His other hand clenched into a fist.
'I will take the Ork Warboss's head. I will win the hunt. And I will crush Nareth's damned pride.'
The 6h Legion's flagship was the first to strike, targeting the fifth planet under Ork control.
Upon entering orbit, Enoch ordered imdiate bombardnt of the Orks' defenses.
As expected, Nareth soon received confirmation that Russ had halted, followed shortly by news of the Wolves' assault upon the greenskin world.
Having just seized the fourth gate, the Primarch asked his attendant:
"What of the 2nd and 7th Chapters?"
Arsena checked his data slate before answering.
"Lord, fifteen standard minutes ago, Lord Jas reported the 2nd Chapter secured six corridors, with three already deactivated by the techmarines."
"Seventeen standard minutes ago, Lord Sanchez reported the 7th Chapter had taken nine corridor, with four shut down."
Nareth considered briefly, then issued his commands:
"Order the 5th and 6th Chapters to divert two-thirds of their strength to the Attack Moon. Take the remaining corridor, relieve the 7th Chapter."
"The 7th is to re-embark and strike the Ork world."
He would not underestimate the Wolf King. He could already picture Enoch pouring his fury upon the Orks.
"Have the Astropath send word to the 3rd and 9th Chapters, half their strength is to redeploy to the Wheel of Fire."
The Attack Moon's discovery demanded a reshaping of plans and deploynts.
Before transferring it to the buyers, a permanent garrison must be established.
Originally Nareth had intended, after victory at Catachan, to rotate other Chapters here to gain experience against the Orks. Now, he accelerated the plan.
He noted the moon's properties onto his data slate: its structure, subspace drives, gravitic lash weapons, barbaric shield fields.
He handed the slate to his attendant.
"Collate the techmarines' data with this and send it aboard the transports to Necromunda. Deliver it to the Forge Lord."
"Rosicky will seek among the chanicum those factions who covet such a prize."
"At once, lord."
Sanchez, upon receiving the Primarch's order, dared not delay. He knew well the na of Enoch, an opponent not to be underestimated.
He would defend the Legion's honor. He would defeat the Wolf Lord.
...
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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