The Candle Keepers' central Council had offered Chyron overall command of the local and allied forces, the second of which had agreed in an instant when they were asked to support an assault on the Mega Rokk under his command. He had agreed, knowing all too well the dangers a fractured command structure could pose to any operation with allied forces participating, without even taking into consideration the enemy's own meddling.
Unfortunately, agreeing to lead left him in command, and now he had to find a way to minimize casualties on their side while maximizing enemy casualties; all the while, he had to act on several guesses that left him uneasy and cursing the lack of actionable intelligence about the local Orks even after so long.
Nobody knew the actual numbers of the Orks within the system, only that the Mega Rokk construction had taken priority of the Ork Boss within the system.
Nobody knew why the Orks focused on construction instead of rushing to the fight to do some "crumpin'!"
The numbers of the Ork ships in-system varied from "none" to "yes" by any given advisor and metric; the thick asteroid fields within the system could hide millions of Roks if it came down to it. (Not that Chyron actually thought there were millions, but the likely numbers were still too large in his opinion.) Nonetheless, they needed to be dealt with first, as he doubted any Ork, no matter how strange, could resist a "Good Krumpin'" happening where they could join, and he had just the way to deal with them.
Onto the Mega Rokk itself, a titanic target that could swallow anywhere from a few ten thousand soldiers to a few million, depending on how well-developed the entire thing was. He did not have that many regiments under his command. Even if he did not use the Psykers of the Keepers (which he would. They were surprisingly...stable for non-sanctioned Psykers and had a massive outsized boost to morale that he found incredibly off-putting), only around four standard Guard Regiments could be brought to bear, and that was half as much as he estimated would be required to take the damned thing.
Glaring at the information once again, he took a breath and turned around, stomping out of the modified command center, which had enlarged its doors to allow him entry, an old advice from an older friend in his head.
"Time for some Canned Sunshine."
"Boy, I sure do love being just a lone gunship filled with guns and dakka and big explosives, traveling around here with nobody to kill me!" Jivia broadcasted through the monitor's vox system, its massively upgraded machines transmitting the messages throughout an entire quadrant of the system with crystal-clear audio. "Yep, sure is nobody here to attack me, not even the cowardly Orks who couldn't even hold a gun if it was put into their hands!" Jivia continued to broadcast, rambling on and on about how defenseless the ship was and how filled to the brim its holds were with guns and explosives.
Minutes passed, which eventually turned into hours.
"You think we got them all?" Kri-72 asked silently on the bridge of the monitor being used as a lure, having long ago settled into their task of appeasing and soothing the rebellious machine spirit of the broadcasting equipment installed.
Kri-72 was not answered by a biting reply of an irritated Jivia but by the sudden flare of engines rumbling to life and the thunderous barrages of dakka thrown their way as two Roks began to charge at them. However, Jivia did deign to give Kri-72 an answer, pushing several buttons on the bridge to make the ship engage its engines at full power and steer away from the incoming rocks filled with pissed-off Orks and toward the hidden fleet already moving to pounce as one. "FUCKER!"
"Four Primitive Medium Monitors, six Aries, one Taurus, one Sagittarius, and three Boarding Frigates against one Drilla-Kroozer, four Roks, and one Mega Rokk," Thule-14 murmured, snug in the harness of her Oathsworn-Bomber, ignoring the hustle and bustle of Nu-17 working frantically to get Thule-16 and Thule-18 connected to her ship. In contrast, she had already been submerged with the Noosphere of her bomber, the 80-meter long craft slowly turning into nothing more than an extension of herself, from the uncomplicated bomb and missile bays to the massive engines eager to roar their hatred of stationary life into the void.
A tuck in the Noosphere made her aware that Thule-16 had joined her, and she felt the comforting touch of her sister-siblings mind, swiftly followed by an invisible strain upon her mind receding as weapon after weapon was taken from her and given to her sister-sibling's capable mind. Another tuck followed, and Thule-18 joined, and Thule-14 felt herself melt into the outer layers of her mind, two becoming one-and-a-half within moments as pilot and co-pilot started the checklists given unto them so long ago and followed with zeal ever since the training accident that had claimed Thule-17.
>Reading Ready on all Systems.
Thule-16 said cooly, feeling all nerves of her body run with a chilled certainty that washed away all doubts and fears.
>All Green.
Thule-18 replied, her mind filled with glory and fear, soothed by long experience and longer training sessions.
>Locked and Loaded.
Thule-16 reported maliciously, the excited drool in her mind feeling like slick oil upon her hands. That girl liked her weapons too much.
>ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL
Came the crashing presence of utter mechanical precision, the Machine Spirit of OB-1-1 filled with contempt and indifference to the fight ahead.
>Command, OB-1-1 confirms Ready.
Thule-16 reported, and then it was all over but the fighting.
There is a misconception about combat within the endless expanse of the void. There is the idea that because you can see the munitions of your enemy race at you, you can dodge and weave around them or bring yourself into a position that will make them glance off your hull. There is the idea that thanks to your shields, there is nothing to be worried about until your shields pop, and then you can retreat again to wait for them to replenish themselves.
Such could not be further from the truth. The void was vast indeed, but the munitions slung around were quick, and ships titanic lumbering beasts who rose from heading and elevation like leviathans rising from the ocean, slowly and with the certainty of glaciers grinding everything underneath their bulk.
Some ships could see their doom approach and could do little. Often, their captains turned and squirmed their vessels as they ordered the crew to abandon ships, proud men, women, and those between and beyond standing on bridges awaiting their fate, or craven wretches running for the life pods first and damned be all others.
Some ships could not see their doom ever target them and died without knowing what hid them. Crew stuck within decks and rooms not depressurized were consigned to a slow death should there be no gun to take their life, others sucked through the ship in bone-breaking and liquifying de-pressurization events, corpses no longer recognizable as living things strewn around every hall and erupting from the killing blow like ice from geysers on frozen planets and moons.
Aries-01 found its fate at the end of the Drilla-Kroozer and proved to belong to the first. A captain standing to the last, ordering their ship to turn in such a way that the guns of the despicable Orks could not target the survivors. A crew working to the last, donning void suits and marching to their rescue one and all. Martyrs were crewing guns and working engines, burning through the last few seconds to get that much more speed and lives saved or get off that last critical shot. The gunnery crew of the Lance stared in defiance at the drill and fired beyond all safeties, bodies cooking alive as the ambient temperature reached a hundred, two hundred, six hundred degrees, a beam of coherent energy carving itself deep into the enemy's primary weapon and burning through itself in the process, its gunners nothing more than living torches for the seconds it took for the Drilla-Kroozer to crash and pulp them all the same. The spine of the Aries had never been made to withstand such forces, and thus it cracked, spilling goods, fuel, munitions, coolant, and air, but it spilled little crew, hundreds of small pods rocketing away from the withering fire of the Orks seeking to kill the survivors as they laughed and whooped. Of those shots that landed, not even half managed to damage a pod, and only a seventh of the pods were destroyed before the Drilla-Kroozer had to contend with three adversaries once again.
One of which was the angry wrath of the Sagittarius, its giant prow-lance brimming with energies beyond any non-spinal lance weapon to contain, its gunnery crew seeking the ship that had just murdered so many of their comrades, and righteous fury within their mind as math and data collided at the right time in the right place. A shot went out, a reactor emptied of all its power and channeled into one singular blast that reached across the expanse of the void to find its target already swiveling around to try and face its oncoming doom head-on. It fails, and the Drilla-Kroozer finds its shields popped and hull open to the tender mercies of the oncoming duo of Aries. And the Orks aboard love every second of it.
The fighters and bombers of the Taurus meanwhile dodged and wove around the Ork Fighta's and Bommer's, reaping a bloody harvest upon their foes as sister-siblings burned in the void, their last action to avenge the loss of Aries-03 by the Mega Rokk. They returned to their home flight after flight, numbers slowly dwindling in the chaotic fight against the overwhelming fire from the Mega Rokk and the ever-present Dakka of the Roks remaining, not content with merely maiming their foes. The crew of the Taurus felt their anger and worked miracles to arm them again. "Kill them!" They shouted to the pilots, "Burn them from the void!" And the sister-siblings were all too eager to enact revenge and devastation upon the thrice-damned Orks eight-fold for every sister-sibling lost.
But away from them, burning beyond all sense, three Frigates had broken through the concentration of Ork ships and primed their torpedoes, the Brothers within waiting silently to fight and die for the Emperor and Humanity.
They would not be denied, even as a hundred boarding shuttles patiently waited for the Neumidian monitors to disgorge their troops into the Mega Rokk and aid in their retrieval.
An armored fist shot out, and bone gave way before fury and hatred.
A sword lashed away, and a torso split in twain, sloughing to the ground as its head screamed.
A boot descended, and the screaming cut out.
A hand armed a bomb, and the fate of this generator was sealed.
"BOMB PLANTED, NEXT OBJECTIVE!" Gamma roared to the fighting Scouts, aware of the five who carried canisters he had dared hope would remain empty. Twelve had fallen, but their names would be remembered.
"GET OFF MA ENGINE, SPACE MARINE!" An Ork shouted, firing wildly into the fighting mass of scouts under Alpha's command, seemingly incapable of realizing it was hitting its forces more than those under his command.
"Make me," Alpha coolly replied to the Mekboy, firing his plasma pistol at the mad Xenos, only to have the shot blocked by a Gretchin thrown in the way of the blast. Not that it actually mattered anymore. The engines had been scrapped, and the surprise was hidden well enough that the Orks would not be able to find it before it was activated.
Shame it cost the lives of 15 Scouts, but their gene lineage would live on in the Chapter's history and in two more applicants who were deemed worthy.
"FUCK YOU!" The massive Nob shouted, angrily bashing Delta with his large cleaver, only to find the dinky sword of the Space Marine infuriatingly resistant to being shattered.
"FUCK YOU!" Delta shouted back, dodging around another swipe of the Ork's power claw before returning the favor with a Gretchin to the face.
Said move caused the Nob to take offense, and he punched Delta instead with his hand holding the cleaver, catapulting the Space Marine out of the reactor room, which was currently swarming with far too many Boyz to sabotage.
Nine Scouts died trying to take the reactors, and the time for their assault was up. "Retreat to the landing zones! Leave the can!" Delta yelled through the vox channel to the still-surviving Scouts, doing his best to extract himself from the wall he had been punched into.
"I'll crush ya tin-can like a GIT!" The Captn' of the Mega Rokk yelled at Chyron, charging with all seventeen barrels roaring.
"Larger Orks than you have tried," Chyron coolly replied, ignoring the fire as he himself returned it from all weapons. "They all failed," he continued, the Scouts around him doing their best to shield their Chapter Master under the guidance of Beta, both fully-fledged Space Marines fully aware that the dots closing in on the radars of the Orks were their ticket home, and the soldiers within utterly dependent on them distracting the Warboss, or even slaying him, so that they wouldn't get swatted out of the void.
With the shields down and the engines of the Mega Rokk non-functional, the assault of the allied troops faced only a single obstacle.
The weapons of the Mega Rokk themselves.
Luckily for those involved in the planning, the Celestial Choir of the Candle Keepers had sent a Choir to join the assault, and they had all intentions to give their utmost to ensure that the Orks could not harm the troops flying through far too many weapons fire.
Thankfully, Orks were simple. They fired at the largest, most dangerous thing that they could find.
Even if that thing didn't exist in realspace.
Five stood within a circle, their voices humming a melody newly wrought yet more ancient than any that had been known by any of their number.
Five hummed the ancient melody and recalled the days when heat was old, life was young, and light did not yet exist.
Five opened their minds to the Immaterium and hummed to the beckoning call of gravity, heat, and ancients giant and small. They hummed to those who defied the Immaterium with wholly Material means, existence itself bowing before their weight upon the weave of the story that was called existence.
Five guided and gathered energies attracted, minds abuzz with power beyond reckoning, buzzing with a weight that could not be transcribed, buzzing in the hum of stars set alight as they remembered the days of old when they were young, and the world was old, listening closer to the siren's echo of births they had long since grown to cherish amidst the dying calls of Promethean fire.
They listened, and the Judgement of Neumidia gives but a fragment of a sliver of a minuscule percentage to those who had made her recall the days when her fire was young and her only child but a speck of burning rock.
Some would be insulted at the implication that they were worthy of so little.
The Choir is honored they were worthy of so much.
A prick is punched into the Veil. Tiny. Immaculate. Microscopic. Nothing to ever see as a threat.
A blazing burn of pure fire shoots forth, the power of The Sun blazing across the void, bringing light where none was before, touching the Mega Rokk with the gentle embrace of its fingers and warmth.
Three thousand Orks perish in an instant. The inside of the Mega Rokk rises by seven-point-three degrees Celsius. Slag sloughs off of the surface the transports are aiming for.
And no guns remain to fire at them.
Yet, one transport does not hold an awake Choir anymore; the stress of the melody too much to bear, bodies blistered to the bone, eyes scorched, and hearts singing with the fury of the stars kindled anew. They would require decades of aid and decades of healing, but their duty was done. And it wasn't like they were needed for their bodies anyway.
There is something beautiful about seeing something die.
Perhaps it was a reminder of finality, a reminder that there is an end. A part of the brain and soul taking solace that, yes, everything has an end, and that this too shall pass.
Or, perhaps, it was the joy of seeing a gigantic piece of rock and metal break apart under several nuclear warheads detonating within its bowels, secondary explosions taking everything within itself and outside itself out.
Especially when one of those things was the Drilla_Kroozer trying to flee with all its might, scythed through by a large metal fragment traveling at several percentages of the speed of light before the debris put holes upon holes in its unshielded hull.
The assault had been a success. The Orks in Neumidia were beaten back.
Now, there were but two systems infested by them within the Sub-Sector Archwan.
You Have 3 [Three] Actions.
[] [General] Construct Something
-[] Food Production V
-[] Civilian Infrastructure Nulla
-[] Heavy Industry II
-[] Void Industry VI
-[] Medical Services Nulla
-[] Military Industry III
(Gain: A boost in production focusing on the chosen option.)
[] [General] Get Us Out! (0/4)
After leveling their "demands" at us, we have received several offers of various legitimacy from within the ruling structures of CUB. However, they quickly boiled into one cohesive slush when the various portions became aware of each other's offers. In exchange for constructing a frigate to their specifications, these high-ranking members of CUB offer us...the system. Initially highly suspicious, further questions and negotiations revealed that these members want absolutely none of this shit, are desperate to flee the Orks, and are more than willing to sell out their supposed people for a chance at nebulous freedom. Also, they'll be gaining a frigate, making them basically kings and queens of the void if the Imperium does not prove willing to play ball. The vanquishing of the Orks on their home has made the traitors to their people feel as if they have more cards in their deck, instead of less, and have thus demanded more from us.
(Gain: Corcrat becomes a part of the Candle Keepers. +1 Military Industry, Civilian Infrastructure, Void Industry, +2 Heavy Industry, -4 Food Production, -1 Medical Services, +4 Heavy Mechanized Units, +1 Light Tank Unit.)
OR
[] [General] Betray the Betrayers (1/2)
Those on Corcrat that have not offered us treason in exchange for their home have seen it go from a prosperous world to one torn by war and defeat, where hard-faced men and women counted down the supplies generated to those required to cast off the Orks. Whoever they were before, they are now all children of Corcrat that have seen it buckle and sink to one knee under the onslaught of the Orks...and how it was all due to the Imperium fleeing like cowards. But they have also seen you arrive, ships in one hand, aid in the other, and no dagger in a (sometimes not) metaphorical third. So now, with the Orks no longer a genocidal crisis, these men and women are turning their eyes to other targets in the far future beyond survival. There is a hunger deep within them, for they have seen the strength of their people when called upon, and they are determined to make the Imperium regret abandoning them like a used prostitute. Yet, they will not be able to raise their people and planet if they are stabbed in the back, can they? So, with some help and some tips, specific...elements of their government can be eliminated, even if it will be bloody and destructive. But they will be thankful and they will know to whom they owe their newfound freedom.
(Gain: Corcrat becomes a part of the Candle Keepers. +1 Military Industry, Void Industry, and Heavy Industry, -3 Food Production, -1 Medical Services, +2 Heavy Mechanized Units, +1 Light Tank Unit.)
[] [General] Stay The Course (5/7)
Yes, the cost is steep, but it is the correct thing to do, no matter what the Farseer may think. These people deserve our aid, and they deserve a better outcome than a bullet to the head. If we will not extend a hand to those sinking into the abyss...who will?
(Warning! Not taking this option at any point until completion will force an abandonment of Khara. This reverses the loss of 3 Medical Services, 2 Civilian Infrastructure, and 1 Heavy Industry. After 3 Actions, abandoning will leave behind a Feral World filled with a Hostile Population.
Gain: Khara becomes a functional part of the Candle Keepers. +2 Medical Services and +1 Civilian Infrastructure.)
[] [General] A Ship Worth The Name (0/4)
The Kil'drabi Battlecolony is a marvel of ingenious and studious engineering, something that all who worked on it can be proud of and remember for their lives, handing down the pride and accomplishment for generations to be drawn upon for strength and hope in bleak days and bleaker moments. Yet, for the Candle Keepers, it is a waste of effort, a massive ship barely scratching upon what it could be, scarcely able to give what it was designed to do, and better off rebuilt at once. The Kil'drabi are heralds of what those who bend to the will of the Star Child could gain, and to let them fly in such a ship is an insult to Their Majesty. Rip out the sub-par and replace it all.
(Gain: The Kil'drabi Pact of Our New Path Battlecolony is retrofitted to adhere to the technological standards of the Candle Keepers.)
[] [Military] Enacting The Plan (0/2)
With most of the planning already done, the expansion and correction of your current designs can be undertaken in a speedy fashion that will result in outsized effects.
(Gain: Design Turn to create one Scout, one Destroyer, and one Frigate, and build all three.)
[] [Military] Raise Two Specialised [Light/Medium/Heavy] [Infantry/Mechanized] Unit - [Choose: Sabotage/Assault/Engineering/Demolition/Ogryn]/ Construct A Warp Ship - [Choose a Design]
With a chosen direction, your Military can now focus on giving the Units you will raise the proper training for the right job. Sabotage Units will focus on raiding and disrupting the enemy with lighting raids and plundering logistics; Assault Units will punch through the enemy in weak points and sow confusion with overwhelming firepower; Engineering Units will focus on creating fortifications and using turrets, mines, and barricades; Demolition Units will be comprised out of heavy weaponry squads with plenty of explosives, from mines to rockets; and Ogryn Units will be Ogryns armored in heavy metals and armed with shields and Beatin' Sticks led by men and women with spiffy hats that will not be disobeyed. Infantry Units consist mainly of boots on the ground, while Mechanized Units are equipped with vehicles that increase mobility and durability at the cost of logistics and all-terrain capability. Light Units are better for Low-Logistic scenarios, while Medium Units rely more on regular shipments yet strike a good balance between supply consumption and effectiveness. Ships are produced at these rates: Two Destroyers or One Frigate per decade.
(Gain: Chosen Military Units/Ships.)
[][Military] Design A New Voidship Class - [Available: Destroyer, Frigate]
From what we can tell, thanks to our history, what information we have available, and what the Kil'drabi and the Governor of Droma III tell us, the difference between a prosperous interstellar polity and one naught but ash is the strength of their navy. At the moment, we have the beginning of a nascent Void Fleet, yet purely defending against our enemies is a great way to get ground down into dust over time; we need to be able to bring the fight to them.
(Gain: A newly designed and built Ship Class.)
[] [Military] A Task For Specialists (Assign Unit/s) (Choose Location/s) (Designate Objective/s)
-[] (1/1) Medium Engineering Unit
-[] (1/1) Medium Assault Unit
-[] (6/6) Droman Coral Assault Unit
-[] (2/2) Droman Tideswarm Heavy Demolition Unit
-[] (2/2) Lamenters Space Marine Squad
-[] (2/2) Lamenters Space Marine Scout Platoon
-[] (3/4) Celestial Choirs
-[] Task Fleet Alpha
(4x Aries-Class Corvettes, 1x Sagittarius-Class Artillery Frigate, 1x Taurus-Class Troopship (0/4 Capacity))
-[] Kil'drabi Auxiliary Fleet
(1x Pact of Our New Path Battlecolony)
There is war to be had and battle to be made. Send troops to resolve issues and squash opposition to the Star Child and Humanity and all Their Protectorates. Or send ships to scout neighboring systems to understand what is happening there.
(Gain: Military dispatched to put down opposition violently. Scouts are dispatched to look at other systems.
Scouting Range: 1 System from Claimed Systems.
Note: For use outside your territory or in support of forces specified within another Action.)
[] [Psykana] Conduct a Melody (Choose one below.)
The Celestial Choir has been given the means; with time, they shall conduct their songs. They will listen to the Warp and filter out the false whispers from the slumbering guidance of the Star Child. In halting prayer and stumbling humming, the truth will be stripped until nothing but it remains in the hands of those who shall make it anew into power to be wielded by the Choirs to come.
(Secret: Slumber, Silence, Perception, and Grounding.
Star Child: Hope, Compassion, Humanity, Song, Mercy, Creativity, Health, Unity, Innovation, Machinery, Logic, Progress, Protection II, Justice, Wisdom, The Sun II, The Home, Death, Ruthlessness, Brutality, and Fire II.
Kil'drabi: Paths, The Void, Struggle, Community, and Family.
Gain: A Melody newly Conducted.)
[] [Psykana] Sing a Song (Choose at least Three below.)
Mere Melodies are not the end of the journey, nor should they be the start. They are the middle, from which all things shall grow and wither.
(Available: Protection I, Fire I, The Sun I.
Gain: A Song.)
[] [Faith] Nursery-Temples Beyond The Cradles
Droma has been liberated from the tyranny of an Imperium that cares not to defend those loyal for eons nor even to send a hand to help them flee the devastation to come. And with liberation comes the need to have faith in a new system, one brought by the heralds of a better age, an Age of Understanding and Progress! Let us create those temples where the young shall learn of better days and where the old will dream of the galaxy to come. Let us march hand in hand, share the power that gives strength and pride to every woman and man under our protection, let those new faithful lend a hand, and build that very Age we shall all create for future generations!
(Gain: Nursery-Temples are constructed within Droma, aiding the population in staving off Chaos Influence and strengthening their belief in the Droman Creed.)
[] [Faith] Souls Artificial and Minds Constructed
With five of the Psykana Experiments revealed to be not ravening monsters that wish to kill all soul-bearing life to devour, but wounded, terrified, and faithful beings seeking aid from the only source of comfort they had ever gained (the Star Child), questions have come up from various corners. Did they have souls? They should; the Celestial Choir said they felt a Song of Mercy sung by the Five-One for their wounds and minds. And yet, what nature does a soul constructed by malevolent monsters into crafted flesh-psykana automata take?
(Gain: Nail down the soul-doctrine aspects of the Cult of the Star Child.)
[] [Faith] Technology Given Or Earned
Technology is the most fundamental aspect of creation in the name of the Omnissiah, a motion of worship and change that defies the base existence of nature by pulling everything back until only the cosmic machine remains. Technology is holy; it is worship and an act of pure faith. Yet, what of technology made by the Xenos? We know they will bend to the Star Child and become more than they thought they'd be in Their service, but what of their, and our, technology? Will we make use of what machines they use, and will we allow them to make use of ours? Or will lines be drawn never to be crossed upon pain of punishment? Maybe we will dictate tests and demand proof to give what we have gained in freedom and worship.
(Gain: Nail down the Xeno Uplift-doctrine aspects of the Cult of the Star Child.)
[] [Chapter] From The Top Again (0.5/2)
The Chapter still needs more Companies filled before Chyron is willing to shift his mindset of emergency to one of merely acute danger for the Chapter. After that, the real work begins.
(Gain: The Lamenters fill out two more Companies.)
[] [Other] Take Care Of [Future Or Current Problems]
(Write-In the problem being addressed.)
