In the Image of His Father (40K)

[Imperial Overlord]

Heros made it easy. His bombastic use of Inquisitional authority made finding him easy and the three summary executions he had ordered since arriving had made the rosette a sign of unquestioning obediance as well as failing to inspire any loyalty. So they obeyed when Kyra made certain requests and told them to file no reports.

Heros liked to travel in style, with an escort worthy on an Imperial Commander. It made finding him easy He had already finished his purge, another ninety-seven psykers denied to the Imperium.

So Maladar stayed by broken down auto by the side of the road waiting for Heros's procession to take him out of the city to his huge gun cutter currently parked at the space port. It was easy to spot, even if he hadn't been wired into the sensor net monitored by Balmish. The Vulture gunship flying security for the convoy was a dead give away. Not that he would be in it. Heros wouldn't be in the lead vehicle and it was known that he hated to fly

And here they came. An armoured stretch limo lead the convoy, a massive beast capable of holding a dozen men easy. It's paint was a gleaming black. Maladar shrugged off his coat.

The noise of an explosion shook him. The Vulture nose dropped as smoke poured from the remnants of an engine pod. The wounded craft roared over and smashed into the pavement one hundred meters beyond Maladar's position. Recket's work. Maladar raised the grenade launcher on its shoulder sling and fired.

The first krak grenade blew through the armoured grill and a second followed a moment latter. Maladar tore a tire to shreds with a third blast. The vehicle ground to a stop. The drum magazine held a lot of grenades and he was not inclined to hold any back.

Several naval security troopers poured out of the back of two vans. They had arranged a traffic problem on the alternate route, but that had proved needless. Like many Monodominants, Heros was a direct man and a creature of habit.

The naval troopers began to light up the air with hellgun beams. Maladar blew in the windshield of the limo with another pair of krak grenades. A bright flash and a sudden plume of flame indicated the Recket had taken out the last vehicle with a melta missle.

Two troopers piled out of the dying limo. The naval stormtroopers gunned them down immediately, their hellguns burning right through their flak armour at point blank range. Another one staggered out to take a las bolt in the neck that nearly decapitated. Vils would have shift position. Maladar marched forward.

They were piling out of their trapped vehicles now and using them as cover. It wouldn't save them. Maladar heard the flat crack of the specialty bolt rounds Kyra had loaded into her psycannon. Two Inquisitional armsmen fell as their armour failed under Kraken rounds.

Maladar walked put a krak grenade in the side of the next car, through the chest of an armsmen, and then into the side of a building down ranged when he missed. The grenade blew a whole the size of a space marine's helmet in the armsman's chest, showering the man behind in gore. Maladar shot him in the head.

The counter fire was heavier now. Las beams and executioner rounds raked at Vils' and Recket's locations. Maladar hoped they were smart enough to have vacated the vacinity. A plasma beam lashed out as well. Maladar fired at the plasma gunner. Two more armsman fell to Kyra's guns. Hellbeams exacted their bloody toll on the defenders, but the fire was less intense now.

Maladar's advance had taken him quite close to the survivors and it had burned through the krak grenades in the drum. He pumped frag shells into the survivors in an unhurried manner. Another group of men fired on him as he fired round after round at a cluster of three survivors. Las beams struck around him. One nicked his arm. An executioner round hit him in the chest.

Maladar rocked back. At Two hundred and three centimeters and one hundred and forty-seven kilos, he was not easily moved. For this operation he was armoured in full body mesh with a carapace cuirass to guard his vitals. The explosive charge bruised him and cracked the armour. But it didn't drop him. His eyes blazed. Literaly.

Jagged bolts of darkness flashed through the air. The shooter with the Arbite's combat shotgun was struck by several bolts in the face. The front half of his skull exploded. The bolts blew fist sized chunks out of the other shooters chest and tore up the hood of the car. Maladar was now even with the last survivors of the group of three. His armour had given him some protection from the frag grenades. Maladar channelled some energy into a telekinetic ward and shot him in the chest at the distance of four meters. Shrapnel bounced of his psy shielding. It tore through the wounded, reducing his chest to blood hamburger.

The interrogator continued his remoreseless advance. Another barrage of frag shells and the survivors and then one more shot. He dropped the empty launcher and drew his bolt pistol. Brak-thunk! Brak-thunk! Another dead man. Brak-thunk! Brak-thunk! The contents of a skull splattered all over a side door.

A huge figure loomed ahead. Shiny black power armour embossed with gold. Seals with the markings of the Inquisition on the knees, chest, and shoulders. A bolter in one hand, a power axe in another. Nikal Heros. A scrawny little bastard crouched near him.

Heros fired off two bursts down range. That wasn't healthy for the stormtroopers backing Maladar up. Maladar raised his left hand. Biomancy had uses beside augmenting his flesh or accelerating healing. Arcs of lightning flashed through the air and dissippated about a meter away. Maladar was sure he could see the mother-raper grinning right through his helmet.

Maladar lashed out with a mind blast and felt something like a negative vortex suck away the force of the blast. A pariah. He reached out with his mind. Yes, the scrawny little bastard wearing the white robe beside him. He could try to batter through with brute force it or-

Maladar fired his bolt pistol. The runt took two rounds in the chest and doubled over and fell. Not dead. The little weasel must be wearing armour under the robes. But down and rolling. Maladar felt the vortex dissolve into a mere negative sinkhole. "What now Nikal?" he roard. What exists that can save you from me?"

His eyes flashed. Black bolts lashed out, cratering his armour. Nikal advanced. Laughter boomed out. "Did you think Geris was my only protection from the unclean? Fool! I am protected by hexagrammic wards!" He raised his axe. The powerfield hummed ominously. It could shatter the toughest armour, disrupt forcefields, and would undoubtedly smash through Maladar's wards. With a roar, Nikal Heros charged.

Maladar let loose a scream of incoherent fury. The full force of his rage and hate channelled into a psychic beam. Heros stumbled, lurched to the side, and half collapsed. Maladar kept pouring it on. Heros tried to get back to his feet. Didn't succeed. But Maladar couldn't keep this up for much longer.

The interrogator sprung forward, mono edged combat knife glinting in his hand. He leapt and struck psi power augemented his strength, warp energy enshrouding his knife. It punched through the neck seal. Maladar brutally twisted it and jerked it around. Blood fountained out of the Heros's armour and the inquisitor fell.

The pariah moaned and tried to sit up. Maladar shot him in the face with his bolt pistol. He turned towards the few huddled survivors of Heros's band, crouching behind ruined vehicles and exchanging fire with their attackers as they died one by one. He dropped the knife and raised his bloody left hand. A torrent of lightning shot forth and they fell. He strode forward with his bolt pistol to deal with any survivors.

[Imperial Overlord]

Maladar strode into the refectory. It was a vast circular chamber wrought out of black stone and it stretched out to be two hundred meters in diameter. Booths lined the sides, many of them psi-shielded and scan blocked. Tables were scattered through the room and sentients of a dozen species circulated. Humans were a distinct minority.

Blue skinned tau of the Water caste exchanged greetings with the powerfuly built, bulldogish Ren'll. Kroot mercenaries escorted an enviro-armoured vaguely humanoid xeno, probably a methane breather. A flashily dressed human with two huge and scarred minders covered in blades and armour spoke with an eldar. Grey skinned nekulli, far from their native stars, considered the selection of jewels offered by an inhumanely tall figure shrouded in a cloak.

Maladar strode down the steps onto the trade floor. His body was sheathed in Vitrian armour-mesh over which he wore coat of black shimmer silk. A meter long, slightly curved Caridian saber hung from his waist and a large bore Strennar pistol was holstered on his other hip.

His arnament was unremarkable and his mass did not cause the crowds to yield to him. A trio of kroot bared the way and he was forced to move around them. The inhabitants of Keruga tolerated rogue traders, but did not love men. Here Imperial authority was worse than worthless. It was a death sentance.

He found what he was looking for near the back of the room. A booth with one being in it. Not a man, a cherada. Maladar approached. The cherada looked over at him.

It was of average height, taller than an Astartes. It was lean and covered in brown scales, with the protruding lower tusks of a male. It's augmantic harness was a dull black that drank in the light. It turned its horselike head with its black feather crest towards Maladar and met his gaze.

Maladar did not flinch from the blood red orbs. He approached the xenos. The cherada were a low grav race, weak by human standards. They compensated for their weakness with powered exo-frames that made them nearly as strong as a bull ork.

Maladar approached and touched the shield trigger a shimmering veil enclosed the booth. "You are Eznara Heness of the High Sept Calare?" That was horribly mangling his names in translating them to something pronouncable in Low Gothic, but that was the way humans did things.

"Yes," came the reply. The xeno spoke fairly good Gothic, despite his anatomical limitations. "Why you speak with me human?"

"A hunt," came Maladar's reply.

"Who you wish hunted?" The xeno raised a glass of foul smelling green fluid and sucked down a third of it through a straw.

Maladar slipped a flimy across the table. "This man. The name he usually uses in Damner Lavington. I want him found."

"Just found?"

"Yes." It was unlikely that the xeno bounty hunter would be able to kill the renegade. He had Tzeentch's own luck.

"He has allies?"

"Yes. He always has a few scum with him."

"Cost."

"I know."

"Where?"

"This world, for now."

Eznara considered what a desirable price would be and then doubled it because the client was human. "Ten kilos shimmer stones."

"Six."

"Eight."

"Done."

[Imperial Overlord]

Eznara touched the vox. "I have found your prey," he has in Low Gothic.

The client replied, "Location?"

"Payment."

"On my way with the agreed amount. Name the place."

"The Salvatan Gate."

"I'll be there shortly." Maladar flicked off the vox and grabbed the a leather storm coat. "Any word back from Kyra?" he barked.

"None," replied Yvarine Recket. "She's down in the levels. What's up?"

"The xeno came through. Grab Yasin and combat gear."

"Interrogator, I don't mean to dispute your authority-"

"Then don't."

Recket continued, "but there is only three of us."

"Four. We're hiring the xeno."

Recket gave up. Maladar was going to charge ahead like he usually did. Only this time Maladar wouldn't be wearing the power armour they had stripped off of Nikal Heros and there wouldn't be a strike force of crack Imperial troops to back them up. "Right. I'll go gear up."

"Bring the heavy iron," Maladar ordered. "We won't have the advantage of numbers this time."

Maladar was packing the Caridian saber, his bolt pistol, and the murderous Strennar autopistol. He slung a standard pattern naval security autogun from his shoulder and threw on his storm coat. Some camouflage.

Recket emerged from the armoury with Yasin trailing behind him. The enforcer was packing laspistol and an Arbites combat shotgun. He wore a carapace cuirass over his armoured body glove. A heavy trunchon hung from his belt. "Ready boss."

Yasin wasn't a big man. He was half a head shorter and little more than half the mass of the powerfully built Recket. Compared to Maladar, he was a stick. He wore a camouline cloak over a body glove with serious armour reinforcement and a weapon harness full of pistols and blades. Yasin Kovain prefered to make his kills with his long las, but close up he was fast and viscious.

Yasin nodded to Maladar. He rarely spoke. It added to his air of mystery. He was a handsome man with curly black hair and smooth brown skin. He kept his face clean shaven and had a starburst tattoo around his left eye.

"Let's go," Maladar ordered. The Salvatan Gate was nearby. Keruga was not a safe world for men. It survived because of its value as a trade station, the lack of threat it posed to the Imperium, and the massive home fleet of system fleet and the rings of defence networks that made attacking it an invitation to drown in your own blood.

Maladar took the controls of the air car and powered up the engines. It was a customized model that they had been carried in the cargo holds of Kyra's ship, The Guiding Star. In moments they were in the air and heading towards the Salvatan Gate.

The Salvatan Gate faced the great planes and the Beroos Mountains. Once it had seen much traffic. Now only a few convoys occasionally passed through the rust red desert. Maladar set the aircar down outside the gate, near a lean dusty aircar already waiting for them.

Several Kerugans watched from the tall stone walls. It was tempting to think of them as merely canine abhumans, but that was just coincidence. They were xenos, not the gene altered scions of Terra. Maladar looked at them darkly for a moment and then headed over to the other aircar.

It was a two seater with a small cargo ben in back. The sliding canopy had been retracted to reveal the cherada bounty hunter. "You have the stones?" he asked.

Maladar handed the case over. "Where is he?'

The xeno examined the booty for a moment and then. "The extraction platform Vorang-2, across the mountains. He will not stay for long. He was meeting someone."

Maladar grunted. "How much for your help in taking him down?"

Eznara Heness considered for a moment. "That much again. He was greeted by the director."

Maladar shrugged. The keruga employed a lot of automation and had little need of a large security force. They weren't what he was worried about. "How many men did he have with him?"

"Four. All human." Lavington was either meeting fellow cultists or was paying through the nose to get a friendly reception on Keruga. And if they were fellow cultists, then they wouldn't want the authorities involved either. Maladar smiled.

[Imperial Overlord]

Vorang-2 was located on the far side of the mountains. It wa jumble of pipes, pumps, tubes and extraction tanks butted right up against the side of the rock. A mag lev line stretched from the facility off into the distance. "Drop us on the high pad," Maladar ordered.

Recket grunted in affirmation. "We're being hailed by the locals."

Malada touched a button which sent out the Civil Battalion ID code. It had cost a lot to get codes, but it was worth it. The aircars dropped towards the landing pads near the admin tower.

Yasin pointed up. "Look." Maladar crained his neck. A blazing star was falling from the sky.

"Someone's dropping in from skyside," Recket grunted. "Why go all the out here for the meet?"

"Two possibilities," Maladar replied. "Either the director is being paid off or he's in on whatever they are cooking up. So one, he's in on it. Two, the other party doesn't want anyone to get a good look at him, which will happen at customs."

"Lavington carries the mark," said Recket as he reduced power to the engines, bring the aircar down to the pad.

"Nothing that can't be easily hidden," Maladar replied. "If the others are heavily altered or xenos the Kerugans won't deal with, then they have no choice. But then why come here at all? Why not make the hand off in the edges of the system? So the answer that best fits director must be in on it and Lavington is the middle man as usual. And whatever it is, its big." Maladar unstrapped himself and exited the aircar.

They were forty meters up, give or take. Three Kerugans weraing ceremic plate armour marked with shield icons waited at the entrance to the walkway. Their hands gripped autoguns and they were clearly surprised to see a human emerge from the car. They hesitated. And then they were dying.

Maladar smashed them down with a telepathic blast. They fell boneslessly to the ground, writhing with blood coming from their noses and ears. Maladar smashed their chests with telekinetic hammer blows that staved in their rib cages. They were coughing blood from their muzzles as Maladar strode over their bodies. "Yasin, set up somewhere. Recket, Eznara, with me.

The attack had been swift and silent. Maladar headed across the walkway toward the command tower. Yasin broke off to the side, using the catwalk to carry him towards a bundle of thick pipes. From their the sniper woud have a commanding view, cover, and an exit. Maladar gestured the others towards him.

He looked at Eznara. "I kick open the door, you fill the room with shot. Got it?"

The alien hissed "yes." He was carrying a viscious railgun than interfaced with his augment harness. The weapon could be loaded with flechette cannister, solid core armour piercers, or explosive rounds. In his case, Eznara's gun was loaded with fragmenting anti personel explosive rounds.

Maladar kicked the door open. The tech in front of him ate a burst from his autogun that blew his chest apart in a spray of gore. Maladar stepped to the side. Eznara fired straight ahead and once to each side. The exploded with a loung bang and filled the room with shrapnel. Recket noised the door open. Nothing lived. He stepped forward a few paces. Most of the equipment was trashed, including the comms system. He herd a sound off to the side. The stair door opened and a wide eyed Kerugan wearing sturdy leggings, elbow pads, and an equipment harness looked in. Recket's executioner round blew his chest open. "Clear," he called back.

"Auspex confirms," was Maladar reply. The ship was descending into the facility's yard. It was far too large to use the sky pads. It was maybe thirty meters long and resembled a slighty tappered brick with a pair of wing mounted thrust pods at the rear. A ball turret crowned the ship. The barrels of two heavy plasma guns promised death to all who would interefere. It was painted a sinister dark grey.

"Don't worry about the guns. I'll take care of them," Maladar ordered. They descened along the exterior staircase, using the pipes for cover as they hit the ground. A small party was emerging from the facility, heading to meet the ship.

Four of them were scurvy looking humans wearing patchwork armour and leathers. They were armed with a variety of pistols and rifles. Three were Kerugans, two of them clustered around a suspensor supported chest the size of a coffin. And then there was the heretic provocateur Damner Lavington.

There was nothing extraordinary about him. A dusty long coat over a gold silk shirt and black pants that were tucked into knee high boots of mottled hide. He wasn't bad looking with blond hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. Just another trader on the fringes of Imperial space.

A portal on the side of the lander opened. An immense figure strode out, sheathed in powered armour of ebony and brass. Great horns protruded
from the helmet and slitted red orbs blazed on the shoulder pads and the breast plate. A bolter and a sword hung from its waist and a shifting cloak of pink and blue trailed behind it. It towered over the puny humans before it. Lavington bowed low and the others followed suit.

"Throne," Maladar whispered. A sorcerer of the Thousand Sons had come in person to claim its prize.

[Ford Prefect]

Well, they're fucked, eh? I can't wait for the next chapter. YOu must write it quickly, oh Imperial Overlord. I must witness the pure ownage that is a Chaos Space Marine.

[Imperial Overlord]

Well, they're fucked, eh? I can't wait for the next chapter. YOu must write it quickly, oh Imperial Overlord. I must witness the pure ownage that is a Chaos Space Marine.

Space Marine? He's no mere Space Marine. He's a sorcerer of the Thousand Sons. He eats mere marines for breakfast.

[Ford Prefect]

Well, they're fucked, eh? I can't wait for the next chapter. YOu must write it quickly, oh Imperial Overlord. I must witness the pure ownage that is a Chaos Space Marine.

Space Marine? He's no mere Space Marine. He's a sorcerer of the Thousand Sons. He eats mere marines for breakfast.

Well, yes, that's true. And the Thousand Sons are my favourite legion. But I'm wondering how one takes down such a monster. Afterall, one does not simply fight a Sorceror of the Thousand Sons. One creates intricate plans for crushing him under a gigantic weight, or aiming big plasma cannons at him.

[Imperial Overlord]

Maladar considered the situation for a moment as the heretics performed obeisances to the Traitor sorcerer. "Recket, executioners on the heretics. Eznara, use armour piercers on the sorcerer. On my signal." He slipped forward to the far ennd of the mass of pipes they were crouched behind. He triggered his vox. "Hot shots on the traitor legionaire. Don't aim at the the helmet or the breastplate." Those were two strongest points of Astartes power armour, the only places likely to yield a disabling or fatal hit. Even with hot shot rounds the armour was too damn thick.

Yasin slipped the power pack out of his long las and inserted a hot shot round. The liquid metal storage cell would discharge all of its energy in one shot, capable blazing through light vehicle armour. It's extreme lethality made it the prefered choice of Imperial Guard snipers for taking out high value, well protected targets at extremely long range.

Yasin dropped the sights down onto the chaos sorcerer and took aim. In any moment Maladar would give the signal.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malmodes watched as the pathetic human and xenos grovelled before him. His acolyte Lavington, an Initiate of the Second Circle, claimed to have found the prize. These pathetic xenos had it locked with the stasis cage. Well, they were right to fear it. It would be a worthy addition-

A telepathic blast on immense strength staggered him, even through his sorcerous wards and mind shields. The others fell and writhered or clutched their heads and screamed as blood trickled from the noses and ears. Malmodes willed his body to obey him and drew his bolter. He shifted his senses to see the mind flare of his attacker. Strong and disciplined. Probably Beta. No matter. The practitioner's control was loose enough to suggest that he was young and no Imperial could match the power of one who knew the secrets of the warp.

A fist hit him in the chest, staggering him. Then another. He could feel his ribs crack under the strain. From above a blue-white beam struck him in left side on his abdomen, severing a power cable and burning through his armour, black carapace, ribs, and flesh. A fist size chunk of his intestines was blown apart. Pain ripped through his body. In his peripheral vision he saw Lavington being decapitated by an explosive shell.

Pain was nothing he couldn't master. His wounds would heal. His blood was already clotting. He saw the muzzle flash of the combat shotgun and it blew apart the chest of a Kerugan. The shooter was next to the illuminated ballistic path his helmet auspex displayed on autosenses. He fired a long burst of bolter fire, driving them both back under cover.

The psyker struck again, but not at him. Telekinetic force howled through the ether and swarmed over the heavy plasma gun turret. The whirling cyclone of warp force tore out fuel leads, power conduits, and coolant lines. Sparks from the conduits ignited spilled photohydrogen. With a heavy whump fire climbed into the sky.

He invoked a shield of psychic power as he fired another burst at the psyker and another to keep the sniper's head down. He advanced, switching rapidly from target to target. It was probably an Inquisitional kill team. If he gave them a moment to take back the offensive, they would do their best to drop a hammer on him. Not that mere mortals could ever take back the offensive from an Astartes, let alone a sorcerer of the Thousand Sons. He focused his will and unleashed his malice.

A humanoid effigy of blue-white flame took to the sky. Merely looking at it was painful. The Incandescent Assassin had a long blade of warp fire in his right hand. It descended on the sniper.

Yasin flinched as he saw the Assassin came down. It was incredibly fast. It fell on the sniper and plunged its blade through Yasin's chest and exited through his back. Then the spell dischaged. All the energy rushed into the wound. A ten meter pillar of blue-white flame flashed into being around Yasin's blackened bones.

The xeno with the cannon stuck his head up. A quick burst from Malmodes's bolter blew his skull apart. Two down and the surviving cultists were recovering. Malmodes ejected the almost spent clip and slammed a fresh one home.

The psyker him again as he was reloading. The ravening blast of fury corroded his wards and dropped a cultist to his knees. The bolt rounds followed up immediately. A pair of Kraken pattern armour piercers punched through his weakened breastplate and tore holes in his right lung. The psyker moved back into cover. He was damn fast and had good timing. Well, Malmodes would take his time with him once he had the psyker on his knees.

An executioner round blew the right arm off one of the human cultists. Malmodes fired back, putting a three round burst into the human's chest and dropping him. No blood spray, so the human was wearing decent armour. He might live long enough for Malmodes to turn him into chaos spawn. Just the psyker left.

Multiple forks of lighting erupted from the psyker's hand. Malmodes deflected the warp energies off his armour, not that the ricochets helped the cultists caught in the storm. Humans and xenos jerked and danced as their flesh blacked. The fell, twitching, dying.

They were alone now. One psyker, one sorcerer. His lung wounds had stopped bleeding now. Poor little Throne agent. No more surprise, no more shooters. Just a feeble mortal against an immortal who enslaved daemons and had ordered the burning of worlds. He had no chance at all.

[Ford Prefect]

In your faces, Imperial lickspittles. That was really good, in my mind. Congrats IO.

[Imperial Overlord]

Maladar jogged back behind the huge pipes and headed for the big tanks. Toxic fumes were spilling from where bolter shells had punctured the sides. He hit the chaos sorcerer fast and hard and he had not fallen. He could here his mocking laughter drifting through the warp. All his men had fallen.

The sorcerer was pacing him, unconcerned about catching him immediately. Probably more so to savour the hunt than any fear of ambushes. His armour was incredibly strong, his raw psychic power exceeded Maladar's own, and his skill was phenomenal. It was increasingly likely that Maladar was going to die here, unless the sorcerer decided to take him off world as prisoner.

And that would not happen! Never again! Never! He was the conquerer now, not the conquered. The violator, not the violated. His strength was was irresistable. Until now.

The sorcerer was his better in every way. Stronger, tougher, better armoured, more powerful, more skills. The only advantage Maladar had was his fury. And his desperation.

There was only one way to win. He had to turn the tables on the Traitor and attack in an unexpected way. He was ready now for a shoot and move campaign of sniping and had already demonstated his appalling speed and accuracy. No, Maladar had to do something completely unexpected. While being tracked by the armour's auspex and the sorcerer's own psychic senses. But he had psychic senses and an auspex of his own.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malmodes stomped forward. The Imperial had stopped running. Well, inquisitors and their ilk were confident. The best psykers who did not go to the Astartes ended up the there. Maybe he deluded himself into believing he had a chance. He was certainly layering up an impressive psychic defence. No cracks, but there were weak points. Malmodes could see them as clear as day. Did he understand how badly he was out matched.

The Imperial stepped out from behind the armoured storage tank just after Maladar passed the toxic pools of luminous green chemicals spilling from punctured pipes. Malmodes was feeling magnanimous. He allowed the Imperial to strike first.

A stream of telekinetic force poured toward him to smash open his armour and crush his organs. Malmodes let it impact on his wards and then severed the stream half way through. Loose energy sprayed through the warp.

"Pathetic," Malmodes boomed from his helmet speakers. He extended his hand and sent a ball of ghostly blue fire towards the Imperial. The Imperial crushed it out, but then was sent staggering the the psychic hammer blow that was Malmodes follow up.

A single devestating bolt of warp lightning was the Imperial's retaliation. The force of the impact drove Malmodes back a step. He drove a psychic lance through the Imperial's defences and drove him back a step. Blood streamed from the Imperial's ears as Malmodes raised his hand and fired bolts of black fire into the Imperial.

Psychic shields buckled. Two of the bolts penetrated with enough force to breach armour and burn flesh. The Imperial endured. And retaliated.

A devestating wave of telekinetic force washed over Malmodes. It wrapped around Malmodes and squeezed. Malmodes's wards buckled. He tore holes in the cocoon of warp, relieving the awful pressure on his armour. Tendrils of telekinetic force frayed away from the chaos sorcerer and stirred debris.

The Imperial was pouring in energy into the cocoon. It was his last, desperate gasp. Pathetic. A telekinetic lance or a mind hammer would have been a better choice. Time to finish beating him into submission. That's when he realized the telekinetic tendrils had been the reason for the attack.

The contents of the corrosive pools had been disturbed by the clash of forces. The Imperial had used that to cover his deliberate manipulation. The tendrils fed them into the cocoon and the Imperial devoted all of his strength to forcing the streams of fluid into the gaps in his armour.

Malmodes screamed as acid poured into his lung and his gut. Maladar forced more fluid into the armour as the chaos sorcerer writhed and screamed. The fluid burned its way into Malmodes' chest cavity and intestines, filling his armour and dissolving his skin. Even a superhuman had limits. Malmodes' powers failed. Maladar leveled bolt pistol and and burned the rest of his clip into the sorcerer's chest.

[Ford Prefect]

What an ignomious but well thought out end. Very good Overlord.

[Imperial Overlord]

What an ignomious but well thought out end. Very good Overlord.

Thank you. I had to change the way I killed him, because the first idea I had was more something Gix would have done.

[Imperial Overlord]

Resca Farvail pulled himself up rain slick ladder as fast as his aching body could go. The will could drive the flesh past what it though its limits were, but there came a point of complete collapse and Resca was getting closer to it. He could hear the boots of the kill team below. Whoever Neven had recruited, they were good. But not good enough.

He looked around. The nights on Serebec III were dark enough thanks to the star obscuring Shroud Nebula even when the sky wasn't covered by clouds and rain pouring down. He dropped a couple of grenades down to discourage pursuit. It was a long climb up the ladder and he intended to be long gone before the kill team made it up the rough. The blind grenades in the mix shoudl help shield him from enemy fire. The heat they put off should screw up even executioner rounds.

Resca pulled himself onto the roof and reached down for Dominiq. She ignored it and vaulted onto the roof. Her slate grey body glove concealed a few weapons, but the long barrelled autopistol in her hand was naked for the world to see. She had been trained by his agents to be a deadly assassin since early childhood. He had engineered the accident which had orphaned her at age five.

He had engineered a lot of accidents, truth to tell. He had set faction against faction, rooting out heretics and the corrupt. The fool Neven obviously thought he was doing more harm than good, but her agents had blown the hit. Now he and Dominiq would escape in the huge Typhoon-Executor aircar and turn the might of the Imperial Commander against her, crushing her like a bug. Resca knew what he had done to reach high office, he would be only too happy to obey.

A figure walked out from behind the armoured flyer. It was big and metallic. Gold gleamed at the knees, shoulders, and chest. Dominiq stepped forward and put a tight grouping of shots into his chest. The armour piercers bounced off the giant's chest. Powered armour.

Resca raised his plasma pistol. Lightning flashed from the armoured figure's outstretched hand. It disintigrated into a spray of coloured shards about a meter from Dominiq. It was why he had her parents murdered and had her trained as an assassin. He leveled his plasma pistol and fired.

An eyesearingly bright beam struck the giant in the chest. A forcefield defused and scattered the beam before it impacted, resulting in a hit that merely burned away the outer layers of armour. Another shot would finish him. Dominiq was already moving. In seconds her blankness would envelop the psyker and shred his psi shield. The armour piercers in her gun would be able to finish the job and even if that failed his plasma pistol would be recharged in a few seconds.

Maladar fired a long burst. The assassin was fast, but not fast enough. The bolts tore through her armour, flesh, and ribs to detonate in her chest cavity. Both lungs were blown apart, her spleen ruptured, her heart shredded, and her spine severed. Blood sprayed out both her front and back and she fell like a puppet with her strings cut. Maladar took a step to the side, removing the dying pariah from the direct path between her master and himself.

The plasma pistol came down and Maladar wrenched it from Farvail's hand. The influence of the dying pariah made using his powers like trying to swing his fists underwater, but he could still do it. He saw terror in Farvail's eyes. He had killed tens of thousands with the reckless and sloppy manipulations. He had formented tensions and mistrust among agencies that needed to cooperate. Now he was going to pay. Maladar thrust his mind into Farvail's. He was ejected. So he still had some fight left. Maladar gathered his strength and tore through Farvail's barriers like a hurricane and began to ransack through what he found within.

[Pcm979]

Thank you. I had to change the way I killed him, because the first idea I had was more something Gix would have done.

What was that, JOOI?

[Imperial Overlord]

Thank you. I had to change the way I killed him, because the first idea I had was more something Gix would have done.

What was that, JOOI?

Used TK on Eznara's rail gun to shoot the chaos sorcerer in the back with AP rounds.

[Imperial Overlord]

The armsmen helped him with his armour. First the helmet and then the half slagged-breastplate. They worked the releases for the shoulder and arm pieces and then went to work on the rest of the cuirass. Bit by bit Maladar's armoured shell was removed.

A large patch of blackened and flaking skin marred the right side of his chest. He was feeling no pain, the armour's autoinjectors saw to that. The medicaes swarmed around him and Maladar let himself slip into unconsciousness.

When he awoke he was on a recovery bed with Kyra sitting in a chair beside him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." By which he meant that he was in pain, but it wouldn't seriously impair him.

"Skin grafts aren't the pleasantest thing in the world. You should take it easy. Good call with the flyer."

"He always had bolt holes and exit routes. He was never one to stay around and do the bleeding."

"True, but good call nonetheless." She reached down and handed him a squeeze bottle filled with a dark red liquid. "Brought you some jalma juice."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to nominate you for promotion to full inquisitor soon."

"Thank you."

"You've earned it. This leads me into another discussion. Sometimes some of our brethren go to far. And they need to be taken down. As you have done. Officially, that is one of the tasks of the Ordo Malleus. In reality, it is whoever can catch up with the renegades and put them down that does the job."

"And then there are the unofficial killings."

"Yes. Some people need to go before the higher levels will sanction it. We can't afford to let them do that damage before being outlawed. They have to go immediately."

"Murder," replied Maladar. "How many are you in this cabal?"

"Enough to make a difference. I'm offering you a spot."

"I'm in," replied Maladar. "As you knew I would be."

Kyra nodded. Maladar was more than ruthless enough to kill anyone who got in the way, regardless of whether or not he had official sanction. For him, the power to accomplish and action and the will to do it were enough.

"Maladar," she said, "I never asked. I know you are loyal to the Imperium, but what do you see in it? What is the future you invision?"

He was silent for a moment. "A place where the legions of men put the worlds of our enemies to the torch and can raise their families in peace."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maladar watched the women limp out. They had been well paid for their time and their pain. Ordinary sex wasn't enough for him. It was not tender caresses that he yearned for, but to break and to dominate.

He leaned back in the bed. He was an inquisitor now. None of Kyra's retainers had decided to go with him, not that he was surprised. The last person to love him had been raped and thrown to the Royal Lifeguards.

He got up and walked over to his desk. A case waited for him. He touched the control on the base of the container. It hissed open. Before him stared the eyeless face of Malmodes.

Maladar picked up the carefully prepared skin mask. The skin was scarred and ruined, with gold stitching binding parts of it together. It would easily fool a casual observer. At close range careful examination might reveal a few inconsistencies, but those would likely be rationalized away as part of the extensive damage the wearer appeared to have suffered.

Fear was a weapon Kyra rarely used, but Maladar had first hand experience with its power. And now his will determined his future course of action. He placed the mask over his shaved skull, adjusting the way it fell. He rolled the nasal bondings up into his nostrils and the dead lips over his own. He ceiled the bindings and smoothed the mask down. He touched the last bindings, around the neck and shoulders, and turned to face the mirror. A horror looked back at him. Maladar smiled and Malmodes smiled back at him.

[Imperial Overlord]

Bullets glanced off Maladar's helmet. He turned and looked down the street. PDF troops at the front barricade were engaged in a heated firefight with gangers or cultists who were firing from alleys and windows Maladar extended his hand and filled a room with fire. His autosenses picked up the screams of the dying. He turned and gestured.

"Judge, dispatch a squad of Arbites to assist the PDF in cleanning out this block."

The Arbites was a big man and his carapace armour added to his bulk. But he appeared small and weak next to Maladar's armoured bulk. "You will inquisitor."

"No prisoners, except for the purposes of interrogation."

The building were huge and climbed nearly half a kilometer into the sky. Some of the inhabitents would be men, women, and children who were down on their luck and who merely had the bad luck to live near the infestation of heresy. "Yes inquisitor. Kill everyone, not just the gangers and the cultists. Exceptions only for prisoners for interrogation." The Arbitor's expression was hidden by visor.

"Heresy has taken root here," said Maladar in voice that was cold before it was electronically altered. "We cannot permit it to survive in any form. Better a hundred innocent should die than one guilty man escape unpunished. Purge them all."

"Your will." The Judge turned to give orders to his squad. Maladar cocked his head. There was something moving in the warp. Not here, but close by. That way.

He turned and strode toward a nearby Chimera. Four servitors followed in his wake. He increased the volume on his speakers. "The big street. Four hundred meters east."

The moonfaced officer nodded. "Your will inquisitor." Maladar lead his servitors into the troop compartment. "Hit it," he ordered. The Chimera took off.

It didn't take them long to arrive. The thump of heavy bolters and the crash of heavy weapons resounded through the hull. Maladar stepped out. "Pattern spear," he ordered. The servitors formed a chevron in front of him.

The fighting was heavy. PDF troops were pouring las and autogun fire from improvised positions at barricaded streets and fortified buildings. Tanks were adding their main guns to the mix and heavy weapon teams were assembling. The Chimera he had just exited was raking a several window with its multilaser and heavy bolters.

The dead and the dying littered the streets. Screams of agony mixed with orders to hold fast and moans of pain. Maladar extended his hand. Multicoloured lightning lashed out. A barricade was blown to flinders, men burned and sent flying. "Advance," Maladar bellowed. "For the Emperor! Burn the False Governor! Burn the Heretics! Burn all who stand before you!"

His servitors poured heavy stubber fire into another barricade, killing and surpressing its soldiers. Several bullets bounced off their armoured bodies. Maladar fired short bursts into windows and against weapon teams. Sometimes he missed. Other times he shells blew fragile human bodies apart. He reloaded and unleashed his power against another barricade. Warriors and pieces of rubble flew into the air as his telekinesis shredded it.

The psychic disturbance still hadn't shown itself. He opened his vox to a command channel. "Level those buildings," he ordered. He illuminated the targets on his auspex display. His servitors were pouring out heavy stubber fire and the PDF was adding to it. The streets were turning into killing zones. Autocannons and battlecannons were firing heavy shells into buildings, shattering the gun nests. Still nothing.

Then it came. The air vibrated. A blinding flash of white and the front of a building disintigrated. It drifted through. A daemonhost.

It was either barely bound or had crossed over via possession, for their were no binding symbols on it at all. It was eight feet tall and emaciated, surrounded by a halo of shining white. It's flesh was covered in green scales and its mouth was full of shark's teeth. It had the breasts of a young maiden and the spiked member of a monster of nightmare. Long flowing purple tresses shifted in the air. A pair of antlers protruded from its temples. It spoke. Its voice was like was androgynous and rang like thunder. "THIS WORLD IS MINE!"

Men qualied before it. Some shrieked and tore their faces. Others screamed at the sky. Some gibbered. Others raised their weapons against their comrades. The madness affected first one, then three, then ten. The closer it came the more succombed.

"Kill it!" Maladar ordered. His servitors opened up. He added his bolter to the fire. Multilasers and the heavy bolters plastered the area. Some of the shots struck true. It still came forward.

Maladar advanced, murderous power growing within. The daemonhost looked at him. "MALADAR! I SEE YOU. I SEE YOUR DESIRES. THE EMPIRE HAS CHAINED YOU LIKE A SLAVE AFTER TREATING YOU LIKE A DOG. I OFFER YOU A WORLD WERE YOU CAN SATE ALL YOUR DESIRES. WHY ARE YOU LOYAL TO THEM? WHY DO YOU DENY YOURSELF? EMBRACE INDULGENCE. ACQUIESCE."

Maladar ignored the seduction. In another time, in another place, they might have moved him. But not here, not now. Now his blood was up and all he wanted to do was crush and destroy. Murder lust ruled him. He stretched out his hand.

A storm of florescent telekinetic blades flashed towards the daemonhost. The exploded in bursts of colour as Maladar readied another attack. A beam of raw power smashed into the daemonhost, knocking it back. A screech was followed by a wave of disembodied jaws swarming towards Maladar. He brushed them off and strucked with lightnings.

The daemonhost writhed. Where the lightning touched its scales it flesh burst open in sprays of yellow ichor. It screamed something inchoherent. Maladar pressed forward and closed a murderous vice of warp power around it.

Bones cracked. Fluids oozed out off broken flesh. It skull collapsed into a gooey mess. The corpse slumpted. A tattered spirit fled howling to the warp, maimed and battered. The guns went silent

Maladar howled his joy to the unfeeling sky.

[Imperial Overlord]

Althen was a beautiful world. Its people had developed advanced industry and technology without despoiling there planet. Their reach extended into space where outposts mined raw material, factories churned out products, a fleet protected their world, and battle stations orbited their world. They were not fools, the Althenians. Ork raiders had scarred their world before. They would have to come through fire to do it again.

Their government was by representatives chosen by votes from all its citizens. A charter guarranteed the rights of its citizens. Religious freedom was protected, with the exception of crimminal cults. A professional military embraced the task of defending their world. Most of the people could look forward to being able to forge a good life for themselves and their loved ones. Social programs offered a helping hand to those who stumbled on their way.

Not every part of the their society was so pleasant. The very real dangers of Chaos and psykers were confronted by the Special Directorate. They enjoyed broad powers in eliminating this threat and recruiting uncorrupted psykers, but answered to strict government oversight. The Althenians faced their perils with strength and dignity. They would not compromise their principles or surrender their freedoms.

For that they would burn.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Adraxian Subsector was rich and powerful, with advanced technology and plentiful resources courtesy of its hive worlds and developed systems. The Delta Purgia Subsector was not. A handful of civilized worlds and a mix of agriworlds, penal colonies, and a few feudal worlds comprised the subsector. As its worlds, so was its military tithe and so was the fleet it sent to conquer this lost and recalitrant world of man.

His Will lead the fleet into realspace. The Gothic Class Cruiser was two thousand years old and the veteran of nearly one hundred fights. Her hull was encrusted decorations and embelishments like the hide of some great ocean gowing leviathan.

Behind it came the Indomitable. It was even older, dating from a time period when reliable shield generator technology had been scarce. It was an Ironclad, relying on a massively uparmoured hull to protect it from the weapons of its enemies. She had been retrofitted with some void shields, but they were far weaker than those of His Will. The Indomitable's hull was much cleaner than that of its companions, the result of extranious detail being repeatedly burned or blasted away after shield failures. It was a bulky, angular ship that had served the Imperium well and would do so for as long as she was able.

Next came the Righteous Fury. She was a Lunar Class Cruiser, cousin to the His Will. The shared the long cylindrical hulls set with baroque decorations and cathedral towers. Their prows were adamantium reinforced and armoured, protected with extra void shield generators, and housed the deadly torpedo tubes that were their first strike weapons.

Behind them came two pairs of kilometer long Cobra Class destroyers. They guarded the thirteen lightly armed transport ships that carried the lion's share of the troops that would retake Althen for the Emperor. Although in one case, a rogue trader sprint trader two kilometers long, the description of lightly armed was grossly inaccurate.

Psykers had felt the warp wake of the approaching fleet hours ago. They had alerted the navy's commanders and the leaders of their world. Patrols from the far edge of the system were recalled and outposts on moons and asteroids were left to ride out the storm. Leaves were revoked and planetary defence stations were set on highest alert. Civilians headed for bunkers while the soldiers readied themselves for war.

On the battlestation Aegis of Dawn the admirals assembled around a circular holo table that displayed the Althen System. They were grizzled men and tough women in dark uniforms heavy with gold braid, the eldest marked with burns suffered during the Ork War. A white haired man with a long beard wore the uniform with the most braid and decorations. His right arm was a clumsy synthetic and his face was marked by burn scars. "They day we have feared has arrived. The Imperium is coming."

A fierce grey haired matron responded. "We are sure that it is the Imperium?"

The bearded man shook his head. "Five psykers, fifteen reading in total. Every consultation of the bones has been the same. It is the Imperium. We would not surrender our freedoms so they are here to take them. The Chairman of the Assembly and the Executor have sent a joint message in which the proclaim their faith in the navy's ability to defend our world and our people."

A man with white streaked hair spoke. "Senior, with respect, we do not have much time. If the Imperium is merely hours away we need to get to our ships and our crews."

"Agreed," said the steel haired admiral. "Their ships are fast enough that they could reach Althen within six hours of transiting from the warp. We need to be ready to reacto to their movements and mass against them."

An earnest young man interrupted. "Sirs! We have contact with the Imperial fleet. ETA of five and a half hours."

"Stations," said the eldest. "Every officer to your ships. May all the gods and goddesses be with you." Sinister red triangles had now been added to the display. Evey moment, another came into being as the presence of additional ships were confirmed. Each one a dagger aimed at Althen.

[Imperial Overlord]

The Imperial cruisers formed up in a staggered line, His Will in the lead and the Cobras guarding the flanks. Althen lay ahead, her fleet deployed in a loose wall. Behind the ships were the orbital launch platforms with their deadly payloads of thermonukes and battlestations build arund huge railguns. Beneath them on the planet's surface fighter bases and missle silos stood as a final line of defence. At the heart of the defences the The Aegis of Dawn hovered over the north pole. The Althenians waited for the Imperials to come.

Torpedoes launched in a coordinated salvo. Huge sixty meter long armoured tubes designed to penetrate shield and smash through meters thick armoured hulls erupted from the bows of the Imperial ships. Six from each cruiser and two from each destroyer, twenty six in all. Their plasma drives ignited and the poured forward.

A dozen Althenian ships fired a volley of counter missles. Sleek and deadly with thermonuke warheads, forty eight missles closed to intercept the massive torpedoes. Along the wall, the main batteries were powered up to attempt to destroy any surviving torpedoes. Power fields flickered on, shielding ships from the hell about to come.

Flashes illuminated the void as the counter missles detonated. Near misses were not sufficient to stop ordinance that needed to survive penetrating the energy storm of active void shields and smash through armoured hulls. Five torpedoes had their guidance systems fried. Another six were wrecked. Fifteen kept coming.

Cruisers and battleships engaged the torpedoes with their lasers and rail guns. Nine were torn apart. Frigates, corvettes, and destroyers engaged and destroyed three at close range. One missed all targets entirely. One punched through the Lancer class cruiser Javelin and exited through the other side, crippling the five hundred meter long vessel. The last one obliterated a missle platform.

His Will was close now. Along the flanks of the Gothic class cruiser the enormous laser turrets began to track ships along the wall. The Imperial ship did not flinch of turn aside. It adjust course slightly so that it was heading directly at the Aegis of Dawn and plunged straight ahead.

His Will dwarfed every Althenian vessel in space. Even the battleship Formidable wasn't much larger than a Cobra destroyer, which was puny compared to the huge ship of the line. The Althenians were undaunted. Missle racks on two thirds of the ships opened up. Hundreds of needles tipped with thermonuclear death hurled through space.

His Will was killing before the missles arrived. Massed batteries of lasers intended to lance there way through the void shields and thick hulls of mighty warships were overkill against the crude powerfields and thin hulls of the Althenian vessels. Turrets slowly rotated to track targets. Each turret mounted four laser projectors that focused on one point. Althenians began to die.

A four hundred meter long light cruiser the Swift was blown apart twenty four thousand kilometers off His Will's forward port side. Forward starboard saw two two hundred fifty meter long destroyers Gambit and Shining Truth obliterated in a flashes of light. One moment they were there and in another they were gone.

Rail gun slugs impacted on His Will's prow shields. Flashes of light and storms of energy marked the impacts. The shields here were strongest for a reason. Some of the energy was deflected into space, some was absorbed by the void shield generators which struggled to dump as much energy as possible. The needles closed. The defensive turrets didn't even try to hit the missles.

Lights blossomed around His Will. Some of the missles struck the cruiser's void shields and were shredded. Most of the missles proximity detonated nearby, most by the prow but a few at the less heavily shielded flanks. Shield glow and crawling lightning illuminated the front half of His Will's shields. No burn through. The cruiser kept coming. It fired again.

On the starboard side it engaged the battleship Relentless. Two turrets managed to score hits, overloading the power field in seconds and blasting it to slag. Off to port His Will vaporized the missle battlecruiser Archer. Bereft of suitable targets, the defensive turrets opened up with their autocannons and missles on corvettes and drone missle guidance pinnaces, shredding two corvettes and three weapon pods that ventured two close. Lasers plinked at His Will's shields and railgun slugs impacted in cascades of light. Additional volleys of missles closed.

A storm of energy engulfed the ship. Her shield's held, or most of them did. A brief failure on the port side allowed two inconsequential laser scars, a minor railgun hit that smashed on defensive autocannon turret and killed eight men, and nuke hit that killed fifty-seven and subjected over a hundred men to varying levels of dangerous radiation exposure.

As His Will shuddered under the attack, Indomitable began to turn to starboard, presenting its broadside the Althenian wall. Along its flanks macro cannons began to fire shells with atomic warheads and heavy plasma missle launchers finished their targeting solutions.

[Ford Prefect]

Glory to the Emperor. Much pyrotechnic death in this chapter, IO. I love it.

[Shroom Man 777]

This is great. And hopefully, soon, we'll see SPACE MARINES!

Though I find the progression odd. From "I'm an enslaved raped prince on a primitive pre-industrial revolution world" to "I'm a psionic uber-armed mass-murdering detective fighting chaos demons" to "interstellar war and starships and explosions and nukes".

I'm new to 40K, my firstest introduction being Dawn of War, but from what I'm seeing - it seems pretty diverse, far more than Star Wars. This is great!

[Ford Prefect]

This is great. And hopefully, soon, we'll see SPACE MARINES!

We have seen a Space Marine Shroomy. He took out an entire Inquisitorial warband on his own, and would have killed Maladar too, if he wasn't required to the story.

Though I find the progression odd. From "I'm an enslaved raped prince on a primitive pre-industrial revolution world" to "I'm a psionic uber-armed mass-murdering detective fighting chaos demons" to "interstellar war and starships and explosions and nukes".

Inquisitors come from all walks of life, literally anyone can be an Inquisitor (so long as they aren't dirty heretics and traitors). And when one becomes an Inquisitor, one sees starships and explosions and nukes all of the time.

[Imperial Overlord]

Psychic power usually manifests around puberty and the Imperium takes all the psykers it finds into custody. Those who can protect themselves from the danger of the warp are trained to serve in varying branches of the Imperium, with the most talented often being sent to Space Marine chapters or the Inquisition. Weaker ones undergo soul bonding which burns out their eyes and become Astropaths who are the providers of FTL communication. Others are destroyed, fed to the Emperor to maintain his life, or consumed in maintaining the Astronomican, the great warp beacon that aids FTL navigation.

As for the relevancy of this battle, it will become clear in subsequent posts.

[Imperial Overlord]

His Will broke through the wall of battle surrounded by a storm of energy deflecting of its void shields. The massive warship continued to plunge forward, it turrets tracking targets on either side. Missles burst around it, most of them unleashing blasts of thermonuclear hell, a few others annhilated by fratricidal explosions or impacting His Will's void shields.

Brilliant flashes indicated shield overload errupted along His Will's flanks. Hyper velocity slugs and thermonukes raked bare hull. Baroque sensor and comm masts were consumed and four defensive turrets were annhilated. A shield generator exploded, killing forty seven men. A maneuvering thruster was fried and number two starboard lance turret was knocked out of commission.

His Will continued forward. Energy was dumped through her forward shield generattor and her flank generators restabilized, although their load was high. Her powerful engines were now carrying her away from the bulk of the enemy, having survived the worst that they could throw at her. And her lance batteries had finished their recharge cycle.

Off to port they slew two destroyers and off to starboard they killed a cruiser. In the prow of the mighty ship, a gang of hundred of rating used conveyor belts, mechanized pullies, and brute muscle power to maneuver six more torpedoes into their firing tubes. Two men were crushed during the operation when one sixty meter long missle slipped.

As His Will passed through the gauntlet of enemy fire, the Indomitable and Righteous Fury engaged the Althenian fleets. Indomitable had changed course forty five degrees starboard, Righteous Fury maneuvered forty five degrees port. The Cobras hung back, ready to pounce on any ships that pressed to strongly at the cruiser's flanks, as their larger brethren pressed the attack home on the Althenian fleet.

The Indomitable was closer to the wall of battle by about four thousand kilometers and had already opened up with her port broadside. Atomic shells and missles with shaped plasma charge warheads were flying across space. He torpedo tubes were silent, the result of an unfortunate failure of the ancient loading machinery that hundreds of press ganged ratings and dozens of skilled mechanics were now trying to rectify.

Atomic explosions bracketed a luckless destroyer. It's power fields failed and plasma missles blew it apart. The breeches of the macro cannons were opened to recieve new shells as a second volley of missles homed in on the cruiser Gallant. Gallant's power fields failed in an cascade of energy. Her hull was scarred an almost half of her weapons and sensors destroyed, but she lived. Then the macro cannons fired.

As the Indomitable's guns killed Althenians, the Righteous Fury fired its torpedoes. Instead of standard ship killers, the Righteous Fury had loaded the one salvo of Apocalypse class missles that the invasion fleet possessed in her tubes. At this distance and velocity, defensive fire would have little opportunity to engage them before they detonated. The Righteous Fury fired.

Counter battery destroyed one. The other five torpedoes emerged through an EM hell a hail of high velocity splinters to detonate. Each one fired a cone of one hundred thirty-two submunitions. Two cruiser and one destroyer squadrons containing two corvettes, six destroyers, one frigate, and seven cruisers were swarmed by six hundred odd submunitions that detonated simultaniously. Each bomb was a five gigaton nuclear warhead. The ships were consumed in flashes on intense white light.

As the Indomitable and the Righteous Fury engaged and killed the surviving members of the Althenian fleet, His Will closed on the Aegis of Dawn. Its turrets killed orbital weapon platforms as it passed. As the Indomitable and the Righteous Fury engaged the wall of battle, the torpedoes of the His Will finished loading.

The Aegis of Dawn loomed dead ahead as the torpedoes were spat forth. One was shot down by defensive fire, another's guidance system failed. The remaining four crashed into the battlestation and detonated their remaining reaction mass deep in the station's guts. The plasma detonations blew the Aegis of Dawn apart. His Will began a long turn to rengage the battered Althenian fleet.

The Indomitable poured fire from its macro cannons and missle launchers as it broke through the line. It shields failed quickly under the hammer of the nukes and rail guns of the survivors. Flashes of light marked high velocity impacts on its hull and nuclear fury savaged its sides, but its heavy armour prevented any serious damage. As its shield generators bled off absorbed energy and reignited downed void shields, the Indomitable continued to fight and kill.

On the other side of the broken wall, the Righteous Fury continued to add to her kill count. Half of her gun decks were dedicated to massive lance batteries identical to the turrets mounted on His Will. The rest were packed with macro cannons, missle launchers, and fusion beams. The Fury's void shields withstood enemy fire that bathed the ship in a corona of energy. Her lances and gun batteries systematically tracked and eliminated the Althenian ships. Most were dead of dying as she broke through the line and His Will joined Indomitable in crushing the flank. Some ships still fought, but the battle was over.

[Imperial Overlord]

Maladar watched the golden arrows advance on the wall screen. Red chevrons flickered and identifier and damage status runes changed and then then the chevrons vanished as the Imperial fleet continued to kill. Two servitors and a pair of junior officers managed the data feeds from the cogitators and logic engines. Maladar turned his back on the screens and looked out onto the bridge.

The space set aside for him was a mere niche in the vast expanse of His Will's bridge. A fresh faced young lieutenant stood just off to the side, ready to relay instructions or explain any thing to Maladar. His job was really to keep Maladar from bothering the captain, an axe faced dark haired harridan by the name of Lucretia Clade, who still carried her academy nickname of "Poison". Clade was an icy and lethal woman with an instinct for the jugular. Maladar rather liked her, as much as he liked anyboy.

Maladar left the nave and strode across the tiles of the command deck. The commissar, a prune faced irritant in a great coat, hung back. It was Maladar's opinion that blunts who failed the intelligence part of inquisitional entrance examinations were relegated to commissarial training. Maladar swept past him and approached Clade's command throne.

Clade had received a lot of high quality of rejuv, but her face seemed frozen in a tight lipped scowl. She caught sight of Maladar out of the corner of her eye. "Inquisitor."

"Captain, you seem to be victorious."

"They still have ships and weapon platforms. It isn't over yet," She said testily. No fear of the Inquisition in her.

"I see the Cobras and the transports are moving up."

"The destroyers will pursue any fleeing units."

"How long until we begin the drops?"

"Perhaps a half hour of mop up and then another half hour to maneuver into position and attack their dirtside defences. Depending on the Commodore's and the Lord Militant's orders, of course."

Maladar staired at the huge repeater screen. The Imperials finished killing everything in spance and the cruisers ponderously lined up for their attack runs. His Will went first, passing a few kilometers above the atmosphere as her lance batteries opened up on targets below.

The lasers cut through air bases, setting everything near them alight as immense energies filled the air. They vaporized their way through rock to strike at protected missle and rail gun silos. Missles and rail gun slugs set her void shields ablaze, but did not push them to the overload line. Ground based attack craft surged into the sky, but were down by the anti-ordinance turrets and the Indomitable's macro cannons. The Ironclad's guns scattered high altitude atomic blasts anywhere the gunners thought that attack craft might fly. Missles with plasma warheads dropped down to deliver death to the surface installations.

A minute after the Indomitable's hellish barrage, His Will released two dozen drop pods. As the Ironclad coasted forward in His Will's wake, it's launch bays opened up with two waves of sleek fighters escorting two squadrons of blocky assault ships packed with Imperial Guard stormtroopers. As the attack ships entered atmosphere, so did the battle for Althen reach a new, desperate stage.