V3 Chapter 70: The Slaughter Fleet
Kosorax sat upon that command throne, sheathed in flesh.
The Conqueror had long since been utterly corrupted by the Warp; almost nothing on the bridge could still be called ordinary equipment. Console after console had fused with living flesh, their metal surfaces rising and falling in slow rhythm, as though forever hungering for fresh meat.
Dark Apostle Kowain stood at one side of the throne.
This Astartes, clad in dark red power armour, bowed his head and spoke with practiced deference. "Lord Kosorax. The fleet loyal to that rotting corpse lies within the system ahead."
"Bring death upon them, let slaughter fall across those worlds, and the Red Angel will hear the call of the blood."
Kosorax slowly raised his head.
"Good." He sat up straighter on the throne and turned to the Warpsmith on his other side. "Mogliva. Take the Conqueror to full speed. Order the rest of the fleet to follow."
Mogliva set about carrying out the order at once.
The Conqueror's vast engines began to roar, a heavy tremor rolling up from deep within the hull. The whole fleet accelerated with it, pressing on toward the depths of the Badab system.
Just then, a figure appeared abruptly at the centre of the bridge.
The Lady.
She walked unhurried toward the main console, its surface split open in a great bloody maw, her slender hands still clasped behind her back.
Wherever she drew near, mortal slaves would flee trembling to attend to other duties elsewhere. Even the daemons with their beast heads and cloven hooves gave way before her path, only settling back once she had passed.
No one ever knew when she appeared.
She simply walked up to the main console and looked calmly ahead.
"The fleet should first determine the enemy's numbers."
"Confirm their positions."
"Assess their formation before launching any attack."
Kosorax whipped his head around.
"SHUT UP!"
His palm slammed down hard against the arm of the throne.
The Lady paid him no mind.
She went on, speaking as though to herself. "Scout vessels should go ahead first."
"The main fleet should not enter the enemy's firing range without adequate intelligence."
"Heavy vessels should hold their distance."
A vein pulsed faintly at Kosorax's temple.
"I told you to shut up!"
The Lady still made no response.
As though Kosorax, seated on that throne, simply did not exist.
Just then, Mogliva turned, and spoke in a hiss of corrupted binaric. "Lord. The Conqueror is resisting our commands."
Kosorax's expression froze on the spot.
His skull began to ache again.
The Butcher's Nails sent a sharp stab of pain through his mind, and the world before his eyes began to bleed red once more.
He knew the Conqueror was a beast, forever straining to turn and bite through the leash at its own neck. Every day brought some fresh uprising from the depths of the hull; there was always some daemon stirring up the tribes of crew who dwelled down there, driving them to march out against the more densely populated stretches of the ship in pursuit of blood, war, and salvation.
He owned this ship, and still could not fully command it. Kosorax swore that once this war was settled, he would return bearing prestige enough to seize total mastery of the vessel at last. But for now.
His eyes fell on a slack-faced slave standing not far off.
Kosorax lunged up from the throne and seized the man in one hand.
The slave did not even manage a full scream.
Kosorax bore down with both hands and tore the man's body clean in two.
Blood splashed across the deck.
He hurled one half of the corpse toward the main console.
The gaping, bloody maw closed over it at once.
The sound of chewing filled the bridge.
The Lady still stood where she was.
Kosorax stood breathing hard.
He closed his eyes and forced back the fury still surging up inside him.
A moment later, he opened his eyes again.
"Send out the scout vessels." Kosorax forced the words out through gritted teeth. "Determine the enemy's numbers and positions."
"Have the main fleet slow."
Almost at the very moment the order was given, the Conqueror began to slow.
Mogliva said nothing for a moment.
Kosorax looked toward the Lady.
She had already vanished.
Only now did Dark Apostle Kowain dare speak again.
"Lord, the xenos fleets and other allies we drew here should meet Badab's defences before we do."
Kosorax gave a cold snort.
He settled back onto the throne.
"Those wretches are nothing but a rabble."
"Let them die."
He looked ahead.
"The true blood still belongs to us."
Duvette stood at Guilliman's side, listening to the officers' unbroken stream of reports on the enemy.
The enemy's numbers were considerable.
More significantly, these fleets did not appear to belong to a single power.
Some warships bore unmistakable Chaos markings; others matched xenos vessel design exactly; and a great many smaller craft could not be identified right away at all.
Part of the enemy force had already begun closing fast on the Badab defence line.
The largest fleet still held back, further out.
Guilliman stood at the centre of the bridge.
He needed only a glance at the newest markers on the star chart before issuing his order.
"Three battlecruisers, each to lead an intercept formation."
"Stop those enemy forces closing on us."
"The rest of the fleet holds the centre line. Hold position."
The order went out at once.
Three Imperial intercept fleets peeled away from the main line.
The rest of the warships stayed in place around the Macragge's Honour, holding formation.
Before long, an astropath reported in again.
"My lord. Current readings put the largest enemy fleet at more than forty-five major power sources."
"One target in particular exceeds an ordinary battleship in both mass and reactor output."
He paused a moment.
"There are also twelve to sixteen cruiser-class targets, alongside a great many smaller hulls."
Guilliman's eyes settled on the data-screen.
The astropath went on. "The primary target's mass exceeds an Imperial standard battleship."
"Estimated to be a Legion flagship-class vessel."
The distance held.
Guilliman said nothing.
He frowned and looked out into the distance beyond the viewport.
A flagship as old as the Macragge's Honour itself?
Duvette, meanwhile, kept his eyes fixed on the holographic star chart beside him. The largest fleet was still holding its distance.
The other xenos and traitor fleets kept closing on the Badab defence line.
It looked, for all the world, as though someone had deliberately sent these lesser forces in first to die.
Duvette narrowed his eyes.
Was this a Khornate warband's fleet? Showing this much sense?
Shouldn't they be howling and charging straight in by now?
Tch. Interesting.
There weren't many World Eaters with a brain in their skull.
A name suddenly surfaced in Duvette's mind.
Someone whose first instinct, when the Nails flared, was to snatch up an axe and run.
His gaze settled once more on the distant fleet.
Could it be Kosorax the Oathbreaker...? Good. Let's see just how far you can actually go.