Chapter 18: The Ambush

The path to the bridge had become a slaughter-stretch. The death of Commissar Jappard had utterly shattered what remained of the Astra Militarum's morale. Faced with the unstoppable momentum of the Orkish Meganobz, no Imperial line could hold for more than a minute under their thunderous charge.

Suddenly, the deck buckled. The entire warship groaned and shuddered violently, as if gripped and shaken by the hand of a vengeful god. Smartnog and Darrius exchanged grim looks. Had the humies triggered a scuttling charge?

Moments earlier, in the cold void beyond the hull…

Having lost the firing arcs for its primary macro-cannons, the Glorious Knight had adjusted its trajectory, angling its armored prow ram directly at the Ork cruiser. The greenskin vessel, though savaged and listing, refused to yield; it retained half its combat effectiveness and a surplus of Orkish stubbornness.

To the Ork captain, a ramming action was a gift from Gork himself. He slammed his massive green palm onto a literal "WAAAGH!" button. Only a Snotling would veer away now.

The distance between the two behemoths closed rapidly. They exchanged point-blank volleys like medieval knights charging with lances leveled, each seeking to prove their glory through the ultimate kinetic impact.

But just as the prows were set to collide, the Glorious Knight's lateral maneuvering thrusters shrieked to life. Massive plumes of promethium fire erupted from the starboard side, slewing the ship's nose violently to the left.

The Ork ship's prow-ram roared past, carving a cavernous, molten furrow along the Glorious Knight's port flank and shearing away a secondary engine cluster. It was a grievous wound, but not a mortal one.

Captain Pex's foresight in pre-heating the engines had been the deciding factor. The sudden burst of thrust allowed the cruiser to execute a high-speed "slip-turn." Because both vessels had been at maximum acceleration, the Ork ship was now a victim of its own momentum, unable to brake or turn in time.

By the time the greenskins managed to decelerate, the Glorious Knight had already engaged its second-stage burn, putting vast kilometers of void between them.

A shimmering violet haze began to envelop the Imperial cruiser. The Warp Drive hummed to life, tearing a jagged aperture in the materium. The ship slipped into the Empyrean, leaving the material universe behind.

Left with nothing but stardust and disappointment, the Ork captain roared in fury, smashing every console within reach. His meticulous ambush had become a farce; the humies had toyed with him and vanished into the Warp.

Inside the ship, as the vibrations stabilized, Smartnog sniffed the air. "Da humies ran away. Looks loike we'z in da daemon-kip now."

"Gatta go troo da daemon-kip ta get anywhere else. Sometimes ya get ta krump a few daemons on da way, but we ain't got time for dat. Move it! I don't want da warp-horrors gunkin' up me ship!"

Worried that the denizens of the Warp might despoil his new prize, Smartnog surged forward with renewed frantic energy, leading the charge toward the bridge.

"Boss Sneaky, Ironklaw'z callin' for ya," Kukka suddenly whispered, tugging at Darrius's sleeve with a manic, wide-eyed look.

"Hah? You'z loopy, Kukka. Ironklaw'z at da engines, 'e ain't 'ere," Darrius replied, too focused on the objective to pay much mind.

"Wait, Boss. I'll get 'im on da blower for ya." Kukka stood on his tiptoes and tapped Darrius's forehead.

A surge of vibrant green energy flooded Darrius's mind. It was smooth, potent, and strangely exhilarating. So this is the Waaagh! power? he thought. Not bad. I'll have to study this later.

"Boss Sneaky! It's me, Ironklaw!" A gruff, distorted voice echoed directly in Darrius's skull.

Astropathic communication via Weirdboy? Useful. I need to collect more of these brain-zappers, Darrius mused.

"Yeah, Ironklaw, what'z da word? Ya took da engines yet? We'z almost at da bridge."

"No, Boss! We found da powa room, but it ain't humies we'z krumpin' down 'ere. It'z bugs! Dere's bugs everywhere! It'z a zoggin' ambush, Boss!" To emphasize the point, Ironklaw's psychic link flickered, projecting a grainy, terrifying image into Darrius's mind.

In the vast shadows of the engine decks, the Boyz had finished off the human defenders and were busy looting. Suddenly, from every ventilation shaft and shadow-choked pipe, a tide of white-and-green chitinous horrors had swarmed out.

They fell upon the Orks with a predatory, silent ferocity that rivaled the Orks' own madness.

Genestealers! Darrius's mental processor whirred. And in those numbers? This was an Imperial ship, how could it be infested with a Genestealer Cult or a vanguard of Hive Fleet Leviathan? The cold efficiency of the Tyranids was a threat far beyond the disorganized guardsmen.

Wait... is this cruiser a bait ship? Was the Imperium trying to pull a 'Lion vs. Wolf' play? This is bad. Very bad.

A cacophony of gunfire and Orkish roars from up ahead snapped Darrius out of his tactical analysis. It sounded like Smartnog had walked right into the primary trap.

"Ironklaw, hold da line! Krump every bug ya see. I want dat engine room intact, ya hear me? Not a single scratch on da coils!"

"Roight ya are, Boss! Lads, krump da bugs! WAAAGH!"

Terminating the link, Darrius raised his slugga and broke into a heavy run. Smartnog had charged too far ahead of the main body.

When Darrius rounded the final corridor, he found Smartnog swamped. Dozens of Genestealers had surrounded the Ork. Smartnog was a whirlwind of violence, his power-claw crushing a xenos head with every sweep, but the floor was already slick with purple ichor.

The bugs were relentless. Several had latched onto his back, their diamond-hard claws rending through his kustom power armor. One had even sunk its fangs into the thick muscle of his neck.

"Zoggin' bugs! I'll kill ya all!" Smartnog shrieked, ripping the Genestealer from his throat. His newly attached arm was clumsy, but he swung it with desperate strength, tearing the creature's head away along with a trail of its spinal column.

Dakka-dakka-dakka!

"WAAAGH!" Darrius roared as he arrived. His lead arrived before his boots did. A storm of heavy caliber rounds shredded the Genestealers flanking Smartnog, turning the chitinous predators into a spray of grey meat.

More vents hissed open in the ceiling as a fresh wave of Genestealers dropped down. They had no ranged weapons, but their mastery of ambush was unparalleled. Their goal was clear: isolate the Ork leaders and enact a swift decapitation strike.

The Tyranid Hive Mind and the Orks were old enemies; the Octarius War had proven that. The Hive Mind knew that to break a green tide, you must first kill its heart.

It was a sound tactical logic. The only question was, were a few dozen Genestealers enough to stop Darrius and his veteran mob?