Warhammer [536-538] (Patreon)

Chapter 536: Calgar Arrives and Takes Over Vigilus

The Ultramarines' fleet was quite large—no fewer than five battle barges, with dozens of cruisers and escorts in tow.

Leading a million Imperial soldiers and nearly 4,000 Astartes Ultramarines, Calgar and his forces emerged from the Warp in a state of confusion, because the ship's Navigator said they had already reached their destination.

But they had departed only about a month earlier than their gene-father Guilliman. By their reckoning, they should have arrived at Vigilus in two to three months.

Yet once the voyage ended, they found they'd arrived more than two months ahead of schedule!

 "Navigator, why did we get here so quickly?" Calgar asked, turning to his Navigator.

"Lord Calgar, anything can happen in the Warp. And Imperial vessels now mount FTL drives. While these are only capable of a few hundred times lightspeed in realspace, they also noticeably increase effective speed in the Warp.

"So arriving two months early isn't some uncanny anomaly—it's within normal variance," the Navigator replied.

Since the development of FTL drives, many Imperial ships have been outfitted with them. It's a far cry from the old days of purely Warp-sailing.

They're faster now. And the Warp has no fixed sense of time to begin with—your ship might arrive early, or much later.

This time, they arrived two months early. The Navigator saw no issue.

"Lord Calgar, arriving early is actually good news. The planet is under attack. Our auspex indicates

an Ork fleet has also just dropped out of the Warp, only about 1 light-year away. At their speed, they'll reach Vigilus in roughly two days," said the mortal first officer aboard the ship.

"An Ork fleet? Why didn't we receive word?" Calgar asked, puzzled.

This mission was to escort a special weapon to the Imperium Nihilus. Nothing could be allowed to go wrong. He had left ahead of his Primarch to secure the route.

An Ork fleet showing up was unacceptable to Calgar. Fortunately, he had brought sufficient forces—he would simply annihilate the Orks.

"Lord Calgar! The people on Vigilus detected the Ork fleet a few days ago

and signaled the Imperium for aid. The Imperium couldn't dispatch help at the time, and we just happened to arrive now," said the ship's Astropath.

Traveling through the Warp often scrambles timelines. You might be delayed a long time.

"I understand. Contact Imperial authorities on Vigilus immediately. I require supreme command," Calgar ordered.

With the Ork fleet less than a light-year away, ship-to-ship actions would soon commence. All available forces had to be organized at once.

"By your command, Lord Calgar. We'll contact the ground forces and the Imperial Navy garrison here," the ship's crew replied, moving quickly to establish contact with Vigilus.

Calgar's sudden arrival left the nobles of Vigilus both delighted and confused. Why would the Ultramarines' second-in-command appear at this critical moment? Had the Imperium foreseen the Ork incursion?

Regardless, his arrival was good news.

With the Ultramarines' second-in-command bearing the brunt, they could afford to delegate and stay out of the worst of it.

When the sky falls, the tallest shoulders hold it up. Calgar's sudden appearance inspired everyone.

Calgar soon took a lander down to Vigilus to meet the High Council.

When Calgar entered the council chamber, everyone held their breath.

Here was a true Imperial heavy-hitter: former Legion Commander of the Ultramarines and once Lord of Macragge, now entrusted by Primarch Roboute Guilliman himself

to serve as the Ultramarines' Chapter's Vice-Commander. The forces under his command were now several times greater than the Chapter era's thousand—well into the hundreds of thousands.

Clad in blue-and-gold power armor, the Crest of the Macragge's Honour engraved upon his pauldron, Calgar swept the room with a piercing gaze. "By the Regent's mandate," his amplified voice rang out,

"Vigilus shall serve as a vital forward bastion to receive the Lord Regent. The Ork threat must be contained outside the landing perimeter.

"Now—who is the responsible authority on this world? You will transfer full military command to me," Calgar declared.

He wasted no time. He would seize control of Vigilus's defenses immediately; there was no time for politics. The Primarch would arrive soon.

"Lord Calgar, I represent the planetary governor from House Agamemnus of Vigilus. I am willing to transfer supreme command to you," said the House's spokesperson, straightforward and decisive.

In truth, the Agamemnus family's authority had waned. The Ultramarines' arrival might prove a blessing.

A Tech-Priest Magos stepped forward. "Honored Legion Commander, we were planning to convert the lower-hive civilians into Mechanicus Skitarii adjuncts—"

"Absurd!" Calgar's bark cut him off. "The Emperor's subjects are not expendables. Motion denied.

"I have brought forty companies of Ultramarines and a Titan Legion from Macragge. I will command this war."

Turning Imperial citizens into that kind of baseline servitor was intolerable to him. Use convicts, clones, traitors—but never ordinary Imperial civilians.

Calgar's words hit like a thunderclap. The chamber fell utterly silent. No one had expected him to refuse the proposal so flatly.

The Magos from Forge World Stygies VIII's twitched his mechadendrites uneasily.

"But, Lord Vice-Commander Calgar," the Magos tried to argue,

"the lower hive's population is immense. Converting them would form an effective defensive screen—you know Orks' combat power. Their numbers seem endless, and after they die,

green fungus will soon sprout across the surface. Their manpower is functionally inexhaustible. Without sufficient mass to gain numerical advantage, we cannot win this war."

"I said no. Motion denied," Calgar replied.

"The Emperor's subjects are not your test stock. Now, I require a complete planetary defense schematic and a muster roll of all available forces."

The governor wiped sweat from his brow and had a retainer bring a dataslate. "My lord, this is our defensive layout. Frankly, our orbital defenses are in disrepair, and our ground forces lack heavy equipment."

On Vigilus, the Agamemnuss were nominally kings, but the infighting between the Ecclesiarchy and Mechanicus had left the governor with scant real power—and thus few forces to command.

"The Ecclesiarchy can field about twenty thousand Battle Sisters, and some fleet assets.

"But our Frateris Templar have not yet received Lord Lorgar's gene-seed improvements, so we have no suitable Space Marines," said the Ecclesiarchy representative.

The Ecclesiarchy had embraced the new Ecclesiarch's reforms; things were different now. Their orders were to aid Calgar in reversing the tide.

"Excellent. All Imperial Navy assets in near orbit will come under my command. The Martian Mechanicus will handle maintenance and resupply of our arms.

"All Skitarii and Mechanicus militia must participate without compensation. Failure to comply will be treated as treason. I am empowered to carry out the Emperor's judgment," Calgar said.

"By your command, Lord Calgar," the Magos sighed helplessly. He knew defiance would mean summary execution, and none would speak for him.

The planetary governor handed over the full military inventory of Vigilus.

Calgar took the dataslate, scanning defense and armament lists, his frown deepening.

The situation was worse than he'd thought—the planet's defenses were very weak. Fortunately, his fleet had arrived in time; otherwise, Vigilus would have fallen to the Orks within days.

As for why Calgar arrived two months early—this was Rhodes' doing. Through Tartarus he nudged things so Calgar's force exited the Warp at the nearest translation point to Vigilus.

The Ultramarines' vice-commander had to reach the field—Vigilus's locals alone would never hold the Ork tide.

At that moment, the fleet officer cut in: "Lord Calgar! Urgent! The Ork fleet has suddenly accelerated—estimated to enter engagement range within 24 hours!"

The council chamber erupted. No one expected the Orks so soon!

Chapter 537: Facing the Ork Fleet

 "The Ork fleet is at least one light-year out. Even at full speed, they'd need days to leave the Warp and enter realspace," Calgar said.

Their Imperial fleet, with advanced FTL, had made record time to Vigilus. But the Orks? With their junk-heaps?

In realspace, the only species that used true FTL used to be the Necrons alone—but now humanity had it as well.

The Orks' cobbled-together tubs certainly weren't on that list.

"Lord Calgar! The Orks' junk ships may have scavenged some Imperial vessels,

or recovered wrecked Imperial warships, allowing them to obtain FTL drives," a company captain suggested.

Over the last decade, FTL had been widely adopted across fleets, especially the Indomitus Crusade. Human naval power and speed had soared. With so many FTL units in circulation,

some Imperial ships were inevitably destroyed, and their drives left behind.

Other xenos might take ages to crack them. Orks are different: if they get it, it's theirs.

So the most likely scenario was that the Orks had somehow mounted FTL drives, enabling them to cross a light-year at such speed.

"Give me detailed status. Have they entered the system proper?" Calgar asked.

"Commander, the Orks are still a dozen AU out. At their current speed, they'll collide with us within 24 hours," an Ultramarine reported.

Calgar frowned. At a dozen AU, an Imperial ship

without FTL could still reach you in 24 hours. If the Orks had true FTL, they'd be here in minutes.

Then the auspex officer noticed something odd: contrary to their guess, the Ork ships didn't seem to have FTL drives.

They were being propelled by some unknown Warp phenomenon—much like how the Ultramarines had suddenly arrived.

Calgar snapped: "No time to fret. Fleet to Condition One!

Activate all orbital defense platforms on Vigilus. Evacuate all noncombatants to deep shelters. Orbital batteries to maximum alert.

Signal the Imperial Navy at the moon dock: rendezvous with my Ultramarines. We'll engage the Orks together.

And prepare mass drop-pod capacity. If the Orks land, we'll fight them on the ground," Calgar ordered rapidly.

The Imperial fleet idling at the starport reluctantly sortied and joined the Ultramarines, slightly bolstering numbers.

Under Calgar's command, the battle barges, Avenger-class cruisers, Overlord-class cruisers, Gothic light cruisers, Sword-class frigates, and Firestorm-class frigates formed up.

The battle barges—battleship-tier—brought their strongest lances and newly installed pedanium ray cannons to bear on the Ork fleet.

Calgar returned to his flagship: an Apocalypse-class battleship, 12 kilometers long.

The Vigilus Navy topped off their magazines and braced for battle.

For this clash, Calgar planned to send part of the Astartes and a contingent of Battle Sisters as a boarding task force.

The rest of the Ultramarines would deploy planet-side, fighting alongside local troops.

With the Astartes giants in the field, local morale would soar.

These local troops hadn't taken super-soldier augmentations. They were nowhere near Primaris Astartes levels—more like the Astra Militarum of decades past,

perhaps worse, lacking real combat experience—more planetary defense force than seasoned Guard.

A dozen hours later, the Ork fleet's ramshackle ships closed on Vigilus and slammed into the joint Imperial formation.

"WAAAGH!"

"WAAAGH!"

From within the Orks' space-junk barges, countless green skins bellowed in excitement, their war cries rising and falling.

They'd been eyeing this human world—and in truth, any inhabited world along the way. If there's a fight to be had, Orks throw themselves at it.

They should have needed two more days in the Warp to reach this system, but for some reason, a small Warp storm suddenly spat them out

right inside the system, very near the enemy.

So Warlord Gromm and his boyz charged without a second thought.

Gork and Mork were surely smiling!

A great war! A great WAAAGH!

The first Ork junkers surged in and opened fire, the savage barrage slamming into the Imperial void shields.

The Ork fleet's scrap-heaps formed a chaotic charge, muzzles flashing unstable green energy. Crude kannons and rocket racks spat fire, a rain of munitions hammering Imperial void shields.

"Hold formation!" Calgar's voice filled the command-net. "All battleships: pedanium main batteries—salvo fire!"

The shields held. Calgar ordered the counterattack.

Golden pedanium rays speared out from several battleships, striking Ork junkers and tearing them to pieces.

The Apocalypse-class's main guns fired first, a brilliant golden beam lancing across the void, hitting an Ork asteroid-turned-mega-ship.

The beam slagged armor in an instant. Orks inside vaporized in the heat. The ship detonated into dust.

Then four battle barges let loose their lance arrays, searing white blades that bisected three Ork cruisers trying to close.

The rest of the Imperial Navy—especially Vigilus's—lacked pedanium beams. They answered with old macro-batteries and lances.

"Lord Calgar! The Orks are trying to break our left!" came an urgent warning.

Calgar glanced at the hololith. Dozens of Ork ramships were hurling themselves at the flank in a near-suicidal rush.

These welded-together cans carried suicide bombs that could gut a frigate.

"Right-flank escorts, evasive now! Firestorm frigates, CIWS—intercept!" Calgar ordered.

The Firestorms' close-in batteries wove a killing web, detonating most Ork ramships mid-space.

A few broke through and slammed a Sword-class frigate.

Boom—! The blast rocked the ship, tearing a massive breach. Air and crew vented to vacuum.

Calgar's eyes hardened. "Damaged ships fall back. Astartes and Battle Sister boarding teams—ready to strike! I'll draw the fire up front."

Four battle barges and the flagship formed a core, overlapping void shields to tank the Ork fury.

Auspex marked the largest Ork junk flagship, clustered with dozens of escorts—clearly the command ship.

"First Company Terminators—board with me!" Calgar intended to lead a teleport assault himself.

Several captains quickly pulled him back. Their vice-commander—former Chapter Master—had that habit of leading from the front.

But he had to command the battle; he couldn't risk a boarding charge.

At last, Calgar relented and remained on the flagship. The captains took the boarding mission.

Hundreds of Thunderhawk gunships and assault craft screamed toward the Ork fleet.

Ultramarines and Battle Sisters plunged into the Ork hulks.

"WAAAGH!" Dozens of Ork nobs with chain-choppas and power klaws charged.

"For Macragge!" a company captain roared.

"For Ultramar!" the Astartes shouted.

"For the Emperor!" cried a power-armored Battle Sister.

They were older-pattern Sisters, not as enhanced as the reformed era, but their will was iron.

Inside the Ork junker, Sisters and Astartes met the greenskins in brutal close combat.

Chapter 538: Scuttling the Ork Ship; Ork Planetfall

With a screech of tearing metal, the Thunderhawk's ramp dropped. Second Company Captain Tokas leapt first, his power sword carving a blue arc in the dim hold.

Three Ork boyz lost their heads before their weapons rose.

"Form the line! Purifiers, lock down the left corridor!"

Tokas' voice rang over comms. Dozens of Mk X-clad Astartes formed a wedge. Bolter thunder shook the narrow steel halls.

Saint Celestine raised her flamer; holy fire engulfed the onrushing Orks. "The heretic shall be purged!" her voice boomed through her vox-grille, cold as steel.

Suddenly the ship shuddered. With a deafening WAAAGH, a three-meter Ork warboss smashed through the bulkhead, his scrap-built power klaw crackling, cleaving a Battle Sister in half.

"Warboss! Focus fire!" Tokas commanded. Five plasma guns spat, but the warboss's haphazard armor plates miraculously deflected most hits.

"Humie tin cans!" Warboss Gromm howled, his klaw sweeping two Astartes aside. "Me big iron's da best!"

Cackling, he reveled in the fight he'd long craved. These tin cans people were bigger and stronger than usual—glorious battle.

The two knocked-back Ultramarines surged up again. Primaris enhancements pushed them near Custodian baseline.

A warboss's charge alone wouldn't break them. Chainswords snarled as they countercharged.

Gromm's klaw clashed with roaring teeth of adamantine, sparks geysered, the shriek of metal on metal cutting the air.

The two Ultramarines coordinated perfectly—left feinted low, right's storm shield blasted ionic thrust into Gromm's exposed waist. He staggered.

"WAAAGH!" Gromm bellowed.

He recovered in a heartbeat, grinning a maw of fangs as his klaw crackled harder. "You hit good! But not WAAAGH enough!"

He stomped, buckling the deck. The two Astartes gave ground.

"Reform, suppress!" Tokas arrived, calmly firing his bolt pistol—precise shots to the head. Gromm jerked aside; a few rounds sparked off his plates.

Then Saint Celestine swept in from the flank, power blade smashing into Gromm's knee. "By the Holy Emperor—kneel, xenos!"

"Argh—!" Gromm dropped to one knee; a leg severed. He swept the Saint back with his klaw.

He was late by a beat. The two Astartes struck, chainswords biting.

Crack!

Teeth chewed steel and flesh; Gromm's left-arm plates tore; green blood sprayed.

He only grew wilder. Orks regenerate fast. Even one leg down and both arms wounded, he fought on.

His right klaw seized an Astartes' chestplate and slammed him into the wall.

Crash!

Sparks flew, but the Marine rebounded, drove a metal fist up into Gromm's jaw, knocking fangs loose. The warboss only laughed harder. "WAAAGH!!" He yanked a crude bomb from his belt and thumbed the igniter.

If he was going to die, he'd take some with him—go see Gork and Mork together.

"Grenade!" Tokas barked. Marines flared shields. Celestine fell back, throwing a wall of fire to blunt the blast.

BOOM!!!

The corridor convulsed. Smoke and flame swallowed all. A green shadow fled.

When the smoke thinned, Gromm was gone, leaving green blood and shattered plates.

"Target withdrew?" an Astartes reported, surprised the seemingly unkillable warboss had fled.

"Cunning greenskin," a Sister muttered.

"No—he's regrouping," Tokas said, eyes on bio-telemetry. "Warbosses don't flee. They bring bigger trouble."

The Ultramarines knew their foe—crude, but cunning.

Sure enough, a techmarine's urgent vox came through: "Captain, mass green signatures! They're swarming up from the lower decks!"

"Prepare to receive!" Tokas gripped his power blade, the disruption field humming.

"Purifiers, fortify. Saint, we need your flame to seal the choke."

"For the Emperor. The xenos shall burn," Celestine answered, her promethium canisters thrumming.

From the dark came a rising tide of war cries, the deck plating trembling under a thousand boots.

WAAAGH!!! WAAAGH!!! The greenskins surged.

Tokas snapped orders: "Third Squad—meltas! Saint, cover!"

She nodded. The Sisters reformed, a dense line of bolters holding the charge for precious seconds.

In that window, the Astartes planted melta charges at critical structural nodes—intent on scuttling the Ork ship.

With the charges set, they prepared to withdraw.

"Retreat route marked! All units egress on plan!" Tokas hacked down a lunging Ork and gave the order.

"Move, sisters! Charges imminent!" Marines and Sisters fell back in order to their craft.

Embarked, they laid down a killing curtain to stall the green tide.

As the last warrior boarded the Thunderhawk, the melta charges detonated on cue.

A chain of blasts tore through the Ork flagship. In his final moment, Gromm was still laughing: "Gork 'n' Mork are watch—BOOM! BOOM!"

The warboss didn't escape—off to meet his gods in the Immaterium. The watcher Rhodes hoped Gork or Mork would indeed notice him.

The Ultramarines had hit hard—perhaps Rhodes wouldn't need to intervene against the Orks at all.

A vast fireball blossomed in space, the shockwave flipping nearby Ork escorts.

Thunderhawks arced away on blue tails, while the chain-reaction consumed the Ork ship behind them.

A perfect strike—warboss crippled, flagship destroyed.

Watching from his flagship, Vice-Commander Calgar ordered, "All ships, concentrate fire on the leaderless Ork fleet!"

Now was the moment. With command gone, the Ork flotilla was ripe for rout.

The Apocalypse's main guns recharged. Golden pedanium rays swept the field like divine wrath. Ork junkers vaporized by the score.

Leaderless, the Orks fell into chaos. Some ships fired on each other; others charged blindly to die. The fleet reeled.

Even so, Ork forces reached Vigilus's skies. Waves of Ork drop-pods—asteroids hammered into rough capsules—fell randomly toward the surface.

These pods had no stability. Whether the boyz landed safely depended on luck—or Gork and Mork.

The first pods slammed down—only to meet twenty Ultramarine companies and local troops in full readiness.

They watched as at least half the pods and their passengers smashed into the ground and blossomed into fireworks.

Even losing half their landing force, masses of greenskins still made planetfall—and the dead Orks' spores would soon flourish across the world.