Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 118 Scorched Earth

The combined fleet jumped out from Mandeville point.

The Amighidodton galaxy slowly unfolds on the sensor screen. It is a typical middle-aged yellow dwarf star with a surface temperature of about 5,800 Kelvin. Its light surges in all directions at the speed of light in the vacuum, enveloping the entire galaxy in a pale golden halo.

The planets in the galaxy are arranged in a regular pattern. The three innermost planets are rocky spheres scorched by the star "Tesla," devoid of atmosphere and life.

The fourth is Armageddon, a grayish-yellow hive world, with heat signatures resembling dark red cracks beneath its clouds. The fifth is the frozen world of Shoshin, and the sixth is the Imperial naval base, San Jowin Starport. The seventh and eighth are gas giants surrounded by sulfur clouds. The ninth is Perusida, a cyborg-modified extinction zone. Beyond that lies the asteroid belt and the tenth gas giant, Lande. Further out is Mandeville Point, the gravitational equilibrium zone where ships leap into the warp.

The Black Pearl's ejection point is located on the outer edge of the northeastern sector of the galaxy, approximately twelve astronomical units from the host star. This means that even at the speed of light, a signal from the host star would take nearly an hour and a half to reach the fleet. Similarly, any communications sent by the fleet at this moment would take an hour and a half to be received by Imperial forces in orbit around the host star.

But within seconds of jumping out, the passive sensor array began receiving optical and electromagnetic radiation from across the galaxy—the light and shadow of past and present events. The exhaust plumes of the Orc fleet's engines left dark red trails on the optical sensors, the wreckage of explosions in orbit emitted residual heat in the infrared band, and the victim beacons blinked faint locator pulses at a fixed frequency.

On the bridge, the sensor officer's voice rang out first: "Bounce out for confirmation. Current location: outer reaches of the system, northeast sector, approximately twelve astronomical units from the host star. Full sector scan in progress."

He didn't have to wait long. On the sensor screens, a tactical picture of the Armageddon system was building layer by layer in the data stream. But no one looked at the planetary points of light far beyond astronomical units. All eyes were fixed on the scan results of the main star's orbital region—the dense, slowly rotating steel debris had already told them the answer: the Empire had lost space.

Signals began flooding the communications panel. The electromagnetic waves, not in real-time, originating from the main star, had been traveling through space for over an hour before finally reaching the fleet. Different frequencies, different codes, and different eras of Imperial military communication protocols mingled together, forming a thick wall of sound. Chief Communications Officer Lieutenant Karel's fingers danced across the control panel; he wasn't dealing with real-time conversations, but rather with pre-recorded, looping calls of despair coming from light-time distances away.

"Signals detected on multiple channels. Timestamp delay—approximately one hour and twenty minutes. Filtering by priority." Lieutenant Karel's voice was dry but clear. "Regular tactical channels, emergency distress channels, naval internal command links—all have content. Someone is shouting, someone is reciting prayers, someone is silently repeating coordinates over and over again."

In the psionic communications bay on the other side of the bridge, Hera Voss, eyes closed, pressed her fingers to the resonant crystal of the astrophonic receiver array. She wasn't dealing with electromagnetic waves, but with the psionic pulses deep within the warp—distorted, fragmented astrophonic signals that had bypassed the orcish Waaagh! force field. The Second War of Amegadoton hadn't involved the direct forces of Chaos, but the psionic resonance generated by the gathering of hundreds of millions of Orks had stirred up massive waves in the warp, powerful enough to obscure and distort conventional astrophonic communications. The Astrophonists needed to discern truly valuable information from this psionic noise.

Her lips moved, catching those faint signals from the psionic noise.

One of the star signals was faint, repetitive, and encoded in the standard emergency distress protocol of the Star Court. It came from the direction of Invernus's hive city. The message was short: "Invernus calling—is anyone there—" over and over, like a psionic broadcast that never stops.

Hera marked it and put it aside for the time being. She reported to Cohen via the ship's internal communications: "Captain, a psionic distress signal has been detected in the direction of Invernus from the Astral Layer. It is continuously repeating and originates from the direction of the Lower Hive City. The timestamp cannot be precise, but the degree of signal attenuation indicates that it has been sent for at least several days."

Cohen heard it. Invernus. He memorized the coordinates, memorized the voice. But now was not the time to respond.

He pressed the communication button, connecting to Hera's channel. "Invernus's astronomical signal, continue monitoring. Do not reply."

"Yes, Captain."

Hera didn't ask why. She knew—in the warp, every astronomical signal was a ray of light piercing the darkness.

Invernus was already burning, its psionic flames fully exposed. But if the Black Pearl responded now, the responding psionic pulse would ripple through the orcs' Waaagh! force field. The orcs' psionic perception was crude and chaotic, but they had enough "Psionic Boys"—living capacitors stretched to their limit by the Greenskins' psionic energy. An unusual psionic pulse was enough for them to detect something approaching, introducing unpredictability into their subsequent plans and essentially giving the enemy time to reinforce their defenses.

Marcus's voice came from the tactical console, drowning out the noise on the communications panel: "Ship-wide information filtering! Priority: flagship signal, Admiral Parol's contact, battle summaries for each hive, orc fleet deployment!"

The sensor officer's report followed immediately, his voice dry and precise: "Captain. The wreckage at San Joven has been confirmed—"

Approximately 40,000 kilometers from the main star's orbit, less than 40% intact, its power core has been shut down. All three monitoring space stations—Dante, Mannheim, and Arek—are inoperable. A mixture of Imperial Navy and Orc shipwrecks floats in orbit. There are over 2,300 casualty beacons, and the number is still increasing.

Cohen stood at the porthole. Armageddon's main star appeared on the sensor screen as a grayish-yellow disk, smaller than a fist at a distance of twelve astronomical units. To the naked eye through the porthole, only a bright star and a hazy halo around it were visible; no nest, no smoke, no surface detail. But he knew those things were there—in the magnified image from the sensor, the grayish-yellow planet's surface showed several anomalous heat sources, appearing like dark red ulcers in the infrared spectrum.

Just then, Hera's voice came through the psionic communication pod again: "Captain, a high-priority encrypted pulse has been detected in the astral plane. Identification code confirmed as Admiral Parol, from the 'Victorious Will'. The Admiral requests to establish a communication link with the Combined Fleet. We recommend using laser communication system-wide point-to-point for greater security."

Cohen pressed the communication button. "Agreed. Forward to flagship 'Master Craftsman's Hammer,' establish direct laser communication connection."

A moment later, von Hoffmann's voice came through the fleet channel, clear and steady: "Joint Fleet, all fleets slow down. Maintain defensive formation, halt forward movement. The Black Pearl continues as the lead ship, remaining at the forefront of the formation. The 'Hammer of the Divine Craftsmen' is establishing a direct laser communication link with Admiral Parol. All capital ship captains, prepare to access the highest-level holographic conference. This is the first joint situation assessment in the Armageddon theater."

After the combined fleet disembarked from Mandeville Point, its normal voyage would take several days to reach near-Earth orbit towards the host star. Von Hoffmann decided to use this time for situational assessment rather than a reckless rush. The fleet slowed to cruising speed and glided slowly through the darkness on the outskirts of the host system.

The encrypted holographic channel of the "Hammer of the Divine Craftsmen" opened a few minutes later. Dozens of image windows lit up sequentially on the holographic projection platform of the von Hoffmann bridge. Von Hoffmann was in the center, with Admiral Parol to his left and Cohen to his right. The captains of the capital ships of the Lucis Field Fleet, the captains of the Garros Fleet, Captain Edric of the Fireseed, Sister Valeria of the Silver Shroud Order, and the commanders of the destroyer squadrons under Admiral Parol that were still capable of fighting all connected.

Admiral Parol's face appeared in the main window. His face was older than any image in Imperial propaganda posters, his eyes sunken, with a healed shrapnel scar above his left eye, running diagonally from his left eyebrow to his temporal bone. It wasn't a clean, neat surgical scar; it was a mark of something glued shut with inferior military medical adhesive, which had then cracked open at least once on the battlefield. The background was the bridge's command center, where the sensors continued to sound alarms. His voice was hoarse, but each word was delivered with a steady, measured tone—the kind of steadyness that, having survived three months of relentless shelling, would never again raise its voice for anything.

"Joint Fleet, welcome to Armageddon. I am Parol, Commander of the Imperial Navy in the Armageddon Theater."

You were the first to break in. I'll get straight to the point.

On the holographic projection platform, a tactical map of the Amegidodton system unfolded. Red-marked orc fleets stretched as far as the eye could see. Parol's fingers landed precisely on those spots of light, as if touching his own wound.

"The Space Empire Navy's Armageddon Fleet is less than 30% operational. The flagship, 'Moment of Judgment,' was sunk in the third week of engagements. The Saint Joven Dock and orbital defense platforms are all disabled. Air superiority is not in our hands. The Orc main fleet is currently deployed in three large formations in the outer orbit of the planet. Here, here, and here."

His finger traced several dots on the map. Each dot represented dozens of orc ships.

"The Space Debris Crusher"—this is the name we pieced together from captured Orks communications. It was their mobile command post, located at the rear of the second squadron. It wasn't just any ordinary wreck; it carried macro-gun arrays salvaged from Imperial warships by Orcish Techies, exceeding any reasonable design in caliber and quantity. Nearly 40% of our losses in the first six weeks were caused by this wreck.

In von Hoffmann's image window, the aperture of his right mechanical eye shrank slightly. "The ground."

Parol paused for a moment, as if pushing a heavy word out of his throat.

His finger shrunk on the map, and the surface of the primary planet Amigeddon appeared, marking the location of the hive city.

"The ground—it's terrible. The orcs have been on the ground for three months and have established a foothold. Haldis hive is still fiercely fighting, and Commissar Arek is there. Halsridge hive is still holding out, but its supply lines have been cut off."

His finger moved toward the northern continent—the main continent.

"Tempestora. Still resisting. Its satellite hive, Uffin, was wiped out of orbit by the orcs early in the war, but the main hive itself remains." His finger continued moving. "Death Swamp—the garrison was defeated and has been taken over by the orcs."

Vaucanus fell within the first few weeks of the war. It wasn't the defenders' fault; it was Governor von Straub's fault for withdrawing his elite troops and leaving them in the wrong place.

His fingers crossed the equatorial jungle and landed on the southern continent—the subcontinent.

"Helsard. The battle has reached a stalemate. The orcish offensive has been repeatedly thwarted by the hive's defenses, but the Imperial forces' supply lines have been cut off, rendering them unable to launch a counterattack."

His finger moved toward another mark.

"Acheron. The eastern fortress of Amegiddund. The orcs launched several fierce attacks, but the defenders held firm. The defenses there are holding up—the forces of the Astragalus and the Iron Legion, relying on the fortifications of the hive city, have kept the orcs at bay."

Parol's fingers paused. His gaze shifted from Archeron to another bright spot on the map.

"Tartars. Governor von Strab's headquarters retreated there after the fall of the main continent. It is located in the deepest part of the subcontinent and is not currently under direct threat."

His finger finally landed on Invernus—the only city on the map marked "fallen."

"Invernus, the hive city. The first major hive city to fall after the start of the war. It was the former capital of Armageddon, and the former governor's palace was located on its top floor. Seven days ago, Governor Erna von Kiska ordered the surrender to the Orcs."

The upper levels have completely fallen into orcish hands and are being transformed into an armory and supply center by the Techies.

Parold paused, his gaze sweeping across each video window. "The main orcish force has been on the ground for three months, but the fall of Invernus was only seven days ago. The Tech Lords haven't had time to dismantle and remove the hive's factory production lines yet. If we retake it now, the hive can still function."

A technical priest captain from the Lucis field fleet questioned, his voice squeezed out from the electronic speaker: —

Is it worthwhile to commit troops to retake a capital city that has already surrendered? Shouldn't our primary task be to consolidate our existing defenses?

Parol turned her gaze to him, not with anger, but with the calm that comes from utter exhaustion—a calm that no longer needs to prove anything to anyone.

"The defenses of Invernus hive—the ground-based anti-aircraft arrays and the Void Shield generators—are mostly intact. The hive surrendered, these facilities weren't destroyed, and only seven days have passed; the techmasters haven't had time to dismantle or modify them for their own use. Those anti-aircraft turrets are pointed directly at the Empire, and the Void Shields are currently positioned over the orcs' heads. If Invernus isn't recaptured, the orcs will use it as a base to launch large-scale offensives against the other Empire hives."

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over each video window.

"Gentlemen, those factory production lines haven't been dismantled yet. If we take them back, Hive City can still function and contribute to our war effort. More importantly—if Invernus remains in the hands of the orcs, the entire Imperial forces of Amegiddon will know that the Empire has abandoned them. The blow to morale will be enormous, and we cannot afford that price."

Without hesitation, von Hoffmann traced several clear attack axes on the holographic map with his finger.

"The mission is assigned as follows. First, the Invernus Nest City – the Garros Legion and the Garros Titan Legion are responsible for retaking it."

Sage Cohen Severus was in full command of the ground operations. The Fireseed was to be deployed to Titans and landing forces immediately after the orbital area was cleared. The Garros fleet was responsible for covering the Fireseed's advance to its deployment position.

He turned toward Haldis on the map.

"Secondly, after completing the first mission, the next target is Haldis Hive City—a fleet will cover the First Expeditionary Group of the Faith and support Commissar Arek's forces. The orcs have been besieging Haldis for months and need a well-organized heavy force to break the encirclement."

His gaze swept over Tempestola.

"The third target, Tempestora-Uffin, is gone, but the main hive is still under attack. The fleet will once again cover a portion of the Astragalus transport fleet as it deploys troops to the area, helping the defenders stabilize their lines. There's no need for a proactive attack; just hold off the orcs there and prevent them from heading south to reinforce Invernus."

His finger pointed at Archeron.

"Acheron is already the strongest defensive point on the subcontinent. No more troops are needed. Let the garrison continue to hold the eastern flank, just enough to tie down the orcs on the eastern front and prevent them from retreating westward. Tell the commanders of Acheron to hold them off firmly. They will provide support later, but not now. Tell them not to let them through."

He lowered his finger and looked at all the video windows.

"Invernus is the tip of the blade. The other fronts are the blade itself. Only when the tip is in can the blade follow." He paused, then stated clearly, "Before the Titans launch their landing, do not announce the arrival of reinforcements. Provide the Titan legion with ample information. Well then, Sage Cohen, it's your turn."

In Cohen's video window, his voice remained calm and steady.

"The Galos Legion and the Galos Titan Legion will be the first to land. I will then descend to the surface with the ground forces. After all the troops have been deployed, the subsequent Galos fleet, including the Black Pearl, will be under the unified command and deployment of the Combined Fleet."

He paused for a moment. His tone was firm.

"The resistance forces in the lower levels of Invernus are still sending out star signals. This proves that the resistance still exists, and we cannot leave them isolated and helpless—we must set off as soon as possible."

General Parol glanced at him. Not a scrutiny, but the kind of look a veteran has after seeing too many people on the battlefield.

Confirmation without conversation.

"Invernus's lair—the terrain is complex, and the communication environment is terrible. Before the governor surrendered, that place was the most chaotic and difficult-to-control area in the entire hive. Gangs, low-ranking guards, deserters, criminals—the orcs couldn't clear it out even after seven days. If your men are going down there, be prepared for street fighting."

After a moment of silence, Sister Valeria, the elder of the Silver Robe Sisters, spoke from her image window. Her face was resolute, her short, grey hair cut very short, and her skin covered with fine scars. On her left cheek was an old knife scar that ran from her cheekbone to her jaw. Her deep blue eyes remained sharp as swords in the holographic projection.

"Sage Cohen. If Invernus is recaptured, it will face a counterattack from the entire war zone of orcs. No matter how elite the Garros Legion is, it is still just an expeditionary force. The Silver Robe Order belongs to the Inquisition, and our duty is to protect the Emperor's faith and eradicate heresy and corruption. Every large-scale battle requires someone to watch over the heresies and infiltrations that breed where order has collapsed. The greenskins' Waaagh! The force field has disrupted the warp, but even more dangerous are the heretical cults and gene-stealers who are taking advantage of the chaos to expand—the Inquisition has already found traces of them in multiple war zones."

She paused, her gaze fixed on Cohen.

"Therefore, the Silver Robe Order will dispatch a squad of combat nuns to land on Invernus with the Garros Legion. They will not interfere with your command of operations, but will provide vigilance on a spiritual level and, if necessary—in the name of the Emperor—participate in the purge of any heretics and corruption that may exist within the Underhive. This is not a questioning of your abilities, but rather the fulfillment of our duty. We hope you will not refuse."

Cohen paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Accept. There's no shortage of firing positions in Invernus's base."

Valeria nodded slightly and said nothing more.

Von Hoffmann's gaze swept across the group of people before returning to his own.

"Space is mine, the ground is yours. After Invernus is captured, the Fireseed's delivery capabilities will be redirected to support Haldis. I will coordinate the deployment of the Faith and the Astral Army. Your mission is to take Invernus, the faster the better. Draw the Orcs' attention to buy time for the other hives. Prioritize capturing the anti-air arrays and the Void Shield control system. There will be no one to cover you in space orbit."

He turned to the holographic map and tapped Invernus's location with his finger.

"In addition, of the fifty battalions of the Lucis Intelligent Machine Legion, ten battalions will be assigned to the Garros Legion, under the unified command of the Sage Cohen. Thirty battalions will support Haldis with the Guardians of the Church, and ten battalions will be kept as reserves. The deployment of the Intelligent Machines will be ordered directly by me, and each unit will be mobilized as needed."

Admiral Parrol interjected, a hint of weariness finally appearing in his voice: "The Will of Victory will hold off the escort flanking the space wreckage. My captains have been waiting. Leave the orbital matters to us. The ground matters to you."

The holographic meeting concluded after each party confirmed their respective missions. The fleet continued its journey towards the primary star, still several days' distance from near-Earth orbit. On the sensor screens, the disk of Armageddon's primary star slowly magnified, and beneath the grayish-yellow clouds, the thermal signals of the hive cities became increasingly clear.

Von Hoffmann's voice came through the fleet channel, carrying a long-suppressed, about-to-burst power: "Combined Fleet, all fleets ready for battle. 'God's Hammer' forward, First Task Force in position for firing."

The Garros fleet will provide cover for the Fireseed as it maneuvers towards near-Earth orbit. The Silver Shroud Order's sentry ships will maintain psionic alert. Operational objective: Break through the Orcish near-Earth orbit defenses to create conditions for landing on Invernus. Timeframe: Effective fire engagement approximately three days later.

The Black Pearl accelerated first, maintaining its position at the front of the formation. Ten Cobra destroyers spread out on the flanks, forming a protective formation.

The fleet trailed dozens of blue flames across the sky as it approached the grayish-yellow planet.

During the voyage, signals delayed for over an hour continued to flood the panel. Lieutenant Karel filtered through the noise to discern a clear naval tactical order—not a distress call, but a command. It came from the direction of Archeron, timestamped three hours prior. The message was brief: "Acheron Defense Zone, all Imperial forces, at your attention. Orcs on the Eastern Front are retreating westward. Unknown cause. Possibly reinforcing other theaters, or preparing for a large-scale offensive. All units, maintain alert."

Cohen heard the signal. The orcs were mobilizing. (Not) a purposeful exodus, but a redeployment.

He pressed the communication button, connecting to Hera's channel. "Invernus's astronomical signal, continue monitoring. Report any changes immediately."

"Yes, Captain."

The fleet was transiting. On the sensor screens, the silhouette of the space wreckage "Bonebreaker" remained a blurry, massive shadow in the distant scan, but it was moving. It was adjusting its position, heading towards the Combined Fleet.

Cohen stood at the porthole of the Black Pearl, gazing at the glowing point of Amagidon. The Allied Fleet's primary mission now was to breach the Orcs' orbital defenses.