The closer the Expeditionary Fleet approached the Avex–Mors Primus, the more unmanned drones the War-Moon released.
With the Ramilies at its center, the fleet advanced steadily.
From the central batteries of the Ramilies-class Star Fortress, an endless torrent of torpedoes met the swarming Rangdan drones in the void, like schools of fish clashing against flocks of birds in the dark vacuum, colliding for tens of thousands of kilometers.
The blinding red glow of detonations lit up the void.
The fleet's bows fired lances of light, clearing the metallic wreckage in their path.
Anti-air batteries howled, blasting apart the incoming drone clusters.
Several tugboats broke through the chaos of torpedoes and drones, entering the war-moons's attack range.
From the War-Moon burst countless searing beams of light, crashing against the void shields of the tugboats.
The tugs advanced like gasping void beasts, each step a struggle. Their sole mission: drag the Ramilies forward before being annihilated.
On the Behemoth's bridge, the captain stared at his console.
One by one, the signals of the tugboats vanished, leaving nothing behind.
His mind drifted back to his own ship.
[Void shields overloaded. Power failure. Life support systems offline.…]
The captain lifted his hand and pressed it against his breathing mask.
He knew clinging to the instruments was meaningless; he and his crew were about to be turned into dark shadows by the xeno's twisted weaponry.
That shadow would be his only trace left in the frozen void.
"A shadow," he thought with grim humor. "Even as a shadow, I'll keep my dignity as a captain."
He straightened his hair, looked at his arm, and the void suit and tactile gloves were still intact.
"Hm? The enemy's fire just slowed down…"
The War-Moon no longer focused on the tugboats; they had already done their duty.
Fifteen tugs were reduced to black silhouettes; four were critically damaged, but the Ramilies had closed the distance.
Now, the two fortresses of war faced off.
Millions of human slaves, bound by neural collars, kept the War-Moon's colossal machinery running.
Towering spires on its surface spewed blinding beams into the void.
The energy density and destructive power of these spire-beams surpassed even the Imperial Shadow Blasters.
Waves of radioactive electromagnetic bombardments hammered against the fortress-class energy shields of the Ramilies.
The machine spirit of the Ramilies roared in fury. Rows of monstrous cannon batteries screamed back, pouring fire upon the xeno construct.
The war-moon's anti-air defenses worked at full capacity, desperately intercepting the storm of shells.
Hidden Rangdan warships emerged from the war-moon's shadow; the time for concealment was over.
The Imperial fleet fanned out around the Ramilies, forming a tight formation as they pressed forward.
Inside the factories of the War-Moon, the psychic voices of the Rangdan overlords echoed:
"Faster! Produce drones faster!"
Hundreds of thousands of slaves moved mechanically, hands obeying implanted commands, assembling drone after drone.
Their neural collars stripped them of self-awareness; they could not understand the overlords' panic.
The instant each drone was completed, it took flight, joining the fray.
Though the war-moon could trade blows with the Ramilies, the Rangdan fleet was outnumbered; they needed drones to maintain the fragile balance.
That balance shattered on the thirteenth day of the fortress duel. The Expeditionary Fleet had finally amassed overwhelming numbers.
Aboard the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignty, Nareth watched the accelerating advance on the holographic display.
He scanned the streams of data; every ship's main engine increased speed in perfect synchronization.
Thanks to the Simulus Chamber enveloping the fleet, all ships advanced at identical visual speed.
No ship surged ahead, none lagged behind; the formation was as seamless as a rising tide.
The Rangdan ships were being beaten back by that "tide."
On the green holo-map, red enemy icons vanished at a visible rate; Imperial black icons disappeared far slower.
'Even though my main fleet is twice the size of the First Legion's, each with three Gloriana-class battleships, without the Ramilies we'd have suffered far heavier losses.
'The Starfort balances the enemy's War-Moon, letting my numerical advantage unfold perfectly.'
'…And now, the Ramilies is gaining the upper hand.'
Both fortresses' weapons finally broke through each other's defenses.
The fortress shields overloaded under electromagnetic assault, but its powerful Punisher-class Reactor pulsed to life, recharging the void shields anew.
The next wave from the War-Moon struck, but was repelled by the freshly restored barrier.
The Ramilies's first salvo landed only a dozen shells on the war-moon's surface, most hit barren rock, causing minimal damage.
But two struck true, one at a defense turret, the other at a power spire.
Captain Diana Pauline in the Ramilies caught the results instantly, seizing the opportunity.
"Target zones H-11 and D-14 on the War-Moon, saturate fire!"
Her order flashed through the command relays, cannons roared, filling the void with fire.
The storm slammed into the designated sectors; the bombardment pierced gaps in the enemy's anti-air network.
Dazzling light blossomed like a newborn supernova.
Layer upon layer of explosions cascaded outward, flames engulfed tower after tower.
Within the war-moon's countless spires, the Rangdan overlords watched their crystalline displays in horror. Before they could recover from the nightmare of defeat, the anti-air network was torn apart.
The regional energy core detonated, birthing a blinding fireball.
With power faltering, systemic collapse began.
Several spires flickered out; hundreds of gun batteries fell silent mid-barrage.
The Ramilies struck like a bloodthirsty shark, tearing into the war-moon's exposed hull.
Each volley ripped away chunks of alien "flesh," halting dozens of drone foundries and crippling production.
The Fourth and Eleventh Battlegroups ignited their drives, surging into high orbit over the war-moon.
Lances rained down like a storm, orbital bombardment commenced.
Once the Ramilies reached the War-Moon's orbit, the two battlegroups launched boarding assaults.
Chapter Master Bradshaw of the Eleventh led them down into Sector C-14, storming the vast xeno complex.
The circular metal dome reminded him faintly of the underhive domes beneath Terra's hive cities, only, unlike human domes, this one hung with strange metal "petals" drooping from above, engraved with pulsating patterns.
Bradshaw surveyed the chamber; fine crystalline cables ran from the petals into massive upright glass slabs.
'This must be some kind of control or command center.'
Before he could ponder further, a shrill scraping noise echoed overhead.
He turned, and beasts with tiger heads, humanoid torsos, and scorpion tails leapt from the dome's heights, landing on the metal petals.
The Rangdan warriors aimed harpoon-like weapons down at them.
"Above us!" Bradshaw shouted, raising his archaeotech pistol and firing a searing beam.
His warriors lifted their weapons, returning fire.
Blinding flashes and deafening blasts filled the alien hall.
The Shadows of Order, black-armored and grim, were consumed by electromagnetic fire, turned into dark silhouettes.
The Rangdan warriors' personal shields shattered under the hail of bolts; explosions tore them into red mist.
Bradshaw's eyes scanned the alien ranks, locking onto a towering overlord, twice the height of his kin, his scorpion tail coiling as he lunged downward.
Bradshaw fired a beam at the beast, then charged forward with great strides.
The overlord's sickly yellow eyes met his, maw gaping as a roar shook the air.
Bradshaw's mind reeled, dozens of psychic scorpion tails lashed at him like whips.
Instantly he ascended into the First Layer of the Thelema mindstate; illusions faded, and he saw the real tail poised above his head.
He moved to dodge, but the tail burst apart like a flower, spraying him with vile fluid.
He flinched, but the overlord's eyes flashed with psychic force, telekinesis seized his legs, weighing them like lead.
Bradshaw staggered, losing balance.
The overlord pounced, its reformed scorpion tail thrust forward like a spear, impaling Bradshaw through the abdomen and hoisting him high.
His warriors watched in horror as their Chapter Master was slain, their grief erupting into furious roars.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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