In the past, even with millions of soldiers at his command, the Planetary Governor and other nobles, along with the Ecclesiarchy and other factions, would have engaged in overt and covert struggles. This internal conflict prevented the optimal deployment and command of forces. Now, however, the entire Avarax had undergone a significant optimization of its power structure.
The leadership of each Hive City had been replaced by elite talents from the Resident Evil world. This effectively eliminated the prior internal power struggles. As for the original noble bureaucrats, some of those who remained unruly were dealt with by Alexia using various overt and covert means. Those who understood their place, recognized the current situation, and possessed certain abilities and connections were brought into an advisory group. Under the command and deployment of Alexia and this elite advisory group, millions of PDF Soldiers were dispersed and stationed at important nodes within Avarax's various Hive Cities. The Central Hive City, boasting the largest factory and most populous area, became the primary focus of defense.
"Any new news from the Relay Station?" Marcus, seated in the Planetary Governor's seat, looked at Alexia beside him.
"The situation is not optimistic," Alexia replied. "The ork pirates in the neighboring sub-sector are no longer limited to plundering merchant ships; they have begun to directly land on planetary surfaces." The Imperium of Man's territorial administrative divisions, from top to bottom, are Sector, Sub-sector, and Star System. Each Sector is approximately eight million cubic light-years in size, forming a cube with sides of two hundred light-years. Avarax itself is less than thirty light-years away from the neighboring Sub-sector.
"Expedite deployment. I have a premonition that the orks will arrive very soon," Marcus urged.
"Currently, the advisory group is debating the form of space combat, and this requires your final decision," Alexia said, handing two different operational plans to Marcus. "One group advocates for relying on ground-based anti-aircraft firepower and deploying the fleet in orbit in a defensive posture. The other group, consisting of former Imperial noble bureaucrats, advocates for launching a surprise attack when the orks emerge from the Warp." Both plans had their merits and were not inherently superior. The former would preserve Avarax's already limited space forces to a greater extent, while the latter would be more effective in striking the ork fleet.
After scanning the two plans, Marcus made a decision without hesitation. "Have the armed merchant ships hold their positions in orbit. The Ishimura will be responsible for the preemptive strike against the orks fleet." He explained, "Armed merchant ships are still merchant ships after all. Their normal cruising speed is too slow, and they don't carry enough weapons. We can only concentrate them in orbit to maximize their effectiveness."
"Won't that be too dangerous?" Alexia asked, a little puzzled. "The Ishimura doesn't have a void shield. Once hit, it can only endure the impact."
Marcus laughed. "With me here, it's impossible for the Ishimura to be hit." Only then did Alexia realize. Indeed, as long as Marcus stayed on the Ishimura, he could always use world-traveling to evade the ork fleet's firepower.
"What's the Adeptus Mechanicus's reaction?" Marcus then asked about their attitude towards the incoming ork threat. The choices of these 'oil-heads' would directly affect the battle's outcome.
"Unclear for now," Alexia said. "We only know that after Halifus the techpriest received the Mycelium samples we provided, the Adeptus Mechanicus forces haven't made much movement."
"That's somewhat good news," Marcus nodded. If Halifus was willing to let the Adeptus Mechanicus forces under him participate in the battle, the pressure would definitely be much less.
With the Orks
Half a month later, aboard a massive, ramshackle junk hulk tearin' through da Warp, Ufrek Ironclaw, boss of a bunch o' Blood Axe ladz, was gettin' a right nasty 'eadache. In 'is mind, it was probably 'cos he'd been doin' too much finkin'. Ufrek hated finkin'—dat was fer weedy 'tech-boyz' an' clever gits like Big Meks. He preferred smashin' stuff flat wiv da big 'ydraulic klaw bolted ta 'is right arm—be it Tyranid Warriors, Tau battlesuits, them speedy pointy-ear Eldar, or even uvver Orks. But wot he really loved givin' a good krumpin' to was da 'shrimp'—loads of 'em, an' 'specially da huge, nasty 'big shrimp'.
Trouble was, bein' a Blood Axe boss—and sailin' wiv a whole fleet run by a Blood Axe Warboss—meant ya couldn't just charge in screamin'. No, dis lot had a habit of finkin' before a fight. Ufrek had gone an' picked it up, though he weren't happy 'bout it.
"Boss!" a runt, 'bout two sizes smaller dan Ufrek, came stompin' up. "'Ow much longah 'til we… uh… wot was it again?" Da not-so-brite git scratched 'is bald noggin, lookin' like 'e'd forgot wot 'e was even reportin'."
HUMP! Ufrek smashed 'is still-good left fist into da git, sendin' 'im flyin' across da deck. Da punch knocked da weedy finkin' right outta Ufrek's skull an' made 'im bellow:
"Yer wastin' me finkin' time! Boss sez finkin's fer a betta WAAAGH! So dat means yer stoppin' me WAAAGH!"
Da smack must've rattled sumfin' back in da git's noggin, 'cos as 'e staggered up, shakin' 'is head, 'e suddenly remembered wot 'e came fer.
"Boss, in free Squig-meals, we'll be in da shrimp's turf!"
"Right! Go get dem boyz wot's still wrasslin'!"
A few minutes later, a bunch o' bruised an' battered boyz stomped up, still smellin' o' Squig breath an' sportin' bite marks.
"Boss! Wot d'ya want us fer?" one shouted over da noise. "We wuz just about ta knock out dat big Squig an' get ready ta eat!"
Discipline? Not in dis mob—dey just kept jabberin' away like a gaggle o' gretchin'.
"WAAAGH!" Ufrek bellowed, finally shuttin' up da noisy gitz—at least fer a moment. A scrawny grot scuttled up an' plonked a metal Ork 'ead on da deck. It was all tangled wiv wires, sparkin' now an' then like it were tryin' ta bite someone.
A few grots started pokin' an' twistin' bits, an' then a deep, gravelly voice crackled outta it:
"Oi, Ufrek! Git yer boyz ready! We's near da shrimp's turf! Big red star's close, an' dere's a green un, a yellow un, an' a purple un! Da shrimp's on da yellow one!"
It was a big Mek—some old mate o' Ufrek's from back home.
"Boss sez yer ship's gonna be da first ta charge ou—"
FZZZZT-POOF! Black smoke belched outta da metal skull, an' it bounced across da deck a couple o' times before conkin' out.
Da grots panicked, fiddlin' an' jabberin' over da busted 'ead, but Ufrek weren't in da mood. Wiv a single crunchin' swipe of his 'ydraulic klaw, he smashed da grots and da talky-'ead to scrap.
Then Ufrek threw 'is arms ta da sky an' roared: "WAAAGH!!!"
Da boyz around 'im went mad—poundin' their chests, raisin' all manner of junky shootas, an' addin' their own thunderin' roars ta da call.