The Slow March to War
Location: Graia Sub-Sector – Warp Exit Point, Edge of System
Time: T+0 Hours from Translation
The Iron Wrath fleet burst into realspace like a vengeful storm — steel and fire spilling from a rent in the fabric of reality. The Emperor's Grasp, at the heart of the formation, roared with ancient gravitic power. The Voidhammer was awake — and watching.
Around her, eight Gloriana-class cruisers, a dozen support ships, and the destroyer screen deployed into formation. Warp stress shimmered off hulls. Weapons powered. Engines burned cold fury.
The Forge World Graia hung in the distance — a pale, smoke-wreathed marble beneath a sun dimmed by pollution and war.
---
Onboard the Gloriana-class Cruiser Iron Gale, Strategium Dome**
Librarian Alexander stood tall before the assembled fleet commanders. The hololithic projectors painted Graia's system in layered red.
> "We are in-system. Final approach begins now. Estimated time to Graia orbit: 2.5 days."
He turned to the gathered captains — each one a battle-scarred veteran, their faces grim.
> "The Orks have already landed."
Gasps and curses whispered through the chamber.
> "They breached orbital defenses days ago. Initial reports suggest they captured a cruiser — Mechanicus designation unknown — and used its bulk to crash through Graia's first defense line. Several manufactorums have already gone dark."
He paused, letting the weight of the words sink in.
> "The Fabricator-General and Inquisitor Drago have established a defensive zone in the central forge ring. Remaining Skitarii regiments and Astra Militarum assets are being pulled back. We will reinforce them in force once we arrive."
Captain Xinoxis of the Iron Gale leaned over the plotting table, voice clipped.
> "2.5 days through this graveyard of a system. The Orks won't wait. They'll fortify, multiply."
Alexander nodded.
> "Which is why every hour, every minute, counts. All ships are to maintain full thrust, spread formation around the Emperor's Grasp. Marines will remain on battle-readiness in case of ambush. There will be no warp escape now."
He looked across the room, his gaze falling on the one warrior who hadn't spoken yet.
---
Catalin the 2nd stood in silence near the rear of the chamber, helmet under one arm, plasma repeater locked to his back. His towering frame drew sidelong glances, even among his own kind.
> Another mission. Another ship. Another "team."
He stared at the holomap without emotion. Two and a half days — and then they'd drop into fire.
> Always teams. Always squads. Always deaths.
He could still remember the last one — Hive World Oltrax. His entire unit wiped out. All but one. That one didn't speak anymore. Not since the bloodstorm.
> I'm the common thread. Not them. Just me.
Trouble doesn't follow me. It waits for me.
I'm the storm they die in.
He crossed his arms, the chainsword on his back humming faintly again. It always did — like it knew something. Like it remembered the same things he tried to forget.
> At least I'm built for it. Three meters tall. Custom plate. Rage without fury. Muscle without mercy.
He grunted to himself.
> All I'm missing is a personal shield. Maybe if this mission pays off…
---
Back in the Strategium, Alexander's voice cut through the tension.
> "No action will be taken until we reach orbit. Recon augurs are already gathering signals. Roks are still moving in-system, but Graia itself is the objective."
He looked again at Catalin — and though he said nothing, Catalin's jaw clenched.