His crisis suit slammed into the blood soaked ground, the retro-thrusters of the jetpack firing at the last possible moment to lessen the jarring impact of the Low Altitude Deployment protocol. Shas’Vre Pech Diael immediately surveyed the scene of carnage around him, the driving rain doing its best to conceal the ruined city from his sensors. The Ork horde had already swept through the outer defence lines of Von’yth, and the surviving colonial garrison was desperately manning the last line of fortifications.

Burst cannons cycling into angry life, Diael and his two Shas’Ui advanced through the twisted ruins. The Green skins, on the verge of overrunning the fire warriors position, roared in fury and turned to confront the new enemy at their rear. As the rain drove hard in the crisis suits faces, two dozen boyz came charging through the mud, their clumsy fire ricocheting off ruin and suit armour alike. A maelstrom of pulse rounds met the oncoming horde, cutting the brutes to green, viscera strewn ribbons. Only three Green skins emerged through the hail of fire unscathed, only to be met by Ui’ Fioash’s flamer. The young warrior to his right unleashed a cloud of burning propellant, engulfing the remaining Orks.

Despite being wreathed in flame, a single enormous Ork barreled out of the inferno. With one sweep of his mighty choppa Fioash was knocked off his feet, landing heavily on his back in the mud. The Ork quickly moved in for the kill, but his victory was short lived. With a crackle of energy, Diael’s shoulder mounted plasma rifle lanced out, vaporizing the beasts head with a satisfying pop.

The fight was over, yet the battle was not yet done. Lightening flickered across the clouds, revealing the rain shrouded mass of a much larger wave f Orks approaching through the ruins. A single Warboss clambered atop the wreckage of an upended Devilfish and bellowed to his Horde to charge. They took up the call, roaring with savage intent as they streamed past him towards the Tau lines.

Diaesh allowed himself a brief smile inside the confines of his suit. He activated the Homing Beacon mounted on his shoulder hard point, giving the prearranged signal to the Orca transports circling high above the battlefield. The Orks came charging on, oblivious to their impending doom until the first of the battlesuits erupted through the rain laden clouds. Crisis teams, Broadsides and Riptides thundered down into the mud on all sides, ensnaring the now bewildered host. The battle for Von’yth was over.

His hands gripped the holographic controls, fingers wrapping around the triggers. He squeezed the left trigger, testing, the targeting reticule coming to life with a shrill pinging noise, changing from blue to red in colour. He switched systems with a flick of his wrists and did the same for the burst cannon and gun drones before cycling back to the main gun.

We are ready then. Let it begin.

His breathing was heavy now, but controlled. The sounds of the crew checking their own systems flittered past him as he focused all his attention through the head up display and onto the exterior world. The wall of dust rolled ever closer.

Where are they?

He opened a channel on the intercom, impatient for action, wanting to give the Pilot the order to move forward. No, that is not the way. Patience. Let the target reveal itself to us. He spoke into the intercom now, his voice clear and calm above the whine of the idling thrust engines.

“Pira’ko. Contacts?”

“No La. Just the dust’

They all stared now, the fine sand blowing thin ribbons of cloud around the holographic display of the outside world. The high levels of strontium isotopes made the cloud of dust almost impossible for even the advanced sensors of the Hammerhead to penetrate. They had no choice but to wait.

A flash of metal on the horizon caught his eye, just above the dust cloud, quickly followed by the soft chiming of an alarm.

‘Fighters inbound La. One Rai’kor.’ Pira’ko announced, relaying the information from the parts of the sensor suite that were able to function in the dust. Her calm tone belied any fear she may have felt as the enemy aircraft headed straight for them.

He heard the scream as they passed by, instinctively tracking the lead craft with the targeting relay. All it would take was a squeeze, a simple flick of the fingers to send that crude, angular lump of metal smashing into the desert. More fighters roared past, skimming the deck as low as their pilots dared, and he returned his attention to the approaching wall of sand. No, you fool. No behaving like a damned ‘Saal. They are not here for us anyway.

He thought of the infantry dug in to the rear, protecting the forward supply base from which the Cadre was operating. The fighters were most likely headed for them, a target of opportunity given the lack of Tau air cover in this region. A small smile crested his face as he relished the fruition of a small part of the battle plan. The concealed Skyray Gunships protecting the base would be quite the surprise for the impetuous Gue’la fools.

He stared once more into the oncoming cloud, almost on top of them. The roar of the fighters receded into the distance. He had counted at least twenty, more than he had seen at any point in the war so far. There must be something coming with them.

Where are you?

And now he saw them.

Tanks erupted from the dust, rolling right past them on all sides, belching smoke as their engines roared. The air was punched by the dull thuds of cannon fire, the chattering of bolters, the red stabs of las cannon beams. He opened the channel.

’90 degrees, ahead two thirds.’

The Gunship was already gliding forward, turning right, the Pilot anticipating his command. The dust cloud was on them now, enveloping them all in the thick gray fog churned up by the advance of the unsophisticated Gue’la machines.

‘Pira’ko?’

‘Target, nine-oh-nine. Marked.’

A yellow tracking reticule came to life on the headup display, sliding across his vision as he rotated the turret through the obscured landscape. He watched impatiently as the turret came to bear, the target reticules lining up and flashing green.

‘Firing.’

His words hung in the air as the tank rocked from the recoil of the railgun, the distinctive whip crack audible inside the sound insulated cockpit. He struggled to see through the dust thrown up by the energy of the blast, the tracker reticule disappearing as the lock was lost.

He coughed involuntarily, the ozone smell of the railgun’s discharge seeping into the cabin. The clouds of dust swirled past.

“Stop. There.’

They came to a halt, the dust cloud lifting for a moment to reveal the stricken tank. A thick plume of black smoke poured from the top, its turret ripped off by the power of the strike. The side hatch opened, and he saw them now, the surviving crew scrambling out, escaping the burning ruin, staggering, dazed. He flicked his wrists, switching over to the gun drone controls, squeezed the trigger. The three gue’la collapsed, riddled with pulse fire, the dust already burying them where they lay. He exhaled, a long slow breath, the silence of the cabin only broken by the keening wind buffeting the hull.

Pira’ko wrestled her eyes away from the scene of carnage, turning her eyes on him instead.

‘Sha’ng?’

He held her stare for a long moment, the silence hanging heavy between them.

‘Move. Ahead two thirds.’

Pira’ko’s gaze snapped back to her console, the tank thruster’s roaring to life, pushing them forward into the dust once more. He searched for a target, his blood rising to the battle, imbuing himself in the chaos, a desperate dance of machines and death.

‘Shas’O, we have multiple intruder alerts, repeat, the Io’Tar has been boarded.’

‘Contain them and destroy them, Shas’el.’

‘Affirmative, Shas’O.’

The comms link terminated abruptly, replacing the squall of background static with the ferocious din of battle.

O’Vash strode down the shuttles ramp and ducked back into the chamber. Weapons fire strobed through the lightless corridor of AX-118, small arms ricochets and the occasion crump of grenades against the drifting hulks bulkheads, adding to the cacophony of war that was fast becoming a vision of hell. The Breacher Teams covering the doorways of the loading bay were engaged in a fierce firefight with the Orks massing in the passageways beyond. Soon they would have enough numbers to force the battle onto their terms, rushing the isolated pocket of fire warriors desperately trying to hold them at bay. O’Vash turned to the Fio Engineer kneeling beside the Ionic Displacement Charge brought in with the boarding party.

‘How much Longer, Fio’el?’ he shouted over the roar of weapons fire.

The sturdy Engineer continue making fine adjustments inside the casing of the weapon, briefly interrupting his task to reply. ‘The weapon did not appreciate the rough ride to get here I’m afraid Shas’O. If the Initiation circuit is not properly realigned, the charge will fail to detonate.’

‘Hurry, Fio.’

O’Vash looked up to scan the room, suddenly aware of an increase in the rate of pulse fire at the south doorway. Baying and snarling reverberated down the narrow corridor, signaling the Orks intention to charge. He moved to meet the alien threat, unslinging his pulse carbine and slapping in a fresh clip as he did. A massive Ork, clearly some form of leader amongst the greenskins, barreled through the access hatch and cleaved a Breacher in half with its mechanical claw. O’Vash stepped forward, ducking under another swing of the Ork’s claw, unclipping a small disc from his belt and throwing it into the beasts face. An explosion of light threw the foe off guard, allowing O’Vash to bring the carbine up and unload a well placed burst at short range. The creatures head exploded into a wet mass of globules, spraying the bulkhead behind him, before the body tumbled to the floor with a crash, the oversized claw twitching fitfully.

O’Vash leapt forward into the corridor to engage the lesser Orks behind, spraying the hallway with pulse rounds. There was little time for aim, but the confines of the passageway made the weapons rounds hideously effective. Heads and chests exploded, as limbs flew apart. The remaining Breachers rallied and added their fire, and in seconds the corridor was filled with twitching corpses, the floor slick with green blood.

‘The charge is set, Shas’O! Three Rai’kor before detonation!’ The Fio called, already running up the ramp of the shuttle.

O’Vash opened the channel to the remaining defenders. ‘Fall back to the shuttle, covering fire pattern Delta!’

O,Vash followed the Fio up the ramp, as the last of the fire warriors converged on the shuttle, their pulse blasters combining with photon grenades to hold the Orks a bay long enough to effect their retreat. As the last of the troops entered the shuttle hold, O’Vash moved into the cockpit and addressed the pilot directly. ‘Now, Kor’vre, get us out of here!’

The Kor’s hands flashed over the controls as the engines whine increased exponentially. As the vessel began to slowly rise away from the landing pad, a large impact jolted the craft and occupants alike, followed by the rapid cycling down of engines. A plethora of red lights and alarms spread across the pilots display, as the shuttle slammed back down onto the pad with a nauseating metal screech.

O’Vash instinctively grabbing the pull bar behind the pilots seat to ride out the impact, but still found himself slammed against the bulkhead by the force of the collision. As he righted himself, the Kor turned in his seat to face O’Vash, a look of panic creeping over his face.

‘Shas’O, we appear to be stuck on something.’