Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

Greetings all! I hope you had as merry a Christmas as possible and that you and your families are safe and well.

It's my aim to actually produce some work in 2022, rather than sit on my arse moaning like I've done for the last 18 months. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to do the same! So what are you going to do?

I'm planning to kick-start my 20K series, as I already have a 22,000 word novella which is in need of both finishing and editing. (I have been tempted to simply rewrite this and try to get it published as original sci-fi due to the sheer effort and imagination I've put into it, which is why I haven't posted more of it online by now.) I'm also working on a Battle Sisters series and am laying the groundwork for a T'au series.

Here's a teaser (alpha draft) from the first Battle Sisters story...

=|⚜|=

“Xenos vessels,” said Ultricia. “You are trespassing in the domain of the Immortal Emperor. Your presence here will not be tolerated. Leave now or face judgement.”

She waited, hearing only the rush of engines and the hushed chatter of crewmembers going about their duties. Ultricia turned to her Master of Vox. He shook his head.

“Xenos vessels still closing,” Helm reported.

Ultricia repeated her warning. Again, no reply.

“Who are these arrogant bastards?” she wondered aloud. “They approach a fortress-convent of the Bloody Rose and attendant battlefleet. There are only four of them!”

“Whoever they are,” said the Master of Vox, “they are not up for a chat.”

“Receiving telemetry now,” said Nerdingham, watching data scroll down his screen. The alien vessels appeared in green wireframe, the image updating and building as more information was processed. As the ships built up, Nerdingham went cold.

“Feth,” he said. “Divert extra power to void shields now.”

“You recognise them?” Ultricia said, nodded at the Master of Repulsion.

“Recognise them, Canoness? I was at Damnos, and I was the first to name those classes of ship, not that the fethers at Ultima Command adopted them.”

“What happened at Damnos?” asked Ultricia.

The Tech-Marine shuddered, remembering alarms blaring across the Valin's Revenge, the Ultramarine vessel on which he'd been posted. He'd almost burned out his implants trying to keep the vessel from falling apart. Nerdingham heard the cries of crew, the screams of those civilians and wounded warriors who'd managed to evacuate to the ship, as if it were happening again. If he hadn't plugged himself into the Revenge's command grid and used his cortical implant as a backup processor, the whole ship might have been lost.

“You do not want to know,” he said.

“Canoness,” said Ordnance, “surveyors read an enemy squadron comprised of some kind of battlecruiser, plus three smaller escorts. In my judgement, they are making an attack approach.”

“Awaken primary weapons,” said Ultricia. “Send this order to the fleet.”

“You will need everything, excellency,” Nerdingham warned. The Canoness regarded him for a moment, then ordered secondary weapons to be armed as well.

“Xenos vessels appear to be Necron,” said helm.

“They are Necron,” Nerdingham replied. “That is an Apophis-class battlecruiser, with Nemes-class destroyers. Their attack capability is significant.”

“We've fought the silver scum before,” said Ultricia, forgetting in the rush of adrenaline that most of her crew were new.

“They will be in our weapons range in three minutes,” said Ordnance.

“How long until we're in theirs?” Ultricia asked Nerdingham.

“Less than two.”

The next one hundred and twelve seconds passed in frantic activity as crew and combat squads prepared for action. Ultricia was the centre of the storm, not moving, speaking calmly, making sure every order was understood. Nerdingham thought of what would happen if Calgar was in charge at this moment: people would have been tripping over their own feet and running into one another, Calgar would have already soiled himself, but somehow the Chapter Master would have carried the day like the jammy bugger he was. The Tech-Marine hadn't fought alongside the Bloody Rose before, so there was no reason for optimism – yet there was also no cause for doubt. Ultricia would either succeed, or they would all die. Either way, that would be that.

Sister Repenta entered the bridge, unnoticed by all but the Canoness, who turned to see the young novice looking exhausted and afraid.

“Your eminence!” Repenta said, voice almost lost in the controlled chaos of battle prep. “This is a distraction. There are more –”

“Canoness!” said Repulsion. “I'm reading an energy spike from the enemy battlecruiser. It's –”

The fortress-convent rocked as if the Emperor had teed off on it. All but Ultricia and Nerdingham were thrown to the deck, or across their consoles. Two servitors suffered terminal feedback, sparks erupting from interface ports on their skulls.

“What in Mina's name was that?” said Ultricia.

“Unable to verify,” said Repulsion. “It wasn't gauss technology.”

“Particle burst,” Nerdingham said. “I have seen this weapon before, on a similar xenos ship. They are trying to overwhelm your shields.”

“That's not any weapon I've heard about,” said Ordnance.

“You believe a high-technology species like the Necrons have about two weapons in their whole fleet?” Nerdingham shot back. “This is not some half-arsed codex, this is reality.”

“Can you do anything?” Ultricia asked him.

“I can certainly try.”

Nerdingham flexed the fingers of his right gauntlet. Small nodules opened in the fingertips. Metallic projections like small tendrils emerged. The Tech-Marine inserted these into receptors on his cogitator bank and sighed as his mind meshed with the ship's noosphere. The strangeness of this wasn't lost on him – it felt like history repeating itself, the reliving of memories suppressed for a reason.

“We are within weapons range,” called Ordnance.

“Target the enemy battlecruiser,” said Ultricia. “Show them the Emperor's mercy.”