Chapter 462: On the Brink
An Astra Militarum technical sergeant swept a detection instrument across the hive ruin, scanning the ground.
After a long stretch, he raised his hand and waved forward a massive missile transport vehicle.
"Here! Extensive hollow strata detected below. Fire the melta-drill down right here!"
The missile transport rolled into position as ordered, its massive launch tube rising upright, warhead pointed straight down into the earth.
The Astra Militarum sergeant pressed the launch trigger, and the melta emitter at the rocket's tip unleashed a jet of superheated plasma.
Soil, rock, and steel liquefied instantly in its path, and once the way was clear, the rocket's own engine ignited, driving the massive warhead down into the depths below.
The nuclear payload plunged two kilometers underground before detonating inside a vast hollow stratum.
That subterranean chamber had once housed a massive human population. Now it had become a playground for the greenskins.
The melta-drill had bored straight through plasteel and concrete before detonating in that open space.
The resulting fireball killed several hundred thousand greenskins in an instant, and the blast triggered tremors that collapsed several already-unstable sections of hive infrastructure.
The Astra Militarum had brought a large stockpile of these bunker-busting rockets, because the hive was simply too vast, its underground infrastructure too extensive, and they had no way of knowing exactly where Three-Arm's war-forge actually sat.
So the strategy was pure volume: keep firing drill-rockets underground, again and again, and trust the sheer numbers to find the target eventually.
Meanwhile, deep inside Three-Arm's war-forge, he and his several thousand Mekboys were putting the final touches on the Gorkamorka Walkers.
Periodically, the whole workshop shuddered violently, chunks of reinforced concrete crumbling from the ceiling above.
"I wanna fight! I wanna fight Old Fart Kian!!
I can feel it, he's definitely comin'!!!"
Blackiron, wired into the Gork Walker as its control brain, let out a howling shriek.
His cries seemed to resonate with the tremors themselves, more debris shaking loose from above with every outburst.
Three-Arm, meanwhile, was busy connecting cable after cable of neural leads to his own body, climbing into the Mork Walker with a wheezing, cackling laugh.
"I feel ya, partner. Da Gorkamorka's finished. Time for my masterpiece to finally shine!!"
He settled into the Mork Walker, and the neural connection completed in an instant.
The surrounding Mekboys hurried to seal the cockpit armour shut, and after a burst of roaring engines and crackling electricity, the two fifteen-meter Ork war-machines powered up fully!
"KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL! I'm gonna kill you, Old Fart!!!"
Blackiron, wired into the Gork Walker, let out a howling shriek, lifting one massive mechanical leg and striding forward with heavy steps toward the exit.
Inside the Mork Walker, Three-Arm rotated the twin super-rotary cannons mounted on his mechanical arms, cackling wildly.
"My work. Dis is my work, my best work!
Da finest machine ever built deserves da finest enemy, for da finest scrap dere ever was!!"
He bellowed:
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!"
The massive roar blasted out through the Mork Walker's external vox across the entire site, and the surrounding Mekboys immediately erupted with matching fervor, roaring back:
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"
Then, one by one, they scrambled aboard whatever mechs and vehicles, large or small, they had on hand, forming up around the Gorkamorka Walkers as the whole force surged forward and out.
They tore straight through the ruined hive, from the war-forge at its core out to the shattered outskirts.
Outside, the Astra Militarum had just fought their way to the central district of the ruin, waves of Leman Russ tanks intermixed with infantry, locked in a savage brawl with the surrounding Orks.
The two fifteen-meter Gorkamorka Walkers arrived at the very front of the battle and let loose a joint, thunderous roar:
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!"
That roar carried through the external vox, nearly blanketing the entire battlefield.
And it wasn't just noise. The Gorkamorka Walkers were, quite literally, living avatars of Gork and Mork themselves, war-totems in their own right.
Their arrival sent Ork morale, already sky-high across the entire globe, surging up yet another full tier.
WAAAGH energy readings across the whole planet doubled instantly, and huge numbers of Orks swelled visibly in size, right there on the spot.
Their weapons started firing faster, their shells detonating with greater force.
Down in the mushroom fields, Ork Boyz erupted from the ground like they'd been injected with steroids, crawling free in a frenzy.
The Gretchin guarding the birthing grounds worked their hoes until they practically smoked, replanting every one of them back into the dirt.
Regardless, the moment the two Gorkamorka Walkers appeared, it slapped an aura of "war-blessing" across the entire greenskin population planetwide, and every Ork went into a full berserk frenzy, charging straight for the human spearhead.
At that exact moment, humanity's every front line across the entire planet was mid-offensive, having already pushed forward substantial ground. But all of it came crashing back under the sudden weight of the Ork counter-surge.
The Astra Militarum, unable to withstand this sudden spike in Ork ferocity, fell back to their fortified lines, hunkering down behind bunkers to grind out the fight.
Seeing the human shrimp-tin-cans retreat back behind their walls, the Orks lost interest, deciding it wasn't fun anymore, and following pure instinct, they mounted the nearest fast vehicle and surged straight toward the hive ruin instead.
By this point, roughly five hundred thousand Astra Militarum troops had already pushed deep into the hive ruin, along with over ten thousand tanks and armoured vehicles.
The ruin was enormous, and with all five hundred thousand of them pressing inward, locked in chaotic close-quarters fighting with the Orks throughout the wreckage, their objective was clear: push toward the ruin's core, find the Gorkamorka Walkers, and destroy them.
Nearly half of the Astra Militarum's elite forces were driving relentlessly, recklessly deeper into the ruin, ignoring everything else.
The other half held position, forming a defensive perimeter to hold off the Orks converging from every direction, covering the advancing force's rear.
But now that the Gorkamorka Walkers had finished construction and unleashed their war-roar, Ork forces were converging from all sides at once, and the Astra Militarum's pressure had doubled overnight. Their lives now hung by a thread.
Infantry were dying without pause. Armoured vehicles were being wiped out one after another.
The two fifteen-meter Gorkamorka Walkers had planted themselves right at the heart of the fighting, tearing through the surrounding Astra Militarum forces in a frenzy of slaughter.
A single casual swing from the Claw of Gork could crush a Leman Russ into scrap.
A single crushing blow from the Fist of Gork could pancake a Chimera transport flat like a stepped-on lunchbox.
As for the Mork Walker, a single volley from its twin super-rotary cannons unleashed a devastating spray of high-explosive rounds, wiping out three or four hundred Astra Militarum soldiers along an entire street in one pass, their cover collapsing into rubble right alongside them.
Surrounding the Gorkamorka Walkers was a swarm of custom-built Mekboy war-machines, tin cans bristling with an assortment of mismatched weaponry, howling as they charged the Astra Militarum lines and unleashed their own slaughter.
The appearance of this devastatingly high-quality armoured Ork force pushed the already-exhausted Astra Militarum right to the edge of total collapse. This all-in gamble looked as though it had failed.
In the hive command center, the Planetary Governor and his Marshals watched the retreat unfolding on the display, and let out a heavy sigh.
On screen, an Ork tin-can walker pried open a tank turret with its mechanical claws, dragging the terrified gunner out and crushing him to paste with a single squeeze.
An Astra Militarum soldier, mid-firefight with his lasrifle, was ambushed from behind by an Ork Boy and cut down with a single blow.
The massive blade split him clean in two, entrails and organs spilling out in a wet cascade.
Having cut him down, the Ork Boy simply walked away, the soldier no longer any threat.
The soldier wasn't dead yet, though, lying on the ground, screaming in agony.
A few Gretchin, drawn in by the sound and apparently in need of a quick meal, pulled out knives and started eating right there.
The soldier's screams rose in pitch as several dozen Gretchin swarmed around him, taking him apart bite by bite.
Orks were a race built for war, capable of extracting maximum efficiency from every available resource, including refueling themselves while still mid-slaughter.
Killing or wounding an enemy and then taking a bite or two was standard practice for them.
Human blood, rich in water and trace minerals, and human muscle, rich in protein and fat, made for a convenient, fast source of energy for Ork infantry.
Which meant that on a battlefield this vast and this brutal, human soldiers weren't just dying, they were being defiled afterward too.
Back in the command center, the Governor and his Marshals watched their soldiers' remains be desecrated on screen, seething with fury, utterly powerless to stop it.
Some of the Marshals pulled out revolvers, loading them round by round, straightening their uniforms, preparing to take their own lives in a final act of duty to the planet.
Others, choosing a more dignified end, pulled out small metal cases, tipping cyanide capsules into their palms, holding them ready.
The Governor himself reached for the console, fingers moving steadily, entering the nuclear launch code.
Barring a miracle, he was about to personally reduce this entire planet to a radioactive dustbowl, blocking out the sun for good, a fate that would directly wipe out two-thirds of the planet's remaining human population.
But right then, everything changed. An officer let out a startled cry:
"Detecting two aerial units entering atmosphere at high speed! It's the Knight fortresses! It's the Count's Knight fortresses!!"
...
Meanwhile, aboard Inquisitor Trasolh's flagship.
Once the Astra Militarum ground force had confirmed the Gorkamorka Walkers' location, Kian had asked Trasolh to drop the fortresses immediately, but the right window kept failing to open.
The surface was thick with Ork super-rockets, being launched into orbit continuously.
The instant Trasolh's flagship approached the airspace above the ruin, the auspex array lit up with a solid mass of red contacts, every single one of them an incoming Ork super-rocket.
These absurd Ork super-rockets were massive, the thickest of them roughly the size of a submarine.
Launching skyward like oversized bottle rockets, they streaked straight toward Trasolh's flagship.
The flagship's void shield absorbed three of the things in a row and immediately blew straight past its overload threshold!
God only knew what insane propellant the Orks had crammed into those rockets, but three hits alone were enough to send the ship's void shield into critical overload.
There was nothing for it but to pull back temporarily, evading the barrage of Ork super-rockets.
Once the void shield had recharged, the ship returned to position above the ruin, weathered another barrage of Ork rocket fire, and finally dropped the two Knight fortresses.
The two fortresses, thirty meters tall, roughly twenty meters wide and deep, looked for all the world like a pair of small castle keeps.
Dropped straight from the ship, they ignited into blazing fireballs as they tore through the atmosphere.
Once they reached their preset altitude, the four retro-rockets mounted on each fortress's corners fired, slowing their descent against gravity.
Down in one section of the ruins, an Astra Militarum soldier, having just gunned down a charging Ork infantryman, looked up, and saw two suns falling out of the sky.
The two fortresses, engines blazing, looked exactly like a pair of falling suns, spaced two kilometers apart, each aimed at a patch of open ground below, and they slammed down with tremendous force.
Both patches of ground happened to be packed with advancing Ork infantry and Ork walkers, two major supply routes the Orks were using to funnel troops from the hive's core out toward the front line against the Astra Militarum.
The Orks marching down those routes heard a deep, thunderous roar overhead, looked up, and saw twin suns plummeting straight toward them.
A massive impact, and the ground shook three times over.
The two Knight fortresses slammed down directly into the Ork formations, crushing several hundred Ork infantry and walkers on impact, kicking up an enormous cloud of dust and debris.
The surrounding Orks froze, utterly baffled, staring up at the two towering rectangular structures that had just appeared out of nowhere.
While they stood there dumbfounded, the armoured viewports on both Knight fortresses slid open, revealing a densely packed array of weaponry.
The next instant, every weapon opened fire at once, las-beams and plasma bolts erupting in unison.
The sudden, overwhelming wall of firepower tore through the stunned Ork crowd, wiping the area clean. Within a five-hundred-meter radius of the two fortresses, not a single living thing remained.
The Orks, after a brief moment of shock, immediately charged the two fortresses head-on.
But no matter how ferociously they charged, the fortresses' firepower simply never let up, an unbroken wall of continuous fire.
Each fortress carried over thirty large-caliber las-cannons, their power circuits wired directly into an onboard reactor.
The las-cannon barrels were fitted with liquid nitrogen cooling flasks besides, giving them, in theory, an effectively unlimited rate of fire.
Beyond that, each fortress carried heavy bolters and plasma projectors.
And mounted at the very top were rotary flak lasers for anti-air defense, along with large-caliber anti-tank cannons.
Dropping a fortress straight into an enemy's supply lines, forcing the enemy to come to you, was one classic tactic in a Knight's playbook.
But of course, beyond that, a Knight fortress's true purpose was as a delivery vehicle for the Knight itself.
At the front of one fortress, an ornately antique drawbridge gate slowly lowered, revealing the gleaming gold form of the Preceptor Knight.
Kian strode out, flanked by two squire-suits, two freshly repaired Rogal Dorn tanks, and five hundred armoured knightly guardsmen bearing heavy weapons.
Kian looked left, then right.
"Where the hell did you drop me? Is this even the forge world anymore?"
The hatch of one Rogal Dorn popped open, and Lieutenant Colonel Noa, tank commander's cap on his head, poked his head out.
"My lord, please head seven kilometers to your front-left. That's where the Ork totem walkers are.
I've received reports that the moment those totem walkers appeared, greenskins worldwide went into a full frenzy. Our lines are on the verge of collapse. Please, take them down!!"
Kian said, full of confidence:
"Relax. Guaranteed win. If I can't take that piece-of-junk walker down in three shots, I'll eat my own hat.
But just to be safe, I need to link up with Luca first."
Meanwhile, at the second Knight fortress, the drawbridge lowered, revealing the towering form of the Lancer Knight, flanked by two more squire-suits, two additional Rogal Dorns, and another five hundred knightly guardsmen.
The moment they'd settled into position, Reyes, captain of the Knight retinue, walked up to the Lancer and asked quietly:
"My lord, is that you?"
The Lancer's massive head lowered, looking down at the small figure below.
"It's you, Reyes. It seems I haven't broken my word after all. We've met again out here among the stars, and from now on, we'll sail the void together."
Reyes's eyes stung with emotion.
"My lord, I'm so glad you've come back. Fighting alongside you again is the greatest honor of my life."
A faintly distorted laugh crackled through the vox.
"Reyes, fighting alongside you is an honor for me as well. Now then, let's turn our attention to the battlefield ahead."
Reyes's gaze hardened with resolve, and he raised the plasma rifle in his hands.
"Yes, my lord!"
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