Within the Simulus Chamber, Gabriel moved his thoughts, and in an instant, he grasped the entire battle of the 33rd Expeditionary Fleet.
His brows furrowed. Not only had one of their capital ships been struck by the Fra'al battleships, its void shields shattered and its hull raked with fire, but even the Crown of Shadows itself had lost one of its portside void shields to an aether-cannon blast.
'Captain Diana Pauline is in command?'
'She's an excellent officer, but against the Fra'al fleet… It's too much for her.'
Just as Gabriel suspected, Diana had been authorized by their Primarch to direct the void war. Yet the four Fra'al battleships, each armed with devastating aether-cannons, were a peril beyond her strength.
Her abilities had been granted limited enhancement by the Spectator potion. With the aid of her enchantment, her calculation ability rivaled a common Astartes, but it still fell far short of the Iron Hands' vast Simulus.
The collapse of the port void shield of the Throne of Shadows Sovereignty only added to the crushing weight upon her shoulders. For the first time, the flagship's hull was struck by the cannons of an enemy frigate.
'Lord Nareth should be about to seize command himself.'
A single second stretched into an eternity for Diana, like an endless night. Her blue-green eyes flickered with astonishment. There had been time enough for the Primarch to respond, to issue orders.
'If he does not act, it means he trusts me.'
Forcing herself to be calm, she gave her command:
"Port three degrees, kill it!"
Her gaze tracked the shells streaking across the screen. When she saw the enemy frigate ripped apart, she finally exhaled a breath she hadn't known she was holding.
But she recognized the truth; she could not control the entire battlefield herself. She had to delegate sectors to other commanders while she focused on finding a decisive break.
"Morson, A-1 and A-2 are yours. Eleventh Chapter to engage."
"Thomas, I need the Librarium's aid. My orders must be carried instantly to every ship."
"Arsena, assist me with analysis, refine the battle plan."
The Chief Librarian and the Primarch's aide both answered as one:
"As you command."
Thomas extended his psychic link, binding Diana, Arsena, and the other ship-librarians into one mind-chain.
She delegated data on enemy ships A-3 and A-4 to the Student of Ratiocination. His mental body had been enhanced twice, and his computations nearly equaled a standard Iron Hand.
Five breaths later, his conclusion rippled across the mind-link:
"A-4 is the optimal target. It grew careless after breaching the port shield, drifting apart from its escorts."
"You confirm what I already thought." Diana's eyes shone. She chose the bold move: the Crown of Shadows would become bait, luring the greedy A-4 into range.
"Port heading 3-9-8, pitch two, advance."
The sector commander hesitated at the confirmation; this course would turn the flagship's flank directly to the Fra'al bows, where their guns were strongest.
Fra'al warships carried all their firepower in their forward arcs; the flanks were barren. To expose her own flank was suicidal folly.
"Execute the order!" The blonde captain's voice cut like steel. She turned her gaze instead upon A-3.
"I will deal with A-3," came the sudden voice of their Primarch.
Nareth had not seized command at the first setback. Seeing Diana act decisively, delegating to the Twelfth Chapter, luring A-4, he approved.
And to ease her burden, and for the sake of seizing Fra'al Shard of Night, he resolved to lead the Honor Guard in a boarding strike.
"Prepare for boarding!"
He rose, striding toward the torpedo decks. Simultaneously, Morson gave his own command:
"Pell, A-2 is yours."
"At once, my lord." Pell, newly raised Fifth Company Captain after the Wheel of Fire campaign, commanded a squadron.
From the Sword of Vostroya, Pell's black eyes scanned the hololith. They caught the rune of Dust Cloud H-15, a nebula of interstellar grains, gases, and metal fragments near the Sidai star.
He traced five swift trajectories with his hand. Orders pulsed to two frigates and three destroyers.
At once, a destroyer surged forth, zigzagging through the void, evading fire by speed alone. It skimmed the nebula's edge, drawing the enemy's fury.
As the Fra'al guns fixed on the decoy, Pell's flagship and the other ships slipped behind the cloud, striking from the flank.
The Sword of Vostonia loosed both its aether-cannons at once; two beams of prismatic death tore into enemy hulls.
Storms of lance-fire followed.
The Fra'al wheeled in pursuit, but Pell's flotilla scattered like startled prey. Predictably, the enemy battleship fixed on the Sword of Vostonia, the largest and slowest target.
Blinding aether-light seared against its shields.
"Starboard turn 1-5-6, pitch four, advance."
Unruffled, Pell directed evasive maneuvers. His five ships swept back from every angle, striking as one.
The Fra'al commander, slow to react, suddenly realized he had lost every escort.
He tried to withdraw, but the only path lay through the dust cloud.
When he entered, his speed faltered, sensors drowned in interference.
"Prepare for boarding," Pell ordered. He meant to seize the battleship intact.
Meanwhile, aboard the Vostroya's Judgement, a relic-class ship newly armed with aether-cannons, Morson's guns exchanged beams with a Fra'al battleship, then hammered it with long-ranged fire.
Diana's baiting maneuver also bore fruit. The reckless Fra'al cruiser was shredded by the Gloriana class guns.
And now, in the flagship of A-3, Nareth himself led the Honor Guard.
The Fra'al Governor stood with a thousand aether-masters in robes of violet and gold, barring the deck.
He raised his staff. Nareth cast his will into the Spear of Dionysus, awakening its latent god-weapon might.
The Spear hurled forth, an incandescent blur that shattered into the enemy's midst.
The Governor's shield flared with a tidal wave of aether, freezing the air, clutching souls with spectral cold. A thousand masters poured their power into the barrier.
The spear struck, detonating like thunder. Fra'al soldiers fell bleeding from eyes and noses, corpses collapsing.
For a moment, the Governor thought he had held. Then came the sound of glass breaking.
The supreme aether-barrier, woven of a thousand wills, fractured.
The spear ripped through the Governor, then drove on, skewering dozens more. A hundred Fra'al fell in one stroke before it lodged in the deck.
The survivors stared in horror at the weapon, a mythic doom made manifest.
Golden wings flared. Nareth charged.
He did not unleash the C'tan's fire, for he meant to preserve the ship as a prize. But his living metal pinions sliced through barriers and flesh alike.
Golden light and afterimages filled the air. Fra'al fell in heaps. When the Shadows of Order stormed the bridge, no foe remained standing.
"Leave it," Nareth said, gesturing at the spear.
Drawing the Sword of Vaul, he pursued the broken survivors, then carried away Shard of Night and other spoils to the Kingdom of Disorder.
Back in the 52nd Expedition's Simulus, Gabriel finally let out his breath, his worry subsiding as he saw the 33rd win complete victory.
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