Twenty minutes later.
Badab Prime.
Deep within the Palace of Thorns, at the Command Center.
A holographic sand table rotated slowly in the dim hall, its cold blue light reflecting off Huron's livid face. Listening to the report from the orbital monitoring station, his fingers tightened around the edge of the console, the metal groaning softly under his immense strength.
"Say that again?" Huron's voice was low and dangerous. "What do you mean, orbital strikes are unavailable?!"
In the holographic projection, the face of Corien Sumatris—Captain of Huron's Honor Guard, clad in heavy Mark IV power armor—appeared clearly. The veteran's expression was equally grim.
"Yes, Lord Huron. The situation is... complex." Corien's voice crackled through the vox-channel. "The adamantium ram of the enemy battle barge completely destroyed the main structures of Sectors Three and Four of the Ring of Steel. Over forty square kilometers of massive debris are now scattered across the planet's geosynchronous orbit."
He pulled up a real-time scan.
The once-complete Ring of Steel now looked like a bone ring gnawed by a giant beast, the fractures jagged and uneven. Worse, countless fragments—ranging from kilometer-long armor plates to car-sized internal components—were forming a chaotic and lethal "debris cloud" in orbit, propelled by the initial impact kinetic energy and the pull of the planet's gravity. These fragments moved at varying speeds, colliding with one another and creating even more micro-debris.
"The movement of this debris is entirely irregular. Scans show their trajectories are almost impossible to predict," Corien continued, his tone laced with frustration. "Our ships attempted to approach, but as soon as we entered mid-orbit, an eight-hundred-meter-long truss fragment grazed the stern of a ship at a relative speed of three kilometers per second. It nearly took out the thruster array."
"Assessment indicates it will take large vessels at least seventy-eight hours to clear a relatively safe path through this wreckage." Corien took a deep breath. "The risk of forced entry is extreme. If a thruster or void shield generator is hit..."
The consequences went unsaid.
Huron's brow furrowed into a deep knot. "Then use small craft! Send in the frigates! Get close and take it out with torpedoes and bombers!"
"We tried, my Lord." Corien's reply made Huron's heart sink. "We dispatched the frigate Edge of Blades to attempt a breakthrough. But the enemy battle barge, despite being crashed on the surface, still has part of its starboard weapon arrays operational on the upward-facing side."
The holographic image shifted again, showing a bird's-eye view of the crash site.
The eight-kilometer-long steel beast was mostly embedded in the planetary crust. The geological upheaval from the impact had formed a crater over twenty kilometers in diameter, where molten metal and rock swirled in smoking, boiling lakes. However, on the exposed tilted side of the hull, several macro-cannon turrets had miraculously remained intact, their muzzles glowing with the faint light of gathering energy.
"They are using residual power to activate at least four macro-cannon arrays and over a dozen point-defense lasers," Corien said, his tone one of disbelief. "The Edge of Blades took three salvos; its void shields overloaded, and the hull sustained damage, forcing a retreat. A carrier wing tried a low-altitude penetration but was intercepted by laser fire. We lost one craft."
"..."
Huron fell silent.
He stared at the steel beast in the image. Even crashed, it continued to spit fire. A sense of absurdity welled up in his chest.
What kind of ship quality is this?
It had smashed through an orbital defense station and plummeted from geosynchronous orbit to the planetary surface, yet it could still fire its macro-cannons. Those were massive guns designed for void combat to tear through the armor of capital ships. Now, they were being used for anti-air?
Having served as a Chapter Master for over two hundred years, Huron considered himself well-versed in the galaxy's most incredible tactics and stubborn enemies. But this scene still delivered a shock to his understanding of warfare.
You live long enough, you see everything.
He rubbed his temples forcefully, forcing himself to calm down.
"Holographic table: surface map of Badab Prime," Huron commanded.
The blue light shifted, and a projection of the reddish-brown planet appeared in the center of the command room. Two major landmarks were highlighted: the Palace of Thorns (the Astral Claws' Fortress-Monastery) located in the equatorial mountains, and the industrial Hive City 'Dominica' on the other side of the continent, near the impact site.
Huron's gaze flickered between the two points, his mind racing.
The enemy had paid a staggering price—a precious battle barge—and it wasn't just to set off a firework. Since they no longer had the capacity for flight, they would inevitably move to seize Badab Prime.
Combined with the crash site...
"Hive Dominica," Huron whispered to himself, his eyes sharpening.
He had a deep understanding of these fallen Astartes; they were obsessed with heretical machinery and desecrated forge-craft. To the Iron Warriors, a fully functional industrial hive with all its equipment was of immeasurable value.
The Palace of Thorns had been fortified for centuries; its defenses were layered and impregnable. To take it by force would cost even the Iron Warriors more than they could afford. But an industrial hive...
Because it had long lived under the protection of the Ring of Steel, its own defenses were relatively thin, focused more on production than combat. Massive factories, refineries, casting chambers, power centers, and storage vaults—in the eyes of the Iron Warriors, these were likely all precious resources.
The enemy commander had calculated perfectly.
Huron felt a chill. Smashing the Ring of Steel to create a debris belt to block orbital strikes, then crashing near the industrial hive... this string of actions seemed reckless and mad, but they were perfectly linked, striking precisely at the weakest link in the Astral Claws' defensive chain.
He could almost see the Chaos Lord hidden deep within that crashed battle barge, watching everything with detached interest.
"We cannot let them succeed," Huron said with iron resolve. "The hive must not fall into enemy hands."
He looked up at the officers and Space Marines waiting in the command center, his orders falling like hammers:
"Notify all surface units: mobilize toward Hive Dominica immediately!"
"Order the Hive Militia to maximum alert. Activate all ground defense installations. Evacuate non-essential personnel, but the Tech-Priests in the core production areas and critical data must be held at all costs!"
"Organize scouting parties immediately. Advance to the crash zone. I want to know exactly what those bastards are up to—and how many of them survived!"
"..."
The stream of orders quickly turned into data flows, radiating in all directions. The massive machine of war roared to life.
The war had begun.