By the third pass, I ran out of atomic warheads and the Orks ran out of intact Kroozers and Roks.

They still had numerical superiority, if only by a single ship.

But then, the local Ork Captains panicked as their Waagh field disintegrated with the deaths of all their larger leaders.

By clans and tribes, they began turning the ships around, to escape.

"All escorts, pick a target and follow it." I commanded as the Canticle turned about and sped towards the Space Hulk, using our amazing speed to arrive behind it...or the place with more engines anyway.

"And now we teleport, onto the space hulk?" Rafen deduced genially. Well, he was Sanguinius today, so he would receive divine inspiration.

"In an hour or so. First we make sure the hulk doesn't leave with my brave guards on board. Lord Dante will be upset if I lose you in the Warp." I explained politely while my lances began melting one hulk engine after another.

Meanwhile, the Canticle was scanning and analyzing the hulk for fissures and other weak points like flaws and unstable melds.

The schematic of the hulk began to assemble on the holoscreen, and each of those flaws soon received a torpedo to enlarge the gap.

By the next hour, I had managed to extinguish about 100 engines and split off about 30 mangled ships and other hulls from the hulk.

The corvettes already successful in their antifungal task joined the Canticle and began burning the separated fragments with their lances and plasma guns, since I didn't need Genestealers or feral Orks to remain hidden in the wrecks.

The metal was valuable, everything else much less.

A couple of black-painted Ork destroyers did reach the Warp limit and escaped, but as their hulls would be exposed to the Warp due to numerous holes and punctures, that was likely a worse fate for them. Who knows, perhaps the Orks inside would enjoy a 'gud fight' with unending hordes of demons or enslavers.

All I cared about was dislodging the nice battleship before the hulk transitioned into the Warp.

A dozen torpedoes later, the large fragment containing the Apocalypse-class derelict finally dislodged from the space hulk. There was still a lot of metal on the hulk, but I was out of torpedoes too.

"Blood Angels! By squads, report to the teleportarium and cleanse that battleship of invaders. Secure the reactor first, and then a hangar for reinforcements." I ordered, pointing at Ludvaius.

"By your order, Captain! A battleship would be a glorious prize." Ludvaius exclaimed bravely and started stomping towards the door.

"Take ten times more ammo. Make that twenty!" I yelled after him.

Rafen pouted as he had to stay and guard my life. "Next time is my turn to conquer a battleship. Damn my luck..." he complained like a huge child.

Orders for boarding parties made of servitors, tech-priests, Voidsmen and Catachans were also sent, and I also launched fighters to provide escort for the assault boats.

The Ogryns were not sent, as I wanted the battleship somewhat intact, if possible. Hulk Smash! Ogryns were terrible around machinery, and always damaged doors and elevators on the Canticle, by accident. In fury and pain from combat, a company of Ogryns with adamantium weapons would ruin a lot of irreplaceable relics.

Squad by squad, the Blood Angels inserted via teleport inside the battleship and began shooting. And shooting more. And then even more.

Shrieking enemies flowed continuously into halls and walkways, but a Company of space marines wasn't easily defeated.

Terminators and dreadnoughts did carry huge amounts of munitions, but a battleship has immense volume, and all of it was infested with enemies.

I had to teleport more crates with bolter ammo and drumboxes for autogunns, and the Astartes continued shooting. Orks of a dozen kinds, Genestealers, then other creatures like RakGol cyborgs and Tyranid Tyrants.

And then, the hangar door opened and my landers could transport inside thousands upon thousands of servitors and Rapiers and Weasels and Sentinels, and the tides slowly turned.

I think I managed to chip away a quarter of the space hulk, before sirens blared and the behemoth started moving by itself towards the Warp limit, an arbitrary boundary where the sun gravity was weak enough to permit Warp jumps.

My destroyers blessed the departing hulk with the rest of the torpedoes, chipping away some more scraps of metal. And them the Space Hulk departed, after gifting me the prize I always wanted.

A real battleship!

Sure, it was damaged and will take a lot of effort to clean up and repair. But after that, the sky was the limit.

The advance stalled when encountering a band of feral humans armed with melta guns, but I just sacrificed all the servitors to consume their gas canisters and sent more landers with new combat servitors, this time with adamantium shields for the front lines.

Then I went to sleep, because winning still tires me, and my flesh is still weak.

For a month, fighting continued deck by deck and corridor by corridor, until I ran out of cheap servitors and Orks to kill.

The tech-priests on Retribution were still besieged by millions of Orks on the ground, but we had orbital superiority and large orkish advances could be stalled or erased with lance batteries and even macrocannons.

The corvettes began dragging crisped hulls towards the shipyards, where the tech-priests will begin reforging the metal into new and blessed machines of Mechanicus design.

By the second month, most of the battleship had been cleansed, except the lower decks still crawling with human mutants, genestealers and other life forms of unknown types, perhaps Tarellians.

The Biologis Magi were ecstatic at the chance to capture and examine these strange lifeforms, although I didn't jeopardize my troops for their experiments. A large Genestealer managed to kill a couple Astartes, simply by proving more durable and vicious than the best of humanity's soldiers. Going by the tentacles growing on its front, it was likely one of the Ymgarl_Genestealers. It took three Sentinels and a Blood Angel dreadnought to bring it down.

Still, by the third month the battleship was declared clean, and I began sending most of the tech-priests and enginseers available to begin repairs.

Under armed escort, of course.

The genestealers were rather smart, and many could still hide in a vault or pipe or other hidden place.

With some effort the Apocalypse was pushed and dragged in orbit above Retribution, and the Cult Mechanicus began build scaffolds and docks around it.

My Blood Angels rested for a few days, then continued liberating the crippled Ork Kroozers, although the job was much easier without the terrible speed and fierceness of the Tyranids bioforms.

The Catachans aided as much as they could, taking the second line and providing cover and rest for the power armored marines.

I used the Canticle to sear away all life on the damaged Ork Roks, and also deployed my armored units on the surface of Retribution.

Slowly, the invasion was pushed back and forced away from the main spires of the Mechanicus, where we could use orbital support more liberally.

Superheavy tanks like Baneblades, Fellblades and Doomhammers proved too well armed and armored for these Orks, and my ships would immediately target any sign of a Warboss emerging in the wasteland.

The other vehicles aided with patrols and lighter fighting forces, and by next year we declared Retribution saved.

The Orks would sadly always return, either from the ground sprouting like mushrooms, or invading again with space ships or hulks. Just like in the Imperium of Man, Forge Worlds made extremely tempting targets for invasion, due to the amazing technology and weapons that could be plundered.

And thus, I met with my Fabricator and unloaded all my templates on him, for cheap but numerous war machines that would safeguard our security.

"These are real antiques, Lord Pef! Sure, they are easy to make, but would have little combat value." the Fabricator complained, rather logically.

"I understand, Magos. We need a few millions of each, and then you may build nicer and stronger machines. But first, basic needs have to be met. Then, system-only corvettes for orbital superiority. Also a million of them." I explained in a careless voice.

A wave of furious metal tentacles filled the room. "Outrageous! So many work-hours and holy litanies wasted on worthless drones and fighters? And those Corvettes are shamefully weak!" he explained and sputtered a dozen curses in binharic, and High Gothic.

I shrugged and poured myself some wine. The tech-priest was right, obviously. They would be weak and fragile, compared to the nicer fighters of the Imperium. But I wanted air power, and I will have it.

"Also, we need to find compatible females for my dog. I want every recon squad to have their own wolves." I explained sternly, and petted Canis who mewled in pity.

The Fabricator sighed in defeat and began collecting gene samples from my quadruped companion, who was clever enough not to raise trouble in front a deadly tech-priest. He had possibly seen the Juggler as a puppy and was correctly terrified of what a tentacled cyborg with metal limbs could do.

"Your space wolf is an admirable specimen, Lord Pef. I don't understand how you managed to receive one." the Magos said in praise and petted the meek Canis with admiration.

I thought how to answer, then told the truth. "I told a Space Wolf not to bite me. He was very impressed."

The Magos waved a tentacle in frustration. "Go away, for now. I'll need to call Antax for help, and request more tech-priests. And I'll have to share these relic templates for it!" he said in a metallic growl.

I smiled and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, my friend. I have a score more, hidden somewhere. And you get this nice battleship to work on. Who else has a relic battleship to investigate and repair, eh? Imagine what could be found inside the gnostic vaults and the sealed cogitators!"

He starred at the ceiling for a second then nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are right, Rogue Trader. There is no higher honor than discovering the work of the ancients. Including old machines from the Blue Terra."

I waved a hand and left his armored quarters, and hit my face into Rafen's ceramite chest plate.

"Ouch! What was this for?" I muttered and rubbed my bulging nose.

"Oh, I was listening through the door. Metal conducts sound very well" he explained patiently.