Don't Argue With Me

Commissar Griggs checked his image in the mirror one more time before venturing out to assume his duties. With all self modesty aside, he had to admit he presented an impressive figure. Over 2 meters tall, broad shouldered and fit, and a face that could be accurately described as chiseled from stone. Until recently that image would also have included a serious need for a shave, a uniform that was 'well lived in', and a personal aroma that made him very unpopular when in elevators and standing upwind of the air recyclers. He still grimaces when he recalls his 'little chat' with Captain Pondsworth on the subject. In the trenches of Phontak, bathing was a luxury you might or might not get once a month. Hence, an officer that was clean and in a fresh uniform was one that was never in the trenches and was automatically looked down upon with disdain by those that lived in dirt and squalor of the trenches. To maintain the respect of the troops an officer needed to share their hardships. Commissar Griggs knew this and stayed in the trenches with his men. There were many ways to measure it's effectiveness but the most telling was that Commissar Griggs did three fourths fewer summary executions than that of commissars that only showed up at the trenches when there was actual fighting.

To say things on a ship were different is an understatement. The higher a persons rank, the greater access to bathing and laundry facilities a person had. It was a perk that was expected to be taken advantage of. An officer that was unshaved, dressed in a dirty, unkempt uniform, and worst of all, stunk, was derided and sneered at (behind his back, of course) as being slack. However, thanks to the 'little chat' that was in the past. Commissar Griggs prided himself on his ability to adapt to changing environments and already noticed the change in attitude towards him. He had to admit, some things were much easier to adjust to than others. His boots were now polished to a reflective black sheen, sharp creases graced his trousers, his greatcoat was spotless and well pressed, and the visor on his cap could have been used a black mirror. The only thing that was less than perfect was his combat belt. Although well maintained, it still bore the scars of hard use that no amount of buffing or polish could remove. The same could be said of the weapons on the belt. They were in perfect working order and bore the marks of well rendered service. The combat belt was exactly the way he preferred it.

Self inspection complete, he made his way to the bridge where he found Captain Pondsworth engaged in a conversation via view screen with Captain Fontain of the Dauntless class cruiser Cossack. Captain Pondsworth, as usual, appeared to be the perfect example of a martinet, immaculate uniform perfectly tailored to his thin frame and not a hair out of place. He always seemed bored and never got excited about anything. He was also the perfect example of 'looks can be deceiving'. He found out the hard way about the amount of steel under that unassuming exterior. "Thank you, but I must decline, yet again, your offer to provide me with a familiarization on basic fleet tactics. I am well aware of your family's tradition of service and your academy education, but it is quite unnecessary for you to come over here and lecture." Out of sight of the vid pickup, Commissar Griggs regarded the individual on the view screen and made a face of distaste. Captain Fontain could not be more of a stereotype aristocrat than if he had looked up the definition and took lessons. He was self important and arrogant in the extreme, respected no opinion but his own, considered everyone but himself expendable, believed himself superior to all others, and was grossly condescending. And now he has repeatedly offered to teach Captain Pondsworth about basic fleet tactics, as if no one but himself would know anything about them. Griggs took in the situation and decided he needed to pay close attention. The Captain was not holding his tea mug and was leaning slightly forward. That would mean nothing for most people, but in Pondsworth's case, they were danger signs.

Ignoring the refusal, Fontain went on; "Really Captain, I should think…"

"Yes, I agree." Pondsworth cut him off.

"Oh? You'd like that lesson after all?" Fontain's expression became very smug. He then continued in a condescending tone, "I knew you'd realize how valuable it could be for you."

"No, I'm agreeing with you that you really should think. Do not offer again or I'm afraid I will have to become less polite about turning it down. Now, if you'll excuse me, my Commissar has arrived for a scheduled conference and I must go now." Pondsworth shut off the vid screen before Captain Fontain could reply. Pondsworth sighed, eased his slender frame back into his command chair and took a drink from his mug of tea. After adjusting his uniform and smoothing out a wrinkle that only he could see, he swiveled his chair to face Griggs and his executive officer.

"I have no doubt that if I ever let him on this ship, he would try to give that lecture while seated in this chair. And that, would just never do."

"Justwho does that pompous ass think he is?" The executive officer demanded. Ever since Captain Fontain's task force arrived with the Cossack and the Snake Eyes, a squadron of Cobra escorts and was merged with Pondsworth's task force, he has been trying to find ways to take command. So far he's suggested that the orders were 'somewhat vague' about who was in overall command. Then he suggested they have a dual command and he be personally involved with every decision to add his valuable input. When that failed, he made a great deal of subtle, and not so subtle, references to the influence his family has and how much it would be to everyone's advantage to be in his good graces. And now this, offering to come aboard and give training classes, as if the Captain did not know anything. After that hair raising three way battle with the Orks and Rebels, he would never doubt the Captains tactical skills again.

"Now, now, Number One," responded Pondsworth after taking a sip from his mug, "a naval officer should not talk about his peers that way, at least in public."

Commissar Griggs spoke up, "He is not one of my peers. Do you mind if I make a few choice observations?" He frowned, "What scheduled conference?"

"A small exaggeration to end an unpleasant conversation. It's not entirely untrue. You did arrive, we are talking and you are scheduled for duty at this time."

Commissar Griggs accepted the answer for what it was. "I can understand wanting to end a conversation with him as quickly as possible. What I can't understand is how a person like that ever earned a captaincy. I assume that the qualifications for such a position would be quite high." Both Captain Pondsworth and the Executive Officer looked at Griggs with the same expression they would have used for an Ork that started quoting Imperial Creed without an accent.

Captain Pondsworth broke the silence first. "Commissar Griggs, are you attempting humor? No, of course not. Sorry, I forgot just how little you know about fleet politics. Words like qualifications and earned actually have no place in the selection process of captains. It is all motivated by personal influence, favors, power plays, faction loyalties, money, and a thousand other things. If a qualified person winds up a captain, it is a happy co-incidence, nothing more.

"I find that hard to believe. Being the captain of a space ship is an incredible responsibility with a great deal of power. It can't possibly be handed over purely based on political favoritism!"

They both gave him that look again. Pondsworth spoke up, "Commissar, we need to have a little chat. I hate to use the phrase that your life may depend on you having a better understanding of fleet politics, but considering how you came to be here, it just might."

"What do you mean? I was assigned as a replacement when the previous commissar suffered a fatal accident. There's nothing unusual in that."

"You are correct (pause, sip) on the surface of it. However, I did a little checking and discovered that the orders directing you to be his replacement were issued ten days before his 'accident'. Think carefully about what that implies." Pondsworth gave the commissar a measuring look. "I'll take back part of what I said earlier. There is a faction that tries to place qualified people in the proper positions."

Griggs took the time to consider what the first part of what he said meant while Pondsworth sipped more tea. He did not like the conclusion he came to. "He was murdered to make a position for me. Why? I know now that I was not qualified for this post when I arrived. It makes no sense to kill someone to get me assigned here."

"We will cover that in depth soon, but not today. I want to finish our patrol in this system first. Once we are in the warp again and on the way to the next system, we'll have time to chat without worrying about being interrupted."

"You're expecting trouble in this system?"

"I always expect trouble. However, a number of free traders have gone missing in this area. Let's just say I am more expectant than usual."

Two days later, his paranoia was proven justified.

The task force was cruising toward the only gas giant in the system in a loose formation. The three remaining Firestorm escorts were in a loose wedge in front of the Cossack with the Stone Temple following behind. The four Cobras of the Snake Eyes squadron were deployed in a diamond formation around the entire task force. Pondsworth intended to take full advantage of the additional scanners that had been installed in place of the destroyers' weapon batteries. Those scanners were linked directly to those on the Stone Temple. Given the dispersion, the task force was able to have a sensor envelope of nearly four times what they normally had. They were part way through a high orbit scan of the gas giant and its moons when;

"Sir! We have a contact." Lt. Gazarro's excited voice cut through the normal subdued murmur of the bridge.

"Very good scanners." Came the Captains' reserved reply, "Let me know when you have more information. Comms please bring the task force to General Quarters and have the Snake Eyes assume normal squadron formation on our starboard flank.

A few short moments later, Lt. Gazarro spoke up again, "Sir, we have Necrons. Three Jackal class raiders. Range and bearing are now uploaded to your tactical display."

Captain Pondsworth turned his attention to the TAC display but it was not the Necrons that commanded his immediate attention. It was the sight of the Cossack and Arrow Squadron accelerating away from the rest of the task force. "Comms, I want an immediate three way conference with Fontain and Balnick." There was a brief wait and then the images of Fontain and Balnick appeared on view screen. Pondsworth took a sip of tea and then spoke to them in a tone of voice usually reserved for parents that just caught their children sneaking out after curfew. "And just where do you two gentlemen think you're going?"

Captain Balnick responded first, "Attacking as ordered sir."

Pondsworth set his tea mug down carefully and spoke in a very level voice, "I gave no such orders."

Captain Balnick's face first displayed shock, to be quickly replaced by outrage. He bit back a reply and held a hand up for Captain Pondsworth to wait and turned his head. "XO, squadron command, all ships full stop." He returned his attention back to the view screen, "My apologies sir. It won't happen again. All future orders that do not come from flag will be verified."

Pondsworth simply nodded, "Very good Captain Balnick, please be careful that you don't overcompensate. And now you, Mr. Fontain, what does your precious basic fleet tactics have to say about splitting a task force without orders and without informing the task force commander?"

Fontain drew himself up to he most indignant and self important posture and expression. The fact that Balnick was addressed as Captain and he was addressed as Mr. was not lost on him. "We are the Imperial Navy. It is our duty to engage the enemy. Real officers don't need to be reminded of that duty and act accordingly. Orders to engage were not necessary. I presumed you were right behind me."

"Several things Mr. Fontain, but first, aren't you forgetting to halt your ship?"

"I have not forgotten, you haven't finished speaking and it would be rude to interrupt."

"You are aware we are in a combat situation?"

"Yes sir."

Pondsworth closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and a long pull from his tea mug. After replacing the mug and signaling his steward for a refill, he addressed Fontain again. "Please take the time to order your ship back into formation. You too Captain Balnick, back to your station. Now then Mr. Fontain, I'll be quick about this because I believe we are running out of time. We are the Imperial Navy, not an Ork mob. We do not charge off at the first sight of the enemy in pursuit of personal glory. Your rational for your actions is pure zoatshit. You claimed no orders were needed any yet issued orders to Captain Balnick. You also seem to have forgotten the fleet orders specific to our task force. Also, thanks to your actions, we are out of formation and no longer have mutually supporting positions for our ships. If we are attacked right now, we would suffer unacceptable loss of life and damage to our ships. I am going to include a verbal reprimand into your service record for exceeding orders. The fact we haven't been attacked yet only confirms my suspicion we are heading into an ambush."

Fontain sneered, "An ambush? There are only three escorts and they don't know we're here yet. They haven't changed course or heading. If we act with even a bit of courage, we can easily destroy them before they even know they're being shot at."

"You don't find that unusual? In every after action report I've read regarding Necrons, they have never been surprised and escorts have never been seen without cruisers near by. Have you scanned the other side of this gas giant? Are you willing to risk your ship and its' crew on the presumption that we have an Imperial Navy first on both those items? I am sorely tempted to let you go after them just to see which of us is right. However, I do remember the fleet directive about the preservation of forces so I will not indulge my personal preferences. Now, enough of this distraction." Pondsworth retrieved his tea mug and took a sip while he contemplated the TAC display. Pondsworth pressed a button on the armrest of his chair, "Flag order, all units assume a reverse formation. Old Stony will take the lead, Cossack will follow and then Arrow and Snake Eyes squadrons. All units prepare for a hard turn to port and alert your weapons crews. When those escorts attack, they will come in extremely fast and there won't be much time to acquire targets. Despite that, I want all of them destroyed as they pass. All units acknowledge." All units acknowledged the order but Captain Fontain was not content to leave things alone.

"Sir, if I might remind you of basic fleet tactics, escorts are supposed to screen capitol ships, not the other way around."

"Mr. Fontain, are you familiar with the old wet navy term 'keel hauling'?"

"Yes."

"Excellent," he paused for a sip of tea, "please do not use the phrase 'basic fleet tactics' in my presence again."

"But your orders make no sense!"

"They don't have to, and if I choose not to explain them, that is my right. Let me be clear Mr. Fontain, are you refusing a direct order?"

"Of course not. And may I respectfully remind you that my rank is Captain and I should be addressed as such?"

"As your commanding officer, I can address you in any manner I see fit. If you don't like being called 'Mr.', then do something that might remind me that you're a Captain." Pondsworth disconnected the comlink before any reply could be made.

No one wanted to disturb the silence around the Captains console, but after a short pause Commissar Griggs spoke up. "If you don't mind my asking, why did you order us into a reverse formation?"

Pondsworth sipped his tea and explained, "Know your enemy and yourself, as the old saying goes. Those escorts are armed with weapons, that for all the difference in technology, are still only about as effective as our own weapon systems. This ship has twice the shielding as any other ship in the task force and an armored prow in addition to that. A barrage from those Jackals that would cripple the Cossack or destroy several of our own escorts will likely not inconvenience this ship much at all. As the largest and foremost ship in the formation, the likelihood is high that they will indeed shoot at us."

"I see, you placed the most heavily protected unit forward for the enemy to waste their fire against. Logical, much like letting a Leman Russ lead an assault ahead of the Chimeras when you know the heaviest weapon the enemy has is an auto cannon or missile launcher. So why are you taking the time to explain to me but not, um, Mr. Fontain?"

"Two good reasons, first; as a Naval Captain, he is supposed to know these things as well as I do. Second; you, unlike him, will actually listen and learn."

Griggs accepted the compliment in silence and was about to ask another question when he was interrupted by Lt. Gazarro on the scanning station. "Sir, the Necrons have changed course intercept us and have accelerated to, HOLY SHIT!!!"

Pondsworth glanced at the TAC display and as expected, the Jackals were closing with the task force at a phenomenal rate. Calmly (but not stopping for a sip of tea) he issued his orders. Pondsworth pressed a button on the armrest of his chair, "Flag command, all units execute port turn, fire at will." As one, with the exception of the Cossack, the task force turned to the left as the Jackals raced in. Alien energies erupted from the crescent shaped ships and tore at the Stone Temple. Void shields flared as they met the assault and resisted it briefly before failing. Lightning played along the hull of the cruiser in glittering sparkles before fading entirely. Return fire from the task force was devastating. Blinding spears of light lashed out from lances of Arrow squadron to impale one of the ships and destroyed it utterly. The Snake Eyes launched a spread of torpedoes and had the timing perfect. The two Jackals were moving too fast to dodge the area of space the torpedoes occupied and another one disappeared in a brief fireball. The last one nearly escaped but the well trained crews of the Stone Temple's lance turrets were waiting. The last Jackal passed the cruisers' prow and the port lances fired the second the ship came into the firing arc. Lances struck the craft dead center in the rear and broke it cleanly into two pieces that went spinning off in separate directions. The entire engagement lasted less than two minutes.

Pondsworth examined the TAC display with mixed emotions. The engagement went exactly as planned and the damage to Old Stony was hardly worth mentioning despite the shields being brought down. However, there was the performance of the Cossack to consider. To say he was disappointed was an understatement. The ship was only now coming into its turn and its firing could only be described as 'wildly inaccurate'. Pondsworth pressed a button on the armrest of his chair, "Flag command; continue turn until we are in a normal cruising pattern. Then let's follow the arc of the planet and see just what's waiting on the other side. Comms, please open a channel to the Cossack." There was a brief pause and then the image of Fontain appeared on the Captain's view screen. "Mr. Fontain, has your ship suffered damage that I'm not aware of? You are out of formation and you could have had more effective shooting if you had your galley chief throwing stale biscuits out an airlock at them.

Fontain was clearly furious about be spoken to like that but managed to control his temper. "My apologies sir. I had no reason to expect those ships to be that fast. Although unfortunate, this has given me an opportunity to identify several incompetent members of my command team and replace them. Efficiency will improve."

Pondsworth seemed frozen for several seconds. When he finally spoke, his voice was very low and very clear. "My patience with you is over Mr. Fontain. There will be a board of inquiry when we return to determine your fitness for command." Fontain was speechless, before he could say anything, Pondsworth pressed on. "You claim you had no way of knowing what to expect." He put down his tea mug and leaned forward, "You acknowledged my orders to prepare for a sudden course change and to prepare your gunnery crews for a rapid engagement. You knew what to expect because I told you what to expect and you acknowledged your orders. Did you even bother to issue those orders? No, let me guess, you spent the time either sulking in a pout or raging in a tantrum. No, don't bother trying to explain anything to me. If you exceed your orders or fail to execute an order I give at any time for the rest of this patrol, I will have you relieved of command. I suggest that for the remainder of our mission, you dedicate yourself to doing a few positive things for you to tell the review board about. You are dismissed." With a tap a button, Pondsworth severed the connection. Once again silence enveloped the Captain's console. This time Commissar Griggs was not inclined to break the silence.

He was still thinking over the other conversation that took place. Fontain's Commissar was standing just behind Fontain just as he was standing just behind Pondsworth. The other Commissar tilted his head back slightly to get Griggs attention. Griggs gave a nearly imperceptible nod. The other Commissar placed his hand on his bolt pistol and glanced at Fontain. Griggs crossed his arms and gave a quick glance to Pondsworth. The other Commissar gave an almost imperceptible nod back and crossed his arms. Between the two of them the conversation couldn't have been clearer even if they spoke out loud. The other Commissar wanted to know if Griggs wanted him to execute Fontain and Griggs told him to let Pondsworth handle it. What was troubling Griggs was that there was no reason for the other commissar to defer to Griggs. Every Commissar was an authority unto himself and was free to act as they saw fit unless they had specific orders from a set chain of command. Griggs was not aware of any such orders or chain of command in the task force. He couldn't figure it out but then it suddenly hit him. Politics. He was the task force commanders Commissar. Griggs had never considered the influence and power that went with his position. A chill went down his spine as he thought of the implications. He realized he needed very much to have that 'little chat' with the Captain and decided it would be a much more than 'a little'.

There was little time to give it more thought. Once the Cossack was back in formation, the task force proceeded rapidly around the arc of the gas giant. When they reached a point nearly opposite from where they destroyed the Necron escorts, contact was made.

"Sir!" Lt. Gazarro called for attention again. "Two contacts, positive ID, Scythe class Harvesters, designating them 'Scythe one' and Scythe two' on the TAC display. Targets bearing zero, dead ahead, stern towards us." Lt. Gazarro smiled, "We got them in a perfect kill position sir." Right where they would have had us if we went after the Jackals like that idiot Fontain wanted us to, he thought to himself. "Update! Both targets are accelerating, we've been spotted." Pondsworth was about to issue targeting orders when he was cut off by Lt. Gazarro again. "Sir, Scythe two has had a serious drop in ECM."

The weapons officer spoke up, "Sir, hard lock on Scythe two, firing solution for Scythe one is still firming up."

"Excellent." Pondsworth replied. He pressed a button on the armrest of his chair, "Flag order, all units target Scythe one. Yes, I said Scythe one. No need to call for a confirmation." Pondsworth took a sip of tea and silently counted down 'three, two, and one'.

On cue, the comms officer signaled for attention. "Sir, priority call from the Cossack."

"Put it through Comms, I was expecting it."

Fontain's' image appeared on Pondsworth's' view screen, "Sir, I must question your targeting orders! Basic" Pondsworth arched one eyebrow and narrowed his eyes, "um, common sense dictates that we should target the ship that is easiest to hit! You're deliberately ignoring an opportunity to inflict heavy damage on an enemy."

"If you were one third the tactician you think you are you'd know why I'm doing what I'm doing. If you can't figure it out, I'll be happy to brief you after the action is over. Again, you don't have to understand your orders, just so long as you obey them. Now then, will you obey your orders or shall I have your executive officer take command?"

Fontain gave the Captain a look of loathing and disdain, "I can figure it out plainly enough. You're endangering the task force just to provoke me into giving you an excuse to relieve me and place one of your own ass kissers in command. I'll obey all your orders to the letter and we'll see who is without a ship after we return to port." Fontain cut the transmission without another word.

As the task force began its attack run, Commissar Griggs asked Captain Pondsworth, "Are you?"

"Am I what, Commissar?"

"Endangering the task force to play political games?"

The question was asked in very neutral tones and even though his arms were crossed over the commissar's chest, Pondsworth had the distinct impression that the commissar had one hand on his bolt pistol. Pondsworth took a sip of tea and chose his words carefully, "Decidedly not. Do you remember me mentioning those after action reports? In every one of them, the Scythes that were the easiest to hit were the hardest to actually damage. I don't pretend to know the mechanics of it, but those are the facts and they are verifiable. We will get fewer hits but we will do more damage."

Satisfied, Griggs turned his attention to the TAC display to follow the battle. The Cobras launched a full spread of eight torpedoes and then veered off to reload. Of the six that survived the anti-ordinance fire only two scored hits. One seemed to impact on the surface, leaving a nasty looking scar but no damage. The other exploded cleanly into one of the engine ports and there was no question of the damage it caused. Arrow Squadron fired next with their lances and all three escorts scored hits. Again, one hit seemed to do nothing more than to scar the surface, the other two lances punched cleanly into the long thin hull section that separates the engines from the main hull. As if to make up for their earlier failure, all of the lance strikes from the Cossack not only hit but clearly penetrated with devastating effect. Pondsworth was about to order the Stone Temple to turn to port so that the starboard side lance batteries could fire when Scythe one blew to pieces in a most satisfying explosion. One of the lance hits to the engines apparently caused a critical failure to the power core as a series of explosions rippled the length of the thin spike of the rear hull until it reached the main hull where an enormous explosion destroyed the entire ship.

Pondsworth now directed the task force to turn its attention to Scythe two. The ship was still running with low ECM but it was picking up speed and accelerating away from the task force. Pondsworth pressed a button on the armrest of his chair, "Flag order, Old Stony is launching torpedoes. They are set for delayed activation of the seekers. All units do not deviate from current course until they have passed your position, out. Weapons, make very sure you have the correct delay set and then launch when ready."

The bridge of the Cossack was a very tense place. Fontain had barely said ten words since his conversation with Captain Pondsworth. He was completely consumed with outrage at the way he had been treated and thought furiously about how to get his revenge. The battle was no longer important to him, he had already told his XO to take care of the 'petty details' of fighting the ship. When the flag order came in, he acknowledged it without really listening to it. Thus, he was greatly alarmed when his scanning officer reported that the Stone Temple had launched torpedoes. Shocked into awareness, he looked at the TAC display and paled as he watched the torpedoes come straight toward his ship. "That son of a bitch is trying to kill me!"

"Sir, the seekers in the warheads have not been activated." The scanning officer tried to tell him.

"SHUT UP DAMMIT! I can see what is happening. Helm, emergency evasive maneuver to port!"

His XO spoke up hurriedly, "Sir, we have been ordered not to change course!"

"SHUT UP DAMMIT! He is trying to kill us all. That's why he doesn't want us to maneuver. I'm trying to save your lives! Helm, execute that course change!"

The Cossack veered sharply to the left, directly into the path of one of the torpedoes. The resulting explosion caused the entire ship to shudder violently from the impact.

Captain Pondsworth was watching the TAC display and saw the Cossack swerve and get hit by one of his own torpedoes. With no outward show of emotion he swiveled his chair to face the comms officer. "Get me a secure line to the Cossack. It's time for someone else to take command over there."

The view screen flickered to life to show Fontain's Executive Officer. He was splattered with blood and was meticulously flicking chunks of red and grey matter off his face and uniform. "Commander Harris reporting sir. Mr. Fontain has been relieved of command by Commissar Durnalt. He cited dereliction of duty, failure to obey a lawful order from a superior and irresponsible damage to an Imperial ship. I await your orders sir." While waiting for a reply, he continued to remove unwanted pieces of Mr. Fontain from his uniform.

Pondsworth took a sip of tea before responding. "Do you feel his removal was warranted?"

"Without a doubt sir, although," He glared at someone off screen for a second, "I wish I had been granted an opportunity to step to one side first."

"Very well, you have temporary command of the Cossack. Pondsworth out."

Pondsworth turned his attention back to the TAC display. He took in the information and quickly realized the truth of the old saying about 'distraction equals disaster' in combat. The Scythe had turned to port and the task force was now in its firing arc. The Cossack was out of formation and now its lance armament was facing the wrong way. The torpedo spread from the Stone Temple did no damage and firing from Arrow Squadron, although accurate and scoring hits, did nothing more than mar the surface of the ship. With his own torpedoes spent, he had nothing to shoot the Necrons with. He was about to order a course change to port in order to bring his starboard lances to bear when a fusillade of lightning arcs and whips spun out from the Necron ship and tore over the Stone Temple.

"Damage control here! Shields are down, severe damage to many hull sections. All fighting systems still intact." An alert icon on one of his screens flashed repeatedly. "Update sir, port number two lance turret has had a failure." He gave the data on the screen a brief study. "The lance can still fire but cannot track. Damage control teams and repair teams are being dispatched."

"Scanners here! I'm picking up a strange energy pulse from the Scythe. It seems to be directed at us but I can't tell what affect it is having."

Across the bridge from the scanning station, the air shimmered as if it was suddenly very hot and then a black portal opened from within the shimmer.

With his usual aplomb, the Captain addressed Lt. Gazarro. "Never mind Scanners, I think I can figure this one out for myself."

Lt. Gazarro looked back at the Captain to ask what he meant and saw the portal, In a hushed voice he said; "I guess you can at that."

By the time the portal had solidified, Commissar Griggs had weapons drawn, readied and was eager for some familiar combat. Finally, he thought, an enemy he could actually shoot and come to grips with. He had reviewed information on Necrons as part of his general familiarization with the enemies of the Empire, but he was still unprepared for his first face-to-face encounter. As the first Necron warrior entered the bridge, for the first time in his career, he hesitated. It was the eyes, he realized later. The complete dispassion and total inhumanity in those glowing green eye sockets seemed to look straight into his soul and froze him there. Vital seconds ticked by and then a wave intense heat flashed past his shoulder and those mesmerizing eyes vanishes in a splatter of super heated metal and plasma.

Griggs turned to thank the shooter, but after what he saw he instead turned back to the Necrons and blasted bolter rounds into glowing green eye sockets while his mind raged. "THE COCKY LITTLE BASTARD DIDN'T EVEN PUT DOWN HIS FUCKING TEA MUG!" Sure enough, Captain Pondsworth stood beside his command chair, mug in one hand, plasma pistol in the other, calmly sending off shots as if he was at the range below the officers club back in port.

One cannot feel sympathy for Necrons, but their portal raid was a doomed venture. With incredibly accurate plasma and bolter fire, Pondsworth and Griggs decapitated any Necron warriors that dared to step through, their metal bodies clanged to the deck in a steady rhythm. None had managed to get more than two steps in and none had fired their gauss rifles more than once. Many did not get a chance to fire at all. Scarabs also tried to get in but massed fire from the combat shotguns of the bridge security team saw that none managed to do any harm.

Eventually they stopped coming and the portal shimmered and closed. Griggs lowered his bolt pistol and was startled when he looked down and saw that there were no bodies. The only evidence of the raid was the generous littering of spent shell casings on the deck and the smell of gunpowder in the air and several gouges torn into the walls and deck.

Pondsworth returned his plasma pistol to its compartment in his command chair and quickly reviewed the TAC display. Lt. Gazarro had kept the display updated through out the attack and the Captain had a clear view of the current situation. The Scythe was back on full ECM and was accelerating out of the area at a speed that would be impossible to overtake. Pondsworth pressed a button on the armrest of his chair, "Flag order, stand down from general quarters. Resume normal operations. I will want a full damage report from all ships in four hours time. Feel free to contact me with any urgent matters. Pondsworth out."

Pondsworth took a sip of tea and let himself relax a bit. After a moment, he pressed a button on the armrest of his chair, "Flag message, good job everyone. Victories against Necrons are few and far between. We've accomplished something well worth taking pride in. Captains, please see that all crew get a double ration of grog with this evenings meal with my compliments. Pondsworth out." He turned his chair to face the scanner consoles, "Lt. Gazarro, a question if I may."

"Yes sir?"

"What exactly is the speed of 'holy shit'?"