6 : Karnage Assault

Hung between two orbiting suns lay Echo Gate 4, its mirror-array catching the distant red light of the furthest sun. To the merchant ships that used the gate, it was a promise of contracts and the flow of goods. To the colonists who relied on merchants’ goods, it was stability in a galaxy at war.
A Karnage assault broke that stability.
The assault was small and sudden, like a spring storm. Destroyers defended a carrier that unleashed a wave of fighters. Sleek and deadly, their hauls were the rusted iron typical of the ships of Thorne. The pilots could trace their DNA back to humanity, but had long since lost what made them human. A hundred years of war on a desolate, volcanic world, and the genetic modifications needed to live there had stripped the Karnage of their humanity.
The raid was brutal, like all Karnage raids. The Burn Striker fighters engaged the meager defense at Echo Gate 4, quickly rendering it ineffective. The beacon at Echo Gate was their next target. A wave of energy blasts from the fighters, and the beacon went up in flames. The destroyers moved into position, blocking off the escape routes of merchant vessels that were now trapped at the burning gate. Karnage raiders boarded cargo ships, raiding supplies, before the destroyers turned their cannons on the now-empty vessels, melting them under a barrage of energy bursts.
A merchant convoy tried to resist. Two corvettes pulled into an attack vector, guns grimed with long use. They fired at the Karnage destroyers, the blasts bouncing off their target's hulls. A wing of Karnage fighters banked, turning towards the offending corvettes, and unleashed a wave of firepower. The two corvettes lit up in the darkness of space. Smoke and fire pooled from their ruined hulls.
Another merchant ship, a small freighter, tried to run. It powered up its warp engines, hoping a blind jump would at least leave them alive. Karnage fighters intercepted it mid jump, its engines went up in flames as the ship tore itself in half trying to jump away. The men aboard were scattered into the void of space, left to suffocate.
Jol watched the live feed from the bride fo the Aegis of Orion until he shook with rage. He had seen cruelty before; the galaxy was tearing itself apart with the cruelty of war. What unsettled him was the target of the cruelty. The Karnage had not only cut off the supply line to a dozen inhabited planets, but they were deliberately killing innocents on board the merchant vessels.
“Bring up the long-range sensors,” he ordered. His voice was hard and cold. Around him, his bridge crew moved in the practiced silence of military professionalism. Screens came alive as the feed pulled up the signatures of the battle Jol had been watching.
“Commander,” his tactician said, “their signatures match the Cult of Wars Rage - not the Thorne Central Fleet. Reports are in, showing multiple small hits in the area from this fleet: relays, tenders, patrol outposts. All targeting merchant trade routes.”
Jol did not need to be told of the butchery the Karnage left. He had fought in the Karnage-Ramus Wars. He had watched whole plants go hungry. He had seen citizens killed in worldwide burnings. He knew of the cruelty of the Karnage. And he knew the Cult of Wars Rage was twice as cruel.
“Move to intercept,” Jol commanded. “We will not let them get away with this.”
The Aegis moved like a cathedral through the void. A massive promise of vengeance for those who begged for peace. In the deep darkness of space, Jol and his fleet tracked the Cult’s movements. Hours later, the two fleets met in battle as the Aegis and her entourage intercepted the Cult raiders.
The first exchanges were at a distance: long-range weapons firing across the void of space. The Aegis targeted the carrier's warp drive first, quickly cutting it off from being able to escape. A destroyer, trying to buy time for the rest of the Karnage raiders, ran headfirst at the Aegis, nearly tearing a hole through her bow. The Ramus fleet wasted precious minutes targeting and firing at the destroyer to bring it down, only stopping it just short of its target, where it exploded. The shrapnel of the explosion impacted the shield of the Aegis, but it stood strong. Cheers went up over the coms as the destroyer went up in flames.
The Karnage were not naive about their position. With the Aegis, a Warstar-class dreadnought bearing down on them, they needed to run. While Jol’s long-range batteries peppered the raider destroyers, Karnage fighters, fast and vicious, tried to intercept the Aegis. Jol launched his own fighters. A dogfight opened between the two fleets, successfully cutting off the Aegis’s long-range shots.
Emboldened by their success, three of the Karnage destroyers began to move in to intercept Jol’s fleet. Lances of energy lashed out from the destroyers, cutting through the fighter screen, killing both Karange and Ramus fighters. Up close, the Karnage destroyers proved problematic. Even outmatched, the Karnage would rather lose ships than surrender their fleet. The destroyers launched boarding parties. Boarding pods crashed into the Aegis, colliding like tectonic plates. Hooks tore into the hull, and the pods cut through, unleashing waves of Karange berserkers. “Engage the intruders. Take prisoners if you can.” Jol commanded.
The berserkers, once cornered, would set charges deep within the Aegis. As a last act of spite, the last berserker would set the charge off. Explosions could be heard all over the ship. The Aegis was forced to retreat as the damage continued to increase. Ramus fighters took survivors where they could. Karnage men cuffed after fighting till their last.
Jol sent a data transmission to the Ramus High Council as the Aegis retreated. The data shard was marked urgent: KARNAGE RAIDERS: RELAY 12-B PATHESS: MERCHANT LOSS: EVIDENCE ATTACHED. Jol hoped that in the right hands, the Council could be persuaded to react.
Kellith read the shard, his stomach turning as he watched the violence of the Karnage play out in front of him. The Council chamber was cool, the stars above glimmering in the twilight. He folded his hands to hide their shaking. His mind immediately began to plot ways to turn the Karnage assault to his favor. Politics was an instrument he had learned long ago to play. The relay strikes were not only holes in the supply lines. They were a propaganda moment that could cement his career in the Council.
“We cannot allow the Corinth or Psikers to see our outer lanes ruined and think us weak,” Kealith said, addressing the Council. He leaned forward. “We need to strengthen War Born patrols in the outer systems. We need to improve our diplomacy with the neutral governors who now doubt our ability to protect them. Now is not the time to back down to the Karnage threat.”
Varr scowled from across the chamber. He had been a soldier longer than Kellith had been alive. His face was scarred with countless battles where he had cheated fate. “A publicity stunt?” he spat. “You call that a message of strength. The Karnage raids are an act of war. Fancy speeches will not win this fight. We need action on the battlefield.”
Kellith had expected the outburst from Varr. The Council members all had their roles to play. The War Born, the mighty protectors and arbiters of war, the Priests of the Specters who called out for peace, and the Archivists who protected the history of the past. Kellith spoke his next words with caution. “All-out war spreads our coffers thin, Varr. We risk neutral sympathy. We risk Corinth capitalizing on a war with the Karnage and profiting from the chaos. We must make a show of strength, but we must also show restraint.” In the background, Kellith noticed the Priests talking in hand gestures, agreeing with his points.
Sela, from the archivists' bench, had kept her mouth closed. She had seen the rise of Kellith through the Council by his political charm. He was dangerous. “We send the War Born to protect the lanes. Offer emergency shipments to the affected colonies,” she said finally. “We show the neutral governors we are guardians, not conquerors.” She had to agree with Kellith’s position, even if it gave him more power.
The pragmatism pleased Kellith because it allowed him to do two things: secure popular support and entrench his position within the Council. He had seen the broadcast feeds. He knew how the Corinth would frame any reaction as proof of aggression. If Ramus could be seen as a protector, not a predator, the neutral worlds would kneel in gratitude, and the Corinth coin would falter.
When the council voted, it was close. In the end, the support of the Specter Church kept Kellith’s political movements alive. The War Born grudgingly approved more patrols and stricter measures in the outer colonies. The vote gave Kellith the leverage he had aimed for. Varr bit the inside of his cheek to mask the fury with military calm.
Back aboard the Aegis, Jol watched the political ripples unfold over the transmissions. He wanted permission to hunt, to take the fight to the Karnage. To tear them apart piece by piece for the destruction the raiders had brought. But the Council had only given him authority to patrol. No lethal escalation beyond clear defense. He understood the logic. He also understood the cost. The colonists would wait for relief and food as the relays were repaired, only for the Karnage to strike again. He would have to hope the increase in patrols would be enough. His faith in the War Born was soon rewarded.
That night, the Council chambers were silent-until the War Born guards broke formation.
Varr entered first, clad in full ceremonial armor. The dark metal of his chestplate reflected the council’s dying candlelight. Behind him marched a dozen War Born Paladins, their boots striking in perfect rhythm. The Priests of the Specter Church, still present from the earlier session, froze where they stood.
“By decree of the War Born Legions,” Varr announced, his voice carrying through the vaulted hall, “the Council is dissolved. Kellith’s blockade has brought Ramus to the brink of annihilation. We will not sit idle while our enemies starve us behind pretty speeches.”
Kellith rose slowly. “You’re overstepping, High Praetor. The Council-”
“The Council has failed,” Varr interrupted. “Ramus bleeds while you posture and trade words. The War Born were created to defend this world, not to watch it rot under politicians.”
Two of his Paladins stepped forward, seizing the council dais. The symbol of the Specter Church was torn from its stand and cast to the floor.
Lord Priestess Mira spoke, her tone calm yet laced with warning. “If you break the covenant between the Church and the War Born, you break Ramus itself.”
Varr turned to her, unblinking. “Then it will be reforged in steel and fire.”
The chamber lights dimmed as his signal was sent across the city. Outside, the fortress-gates of the War Born Citadel opened; armored columns rolled into the capital square. By dawn, every major relay and garrison answered to Varr’s command. The military had taken control of the state.
Kellith was placed under “protective custody.” The Specter Church was ordered to withdraw from political matters “until peace was restored.” In a single night, the centuries-old balance of Ramus shifted. The Council was no longer ruled by debate, but by decree.
Varr stood at the center of it all, watching the banners of the War Born rise over the dawn skyline. “At last,” he muttered, “Ramus has a spine again.”