I first directed a Drop-cruiser to secure a landing zone, while a squadron of Fury interceptors took station above the tundra.
Damn winged bugs could ruin your day if you were not careful.
Then I gathered my bodyguards, and a hundred Armed Sentinels in a few dropships and descended onto the surface of Jollov, with a few wings of gunships as a vanguard.
Passing through thick smoke from burning fields and houses, we began our landing approach just a few minutes after the drop pods, descending in a pandemonium of teeth and claws, while the Tarantula turrets were butchering millions of Tyranids gorging on lichens and grass and even soil. Well, I guess there would be roots and worms and bacteria of every kind inside the soil.
As soon as the ramp lowered and we started emerging from the dropships, the Tyranids suddenly perked up and began rushing towards us.
Reason's auto-senses targeted a smaller organism for some reason, but I wasn't going to argue with my Machine Spirit. Surely the Mechanicus had studied this enemy and matched priority targeting accordingly.
The Volcano Lance flared with impossible brightness, evaporating that target, and a hundred other creatures beside and behind it.
And then the secondaries began firing automatically, and I pushed towards the largest swarm, and began slicing with the Power Glaive.
This time it worked! Every single strike butchered dozens of Tyranids, while the Flare shield blocked most of the incoming spits and spines and whatever other projectile weapons.
Each time the Lance was recharged, the Knight would target yet another innocuous creature, and then urged me forward to capitalize on the stunned Tyranids disoriented from losing their synaptic leader.
Then I slashed, pivoted and slashed again, every strike eerily accurate and deadly. I felt like a sword master, dancing on the battlefield, not a mere pretender with out-of-context knowledge.
Hours later, I remembered I wasn't alone on this tundra, and urged Reason to return and check on my comrades.
My sons were simply walking slowly, in a kilometer wide line, and exterminating whatever escaped from my dash across the tundra, followed by the Sentinels watching over them from twice the height and shooting lascannons as distant targets, or burning corpses with their flamers.
"Thank you for leaving something for us to do, Lord Lancefire." I heard Brother Cassiel joke and saw him wave at my Knight as I approached.
"Hey guys! Knights are very fun!" I explained without saying anything.
"Hey dad! You were amazing! Do you think I could get a Knight suit like yours?" I heard Jonas plead on a different vox channel. Soon, all my kids were begging for a Knight suit and awesome weapons.
"Perhaps a couple, one day. They won't really work for boarding actions, or sneaky missions." I answered after a few seconds.
Reason's Machine Spirit disagreed, and promised we could sneak about if we really tried. I highly doubted that. The lance strikes were visible from orbit!
Afterwards, we proceeded at a slow powerwalk, and simply cleaned out every enemy we could find, until we crossed the entire tundra and reached the Cadian armor regiment.
General Venn was waiting on top of a Macharius tank, and wasn't so sour anymore. "You even have a Knight, Lord Lancefire?" she asked to make sure.
"Why? It was a gift! And it does a good job in the field." I explained in a childish voice.
"And it has a very long lance too." the general quipped and patted the Volcano Lance of her Macharius tank.
"All right guys! We rest here for a while, and then trek the planet clockwise. If we move fast enough, we'll be done in a single day!" I joked and opened the Knight's cockpit to get some air. It was freezing, because tundra, and smelled of burned meat.
"I bet my tanks will move faster!" the old woman replied as her Cadian soldiers cheered. It felt like a picnic, at the edge of the galaxy.
Soon enough, I rushed inside the command tank to get some food and a cup of caf, and stood to hear the General complain about her Lord Commander of Spite and how bad it was.
Well, I couldn't steal an armor regiment, as those were fewer and more valued by the Imperium. But an experienced General was good too.
"If you want, I can conscript you and some of your staff to my Auxiliaries. We have a 20 Doomhammers and 500 Hydras per regiment, and will soon receive 100 Macharius..." I began my argument, a bit timidly.
"Yes! Dear Emperor, I thought I would have to fuck you to escape from that idiot, Lord Lancefire." the grizzly woman proclaimed in a breathless rush.
I nodded cautiously. "We'd have to get you back to youth, but that's not a real problem. Sister Letitia over there is over 70, and looks young and pretty now. And I'm even older than you, I guess."
The General glanced at my face in disbelief. "I'll be 200 next year." the old soldier explained in a serious voice. Well she did have a wealth of experience then, and took some rejuvenate treatment.
"Still not a problem, dear lady. That Blood Angel, Brother Cassiel is over ten thousand years old, and he used to rub elbows with Sanguinius. Good genes help." I said with a smirk, and laid back on the leather seat, which smelled new.
Well, this tank was brand-new.
"Well, I guess it's possible. Primarch Khan is same age and looks rather fit too. I heard he was scouting Commorragh for that great raid. And he didn't stay on ice like Guilliman." she mused and sipped some caf in a thoughtful voice.
She wasn't exactly wrong, but I wouldn't shatter her illusions.
"Primarchs are rather special though. So, you'd like to become a Lamenter troop commander? We do fight a lot though. Sometimes at bad odds." I explained in a gentle voice.
"War is my profession, my lord. But Astartes Auxiliaries have different regulations than the Imperial Guard. Not sure what they are." General Venn said in an unasked question.
"That depends on each Chapter, their Primarch and the legacy they carry. Psykers and sorcerers for Magnus, Swordsmen and harassing attacks for Khan, dotting every line and sheer brutality for Ultramarines. I personally prefer air power as the main weapon for my Chapter Auxiliary. Static positions for my infantry and enveloping maneuvers for armor. The Battle Brothers sent in for boarding ships or boss killing, and other precision strikes. Not that I have any Lamenters to deploy yet." I said a sadder voice.
"I heard about the Badab War. Must have been horrible, battling traitor Space Marines." she said in a compassionate voice.
"Yes and no. Those Lamenters were flawed, like many successors of Sanguinius. Going mad with rage and blood thirst, howling and biting their enemies and allies alike. They call these flaws the Black Rage and the Red Thirst. Also, quite unstoppable until they fell dead. Those battlebarges were filled with dismembered corpses, some of them still gripping flesh in their teeth, even in death." I exposed in a grieving voice. They were still my Brothers, dead as they were now.
Ludvaius coughed discreetly at the door, perhaps to admonish me. But his chapter had a Death Company too, mad and sent to one last battle, not expected to survive.
"But it won't happen anymore, right? Surely you can fix the problem." the old General asked, maybe too hopeful.
"I am working on that, dear General. It's hard work, but I won't shy away from duty. Well, I guess you'll find out when we return to our base in the Fringe." I replied in a teasing tone, then walked past her to return to my Knight.
These Tyranids won't die by themselves, and I could use some target practice.
Took an entire month to clean the planet of insectile invaders from outside the galaxy, because they were like cockroaches, spawning some place else just when we thought they were gone.
Back at the main starport, Magos Stannum Vir was loading his STC fragments into a gun-cutter that would lift them into orbit, but he possibly misplaced the memory unit with his research. Certainly, with all those fragments in his possession, he should be able to research everything again, and even faster.
I detached a dozen corvettes to escort his Explorer Ark Mechanicus to the Warp limit, and bid him farewell. The ingrate tech-priest did not ever bother to reply.
What can you do? Except disseminate that research to twenty Forge Worlds and steal away his glory. Beside that.
Soon after, we had to rush and help out at Karak Prime, after conscripting some troops other local regiments to replenish manpower losses.
This was a much larger tendril, but we also had more regiments and ships available, as more and more local Chapters and Navy warships gathered to repel the threat.
I wasn't able to walk on the surface in my huge Knight suit, being too busy commanding the fleet and holding millions of bioships at bay.
The Hive Cities were ordered to mobilize en masse, and I sent most tech-priests and servitors to establish extra layers of fixed defenses, from duracrete walls and bunkers to armored gates protected with drum flails, and even gigantic flamers pumping arcs of burning promethium kilometers away. We also scoured the underhives for gangers and criminals, and had them gassed with soporifics, then imprinted with crude loyalty mnemonics and sent out to fight for the Emperor.
These conscripts were not well-armed but that wasn't the real purpose. Metal shields and spears, or even cheap autoguns and stubbers didn't quite work against the Tyranids, but they did hold them in place, enough for artillery and aviation to bombard the packed masses of Tyranids, while the escorts lanced the more distant hordes from orbit. And with the Hive Cities slightly less inhabited and violent, they could focus more efforts on external defense.
They had no other choice but fight or die. Entire PDF regiments were raised in a single week, given minimal training and sent atop of walls or manning the bunkers, only to return battered and needing a complete rebuild by the next week.
Governors needed to be encouraged or publically executed, weapon caches made available freely, or under protest, Adeptus Arbites conscripted as Commissars to maintain discipline.
In the end, we didn't lose a single city, although casualties exceeded 20 percent of the entire population. Over two billion people, giving their lives for the Emperor.
The surface of the planet was left even more baren and polluted, but at least the Hive Cities were set in order, and even became more productive and profitable. Turns out having a few thousand tech-priests repairing old reactors and factories, as well as reducing crime and population pressure was quite beneficial.
For my efforts, I loaded five milion young women working in various factories and a few thousand scribes aboard a fleet of troop transports and had them sent to the Fringe, mostly on the hundred jungle and forest worlds that needed population growth and industrial production. They will have fresh air and natural food there, plus plenty of living space, not ten in a single room.
Sure the Catachans will need to protect them, but they wouldn't mind being gifted ten wives each. Population will grow fast after this, but those kids will be locals and raised with slightly different rules.
Meanwhile, the star system was slowly being cleaned of dead husks of bioships and drifting winged bugs, only this time we cut off some of the larger bioships' teeth and claws, because those bones were strong enough to bite into starship armor.
I was also out of munitions already, after a single year of constant fighting a small Tyranid Hive Fleet.
So, I left Captain Aphael in command of the Moloch Crusade, to find and finish off the remaining Tyranids splinters and I sailed for home.
Of course, my dear Inquisitor Vail had to stay and oversee the project for the sake of her career, and I took her baby home with me. We named him Aeneas, like the mythical hero.
He now sleeps on top of Canis, beside a young puppy sired by my wolf.
"Wooo?" my wolf asks as he saw me leave the nursery.
"Yes, Canis. Going back to make more puppies." I explained patiently as Canis licked both of his young ones.
The wolf nodded wisely, then glanced at my left glove.
Perhaps later, you smart friend. I did need to sort out those Sisters of Battle, one way or the other
My new Drop-cruisers were left behind in the galactic north, because being able to intervene rapidly with drop-pods would be extremely helpful and will save countless lives.
Once the Moloch Crusade would be declared finished, the light cruisers commanded by my daughters will return home, after visiting a Forge World each, to spread out more STC dataslates and pict and sensors logs of the turret drop results.
The Mechanicus tech-priests were not stupid and will realize rapidly the advantages of this new doctrine.
I didn't have much hope with the Imperial Navy or the Astra Militarum, as I rarely saw any of my templates deployed in the field. Some night vision sensors, recon units with cheap Weasels, and sometimes the new Manticores and Hydras. In such small quantities they wouldn't impact much, except perhaps keep the regiment commanders a bit safer.
However, Commissar Cain did not disappoint, and he made himself a big hero again by 'discovering' a large genestealer cult on Isis V, then leading the troops into a grinding civil war which resulted in a costly victory.
I bet Cain is glad for his 'relic' sword now, as well as his new power armor and shield. Perhaps even more happy with his tough but loyal Catachan all-female bodyguards.
And funny enough, his former aide Jurgen was totally admired by the Catachan women I assigned to him, for being a real man, smelly and rough.
I began to doubt the wisdom of trying to breed Orgyn females, as those would surely have even stronger taste in men. I wouldn't give up until I tried a few times, just for variety's sake.
In the meantime, I did have plenty of Norse women to pick and choose, or let Regina pick and choose for me.
The new armor specialist, Reila_Vann was even a greater treasure, especially after testing my special relic sword on a dozen captured Orks and regaining a slightly more youthful appearance.
"My Lord, is this type of weapon common among Astartes?" Reila asked while examining herself in the mirror, with a confused but amazed face.
She even got naked just to see everything was in the right place. And Reila had great forms, even if I saw little from my chair.
"Not common at all, General. They are called ancient relics for reason." I explained patiently.
"I see, so it is a great honor to even be allowed to use it once. And I suppose, you returned my body to youth, so you can fuck me, like you do with all those Valhallan women?" Reila guessed at random, and emerged from the shower to parade her young body in front of me and Canis. Damn cocktease!
Well, I wouldn't say no if she offered, but she did not, so that was it.
Instead, I smiled thinly and shrugged. "I need your mind and experience, my dear General. As for making babies, that is a more complicated and involved procedure. Even if we both wanted to, my nurses and Apothecaries and the Biologis tech-priests have to conduct a whole battery of tests and scans. I told you how dangerous Astartes gene-seed is."
My new General sighed as if I missed the point. "Just get naked and lie on the bed, Pef Lancefire. I need to test my new body, and there's nobody else here I can trust."
I blinked in confusion, while Canis just sighed and turned on the other side, probably amazed at my idiocy.
Rafen just grinned and held his thumb up for luck. All right then. I could be lucky sometimes.
So I got out of my armor and laid in bed, and allowed Reila to test her young body, in every manner she could think of.
Guess I now have a General concubine to oversee the other guardswomen. And perhaps a wife, should the others agree to this.
When our small warp-less fleet arrived at Sotha, we found it under attack again, by more Orks. I wasn't surprised and just led the Battleship forward to defend the Aegida Fortress, while the carriers began launching the corvettes and the stafighters.
In void combat the Orks were somewhat easy to defeat, even using conventional methods, but these Orks had figured out a way to weaponize tellyporta' and launched gretchins and Ork boyz as boarders and even as destructive ordnance, since a gretchin materializing inside an energy conduit or a targeting cogitator did damage just by breaking down the expensive machinery.
Of course, they have not considered teleporting bombs and warheads, nor being teleported themselves into my tesseract. Soon enough, three Ork Terror ships and 22 Kroozers vanished in flares on Nova mines, although the mines still targeted flocks of Ork space fighters and boarding boats.
And imagine my surprise to find a working fragment of an STC on the largest Ork Kroozer, something to do with teleportarium technology.
The Orks were surely crazy and lucky enough, to repurpose that ancient machine into something they could use for a Waagh. Possibly a mass-transit system for a spaceport during the Dark Age of Technology.
I already was planning how to weaponize this discovery for my own use, for example for quick torpedo re-loads and teleporting turrets on the ground, or even inside enemy ships. Just place teleport beacons on the weapons, and they could be even retrived afterwards, without using time and fuel for landers and dropships.
Sadly, the research and testing for this project would take a few decades, even for a larger Forge World.
Anyway, my Rose wasn't back on Sotha yet, but her own blonde infocyte lady was, with a whole store of Tau databases and weapon research slates.
"I will need three copies of that data, my dear." I asked in a polite voice. But I didn't need to remain polite, if Calixa didn't cooperate.
The blonde assassin measured me with obvious uncertainty. "The Inquisitor asked that everything that I recovered to be sealed. Sorry, Lord Lancefire."
I sighed inward, then stepped closer nearly touching her with my armored chestplate. "We are on the same team, Calixa. Or do I need to take out my Rosette?" I asked softly and tapped the null box suggestively.
"...Errr. Don't do that, my lord. Clavis engrams will play havoc with my neural modules and I'll be rather incapacitated for a week. Why do you need three copies?" the infocyte grumbled as she took our three data-stacks and began downloading the data from her encrypted MIU.
"My own infocyte agent needs a copy, Forge Retribution needs one, and the third...well. The third will go way over your paygrade. The big powers will want to take a look, and that might be my ticket for a High Lord seat. You know, the one being arranged for the Rogue Traders?" I whispered in a secretive voice.
"...I didn't know, my lord. So, are we friends now?" the cute assassin asked in a failed attempt at seduction.
Already seeing herself riding on the parade, on Holy Terra. Then again...a cute infocyte? I could use another, in every way. Backups were only natural, in case something went wrong. I snapped my fingers to produce an Obsidian Auguries security tag.
"This obsidian plate will grant you extra access, should you be in dire need." I explained in a soft whisper, right into her ear.
Calixa hugged my arm and examined the credit card wafer with a hundred tiny auspex sensors, finding nothing to indicate advanced technology. Except perhaps the blackstone rim, which kept the obsidian from cracking or flaking.
But I wasn't an infocyte to track data, or a psyker to track psychic imprints. Simply the memory of this object would allow me to locate it anywhere in range of the Pharos, or in range of the Sounding Board if needed.
"I expect the blackstone is meant to prevent psykers from detecting this...ID card? Or is it something else?" she mused softly, voice trembling a bit with excitement.
"We'll discuss the rest in private." I explained and made her vanish in my labyrinth. Best way to extract someone from an Inquisition's Fortress. I wasn't like I would carry a woman on my back, if she fit in my pocket.
But first, I had to check on Mister Trazyn, and the new warp-less drive. I did pay for it in advance, after all.
And of course, to recover the few Lamenters still part of the Deathwatch, which had just arrived at the Fortress, during the time I was away. Amadeus Chyropheles, now known as Chyron, was a Space_Marine_Dreadnought, with millennia of experience, while Veteran Brother Semnai was the only combat-capable Lamenter remaining to my Chapter.
I didn't count the support staff as Battle-Brothers, even if they could technically fight. I needed their knowledge and experience, not an extra gun.
Experience regarding galactic lore, xenos races, plagues and Chaos demons or tactics. The Lamenters have travelled all over the galaxy, and knew lots and lots of secrets, hidden routes and meeting places, Webway portals and forgotten ship graveyards.
They didn't even know how valuable their knowledge was, and I wouldn't tell them. I just downloaded all the ship logs, and had the Auxilia crew or the senior Lamenters retell each and every encounter, when and where a certain sighting has occurred, who was present, what else was in the system and so on.
Sadly, most of the old astropaths had died, as they were never meant to last long. But we had the Navigators, which was almost as good. Sure, they saw and remembered events in a haze of temporal currents and prophetic dreams, but they would know the routes back. It was their job after all.
"You don't look and feel like a Lamenter, Master Lancefire." Brother Semnai told me straight to my face. My angelic face.
I just sighed and snapped my fingers, storing him inside the tesseract as well. Hopefully he'll get better, once he was on the Starfort and among other, real Lamenters.
Venerable-Brother Chyron did not grumble or care I wasn't a proper Lamenter, instead being glad of having found his way back to the beloved Chapter.
"We must be in a sorry state, if one such as yourself is now Chapter Master. I feared nobody was left alive after that disastrous Badab War." the half-dead Lamenter lamented in a pitiful tone, and you could sense his sadness pouring out of the armored shell.
Canis smelled the towering coffin on legs and mewled back at me in confusion.
"Yes Canis. Chyron is one of us, so don't bite him." I quipped in a cheerful voice, and patted the robot on the side. "Come with me Chyron, we're teleporting down." I explained in my next breath, and started walking towards the teleportarium.
Two squads of Scythes and Executioners dressed in black armor stood guard at the entrance, and one of them stepped forward to block my way.
"Nobody may access the Pharos, not even you, Master Lancefire." the Deathwatch proclaimed grimly, and raised his combi-bolter towards me.
Oh well, I guess we'll have more temporal anomalies today!
As the squads vanished in my labyrinth, I took out the cog-shaped Rosette and began unlocking the teleport safeties.
"That is a good trick, Master Lancefire. And even the Rosette is genuine." Chyron praised me in a slightly surprised tone.
I just nodded, and patted Canis, making him vanish too. Teleporting was bad for his stomach after all.
In a violet flash of Warp and madness, we emerged inside the Pharos, to find it cleaned up completely. No more Astartes oaths and canticles, no more battle flags and purity seals. Just black walls and an intact C'tan, slightly crucified on the wall with chains of living stone.
This must have been Amberley's work, trying to appease the alien god somehow.
"Pef Lancefire. You have saved me again!" the Ctan shard spoke in a booming voice. Uh, this was unexpected. The C'tan seemed glad to see me.
"Hello again, Mighty Zarhulash. What do you...ah. The teleporting Orks. I see." I realized after a second.
Those cretin greenskins would have ruined plenty of things with a C'tan as a slave. Probably half the galaxy or something.
"The Orks knew about me, Pef Lancefire. And they also had the means to reach me down here. Not an accident." The C'tan concluded as a warning. Some damn Eldar Farseer, most likely. When in doubt, blame the Eldar...and you won't be far from the truth.
I turned towards the Dreadnought and pointed towards the god shard. "This person is Zarhulash, a shard of the Potentate. Xeno species C'tan, destructive abilites about the same with a Segmentum Battlefleet. Also immortal and extremely learned." explained while returning the Sounding Board to its dais and releasing the protective stasis field.
"C'tan...I know of them. Deceiful, liars and even aiding the Necrons in combat. The Deathwatch lost many teams to his kind." Chyron rumbled from within his coffin.
Zarhulash wanted to say something, before glancing down in sadness.
"Mostly true, Chyron. The Necrons broke them, and enslaved them as weapons. But there are a few still free, and causing mayhem for their own pleasure. What's that C'tan's name, Mighty Zarhulash? The Deceiver?" I asked as a data-stick appeared in my hand. A databse of Tau technology, which should aid Trazyn in his task.
"Mephet'ran. Yes, that is the Deceiver you ask about, Pef Lancefire. There are at least six of his shards still free, travelling the galaxy and causing mayhem and strife. It shames me to be of same race as that creature." the ancient C'tan divulged in obvious sorrow.
Well then. A new trade deal sounded wonderful.