Depus had never quite got used to the views of the void. Looking out on the expanse of Port Vicarus, the vast array of mighty towers, bustling docks and ships of every size and description. Merchantmen, warships, bulk transports, freighters, clippers and defence monitors filled the sky and docks, slowly drifting through the void in a dance choreographed by complex geometrics and vectors communicated from the command spire, the tallest tower rising from the centre of the circlet of steel which made up the port.
"You really can never help but marvel at the Imperium's might, can you?"
Depus turned to see his Company Captain enter the viewing gallery, his cragged face bathed in the green rays of Vicarus, the gas giant orbited by the port.
The younger Astartes smiled. "I like to appreciate what I fight for Captain Raigo. Has the novelty worn off since you left the Sol System all those years ago?"
Raigo came to a halt beside his adjutant with a clunk of his MkII armour. "True, I have seen such a view a hundred times. Although each one is unique, a different world in this vast galaxy, a different people conquered, over the two centuries they all merge together in a cauldron of war and bloodshed. But this one is special. A new chapter in the story of our Legion."
"The first since Ullanor," said Depus proudly.
"Precisely," answered Raigo. "Before we were just one of the eighteen, a mere cog in the mighty machine of the Great Crusade. Perhaps more favored than most, but still equals with our brothers."
"Now we are his equerries," said Depus, almost to himself.
"We are. We were always proud, always at the forefront of the fighting, never shaken by the enormity of the task set before us. Waging war not only with the cunning and ferocity of the ancient lupine packs, but with the honour of a brotherhood that knows exactly what they're fighting for, and what's expected of them. But now, as the Warmaster's own, we must strive to live up the reputation of the first among the Legions. For us, the Twenty First Company, this is where it begins."
The two Luna Wolves were silent as they looked out at the hive of activity that was a Great Crusade space-port. This was the last major outpost of the Imperium before the unexplored space of the Jarast Reaches.
Raigo's com-bead crackled to life. Depus's enhanced hearing caught every word, each laced with the metallic ring of mechanical augmentations.
"My Lord Raigo, this is Korall Sen, Master of the Port. The senior officers of the one thousandth, one hundred and eleventh Expeditionary Fleet are assembled in the central spire and awaiting your briefing for the mission to come."
Raigo paused before answering, his mouth curling into a grimace.
"Thank you Master Sen, I will be with them shortly. How goes the muster of the fleet?"
There was a static burst of binary. "All port facilities are... proceeding on schedule Captain," drawled the voice. Depus imagined it's origin, undoubtedly a hunched Mechanicum Magos, more machine than man, all but enslaved to his purpose in life.
"That will be all Master," Raigo curtly replied, and the line was cut.
"You know him?" asked Depus.
Raigo sighed. "He served with the 63rd fleet maybe fifty years ago, a fine magos by any means, but with a superior mindset and an independent streak, a dangerous combination."
"At least we won't be taking him with us."
"We will feel his influence," Raigo replied. "Port Vicarus is supplying the Mechanicus contingent of the expedition, I don't doubt whoever is accompanying us was chosen by him, to serve his ulterior goals."
"Surely we're all on the same side?" queried Depus. "Mechanicum and Imperium, forging an Empire in the stars, under the leadership of the Emperor?"
"We are, but it is deeper than that. The new Imperium and Mechanicum are allies, and that alliance serves both our needs well, for now. You may think me an old coot Depus, but I remember a time when the Forge Lords of Mars were just another enemy to be complied, whose resources and technologies were needed to conquer the galaxy, not unlike the gene-smiths of Luna. But the Emperor forged an alliance of mutual benefit, and two hundred years later, most of the galaxy bends the knee. But the Mechanicum is apart from that servitude, it's true loyalty is to it's own traditions and secrets, always striving to undercut the Imperium in claiming lost technologies and advanced civilizations. And why? Power and leverage. I can never fully trust them."
Depus paused for a moment to consider this concept. A young officer of Horus's Legion, he had never given the red robed priests much thought, considering them just another cog in the Imperial war machine, like himself and his brothers.
"They are important," Depus ventured, "in that they supply our war materiel, our ammunition. Our armour even, and the ship we are on right now! Every ship out there. You mightn't trust them, but we need them."
"And it is that need that I do not trust. To need something is to be dependent, and if it is taken away…" Raigo left the sentence drifting like the ships above the port.
"Ah, but they need us as well," Depus pointed out. "What use is power armour without astartes to fill them? What use are ships without Legionaries to man them? The Mechanicum supports us, but the Legions are the capstone of the Imperial war effort!"
"Mortals can man ships, utilize tanks and aircraft, even fight effectively, when used in enough numbers by a commander with a brain," remarked Raigo. "But now I am just arguing for arguments sake, come, we've a ceremony to attend.
They turned and marched through the hissing blast doors and down the ship's corridor. The crowds of serfs and crew members bowed at the passage of the towering astartes, lords of life and death.
"Speaking of mortals," said Depus as the two officers were saluted by a squad of armsmen as they passed. "Who are the high-rankers within this expedition? Anyone of of note?"
"An upstart called Maxillus," said Raigo. "Some sort of marshal, I forget the exact rank. I fight for the common man, not fops handed their idiot father's title."
"Things are different nowadays Captain," said Depus. "No longer is it just the Legions at the forefront of the Crusade. Every day, thousands of courageous men and women give their lives to further the Emperor's dream of a united mankind."
"While peacocks like Maxillus look on and reap the spoils," spat back Raigo. He shook his head.
"I am sorry Depus. I do value the sacrifices of our fellows, and would never dream of minimizing their honour. But I remember a time when the astartes basically had the stars to ourselves. No clerics dogging our heels, no pretentious lordlings thinking themselves our equals. And don't get me started on these remembrancers…." he growled as a group of imagists scattered before the the two giants.
Depus chuckled. "I've taken a liking to them. They ensure that we will never be forgotten, no matter what the future holds. The people of the Imperium will always have the knowledge of how mankind was united, and who to thank for it."
"Hmmph," grumbled Raigo. They reached the blast doors of the primary hangar bay of the battleship Warcry. Stretching for a hundred meters along the ship's hull, it was a cavernous space filled with the vehicles iconic to the crusade. They walked past a squadron of fury interceptors, fresh from the forges of Retlaxi, the deck-crews dropping everything they were doing to hurriedly salute their overlords.
As they rounded the voidcraft, they caught site of a wall of white war plate. Fifty Luna Wolves standing in formation, armour polished to gleaming pearl, the standard of the 21st held proud, displaying the wolf's head and crescent moon.
"Quite a show of force," remarked Depus as the two officers approached.
"They need to know who's in charge," answered Raigo.
A warrior stepped from the ranks. His firm face an echo of the glory of Horus, one of many the within the Legion that bore a resemblance to their Primarch, due to the reforming of the facial bone structure caused by genetic implantations. His armour, the latest MkIV plate, was sparsely adorned, with just the symbols marking him as an officer, and the amber Eye of Horus proudly displayed on his chest. A tightly twisted topknot rounded off his image as a true son of their Primarch.
"Well met Drakedor!" smiled Raigo. "Ready to meet our new companions?
Murin Drekedor, lieutenant of the 1st Battalion, grimaced and growled. He spoke, the words from his mouth guttural and harsh, like a blade scraping stone. The language of Cthonia, recruiting ground of the Legion.
"I like not that I am dragged on this wasteful venture, parading for the amusement of mortals."
Depus knew that Raigo did not speak the language as fluently as the legionaries under his command, but the Captain of the 21st had gone to great lengths to master the harsh tongue.
"They serve Lupercal as do you and I, Drakedor. They may be weak, they may be foolish, but mark me the time will come when we will be glad of them. Patience brother, war will come soon."
Drakedor shrugged. "Let us get this farce over with then."
With a shout of Cthonic from Raigo, the Legionaries started to board the waiting stormbird, the Talon of Lupercal. The venerable vessel had carried Luna Wolves into the fires of war for over a hundred years, and commonly served as Raigo's personal transport. It's mighty engines roared with power as it left the hanger and skimmed through the crowded sky of the port.
"This pomp is not what we were bred for…" snarled Drakedor.
Depus rolled his eyes, careful to not let the short-tempered chieftain see. Drakedor was hot-blooded at the best of times, and none of them had seen combat since Ullanor, the better part of a year ago. He was obviously spoiling for a fight.
"Patience Murin," Depus said. "Third blood in the cages after?"
Drakedor smiled. "Aye. But even that will only sate me for a while. I need real blood, xenos or mortal, I care not. Don't keep us long here, eh Captain?"
Raigo looked at the Astartes filling the crew compartment.
"Like it or not Drakedor, this is what's expected of us now. We are the Warmaster's Legion, and the masses will be crowding to grovel at our feet. None of us want it, but it's a reality. But worry not, as Commander of this Expeditionary Fleet, I'll do my utmost for us to back crusading as soon as possible."
"Coming into land Captain," came the pilots voice.
"Alright, 21st Company!" roared Raigo over the thunder of the engines. "Form up on me, standard parade drill! Let's show these mortal's to whom they owe their fealty!"
The doors slammed down and the Luna burst forth as quickly as on a battlefield. Raigo marched to the head of the column, followed by Depus and Drakedor.
Arrayed in front of them were gold-armoured soldiers in ostentatious purple uniforms, masked helms obscuring their faces and holding long-barreled las rifles to attention. Depus had read the order of battle for the expeditionary fleet, and surmised that these must be the elite Krian Dragoons, under the personal command of the Viscount-Marshal himself.
"Impressive…" he muttered, as he realized each the soldiers was well built and at least two meters tall, some even eye-level with his chin.
"Even neophytes could smash them with ease," said Drakedor scornfully.
"Really? They have an exemplary combat record," replied Depus. "I've read they don't shy from the melee, and excel at bringing down more powerful foes who underestimate both their willingness to take casualties and stay in the fight, and their raw skill with the bayonet and blade."
"You waste your time reading," answered Drakedor. "You should fight. What are you, one those idiot Warrior Kings of Ultramar? All you need to know about mortals is that their flesh is weak their and bones are brittle, with minds too small and unable to grasp the true meaning of war."
"You're being too harsh on them Murin," said Depus cooly. "And underestimating them immensely. Don't tell me you've never seen an Astartes fall to the weight of fire mere humans can muster."
"Even a great bear will fall to a pack of dogs when set upon alone. That is why the Legions always do battle in units thousands of Astartes strong. Together we can never be defeated."
"I can't disagree there," said Depus, as they entered a large antechamber filled to bursting with every sort of servant of the Great Crusade possible. Generals of the Army and Captains of the Armada stood side by side, surrounded by adjutants, standard bearers, scribes, clerics and servitors. A gaggle of techpriests, clicking away in binary and attended to by servitors and chained slaves were given a wide berth by the rest of the congregation. Remembrancers were everywhere, scrambling for a better view of the white-clad giants. Banners of every colour hung from the walls, detailing the victories and achievements of the glorious history of the Great Crusade.
"It's like a mini-Ullanor," whispered Depus, causing a chuckle from Drakedor.
"Greetings my Lords!" came a voice from the crowd, and out burst a man literally gleaming with finery. His jewel-encrusted golden armour and row of gleaming medals caught the light spectacularly. An exotic cloak of thick spotted fur was draped around his shoulders, on his head was an auric plumed helmet. An immaculate uniform of the richest purple with gold lace completed the image of a heroic leader of the Great Crusade.
"As you probably know, I am Viscount-Marshal Clade Borosian Maxillus, Lord of-,"
"Very good Viscount-Marshal," said Raigo sternly, holding up a gauntleted hand. "Sergeant Barad, if you would."
Clad head to toe in imposing MkIII Iron armour, Sergeant Eiridor Barad stepped forward.
"Officers of the One Thousand, One Hundred and Eleventh Expeditionary Fleet!" boomed out the sergeant's voice at his vox's maximum volume.
"I present your Lord Commander, Captain Dantor Raigo, Twenty-First Company, Sixteenth Legion Astartes Luna Wolves!"
The hall was quelled into silence at the thunder of the Astartes' voice. Raigo stepped forward.
"I am here at the behest of Horus Lupercal, Warmaster of the Imperium! Our mission is as it has always been over the past two centuries, to unite the scattered and enslaved realms of mankind, to cleanse the stars of the xenos taint, to bring the light of the Imperial Truth into the darkest recesses of the galaxy."
He paused, surveying the hopeful mass of humanity before him.
"I have fought in wars innumerable, as I am sure many of you have also. You all know what to expect, hardship, war, and death. But all in the name of a united humanity, a reality to which we are so close! To achieve it, we must be vigilant, trust each other and work together if we are to come through this alive. Mark me, every single one of you is indispensable to our cause. Every command obeyed, every record taken, every bullet fired, it all counts. The Imperium is watching us, my Lords and Ladies, and we will not be found wanting!"
The crowd erupted in cheering, as if they had already liberated great swathes of the galaxy.
Raigo nodded to Sergeant Barad.
"High Command of the Expedition, report to the Strategium, all other personnel commence embarkation procedures!"
Depus and Drakedor joined Raigo in the Strategium, followed by Maxillus and a large group of officers. Shouts and cries of frustration echoed from outside as remembrancers swarmed against the ceramite wall of astartes, desperate to document the historic discussion. But these marines had held firm against the worst horrors the galaxy could throw at them, and easily held them back.
Raigo regarded the officers of the Army that made up one side of the room. He took in the array of uniforms and rank insignias, medals and other unique distinguishing features. Some regiments he recognized, such as the olive drab worn by an Outremar general, the purple and gold of Kria and the deep red of Terra. Others were less traditional, such as the heavy mail and ragged furs of a Helvegan chieftain, or the whirring augmetics of a Phakorian Siege Master.
The Admirals of the fleet were across from them, more orderly in appearance, but still a varied bunch with subtle differences in uniform and decorations.
There were also high ranking civilians, made up of an eclectic mix of captains of the merchant navy, logisticians, Imperial nobles and representatives of the remembrancer order.
Alone and stooped under heavy robes, a Mechanicum Magos regarded Raigo with too many glowing eye-lenses.
These were the tools he'd been given by the Warmaster to forge an empire.
"The Master of the Port informs me that fleet preparations are on schedule, but we still have much work to do. The Jarast Reaches are unexplored space, and we must be prepared to obtain a foothold quickly, and possibly face the horrors of the Old Night. I want an up to date order of battle, including naval strength-"
The doors burst open, and Sergeant Barad strode into the room.
"Apologies Captain," he said.
"This better not be those damned remembrancers Sergeant….." growled Raigo.
"No sir," replied Barad. "Ultramarine ships are entering the port."
"And?" exclaimed Raigo, his annoyance building. Depus and Drakedor glanced at each other.
"They're broadcasting unusual messages sir."
"Anything to be concerned about?"
Barad paused, his expression unreadable under his emotionless helm.
"Probably not sir. Will I monitor the situation until you are available?"
"Do. Depus, go with him, make sure everything is in order."
Depus saluted and strode from the chamber almost feeling Drakedor's eyes burning through the back of his head at his frustration at being left in what was looking to be a mind-numbing meeting.
"How many ships Sergeant?" he asked Barad as they entered the elevator that would take then to the control hub of Port Vicarus. " And what was their message?
"Eleven ships sir, ranging in size from frigates to a battle barge. As far as I'm aware, communications with them resulted in conflicting information in regards to our presence here. "
"Well what did they say?" said Depus, as the elevator began to rise.
"That they were in command of the Expeditionary Fleet."
"What? Well, we'll see." The doors slid open, revealing the bustling bridge, filled with hardwired servitors and scrambling officers and technomagi. The room, or arena was more the word, as the bridge for an entire port was massive, far larger than even a battleships command center.
Overlooking the proceedings upon an archaic throne, linked by numerous mind impulse units and piping, surrounded by mewling servitors and skulls was the Master of the Port, Korall Sen. Depus saw him watching the intruders to his domain with his glowing green lenses, feeling the intensity of his gaze even from this distance.
The two Astartes started picking their way through the semi-organised chaos. Depus grabbed an officer by her arm as she was berating a group of ratings.
"Where's your chief of communications?"
To be fair, she only hesitated for a second when suddenly confronted by the giant before her, before pointing to a large console surrounded by servo skulls and scribes.
The techpriest working the console, with a vox speaker in place if a mouth, was deep in binary conversation when they reached him.
"I need to speak to the Ultramarine commander," said Depus sharply.
The man looked at him, and started frantically operating the cogitator in front of him. He replied in a monotone machine voice. "Patching you through my Lord."
Depus activated his com-bead.
"This is Lieutenant Furan Depus, XVIth Legion," he said. Authority came easily to his voice. He was a representative of the Warmaster after all. "To whom am I speaking?"
He saw Sergeant Barad point out the wide viewport. A ship was cruising into view, one of the relatively new battle-barge subclasses, optimised for planetary assault. It's hull was bedecked in heavy armour-plating, the blue and white heraldry of Guilliman's stellar empire emblazoned upon it.
A voice, calm but firm, answered Depus over the vox.
"This is Captain Gaius Tyron, 101st Company, XIIIth Legion. What is your purpose at port Vicarus Lieutenant?"
Depus chose his words carefully, as he addressing a senior officer of another Legion, which demanded his respect. "My Captain has been appointed Commander of the Expeditionary Fleet set to depart from this port. May I enquire to your purpose here sir?"
"The same purpose as your Captain, Lieutenant. I have been appointed Commander of the 1111th Expeditionary Fleet, by edict of Terra. I would not doubt the word of a fellow legionary, but there is an error that needs to be corrected. I must speak to your Captain immediately."
"I'm afraid he is deeply embroiled in matters of the Expedition, sir. However I would be happy to talk with you personally."
"Unacceptable Lieutenant. I will be en route to the Central Spire momentarily, inform your Captain."
Depus sighed. This was the last thing that Raigo, already frustrated with dealing with the horde of mortals, would want to deal with. But what choice did he have? He had been given a direct order from a senior Legion officer.
"It will be done sir," he answered, and cut the cut link.
"Problem sir?" asked Barad.
Depus started moving towards the elevator. "Possibly Barad. Nothing on a crusade-breaking scale, but a severe annoyance none the less. The Captain won't be pleased."
"The Ultramarines are a proud Legion sir," replied Barad. "But above all else, they are practical. They will yield without issue if they are in the wrong."
"It could be worse I suppose," said Depus with a smile. "We could be dealing with Russ's upstart pups."
He activated his com. "Captain Raigo, sorry sir but the Ultramarine commander is insisting on speaking to you in person. He's on his way now..."
"By Lupercal, Depus, I gave you an order to handle it!" came back the snarl. "I expected more from you. What on Terra do they want?"
"Their Captain says he is in command of the Expeditionary Fleet, by edict of Terra."
There was silence for a few seconds as Raigo contemplated the information. "Right. I suspect an administrative error. Meet me in the antechamber, this mess has to be sorted."
Five minutes later they arrived, Raigo was accompanied by a tactical squad and the company standard bearer.
"Where's Drakedor?" asked Depus.
"There needs to be a Legion officer at the briefing, and the experience will do him well."
Depus raised an eyebrow. "Does he even speak Gothic? I don't mean to question you Captain, but politics and logistics really isn't his strong suit!"
"The mortals must learn our ways, and Drakedor will be the most extreme example of the Legion they will have ever to deal with. It'll also do the Lieutenant some good, both Legion and Army must learn to work together."
Depus chuckled. "As long as they're still alive, you know his temperament at the best of times."
Their conversation was cut short by the rhythmic drumbeat of ceramite boots.
"Get ready for our parade drill to be put to shame…" muttered Depus.
The Luna Wolves looked on as the cobalt-blue warriors marched into view in perfect unison. Their armour was polished to a sapphire sheen and inlaid with details of ivory and gold, honouring each individual with their squad and company markings, their rank, with many battle honours and crusade records.
They were led by warrior in hulking MkIII plate with a trans-crested helm, bearing the sigils and heraldry of a company captain. His name was carved onto stone scroll work on his left pauldron, beneath an ultima of the purest white.
Raigo stepped forward. "Greetings, son of Guilliman. I am Captain Dantor Raigo of the Luna Wolves."
The Ultramarine Captain removed his helmet with a hiss of unfastening pressure clamps, revealing a warm face with a deep brow. Green eyes smiled, though his mouth was stern. He pounded his right gauntlet on his plastron, giving the traditional salute of his homeworld.
"Ave, Captain Raigo," replied the Ultramarine. "I am Captain Gaius Tyron, of the 101st Company, XIIIth Legion. I believe there has been a misunderstanding with regards to the command of this expeditionary fleet."
