Things are heating up, and the High Lords of Terra plan to discuss exactly what should be done. I got a little flak over so much Shepard and lovey-dovey fluff in the last chapter, which was to be expected, I suppose. The reason I had those scenes was to illustrate exactly what life was like before the Reaper invasion, then have it all shattered. However, for all you who don't like it, it's not showing up again any time soon. I should also mention, as several people mentioned it in the reviews, that the Olympus Mons is not cannon. Much like Serendipity, or the names of the Knights and their suits from Technophiles, there should be something of the sort that exists, but is technically non-cannon. As far as the Olympus goes, it is not mentioned anywhere that Kelbor-Hal has a flagship. However, I believe someone with his ego would want one, and a very powerful one at that. Therefore, I gave him the Olympus Mons.
This chapter is a shorter one. It details the High Lords of Terra, and their reaction to events in the other galaxy. We also have a discription of Holy Terra itself, and I must say that I don't particularly like the 'grim dark' description of Terra found in several Warhammer books. If you want a good idea of what Terra should actually be like, go look at the Lord Inquisitor prologue. Terra should be a perfect mix of grim-dark and pure glory, all rolled into one, for that is what the Imperium of Man, and Warhammer itself, is. Either way, thank you all for your wonderful reviews! Please, keep 'em coming! Speaking of which:
themadnimrod: Trazyn will be showing up. Next chapter, actually. However, he will continue being his wacky collector self and won't try to collect Hal. At least, not yet...
BonesofSmite: Thank you! This entire chapter deals with learning what Mars and Terra think, so I hope you enjoy that.
ProfessorZooms: You are correct. The Imperium and Mechanicus are not interested in using the Crucible. Instead, they prefer the time-tested method of killing everything personally.
Monstrr: Thank you!
Clare Prime of Ultra: Thank you. The Imperium and Mechanicus do not particularly like the Krogan, due to their similarity to Orks. They are also going to bring a lot of firepower, so they don't necessarily need Krogan ground troops. We'll see what happens to the Krogan. As for this chapter, it takes place on Terra, where we'll see the High Lords react.
Brother Bov: Indeed it is.
Doc43Souls: Indeed. Hal is a very scary individual.
CheesusChrist15: I enjoy fluff, and writing fluff. The point was to show what life is like before the invasion, with all the good things. From now on, we're in the bad. Sorry it ruined the tone of the story; it won't be happening again.
Guest who continues to say wow: Thank you.
Guest: I'm not entirely sure what you meant in this review. What I believe you're trying to tell me is that you don't like Hal, and simply prefer the Reapers by themselves. I understand. However, what I meant by rule of cool is that for the Mechanicus and Imperium to bring out their really nasty weapons, (which everyone wants to see) they need something much more powerful than Reapers to use them on. Reapers can be pretty easily killed by the Imperial Navy without support. Therefore, Hal is here to up the stakes so we can see the cooler stuff. If you don't like him, well... sorry. That's just how I wrote it.
Chronus1326: As I said before, the Olympus Mons is not technically cannon. Sorry. It would be cool if it was, though, and it does make for an excellent ship and excellent part of the story.
LezGo35: Here we go!
Guest: Sorry. I shall submit myself to the nearest Inquisitor at the first available oppurtunity.
Anatheras: Thank you! I'm glad you like my writing!
Ghostly: Shepard will try. The bigger question is if they'll listen to him.
valhalan guardsman: There may or may not be nasty weapons, naval or otherwise, coming later. As for now, a crusade will be formed, but not with any of the really nasty stuff. That will come when the war ramps up.
oOo
The High Lords of Terra
"Information passed around Mars in a multitude of ways, along trillions of kilometres of cabling, through fibre-optics, fizzing electrical field clouds, wireless networks and hololithic conduits. The exact workings of the ancient mechanics by which many of the forges communicated were unknown, and even the magi that made use of such things did not fully understand them.
Almost all the myriad means of information transfer were, however, vulnerable to the corrupting influence of the scrapcode boiling out from the depths of Olympus Mons in the dead of the Martian night.
It moved outwards like a hunting raptor, drawn by the scent and flow of information. Everything it touched it corrupted, twisting elegantly crafted code into something vile and debased. The wondrous flickering, chattering cant of pure machine language, the gurgle of liquid data and gleaming information-rich light became a hateful birth scream of something malformed and evil.
At the speed of thought, it spread across the planet's surface, slipping like an assassin into the networks of the Martian forges and wreaking untold damage. The aegis barriers tried to hold it back, but it overwhelmed them in moments with its ferocity and diabolical invention
…
The same story was enacted all across the surface of the red planet, machines rebelling as their internal workings were overloaded with contradictory commands. The death toll climbed into the millions within minutes as forges exploded, toxic chemicals spilled through manufactories and mass-storage facilities of explosive materials cooked off in devastating daisy chains of detonations.
In years to come this night would become known as the Death of Innocence." -excerpt from Mechanicum
oOo
Holy Terra. Birthplace of the holy human race. Throneworld of the most powerful empire in the galaxy. Capital planet of the Imperium of Man. Host of the Imperial Palace. Seat of the Golden Throne.
It was here that humanity had first been born; first emerged from the continents of this planet and into the stars themselves. This was the birthplace of the God-Emperor, and the first world He conquered during the Unification Wars to begin his mission to end the galaxy's long Night. Humanity's world in its entirety, Holy Terra summed up the glory and power of the Imperium in a single spherical marble of golden might.
This was the world that the vast machine that was the Imperium was ruled from. The enormous empire of a million worlds, while it had many an important planet, and many a segmentum seat of governorship, was ultimately controlled by this one, single world. This was the holiest planet in the universe to the Imperial Cult, and the world of most importance for the human race. Indeed, it could be said the Holy Terra was the singular most important planet in the galaxy. Who could top it? What race had any planet that could even compare to its glory and power? The Eldar? Their worlds were dead. The Tau? They had such little power and were so naive on a galactic scale it was actually laughable. The Orks? The very idea of that race having a capital world was ridiculous.
Nay, Holy Terra, Throneworld of the Imperium of Man, Seat of the Golden Throne, and origin of the Astronomicon was by far the foremost and most crucial planet in the galaxy. Indeed, if it should ever fall, the Primordial Annihilator would win and the galaxy be consumed. The Emperor's light would no longer protect the galaxy. The souls of the dead would all, regardless of what they were or what they had done in life, fall into the hands of the Dark Gods.
Upon this most important of planets, the entire surface was one massive, triumphant city. The oceans of Old Earth had long ago dried up. No one quite knew precisely how a planet that was once seventy-one percent water now didn't have any; many suspected some arcane technology from the Age of Strife. It made little difference. Indeed, it was rather a boon. The glory of the mammoth city that was Holy Terra could continue without the interference of oceans.
Orbiting the Throneworld were countless pinpricks of ethereal light. The huge warships of the almighty Battlefleet Solar flitted through countless merchant ships delivering supplies to humanity's overpopulated capital. Next to them were the pilgrim ships of the Ecclessiarchy, carrying thousands of Imperial faithful to the Throneworld for a chance to see humanity's birthplace and the seat of Imperial power. The massive starships belonging to Navis Nobilite hung like great and bloated insects in their special reserved sectors of space. These were the trophies of the Navigator Houses, all ancient relics of the Age of Technology or Great Crusade.
Far more sinister were the Black Ships of the Inquisition, delivering their cargoes of millions of psykers from throughout the Imperium's vast borders for processing by the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. Those that hadn't already died within the uncaring hulls of the Black Ships were fated to be trained as Sanctioned Psykers… or sacrificed to the Golden Throne. Perhaps a few, a very few, whose talents were extraordinary, would be destined for greater things. Though in the end, most would die, either in the dread-permeated hulls of the Black Ships or sacrificed as living batteries to fuel the Astronomicon.
Above all the comings and goings of the countless ships orbiting the Throneworld, the gun batteries upon Luna stood watch. Terra's airless moon was home to billions living beneath its dusty surface in huge hive cities and a massive gateway port that serviced thousands of vessels coming to and from humanity's mighty capital. However, it was the massive defense batteries of Luna, known as The Ring, that were the moon's greatest gift to Terra. Bristling with countless macro cannons, lance and torpedo batteries, it was the static defenses of Terra's moon that helped to repel the Traitor Legions during the ancient Siege of Terra and continued evermore to defend the glory of humanity's capital.
Nearby, counting as a small moon in its own right, was the Phalanx, the mobile fortress-monastery of the Imperial Fists. Its weapon systems were equal to those of Luna in protecting the Throneworld from any outside forces that might dare to assault humanity's blessed capital. It was the duty of a company of the sons of the Lord Praetorian to guard Terra with their gene-father's mighty battle station.
Far beneath the watchful eyes of Luna's defenses, beneath the pilgrim ships and the merchant vessels, beneath the ethereal dread of the Black Ships, beneath the watchful eyes of the Phalanx and the ships of the Adeptus Custodes, humanity's capital stretched throughout the surface of the entire planet.
Trillions lived and breathed in the hives beneath: the wretched who lived far beneath the surface of the planet, destined never to see the light of Sol intermixing with those of noble birth who dwelled far above in the kilometer-tall buildings that dotted Terra's surface. From above, and from the ground-level streets (though these streets were in actuality high above what had once been sea level), humanity's golden city stretched to infinity. Countless servo skulls flew through the streets, each doing its own task, each controlled by who-knew what Imperial organization. No one cared. They were simply facts of life by now.
Every building in the capital was beautiful; a perfect work of art. Each was a masterpiece, created by the finest architects the human race had ever known throughout countless millennia. They scraped the polluted sky, stretching to the horizon and beyond. Huge domes, massive towers, and flying buttresses, all ornamented and carved to a ridiculous detail, stretched as far as the eye could see. Despite the ancient glory of the city, the Imperial Palace put each other building to shame.
Extending the entire length of what were once the Himalayan Mountains, the Imperial Palace was the largest and by far most glorious structure upon the entire planet. The ingenious creation of Rogal Dorn, Praetorian of Terra and Primarch of the Imperial Fists, the Palace was not only a masterpiece of beauty, but the deadliest fortress in the galaxy. Its ornate spires stretched to the horizon, a man-made mountain of golden power to replace the lesser natural mountains that had once been here.
A line of pilgrims, stretching through the streets of nearly the entire planet, ended at the gates of the Palace. Each was a faithful soul, waiting to taste but a glimpse of Imperial glory. Like statues, the golden forms of Custodian guards stood silent, eternal sentinel. Ever watching, ever waiting, they did not move from their positions, seeking only threats to the safety of the Palace and their Master deep within.
Within the walls of the Palace were countless rooms serving a plethora of different functions. Some were for security: the Custodes monitored the entirety of Holy Terra for anything that might threaten the safety of their Lord. Some were for the housing of the Palace's mortal stall. Some were for the housing and training of psykers. Some were empty, their original purpose lost to time. Still others were sealed, their dark purpose locked away for eternity under the watchful eyes of the Adeptus Custodes.
One of these rooms, by far one of the most ornate and glorious of its type within the Palace, was known as the Great Chamber of the Senatorum Imperialis. It was a massive domed room, with ornate carvings covering the walls. A huge mural of the Emperor and his loyal sons covered the massive arched ceiling. Far beneath overhead vaulting was a huge wooden table. Millenia old and made from Terran oak, a species of tree that no longer existed, it was the meeting place of the High Lords of Terra.
The current governing body of the Imperium of Man, the High Lords were a council made from the highest-ranking officials from the most powerful adepta of the Imperium. There were twelve total, and they ruled the vast empire of a million worlds while the God-Emperor was interred in the Golden Throne. Currently, they were meeting to discuss grave tidings of ancient treason.
"So… let me- let me… understand this perfectly," said the Grand Provost Marshal of the Adeptus Arbites in a very dangerous tone. "You… found another galaxy, from another reality, inhabited by xenos, and you allied with them?" The accusing eyes of many of the High Lords fell upon the crimson-robed form of the Fabricator General of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
For his part, the Lord of Mars simply preened his robe with a mechadendrite, completely unconcerned of the animosity directed to his position. He was by far the largest of the individuals there, towering at least a dozen feet above several. For an empire that valued human purity above all else, it was rather amusing that such a cybernetic abomination, one that believed the human form was limiting, was a member of the Imperium's ruling council. Of course, all things considered, many of the High Lords were less than human… or much moreso.
"Yes. We did. We have deemed them unthreatening and declared them xenos sanctum. This is the will of the Omnissiah," replied the Fabricator General. His augmented eyes took stock of the rest of the Council. Frankly, he cared not what they thought about his decisions. He was the Fabricator General of the Adeptus Mechanicus. The Mechanicus was an empire-within-an-empire. They were bound by the Treaty of Mars and the law of the Lex, but were still nevertheless separate. Let his colleagues think what they wished. He was more powerful than any of them… save one. But even so, with that particular individual's Master bound to the Throne, he was an equal, not a subordinate. He represented the Martian half of the ancient Unity. He would not be swayed by lesser creatures.
"And you were going to tell us this… when?" asked the Representative of the Inquisition, frowning from behind her black hood.
"We were in the process of compiling a report," replied the Fabricator General smoothly. "You all know how long information takes to travel." Several of those around the table frowned. Yes, the Fabricator General did have a point. Information traveled slowly… but not for the High Lords, and especially for the master of technology among them. It was simply politics.
"But… xenos!" cried the Ecclesiarch. "Such a thing is heresy!" The mitred man looked around for support. It was forthcoming. Many of the other High Lords added their voices behind his, decrying the Fabricator General's decision.
"Indeed!" shouted the Lord Commander Militant of the Astra Militarum. "The Mechanicus has far overstepped their bounds!" He turned to look at those around the table. "This is a collaboration with xenos! One of the greatest crimes one can perpetuate, and you've perpetuated it! If this is official Mechanicus policy, then the Mechanicus is heretical!" A few of the other High Lords stared at him. The Lord Commander Militant looked almost shocked at his own outburst, opening and closing his mouth rapidly as if he didn't know what to say. The Fabricator General turned to stare at him.
"You would deem the Mechanicus heretical, Lord Commander?" The Fabricator General's artificial voice somehow managed to sound snide. "And who, I wonder, would produce the weapons for your army? Who would produce the vessels for your Navy, Lord High Admiral?" The Lord of Mars turned his augmented gaze down the table, towards a man glad in the resplendent blue and gold of the Imperial Navy. "Who would produce the fuel that keeps our worlds powered? The weapons for any of your adeptas? Your clothes? Your buildings?" He sneered behind his metal faceplate, and played his trump card. "Who would keep the Golden Throne in operation without us, I wonder?" No one said anything. No one could.
"Enough of this bickering." The voice of the Master of the Astronomicon broke the silence. "We are all in need of each other. That is why this council exists. Without all of our branches, the Imperium would fall apart." Beneath his white robe and cowl, the Master of the Astronomicon turned to scowl at the Fabricator General. "However, our colleagues bring up good points. This is heresy. Xenos sanctum is a title granted to individual aliens not of xenos diabolus species by individual Rogue Traders or Inquisitors on a needed basis. Declaring an entire species xenos sanctum is, indeed, heresy."
"You could exterminate them," offered the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum. The Fabricator General looked over to the black-haired man, clad in a tight black bodysuit. Of course that would be his response.
"No," refused the Fabricator General. "They are useful," he argued. "They do not wish for the death of humanity, which is why we have a 'kill all xenos' policy in the first place. They have technology… so many other uses, as well." He looked around the chamber, hoping no one noticed his minor slip. "The races of this new galaxy are more useful to us alive than dead. In addition, we haven't even discussed the most important matter at hand!" He threw up his cybernetic arms for emphasis. "Who cares about the xenos? We must fight these Reapers, and the Arch Heretek! You all know this to be true!"
"What we are discussing is whether we should suffer these xenos to live," replied the Master of the Astronomicon soothingly. "We can fight the Arch Heretek and these Abominable Intelligences, but why bother letting the xenos of this galaxy live when we can just as easily, if not more so, kill them?"
"Well, I want them alive," said the Fabricator General petulantly. "At the very least, we can use them as cannon fodder." He looked over to the Lord Commander Militant. "Surely you, of all people, can appreciate that."
"But it goes against official policy!" interrupted the Ecclesiarch. "It goes against the word of His Majesty! They must die!" He pounded the table for emphasis.
"Well…" trailed off the Fabricator General, an idea forming. "It is not your place to determine the will of the Emperor, Ecclesiarch."
"If it is not my place, then whose is it?" replied the Ecclesiarch, furious. The Fabricator General snickered. It was always good when one of the Imperial Cult got put in their place. He raised a metal arm and pointed to the end of the table.
"His," replied the Fabricator General simply. Every eye turned to look at whom the Fabricator General was pointing.
At the oversized chair fit for his frame, the Captain General of the Adeptus Custodes met the gaze of every other High Lord behind an implacable golden helmet. Many of the other Lords flinched or dropped away at his emotionless stare. His armor, wrought by the finest artificers in the Imperium and made from the extraordinary rare auramite, gleamed gold in the interior lighting of the chamber. Sigils of the Imperial Household, Terran nobility, and the ancient markings of the Eternal Emperor were carved with such intricacy many mortal men would weep at the sight.
The Captain General stood. His scarlet cloak billowed behind him. Upon his right shoulder pauldron, a single name, surrounded by a myriad of many, many smaller ones stood out: Valoris. The rest of the High Lords waited with bated breath.
"The meeting is adjourned," announced Valoris. His deep baritone voice, rich and powerful, rumbled clearly through the chamber. "We shall resume tomorrow, where we shall discuss our plans to take down this most foul and ancient of traitors." So saying, he turned and took up his weapon. The rest of the High Lords watched as Valoris walked out of the Great Chamber, crimson cloak billowing behind him.
oOo
"It is the will of His Majesty, the Emperor of Mankind and protector of the Imperium, that the word of the Fabricator General stands." It was the next day, at precisely the same time the first meeting had been convened. Captain General Valoris stood at the head of the table, Castellan Axe in hand and helmet in place. "His Majesty has deemed it that the xenos are more useful alive than dead." No one questioned how Valoris got this information. Even though the Emperor was atop the Golden Throne, even though He could not speak, the Captain General of the Adeptus Custodes was the Emperor's Word. What Valoris said was as if the words were coming directly from the Emperor. No one dared disagree. "We shall draw up a treaty, of course, to finalize and figure out exactly what we are to do with them…" Valoris let his words trail off, clearly bored. The treaty part could fall to the politicians. He had better things to do. "However, now we shall get on to more important matters. Namely, hunting traitors." He gestured for the Fabricator General to speak.
"Indeed," said the Lord of Mars, taking the floor. "As you all well know, the Arch Heretek and treasonous ex-Fabricator General of Mars, Kelbor-Hal, has been sighted in this new reality." Even though the current ruler of Mars had told them all of this yesterday, there were still shocked gasps and murmerings around the table. The Fabricator General could barely keep himself from growling. Hal was the shame of the Mechanicus. No other commander of any other Imperial adepta had sided with the Warmaster. This was a shame he had to eradicate. "What's more is that it appears Hal is controlling a race of Abominable Intelligences in this other galaxy." The Fabricator General looked around the table. "He must be stopped."
"Of course," responded the Lord High Admiral. The other High Lords murmured their agreements. While they were all rivals and all vied with each other for power, something of this magnitude couldn't be ignored. Besides, this new galaxy offered new opportunities. Everyone else would be loath to let the Mechanicus have free reign of it.
"So, our obvious solution is to assemble a crusade," said the Lord Commander. The Fabricator General nodded approvingly. The man might have been a pain in the neck, but he knew military matters.
"I agree," added the Grand Master. A few heads turned his way, in a very 'who asked you?' manner. Everyone wanted to limit the Assassinorum's presence in this new galaxy. They did not need another Beheading.
"Indeed," said the Fabricator General. With a wave of his hand, he activated a holoprojector to the side of the table. "The news, however, gets even more dire. We are going to need quite a bit of firepower." The holoprojector lived up to its name, projecting a clear picture upon the ancient wood of the table.
It was a still image. It was clearly of space, for the empty blackness backlit by the tiny pinpricks of white stars could be nothing else. No one could tell where it was from, though most suspected it was an image from this new reality. Forefront to the stars were a plethora of starships. The smallest of these were cephalopods in shape, with squid-like bodies and multiple tentacles beneath. The Reapers. Many of the High Lords nodded carefully. The Fabricator General had told them of the A.I.'s.
However, far more concerning were the ships interspersed through the Reaper formations. None of them were the Olympus Mons, which was scant relief. Kelbor-Hal's personal ship had been confirmed with 100% certainty to be within this new galaxy. So far, it had only been the Olympus. However, this picture changed everything.
The ships in between the Reapers were all massive, Imperial-style transport ships. However, anyone, even the xenos that inhabited the other reality, could immediately tell they weren't Imperial. Pus, muck, boils, rust, and disgusting strange growths covered the largest of the starships, venting corruption and rot into the void. Beneath all the filth, a symbol could nevertheless be clearly made out: a human skull mounted atop a portcullis. It was clear to everyone what type of ships these were, and to whom they belonged to. Apparently, the Titan transports of Legio Mortis would be joining their fell master in his deadly assault.
Next to the massive Titan transports were a series of smaller boxy vessels. These too were transport ships. Though they were smaller, and did not bear nearly as much filthy corruption as the vessels of Legio Mortis, they were still stained with strange markings and unidentifiable substances. Another symbol could be easily made out on the sides of each of these ships: a black skull, surrounded by a white cogwheel with a black sword through it, all on a background of green.
"It appears the Arch Heretek has some old allies joining his fight," sighed the Fabricator General. "As you can see, Legio Mortis, who were sworn to Hal's service, and Mortis' sworn allies, House Vextrix, have also arrived in this other reality to support Hal."
"Where did this image come from?" asked the Master of the Astronomicon.
"There is an intelligence agency, called the…" The Fabricator General quickly checked his notes, "STG, I believe, that monitors transportation hubs in this other galaxy." He shrugged. "Archmagos Cawl hacked their network to try and track the Arch Heretek's movement." There were a few more mutterings around the table. Archmagos Cawl was not a popular figure with the High Lords. Many of them weren't quite sure why the Fabricator General had sent Cawl, of all people, to this new reality. It was known that the Fabricator General wasn't a huge fan of the Archmagos himself.
"What you're telling us is that Hal brought Titan support, which has Knight support, which probably also means there are other Dark Mechanicum forces in this other reality along with the Arch Heretek," summed up the Master of the Administratum deftly.
"Basically… yes," replied the Fabricator General. He looked around the table. "We should, therefore, get on to deciding which forces should join the crusade to this new galaxy. Firstly, Legio Ignatum, House Taranis, and House Krast will be going, alongside the forces of Mars." Red oculars peered down, daring anyone to disagree with the General's choices. No one did. This was a Mechanicus traitor, and it only made sense that the Mechanicus would want to deal with him. If anyone got in the way of the Fabricator General's, and Ignatum, Taranis, and Krast's vengeance, it might not end so well for them. Besides, there were other forces the High Lords could send that might be able to check the power of Mars.
"Yes, I suppose that will do," admitted the Master of the Administratum. The Ecclesiarch made a harrumph noise in his seat. The Inquisitorial Representative rolled her eyes, though didn't say anything. A representative of the Ordo Machinum was definitely going to be sent to this… other galaxy.
"Now… who else are we sending?" asked the Lord High Admiral.
Behind his golden helm, Captain General Valoris rolled his eyes as the chamber devolved into petty bickering. Such was life as a High Lord of Terra.
oOo
There we have it! I hope you all liked it. No codex, I'm afraid. I didn't know what I would put in it. The High Lords, and Terra itself, were very enjoyable to write. I want to keep the timeline up to you, the reader, to decide (whether you think it takes place pre- or post- 13th Black Crusade is up to you). Therefore, I did not include Guilliman in it. Some may ask why the Emperor decided not to kill all the xenos. Why, I don't know. It is a useful, if rather blunt and perhaps unimaginative plot device. For all of you who might complain about this decision, or that it's out of character, or that it's just a really unsubtle point of me trying to impose my will upon the story, I simply have this to say: there are two options. One, the Imperium and Citadel join forces with all the fun hijinks you can think of for a proper crossover. Two, the Imperium just kills everyone, the end. Your choice.
I know the Imperium and Mechanicus are not acting as they typically would in both this story and in Technophiles. However, you are here to read a crossover, and not just an extermination. An extermination is no fun.
As was stated in the story, Hal's old allies, the Legio Mortis and House Vextrix, are showing up at some point. You also already know four of the factions showing up in the Imperial crusade: Legio Ignatum, House Taranis, House Krast, and the forces of Mars. There will be many more, from many more branches. It'll be great! I promise. If you have any questions, comments, criticisms, concerns, or reviews, tell me! I always love to hear from you!