Orion watched the Steel Atlas burning in space. He heard it's last desperate transmissions, sent his own and discovered that they were incapable of receiving broadcasts. His astropaths were likewise unable to find the minds of their kin aboard the ship. The captain couldn't see them, didn't know how close help was to arriving.
Company Captain Auralian Teks was gritting his teeth, eyes bulging as he clutched his helmet in his hands. He was young, he had only seen a single century of combat, and it had been relatively unvaried combat at that. Mostly on the enemy's territory, mostly without having to protect imperial citizens. And so he suffered this as a failure, watching the hololith display before them as it depicted the wrecked remains of the Universe-Class Mass Conveyor.
"It was a transport!" He growled.
"It was carrying survivors!"
"Discipline, Captain." The Chapter master said.
"Do you feel nothing? Hundreds of thousands of people-"
"Discipline." Orion repeated.
This time he was heeded, and the captain silenced himself. The first shred of wisdom he had shown in too long, the Chapter master decided. He was talented, but wild. Too swollen by victory, as his display had proven. Orion would do something about that soon, but for the moment he put such thoughts aside.
For despite what Captain Teks believed, Orion did feel, and he felt a great deal. It had only taken them moments to encounter a xenos empire upon entering the galaxy, and they had done as all aliens do. Leapt upon them when they perceived them to be weak. It was disgusting.
How could it be that in a universe where biological diversity and permutations should have been nearly unlimited, it was the common trend that anything smarter than a grox always attempted to eat, enslave, or destroy mankind wherever it was found? Disgusting. His abhorrence grew into something even deeper as a bright flash in the distance signaled the death of the Atlas of Steel.
The Captain, manning a mortally wounded ship, and otherwise helplessly watching as his crew and charges were abducted by the Xenos raiders, had done the only courageous thing a man in his position could and should have done. He had clearly instructed his tech priests to overload the warp reactors, destroying himself and a large portion of the alien fleet. All was silent as the crew watched with steel eyes and growing conviction as the Atlas of Steel shone like a star, and then faded.
Orion felt so much then. Pride in the unknown captain of that transport, in his dauntless pursuit of his duty, and the safety of his crew. Sorrow for the loss of hundreds of thousands of refugees that had been in his care, who had placed their lives in his hands when he had come to evacuate their entire subsector from the gnashing maw of the great devourer. They had left everything behind, had watched their world burn from orbit in order to deny it from the xenos, only to die in flame and void within this cruel, new galaxy.
But more than any of that, Orion felt rage kindle and spark within him, growing from the brooding fires that had sprouted before, into a towering monument of his intolerance for the cruelty of Xenos and their aberrant lives. He felt this combine with his other emotions, allowing them to stir into a storm within him, and yet he showed nothing, for he was a monument unto himself. Carved by over seven hundred years of loss, pain, victory, death, and more than anything else, discipline.
"Contact the Skyward." Orion said.
All tensed, all knew the importance of that command, even if the details of what was about to transpire were beyond them.
"Tell them Dark Command is a go. Also, contact the escort fleet and the unassociated Strike Cruisers. Tell them to prepare to burn for the dead center of the enemy fleet. On our mark." Said the Chapter master.
"On our mark? Master, it almost sounds like your going to-" Captain Teks started.
"Prepare to charge. I want to hit them hard, fast, and once."
At that the room seemed to suddenly explode into a frenzy of actions and orders. Commands were hastily relayed by several crew members and officers, not just between ships or to the members of the Skyward, but also across the Battle Barge itself.
"Engine blocks twelve through thirty, this is the bridge. Full burn, I repeat, full burn."
"This is the bridge. Gunnery sergeant, it's time to test those Bombardment Cannons."
"Code red, code red. Sections b-22 through y42, code red, code red, retreat to blue zones. I Repeat, Retreat to blue zones."
"Bridge here, warm up the warp field generators, we are going to need them at full pretty soon."
"Bridge to arsenal, Vortex torpedoes and Cyclonic Torpedoes are in Sanction! I Repeat, V.T.s and C.T.s are in sanction!"
"Bridge to Magos Graasnon, all glory to the omnissiah, the Chapter Master requires the machine spirit to rage once more."
"Praise the Emperor, for we are his hammer! We are his shield! We are given strength and life so that mankind may live on!"
"Screamers one, two, eight, and twelve, stay on standby, stay on standby, Emperor protect you."
"Alright marines! It's time to march! To Death! To Glory, in this galaxy or the next! With Courage and Honor!"
"In the lightning and the tempest, Emperor Deliver us!"
"Bless the machine spirit, for the Master of Light Rises once more! And Once more, the enemies of man shall die!"
"This is the Master of Light to the Fleet, make way, make way, we are preparing for full burn. Get ready for full burn."
"We ARE HIS ANGELS OF DEATH! We shall know NO FEAR!"
The Captain seems awed by the gesture, and it occurred to Orion then that Auralian had never once actually seen the Master of Light go into combat directly. Though the Skywatch had long been a fleet based chapter of space marines, it was rare indeed that they became so cornered, or driven to such desperation as to resort to calling upon a vessel as vast and potent as the Battle Barge they now rode within.
"Get below deck Captain." Orion ordered, and Auralian seemed nearly crestfallen by the thought that he would not be able to witness the carnage the Master of Light was about to dispense.
"You need to lead your men. I want to capture some of these ships, and I can't do that with macro cannons." He added.
That brought a vicious smile to the Captains face, and with a salute, he snapped on his helmet, and departed at pace to the lower decks to prep his company, or those who would be needed, anyway. The chapter master had just given him a privilege far greater than merely observing the retribution they were about to pay to the Xenos fleet. He and his men would be part of it!
This was good for Orion as well, as it would mean that his Third company and their new captain would be busy while the rest of his chapter went about securing the future of mankind from the most insidious of clutches. Its own.
The Skywatch were descended from the proud Ultra Marines, and while they served their Emperor in the farthest reaches of his Empire, away even from their beloved five hundred worlds, they were still studiously trained in the arts, methods, and patterns of Statecraft, debate, bureaucracy, and politics. Orion had lost count of how many times he and his chapter had been forced to utterly dismantle the decaying power structure of a hive world or even whole subsector, after having saved said system from the throes of heresy and treachery.
But what he faced now was not a mere reorganization of an irredeemable corrupt societal structure, but rather, the creation of an entirely new Structure, for an entirely new galaxy. He had not been idle in his weeks of warp travel, nor had his mind been consumed by purely martial pursuits. No, Orion had been drafting out all potential possibilities, outcomes, and likely dispositions among the fractious imperial forces that now found themselves, temporarily, corralled under his command.
Soon enough, this temporary state would end, and the disjointed parts of the Imperium which he had brought with him, forged together by emergency and circumstance, would soon seek to separate again, either to pursue their own goals, or simply to preserve their own power. And yet, Orion knew too well that this was impossible.
They were not the Imperium of Man, not out here. Normally the disjointed forces of mankind could separate and survive due to how utterly massive the Imperium which contained them was, but this was not the case in this new galaxy. And yet the nature of man would still pull them apart if nothing was done.
It had been bad enough when the orders had come to abandon their defense of Kalastan from the predations of the Great Devourer, that endless Xenos menace known as the Tyranids. There, at the ancestral capital of the Sector, nearly four thousand space marines had gathered already, having been warned by prophecy and less...scrupulous allies of the coming threat.
Three whole chapters and their mighty fleets had assembled in addition to individual squads from other, more distant Astartes forces. High command had seemed unusually competent, and had sent many regiments from several varied systems to back them, and even the Imperial navy of Battlefleet Xektek had been there to provide full support in both transportation and firepower. And yet their Primarch father, Roubutte Guliman, had looked upon the projected losses to their combined force, their expected earnings of their winnings, and had judged the scales over balanced, and not in their favor.
So it was that Orion now had to contend with the haughty demands of High Marshal Xanathain Rektan, the indiscernible considerations of the Council Of Tempered Minds, as well as the abject insubordination and defiance of the Crimson Razor's Chapter Master as well as virtually all Adeptus Mechanicus personal with even a shred of legitimacy to their power.
As it was, the various personalities and power structures present, which may have survived each other within the greater context of the Imperium, were now poised to become a recipe for complete disaster, both for their forces, and the men and women in their care. This was all too clear to Orion, not just as a Chapter Master charged with the training, leading, and care of one thousand of the Emperor's finest warriors. Not just as an Ultramarine, trained and practiced in the realms of state and leadership. Not just as a former veteran of the Death Watch, where cooperation among disjointed halves was the key to survival.
It was clear to him as a man, an old man who had known many others of his kind. But recipes could be altered, ingredients added. Ingredients removed. And thus it came down to his command to the Skyward, the most loyal and skilled warriors from within his chapter. Orion had not been idle for his weeks in warp travel, no, not idle at all.
He had been referencing the Codex Astartes, the greatest single work of any of the Primarchs, and had begun the process of adapting it into a new work. A new structure, one which might save them all and forge them together into something stronger than their constituent halves. But it would all rely on the Tempered Hands, and on Lord Admiral Rollah. If both agreed to try his method, then all the others would be forced into place, their dispositions and ambitions be damned.
But if he could only convince one, or worse yet, neither...He'd be lucky to split off peaceably. And that was the trick. As soon as this battle concluded, he would need to address the situation, in fact, he was addressing it already.
"Full burn is go go go."
"All Bombardment cannons primed. Blessed be his name."
"All Torpedo Tubes Primed. Glory to his word!"
"All Weapons batteries are ready to deliver his wrath! Terror be to his enemies!"
"Engine Decks, Brace Brace Brace, Keep Faith and remember, the Emperor Protects."
"Courage and Honor!"
"Now! Show them the face of the Emperor, and Remind the Xenos who is the True Power in the Universe!"
"Prometheum charge is in the vent, projects countdown to fission impact is, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. Impact detected! Charge is successful."
"All decks, all decks, final call to full readiness. Look to your faith, hold fast to your duty, we are the scions of mankind. No matter the distance, The Emperor is with us, and we cannot fail."
"Astropathic choir is at full readiness, we are beseeching the Emperor for his strength, his guidance, as we seek the minds of the foe!"
The gravity projectors whined with strain as the Master of Light, an ancient ship well over Ten Thousand years old, seemed to return to life after centuries of deathlike dormancy. Despite the mastery of its technology, all aboard the ship felt the pull on the unnatural gravity which adhered them, even Orion, as the behemoth of a ship launched itself like a loosed arrow through the void of space. It briefly outpaced even the escorts around it, though only briefly, as the smaller craft assembled around it, encapsulating the battle barge in a defensive formation, while others ranged even further ahead.
They were like fleas around the Master of Light, being a mere average of two kilometers long, compared to Orion's venerable Battle Barge, which stretched twelve kilometers long, and nearly five kilometers high. Even being as large as it was, the Master of Light was much faster than any ship that could call itself it's contemporary within the assembled fleet, even the battle barges of the Tempered hands.
Orion smiled, watching as, first the Navy, and then the Tempered Hands fleet themselves, gave chase, unwilling, one and all, to be unmanned. Good, this would keep them occupied, keep them busy. A new enemy to fall upon, to examine, to defeat. It was as good a diversion as any he could have hoped for, though paid for in much more blood than he would have ever desired.
Meanwhile, the Skyward were, even then, executing his will, moving amongst the undefended carrier and cargo ships which held the vast majority of the survivors of the worlds they had evacuated. Rich and poor. Pauper, and aristocrat. Some they were ordered to abduct, but most were to be slain. Not obviously, but quickly, efficiently, and with as little immediate impact as possible.
Their targets were predesignated, chosen tactically by Orion himself after reviewing all of the possible data. His pristine, trans-human mind held all that he had ever seen and ever known at thoughts reach, and yet even then he had deliberated greatly as to who was to go where on his list, and if they were to go on it at all.
But the fact remained, he needed to be able to come to both the Lord Admiral, and the Council of Tempered Minds, not only from a position of strength, but with compelling offers, and the power to carry those offers out. For this to be the case, some among the martian priesthood would need to die, and others would need to be taken. For this to become reality, many, many lords, aristocrats, bureaucrats, administrators, and Governors would need to die. And not just them, but unfortunately, because of the very structures they had created, their entire bloodline as well.
But this was ever the truth of the galaxy, mankind needed to suffer so that mankind could survive. Orion had allotted for all the mercy he felt he could afford, but he could never allow petty sentimentality to cloud his view of what needed to be done. As soon as this battle concluded, he would go to them, first the Lord Admiral, and then the Council.
And because they were here, and because he was here, they would have no way of knowing, anticipating, or suspecting what his offers would be. That alone would be advantage enough, but it would not be his only advantage.
Lord Admiral Rollah straightened her uniform, a habit which made her mentally wince. She bit down on the behavior, though the admiral could barely fault herself for her unconscious nerves. She had spent almost an hour trying to determine what was appropriate to wear for this occasion.
It was silly, she was well over two hundred years old, and had waged battle against void spawn and alien menaces which would have made the primarchs themselves shiver. She was the Lord Admiral, a veteran of crusades, defenses, retreats, and victories that withered the souls of lesser humans! And yet, even she found herself woefully under prepared for the request she had received shortly after the battle.
"A dinner invitation...from a Space Marine. Forgive me, Lord Admiral, but doesn't that strike you as…" Said the head of her Naval Guard, who had insisted on accompanying her to the event in question, along with thirteen of his men.
"Unprecedented? Alarming? Potentially lethal?" She asked, still walking straight, facing forward with steel eyes.
"I was going to say unusual, Lord Admiral."
She laughed humorlessly.
"You always were one for understatements."
They said nothing else for a time as they traversed the distance from the transit station to the Rusted Trust, a sort of inn or lodge which existed somewhere in Hab Bosiss. The guards flanked them as they made their way down the wide, metal avenues, boots clinking and clanking against the grates which made up the floors. Above them were not ceilings but more grated floors, upward and downward for hundreds of decks.
And all around them, the varied masses of the inhabitants of her flag ship. Some scurried away from her and her retinue, hiding mutations or brandings which revealed them to be criminals. Others chanted prayers in their wake, rightly ascribing holy significance to the Lord Admiral of their sacred Battlefleet. But most simply gawked, having never in their lives seen such high ranking officers as the Lord Admiral and her bodyguards.
Those among them with rank, the Voidsmen and Armsmen, saluted, bowed, or kneeled as they passed, but they were not the majority. The rank odor of unwashed bodies, promethium, and stale air was ever present from the moment they had departed the transit station, and more and more the Lord Admiral couldn't help but wonder why the Chapter Master of the Skywatch had asked to meet here, of all places.
"So, are you planning on discussing the next battle? Where we go to next?" Alvat asked her, his voice coming not from his covered, helmed face, but from a subtle communications augmentation she had installed at the base of her neck.
"No. But probably." She responded, speaking through the implant without moving her lips.
"Ostensibly, this is an informal event. I even had the option to decline." She added.
"Ah, then why didn't you?" He asked.
She almost chortled at the very thought.
"I am a Lord Admiral, he technically cannot order me to do anything without the permission of my superiors. Codex Astartes separation of powers and what not. He may have been in command of the retreat from Subsector Angellun, but I don't think any of us are under any illusions when it comes to how legitimate his commands would be out here.
"That being said, I'm not eager to earn the ire of a Space Marine Chapter, the Skywatch least of all."
"I guess that explains why you're wearing your uniform to an 'informal' event. So you took it to be a subtle order, as opposed to an actual request?" Alvat said.
She nodded.
"But why? Like you just said, he cannot order you, subtly or otherwise. What makes the Skywatch different from the Tempered Hands, or even the Crimson Razors?"
Lord Admiral Rollah shook her head in near disbelief.
"Captain, are you really unaware of the reputation of the Skywatch?" She asked.
Alvat shook his head before responding.
"Of course not. My home was Yevan Secundus before the Navy. The Skywatch saved my planet from two inserections and several Greenskin incursions. We fly their banners in several places of honor. They are renowned, beloved, and we venerate those of us who were recruited by them during their visitations."
"And that is exactly my point." Rollah snapped through the com.
"The Skywatch are control freaks, maybe even more than their brother back in Ultramar. They reform almost every world they "Rescue", always finding some cause or reason to uproot the existing aristocracy or nobility, and replacing them with sycophants and supporters."
Alvat shrugged.
"I don't know Lord Admiral. High King Anu and his line have been good for my world. The faminines almost don't come anymore, and when they do, stores normally hold up. The Imperial Tithe is always paid, and the civies are busy and happy more often than not."
She rolled her eyes but didn't bother to look at him.
"My point, Captain, is that he might try to do the same thing here. With me even."
Again Alvat shook his head.
"With respect, Lord Admiral, I think you're being too hard on them. They are loyal, through and through. I wouldn't doubt it for a second."
The Lord Admiral sighed as she stopped and looked up at the patchy, plas-crete sign that adorned the large, round entrance into the Rusted Trust.
"I don't doubt their loyalty either." She said as she stepped forward and pressed the door chime to herald her arrival.
The door hissed and squealed as it rolled open.
"It's who they are loyal to, and how they manifest that loyalty that makes me nervous."
She entered, brazen as her station allowed, dressed in what Orion assumed to be her most comfortable Naval uniform, and flanked by four of her guards, one of whom was the Captain of that guard. She had all the bearing and air of a woman going into a war council, which was much as he had expected her to react. It was how the vast majority of Imperial officers of any branch behaved when he invited them to anything that wasn't strictly a war council.
So when Admiral Rollah froze at the sight of him, he did not take it as a slight or insult, but as a part of the due course. He was standing beside the table they were to share, a simple thing of wood and silver, wide enough to hold a heft course between them, yet not so large as to wordlessly invite many more than two occupants, particularly with only two chairs being present.
The room itself was an abandoned chapel, large enough to sit a few hundred, which made it pathetically small by comparison to what was standard. It was clearly in disuse, dusty, abandoned, with most of the pews cleared away, leaving a large expanse before the lectern, where sat their modest table. The room was lit by torches, the lumen strips on the ceilings and walls either broken, or subpar after so long without proper maintenance.
Two space marines accompanied Orion, his two most trusted honor guard. And while they were fully armed and armored, Orion, most notably, was not. He stood in a deep blue habit, tied about his waist with a golden tassel. On his chest stretched the Imperial Aquila, and his robe was lined with gilded thread, but outside of these details, his robe was plain. Finely made, but certainly modest.
She looked at him as though she had found him standing naked, and it was not lost on Orion that this was likely the first time she had ever seen a space marine unarmored, and likely, it would be the only time she ever saw someone of his rank in such a state. But Orion prided himself on his tactical deployment of humility, a weapon all too accessible and yet too often neglected by the men of his order.
In response to her expression, he gave the barest hint of a smile, and pulled out her chair, gesturing towards it.
Rollah nodded to her guards, and Orion knew from the slight pause which followed that she had given them orders. They departed, moving to the four corners of the room to create a perimeter while Orion's honor Guards back away enough to not be intrusive, but remained at either side of their Chapter Master. As she came forward to take her seat, he crossed over to his own seat, a much larger chair made to accommodate his size.
Once she sat, Lord Admiral Rollah looked across at Orion. Her face was a mask of cordial neutrality, something he knew she could fake readily thanks to her augmentations, which also provided her with the beauty of a much younger creature.
"Lord Admiral Rollah, I am glad that you could meet me here for this small dinner. It is not often that I am afforded the privilege of dining with the Lord Admiral of the Sector herself." He said.
She raised an eyebrow.
"I see. I'm sure it will not surprise you to know that I have never had the privilege of dining alongside an Astartes, muchless one of such a profound rank and seniority. I do not expect that such an event comes lightly, or without cause."
Orion nodded.
"Indeed, there is a greater cause to our meeting here." Orion admitted.
"But I am sincere when I say it is a privilege. I worked closely with your Predecessor for a time, before the battle of Uxonill's Heart. He and I would often meet like this during the retaliation wars."
This was a lie. Orion had worked closely with the previous Lord Admiral, and they had dined in this very place, twice. But only once on purpose and only once like they were doing now. Still, he could see it taking the truth just that much farther, could see the very slight, nearly imperceptible changes in her movements, as she lifted the menu resting before her.
" I can imagine how that might be the case, Lord Admiral Boazan was reputed to have been an incredible man." She said as her eyes drifted across the lettering.
"And I have every reason, after reading about your account on Kentalous, to believe that you will be just as capable." Orion said, lifting his own menu as well.
Her eyes trembled, she didn't read the last word, he knew. She had skipped it as the impact of his words took her. Yes, he knew about Kentalous. Long before she had been even a proper Admiral, an early showing of her promise as a commanding officer in the Navy. Yet something that would go unmentioned throughout most of her accolades. It was something that could only be found after it was sought, and no casual seeking would have uncovered it.
"I see you know much of me." She said casually.
She placed her menu down gently, folding her hands together and looking at Orion as he mirrored the movement.
"And I know much of you as well, Orion Phatris. Your record is formidable, even compared to others among your ascended kind. Simply that you are the most Senior of the Commanders from between three chapters of Astartes speaks volumes without utterance. But the work you did on Jubilation of Tal, Gragantua Nine, and Yevan Secundus. Masterful."
He nodded, not denying her. Of course, he knew what she was implying. All three of those worlds had faced insurrections, and all three had to be restructured extensively. He himself had been forced to intervene in each of these conflicts, not simply to root out the traitors and insurrectionists, but to repair the severely corrupted and decayed power structures they had uncovered there.
"I am glad that you appreciate the care my Chapter takes in ensuring the loyalty and stability of the Emperor's dominion. I expect you would do no less, in position."
She smiled at that, though it was not a kind smile.
"Of course. We must all do what we can, as our duties demand...and yet, forgive me for saying so, but many may consider such...duties to fall under the purview of the inquisition. Others who are less dedicated, or daring, may even consider it an overreach of your authority."
Orion felt his eye desire to twitch, but smothered the impulse. Discipline was his greatest weapon, and he was never unarmed. Still, he had to commend the Lord Admiral, she had a way of cutting to the point with a touchless blade.
"Lord Admiral, do you know much of the Kassakanni insurrection of Yevan Secundus?" He asked.
A servitor entered the room then, clicking and clacking on metal limbs, like a four legged insect. It came to each of them in turn, taking their orders and writing them down precisely, before scuttling away again. When this was done, Rollah turned to answer the Chapter Master's question.
"I was referring to the Proken Rebellion, actually." She said.
"Yes, I suspected you were. But do you know of this prior event?" He pressed.
"I am afraid not." She said.
Orion leaned back in his chair.
"I was a battle brother then, a tactical marine. My whole squad of ten had been sent to Yevan Secundus to put down a heretical insurrection. Rebels worshipping some kind of fertility god, they had started capturing and sacrificing members of the Nobelity as well as sabotaging off world grain shipments."
He sighed heavily, and though he desired the impression it gave off, this was no feint. This memory weighed on him, it had truth, and the power of truth in it.
"So we found them. We killed most of them, took their leaders prisoner. It was easy, a near complete waste of our time." He said
"Why capture their leaders?" The Lord Admiral asked.
Orion smiled a sad smile.
"It was the real reason we were there. My chapter didn't care if this planet lost a few grain shipments, or a few haughty nobles were eaten alive on planet wide vid-cast. The reason my Chapter responded was because these heretics were killing in the name of a god, a foul, unknown god, and needed to root it out."
He could see in her posture, though not her face, that she didn't quite understand.
"You see, Lord Admiral, rarely, I mean truly rarely, is it the case that an insurrection purports to worship a god of any kind, and is in truth worshiping nothing. Normally it is some kind of Xeno, or charismatic rogue psycher, or worse. It was this thing that we were hunting, and so we took their leaders prisoner in order to interrogate them, to force them to reveal the locations of their gods."
Orion shook his head.
"They did. On the first night, in the first hour, they told us. We did not believe them, and I personally aided the Chaplains in forcing them through every single measure of and method of truth extraction that they could survive. And yet, when they lay broken and chittering at the end, the answer was the same. And it was a terrible answer."
She leaned in, and he continued.
"There was no god. They made it up." He said simply.
The Lord Admiral blinked.
"Well, that hardly seems so terrible." she said.
"Does it?" He asked, his voice heavy and serious.
"Think about it, Lord Admiral." Orion continued.
"Normally it takes some kind of alien parasite, or psychic tyrant, or spiritual corruption, to taint mankind against the Emperor. To make them renounce his laws and his will and their own faith in him, to side with something else. It normally requires a display of power, or a promise of true reward.
"But when we finished our interrogations, we were left with a mundane but horrendous reality. Those men had been hungry and angry. They had watched their children die, had watched their wives waste away and their brothers and sisters pass into the grave, pointlessly. The men and women of the Imperium are always willing to sacrifice for the Emperor, but it must be for him, or for something.
"But the High King of Yevan Secundus starved and ruined his people, day by day, year by year, out of sheer negligence and incompetence. So great was the menace of his own administration that he was the source of the profane god. He compelled it into existence, for it was only through the use of this made up entity that the rebels could fight him. And they fought him rightly."
The words were like balls of hard ice being thrown directly into the Admiral's face.
"How can you say that? Serving the planetary governor is serving the-"
"Yevan Secundus produced nothing." Orion interjected.
"What it shipped out was dwarfed by the expense of what was shipped into it. The world had once been an agri world, until the High king and his line, drunk on delusions of grandeur, attempted to convert the planet into a hive. He had no plan, barely enough resources to attempt the lunacy of his design, and no consideration for his existing infrastructure.
"He destroyed his planet, destroyed his people, and was content to let his world choke, three half built hives and a ruined system of grain farms all he had to show for it, and everything he was willing to settle for. And because of that, the people of this expiring world served nothing but the indulgence of the high king's utter lack of fitness."
Rollah Sendurran nodded, her movement sympathetic and genuine.
"So you left the first time." She concluded.
Orion laughed.
"We shot him." He said.
"We shot him, and his son, and his two daughters. Painless deaths, better than he deserved."
"So...what exactly is the point of this story?" Rollah asked.
Orion leaned in this time.
"The high queen remarried. Her husband became the new high king, his son his successor. When we returned during the Proken Rebellion, everything was the same, except that it was now all on fire. This time it was not easy. This time a whole hundred of us, not ten, were needed to bring the world back into order. And this time, three of my brothers, three, died on that planet."
True anger began to resonate into his voice now, and he didn't attempt to restrain it.
"Brother Taskaern Cholde, Brother Sassran Olden, and Apothecary Jullian Vrain. Four hundred and eighty years of combat experience between them. And they died killing desperate, starving humans who had been driven so far out of their sense by their conditions that they dared rebel."
He shook his head.
"It was then that I realized that it was not enough to merely excise the infection. The wound needed to be bandaged, rested, and healed. So this time we shot them all. The High king, the high queen, and their entire family lines. We created trials, tests, and took those who succeeded and mentored them briefly in the ways of rulership, in the ways of administration. We taught them to stand, and then we let them stand."
His eyes fixed on the Lord Admiral, intense, golden. Behind her the hatch opened again as the Servitor reentered, carrying the first course each had chosen, as well as a bottle of strong amasec.
"I am no Tetrarch. I do not aspire to be one. The reason Yevan Secundus still has a high king is because I still insisted on respecting the structure that was already there, that which could be salvaged. As I was then, I am now."
He paused as the half mechanical servant placed a dish of spiced void eels before the Lord Admiral, all artfully displayed, each wide mouth filled with a candied Xenthurian apricot. He resumed after his own dish, a steaming bowl of something blue and very hot, was set down. It smelled like wet plaster and somehow left a metallic sting in the admiral's nostrils.
"So then, I can assume that, since you are now as you were then, you are eying the power structure of our isolated forces, is that right?" She asked, picking up her utensils and cutting into the supple flesh of the first eel.
"Perhaps I would be, if one existed." Orion said.
"But if we are no longer abiding by the rules of commander Seniority, then there is none."
"Nonsense, we serve the Imperium-"
"Rollah." Orion said, his tone flat.
She looked up at him, prepared to be defiant, but found herself disarmed by the utter implacability of his gaze.
"There is no Imperium here. There is an aging battle fleet, three Space Marine Chapters, many, extremely varied regiments of the Imperial guard, several overloaded black ships full of volatile psychers and Thousands of transports housing almost fifteen planets worth of civilians who will all soon be arriving at this beach head. There is no departmento munitorum. There is no Segmentum command. There is no Terra, no astronomicon, no high lords. There is just us. And soon, there will not even be that."
The Lord Admiral wanted to protest, wanted to refute his statements, but she couldn't, not while he was looking at her, not when she had no way of refuting his words without resorting to delusion. He could see it in her artificial eyes, still too human to hide her soul underneath.
"Then what do you want from me? Command of the fleet? Command of the transports?" She asked sarcastically.
He didn't take her bait, didn't flinch as he proceeded.
"Work with me, Lord Admiral. Stand with me, not under me, but alongside me. Put your trust and your weight behind me in the negotiations to come. The Imperium is not here until we make it here. Help me do that."
She sighed heavily, suddenly feeling her appetite drain utterly.
"I will agree to hear you out." She said.
Orion suppressed a smile.
"That's all that I need."