The Outer Sphere was a loose organization of planets and space stations to the south of Ultramar. Formerly, it had been part of a petty empire known as the Confederacy of the Spheres; a civil war over the Confederacy's governance had erupted about a century before the Great Crusade had found Ultramar, however, and the conflict tore the nation apart. At first the faction that would become the Outer Sphere was winning; in desperation, the future Inner Sphere appealed for help from the nearby Vespid xenos. The Vespid did, in fact, give their aid, and the Outer Sphere came out of the war in much weaker condition than the Inner; but in the years since the Inner Sphere had gradually turned into a Vespid puppet state.

Therefore, Gage did not seek to negotiate with them, but rather with the recently resurgent Outer Sphere. He only had five hundred Astartes at his side - half a Company - but Gage knew that, given his support forces in nearby systems, was a sufficient force to conquer the nation if necessary. That eventuality, regrettably, appeared more and more likely with each hour.

He was currently seated, with his bodyguards, in the antechamber of the Spherical Overseer's throne room. Of course, antechamber and throne room were strong words - the Overseer seemed to have an even greater distaste for excess than Gage himself. Gray and white were the only colors visible in the walls, and the Regent of Ultramar suspected the gray was some sort of fungus. He had been staring at that fungus for half an hour, considering again what Ultramar had to offer the Outer Sphere in the context of the current galactic political situation.

"The current galactic political situation." Only a cycle ago, Marius Gage had learned the reason for the Twelfth Chapter's disappearance was that the Astartes had departed for Terra, rescinding their oaths to Guilliman and repledging themselves to the Emperor, claiming that Prospero was a lie - Guilliman's frankly disastrous media indecisiveness within Ultramar and the Legion, leading to the worst sort of effect. The current galactic political situation, whether Gage liked it or not, was that the Ultramarines were taking apart the Imperium of Man, rebelling against the Emperor himself even as the Emperor himself burned worlds. The current galactic political situation was treachery and destruction.

And war. Impossible war. Gage was devoted to Ultramar and to the Imperium, and he had never imagined those loyalties conflicting. Rationally, he had to back Guilliman, because building up the Imperium was now the same as constructing ruin. But rationality mattered less and less, and sometimes Gage thought he was only certain of his loyalties because, as wrong as it would have seemed once, he trusted Guilliman's judgment far more than he trusted the Emperor's.

The doors to the throne room began to swing open, but when Gage shook his head he recognized that it was only the wind. The Spherical Overseer was still not permitting them in.

"Taplon, Vestates," Gage voxed on the private channels, "make a theoretical for these negotiations turning hostile. Then prepare for the practical."

"Do you - "

"I will not strike first."

Taplon nodded and repositioned his chainsword. Even Taplon, Gage recognized, felt doubt. It was the curse of those who had power, he had once said, but in these days it was everyone's curse. He wished yet again that Nicodemus was here - the Tetrarch tended to understand these sorts of situations better. But Nicodemus was negotiating with the Conitian Empire, far to the galactic northeast, and having him here was just another dream.

Then the doors swung open again, and this time, it was not the wind. The Spherical Overseer rushed out, clothed in a suit as unremarkable as the room that was revealed. It was a large, elliptical chamber with a round table toward the far end. What Gage assumed was the Overseer's chair was only marked as such by being slightly bigger than the others. Papers lay scattered on the table, and a large holo-screen was attached to the west wall.

"Thank fortune for you coming!" the Overseer blurted out. "Marius Gage of Ultramar, if I'm not mistaken?"

"You are not," Gage said, trying to hide his caution at the words' intonation. "I am here to discuss terms-"

"We'll accept any terms, as long as you'll help us! Please, come in, I'm sorry we've kept you waiting so long - "

It was clear that the Outer Sphere's situation had drastically changed, as the tone that the Overseer had struck when Gage had first arrived was a much more careful one. It was obvious the Outer Sphere had been invaded, probably by overwhelming forces- but who was so dangerous as to make a nation as powerful as the Outer Sphere submit itself unconditionally? Perhaps the Vespid Empire and Inner Sphere had finally united to take out their rival once and for all. Perhaps it was something worse.

In either case, Gage dearly hoped it would be a foe he knew of. The Ultramarines could defeat almost anyone if they had a theoretical - though, of course, he only had half a Company.

No matter. Sattolo and Bosteton are close by; I can call on them for a prolonged campaign.

As he calmed himself, a message popped up from the fleet, signaling an Iron Hands fleet had transferred into the system. The Chapter Master mentally filed the information away, recognizing he probably needed to process other things first.

Coming into the room, Gage selected a chair that looked relatively sturdy and sat down. His bodyguards took similar spots around the table. Some of the chairs wobbled, but only Varro Ximeoden's collapsed. Ximeoden responded by dusting himself off, apologizing, and taking a standing position next to his Chapter Master.

"Regent Gage," the Overseer - Halriun Veticus was his birth name - said, seemingly calmed down somewhat. "Today the peaceful Outer Sphere was attacked by a force of about five hundred Iron Hands under, according to them, the command of one Iron Father Sorpot. They are now appearing from the Warp around this system, commanding us to surrender or die. They have moreover said that surrender will involve the deaths of this ruling council." Now Veticus' expression turned pleading once more, either as a misplaced political maneuver or out of the sudden recognition of how much danger he was in. "Save us and the Outer Sphere will peacefully join Ultramar. I knew there was a civil war in your behemoth, but I never expected it to come here…."

"No one does," Vestates offered.

"I did warn you that you could not avoid the war," Gage said. "But your terms are accepted."

And only as he pronounced that did Gage realize the enormity of what he was agreeing to do. The Iron Hands were one of the Legions closest to the Ultramarines, a martial exemplar, a steel ideal. The Tenth Legion task force was not even led by a Captain, and would not be expecting Astartes; Gage knew that the Ultramarines could win, with or without Sattolo and Bosteton's help. But they would be fighting to prevent the expansion of the Imperium. They would be -

They would be fighting for Guilliman and for Ultramar, and the Imperium's butchers would go down in flames. Cousin against cousin, perhaps, but Gage would protect Macragge from his brothers if he had to.

Thus convincing himself, Marius Gage, First Chapter Master of the Ultramarines and Regent of Ultramar, repositioned his powersword.

"I am ready," he said, though he was not. "Rerun the theoretical for a space battle against the sons of Ferrus, brothers. Let's get into orbit and win the battle. We march for Macragge, now."

"And we shall know no fear!" the Astartes said, and rose as one.

"Don't you need the tactical?" the Overseer asked as the Ultramarines began to leave.

"Not to condescend, but our sensors exceed yours. Does anyone object to my tactical leadership of the campaign?"

The Overseer shrugged, still feeling relieved. "As I said, just chase the Iron Hands away. The Sphere is at your disposal."

One of the advisors seemed about to object, but Veticus waved him to silence.

"I will contact you once on my ship," Gage said, and began to move there.

He considered various theoreticals on the way, downloading relevant data through his helmet. The Tenth Legion's fleet was large, but on median projection, the Ultramarines' primarily-diplomatic one was slightly superior in firepower; clearly Sorpot had not been expecting any resistance beyond the Outer Sphere's own forces. Those were also significant - larger than the Iron Hands' by far. Obviously Sorpot had expected the Tenth's transhuman advantage in would be sufficient for victory. Gage gave orders to the fleet even before he reached the Macragge's Honour, sending them into brief clashes with far lesser Tenth Legion ships. Sorpot responded with some fitting counter-attacks of his own, but by the time the Chapter Master reached his ship, the Iron Hands were mostly retreating.

As Marius Gage stepped onto the deck of the Macragge's Honour, a message sent from the Tenth Legion's Battle Barge to the Spherical Overseer replayed itself in his helmet. The twisted, half-metallic face of the Iron Father appeared on the Chapter Master's retinal display.

"You were warned," Sorpot of the Iron Hands, Marius Gage's cousin, hissed to the Spherical Overseer.

Marius Gage ignored that as he walked and lifted to the bridge. It was the idle protest of a defeated foe. Most of the Iron Hand vessels were even now disappearing into the Warp.

Most. But not all. A drop-pod hammered into the Macragge's Honour, and Marius Gage felt the ship rattle. He sprinted to the bridge, rushing in as the first enemy Astarte - an oxymoron if there ever was one - entered the ship's brain.

It was an Iron Hand Sergeant like any other. Saph Kontewax, according to his armor. He was not a horrible mutant abomination or a Warp-spawn fused with the human form. His only distinction was that he fought without a helmet, showing off his metal-plated forehead; but even that could be explained, for instance by his booming voice.

"Death to the traitors!" he screamed with unnatural hatred, the sound gratingly amplified through a plasteel voice-box. "Death to the heretics!"

"For the Emperor!" the other Iron Hands, filing in behind, yelled in response.

Gage came face-to-face with one of them. Jerking his powersword out of its place on his belt, he somewhat clumsily batted aside the Tenth Legionnaire's attack, then moved into a guarding position. The Iron Hand swung again, but Gage deflected the strike, forcing the son of Ferrus to turn slightly leftwards and giving the Ultramarine a momentary opening. He used it, sliding his blade in and slicing the Iron Hand's head cleanly off.

As the Space Marine - Tarn Kissot, according to his armor - slowly fell backwards, his arm still moving back into a second slice at Gage despite its owner's death, the Chapter Master only saved the trouble of blocking it because of the body's drop, Marius Gage considered what he had just done. He had just killed his cousin. He had just ended a Space Marine. As far as the Imperium was concerned, he was a traitor.

And - even more worryingly - as far as the empire of Ultramar was concerned, he was a hero.

A shot to his left hand shook him out of his contemplation, the bolter round cracking his ceramite but fortunately not quite penetrating. The sounds of battle - screams, bolters firing, swords scraping on ceramite - came back, as did the smell of blood and burning metal. Swinging around, Marius Gage impaled another Iron Hand, one whose bolter arm had just been cut off by Ximeoden.

"Courage and honour!" he cried, but the words seemed to have little relevance now.

"For Ultramar!" Passtedar cried, even as an Iron Hand bolt exploded his head. The theoretical for fighting other Astartes seemed almost quaint now. He had led his ships to war against the Iron Hand fleet without trouble, but this, Marine against Marine at close quarters, when he could see his foe - his cousin - even as he killed warriors he should never have been killing… this was different. For the first time in Marius Gage's life, the theoreticals were not enough, would not be even if perfect. Nothing could prepare one for this.

No, something could. Logically, there had to be ways to prepare, but Gage would have to remember they were emotional as well as tactical and physical.

The tides of battle churned. Gage directed the skirmish for a couple of instants, then was forced to duck as the teeth of a chainsword bit into a bulkhead just above him. He decapitated the blade's owner, then turned and came face to face with the Sergeant, with Saph Kontewax of the Iron Hands, with his cousin, with his attacker.

"I had hoped for Guilliman," Kontewax said, bizzarely. "I'll have to settle for you."

And the dance of swords began. Kontewax snuck into Gage's guard - this one was good - but the Chapter Master evaded the worst of the blow and hit his own. The Iron Hand retreated and the powerblades clashed, sparkling in the lamps' light. They clashed once more, but Kontewax' weapon was weaker, and so he attempted a low strike next; but Gage knocked it into the floor. For a second, he had a clean shot. For that second, though, he also had a question.

Why? Why did this have to be? The Imperium's actions were becoming wildly inconsistent and purposeless. Gage had always respected the Iron Hands, so why were they fighting? Why had the Imperium betrayed Guilliman, and Ultramar, and in truth even itself?

And as he contemplated the madness and attempted to work out what the abstract practical was, the very concrete practical in front of him swung its weapon and-

And collapsed to the ground, dead. Taplon walked up with the bolter that ended Saph Kontewax' life.

"Regent?" Gage's brother asked.

The First Chapter Master shook himself off. The melee was over; all the preparation had paid off. The Ultramarines stood triumphant, although they had suffered severe losses.

"Regent?" Taplon whispered. "Why did you hesitate?"

'I would never go running back to the Emperor and betray Ultramar,' Gage wanted, dearly, to say. It was the truth. He would never do that. 'But I… I cannot go on like this, either.' And that, too, was truth.

But he could not change the present, and did not now need to demotivate his battle-brothers.

"An error I will correct," he whispered back, before turning to the crew, and that was truth too.

"Give pursuit," Marius Gage of the Ultramarines ordered.