Savarus, Subsector Venenus, 4 686.061.M42
The Arvus Lighter would descend to the surface of the planet, its cramped interior stuffed to the brim with a squad of five Black Templars. The Millennial sat in the cockpit of the ponderous craft, which soon dove into the atmosphere of Savarus Primus. Eerily enough, no gunfire responded to their unplanned descent, and it was made relatively obvious why this was the case - the surface of the world still blazed with the fires of war. The carcasses of PDF Chimeras littered the landscape. Blown open Manticores rested next to mangled Leman Russ tanks, their turrets at odd angles as one or more side of their boxy chassis was melted away by the superheated power of Necron weaponry. Yet the world's ruins were not solely Imperial - the ruined wreckage of Necron vehicles littered the landscape as well, the blown-out carcass of a Monolith resting upon its side. The slagged-out chassis of a Shadowsword rested several hundred meters north - it too was blown out, upper superstructure covered by the melted remains of its experimental Mk II Teracharge Volcano Cannon.
Ahead rested Kanandis Hive - the capital of the world and the location of the planetary governor's palace. The void shields were raised over the hive city - assumedly a protection against orbital bombardment, though the Arvus Lighter was still able to reach the landing pads of Kanandis and lower itself to the world's surface.
The Black Templars disembarked first, their bolters at the ready to engage whatever came upon them. As the Millennial exited the craft, he soon realized why they had fallen silent.
"Fuck."
Surrounding the transport, clad in suits of carapace armor, wielding the sacred armament of bolter and chainsword, were the hulking forms of what the Millennial assumed were the so-called 'Amazonians.' Their forms were vaguely feminine, slightly wider hips and an angled chestplate revealing their gender. To the untrained eye, their hulking forms could almost be mistaken at first glance for an Astartes - their bodies were ridden with muscle, supporting the layers of armaplas and ceramite forged into armor for the seven foot tall warriors. The plates were inscribed with litanies to the God-Emperor, purity seals expressing faith in the Imperium's power to purge all xenos filth from the galaxy. Certainly these were women forged in a tumultuous environment, but despite their deviancy as gene-altered warriors, similar to those that had trodden in service to the Terran techno-barbarians of ages past, their faith seemed... true.
Of the Amazonians, one stepped forward. Slightly taller than her fellows, she dwarfed the power-armored Inquisitor by a full head, inches above her cohorts. Perhaps it was because she was wearing powered armor - perhaps not. She was clearly some sort of leader amongst these forces.
"I am Corva Artaxus. High Janissarius of the Amazonian Guardians of Savarus, Slayer of the Sarkoni Overlord, and Purgator of the Severed Swarm. You will come with me and not show resistance, lest your deaths be required."
"A false Astartes..." The voice of one of the Black Templars perked up, before the Millennial raised a hand, motioning for him and his fellows to lower their weapons.
"Alright. Fair point. Take us to your..." He paused. "Yeah, no, I'm not gonna be cliche about this shit. Let's just go to the planetary governor, alright?" Swiftly, he motioned for the High Janissarius to lead them from the landing pad to the palace itself, and she did so as her fellow Amazonians gathered tightly around the Astartes.
It was several minutes travel through the weaving passageways of the catacomb-like hive city. Were it not for Corva guiding the group, he would've been lost, though the Astartes were likely scanning every step of the way, mentally memorizing it within their altered brains. Soon, they arrived at the doors of the palace, the Imperial Aquila engraved upon them split in half as they were opened. Upon the throne sat the planetary governor - a young man with blonde hair. He was clearly in distress, beads of sweat growing on his forehead only to trickle down around his augmented optics.
"So you're the one I can blame for all of this, eh, governor?" The Millennial crossed his arms, showing little sympathy as he eyed the pair of heavily augmented tech-priests flanking the leader of Savarus Primaris. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me any the crusade?"
"Calm yourself, Inquisitor. I'm certain this is a... a misunderstanding. Yes." The governor nervously placed his fingers together in thought, eying the Volkite Serpenta holstered on the Millennial's hip. "I am Governor Sigvald. A pleasure to... make your acquaintance."
He was not amused. "Misunderstanding... Christ, you guys really love your fucking misunderstandings." The Millennial's hand clanged against his helmet in frustration, palm running over the glowing green sight-sensors. "Look. There are two ways we can do this. Either you come with me, and I turn you over to the Mechanicus for them to do whatever the fuck they want because you've been bad, and I deliver the corpses of the dead Amazonians to them and say that was all I found... Or you kill me and this planet gets fucking nuked. Do you want your entire planet nuked? Do you?"
"My lord... he does raise a point. We will all be destroyed in the event that the Mechanicus chooses to deploy cyclonic torpedoes on this world." Corva responded, doffing her helmet to reveal black braids, mocha skin contrasting her piercing eyes which were almost as green as the lenses in the Millennial's helmet.
"Look, I'm gonna be real with you. You never had the necessary strength to deal with the Necrons. You choosing to commit tech-heresy - as silly a thing as I consider it to be - was inevitably gonna bring the Mechanicus to your door. I'm sorry, but you're gonna get hit with shit regardless of which side of the stick you choose." The Millennial gave a sigh that filtered through his helmet vox-systems. "Again, I wish there was something that I could do, but you put yourself in this situation, and I inevitably will get fucked by that fleet if you don't turn yourself in."
"Pah..." The governor stood from his chair. "And who are you to judge my actions? Have you been forced into such a situation before? Where you had to defy conventionality to survive another day? Where you had to slip from your oh so devout devotion to the Imperial Creed to ensure complete and total victory? What I did, I did to ensure that my people would live another day. I have not the endless resources of the Imperium to divert to my whim, nor the military might to weather the storm. Would you have done anything different?"
The Millennial pored over the words of the governor. "No. I guess I wouldn't. This galaxy's all about survival of the fittest, isn't it? But there are some things that should've been left to lie." He turned halfway away from the governor before continuing. "But I suppose there's one thing I wouldn't be doing. I'd be facing the consequences of my actions like a man and not be cowering away in here. The galaxy isn't a place for fucking pussy-ass bitches, and as much as I wish Darwin wasn't true regarding culture, he was right. The strong survive. The weak perish. Survival of the fittest. Now are you going to be strong, or am I going to have to drag you off that chair like a pansy?"
"No. I-" were the last words of the governor before one of the flanking tech-priests pierced his skull with a mechadendrite. The red-robed figure then hunched over, collapsing in a pile of parts. The other soon did the same - and as the whirring of miniature gears and hum of optics slowly dissipated, their true nature as automatons were revealed. Evidently, the governor had never been consorting with Hereteks at all - only facsimilies, artificial beings who believed themselves alive. The infamous False-Men constructed by the followers of Nomen Ryne had proven their illusiveness once more while revealing the cowardice of the governor - never willing to face his fate. With time no longer on his side, the Millennial turned to face Corva.
"Alright, so here's the deal. I reckon we have a few hours until the Mechanicus decide to send a search party to determine if I'm still alive. Get all your sisters together and let's get the hell off this rock. We'll leave the gene-foundries, one of the fake tech-priests, and the bodies of the dead Amazonians for them to study. Maybe the husk of this machine can explain some things."
"What heresy are you attempting to perform, Inquisitor?" Marshal Theseus took up an antagonistic stance, weapon ready to strike at the slightest hint of heresy.
"Calm yourself, Marshal. First, they'll be tested to see if any of their DNA is inhuman. Then we'll bathe them in holy water - if they survive that with no evidence of corruption, then I'll go ahead and turn them over to you so you can determine their purity through whatever methods you use. And if they're still deemed pure servants of the Emperor after that - well, I guess there aren't exactly any excuses, are there? Besides, you're Space Marines. If something happens, you can handle it - and the chances of the taint of Chaos or xenotech not showing up after two sets of trials would be pretty fucking shocking."
Opening a channel to Genetor Adamaris, the Millennial soon provided closure to the ordeal. "Governor's dead. Executed him for heresy, blah blah blah... The tech-priests were machines. They weren't real. We killed the warriors we could find and are keeping some of the corpses for testing to determine how impure they may be - this could be endemic of a greater problem. Tell your Magos that I hope he finds some good shit on the planet's surface - think I saw the carcass of a Shadowsword and some Necron stuff. Nice having you on board."
With the cessation of the message, which he knew Adamaris would retransmit to Magos Biologis Klute, he motioned for the group to follow him. "Get your people to ship and have them meet up with our flagship. You can't miss it - it's the old battleship that looks like it was hauled out of a holding yard."
With that, the party would once again split up. The Millennial and the Black Templars would return to the cramped Arvus Lighter, traveling from the world's surface even as the Eclipse's systems detected Mechanicus dropships. Devourers would arise from the world surface, the twin-decked craft flying gracefully towards the ancient Desolator. Assumedly, to the Mechanicus, they would be craft carrying the carcasses of the Amazonian Guard up to the Inquisitor's vessel.
Adamaris was gone by the time he returned. The situation had been dealt with. He motioned for a servitor to prepare the composition of a letter to Inquisitor Lord Karamazov, stating that the situation had been dealt with. When the final Devourer entered the vessel's hangar bay, the Eclipse would begin to peel away from orbit around the world. It was no longer his problem, and he did have a crusade to run - the Mechanicus forces of Klute's fleet would be more than capable of dealing with any rebellious citizenry or active Necron technology still on the planet's surface. And now that the conflict had been dealt with, any Amazonian Guard who survived the trials would be more warriors to wage the fight against Chaos in the crusade.
A crusade he would soon need to get back to.
