Omake: Not Worth It
Edited by Trinpling
Roboute Guilliman sighed and leaned back into his desk. There was a lull in the paperwork, a break so to speak, and Guilliman decided to indulge in one of his hobbies: the consideration of lesser threats to the Imperium of Man
One such threat that continued to occupy his mind was the Slawkenberg Protectorate. A minor chaos heresy in an unimportant part of a marginal sector. As Lord-Commander and Regent of the Imperium, he was privy to knowledge that the Imperium would rather keep secret, such as the estimated number of chaos rebellions happening. Yet for all their multitude, Slawkenberg still stood out. For one, it was a functioning state, a more than functional one at that.
He picked up the dataslate to check the numbers again. It had met his projections of growth yet again. Unlike the other rebellions, the Slawkenberg Protectorate always had their eye on the future. His spies had reported as much. Despite their inability to kill their leader, they had been able to infiltrate Slawkenberg quite easily. It was almost as if the locals had welcomed them in. Frequently the Slawkenbergans talked about their economic projections, their military readiness, and fervent beliefs.
In terms of their production, Slawkenberg and the rest of the protectorate were barely a blip of the cosmos. Their throughput was pathetic to even the most poorly managed hive city, but their efficiency was what caught his interest. The average Slawkenberg citizen produced 23x more than their Imperial counterpart. Disturbingly, this number was growing as well. Focuses on education, automation, motivation, and safety gave the Slawkenbergian the ability and the zeal to go beyond their meagre resources. All this from a moribund vacation world.
Their military was equally as impressive as the economy that supported it. From what information he could gather, almost every member of their military was trained ruthlessly, and equipped with the best weapons and armor available. Every single one of them was at minimum in a form of power armor. From his projections, each one of them was about as capable as a fifth of an Astartes, a ratio Guilliman previously thought impossible for an ordinary human to achieve. Their military technology was also fascinating, and perhaps best exemplified by the Cain Battle Tank. By sheer happenstance, the Imperium managed to capture one, and what Belisarius told him was illuminating. Its sleek appearance deceives the casual observer, but the Archmagos explained that it was in fact in some ways less technologically advanced than a standard Leman Russ tank; however, it was still more than a match for said Leman Russ for primarily one reason: Cain tanks used what technology the Slawkenbergians could get their hands on to its fullest potential in order to protect the crew. They were even starting to get reports of some Cain variants seen mounting cannons resembling pulse rifles,
While their economy and military were understandable, graspable, their society was not. Most citizens of Slawkenberg belonged to one or more faiths. Three of them were heavily sanitized versions of traditional Chaos cults, but there was a sizable minority that still worshiped the Imperial faith, in addition to the still-present Cult Mechanicus. There was currently a steadily growing debate amongst the Ecclesiarchy accompanying Guilliman on whether Father Anthony should be canonized for his protection of the Imperial faith, or burned for heresy. Most horrifyingly of all, there were a few faiths slowly devoloping on Slakenburg trying to merge worship of his father with three of the four chaos gods. Grimly, Guilliman noted that they were closer to the truth than the Galaxy realized.
All of this was held together by their leader, Ciaphas Cain. A raging egoist that was still somehow capable of patience and delegation, his cannibalization of the Imperium was slow, deliberate, and measured. The Black Commisar only took worlds abandoned by the Imperium of Man, with most of these having been abandoned due to a certain Lord-Inquisitor purging those who would not support his crusade against Slawkenberg. Guilliman cursed once again the name of Fyodor Karamazov. That fool had inefficiently stripped resources from the entire sector, which left it nearly defenseless, and ripe for Slawkenberg to take. Guilliman took a minute to cool his head and looked at the failed crusade from a numerical perspective. Despite the absurd waste of resources, Fyodor had still managed to assemble a force 17x the amount needed to subdue Slakenburg at that moment in time, and even with total orbital superiority, he still lost.
Guilliman once again looked over the numbers. In order to defeat Slawkenberg at this time, he would need a small fleet, an army group, and a fifth of a chapter. Unfortunately, the closest available requisite force was already being diverted to fight off the Tyranids, and their current foes could not be allowed to gain any ground. Guilliman knew how dangerous the growing threat that Slawkenburg Protectorate was, yet it was still not worth it.
Guilliman sighed. It was time to focus on more important matters.