"So..." Argall began, arms crossed over his chest, a single brow raised, and a look of disdain about him. The thing before him was hardly superhuman, because it could hardly be called human at all. Its genes were so horrifically altered and broken that it was now both sterile and alien. The only human thing about it now was its physical form, but – even then – only when one squinted. Even its mind was mostly gone, Argall mused, likely due to the... Neuro-Interactive Nails that'd been jammed right through its skull, causing an excess in the production of the hormones that induce violence and rage. In short, the thing that was strapped on the table before him, screaming and frothing and struggling against its binds, was nothing more than a rabid animal, bereft of humanity. Perhaps, Argall mused, there was a time when it was human as, even with all the... augmentations in its body, it should have retained its memories from before the transformation, which meant that, genetics aside, it could've functioned about as well as any other human.
But what was the point of a mindless superhuman? At a certain point, a machine would've better sufficed. The human mind was a human's greatest weapon – logic, rationality, creativity, and empathy. Take the mind away and one was better served by a mindless robot. It didn't matter how strong or fast this creature was, a machine would simply be more efficient – durable and easy to produce.
So, that begged the question of why the Imperium of Mankind bothered to create such a thing. What was there to gain from such a creature? From where Argall stood, this frothing barbarian was about as useful as a gun without a handle – or a loading mechanism. Essentially useless. Even its Power Armor was primitive – about as powerful as the stuff the old Scrappers used to wear; still quite powerful, no doubt, but nowhere near as powerful or as durable as the stuff worn by the construction workers of the Hyperborean Nation – or the Hyperborean Collective as the new government suggested, just to ensure that any new peoples they adopted wouldn't feel as though they were simply subsumed by a much larger entity. Argall sighed and flicked the frothing barbarian on the forehead, knocking the... thing unconscious. "This is an Astartes? This is the creature that brought down your republic? Well, I'm glad to know that they're... pitifully ordinary. I'd expected a much greater, grander foe."
"You'd do well not to underestimate them, Supreme Chancellor," Admiral Jadan, who retained her rank even through the transition of the Volimar Republic and its citizens into the arms of the Hyperborean Nation, said. And, if nothing else, Argall respected her opinion; after all, she'd seen what this sort of enemy could do, fought against it. Argall had not yet done the same. "They'll be accompanied by legions and legions of men, fighting in their billions. And these... Astartes know no fear – no hesitation. They're stronger than they look."
"Yes, but that's assuming we're dumb enough to engage them in open warfare on the ground," Argall shrugged as he turned away and sat down next to Syreen, who'd chosen to stay quiet while he examined the creature on the table.
Surprisingly, despite the tracker that they found on one of Jadan's ships, it took almost a year before the Imperium actually got anywhere close to their region of space. To Argall, that meant two distinct possibilities: one possibility was that they simply weren't bothering with their pursuit of the Volimar Remnants and were taking their time to do other things. Or, it was entirely possible that their means of Faster Than Light travel was, in fact, primitive. According to one of the Volimari Scientists, their last recorded jump, prior to their encounter with one of Argall's probes, had been from a system that was over a hundred light years away. Either they weren't taking the chase seriously or their tech was inferior; as with most things, the likeliest answer was that it was probably a combination of both.
"That's right," Syreen suddenly said, her eyes – aged, but vibrant – widening. His sister was getting old. And, still, the idiot refused to take any form of rejuvenation treatment. "The best way to deal with a numerically-superior foe is to engage them outside of their comfort zones. These Astartes thrive on ground combat. So, we attack them in space; that way, we won't have to deal with them or their numbers at all, just their navy."
Argall nodded. "We don't have the numbers to deal with a ground invasion, despite our technological superiority. And, quite frankly, the weapons I've designed work better in void combat. Our ships are far superior as we've already displayed – and so are our weapons and shields. We've got them outmatched in space."
Numerical superiority in void combat did not count for much, especially when his technology granted them nearly full control over the battlefield. Their ships were faster and far more maneuverable. Their shields were stronger and their weapons hit harder. Sure, the Imperium of Mankind likely had more vessels, but that hardly mattered if none of those vessels could even fire a single one of their weapons. The tracker had already been removed and relocated, placed on a barren almost five systems away so that the Imperium of Mankind would waste their efforts there. Were there other trackers that Argall might've remained ignorant of? Maybe, but unlikely. He'd scanned every little inch of their ships and found nothing more.
But, to discount such a possibility was folly, which was why he had the Volimar Ships moved to another system, alongside an army of Builder Drones to upgrade and repair their systems. He wasn't taking any chances. If the Imperium of Mankind actually found the Hyperborean Homeworld, then things were going to get really ugly, because that meant the Phaeron Khoteph would awaken with his lords and take to the field – or, at least, they will if the Imperium actually landed any of their ground forces on the planet.
And if the Necrons got involved, then... well... it wasn't going to end well for the Imperium or for any of them, really. Khoteph might've been friendly, mostly because of his human mind, but by his own admission, the other Necron Lords did not share his view of humanity. The only thing that'd protect the Hyperboreans was the fact that Khoteph recognized them as a protectorate. But the bottom line was that he could not, unless in the utmost of need, get the Necrons involved at all.
Though, to be entirely fair, based on the lone ship that they destroyed and the random Astartes survivor they just happened to find drifting in the void afterwards, there didn't seem to be a lot to be afraid of. Jadan painted a brutal picture, but if this was all the Imperium could send after them, then there really wasn't much to even consider. Their ships were... weak. Oh, they were lumbering behemoths, to be certain, but they were inefficient – poorly designed and built even more poorly. It took two shots to take down such a ship – one to overload and disable the shield, and the other to pierce the hull and disable the core, which promptly caused the whole vessel to explode.
How this one guy somehow survived all of that was honestly quite the mystery.
"Let's just hope the Iron Men don't wake up and join," Syreen said, mirroring his thoughts.
"You're absolutely certain, Supreme Chancellor, that that which you speak of are not the Men of Iron?" Jadan asked, eyes wide with concern. She'd asked the same question when Argall first mentioned the Necrons and, honestly, Khoteph would've been offended by the comparison; for hidden within the Scrapyards of Hyperborea were traces of these Men of Iron, machines that possessed a highly advanced form of artificial intelligence, but were otherwise trapped within primitive metal frames. There were different designs, of course, and some were more suited for war than others, but the general aesthetic was distinctly human. Highly advanced, but nowhere near the arcane science of the Necrons.
"I am absolutely certain that the Necrons are not the Men of Iron." Argall smiled. He then brought up several more screens, each one displaying statistical data and predictions. Specifically, he was trying to chart the movement of the Imperium vessels to try and predict when and where they'll appear. "Moving on. Based on the time of arrival of that Astartes vessel, I predict that the next one – or the next wave – should arrive within a week, at least, and a month at most. The tracker's leading them to a barren moon – perfect for ambush tactics. I would've loved to try and reason with them, see if they're open to diplomacy; but I see now, seeing as they make use of such barbaric warriors to fight their wars for them, that it might just be impossible to open a diplomatic channel with the Imperium of Mankind."
"So, I'm going to blow up their ships and wait and see if they notice anything." Argall smiled, feeling a euphoric rush surging through him, something he stomped down immediately. His father taught him better. He had to be better, no matter how exciting the prospect of a good war felt to him – no matter how natural it felt. War and death and pain were things that no living creature deserved. His father taught him, many times, that he had no enemies, that there was no one in the universe upon whom he had to be cruel towards, which was why Argall had to keep that side of him from ever seeing the light – keep it chained and hidden, locked away somewhere no one will every find it. Syreen sent him an odd look and Argall cleared his throat. "What I meant to say was that I'm going to attack them as they draw towards the tracker and see how long it takes them to realize that this was all just a trap."
Jadan nodded. "I approve of your plan, Supreme Chancellor. And... errr... Lady Syreen. From what I know of the Imperium of Mankind and, I'll admit, I do not know much of them or their ways, but it seems to me that they do, in fact, favor open warfare and shock and awe tactics upon civilians. They will struggle, I believe, if forced to fight solely in the void, where their ground elements are of no use."
Argall nodded. That was exactly what he'd expected. And wanted. Bring the Imperium of Mankind somewhere beyond their comfort zone and watch the great and lumbering beast flail around, unable to bite or claw at the enemy that it could not see. And, ironically, he was pretty certain of the fact that their ships – at least, most of their ships – were incapable of detecting Hyperborean Vessels when they were cloaked. Honestly, Argall did not expect a long or troubled war; it would be swift and bloody, but then he could not claim to be capable of seeing the future either.
"How goes your training of our navy, Admiral Jadan?" Syreen suddenly asked.
"I'm doing my best to impart all that I know to all of our pilots and prospecting admirals; they learn quickly and do not allow such a petty thing as pride to get in the way of their education. Soon, perhaps, I may no longer be needed for this position, save for no other reason than my experience." Admiral Jadan answered smoothly, as if she'd been preparing for this question for quite some time. But, all things considered, her assessment of herself and the pilots and her fellow admirals was on point. They learned quickly and all of them were eager to learn from someone with actual naval expertise. And so, they fell in line quickly. Argall was proud of them for that. The ability to learn and adapt would always be humanity's greatest strength.
"That is good to hear, Admiral Jadan," Argall nodded, smiling. He then turned to the Astartes on the table, who was very slowly stirring awake. An idea struck him, right then and there. "Perhaps, we may be able to extract some information from this creature if I was able to remove the devices on his head. It'll be difficult, but I think it's certainly possible."
AN: Chapter 37 is out on (Pat)reon!