40 Thousand Reasons

Once the battleship was brought under control, with not too many shots fired, to everyone's surprise, I returned to the Aegida Inquisitorial Fortress.

Another flick of tesseract powers concluded my victory, as I confiscated all the damaged hulls remaining, including Ork and Eldar derelicts from the previous invasions. I will need those hulls for my Forge friends.

For now, Sotha will have to fend for itself, with the aid of the Scythe Battle Barges and Strike Cruisers, plus the ring of orbital forts.

Of course, my Rose will continue interrogating the prisoners, and await her designated C'tan expert to handle the imprisoned shard. I was highly doubtful on the guy's chances of success, but it wasn't exactly my problem.

Over the next three weeks, I continued using the Pharos to collect intelligence for my next objectives, especially around Badab and the Maelstrom_Zone.

Without the important Hell-Forge, Chaos forces in that area were substantially weakened, and that allowed the Imperial Navy and local Astartes Chapters to conduct more and more deep strike missions in and around the Warp vortex.

Also, as soon as my mental faculties recovered, I would launch new Exterminatus-grade torpedoes at strategically important targets, places like Gorkamorka, which needed eliminating, as a potential outbreak source for a huge Waagh or a Necron awakening danger. The Orks burned alive, their crashed space hulk melted into torrents of adamantium and plasteel, and the melted magma sealed the Necron Tombs even tighter.

They should not get bothered again for a long time.

Well, unless someone begins mining the place, which would be great too. Forge Megyre was the closest, so perhaps my clan could get a Favor or two by revealing a few gigatonnes of adamantium, ready to be grabbed.

Since the Necron World of Somonor got invaded and got rather well-chewed up by Hive Fleet Kraken, I followed up with another Atmospheric Incendiary warhead, melting and eliminating the bugs and preparing that place to become a mining world for more blackstone. I would take a year or two, but Forge Metalica was nearby. They could handle hot lava.

However, the next incendiary attack on the Necron crownworld of Sarlok was somehow deflected by a dampening field, producing minimal effects, so I decided to wait for the Tyranids to reach it and demolish those defenses first.

The daemon world of Venkrous was next, just next door in the Hadex Anomaly, and then daemon world Torvendis in the Maelstrom.

Still using only Incendiary torpedoes, because they were 100 times cheaper and more readily available.

Cyclonic torpedoes would be reserved for Class 1 dangers, like Hell Forges or Black Crusades.

And then the other Inquisitor arrived, high and mighty and full of airs. Broadcasting threats and warnings from the edge of the Sotha's system , like he owned the place. Well, he kinda did now that I made an Inquistion Fortress out of Sotha.

There were still 5 Cyclonic and 34 Incendiary torpedoes waiting inside the Pharos, so I warped them in my other Tesseract, where I kept the good things. Two more Vortex torpedoes were returned to their own Battle Barges, as were their Melta torpedoes. No need to weaken the ability of the Barges to defeat another big invasion.

And so, I ordered my Astartes and Silent Sisters into their assault landers, then they vanished in the void, and inside the good labyrinth. Continuing the emergency evacuation, I loaded the Pharos's Sounding Board on its transport tractor and then folded it inside the dimensional tesseract with care.

Then I tried using the Pharos, and the empathic console seemed unaffected by the dimensional differential, which made sense a little, and no sense at all. Damn Necron tech was more advanced than magic.

My new C'tan friend was given a few life-saving instructions, which he will probably ignore out of boredom and pride.

A minute later, I stepped out of the Pharos and right into my Fabricator's office on Forge World Retribution, hundreds of light years away.

The guy had been my bridge officer for a few decades, so I could trust him for some things.

A second later, my followers and their shuttles emerged in Retribution's orbit, released from the tesseract, and I ordered them to secure the battleships and await orders.

Sometimes, access to very advanced tech meant I could cheat the odds and gain time. That's how Trazyn must feel all the time, with the ability to bend time and dimensions at his will.

The conveyors and the Canticle had not arrived yet, although they departed from Sotha weeks ago.

"Fabricator, I believe you found the STC presents?" I asked as a dozen tentacles turned towards me holding deadly weapons.

"By the Omnissiah! Don't scare me like that, Captain Pef. I almost fried you..." Magos Dominus muttered and splattered me with holy machine oil.

I felt like home again. This time however, the oil evaporated with a sizzle on my shield.

I glanced at his metal tentacle with arcing current, still tapping my Rosarius conversion shield. "I am real, my friend. No need to banish me like a demon." I quipped and blinked a bit surprised. Wasn't expecting such electrifying welcome.

"... Errr. Sorry about that, Captain. There have been some strange occurrences on that Apocalypse-class battleship. Voices haunting people, servitors strangling themselves..." Dominus mumbled, as he drew his crackling mechadendrite back sheepishly.

"And thus, you immediately installed a dozen Gellar fields, to impose reality on the haunted ship?" I asked wryly.

The tech-priest blinked in confusion, then waved his tentacles while spouting orders, in binharic and techno-lingua. The cogitator screen came alive with thousands of lines of code and construction routines, some reasonable, others quite irrational.

Then again, such was all the Mechanicus, and the Imperium was much worse. Reason was almost forgotten. Only faith and fury.

Another red-robed Magos entered like he owned the place, with an Antax symbol on his cog. "Dominus! Why so many Gellar...oh. Captain Lancefire. I am Fabricator Locum Yridann 0119." he introduced himself politely, and without trying to burn me alive.

Progress!

"Go on with your duties, Fabricators. I'll be around inspecting my new Forge World." I said politely and walked out, nearly breaking my face into Brother's Delos chest plate.

"Delos, well met Brother! Where is Brother Cassiel?" I asked while patting the man's shoulder in greeting. For a psyker, this guy was quite decent. Didn't even flinch at my Blank aura.

"Reciting the Canticle, like you have ordered, my Lord. It seems to work great, and the Rage is almost conquered." Delos explained, and then grinned warmly. He even seemed happy to see me again.

"And, you have not departed for Baal. For what reason?" I asked in slight worry. Astartes wouldn't disregard orders easily, so whatever it was, it was bad.

"... I considered prudent to not expose Brother Cassiel to more stress. Being lost in time for 10 millennia was a great shock, plus whatever he endured in his captivity. I also detected some kind of alien implants, inserted in his brain." the Chaplain told me softly, with a few fingers signalling "Xeno origin confirmed." in Astartes battlespeak.

"Alright, someone did things to him during these millennia, and thus you immediately contacted the Fabricator to have these strange implants removed, right?" I asked rhetorically.

The Chaplain changed faces a few times, settling on shame and defeat. "I haven't considered that, my lord. The Mechanicus...they are heathens and worship the Machine God."

I tapped my chest again. "See these two eagle heads, my friend? The Emperor and the Forge, united in a single body on Mount Olympus. Your armor is made by Forge Incaladion, right?"

The Chaplain starred at his black painted pauldron, and nodded in understanding. "So, are you saying we should trust the tech-priests?"

I shook my head. "You should not trust anyone, by default. Only by word, deed and intent. One day, when humanity will be made only of Blanks, and travels the stars without entering Warp, then it will be different. But until then, always be cautious and ready to shoot. Especially Inquisitors and Adeptus Ministorum priests. Power drives people mad, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. It was the same on Old Terra, and now is a million times worse."

Delos muttered a prayer and seemed to mediate on my words. "Absolute power...like all Inquisitors have as Agents of the Throne." he concluded with a scowl.

Soon enough, we reached an Emperor's chapel where the ancient Blood Angel was praying, while staring at some grotesque icons of beasts and spears and lots of blood.

They surely helped calm his fears, I hoped.

"What is death?" I shouted, using my empowered Vox box.

"It is our duty!" the Astartes answered in a chorus.

"What is your duty?" I continued the chant.

"To serve the Emperor's Will !" came the accepted answer.

"What is the Emperor's Will?" I asked curious.

"That we fight and die!" they proclaimed with perfect conviction.

"And who tells you who to fight?" I wondered, breaking their protocol.

Both Blood Angels turned towards me in confusion. "We go where we are called, Lord Lancefire." Chaplain Delos answered after a few tense seconds.

"And who calls?" I inquired in a softer voice, pointing at the bloody icons.

"The Emperor!" Brother Cassiel exclaimed like it was obvious.

"Of course, all Astartes will obey the Emperor. But Emperor Adam of the Imperium of Man, is not quite healthy these days. Other people give orders in his name. Sometimes, they order Astartes to do evil things, and yet they obey." I mused to myself, while opening the null box to extract my Rosette and the Warrant.

The engrams immediately subdued the brainwashed Astartes, who just stared at me like I was a divine messenger.

"Brother Cassiel, do you recognize the authority of these artifacts?" I asked gently.

"Of course, my lord. A Rosette means the bearer is an Agent of the Throne. The Warrant of Trade marks you as a Rogue Trader, speaking with the Emperor's Voice, outside the Imperium." the displaced Space Marine declared without any hesitation.

"What about you, Chaplain Delos?" I asked with a wry voice.

To his credit, the psyker Astartes fought through the mind-addling engrams to retrieve his bolter and shoot me in the chest.

The bolt vanished in a flare of white light. "You are not corrupted, Lord Lancefire. I had to check." Delas said in apology.

"Good! Always check. You are Astartes, the best of humanity. The next time I see any of you obey orders without checking, I will shoot you. Is that clear, Astartes Cassiel?" I asked the new addition to my team.

"...Things have really gotten so bad in the future?" the stunned Blood Angel murmured in surprise.

"A million times worse, lost Astartes. Now, report to the Biologis ward and have those xeno implants removed. Two curses are sufficient for any Chapter, we don't need a third to act up at some inopportune moment." I demanded in an angry voice, while storing the precious items back in the null box.

Another bolter round splashed the Rosarius shield, right in the direction of my armored pauldron. "Nothing personal, my lord. Only following orders." Cassiel said in a more relaxed tone.

"Keep that smile, Astartes. I hear the tech-priests enjoy testing pain resistance of their medical subjects. Always trying to prove the flesh is weak." I muttered as I sat down to clear my thoughts.

I had a campaign to plan, and a whole load of logistics to complete. Ruling an inter-stellar empire wasn't so easy.

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