I must have been very tired. I did in fact fight a terrible monster with an escort of a billion daemons, a giant space battle with millions of enemy bioships, another terrible monster, then kept watch over a multi-planetary ground war, while repairing the most damaged battlestation that wasn't a derelict already.
And conducted high level diplomacy as well, so far out of my league I could win second place just by participation. And won too. The second place.
I was now the Second Warmaster of the Imperium of Man, a job so important that any of my previous achievements were put to shame. I guess the Emperor decided to use a proper Warhammer this time, small and deadly, instead of a huge and difficult to control one. Like Horus big, I mean.
'You slept for 8.01 hours, Lord Captain. Three planets have been already purged of living xenos, and three more remain.' the Blade warned me the second I turned on my mind implant.
I checked on Anzion, to find the first clone of Dorn already up, chatting with Sanguinius about some strange dream of roaming in a desert. Hmmm, I thought I was the only one with that dream. Probably a lot more common for those getting the Emperor's attention.
Primarch Corax was still kicking ass and taking heads, but this time under the huge shadow of Smoking Hot Castigator. Each of the remaining planetary Tyranid invasions had one such Titan on the surface, which kinda explained what happened to the burning wrecks of the other three planets.
Brother Khan handed me a bottle of hot black tea, and measured me with a doubtful face. "You aren't Warmaster material, Pef Lancefire. There are normal humans still taller than you." he proclaimed with a scowl.
"I told them so myself, White Scar. Do you know what Sanguinius answered?" I asked rhetorically, and took a big gulp of tea.
"This is the Emperor's Will. I know that canticle by heart." my bodyguard muttered in a deep voice.
"Actually no. Sanguinius said that Corax and Khan failed in their duty, and need to be tested. And I suspect the testing will involve all their gene-sons as well." I said with a sad voice.
Brother Khan stood very still for a minute, then sighed. "I see now. The Wolf is not here, so the Emperor uses another one. With an actual wolf to keep an eye on the progress."
"To be fair, Primarch Khan did the same thing sending his Blademaster to act as a lowly bodyguard. Come, let's visit the new Phalanx and eat their food. You too, Canis!" I demanded after taking a quick shower and wearing my parade armor, the one decorated with all the insignias and decorations of two centuries of war.
The Lord Phalanx ran towards me at full tilt and then bowed towards me, while the Custode-General just glanced at me from the new holotable then ignored me.
"Master Lancefire, it is a miracle! Every system is working now, even ancient ones we never knew they existed. When I so rudely asked for repairs, I thought a few extra percents in efficiency..." the man blurted in a greatful voice.
"At least a quarter of these repairs could have been done by regular tech-priests, Lord Phalanx. A few more by trained tech-marines or some aid from the Adeptus Custodes. But I do understand. When the Emperor himself went to Mars to recruit the Forge into the Imperium, he also repaired their machines, and was recognized as the Omnissiah. " I spoke with a clear voice, making a dozen tech-marines present stand at attention, and scan me with their bionic eyes.
"...I can count 314 Machina_Opus badges, Lord Phalanx." the Imperial Fists' Forge Master spoke in a reverent tone. "I only have four such badges, Emissary." the tech-marine continued with a nod towards his leader.
Four badges was already a huge deal, since my best tech-marine sons only had one or two. Forge Worlds were not too keen letting Space Marines walk freely on their Sacred Worlds after all.
Also true, most Machina badges simply got more embelished with each sacred discovery or repair that advanced the Forge. I just had mine maxed out.
On the other hand, I could have gained a thousand or two more badges by admitting to every single template I got. But I also liked keep some STCs and artifacts for myself and my family.
"There are too few badges anyways. Lord Lancefire has provided Mars with 900 STC templates just a decade ago. A deed for which Mars supported his nomination for a Nobilitae Primus rank, recently approved in the Senatores Imperialis." Trajann Valoris added from his seat at the holotable, without even looking my way.
"I guess some guy from Mars will show up with 900 more badges one day." I quipped with a light voice, but nobody laughed.
"Is this Tachyon FTL transciever what I think it is?" the Forge Master asked in a pleading voice.
I smiled and waved a hand towards the main screen, to open the Matrix network hyperlink. "The science of tachyons is rather complex, but basically they are some kind of particles always travelling faster than light. Best way to think of them is a river. You drop a sealed bottle in the river, and someone else opens the bottle some place distant." I explained in my best tech-priest voice, while the Blade yelled at me on my implant.
"Hello world!" I wrote on the screen, then sent the message in a time-locked bottle over the Tachyon river.
"Hello to you as well, Khal Lancefire. Do send more cold produce to our river goddess." the answer came near-instantly.
I smiled a bit sheepishly as a hundred eyes wondered why someone would want frozen vegetables from me. "There's just some people I trade with near the Galactic Core. They don't mean frozen fruits though, but exotic items like Eldar weapons and that sort."
"Cold Trade, we know of it, Lord Lancefire." the Lord Phalanx allowed with a worried glance at the Adeptus Custodes.
"Anyways, the Emperor gave me a Warrant of Trade for that sort of business. Quite useful, to be fair." I spoke with a kind voice, making my bodyguard cough in reproach.
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"Ah, Captain Khan, of the White Scars! Here on business from your Primarch?" the Lord Phalanx asked, missing the point entirely.
"Precisely so, Lord Phalanx. I have been a bodyguard for Pef Lancefire for the last 111 years. Quite a confusing duty, but I survived." the Veteran Blademaster explained in a totally convicing voice.
"And I just woke up, and I'm hungry. Tiring stuff, repairing a whole battlestation." I added with no ulterior reason.
"Grufff!" Canis demanded as well, although he didn't repair anything.
"Errr. Nutri-gruel packs should suffice on campaign." the Lord Phalanx muttered with a confused face.
I sighed, since the guy was quite hard-headed, making me waste my Noble points for nothing. "Come, I'll show you what I mean, Lord Phalanx. Forge Master, you join us as well and learn."
I lead the way to the nearest guest rooms, and then began using the food replicator to make myself a nice breakfast, then more for the guests.
"You're not using Awakening Rituals?" the Forge Master realized as I began to eat, and Canis crunched a pile of replicated poultry.
"I am not a tech-marine, nor a tech-priest. Machines work for me because they just love me." I explained in a serious voice.
'Idiot, I don't love you!' the Blade sent me with an irate voice.
'I am rather lovable though. Plenty women say so.' I countered with unassailble logic.
The Blade huffed and fell silent.
"The food is great too. How does it work?" the Lord Phalanx asked with child-like curiosity.
"Anti-matter, I guess. Just like any STC Constructor. But this one makes tasty food, not guns." I answered in a simple tone.
"Makes sense. The food is really good too. I should eat here everyday." the Lord Phalanx realized a bit late.
'We're taking the other 19 replicators when I leave. They are wasted on these people.' I muttered on my implant.
'You're still an idiot! But yes, I think I can create the Black Carapace for the Astartes with this type of organic replicator.' the Blade offered as a peace sign. Well, that was one problem solved, if it worked.
I drank my black tea, then pointed a finger at the Forge Master. "Primarch Sanguinius managed to clone your Primarch, from the remains you had in stasis."
"What! Holy Omnissiah, that's amazing news! Rogal Dorn is back too?" the Forge Master exclaimed in joy.
"Just remember, a clone is just a clone. I'll go and take a look next, and probably clone another one as a spare. Try to focus one of them on technology and machines. The Phalanx will degrade back to a sorry state without a real genius to understand its systems." I said in a colder voice.
"And the other one can be our strategist? I suspect the clones will be quite limited." Lord Phalanx asked with surprising acumen.
"I know clones quite well, and they do tend to become monodominant. Experts in their field, but not much else." I answered with a soft voice.
The two Imperial Fists rose and bowed towards me in tandem. "I heard things, about Vulkan. Clones with orange eyes?" the Lord Phalanx asked in a whisper. I guess hiding a 4-meter-tall Primarch clone wasn't as perfect as I hoped. Much less 12 of them like I had.
"Look, there's stuff I can't talk about. The Inquisition is fond of keeping secrets. But there will be something big happening in a year. After that, it won't be a secret anymore." I promised with a big smile.
"We should go, Lord Lancefire. Breakfast is over." my bodyguard spoke with a visible frown.
Right. Damn my mouth.
I grabbed the extra replicators and jumped ships, just in time to meet the second clone of Dorn, raising from his Crucible bath.
"Which one? Must be Tzeentch, and his magic lies!" the clone yelled with feverish eyes.
So I punched him in the mouth. "This is a medical facility, so keep quiet!" I warned the clone as his eyes slowly focused.
"Green eyes this time. You do good work, Anzion." Sanguinius noted with a gentle voice.
The clone saw the Vulkan clone, then his own clone-brother with orange eyes. "What is going on!" he yelled again, then received another punch, on the other cheek. This guy was a good punching bag though.
"Shhhh. There are small babies in those pods. Yell again and I'll remove your vocal cords, clone of Dorn." I whispered as my wolf stepped beside me and just growled.
"Stop hitting the new clone, Lancefire. His mind is still in the desert now." the first clone asked in a patient voice.
"I've been there too. Creepy skulls and nothing to drink. Then I beat up some ugly daemon and woke up." I commented while dressing up the wet clone in the spare flak uniform I had from Khan.
"You're the strange one, Lancefire. People don't just wake up from that dream. It keeps going for centuries or more." Anzion said in a calm voice, and handed a big mug of hot recaf to the newer clone.
"Dunno, weak people are weak, maybe? Anyways, who is going to be the strategist, and who is dumber and gets to learn machines?" I asked while eyeing the clones with doubt.
"I'm not dumb!" the Green eyes growled back, but in a low voice. He could learn at least.
"At least the Phalanx is fixed. I was worried about it, even in my dream." Orange eyes spoke in a deep voice.
"I changed it a bit, added some extra guns and armor, but it still needs like 4000 tech-marines to look after it, not just 40. Green, I guess you're it." I offered with a careless voice.
"No, I'll take care of the Phalanx. Green eyes can be a war hero, in this life too." Orange eyes Dorn spoke with a determined voice.
They nodded at each other, proving they were both dumb idiots. Obviously, Green eyes was dumber and should only repair dumb machines.