I better clean up the mess I left, before the other Tyranids get drawn into the Webway.

These alien creatures emanate some type of psychic call, drawing others of their kind to a nice food source.

Intersection by intersection, we trace our steps by another routes, while I collect Tyranid bioships and exterminate fleeing Dark Eldar and chasing Tyranids.

This takes weeks of hard work, work that I made for myself. Well, it made sense at the time, blocking passage ways with hungry Tyranids. Shouldn't have expected them to stay put though. Poor guys were awfully hungry after all.

However, chasing after stream of Tyranid bioforms leads my fleet into dozens of new sub-dimensions, because these cute fellows can smell prey and blood from a thousand kilometers and keep track of wounded Drukhari without fail. They do make great hunting dogs.

Of course, I rotate my officers in the captain seat, to give them all more experience in fleet maneuvers and Webway navigation. A dozen Blank daughters already have a pilot badge, and a barge is much slower than a starfighter.

I can't wait till I have a few thousand of such daughters or maybe granddaughters, to captain all my ships. Especially those ships not yet 'discovered'.

By the third week, the found Primarch has recovered enough to walk around, dressed in a white robe as a sign of penitence.

I mostly ignore him, except as meals and debriefings, where Khan is invited due to his status but only allowed to listen. His advice is not required, not wanted.

I trust my own judgement, and I do have advisers, maybe too many. Even my nurses think they could run a battlefleet inside the alien Webway.

The Tech-priests all want to get their tentacles all over the xenos machines and biowarfare organisms, and disregard my questions about quarantine and safety protocols. So, their lack of common sense ensures they don't get to touch anything.

The Juggler is the most displeased among the tech-priests, even after collecting enough gene samples from Mister Khan to create an entire new Chapter.

"We can solve your quest for knowledge easily, Magos. You jump outside from my armored warship, and have all the fun you want with the creatures below. No need for safety protocols. You have five seconds to agree, four, three..." I tell him after he retracts his tentacle from a certain orifice. He is my personal doctor too, and isn't that worrisome?

The Biologis Magos grumbles something in binharic and sanitizes his mechadendrite in disgust. "I like the shields and armor around me..." he explains in a pleading voice.

"And I like my crew healthy and not infected with a billion pathogens and bio viruses from a million insane Homunculi. One day, I will build you a biolab on an airless moon, in an unpopulated star system, armored in blackstone 10 meters thick, with a cyclonic torpedo under it, that needs a red button to be pressed every hour, to stop the already primed detonation. And that button keyed only to your still breathing person. Then, you will get to experiment with these captured creatures, one at the time. Until you forget to press the button or something eats you, and finally the Exterminatus erases your stupidity from the gene pool." I explain patiently.

"... That seems absurd. I can deal with any pathogen!" the idiot-savant claims in denial.

"You're right. It is too little, right? Make that a virus-bomb first, then a Vortex warhead, and lastly the Cyclonic torpedo. That should take care of every security risk. Perhaps I can find a way to make the star go supernova too..." I muse to myself in real concern.

Juggler blinks at me and tries to find the joke, but I'm not joking at all. "You're too paranoid, Lord Pef. Not so many planets have been destroyed by investigating too deeply into the mystery of the Omnissiah. Thousands at most!"

"And then, we should add a blackhole weapon to sink everything into a gravity well. Not many things can climb out from that. It worked on Fulgrim too." I continue in a casual voice and go to play with my wolf a little. He needs love too!

"...You threw Primarch Fulgrim into a blackhole? That sounds intriguing." the idiot mutters as he exits my rooms, and dodges around Primarch Khan.

The other idiot has good hearing though. "Fulgrim as well?" Khan mutters in dismay as he sneaks elegantly into my room.

"I only helped from the sides in that event. Lady Justine, my Blank mother, was the main protagonist. And Sanguinius helped as well. Not in the flesh, as his corpse is now held by the Blood Angels, in stasis. Just a psychic construct in his image. Healed my wrist too, so it almost paid off my mother's sacrifice. So, you made up your mind?" I ask curious.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Yes, Lord Lancefire. I'm thinking to lead a Crusade into the Maelstrom. I've read about your own exploits, in the Badab War. The folly of the Mantis Warriors is on me, for my absence." the Primarch says in a gentle tone.

A Crusade, huh? It would fail horribly, and waste even more ships and troops for no gain.

"Why a Crusade?" I ask instead.

"The Lamenters sacrificed most of the chapter to end the Badab rebellion, and you haven't even been granted a Noble title on Terra, even though you risked your clan's personal ships and armsmen to aid the Imperium. I will use my sons' blood to wash off the shame." the idiot explains in a retarded logic.

"How about this? What use are arid worlds filled with xenos or cultists? Who will live there or defend them, while our enemies burn Hive Worlds and plunder our Forges? You and those Chapters willing to listen to your amazing genius as a Primarch, start reinforcing Hive Worlds and Forge Worlds with orbital defenses and thousands of ships each, while the local Army units receive those weapons and tech-priests they need to secure the surface. You saw those torpedo corvettes, right? Easy and cheap to build, and a thousand of them can launch 20 thousand torpedoes at any invading fleet, be they Tyranids or Orks or Traitor Legions. Build Gellar generators in every city, to keep Warp intrusions at the minimum. " I comment in a dismissive voice.

Crusades? What for? The Imperium is crumbling under his feet, and he wants to conquer even more.

"But what about you? Didn't you Crusade as well?" he asks in confusion.

"A Rogue Trader has different priorities. Plunder and loot like gems and thrones, captured ships and weapons, liberated slaves or serfs and convicts turned into servitors. Everything I plundered and liberated from those pirates and criminals keeps my clan rich and safe, because we can now defend a dozen worlds in the Fringe much easier. And then, there is the STC for Macharius-pattern drives, which allow the largest human ships to travel without entering the Warp. I heard Forge Angstrom tries to repair the ancient template and allow even large cruisers the same benefit." I explain while diverting his attention from my actions.

"I never heard of those drives. Even just on battleships and converted conveyors...are they really that common now?" he wonders in amazement.

"I wouldn't know. I did hear of a dozen Forges building those drives, but then both my Lancefire clan and my new Chapter are mostly isolated in the Eastern Fringe, surrounded by Orks and Tyranids, Tau to our south and Necrons farther north." I explain in vague terms.

It isn't actually that bad, or at least not until more Tyranids arrive and Necron awaken.

"And these Eldar? You made an alliance?" he asks in a worried tone.

"Just followed them to Commorragh. I sort of convinced their Avatar to lead the way and bear the brunt of the assault, in return for not blowing up more Craftworlds. Worked quite well, and we didn't even get betrayed. Anyway...I do have a Warrant of Trade, so it's my right to deal with xenos as I please. Not by chopping Eldar heads one by one, instead burning their whole corrupted city to the ground. Not that anyone is going to repay my costs, the spent torpedoes and fuel and the lost corvette." I mutter in fake Rogue Trader greed.

"I shall arrange you receive a battlecruiser instead, Lord Lancefire. And double your expenditure in ordnance. 40 thousand torpedoes, for your service to the Emperor." the Primarch proclaims in a glorious voice.

I smile sweetly, as my good mood suddenly returns. 40 thousand reasons to smile, so why not?

"With a Nova Cannon. And a hundred Nova shells. I did spend all my precious munitions blasting away at the traitor Astral Claws and that Tyranid Hive Fleet attacking Sotha." I barter with my familiar demeanor of a slimy Trader.

"Yes, yes. A hundred Nova shells it will be. Are we returning to Sotha now?" Khan inquires in a lower voice.

"Probably next week. Still need to burn down everything related to the Dark Eldar, and cleanse the tunnels of the Tyranid infestation, before they reach humans worlds. Damned tunnels go everywhere into the galaxy, even Terra and Cadia. Someone should work on closing those gates before something nasty crawls out." I say in a warning voice and point at the door.

Khan has a mind implant now, so he can understand a command that most dogs can.

"I shall return next week. Lord Lancefire. And I shall consider your advice. Or was it an order?" he asks to make sure.

"Only the Emperor can order an Astartes, Primarch Khan. Let me know if He speaks to you." I answer in a cheerful voice and power up my cogitator.

Time to work on those STCs, and derive a hundred more slightly better templates.

Ludvaius escorts the Primarch as he leaves, and Rafen stays to watch me work. Well, he kinda has to stay as my personal bodyguard.