Chapter Master Allteranius Nix paced the length of the command room, his ceramic-clad boots echoing off the adamantium-plated floor. The flickering hololithic displays in front of him projected numerous tactical readouts—star charts, fleet movements, threat assessments—all set against the backdrop of the galactic storm raging through the sector.
The Malefactus, a volatile Warp storm that had grown more and more unstable in recent years, now loomed as a dire threat to the eastern fringe of the Imperium.
Nix had been granted precious time by the High Lords of Terra to consolidate his Chapter’s forces, but even the might of the Cardinal Phoenixes would be tested if the rumors about the Malefactus were true. His mind churned with thoughts of what was to come, but something far more pressing had just come across his console.
He turned sharply as the door to the chamber slid open with a hiss, revealing a cluster of his most trusted Captains, including the steadfast Captain Tytus of the 5th Company. The assembled warriors saluted their Chapter Master, a silent acknowledgment of the respect they held for him. Nix gestured them forward as he returned his gaze to the command console, the tension in his voice unmistakable.
“Tytus,” he called his voice like a low rumble of thunder. Without hesitation, Tytus stepped forward, his towering form casting a long shadow in the dim light of the chamber.
“At your command, brother,” Tytus replied, his voice steady but carrying the same tension that had infected the room.
Nix’s eyes locked onto Tytus. “We’ve received a signal… an astropathic transmission from an unknown Chapter. They claim their home world has been struck by the Malefactus storm. Worse, a swarm has descended upon their planet.”
There was a pause as the weight of those words settled over the room. The hololithic map shifted, zooming in on a planet at the fringes of their sector. The name appeared in bold runes: **Throne of Galat**.
“This…” Tytus stammered, his voice faltering as his eyes took in the tactical display, “This cannot be. The Tyranids and Orks are already pressing into the eastern galactic rim for a swarm of some kind to reach that far is... However, he paused and continued "The Malefactus storm would surely have torn their fleet apart…”
Allteranius Nix folded his arms across his broad chest, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward his assembled Captains. “And yet here we stand, with a distress signal from a Chapter we’ve never heard of, calling for aid.”
Another Captain, Gaven of the 10th Company, stepped forward, his brow furrowed beneath his helm. “A hidden Chapter? The Imperium’s records are extensive, even those that the Inquisition keeps sealed. How could this *Throne of Galat* have remained unknown to us?”
Nix shook his head, his face grim. “I do not know, Gaven. It may be a Chapter long thought lost, or perhaps a new founding that slipped through the cracks during the confusion of the Indomitus Crusade. But regardless of who they are, they claim they are loyal to the Emperor. And they are in dire need.”
Tytus nodded, his mind already shifting into the tactical mode that had made him one of the Chapter’s most trusted strategists. “If they face a Tyranid incursion, we must assume their planet is on the verge of total collapse. The swarm will not stop once it consumes *Throne of Galat*. It will push outward, into nearby systems—potentially into our own.”
Captain Gaven crossed his arms. “The Malefactus storm complicates things. Navigating through that much Warp instability is suicide.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Nix turned to face the hololithic display again, the planet glowing faintly in the center of the map. “And yet the Chapter still fights. This message wasn’t sent in desperation—it was sent as a call for reinforcements. They believe they can hold the line with our help.”
Tytus took a step closer to Nix, his jaw set in grim determination. “If we do nothing, they will fall, and the Tyranids will continue to feed. We cannot allow another world to fall to the Great Devourer.”
Nix’s gaze swept the room, lingering on each of his Captains. He could see the resolve in their eyes, but also the concern. The Chapter had fought the Tyranids before—every Space Marine knew the horrors of Hive Fleet Leviathan and the destruction it had wrought upon the galaxy. To face such a foe required absolute strength, both in body and in will.
“If we are to answer this call,” Nix began, his voice low and measured, “we must prepare for the worst. The Tyranids will not fall easily. And if the Malefactus storm grows stronger, we may be trapped within its grip, cut off from reinforcements. This could very well be a one-way mission.”
Silence followed his words. The captains exchanged glances, weighing the enormity of the decision before them.
Finally, Tytus spoke. “Then we do what we have always done. We fight. We strike as the Cardinal Phoenixes do—swift and decisive. We will purge the xenos from the *Throne of Galat* and ensure the survival of the Chapter that called to us.”
Nix gave a curt nod, his resolve hardening. “Very well. We will deploy the 5th and 10th Companies for this mission. Tytus, you will lead the strike force. Gaven, ensure that the scouts are battle-ready. They may see combat sooner than expected.”
Gaven gave a sharp nod. “They will be ready, Chapter Master.”
Nix’s gaze lingered on the planet before him, the faint image of the Tyranid swarm swirling around it like a dark cloud of death. The fate of the *Throne of Galat* hung in the balance, and with it, the fate of yet another world caught in the relentless advance of the Great Devourer.
“We leave at dawn,” Nix declared, turning to his Captains. “At the emperor's will, the fire of blood shall light our way.”
They echoed his words “At the emperor’s will”.
As the Captains filed out, Nix remained at the console, his eyes fixed on the glowing image of the *Throne of Galat*. Many questions remained unanswered—about this unknown Chapter, about the Malefactus storm, and the future of his own brothers.
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Two Orks stood on the cracked, barren plains of the *Throne of Galat*, surrounded by the wreckage of human machinery and the smoldering remnants of what once might have been a defensive fortification.
The sky above was filled with dark, swirling clouds, and the smell of burnt metal and ozone filled the air. One of the Orks, a hulking Nob with a crude iron plate bolted to his head, scratched his chin thoughtfully as he stared at a pile of ruined Imperial tech.
"Oi, Groznak," the Nob growled, glancing over at a smaller, more wiry Ork who was busy poking at a broken Leman Russ tank with his choppa. "Wot d’ya reckon dis gubbinz does, eh? Dem humies sure do love dere flashy stuff, but it ain't zoggin' workin', iz it?"
Groznak snorted, kicking a piece of metal loose from the wreckage. "'Course it ain't workin’, Grotbrain. Dat’s ‘cause we krumped it good! Ain’t no humie mekboyz gonna fix dis now. Har har har!"
The Nob grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharp, yellow teeth. "Dat’s right! Krumped it good! I like it when da humies think dey got a chance, but den we come along and smash ‘em up! Da Boyz are gonna love it when dey see wot we done ‘ere."
Groznak nodded enthusiastically, wiping grease off his choppa. "Yeah, but dere’s more fun comin’. Boss Grukka sez we’z got more humies on da way. Maybe some a’ dem fancy ones in big armor dis time. Wotcha fink?"
The Nob’s grin widened even further. "Ooh, da ones wiv da big shiny bitz, eh? Dey fink dey all big an’ tough, but when we’z done wiv ‘em, dere heads’ll be on spikes! Or better yet, we’ll keep dere stompy boots fer ourselves! Har har har!"
Groznak let out a loud, hacking laugh. "Yeah, yeah! I could use me some fancy boots! An' maybe one o’ dem big gunz wot shoots all shiny like. We'll be da toughest Orks on dis whole zoggin’ planet!"
The Nob stomped his foot, causing a nearby pile of debris to collapse in on itself. "Dat’s da plan, Groznak! We’z gonna take everyfin’, an’ den when da boss sez we’z done ‘ere, we’ll take more! WAAAGH!!!"
"WAAGH!!!" Groznak echoed, his eyes wide with excitement as he raised his choppa high in the air.
The two Orks roared in unison, their voices carrying across the desolate landscape.