While normally my eyes would have been hard to pull off her, for now my gaze lurked in the shadow of her form as she stood over me and my starcharts. I had not been so infatuated with maps since plotting the Amnes Minoris operation with Caliman some decades ago. “Are you even listening to me, Cal?” Mirena asked, a touch of flame on her lips, but not from anger. It was an eager tone, a hint of personal zealotry from someone I knew to be otherwise levelheaded.
“I am,” I answered without looking up at her, instead moving a few models on the map to note a world recently lost to our foe.
“Well then? What say you? I don’t know what we’re going to be up against, but I know there will be voidships involved and that you’ll need fighters—in the naval sense. I also know I won’t be much use as infantry otherwise. So, Cal, may I—”
“Yes,” I agreed, and she paused, struck in shock for a moment. She was not anticipating my approval. She said nothing further while I poured over my maps for a few moments more, after which I finally looked up at her. I saw a touch of doubt in her face—doubt that I was indeed listening to her request and doubt that had I been listening I would have approved it. “I will need fighters, yes. And you are the best one this side of Cadia, so I’ve heard.”
“I thought my ego told you I was the best in the galaxy,” she suggested, slowly adapting a soft smile on her lips.
“Jury’s still out on that one,” I returned. In the background, the rest of my immediate, most-trusted retinue was funneling into the meeting room, as I had asked of them. I, then, addressed them all. “Welcome, my friends, thank you for coming. We’ve been close over the decades, haven’t we? As like a family among the stars. Such is why my orders to follow pain me so, for I will ask that we plunge into the darkness apart from one another. I…,” I began, looking in the faces of my dearest friends, and stumbled on account of the years we had shared together. “We have faced death before. We have lost our own before. I think, by the end of this campaign, not all of us will remain. You’ve all been in the game long enough not to need me to inspire you to act despite that, so I won’t patronize you with my commissarial side. I’ll skip to your marching orders, then, as I know that in life or death, you will each achieve your objectives.”
“Whatever you need of us, boss,” Luther nodded to me. He had, over the years, begun to age, even despite the rejuvenat. He still seemed lively enough to be as wonderful a soldier as he had ever been, but the greying of hair and the wearing of skin had begun for him, he having declined Absalom’s curse shortly after the approval of its cure.
I nodded to myself for a moment, and then began addressing each of my allies individually. I felt as though I were back on trial after Hestia Majoris, with my allies receiving their sentencing while I awaited mine. I think, in a way, that was a more accurate comparison than I wanted it to be. “Mirena, since you were asking for it for years, I have requisitioned a Fury Interceptor for you, along with its necessary crew, including an astropath. Do what you do best, but I will have dynamic orders for you as the situation changes. Follow them. My orders will not be merely to keep you alive—though I will try—but also for a grander strategy at play, and I will not approve a pilot who will disrupt such tactics. Do you understand?”
“To the letter,” she nodded to me.
“Good. Silas, Luther, you will have similar jobs to each other. I anticipate boarding parties from our foe, human, abhuman, and Astartes alike. Ensure they do not get far. You will have your teams to work with, as you’ve established them, along with any men and women aboard Quintus that you feel you need—do not hesitate to ask me for reinforcements. This will be a two-phase operation. In the first, you will both be on Quintus. In the second, Luther, you will return to your post on the Ebon Shrike while Silas returns to the Echoshroud. In either phase, your roles are the same: prevent and thwart boarding engagements.”
“They won’t take an inch on our shores, Cal,” Silas confirmed for me, while Luther nodded in agreement. Silas had taken to the ‘Cal’ nomenclature following insistence from myself and Mirena. Luther had yet to, still referring to me as ‘boss’ or ‘sir.’ One day, perhaps, he would come around too.
“Xavier, you will be my eyes and ears for Phase One. We will have a reserve fleet hidden in the Warp—comprised of our own vessels as well as some of Battlefleet Ixaniad; you and the Lord Orthus will be among that reserve. For Phase One, I need to know the scope of the threat we’re up against, and of their movements in the Warp. We will keep in touch. Come Phase Two, you and the rest of the reserve will join us in the Materium, where you and your unit must serve as a battery against their greater forces. This…will place you in some danger, as the enemy will recognize your importance—such is why I will not risk damage to you or your vessel during Phase One. We will do our best to keep them off you, but you will offer us a defense, in turn, that no other vessel can reciprocate. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Gradshi confirmed. Likewise with Luther, Gradshi remained stalwart in the ‘sir’ terminology. Old habits die hard, I suppose. “Where concerns the mind, there has ever been a risk. We will manage it.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Thank you,” I smiled, nodding knowingly. “Castecael, your role may sound simple, but I’m sure you understand as well as I do that it is anything but. Battlefield medicae support, here on Quintus and on supporting vessels. While Mirena takes to our defense in the void, I will assume her logistics role myself. Anything you need, you have, carte blanche. The only bureaucracy you need worry about is the communication between you and me; I will handle the rest. But the casualties are doomed to mount. I cannot help you there.”
“I understand, Cal. Thank you. We’ll keep our men and women in the fight, best as they can,” she assured me.
“I know you will. They and the Throne will be grateful for your aid. Galen,” I started, turning to my Knightly friend. “I have what may at first sound like disappointing news.”
“Yes, I figured a Castellan would find little purchase in a void battle, nor is it small enough to suitably deter boarding parties from stalking our halls,” he sighed, nodding knowingly.
“Indeed. However, there is a task for you yet. Quintus, the planet down below. We are evacuating the R&D sites as we can, but there are planetary batteries for orbital defense on the surface that we intend to utilize. We’ll use them in Phase 1 of our engagement, though we do not anticipate our foe will be able to react to their presence before Phase 1 concludes. They will likely scan the surface world for the defenses of these surface-to-orbit platforms during Phase 1, so I will not want you among their scans at first. You’ll be deployed in Phase 2, not unlike Xavier, with your task being the elimination of any enemy that lands on the planet to sabotage our defense platforms. However, your survival is paramount—I will have great need of your services in a protracted campaign against the enemy, should we survive to wage it.”
“Ha! This is not the first time I’ve fought our traitorous once-Angels, but this time I get to take them by surprise? I will keep your world intact and slaughter what fools their futility thrusts upon it. Worry not for my survival in that regard, Blackgar,” Galen all but scoffed, offering me a confident thumbs’ up in addition to his boasting. “Here’s to this campaign of yours, then, for the possibility of a real fight for once.”
“Careful what you wish for, Galen,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Alright, well, the rest of you are with me, albeit in different roles. Congratulations. Ms. Trantos, I will want you by my side in the war room on the Dawnshadow and the Coldbreed for Phases 1 and 2 of our defense, respectively. You’re familiar with our planned strategems, yes?”
“Intimately, Mr. Blackgar, yes,” Zha confirmed.
“Good. Help me coordinate our response, then, as the battles unfold, but understand that our war room is bound to be dangerous. It will be a prime target for the enemy—safer to assume they will know where we are than to arrogantly believe ourselves impervious. Lucene, you and your Mission will be charged with the defense of the war room from the enemy. You will have assistance in this regard, no doubt, from our allied Inquisitors. But be wary of that assistance all the same. Which brings me to you, Bliss. I am tasking you with the personal defense of myself as well as of Ms. Trantos. Defense against the enemy, yes, but also from conniving Inquisitors we will be sharing a room with. The middle of a warzone is a perfect time to stage a political assassination, and I intend to look after myself and my own as best I can from my peers in the Inquisition. If you see anything anomalous, report it to me at once or handle it at your own discretion as your judgment deems fit. Understood?”
“Yes, Cal/Callant,” Lucene/Bliss agreed with nods of their own. Lucene then queried, “Will my Mission and I be in the war room itself with you, or in its surrounding chambers?”
“You may deploy yourself and your forces as you see fit; I will not infringe upon your autonomy and expertise in that regard,” I answered, shaking my head. “Any other questions?” I asked my group. There were none. “Good. Finally, some sour news for those of you in our fleet’s capital ships. You cannot allow our vessels to fall into enemy hands, lest they turn their weapons against us.”
“Respectfully, Cal, I think that was assumed,” Silas grinned.
An inch of me wanted to return the grin, but my point was buried in miles of dire implications. “I think you misunderstand. If your vessels are boarded, they must not remain operable in enemy hands. If it looks like your invaders will assume control of the propulsion systems or weapons systems, you must scuttle your ship. Varnus is affixing the apparatus required in that regard to your engine blocks. I…,” I began, but had to pause at the thought. “Engaging such equipment will be decisively lethal to any aboard your vessel, even Astartes. It won’t be a pleasant way to go, either, but it will be quick. I do wish I had alternatives on hand, but I do not. I’m sorry.”
A somber silence took hold of the room then as the possible fates of our allies settled in. It was broken by Luther insisting, with confidence, “They won’t take our ships, our world, or our Sector. No matter the cost. If this is where we draw the line in the sand, so be it. Let these fallen Angels come and die upon our walls, as the Emperor wills it.”
There was a murmur of ‘Hear, hear’s and general assent among my retinue, which proved inspiring even to me. Luther, as ever, impressed. “Blessed are the Holy Ordos, then, to have soldiers as fine as you amidst their ranks,” I replied. “Ever have each of you served the Master of Mankind to the fullest, and I know I need not waste prayers in the hope of you continuing to do so. Instead I need only pray my own service is sufficient, that my own planning may outwit and out-maneuver our profane foe. Thank you, all of you, for being who you are. It has mattered and will continue to matter. The Emperor protects.”
“The Emperor protects,” they all repeated, some giving me the Sign of the Aquila.
“Last chance for any questions, then,” I noted.
There was a pause, and some shaking of heads, but Mirena did choose to pipe up. “Do you want to review some of my flight instructions in advance?” she asked.
“Sure. Ms. Trantos, you should weigh in here as my plan reveals itself to you. Everyone else, if you have nothing to ask me, you are dismissed. These hours may be our last together. Use them wisely,” I explained to the group. Some departed right away, others gave me a hug before doing so, but Mirena and Zha remained in the end. From there, we spent two long hours formulating the right plans of attack and defense for Mirena’s skillset in the context of our coming trial.