Segmentum Obscurus
Epistar Sector
Viola System
Battle Barge Silent Eclipse
7.980.057M40
Iron Father Ollen Varanis of the Iron Eagles
“The reports on the subjugation of the Viola system are complete,” Magos Ylis Morkata Epsilon-Theta-664 droned. “The three civilized worlds and single agri-world of the system were gripped in religious hysteria due to heretical actions of preachers of the proscribed Kindlers cult, pirating the Administratum tithe fleet and destroying one of the Black Ships. Logically following, a daemon manifestation event occurred as a result of a failure of the flesh, and the traitor PDF of Viola VI fought a holding action against the aethyric invasion.
“Responding to astropathic calls for assistance from chartist vessel Flower of Ys, Inquisitor Kendrad of Ordo Malleus enacted Exterminatus against Viola VI, and the four companies of the Iron Eagles arrived shortly thereafter to support the Guard in exterminating the remaining traitors. Projections indicate the virus bomb’s residue should dissipate in approximately five thousand years, and orbital bombardment removed the source of the taint.
“Dark Eldar raiders disabled the 794th Bastillus guard regiment, six regiments of traitor guards and approximately four hundred thousand civilians, before the Seventh Armored Company terminated their Archon and its command group. Three Predators and two Razorbacks, along with a single Thunderhawk gunship, were lost and are unrecoverable, before the remaining xenos fled, with fourteen marines killed, bodies and gear recovered, and two lost. That effectively concluded the resistance on Viola III.
“Orbital bombardment removed the capital of Viola IV from existence, effectively ending civilized presence on that planet. Estimated recovery time, accounting for known inefficiencies: Seventy-four years.
“Viola V was restored to the Omnissiah’s grace three days ago, after the Fourth Company’s successful drop assault on its capital and the termination of the traitor-governor and heretic priests. The six remaining guard regiments, consolidated from the original eighteen, will maintain order until the appointed governor arrives.
“Three marines received light to moderate wounds, estimated full recovery time is fifty-six hours. Machine Spirits and metal shall be fully recovered in ten days. Resupply will be complete in thirty-eight hours. Additional time to Mandeville point: Twenty-nine hours.”
The magos was succinct as ever, completely ignoring the juggernaut in the room, only the uncharacteristic twitching of his mechadendrites and the erratic eye-movements betraying his excitement.
“We have received multiple astropathic calls from several Forge Worlds, sector command, cluster command and from Joranor,” the Iron Eagles’ fortress-monastery’s homeworld. “Vista,” the Iron Father’s word sounded… cautious.
“They celebrate the flesh as a machine of equal or superior quality,” Captain Urivel grumbled.
“And they are not necessarily wrong,” Magos Ylis Morkata Epsilon-Theta-664 responded and added an incomprehensible string of binary cants. “I have had the opportunity to examine a damaged portion of a biologically-based carapace armor greave and breastplate produced by Forge Gondor, the seventh of the Vista-forges. It is measurably tougher and more durable, against both physical strikes and energy discharges, than the plasteel composites I am capable of forging. I was not able to verify rumors of its self-restoration properties, for lack of materials.”
“Silence!” Ollen raised his voice before any ‘further discussion’ could arise. “This is not the time for such a debate. There can be no mistake, a standard template construct database has been recovered, whole and complete. The fleet from Mars will not arrive before the enemy strike.”
“Since Forge Vista was capable of keeping the STC database secret, they could have presumably delivered it directly to Mars, without taking such risks,” Captain Vorsson commented.
“A direct delivery would have earned them little more than accolades,” the magos contradicted his point. “Blessed Mars may be, but it is not generous. For all that, it is possible that Vista is a prepared trap for the Great Enemy. Its Fabricator is sufficiently crazed that such a course of action… has fifty-six point three percent chance of being the one chosen.”
“Crazy they may be, and tainted with flesh,” the Iron Father announced in a loud voice, “but there can no doubt of Vista’s contribution. They have brought back the Apocalypse-class battleship and means to stabilize space-hulks from the Warp’s predations.
“I have personally heard of seven exploratory fleets of theirs in Obscurus alone which have saved planets from xenos, traitors and the Ruinous Powers. A company of the Sons of Medusa participated in the Kursis Crusade and received great awards from Vista, having incurred a large debt. They remain true, and their fortune is the Imperium’s. In the Emperor’s name, we shall send what we can to defend its forges, as must all loyal sons.”
----------------------------------------
Segmentum Pacificus
Heptar Sector
Vulcanis System
Forge World Stygies VIII
7.989.057M40
Fabricator Locum Birrin Gantor Alpha-9-Zeta
It was blessedly quiet in the atrium between the twelve forges personally answering to the Fabricator, at least compared to the ordinary level of noise in a Forge World of such productivity, his sound dampeners functioning at a mere eighteen percent.
The quiet also referred to the lack of any known Deathwatch kill-teams in the vicinity, mostly absent since the Lucris forge and went silent, its recently obtained Drukhari Ravager found melted to slag, and three different Ork Waaaghs erupted within recall distance. Only one of them was stirred by an exploratory expedition from Stygies VIII, happy news.
Still, the noosphere buzz and the tone of the cants over the entire Forge Worlds was nearly mournful. When the various forge-masters colluded to obtain the legacy of Archmagos Infra-Salixis Delta-19, none of them could have envisioned such a future.
He certainly hadn’t.
Of course, the bitter hag hadn’t even left them a single scrap of data or sacred experimental results, not one semi-intact artifact or bio-sample. Every single things that was left behind in accordance with the agreement had been trapped to a ridiculous degree. The loss of sixteen skitarii marcro-clades and nearly two hundred magi was nothing compared to the vicious info-phages or the enervating plague that still erupted intermittently among the menials, over two centuries after its initial purge.
Nearly six percent loss of manufacturing capacity, it was galling. Given such utter viciousness, they should have expected more, but it was as though the Omnissiah himself was repaying them for each and every imaginary crime their doctrinal enemies spun out of thin air.
A full and complete STC database, in addition to the wondrous discoveries Mars was still crowing about, some of them revolutionary, many clearly of xenos origin. Stygies VIII should have been the source of such, may rad-fluid congeal in the fluid-lines of the fools who first raised the notion of nearly going to war with a magus of such fortune, who was so obviously in the favor of the Omnissiah.
It was an unfortunate state of affairs, and this meeting was concerned with its rectification.
“Of course,” he transmitted for the first time in this meeting, having grown near-disgusted by the wild notions and disastrous ‘ideas’ thrown about by tech-ignoramuses who had no understanding of galactic realities or the might of the Imperium, “it is entirely possible that the projected nova-grade multi-pronged assault on Vista will result in its utter destruction.
“Given its Fabricator’s choleric disposition, no attackers have any chance of profiting thereby. We’ve experienced that much in our attempts. There is a one hundred percent certitude that copies of the database have been spread to other Vista-forges, and Vista itself is a primaris-grade trap of unprecedented proportion,” was his conclusion.
The younger archmagi were quickly briefed on their history with Vista’s mistress, and the storm of debate forced him to increase the sound-suppression to sixty-three percent of capacity.
Eighteen hours later, they’d reached a consensus of sorts.
In service to the Omnissiah, the Forge World’s agents would use a variety of means to retrieve the full array of STC templates. Everyone agreed on the necessity, it was limiting the means to something which wouldn’t result in their destruction that took so much work, grating on his ever-diminishing reserves of patience.
Stygies VIII would be patient and careful, and win the long game.
----------------------------------------
Ultima Segmentum
Ulmar Sector
Corellia System
7.982.057M40
Fabricator Danielle Ferrari Nokia-19
Every Fabricator in charge of a Forge World answering to Vista, however little answering there actually was in practice, was an Alpha-ranked psyker at the very least, empowered in the Hall of Golden Shadows beneath Hive Vertika on Vista III.
So when the threads of the future completed their untangling, Danielle knew that she and hers would be facing a trial. The leak had been arranged with absolute discretion, aiming to split the forces massed against Vista.
The Alpha Legion operatives had learned that Corellia had an unabridged copy of the newly discovered STC database, and were not shy about selling that information. This was the only gambit of its sort to work, and another look at the winding and twisting probabilities showed her that every Vista-forge in Ultima had already mustered its mobile forces, in fact two of them were already on their way, cutting their way through Warp-interference with brutal celerity.
As for the survival of her Forge… of that she could see nothing, possibilities and threads tangling with unbound destinies and Warp-interference.
Interesting times.
----------------------------------------
Segmentum Pacificus
Anastasia Sector
Vista System
Planet Vista IV
Starfort Point Blank
7.019.058M40
Fabricator Valerie Trilkard Iota-881
The defense arrangements for any Vista-forge, especially the original, did not leave any holes.
Each of the three layers was divided into twelve sections, further divided into twelve more sub-sections, with the asteroid belt and each world and moon being its own independent section.
Each Defense Monitor-Commander had their own resources and augur arrays, the overlapping detection arrays and randomly-scheduled active scans ensuring the near impossibility of any infiltration. This was Vista, so each layer of defense was commanded by an Alpha-plus psyker, all of them stronger and notably more vicious than herself.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Alpha-rank power was all she could reliably control, and Valerie wasn’t too envious. A pity she had to recall that latter fact every now and then, so she just might be… just a teeny bit.
Being a skilled administrator with excellent foresight for resource-flows and nearly unmatched multi-tasking skills had won her the honor of appointment to head the third established Vista-forge. Perhaps she could test the limits of her control again in a few decades, after she matured into her ability.
The original STC database was hidden on Vista IV, but any sorcerous dowsing would show its presence on Vista II, burning bright behind a thin, failed veil. The copy there was empty of content, with just a tiny scrap of the original radiating in sympathetic resonance. The last big trap was around the volcanic planet nearest the sun, so that was very deliberate. First plan for defeat, it was a maxim she really didn’t like.
The situation board shone green, with each and every defense sector, subsector, starfort, squadron, flotilla, strike-group and combat division signaling at least 100% readiness.
The holographic and gravity-distortion illusions on the great space-docks were active, showing hundreds of ships under construction and masking the thick defense batteries. The torpedo launchers, minefields, gravity traps and heavy space-batteries were all online, nano-repair swarms ensuring no readiness loss could take place for at least half a year, even without maintenance.
The psyker-choirs were emplaced and spending the waiting time playing cards or indulging in orgies, the titans were awake, the Ordinatus and Legio Cybernetica emplaced, hundreds of regiments under a war-time readiness cycle, the magi domini tinkering with last minute creations, each hive was weaponized to an almost uncomfortable degree, academies and creches unchanged given their standard operating procedures, Eladria’s administrative staff having completed the necessary changes to the information channels and displays, all command and control strategiums were open and active, a few minor complaints on the number of war-servitors on the space stations crowding out the trade-exchange dealt with.
The nine Archmagi of Vista were in their laboratory-forges, presumably continuing with their normal ‘duties’.
The Vista-equivalent of the senior rank most other Forge Worlds called ‘Archmagos’ was High Magos. Archmagos meant a very different thing for the Vista forges. It signified an exalted existence, a person who’d accomplished a scientific marvel, adding to humanity’s understanding of existence.
From a simple thing like retrieving a previously unknown STC, to making even relatively small incremental improvement in substantive theory or fundamental technology such as the Void Shields, to the most impressive new unimagined discovery. Luck or genius, it was not a title easily gained, and most of its recipients used the attendant rewards to sink into research or head exploratory fleets, to make the best use of their luck, genius or skill.
Ominissiah bless, most Archmagi were mentioned in the school texts of Vista, and there was an ever thickening database dedicated to their exploits on every Vista-forge. Mother had commented once on their being the equivalent of old-Earth celebrities. Their few, rare lectures were always heavily attended.
Lazily chewing on a hot currie-flavored ration bar that set her tongue and palate to a pleasing low-grade burn of savory spices, she reviewed the outer reaches and the foreign contributions.
The Imperial Navy had sent thirty-four battleships, nineteen grand cruisers, fourteen battle-cruisers, nearly two hundred cruiser-sized warships and a bit over four times that number in escorts. They’d assumed responsibility for a third of the outer sphere, their outrage at the ‘demeaning’ assignment assuaged when the battle plan they were privy to directly instructed them to fold in on the flanks and rear of assaulting fleets for a decisive annihilation strike.
The Lord Admiral in command of all this tremendous weight of plasteel, adamantium and plasma by dint of seniority was Johann Desato of Hydraphur, an intolerably boorish imbecile. His records showed him to be a political appointee and a non-entity.
Fortunately, even he was capable of understanding that a fleet so large, covering such a great volume of space, could not be coordinated from a single focal point, leaving more capable commanders in charge of practical maneuvers. If necessary, the idiot would suffer an aneurysm, Omnissiah willing. With just a little bit of help from a sting-class micro-servitor assassin.
The Navy ships had docked at the outer stations to receive provender, fuel, ammunition and repair parties. Where ‘repair’ was occasionally upgrade wasn’t mentioned by anyone, and many ships which could accommodate them also received reinforcing troops, tech-adepts in War-walkers and rapier laser destroyers. The armsmen didn’t complain, since their weapons and armor received notable upgrades, as did their tools and even their rations and sleeping arrangements.
Of Mechanicus ships, there were fourteen Arks Mechanicus, nineteen battleships, three grand cruisers, eleven battle-cruisers, twenty-six heavy cruisers, seventy-four cruisers and three hundred ninety-one lighter warships. Every magos had received the chance to review the contents of one STC, and every archmagos had access to three. Admittedly all were chosen by Vista, but specifically so as to be pertinent to their specialty.
Accordingly, they’d be happy to sacrifice their newborn children to Vista, if asked. It was made clear that this was payment for their assistance and war contribution, but none of them seemed to consider themselves to have paid their worth, wallowing in religious euphoria. Presumably the issue would be revisited if they survived.
Archmagos Dominus Pherris Telbar Kappa-3391 of Mars was nominally in charge, and had wisely divided his unruly charges into fleets composed of allied Forge Worlds’ starship, and ran several war games to engender some co-operation among the bickering tech-priests.
While the Mechanicus ships were notably more capable than the navy’s on a comparative tonnage-basis, their lack of properly unified command and tactics meant that their final utility was at sixty-four percent of their more orderly allies, and that was considering the navy high command’s lack of ability.
Like the Imperial Navy, the foreign Basilikon Astra covered one-third of the outer sphere, the remaining third the province of patrolling frigates and starfighters. Operational command made it clear that Vista wanted the invading fools to come in, so the Navy and Mechanicus could drive all their sharp, explosive and burning thingies up their keister.
The Astartes numbers were not terribly high, a mere eight thousand four hundred and ninety-two battle-brothers, with twenty-six battle barges, one hundred and twelve strike cruisers and four hundred and fourteen escorts. They’d taken quite some time to confer, in a failed attempt to form a unified command, resulting in the visible three-way split.
Dark Angel-descended chapters working with Imperial Fists and the Raven Guard chapters, Ultramarines working with Iron Hands, and White Scars joined by three companies of Sanguinius’ blood. To universal relief, the Space Wolves had sent not a single space-marine, and there was no Salamander force close enough to offer reinforcement.
The first two forces were placed behind the concentrations of the Imperial Navy and Mechanicus respectively, with the latter force hiding in the asteroid belt, prepared for a swift and decisive sally at a critical moment.
The only exception were the five companies of the Crimson Crusaders, who chose to fortify themselves on three of the unveiled starforts openly defending Vista II, the ostensible target-planet, with a single battle-barge, three strike cruiser and fourteen escorts.
With the surprisingly logical excuse of offering maintenance to their gear and increasing their stores of ammunition and fuel, the weapons and armor of all Astartes, other than those of the highly conservative second force, received significant upgrades.
Power armors with integrated wrist hellguns, force-fields, jetpacks, grav-chutes, chameleon-skin, silencing fields and retractable lightning claws. The Vista-pattern Astartes Nike-class Power Armor, whose regenerative bioplast offered twenty-nine percent better protection than the Mark VIII Errant Pattern, its advanced systems providing seventeen percent more mobility, with shoulder-mounts for two integrated weapons.
This ‘sin’ was compounded with the gift of electro-magnetic bolter look-alike weaponry with no recoil and course correcting ammunition that was notably smaller than the standard bolter round, possessing higher penetrative power and greater explosive force via micro-melta charges and nanite-explosives, with approximately triple the range of the ubiquitous Mark Vb Godwyn-pattern bolter. Almost as importantly, each magazine held one hundred and twenty shots – an increase of six times over standard bolt cartridges.
Plasma grenades and volkite calivers. Conversion beamers and plasma cannons. Storm shields, combat shields and power weapons to replace those laughable chain weapons. Improved auspex and vox systems.
There was no room or time for additional heavy vehicles, but Vista provided advanced missiles for their void-capable gunships, filled their starships’ magazines with torpedoes and handed over several hundred rapier armored carriers, with plasma, laser, volkite and a rare few gravitic or conversion beamer weaponry pre-installed.
Oracles reported that these fleets would swell by approximately eleven percent for the Navy, thirty-two percent for the Mechanicus, and eight percent for the Astartes in the next ten days. They could not see beyond that, which was somewhat telling.
The Imperial Guard had sent, mostly from nearby sectors, over one hundred and eighty-six million troops, with no accompanying artillery or reconnaissance regiments. Placing and supplying them had been a proper nightmare, though they seemed to enjoy the rations and quarters offered them if the security monitors’ recordings were accurate.
Only nineteen regiments had to be terminated due to corruptive influences.
Little more could be done.
Ten day to the first shot.
----------------------------------------
Segmentum Pacificus
Anastasia Sector
Tanelorn System
Planet Tanelorn IV
I remember an old British TV comedy series I watched once upon a time, entitled ‘Chelmsford 123’, from dear old M2. Very silly, but I was young and easily amused.
There’s just one scene that stuck with me: The experienced sybarite and hedonist of a Roman emperor was complaining about sex getting boring, at least the ‘stick it in and thrust it back and forth’ part of it. The guilt part was still fresh.
Admittedly, he was mostly referring to his goat, but it’s at least somewhat pertinent to my situation. No, not the guilt part. Or the goat part, jeez.
It was hard to properly remember, given the low-grade memory retention of an aged human from the time before the genetic correction was enacted during the Golden Age of Technology, but I recall that even at the age of seventy-three, barely having any potence, I still had sex on my mind during a distressingly significant portion of the day. Men…
Despite the mental integration into Eladria, it affected my activity to a small degree, resulting in the addition of a three hour daily sex session with a dozen members of my all-female staff, impregnating them directly rather than via the standard injection procedure. To be honest, achieving the ‘harem dream’ contributed a lot to my motivation at the start, as the measurement of my efficiency rose by a distinct eleven point eight percent, even accounting for the time lost in intercourse. Hell, the ready availability of sex probably kept me from doing something stupid.
Two decades later, I cut it down to three sessions a week, each of eight hours. Nowadays I was down to just six hours, twice a week. It’s a bit frightening, when I consider what I’ve become. The day I stop having interest in sex and food I stop being human, may that day never come.
Considering how my nipples perked and salivary gland acted up at the sight of twenty four bare asses and hairless pussies lined up for my pleasure, I’ve no reason for concern, not anytime this century. This time they’re all ready for a doggy-style workout, pale perfect buttocks and reddened vulvas showing how ready they were.
The erotic groan from the girl as I sink my cock slowly and fully into her, hands playing with her two neighbors, coiled hair-tendrils teasing the others – it kind of makes everything worthwhile. I had a lot of experience by now, so edging twenty-four women to the limit for a full hour before pressing in and vibrating a bit at just the rights spot, the results were rather loud and sticky.
Not me, my pre-cum was enough to result in impregnation, I came in one of those always-available stasis flasks. Each load was tens of millions of talented girls, usually in a faraway world.
Before they could even come down from their high, I started teasing their sensitive parts again, repeating the exercise… twice.
With a personal staff of eight thousand six hundred and forty-two women, this was a reward for them, not me. Admittedly I wasn’t home and only brought a tenth of my staff with me, and a third of them left each year to manage exploratory fleets, hive-worlds, resource systems or new forges, but it’s always good to provide more motivation for excellence.
My personal staff was the best Vista could come up with, so I needed to spread that expertise around, especially after they got some real-world experience in getting things done.
Even with hypno-training, memory implantation, psyker telepathic surgery and nanite mind-node conditioning, there was no real replacement for positive reinforcement and some form of competition. That it was competition for my cock, well that just served to stroke my ego.
Not that I considered myself the best or anything silly like that, not with the number of daughters I had, many with more leisure to have fun. I’d made sure to include a positive and practical sexual training course in the Vista academies, rather than the controlling and unhealthy sexual environment I remembered from Earth.
A daily orgasm or three made everyone happier and more productive, and it prevented Excess from using that avenue of attack. Regulating sexual activity to allow for everyone to have some if they wanted was another bit of humanity I brought with me to Eladria, who had no real concept or notion of how ordinary people viewed such things and zero personal interest, with her ability to control and generally ignore her libido.
A problem I hadn’t managed to solve was the lack of parent-child connection, given the number of children produced and the heavy load of education and work on young mothers. For all that, the crèche mothers were extremely good at their job and heavily monitored, and losing that bit of what the old me considered a cornerstone of Humanity, the family circle, was a pain I couldn’t find a simple way to resolve.
That the children were happy, healthy and well cared for was what really mattered, as did the lack of impact on the motivation of the adults. Parental instinct was channeled in healthy ways, into mentorship relations that also served to bridge generation gaps and form yet another network of connections.
As always, despite my mental ramblings, the sex was great. A lovely break from work and more work.
Today it was a review of the trade network created by the Rogue Traders answering to Vista, and the myriad issues they brought to my in-tray. Nineteen hours was enough to address all the issue with Administratum interference, Mechanicus and Inquisition spies, shake my head at the Navy, sector and planetary customs and duties (all too many fabricated from whole cloth), and offer solutions for Ministorum-related woes.
Then was mapping the increased resource-output and manpower necessary for the future ramp-up in the founding of new forge worlds in four Segmentum. Forty hours and the basic framework was there, to be firmed up after review and response from many concerned parties, who’d receive the write-up after it was polished by my staff.
The boring admin work done for the nonce, I took a brief nap followed by another sexual romp, returning to the office after a quick shower, patting the new girl who slid between my legs on her short, silky auburn hair, and getting to the fun stuff.
The STC database was the real thing, and it was amazing. Hundreds of thousands of magi were working to get everything possible out of those thousands of templates, and the reports on their usefulness were piling up.
I got to decide what to stay away from, what to use, what to disseminate to the Imperium at large, what equipment to introduce to the various military forces.
Sometimes being on top was almost like playing a highly complex strategy game, and now I was actually good enough at it to win even without the easy mode. Holding so many cards and being so much more than merely human was helpful that way.
Hi-tech management at its best, fun times.
Until the noosphere rang with incoming astropathic messages.
“Now it begins…”