Securing Dolian's Compliance was not without losses. But in the end, we accomplished our task.
I had expected something along the lines of "rewarding the uninvolved and punishing the innocent," but it seemed Lord Sigillite's intervention ensured a more thorough investigation. One that uncovered many interesting things—particularly on the part of the Mechanicus.
As a result, I was not punished but even rewarded. One might say, lavishly so.
I was granted one of the captured ships from the Age of Technology. More precisely, the very same vessel I had boarded myself. It would be assigned to me and my Grand Battalion—but only after the Mechanicus completed their studies and maintenance.
Furthermore, I was placed in command of the 76th Expeditionary Fleet, and once all necessary preparations and reinforcements were complete, I would be given what amounted to a free hunt. Now, I was my own commander, answering only to Terra and the Emperor Himself.
Of course, there was a catch. Since the flagship was a vessel from the Dark Age of Technology, the presence of the Mechanicus was inevitable. My relationship with Xarkha had never been stellar, and now that he would have to answer to me, conflicts were bound to multiply. And the Mechanicus was a state within a state—a powerful, autonomous faction without which the Imperium would face countless problems, and the Great Crusade itself could be jeopardized.
So now, I sighed and braced myself for the scolding I was about to receive from the ranking Mechanicus attached to my fleet.
The doors slid open, allowing me to enter the field sanctuary—though it resembled more of a mobile mini-factory.
*"Greetings, Grand-Captain Storm. My name is Ethan 66/7 Voltos. The Cult Mechanicus and Mars have appointed me as the overseer of forces assigned to the 76th Expeditionary Fleet."* To my surprise, it was not Xarkha who met me, but another Tech-Priest—one I recognized as a member of his retinue.
"Good day. Forgive my bluntness, but I expected to see Xarkha. Though I must admit, his absence is a relief." I gave a slight bow and studied the new Mechanicus leader.
"Your directness and honesty are refreshing. They are logical. And for the Mechanicus, logic is paramount. Please, follow me to my personal manufactorum chamber within this Sanctuary of the Omnissiah." He gestured respectfully for me to follow.
The sanctuary was a cacophony of noise—hammer strikes, generator hums, the clang of metal. Yet, if one listened closely, there was order in it, a system—a symphony, even. No uneven pauses or disruptions, every sound arriving at its precise moment, as though we stood inside a perfectly calibrated living organism.
My reaction must have pleased Voltos, for he slowed his pace slightly, as if allowing me more time to absorb the sanctuary's aura. With each step, I felt it more strongly—this untamed yet controlled energy. At times, it seemed that even if all the people, servitors, and Tech-Priests were removed, the place would continue functioning on its own. As if it possessed not a mind, but a soul.
"I see you, too, have sensed that our sanctuary bears the blessing of the Omnissiah," Voltos said once we reached his chamber.
"I am no follower of the Mechanicus, and I do not know what that was. But I certainly felt… something. Though there have been moments in the past when I noticed strangeness while handling equipment and weapons."
"What you sensed, at the very edge of your perception, were the Machine Spirits. The Cult Mechanicus holds a theological doctrine that all technological devices and mechanisms are inhabited by certain entities—emanations of the divine will of the Machine God. We believe these spirits are sacred, and that a machine's efficiency—or malfunction—depends on their disposition." He lit an incense burner filled with sacred oils and turned to me. "To keep a machine benevolent and cooperative, users must perform countless rituals and maintenance procedures, the complexity of which scales with the technology's sophistication and importance. Machine Spirits are everywhere."
A question burned in my mind—what of the Emperor and His doctrine of atheism? I nearly voiced a phrase from my past life:
"There are no atheists in the trenches. But I never saw God there, either."
Yet, one does not bring their own creed into another's temple, and I had no need for further conflict with the Mechanicus. So I replied neutrally:
"The universe holds much that is unknown and incomprehensible. Let those fated to seek such truths do so. My fate is the path of a warrior."
"A good answer. Like you, I, too, walk the path of a warrior. In the Cult Mechanicus, those like me are called Auxilia Myrmidon—or simply Myrmidons, to outsiders. We are scholar-warriors, seekers of knowledge who wield it to destroy our foes." He gestured to a power axe adorned with the sigils of the Mechanicus—the Axe of the Omnissiah.
"Then I believe two warriors will find common ground more easily."
"Indeed. More points of contact lead to greater mutual understanding."
"By the way—what is your rank? Are you above Xarkha, given that it was you who met me, not him?" I asked, studying his robes for signs of rank.
"I am currently a Tribune. Mars has already confirmed my new standing. As for Xarkha… he was disciplined. He allowed emotion to override logic, resulting in flawed strategy during this system's final Compliance. It was decided that an Explorator was unsuited to lead forces cooperating with the Astartes. As a Myrmidon, I am better positioned to ensure efficient collaboration. As you said earlier—two warriors will understand each other." His answer brought me relief.
Good. I wouldn't have to deal with Xarkha anymore—he could have become a problem, especially as the Mechanicus overseer. It almost seemed that beneath the Mechanicus' monolithic exterior, there were factional struggles, and this time, the militant wing had capitalized on Xarkha's mistake to push their own candidate. And the position of Mechanicus overseer in an Expeditionary Fleet carried significant influence. The spoils from Dolian alone—rumor had it they'd recovered a fragment of STC, however small, allowing for higher-quality bolts or bearings.
"It will be a pleasure to have a warrior leading the Mechanicus forces of our fleet. I hope we prove useful to one another." I extended my hand, which Voltos shook without hesitation.
"In the name of the Omnissiah."
"For the Emperor and the Imperium of Man."
***
Being Astartes smoothed many logistical hurdles—supply, repairs—but it still devoured time and nerves. Just not as much as in my past life.
On Dolian, my company was delayed for months while settling into the new flagship, largely due to the Mechanicus. They had crawled over every centimeter of the ship, studying and reactivating its systems. Thank the Throne we'd taken it by boarding action rather than prolonged void combat—otherwise, recommissioning would have taken a year, maybe two.
The ship had no shortage of advantages. First, its sheer size could accommodate not just my Grand Battalion but entire regiments of Auxilia. Second, its weaponry made it deadly in both void warfare and orbital bombardment. In essence, it was like a bloated, chem-enhanced barge for Space Marines. Third, it had countless dormant systems—life support, manufactorums, even powerful teleportariums and internal security.
When the full report landed on my desk, I could only marvel at Dolian's technological decay. Had they utilized even a third of its security systems, seizing the ship would have been far from certain.
But not everything was perfect. The Mechanicus had stripped some systems outright. Some, they claimed, were needed on Mars for study and replication. Others, they said, housed "unruly" Machine Spirits that had to be purged.
Lacking expertise in Dark Age tech, I couldn't tell where I was being swindled—though I had no doubt the red-robed magpies had pocketed their share. My only recourse was scrutinizing documents and asking pointed questions, but in the end, I managed to retain only one system—and even then, not fully.
Virtual reality capsules. According to translated records, they were classified under "recreation and psychological relief." But to me, they were tools.
One might ask—how could "toys" be useful? But these were toys from a lost golden age, capable of far more than simple simulators. They could train junior and mid-rank officers in tactics and strategy, even allow for testing new combat doctrines by integrating external data. And they'd make for better leisure than just gyms, libraries, and meditation cells.
Space Marines weren't like 21st-century soldiers—whom veteran commanders had joked were "all ass, no matter where you looked"—but even they could use some decent downtime.
The hardest part was naming the ship. Beast names, places, weapons—none fit. In the end, I chose Polaris—the North Star. Not the most fearsome or grandiose name.
But it had been the brightest star in Terra's night sky. A reminder of home, of why we fought.
The newcomers grumbled, but the veterans—those who understood the Great Crusade's true meaning—approved.
On the day of departure, with hours to spare, I remembered an old naval tradition: smashing a bottle of champagne against the hull. I grabbed the first woman at hand—one of the ship's astropaths—then scrounged up a bottle of something fizzy and alcoholic before rushing to the Mechanicus to request a slight delay. Voltos was… less than pleased, but when I explained the ritual, he warmed to the idea. Not because of superstition, but because he deemed it pleasing to the ship's Machine Spirit. (Though to me, it was still a superstition—just one best left unmentioned around red-robed fanatics.)
And so, from an orbital dock platform, a trembling astropath hurled a tethered bottle. It struck the ship's nameplate dead-on, shattering and drenching Polaris in froth.
At once, an orchestra thundered to life, playing a Mechanicus hymn. The Astartes answered with a thunderous fist-to-chest salute.
And then, at the edge of my awareness—I heard a roar. Like that of a snow leopard. A roar of defiance. A roar of purpose. A roar of power.
"Well then, Polaris. Welcome to the 76th Expeditionary Fleet of the Imperium of Man."