Chapter 29 – Summons from Terra
The manufactorum was quiet at last.
Smoke curled from broken vents and shattered towers, the smell of promethium and scorched metal still heavy in the air. Fires guttered among the ruins, throwing restless shadows across the steel bones of the fortress. Where once the Iron Warriors had bellowed oaths of defiance, now only silence remained, broken only by the footsteps of the Ultramarines.
Captain Gaius stood at the center of the forge-hall, his helm tucked beneath one arm, his expression set in grim stillness. His warriors moved without words, carrying out their last duties. One pair dragged the corpses of Iron Warriors into a growing pyre of shattered machines and bodies. The flames hissed and snapped, casting sparks into the dark. There would be no trophies taken, no reminders left to fester, only ashes.
Another pair carried a different burden. Wrapped in a shroud of blue cloth marked with the sigil of the Ultramarines, the body of a fallen battle-brother rested across their armored arms. The Marine had fought to the last, blade and bolter in hand, and now would be borne home with the same honor he had shown in battle.
No one spoke.
Even the chat, hovering above the captain's view like a ghost, kept mostly silent. Only Tony spoke, his gaze fixed on the wrapped corpse. His voice, when it came, was low. "They fight like giants… but they die like us. Too easy to forget that."
Naruto clenched his fists but held his tongue. For once, the energy in him was tempered by respect. Saeko said nothing, but her eyes lingered on the ritual of fire and silence.
Then the sky shook.
The roar of engines rolled through the ruined manufactorum as Thunderhawks descended from the clouds, their armored wings cutting through ash and smoke. Dust blasted across the chamber floor as one landed in the open space outside, its hull painted in the blue and gold of Ultramarines.
The boarding ramp hissed open, and Marcus Vitus stepped down.
He was young, still carrying the face of a man not long into his third decade. His robes were dark with oil stains, his flight harness scuffed with long use. Marcus had been raised aboard the Oath of Rectitude, one serf among thousands, but his discipline at the helm of a Thunderhawk had set him apart. Captain Gaius himself had once remarked upon his steady hands in a storm of fire. From that moment, Marcus carried both honor and burden, charged with delivering Angels of Death into battle, and with the greater task of bringing them safely home.
He saluted quickly, head bowed in deference. "Captain. The skies are clear. Extraction is ready."
Gaius gave a single nod. "Well done, Serf Marcus."
For the young serf, those words alone were worth more than medals. He bowed again, stepping back as the Ultramarines carried their fallen brother aboard.
The squad followed in silence. Behind them, the fires rose higher, consuming the last remains of Baldarun's fortress. This world still crawled with corrupted Skitarii and mortal thralls, but their mission had never been total purgation. The leadership of the heretic force was destroyed, and the Imperium's fleet would arrive to cleanse what remained. The Ultramarines' task was complete.
The Thunderhawk lifted, engines straining against gravity, the broken city shrinking beneath. Through the gunports, the world stretched out in ruin: manufactorums split open like carcasses, plumes of black smoke reaching into the poisoned skies.
No one spoke until the clouds swallowed the land below.
"…It never looks like a victory," Tony murmured.
Mindy hugged her arms, eyes on the shrouded body at the rear of the bay. "No. Just… less loss than the other side."
Naruto sat forward, elbows on his knees, his usual grin nowhere in sight. "…They gave everything. And still…" He trailed off, words failing him.
Saeko's gaze was steady, though her voice was quiet. "This is war stripped of illusion. There is no beauty here."
The Thunderhawk broke through atmosphere, stars scattering across the void above. Hanging in orbit, vast and solemn, was the Oath of Rectitude. Its armored hull stretched across the starscape, lined with weapon batteries and void shields, a fortress-ship of the Ultramarines.
The Thunderhawk slid into the hangar bays, massive doors closing like the jaws of steel. As the ramp hissed open, the air filled with the sound of chanting serfs and the hiss of incense. Servitors clanked forward to begin cleansing rites on the gunship's hull.
The Ultramarines disembarked. The fallen brother was borne reverently down the ramp, serfs bowing their heads as he passed. Gaius followed, helm now clasped beneath his arm once more, his eyes fixed forward.
"Brothers," he said, his voice calm, unyielding. "The mission is complete. Rest now. Tend to wounds, repair your arms. Pray for our fallen. Duty will call us again soon."
The Marines saluted, then dispersed, each moving toward their own rituals of repair and remembrance.
Gaius had not yet left the hangar when a Chapter serf hurried forward, bowing deeply.
"Lord-Captain," the man said, breath quick with urgency. "You are summoned to the Astropath's sanctum. It may concern new orders."
Gaius's brow shifted slightly, the only sign of surprise. "At once," he answered, striding past.
The path to the sanctum was narrow, lit by dim lumen-strips and lined with sigils of warding. Incense hung thick in the air, meant to muffle the whispers of the warp. The chamber itself was sparse, no banners or gold, only iron walls etched with protective runes.
The Astropath waited at the center, veiled and hooded. Her sockets were scarred by the soul-binding that had seared away her sight, yet her head turned as if she could see Gaius clearly. Her voice was layered, as though others spoke behind her words.
Astropaths were the Imperium's only way to speak across the stars. No machine or radio could cross the endless void of space, but a soul bound to the Emperor could send a thought farther than any ship could travel. The price was terrible. In the ritual of soul-binding, most psykers died, and those who survived were left scarred, blind, pale, and haunted by whispers from the Warp. To send a message, an astropath forced their mind into the Immaterium, shaping words into raw thought. If they were lucky, another astropath light-years away would catch the signal and turn it back into speech or scribe it down. If they were unlucky, the message would twist into nonsense, or worse, draw the attention of something hungry in the Warp. Fragile as they were, these silent messengers kept the Imperium alive. Without them, its countless worlds would fall into darkness, cut off and alone.
She held out a parchment sealed in black wax. "Lord-Captain. A message, borne through the warp. For your eyes."
Gaius took it, breaking the seal. The words were written in High Gothic, sharp strokes of authority that carried the weight of command. He read in silence.
The chat flickered into view over his shoulder, the system automatically translating for them:
"Mission discontinued. Captain Gaius is summoned to Terra. By order of Lord Guilliman."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Tony let out a low breath. "…Wait. Terra? Earth? Then we can finally see, the Earth of you Universe, Gaius."
Naruto gawked. "Hold on, By your… dad, called you?!" As he keep hearing them Ultramarines, Being called by the Son of Guilliman.
Mindy blinked, awe in her voice. "…The Earth of this Universe?"
Saeko's tone was calm "Doesn't this mean we might see Your Earth soon."
Gaius lowered the parchment. His face showed no shock, but his silence carried the weight of thought. He had not set foot on Terra for nearly a century. To be called now, by Guilliman himself, meant the matter was urgent beyond doubt.
"The will of the Primarch is law," he said at last, voice steady. "We go to Terra."
He left the sanctum without another word, his stride unbroken. The corridors of the Oath of Rectitude vibrated faintly with the hum of plasma engines, the great ship awaiting its course.
On the command deck, he found another Chapter serf and gave his orders without hesitation.
"Relay to the Navigator. Set our course for Terra. By the order of Lord Guilliman himself."
The serf bowed deeply, already hurrying toward the Navigator's sanctum, where the ship's psyker-pilot would pierce the veil of the warp and guide them home.
Navigators were the Imperium's only hope of crossing the Warp. Born of ancient bloodlines and gifted with a third eye that could pierce the madness of the Immaterium, they alone could see the light of the Astronomican and guide a ship toward it. Without their direction, a vessel would be swallowed by storms or lost to daemons, never to emerge. Fragile in body but priceless in duty, every Navigator carried the lives of thousands in their hands each time a ship made the jump to the Warp.
Gaius stood alone a moment longer, his eyes fixed on the steel walls around him. His duty was clear, though the path ahead was shrouded.
At last, he spoke, his words cutting through the quiet, addressed not only to his crew but to the unseen figures of the chat members.
"This campaign is concluded. Another awaits. Our duty carries us onward."
And with a gesture, he ended the broadcast.
The virtual bodies of the chat members disappeared.
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