The warp jump is going to take five years in ship time and about two years in real time, by the time that we are done four years will have passed in realtime, more than enough for our fleet to be ready.
Joline and I spend our free days accompanying each other. We've started to bring books from the secret library into the throne room to read them, which leads to some startling discoveries.
There's a small section of the library that holds books of a different kind. There's nothing indicating that the books from that specific section are different in any way, we just happened to find this out after reading three books from there one after another.
The first one was the book concerning daemonhosts, the second one was a guide on how to bind daemons using their true name, more specifically on how to prevent them from screwing you over. Joline and I both had a good laugh once we got to the section detailing why it is important to add a clause that amounts to 'you are to act in good faith of this agreement while I am not.' to every single possible order you give them.
The third book is the most damning. It's about soul searching daemons. Joline and I can give people a deep look, that lets us know all of the details of their entire life from its very beginning to its end. Soul searching a daemon is very much the same, giving the entire details of that daemon's life.
Soul searching a daemon will give you their true name, the crystallization of their entire existence. There's even notes from mom and dad about how our genetics prevent the expected chaos corruption from appearing.
I don't know where or how mom and dad could've gotten their hands on these books. From what I remember from the lore most navigator's don't really give half a rats ass about warp-lore unrelated to traveling. We're only tolerated because of our importance to space travel, giving the inquisition an excuse to investigate our secrets is something all navigator houses avoid at all costs.
—
Joline and I have decided to join the strategy meeting of the sisters of battle. Galatea stares at the hologram of the planet without uttering a single word, her entire thought process dedicated to planning the retrieval of their artifact.
The mission isn't going to be so simple. The good news is that they know where the artifact is. The bad news is that it's in the capital of this chaos worshipping planet.
Unlike KH007, where the natives didn't really have deals with daemons, this planet is infested with them. Daemon and cultists alike stroll casually through the capital as it's reinforced in preparation for our attack.
Galatea zooms the hologram onto a warehouse on the fringes of the city. "This is where our intelligence has informed us that our artifact is. The heretics are unaware of its true significance, which will allow us to stage a lightning strike to retrieve it. We only have a single opportunity, as soon as they figure out our true goal our mission will become impossible."
The warehouse is a few city blocks away from their walls. I say. "We'll probably need some form of distraction. If we only attack that side we'll give our goal away."
Galatea crosses her arms. "And what do you suggest we do as a distraction?"
I gesture for her to show the city on the hologram, she gives me a nod before doing so. "I propose we have my death korp begin to shell the city. Our artillery is sophisticated enough to avoid striking that warehouse without avoiding its general area. We surround the city, start shelling it and then you can do your lightning strike."
Galatea taps her finger on her arm a few times before replying. "That should work. After retrieval we can simply continue shelling the city to smithereens."
Joline nods. "Then let's go and get this artifact of yours!"
Galatea raises an eyebrow. "You're not joining the lightning strike. If the two of you die then we will be stranded here."
—
I give the death korp commander a nod. "You can begin shelling the city."
A lot of the regiments in the imperial guard specialize in something. Tempestus Scions specialize in going deep in enemy territory and doing as much damage as possible, Cadian's specialize in fortress defense and so on.
The death korp of krieg specializes in heavy artillery. Joline, Anesh and I wince as all of our artillery fires at once into the heretic city.
Each explosive shell throws the rockrete from the general area it landed it as if it was made of rotting wood instead. Some of the larger pieces smash into other buildings, damaging those as well. At this rate it won't take more than a few days to turn the whole city to rubble.
We've encircled the city, allowing us to fire uncontested into them. If they get out of the city they'll need to assault our fortified positions. If they remain in the city they're getting shelled out of this world.
Galatea turns to a sister of battle. "Go! Retrieve the artifact! You won't have much time, they are already on high alert! Emperor protects!"
Said sister stands at attention, before giving the imperial aquila. "Emperor protects!"
The sister then leaves, taking what amounts to a small army with her to retrieve their artifact. We don't really know what it is, the sisters have been pretty cagey about that subject. All that I can tell is that it's some kind of religious artifact, which in hindsight is a given when it comes to anyone in the imperium.
I wouldn't even be surprised if the artifact turns out to be the underwear of one of their saints or some shit like that.
We continue shelling the city as the sisters of battle approach it. As soon as they leave our encampment the city dwellers immediately begin to converge to the section of the walls that the sisters are approaching.
Our heavy artillery ki- "Incoming!"
I turn to Galatea, who has turned around and begun instructing the sisters. "Heretics are approaching from behind, they've got tunnels leading to us from underneath the city!"
They're coming from the unfortified side! Our fortifications have been bypassed entirely! Even worse, most of our forces are stationed there while our artillery is behind them! I grab the shoulder of the death korp commander. "Shell the area around the city, we need to bury any and all tunnels! Prepare to defend our rear."
The man gives me a prompt nod, before relaying the orders via vox. "Target area around the city. There are tunnels underneath, they are to be collapsed and rendered inoperable. Half of the personnel stationed for defense are to be relocated to defending the rear. Over."
Joline turns to Dol, who nods before displaying a hologram of the battlezone using a mechadendrite. Dol says. "They are only attacking from three directions. This indicates that they do not have tunnels leading everywhere around us."
One of said directions just so happens to be directly behind us.
Joline stares intently at the hologram. "Look! Some of them are running away instead of attacking! Those are probably escape tunnels!"
I motion for them to follow me, before walking towards our rear. "That means that they can't sneak away any heavy weaponry. The most they'll have are meltaguns and plasma weapons, if they even have access to something like that."
Keeping every world dependent on trade is one of the ways that the Imperium prevents rebellion. You can't really build makeshift meltaguns without the appropriate rare metals, most rebellions are easily put down because of this.
It doesn't take long for us to reach the rear, where we find a wave of daemons approaching. I turn to the nearest vox operator. "Give the order for everyone to look anywhere except towards me. I'll be opening my third eye."
The death korp has already been briefed on Joline and I's abilities, so the order does not cause any confusion. I turn back towards the incoming daemons before opening my third eye.
This doesn't kill the daemons. The warp is already their home, it's where they live and breathe. Looking into it isn't going to damage them in any way. That doesn't mean that we can't cause some chaos.
Joline and I search for any older daemons and set them on fire. Young daemons are pretty easy to discern from older ones. The older a daemon is, the more jewelry, armor and decorations they will carry.
I set a fully armored bloodletter on fire, before turning my gaze to a daemonette wearing more jewelry than an imperial noble and set her on fire too.
We can't give the daemons a true death, if we could've done so they would all immediately retreat instead of rushing madly at us.
A large explosion denotes the death korp beginning to shell the incoming daemons. As soon as they get in range the death korp and sisters of battle begin firing into them.
I watch as an unarmored bloodletter takes eight bolter rounds to be put down. The first five hit its chest, caving it in but not killing it. The next three hit its heat, allowing the final shot to the head to banish the daemon.
I turn to Galatea. "Do you have sanctified ammunition?"
Galatea nods. "Our ammunition has been sanctified by the pontifex himself!"
Then it should've been killing the daemons in a single blow. Either Galatea is lying, which I honestly doubt, or the pontifex isn't as much of a man of faith as we'd been led to believe.
Dol displays the hologram again. "The daemons have stopped coming through from the tunnels, they are now surging towards our front line."
That's good, our front line is fortified enough to render any assault meaningless. All that's left is to deal with the sneak attack. I burn a plaguebearer. "Any projections on our casualties?"
Dol nods. "Effectively none. The daemons are limited to melee combat and their attack vector being limited will allow our troops to successfully eliminate them."
Joline burns a daemonette. "That's good."
I nod, before examining the hologram. The wave of daemons is almost defeated, the sisters appear to be facing heavy resistance, most likely a result of their bolter rounds being much less effective than expected. "How well did our hellguns fare?"
Dol sighs. "They were just as effective as the bolters. Most of the daemons are unarmored, allowing hellguns to cause them damage."
Bolters can be considered to be armor penetrating, lasguns and hellguns on the other hand are more effective against unarmored or lightly armored targets. Galatea stares at the hologram, keeping her eyes locked onto the group of sisters in the city. "We will send all of our forces to assist the retrieval of the artifact, the heretics are already grouping in that location as it is. Can you hold the line against them?"
I give her a nod. "We can."
—
One out of ten sisters end up dying in the city, facing daemons in urban combat without sanctified gear is nothing short of suicidal. Galatea stares at the rubble of the city in anger. "We could not even recover their bodies…"
—
Amon Cull POV
"How much longer do we have?"
The chief engineer squints at the navigational data scrolling too fast past the cogitator's screen too fast for the human eye to read. "I… I have no fucking idea."
Traveling without a navigator is an exercise in futility, Amon Cull knows this better than most, but this is still absurd. He sighs. "We left ten years ago, before we jumped we estimated thirty years of travel in shiptime, ten years have passed since then. Are we still on the correct trajectory?"
The engineer nods. "Yeah, getting our angles sorted is pretty easy. The hard part is estimating the corrections properly. We have to stop dead in our tracks every day to calculate those without deviating further."
Amon Cull simply gives the man a nod before leaving. His next destination is the Astartes quarters. The process of creating an astartes takes an average of ten years, give or take two years depending on the exact process used, the first batch of recruits is almost ready.
He enters the surgery chamber, where the recruits are being given their very last implant, the black carapace. The recruits are all lined on steel tables, the 'medicae' are carefully cutting open the pale, black eyed giants and inserting their final implant.
There were no trained medicae on board of the ship, recruiting from the more talented ship dregs has allowed for a small amount of progress, not nearly as much as Cull would wish for however.
Changing their skin and eye color will be trivial, a mere cosmetic surgery will suffice for that. The greater issue will be hiding their mental issues.
Paranoia will be the worst of it, the main root of their self-destructive behaviour. The sadism is not worth addressing or correcting, it is more of a boon. Age and wisdom will temper their mind, as will their strict training protocols.
One of the medicae panics as his patient's vital signs begin to worsen, their death becoming more and more of a certainty. The moment that the patient dies the medicae immediately kneels down. "I told you that he was unlikely to survive! Please spare my life!"
The punishment for failure is death. "You are spared, make sure not to make the same mistake again."
The man is the best medicae on hand however, killing him for failing a difficult task would be foolish. If a less important medicae was to fail however…
A single punch is enough to kill the failing newbie medicae. Amon Cull's fist is strong enough to break the skull, smashing it into the steel walls and spreading his brain onto the wall.
Out of the initial thousand acolytes, merely fifty are left. A fairly good outcome considering the poor quality dregs they were sourced from.
The ones whose mental states are more unstable can be harvested for their geneseed, when reaching Kearus more astartes can be made from the more stable population. Ship dregs make for poor recruits.
—
Deacon Inovian POV
The poor and needy must be the ecclesiarchy's greatest priority, providing them with food and shelter will stop the archenemy in their tracks.
The five armed woman's hands are shaking as she takes the small box of supplies. "Thank you, Thank you! You are truly kind!"
Deacon Inovian smiles. "There is no need to thank me, thank the Emperor."
How can the heretic find recruits when all that they can find are the faithful? How can they turn the men and women of Kearus to darkness if they have nothing to tempt them with?
Deacon Ari looks at the mutant in disgust. "Burn the heretic. Kill the mutant. Purge the unclean. How are we upholding the imperial creed in this manner?"
Inovian gives the next person in line, an apprehensive yellow skinned six eyed man, an encouraging look. "We are burning the heretic, their seeds shall find no ground to grow. Those who are not human anymore we must kill, those who are we must aid. Is this not the imperial creed?"
The yellow skinned man takes the offered supplies, before immediately dashing away in fear into the crowd. "That is no more than a perversion of the worst of the Emperor! Ever since pontifex Equitus passed away and Deacis took his place our shrine has turned to heresy!"
Inovian sighs. "If we were truly such vile heretics, why would the sisters of battle not purge us on the spot?"
Ari's response is to simply glare powerlessly at Inovian.
—
Inquisitor Varence pov
There are no clues leading to the blood cult on Kinja, it is as if they had vanished into thin air.
No blood sport arenas, No ritualistic sacrifices, Nothing.
Varence stares at the imprisoned mutant angrily trying to gnaw through the bars.
All that the blood cult has left behind on Kinja are the dregs and failures of their cult, anything and anyone of true value is gone.