---o---
With a roar of engines, the Thunderhawk touched down. Zhou Ye stepped out leading a small Terminator squad, clad himself in a suit of Artificer Armor.
All of it hand-fabricated. He had Klein manage the AI engineering systems, and the mining operation had produced a considerable quantity of raw material. And that was before mentioning the technical data he had quietly lifted from the Blood Ravens. Even if he had nothing else to go on and had to rely purely on the Ork principle of "I thinks, therefore it is" — he could fabricate power armor out of sheer conviction alone.
Power armor, when all was said and done, was nowhere near this universe's technological ceiling. It was nothing like the technology in Stellaris, which would be considered unhinged madness even by Warhammer standards.
(Author's note: Please don't bring up Stellaris tech. The protagonist's advantages are already large enough as they are. Any bigger and the story becomes unwritable.)
"Great demigod — Angel of the Emperor."
He stepped out to find a group of people practically prostrating themselves on the ground. Zhou Ye looked around at what was clearly not a Hive World. The Planetary Governor's rank probably wasn't especially high. Or alternatively, they had managed to make a truly colossal mess of things.
"Whatever. Even if they've made a mess of it, I'll assess the situation and deal with it. Finding a suitable planet isn't easy. And if the Star Rail is registering clean, the mess probably isn't that bad either."
He muttered this to himself, gave the planet one more look, and followed a servant inside, taking each step with a composure he genuinely felt.
Nearly three meters tall. The presence was oppressive. He had fabricated the armor to Primarch specifications. If he'd had a Custodes to study, he could have replicated one of those too — but even if he could, he wouldn't. Far too conspicuous.
For his purposes it was all just costuming anyway. In actual combat his real body was what he relied on. What he could beat, he could beat. What he couldn't, no disguise was going to help him.
Though even this was conspicuous enough. And sure enough, the moment Zhou Ye stepped inside, he saw the full picture.
The Planetary Governor was kneeling to one side, face ashen. On the other side stood an Administratum Adept and a.... genuine grease monkey.
"What exactly is happening here?"
He looked at the people in the room. He had walked in at a bad moment. Was the Administratum here to collect taxes? He had stumbled directly into one of those notorious Imperial Tithe collection scenes in progress. And what was the Tech-Priest doing here?
"The Imperial Tithe is short?"
He looked at the kneeling, sweat-drenched Governor and couldn't help asking.
"Governor Tillius, you failed to provide sufficient warriors for the God-Emperor in the last tithe collection."
"But the last time we were hit by a plague zombie outbreak — if we give you too many soldiers now, we...."
"And as of now?"
"Next time there won't just be Aeldari pirates. There will also be Orks. And the plague zombies are coming back."
"Damn it.... I wouldn't have guessed. Small temple, big demons, aren't you."
Behind his helmet, Zhou Ye swore without thinking. But he caught himself quickly. Of course it was that same pile-of-garbage Chaos making trouble. If he left this alone, the Star Rail track he had just started laying here was going to have problems.
That was exactly why he was planning to fabricate a proper Chapter — so he could dispatch a company outward to clear these situations independently. If they couldn't handle it, they'd call him. Without serious combat capability, you would genuinely die in a place crawling with things like this.
One Space Marine company in this universe could resolve over ninety-nine percent of problems. Most so-called cultists were nothing but rabble.
"But my lord, if we draw down our forces any further, we won't have enough troops left to defend ourselves. The entire planet would...."
"I understand your position, Tillius, but this...."
"Fine. I'll clean it up. The scale this time probably isn't small, though. Orks are in the mix, but clearing those things is simple enough for me."
Zhou Ye genuinely didn't worry about Orks. Tough, resilient, almost unkillable through normal attrition — but the solution was simple enough. Kill off enough of them, then blanket the entire planet with the Wither Authority for a full pass. Kill off all the spores. Follow it up with a pulse of the Authority of Creation to restore balance, and done. The only question was how large the Ork presence actually was.
"What's the scale of the Ork infestation?"
"I've had them locked down in a contained area — we can still hold for now. But if the troops are pulled further...."
The Governor trailed off and turned a pleading look toward Zhou Ye, hoping this Angel would take pity on him.
"If you help us, I am willing to pay any price."
"This noble Astartes Adept — this is an internal matter of the Imperium. According to the Codex Astartes, and Imperial law...."
The Administratum Adept looked at Zhou Ye. He had no idea where this figure had come from. But as long as there were no marks of Chaos, that was sufficient. He did recall that the Governor had apparently invoked an ancient contract earlier and had a Navigator transmit a formal request per its terms. One had arrived. Though given the speed of response — less than one hour — this almost certainly wasn't someone who had received the distress call. This was simply a Chapter that happened to be nearby.
He gave the Emperor's Angels the fullest respect he was capable of. But as for the Imperial Tithe — well. Ordinarily a standard Astartes Chapter wouldn't say much either way. In the Imperium, you paid your taxes even in death.
"Mechanicus Adept — where do you hail from?"
"My lord. I am from Mars. I happened to be traveling in the same direction as this Adept and stopped here along the way."
"Mars?"
"The Gene-seed Tithe, my lord."
"Hmm...."
Zhou Ye turned this over. A grease monkey from Mars.
"Our Chapter happens to need to make up a back-payment on our Gene-seed Tithe. Would you be available to discuss the terms?"
After a moment's thought, Zhou Ye decided it was time to start establishing some formal ties with the Imperium. He did not want to be mistaken for a renegade warband and have a fight on his hands.
"Ah?"
"As sons of Guilliman and keepers of the Codex, it is what we owe."
The Tech-Priest was visibly surprised. The Administratum Adept beside him wore an expression of distinct respect.
Shortly after, Zhou Ye departed with them. As he walked, he had Ai-chan run the Universal Printer on the side, pulling a small amount of Imaginary energy and producing a batch of several dozen Ultramarines-lineage Gene-seeds. Into these he had folded in a little seasoning of his own.
Only memory impressions, naturally. He wasn't going to mix Imaginary energy into these — they weren't meant for his own use. They were pure Gene-seeds, as genuine as they came. The only addition was what he had designed into them from the start: impressions such as the Death of Hope, Long Live the Second Empire, and the scene of Guilliman getting his throat cut by a certain Daemon.
And then....
"I have three STC Templates here. In exchange for your assistance in covering this planet's outstanding Imperial Tithe."