V3 Chapter 62: Why Can Ultramar, But Not Us?
The Badab sector. The Cheiman Drift sub-sector. Vianna.
This industrial frontier world, still developing toward hive-world status, had just restored order after a brief engagement. The Chaos warband's landing site had been rooted out, and the traitor vessels in orbit had already been destroyed by the Badab fleet.
The Warden of the Maelstrom, Chapter Master of the Astral Claws, known as the Tyrant of Badab, Lufgt Huron, was clearing the last of the battlefield with his own main strike group.
Under his command, the Astral Claws had crushed the Chaos warband quickly. The traitors had intended to strike the Cheiman Drift for supplies and slaves while the Maelstrom's uprising kept everyone distracted, but had instead run straight into the Astral Claws under Huron's personal command.
The fighting had not lasted long.
Vianna's Planetary Defence Force had not even finished reorganising itself before the Astral Claws had already completed a decapitation strike, an orbital blockade, and a surface clearance. The Badab fleet took over the outer orbit, and local officials knelt before the comm-screen to offer Huron their thanks.
Clad in silver-blue Terminator armour, Lufgt Huron stood on the command deck of his battle barge.
His armour still bore the Chapter's old colours, the Astral Claws heraldry on his shoulder plate throwing back a cold gleam under the bridge lights. He did not remove his helm, only watched the holographic battle report before him in silence.
"Order the governor's office on Vianna to recount its losses," Huron said. "All available industrial facilities are to prioritise repairing the orbital gun batteries and the shipyard support chain. Command of the Planetary Defence Force is to be temporarily transferred to the Badab defence zone's military liaison."
The Astral Claws scribe at his side recorded it at once.
"And the traitor prisoners, Chapter Master?"
"Screen them," Huron said. "Anything of value goes to the interrogation chamber. The rest go to Vianna's local penal authority."
His tone was even, as though he were handling nothing more than an ordinary ledger.
Just then, a Chapter sergeant stepped onto the command deck and saluted him.
"Chapter Master. A response from the Macragge's Honour."
Huron turned his head.
The sergeant handed up the data-slate.
Huron took it and scanned the contents quickly. When he reached the part stating Guilliman would first support the Lamenters, then advance while clearing the way from the western edge of the Maelstrom all the way to Badab, he fell silent.
Every Astral Claw on the bridge stopped what they were doing.
They knew their Chapter Master well.
Huron did not rage, and he did not panic. But that silence alone was enough to still the entire command deck.
Could Guilliman already know what he had done?
The thought surfaced in Huron's mind.
The Primarch saving the Lamenters first, then fighting his way toward Badab, could of course be explained as an ordinary military operation. But it could just as easily be a display, a reminder, even a warning.
Guilliman was telling every Warden of the Maelstrom that he was not a guest here to accept whatever arrangements Huron had prepared.
He was an Imperial Primarch.
Regardless, the necessary preparations had to begin at once.
"Order: the Vianna campaign's cleanup will be handed to the Badab defence liaison to finish. The Astral Claws' main strike group returns to Badab Prime."
The sergeant bowed his head at once.
"By your command."
"Notify the fortress-monastery on Badab Prime. All sensitive records are to be transferred into first-tier seal. Standardise the language on all gene-seed tithe records; every delayed submission is to be temporarily annotated as a result of the Maelstrom's unstable transit routes and ongoing battle-loss replenishment needs."
Huron's voice remained calm.
"The expansion-brothers are not to return to Badab Prime all at once. Some transfer to the outlying patrol vessels, some register as battle-loss replenishment echelons, and some remain listed on the defence zone's advisory roster."
The sergeant raised his head.
"Chapter Master, should the induction rites be suspended?"
"Suspend every non-essential rite," Huron said. "Before the Primarch arrives, no movement that could be misread is to appear anywhere in the public record."
"By your command."
The sergeant acknowledged the order and left.
Huron looked at the holographic star chart before him, his gaze lingering for a long while.
He truly had not expected the legendary Son of the Emperor to suddenly wake. By the time he had genuine confirmation of it, Guilliman was already at the Maelstrom's doorstep with an entire crusade fleet.
This was, for him, extremely dangerous.
No one understood better than he did what refusing to continue submitting gene-seed, and delaying the tithes of the surrounding worlds, meant to the Imperium.
But that did not mean he had reached a dead end.
Huron believed that so long as Guilliman saw the mess the Maelstrom truly was with his own eyes, he would come to understand why he had needed to control Badab, expand his forces, and withhold resources.
This place was not like Ultramar's settled, stable worlds.
The Maelstrom spat out pirates, xenos, traitors, and daemons every single day. The High Lords of Terra only ever issued orders from a distance, and never sent enough fleets and Chapters when the defence line was on the verge of collapse.
"The Primarch's arrival will change everything."
Huron said quietly.
"But it may also prove I was right."
He looked at the primary Badab transit route on the holographic star chart, his gaze settling on Badab Prime.
If Ultramar could be called the shield of the Imperium, then why couldn't Badab become the shield of the Maelstrom?
He had done nothing wrong.
Those incompetent, foolish, cowardly mortals could never understand him. But Guilliman would surely be different. He was an Imperial Primarch, the father of the Ultramarines Astartes.
He would see what they had held.
And he would see what Terra owed this place.
Guilliman's crusade fleet began to disperse.
Five formations, each built around a battleship at their core, spread out along the predetermined route to clear and stabilise the western edge of the region leading toward Badab. Scattered Chaos warbands, xenos raiders, and pirate squadrons stood no chance at all against Imperial military strength of this scale.
They did not push deep into the Maelstrom's core, only advancing along the main transit routes.
Every formation carried cruisers, escorts, transports, and landing forces. After orbital strikes, the Astra Militarum and the Ultramar Auxilia would land quickly, clearing the remaining enemy and restoring Astropathic communication and supply nodes.
In the end, all five formations would rendezvous at Castellan-Badab.
It was a fortress world positioned along the outer stretch of the main Badab transit route, responsible for guarding the stable path into Badab. The crusade fleet would regroup there before continuing on to Badab Prime.
Duvette, along with the main body of the 112th Combat Cluster, part of the Knight houses, Mechanicus support forces, and the Lamenters, who had just been folded into the crusade command chain, remained with the primary formation centred on the Macragge's Honour.
He had once again commanded a victory of overwhelming advantage.
In truth, many had already noticed that whenever Duvette had a hand in commanding a battle, those strange powers and phenomena appeared on the field.
Astra Militarum officers and Knight nobles did not dare discuss it openly, but privately, they had already drawn their own conclusions.
But given that Guilliman openly acknowledged Duvette, that the Inquisitors were watching too, and that the Battle Sisters kept attributing these phenomena to the God-Emperor's gaze, they pushed all their questions down for the time being.
Amid those complicated but respectful looks, Duvette made his way once more toward the command bridge where Guilliman stood.
The moment he stepped onto the bridge, Guilliman turned his head.
"Come here."
Duvette paused for a moment.
At times, he had even grown used to skipping the formality of a salute.
Of course, he gave a standard salute anyway; a bit of courtesy never hurt, before walking on to stand before Guilliman.
Guilliman projected a new star chart before him.
"The Mantis Warriors, once they learned our route, have already arrived ahead of us at Castellan-Badab. They have paused there briefly, and submitted updated route and enemy intelligence."
Duvette looked at the star chart.
Castellan-Badab was no great distance from the main fleet now.
"We are close to them now," Guilliman said. "I intend to have you take a party ahead to meet them."
Duvette raised his head.
"I go alone?"
"You go ahead, representing me," Guilliman said. "Bring whatever escort you need, but do not turn it into a show of force."
Duvette understood the meaning behind those words at once.
Guilliman would not be coming in person.
This would let the Mantis Warriors see that he had genuinely granted Duvette real authority. A mortal Marshal-Commissar, representing the Imperial Primarch, holding the initial meeting with an Astartes Chapter, was in itself a clear political signal.
"Since I've had you serve as the one who carries out my will, it's only natural you go handle the meeting with the Mantis Warriors," Guilliman said. "I will follow once the fleet has finished dealing with the fighting. Think of yourself as my vanguard."
Duvette thought it over for a moment.
He had no way of knowing whether Guilliman had further intentions behind this, but the arrangement did fit the Maelstrom strategy they had already laid out together.
"I'd like the Lamenters to come along," Duvette said. "And I'd also like to bring the Black Shields."
Guilliman looked at him.
"Your reasoning?"
"The Lamenters have just accepted our support and command; they can prove we're not the sort of High Lords of Terra who only ever come to settle accounts with front-line Chapters," Duvette said. "The Black Shields handle security. The Mantis Warriors are cautious, and bringing a full expeditionary force with us would only raise their guard further."
Guilliman considered it for a moment.
"Very well."
He raised a hand and tapped the star chart.
"There's no longer any difficult fighting nearby that requires the Lamenters. Take one of their battle barges to Castellan-Badab, and make contact with the Mantis Warriors' advance party."
Duvette nodded. "Understood."
"I want them to see," Guilliman said, "that we have not come here to pronounce them guilty. You are also to make clear to them that we are not the High Lords of Terra, and we will not judge them by their own fear."
"But if Huron's orders ever conflict with mine, they must understand exactly whom to obey."
Duvette gave a short smile. "As it should be."
Guilliman looked at him.
"Then go."
Duvette saluted and turned to leave.
Out in the corridor beyond the bridge, the sounds of the crusade's comm traffic and troop movement continued without pause. The route to Castellan-Badab had already been marked, and the Lamenters' battle barge would soon break away from the main fleet.
What came next was making the Mantis Warriors understand one thing.
Huron could not decide the fate of every Warden of the Maelstrom on their behalf.
And Guilliman was not the distant, indifferent Terra they remembered.
If you're enjoying the story, toss a Power Stone or drop a review — it helps more than you'd think.
Advance chapters → patreon.com/Eatinpieces