Chapter IX: Steel and Blood
Outer Core, Tal Ezmon Sector
Prague, Predator-class Battlecruiser
Mikaela Wilkinson
When she entered the bridge the captain snapped to his feet and offered her the command chair. The grand admiral inclined her head to the young captain and took her seat. They had recently entered realspace and the harsh planet of Chemmosis laid before them in the system. The Prague and her escort made their approach and she hoped it would go ahead without difficulty. Archon Alom was one of the easier of the empress’s children. He was as gentle and kindhearted as Hephaestus or Aholi and thank the empress not as stubborn as Marduk or thickheaded as Apis.
“We are being hailed from the Champion’s Fist,” the Adjutant alerted. “Audio only.”
Wilkinson’s eyes shifted to the holo-map’s representation of the dozen ships that orbited the planet. The massive Champion’s Fist laid in their center, one of the newer Zahoriana-class Battleships that had been rolling out in the last decade.
“Put it through, Adjutant,” she said. “This is Grand Admiral Mikaela Wilkinson onboard the Prague.”
Archon Alom’s soft-spoken voice through the comms. “Grand Admiral. You are quite far from High Command. What brings someone of your importance across half the galaxy?”
“I was sent on a mission by the empress herself,” she explained. Her voice flowed with authority.
“Mother usually has her reasons. You’ll come because of the situation here,” Alom’s voice was slightly darker.
“That is correct, my Lord. I was directed to assist you to steer this half the century-long campaign to its end. Enough lives have been lost in the corrosive bogs of Chemmosis.”
There was a moment of silence and she worried how he would react. He could make this far more frustrating than it needed to be. She hoped she had lessened it by assuring him that she had been sent to assist and not to usurp his authority over the campaign.
“Come aboard the Champion’s Fist. Let us speak in person.”
She could have drawn a sigh of relief.
“When we will reach the Legionary flotilla?” She asked the Adjutant.
“Twenty-two minutes.”
“I will take a shuttle over when we arrive, my Lord Archon.”
“I will see you then, Grand Admiral Wilkinson.” The channel was closed from his end.
“Well, that went far better than I thought,” she admitted with a small smile on her lips.
From the cockpit of the shuttle, she managed to get an excellent view close up of the battleship. It’s a large, sleek, and flat frame with countless MAC guns and plasma cannons that lined the upper and bottom sides of it. Its hull was the same dark grey most other standard Imperial starships. It was an extraordinary masterpiece of engineering, and the young midshipmen beneath all her wrinkles and grey hair marveled at this excellence of void warfare. The empress had told them of the new battleships as the first of them left the secret shipyards over some uncharted backwater planet. She told them that thirty of them were scheduled for construction, twenty-three of them destined to be flagships for her mighty legions. Before then the legion’s flagships had all been the magnificent Citadel War Barges, though they only reached a fourth of the length of the Zahoriana Battleships.
She remembered that she inquired of the name. “Your Imperial Majesty, what are the origins of the name? Zahoriana.”
The empress, bathed in golden light, replied, “To serve as flagships for my children, it is the only name I found fitting.”
She’d chewed on that. The only? The empress had of course no need to explain herself to the likes of High Command. They lived to serve her cause, to lead the military to bring light to the galaxy. By steel and blood.
She was brought back to reality by the pilot’s voice. “We’re landing, ma’am.”
The grand admiral walked out into the hangar flanked by four regular space marines to be greeted by a single squad of Knight Champions. They wore the colors of his legion, dark pink with details of gold and teal pauldrons with gold rims. On their chest was the insignia of the Imperium in gold. A fist with beams of light emulating from it. The officer removed his helmet to reveal the face of the legion’s clone template. He had a soft olive complexion, he had a firm chin and a wide forehead, and his head was shaved.
“Grand Admiral Wilkinson, welcome aboard the Champion’s Fist,” he greeted her in a stiff and awkward voice.
“Thank you…” she arched an eyebrow when he didn’t say anything else.
He likely realized that he missed to introduce himself for he then blurted out, “Centurion Marcus Titus at your service, ma’am. Commander of the Eighteenth Legion’s Third Cohort, Three-hundredth Company. My Lord Alom told me to take you to him. Escort – to escort you to the command section.”
“Escort away, Centurion,” she said with a small smile of amusement on her lips.
They led her through the vessel to the bridge, the very heart of the Legion. In the center laid the command section, raised, engulfed in thick plasteel, and partially isolated from the hundreds of crewmen working around it. It had several consoles operated by ensigns that handled communication to the bridge around the command section. There was a holographic map table where sensory data were fed into to reveal all that they could see in sensor range, as well as the command chair, or in this case the throne designed to befit an Archon. It was of gold and purple soft fabrics and large enough for the giant Archon to sit upon. His muscular frame had a pale complexion and his eyes were like wells of blood and dark dreadlocks flowed down his back. Despite his horrifying eyes, he had a welcoming aura about him.
“Grand Admiral Wilkinson, welcome aboard my ship,” he greeted her. His voice was like silk.
“Thank you, my Lord Archon. I appreciated that we could meet so quickly. I trust this won’t take too much of your time.”
“Let us hope,” he said. He stood up and strode over to the holo-map where she joined him.
It showed an image of Chemmosis, the dreadful planet that had brought her across half the galaxy.
“For fifty years the Imperium have fought to crush the inhabitants, and for fifty years we have slowly secured more and more of the surface,” Alom told her. “How much do you know?”
“I have read up on the details,” she assured him.
“That’s good then. My sons have slowly rooted out every settlement and every fort in our path. I’ve lost more Knight Champions here than on any other campaign since we first left Earth, ever so long ago.” He paused and crossed his arms over his chest. “The only way to achieve victory in the corrosive swamps and poisonous air is to weed them out one at the time. It may take time but it’s the only path forward.”
The frustration in his voice surprised her and she could understand if he felt like she stepped on his toes.
“How much remains?” She inquired.
“Dozens of subterranean settlements and a fortress of extraordinary might.” He keyed on a console and the hologram changed to a position planetside. “There you have it, an unknown amount of it is subterranean.” Dozens of towers attached to thick and tall walls surrounded the edge of the island it was built on and beneath. “It lies in the middle of a lake, surrounded by a swamp. We’re running dialing bombing runs and strive it with gunships.” She understood that artillery was impossible to bring in considering the landscape.
“For how long?”
“Six weeks.”
“Have you considered sending a starship into the atmosphere? The armaments of a Citadel War Barge would surely be able to destroy everything on the surface and leave the subterranean part of the complex open to be stormed,” she suggested.
“That is possible,” he pondered. “The hull would be able to withstand the anti-air guns without difficulty. I would rather not exterminate them completely.”
“My lord, the resources poured into this planet have long since surpassed the pitiful amounts that could be gained from it.” She turned to him and looked up. “The struggle of this planet must end by any means necessary. This specie would not be the first to be turned to ashes.” She felt a sick feeling creeping up in her stomach. Judging a specie unworthy of existence was within the authority granted to her by the empress before she departed Earth and the idea of holding a specie’s fate in her hands made her sick to her stomach.
Mayhaps he saw that in her, for he looked at her with his blood-red eyes and said, “If mother approves of such an action I will consider it. I have never brought extinction upon a population before.”
“Haven’t you wiped them out so far?”
“I have had no choice. They don’t seem to have a civilian population at all.”
“It isn’t that much different for you then surely,” she argued.
His face hardened. “I am not some brute like Apis or as brutal as Marduk. I am proud that I have never needed to destroy a specie. My legion has fought on many of the toughest and most harsh battlefields in the Age of Conquest. No legion has bled on harsher worlds than us. My mother has always trusted in us, in me. Until now apparently.” There was a moment of silence and the eyes of the few officers around were on him. Then he laughed for reasons that were beyond Wilkinson. “You know if Apis heard me call him a brute he’d try to punch me to prove me wrong. Oh my dear brother.”
Wilkinson gave a slight smile. “I’ve never met him I’m afraid,” she stated.
“He’s good at doing what mother requires of him,” he chose to elaborate with a warm smile on his lips as he reminisced. “Being a hammer to pummel an enemy into oblivion. I’m sure she’d prefer lesser casualties. Apis, more so than any legion, depends on recruiting youths for augmentation. He used to at least.”
“I was going to say, my lord, surely he doesn’t need much of that now. The cloning facilities on Ephraganos produce more than enough clones-”
“Men.”
“Ah, I’m sorry?” She asked confused.
“Men,” he corrected. “Not simple clones. At least do the fallen that honor.”
“Eh, of course. I meant no offense to your legion.”
Alom’s face shifted to hold a harsher expression. He furrowed his brow deeply and he turned away from her and back to the holo-table. “Sadly that’s a common offense from the highest echelons of the Imperium.”
She hoped to lift the awkwardness by saying, “The people across the Imperium knows well the deeds of the Ultra Marine Legions.” She made a broad gesture. “Many call them angels.”
“I am aware, Grand Admiral. My problem is not with them.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
“Mayhaps it has been foolish of me not to consider extermination already.” Alom changed the subject and a positive and cheerful tone returned to his voice. “I’ve hoped for the natives to see reason but they have consistently fought us tooth and nail. Do you know that in every settlement that’s about to fall we’re met with suicidal charges by none-combatants or mass suicides.”
She wasn’t sure what to say except that she had. “Yes. Terribly tragic.”
“Apis would have gotten a healthy laugh from it. Mayhaps he should have spent the last half a century doing this instead. I just find it all tragic and disturbing. I keep wondering if anything would be different if the linguists managed to interpret their language. My conclusion is always the same. No.” He turned his head to her. “Is there anything else grand admiral?”
“Not at this time, my lord.”
“Then I wish you a good journey back to Earth.”
“I’m afraid I cannot yet return,” she explained. “I will remain until the campaign is finally over.”
There was a moment of awkward silence before he finally spoke. “High Command asked you to oversee the rest of my campaign. I see.”
“I’ll return to the Prague for now, with you leave my lord.”
He nodded and gave a dismissive hand gesture. “Escort her to her ship Marcus.”
“Yes, my Lord Archon,” Marcus Titus said in stiff compliance.
Back in the Prague, she would remain for two weeks, waiting.
She would receive updates on the movements of troops, targets strike by the Air Force. He kept her at arm's length and she understood his displeasure. Surely a demigod had to be insulted when mortals seemed to question then. She was invited to the Champion’s Fist’s bridge to witness the bombardment of the fortress. The Champion’s Gauntlet, a Citadel War Barge, descended into the atmosphere and pummeled the walls and batteries into dust. It was an impressive display to behold the fortress – the last fortress on Chemmosis – crumble. The holo-table displayed hundreds of gunships and dropships descend upon it afterward with thousands of Knight Champions ready for blood. She was surprised by how quickly the natives assumed defensive positions in most of the ruins. Knight Champions with gunship support slowly carved out a foothold and secured the upper ruin piece by piece. Close to an hour passed but finally, the surface ruin was secure.
“Let’s see Appius’s HUD cam,” Alom said. One of the large holo-screens was switched to display what the man saw from behind his visor. He turned his head to Wilkinson. “Appius Mergus. He’s the centurion of the First Cohort.”
She nodded.
The screen revealed as the Centurion and his brothers pressed deeper into the wide subterranean corridors. The Chemmosis natives fought hard and without surrender. Not a single one appeared willing to be taken alive. Hour passed. In fact, so much time passed that twice she returned to the Prague to sleep. The second time she was awakened by the Adjutant.
“AI apologizes for interrupting your sleep, Grand Admiral, but there is a message to you from Archon Alom.”
“It's fine, it’s fine.” She always had trouble sleeping on a starship anyway so the four hours she got that night was fine. “What does the Archon say?”
“He informs you that the fortress has been taken. Handling the remaining settlements is a small matter and he wishes you a comfortable journey back to the Throneworld,” the Adjutant informed.
“I see,” she sighed. “Well, let’s not upset the Archon more than necessary. Tell the captain to head back home.” She had outworn her welcome, clear as day. She
“Affirmative.”471Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5bD2GT6x67
