Several days later, in the flagship's command Hall.
The air carried the faint scent of ozone from machinery running at full efficiency, accompanied by the low hum of the star chart projector.
An enormous Holographic Star Chart hovered in the center, cold streams of data flowing across it and illuminating the solemn faces below.
Craston stood before Primarch Saladin, his black-and-sand Power Armour spotless, his posture straight as a javelin.
He had just finished his report, his voice steady and devoid of unnecessary emotion, as though delivering a standard tactical briefing.
"In summary, based on the current risk assessments and review results, a total of five hundred and seven Legion members with excessively close ties to former Commander Biberus, or who have recently displayed signs of instability, have been successfully detained. Their weapons, heavy equipment, and standard personal supplies have been confiscated and sealed in accordance with procedure."
"All personnel have now been transferred to the designated transport ship, the Remembrance of Ashes. The vessel has activated a low-level containment field and has been placed under remote monitoring. Isolation or self-destruct protocols can be initiated at any time."
"The transfer encountered no effective resistance. The detainees' emotional state is currently stable overall, and the ship is operating normally. It is proceeding along its planned route toward the designated review area in the rear."
Saladin sat upright in his towering command chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the metal armrest in a soft, steady rhythm.
His golden eyes passed over Craston's expressionless face, then turned to the tiny point of light representing the Remembrance of Ashes on the hovering star chart. He nodded slowly.
An elusive expression, something close to approval, flickered across his face.
"Very efficient, Craston." Saladin's voice echoed through the hall, his tone deliberately measured and appraising.
"To