"Primarch, our troops are ready, with ample Ammunition and morale fit for battle."
The speaker was a Mortals officer, his uniform stained with mud and Smoke, the gold fringe on his epaulettes dull and a fresh burn on his cheek only just scabbed over.
He stood at the edge of the Fireforged's vast, temple-like Bridge, looking up at the figure framed against the stars, as though cast from an entire mountain.
His voice trembled slightly with excitement and a resolve bordering on martyrdom, but he enunciated every word clearly and forcefully.
Behind him, through the gap between the Bridge's broad doors, more silent Mortals officers and noncommissioned officers could be seen, the same light gleaming in their eyes beneath the dim illumination.
Vulkan did not turn immediately.
His lava-like eyes remained fixed on the planet beyond the Main Observation Window, its surface eaten away by diseased patches. His gaze seemed to pierce the atmosphere, seeing the burning battle lines in the rainforest and the xenos reduced to Charcoal amid pus, blood, and poisonous mist.
He gently rested his enormous palm against the cold reinforced glass of the Observation Window, leaving a blurred handprint marked by intense heat.
"Colonel Calvin," Vulkan finally said, his voice lower than usual, "the courage and loyalty of you and your soldiers are beyond question. Your orbital support and logistical coordination have laid the foundation for the Legion's operations."
The Mortals officer straightened further, hope kindling in his eyes.
"But..." Vulkan slowly turned.
When he fully faced the Mortals officer, the invisible pressure born of his very nature as a Primarch seemed to make the air throughout the Bridge heavier.
There was no reproach on Vulkan's face, only a profound, almost compassionate solemnity.
"The fighting below is unlike any rebellion you have suppressed or purge you