Crimson Tide

The provisional Segmentum Pacificus Second Council received the news.

They were aghast, weeping bitterly, utterly heartbroken.

Three Chapters' worth of Astartes! Three! How could they all be gone? How am I supposed to eat now? Boohoo... oh, that's delicious.

What am I supposed to do about the defenses of my five planets? Boohoo... another piece of meat, please.

What if the enemy attacks us now? I can't eat or sleep for worrying. Where's my wine? Why haven't you poured it yet? Going out early and coming home to a bowl every day does nothing to soothe my helpless, abandoned soul.

After "careful discussion" and "thorough deliberation," the council unanimously voted to support Chapter Reconstruction. Full support. Whatever personnel or money they needed, they would get it. No expense would be spared, so long as the Astartes could quickly replenish their numbers.

Obviously! We don't have Imperial support out here anymore! The enemy lost so many people here-what if they come back for revenge? It's terrifying!

Before Evan and his companions even reached the provisional Segmentum Pacificus Second Council, every planet had begun comprehensive recruitment and selection drives. Footage of the Astartes crushing the enemy and killing over seventeen hundred of them played on repeat across enormous advertising screens. Naturally, all damage inflicted on the enemy by the rebel alliance had been edited out.

What? Where had the footage come from?

Oh, right, that hadn't been mentioned. The Paris Dawn Angels Chapter were infamous blabbermouths across the stars. Whenever they considered something a great victory, a victory that was "a sign sufficient to herald the coming dawn," they spread the news without hesitation to every place they could reach. In short, they were the galaxy's loudspeaker.

Of course, they didn't broadcast anything of immense value indiscriminately, but sharing it throughout their Chapter was a given. Evan's footage of the Tai Chi Sword in actual combat, for instance.

Selection drives blazed ahead on every planet. Every noble academy mobilized its entire student body. If even one student became an Astartes, their school and family would gain enormous social prestige. Thus, three thousand promising young scions were swiftly selected to await further screening by the arriving Astartes.

Aboard the Battle Barge Dawn's Light as it sped through the Warp, Evan and his two companions sat together. This wasn't another "campfire-free" party inside their little train formation, but a proper gathering in a grand conference room. The enormous sofas were wonderfully soft, and assorted refreshments and drinks sat on the coffee table beneath bright lights.

The Shadow Blades' Chief Librarian was sleeping in cryostasis, so their Techmarine represented them. Chief Apothecary Situval represented the Storm Will, while Evan represented the Green Templars. They held a heated debate over their new Chapter's name and color scheme.

"What should we call our Chapter?"

"I suggest combining the names of our three Chapters. How about Storm Saint Blade?" Chief Apothecary Situval spoke first.

"Then why not Green Wind Venom Blade?" The Techmarine refused to be outdone.

"Listen to yourself. Does that sound good? It's nowhere near as good as Storm Saint Blade. Think about it: an army like the Emperor's sacred blade, striking its enemies like a storm. Only that would do justice to the name of the Emperor's Angels."

"Saint Blade? I thought you wanted to call us saints. You're making us sound like some Dark God of the Warp."

"No puns allowed. At least come up with a name that sounds righteous. I don't understand why you're so obsessed with venom blades. Does that sound like the power to defeat an enemy fair and square?"

"Why wouldn't it? The Emperor's Blade Tank is one of the Imperium's favorite super-heavy tanks. Does it lack firepower? Does it lack strength? I don't see anything wrong with venom blades. If you won't call us Green Wind Venom Blade, would Violent Color Venom Blade suit you?"

"Evan, what do you think? What should we call ourselves?"

"Crimson Tide."

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Crimson Tide."

"No, what we're discussing right now is..."

"Crimson Tide, Crimson Tide, Crimson Tide, Crimson Tide, Crimson Tide..."

Wasn't this just playing dirty?

"Why Crimson Tide? Hey, hey, stop chanting! You're going to chant us into the afterlife! Say something useful!"

The key to any argument was getting the others to listen. Otherwise, no matter how fiercely you argued, what good would it do if they switched off their headsets?

"Think about what we're trying to do."

What we're trying to do? Do you think our plan is any easier than stealing toilet paper from the Emperor himself?

"Think about it. What are we trying to do? Liberate the galaxy. Where will our strength come from? Uniting all humanity. Blood and fire will engulf countless worlds, and that vivid crimson will make the whole galaxy tremble. We may even spill more blood than a certain Dark God of the Warp, but every world we conquer will add to our strength.

"The impoverished people living in the Underhive far outnumber the white-collar workers and wealthy people in the middle and Upper Hive. Their determination to live better lives is no weaker than anyone else's. Give them a path upward, and they'll support us without hesitation. We need to teach everyone to read and write, and let them choose work they enjoy and excel at. Let those who draw a salary while doing nothing perish with the old world.

"We'll have the people's support. We'll grow stronger with every battle, until everyone's strength comes together in an unstoppable tide. Even if it's a Dark God of the Warp, I'll kill it for you."

Evan might have been a novice who had transmigrated into this world, but before coming here, he had heard his roommate outline the setting. That put him far ahead of these warriors, who were too caught up in events to see clearly. Round it up, and haven't I basically enabled a full-map cheat?

Unfortunately, Evan hadn't heard the entire outline. Otherwise, he might not have thought that way.

If the Dark Gods of the Warp are manifestations of humanity's negative emotions, could the people's unstoppable will for liberation create a crimson tide in the Warp that erodes the Dark Gods' territories instead?

(The four gods of the Warp: Yes, yes, exactly like that. Come on, hurry over.)

Come to think of it, this was the Emperor's grand ambition. If I unite all humanity once more in his name, will his power grow too? Will that cold-colored sun in the Warp turn red?

Evan happily lost himself in his fantasies.

Who cares whether it can change? We haven't even begun yet.

The Chief Apothecary and Techmarine sank into thought. They knew Evan was right, but... they still wanted to preserve some trace of the Chapters they had once belonged to.

On that point, everyone would have to make concessions.

But not over the Chapter's name.

"This name has nothing to do with any of our Chapters, yet it has something to do with all of them. As long as you're willing to fight for humanity, the Crimson Tide ar... my Chapter alliance will welcome you."

Situval wasn't convinced.

Crimson Tide. In plain terms, a big red river. Red River for short. Is it really appropriate to have a bunch of Astartes calling us Red River all the time?

"I insist on using this Chapter name. In exchange, the Green Templars will retain none of their emblems, unique designs, or anything else in our subsequent discussions." Simple and blunt: a trade of interests.

With all three accepting the Chapter name, the next issue was their armor's color scheme.

"With a name like that, we might as well use red."

There was no helping it. They were called Crimson Tide now. They couldn't make themselves purple, could they? Were they trying to deceive Chaos with false intelligence?

Next, all three sat up straight. The Chapter badge was absolutely crucial. They had to fight for a design favorable to themselves.

There was one particularly good piece of news: the Storm Will Chapter were successors of the Imperial Fists, while the Shadow Venom Blade Chapter were successors of the Iron Hands. Their badges happened to be a fist and a hand, respectively. That made things easy.

"How about one hand holding a sickle and one fist gripping a hammer, with the sickle and hammer crossed? The Shadow Blades use black, right? A black fist and hammer representing industry. The Storm Will use ocher, right? An ocher hand and sickle representing food."

"Isn't that too complicated? Are the sickle and hammer necessary?"

"What's wrong with complicated? Surely the Imperium can manage something like that. The sickle represents the food we depend on to survive-that hardly needs explaining. Our weapons and warships have to be manufactured, don't they? The hammer symbolizes industry. These two sectors not only employ the most people, but also have the most impoverished workers, the people with the least access to advancement. They're exactly the people we have to unite."

Fine. You're the mastermind, so you decide. As long as there's a fist and a hand.

"Use silver-gray for the background."

The other two were rather surprised. If Evan hadn't spoken, they would have assumed the background would be white. That suggestion amounted to voluntarily abandoning his own Green Templars' symbol.

"The significance of silver-gray is..."

"The Luna Wolves."

"Is that necessary? Their Legion rebelled, after all. Couldn't this threaten the Chapter's future stability?"

"What does the rebellion have to do with their gene-seed?"

"We could simply not tell them. Say they're sons of Jaghatai Khan."

"Equality for all has to begin with our own forces. If they can't trust brothers who grew up alongside them simply because of their gene-seed, how can you expect them to trust people from Imperial Worlds everywhere? Especially the people of planets invaded by Chaos or xenos, or planets that once rebelled?"

"For example, do you trust the Death Korps of Krieg?"

The Death Korps of Krieg were mortal Astra Militarum troops. Thousands of years earlier, their homeworld of Krieg had rebelled. The rebels seized the major regions and declared independence from the Imperium. The loyalists refused to submit and launched their entire nuclear arsenal, turning the planet's surface into a zone unfit for human habitation.

But the war didn't stop. Rebels and loyalists fought underground, contesting one pipe after another, digging their way forward bit by bit to launch surprise attacks. After nearly a thousand years of war, the loyalists won.

Ever since, Krieg had supplied more Astra Militarum soldiers each year than any other world in the Imperium, as penance for its past rebellion. The soldiers of the Death Korps of Krieg believed that their deaths-deaths that achieved something worthwhile-could atone before the Emperor for their planet's former deeds.

Krieg's morale was always at its peak. They hardly ever spoke, and no one knew what they looked like beneath their gas masks and gray-black military greatcoats.

Inside accounts, however, said they were so enthusiastic about charging and killing the enemy that a Commissar of the Death Korps of Krieg existed to stop his soldiers from charging too early.

Consequently, the Death Korps of Krieg topped the list of regiments the Astra Militarum least wanted to see. Seeing them meant you were on one of the worst battlefields in the entire Imperium.

Since their founding, the Death Korps of Krieg had fought countless wars. They had killed the forces of Chaos, fought Orks and Tyranids, and even routed Necrons. They possessed some of the finest artillery troops in existence, as well as brave soldiers willing to launch a bayonet charge against any enemy.

Through thousands of years of warfare, not one had fled, and not one had betrayed the Imperium.

The shortest joke on Imperial Worlds was about them: Chaos Krieg.

"I trust them. Absolutely. I'd even entrust my back to them."

"Then why won't you entrust your back to the Luna Wolves warriors you're going to train yourselves?"

"We can keep it from the Imperium, but our warriors must know who they are. Uniting every possible source of strength begins within our own ranks."

Fine, mastermind. You decide. I'm giving up.

Who would be Chapter Master? You're the biggest, so you decide. Normally, neither a Techmarine nor a Chief Apothecary served concurrently as Chapter Master. What if someone asked where the Chapter Master was, and the answer was that he was out back repairing a boiler? That wouldn't do. An Apothecary was even less suitable. A major operation could take days, leaving him unable to step away if someone needed the Chapter Master. That left only Evan.

The two veterans looked at this warrior with some misgivings. They didn't know how experienced he was, but he was a Primaris Astartes. His specially modified organs gave him much greater cognitive abilities than ordinary Astartes. They could give him a try.

At the other two's strong insistence, some white patterns were nevertheless added to the legs and helmet of their Power Armour.

Their subsequent discussions were quite harmonious, however. For example, they retained the Storm Will's standard shields and all their designs, while the mechanical prosthetics that were the Techmarine's old specialty continued to bear his Chapter's heraldry, and so on.

The two Battle Barges traveled through the Warp, nearing Planet Scaria, the seat of the provisional Segmentum Pacificus Second Council.

After the discussion, the Techmarine returned to his beloved STC Template, while the Chief Apothecary went to check their stocks of materials for modifying recruits. Evan, of course, followed his usual routine: see you in the mess hall. Seeing how much he enjoyed their food, the Dawn Angels Chapter simply gave them their cook, Ferin. The unfortunate chef's arms had already grown visibly thicker, and clearly would continue growing.

Several important figures from the provisional Segmentum Pacificus Second Council had arrived at the spaceport early to wait. They had invited a large number of reporters. In their publicity, these Astartes were an invincible army, guardians of the Imperium of Man, the Emperor's Angels. Everyone waited before the big screens to witness the heroes' triumphant return.

The two Battle Barges arrived at the spaceport. Close-ups, extreme close-ups-how magnificent these warships were, symbols of the Imperium's invincibility.

Planetary Governor Otist, representing the provisional Segmentum Pacificus Second Council, warmly received the three Chapter "representatives" at the spaceport and held cordial talks with them.

The poor pair of technical specialists and their novice companion found talking to these seasoned political operators exhausting. All they could do was avoid speaking whenever possible.

Only when they reached the private meeting did the three finally relax.

"Honored Angel, what do you think we should do next?" The two little tufts of mustache on Otist's plump face quivered. It was hard to understand how he could still be so fat in an age with such advanced body-modification surgery.

"We wish to reorganize into a new Chapter. Since we can't currently contact the Imperium's internal affairs department, should we submit our application to you first?"

"Of course, but there's no need to make the process so complicated. Simply provide us with the relevant information on the new Chapter, and we'll handle the rest for you. We fully support its founding. If you need anything, please contact us at any time."

"All the relevant information is stored here." The Techmarine produced an elongated storage device. Otist immediately handed it to his personal servant to take away.

"Then are you the new Chapter Master, Lord Evan?"

Otist's guiding principle was that bigger meant better. Look how enormous this Astartes was. He had to be the Chapter Master.

"Uh, I'm serving in an acting capacity for now."

"Chapter Master Evan, this is an unparalleled honor. Having met a Chapter Master, I can die without regrets."

Otist wasn't lying. For an ordinary person, meeting a Chapter Master required such extraordinary ancestral luck that their family tomb practically had to explode. Even a Planetary Governor rarely had the opportunity to meet one. What was more, he would personally "invest" this Chapter Master.

"Mr. Otist, at present, we're facing a few minor supply issues. For example, the equipment and daily necessities required by our Imperialis Militia..."

"Done. We'll cover everything. Just tell us what you lack. We guarantee you'll be satisfied." Otist spoke with tremendous swagger now. We have money. Loads and loads of money.

"Mr. Otist, thank you for your support and that of the provisional Segmentum Pacificus Second Council. As you can see, our new Chapter has only just been founded, and we need to select recruits. Can you recommend any sources?"

That was exactly what Otist wanted to hear. Three thousand outstanding young nobles had already been assembled and were ready. These weren't wastrels who knew nothing but eating, drinking, and pleasure. They were genuine elites, products of the finest education and training.

"Honored Lord Evan, we have already assembled three thousand outstanding youths of the appropriate age. You will need to establish the specific selection procedures."

"Three thousand? Isn't that a bit few?" Evan considered their two Battle Barges. One had forty recruit-cultivation units. The other seemed to have undergone special modifications, apparently to serve as a Chapter flagship, and possessed as many as sixty. Together, they could cultivate a hundred recruits. Selecting a hundred from three thousand seemed rather generous.

Otist was overjoyed. Even that isn't enough? Add more! I have plenty of young nobles. I'm not afraid of you asking for men.

"Let the people of the middle hive and Underhive take part too. Issue a notice. In one week, I'll hold recruit selection in the very center of this planet's hottest desert. Everyone may enter the desert carrying only clothing and one half-liter bottle of water. It will last three days. During those three days, I won't care whether they live or die. Only those who reach the circle I mark will advance to the next round."

"Well... letting people from the Underhive and middle hive..."

"What? Do you think they're insufficiently loyal, or do you want to deprive them of the right to serve their country?"

"That isn't what I mean, my lord. But their overall quality is, after all..."

"I'll assess that during the later tests. You needn't worry about it. Just issue the notice and make sure nobody cheats. Remember my requirements: ordinary clothes and water, nothing else. You understand what 'ordinary' means, don't you? If you're not confident you can manage it, my Imperialis Militia can help."

The recruitment advertisement caused an enormous stir in all three Hive Cities, provoking a powerful response. The status of Astartes warriors within the Imperium of Man was almost unimaginably high.

Of course it did. How many chances did a person get to gamble everything? This was a path straight to the top.

Besides, how many Chapters officially recruited from the middle hive and Underhive? They either came in, knocked out someone who caught their eye, and carried them off, or recruited directly from noble academies in the Upper Hive. What was this opportunity? There wasn't even a schooling requirement. As long as you were the right age, you qualified. Wasn't that a gift from heaven?

From officially organized school groups to Underhive gangs and thieves, everyone sprang into action, preparing to try this chance to defy fate and change their lives.