Unexpected invaders

The massive head fell, spraying blood. Every Genestealer froze for a moment before scattering in all directions.

William and the Space Marines beside him immediately unleashed all the ammunition they had intended to conserve. Gravely wounded Genestealers kept falling from the ventilation ducts, only to be cut down and burned.

In theory, the Genestealers lucky enough to escape would mostly be second-generation specimens, but there was clearly more than one of those.

Several of the larger ones might become the next brood leaders, but to the Astartes and the Adeptus Mechanicus, Genestealers split into several separate broods no longer posed much of a threat, even if they were purestrains.

The enormous exhibition hall stood empty after the Ironwing Dragons-the Adeptus Mechanicus's flamethrower troops-finished sweeping it.

The Adeptus Mechanicus personnel and the Astartes all breathed a sigh of relief and established defensive positions where they stood.

"Honoured Evan, on behalf of the Forge World Stolov, I offer you our deepest gratitude."

"Don't mention it. Taking money to do a job is only natural."

Tech-Priest Mapus felt utterly helpless. Not only did this man's conduct bear no resemblance to that of a distinguished Astartes, even his speech was so... undignified?

"Honoured Evan, I believe we must thoroughly cleanse this entire space hulk, then tow it back to an Imperial World. To that end, we require the assistance of you and your esteemed warriors."

Evan felt helpless too. Why did talking have to be so exhausting? Something that could be said in one sentence took forever. In battle, you would be chopped into mincemeat before you finished giving an order.

"Of course. A twenty-eighty split, remember. Shouldn't our priority right now be finding those important holy relics?"

No one wasted any more words. The search teams got to work.

Evan had made up his mind. Whatever happened, however absurdly precious the Ecclesiarchy's treasures turned out to be, they would all go to the Adeptus Mechanicus. He only wanted military supplies.

Taking anything belonging to the Ecclesiarchy would inevitably entangle him with them, and that was the last thing Evan wanted right now. The farther away he stayed, the better.

Wasn't the Ecclesiarchy rich? Didn't they throw their weight around? Let the tech-priests butt heads with them. Even the Emperor only dared describe his relationship with the Adeptus Mechanicus as a partnership. What could the Ecclesiarchy possibly do to them?

Apparently, there were relics of a Living Saint here, but where would they be hidden? Surely the Emperor's Children hadn't taken them?

The Adeptus Mechanicus and Evan began dismantling the exhibition hall in earnest. Based on Evan's experience finding the Luna Wolves' gene-seed, there had to be something beneath the floor.

The Tech-Priests, meanwhile, had a particular fondness for the walls.

Three minutes later, both sides reached the precious relic collection at the same time.

With consummate professionalism, the Adeptus Mechanicus discovered a hidden passage inside the walls. They failed to find the switch, but melted through the wall and went inside anyway.

Evan wandered around. Where does it look thickest and toughest? Here, right? Meltagun, go!

A large hole melted open. Evan jumped down, only to see the Tech-Priests descending the stairs beside him.

What a coincidence.

The Adeptus Mechanicus personnel frantically scanned the precious exhibits while Evan wandered around.

Based on my experience finding STC Fragments, there's definitely something underground.

This time, Evan was wrong. One of the exhibits was a holographic projection, and the true reliquary lay beyond that fake display case.

At a conservative estimate, the collection could be traded for several battleships. It mostly depended on the Adeptus Mechanicus's negotiating skills.

Relics were priceless, to put it politely. Less politely, having them or not made little difference. Catherine's sceptre had been missing for so long, yet everyone still went about their lives as usual.

And so, between clearing out the remaining Genestealers and towing the space hulk back to Stolov, seven years passed in the blink of an eye.

Archmagos Phinnis was worried. In theory, the Adeptus Mechanicus had made a fortune from this expedition, but they genuinely had no spare forces or supplies with which to pay Evan.

Order another two battleships? I simply don't have time to build them.

Evan and Phinnis sat across the table, staring helplessly at each other.

I did the work, and you won't pay me? What a heartless boss.

I really can't afford it. How about taking some ancient relics instead?

Wow, what a crook. How can you pay someone with whatever they worked on? Would you pay a shipyard worker with an alloy plate from a warship?

Another Battle Barge and another Strike Cruiser, to be delivered in two hundred years.

Would dedicating all the expanded facilities to producing their biological organs do?

Producing a hundred sets of gene-seed implants for Neophyte Transformation had originally taken twelve years, while Neophyte Transformation took eight years at most. That meant the implantation tanks still had periods of downtime. The expansion now shortened production to ten years, which worked out well enough: the Neophyte Transformation tanks could undergo two years of maintenance before the next round began.

As far as making money went, he could only call himself lucky.

Back aboard their own "Twin-linked" Battle Barge, the Chief Apothecary had finished his work and was patiently instructing ten Apothecary Aspirants.

The Techmarine was still busy. Analysing the STC Template fragments was incredibly time-consuming.

The Chief Librarian... I've got a bold idea. Could we put this inside a Titan? Omnissiah, no offence intended.

Most of this batch of recruits had never met Evan. They were now gathered in the hall, awaiting his appearance.

With good-quality recruits selected from two worlds, the success rate this time had reached forty-eight percent.

There were only ten Luna Wolves. It remained unclear whether some special ritual had been omitted.

There were thirteen Imperial Fists, twelve White Scars, and thirteen Shadow Blades.

A force with potential, and six veterans to lead them.

Ordinary Space Marines were not Primaris warriors like Evan. Even after the ten-year mark, he could have both gene-seeds removed without any trouble, but ordinary Astartes were better off leaving theirs inside. They continually released growth-promoting hormones, allowing the Astartes to grow taller and stronger over their long lives.

For example, the Minotaurs' Chapter Master was "supposedly" an "ordinary" Astartes, yet stood almost three metres tall.

Like the previous batch, these recruits began their training by capturing Phenos Stone Serpents under the agreement signed earlier. The Adeptus Mechanicus personnel wanted to establish a second base, and the terms of the agreement required their assistance.

Another three years passed in the blink of an eye. In those dark days, travel through Imperium Nihilus was severely hampered by the absence of the Emperor's Astronomican.

Some powerful planets had dedicated psykers serving as stellar beacons, allowing visitors from a few neighbouring worlds to arrive without getting lost. Less developed worlds had it worse. Whether a ship reached them depended on its Navigator's skill.

Even Evan, leading his recruits, rarely travelled between stars. He usually remained on a single planet for a long time to train them, even though the Astartes did not need very long to conquer a planet.

As the agreed date approached, Evan, the six warriors of the Second Company, and the recruits headed for the Forge World Mavrek to collect the promised seven cruisers, ninety-six frigates, one hundred Emperor's Blade Type II Tanks, one hundred suits of Power Armour, one hundred Power Swords, one hundred Bolters, and ten suits of Cataphractii Terminator armour.

(Three of these ten suits of Terminator armour were enlarged models for Primaris Space Marines.)

The Battle Barge and a fleet of transports borrowed from the neighbouring Astra Militarum were packed with naval recruits trained over the past decade.

Archmagos Froes angrily berated Evan for handing the Agri World over to the Imperium, even though it would have required complete reconstruction if it had been handed to them instead.

Evan countered that they had never explained themselves clearly. It was not his fault that they had arrived too late to save it.

Neither side could settle the argument, so they exchanged the fragment for the supplies.

The transports suddenly emptied out. The ninety-six Sword-class Frigates and seven Lunar-class Cruisers required roughly three million people between them, and that was merely the minimum needed to sail the warships home.

(A Sword-class Frigate required approximately twenty-six thousand crew, and a Lunar-class frigate around one hundred thousand, at minimum.)

All these personnel had been recruited from Atris. For a world that had enjoyed fewer than thirty years of recovery, it was a severe drain.

Even by Imperial Navy standards, the assembled fleet was a formidable armed force that could not be underestimated.

At Evan's insistence, these warships still maintained their loyalist disguise, with statues of the Emperor erected everywhere.

When the naval personnel questioned him, Evan simply brushed them off by saying that this Forge World had already been reclaimed. After all, he had previously promised to protect them, and they worked for him.

I haven't rebelled yet, so I'm loyal. Working for me means working for the Imperium. Round it off, and that makes them loyal too. Perfectly reasonable.

The problem now was finding a suitable explanation for where these warships had come from. Or dispersing them completely.

"Hello, Archmagos, I'm back agai-hey, don't hang up! Didn't we work well together before? What do you mean, a fox paying a friendly visit to the henhouse? I'm only asking whether you'd like my fleet to work for you. What do you mean, you don't need escorts? The Great Rift has been open for so long that you can't get minerals shipped in. Don't you need to find your own deposits? Establish mines and Forges? We can escort you. We won't ask for much. Just keep us supplied."

"How can you call it fleecing the same sheep over and over? You built these ships, and now you're using them. When you think about it, you haven't lost anything, have you? You're just providing food and lodging for the people protecting you. If you've got a conscience, build me another hundred Ion Pistols."

There. Nicely hidden away.

Evan cancelled the assignment to study under the Techmarine. Most of the twelve Astartes involved were Sons of Iron Hands. Six Astartes departed, each commanding one Lunar-class Cruiser and three frigate squadrons of five ships apiece.

The remaining six frigates went to guard the Battle Barge. Evan kept one cruiser to train the recruits.

The barrier between the Warp and reality grew ever thinner, and some Chaos Space Marines slipped through. Among them were the Night Lords, who worshipped no single Dark God-or rather, scorned absolute devotion to Chaos.

The Night Lords were warriors of the former Eighth Legion, adept at assassination and sowing disorder, and highly effective in battle after dark. Now they were spreading death and terror through the hives of remote worlds.

Scaria, the temporary seat of the Segmentum Pacificus Second Council, had recently become haunted. Distinguished nobles kept being brutally murdered, then hung from streetlights in elegant poses.

The middle hive had problems too. People frequently discovered horribly mutilated corpses and chunks of organs inside rarely used public utility boxes, such as old air-circulation units.

No one kept count in the Underhive. Didn't atrocities happen there every day?

Otist's hair had turned white with worry. He had deployed every guard unit, household regiment, and even the Planetary Defense Force under his command, yet still found no answers.

At first, he had assumed some faction was plotting a coup, but prominent figures from every faction had been killed. Their murders seemed utterly inexplicable, without any discernible pattern, and Otist had finally given up.

Helpless, he could only ask Evan for aid. He also offered a prayer to the Emperor that he would remain alive and well until the Emperor's angels arrived.

At first, Evan had not considered the Alpha Legion or the Night Lords. He thought some powerful bioengineered human had become a serial killer.

Perfect practice for my recruits. Everyone aboard. We're leaving.

The six assistant instructors each led eight recruits aboard the Righteous Vigil in orderly ranks.

The next batch of organs for Neophyte Transformation would not be ready for several more years. The Righteous Vigil could finally stretch her legs.

Meanwhile, pitch-black night shrouded Scaria, and several ghosts moved through the Hive City.

They were enormous compared with ordinary people, yet no one could detect them as they moved through the darkness. Even from barely a dozen metres away, people remained completely unaware of their presence.

In the Upper Hive's protected woodland park, a handsome man was on a date with a woman.

"Clemens, I'm so scared. There have been strange rumours lately about a deranged murderer roaming around at midnight."

"Reyna, there's no need to be afraid. I'm the son of a naval admiral. Any monster would tremble before my sacred bloodline."

"But the news said this maniac has already killed lots of famous, powerful nobles."

"Don't be afraid, Reyna." The young man raised his sturdy arm, flexing his bulging biceps to show off his strength.

"But even generals protected by their guards have..."

"Don't worry, Reyna. I have this." The young man named Clemens discreetly pulled back his clothes, revealing a Laspistol lavishly decorated with diamonds and gold.

"Oh, my goodness. You really are a dependable gentleman."

"Protecting women is something every responsible man should always keep in mind. Don't you agree, lovely Miss Reyna?"

"Sweet words won't win a girl's heart. But mine was already yours."

The handsome young man gazed deeply into her eyes. Reyna slowly closed hers, waiting for a tender, sweet kiss.

A long time passed, but the kiss never came.

Puzzled, Reyna opened her eyes.

"Clemens? Clemens, where are you? Don't scare me. This isn't funny."

The frightened girl looked around. Everything was pitch-black, without a soul in sight.

"Clemens, come out. I... I..." Her voice caught with a faint sob, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

"Ha! I scared you, didn't I?" Clemens stepped out from behind a large tree, and the girl threw herself into his arms, frightened yet delighted.

"You jerk! You knew I was scared. You knew."

She rubbed her face against his chest, secretly wiping her tears on his clothes.

"Don't be afraid. I'm fine."

"Hmph. That wasn't funny at all."

Reyna abruptly pulled out of his arms and turned her face away, refusing to look at him.

Seconds ticked by, but no comforting words came from him.

"Clemens?" The girl turned back in confusion, only to find no one behind her.

"Clemens, not again! I told you it isn't funny. I'm going to get angry! I really am!"

Fuming, she walked behind the tree, but did not find her lover. She went to the pile of rocks nearby, yet still could not find him.

"If you don't come out, I'm going home."

Her voice drifted through the dark forest without a reply. Only the faint chirping of insects lingered in her ears.

Reyna angrily headed for the park entrance.

She stormed to the entrance, then stopped and turned around, watching the path out of the park in the hope that her lover would come running after her.

When he does, I'll give him two good punches.

Reyna seethed. The light falling on her seemed a little unsteady, flickering on and off.

"Those damned workers. Can't they make light bulbs that actually work? Just like Clemen-Aah!!!"

The handsome young man's corpse hung from the streetlight in a grotesque pose. The luxurious pistol he had been so proud of was stuffed into his mouth, his eyes bulged like those of a dead fish, and his entire body swayed beneath the streetlight like a swing seat.

The girl's scream shattered the stillness of the night. Her legs gave way, leaving her sitting helplessly on the park's cold pavement. A patrol soon arrived, but she continued staring blankly at her lover's corpse.

She did not move at all.

The next morning, after reading the night's death reports, Otist felt fury surge through him, so intense that he nearly fainted.

"We must bring this murderer to justice!" Planetary Governor Otist pounded his desk in anger, roaring at the officers before him.

"I don't want to hear about tight cordons or fast response times. I want the killer!!!"

The senior officers did not dare say a word. They had done everything in their power, yet their people remained trapped in fear.

"If you truly can't solve this, let the Adeptus Astartes come. Let the Emperor's angels see how utterly useless you are! An entire planet's army can't catch a murderer! You've disgraced me completely."

"Governor Otist, I don't believe the situation has reached such a critical point yet. We still have the overall situation under control. The fear is only temporary..."

"I'm afraid this matter is already beyond you, my old friend." Evan walked in through the doorway, his Terminator armour making the floor creak beneath his feet.

"Governor Otist, the methods used in these murders bear a strong resemblance to those of some old enemies of ours."

Otist abruptly raised his head and stared at the towering Evan as though he were looking at a god.

"My advice is to get to the space station as soon as possible. Then suspend all traffic to and from it until we confirm that it's safe down here. After all, if the Night Lords want to hide, no one can find them."

At the name of the Night Lords, Otist slumped into his chair, utterly drained of spirit.