Rogal Dorn's decision to forcibly push the Warp Drive project with an iron fist was like casting a giant stone into an already turbulent pond. The resulting ripples carried a cold hostility that rapidly penetrated the deep power structures of the Imperium.
Within the Martian Mechanicum, surface compliance masked seething resentment.
Technological monopoly was the foundation of Mars's authority, and the emergence of the Warp Drive—especially being decreed by the Emperor and led by a 'fringe' Magos—was tantamount to a violent shake-up of that foundation.
Open opposition was crushed by Dorn's iron fist, but the undercurrents grew ever more turbulent.
A faction of the most radical Tech-Priests began connecting through secretive data-corridors. They viewed this as a blasphemy against the Omnissiah and a subversive challenge to the sacred status of Mars.
They were no longer satisfied with conventional obstruction. A highly encrypted directive was sent to the fleet already dispatched to the death world, ordering them to spare no expense and deploy a long-sealed, forbidden relic from the Dark Age of Technology—a device rumored to be capable of interfering with the temporal continuum, its cost unknown, its mechanism unfathomable—with a clear goal: to breach the time-line barrier and recover or destroy the technology before Osiris could present it to Terra.
Within the Navigator Houses, panic and fury intertwined.
The cooperation of the House Velextrana and the personal presence of Saint Alaric had somewhat divided the Navigator community, influencing a few more pragmatic families. Still, for the vast majority of Houses, whose ten millennia of honor were built upon the privilege of Warp navigation, this was far from enough.
They could not accept a future where their unique value might be drastically devalued by the popularization of physical-space navigation technology.
Although the Custodes had previously conducted a bloody purge of the most radical core members, the combined influence and hidden power of the Navigator families, accumulated over millennia and secreted away in the shadows of the Imperium, remained deeply entrenched.
They began mobilizing these resources—by influencing the Astropathic Choir's information relay, manufacturing 'accidents' in key Warp routes, and lobbying High Lords whose interests were tied to their own—to attempt to delay, distort, or even sabotage the Warp Drive's implementation at every level.
A silent war, aimed at defending the meaning of their very existence, quietly unfolded across the Imperium's informational and bureaucratic networks.
In the High Lords Council, dissatisfaction also began to brew.
Those members who were already at odds with Dorn's hardline style, or whose power base was deeply intertwined with the existing travel and trade systems, frequently voiced their "concerns" in unofficial circles.
They questioned the wisdom of pouring vast resources into "unproven" technology, exaggerated the "uncontrollable risks" it might bring, and even subtly spread rumors that Dorn's "autocratic style" and "disregard for Council procedure" might trigger a new round of internal instability within the Imperium.
They sought to leverage the inertia of the bureaucratic system, the pretense of procedural justice, and resource allocation struggles to bind Dorn's hands and delay the substantive progress of the project.
And within this surge of undercurrents, an even more hidden yet far-reaching power began to stir: the Rogue Traders.
These merchants of death, possessing immense autonomy and private military forces, often built their dynasties upon unknown "pocket kingdoms" outside the Imperial frontier.
The exploration and trade privileges granted to them by the Imperium had already allowed them to amass astonishing wealth and influence.
The emergence of the Warp Drive was a double-edged sword for them.
They naturally yearned for a technology that could bypass the Warp's constraints, allow for faster exploration of uncharted star sectors, and provide safer means for smuggling and establishing secret strongholds.
However, they absolutely did not want this technology to be fully deployed within the Imperial Navy and administrative system.
Once Imperial fleets and officials could reach every corner of the galaxy with the same speed and certainty, their hidden kingdoms, illegal trade routes, and spheres of influence—independent of Terra's control—would face unprecedented risks of exposure and regulation.
"Technology should be in the hands of those who can maximize its value," a representative of a Rogue Trader Dynasty whispered to like-minded peers in a secretive club. The crimson liquid in his crystal glass swayed with the movement of his wrist. "Mass proliferation? That would only cheapen a precious treasure and eradicate our advantage. It should be 'managed,' and 'appropriately' distributed."
Thus, beneath the shadow of Holy Terra, in the private clubs of the spire-cities, in the secret warehouses of orbital ports, and in the encrypted channels of the data-net, various dissatisfied factions began cautious contact and probing.
Bonds of interest were secretly woven, and a consensus of opposition was silently reached.
Their goals might differ—Mars wanted technological control, the Navigators wanted to maintain their status, the High Lords wanted political balance, and the Rogue Traders wanted independence and super-profits—but they found a temporary common interest in "stopping the unrestricted proliferation of the Warp Drive."
An invisible storm began to coalesce at the heart of the Imperium.
Rogal Dorn felt this pressure, but his resolute face showed no sign of wavering.
He had chosen this path, and he was prepared to face all resistance.
The Imperium could only have one will, and anyone who dared to challenge that, no matter who they were, would face the iron fist of the Imperial Fists.
Yet, this time, the enemy was not a clear traitor or xenos, but a more complex and thorny chronic illness hidden within the very body of the Imperium.
Rogal Dorn stood before the tactical map, which outlined the distribution of forces in Holy Terra and the surrounding star sectors, but more prominently displayed the invisible, shadowy areas representing the interests and hostility of various factions.
He knew clearly that the Imperial Fists and their Successor Chapters excelled at building defenses and crushing enemies head-on, not at unraveling complex political quagmires and shadow games.
Facing the shadowy obstructions from the Navigator Houses, the feigned compliance and actual resistance from the High Lords, and the boundary-crossing greed of the Rogue Traders, Rogal Dorn deeply understood that the Imperial Fists' method of warfare was ill-suited for these deeply entrenched internal threats.
He needed a more flexible, sharper weapon—a blade that could enforce the will of iron while moving silently in the shadows.
Without the slightest hesitation, he sent out an unmistakable summons via a highly encrypted, dedicated communication link straight to the Fenris System.
The response was swift and potent.
A substantial fleet tore through the Warp-veil at the edge of the Terra System. The ships' lines were rugged, their heavy armor etched with ancient wolf-head insignias and mysterious Fenrisian runes, sailing forth like ancient behemoths from snow and legend.
The Space Wolves Chapter had answered the call. Their colossal fleet formed a solemn array in the void, like a pack of wolves responding to the summons of their Alpha, arriving punctually at the core of the Imperium.