**
The bridge of the Sword of Solarius was typically a place of controlled activity befitting a Vance Dynasty vessel. This calm was shattered by a sharp, urgent chime—the signal of an absolute priority communication, a channel reserved for the Adeptus Terra itself.
All activity ceased. Officers froze, their gazes turning to Captain Elara Vance. Her heart hammered, a cold premonition gripping her chest. She rose from her command throne, instinctively straightening her uniform, and positioned herself before the main viewscreen, waiting in tense silence.
The screen illuminated, not with the image of an administratum clerk or an admiral, but with a figure that immediately caused every crew member on the bridge to drop to one knee. It was a Custodian. His armor was of a gold so pure and brilliant it seemed to emit its own light, sculpted with a perfection that surpassed mortal craftsmanship. His helmet, with its impassive, heroic features, concealed a face that had no regard for human vanities. A guardian spear, a weapon of unimaginable technology, was held with lethal ease at his side. Even through the screen's cold medium, his aura of absolute authority and overwhelming power was palpable.
Elara Vance, Captain of a House Vessel, heir to a Warrant of Trade signed by the Emperor Himself, felt her legs buckle. She did not even think to resist. She knelt in one fluid motion, bowing her head in a gesture of deep submission and respect.
"Rise, Captain Vance."
The Custodian's voice was not thunderous. It was worse. It was absolute calm, an authority so fundamental it required neither volume nor emphasis. It was the voice of the Imperium's will made flesh.
Elara obeyed, rising but keeping her head slightly inclined, unable to bear the weight of that presence, even by proxy.
"You filed a report," the Custodian continued, each word falling like a sentence. "A report concerning an entity designated 'Bastion.' A non-compliant faction, deploying advanced technology and clone warriors."
Elara felt a shiver run down her spine. They knew.
"The Emperor," the Custodian pronounced, and the very word seemed to charge the air with static, "has taken notice of your report. His Divine Presence demands a full accounting. You are summoned. You are granted the honor of appearing before the Imperial War Council on Terra to report your findings in person."
Elara Vance's world seemed to tilt. To go to Terra. To stand in the same room as the lords of the Imperium. And perhaps... perhaps to feel the shadow of the Master of Mankind's own presence. It was both the greatest terror and the highest honor a mortal could aspire to.
She stood mute, unable to form words, her mind overwhelmed by sacred terror and the immensity of what awaited.
The Custodian, indifferent to her turmoil, concluded: "Rendezvous coordinates and transit codes are transmitted. Do not be late. The Emperor's will admits no delay."
The transmission cut out, leaving the bridge in a cathedral-like silence. The screen returned to black, but the image of the Custodian and the weight of his words remained burned into everyone's minds.
Elara Vance, pale but with a look of fierce determination suddenly in her eyes, finally turned to her first officer.
"You heard him," she said, her voice regaining a measure of its firmness. "Plot a course for the Segmentum Solar. Set sail for Terra. We answer the Emperor's call."