The hololithic comms flared to life.
The imposing figure of Ferrus Manus materialized on the other side of the tactical table. The Primarch of the Iron Hands was also seated on his command throne, a cold light rippling across the surface of his silver-grey power armor.
"Guilliman," Ferrus's voice rasped through the vox-synthesizer. "Your Navigators are nine minutes faster than mine."
"The Navigators of the Macragge's Honour," Guilliman smiled faintly, "know the Warp currents of the Ultramar Sector as intimately as their own backyards."
"Down to business," Ferrus cut straight to the point. "I know the situation on Aurelian better than you do. I was the one who personally went to persuade House Blaec eighty years ago."
He used the word 'persuade', but Guilliman knew the outcome of that persuasion: seven days of orbital bombardment and the total eradication of the ruling house. "Back then, that planet worshipped some deity they called the Dream of the Loving Father. House Blaec's sanctioned psyker advisors, House Alar, used the power granted to them to maintain the planet's ecosystem. I gave them a choice: compliance or annihilation. They chose annihilation. I gave them seven days to consider. Consequently, they conducted a sacrificial ritual in an attempt to summon a Warp entity. So, I executed the purge."
His tone was utterly devoid of emotion.
Guilliman remained silent for a moment. "Is this current invasion connected to what happened eighty years ago?"
"Uncertain. The Blood Angels' distress signal merely stated that Sanguinius was trapped, and that the contamination had reached a Mu-class level and was still rapidly escalating."
Both fell into deep thought.
After a few seconds, Guilliman spoke up. "We'll know once we arrive. Ferrus, after we drop out of the Warp, your fleet will be responsible for locking down orbit to prevent anyone from escaping. I will lead the planetary drop."
"You?" Ferrus's eyes narrowed slightly. "Guilliman, ground assaults are my specialty."
"But Sanguinius is closest to me," Guilliman stated firmly. "Furthermore, the Ultramarines have brought twenty-five companies, more than enough to wage a planetary-scale campaign. Your Iron Hands excel in mechanicus warfare; the orbital blockade needs you more."
Ferrus was silent for a few seconds. "...Acceptable. But if the situation on the ground exceeds parameters, I will drop in to reinforce."
"Agreed."
The channel severed.
Guilliman settled back into his throne, his gaze returning to the roiling Warp storm beyond the armaglass.
Nine hours.
Hold on, Sanguinius.
--
Eight hours and forty-two minutes later. Macragge's Honour, Command Bridge.
Guilliman stood upon the central command dais, flanked by Sebastian and ten high-ranking Ultramarines officers.
The bridge crew manned their stations with practiced efficiency. The Navigator's third eye was fully open, its pupil reflecting the coordinate pinpricks of realspace.
"Warp exit coordinates locked!"
"Geller Field stability at ninety-eight percent!"
"All weapon systems online!"
"Assault elements on standby in drop pods!"
The reports rang out in rapid succession.
Guilliman's ice-blue eyes fixed upon the countdown on the main pict-screen.
Three.
Two.
One.
"Translate!"
BOOM!!!
The massive warship shuddered violently.
The chaotic colors beyond the armaglass receded like a pulling tide, replaced by the deep void of space and the distant light of stars.
Gravity reasserted its normal pull, and the distinct, coppery tang of the Warp was instantly scrubbed from the air by the ship's purifiers.
The main display flared to life, feeding visual data captured by external optical augurs.
Aurelian IV lay dead ahead.
A sickly, grayish-yellow sphere, its surface scarred by intensive mining operations and dotted with the sickly glow of hive cities.
But right now, several regions across the planet were shrouded in unnatural, roiling storm clouds.
And in orbit...
"Multiple vessel augur signatures detected!"
"Running identification... Imperial Navy, colors confirmed. It's the Blood Angels flagship, the Red Tear, and its escort fleet!"
"Detecting multiple Iron Warriors vessels as well!"
A fleet-wide vox channel chimed in.
"This is Azkaellon of the Blood Angels flagship, the Red Tear. Identifying Ultramarines and Iron Hands signatures... Lord Guilliman?"
"It is me, Azkaellon," Guilliman replied deeply. "Where is Sanguinius? What is the situation on the ground?"
After a brief silence, Azkaellon's voice crackled through the vox, carrying a highly... complex emotion. "Lord Guilliman, the ground campaign... is already over. Lord Sanguinius is unharmed. He is currently overseeing the final purification protocols in the City of the Holy Anthem. The primary Warp entity threat... was eradicated six days ago."
Guilliman froze. "..."
Behind him, Sebastian exchanged bewildered glances with the other officers.
"Six days ago?" Guilliman pressed. "Then the distress signal—"
"The distress signal was broadcast at the absolute height of the crisis," Azkaellon explained. "But shortly after the signal was sent, the tide of war... turned. An Imperial reinforcement force suddenly arrived, assisting the Blood Angels in utterly destroying three massive Warp entities and purifying the main sources of corruption. The mop-up operations for the remaining corrupted elements are now drawing to a close. The Iron Warriors arrived three days ago and have been assisting with the ground sweep."
Guilliman's brow furrowed even deeper.
Reinforcements? Where did reinforcements come from?
Don't tell me... am I late again?
There were no registered Imperial garrisons near the Aurelian system. The closest Segmentum Ultima border defense fleet was dozens of light-years away. It was physically impossible for them to have arrived so quickly.
"Which Legion?" he asked point-blank.
Over the Red Tear's vox, Azkaellon spoke slowly, delivering an answer that caused Guilliman's pupils to shrink to pinpricks. "Not a Legion, my lord. It was the Adeptus Custodes. A clandestine vanguard force, personally led by... Tribune Demetrian Titus."
A deathly silence fell over the bridge of the Macragge's Honour.
Marius subconsciously looked at Guilliman, finding a look of absolute astonishment on his Primarch father's face for the very first time.
The Adeptus Custodes?
The Guardians of the Imperial Palace on Terra? The Emperor's personal bodyguards?
What are they doing out here in a fringe sector?
And at such a suspiciously perfect time?
Countless questions exploded in Guilliman's mind, the revelation leaving him genuinely shaken.
But a second later, the Primarch's formidable rationality crushed those chaotic emotions.
His ice-blue eyes regained their absolute clarity.
"Azkaellon, patch me through to Sanguinius's private frequency. Also, inform Ferrus. There has been a change of plans." Guilliman turned on his heel, looking at Marius and his officers. "The fleet is to hold position in high orbit. No one drops without my explicit command. I am going down there myself. To see Sanguinius. And to meet this incredibly capable Tribune Demetrian Titus."
(Titus: (ó﹏ò))
He was going to see exactly what bizarre sequence of events had transpired on this world.
And just who this mysterious Custodes force...
Truly was.