The Third Son

[simison]

"As you wish, my lord." The Storm Rider commander hesitated before moving from his seat, moving with almost inhuman precision. As he sat down, Alexandros could see his aura affecting the marine, and Ludendof was subconsciously fighting it. "What information do you require?"

 

"Have you had any trouble implementing it? Any noticeable improvement?" 

 

Ludendof began a detailed report, which did include improved efficiency rates, storage capacity, etc. Although Alexandros heard and would not forget a single word, he was far more curious about the state of Ludnedof's heart. Without even actively reaching for his more supernatural tools, Alexandros felt the frustration exuding from Erick. From his passive senses alone, he attempted to feel more. The frustration was merely the noticeable consequences of something else. Something was provoking it from beneath.

 

The longer Ludendof spoke, the harsher the frustration became. As it became stronger, Darshan tasted something acidic.

 

Bitterness.

 

Still attempting to discern the root without calling more on his Warp power, Darshan gradually became aware that the bitterness was divided in half between inward and outward. Once he could detect that subtle clue, knowledge came swifty to Darshan. Given his close proximity, the outward bitterness targeted the Primarch. The inward half was reserved for Ludendof himself. But the why eluded the empath. 

[simison]

Alexandros did not get a chance to delve deeper, though he suspected the truth. As Lundendof ended his report, his heart began to quicken. It was said that Space Marines knew no fear, but they did not possess an immunity to other darker human emotions, including anxiety. There was hesitation once Ludendof finished, "My lord, I know it is outside the the chain of command, but I have a request."

 

With his senses so highly attuned, Darshan inwardly recoiled as the bitterness and frustration came screaming to the surface. Outwardly, Alexandros maintained his smile and answered, "By all means, Erick."

 

"My lord, I request a transfer to a combat unit."

[simison]

Before Alexandros could answer, the strategium's doors opened as Irvin Ruel and another member of the Praetorate walked in. "Commander, I will consider your request and have an answer for you after this operation."

 

"Yes, my lord," Ludendof replied in a neutral tone before he moved back to his prior seat. The bitterness and frustration remained, but now wrestled with a third emotion, hope. Alexandros wasn't sure if it was warranted. 

 

Too professional to comment or ask about the interaction, Irvin instead marched to his Primarch and saluted. "Lord Commander Ruel, reporting as ordered."

 

[Have a vague desire to outline at least a few members of the Praetorate. Who should that include?]

Edited May 19, 2017 by simison

[simison]

Beside Irvin came the previous second-in-command before Alexandros' arrival. "Chapter Master Crassus, reporting as ordered," the blue-eyed transhuman declared as he saluted. Unspoken was Crassus' other title, Praefectus Alae, Commander of the Cavalry. Unlike Irvin, who's armour bore only the medals and awards he had earned, Crassus had felt free to embellish his suit with gold-trimmed pauldrons and a rich, red cape. From what Alexandros had heard, Crassus' cape had originally been a deep purple but had changed colours when Alexandros had taken his position as master of the Storm Riders. 

 

Alexandros returned the salute, "At ease, and take your seats. I imagine the rest of the Praetorate will not be far behind."

 

"Yes, my lord," both answered before taking the seats on the left and right of Alexandros' throne. After he seated, Crassus added, "My lord, I hope this campaign will finally involve battle on open terrain. I and the rest of the Prefects are eager to display our skill before you, my lord."

 

Alexandros offered a diplomatic smile. "I've heard that the Prefects are one of the Imperium's finest armoured corps."

 

"The finest, if I may be so bold, my lord," Crassus corrected. "We are the true Riders of the Storm in this Legion."

 

With a chuckle, Alexandros was spared the rest of the conversation as the doors opened again to admit the rest of the Praetorate. 

[deathspectersgt7]

How about a Terran who commands the Destroyers but is not keen on the Primarch .

[simison]

The last to take his seat was Praetor Niemann. Formerly of the Destroyer Corps, the Storm Rider had a burn scar across half of his face from a previous battle when an incendiary charge had misfired. It had also necessitated a cybernetic eye. Niemann merely offered a deep nod to his liege lord, caring not for his abrasive demeanour. 

 

With the Praetorate fully assembled, Alexandros began the briefing with a quick overview of Balov Prime. A civilized war by Imperial standards, it was ruled by the Troika, or at least it was in theory. Although rule was supposed to be divided into three persons, data caches above the Balovian warships revealed that the third post was empty, the duties of that position had been divided between the two remaining members. 

[simison]

Given the unusual circumstances of the third member's death, Alexandros had begun an explanation of how this affected the government structure of Balov, intending to point out potential weaknesses to exploit by the end of it. But, he was interrupted.

 

"My lord," Praetor Niemann said, brazenly ignoring protocol, "Does this matter?" 

 

A tense atmosphere settled over the table, Ruel bristling with anger as he clenched his fists and on the verge of disciplining his subordinate. Other members of the Praetorate looked warily between their Primarch and Niemann; Chapter Master Lothar shooting his comrade a poisonous look. Alexandros chose to address the matter himself, careful to keep his expression neutral. "Do you have a concern, Praetor Niemann?"

Edited May 30, 2017 by simison

[deathspectersgt7]

  

[simison]

"I fail to see how this information is pertinent to our role in Compliance. We should leave this work to the iterators and whoever becomes planetary governor after we've concluded our operations," Niemann declared before lazily adding, "my lord." 

 

Alexandros glanced around the table. While many members of the Praetorate scowled, few of them had qualms with Niemann's actual statement, merely his disrespect. This did not satisfy Alexandros. Turning to Irvin, he asked, "Lord Commander Ruel, do you agree with Nemann's assessment?"

 

"I do not, my lord," Irvin growled, continuing to glower at Niemann. 

 

"What are the advantages of the information I'm presenting?" 

[simison]

Never taking his eyes of Niemann, Irvin began, "Knowledge of the enemy's political and leadership structure offers several tactical advantages. Their location could reveal command centers. By eliminating these priority targets, we can potentially disrupt enemy deployments and responses, confuse enemy forces by leaving them leaderless, or capture them for intelligence or weaponize them against their own forces."

 

Alexandros nodded. "Fine answers that could be found in the Principia Belicosa. Now, what else?" 

 

Only now did Irvin turn from Niemann to look at his Primarch, his face uncertain. Despite wanting to answer, Irvin's pause grew uncomfortable as the chapter master struggled for the answer. 

[simison]

When it became clear that no answer was forthcoming, Alexandros' attention turned to the rest of his officers. "Anyone else?" None would meet his gaze with the right answer from Lothar to Adalbard. 

 

Alexandros frowned.

 

"When I first joined the Imperium and spoke with one of my sons, I was impressed by the knowledge and power all of you possess. However, I became aware of a weakness, an arrogance. It manifested as a soft disdain for the humanity we are called to serve. It is this weakness I see here, Niemann only the most obnoxious example."

 

The aforementioned Storm Rider opened his mouth, "My lord-"

 

"Did I give you leave to speak, Praetor?" Darshan answered allowing a shade of his anger to lace his words with raw power. No longer did he present the visage of a concerned teacher but that of a king of iron. 

 

Beneath the psychic-charged retort, Niemann's spirit faltered as he recoiled into his seat. "No, my lord," Niemann murmured. 

 

Alexandros remained still for a moment, his eyes boring into errant son. When he was satisfied, he addressed the entire Praetorate. "A lesson is in order. Instead of simply telling you the answer I seek, I will show it, to the entire Legion. Praetors return to your ships. Assume a standard blockade around Balov Prime and await further guidance."

[simison]

Ch. 7 An Unexpected Foe

 

To say that Lieutenant Commander Paul Watters was having a bad day would be the understatement of the year. To start with, he had been denied a transfer to the U.B.S. Venture. It didn't matter if the price would have been three reductions in grade. Ever since the end of the Unity Wars a century ago, the Navy was seen as the highest form of military service. That was why only Admirals composed the upper echelons of military commands, the post of generals having been done away with. Instead the highest rank for any poor fool with a ground assignment was a mere Captain, a full five ranks removed from the top rank a Balovian could achieve. For two years now, Paul had been attempting to get his career kickstarted by attaining a coveted officer position somewhere, anywhere on the fleet. And he had been just received another denial letter this morning. 

 

Then the aliens had invaded. 

 

Calling themselves the Imperium of Mankind, the system's outer satellites had provided only a quick warning before the alien fleet rapidly sailed toward the core worlds. The Troika had ordered the entire Navy to assemble and to prevent the aliens from making any further gains. Contact was initiated by the invaders, the Troika explaining that the invaders had immediately demanded that all of the United Balovian Alliance surrender to their empire. The Troika had refused and ordered the invaders be destroyed.

 

The Alliance's Navy, Pride of the entire system, was annihilated. 

 

Despite outnumbering the enemy five-to-one, the invaders' technology had proven to be far more advanced than even the Alliance's best ship, the Venture. The Venture now lay in enemy hands, along with maybe as much of a third of the Navy, the rest of it destroyed with the exception of a few squadrons in hiding. 

 

Which was why Paul was standing in a briefing room with the Troika themselves. 

[Welcheren]

Judging by snippets from the Primaris project, it seems that the 2nd Legion will stage a comeback. Just a thought.

[simison]

Judging by snippets from the Primaris project, it seems that the 2nd Legion will stage a comeback. Just a thought.

 

You're not the first one I've heard mention something about the Lost Legions being tied to Primaris. Could you elaborate?

[Welcheren]

Oh I don't want to distract the direction of your narrative. So, I'll be brief. This link has been posted on the Liber surgery (https://imgur.com/a/M5cqM). Apparently Cawl is petitioning RG for permission to use both traitor and lost legion geneseed, claiming that initial experiments show no signs of peril.

Edited June 7, 2017 by Welcheren

[simison]

Of course, it wasn't just Paul and the Troika. No, he was only a lieutenant commander after all and had barely qualified for this briefing. Standing with him in the round room was every lieutenant commander, commander, and captain assigned to the defense of Ovlast, capital city of Balov. As Captain Dumas, the officer who oversaw Ovlast's defense, gave his report, Paul glanced around the room. 

 

It was hard to tell that they were in the middle of the most secure bunker on the planet two hundred metres beneath the surface. The room more seemed more at home in one of the city's prestigious hotels with thick carpeting, antique sofas, and walls dominated with elaborate paintings of Balov's past. Only the lack of windows hinted at the true nature of the place, while the Troika sat behind bullet-proof glass at one end of the room, a convenient exit just behind their table. The other end of the room held the other officers standing in two ranks, commanders forward and their lieutenants behind them. 

[simison]

No one wanted to be here.

 

Their ground forces had already taken their designated positions when the fleet had engaged the enemy and did not have the firewpower to challenge the aliens' fleet in orbit. The most basic lesson pounded in every Balovian academy was that the war was lost the moment space supremacy was lost. So, with no new orders and no hope, this briefing was completely pointless. And few things were as reviled throughout the military.

 

Actually, Paul revised, it was worse than useless. Glancing out of the corner of his brown eyes, the briefing was having a more insidious impact on the officer corps. He saw officers trying not to fidget in their uniforms. Officers known for their casual confidence stood in rigid attention. One Commander, Kirk who was in charge of the city's western defences, had started to sweat. 

[simison]

Dumas put the papers in his hand back onto the table, a clear signal that the briefing was almost over. Paul could almost taste the relief and freedom that was surely only a few minutes away. 

 

Then an aide burst into the room. From the other side of the glass, next to the Troika. 

 

A new sense of anxiety blasted through Paul. This was supposed to be a close-doors briefing, no one outside of the individuals already inside were to have access unless it was an emergency. The young woman bent down to whisper with Director Chukhay, a heavy-set man with balding grey hair. It was a meaningless gesture since the only way to hear from that side was through the telecom system. Chukhay nodded before leaning forward and hitting the speaker button. "Captain, have your officers line up against the side walls," his deep voice muttered. 

[simison]

Even before Dumas turned around to make it so, the officers marched to their closest wall. As Paul pushed himself against his wall, a screen lowered on the wall opposite to the Directors. Once it was done, it powered on as the lights dimmed. 

 

Immediately, everyone realized things were amiss. BGC was the government's news channel and featured the Balovian flag whenever there was a technical issue. 

 

On the screen was not the blue and red stars of Balov but a great, golden two-headed eagle stood with wings unfurled above a red background. Paul glanced towards the Directors and saw them arguing with the aide. What kind of power did the Imperium have that they could hack into the government's own satellite system. 

 

No more than three seconds passed before the strange eagle left the screen. What replaced it was a strange red-haired man wearing antique purple armour staring at the camera. Sitting on a black throne of sorts that blinked with LED displays on the armrests, the man spoke with a confident smile, "Greetings people of Balov, I am Alexandros Darshan VonSalim, and I come representing the Imperium of Man."

[simison]

"I come not as a conqueror but as a liberator. For I am here to reunite Balov with the rest of humanity that you were long ago cut off from. For the Imperium's home is the same as humanity's. I hail from ancient Terra, the birthplace of our species that your history textbooks erroneously consider a myth."

 

Paul was shocked. As this bearded man had so bluntly stated, it was the official position of the United Balovian Alliance that Terra was nothing more than a metaphor for a lost paradise. Anyone who said or offered evidence to the contrary was swiftly buried beneath scorn and mockery until discredited. Paul had cared little for the debate since it was unlikely no ship would ever reach the closest star in his lifetime. But now Paul regretted his ignorance.

 

"I seek not war but peace. What your government has not told you is that when my fleet arrived at the edge of your system, I attempted to reach out with a hand of friendship. Yet, the Troika called me a liar and attacked me with your entire fleet. A fleet, I regrettably had to neutralize. However, I took every opportunity I could to spare every life sent against me."

 

The image shifted. The best Paul could tell, there were looking inside a hangar of sorts. Strange spaceships occupied the background, but it was the foreground that everyone would pay attention to. A gaggle of Balovian naval personnel sat on the floor. Most of them were eating from ration packets that Paul could only guess were standard of the Imperium. Several Imperium medical experts were at the edge of the gathering, attending to the more injured Balovians. Only a single guard could be seen, wearing the same strange antique armour VonSalim wore.

 

Paul did a double take. 

[simison]

No, his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The guard was a giant, easily over eight feet tall. Paul hoped some of that height was simply the armour, but what kind of ancient armour added an entire two feet to a man's height?

 

Then, he noticed that one of the armoured man's arms wasn't real. The man's left arm was completely cybernetic as could be seen from exposed cables and pistons. Cybernetic limbs were just beyond the reach of the Alliance's best scientists. The fact that this Imperium had combat-grade cybernetics only increased the tech gulf between them. 

 

How can we possibly win against this?

[simison]

The camera shifted back to VonSalim. The man stood as he continued. "I plead with every man, woman, and child that we avoid war, avoid anymore needless casualties, and to not be deceived by your leaders. I know it is a strong accusation and that some of you will reject it, but I believe I need only remind the people of the strange circumstances surrounding the death of Director Tarkovsky. And how only two Directors have occupied a council that was meant for three."

 

Paul desperately wanted to glance back at the Directors but knew better. Even a year after the event, the death of Director Tarkovsky was a... sensitive matter.

[simison]

As VonSalim continued, another one of the armoured giants marched up to him. And Paul was struck again by surprise when he realized that VonSalim towered over the warrior, yet much leaner than his companion. As if to drive home the comparison, a female officer strode up to VonSalim's other side. Standing at normal human height, she looked like a child next to the enemy commander. 

 

"I believe that the people of Balov will see reason. Therefore, in three days, I, alone, will come down to the surface of your world to accept a peaceful surrender and to welcome Balov to the largest human domain across the galaxy. I look forward to the close day where Balovians can enjoy the advanced technology of the Imperium and be reconnected with the rest of humanity. Farewell."

 

The connection ended. 

 

Warily, Paul turned his attention back toward the Directors as the officers reformed their ranks. Before they could do so, the telecom activated and Director Kravchuk's nasal voice sliced through the silence. "Captains, to your posts immediately! We have reports of rioting breaking out in several sectors of Ovlast. Your orders are to restore order and maintain full readiness." The thin, owlish Director added, "Any officer who does not fulfill his duties satisfactorily is to be removed from duty."

Edited July 19, 2017 by simison

[Sun Reaver]

Enjoying reading about the "other side" of compliance. Keep it up! 

[simison]

No officer had time to dwell on the threat before Captain Dumas shouted, "Dismissed! To your posts!"

 

Eager to be away from this place, Paul stepped out of formation and hurried to the door.

 

"Lieutenant Commander Watter!"

 

Paul went through every swear word he knew as he did an about face and came to a position of attention.