“Keep dis course goin’.
Da moment we pass troo dem two nebulae, tell me immediately.” Darrius looked toward the side, addressing Kukka.
“Kukka, you’z da link between me an’ Smarty.
Watch im’ close.
If ‘e messes up, ya got me permission to turn ‘im into a squig‑hop.” Having delivered his orders, Darrius shook his head at the sight of the row of stiffly saluting Boyz and strode off the bridge.
… “The orbital station is under full lockdown.
The survivors from the life pods are being processed in batches for more rigorous screening.
I’ve deployed a full company of soldiers to every checkpoint.
Most of the xenos have been detected and suppressed.” “I cannot thank you enough, Captain Pex.
Your counsel saved this entire station.” Cornwatt was brimming with gratitude; he knew that had it been left to him, the situation would never have been stabilized so swiftly.
“Do not lower your guard, Governor.
The greenskin and the Tyranid are the most persistent blights in the galaxy.
We cannot allow a single Genestealer, nor a single Ork, to make planetfall on the beauty of Oronia III.
That would be a catastrophe for the entire world.” Pex showed no sign of arrogance despite his success.
Instead, he became even more solemn as he educated Cornwatt on the xenos threat.
“Once they begin to spread like a plague, nothing can stop them, save for an Inquisitorial decree of Exterminatus.” “Exterminatus…” At the mention of the word, Cornwatt began to tremble involuntarily.
He could see it, his beautiful home world, cast in the shadow of a gargantuan Imperial fleet.
A cold, merciless Cyclonic Torpedo drops from a launch tube, piercing the atmosphere and slamming through the planetary crust to detonate in the core.
Massive mushroom clouds of death would erupt across the surface, followed by a firestorm that would sweep across mountains, plains, and oceans like a physical shockwave until the entire world was consumed by flame.
Everything would be reduced to ash.
No life would remain.
This was the Imperium’s final mercy, the thunderous strike used to excise a festering wound by cutting away the healthy flesh along with the rot.
“No…
that is unacceptable…” Fear gnawed at Cornwatt.
He could not stomach the thought of his world facing such a horizon.
The loss of wealth was secondary; he feared being hauled before a military tribunal for dereliction of duty.
“Indeed, it is unacceptable.
Therefore, we must halt the xenos spread here.
The station is a secondary concern; as long as we control the flow of traffic, the danger is contained.” “The key is the Glorious Knight.
If the xenos aboard land on Oronia III…
this is no time for hesitation.
Even though she is my ship, I advise her immediate and total destruction.” Pex spoke with the cold, iron logic of a loyal Imperial officer.
The logic was simple, but the execution was not.
The Ork-controlled Glorious Knight was moving in a jagged S-pattern, not only evading several lance strikes but constantly bringing its broadside macro-cannons to bear.
By some dark miracle, the Orkish gunnery was unnervingly precise.
Whether through sheer luck or some inexplicable warp-taint, the shells, crudely painted blue, repeatedly slammed into the Imperial cruiser at extreme ranges, battering the void shields like a titan’s hammer.
The Captain of the PDF cruiser Guardian was clearly out of his depth.
The violent shuddering of the ship terrified him.
Claiming engine damage, he refused to commit to a full-throttle pursuit.
“The Guardian’s engines are compromised.
We may not catch the Glorious Knight…” Cornwatt said bitterly to Pex.
Pex lowered his head in thought for a moment before looking up.
“Governor, would you permit me to remotely direct your cruiser?
Though her specifications differ from standardized Imperial Navy patterns, I believe my experience can bridge the gap.” “One more thing, as a precaution, you must return to Oronia III, Governor.
You need to calm the populace, muster the PDF, and prepare for the worst-case scenario.” Pex’s words were perfectly reasoned.
However, Cornwatt lacked the tactical acumen to know how to deploy for such a disaster.
He would need to consult data-slates just to understand the basic traits of Orks and Genestealers.
“Captain Pex—no, General Pex.
In my capacity as Governor of Oronia III, I hereby commission you as General of the Planetary Defense Forces.
You have full authority to command the military and repel the xenos invasion.” “I beg you to return to Oronia III with me.
We must formulate a defense plan together.” Cornwatt clung to Pex like a drowning man to a life raft.
“I…
I am not sure that is appropriate.
I should remain on the station for further testing,” Pex demurred.
“Nonsense!
It was your insight that contained the Tyranid infiltration, and your tests were clear.
A man of your caliber is wasted here while two billion souls on the surface await our protection.” Cornwatt was desperate.
First, Pex was a rare talent.
Second, if Pex directed the defense and things went south, the Imperial tithe-collectors and Inquisitors would have a perfect scapegoat.
Pex brought the xenos; Pex failed to stop them.
Cornwatt, the noble, could potentially flee with his assets while the “General” stayed to go down with the ship.
“And the Guardian?” “I will give the Captain a direct mandate to destroy the Glorious Knight at any cost.” “Then one final question, Governor.
How is the state of your military?
Your equipment, your officer corps…
specifically, how large is your Commissariat?” “Fear not, General Pex.
In Oronia, the PDF is well-equipped and numerous.
Our only weakness is the officer corps.
As you know, these are dark times for the Imperium; soldiers are easy to levy, but officers take years to train.
The Departmento Munitorum has diverted our sanctioned Commissars to more active war zones.” “Ah.” Cornwatt looked melancholic.
Every ruler wants reliable subordinates.
“Oronia has seen no war in centuries, so our officer quotas were deprioritized.
I shall personally petition the Munitorum for an emergency draft of leadership.” “I see…
I see.
That is quite alright.
The Munitorum is indeed busy.
I have extensive experience in officer training; that burden can be placed on my shoulders.” A flicker of satisfaction flashed in Pex’s eyes, though it was expertly masked.
“Excellent, General Pex.
Let us depart.
There is much work to be done on the surface.” Cornwatt was pleased; he had found his fall guy.
As for the two billion lives on Oronia III?
Neither man truly cared.
In the 41st Millennium, who counts the lives of the small?