Given the chance to become a person of importance, Old John naturally wouldn’t refuse.
Once the first batch of two million reservists was assembled, Huron shoved them into a “Super Infantry Division” template comprised entirely of infantry battalions for training.
In just two months, this force would reach Training Level 2, “Basic Training,” at which point they would be deployed as grassroots administrative personnel, liberating the original Chapter Serfs.
Then, Huron could begin forming and training a true standing army—specifically, boarding and counter-boarding parties.
In the foreseeable future, the Astral Claws wouldn’t have a massive need for large-scale ground warfare, but the demand for elite boarding and counter-boarding forces would never dwindle.
He intended to follow the original Huron’s path: strengthening his fleet by striking and plundering the starships of other human pirates.
Although it took a shipyard an entire year to repair even a lightly damaged frigate, these shipyards were classic “Void Production” assets.
Real-world shipyards could also maintain and repair other vessels.
Furthermore, a one-year repair time was actually staggering.
This was because the system’s shipyard repairs also cleared away accumulated Warp contamination—a detail Huron had only discovered recently after studying the system in depth.
As the site of the second-largest Warp rift in the galaxy, the Maelstrom Zone was full of turbulent Warp currents, and psychic pollution permeated the entire sector.
Navigating in realspace often meant encountering “Warp-spawned” anomalies like ship-spirits, Warp daemons, and other horrors.
In such an environment, warships naturally accumulated Warp taint.
If left uncleansed, a ship might eventually start sprouting flesh and organs.
This was one of the Great Dilemmas for the Astral Claws.
Because Huron had declared himself an independent ruler, the Ecclesiarchy on Badab viewed the Astral Claws with disdain—or rather, every Imperial institution on Badab was currently displeased with him.
Naturally, the Astral Claws couldn’t rely on requisitioning Ministorum Confessors or Battle Sisters to purify their ships.
If the system didn’t have this function, Huron would have to find a way to win over the Ecclesiarchy or see if there were any “Decisions” to have the Emperor bless the ships.
But as a former university student from a certain great nation, he had a deep-seated aversion to religious matters and preferred to avoid them whenever possible.
As for clicking “Decisions,” he only had about 150 Political Power points, which was only enough for a few.
The bulk of his points needed to be saved for “Coring” Badab, so his budget was tight.
He only gained 0.5 Political Power a day.
It would take him a hundred days just to increase the success rate of the Neophyte transformation surgeries once, let alone other decisions.
Without the system’s repair function, he would either have to stay hunkered down in Badab playing mind games with the Ecclesiarchy for decades or risk his ships growing flesh during sorties.
But with this function, he was confident he could organize a strike fleet within a few years and start the “snowball” rolling.
The boarding and counter-boarding complement for a single frigate totaled nearly ten thousand men.
Since they would be facing all sorts of monsters and freaks, they needed to be highly elite.
However, it was still too early for that.
Huron hadn’t even prepared their equipment yet, let alone the personnel.
But the two Astartes Companies were almost finished with their training.
After a month of production, the military factories had manufactured over four hundred suits of Power Armor and Bolters, allowing the combat personnel of both companies to be fully equipped with basic gear.
Since the Apothecarion, Armory, Reclusium, and Librarius were theoretically “non-combat departments,” and there were only 2,048 Battle Brothers total, the two companies were under-strength, averaging about 800 men each.
According to his plan, each company would eventually include an additional 10 Techmarines, 10 Librarians, 10 Chaplains, and 10 Apothecaries.
A full-strength “Great Company” should have around 1,400 men.
But it didn’t matter.
In five years, more than two thousand gene-seeds would mature, and he could bring them to full strength then.
Huron had mischievously nicknamed the two fully equipped companies “1st Airborne” and “2nd Airborne,” leaving the Battle Brothers—who didn’t understand the reference—scratching their heads.
They weren’t organized as aerial assault units, so why the nickname?
To sharpen the Astartes’ combat experience, Huron had the two companies take turns on duty, purging the various monsters and deviants lurking in the Underhive.
Thanks to the month of construction, the two hundred million laborers and even more Underhive residents had grown to trust the name of the “Astral Claws.” They actively reported strange and hostile forces to the Chapter.
Mutant tribes, warp-tainted beast packs, cultists, rebel remnants, xenos stragglers…
the ecological environment of the Underhive was “excellent,” nurturing countless enemies of mankind.
Usually, as long as they didn’t cause a massive riot, the nobles turned a blind eye, following the principle of “out of sight, out of mind.”
But Huron couldn’t tolerate such filth, especially after several workers were attacked and went missing.
That was no longer a minor nuisance; it required a heavy hand.
1st Airborne, deploy!
Uncertain reports were investigated by Chapter Serfs.
Confirmed threats were handled directly by the Astartes.
With ample logistical support, Bolters and Chainswords were used without restraint.
The Astartes went full throttle, delivering a crushing blow to the monsters.
Underhive, Abandoned Pipeline.
*Bang!* Corien blew the head off a mutant attempting to fight back.
“First Company, with me!
Kill them all!”
He had already tested their strength.
The enemy lacked threatening heavy weaponry, possessing only crude autoguns and a few lasguns.
Drawing his Chainsword, Corien vaulted over a barricade and charged the mutant position.
The veterans of the first company followed with savage enthusiasm.
Ninety-nine percent of the face of the mutant across from him was covered by a single, massive eye.
Its mouth had been squeezed down to its chin.
Their massive mutated eyes gave them excellent vision, but it also gave them a pathological obsession with protecting their eyes, which had eventually evolved into the foul habit of eating human eyes to “nourish” their own.
“Fire!
Stop them!” the mutant chieftain shrieked.
He had seen these giants’ melee prowess and knew they were dead if the enemy closed the distance.
*Rat-tat-tat…*
*Zap!
Zap!*
Autoguns and lasguns fired simultaneously, filling the narrow corridor with fire.
Several beams and bullets struck Corien, who was leading the charge.
A series of *clangs* and *pings* rang out as the rounds scuffed the paint on Corien’s chest plate.
Corien didn’t lose any momentum.
He leaped into the cover, crushing two mutants underfoot, then swung his Chainsword in a wide arc, bisecting every mutant around him.
Splattered blood stained his armor red, but he didn’t stop, pushing toward the rear cover to wipe out the tribe in its entirety.
The mutants who survived the initial sweep didn’t have long to breathe before the excited veterans of the first company stormed the position and began clearing the room.
Because Terminator armor was difficult to manufacture, the veterans weren’t “using a sledgehammer to crack a nut”; they wore standard Aquila Pattern Power Armor.
For the mutants, however, the distinction was meaningless.
Death was the only outcome.
Some mutants tried to pierce the Power Armor with autoguns at point-blank range, but the bullets only scratched the paint.
In response, they were torn into bloody fragments by the hands of the furious veterans.
In an instant, the position was cleared.
The veterans followed their Captain deeper into the tunnels, moving at top speed to exterminate every last member of the mutant tribe.