"Next subject. Barabas, can you tell us more about the state of our frigate?" Atreus asked the silent Space Marines.
The captain was a Space Marine wearing a Mark II expeditionary helmet, one Atreus had had difficulty recruiting.
It made him realize just how much the Imperium overvalued capable ship captains.
An inevitable situation.
After all, ship pilots were not exactly common, and they were not easy to train.
Atreus needed to solve this problem quickly, because an incident could occur at any moment during a Warp voyage.
The thought of losing their only captain in the void was a terrifying scenario.
"Besides the captain, I also need to train Navigators and Astropaths," he thought, mentally noting other urgent matters to handle on Limnos III.
"Lord Atreus, the state of the ship is not terrible," Barabas said, frowning.
However, no one looked surprised.
The warship had literally been stolen by their group after one of the major wars in the history of the Imperium.
To give you an idea of the scale, Rogal Dorn had nearly died during the Iron Cage war.
It was even said that two Primarchs would have perished that day if Guilliman had not intervened.
That was how violent the war had been.
"This warship was built on Mars at the beginning of the Great Crusade. Frankly, it's a miracle it has survived this long," he said, mostly to make Atreus understand the extent of the damage.
The old Space Marine took on a graver tone before continuing his explanation:
"Our offensive capability also has serious limitations. For example, to carry out an Exterminatus, we would need to bombard a planet without planetary shields continuously for several months."
In short, they also had a problem with the ship's artillery.
This last remark made Atreus frown, highlighting the urgency of their situation.
He had underestimated their condition.
"The size of a ship isn't everything, because its speed and power are significant factors," he thought, nodding toward Barabas.
A frigate was a vessel measuring between 1 and 1.5 kilometers and was not used as a main force in space wars.
At best, it was a reconnaissance ship.
Atreus had not had high expectations for this frigate, but it seemed to have reached its limits after their long journey here.
"I need to make contact with the Dark Mechanicus quickly," he concluded mentally after thinking it over.
Fortunately, he had something in his possession that could pique the interest of those technology-obsessed madmen.
The only good thing his predecessor had left him upon arriving in this world.
"Regarding the crew, I have carried out a purge to eliminate the least performing elements from the main group. However, we are suffering from a shortage of talent."
The pale face of the Space Marine grew darker with each piece of bad news, but he continued speaking.
"As for food, we can currently guarantee the crew and the Space Marines a supply of corpse starch. However, the slaves will always be secondary in case of shortage," the captain explained in a cold tone.
It was as if the slaves aboard the ship were not even human.
"Indeed… this is Warhammer 40K," he thought inwardly, nodding toward the ship's captain.
"I do not think we will face a food shortage before arriving on the planet. However, I authorize you to grind the weakest slaves into protein blocks for the others if necessary," Atreus ordered, his heart tightening.
The order was cruel.
It condemned men and women he had captured arbitrarily.
However, Atreus had no choice.
The health of the ship's workforce was an important matter on a kilometer-long vessel.
Especially since corpse starch was the crew's main source of food.
"Corpse starch… I've always hated that stuff," he thought, frowning slightly.
Corpse starch was the primary food source for most worlds of the Imperium, as well as for ships undertaking long Warp voyages.
It was made from the corpses of deceased humans, as well as those deemed useless.
It was used to meet the nutritional needs of a population.
Atreus hated this practice, but he understood its necessity under the conditions of a starship.
He was prepared to set his morals aside.
If he still had any left.
After all, the life of a Renegade Space Marine was hardly that of a saint.
"Every resource is precious in this galaxy that knows only war and madness…" he thought, nodding mentally toward the old Astartes captain.
A clear sign to change the subject.
"Captain Barnabas, we will not be able to acquire a new warship in the short term. You will have to endure these difficulties for a while," he said, subtly hinting at his desire to contact a third party to obtain a new and special vessel.
"Yes, Lord of Forged Steel," the old Space Marine replied.
Atreus then turned his attention to another individual.
"Filon, how is the armory?"
The red-eyed man calmly set down his cup after drinking his recaf.
"Captain, aside from the personal weapons acquired during the war against the Imperial Fists and the Ultramarines during the Iron Cage campaign, there isn't much left," he said, frowning.
Atreus nodded at the answer.
He had somewhat expected it.
"For the equipment of the mortal slaves, we barely have combat shotguns and automatic rifles. As for aircraft, we only have one Aquila Lander, two Arvus Lighters, and a Valkyrie under repair," he explained before adding: "There are no ground vehicles left."
Atreus nodded, keeping his composure in the face of the bad news.
The veteran Space Marine had already expected this, since he had not originally planned to use the slaves as an army.
Their kidnapping had been a whim on his part, as he intended to use them to further civilize the world of Limnos III.
"In the armory for our Space Marines, we have one Land Raider, one Rhino troop transport, and one Storm Eagle. For small arms, we still have forty basic bolter ammunition charges, three bolters, two bolt pistols, seven monomolecular combat knives, three combat shields, two assault shields, one heavy bolter, one meltagun, twenty meltagun charges, and four boxes of various grenades," Filon listed, tapping the side of his head as if he had forgotten something, before mentioning other equipment.
A small piece of good news, but insufficient for the scale of the projects to come.
Atreus needed a lot of weapons.
A legion required enormous resources, unlike a simple chapter.
"For now, I'm aiming to gather 1,000 Astartes," he thought to himself.
"Do you have any other bad news, aside from this slight glimmer of hope?"
Atreus knew his Space Marine brother's temperament and wanted to make sure he wasn't hiding anything.
Filon showed a slightly guilty expression, like a thief caught red-handed.
"We don't have many promethium-consuming devices, but also…"
He resumed a serious expression and continued his report.
"If we run out of raw materials, I won't be able to manufacture carapace armor sets from lower-quality ceramite, nor modify the combat shotguns and lasguns that our brothers can use," he added with a frustrated look.
"I would also add that we will soon start running low on raw materials and spare parts," he finished under Atreus's pressing gaze.
"Indeed, the bad news keeps coming…" Atreus thought without showing anything.
"Then modify the ones recovered from the Imperial Fists and turn the damaged weapons into spare parts for those still usable," Atreus ordered after a short pause.
The idea was simple but effective.
Atreus decided to sacrifice the unusable weapons to ensure the effectiveness of those still functional.
It was a technological waste, since Filon could have repaired them later with sufficient resources.
However, Atreus judged that they lacked time.
The Imperium was still recovering from the Horus Heresy, and the legendary Primarchs were disappearing one after another.
The only ones left were Rogal Dorn and Guilliman, but the Praetorian and the "Excel spreadsheet on legs" were not the type to leave Terra easily.
Atreus judged that this era of the Age of the Purge was ideal for developing his plans.
The Imperium's hatred was focused on the Traitor Primarchs, not on a former minor tactical captain like him.
Filon showed an expression filled with doubt after Atreus's order.
"Boss… far be it from me to show insubordination, but we have no recruits, no geneseed, no proper modification equipment, and not even an Apothecary," he declared in a hesitant voice.
Filon's words resonated with the doubts of the Astartes present, but Atreus did not panic.
He even answered with confidence:
"The Apothecary and the equipment are already on the way. As for the geneseed, I'll take care of it."
Even without the power of Trust, Atreus had already devised a plan to increase the number of Space Marines under his command.
After all, he was a transmigrator.
Filon quickly showed some understanding.
"Oh, you're counting on the Dark Mechanicus, right? I knew you had a plan, boss," Filon approved, thinking back to the treasure their leader had found.
Atreus simply nodded.
He didn't like talking about "that" easily.
"Anthony and Barnaby."
At the sudden call of their names, the two Space Marines rose from their chairs.
"Once on Limnos III, you will lead the first and second tactical squads. Thus, I entrust you with a total of 18 battle-brothers," he ordered as he stood up as well.
The light of the planet was already illuminating the ship with its welcoming glow while the Space Marines absorbed Atreus's orders.
He was assigning them their roles in the coming war.
"Prepare within the next hour and wait in the hangar. We will conquer this planet as quickly as possible. And Captain Barabas, you will lead the three available brothers and remain here to guard our ship," he added, the last part spoken in a deadly serious tone.
He did not want to be accidentally stranded on this planet because a Space Marine had failed to properly handle a slave revolt in his absence.
Seeing that he had not been mentioned, Filon decided to address his leader:
"My lord, and me?" he asked in a neutral tone.
However, he could not hide the excitement on his face. The old Techmarine probably wanted to breathe fresh air.
"You want to descend as well? But who will repair the Valkyrie?" Atreus asked, reminding him of his workload.
Filon scratched the back of his head, visibly tired.
"It's not that I don't want to repair the Valkyrie; it simply lacks parts. Besides, I also want to see our future planet. I've been locked aboard the ship for too long," he explained in a weary tone.
The superhuman being was not physically exhausted, but mentally, from seeing the same things in his workshop day after day.
"Fine, you can come. Anyway, I doubt the effectiveness of an exhausted worker," Atreus replied in a resigned tone.
With those words, he rose from his chair.
He looked at his men with eyes full of anticipation.
The other Space Marines followed suit, leaving the comfort of their steel seats.
"To the forge!" Atreus roared.
All answered by striking their chests:
"All forged in steel!"
The conquest was about to begin.
***
Author's Note:Well, I've posted 5 chapters and plan to publish 2 per day.
If you like it, please leave your impressions (opinions, comments, or votes).