The Nukaribbu Crusade Begins

0538 Hours
Marshalling Ground
Fortress World Coeus
Cardinal System Trium

The Emperor stood with his hands on the balustrade of the elevated platform upon which he was positioned, looking out over the steadily assembling force covering the three dozen kilometer marshalling ground.  Dropships touched down and departed from uncounted designated landing zones with a regularity that had bled into an unrecognisable repetition, forcing even His gene-enhanced mind to ignore it for fear of being consumed by the sheer magnitude of what it was calculating.

Around Him stood a legion of golden-armoured gene-warriors appropriately named The Gilded Aegis, His personal guard.  They stood nearly a foot taller than the regular Nova Terran Knight, with armour the same gold as His own, and a level of finery that was inaccurate to their sheer lethality.  The the red plumes atop their helmets lightly rustled in tandem with the imperial banners planted at the rear of the platform, likewise captured by the rolling dawn breeze.  Coeus was a fortress world; its continents hardened and fortified to outlast months of orbital bombardment, and its most critical areas defended by shield generators built deep into the planet’s surface.

Colossal anti-orbital batteries rose like monolithic fingers from distant places across the world, pointed up towards a twilight sky filled with the glittering lights of thousands of thrusters.  One of the largest fleets in modern galactic memory held anchor above Coeus, comprised of well over a thousand different starships of such disparate designs it was nigh impossible to not notice the wide array of cultures represented.

Onyx-hulled Nova Terran warships drifted in formation with colourful purple-and-blue Covenant vessels, and sailed cohesively with red-tinted Omnicoder designs that contrasted marvelously to the fundamentally alien concepts of Kingdom of Al’ka-Nu’ve naval forces.  Sleek Vulpen carriers and cruisers sat in steady orbit alongside Vexan models that bore any number of colour schemes and disunited markers from a dozen combined fleets.

Efficiently framed Caretaker vessels aligned with Mioran and MedTek ships in a dizzying plethora of muted silver, and brilliant white, that reflected the light of Coeus’ red star with faint flashes of dancing luminosity.  Over a dozen monolith Titan-class vessels hung in anchor above the fortress world, accompanied by close to two dozen regular battlefleets; a flotilla the likes of which the Galaxy had never before seen.  The Emperor had caught Himself more than once with His gaze roving in carefully hidden appreciation across that implausible multitude of military assets holding peacefully above the fortress world.  It was perhaps the most remarkable gathering of the stellar century, and certainly the most incredible one of His lifetime.

“You seem distracted, my lord.”  Observed a calm, masculine voice  The Emperor turned to look down to a familiar face, conjuring a wry smile for Inno up Sen, the Hierarch of the Covenant.  “One might even say you seem... anxious.”

“I am, Hierarch.”  The Emperor confessed without embarrassment.  “Once again, as with the IRIS incident, I find myself taking command of an alliance of races to oppose a threat to all our existences.”

“It is not like you to be so anxious, your majesty.”

“Not all anxiety is an evil, Hierarch.  Mine is born not of trepidation, but of impatience.”  The Emperor found Himself with another, more excited smile sneaking onto His features.  “I wish to stand upon the bridge of the Dominion, and set sail against our foe with all haste.”

“Yet I sense reservation in you, my lord.”  The Hierarch observed candidly, “a sense of caution.”

“Of course, this is the most critical part.”  The Emperor lifted a massive golden-armoured hand, gesturing out across the infinite plethora of assembling armies.  “Before any great undertaking, one must impart the magnitude of that undertaking.  There are many who might call this a waste, yet they are short-sighted.  It will not be first shot, nor the first death, that marks the true beginning of the coming War.  It will not be the announcement my Vox Master put out to the Galaxy, or the mission my Inquisitor undertook to discover this threat.”  The Emperor lifted His other hand to join his first, spreading His arms as if to capture the entire host before Him.

“It is here, then?”  The Hierarch asked without judgement.

“It is, Hierarch.”  The Emperor agreed.  “Upon the surface of Coeus, in eyesight of countless millions.  This is where the War truly starts, and where the blade of reckoning is unsheathed.”

“There is a powerful energy in this place,” the Hierarch said with a nod of his head.  “A pulse of pure life and eagerness, and yes some fear, that is palpable.  I couldn’t fail to recognise it if I tried.  So many faithful souls gather here, your majesty.  I think I understand well your point.  What is done here, today, will set the tone of the war - no matter what horrors they face, they will remember this moment even in the worst of what awaits them.”

“Then I had best not disappoint them.”  The Emperor said with another smile, turning to look back upon the Hierarch.

“I have Faith, my Emperor, that you will provide them exactly what they need.”

A grateful smile came to His lips at the Hierarch’s words, “your support gives me heart, my friend.  I will ensure it is not misplaced.”

“I know,” the Hierarch said simply, a sly smile ticking at the corners of his mouth, as if he knew something others didn’t.

The Emperor didn’t feel the need to question the mysterious words of the Hierarch, and instead turned His attention behind them both, to the row of chairs laid out for the most important of the attending dignitaries.  He met the eyes of Arch-Duke Marcus Reynard, nodding to the Vulpen Empress’ husband politely and receiving a bow of the head in return.  With him stood the Pilgrims’ Empress, and the Fabricator-General of the Cult of Code - all of whom offered their own gestures of respect at noticing the Emperor’s eyes on them.

Both Gori and Tysala were present from the Academy, along with the heads of their new ‘Schools’, engaged in conversation with the Mioran Prime Minister Akira Mason, and the Princess-Elect Mia Docherty.  Nearby them stood the Lord Admirals of the Nova Terran fleets present, and a representative Caretaker unit, amid countless Admirals and notable Captains from every national fleet in the colossal Armada above them.  The platform was built to house dozens, and dozens were in attendance; with Imperial Army Lord Generals and commanders from a dozen other species, mingling with Nova Terran Legion Aeternus Knight-Lords and Legion-Masters.

All twenty of the original Legions Aeternus were represented; some in full muster, others at half-strength due to their commitment to assisting the Gogan Imperium in its transition away from slavery.  The sea of multi-coloured armour caught the Emperor’s eyes as much as anything else, His gaze soaking in the sheer magnitude of the assembled forces.  He saw Gidaeren soldiers rubbing shoulders with Cult of Code droid army controllers, who stood in tandem with Al’ka and Covenant Templar.  Vulpen forces were positioned in regimented blocks beside Vexan elites, who wore grim expressions, and held a dark purpose to their haunted postures.

War vehicles of every nation in the impromptu Alliance were gathered in ordered columns with their flags and pennants billowing proudly in the dawn breeze, while above it all loomed colossal Cult of Code, Caretaker, and Vulpen Warforms that dominated all with their sheer magnitude: The largest of them - three Emperor-class Warforms - dwarfing all else at one hundred and fifty feet high.  He drank in these sights with a warlord’s appreciation, buoyed by the knowledge that - with some few exceptions - all present had agreed to give Him their trust, and heed His orders, for the future of the war.

“Sire,” one of the Wardens said after approaching, “it’s time.”

The Emperor nodded at the Warden’s words, and the golden-armoured warrior stepped back as the monarch turned, smiling to the Hierarch and stepping past him towards the small podium set in the centre of the platform facing the marshalling ground.  His armoured feet ascended the three steps without haste, and the Emperor took his position at the podium, looking out across the assembled armies.
Trumpets resounded in a rolling chorus across the marshalling ground as the Emperor lifted His arms, motioning for silence from muted roar of over fifty million voices.

All eyes turned from each other to the platform, and to the assembled people upon its deck.  The Al’ka-Nu’ve Empress and Vulpen Arch-Duke rubbed shoulders with elected representatives from democratic nations; Grand Republic Admiralty sat in harmony with Nova Terran nobility, and the crimson robes of the Fabricator-General, Magos-Enginseer, and numerous Code-Priests and cyborg officers blended together with the purple vestments of Covenant High Priests, Augurs, and Templar officers; who sat amid Gidaeren faculty representatives, Red One’s projection, and the heads of various ‘Schools’.  With the addition of a floating Caretaker servitor, grim-faced Vexan fleet officers, and an amorphous MedTek Nano-Blob; it was a true representation of Galactic force - a diversity of sapience, both organic and artificial, that represented the very best of Peritainia.

Perhaps symbolically, perhaps by design, He remained more prominent than all the rest.  The Emperor stood at the podium of the raised platform and His elevated arms were the signal that history was on the cusp of realisation.  The sun was rising at this point, spreading its brilliant crimson-gold fingers across the world of Coeus from the north in a tide of encroaching warmth.  As it came it struck the Emperor’s armour, creating a flair of light that haloed His form to endless millions of eyes watching on screens in orbit, and in person upon the marshalling ground.

“We have assembled here,” the Emperor began in a rolling boom, His voice amplified by unknown means, “to bear witness to the beginning of History.  You have come far from this; be it from the fountained courts of Miara Cora, the bustling worlds of the Imperium Vulpis, the newfound splendour of the Academy on Paranos, the idyllic gardens of Eiua, the foundries of Odyn and Quivaria, the magnificent artifice of the Synthesis Ringworld, the nano-worlds of the MedTek territories, the star-scraping pyramids of Al’ka-Nu’ve, or the triumphant towers of Nova Terra.”  His eyes swept over the sea of faces in a moment’s consideration before continuing.

“A threat has emerged that we have, in truth, never faced before.  War has been waged by many of you against the Nukaribbu before, but never on the scale with which it now threatens.  When last these foes came against you, they met a Galaxy divided and disunited - a stellar community more interested in personal undertakings than the greater good of the whole of Pertainia, and billions were lost for that disunity.”  The Emperor’s tone was sombre here, a reflection of His understanding for the horrors of the past war.  “Yet you rallied, and under the leadership of a Precursor race, found victory against the Nukaribbu in what many thought to be the final ending for a long and bloody war.”

He paused then and lowered His arms, bracing them on the edge of the podium’s stand.  “However.”  The word rolled across the marshalling field, thunderous in the unnatural silence.  “We now know we were wrong.  The Nukaribbu have re-emerged with force and ferocity beyond all our wildest of expectations!  My Inquisitors have reported that they now prowl the stars of the Dead Zone in numbers not seen in all the Galaxy’s known history.  What we face now is not the enemy that once was.  They have learned.  They have adapted.  They have grown more powerful and more destructive than anyone ever might have imagined plausible.”

The Emperor paused again, and then smiled, a triumphant look etched upon His features.  “Yet so have we.  Look to the skies and see the truth of my words!  Look to those beside you, and the thousands of artificial stars piercing the veil of this vanishing twilight like a newborn galactic cluster!  Look upon the force and fury of the Grand Imperium, and those brave enough to stand at our side against this most savage of enemies.  This is the realisation of a new age!  This is not the next Chapter, it is a new beginning for us all!”

The Emperor raised His right hand, curling the power-armoured fingers into a fist that glowed with the reflected pre-dawn sunlight.  “We will take to the stars in an Armada superior to anything else ever conceived of in the modern history of our Galaxy.  We will drive the Nukaribbu before us, scouring their worlds and holdfasts with a purity of purpose that will brook neither hesitation, nor resistance!  Our fleets will purge this hazard to sapient life with fire and fury, leaving naught but the molten chrysalis of new worlds in their wake.”

The Emperor raised His left arm to join his right, holding them skywards as His words rose in force and volume.  “We shall do battle on a dozen worlds, and take from them every ill-gotten gain they have ever made!  We shall slay them in their places of strength, and seize from them their capacity to ever again pose any significant threat to this Galaxy, or any other!  You will be the vanguard of a new era; the scions of an age where peace, order, and justice are the languages of the Galactic whole!  Where no assimilating or xenocidal power ever again may prowl the stars without knowing, absolutely, the consequences of their actions!  Without knowing that they will be brought to answer for their crimes, and the Galaxy will see them given the justice they deserve!”

The Emperor reached down with His right hand, and drew His sword, its plasma-blanket igniting in a blaze of golden energy that rippled like it were immolated by the rising sun.  He held it aloft, a signal to draw the eye.  “On this day I declare that no child ever need fear again the predation of ravenous swarms!  On this day I declare that no sapient ever need fear again the assaults of xenocidal nations!  On this day, here before over a hundred million souls, and all the trillions of the Galaxy, I make this declaration:  The Age of Disunity is at an end!  The Age of Suffering and Strife is closed!  Go forth, sons and daughters of Peritainia, and bring justice upon the virulent forces that would see you quelled!  Go forth my loyal warriors, and bring with you the righteous hatred of a hundred murdered worlds!”

The Marshalling Ground exploded.  Millions of voices raised themselves to a deafening tumult, roaring their approval for the Emperor’s pronouncement as the colossal bellows of towering warforms rolled over the rest in binary eruptions of sound that crackled like distant thunder.  Countless millions of feet assailed the ground beneath their feet, creating an in-place marching beat that sounded like a dozen storms brewed into one moment.

Driven onwards, The Emperor’s voice reached a fever pitch, and its sonorous roar filled the marshalling ground like an awakened deity.  “FROM THIS DAY, UNTIL THE NECESSITATED END, I PROCLAIM THE AGE OF UNITY - AND THE DAWN OF A NEW AND GREAT CRUSADE!”  The Emperor moved the blade, and thrust it out before him.  “GO FORTH, IN MY NAME AND THE NAME OF ALL YOU LOVE, FOR HONOUR!  FOR GLORY, AND THE JUSTICE OF A MURDERED GALAXY!  PERITAINIA INVICTA!”

“PERITAINIA INVICTA!”  The collective roared back.

“FOR THE EMPEROR!”  The majority answered thereafter.

The transports descended once more in a coordinated wave, and the countless millions broke to move for their embarking stations.  Frenetic energy filled the air in a wave of expectation, and drive thrusters ignited in the outer atmosphere above as warships set to preparing their formations for departure.  The Emperor stepped down from the podium to speak with the leaders of the assembled nations, His body abuzz with the adrenaline of what had happened.

The Galaxy had changed, and none would escape the ripples of that consequence.

A new era had been born.

The Nukaribbu Crusade had begun.