The Nukaribbu Crusade: First Blood Pt. 3

“The planet’s defences are considerable, it seems, but not impenetrable.”

“What are our options?”  Mik B’Torak asked of the Lord Admiral, present in holographic projection within the Dominion war room.  The Emperor Himself remained silent, staring down at the holographic table before Him.  Primus, as the planet had been temporarily dubbed, was a verdant world; a peaceful Gaia-class of rolling green landscapes and sparkling green oceans.  It had been colonised and fortified by the Nukaribbu, seemingly using their new bio-mineral, in a way that did not harm or damage its ecosystem.

In spite of the enemy’s occupation, and in spite of the extreme level of militarisation, the world had only persisted in its state of idyllic existence - the bio-mineral’s presence blending seamlessly to the existing ecology in such a way as to make its use and propagation unobtrusive.  If nothing else, the Nukaribbu indeed lived up to their reputation for maintaining co-existence with the nature of any planet upon which they settled, disrupting its natural flow as minimally as was plausible.

No less so, it seemed, when it came to the conversion of planets into fortresses.

“Logic dictates that orbital bombardment would <<Pacify>> the world most efficiently,” the artificially optimistic ‘voice’ of a Caretaker representative stated from its own holographic projection.  “The <<Menace>> persist on many more worlds.  Cataloguing those here would prove irrelevant in the greater scheme.”  Its projection showed a smiley-face on its orb-like head as it concluded, as if to reaffirm its benevolence in the face of the suggested destruction of a world.

“Ha!  Thisss machine understandsss.”  Emperor Heldon said at The Emperor’s side, smiling insidiously.  “There are few thingsss more alluring than a world aflame!”

“While I understand the position of the Caretakers and... the other one, I would advise against orbital destruction.  The planet is invaluable in its Gaia-state, and beyond this it houses resources and Nukaribbu technologies that could prove an incredible asset in the prosecution of this war.”  The speaker was the Covenant’s fleet admiral, a Grandaugur as they called themselves.  “The Templar are prepared to wrest this world from the foe in Your name, my most holy Emperor, and incinerate this plague upon the galaxy with all deserve furore.”

“Yes, let us crush them under heel, Your Majesty.  Let the combined forces of your Grand Imperium and our... allies... show these rabid animals the true face of might.”  The Kingdom’s Admiral Wedala said in impassioned tones.  “Let us bring the Empress’ fury against them, in your name, and show them the wrath and rage of a united Grand Imperium!  For the glory of the Empress!”  She hesitated for a moment, before adding quickly, “and you, of course, mighty Emperor.”

“Avoiding the destruction of the planet fits with an acceptable alternative,” the Mioran representative agreed.  “Frankly, I dislike the notion of slaying so many Nukaribbu, even if they are our enemies, but if it’s this or the planet’s annihilation - then I know where I stand, and where the Republic would stand.”  He seemed oblivious to the angry stares from both the Covenant Grandaugur and Admiral Wedala of the Kingdom’s Third Fleet.  “Prisoners of war would be a valuable asset, and perhaps we will find some who do not share their collective’s newfound assimilating philosophy; some we can, perhaps, save with rehabilitation.”

“The Legio stands ready, Your Imperial Majesty.”  The Magos-Enginseer said holographically.  “I will assume personal command of them for the Primus assault, if your majesty wills it.”

“I am inclined to agree with the Covenant,” Lord Admiral Ironside said, turning to face the Emperor.  “Frankly your majesty, this world provides an irrevocably valuable chance for unlimited intelligence on the enemy.  They appear to have massively fortified it, and were it not for AEGIS, I think we might very well have failed to take it.  Now that we have void supremacy, however, and our forces were spared further onslaught... Well, I think ground assault is our most necessary recourse.”

“I agree,” Lord Admiral Stormheart followed on, standing beside the Emperor in person.  “We brought the Legions Aeternus for a reason, my Emperor: Let us unleash them in your name, and scour this world of the enemy.  There is no telling what valuable intelligence we might find, perhaps a reversal for this assimilation tactic among it.”

The Emperor had remained silent as they discussed things, then and earlier, and had reserved His judgements.  In reality He understood all points; less so the Miorans, perhaps, than others - but none were without merit.  The Caretakers’ view was one of ironclad logic; there would be better opportunities to potentially gain intelligence on the Nukaribbu, but the Emperor was forced to agree more-so with the Covenant, Kingdom, and His own Lord Admirals.  Primus offered an opportunity to fully investigate a fortified Nukaribbu world, and more than that, potentially investigate their assimilation process more deeply.  It was not an opportunity He could afford to waste.

“We will break the planet with armies, and secure the vital intelligence it may hold upon its surface.”  He turned to Mik, focusing on the Gidaeren.  “I am given to understand that your new ‘Arsenal’ vessels may be up to the task of crushing the planet’s defences in a specific area to allow for incursion.  Is this correct?”

“Yes, your majesty.”  The eccentric leader replied certainly.  “The vessels are automated, and equipped with enough ordnance to clear a zone for landing nicely.  The enemy’s anti-orbitals will be ridding us of alloys and time, little more.”

“Very well.”  The Emperor said, turning to one of the towering Knights in the room; his scarlet armour ordained with golden adornment to indicate rank and veterancy.  Like all members of the Sanguine Seraphim, his appearance was as perfect as genetic engineering would allow by Nova Terran approximation.  His hair, long and gold, flowed to his upper back - and his features were crafted as if by the hands of a master sculptor.  “Legion-Master Dante.”

“My Emperor?”  The Knight replied, his blue-grey eyes focusing on the Emperor.

“The Ninth Legion will be the first in, followed by the Third and Sixteenth.  I will hold the First and Fifth in reserve until they are needed.”  The Emperor said simply, measuring the capabilities in the same breath as He gave the order.  “Let us offer our honoured allies a chance to see the vaunted shock-warfare prowess of the Sanguine Seraphim in action.”

“How exciting,” Heldon said in his perpetually amused tone.

“Prepare your Legions,” the Emperor said, ignoring the Pandemonium.  “The opening will come shortly.”  He turned to the rest of the war room then, and spoke once more.  “Once we have established a suitable beachhead, I will descend to the world myself.  I wish to see the Nukaribbu war-machine with my own eyes, and investigate several things that have given rise to curiosity on my own part.”  The Emperor looked back to the holographic representation of Primus.  “There are questions that require answers, and I cannot find them from aboard a warship.”

“It will be done, My Lord.”  The Templar Sororitas Grandmistress said emphatically.  “You do us an unknowable honour by consenting to stand at our head on the field of battle.  We will not disappoint.”

“We shall ready our Warforms for <<Pacification>> alongside the Omnicoders.”  The Caretaker said simply, seemingly unconcerned by the Emperor’s decision.  The same smiley-face appeared thereafter, as if the difference between planetary destruction and localised genocide were neither consequential nor worth mentioning.

“Our ground forces will depart immediately! The bodies of felled Nukaribbu will squelch beneath our boots! They will tremble when they hear the word Empress screamed across the battlefield!”  Again she paused, as if remembering something, before continuing.  “Oh, I'm sure they'll be trembling at the mention of You, too, your majesty.”

With a suppressed smile of amusement, one He was careful not to show, the Emperor nodded.  “Then let us begin.”  He turned to Mik.  “Execute the plan.  We will initiate strategic bombardment of targets, per Gilgamesh’s assessment, once the path is clear.”

The holographic displays within the War Room began winking out, and The Emperor turned to Vaelian as Bjorn departed.  “I want the Battlefleet Nova Terra orbiting my battle-zone, and Battlefleet Nova Terra alone.  Ensure the others are spread across the planet, lest they all attempt to protect me and waste our advantage.”  Something unspoken lingered in The Emperor’s eye as He said this, though what it was would have been impossible to determine without reading His mind or knowing Him well.

“As you command,” Vaelian said simply, clearly understanding more than he was letting on.

Seemingly satisfied, The Emperor departed the War Room - joined by Heldon, by earlier requests, and a full squad of towering Wardens that had been waiting for Him outside.  “You understand what is expected of you?”  The Grand Imperium’s Sovereign asked simply, not looking at the Pandemonium as they walked the colossal corridors of the Dominion.

“Perfectly,” Heldon replied with sly amusement.  “I begin to like you more and more, Emperor.  You think like a Demon.  It isss refressshing to meet one ssso very cunning.”

“I think only of my nation, Heldon, and its stability.  Do not confuse this for one of your plots or schemes.  I am simply being pragmatic.”

“Of courssse.”  The Demon replied in a tone that blatantly implied skepticism, falling silent thereafter.

The Emperor too lapsed into silence as they walked, His mind focused on the task ahead.  He did not need to be present on the bridge to visualise what was happening; to see in His mind’s eye the Academy’s unmanned vessels making their attack run against the planet’s defence satellites and blowing them away, only to unleash a torrential rain of ordnance upon the unsuspecting world below, flattening a large city-sized area of land with explosive conflagration and orbit-to-surface energy weapons that turned sand to glass.

No, it was not difficult to imagine, and He used that very active mental process to silently count down towards the time ideal for His joining of the planetside forces.  He could not afford to be overly hasty, but neither could He risk missing the most fevered part of the battle.  It was integral that He see it, in all its visceral and chaotic glory, to properly understand the foe.  To read them.  To gain an intimate understanding of their nature and methodology that only uninhibited war could provide.  Royalty He might have been, but He was Nova Terran before all else: The fire of imperialistic warlust burned inside of Him as powerfully as it did any other of His race, and He would see it sated for all the reasons He gave the war room, and more besides.

Not the least of which was simply that He wanted to.

“Where are we going?”  Heldon asked at last, as the pair of them entered one of the many turbo-lifts upon the Dominion.  Given the size of the vessel, it was not uncommon for these to move horizontally as much as vertically; following a rail system designed to enable rapid transit throughout a monolithic warship.

“The Primary Hangar.”  The Emperor replied simply, allowing one of the Wardens to input the destination on the console.  “I had intended to simply eject myself at the planet via torpedo tube, you see, and obliterate their armies by sheer force of displeasure after an inspiring and terror-inducing impact upon the planet’s primary continent like a meteor of judgement - but alas, my Wardens were not having it.”

Heldon turned to stare at The Emperor in what amounted to genuine, stunned surprise.  “Wasss that an actual joke?”

“Indeed it was,” the Emperor replied simply.  “With amusing consequences.”

“Thossse being?”  Heldon asked with narrowed eyes.

“No one shall ever believe you when you tell them.”

Heldon stared at Him with a mix of respect and sheer incredulity as the lift came to a halt, and their party stepped out, the Wardens falling into step with their monarch as they emerged into a colossal hangar; one housing a legion of gold-painted transports, tanks, and thousands of warriors of the Gilded Aegis - the rarest force in the Nova Terran Empire.  The only personnel outside of Nova Terrans present were Omnicoders, chanting their odd hymns at the idle vehicles and offering liberal applications of purity seals upon their hulls, and onto the armours of various Warden Companies.

The golden-armoured warriors, red cloaks and adornment draped upon their ornamented plate, appeared to suffer the Coders’ ministrations in silence - their expressions veiled behind red eye-lenses and similarly plumed helmets that gave away nothing of their thoughts or reactions.  Their equipment was greatly increased from their standard fare, as well, as a sign of precisely how serious a matter the Emperor descending to a planet was: Colossal tower shields plated in precious gold were held upon their arms or placed at their feet, matched with colossal Vigilus-pattern Halberds and gold-plated ARES rifles, completed by long, sheathed blades mag-locked to their hips.

Each shield, spear, sword, and firearm was inscribed with the name of the Warden to whom it belonged, and gleamed as if freshly polished.  Each one had a purity seal upon it, and every visible piece of armour looked as if it had been chemically polished.  There was an air of intensity about the Gilded Aegis, like apex predators finally allowed to hunt once more.  The utter lack of regular speech outside of the chanting of Code-Priests was clearly unsettling to some of the unaugmented Nova Terrans, who watched the nine foot tall golden knights with a mix of awe and mild terror.

The Emperor was used to such displays from His youth, it seemed, and thus paid the assembly of warriors little mind - which was returned, barring the traditional salute offered to their liege as He passed.  These were taken in stride and responded to with nods where applicable, but little else; neither the Emperor nor Wardens held any illusions as to their situation.  This was not the time for pageantry, and both were aware.  The Sovereign’s path took Him from the depressed access point of the elevator, to a lone transport in the centre of the gargantuan near-kilometre long hangar.

Larger than than the other vessels in the bay by at least half-again the size, the gold-plated transport was close to one hundred metres in length, and perhaps forty across the width of its hard-edged rectangular main body.  The rear of the vessel housed a honeycomb formation of engines, with three major cones filled with increasingly smaller thrusters within.  A pair of wings attached to the bottom edges of the rearmost point of the vessel jutted out on each side, reaching a span of approximately sixty metres each.  Weapons pods and redundant engines were mounted under these, along with shield-emitters upon the top-side.

The shuttle itself possessed yet more such emitters, each one already emplaced with a purity seal, with dozens more covering the hull at varying and seemingly random points - though no doubt there was a clear method within the Omnicoders’ seemingly obsessive madness.  Three massive landing skids kept it stood within the hangar, one from each rear edge of the vessel, and a third just under its slanted prow.  The Emperor and His party made their way to the rear of the ship, stepping onto a heavily guarded boarding ramp laid with a velvet carpet, and wide enough for an Oberon-pattern Main Battle Tank to drive up with little issue.

“I sssee you ssspare no expenssse on yourssself, Emperor.”  Heldon said in amusement.  “Thisss vesssel and thossse soldiersss alone would likely bankrupt sssmaller nationsss.”

“Perception is reality, Heldon.”  The Emperor said without concern.  “If the Galaxy sees them as you do, then that is to the better.  Let them know what the Grand Imperium is capable of; and let it remind them why we are better as allies than as foes.”

“You think your golden dandiesss will impresss them?”

“It is to my benefit if they perceive them as dandies,” the Emperor replied simply, “for when they realise the gravity of their error, my Wardens will already have claimed victory.”

The inside of the transport was sparing in its luxuries, with no seats to be found within.  Instead, a massive interior space lined with hung tapestries demonstrating the Imperial Aquila, and a fully functional strategic and tactical command suite awaited.  The space was large enough for two fully-built tanks to fit with room to spare, and likely several hundred Wardens.  The Emperor moved to the large holo-table set into the space near to the blast doors to the cockpit, and spoke to the air.  “Show me, Gilgamesh.”

To no one’s surprise the Einherjar appeared next to the Emperor as his name was spoken, nodding obligingly and activating the holoprojector on the table.  The stellar battle was illustrated immediately, showing the after-results of the Academy’s Arsenal vessels limping away from orbit as the main fleets moved in, taking over the bombardment of critical areas to prepare room for the landing parties.  “How long until the Ninth deploys?”

“Imminently, sire.  Legion-Master Dante is moving his flagship in behind the shadow of the Dominion.  Once we are in position to provide first-wave cover, the Ninth will begin their assault in earnest.”

The Emperor nodded and turned to Heldon, “will you be fine as you are?”

The Pandemonium nodded, smirking confidently, and the Emperor did not press the issue; instead turning to one of His Wardens.  “Tell your brothers to be swift.  I do not want to be far behind the Ninth when they deploy.”  The Warden bowed his head, but said nothing overt.  A sudden flurry of activity, however, seemed to indicate that the command for haste had been passed along.  The Omnicoders’ chanting became more urgent, and two of them abruptly appeared up the ramp, seemingly unhindered by the Wardens.

How curious.

“Great Emperor, we must conduct the Holy Rites upon your Wargear!  We must appease the Machine Spirits, and encourage the awakening of the sub-systems.”

The Emperor turned towards the Omnicoders, and simply nodded in permission, allowing them to approach.  Without hesitation the Code-Priests moved forwards, whipping out purity seals and reverently placing them upon different points of the Emperor’s golden, stylised warplate - uttering blessings and beseeching to the Machine Gods - all while splashing moderated amounts of sacred oil, and venerating the benevolence of their unseen deities.  The Emperor paid them no heed as they worked, allowing them to ply their odd faith without complaint as He watched the holographic feed.  Gilgamesh himself watched the Priests with a little more concern, and not a small amount of confusion.

The Artificial Intelligence had confided in the Emperor that he found the Omnicoders... strange.

“... beseech the Holy Spirits of the Great Sovereign’s Wargear to sustain the shield attenuators...”

The Emperor watched the Ninth Legion’s Dreadnought Flagship pull into orbit over Primus, shielded behind the colossal bulk of the Dominion.  He and Heldon observed with equal interest as the crimson vessel disgorged a sudden flurry of transports from its hangars, and unleashed an artificial rainstorm of drop pods from its underbelly; firing them in waves.  Dozens, hundreds, then thousands: Unleashed in a salvo that lit the atmosphere with the blaze of their re-entry.

The transports that followed similarly breached, showing their bellies to the atmosphere as they rapidly descended through it; their boarding ramps opening once they had passed through the outer layers and entered the stratosphere.  Thousands of red-armoured Knights launched themselves without hesitation from the backs of the open transports, ten to a vessel, to hurtle down on their own impetus through the cloud layers and accelerate through to the planet below.

Innumerable jump-thrusters flared to life in flashes of blue fire across the sky as the Knights’ armour deployed their aerial sub-systems, allowing them to adjust both speed and direction while hurtling downwards at terminal velocity.  Dozens died in the minutes that followed as the Nukaribbu’s localised aerial defences kicked in, throwing up a hail of explosive bio-plasma and kinetic ordnance that swatted three or four knights from the sky at a time - vaporising them or blowing them apart.  Some persisted in spite of what should be fatal wounds or missing limbs, while yet others proceeded on their own dead body’s momentum: Missing heads, large chunks of their body, or even entire lower and upper halves.

It was a rain of blood-red steel, with the vast majority clearing the anti-air fire absent incident, in spite of their murdered brothers.  The holographic display demonstrated the landings of the first wave, their jump-thrusters roaring as they reversed their positions some several hundred metres from the ground: Slowing their descent with abrupt jerks of force from the Coder-upgraded thrust capacity of their new boosters.  They hit the surface of Primus with what the Emperor could imagine were thunderous impacts, ARES rounds unleashed almost immediately as they did - and in many cases long before.  Explosive mass-reactive rounds filled the air as the Knights opened fire on the waiting Nukaribbu garrison, among whom many had chosen to land.

Plasma-blanketed blades came into use as well, carving apart Nukaribbu bio-forms in their vast and disparate iterations.  From lumbering multi-limbed quadrupedal monstrosities forged from vines, bark, and flowers that emitted bursts of green bio-plasma from shoulder-mounted weapons that appeared a part of them; to smaller and nimbler bipedal bio-forms that unleashed incinerating shots of solar radiation from elongated, verdant weapons barrels attached to their right or left arms, pulsing with collected photosynthetic energy within - while their opposite limb ended in bio-mineral blades that pulsed with bio-plasmic energy.

Smaller quadruped forms almost akin to domesticated animals in other nations loped across the battlefield, firing rapidly from spine-mounted twin-barreled kinetic weapons that sprayed compressed bio-mineral projectiles at all they targeted, while their mouths opened to unleash bursts of bio-plasma from weapon barrels hidden within, and whip-like bio-mineral tails slashed and stabbed with razored tips at all foes in range.

Nukaribbu ‘vehicles’ glided along the ground absent molestation of the planet’s surface, propelled by anti-gravitic technology that bore them onwards with aid from rear-mounted impulse boosters.  The bio-mineral making up their forms was shaped like that of gigantic leaves, with a narrow tip widening towards the back, complemented by wavy patterns and natural depressions forged into the sides of their otherwise edged appearance.  Their massive main guns were shaped like twisted vines forged into a hollow column, drawing golden light from the air around them to fill the barrel with effervescent solar energy, before deploying it in devastating beams that vaporised all matter they touched.  The smaller weapons they possessed bloomed from the hull like flowers, spraying pulsed bio-plasma at any foes nearby, and leaving incineration in their wake.

Colossal Nukaribbu Warforms akin to walking jellyfish joined the fray gradually as more and more Knights dropped from the heavens: Towering twenty-metre behemoths of bio-mineral construct layered with vines, bark, and flowers that sported massive versions of the solar cannons upon multiple sinuous bio-mineral tentacles that seared away entire squads in single blasts, with neither pity nor hesitation.  Head-mounted cluster-pods deployed hyper-accelerated spores that exploded like fusion bombs upon impact in devastating detonations of bio-plasma, while multi-barrelled vines protruding from smaller tentacles spewed rapid green laser fire and kinetic ammunition made of compressed bio-mineral.

“At least now we know what we’re facing,” Gilgamesh said grimly.  “A literal horror story made to life.  They want all of you organics to assimilate into that?  That’s just unbearable.  They have vines on them.  Vines!  Who does that?”

“The Nukaribbu, apparently.”  The Emperor answered simply, earning an exasperated look from the Einherjar that He ignored.  “This skirmish will be decided quickly.  The Nukaribbu have the better of them only where the Warforms and Tanks are concerned.  Anywhere that it’s purely an infantry confrontation, my warriors prove triumphant.  The explosive properties of the ARES rounds appear particularly effective against both the Bio-Mineral and the outer vine and bark-layers protecting it.”

“What kind of bark is meant to stop bullets, anyway?”

“I presume it to be some sort of alloy, Gilgamesh, as you very well know.  Likely a variant of durasteel or neutronium, or some inclusion of this strange bio-mineral that gives it far greater tensile strength.  The ARES rounds are penetrating, but not easily.  I doubt regular small arms fire would have much effect at all.”  The Emperor frowned in displeasure as He said it, clearly dissatisfied with the notion.  “We may need to deploy more Legions than originally intended.  I do not think the Mioran, Vexan, or Vulpen forces have high enough calibre stock-standard weaponry to deal with this.  Even energy weapons may not be enough; not with that bio-mineral.  It appears only high-yield weaponry will suffice.”

He paused as a descending Knight chose a peculiar landing target: One of the massive Warforms.  Two minutes and substantial application of a plasma-based flamethrower weapon later, the Warform was neatly ablaze; its body sloughing oddly in places where the flames greedily ate it.  “Or, apparently, suitable applications of fire.”  Gilgamesh commented in gleeful amusement.  “A lot of fire.  The Vulpen and Covenant will just love this revelation.”

The battle on the planet had begun to shift as predicted, as the Legion’s mechanised support started to arrive in force.  Oberon-pattern Main Battle Tanks rolled out of bulky transports with a roar of power and mulching treads, their massive main batteries firing hyper-accelerated high-yield fusion shells at Nukaribbu vehicles and the larger warforms.  Initially these had no effect, the assaulting strikes repelled by flashing shields sourced from the bio-mineral itself, deploying fields of natural energy to resist the assault on its form. As the second and third volleys came in, however, even these were shattered, and their defenses failed. Flames roared and billowed across their surfaces as massive chunks of their hulls were vaporised on impact - and the vehicles were left eviscerated, with their systems incapable of maintaining cohesion or function.

The battle had fallen into full, unmitigated warfare by that point, with Nova Terran and Nukaribbu forces exchanging fire and ever-escalating levels of profound destruction.  What had once been an idyllic, rolling green plain quickly devolved into a crater-marked, and fire-blackened warzone - with heavily-armoured Nova Terran Gene-Warriors inexorably pushing back the defending Nukaribbu forces comprising the localised surface garrison.  The prize they were defending, one of the large anti-orbital guns and supporting anti-air weapon emplacements, would be quick to fall - and the risk to landing the more precious, highly valued assets like Coder Warforms would be all but mitigated.

At least, within that area of the planet.

“Order the Third and Sixteenth to begin their own deployments to support the Ninth across the planet.  I want full Legion mobilisation across the world, in every designated strike zone across the coalition.  If there is an active warzone, my Knights must be present and visible.”  The Emperor turned to glance behind him, where the Wardens had finally finished boarding, accompanied by a massive gold-plated hover-tank with a twin-barrelled main cannon capable - so The Emperor knew from first-hand witness - of firing focused energy blasts strong enough to turn meters-thick durasteel to molten slag.

Now, thanks to the Coders, it was also equipped with Dark Matter shields and Singularity reactors.

Its secondary weapons consisted of chain-linked heavy autocannons modified to fire ARES rounds at incredible velocity and with increased saturation, one mounted on each cardinal direction of the massive grav-tank’s base.  It was a rare vehicle however, built and operated purely by the Gilded Aegis, and a representation of a small fortune in alloys and materials.  Each one approximated ten metres in length, and seven in width - with weapons barrels two thirds the length of the chassis.  With Coder assistance, they had been retrofitted with neutronium armour, and presented a battlefield threat was hard to properly quantify.

A fitting chariot with which to deliver the Emperor across battlefields.

“Are you prepared for departure, Legatus?”  The Emperor asked, turning to a Warden that approached, his armour decorated with text that heralded nearly three millennia of service.

“We are, sire.  At your word.”

The Emperor nodded and turned, looking to Gilgamesh.  “Tell the pilots.  I wish to join the fray immediately.”

The Einherjar nodded, and mere moments later the reactors of the transport fired up, its boarding ramp staying open just long enough for the Code-Priests to disembark, before it ascended to close with a seamless melding to the hull, and a faint hiss of pressurisation.  The vessel’s VTOL systems lifted from the deck smoothly as the impulse engines warmed, its landing gear retracting at the same time as other shuttles began to rise - prepared to follow the Emperor’s transport to the planet below.  Across other hangar bays on the Dominion the event would be repeated; with close to thirty-thousand of the Gilded Aegis and their advanced equipment preparing for a descent to the planet, and adherence of their duty to their Sovereign.

“Finally,” Heldon commented, “a chance to tessst my mettle againssst thessse creaturesss.”

The Emperor said nothing, eyes fixed on the holo-projection on the table before Him as the shuttle left the Dominion’s shielded hangar bay.  Around it, a small flotilla of ornate craft formed an honour guard, flying in meticulously crafted formation to shield the Emperor’s vessel from any possible harm.  The sovereign felt as much as predicted mathematically their entrance to the planet’s atmosphere, and allowed a small smile to find its way onto His face.

War beckoned to His blood; and at last, He could properly answer.