Getting Warhammered - [ 201 ] (Patreon)

Chapter 201

I don’t know what I expected when I asked whether this bunch of fungal idiots would object to bending the knee to me. I mean, I did just murder their Warboss and two-thirds of their tribe just minutes before that. 

Just how many Orks would step up to claim the fallen Warboss’ title, one after the other, and with the hope of solidifying their rule by killing the one who killed the previous Warbosses? 

Five, and still counting. 

The sixth stepped forward, banging his chest and bellowing a war cry. I looked at him in a mix of disbelief and growing boredom, the latter of which sealed his fate.

One of my conjured light hands shot forth, detaching from its circling parade around me and tore a bloody hole through the newest wannabe Warboss’ chest. 

Seventh tried to dodge to the side the moment he saw one of the hands shift its trajectory, but I was done playing nice and the hand easily corrected its course to tear his head off his shoulders. 

Eight and Ninth earned the same fate, trying to roll at me like that would somehow make them immune to getting torn apart and trying to shield himself with a massive rock, respectively. 

Tenth … there was no tenth. 

The Orks looked around nervously, eying each other as they waited for another challenger to step forward. None did, even as seconds stretched and turned into minutes. An air of defeat and … boredom hung above them, and I could tell the ease with which I slaughtered the last few Orks without even allowing them to fight back had finally struck home. 

Orks liked to fight not dying a meaningless death that they couldn’t even change no matter how they tried. A fight where the opponent was so powerful that they couldn’t fight back was the only one they didn’t like.

A part of me worried forcing these Orks to serve me would come to bite me in the ass in the future. I mean, their twin Gods, Gork and Mork were canonically the most powerful beings in all the Warp and the only reason they didn’t make a mess of everything was because they had the most fun locked in an eternal brawl with each other. 

Every now and then, they intervened in small ways for shits and giggle, teleporting some Orks into interesting situations, protecting them on their travels through the Warp and other similar bullshit. My worry was that they would take issue with my … heavy-handed recruitment of Orks, or perhaps with me practically farming them like livestock.

That last part was the main reason why I even bothered despite the risks. They just gave me so much bio-energy, nearly endless amounts, which I felt I would be in dire need of before too long. As a fighting force, Orks were okay, but not worth the trouble. 

I could modify a horde of Tyranid Warriors to fit my needs. Why would I need a larger horde of impossible-to-control green idiots whose weapons were just as likely to blow up in their faces as they were to blow up their enemies? 

I didn’t. I did not need them at all in my army, as even if I wanted shock troops, other races I could actually control would have worked better. 

What’s the worst thing they can do to me? I asked myself the question. Teleport a whole war host on my planet, perhaps? No, the Shadow would prevent any Warp-based meddling that powerful. They could direct nearby Orkish hordes towards me though and make them assemble into a large enough WAAAGH! that I wouldn’t be able to stop them from razing my pretty new moon to the ground. Alternatively, they could do it simultaneously with some other force coming to attack me for revenge, be it Imperial, Drukhari, or Chaos. 

Sooner or later, an attack would come. Farseers and even Imperial Astropaths would likely have little trouble finding the splotch of darkness hanging over this section of the Warp and someone would come to take care of what they likely think is a tiny Splinter Fleet. 

Still, it was worth it. Both the risk of keeping Tyranids connected to the Hive-Mind around in massive numbers and also the Orks. I needed the free font of energy and power both lent me. Without them, my progress would slow to a crawl. 

“You want a war,” I said, eying the Orks around me. “You will have it. A proper one, and not this slaughter I have inflicted upon you. Go to Throgg, he will make sure you can blow off some steam whenever you need it by warring against other Tribes until I have need of your strength somewhere else.”

Unlike before, they took in my words and actually seemed to consider them. That was the power of strength, of having shown them their place beneath my boots. Slowly, they started pulling away, ambling off into the woods in groups as they chatted and talked. Some lingered, but I ignored them and headed over to handle my next objective.

The lingering Orks watched me as I made my way over to the centre of their camps further behind a copse of trees where I found their Weirdboy, lying face down in the dirt and snoring up a storm. It seemed like he’d promptly passed out when I destroyed his missiles, the poor thing. With a needless snap of my fingers, light wrapped around him and transported him back into my fortress. 

It was a bit cruel, but I didn’t want him to cause too much trouble in my home, so I dumped him in one of the Psyker prison cells I had made deep beneath the earth. Tyranids sat around the cell, shrouding it in a thicker shadow and all the walls of it were covered in hexgrammatic Wards to further dampen the power of anyone trying to draw on the Warp inside. I’d have to see how badly he took to the effects of the prison because while I wanted to keep him from making trouble, I didn’t want to torture him.

He had given me something invaluable after all: inspiration and fun. That was to be rewarded, not punished. 

*****

“I am done,” I said, stepping back into the shuttle. I made my way over to my velvety seat and sat down elegantly, grabbing my cup of tea and taking a long sip from it. It had gone cold, but the flavour was still there, making me sigh in satisfaction. “We can continue our flight if you wish. Or we can cut your visit short if you fear another attack on your life, I would recommend the latter as this one attack made me aware I had much less of a grip on this moon than I’d thought.”

The Tau were silent as death itself, a silence they had held ever since their technician alerted them of my return from the forest. Aun’Saal stared at me speculatively, and with more than a hint of apprehension. I wagered he was only now releasing I might have been more dangerous than his initial estimations. 

I turned my Empathy up a bit, wanting to get a feel for their emotions. I would either need to drive their healthy fear of me further up until they respected me some, or I would need to be civil and assuage their fears if they were bordering on seeing me as too dangerous. It was a balancing act, and one I had little experience with, so I decided prudence was the best course of action until I got a handle on their emotions.

So I was civil, and calm like I hadn’t just slaughtered hundreds of murderous Orks and stomped out their rebellion in less than half an hour. It clearly gave them a bit of a whiplash, but that was the point, make them see I could very much be civil. They should know it since I had never been anything but civil with them, but the memory of my slaughter was still fresh in their mind and that probably hung over all their prior, mundane memories of me like a dark cloud. 

I found them wary and apprehensive, maybe a bit afraid too underneath it all, but the Ethereal distinctly lacked that edge of fear the other blueys had. He was … relived. That was weird, but then again, who knew just what was going through his mind? Maybe he feared I would be too dangerous to be kept an ally and was just happy diplomacy could prevail once more.

I found that unlikely, considering he had seen just now that my definition of ‘diplomacy’ was much looser than his. Maybe he thought I just needed some of his enlightened guidance to see the light or some other bullshit.

“I think I will take you up on that offer,” Aun’Saal said calmly, nodding. “I’ll have us set course for your headquarters where we can finish our talks if that suits you. Your previous suggestions about improving my security measures hold merit, and I would want to implement some improvements before I ventured out for another tour.”

“That suits me just fine,” I said, nodding. “Though there was something I think we could discuss on the way there.”

“And what would that be?” He asked.

“My compensation for handing a planet over to the Tau Empire on a silver platter,” I said, leaning forward as I pinned the pulsar map to the table with an index finger. “This planet is ripe for getting incorporated into your Greater Good, and I think there is no denying that I am the reason for that.”

“You killed their sovereign and dismantled their government,” Aun’Saal stated, not questioningly, nor accusingly. Merely curious how I would respond to that. 

“I did,” I said, shrugging. “And thus I save the entire population from damnation, it was only a matter of time until their so-called Queen’s daemonic masters sent a prover invasion force to turn the planet into a daemon world. I saved them from that, but I can see why they would have trouble seeing it that way, not that it should matter to you.”

“And why is that?”

“Do they need to know that the strange aliens in white carapace armour that threw their world into chaos are your allies?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “All you need to do is fly a corvette or two over there with a few regiments of Fire Warriors on board and graciously establish some order in the anarchy consuming their world. You will be their saviour, and the Tau Empire will be seen as the benevolent lord who helped them when they were at their lowest. I don’t need to tell you that though, I know your people are adept at using such tactics to endear yourselves and your way of life to your future vassals.”

Aun’Saal seemed to consider my words, nodding after a few seconds. He neither denied nor confirmed my jab at their deceitful ways, probably knowing it wouldn’t change my mind either way or that I would laugh at him if he lied to my face. “And what manner of compensation were you thinking of?”

“Nothing much,” I said casually. “I just want what I believe I should have been given initially: this star system. I want everything from the star at the centre to the most distant asteroid orbiting it to be mine and I want that watchdog you have breathing down my neck to fly his blue ass out of the system. I gave you a star system, I want one in return.”

*****

The Fortress World of Karlack was the de facto capital world of the Imperium of Man’s worlds in the Jericho Reach. It earned that role as the planet housing the headquarters of Lord Militant Solomon Tetrarchus, the Warmaster of the Achilus Crusade and secondly, because it was the most fortified world of the Iron Collar, the ring of fortifications surrounding the Jericho-Maw Warpgate, which connected this cut-off region of space to the heart of the Imperium. 

Solomon Tetrarchus was an ageing Lord Militant of the Astra Militarum, and one would not be remiss in saying he held the single highest authority within the Jericho Reach. Alas, that authority was rarely respected by the Watch Captains of the Deathwatch, or other Adeptus Astartes groups spread out across the stars.

Solomon sighed wearily, massaging his eyes and then raised his head to gaze at the towering transhuman warrior standing before his desk. That Angel of Death, covered in ceramite and instilling dread in all those who looked upon him by the sheer weight of his existence.

The transhuman dread struck Solomon too, clawing at the back of his mind, but decades of experience with these agents of the God Emperor had lent him enough experience to keep that from affecting him. 

“Watch Captain,” Solomon said, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone. He had just spent twelve hours ironing out the plans for a siege and then breaking up the squabbles of his unruly generals. It was the middle of the night and his old bones yearned for the softness of his bed. “What is it that needs my attention so urgently that you thought couldn’t wait until morning?”

“A traitorous Psyker has slain Inquisitor Xander Thrace of the Ordo Xenos,” the Watch Captain stated impassively, his voice betraying no emotions. “The heretic has aligned herself with both Orkish mercenaries and the Xeno Empire known as the Tau. My brothers and I have managed to narrow down her hiding spot and I am here to requisition a fleet to assault the system with.”

Solomon stilled, cursing inwardly. An Inquisitor was dead, and this Watch Captain was out for revenge. He had no authority to requisition a fleet from the Imperial Guard, but Solomon didn’t know what the towering transhuman would do if he refused.

Astartes were strange creatures, their minds working in ways he couldn’t quite grasp most of the time and driven by motivations that only occasionally aligned with his own, or with the Imperium’s as a whole. However, he would never dare to say the latter part out loud. 

A Watch Captain wouldn’t have the right to execute him after claiming he was colluding with the Xenos for not jumping at the opportunity to spend exorbitant amounts of resources on maybe slaughtering a distant, lone Psyker. The Inquisitor who would come to investigate Thrace’s death would very much have it though. 

“You need a whole fleet to hunt down a single traitorous psyker?” Solomon asked, deciding to do damage control instead. Spend minimal resources to get this musclebound killing machine out of his hair and off on his wild goose chase posthaste. “If you know where she is, a single void ship with orbital batteries should suffice, no? I have not heard of a single Psyker capable of surviving an orbital bombardment.”

“Her powers include teleportation,” the Watch Captain said and Solomon’s blood ran cold. That was one of the most troublesome abilities a rogue psyker could have. “And she is powerful enough that she could teleport through the Void Shields of Inquisitor Thrace’s personal ship. We suspect her powers may be as high as Beta class, perhaps Alpha, even. She needs to die. Her survival is a security risk, threatening the entirety of this Crusade of yours and perhaps even more, since she appeared far too sane to be a rogue psyker. She was trained.”

So that’s why he called her a traitor. Solomon thought, but his mind suddenly went to a distant memory that had been haunting him since the day he took over from his predecessor, Lord Militant Tiber Achilus, the original Warmaster and namesake of the Achilus Crusade.

The dead Warmaster’s ghost came to him in a dream, a dream that had been his nightmare ever since and the source of his greatest fears. What the ghost said to Tetrarchus he cannot recall, only that it filled him with a terrible sense of dread and the certain knowledge that should he fail in his mission, the consequences for all Mankind would extend far beyond the boundaries of the Reach.

Is this it? Solomon wondered, dread and something else filling him, making his heart thunder in his chest. Is this what he meant? What he told me of? Is this traitorous Psyker the threat that I was meant to fight? Could it truly be so?

The possibility was there, and the elderly Warmaster who had been desperately searching for the dire threat he was meant to combat for decades with a frenzied paranoia latched onto the Watch Captain’s words. This was it. It had to be. Finally, finally, he will be free of the nightmares and the ghost of his predecessor. 

At last, Solomon thought, his eyes halfway between madness and steely resolve as he stared up at the expressionless helmet of his transhuman visitor. “Granted. You shall have your fleet. I will personally take command of the First Fleet to assist you in hunting down this heretic.”