While most Chapters adhering to the codex astartes do not directly rule resource worlds, their military might is undoubtedly one of the strongest forces in the The Galaxy / Milky Way.
When a Space Marine Chapter launches a holy crusade in the name of the Emperor, rushing to the aid of a world on the brink of destruction to purge threats from xenos, heretics, or space pirates, its Chapter Master or envoy naturally has the right to make corresponding demands to the local Planetary Governor.
Such demands might include rare strategic minerals, special energy crystals, refined promethium fuel, or even entire shiploads of slave labor, all of which can be considered legitimate compensation for the rescue operation.
Admittedly, not all Chapters pursue such direct methods of resource acquisition.
However, for those fleet-based Chapters that lack a fixed homeworld and must constantly wander the vast Star Sea, their very survival depends more deeply on this pragmatic rule of "exchanging military might for supplies."
Hathor, with her precise strategic vision, discerned the core desire of these fleet-based Chapters—to replenish their top-tier combat strength.
She meticulously chose the Rostov Sub-Sector's unique Saturn Terminator Power Armor, which embodies ancient lost technology and devastating power, along with masterfully forged Primaris Space Marine exclusive weapons, as the most attractive bargaining chips.
A complete set of Saturn Terminator armor holds immense value, perhaps enough to offset several years of mining rights on a rich mineral planet.
And an order for just a batch of custom Bolters could cover the vast daily operating expenses of a small escort fleet.
The fundamental reason why these seemingly arms trade activities are accepted by the proud Chapters is that they precisely target the Space Marines' almost instinctive pursuit of ultimate power.
More importantly, through this efficient and pragmatic resource exchange mechanism, the Rostov Sub-Sector is able to bind itself more closely to these powerful loyal Imperial forces, driven by common interests, on the same thread of destiny.
The strategic alliance thus forged far exceeds the value of the traded materials themselves.
The channel for exchanging advanced weaponry for resources, established under Hathor's leadership, is like injecting a continuous flow of precious fresh "blood" into the Rostov Sub-Sector's vast production system.
This drives the entire Sub-Sector's industrial engine to roar at full power.
It is precisely by virtue of a deep insight into the internal rules of the Imperium and a highly efficient and precise operational mechanism that the Rostov Sub-Sector's war machine, despite the difficulty of lacking large-scale external resource injection, achieved counter-trend growth—an astonishing 5% overall expansion—amidst continuous high-pressure, high-efficiency operation.
Such a remarkable achievement, against the backdrop of pervasive despair and cruel stagnation in the Imperium's 40th Millennium, is nothing short of a glaring, tearing light in the deep, dark universe.
It most directly demonstrates Hathor's extraordinary administrative efficiency as a Primarch-level management core.
It also conclusively proves the decisive leverage that the production capability of strategic high-end manufactured goods, such as Saturn Terminator armor, can wield within the vast, decaying bureaucratic body of the Imperium, enough to substantially alter the fate of a single Star District.
Indeed, the situation in the Rostov Sub-Sector has improved compared to the past.
But in Hathor's eyes, this limited progress, in the face of the world-ending catastrophe about to sweep the The Galaxy / Milky Way like a monstrous flood, seemed so minuscule, so pale and powerless, like trying to quench a raging wildfire with a cup of water.
She clearly foresaw that terrifying future: the heart of the Imperium—Holy Terra—would eventually be engulfed by waves of demons; before the Lion Gate, the Custodes would shed their last drop of loyalty; the fortress world of Cadia, a pillar of the Imperium, was destined to fall, its destruction tearing a vast, irreparable rift in the fabric of reality across the The Galaxy / Milky Way…
And now, the sky over Baal, the home of the Blood Angels, was completely shrouded by the terrifying, all-encompassing shadow of the Tyranid Swarm, destined to be chewed up and utterly consumed by their endless, destructive maw.
This suffocating vision of the apocalypse is by no means a baseless prophecy.
Hathor understood this well; it was relentlessly approaching with the ticking seconds of a countdown, bearing down on reality like a robed reaper in less than twenty short years.
"I understand your concept of 'sustainable development,' " Hathor's voice resonated like a heavy, clear warning bell in the silence: "But the choice we face now is not about rise and fall a hundred years from now, but about survival or annihilation twenty years from now. The Imperium… has long lost the right to have a 'future.' "
Her sharp, amber-gold eyes seemed to pierce through the solid walls of the Governor's office, looking directly at the cruel, irreversible fate carved by blood and fire ahead.
"If this were a time of peace, or a controllable expansion period like the Great Crusade Era, your blueprint would be hailed as profoundly insightful foresight, and I would applaud you without reservation." Her tone suddenly shifted, and her finger slammed down on the star map on the desk, which depicted the projected path of the Great Rift: "However, at this moment, if we lose this gamble, it means complete annihilation.
At that time, the entire Rostov Sub-Sector, along with everything it pursues and every 'sustainable' concept you strive to uphold, will turn into the most minute dust in a Warp Storm."
Her words were steeped in an urgent, clear understanding, each word falling like a heavy hammer: "Do you truly believe that when the terrifying Great Rift that tears the The Galaxy / Milky Way finally forms, and when the Imperium's millennia-old order collapses in the ensuing chaotic tide, you will still be able to bury your head in the sand like a self-deceiving ostrich, imagining that this small, peaceful corner can remain untouched?
You must fully grasp a fundamental truth: when the nest is overturned, no egg remains intact!
The more you shrink back and try to retreat into a small space, the faster the wave of destruction will rush towards you, increasing exponentially.
The only way to gain a moment of respite for what you cherish in such an all-consuming catastrophe is to become the sole towering pillar that can stand firm amidst the raging tide of chaos!
Only by transforming into such an existence can you truly possess the power to protect what is in your heart.
Recall our Primarch's choice at the end of the Old Night!
Had he not turned the tide then, forcefully integrating the remnants of humanity with thunderous might, you and I would likely have long ago become slaves eternally fallen beneath the claws of xenos and the feet of chaotic devils, still emitting endless wails of despair in the boundless dark abyss!"
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