Axion had clearly noticed the subtle machinations of the two Magi, but it was equally apparent that pursuing the matter was futile. Watching the tech-priests depart in a frantic hurry, Axion ignored the gathered crowd and walked directly onto the Thunderhawk Gunship. Beside him, the Captain of the Indomitable looked toward Calanthus with a trace of hesitation.
"My Lord, are you departing now?"
Noting the Captain's unspoken concern, Calanthus gave a solemn nod.
"We have other directives to oversee. You are to proceed in accordance with the mandates of the Administratum."
The Captain inclined his head at Calanthus's words and, offering no further comment, stepped back into the shadows of the hangar.
"By the Emperor's light, this mission was unexpectedly grueling, yet inexplicably smooth," Hadrian remarked, lowering his crossed arms. With a heavy sigh of relief, he followed Axion into the Thunderhawk.
Calanthus scanned the perimeter one last time before striding onto the gunship without a word. Soon, the armored hangar bay doors cycled open, and the Thunderhawk pierced the void like a silver blade, leaving a faint blue contrail against the darkness of the cosmos.
"They have gone, sir," a guard whispered cautiously, leaning toward the Captain.
"I know. Without the Adeptus Astartes stationed aboard, the coming battles will be far more complex. I was merely... reflecting." The Captain slapped his cheeks to sharpen his focus. "Notify the Navigator; confirm the target coordinates. We move out. Tell everyone below to stay sharp. If you don't wish to face a Decimation, do not slacken. Without the Space Marines, there is no margin for error!"
He strode purposefully from the hangar. The guard, hearing the word "Decimation," felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine.
For a time, the humble conduct of the Astartes and the Tech-Magi had almost lulled the naval ratings into a false sense of security. Only now did the sailors remember that their Captain was no soft-hearted man, but a rising noble of the Imperial Navy.
But a Decimation? Unlikely, the guard thought. It wasn't the first time the Captain had brandished the threat, though he usually ended up showing mercy to the poor wretches, merely sentencing them to the lower decks for a duration. If one could survive a few weeks in the hellish conditions of the lower holds, they could return to service above.
Besides, worrying about a Decimation was a luxury for the living. For the Planetary Defence Forces or other ground elements, it was a possibility; for the Navy, it was largely moot. If something went truly wrong in the void, the survival rate was zero. Mistakes didn't lead to punishment; they led to extinction.
As for the Magi of the Adeptus Mechanicus still on board, no one cared for their agenda. Those eccentric "oil-bods" were obsessed only with their technological rites and experimental data. Their physical location was irrelevant to them. Furthermore, the Mechanicus's influence spanned the galaxy; if they needed to leave, they would find their own way. The Imperial Navy had no need to fret over them.
…
As the Thunderhawk docked with the Strike Cruiser, Axion followed Calanthus out of the hold, while Hadrian emerged only after meticulously powering down the gunship's engines.
Standing before Axion was an entire company of Ultramarines.
These Astartes were visibly taller than the Black Templars or Dark Angels Axion had encountered previously. Their armor marks were perfectly uniform, devoid of excessive ornamentation, they looked strikingly "new." Much like their status.
Compared to them, Hadrian and Calanthus, clad in their Mk VIII Errant-pattern power armor, presented a stark contrast. Though shorter than these perfectly aligned Primaris neophytes, their plate bore distinct personal heraldry and numerous honors. Whether it was the extra Purity Seals, the golden Aquila decorations, or the Iron Skulls and Marksman's Honors on their pauldrons, the veterans were clearly distinguished from the mass of fresh recruits.
"Sir!"
An Ultramarine wielding a crozius stepped forward. The staff reached half the height of an Astartes, topped with an Imperial Aquila and a winged skull.
Calanthus surveyed the assembled ranks before turning his gaze to this new Primaris warrior, who stood slightly taller than himself.
"Judiciar Alex, report."
"We were awaiting your safe return, sir," Alex replied, his gaze earnest.
Hadrian stepped forward silently, reaching out to clap the Judiciar's pauldron.
"We were merely on a Navy vessel, brother, not boarding a Space Hulk. I know you harbor frustrations regarding the Dark Angels' conduct, but they are Sons of the Emperor just as we are. Do not let suspicion fester among brothers; once the seed of doubt is sown, the rot of Chaos is never far behind."
Though Hadrian was not a Chaplain himself, two centuries of service meant he had been steeped in the litanies and teachings of his Chapter's reclusiam. Delivering a brief sermon to a trainee was second nature.
Hearing the veteran sergeant's counsel, Alex looked down at his crozius, momentarily doubting if he was truly ready for the mantle of a Chaplain.
Calanthus knew well that the Chaplains among the Primaris reinforcements differed from those of the traditional Chapters. They lacked the deep cultural indoctrination of a specific brotherhood; their only distinction was a slightly more fervent faith and superior training scores. They were not yet "true" Chaplains of the blood. Thus, all Primaris Chaplains began as Judiciars, required to study under the "Firstborn" Chaplains for years before being fully ordained.
The greatest strength of the Astartes was the bond of brotherhood, even if that same bond had once catalyzed the scale of the Great Heresy.
"Dismiss the ranks. Return to your training cycles. All Judiciars, remain."
At Calanthus's command, the Primaris warriors dispersed with rhythmic precision. A few figures remained behind. Calanthus beckoned them closer, signaling Hadrian to provide additional instruction. For a Space Marine, the wisdom of a veteran is a treasure beyond measure. Calanthus needed Hadrian to firmly educate these Judiciars, who had dared to organize their battle-brothers for an unauthorized "intervention" out of concern for their commanders.
Astartes held immense autonomy, but that did not extend to unsanctioned actions born of paranoia toward their fellow scions of the Emperor.