40 Thousand Reasons

There is a kind of magic in logistics.

There really is. Armies without water will simply die of thirst. Food and ammunition matter as well, and then there is fuel and spare parts and medical treatment.

You may use trenches or tanks as shelter, but bunkers and shielded forts are better.

And while the Chaos did bring some supplies...they wouldn't last years and years. Plus the armies that invaded Estaban were very diverse, from traitor Astartes to corrupted humans and xenos, mutants and psykers, demons and daemonic engines of all sizes.

That meant they wouldn't support each other, as every Chaos Lord, Sorcerer or Warmaster had conflicting agendas and would rather see a competitor fail and die.

The fleet they had brought was still large and dangerous, but consumables were mostly depleted.

And thus, my arrival hasten their defeat because I had supplies, and the traitors didn't.

Estaban could still manufacture some equipment, especially for the Iron_Hands and their successor chapters, which had arrived first in defense of the Forge World.

They also replaced as many limbs and organs with machines, as a tribute to Ferrus Manus, the Primarch with metal arms, which no doubt made them very dear to the Mechanicus and vice-versa.

With my ships, the Imperium side had 1000 more corvettes, and a Battlecruiser. That meant plenty shells and torpedoes had to be sent our way, and thus save the other ships. Rose and Victor have done whatever they could to prolong the siege, waiting for my eventual arrival.

Almost instantly, my vox box was flooded with a thousand requests from everyone, friends, allies and enemies. I turned towards Finona to see her biting her nails in fear and frustration.

"People are calling for you, Captain." I told her in an amused voice.

"This is too big! And they are calling for you, not me..." she exclaimed in anguish.

I smiled and pointed at the new battlecruiser. "I'm just a passenger, for now. Do try and get me close enough to board my own ship, if you can."

A flight of demonized fighters turned towards our fleet, perhaps testing us. "Corvettes, disperse into Pattern Gamma, full power to shields and point defense. Launch fighters for close support. And by the love of the Emperor, turn the sensors to autistic mode." I command rapidly, then leave the bridge.

My Astartes formed around me as I walked briskly towards the landers' hangar, the one with Stormbirds. Because those boats had Gellar generators, and that counted when the void was full of demons.

By the time my assault boat was ready and prepared for launch, the Chaos space fighters were blown up, since we had more corvettes than they had fighters in that wing.

For once, I was the one with superior numbers on my side and it felt great.

An hour later, the Litany got close enough to the Overlord battlecruiser that personal transfer would be almost safe. Our escorts formed a sphere around to protect my tender body from any missile or fighter, and the Stormbird departed my old ship.

Another ship was being prepared for my kids and concubines, but first I needed to see where to put them.

In a minute, the lander entered the huge hangar of the battlecruiser where my son awaited.

"Victor, you look well!" I announce with surprise. He did indeed grow up, body matured and even his demeanor had become sterner and more composed.

War changes everyone, but Victor seemed to have done well.

He came to hug me and transfer the Overlord control to me, with a string of passwords and Machine Spirit protocols. "I have named the ship in your absence, father. Now it's called Canticle for the Vanquished." he explained as I connected to the special dataslate.

"Good enough. What's a canticle?" I wonder in a soft whisper.

Victor punched my shoulder and laughed, as it this was the best joke ever. Even a few Astartes chuckled in amusement.

But I really wasn't certain. Some kind of prayer, most likely. I'll have to ask someone else.

While I was a bit familiar with the Cult of the Emperor and most known practices, I wasn't that involved. While other people prayed and hoped, I knew with certainty the realities of this hellish galaxy. Possibly more than any Inquisitor.

Furthermore, organized religion wasn't my favorite, here or elsewhere.

"Go back to the bridge, Victor. I need to visit the ship and learn what it can do, before I figure out how to use it." I urge my Blank son. "Canticle, Victor Lancefire retains X.O. prerogative!" I continue, speaking in the vox channel reserved for the Captain.

A faint response from the ship tells me it has heard me. We'll have to work on the communication issues, but I had time.

A few tech-priests from Ryza arrive next to describe every deck and weapon capability, as well as engine limits and reactor output. They aren't the friendly and humane priests I'm used with, instead mingling machine code and binharic descriptors in their speech, as if unused at talking with people. They possibly aren't, I realize.

Unlike high-ranks which enter in contact with humanity regularly, these guys would just work with machines and code and electrical impulses, or what the Mechanicus calls the datasphere.

"I hope all our auspex sensors are set to autistic mode, right?" I ask to make sure.

The tech-priests freeze a second then confirm. "All except the Vox communique and IFF telemetry with Estaban. The Inquisitor has insisted, although there is no real need. We have engrams for defensive mazes and subversive infiltration."

"I see. Scrap Code defenses too? Forge Ryza must be quite secure then." I muse out loud and watch the priests wave their mechadendrites in near panic.

There, I scared them into being cautious from now on. Perhaps Tyranids wouldn't use complex data viruses, but pretty much everyone else would. And these coded protections would never be fail-safe, not in an universe with magic and sorcerers and daemon engines.

The visit continues on the upper decks, where my apartments are ten times larger and I even have a jacuzzi. I bet Victor had that installed, since I did have one back on Ilevar. There are chapels and cathedrals, both for Omnissiah and the Emperor, barracks and tank armories. Not many troops, since most of them must be fighting on Estaban.

Plenty wounded and servitors, the Medicae hospital filled with burned and mangled grenadiers and Stromtroopers. And here I meet some Adepta_Sororitas for the first time. The first woman to meet me was a Hospitaller Advance from the rank of the Sisters of the Ordos Hospitaller, who serve as physicians and offer care in the Imperium's war zones. Such as Estaban for example.

"Who are you? Who let you in here?" the sister demands loudly, an angry hand patting her hip, where she carried a laser pistol.

I step aside to let Ludvaius deal with the loud woman, and I go to examine one of the wounded. The Canticle provides his name and origin, then the medical prognosis. Crippled for life, if he survives the next week. Third degree burns didn't heal so easy.

The rows of beds go for hundreds of meters, and they are stacked high too. Damn hellish galaxy.

I check a few more, but everyone I see has a chance to survive. Then again, triage is quite brutal in the regiments. A corpsman or nurse checks the injury, and sends the wounded to hospital or grave, on the spot.

Then I turn and leave, running scenarios in my mind. Perhaps a biokinetic psyker? Some kind of regeneration serum? A saint with healing aura?

Not very likely. Then my eyes fall on the Scythe Astartes. "That place is the most fertile recruiting ground I have ever seen. Trained soldiers with mortal wounds for bravery. How come there aren't a hundred Chapters implanting them?" I ask in an innocent voice.

The Astartes Captain blinks confused and turns towards his brothers. They stare at me like I had grown a few more heads.

"Some injuries will not heal, even after the geneseed. But...the Iron Hands don't mind missing limbs." he muses to himself and glances at Ludvaius for support.

"Lord Pef is always right, brother. But when he isn't, it's always fun to watch." the veteran Astartes proclaims in a confident tone.

I just sigh and head for the bridge. That isn't what the word 'always' means!

Anyway, I need to call a few Iron Hands to visit me. It's time to end the carnage now.

I find Rose and her Deathwatch installed comfortably on the bridge, her retinue a bit larger and even includes a tech-priest and another guy with red hair and huge muscles. Not a marine, but obviously very strong.

"We meet again, Lady Inquisitor. And retinue." I announce while waving my fingers at Justine. She replies shyly. "Captain"

I stop myself from sighing, as it's not the place. New officers and crew and all that.

Then I pat Victor's shoulder and yank him from the Captain chair. "Go rest Victor. I am here."

He nods with glowing eyes and hurries away, hopefully to sleep.

Then I lean into the seat and delve in my new Machine Spirit, to figure out how to end this siege, without too many loses.

Won't be easy, I know.