40 Thousand Reasons

A minute later the Fabricator composed himself and patted my head in a gentle move.

"We will remember this gift, Lord Pef. There is little Forge Ryza cannot do, as we have entire sectors beholden to us, shipyards, regiments and technologies as advanced as Mars itself." he promised in a more sober tone.

I just nodded, since it made sense. "Your world is in trouble right now, Magos. I'll try to help, but my troops and servitors are nearly depleted. The same with our torpedoes and missiles, and most consumables. A hundred thousand injured and crippled guardsmen. And then, I had to sacrifice two perfectly good corvettes to deploy sufficient forces for a beachhead."

The Magos blinked in confusion, then acceptance. "Anything you need, Captain Pef. Two corvettes are..."

"Precious for me. Perhaps your Forge can repair them at half cost?" I asked humbly.

The Fabricator sighed and turned away. "Yes. We will repair the ships." he allowed in a softer voice.

I pumped my fist in obvious joy. "Many thanks, Magos. I'll let you return to your duties, while my surviving tech-priests complete whatever repairs they can." I announced in a pleasant voice and left his rooms, and followed Ludvaius back to my ship.

Obviously, this won't end here, but Ryza would need to check everything, before agreeing to trade some rewards to the peculiar Rogue Trader.

What I wanted was not to empty their stasis cells of valuable machines and weapons already promised to the Navy or the Army. I wanted production templates and forges.

I wanted their plasma technology spread towards a thousand Forge Worlds, large or small.

In my view, the Mechanicus had too little power in the Imperium, for a group that should have held half of everything. Among the Lords of Terra, there were not 6 tech-priest Magi, but only one. The eleven other Lords were too strong with their majority votes, and could dictate policy and even exterminate entire Forge Worlds at their whim.

Even the Rogue Traders were beholden to the Administratum, their Warrants subject to censure or removal, something that didn't stand well for my own safety and freedom.

In theory, I could send requisition forms to Terra and demand to be granted more ships and regiments for my exploration efforts, or to repair loses in defense of the Imperium. In practice some scribe in the Administratum would flag my request to the Inquisition or the Vindicare Assassins, because it would be cheaper to solve my legal but expensive procedure due to my expiration date.

This was also the main reason I avoided big merchant or Hive worlds, where the Administratum would begin auditing my conquests and plunder for a substantial tithe, or perhaps simply confiscate my empire with a stroke of their brass typewriters.

By giving away the stuff I earned to various Forge Worlds, I sold nothing and received no revenue.

Hopefully, other Rogue Traders would begin catching on, and start doing something similar.

They just needed me to create a workable and rich path, something too attractive even to some rapacious Trader like my father had been.

I even had the perfect and unassailable motive, as donations to the Cult of Omnissiah. If the Administratum wanted to impose taxation on religious donations, the Ecclesiarchy would promptly object and veto that, as they too received humongous donations from nearly everyone in the Imperium. Very little from my own Dynasty, as it happens.

And here, Forge Ryza was the key, with their strong ties to Mars itself, having been founded by the Red Planet way back.

A week later, my fleet started moving again, shifting course to approach the larger ships of Waagh Grax from below and behind.

This potent armada had three Grand Cruisers and two battleships among their heavy ships, with over a two dozen Kill Kroozers and a small space hulk composed of some fifty different ships of various races and ages.

My fleet accelerated to flank speed and unleashed everything we had left on the optimal placed Ork_Battleship, shutting off and melting the engines before the rest of the Ork Armada could turn and chase us.

Sadly another corvette got lost to this daring raid, because a crazy Ork simply flared their Kroozer's engines to the maximum, and aided by the Waagh magic reached a faster speed than a ship a thousand times lighter.

However, that also exposed their weaker sides and rear to the defense fleet of Forge Ryza, who didn't lack torpedoes and other weapons to punish the Ork stupidity.

For this single stunt and my precious corvette, the Grax Waaagh lost 30 ships and even a battleship, which continued its spiraling orbit and crash-landed on a nearby moon. Still, the damn thing seemed intact and kept shooting the remaining Gunz and Big Gunz at anyone approaching that moon.

"I estimate with 80 percent probability for the Grax Warboss to have been on the crashed battleship. Still alive it seems." the bridge tech priest explained after trying to figure out how that ship didn't simply make a deep crater or explode, or both.

Lucky targeting perhaps. "Let Forge Ryza and the Astartes know about the Ork Boss. And tell them we're out of torpedoes, except that fancy one that the Inquisitor ask me not to use. Bicycle torpedo or something." I demanded with an innocent voice.

Ludvaius snorted in amusement, as the Magos began spluttering binharic cants and litanies about the sacred flame of the Omnissiah. Cyclonic torpedoes were not bicycles, but I was not a tech priest, so I got the benefit of doubt.

It didn't take an entire minute for a couple of Mechanicus cruisers to break off from the battlelines and speed away, then change course to intercept us at a fairly good distance from the fight.

Soon enough, the servants of Omnissiah began transferring a hundred torpedoes and replenishment servitors, without any more hints of half-cost.

Did I tell you how stupid Orks are?

We repeated the same trick a dozen times over the next month, slowly but surely eliminating the larger Ork warships and causing them to drift away without a real chance at steering or slowing down.

The Astartes failed to kill the Warboss stranded on the moon with their small strike teams, but I focused my attention on capturing the other battleship, this time without sacrificing another corvette.

Using our lances to open up landing spots for assault boats, and nearly all the replenished servitors, we began boarding the derelict battleship, while still enduring near suicidal waves of Ork bombers and escorts trying to save their big ship.

We could only shut down the reactor and silence the weapons, then we held a defensive positions inside the deformed bulkheads with more Weasels and Sentinels, waiting for reinforcements.

In the end, the Space Wolves began helping with more Grey Wolves as Tactical Marines and some tiny tractors with huge guns on them, called Rapier. They did a good job despite the silly looks, but then a big gun on a long hallway would be quite lethal.

Ludvaius went inside to take a look and meet his brothers for some banter, but I was told it was a real warzone, so I should stay put. So I did.

He brought back a shuttle filled with exotic archeotech and even xeno weapons, which we hid away in a hangar for my later perusal and deep scans.

He was also badly injured and leaking stuff from his ears, because the idiot thought helms were for bitches.

While Ludvaius recovered, Captain Thrasius took the job of bedroom guard, and he didn't seem to like it, hiding his pure eyes from my carnal pleasure.

"You want my descendants to consider joining your Chapter, Astartes?" I asked after the last concubine departed with a dreamy smile.

The Scythe blinked in confusion. "Why wouldn't they consider it? It is the greatest honor to serve the Emperor, even in death."

"Alright then. It's not like the Blood Angels don't need more Blank recruits, immune to Warp or mutations. I suppose your Chapter is free of any such problems like demonic taint or corruption." I answered with a shrug, and sat down in my cogitator chair.

And did nothing, because I couldn't know how this space marine might react.

I missed my Rose and her 'sealed by Inquisition' perk. Hopefully she'll find another batch of Deathwatch Astartes and other sneaky Acolytes for her retinue.

And if she could find a rogue Navigator to train our daughter, it would be even better.

Navigators had dozens of special skills and abilities, but not the weak guys in the employ of the Mechanicus. Every Forge World had contracts with various Navigator Houses that would provide their heirs and lower talents for a cost, and poor Pef didn't qualify for a Beta-level Navigator. Even Gamma-level like Lord Duros on the Litany were hard to find, and the deal made by my grandfather wasn't worth all that much. Possibly a rare trade route or a secret planet somewhere.

Lord Duros wouldn't say, or possibly couldn't.

Still, one day I would have my own Navigator House, as well as a Knight House. Perhaps my own Astartes Chapter, if I didn't get killed too soon.

Constructing a real Forge World at Retribution would take at least decades, or perhaps a century, and that if we managed to avoid getting invaded by something big.

Anyways, we conducted a last raid and demolished a dozen more Kroozers, expending most torpedoes and tricking more Orks ships to follow us on a chase, when the fleet at Ryza changed stance and began attacking.

Gravity beams, neutron guns, plasma guns of a dozen types, lascannons and macrobatteries filled the void, and breaking the back of the Ork Waagh.

I launched another boarding party on a Grand Cruiser, just to be able to claim it for my clan.

Soon enough, skitarii and servitors and various battle-automata from Ryza joined my troops and unleashed promethium, phosphorus and plasma on the silly Ork crew, crushing everyone in their unstoppable march.

The machines fought back, and they won the day.