Imperium Ascendant

Part 1: The Hero

Behold the Redeemer

The child who stood defiant

He who heeded the Last Priest's Words

And became the strongest of his kin

Remember

​

Abaddon the Redeemer stood by his father's side, clad in the terminator armor of Horus' Justaerin, the elite guard that his genefather took from the legion's First Formation. It was his job to stand at his side as the XVI Primarch in council meetings and be the voice on his genefather's shoulder. He liked this better, this position as a part of the Primarch's addition to his legion called the 'Mournival'. Command over massive armies was something Abaddon did, and did well, but he was truly at home commanding an elite strike force made up of the very best. Acting as the commander of Horus' personal guard and a member of his unofficial advisor cadre that were to offer advice at times when it was needed.

Now was not one of those times, as in addition to his genefather, Tengri Khagan, Ogadin Vulkan, the elite of their two legions, and most importantly the Emperor himself were within the cogitator chamber of the Emperor's flagship. Using a psychic copy of the Emperor's own mind, the ship was projecting every single conflict being fought in the Ullanor Crusade. It was a truly massive campaign, stretching across wide swathes of the Ultima Segmentum and Segmentum Tempestus, and yet this construct was able to process it all. If this was what a mere shadow of the Emperor was capable of, the abilities of the man himself were beyond Abaddon's ability to comprehend.

The projections told of a crusade against the Orks that was on the precipice of glorious victory, but also uncomfortably close to the tipping point of defeat. What was worse, is that as far as Abaddon could see, there was nothing that his father or the other Primarchs were doing wrong.

"Father, as you can see, our campaign against the Orks has reached the very doorstep of the Ullanor System itself, but we find ourselves in a precarious position." Horus said, pointing at a particularly bright point on the map. The projection zoomed in and Abaddon could see the very fleet he was a part of, now called Crusader Fleet Zero to honor the Emperor's presence, holding steady right outside of the Mandeville Point. "Our forces are prepared, and almost a billion Solar Auxilia are standing by three legions worth of Astartes from the V, XVI, and XVIII to crush the Warboss' power. That is a formidable force, but far less than what we had hoped for, as I hope to show."

The map once again retracted away from the system and showed the Ullanor sector in its entirety, bright golden specks of light traced their way across the map, eliminating green lights wherever they saw them. Soon, only a few green spots were left at all.

"We were making good progress, even slaying Beast Bosses as we went, but things have taken a turn for the worse."

At the Primarch's gesture, time moved forward on the map once more and green motes of light sprung up from behind the front lines of the war, causing more and more golden dots to break off from the brilliant luminance of the main Crusader Fleet, diminishing its light more and more.

"Almost all of my brothers have been pulled away to handle Orks that have somehow gotten behind our lines. No one from the Magos Biologis can explain the growth rate, and they assure me that it is not improper quarantine procedures that have let Ork spores loose. The fact still remains that somehow, the Orks are getting past our front lines and weakening our Crusade."

The Emperor merely nodded, and Abaddon saw a fearsome warrior king that lost none of his killing instinct with the passage of time rise to his feet to join his son.

"Though your current situation is worse than I had hoped, it is not as bad as I feared it may be, my son." the Emperor said, and Abaddon felt stress he did not even know that he carried in him melt away.

"Humanity's ascension was always going to be difficult." the Master of Mankind continued. "Even moreso because we spent decades ensuring that you and your brothers were raised properly, in order to have noble and intelligent commanders holding the reins of my armies."

Horus and Abaddon both subconsciously flinched at his words, for both of them held memories of what happened when psychotic and petulant Primarchs from a broken reality were given the same power. Death and dishonor followed that road, and though he knew it was going to be difficult, giving the Orks an extra twenty to thirty years of time to prepare and grow as an empire, the alternative would have been much, much worse.

"They have been busy in the decades that we allowed them to seize." the Emperor said, as if he had read the Redeemer's mind. "And scouts that your brother Kota sent into Ullanor have brought back news that has caused me to summon you all here." ŕᴀΝỌᛒÊꞨ

The Emperor gestured at a legionary bearing the colors of the Dark Raptor Legion, and someone that Abaddon had only heard rumors about stepped forward.

One of the first legionaries ever inducted into the XIX Legion, Commander Soukhounou was a legendary figure for every Astartes that attempted to master the ways of stealth combat. He was rumored to have been tasked by Kota Raven-Wing with infiltrating a world with billions of prison serfs serving the whims of thousands of tyrannical overlords. With no other legionaries and no outside assistance, he was able to not only convince the serfs to revolt, but also to immediately join the Imperium. For his valor and clear prowess, the XIX Primarch had promoted him to lead his most secretive stealth team that could infiltrate any enemy position. Clearly the Dark Raptors had been hard at work undertaking reconnaissance missions into Ullanor, even if their Primarch was otherwise engaged.

A gesture from his cousin's gauntlet, and the Ullanor System itself was projected in vivid detail. Abaddon could not help but let out a small curse as he saw the sheer number of Orks present. There had to be billions of Orks in Ullanor, and who knows what that number of the vile creatures was doing to the warfield those xenos could generate. Abaddon could see he wasn't the only one taken aback by the number of their foes. There wasn't a hint of fear among them though, that had been trained out of them long ago. No, this was a purer form of exasperation. And they all knew time was their enemy.

"I know that you are all taking in the numerical value of the Orks." Soukhounou said, "but that isn't the true threat."

The holograph zoomed in on one particular planet near the outer reaches of the Mandeville Point. In fact, it seemed to be the primary staging point for the Ork fleet guarding the entrance into the system. As the point of view changed, massive exhaust ports could be seen behind the planet, pushing it forward as a hideous mountain formation in the shape of an Ork skull on the front of the planet opened wide as a hideous green glow appeared from within its jaws.

"They call it a DESTROYAH!!!" the Dark Raptor captain continued, as various points of interest upon the planet's surface were highlighted. "Our scout teams have determined that this is a more advanced variation of their Attack Moons that our forces have come into contact with at various points in the crusade. This is the linchpin of their primary defenses in the Outer System, and our reports say that the weapons it has could very well stop our forces before we can even reach the planet of Ullanor itself."

"Then we must stop it." Horus Lupercali declared, stepping forward and gesturing at the engines. "Look at the power behind the thrusters. That has the potential to be the biggest bomb the Orks have ever seen. I'll go aboard this DESTROYAH!!!, set charges on the engines, and steer that ship right into the middle of our fleet so that it will explode the moment we hit the Mandeville Point exit. Let's see the greenskins handle that surprise."

Abaddon felt his heart swell with pride at his genefather's insistence, but he also knew the Emperor was going to shake his head even before the Master of Mankind did so.

"You are the leader of this Crusade, not your brothers, and not even myself." the Emperor said, his voice a soothing balm on the frustrated and frayed tempers in the room. "You must command the fleets emerging from the Mandeville Point, Horus. This is a good plan, and a worthy task, but you must find another to share this glorious burden with."

There was a slight sagging in Horus' shoulders, but he was above all things, the Primarch most suited for command. It was his aspect, and there was unanimous approval from his brothers when the Emperor named him Warmaster for the Ullanor Crusade. But with all that power came responsibilities, and one of those was sometimes he could not take the lead in the opening stages of a battle.

"I… Thank you, Father." Horus said, quick enough so as to not give offense. He looked at his two brothers, and then briefly to Abaddon. The Redeemer even thought he saw the barest hint of a wink pass across his genefather's face.

"It appears that we are in need of a volunteer. Who wants to kill some Orks first?"

Remember the Redeemer

The soldier who stood defiant

He who refused the Dark Gods' Lies

And broke their hold on the legion's heart

Remember

​

Location: The Pale Horse - personal gunship of Tengri Khagan

It had all happened so fast, but that was always the way that Tengri liked it.

The fight over who should have the honor of entering the Ullanor System first had been a fierce one, and he had come to expect from his younger brother. Ogadin Vulkan was a proud warrior, and rightfully so. But Horus had sided with the Lightning Riders, for speed was much more vital to the success of this operation than endurance was. The Dragon-Forged would have their part to play in this fight, and it would be just as glorious as what Tengri was about to undertake, but much like their birth order, Ogadin would have to wait his turn.

One of the secret hobbies of the V Primarch was his passion for ornithology, commonly known as the study of birds. Above all avians, Tengri loved to observe falcons. Birds of prey that struck with lightning speed always appealed to him, and he had utilized many of their behaviors when crafting his legion's tactics of choice. One particular type of falcon was known to strike its prey with breathtaking speed, falling into a steep dive that allowed it to reach hundreds of miles per hour. Before their quarry even knew what was happening, they already had talons piercing their sides and the matter was over within seconds. It was perfect for what the Lightning Riders wished to do, and it was also perfect for the mission they were to undertake.

An Imperial Cruiser exited the Mandeville Point into the Ullanor System, and almost immediately the Orks guarding it roared with glee. They had been itching for a fight against the humies, and their guns opened fire without even waiting for an order to do so.

All according to plan, and that is why Tengri had ensured that besides the sacrifice of a Navigator, the only Imperial loss aboard the ship was the cloned servitors that the Mechanicum had been willing to part with. As the cruiser died a fiery death, two dozen gunships emerged from its hangars and fully burned their thrusters towards the DESTROYAH!!! at the heart of the Ork fleet. Before the first line of warships even knew what was happening, the Imperial forces were already gone and the only one who truly had a chance to see what was coming was the planet itself. By then, it was already too late. The DESTROYAH!!! had clearly been designed to attack the biggest and baddest ships and planets from afar. Who could possibly withstand the awesome power of their weaponry long enough to get in close? Besides, that's what the puny ships surrounding them were for. The meager anti-fleet turrets on the planet's surface were far too slow to stop the speeding gunships, and the scanners onboard the Tengri's personal gunship had been upgraded to pick the most vulnerable places to land within seconds. Coginators blared at him that most of the planet was still actually rock and molten core, with only relatively small sections of it carved out for the Orks' purposes. The laziness of their enemies was once again playing into the Imperium's hands.

The landing was not a smooth one, for that was a regrettable tradeoff for the blistering speed they had approached the planet with. It was a mild crash into various hangars along the planet's northern pole, but it was a crash all the same. Outside the hull of the Pale Horse, Orks were assembling and aiming their weapons, but the stupid beasts were making the same mistake their counterparts commanding their fleets did. When it came to strength vs speed, Tengri was a firm believer in the supremacy of speed.

A command went out over the vox, and the doors of twenty three gunships sprung open to reveal Astartes riding motorbikes. The Orks outside opened fire, but their rounds only impacted the space where the Lightning Riders had been. They were moving far too fast for such crude attacks, and soon the Orks found themselves riddled with bolter rounds from legionaries that were literally driving circles around them. One second after the doors opened, the Lightning Riders leapt forward, fifteen seconds after the doors opened, they were already turning to deal with the reinforcements the Orks were trying to send their way. One minute after the doors opened, the Orks didn't have any warriors in the area left to send.Already some of his sons were coordinating strikes from different positions, and the Orks had to be beyond confused at where these attacks were coming from. The moment they sent their forces in the areas to push back one invading force, another appeared in a different area and exploited the newly formed weakness in their defenses. It had gone perfectly, and twenty three out of the twenty four gunships had already secured a sizeable 'beachhead' from which to press further in.

The twenty fourth gunship was inevitably going to be slower than the others, but their mission was of no less importance than the others. In some way, even more so. And though it pained him slightly to admit that his own legion wasn't perfectly suited for all aspects of this mission, Tengri knew that there were some things that his nephew was much better suited for.

"This is Primarch Tengri Khagan." he barked into the vox speaker that one of his genesons held for him. "Come in Justaerin. Do you copy? Abaddon, can you hear me?"

"This is Abaddon, reporting in." came the almost gleeful reply. "The Justaerin have landed. We should be at the bridge shortly. Thank you for creating space for us, Khagan."

Remember the Redeemer

The warrior who stood defiant

He who fought the First Damned's Power

And wielded the fallen Primarch's Spear

Remember

​

Location: The DESTROYAH!!! - Command Bridge

Horus Lupercali knew that he could not take command of this attack upon the DESTROYAH!!! himself, but that didn't mean his legion would play no role in its destruction. Yes, the speed of the V Legion was going to be vital to the success, but they were warriors who vanished the moment they struck and left their foes lashing out at nothing but phantoms. The Lunar Templars were much more adept at hitting hard, and taking control of vital points to cripple the enemy. If the bridge of the DESTROYAH!!! was going to be used to keep it at the center of the fleet, it would need gentle correction and guidance to maintain its course. All courtesy of Mechanicum forces embedded in the XVI Legion's elite.

When the Lupercali elected to send a small detachment of Lunar Templars to take the bridge and hold it, Abaddon had quarreled with his brother Corin Calistar for the honor. The Chief Librarian had made a strong case for why the psychic powers of the Librarius would be useful for the mission, Abbadon knew that the Justaerin would carry the day and held their genefather's favor. Equipped with jet-black Terminator armor and armed with the best weapons the XVI Legion could supply them with, Horus' personal guard had been the decisive blow in numerous military campaigns. Their mere presence could bolster allies, and their combat prowess could eliminate any foe that stood in Horus' way. And with Abaddon the Redeemer leading them, a warrior who could list all Astartes who came close to his prowess on a single hand, there was no task too difficult for them to accomplish.

The bridge itself was almost laughably easy to conquer. To be sure, there were Orks guarding the paths towards it, and they were some of the finest that the Ullanor Empire could muster, but the Justaerin were veterans of fighting the greenskins. The toughest Orks of Ullanor were no more of a threat to them than the toughest Techno-Barbarians they had faced in the early years of the Great Crusade.

With methodical efficiency, the Justaerin made their way down the halls of the DESTROYAH!!! Abaddon led from where he always did, at the very front of the formation, and wielding a power sword so large that it wasn't actually made for Astartes. It was one of Horus' backup weapons, for when he had no desire to use the Longinus. After the Battle for Luna, when Abaddon had accidentally possessed a small fraction of his Primarch's soul due to Bel'lakor the Dark Prince stabbing him with a Horus-infused Longinus, the Redeemer had found himself possessed of a body that had more in common with a Primarch than an Astartes. He was faster, stronger, and able to achieve feats thought impossible. On their way to the bridge of this accursed planet turned warmachine, there were none that could stop him.

Explosive charges placed on the doors to the bridge were detonated with tremendous force, and the Redeemer strode through the fire and smoke with his wrist-mounted bolter roaring and his power sword crackling with energy.

"Oi! You isn't supposed to be here!" an Ork wearing a three pointed hat that bore a skull and crossbones bellowed as it rose from its crudely adorned captain's chair. It drew a cutlass that had arcs of green lightning running up and down its edge. "This 'ere is my ship, and you lot is gotta get off! The DESTROYAH!!! belongs to Da Orks, and we don't want you h-"

Abaddon's gloved fist moved so fast and with such force behind it that the captain's head was torn clean off its torso, flying through the air and rolling almost comically as it landed perfectly at the feet of the terrified bridge crew. The Justaerin looked upon their leader with something close to utter awe and amazement. They didn't even know that someone could move that fast in Terminator armor.

"Objection noted," Abaddon said without an ounce of humor in his voice. "But this planet belongs to the Imperium of Man now, and we have vastly different plans for it."

The remaining Orks tried desperately to either flee or beg for their lives, but the Justaerin eliminated them with contemptuous ease. It took but a moment for the agents of the Mechanicum to arrive and start attempting to understand the nature of Orkish technology. It was a job that Abaddon did not envy them for having, but it had to be done. The greenskins relied on belief as much as engineering for their equipment to work, and that made it almost impossible for the Imperium to utilize it. Something could have been slapped together haphazardly, but the Ork Mechboss told his underlings that it was crafted perfectly. Who were they to argue, and their belief made the hope a reality. The fear for the Lunar Templars was that if the bridge crew was dead, the DESTROYAH!!! might not even work properly or even cause harm to the Astartes.

The Justaerin held their breath as the Magos pressed various runes, and when they heard the gentle roar of the engines pushing the craft where it was told to go, they all let out a relieved sigh. They could pilot the planet, and put it exactly where they wanted it to go. The weapon systems were out of the question, as the risk of their malfunction was much greater than any of the propulsion or navigational systems.

With a gesture, the DESTROYAH!!! started to move, getting right into the middle of the Outer Fleet and causing some of the less fortunate craft to be pulled into its gravitational orbit. The Orks were slow on the uptake, even with the rumor of a 'humie' attack on the planet becoming more and more well known, but eventually the concept that the DESTROYAH!!! had been taken over began to materialize. The fleet either scattered, or tried to attack the planet in their midst. The former made the mistake of trying to group up as they fled, and so the Magos just had the DESTROYAH!!! follow along and stay in their midst. Some of the smarter Ork captains broke formation and fled, but even that played into the Imperium's hands, as now they were in no position to defend against the oncoming Imperial attack. The ships that tried to attack were even better. It kept them close by, and they were using more and more ammunition in a vain attempt to try and kill a planet. None of the vital locations were close to the surface, and soon the more foolish among the Orks ranks tried to shoot at the planet in competition with one another. Occasionally they even hit their fellow ships! All according to plan.

"Magos, how are long range communications looking?" Abaddon asked, removing his helm so that his eyes could take in the beautiful scene unfolding on the monitors before him in all its glory.

"They are operational, Commander Abaddon." came the mechanical reply. "Contact with the Vengeful Spirit has successfully been established. You may speak when ready."

"This is Strike Force Omega to Vengeful Spirit." Abaddon said, his fist clenched so tightly that there was a slight groan of protest from the ceramite. "The bridge has been taken, I repeat, the bridge has been taken. You are free to make your run on the Mandeville Point now."

"Confirmed, Omega." came the static-filled reply. "Starting our approach. Expect Crusader Fleet Zero to arrive within the next solar day. Hold out until then. Ave Imperator."

"Ave Imperator". Abaddon murmured back, looking back upon the Justaerin that were already setting up defensive positions in the hallways and lobbies leading to the bridge.

"Crusader Fleet Zero is approaching, and when they get here, I want to see an Orkish Fleet getting absolutely bullied by a planet they used to own."

The Lunar Templars let out a cheer, screaming out their inevitable victory and vowing various punishments against their hated enemy.

"They know what we're doing now, or at least they'll have some idea." he continued. "I want defensive positions established right away. If they're already in place, fortify them some more. Look for areas of attack that we can exploit as they're focusing on trying to assault us. Get ready for war, Templars. We have been called upon, and we shall not be found wanting."

"No Better Friend!" Abaddon shouted, raising his clenched fist high into the air.

"No Fiercer Foe!" came the traditional reply as the Justaerin and any Mechanicum members not currently needed for operating the DESTROYAH!!! scattered and immediately went to work. A small grin appeared on the Redeemers face. Between him and the Lightning Riders, they might actually pull this off.

Remember the Redeemer

The legionary who stood strong

He who was the Spear's Tip

And felled a thousand champions

Remember

​

Location: The DESTROYAH!!! - Main Engine Room

"The charges are set, my Primarch. The Orks aren't going to be able to stop it, even if they were able to find them in the first place."

Tengri Khagan nodded his head in approval. His sons were doing exactly what they were supposed to do. The last ten hours had seen Strike Forces Beta through Psi hitting target after target, ranging from communications to the engine room that the V Primarch now stood in. He, along with the rest of Strike Force Alpha, had been traveling from spot to spot, giving assistance to whatever group was most in need of it. So far, they had been absolutely perfect, with Astartes losses well within acceptable parameters. Their speed was terrifying, and now that they were getting more familiar with the contours of the DESTROYAH!!!, their average speed was actually increasing as they traveled from objective to objective.

The engine room, or at least the main one, had been a key objective that fell only after heavy resistance from the Orks and the personal intervention of Tengri himself. After checking in with the servitors on the bridge of the planet, the Lightning Riders had set explosive charges with a little under fourteen hours until their detonation. Plenty of time to evacuate, but until then, they needed to kill every single Ork they could, if only to lighten the load that the Justaerin would have to face on the bridge. It was a lot of ground to cover, but that was what they specialized in.

Indeed, they had destroyed most of the Orkish resistance already, and the ones that they didn't destroy were blocked off from entry to the Imperium controlled sections of the planet by strategically collapsed tunnels. Though they were met with success after success, something was still troubling the V Primarch. There were more Orks deep within their lines than there should have been. This was the Ullanor Crusade on a smaller level, and Tengri wasn't sure what to make of it.

"My Lord Primarch, we have discovered something." a voice said over the vox speaker. "I… well I'm not entirely sure what it is I am looking at. I think you had better come and take a look at this. "

The ride was a relatively short one, and it would have been even shorter if there hadn't been a contingent of Weirdboyz that Tengri had to stop and destroy. Had he not personally cleared this sector already? These Orks also bore different markings than the ones he had fought originally. They were painted red now, and kept screaming at his legionaries that they were "da fastest". They weren't fast enough, and they died just like their earlier comrades. But the fact that they had arrived at all troubled Tengri greatly. There seemed to be no end to this pest, and though his sons would not be greatly troubled when killing them, all it would take is one mistake.

When he arrived at the coordinates his son had requested, the Khagan was still full of questions. It was a massive hole, easily twenty meters tall and over a hundred meters wide. The hole was lined with a metal that was clearly of Orkish made and design, but it was more advanced than anything Tengri had ever seen before. It was covered in glowing green lines of power, and a constant hum of energy filled the room. Even the consoles were clean and efficient by Ork designs. No, this was the technology of Orks, to be sure, but there was another influence. The V Primarch was grateful for the perfect memory that the Emperor gave all of his sons, and reflected for half a moment before coming to the realization that he knew where he had seen this type of technological intricacy before.

"My brother Culain mentioned that the Aeldari, or at least factions of that fallen species, were assisting the greenskins." Tengri mused. "It seems their cooperation went further than we knew."

"There is both good news and bad news, my Lord Primarch." a Lightning Rider techmarine said, peering at a console which seemed to be connected to the massive structure before them. "The good news is that we actually know what this is. Primarch Culain MacTurson gave extensive descriptions about something the Orks called a 'tellyporta'. It's a tunnel that allows them near instantaneous travel over vast distances. I have already disabled this one. No more xenos will be coming through here."

"And the bad news?"

"My Primarch, it seems that this DESTROYAH!!! had two main purposes." his son began apologetically. "One was to provide fleet-killer levels of weaponry. The other, far more insidious goal was the use of these tunnels to teleport anywhere in the Ullanor Sector. And these tunnels are scattered all over this planet."

Finally, the puzzle pieces were fitting together. The Imperium was doing its job properly. The planets and systems they cleared were indeed clean. But the Orks would simply teleport to the planet the moment the Imperium had moved most of its forces onto the next battle. Slowly but surely, they could peel forces away from the great push towards Ullanor. And they had an entire planet worth of Orks that they could send anywhere they pleased as long as it was within range.

"And these tunnels, they are even spaced around this planet, yes?" Tengri asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

"Yes, my Primarch."

"We sealed off physical access to the areas we are operating in, but that doesn't mean they won't try using these teleportation tunnels. Refuel your transports, your attack bikes, whatever it is you are using to move from place to place." the V Primarch commanded. "The Orks are coming for us, and I want us to be in all places at the same time. When they strike at us, they will hit nothing but our exhaust fumes. Check ammunition supplies and fuel reserves, we have a long fourteen hours ahead of us."

"And someone get in contact with the bridge. Warn them about what is coming. They are going to be the primary target, and they won't be able to maneuver like we can."

Remember the Redeemer

A legionary of the Great Crusade

A soldier of a thousand battlefields

A warrior of a century of war

A child who remembered

​

Location: The DESTROYAH!!! - Command Bridge

How many hours had it been? It had been hard to keep track, except by looking at the chronometer in the bottom corner of his helmet. And that was easier said than done, as the Orks weren't usually generous enough to allow them the split second of relaxation that was required to flick his eyes downward.

That was, until a hand rested on his shoulder just as he stabbed yet another Ork through the skull with his blade.

"It is time for your relief, Lord Abaddon." came a soothing voice. One of his brothers, Armac Creet, was gripping him firmly and telling him it was time to rest.

"I'm fine." he growled, bolter rounds sent from his wrist screaming down the hallway past the guarding shield of another one of his brothers. "I need no respite. Someone else can have my turn."

"Sorry Commander, but orders are orders. We were told that everyone is to have their break, to keep both their mind and blade sharp. Heard the Commander himself say the words." Creet said with a smirk on his face.

"Sounds like a complete moron, that Commander Abaddon." came a reply that was half chuckle and half growl. "But like you said, orders are orders. Fight well until I am back."

Eighteen hours. His helmet told Abaddon that he'd been fighting for almost eighteen hours straight. It felt like it too. Astartes were mentally conditioned to fight for days on end without sleep, and had special augmentations to allow parts of their brain to shut off to keep the soldier sane. But this wasn't combat. It was defending against a force of nature like a tidal wave. The Orks never stopped coming, and so the Justaerin had established makeshift fortifications in the hallways leading to the bridge. It was working beautifully. The first line of defense guarding the hallways, the second line of defense guarding the bridge itself against any Orks stupid enough to try and teleport onto the bridge itself, and finally the select few that were given the privilege of a break, so that they might be better warriors when called upon again.

Eighteen hours spent fighting. One resting. Another four fighting, and then it was time to get off this stupid Orkish invention. The Imperium needed him, the Templars needed him, and his father needed him most of all.

"Lord Abaddon, our supplies are low, but holding steady." a servitor squawked, it hovered near his head. "Should the rates of attack and defense continue as they have, I calculate an 88.7% chance to successfully complete the defense of this strategic location."

"And if those rates of attack and defense change?" he asked, letting out a deep sigh as he did.

"Apologies, there are too many variables to account for. The only numerical confidence the report shows is that the current situation must be constantly maintained."

"Of course it does." Abaddon grumbled. He was about to remove his helm to get a small bit of food when the now all too familiar green lightning crackled around the bridge. The Magos attending to the various instruments didn't even flinch once they saw that the lightning wasn't in their immediate vicinity. Repetition had made them immune to surprise or uncertainty.

The Justaerin taking their moment's rest readied their weapons, and dispatched the new invaders at a moment's notice. It was far too easy, and Abaddon had that killer instinct that had been honed through years of gang warfare upon Cthonia and further refined by over a century of training sending warning alarms throughout his brain. Something was going on here.

"Lord Abaddon, there is a message coming through on the screen." a Magos informed him.

"Does the Vengeful Spirit require more time before its arrival?"

"This message does not come from Crusader Fleet Zero, Commander. It's coming from Ullanor itself."

So, it seemed that their enemy wished to speak with them. This would be new for Abaddon. Though the Orks seemed to be getting more and more intelligent as time passed, the Imperium had no desire to communicate with them beyond threats and promises of retribution. Planets they had liberated from the greenskins had spoken of Ork ambassadors that negotiated with them upon behalf of the Beast of Beasts, but all of the civilizations that had been assimilated into the Imperium were the smart ones that hadn't made further discussions with the Orks. But there was something on the surface of the planet that wished to speak with him, and Abaddon was simply too curious to refuse such a strange invitation.

With a nod from the Justaerin Commmander, the Magos pressed the flashing rune in its console, and images of the panicked Orkish fleet outside flickered away, replaced by what must have been the cruelist face the Orks could possibly have spawned. This greenskin was huge, Abaddon could tell. Even though nothing but its face could be seen, the proportions indicated its size. A metal jaw replaced its lower half, and its red eyes seemed to glow with a sheer hatred that the learned and experienced Abaddon had never seen before.

But it wasn't just the physical appearance of the creature that made it so foreboding. There were equal parts cunning and brutality in its weathered and scarred face. It was a killer, and it was looking upon that which it wished to slaughter. Astartes knew no fear, but many of the Lunar Templars looked upon its visage with apprehension.

"You have taken my Destroyer, little human." it sneered with no trace of the normal Orkish inflections so present in the speech of that horrible species. "This is your last chance to flee before we slaughter you all."

"As I told your pathetic captain, this isn't your weapon anymore." came Abaddon's scathing reply. "Maybe if you flee Ullanor now, you'll live to fight another day. A few hours from now, I can't guarantee that."

Somehow, the eyes of the creature seemed to grow more wicked. Though none of the Justaerin were psychically gifted, some were more attuned to the currents of the Immaterium than others, and they felt an emotional sensation akin to bloodlust and the pure desire for destruction. But as soon as it appeared, it past, and many who felt it were none the wiser that it had occurred at all.

"Pathetic human scum. Such empty bravery will not save you!" though the words were said in a measured tone, none could fail to detect the sheer malice behind them. "I am Urg Mag Uruk Thraka, the Beast of Beasts. I have conquered countless planets, and now I shall conquer you. Your fleet will arrive, and our ships will break them. We are as numerous as the stars themselves, and we shall drown you in both your blood and ours. From your blood shall come only grief. From ours shall come the next generation of our warriors. I shall elevate them, transform them into the greatest version of themselves and create the most fearsome empire the world has ever seen. My servants shall take back the Destroyer, my cannons shall smash your fleet to bits, and I shall slay your Golden King personally. His head shall make a fine decoration for my armor, I think. There will be no mercy for you, and all that is in your future is death and destru-"

The Beasts of Beasts stopped mid sentence as Abaddon could no longer restrain himself. It started first as a small snort, the tiniest bit of air escaping through his nostrils. Then the chuckling happened, then it became uproarious laughter, clutching the side of a monitor in a mocking effort to stay upright, even though his powerful terminator armor would have prevented him from doubling over anyway.

"Liar." the Redeemer spat, his words breaking the trance over the rest of the Justaerin that they didn't even know they were under.

"You're a big one, no doubt about it." he continued, pacing slowly back and forth in front of the screen. "So I'm wondering why you didn't come to deal with us yourself, especially with all that fancy teleportation technology I hear you let the knife-ears give you."

Uruk Thraka looked incensed, and opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but the Commander of the Justaerin did not let him get a word in before resuming his diatribe.

"Instead, you've sent waves of grunts against us. We're winning that fight. You know we are, and yet you aren't sending any of your Big Boyz in. You aren't sending a Beast Boss, or even coming yourself. Why is that I wonder. Thought about it as you droned on and on. Apologies for that, didn't hear a word you just said."

Abaddon removed his helm and held it underneath his arm, looking up at his hated foe with a delighted, savage grin in his eyes.

"Then it hit me: you're afraid. You think you might die if you try to fight us on this planet. You don't think you'll get to us in time before our fleet arrives. You think that we have explosives rigged up, which we do, and you don't want any of your favorite playthings to be caught in the blast!"

He threw his head back and howled in laughter, a joyless but fierce thing, and beheld the Beast of Beasts not as equals or even as a hated foe, but something that was now far beneath him.

"Stupid greenskin, we beat you. We won this fight." he crowed. "This was just a small strike force, and we completely took you by surprise. The only thing I didn't bring with that I wish I had was a Remembrancer. I want to capture the look on your face right now for all time and eternity."

"DIS ISN'T OVER!" the Beast roared, his right fist flailing off screen and all the assembled Astartes heard a sickening squelch over the vox speakers. "YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHING! WE ARE GONNA KRUMP YOU GOOD!"

"You haven't seen anything either." countered Abaddon. "If you think I'm a nuisance, wait until you meet my genefather. He's going to beat you so hard you're going to turn back into a mushroom."

The Beast of Beasts tried to counter, but he motioned for a Magos to sever the video connection. There was nothing left to be said.

Almost immediately after, as the Justaerin were staring at Abaddon with poorly disguised awe, the servitors in the room started screaming out alarms.

"Attack ships that were formerly fleeing are turning back around!" a Magos warned. They're all traveling towards hangar bays we have no control over. Estimated Orkish attack strength increasing by an estimated 700%. Our defenses are no longer considered adequate for this operation."

With a sigh, Abaddon put his helmet back on and gripped his sword once more. The chronometer said that they had been on this ship for eighteen hours. Six more. All they had to do was hold on for six more hours.

"Get me a servitor." he commanded. "I have a new plan."

Remember the Redeemer

The Hero that stood defiant

He who broke the Orkish ranks

And held the line against assault

He who mocked the Beast of Beasts

And broke the desperate counterattack

He who chose his fate with dignity

And met his end without fear

​

Location: The DESTROYAH!!! - Hangar Bay 394

There had been so much death.

It seemed as if one moment, all was going according to plan. The next, thousands of Orks were teleporting into any available space they could find. The Lightning Riders were good, they were fast, but there simply were not enough of them to hold back the tide of greenskins. Something had stirred them into a frenzy, and it had made the Astartes pay a horrible price.

First one Rider fell, then another, then entire strike forces had gone dark, their last messages over the vox telling their Primarch that it had been an honor to fight for the Imperium in his name, and that they were ensuring the Orks could not disrupt what they had done here upon this accursed planet. So much death, across all twenty three of his strike forces. Mercifully, the chronometer inside his helmet told him it was almost time for the arrival of Crusader Fleet Zero. They needed to evacuate immediately, and so a call was placed for all units to converge on Tengri Khagan's location. Every time a casualty was announced over the vox, the V Primarch kept track. Every time a strike force went dark, he subtracted their numbers from the amount of shuttles needed.

It was down to a pathetic amount now. Five shuttles out of twenty four. That was how few of them there were. One of his sons had screamed out in frustration and rage and how many had fallen, that it was a sign of their weakness and inferiority. Before Tengri could even correct him, one of his captains did so. Infiltrating the DESTROYAH!!! with a bigger force would have been too logistically difficult, and a smaller force would not have been able to cause this much destruction. It was going to be a final, suicidal mission for many of the warriors involved. Not because they were weak, but because the numbers of their enemy were endless. Far from showing their inferiority, it showed that only the Adeptus Astartes could have accomplished such a task and inflicted as high of losses as they had.

Five shuttles, and Tengri didn't even know if he needed that. Strike Force Omega, the Justaerin of the Lunar Templars, had not responded to any vox communications for almost six hours now. Though he had been tempted to write them off as a loss, the Khagan kept hoping that they were alive, and ensured that a gunship was ready to take them back to the fleet when it arrived. He owed Horus that much, and knew that he would never forgive himself if he showed favoritism to his own sons at the expense of his nephews.

Heavy metal clanking was heard coming down the hallway and some of his less injured sons raised their bolters up to eliminate the stray Orks coming this way. After the initial waves of Orks that came pouring through six hours ago, they had become less and less frequent. The greenskins they had seen from a distance all seemed to be heading in one direction, and it was far away from where the hangar was.

As the sound drew closer, his sons lowered their weapons even without being prompted to by the V Primarch. Tired as they were, the distinctive sound of Terminator boots shaking a metal deck were unmistakable. One of their cousins had survived the horrors of the bridge.

It did seem as if it was just one son however, as only a singular, unremarkable suit of black Terminator plate slowly trudged towards their position. The black part of the armor was difficult to see though, as it was covered almost helm to heel in the blood of slain Orks.

"Justaerin of the Lunar Templars reporting for extraction, Primarch Khagan." came the reply tinged with the slightest Cthonic accent. "Commander Abaddon suggests we leave as soon as possible, for if my helmet readings are correct, we should be hitting the Mandeville Point as soon as the main fleet exits out of it."

"Where is he?" Tengri snapped. It was harsh, far too harsh for what he had intended. He would have to make up for that later. "You mentioned that Abaddon said all of this. Where is he? What has happened to the rest of Horus' personal guard?"

As if he had been waiting for that question, the Justaerin produced a servitor skull and bade for it to hover in front of the Primarch. With a slight whirring of hidden machinery, a holographic projection of Abaddon the Redeemer stood life-sized in front of Tengri and gave him a slight smile that showed no regret and but a little chagrin.

"Greetings, Lord Primarch." the projection said. "If you're watching this, that means the kid got through. I'm glad. This was his first major mission upon his elevation to the Justaerin. I told him to go to you in the hangar bay because he is young. Too young for this to be both his first and last mission. If he tries to leave to come back, you have my permission to knock him out."

Tengri Khagan looked at the Justaerin and was relieved that there was no movement back into the planet. The training of Horus' personal guard was holding firm, it seemed. But that wasn't what was truly troubling him. What was this about a 'last mission'? He had this sinking feeling growing in his stomach that he could not seem to shake.

"I'm not the genius my father is, but it seems as though we're getting far more Orks heading our way than are coming to yours." Abaddon continued. "They know what happens if we succeed, and I'm sure that even if you hadn't buried the tunnels leading to the main engine room under rubble, they still wouldn't know how to remove your explosives."

"But we can't do that at the bridge."

the projection said. "We have to stay here to keep piloting it, to keep steering it towards the greatest bulk of fleeing ships there is. The Head Magos up here says that we might be close to killing upwards of a million orks and all of the ships they could fit on when this thing finally blows. That's a victory even a normally reserved Primarch such as you should get a small bit of satisfaction in."

Tengri could not help but let out a small chuckle at that. There was a bravado that Abaddon had that made it impossible to not like him just a small bit. He was a warrior, but he was also an extraordinary leader, even if he didn't see that in himself. With him leading them, the Lunar Templars could conquer just about any objective. The Imperium was fortunate to have him on their side.

"I know that you'd try to rescue us." the Redeemer said. "You'd speed here as fast as you could and wait until the last possible second, hoping it would be enough to secure us victory. But it won't, Lord Primarch. It just won't. There are too many Orks here, and they would undo all of our hard work long before our fleet arrives. So I took the decision out of your hands and out of theirs. Right after I sent our young friend out to your hangar bay, I rigged every single explosive we have in the tunnels leading to the bridge. They're not going to be able to cut their way through to us in time, and you can't reach us either. And this way, your shuttle can escape the blast that this thing is going to give off. Heh, I guess now that's two Primarchs whose lives I've saved. Not bad for a former ganger living in the slums of a dying world."

Tengri could feel the blood draining from his face. That utter fool. That brave, stupid, noble fool. He was sacrificing himself so that they could all escape. The Primarch wanted to punch him square in the jaw for this, but Abaddon had made sure that he couldn't. That he could only have enough time to save himself and his own sons. The Lunar Templars would take care of the rest.

"Don't you worry about me." Abaddon continued, almost as if he anticipated the thoughts running through Tengri's head. "The Orks keep trying to teleport directly onto the bridge, so we're keeping busy. And all of us wanted to stay here to finish this fight. That young pup had to be given a direct order before he left. So don't spend another second mourning me. I'm going to die doing what I was made to do: protecting my gang, one that includes every single Imperial soul that is and will be in the future. Be well, stay strong, and be as swift as the wind will carry you."

"Ezekyle Abaddon out. Ave Imperator."

Though there was much he wished to say, there was nothing that had the strength to escape his lips. With a nod, his sons and one of his nephews boarded the four gunships assembled, now that a fifth was no longer needed, in the hangar and took off. Only an hour to spare, and that was guesswork at best. They would need as much speed as they could muster to escape this one.

Luckily, most Orkish attack craft were focused on the massive rogue planet in their midst, not four small gunships that were going in the opposite direction of all of the action. Perhaps this might work out well after all.

That hope was redoubled as ripples of gravitational energy washed over all of them sitting in their seats aboard the various gunships. Only one thing could make a sensation like that, and it was the a massive warship exiting the Warp and translating back into realspace after a long journey. Looking through the sensors, a Lightning Rider let out a scream of joy and relief that took his voice temporarily. The Vengeful Spirit had come. Crusader Fleet Zero was here at last.

The hope and joy soon turned to terror however as the Orkish attack craft started to peel away. They were heading straight for the new foes that had appeared back in reality. Along the way, some of them found four little ships that were going as fast as they could towards their goal. But they weren't fast enough. That trick wasn't going to work twice on the greenskins.

Molten swarms of both solid and laser rounds screamed all around the four gunships as one of them took a volley of shrapnel through its side, careening through the void before detonating in a massive fireball. Gone in an instant, its crew inside not even able to get out last words to the other ships before they died.

"Incoming fire all around us!" the pilot screamed, desperately trying to maneuver through the field of death they now found themselves in the middle of. A second gunship was killed, this time trying to shield the Pale Horse from a missile that surely would have destroyed it. The third died going on the offensive, drawing the Orks like moths to a flame so that the Primarch might have the faintest chance to slip by undetected. It did not work, but it did provide a few seconds of respite for Tengri Khagan to save his own life, and those in the gunship with him.

Like the Primarch himself, the gift Tengri Khagan was given from the Emperor was odd and unique amongst its kind. It was a skin drum, impossibly ancient, and impractical for most wartime applications. But it was psychically powerful, one of the oldest artifacts that somehow managed to survive the Long Night intact. In the V Primarch's hands, it was capable of performing wonders, such as long range teleportation.

Tengri had never tried it with this many people before, in fact he had never tried it with anyone else at all, but time was of the essence. Victory or failure were his only options, and indecision wasn't going to improve those odds.

The drumbeat that Tengri put down was old, a primal thing that came more from his soul than his mind. It spoke of urgency, of a need to be transported and taken away. The Vengeful Spirit appeared in his mind, but it became all the more difficult to focus as every time his palm touched the drums it burned. He did not open his eyes. The pain wouldn't become less real or more helpful if he saw it with his own eyes. Even as the fire spread out from his hands and onto his skin he did not slow down even a fraction of a second. The rhythm and the beat went on. It was all that mattered.

"We can't hold out much longer, sir!" came the scream, but still Tengri did not care. Just a few more seconds, he was this close. Regular music uplifted the soul, transported it to another time and place while the song was playing. The same principle applied to Tengri's Thundersoul Drum, but now he needed to move the body. All that was required was for a surrender to the beautiful music that was in his drum, and it appeared to be burning his skin up.

"Emperor save me, we've been hit! It's gonna blow!" but it didn't. Or perhaps it did. It did not change the situation in the slightest. Because for one moment, all of the humans aboard the shuttle were either dodging incoming enemy fire, sitting silently in apprehension, or channeling the awesome power of the Warp. The next moment, they were no longer in the shuttle, but inside one of the massive hangar bays of a Gloriana-class Imperial flagship. Against all odds, they were aboard the Vengeful Spirit and would live to fight another battle.

As the Lightning Riders cheered, the young Justaerin solemnly strode off in a direction that was known only to him, Tengri finally opened his eyes. His flesh was smoking, actually smoking. The skin on the Thundersoul Drum was but embers now, but that didn't make sense. What had Tengri been playing on if the drum was burnt.

Then he saw his index finger. A marking suspiciously like the one on the edge of the drum was upon his finger. Removing his battle armor, he saw that a good portion of his skin was branded with the various markings of the Thundersoul Drum. It appeared as if the magic he had wielded was too much for the ancient relic to bear, but the music he had produced had been so pure that the Warp within the instrument had decided to bond with him instead.

A fascinating development, but one that Tengri would have to investigate later. All he did now was slump against the side of an ammunition crate, and wait for normal human servants to come rushing over to see what was the matter.

Much. That would be his answer when they asked him what was wrong. They had won, the DESTROYAH!!! would be no more, but it came at a terrible price. Perhaps one that the Imperium would learn future was much too high of one to pay.

Location: The DESTROYAH!!! - Command Bridge

He would let none see it, but when images of the Vengeful Spirit exiting the Mandeville Point appeared on the screen, Abaddon the Redeemer shed a single, solitary tear. His father had made it. The DESTROYAH!!! was in the middle of the majority of the Orkish fleet, and it would all be reduced to radioactive atoms within minutes. They had won, and the Justaerin would find a death worthy of the mightiest Astartest in the process.

The Justaerin themselves were given leave to die as they saw fight. Most simply joined their closest companions amongst their number and shared old stories, some stood stoically by themselves, and a few even started to sing songs they half remembered from their youths before ascension. There were some that wanted none of those, and simply waited for the next Ork that tried to teleport onto the bridge, the greenskin's impending death giving a brief respite for their own demise that they knew was imminent.

All of these were fine things for a warrior's last moment's to be about, yet not for him. There was but one thing left that Abaddon wished to do with his remaining moments, and fate had allowed for him to have that opportunity.

Explosions must have already taken place in most of the energy reactors inside the DESTROYAH!!!, for the image that the Magos was able to establish was not nearly as clear as it had been the previous solar day, and the ground beneath the commander's feet was shaking constantly now. Still, the fiery death of a planet was not instantaneous, and so he was afforded a little more time to speak with the one whom he was closest to above all others.

"So…" Horus Lupercali said, his noble face a mixture of pride and grief. "You did it. You succeeded."

"We did, father. Any minute now, the planet will explode, along with most of the outer fleet they have. Ullanor will be yours."

"But not yours though?"

"No, I am afraid not."

"You're not coming back, are you?"

"No, but it is a good death."

"But what about living a good life?" Horus asked, pain clear in his voice. The Magos attending to the comms station respectfully rose and left. This was a private matter, and even at the end of its life, it should not be listening to these words.

"I need you, Abaddon." the Primarch of the Sixteenth Legion said. "I have always needed you. To be my voice of passion, to be my valorous right hand, to be my inner strength."

"And I have been glad to be all of those things, father." the favorite son replied. "But you never truly needed me for that. You have always been passionate, brave, and strong. You may have wanted me there, but you never needed me."

"A small comfort." the XVI Primarch replied. "You will be gone, and shall not be replaced."

"The Imperial Truth states that only in Death does Duty end." Abaddon said. "But I don't think that's the case. As long as the people we care about remember us, we will never die. Not truly."

"I will always be with you, father. Every time you liberate an oppressed people, I will be there with you. Every time you feel the sheer joy of brotherhood and affection, I will be there. And when you pull the head off of that idiotic Beast upon Ullanor, you can most certain be assured that I will be there too."

Horus let out a small chuckle at that, and Abaddon smiled his first true and genuine smile in decades. There was no longer any reason to hide it away. He loved his father, and he was so grateful that he was able to show that fully one last time.

"You have done great things, Horus Lupercal. My General, my Primarch, my Friend." he declared. "And you will do greater things in the millennia to come. I am so grateful that I was able to play my part in your story, however great or small it ends up being in the end. Remember my words to you, father. In all of the days to come. But more than that, remember the love that I hold for you. And know that in the deepest parts of my soul, that I believe in you. The entire galaxy will as well. One day, they shall declare with one voice that in Horus Lupercali, there is No Better Friend!"

"And No Fiercer Foe!" Horus finished, looking upon his son with the slightest bit of moisture pooling in the corners of his eyes. "I am so proud of you, my son, and I love you with all my heart. Be at rest."

"I will father, good luck and goodbye." he said as the screen went black. The tremors in the ground were such that some of the equipment was breaking apart.

It was only seconds away now. The Orks were where they wanted them to be, and the Lunar Templars were getting ready for their first strike. A successful mission, and one that would go down as one of the greatest, if most heartbreaking, victories in the annals of the XVI Legion.

"It was a good life." he announced, his eyes clear and his heart full and he put down his sword for the final time. "And this is a good death."

"Ave Imperator."

There was a blast, a flash of piercing golden light, and Ezekyle Abaddon passed from this life, and onto the great adventure that awaited him in the next one.

The Man who fought so humanity might thrive

The Redeemer Hero who would not rest while the enemy yet lived

The Hero who made the ultimate sacrifice

Only in death does duty end

Remember the Man, the Redeemer, the Hero, for so long as the Sixteenth lives his memory shall survive…

… Remember

​

[Remebrancer note: Funeral oration by Garviel Lokien, last surviving member of the XVI's Justaerin, in honor of Abaddon the Redeemer who, by order of the Emperor himself, shall forevermore be recognized as Abaddon the Hero. Ave Imperator, Gloria In Excelsis Humanitas]

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