Chapter Seventy-Six: The Dust Settles in Moers

The war on Moers was nearly over; now, only scattered remnants of the chaotic cults remained. Those cultists who had survived the months-long battle royale in the lower hive of West Syphos, under the control of the Fourth Regiment, were being transported to the spaceport. Under the threat of the Fourth Regiment’s explosive shotguns, these cultists entered the single-use ships prepared for them by Wang Ming in an orderly fashion.

The spaceport was crowded. The hundred thousand survivors of the “Imperial Holy Light” cult from West Syphos hive city queued up, herded into the single-use ships under the watchful eyes and shotguns of the Fourth Regiment. The name “Imperial Holy Light” was a recent invention, adopted after the Fourth Regiment’s infamous plan; these were the same cultists who’d claimed to have returned to the Emperor’s light.

“We have cleansed our sins for the God-Emperor! You cannot treat us like this!”

Before Xu Feng, stood a man dressed in the uniform of a high priest of the state church, nearly delirious as he pleaded that the Empire could not do this to them; they had redeemed themselves for the God-Emperor, and deserved forgiveness—he, at the very least, deserved pardon.

“Don’t say that to me. If you truly wish to return to the Emperor’s light, then for the Emperor, for humanity, you should go and fight those xenos.”

Xu Feng eyed the crazed man, distastefully wiping his armor with a handkerchief, cleaning off the spittle the man had sprayed on his power suit.

“But... but, I—”

The man stammered, unable to form a sentence, even feeling that Xu Feng’s words made some twisted sense.

A cough cut through his hesitation. Xu Feng produced a document and handed it over. Written in High Gothic, the man clearly couldn’t understand it, so he took it with a confused expression, looking to Xu Feng.

“A sacred and glorious order from the Imperial Protector: Isco Moreno incited rebellion against the Empire and held heretical beliefs, for which the sentence should be death by white phosphorus. Yet, in light of his return from error and his valor fighting heresy in the lower hive of West Syphos, he and his cultists are granted special pardon. Isco Moreno is to be assigned command of the Imperial Redeemers First Regiment, its formation to be reported to the Department of Military Affairs. Isco Moreno will serve as regimental commander, leading the Imperial Redeemers First Regiment to the xenos world ‘Gulter,’ to spread the Emperor’s light and purify the alien world. Upon successful purification, Isco Moreno and his cultists shall receive imperial noble titles, and Isco Moreno shall be appointed planetary governor.”

Xu Feng read out the lengthy “Wang Ming’s order,” leaving Isco Moreno utterly stunned.

“So, Isco Moreno, will it be death by white phosphorus, or will you become planetary governor? Think carefully.”

Xu Feng patted Isco Moreno’s shoulder with a cheerful smile. Though he spoke jovially, Isco Moreno noticed Xu Feng’s other hand resting on the holster of his explosive shotgun. He knew that should he refuse, the entire spaceport’s hundred thousand “Imperial Holy Light” cultists, himself included, would be fertilizer in West Syphos’s green fields by morning.

“Isco Moreno, commander of the Imperial Redeemers First Regiment, receives the glorious order of the Imperial Protector. I will lead the Redeemers into the endless stars bestowed by the Emperor, fighting for the Emperor and against humanity’s foes in the deep void.”

Isco Moreno dropped to one knee, hands clasped at his chest in the sign of the Aquila, speaking in the most devout tone—even more fervently than during his previous heretical rites.

Xu Feng nodded approvingly and released his hand from Isco Moreno’s shoulder.

Relieved, Isco Moreno rose, offered a formal Aquila salute, and joined the queue boarding the single-use ships.

These ships were specially prepared by Wang Ming, their fuel calculated only to reach the designated destination. Each had a low-level artificial intelligence overseeing navigation. Wang Ming had “thoughtfully” provided the cultists with weapons, to be distributed by the AI upon arrival, so the hundred thousand cultists could more effectively engage in “cultural exchange” with the Titanium Empire.

Incidentally, the new “Imperial Truth” ship’s AI had been activated by Wang Ming—after sacrificing the hair of several computer science transmigrators, writing thousands of firewalls and a mountain of antivirus programs.

Once the last cultist boarded, the ships activated and slowly departed the spaceport, heading for the Mandeville point to enter the warp. The low-level AI would temporarily substitute for a navigator, calculating and monitoring warp tides to guide the cultists to “Gulter,” for a “friendly exchange” with the Titanium race.

Xu Feng watched the departing ships, humming a tune as he strolled toward the “Imperial Truth” docked in the spaceport, intent on grabbing some grilled Golok meat with rice in the mess hall.

On Moers’s surface, the First Engineer Company was enthusiastically working with the Mechanicus oil priests to establish factories for weapons and armor production. Each factory contained an STC template production line, manufacturing various military supplies.

The oil priests alongside the First Engineer Company would continuously bow to these precious, sacred STC templates, burn incense, and recite binary prayers.

So far, the First Engineer Company had built three factories: one for armor, one for light weapons, and one for standard gear. Once workers were recruited from the middle hive, the factories would operate in earnest.

In the governor’s office, Thomas Peckhart stood before Wang Ming, reporting various matters of the hive city.

“My lord Protector, may I request something from you?”

After the day’s routine report, Thomas Peckhart suddenly knelt on one knee, addressing Wang Ming.

“Governor Thomas Peckhart, please stand and speak plainly. You know I dislike such ceremonies.”

Wang Ming helped Peckhart up as he spoke.

“What is it you wish to request?”

After seating him, Wang Ming asked.

“I hope to have my son join your army, to fight for the Emperor.” Peckhart said.

“That’s all? Fine, I’ll arrange an intern officer position for him in the auxiliary infantry. When he graduates, he’ll go straight to the Primarch’s honor guard.”

Wang Ming replied, understanding that placing one’s progeny in the Emperor’s chosen forces was the highest honor, and grasping Peckhart’s intent.

“No, my lord Protector. I wish for my son to become one of the Emperor’s Angels.”

Just as Wang Ming was about to let Peckhart lead him to meet his son, Peckhart spoke again.