Thus Did The Imperium of Mankind Fight There

Part 41 Again

It was day four of Expeditionary Army Cataegis operations of Falmart. Arik Taranis had taken a few hours of sleep a little after the successful rescue mission of the former Queen. As a Primarch, sleep was a luxury he could go without for weeks at a time, but after the many frustrations this world had dealt him in only the past several days, he'd decided that he could use some rest. 

Now he was up again in the primary chamber of his headquarters, reviewing reports sent back from Terra, the Martian Priesthood, the recon units, and the Officio Logisticarum. Then there were various miscellaneous forms, files, and documents that required his attention as a leader of a large organized fighting body. 

Even as a Primarch, a living legend who possessed monuments glorifying his deeds and would be remembered hundreds of centuries into the future, he still could not escape the drudgery of paperwork and bureaucracy. 

A lot of people fantasized about joining one of the many forces available to the Imperium and becoming heroes by performing brave deeds, eventually rising through the ranks to become generals. At the moment, Arik would've gladly handed over his job to one of these deluded, ignorant fools, if he wasn't so sure that none of them were actually qualified for the role. To add to his frustration, he was still waiting for the Logis Stategos's report on their newest acquaintance. 

Surrounding him were staff officers, adjutants, and savants scurrying about to perform the thankless task of ensuring the cohesion of an army while the bucket heads won all the glory. They were always without exception, no matter the time, place, or faction, the unsung heroes of all wars. 

Then his equerry called out, "Sir, there's a message from the Strategos Fosse." 

Arik groaned internally, a sudden transmission from the Strategos as he was meant to be speaking with the liberated bunny warrior could only mean something unexpected had come up. Frankly, this world had given Arik enough surprises for a decade already. 

Outwardly, Arik maintained a stony visage as he made his way to one of many cogitator terminals along the walls of the room, manned by staffers. 

The terminal's screen was displaying a vox request from the Strategos in question, and Arik gestured for the operator to accept. 

The display lit up, revealing the face of Strategos Crispin Fosse. The officer saluted him, stating, "My Lord, thank you for accepting my transmission on such short notice." 

Arik nodded and said, "Speak Strategos, what is it that you believe requires my attention." 

"I left the medical ward where our newest guest was resting after she revealed a significant piece of intelligence that could be greatly beneficial to us when we make contact with the people from the other Gate," Crispin explained. 

Arik raised an eyebrow upon hearing that claim, piquing his interest. 

"There may be a captive in the South Palace from Alnus Hill."

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Back in Sadera

Emperor Molt strode through the halls of his son's residence and made his way to the main bedroom.

This morning, while he had still been asleep, a guard rushed in and roused him from his slumber. He knew that none would dare wake him unless it was for a truly urgent matter and demanded to know what required his attention. 

The guard knelt and reported that his son had been found unconscious in his own quarters by a maid. 

Immediately upon hearing of the shocking information, he'd hurriedly dressed himself and made his way to the South Palace. This incident was troubling, assassination attempts were not uncommon in the political sphere of the Empire, but for one to come so close to success in the Capital on the Crown Prince in his own palace was disturbed him. 

As he reached the bedroom, he could hear the furious voice of his son who'd regained consciousness shortly before he arrived. 

"Kill that bastard who dared to attack me! Find my slave! DO IT!"   

When he entered the sleeping chamber he saw his son screaming impatiently, his face bright red with rage, at his servants as he sat naked on his bed. 

Molt sighed internally as he reflected on how troublesome his children could be. 

"Quiet yourself Zorxal, demanding what cannot be achieved leads to nothing," he reproached. 

Zorzal snapped his head toward the entrance at the sound of his Father's voice. Seeing his father, he angrily asked, "Then what is to be done Father? A despicable piece of filth broke into my home, struck me, and stole my prize! I must have vengeance!" 

Molt's face turned cold and stern upon hearing his impertinent son. "Be careful with your words, son, or you may court disaster," he warned. 

For a moment, Zorzal blubbered like a fish out of water at his father, before - mercifully for the mental health of all those around - shutting his mouth. 

Having enough of his son's nonsense, Molt turned to the surrounding attendance and commanded, "Search the palace grounds for any hints of the intruder and double the guards. Report when something is found." 

Finishing his directives, the ruler of the Empire turned to leave and exited the South Palace. Entering his carriage, he ordered the driver to return to the Imperial Palace.  As the carriage moved, Emperor Molt couldn't help but wonder if recent events and this disturbance were somehow related. 

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Hours later, above Sadera

Camilla was once again over the enemy Capital. After her conversation with the Primarch, she knew that her return to Saderan territory was all but assured in the near future. She did not, however, expect it to be quite this soon, only around twelve hours after her previous deployment and to the exact same coordinates.

What did the Arbites call this kind of action again? She'd heard of them using a phrase to describe similar situations. "The perpetrator returning to the scene of the crime," if she recalled correctly. 

The mission goal was also uncannily similar to the last, saving a captive, presumed to be a pleasure slave in the South Palace, to potentially establish friendly relations with another polity. 

Nonetheless, she had a job to finish - circumstances be damned - although she couldn't help but wonder if her next mission would be quite as repetitive. 

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