Chapter 23 – No Rest for the Chosen
The Thunderhawk's engines roared as it slid into the hangar of the Oath of Rectitude. The cavernous bay was already alive with motion, serfs in grey tunics rushed across the deck, carrying crates of ammunition. Sparks flew from welding torches as repair crews swarmed over the armored hulls. The air smelled of fuel, machine oil, and incense.
As soon as the landing clamps seized the gunship, the forward ramp groaned open. Gaius stepped out first, his massive armored boots shaking the deck plating beneath him. Behind him came his brothers of the Ultramarines, each carrying the weight of battle but showing no sign of weariness.
The mortal serfs bowed their heads as the giants passed, their eyes lowered in reverence. They hurried forward with mech-lifts to collect spent bolter magazines, cracked armor plates, and weapons in need of reloading. Servitors, half-man, half-machine, clattered on heavy treads, hauling racks of chainswords and storm bolters.
From the far side of the hangar came a sharp metallic rhythm, the sound of hydraulics and pistons. A group of Tech-Priests approached, their bodies more metal than flesh, mechadendrites curling like restless serpents above their hunched forms. Their voices rose in binaric chants, streams of machine-language prayers offered to the spirits of the ship and weapons.
Above them all, a single figure in crimson armor descended from a command dais. His steps were heavy, purposeful, the red of his armor gleaming in the light of the hangar's lumen globes. Where the Ultramarines wore their chapter's proud cobalt blue and gold, his plate was unbroken scarlet, marked with the cog-and-skull sigil of Mars.
The Techmarine bowed his head slightly. His voice, distorted by vox-grille, was steady and resonant.
"Welcome back, my Captain."
Gaius inclined his head in return. "Thanks to you, my brother."
The Techmarine gave no smile, no outward show of relief. Instead, he returned to his work, mechadendrites snapping out to direct the loading crews and repair teams. Already, fresh crates of bolter shells and melta bombs were being rolled forward for the Astartes to reclaim.
Gaius turned, his voice carrying like a hammer strike through the vox-channel of his warriors.
"We prepare for Helisar-IV. The forge world must be freed. Arm yourselves. Resupply. There will be no delay."
The Space Marines gave no cry in answer. They simply moved, silent, efficient, absolute. Each warrior strode to the racks, reclaiming fresh magazines, checking chainblades, inspecting power packs.
Serfs rushed between them, lifting heavy crates with straining arms, guided by curt nods from the giants they served. Sparks flew as armor cracks were sealed with portable welders, incense smoke drifting as Tech-Priests anointed every weapon with oil and prayer.
The hangar had become a forge of war.
It was Tony who broke the silence in the Multiversal Group Chat, his words appearing across their shared interface.
Tony: "Hold up, you guys just blew up a planet-killer ship, and now you're going straight to another war? No nap, no sandwich break, nothing?"
Naruto's reply came quickly, almost in disbelief.
Naruto: "These guys are insane! They don't even rest. Just fight, fight, fight!"
Saeko typed calmly, though her thoughts were more uneasy.
Saeko: "Don't they need rest?"
Mindy added her line a moment later, her words short but honest.
Mindy: "…I'd have collapsed by now." from those close calls from death that she just watched.
The chat fell quiet again, the group almost overwhelmed as they watched the Astartes move like an unbroken machine.
Near the Thunderhawk, the young serf who had flown them out stood stiffly at attention. His tunic was stained with oil, his hands trembling slightly as he saluted in the Roman style, right fist to chest, head bowed.
Gaius approached him. His shadow fell across the youth.
"What is your name?"
The serf swallowed, voice cracking with both pride and fear. "Marcus Vitus, my lord."
Gaius gave a single nod. "Then, Serf Marcus, you will remain as Thunderhawk pilot. You will carry us into battle and return us home. See to it that your craft is always ready."
The youth's eyes widened, his breath catching as though he had just been knighted. He saluted again, more firmly this time.
"I will not fail you, my lord."
"Good," Gaius answered simply, and moved on.
He turned to the Tech-Priests. "Ready the drop pods."
Binary prayers hissed and clicked in response. The machine-priests scuttled toward the looming pods, their mechadendrites sparking as they checked clamps, retro-thrusters, and guidance systems. The hangar filled with the clatter of chains as servitors hauled the pods into position. The sound of rites and engines mingled, half prayer, half machine-test.
Mechadendrites are flexible, metal tendrils grafted into the body of a Techmarine or member of the Adeptus Mechanicus. They act like extra limbs, able to hold tools, weapons, or even perform delicate tasks like welding or surgery. Some are tipped with claws, drills, or data-spikes that can plug directly into machines.
Gaius stood in silence, watching, while his brothers finished their preparations around him.
Tony couldn't help himself. His words appeared in the chat again.
Tony: "Okay, gotta ask. Those red robed guys with all the wires? They look just like the freaks you just fought. What's the deal? You actually trust them?"
This time, Gaius chose to answer in text, his thoughts transmitted directly.
Gaius: "They are Tech-Priests of Mars. They replace their flesh with machine not for vanity, but for duty. They are priest, mechanic, and engineer in one. Their creed demands they serve the Machine God. They maintain the ships, weapons, and armor of the Imperium. Without them, even we would falter."
Tony whistled in reply.
Tony: "So they cut off perfectly good arms and legs just to swap them for metal? That's… wow. I thought I was obsessed with tech, but that's extreme."
It was Saeko who noticed next.
Saeko: "But why does that one Astartes wear red armor? He's Ultramarine, is he not? Shouldn't he be blue and gold like the rest?"
Gaius answered without hesitation.
Gaius: "He is still Ultramarine. But Techmarines serve two masters: their Chapter, and Mars. When one is chosen for that path, he is sent to the Forge World of Mars itself, to study the mysteries of the Machine God. They are trained by the Tech-Priests, sworn into their order. When they return, they bear the red armor of Mars to show their dual allegiance. The blue of the Chapter is replaced, for they are half Ultramarine, half Mechanicus."
Naruto's eyes widened as he read.
Naruto: "So he's like… a ninja trained by two different village?!"
Mindy: "…except one of those village is made of robot cultists."
Tony chuckled in the feed.
Tony: "Figures. Even in a galaxy this grim, brand loyalty still matters. Red for the Machine God. Blue for the home team. Got it."
The preparations neared completion. Bolters were reloaded, chainswords oiled, melta bombs checked. The red-armored Techmarine gave final approval to the pods, his vox-grille hissing binary cant.
One by one, the Space Marines took their places beside their weapons, waiting for the signal and now two Space marines are carrying Flamer. The hangar was filled with the noise of engines, prayers, and the steady movements of men and machine, but at the center of it all, Gaius sat in silence, motionless as a statue.
The others in the chat felt it too, that stillness before the storm.
Naruto finally typed, quieter this time.
Naruto: "…they really don't rest."
The rest of the members were silent.
The drop pods loomed, waiting. Soon they would fall to Helisar-IV.
And the Ultramarines, as ever, would follow their Captain.
End of Chapter 23
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