Uprising on Mane Primus - Campaign Intro

*** aboard the Sacrum Pugnus, 2 warp translations since departing the Ulpia system ***

Captain Lexandro brooded in his personal quarters. The furnishing was sparse, but adequate. Perfect for the kind of deep thought he was engaging in. Suddenly, his reverie was interrupted by a blinking red lamp above the entrance. He was needed once more.



'Brother-Captain! Uhm, I mean, Captain. Sir. My Lord.'

The bridge was empty, save for the human crew manning it. Lexandro affixed his eyes on the nervous ensign standing in front of him. The man was sweating buckets under that gaze. Lexandro softened his expression. Even his battle-brothers were feeling the effects of the Ulpia campaign. What kind of toll did it take on the psyche of the frail humans serving them?

'Captain shall suffice, ensign. Report.'

'My Lord. I mean, uhm, Captain. We have completed the standard diagnoses upon warp translation. Engine compartment reports near-optimal functionality. Our, uhm, allied vessels also report good conditions.'

'Everything seems to be in good hands, ensign. What do you need me for?'

The man blushed, then straightened and carried on. Lexandro once again noted how the smallest flattery can go a long way when dealing with regular humans.

'Captain, we have received a number of astropathic messages. Some are gibberish. And we have orders from the main Crusade fleet to rejoin them at once.'

Lexandro noted some hesitation.

'Is there something else, ensign?'

'A message from the Mane system, Captain. They report some sort of disturbance. Not very clear, mind you. You should see this for yourself.'

Lexandro read the extract of the astropathic message, then bristled. He could recall that the Mane system had been pacified around a year ago by the Crusade. Roving Ork warbands had pillaged the system, but a contingent of Salamanders had cleansed them efficiently. Had the xenos returned so soon? No. The message mentioned disturbance. Was it a rebellion? The PDF should have been able to handle that. The Fists had no time for...

No.

The Imperial Fists were the Angels of Death, created by the Emperor Himself to protect humanity. No matter, great or small, could escape their attention. Especially not on a hive world of some importance to the surrounding sub-sector.

Lexandro briefly went over the standard response patterns that his small fleet could take. He smiled, and reached for a vox.

'Brother Mason, rearm and refuel the Lux Imperatoris.'

'It will be done, Brother-Captain.'

'Sergeant Danicus.'

A raspy voice immediately answered his vox request.

'Your will, Brother-Captain.'

Lexandro smiled. Danicus was ancient, even by Space Marine standards. His speech was sometimes archaic, his manner distant. His peculiarity went even further. Danicus had refused promotion several times, preferring battlefield roles, then requesting transfer to the 10th company. The old warrior had decided that the best way to use his skills was to transfer them to the future generations of Fists.

'Put your men on alert. I have a mission for you.'