The Primarch of Liberty

Chapter 18: Laanah Rifts



Franklin stands at the space port,

The air thrums with energy as void craft streak across the inky blackness of space, their sleek forms a testament to the advanced technology of Nova Libertas. Franklin's gaze follows their paths, his tactical mind automatically assessing their performance and potential in battle.

"Primarch Valorian," the cool, efficient voice of Sovereign cuts through his thoughts. "Refueling is at 87% completion. All system improvements are proceeding as scheduled. Resource loading is at 92% capacity."

Franklin nods, his mind already racing with the implications of the AI's report. "Good work, Sovereign. Keep me updated on any changes."

As he watches his gene-sons board the massive vessel, Franklin can't help but reflect on the whirlwind of the past month. The preparations, the strategy sessions, the last-minute adjustments to their plans - it all seems to have passed in the blink of an eye. Yet here they stand, on the cusp of their next great adventure.

A group of crew members scurry past, their movements quick and purposeful. Franklin observes them with a mixture of pride and amusement. These are his people - efficient, dedicated, and always ready for action. Just like the ants they resemble in their

industriousness, each one plays a crucial role in the greater whole of their mission.

A Few Hours Later,

Franklin Valorian sat at the head of the ornate table, his imposing figure dwarfing the already larger-than-life members of his Continental High Command. The room, situated deep within the Sweet Liberty, hummed with barely contained energy.

"Gentlemen, lady," Franklin began, his deep voice resonating through the chamber, "we stand on the precipice of a new endeavor. The Laanah Rifts await our attention."

Elena Koshka, her silver hair tied back in a severe bun, leaned forward. "The Rifts have been isolated for millennia, my lord. Our intelligence suggests a mix of human civilizations, most anti-Imperial in nature."

Franklin nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Indeed. A perfect testing ground for our newest addition." He turned to Steven Armstrong, the muscular 2nd Captain sitting ramrod straight in his chair. "Armstrong, this will be your show. Consider it your probationary period for full entry into this circle."

Armstrong's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "I won't let you down, sir. The Laanah Rifts will know the meaning of liberty soon enough."

Denzel Washington, ever the voice of caution, spoke up. "We should tread carefully. These may be lost human worlds, but they're not necessarily our enemies. Perhaps diplomacy-" "Diplomacy backed by firepower," interrupted Marcus Graves, his scarred face set in a grim expression. "We go in prepared for war, but open to peace. That's the Liberty way, after all." Franklin chuckled. "Well put, Marcus. Armstrong, your primary objective is compliance, not destruction. Show them the benefits of joining our great Imperium."

John Ezra, the taciturn head of the Honor Guards, finally broke his silence. "And what of potential xenos threats in the region? The Rifts are known for strange anomalies."

Yamato Nakajima nodded in agreement. "My air squadrons have been drilling for void combat against unknown enemies. We'll be ready for anything the Rifts throw at us."

Franklin leaned back, his eyes scanning each member of his inner circle. "Good. Now, let's break this down. Elena, I want a detailed fleet composition for this crusade. Nothing too overwhelming - we're not trying to annihilate them."

Elena nodded, her fingers already dancing over a data-slate. "I'll have it ready within the hour, my lord."

"Marcus, work with Yamato on ground and air tactics. I want flexible strategies that can adapt to whatever we find down there."

Both men saluted sharply.

"Denzel," Franklin continued, "I want you to put together a diplomatic corps. Choose from among our most charismatic brothers. If we can turn these worlds without bloodshed, all the better."

Denzel inclined his head. "It shall be done, sir."

Finally, Franklin turned to Armstrong. "Steven, this is your moment. Plan well, execute better. Remember, we bring the light of the Emperor to these lost souls, not to mention the Liberty way." A mischievous glint appeared in Franklin's eye. "Just try not to start too many barfights on the compliant worlds, eh?"

The room erupted in laughter, even Armstrong cracking a smile. As the mirth subsided, Franklin stood, his massive frame casting a shadow over the table.

"We launch in three days. I expect your detailed plans on my desk by tomorrow evening. Dismissed."

A Few Days Later,

The Gloriana-class battleship Sweet Liberty emerged from the Warp, its massive form casting a shadow over the Laanah Rifts. Primarch Franklin Valorian stood on the bridge, relaxed as he gazed at the star system before him.

"Well, boys," Franklin chuckled, addressing his command staff, "looks like we've got ourselves another routine compliance mission. Let's show these folks what liberty's all about!"

His jovial demeanor was infectious, spreading throughout the bridge crew. Even the ever- serious Sovereign AI seemed to have a lighter tone as it reported, "Primarch, scans indicate nine inhabited planetary systems in the Laanah Rifts. Technological level appears to be... unusually advanced."

Franklin raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Is that so? Well, this might be more interesting than I thought. Let's start with the diplomatic approach. Sovereign, hail the system's leadership."

As the AI worked to establish communication, Franklin turned to his second-in-command. "Steven, looks like you're up. Take a diplomatic party and show these folks the benefits of joining the Imperium. And try not to bore them to death with your speeches, alright?"

Armstrong nodded solemnly. "I'll do my best to keep it entertaining, sir. Perhaps I'll throw in a joke or two about nanomachines."

Franklin laughed heartily, slapping Armstrong on the back. "That's the spirit! Now get down there and work your magic."

Little did they know, this routine compliance mission was about to take a dark turn.

On the surface of Concordia, the capital world of the system, Friedrich Ironheart sat in his opulent office, his steely gray eyes fixed on the reports before him. At 60 years old, Ironheart's face was a map of hard-earned wrinkles, each line a testament to the struggles he'd faced in uniting the nine worlds of the Laanah Rifts.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Enter," he called, his voice gravelly yet

commanding.

His aide, a young woman named Lyra, stepped in. "Governor, we've received word. A massive fleet has entered the system. They claim to be representatives of something called... the

Imperium of Man."

Ironheart's eyes narrowed. "So, they've finally found us. Alert the other governors. We knew this day might come."

As Lyra hurried out, Ironheart stood and walked to the window, gazing up at the sky. He thought back to the stories passed down through generations, tales of a fractured humanity spread across the stars, of a brutal regime that sought to unite all under its banner. "We've built something here," he murmured to himself. "Something worth protecting. And I'll be damned if I let some self-proclaimed 'Imperium' take that away."

The diplomatic meeting was held in the grand hall of Concordia's capital city. Captain Armstrong, towering over the human dignitaries, stood at the head of his party: 10 Liberty Eagle Astartes and 300 Liberty Guardsmen, their advanced armor and weapons a stark contrast to the more archaic, yet still impressive, technology of their hosts.

Friedrich Ironheart, flanked by the other eight planetary governors, faced the Imperial delegation. The tension in the room was palpable.

Armstrong, trying to channel some of Franklin's charisma, began his speech. "Esteemed leaders of the Laanah Rifts, we come offering you a place in humanity's greatest endeavor.

The Imperium of Man-"

"Spare us your platitudes," Ironheart interrupted, his voice cold. "We know of your

Imperium, of its brutality and oppression. We've built a society here based on true freedom and cooperation. We have no interest in your 'compliance.""

Armstrong's face hardened. "Governor, I urge you to reconsider. The benefits of joining the

Imperium far outweigh-"

"Our answer is no," Ironheart stated firmly. "This meeting is over. You may leave our system

in peace, or you will be removed by force."

As Armstrong and his party turned to leave, the air was thick with unspoken threats. The moment they stepped outside the grand hall, all hell broke loose.

Lasfire erupted from hidden emplacements, cutting down scores of Liberty Guardsmen in seconds. The Astartes' reflex-triggered force fields sprang to life, deflecting the initial

barrage.

"Ambush!" Armstrong roared, his power armor's systems coming online. "Form up! Protect the Guardsmen!"

The Liberty Eagles moved with superhuman speed, creating a protective circle around the surviving Guardsmen. Their return fire was devastating, each pulse fire finding its mark with

unerring accuracy.

But they were vastly outnumbered. For every enemy they felled, ten more seemed to take their place. The Concordian' forces firepower was evident in their weapons, which could penetrate even Astartes shielding and armor with repeated hits.

Armstrong's vox crackled to life. "Sweet Liberty, this is Armstrong! We're under attack! Request immediate extraction!"

As they fought their way towards the extraction point, the Liberty Eagles' force fields began

to fail under the constant barrage. One by one, Armstrong watched his brothers fall, their armor finally giving way to the relentless fire.

The Guardsmen fared far worse. Despite the Astartes' best efforts, their human companions

were cut down in droves. By the time they neared the extraction zone, only Armstrong and a handful of others remained.

In orbit, the Sweet Liberty received Armstrong's distress call. Franklin's jovial expression vanished, replaced by a mask of cold fury. "Sovereign, launch all available dropships for extraction. Battlefleet Liberty, assume defensive formations. We're not leaving without our

people."

No sooner had he given the order than alarms blared across the ship. Sovereign's voice rang out, "Multiple hostile contacts detected! Enemy fleet emerging from stealth fields!" The void erupted in fire as the ambush was sprung. Crude but numerous warships of the Laanah Rifts engaged the Battlefleet Liberty at point-blank range. Though technologically inferior, their surprise attack and sheer numbers allowed them to score several early hits. Franklin gripped the command throne, his knuckles white. "Return fire! All batteries, engage at will! We hold this position until Armstrong and his team are recovered!" The battle in space was as fierce as the one on the ground. The Liberty Eagles' superior firepower began to tell, their advanced targeting systems and weaponry tearing through the enemy fleet. But not without cost - several cruisers fell to concentrated fire, their loss keenly

felt by the Primarch.

As the dropships raced towards the surface, weaving through the chaos of ship-to-ship combat, Franklin's eyes were fixed on the tactical display. He watched as Armstrong's life signs, along with those of the few survivors, blinked weakly on the screen. Hours later, as the last of the enemy fleet was reduced to drifting wreckage, a lone dropship limped back to the Sweet Liberty. Franklin rushed to the hangar bay, his heart heavy with

dread.

The dropship's ramp lowered, and out stumbled Captain Armstrong, his armor scarred and

broken, supported by the only other survivor - a grievously wounded Guardsman who collapsed as soon as they were aboard.

Franklin caught Armstrong as he fell forward. "Steven!"

Armstrong, his face a mask of pain and fury, managed to rasp out, "Ambush...Everyone else...

gone..."

As the medicae rushed to tend to the wounded, Franklin stood in stunned silence. The easy confidence that had marked the beginning of this mission was gone, replaced by a cold, hard

anger.

Sovereign's voice cut through the shocked silence of the hangar bay. "Primarch, analysis of the enemy fleet suggests a mixture of advanced Golden Age technology and more crude, locally produced vessels. The advanced tech appears to be in limited supply."

Franklin nodded grimly. "So they have some toys from the past, but not enough to go around.

Interesting."

"Sir Incoming Transmission" The message from Friedrich Ironheart played, the governor's

smug voice grating on Franklin's nerves.

Franklin's imposing figure a stark contrast to the frantic activity around him. His brown eyes, usually twinkling with mirth, were now hard as flint as he stared at the holographic display of

Concordia. "Invaders we will not join your Imperium or man or whatever that is, we are free men!" Ironheart's hologram sneered, "consider our little ambush a warning. Your so-called Imperium is not welcome here. Take your fleets and leave, or face the consequences of your

arrogance."

Franklin's jaw clenched, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by a cold fury. He had come

expecting an easy compliance, a diplomatic dance perhaps, but ultimately a peaceful integration into the Imperium. How wrong he had been. "Audacious bastards," he muttered, shaking his head. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, devoid of any real humor. "I underestimated them. Underestimated humanity's capacity for defiance."

He closed his eyes, the faces of his fallen sons flashing before him. Good men, brave warriors,

cut down in an act of treachery. The Liberty Eagles had never faced such a challenge before. Their first crusade had been relatively bloodless, most worlds seeing the benefits of joining the Imperium. But this... this was different.

As he opened his eyes, Franklin realized that this was a test. A crucible in which the mettle of

the Liberty Eagles would be proven. Would they shrink in the face of adversity, or emerge

stronger?

"My sons," he whispered, his voice heavy with grief and determination. "Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

Denzel Washington, his First Captain, approached cautiously. "Your orders, Sir?" Franklin turned to face his trusted friend, his expression grim. "We came for diplomacy and

were answered with guns. For a supposedly civilized system, they've proven themselves nothing but barbarians."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the bridge crew. "And barbarians understand only one

language." With a gesture, he opened a channel to Ironheart. The governor's smug face appeared once more, clearly expecting the Primarch to announce his retreat. "Governor Ironheart," Franklin's voice was calm, belying the storm of emotions within. "You've made your position clear. Allow me to clarify mine."

He leaned forward, his massive frame filling the projection. "You've fucked around. Now it's

time to find out."

Before Ironheart could respond, Franklin cut the transmission. He turned to his weapons

officer, his voice cold and decisive. "Prepare for nuclear bombardment of Concordia. Target all major population centers."

A hush fell over the bridge. Denzel's eyes widened in shock, but as he looked at his Primarch,

he saw not the jovial leader he knew, but a man consumed by grief and rage. He nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of this decision.

"Sovereign," Franklin addressed the AI, "begin the bombardment. Let's show these rebels

the price of defiance."As the first nuclear warheads launched from the Sweet Liberty, Franklin watched the tactical display with a detached coldness. Each detonation represented millions of lives snuffed out in an instant. The common people of Concordia, ignorant of their leaders'

decisions, now paid the ultimate price.

Hours passed as the bombardment continued. The once-vibrant world of Concordia was reduced to a radioactive wasteland. As the last missile found its target, Franklin stood up.

Denzel approached cautiously. "My Lord," he began, his voice hesitant, "the bombardment is complete. Concordia is... no more."

Franklin nodded, his eyes distant. "And Ironheart?"

"Our sensors detected a small ship leaving the planet shortly after the bombardment began.

We believe he may have escaped."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

A bitter smile crossed Franklin's face. "Clever bastard. He'll live to fight another day."

As the bridge crew watched in silence, Franklin stood, his massive frame seeming to bear the weight of every soul lost on Concordia.

"Let this be a lesson," he announced, his voice carrying across the bridge. "To Ironheart, to

the other planets of this system, and to ourselves. The path to compliance is not always easy.

But we will not falter. We will not retreat. The Liberty Eagles will bring freedom to this sector, no matter the cost."

With that, he strode from the bridge, leaving a wake of stunned silence behind him. On a small ship fleeing the ruins of Concordia, Friedrich Ironheart was making plans of his

own. The governor had underestimated the Imperium's brutality, but he was far from defeated. The war for the Laanah Rifts had only just begun.

Friedrich Ironheart's escape pod hurtled through space, the governor's face ashen as he watched the destruction of Concordia through a small viewport. The nuclear fire engulfing his homeworld reflected in his steely eyes, now wide with shock and disbelief.

"By the stars," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "They actually did it. Those Imperial barbarians actually did it."

As the pod's autopilot set course for Magna, the fortress world, Ironheart's shock gave way to

grim determination. He activated the emergency communication array, hailing the other planetary governors of the Helios Cluster.

One by one, their holographic projections flickered to life in the cramped confines of the escape pod. Each face bore a mixture of horror and resolve as they witnessed the fall of

Concordia.

Governor Lydia Solaran of Verdantia, her green eyes flashing with anger, spoke first. "Ironheart, what in the void happened? We received your warning, but this... this is beyond comprehension."

"The Imperium has shown its true colors," Ironheart replied, his voice hard. "We underestimated their brutality, their willingness to destroy what they cannot control."

Governor Hadrian Bounteous of Harveston, a portly man with a usually jovial demeanor, now looked grim. "What of our people on Concordia? Surely they didn't..." Ironheart shook his head, silencing Bounteous. "Gone. All gone. We must assume the worst." A collective gasp echoed through the holograms. Governor Aurelia Shieldmaiden of Palladia, her weathered face set in a scowl, slammed her fist on an unseen surface. "Then we fight. We

fight with everything we have."

"Agreed," rumbled Governor Magnus Stonewall of Fortis, his massive frame barely contained by the holographic projection. "The fortress worlds stand ready. Let these Imperial dogs

break their teeth upon our walls."

Governor Ignis Forgemaster of the eponymous world nodded, his augmetic eye whirring as it focused. "Our factories stand ready to arm our forces. The asteroid belt will be their grave." Governor Petra Deeplode of Orexis, her face streaked with the ever-present grime of the

mining world, spoke up. "And we'll ensure a steady supply of resources. They'll not starve us

-out."

Ironheart nodded, a grim smile on his face. "Good. We may have lost Concordia, but the Helios Cluster still stands. We've prepared for this day, my friends. Now, we show these

invaders the true meaning of liberty."

As the governors discussed their defensive strategies, alarms blared in the background of

each transmission. The Liberty Eagles fleet was on the move, no doubt seeking their next

target.

"They're approaching Magna," reported Governor Catalina Ironclad, her hologram flickering

as she presumably rushed to her command center. "We'll hold the line here, give the rest of

you time to prepare."

Ironheart's pod shuddered as it entered Magna's atmosphere. "Good luck, Catalina. May your walls stand strong."

As the transmission ended, Ironheart closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of grief for Concordia. When he opened them again, they burned with renewed determination. The pod touched down in a heavily fortified bunker deep within Magna's crust. As Ironheart

emerged, he was greeted by General Arcturus Siegebreaker, the grizzled commander of

Magna's forces.

"Governor," Siegebreaker saluted, his cybernetic arm whirring. "We're ready to receive the bastards. They'll not find Magna such an easy target as Concordia."

Ironheart nodded, falling into step beside the general as they strode towards the command

center. "Good. But don't underestimate them, Arcturus. We've already paid dearly for that mistake."

As they entered the bustling command center, a massive holographic display of the Helios Cluster dominated the room. Ironheart watched as the Liberty Eagles fleet approached Magna, their ships like vengeful angels of death against the void. "So," Ironheart murmured, his eyes fixed on the enemy fleet, "the real war begins now."

General Siegebreaker grinned, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Aye, governor. And we'll make these Imperial lapdogs regret ever setting foot in our cluster."

As alarms blared and orders were shouted across the command center, Friedrich Ironheart

steeled himself for the battle to come. The fall of Concordia had been a devastating blow, but

the Helios Cluster would not go quietly into the night.

Thus Began the Liberator's Bloody Crusade.