>>6010430>3/4He nods, and the Sergeant continues going to whatever appointed task requires his attention. Kasilos proceeds on his own journey.
Geneseed transport, a run of the mill task. The 333rd was tasked with bringing the precious cargo to Mars for purity testing, a tithe that each Legion was required to pay. He was transporting enough for over ten thousand brothers, enough to cover a century's worth of tithe. It was important, and it kept his chapter of dissenters far away from the Legion, and any glory it would win.
It had been this way ever since the 13th chapter’s restructuring, since Xaas and his brothers were marked for death. Equipment transport, garrison duty, establishing depots… even guarding the explorator cartographers charting dead worlds and dying stars it had been maddening.
They were the finest warriors in the galaxy, yet they were barred from war. The ignmony of it. He and his brothers had not fought a campaign of compliance in years, but what could be done? His only choice was to continue following his instructions, and perhaps enact some small change should the opportunity present itself.
Kasilos reached the end of the hall, a large door with hazard striping. Sending a signal via his wargear the lift is summoned that will take him to the Silentium’s bridge, and his command center. It arrives quickly, and it begins to rise into the towering command spire.
He had been overjoyed when word was spread about Curze’s discovery. The Legion would finally have a father, and those first years were incredible.
The lift gently slows to a stop, reaching the core of Silentium’s command spire.
Xaas abandoned his musings, the past was set. Duty called, and as the doors opened the Lord Regent set his mind to the task at hand.
The bridge is a cavernous space. The ceiling stands dozens of feet above the main deck, with baroque armaglass windows gazing out into the void and the long hull of the battle barge. Mortal officers mill through the space like insects, requesting status reports and relaying orders to countless crewmen who are seated at a myriad of stations or are hardwired into info-pits set within the ferrocrete flooring. A contingent of red robed Martians wander the edges, interfacing with machinery and conducting their queer rites.
Kasilos avoids the mass of humanity keen to let them work in peace. No update from them was required, any unexpected changes on his ship or among the flotilla would have already been relayed to him.
Instead he marches up a spiraling staircase, reaching a large balcony that is perched above the rest of the chamber. It is his command center, a strategium sized for his kind. A holotable dominates the center, with secondary vox and auspex stations along the edge manned by Legion serfs. Kasilos could plan and wage a crusade from this place, and had brought several worlds into compliance from the location he now stood.
