The Primarch of Liberty

Chapter 15: The Ghoul Stars Crusade



Franklin Valorian stood before his assembled officers, his face a mask of determination tinged with amusement. The command center of the Sweet Liberty hummed with activity as holograms displayed the ongoing battle on the planet's surface.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Franklin began, his voice carrying easily across the room. "We've got ourselves a time-bending xenos problem. And here I thought today was just going to be another Tuesday."

A ripple of nervous laughter spread through the assembled officers. Denzel Washington, standing at Franklin's right hand, raised an eyebrow. "Sir, how do we combat an enemy that can reset time?"

Franklin's eyes twinkled. "Well, Denzel, we're going to have to out-think them. Sovereign, give us a rundown of what we know."

The AI's melodious voice filled the room. "The Mimics appear to operate on a hive mind structure. The Alpha Mimics, when killed, trigger a temporal reset, allowing the hive mind to adjust its tactics. The reset affects the planet but not our orbital assets."

"So," Franklin mused, stroking his chin, "we're dealing with a xenos species that's basically save-scumming reality. And here I thought that was just a bad habit in strategy games."

He turned to the assembled Egg Heads, his team of scientific geniuses. "Alright, brains trust. I need options. How do we counter time manipulation?"

Dr. Elara Chen, head of bio-engineering, stepped forward. "Sir, we might be able to develop a temporal stasis weapon. If we can capture the Alphas instead of killing them, we might prevent the reset."

Franklin's face split into a wide grin. "Now that's what I call thinking outside the temporal box! Get on it, Doc. I want prototypes ready yesterday... which, given our current situation, might actually be possible."

As the Egg Heads hurried off to their labs, Franklin turned back to his military officers. "Alright, people. Until we get our fancy new toys, we're going to have to outsmart these overgrown clockworks. Sovereign, analyze their tactics. I want to know every move they make before they make it."

The AI's response was immediate. "Analyzing, Primarch. The Mimic hive mind appears to be experimenting with various strategies. Current tactic: mass assault"

Franklin's eyes narrowed. "They want to play the numbers game? Let's show them why that's a bad idea against the Liberty Eagles. All units, prepare for Operation Lawn Mower!"

Down on the planet's surface, the Liberty Eagles and their accompanying Guardsmen formed up into tight, defensive formations. As the swarm of Mimics approached, looking like a tidal wave of metallic death, the defenders remained calm and steady.

Franklin's voice crackled over the vox. "Remember, boys and girls, today we're gardening. And these weeds need some serious pruning!"

At his signal, the Liberty Eagles unleashed hell. A wall of energy weapons fire erupted from their lines, each shot finding its mark with unerring accuracy. Heavy Pulse rifles, plasma cannons, and more exotic weaponry turned the approaching swarm into a maelstrom of explosions and vaporized xenos matter.

The Guardsmen, their weapons may be less advanced but no less deadly, added their firepower to the barrage. Pulse Rifles on overcharge setting cut swathes through the Mimic ranks, while heavy weapons teams unleashed storms of plasma and melta fire.

Franklin Valorian stood at the forefront of the battlefield, a towering figure of devastation. His Quad Rotary Miniguns, mounted on both arms, unleashed a relentless barrage of high- caliber rounds, turning the advancing xenos into mere ash and cinders. Each minigun spat a twenty-thousand rounds per minute, carving through the Mimics with ruthless efficiency. As Franklin advanced, he commanded the air around him to erupt in fiery chaos. Smart missiles streaked from launchers integrated into his Power Armor, exploding in front of him with devastating force and leaving smoldering xenos remains in their wake. The battlefield was littered with the remains of those who dared to oppose him.

"Come on, you ugly bastards!" Franklin roared, his voice booming above the cacophony of battle. "Is this the best you can do? I've seen scarier things in my breakfast cereal!"

The roar of his voice was punctuated by the opening of smart missile pods on the sides of his armor. Two massive Railguns, mounted on his shoulders, materialized and discharged with apocalyptic power, adding their deadly fire to the onslaught. The precision and destruction of the railguns ensured that even the toughest xenos were obliterated before they could get close. (He's got a Helmet so no hearing problems)

As the swarm tactic failed spectacularly, Sovereign's voice came through once more. "Primarch, the hive mind is adjusting its strategy. New tactic detected: precision strikes against command elements."

Franklin grinned. "Trying to cut off the head, eh? Well, let's see how they like biting on ceramite and energy shields."

The Mimic forces shifted, smaller groups attempting to infiltrate the Liberty Eagles' lines and take out sergeants and officers. But the Astartes, their reflexes superhuman and their armor impenetrable to the Mimics' attacks, made short work of the would-be assassins.

Each Astartes was equipped with personal energy shielding, a technology far beyond anything the Mimics had encountered. When a Mimic grunt burst from the ground beneath Sergeant Titus of the 3rd Company, it found its attacks sliding harmlessly off an invisible barrier.

Titus grinned beneath his helmet. "Nice try, ugly," he quipped, before unleashing a blast from his heavy pulse rifle that left the Mimic in pieces.

Across the battlefield, similar scenes played out. The Mimics' attempts at decapitation strikes were met with impenetrable defenses and lightning-fast counterattacks.

Denzel Washington, his twin blades flashing, cut down a group of Mimics that had managed to get close to a Guardsmen command post. "I believe," he said calmly as he flicked ichor from his blades, "that this particular tactic has also failed."

As the battle raged on, the Egg Heads worked feverishly in their orbital labs. Finally, Dr. Chen's voice came through on the command channel. "Primarch, we've done it! The temporal stasis lances are ready for deployment!"

Franklin's face lit up. "Now that's what I call service! Alright, people, new objective. Capture those Alphas!"

The new weapons were quickly distributed among the Liberty Eagles. The stasis lances, looking like sleek, high-tech harpoons, hummed with temporal energy. As the Astartes engaged the Alphas, they fired these weapons with pinpoint accuracy, encasing the larger Mimics in bubbles of frozen time.

Franklin watched the proceedings from his command post, Sovereign providing constant updates. "Sir," the AI reported, "we're seeing a marked decrease in tactical adaptations from the hive mind. It appears to be losing its ability to reset the timeline."

"Excellent," Franklin nodded. "Now, let's find the big boss. Sovereign, any ideas where this hive mind might be hiding?"

After a moment of processing, Sovereign responded, "Analysis of geological scans and Mimic movement patterns suggests a high probability of the hive mind being located in the deepest mine shaft on the planet."

Franklin's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Well then, looks like it's time for some spelunking. Denzel, you're with me. Let's go introduce ourselves to the puppet master."

As Franklin and his elite team descended into the depths of the planet, the battle above continued to rage. But with each Alpha captured, the Mimic forces became more disorganized, easier to predict and counter.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of descent, Franklin and his team emerged into a vast underground cavern. And there, pulsing with an otherworldly light, was the Mimic hive mind. Its form was a massive, triangular pyramid of biomass, tendrils of energy connecting it to the

rest of its kind.

"Well, well, well," Franklin announced, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "Looks like we've found the CPU of this whole operation. I've got to say, I expected something a bit

more... squiggly."

The hive mind, sensing the threat, lashed out with tendrils of energy and swarms of guardian Mimics. But Franklin and his team were ready. They fought with practiced precision, their weapons cutting through the xenos defenses like a hot knife through butter.

As Franklin battled his way closer to the central mass, an idea struck him. "You know," he called out to Denzel as he vaporized another group of Mimics, "if we could harness this thing's temporal abilities, we might never lose a battle again!"

Denzel, ever the voice of reason, replied between sword strokes, "Sir, with all due respect, messing with time rarely ends well."

Franklin laughed as he dodged a tendril of energy. "Oh, come on, Denzel! Where's your sense of enterprise? Besides, think of all the paperwork we could avoid if we could just reset whenever we made a mistake!"

Finally, after a grueling battle, Franklin stood before the pulsing core of the hive mind. With a mighty swing of his power fist, he plunged the stasis lance deep into its center.

"Sorry, pal," he quipped as the temporal energy began to engulf the massive entity, "but your

free trial of reality manipulation has expired."

As the hive mind froze in time, the remaining Mimics on the planet suddenly went inert, collapsing like puppets with their strings cut. The battle was over.

In the aftermath, as the Liberty Eagles secured the planet and the grateful population celebrated their liberation, Franklin stood looking at the frozen hive mind, now safely contained in a temporal stasis field.

"You know, Sovereign," he mused, "I can't help but wonder what my old man would say about all this. Think he'd let me keep it as a souvenir?"

The AI's response was tinged with what almost sounded like amusement. "I would not recommend it, Primarch. The potential for temporal disruption is significant."

From the command bridge of the Sweet Liberty, I gazed out at the vastness of the Ghoul Stars.

The name I'd given this eerie region of space seemed more apt with each passing day. We'd scoured the Mimic-infested system, capturing four of their hive minds for study back in the Independence Cluster. Part of me was excited about the potential of harnessing their temporal abilities, but another part - the part that sounded annoyingly like Denzel - warned of the dangers of messing with time.

"Sovereign," I called out, "status report on our progress in the Ghoul Stars."

The AI's melodious voice filled the bridge. "Crusade progress at 37%, Primarch. Eighteen worlds brought into compliance, twelve xenos species encountered and neutralized, three habitable worlds undergoing terraforming."

I nodded, a smirk playing on my lips. "Not bad for a few months' work. Any interesting xenos

to report?" "Affirmative," Sovereign replied. "Scans indicate a new xenos presence in the nearby system. Preliminary data suggests a crystalline-based civilization with advanced stealth technology."

My eyebrows shot up. "Crystalline, you say? Well, that's new. Set course for their system. Let's introduce ourselves."

As we entered the system, I got my first look at these new xenos. Spindly limbs, vile faces, elongated and inhuman - definitely not winning any beauty contests. Their fortresses were something else though, sheer walls of glimmering crystal that seemed to defy gravity. "Well," I mused aloud, "looks like we've found ourselves some Cythor Fiends. That's what we're calling them, by the way. Someone make a note."

We attempted diplomacy, of course. I'm not some trigger-happy maniac, contrary to what some of my more stuck-up Imperials might think. But when their response to our hails was to open fire with weapons that somehow slipped past our advanced scanners, well, that made the decision easy.

"Alright, folks," I announced to my fleet. "Looks like the Cythor Fiends chose violence. Let's

oblige them."

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of battle. The Cythor Fiends put up a good fight, I'll give them that. Their stealth tech was impressive, managing to throw off even our advanced scanners for brief moments. But in the end, it wasn't enough. World by world, we pushed them back, glassing their planets and rebuilding them in the image of the Imperium. Then we came to their capital world. A mid-range gas giant, blue from orbit, resembling the

ancient Terran planet Neptune. We designated it 9836-18 "Grave Core," the 18th world of our Ghoul Stars Crusade. And boy, was it a tough nut to crack.

Our standard Exterminatus weapons barely scratched it. Whatever the Cythor Fiends had done to this planet, it was resistant to a degree I'd never seen before. After days of bombardment with no significant progress, I knew it was time to bring out the big guns.

"Sweet Liberty," I ordered, unable to keep the excitement from my voice, "fire main cannon. Target that Neptune wannabe in front of us."

I watched with a mix of awe and anticipation as the flagship's prow split open, revealing the

Graviton Singularity Cannon. It was a beast of a weapon, it could open black holes everywhere.

"Graviton pumps primed, anti-matter streams stable," Sovereign reported. "Targeting Cythor Fiend's Capital World."

I took a deep breath. This was always the fun part. "Fire."

The pulse of dark energy that erupted from the cannon was a thing of terrible beauty. As it

struck the planet, reality itself seemed to warp and twist. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a silent flash that seemed to momentarily dim the stars themselves, a miniature black hole sprang into existence at the point of impact.

The gas giant shuddered, its surface beginning to fragment as the irresistible pull of the singularity took hold. Chunks of the planet were torn away, spiraling into the voracious maw of the black hole. Within minutes, the entire planet was consumed, leaving nothing but empty

space where it once stood.

I let out a low whistle. "Now that's what I call problem-solving. Sovereign, make a note: Graviton Singularity Cannon, highly effective against stubborn gas giants. Might want to tone down the yield next time though. We don't want to accidentally erase a whole system." As the dust (or rather, the lack of dust) settled on our campaign against the Cythor Fiends, INôv(el)B\\jnn

couldn't help but reflect on our progress. We'd brought eighteen worlds into the Imperial fold, neutralized a dozen xenos species, and were in the process of terraforming three new habitable worlds for humanity. Not bad for a few months' work in this eerie corner of the

galaxy. But there was still so much to do. The Ghoul Stars were vast, and who knew what other threats or wonders we might encounter? There were whispers of even stranger xenos lurking in the depths of this region - creatures that defied classification, that bent the very laws of reality.

The compliance of the lost human colony had been swift and, for the most part, enthusiastic. Franklin Valorian, Primarch of the Liberty Eagles, strode through the opulent halls of the

planetary governor's mansion, his towering frame dwarfing the local dignitaries who scurried around him.

"Well, this is going swimmingly," Franklin mused aloud, his voice carrying a hint of

amusement. "I was half expecting pitchforks and torches, but instead we get a welcome parade. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

John Ezra, head of Franklin's Secret Service, walked silently beside him, his stern face

betraying no emotion. His eyes, however, constantly scanned their surroundings, ever vigilant for potential threats.

As they approached the Duke's private chambers, Franklin's enhanced senses picked up the

metallic scent of blood. His jovial expression hardened instantly. "John, something's not right."

Ezra nodded curtly, drawing his weapon. "Agreed, sir."

With a mighty kick, Franklin burst through the ornate doors, only to be greeted by a scene of carnage. Bodies lay strewn about the room, and in the center stood a grotesque figure hunched over a fresh corpse, tearing into its flesh with inhuman ferocity.

The creature that had once been the Duke turned to face them, its burning eyes fixating on

Franklin. Its form was a nightmarish fusion of human and alien, with a fine beetle-like carapace covering parts of its mottled skin and bone talons extending from its fingers. "Well," Franklin quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I've seen some extreme makeovers in my time, but this takes the cake. And apparently, several people too."

The creature lunged at Franklin with inhuman speed, but the Primarch was faster. With a fluid

motion, he dodged the attack and brought his power fist crashing into the monster's chest, sending it flying across the room.

"Open fire!" Franklin commanded, and immediately, his Secret Service unleashed a hail of

energy bolts upon the creature. The thing that was once the Duke was shredded under the

barrage, its remains splattered across the blood-stained walls.

As the echoes of gunfire faded, Franklin surveyed the scene with a grim expression. "Well, that's one way to decline our invitation to join the Imperium. John, make sure this mess is

cleaned up and notify Dr. Chen. I want to know what in the Emperor's name we're dealing with

here."

Ezra nodded silently, already moving to carry out the orders.

Days later, as Franklin oversaw the initial stages of planetary terraforming, an alert came

through from Dr. Chen. The Primarch's face darkened as he listened to her report. "Sir, the creature appears to be immortal. Its cellular structure is unlike anything we've ever seen. It's regenerating even now, despite being reduced to, well, ground beef." "Immortal, you say?" Franklin mused, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Well, that's inconvenient. Any ideas on how to permanently deal with our undying friend?" Before Dr. Chen could respond, alarms blared across the compound. The creature had returned, tearing through the civilian population with savage glee. Franklin's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the monstrosity heading straight for him. "Oh,

look who's back for seconds. I'm flattered, really."

The creature, sensing the largest prey, lunged at Franklin with terrifying speed. But the

Primarch was ready. With lightning-fast reflexes, he raised the prototype stasis lance and

fired.

A burst of temporal energy engulfed the creature, freezing it mid-leap. Franklin grinned, a

mix of triumph and mischief in his eyes.

"Dr. Chen," he called out, "I think we've found our solution. Prep the nearest solar ejection

pod. Our friend here is about to get a very, very close look at the local star." As the stasis-locked creature was loaded into the pod, Franklin turned to John Ezra, who

stood stoically nearby.

"You know, John," Franklin mused, "it's really amazing how the term 'immortal' loses its weight when you throw a motherfucker into the sun."

Ezra's expression remained impassive, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Indeed, sir." With a thunderous roar, the pod launched, carrying its monstrous cargo towards the system's star. Franklin watched it go, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Well, that's one problem solved," he declared. "Now, let's get back to bringing this world into the Imperial fold. And maybe invest in some better background checks for our planetary governors. I hear 'not being an immortal alien monster' is a great qualification these days." "Sovereign," I called out, "make a note in the compliance protocols. Step one: Check for any weird alien artifacts that grant immortality but turn you into a monster. Step two: If found, apply liberal amounts of sun."

As we turned our attention back to the planet's compliance, I couldn't shake the feeling that we'd just scratched the surface of the mysteries hiding in the Ghoul Stars. But that was okay. After all, unraveling mysteries (and occasionally throwing them into stars) was what we did

best.