The Iconclast remains at Antax for repairs and refit, since the damage is too great for it to travel safely through Warp.

Gellar fields need the hull to be intact and impermeable, else demons could insert themselves inside the ship. And the Rainment is definitely not intact.

The Lament crusier stays as well, as a gift and extra protection for the Antax Forge world while it recovers from the Ork attack.

And I receive a Space Marine bodyguard, because my blood is now really important. Blood Angels value blood very much, for some reason.

Not sure if I should feel pleased or under arrest, with the power armored giant following me everywhere.

"Lord Ludvaius, is there a need to guard my bedroom from inside?" I wonder out loud.

"It is my duty. What if a demon warps right in here?" the Veteran Marine replies with a smirk, and rolls his only eye. The other eye is a bionic one, which does offer some advantages in low visibility fighting.

I sigh in defeat and jump in my bed, and begin my own duty, as the concubines will not become pregnant without arduous effort.

If I am to obtain a thousand sons for the space marines, I need to step up and work hard.

Decima sits on a large pillow and gives me helpful advice, tempo and breathing and pacing myself. She then pats her own inflated belly and smiles sweetly at the Space Marine.

A few hours later, I crash into sleep, spent and drained dry.

"Your body of flesh is utilitarian, crudely functional."

1001111000000

The implant mocks my weak flesh, but I'm too tired to care.

Soon we will reach Forge Metalica and begin a new barter process, with the new discoveries I bring.

I refrain from working on STC designs for now, until I know the Marine Sergeant better. I don't want a bolter round to ruin my pretty head for heresy.

Perhaps misfortune mingles with luck for the Blanks, as I find another Navy Admiral at Metalica, trying to confiscate my Grand Cruiser and my Cobra destroyers.

I don't doubt the Navy needs ships badly. But that's also because they use them badly.

They spend them like torpedoes and just ask for more.

I personally been in command of five fleet actions and haven't lost a single ship of our own, and instead captured quite a few.

So, when I land on Forge Metalica I am rather glad for the big and menacing marine that demands respect as the Emperor's own son....if thrice removed.

With a simple link to the Fabricator's cogitator, I unload my gifts and then load up my combat missions and how I have captured the prizes in orbit.

"See, Lord Admiral. I fought overwhelming odds out in the Eastern fringe, defeated a multiplanetary pirate empire and captured their big ships. Then I returned to the Empire and gave everything to the Mechanicus forges, including a dozen STC new patterns.

I even defended Forge Antax from a large Ork Waaagh, just a year ago, with the big marine behind me as a witness. Haven't lost a single ship. " I explain with a cold voice.

The Fabricator General nods as well. "I can attest that. Lord Pef has helped humanity with huge efforts and results. But you refused to include the new corvettes in your battlefleet. They did work wonders for Antax."

"I was there." Ludvaius says curtly.

The Admiral looks around for support, but even his loyal retinue won't speak against a space marine.

"Then...how many of these corvettes could you produce in a decade?" he asks the tech-priest.

The Fabricator almost smiles. I never seen a happy tech-priest, but it seems I made his day.

"With proper minerals and organic supplies, Forge Metalica can provide the Imperial Navy with 100 ships per decade. But if they prove themselves, and the Navy orders more, we will open more dockyards. At maximum output 500 ships per decade." the Fabricator announces proudly, and plots a graph on the holoscreen with the required mineral tonnage.

It's still megatonnes of iron and iridium and tungsten, but for a galactic sized empire, this is nothing.

The corvettes are really cheap in comparison with bigger vessels like frigates or cruisers.

The Admiral tugs his beard and powers up his own implant. "Well then. I need ships, and 500 ships will help immensely even if they are weaker. Make it so."

"Please send the request through the Administratum, Lord Admiral. It is the law as per the Olympus treaty. But don't worry. It may take a decade for your requisition order to be approved, but the ships will be ready." the tech priest answers with a metallic grin.

With a gruff nod, the Admiral leaves and I can return to my favorite past time in the Empire. Favors.

"Is the space marine your guard, Lord Pef?" the Fabricator wonders a bit worried. Some of our deals weren't quite legal, now that I think on this.

"Well, Lord Ludvaius? Can I trade with the cogheads or should I just shoot myself before the tyranids arrive?" I wonder out loud.

The Fabricator snickers like a child.

"I will wait outside, Lord Pef. Your blood must not be spilled yet." the marine quips and leaves me alone with the tech-priest.

"I never thought I could have fun with meatbags, but today everything seems amazing. Atomantic reactors, plasma cannons, and even the corvettes got ordered. Your Emperor must be watching over you, Captain." he says in a pleased voice.

I cough politely. "Yes, he has his son watching over me right now. And I expect to receive a whole company soon. In a few decades, I mean."

The Fabricator nods as if he expected this. Then he powers up the cogitator and loads the Antax recordings. "Those corvettes...they are amazingly suitable for long range operations, with nearly no consumables. And the schematics you gifted me are bound tightly into the Imperial logistics, for macrocannon shells and torpedoes."

"They are also easy to operate by illiterate serfs and armsmen. And yes, the Imperium has billions of factories, they can produce shells in any numbers. I don't have such luxury." I explain without any regret.

It is true, after all.

Uneducated people impressed into the Navy can be trained to push shells around and unload them by the thousands. Plasma guns need a bit more finesse and care.

"Yes, yes. We agree on how incompetent humans are. Or at least the unwashed masses. What do you want for all these patterns, Lord Pef?" he asks me directly.

"Anything you can spare. You know I will return again, perhaps with even nicer gifts." I quip in a small voice.

Again with the want. I don't want things for my pleasure.

A larger list opens up, now including rare machines and weapons that I don't even know which side is up.

"I admit, I don't know what these are. Rare relics, maybe?" I say in a meek voice.

"Volkite_Weapons, Arc_Weapons, Hellguns, Inferno pistols and all the good stuff the marines may use. The last thing is a teleporter, though it needs a potent psyker to operate." the Fabricator explains in a teasing tone.

"Titans too?" I ask in a hopeful voice.

"Tiny titans, for a tiny captain. Knights. But we will need to test your pilots first." He explains with a wave of tentacles.

Maximum limit reached, noted. No Titans. I shouldn't have asked. Not even the marines have Titans, silly Pef.

"I have read about something called a Macharius tank. I wonder if it could be equipped with these reactors and guns, like baby Baneblades. But without needing ammo for weapons, or promethium for fuel." I propose in a curious voice.

The Fabricators freezes in deep thought. "Normally I would kick you out for trying to impose on my gratitude, but it seems it could work. But I don't have Macharius STC templates..."

"Yes, I have been told by other Fabricators...Forges don't share templates. But they might share with me...for something of great value. If only I knew where to go." I propose in a level tone.

He probably wanted me to ask, as he would receive the benefit for free.

"Forge world Lucius holds the original. But Graia also has it. And Anvilus Nine as well. I heard you have visited Graia some time ago." the Fabricator says in a flat voice.

"I did. But their location was compromised by Hive fleet Kraken, and they have moved elsewhere. Anvilus_Nine it is. If I die out there, I will blame you." I quip in a joking voice.

The tech-priest just nods. "It is possible, Lord Pef. But you have proven resourceful, and always survived and prospered. However, even if you die the Grand Cruiser will be remitted to your clan. I am not trying to renege on my promise."

With that, we return to bitter bartering and choosing the destroyers I need, then upgrading their sensors for deep exploration.

More re-supplies like torpedoes and missiles, a new fighter squadron and a squad of Vulture gunships for ground support.

Whitelance tests a few Knights and picks a melee variant with a Power Sword, and a multi-melta sidegun.

Sergeant Ludvaius receives a Power Maul taller than him, and an Inferno pistol, which seems tiny in his hand. Makes a big boom though and can pierce tank armor.

I get a light power armor, because the space marine insists on keeping my blood safe.

I remember my father having something just like this and didn't help him much, except give him a false sense of security. Then again, in this galaxy it's better to have and not need.

Then I pick an artificer quality hellpistol, the kind without a huge pack on my back.

Since lasers have no recoil, it suits me better than a bolter or something more powerful.

Then I also take a small Power Dagger, because some things might get too close.

And since I lack natural weapons like claws or flexible tail, a dagger will be useful. It can also cut through power armor, so it's nice.

More time passes till my squadron is ready to depart, as the 6 Cobra-destroyers are brand-new and their captains too. The Mechanicus provides me an auxiliary guard regiment and a thousand more Tech-priests for maintenance and repairs, as well as an armor battalion should I need to debark on Anvilus in force.

With this, I am now out of worthy clansmen officers to promote to Captain rank. I shouldn't complain though. I have quite a few ships now, even if I lack a heavy warship as a fleet core.

The Grand Cruiser is barely going through initial repairs now, and I can only hope it will be ready in 70 years.

Then again, building one takes at least 500 years, not that anyone still builds them anymore.

They are relics for a reason. The STC patterns were lost to war and mutiny, so it's possible Metalica will try to reverse-engineer the design by comparing the two working models they have.

"Engage!" I command from my Captain bridge.

Of course, the bridge windows are now closed and armored since staring into the Immaterium isn't healthy.

The Warp opens and swallows my 7 ships with a hungry violet mouth. We travel through Hell.