After exchanging customary greetings to their comrades in arms based in the Babarus Costa System, Invictus jumped out to fulfill her latest orders. Before committing to the long and perilous journey, the ship docked at one of the deep-space stations littered across the entrance of the Warp-Passage. It wasn't really a matter of choice. Theoretically the battlestar could hop across in a few jumps without resupplying, but the holes in her armor needed to be repaired among other things. Holding off the pirate forces surely helped the Naval forces stationed there, but Invictus took a pounding doing so. Aside from the two scarred openings in her bow armor caused by Lance fire, the armor was riddled with dents, holes and craters from artillery fire, accompanied by laser scorch marks.

Seeing the damage first-hand from the cockpit of his own Viper Price knew his ship had suffered. The dings and craters from enemy guns... Well he had expected something like that. His own crew could hammer out those dents and patch up small holes. But those scars. It was almost like someone took a knife to her face. Frankly the idea that a single weapon could make his armor irrelevant scared him a bit. The realisation really sunk in that Goradin may actually have saved the ship from a crippling blow, and many lives by extension.

The ship itself was still combat effective. The structure wasn't damaged, the Missile-Silo's were intact, most batteries still worked and all but a few compartments were intact. A few point-defence batteries had suffered though. A direct hit had barely missed the gun itself but blew the feeding mechanism away. This sight repeated itself on many gun stations. A few crews were unfortunate enough to get sucked out the breached hull. This brought the death-toll up to 132 souls lost, of whom 29 were pilots. A cruel touch of fate had a few of them safely land aboard only to die on their wounds in sick-bay. A bad way to go. Most men didn't mind dying in battle. Just get hit and die in an instant while fighting. This was not meant for everybody it seemed. Such is the way of war.

Knowing that several well-equipped stations were out there on the way to Orar, Invictus set a course and two days later docked safely for repairs. Dealing with the High-Born Imperial commander stationed there was a bit like playing politics, but the man was agreeable enough. It was clear he wanted a commission on a warship, not here. He did do his job however and did it well. Both officers briefed each other on the activities they came across. It seemed that the route the Invictus was taking was full of all sorts of nastiness. Chaos raiders, Ork pirates and Eldar corsairs. Price made a mental note to ask his Imperial Lieutenant about these potential threats.

The station command was theoretically shared between the Naval commander and a Mechanicus Magos who oversaw anything that had to do with tinkering and repairing any and all technology.

Between the two, the Magos was the one Price liked the most. Unlike the Commander, the Magos was quite content with his position. He was a peculiar bloke. For some reason he had the habit of annoying the Imperial Commander from time to time by flashing his headlights at him when he wasn't looking, then pretending it wasn't him. The one occasion Price caught the Magos pulling off this joke, he had trouble holding his laughter. It seemed that this wasn't really general Mechanicus-like behaviour, but Price didn't mind. A few light souls here and there were a welcome sight in a warzone. Though the many cables, hoses and something that looked like a robotic arm were sticking out of him were a bit off-putting, the light-hearted character quickly made all that fade away.

Both Station Commanders extended the invitation to let the Invictus' crew come aboard for some shore-leave. A part of the station was intended for merchant markets and travelers anyway.

As expected the crew was dying for some time off. After their shift they went off in groups to explore the unknown called the Imperial Markets.

Men and women from different corners of the sector came together to sell their wares while others came to buy. Stalls were filled with exotic spices, strange mechanical contraptions, amulets, books and garments. The crew was warned to watch out for scammers, but it didn't really matter much. Colonial credits were not worth much to the Imperial Merchants. The experience alone was enough for most. Price took the opportunity to see all this for himself. Looking for a good place to sit down for a drink, he came across richly decorated establishments, gentleman-ish clubs, your shady round-the-corner bar and even flashy exotic bars. It seemed that it didn't matter how far you went or how advanced a culture was, one of those bars were always to be found.

He walked up to a regular Naval Tavern and walked through the door. The main chamber was larger than it seemed from the outside. There was a surprising amount of wood and ironwork in the chamber. One could almost compare it with old-style taverns seen in those fantasy vids from back in his childhood. The walls were decorated with depictions of glorious battles and strange war machines. Some seemed like infantry storming alongside ridiculously large tanks while others were about giant combat robots duking it out. Regarding of how they looked, every image tried to be more glorious than the next. Finding a free table in the crowded place he sat down with Howard and Goradin for a beer.

"You can say what you want of these guys, but they do know how to brew a beer" Howard remarked. "Well, I haven't tasted one in months so I wouldn't know Mark. They could serve me lemonade and sell it for beer and I would never know." Price replied with a grin. The three of them just sat back and enjoyed their well-earned refreshments. While halfway through his drink Price let his eyes go across the many pictured decorations pinned to the wall. He let his eyes rest on a black and white depiction of a soldier looking at the horizon. Over the horizon emerging towering humanoid robots carrying massive cannons on their shoulders. Goradin noticed the interested stare on his commander's face and turned around to see what he was looking at. "Imperial Titans, commander. Have you ever seen warmachines like these?"

"No, I can't say I have. We have tanks, aircraft and the like. But no walking robots the size of houses."

"More like towers high. These machines are manned by the finest of the Adeptus Mechanicus adepts in the Imperium. These machines can wipe out entire armies in a single stroke."

"Mechanicus... These are your engineers?"

"In a way. They maintain and gather all knowledge of technology there is at the moment. They operate and maintain all our warmachines throughout the entire Imperium. Without them our ships wouldn't be able to go anywhere to start. To say the Mechanicus is a very important faction in the Imperium would be a serious understatement."

"I reckon that Magus guy is one of their higher officers?"

"Correct. Most members of the Cult Mechanicus are Tech-Priests, each with their own field of specialisation. Next on in the line you have the Magos in charge of larger and more complicated machines. You can see them as your senior officers on a ship. The highest ranking tech-priest is the Fabricator General who resides on the Forge World of Mars, the home of the Cult Mechanicus."

"Cult? You make it sound like some sort of religion." replied Howard.

"Actually it is, to them. They revere machines, the more complicated the machine the more revered the contraption is. They will do anything to maintain it and keep it in working order. They will risk their lives to prevent others from desecrating them. On another note, if you insult the Mechanicus gravely enough they turn you into servitors. Mindless automatons. A word of warning."

"Noted" Both the Colonel and Commander gave each other meaningful looks as if to say: 'this will be interesting'.

"Who rules the Imperium? I don't suppose the Fabricator General does."

"No, that would be the Emperor, before he became entombed in the Golden Throne. Now the High Lords of Terra rule the Imperium in his name."

The mentioning of the name Terra did raise a few eyebrows, but for the sake of understanding the Imperium as a whole they kept silent.

"So a council of ministers of sorts. Wait, Back up back up. Entombed? I get the feeling I'm missing something here."

"Deamus, maybe it is best if you start at the beginning. Who is this Emperor and what happened?"

Deamus ordered another round for his commanders before continuing the story.

"All of this happened millennia ago so most of it is lost to history. There are many stories, all different in a way but this they all have in common. The Emperor united the warring nations of Holy Terra under one flag before setting out to unite the colonies amongst the stars: The Great Crusade. During this crusade his oldest son, the Arch Heretic Horus, turned against him. Horus had a great lust for power and was jealous of his father's power. This caused a Civil War, splitting the empire in two. The war waged for decades, almost destroying the Imperium as a whole. During his final confrontation The Emperor fought Horus.

Horus Brutally plumbed his father to the ground, nearly killing him, the Emperor in his grace trying desperately to plead with his son and bring him back from damnation. Horus was one strike from killing him, the Emperor refusing to even defend himself or believe his son's treachery, when the figure of a mortal man: Ollanius Pius, threw himself in front of the Emperor in a vein chance to save him. Horus merely looked at him, gave one harsh laugh, and threw the man aside with his power-claw vaporizing him instantly. This galvanised the emperor, realising finally his son was beyond redemption, obliterating his mind and body from existence with all his might. But mortally wounded and spent beyond even his boundless extremes, he fell into a deep sleep, and never woke up. That's the legend. Unable to heal the wounds he was entombed upon the Golden Throne. Now he holds vigil against the ever growing powers of the warp. The remnants of Horus's Heretic army were chased back to a rift between our space and the Realm Of The Warp, The Eye Of Terror. Legend has it that a Gloriana Class Flagship, the Amphion, lead an armada into the Eye Of Terror to destroy the enemy that had attacked Terra. They were never seen again. Some say the ship still guards the safety of loyal Imperial Captains when traveling through the Warp."

He paused for a moment.

"These are the same powers we are fighting under the name of Chaos."

It took a little while for the story to set in.

"So these remnants if you will, are the enemy we have faced since we arrived here?"

"Remnants would be the understatement of the last ten millennia but yes, they are. And they gain power as fast as we can cut them away."

"The war to end all wars" Howard remarked before taking another swig of beer. "We've all heard that one before."

"Thanks for explaining the way the Imperium works. I think we have a what we need for now. What can you tell me about the best way to get to Orar."

"Not much until I get a detailed map. There are generally two roads. The long road goes through a system called Anvil 206. The system is heavily fortified and is a frontline in the struggle against the Ork menace. I can go deeper on that subject later. The shorter and faster route is the 'Orar passage'. It is a direct route, practically a straight line towards the system. However it brings us very close to the GrailDark Nebula which hides mainly Chaos Raiders and Eldar Corsairs. Orks will be present in that area as well, but compared to the others, they are less of a threat."

Howard continued: "We know a bit about Chaos, or at least where they come from. What about these Orks you mentioned?"

"Orks live to fight. Almost literally. They have no regard for their own safety. It doesn't matter if they kill you or you kill them. As long as they have a good fight and stuff to loot they keep coming. Their ships are flying hunks of metal with rockets strapped to them. They bolt as much armor and as many guns and torpedoes as they can get their hands on that heap of scrap and fly it off into combat."

"That doesn't sound like much of a threat."

"A single ship, maybe not. But that is the problem. Orks usually gather in hordes called a WAAAGH. When an entire horde comes knocking at your door, they are very much a threat to anyone standing in their way. Entire sub sectors were lost to the foul greenskins!"

"What are their ship's strengths and weaknesses?" Price asked.

"Well that is the point. No ork ship is alike. They use everything, and I mean Everything, they can find. Some have strapped rockets to an asteroid and used it as a battering ram. Most ships will have large guns, and many of them, but as long as we are at range we're good. The greenskins can't hit the broadside of a barn with their guns. That's not to say they won't hit. Just less often...." he paused.

"Well, up until the point where they get close. Than they just pummel your ship and try to board. They keep fighting till there is no-one left alive. Then they loot what is left of your ship and sail on."

"Sounds like your run of the mill brawlers."

"Well, that's where you're wrong Colonel. You can outwit regular brawlers, but not orks.... Well you can, but they come in such numbers that outwitting and strategy become irrelevant. At the very least you'll get bogged down for quite a while trying to keep them at bay."

"Given the nature of our mission that is not really an option."

"Which leaves the Eldar. Not much is known about them. They were the rulers of a great civilisation once, long before the Empire made its mark upon the galaxy. They were, and still are, the most advanced species you will come across. Their way of doing battle is the complete opposite of orks.

Instead of charging at you while blazing away they use stealth tactics. Strike when no-one expects it, jam sensors, give false readings and be gone as soon as they came. Few have ever encountered them and even fewer have survived their attacks."

"You make them sound like the larger threat."

"That depends on your point of view. The Eldar are powerful indeed and they know how to deceive. But their powerful ships are also very much fragile. Once hit, they fall apart fast. The trick is finding out where to shoot.The eldar aren't stupid either. They know there are only so many of them left. So they only attack if they think they can win. Many Navy ships use the Orar passage, given the circumstances, so we may be able to set up a naval convoy. With any luck we won't hear from them by that point."

"Given the urgency of our mission, I don't think we really have a choice. Going through the passage will take weeks most likely. Going the long way around will add even more to that list. Possibly a month. The battles could be over by that time."

"That makes it easy then" Howard remarked. "We make for the Orar passage and try to avoid these Eldar pirates along the way.""

Everyone agreed. "I must say, this is the first time I've had a mission route planned out in a bar over a beer!" Goradin said with a chuckle.

"Well, this is a first for all of us then." Howard replied. Crazy as it sounded, all three of them could see the humor of it all. The fate of every crewman of their ship had been decided, all over a pint of beer.

While the senior officers were enjoying their beers in the pub, Mercer had joined his squadron in another tavern close to the docking-arms for a celebration. It was a mixed party. Both to celebrate the memory of his fallen comrades and to celebrate him getting his wings. Officially his training as a pilot wouldn't be over for a few weeks, but since he had fought so hard and skillful during the last battle, Major Burke had awarded him his pilot's wings. No longer did he bear the junior's name 'Nugget' and became Flight-Sergeant Mercer 'Storm' Trune. Just a few hours after the battle, Major Burke had assembled the entire squadron in the Pilot's mess for the awarding ceremony. Even the skipper and XO were present and congratulating him on his achievement. The celebration didn't last very long though. The ship was damaged and was needed elsewhere. Between jumps, before arriving at the station, a sort-of funeral ceremony was held for the fallen. Those they could find anyway. The bodies were laid in one of the airlocks with an unknown flag over each body. Once the priest gave them the goodbye rituals they were flushed out the airlock. More than most Imperial crewmen would receive.

Still, now the ship was in port it was time to celebrate the dead. And because he was the only Imperial flyboy with knowledge of the local pub's it fell to him to find a suitable spot worthy of their drunken songs.

Most locations were just low-life drinking holes with beer that barely deserved the name. However he knew of one pub, a bit remote on one of the docking-arms. He had been there before on one of his previous tours as a pilot. On the outside it didn't look like much, but the beer was good and the music above average while not asking exorbitant prices. After their first beer the doubters quickly changed their minds and gave their approval.

It didn't take long for the glasses to be raised for the fallen and their stories to be shared amongst each other. Even though he knew the lost pilots only a few weeks, he understood the loss. One of his recently acquainted card-game mates died in his burning Fighter.

Mercer had lost many men under his command. In a way, he knew how Burke must be feeling right now. Knowing where they were headed next, he doubted that there were more losses to suffer in the battles to come. In their fighters the men and women were sharp and at their best. They would not fail if it were up to them. But off-duty tension was visible in their eyes. Some of it would flush out with the booze. All of them looked to the ship's skipper for guidance. It was all they had left from their home.

The larger part of the evening was spent drinking and letting the pressure off. A good beer always solved such problems. Just after finishing his beer the young lieutenant stood up and walked towards the bar to bring a new round for the three of them. This time he stayed away longer than the last time. Looking over his shoulder Price saw him talking with another Blue navy uniform, a higher ranking one with silver-gold stripes, before walking back with him towards the Colonial Officers.

"Commander Price, I presume?" the high ranking officer spoke while extending his firm hand.

Price rose from his seat and shook his hand, then Howard did the same.

"Commander Lemere, captain of the Aquila. I heard from your Lieutenant here you are about to embark towards the Orar system."

"Correct. We have orders from Ravensburg to deploy there as soon as possible."

The mentioning of the Lord-Admiral's name brought a change in the man's facial expression.

"Direct from the Old Man?" he asked with a stern voice.

"Indeed commander" Goradin replied. "We received the order in Security Code Aquilus a few days ago in the Babarus Costa system."

After hearing this reply Lemere seemed to relax his posture a bit.

"Command must be desperate to scramble outsider ships." he said while sitting down with a sigh.

The others joined him.