The Primarch of Liberty

Chapter 5: Difference



As the Emperor's golden ship disappeared into the swirling vortex of the Warp, Franklin Valorian stood on the observation deck of Nova Libertas' primary spaceport, a data-slate in his massive hands and a bemused expression on his face, the Data-slate contained information, General Information on the Imperium and it's factions.

"Well, that was certainly... something," he mused aloud, his eyes scanning the information before him. The schematics for creating Astartes, the superhuman warriors meant to be his sons and the vanguard of this "Great Crusade," scrolled across the screen.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Denzel Washington, Valorian's right-hand man and closest friend, approached cautiously. "Sir, if I may ask... what exactly did we just witness? That man, he was..."

"A god clad in gold?" Valorian finished, a wry smile playing at his lips. He turned to face Denzel, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Nah, my friend. Just a man. A powerful one, sure, with some fancy parlor tricks and a helluva fashion sense. But in the end, just a man who wants nothing more than to unite his people. Nothing more, nothing less."

Denzel nodded slowly, still looking a bit overwhelmed. "And what he gave you? Those plans..."

Valorian's grin widened. "Oh, this? This is our ticket to the biggest family reunion the galaxy's ever seen. Come on, let's head to the bio-tech department. I've got a feeling they're going to have a field day with this."

As they made their way through the bustling corridors of the spaceport, Valorian's mind raced with possibilities. The Emperor had given him a foundation, but with the Independence Cluster's advanced technology, who knew what they could achieve?

Upon reaching the bio-tech department, Valorian was greeted by a team of eager scientists, their eyes gleaming with excitement as he handed over the data-slate.

"Gentlemen, ladies," he announced, "consider this your new pet project. The Emperor wants Astartes? Let's see if we can't give him something even better."

The head scientist, Dr. Elara Chen, pored over the information, her fingers flying across holographic displays as she ran simulations and calculations. After several minutes, she looked up, her eyes shining with excitement.

"This is... incredible, sir. But with our advanced bio-technology and mass production capabilities, we can do even more. We can actually transform existing soldiers into Astartes - 30,000 twice a year. It'll be more challenging with adults, as they'll need to be reconstructed to become transhuman, but it's definitely possible."

Valorian whistled low. "Now that's what I call an upgrade. Alright, Doc, you've got the green light. Let's start pumping out some superhumans."

Denzel, who had been quietly observing, suddenly stepped forward. "Sir... I'd like to volunteer. To become one of the first."

Valorian turned to his friend, eyebrow raised. "You sure about that, Denzel? You know if you go through with this, you'll technically be my son. Gonna have to start calling me 'dad' and everything."

Denzel chuckled, shaking his head. "Small price to pay for becoming a legendary warrior, si- I mean, dad."

Valorian groaned good-naturedly. "Oh, I'm already regretting this. Alright, you're in. Dr. Chen, add Mr. Washington here to your list of guinea pigs."

As the scientists bustled about, preparing for their new undertaking, an alert chimed on Valorian's comm-link. "Sir," a voice reported, "a fleet has just entered the system. They're identifying themselves as... the Eagles Legion."

Valorian's eyes widened slightly. "Well, what do you know? Looks like the family's arriving early. Denzel, you're with me. Dr. Chen, keep working on those upgrades. I've got some sons to meet."

The spaceport's main hangar bay was a flurry of activity as the first shuttles from the Eagles fleet touched down. Valorian stood at the forefront, his imposing frame easily visible above the crowd of officials and curious onlookers.

As the ramp of the lead shuttle lowered, a figure in gleaming blue and red power armor strode out. His helmet was off, revealing a stern face with piercing eyes that immediately locked onto Valorian.

"Primarch," the Space Marine said, his voice a low rumble. "I am Captain John Ezra, Legion Master of the Eagles. We've come to pledge our allegiance and serve in your name."

Valorian grinned broadly, stepping forward with arms outstretched. "Well, aren't you just the spitting image of your old man? Come here, son. Let's skip the formalities and go straight to the family hug."

Ezra's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly taken aback by Valorian's casual demeanor. "Sir, with all due respect, we are warriors of the Emperor, not-"

His words were cut short as Valorian closed the distance between them in two long strides, easily lifting the Astartes off his feet in a bear hug. "Rule number one around here, John. We take our work seriously, but never ourselves. Now, how about you and your brothers join us for a little welcoming party?"

Setting the stunned Ezra back on his feet, Valorian turned to address the rest of the disembarking Astartes. "Boys, welcome to Nova Libertas! I hope you're ready for a crash course in liberty, firepower, and the fine art of kicking ass while having a blast. First lesson starts now!"

What followed was a whirlwind tour of the Independence Cluster's military facilities, punctuated by Valorian's constant quips and demonstrations of the advanced technology at their disposal. The Astartes, initially reserved and somewhat confused by their Primarch's behavior, gradually began to relax and even engage in the banter.

However, tensions came to a head during a training exercise. Ezra, still struggling with Valorian's unorthodox leadership style, challenged his Primarch to a sparring match. Ezra's eyes narrowed. "With all due respect, my lord, this is a serious matter. We are your gene-sons, created to wage war in your name. We require proper guidance and leadership." "Oh, I'll give you guidance alright," Franklin chuckled. "Lesson one: loosen up that armor, it's cutting off circulation to your sense of humor."

Ezra's hand moved to his weapon. "My lord, I must insist-"

In a blur of motion, Franklin had Ezra on the ground, the Chapter Master's arm twisted behind his back. "Lesson two," Franklin said, his voice still light but with an edge of steel. "Never underestimate your opponent, especially if that opponent happens to be your gene-father." He released Ezra, who stood, a new respect in his eyes. "Forgive me, my lord. I see now that your... unorthodox demeanor belies great strength."

Franklin clapped him on the shoulder. "No harm done, son."

As they toured the facilities, many of the Astartes grew visibly uncomfortable at the

prevalence of AI.

"Sir," one Marine spoke up, "is it wise to rely so heavily on abominable intelligences?"

Franklin sighed. "Look, I get it. You guys have been taught that AI is the boogeyman. But here in the Independence Cluster, they're just part of everyday life. Think of them as very smart servitors with better personalities."

The Marines exchanged uneasy glances but nodded reluctantly.

Over the following months, Franklin worked to integrate his new sons into the culture of the Independence Cluster. He introduced new color schemes for their armor: deep navy blue with rich crimson red, accented with brilliant white stars scattered across pauldrons and knee pads. The Aquila emblem, rendered in gold, took pride of place on their chests.

One evening, after a successful Wargame, Franklin called for a celebration. "Alright, boys! You worked hard, now it's time to party harder!"

Many of the original Liberty Eagles looked confused. Ezra approached Franklin. "My lord, is

this... appropriate?"

Franklin laughed. "Johnny, my boy, there's nothing more appropriate than celebrating a job well done. Come on, I'll show you how to do a proper keg stand!"

As the weeks passed, tensions occasionally flared between the original Liberty Eagles and the newly created Astartes from the Independence Cluster. Franklin found himself mediating more than one dispute.

"Alright, knock it off!" he roared, separating two brawling Marines. "You're brothers, for Liberty's sake! Act like it!"

The Marines looked sheepish. "But sir," one protested, "he said our battle cry should be 'Yippee-ki-yay, xeno-lovers!""

Franklin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, first off, that's a terrible battle cry. We can workshop it. Secondly, you're both on latrine duty for a week. And I mean old-fashioned latrines, no fancy AI toilets for you."

As the Marines trudged off, Denzel approached, now towering in his new Astartes form. "Fatherhood suits you, sir," he chuckled.

Franklin groaned. "Don't you start with that 'father' business. I'm still getting used to having one dad, let alone being one to 80,000 super-soldiers."

Denzel grinned. "Whatever you say... Dad."

Franklin playfully swatted at him. "Keep it up, and you'll be joining those two on latrine

-duty."

As time passed, the Legion began to gel. The stoic discipline of the original Eagles melded with the more relaxed, yet equally effective, approach of the Independence Cluster. Franklin watched with pride as his sons learned to work-and play-together.

One day, as he oversaw a training exercise, Ezra approached him. "My lord, I owe you an

apology."

Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What for, Johnny?"

Ezra shifted uncomfortably. "When we first met, I doubted your methods. I thought your levity was a sign of weakness. I see now that it is a strength. It binds the men together, gives them something to fight for beyond mere duty."

Franklin smiled, a genuine, warm expression. "Thanks, John. That means a lot coming from

you. And hey, I've learned a thing or two from you as well. Your discipline and dedication are something to be admired."

Ezra nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Perhaps... perhaps you could show me how to

do that 'keg stand' you mentioned?"

Franklin's eyes lit up. "Now you're talking my language! Come on, let's go make some

memories you'll regret in the morning!"

A Month Later...

Franklin Valorian strode into the main engineering bay of the Independence Cluster's central

research facility, data slate in hand. The room buzzed with activity, holo-screens flickering

with schematics and equations.

"Alright, eggheads!" Franklin called out, his booming voice cutting through the chatter.

"Who's ready for some homework?"

Dr. Elara Chen, the head of bio-engineering, approached with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "What have you got for us this time, sir? Another request for enhanced toothpaste dispensers in the Astartes helmets?"

Franklin chuckled. "Not quite, doc. Our new... benefactor has provided us with some interesting designs. Power armor, void ships, the works. Thought you might want to take a

look."

He tossed the data slate to Dr. Chen, who caught it deftly. As she began to scroll through the information, her expression morphed from curiosity to disbelief, then to outright horror.

"Sir," she said, her voice strained, "please tell me this is some kind of joke."

Franklin raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter, doc? Not up to your standards?" Dr. Chen passed the slate to her colleague, Dr. Marcus Hawthorne, the head of void ship engineering. As he looked over the designs, his face contorted into a grimace.

"By the stars," Hawthorne muttered, "what in the name of scientific reason is this

monstrosity?"

Franklin leaned against a nearby console, crossing his arms. "Care to elaborate for those of us who don't speak 'genius', doc?"

Hawthorne looked up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Sir, these void ship designs... they're practically medieval! Look at this!" He projected an image of an Imperial battleship onto the main holo-screen. "Do you see these? Buttresses. Actual buttresses. On a spaceship!" The room erupted in a mixture of laughter and groans of dismay. "And don't get me started on the weaponry," Hawthorne continued, his voice rising in pitch. "Broadside cannons? In space? Have they never heard of three-dimensional combat?" Franklin struggled to keep a straight face. "Now, now, doc. I'm sure they have their reasons."

Dr. Chen interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh yes, I'm sure those giant golden

statues on the prow serve a vital tactical purpose. Perhaps they shoot lasers from their eyes?" The room dissolved into laughter again.

"And the power armor!" Chen exclaimed, pulling up the schematics. "It's so... bulky! How are they supposed to move in this? It's like they've never heard of energy shielding!"

Franklin raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright. I get it. Not exactly cutting edge. So, what do you propose we do about it?"

The engineers and scientists exchanged glances, a glint of mischief in their eyes. "Give us a week," Hawthorne said, cracking his knuckles. "We'll show you what real void

ships look like."

Chen nodded enthusiastically. "And we'll redesign this 'power armor' into something worthy

of the name."

Franklin grinned. "You've got yourselves a deal. Just... try to keep the Imperial aesthetic,

alright? We don't want to give the old man a heart attack."

A week later, Franklin stood in awe as he surveyed the new designs. The void ships were sleek, triangular behemoths that seemed to slice through space itself. The power armor was a marvel of ergonomic design, offering maximum protection with minimal bulk.

"Well, I'll be damned," Franklin muttered. "You folks have outdone yourselves." Hawthorne beamed with pride. "Wait until you see the flagship, sir. We're calling her 'Sweet

Liberty'. Seventy kilometers from prow to stern, and enough firepower to make a sun think

twice about shining too brightly."

Franklin whistled appreciatively. "Now that's what I call a ship! But, uh, you did remember the Aquila, right? Don't want anyone mistaking us for xenos."

Chen rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir. We've plastered the eagle on every available surface. Though I

still say it ruins the aesthetic."

As they toured the newly constructed Sweet Liberty, Franklin couldn't help but notice the

looks of disgust on the faces of his engineering team as they passed by some of the more traditional Imperial designs that had been incorporated for appearances' sake. "Something wrong, folks?" he asked innocently.

One of the junior engineers, a young woman named Zara, couldn't contain herself any longer.

"Sir, with all due respect, have you seen how they operate these ships? It's... it's barbaric!" Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

Zara launched into a tirade. "They use actual human beings to load the cannon shells!

Manually! And don't even get me started on their 'machine spirits'. They treat the technology like it's some sort of temperamental deity!"

Franklin struggled to keep a straight face. "Now, now. I'm sure they have their reasons."

Dr. Chen snorted. "Yes, and I'm sure those reasons have nothing to do with a complete lack of understanding of how their own technology works."

As they reached the bridge of the Sweet Liberty, Franklin was introduced to the ship's AI,

Sovereign. "Greetings, Primarch Valorian," the AI's smooth voice filled the room. "It is an honor to serve

as the central intelligence for your flagship."

Franklin grinned. "The pleasure's all mine, Sovereign. Though I have to ask, isn't an AI on

board going to ruffle some Imperial feathers?"

Dr. Hawthorne shrugged. "We could always tell them it's a particularly advanced 'machine

spirit' if anyone asks."

The room erupted in laughter once again.

As the tour concluded, Franklin gathered his team of engineers and scientists. "Alright, folks. You've done an amazing job here. But I need you to level with me. Just how far has the Imperium regressed from humanity's peak?"

The room fell silent for a moment before Dr. Chen spoke up. "Sir, based on what we've seen...

it's as if they've forgotten the last 15,000 years of scientific progress. Their 'tech-priests' treat basic maintenance like some sort of religious ritual. It's... it's honestly heartbreaking." Franklin nodded solemnly. "I was afraid of that. Well, looks like we've got our work cut out for us. Any ideas on how we can bring them up to speed without causing a galaxy-wide existential crisis?"

Dr. Hawthorne scratched his chin thoughtfully. "We could start by 'rediscovering' some of the

less advanced tech we have. Ease them into it. Maybe package it as newly uncovered STC designs?"

"Good thinking," Franklin agreed. "We'll have to be careful not to overwhelm them. Last thing we need is to be branded as heretics for knowing how to change a light bulb without incense and a three-hour prayer."

As the meeting wound down, Franklin couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride in his people and concern for the state of the wider Imperium. The road ahead would be challenging, but with the ingenuity of the Independence Cluster behind him, he felt ready to face whatever the

galaxy might throw at them.

"Alright, team," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get to work. We've got a galaxy

to drag kicking and screaming into the 31st millennium. And who knows? Maybe by the time

we're done, we'll have taught the Imperium how to build a toaster that doesn't require a

blood sacrifice to operate!"

A Week Later...

Franklin Valorian strode through the gleaming corridors of the Liberty Eagles' barracks, his imposing figure dwarfing even the towering Astartes around him. Beside him walked Denzel

Washington, now a formidable Space Marine himself, and John Ezra, the stoic head of the Primarch's Secret Service.

"Well, boys," Franklin boomed, his voice echoing off the metallic walls, "let's see what our eggheads have cooked up for us this time!"

As they entered the main armory, Franklin's eyes widened in appreciation. Row upon row of sleek, advanced weaponry lined the walls, a far cry from the crude bolters he'd seen in the Imperial designs.

"Now that's what I call an upgrade," he whistled, picking up a pulse rifle. "Denzel, remind me

to give our R&D team a raise."

Denzel chuckled, hefting a plasma pistol. "Sir, I think they'd settle for not having to pretend these are 'newly discovered STC designs' every time they make an improvement." Ezra, ever the serious one, interjected, "My lord, while these weapons are indeed impressive,

are you certain they will be accepted by the wider Imperium?"

Franklin clapped Ezra on the shoulder, nearly knocking the stern Astartes off balance. "Johnny

boy, that's why we're keeping the old stuff as backup. Can't have the Mechanicus Jealous and all that Bullocks"

As they moved through the barracks, they came across a group of Liberty Guardsmen, the mass-produced Transhuman-soldiers of the Independence Cluster commonly found in the ICDF. Their armor, while not as bulky as Astartes power armor, was clearly a marvel of

engineering.

"Now there's a sight," Franklin mused. "The anvil to our hammer. Bet the Emperor never saw

this coming when he handed over that data slate." Denzel nodded approvingly. "The combined arms approach is working well, sir. The Guardsmen's mobility complements the Astartes' raw power perfectly."

As they continued their tour, they entered a vast workshop where Techmarines and scientists

worked side by side, a sight that would have given any Mars-trained Magos a conniption fit.

"Look at them go," Franklin grinned. "No incense, no chanting, just good old-fashioned collaboration. Almost brings a tear to my eye."

One of the scientists approached, beaming with pride. "Lord Valorian! We've just completed the latest round of armor tests. Would you care to observe?" Franklin's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Would I? Lead the way, doc!"

They were led to a testing range where two suits of power armor stood side by side. One was

the old Ceramite design, the other the new Independence Sector model. Both contained flesh-

bag decoys rather than actual Marines.

The scientist explained, "We'll be subjecting both suits to increasing levels of firepower,

from small arms to heavy weapons." Franklin nodded eagerly. "Fire when ready!"

The barrage began with small arms fire. The old armor held up initially, but as the firepower increased to Heavy energy weapons and Bolters, it began to crack and splinter. By the time they reached rail gun fire, the old armor was a smoking ruin, holes punched clean through it. In contrast, the new armor's energy shields flared brilliantly, absorbing the initial barrage with ease. Even after the shields failed, the armor itself remained intact far longer than its counterpart, finally succumbing only to the heaviest weapons. Franklin let out a low whistle. "Now that's what I call protection. Ezra, thoughts?" Ezra, usually stoic, couldn't hide his impressed expression. "I... I must admit, my lord, this is far beyond what I expected. The survival rate of our brothers in combat will increase

significantly with this technology." Denzel chimed in, "And think of the tactical advantages. We can be far more aggressive in our

assaults knowing we have this level of protection."

Franklin nodded, his expression turning serious for a moment. "True, but let's not get cocky.

Superior gear is no substitute for skill and strategy." His trademark grin quickly returned. "But it sure as hell doesn't hurt!"

As they left the testing range, Franklin addressed the gathered scientists and Techmarines. "Outstanding work, all of you. You're not just arming a legion; you're redefining warfare for the entire Imperium. Keep it up, and maybe one day we'll even teach Mars how to innovate

without needing to unearth a dusty old STC!"

Franklin Valorian stood at the observation deck of the orbital station, his massive frame dwarfing the viewport as he gazed out at the assembled fleet. The void before him was filled

with sleek, angular vessels that gleamed in the starlight, a far cry from the gothic cathedral-

ships of the Imperial Navy. At the heart of the fleet, the Sweet Liberty hung in space like a titan of legend. Its triangular form, stretching an impressive 70 kilometers from prow to stern, was a marvel of engineering. The ship's hull was smooth and streamlined, broken only by the precisely placed weapons arrays that promised overwhelming firepower.

Surrounding the flagship were battleships of similar design, each one a scaled-down version

of the Sweet Liberty. Their hulls were adorned with barely noticeable Imperial Aquilas, a concession to Imperial aesthetics that did little to detract from their alien appearance. Cruisers and escorts darted between the larger ships, their designs just as sleek and efficient. Unlike their Imperial counterparts, these vessels were clearly built for speed and

maneuverability as much as for firepower.

Perhaps most impressive were the void carriers. These behemoths were unlike anything seen

in the Imperial Navy. Their flat, elongated forms bristled with launch bays, promising to

disgorge swarms of attack craft at a moment's notice.

Franklin watched with pride as shuttles ferried Astartes and Liberty Guardsmen to their

assigned ships. The efficiency of the operation was a testament to the advanced logistics systems developed by the Independence Cluster. "Quite a sight, isn't it?" Franklin mused, sensing John Ezra's approach without turning. The stoic Astartes stood beside his Primarch, his usually stern face betraying a hint of awe. "Indeed, my lord. I must admit, I never imagined I would see such a fleet in my lifetime." Franklin chuckled. "What, the Imperium never showed you their secret stash of super- advanced ships? I'm shocked." Ezra shook his head, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "No, my lord. In fact, I'm beginning to realize how much I didn't know. The efficiency of this operation... it's remarkable." As if on cue, a holographic display sprang to life beside them, showing real-time updates on

the fleet's readiness. The AI's smooth voice filled the air. "Loading operations are proceeding 27% ahead of schedule, Lord Valorian. At current rates, we will be ready for departure in

approximately 4.3 hours."

Franklin grinned at Ezra's startled expression. "Pretty nifty, huh? No need for countless servitors scurrying about with data-slates." Ezra nodded slowly. "I... I had no idea such convenience was possible. The Mechanicus always insisted that their methods were the pinnacle of efficiency. How wrong they were." As they watched, a squadron of fighters zoomed past the viewport, their sleek forms a stark

contrast to the bulky Imperial craft. They performed a series of complex maneuvers that

would have been impossible for less advanced vessels.

"Those are the new Raptor-class interceptors," Franklin explained. "Faster than anything the Imperium's got, and smart enough to operate without a pilot if needed." Ezra's eyes widened. "Autonomous fighters? But... the risks..." Franklin clapped him on the shoulder. "Relax, Johnny. They've got human pilots too. We're

just keeping our options open."

Below them, they could see the massive hangar bays of the Sweet Liberty. Rows upon rows of

tanks, artillery pieces, and other war machines were being loaded with precision. Each vehicle was a masterpiece of engineering, far more advanced than their Imperial counterparts. "You know," Franklin mused, "I can't help but wonder what the Emperor will think when he

sees all this. Think he'll be impressed, or just annoyed that we've upstaged his golden

throne?"

Ezra shifted uncomfortably. "My lord, perhaps it would be wise to... downplay some of our advancements when we rejoin the Crusade."

Franklin laughed. "Oh, don't worry. We'll ease them into it. Can't have the Mechanicus

blowing a gasket... or whatever it is they have instead of gaskets." As the loading operations continued, Franklin couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. This fleet, his fleet, represented the pinnacle of human achievement. It was a glimpse of what

humanity could be, free from the shackles of superstition and fear that seemed to grip the wider Imperium.

"You know, Ezra," he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious, "what we're doing here...

it's not just about winning battles. It's about showing the galaxy what humanity is capable of.

We're not just bringing compliance; we're bringing progress." Ezra nodded solemnly. "I understand, my lord. And I... I'm proud to be a part of it."

As the last of the ships signaled their readiness, Franklin straightened up, his eyes gleaming

with anticipation. "Well, Johnny boy, shall we go make history?"

With that, they turned and headed towards the teleportarium, ready to board the Sweet

Liberty and lead their fleet into the unknown. A Few Minutes before Voyage...

Franklin Valorian stood before the holographic display in the Sweet Liberty's war room, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the gathered advisors. The room hummed with advanced technology, a far cry from the incense-filled command decks of typical Imperial

vessels.

"Alright, folks," Franklin began, his voice carrying its usual mix of authority and casual charm. "Let's talk about our first target: Advex-Mors, the Rangdan stronghold."

The hologram shifted, displaying a detailed map of the Rangdan-controlled system. John

Ezra, ever the vigilant protector, stood to Franklin's right, while Denzel Washington, now the

formidable 1st Captain, flanked his left.

"The Rangdan," Franklin continued, his expression hardening, "have been a thorn in our side

for centuries. It's time we pulled that thorn out, root and stem." Admiral Elena Koshka, chief of the Navy, leaned forward. "My lord, our intelligence on their

defenses is extensive. The Independence Cluster's long history of combat with the Rangdan

has provided us with invaluable data."

Franklin nodded approvingly. "Exactly, Admiral. And that's why we're going to hit them harder than they've ever been hit before."

He tapped a control, and the hologram zoomed in on Advex-Mors itself. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Operation Thunderclap. We're going to nuke this xenos-infested

rock back to the stone age... and then some."

A murmur rippled through the assembled advisors. General Marcus Graves, head of the Army,

spoke up. "Sir, while I appreciate the sentiment, is such extreme measures necessary? The

radiation could render the planet uninhabitable for centuries." Franklin's grin was wolfish. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, General. We're not just going

to bomb them; we're going to show the galaxy what real terraforming looks like." He gestured to Dr. Elara Chen, who had been invited to represent the scientific division. "Doc, why don't you explain our little trick?"

Dr. Chen stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with intellectual excitement. "Certainly, Lord Valorian. Our advanced terraforming technology, developed over centuries of repairing worlds damaged in Rangdan conflicts, allows us to cleanse a planet of radiation in a matter of months rather than centuries. We can literally rebuild a world from the ashes of our enemies." Franklin clapped his hands together. "You see? We're not just destroying; we're creating. Out with the old, in with the new, shinier, more human-friendly version."

Denzel Washington nodded approvingly. "It's a bold strategy, sir. Minimize our casualties

while maximizing enemy losses. The Liberty Eagles' doctrine of overwhelming firepower at

its finest."

John Ezra, however, looked concerned. "My lord, while I cannot deny the effectiveness of this

plan, how will we explain such advanced terraforming capabilities to the wider Imperium?" Franklin waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Probably say we found an STC for 'really good fertilizer' or something. Now, back to the plan."

He outlined the stages: first, a massive nuclear bombardment of every identified Rangdan world. Next, the glassing of their fortress moon to prevent any possibility of escape or resurgence. Then, a clean-up operation led by Astartes and Liberty Guardsmen to eliminate any surviving xenos. Finally, the deployment of terraforming teams to rehabilitate the

planets for human colonization.

"I know some of you might think this is overkill," Franklin said, his tone becoming serious.

"But let me be clear: I will gladly expend every warhead in our arsenal before I sacrifice a

single one of our men unnecessarily. We have the technology and the firepower to end this

threat decisively. So that's exactly what we're going to do."

General Graves nodded slowly. "I see the wisdom in it, sir. Minimize our casualties while ensuring total victory. It's... refreshingly direct." "Damn right it is," Franklin grinned. "We're not here to play games or win glory through needless sacrifice. We're here to win, plain and simple." Admiral Koshka spoke up again. "My lord, with our advanced void ships, we could potentially launch this attack from beyond the range of any Rangdan counter-measures. They wouldn't

know what hit them until it was too late."

"Excellent point, Admiral," Franklin approved. "I want this to be as one-sided as possible. If

they're not around to learn a lesson, at least the rest of the galaxy will get the message: don't

mess with the Liberty Eagles."

As the meeting continued, they hammered out the details of the operation. Launch sequences

were planned, clean-up teams were assigned, and terraforming schedules were drafted. Throughout it all, Franklin's advisors couldn't help but marvel at the sheer efficiency and

thoroughness of the plan.

As the meeting drew to a close, Franklin addressed his team one final time. "I know this might seem extreme to some of you. Hell, it might even seem a bit cruel. But remember this: every

Rangdan we eliminate today is one less threat to humanity tomorrow. We're not just winning

a battle; we're securing our future."

He looked around the room, meeting each advisor's eyes in turn. "Any questions?"

The room remained silent, a mix of awe and determination on the faces of his advisors. "Alright then," Franklin said, his trademark grin returning. "Let's go make some history. Operation Thunderclap begins in 24 hours. Dismissed." As the advisors filed out, Franklin turned to gaze at the holographic display of Advex-Mors.

Soon, that world would be transformed, purged of xenos taint and reborn as a bastion of

humanity. It was more than just a military victory; it was a statement to the galaxy.

The Liberty Eagles had arrived, and they were here to change the rules of the game.

A/N: There is no Geneva Conventions in 40k