Unlucky isekai? (Warhammer 40000)

Stas watched with bated breath as hundreds of heavy cargo shuttles descended on the planet, ready to send them all into the cold darkness of space. Right now, the numerous equipment and supplies that the Inquisitor had wrested from the planetary governor were being loaded into the vehicles.

 It was rumored that François Verdon had stomped his feet so furiously with anger that he had inadvertently kicked his heels off, yet the supplies had been gathered and were now being loaded.

 In "voluntary aid" to the unofficial Little Crusade, as their movement was later to be called, thousands of laswinds had been collected, along with the batteries that powered them, but this was decidedly insufficient for the two-hundred-thousand-strong Saint horde, so the remainder was finished off with stubbers and ammunition for them.

The most important piece of equipment was the heavy gas masks, covering both the entire head and part of the shoulders. Armageddon was not a friendly place at all. Centuries of factories had turned the planet into wastelands and poisoned oceans. Humans could only survive in hive cities and imperial buildings. Food was imported from outside, and clean air and water were a great asset.

But the real hell began in the so-called "Storm Season", when temperatures soared so high that the seas began to literally boil, and it was truly problematic to survive outside the hives.

This was Armageddon, a major industrial center of the Imperium and the place where, at this very second, humans were fighting the green-skinned hordes of carnivorous, ravenous fungi with their last strength.

 Standing on the very edge of Ixodus, Stas looked out over the barren land covered with millions of pipes and concrete boxes. The spaceport was also located there.

 There was a noise behind him and Stas looked around. In the company of Fischer and Konstantin approached already familiar Lord Constable. More precisely, the former Lord Constable.

 - Mr. Saint, it's a complete nonsense! - Walter began indignantly, nodding at the imperturbable Decius standing to his right. - This burp of a Grox demands that we all follow his instructions! Listen, when the governor threw you out you became a nobody, so get over it! Konstantin, why don't you say something? He's starting to get to you too!

 - Walter, you're always in too much of a hurry," Constantine shook his head and looked at Numenorius. - Let this lost man tell me what he wants.- Thank you, I'm glad that at least someone here is far from barbarism ...

 - ... But if he does not justify the time spent on him, I will crush his rotten skull in my palms. - Constantine said ominously, causing the general to stumble.

 - Speak. - Stas said shortly, which made Numenorius cheer up.

 - My lord," he said, a pleading tone in his voice. - Let me take over the training of your army. Right now it is in a terrible state, and if nothing is done, we are in for a real disaster! - Decius practically screamed at the end, but he managed it.

 - We have no sensible division into units, no clear command structure, no branches of the army, and communication is almost completely absent! If we want to survive the future war with the orcs, we need to fix all of this urgently.

- Who told you that you have to do this?! - Fischer bellowed jealously, hurt by Decius' desire to take his place. - We've managed without aristocratic bedfellows like you!

 - I'm not interested in the opinion of the mud from the bottom of the hive. - Decius replied contemptuously.

- What did you say?!

 - Silence! - A dry order made both disputants almost sit down. Stas gave them an unpleasant look. One could only guess how Stanislav did not want to settle other people's disputes.

 - From now on, Decius Numenorius is in charge of commanding and raising the fighting strength of our troops, - Fischer grudgingly let out air through clenched teeth - However, if he does not live up to expectations, his punishment will be death. - Fischer's face smoothed a little, though not completely. - You, Walter, will take care of the technical support for our campaign. Whatever Decius demands, we must have. And you, Constantine.

 - Yes, Dominus?

 - Try to rally our troops as best you can. Not so long ago they all belonged to completely different gangs or even walks of life, so give them all a purpose in the light of the Emperor's God. They'll need that faith very soon. - The last words sounded rather ominous.

 - ''It will be done, master.

 Without another word, Stas turned back to the balcony, continuing to watch the shuttles rise and fall. Somewhere out there, beyond the black clouds of hive smog floated the menacing spaceships.

 Could he have thought that he would soon find himself on one of them?

*****

Once again Stas woke up, sitting at a small fire while a familiar old man sat down across from him. This time the sleeves of his cloak were pulled back more, so Stas could see in detail the intricate shamanic tattoos.

 - The power that brought you here is curious," the old man said, holding out his wand and stirring the embers with it. - Something so elusive that I still wonder if it was there, or if I imagined it. What do you think it is?

 - Whatever it is, it's minding its own business," Stas snorted unhappily. - This universe is too ugly to have anything but perpetual war.

 - Interesting," the old man's gaze lingered a little longer on Stanislav's face, as if he were looking somewhere deeper.

 - Not very much," the man sighed, and then his gaze darkened. - But what's all this about me and me. Maybe now we can talk about you.

 - What would you like to talk about today, child? - The old man's gaze grew perceptibly heavier.

 - At least about the relationship between fathers and children," Stanislav smiled wickedly, not the least bit bothered by the suddenly heavier atmosphere and the suspicious crackling of static electricity in the air. - I've always wondered how such a powerful and wise being as you could be such a vile and horrible father.

 The world seemed to stand still as the heavy words finally fell from the madman's lips. The tired old man seemed to have grown taller and shouldered more weight, and the usual human eyes had long since been replaced by an unbearably bright, drying golden light that made him want to crawl into a deep place and die, praying to all the gods for leniency.

 But the man who had said such a sacrilege did not lower his eyes; on the contrary, he looked at his angry interlocutor with ostentatious amusement. There is no reason for a beggar to fear poverty, nor for a seeker of death to fear the one he longs for.

 And when it seemed that the inevitable was about to happen... the golden light was gone from the old man's eyes, and he was visibly slumped, hunched over.

 - The Primarchs," he finally whispered wistfully. - They were supposed to be the crown of everything. Just as the first Psykers of Earth had once sacrificed their lives to create an Emperor to protect and help develop humanity, so I created those who could give people an example of what to strive for. An ideal and a guiding beacon for many hundreds and thousands of years to come, however," the old man grimaced, and then his face flashed with long-standing anger.

 - Smug, self-righteous and prideful - full of flaws of all stripes and sizes. A true failure of me as a creator....

 - And the greatest failure of you as a father. - finished Stas.

 - Yes... I can't tell you much about the "mightiest and wisest," because I'm just a shadow of him now. Tell me, have you ever heard of such a concept as "Nietzsche's superman"?

 - Yes, - Stas strained his memory. - According to Nietzsche, it is, like, the next stage of human development.

 - And by his power should surpass the modern man as much as the latter surpassed the ape, - the old man said these words as if he was reading out some excerpt. - Can a cat realize the flight of human thought? All the problems and ideas that swirl around in his mind? One can only catch the edge of what the Emperor was thinking or planning. One thing was certain, the Primarchs were his greatest disappointment.

 - But was there nothing that could be done? Show them that things could still be fixed? After all, humans are capable of change. We ordinary people have to raise children without any experience of many thousands of years, was it really such a failure?

 - Emperor... - the old man started, but Stas sharply shook his head.- Now I'm not talking to the all-powerful and all-knowing Emperor, but to you. So, do you think he did the right thing?

 - No, I don't think so," the old man sighed heavily. - He was cruel. And if I had the chance, I would try to do something different. But I don't. You can't change the past.

 - I wouldn't be so sure," Stas smiled. - It may not be possible to change the past, though it's possible with this fucking warp, but if I remember correctly, not all the Primarchs loyal to you died, did they? Some of them are chillin' in the web, and the other one's drowned. The third can't wait to wake up. And these are just the ones I remembered at once.

 - It's so confusing," the old man shook his head in defeat. - Even after I read those memories in your head, I still can't quite believe that this isn't just another game of chaos.

 - Now imagine how I feel? - Stas's mood, which had been elevated, has plummeted back down again. - I mean, where are my ponies?

 - Do you think that universe exists too? - The old man looked askew at Stas.

 - Your hellhole is quite in place, why should not exist why shouldn't others? I wouldn't mind the universe of the "Draft", or rather, the reality where everything is fine. It's like "Clean Slate. Man, it's convenient to talk to you when you can know everything about everything at once from your head.

 - A lot of people would resent that.

 - I just realize that you've seen so much in your life that even if I were a cannibal-coprophile maniac, I wouldn't even be in the top 100 of the most disgusting people you've ever been around.

 - I'd definitely be in the second hundred. - The old man "cheered up" and Stas was surprised to notice a slight, barely perceptible smile at the corners of his lips.

 - And in general, if you think about it, - said a thought spinning on the edge of consciousness Stas. - I know almost no fictional universes where I'd rather be. Everywhere is either some kind of shit or some kind of asshole.

 - The law of dramaturgy," the old man shrugged. - No one's going to read books about heroes who are fine and nothing happens. You always need some kind of conflict and tension. Though if you think about it from this side, it's sad that mankind creates exceptionally horrible realities with its creativity. I wonder if that means there's another version of our world out there somewhere.

 - Yours," Stas corrected. - This world has nothing to do with me. I wouldn't be surprised. It would be funny if there was a world where the Emperor had successfully finished his campaigns, disposed of the Chaos Gods, and just started ruling over an enlightened and successful humanity.

 - It's funny," the old man said sadly. - But I feel your time has come.

 - I guess so," Stanislav rose slowly from his knees and took a step away from the fire, while the world began to fade into a haze like last time. - By the way, I still can't ask, what did you give me last time?

 - Would it be interesting if I just told you?

*****

The Free Traders arrived in four ships to evacuate their entire horde. Two of them were Rogue transport ships, the most common starships in the Imperium. You could say they were the workhorses that did most of the cargo delivery.

Yes, their weapons were seriously inferior to full-fledged warships, but even so they could fight back against the same raiders.

Nevertheless, the task of providing security for the transports fell to the two small frigates Sword and Storm. The first frigate's turrets and laser guns were accurate and capable of inflicting massive damage, while its plasma engines were massive and reliable even in extreme conditions.

The Tempest, unlike its comrade, sacrificed long-range armament in favor of heavy, short-range onboard guns designed to destroy the enemy at stabbing range. In order to reach those ranges, however, the Tempest was equipped with triple nose armor and improved engines.

In the event of an attack by a random gang of raiders, their small fleet should have been enough to fight back or to escape.

 As Stas flew the shuddering shuttle into space, he thought to the last that the crackling hull was about to collapse and they would all "breathe" the vacuum, but at some point the shaking stopped and they flew quite successfully into the Tempest hangar. While most of the troops of the Small Crusade were placed in the transports, the top leadership was placed in the frigate.

 As soon as Stanislav left the armored vehicle, he was already met with guards. And though in comparison with the gigantic hangar, going upwards, people looked like ants, but their insignia spoke for themselves.

Though the free trader, Hazzel Holland, did not want to meet in person, but he politely sent his first assistant and assured Stas through him that he and his men would be given the best welcome.

The latter, as it later became clear, included the richest guest quarters, where the same bed was so large that one had to literally walk on it to reach the edge.

 And again Stas had to work hard, because the captain of the Storm had decided to pay his respects to the head of the campaign, for which he had sent a whole team of professional puttanas to his cabin.

 Since Stanislav had nothing to do during the campaign but train with a chain sword and bolter pistol, the man diligently used all the contingent presented to him.

 The merchant, having received the appropriate reports, relaxed happily, realizing with satisfaction that he had done the right thing. After all, the Inquisitor would not go to such trouble for the sake of an ordinary man, so it would be better to leave this incomprehensible Saint exclusively in a contented state.

 If Stas was in a blissful state of procrastination, his men were working like bees that had eaten too much stimulants.

 Unlike their leader, Fischer, Constantine and Numenorius were in the transport ships. It pained them to leave the Saint, but they understood the importance of preparing for future battles, so they had to choose an army.

 Reluctant to keep in touch with each other, Fisher and Decius divided the ships between each other and set about creating a full-fledged army out of the disparate horde.

 In this they were undoubtedly aided by the supplies provided by the governor and even a small number of instructors, for whose appearance Decius was responsible.

 And all he did was ask Stas to contact the Inquisitor and request this assistance from Francois Verdon.

 One can only speculate what rage the planetary governor felt at such a betrayal of his former subordinate, but some number of instructors were given.

 Space travel in the Warhammer world often takes weeks, months, and sometimes years. It's not uncommon for some ship that was long ago written off as an irretrievable loss to take and finally come out of warp hundreds of years later! Yes, the crew is either dead or "alternatively alive" by then, but the fact is.

 That's why Stas's men had time to organize the troops at least a little. And they had a lot of work to do, and not much time. With all the troubles and the communication sessions with each other, when the ships came out of warp at stops, Decius and Fischer unwittingly began to even... No, not to become friends, but at least to feel that the other side was not just eating their rations.

 But it couldn't last long, and to Stanislav's deep disappointment, the warp didn't devour them, and Geller's field didn't even shake, so they fell out of the warp right in the orbit of Ullanor Prime, formerly Ullanor Prime, and now Armageddon.

 And no sooner had the demons smeared on the hulls of the starships dispersed, and the battle alarm siren wailed inside the ships.

 The situation was so frankly lousy that Hazel Holland even summoned the Saint and his guards to his command room.

 When the doors hissed open and a happily smiling Stas stepped inside, no one even turned around, staring blankly at the wide monitors showing the approaching enemy ships.

 - What happened, gentlemen? - The free merchant who turned at Stas's question almost flinched when he saw the Saint's broad, undoubtedly bloodthirsty smile.

 "Some kind of psycho. No wonder he's being handled by a whole inquisitor." - Hazzel thought cautiously.

 - We're in big trouble," Holland made a sign with his hand and the diagrams on the largest screen parted, revealing a pair of schematic but fairly detailed models of the enemy ships. - Specifically, these two orc ships.

 - So we have, like, four of them. - Stanislav noted nonchalantly, causing the merchant to grit his teeth in anger and pause to calm down.

 - Yes, four, two transports and two frigates, and even at a conservative estimate, we're looking at two light cruisers, if not full-fledged cruisers! - With each word, Hazzel raised his voice more and more, until he turned into a panicked shout. - Even one is enough to turn us all into space dust, and there are two of them!

- Well, that's great! - The Saint's reply made him choke on his own scream.

 - W-what? - He asked in disbelief, staring in horror at the sinisterly smiling man. If he had seemed unattractive before, too tall, too thin, too ugly, too shaven, he looked different now.

 - Don't you understand? - The saint looked at the two green-skinned cruisers looming over them, which were frankly a gruesome sight. Covered with chunks of rock, indestructible armor, and huge guns sticking out of every crevice, these flying fortresses seemed to be unstoppable. - When we take out these two suckers, can you imagine the honor and glory that will wash over us?

 - H-honor, glory? - The pale free trader repeated like a broken parrot, while the others on the bridge looked no better than rotting corpses.

 - Exactly! Capturing two orc cruisers with only two frigates and two transports, that's heroism! Isn't that an achievement? After a feat like that, you'll be heard in every segment of the Imperium!

 - We're just going to die! - One of the employees sitting at the monitors shouted desperately, but he was quickly silenced by his closest comrades.

 - Stop panicking! - Stas shouted loudly, cutting off the panic-monger. - Captain, get ready for boarding, this day we will give ourselves eternal glory!

 - Wait a minute, - still tried to correct the situation that was going down to the abyss Hazzel. - We can just leave. Our ships are faster and...

 - No retreat," the Saint's solemnly burning gaze fixed on the free trader's flickering pupils. - The Inquisitor will not forgive us for retreating and losing the transports. Even if we escape today, they'll be finished. Plus, the people at Armageddon believe in us. So let's just keep moving forward. In the name of the Emperor!

 - In the name of the Emperor, there is only forward," Holland whispered suppressedly, passing the order to the neighboring frigate as well. - All hands, we are preparing for... for...

 - boarding party! - Stas licked carnivorously, drawing his chain sword and whirring its tines.

 - ... Boarding," Hazzel repeated obediently, covering his eyes at the absurdity and catastrophic nature of the order. - Boarding parties on alert level two, target Oro ship.

 "I'll be the first frigate captain who was crazy enough to try to board an Oroc cruiser." - Holland thought hysterically, but fate wasn't going to give him a second's respite.

 - Captain! - shouted one of the bridge crew in a panic. - The orc ships have changed their vector! They're... they're going to ram us!

 - Immediately change the vector of movement...! - Hazzel started to give orders, but stopped when the slowly scrolling teeth of the chain sword appeared dangerously close to his face.

 - No change of motion," Stas corrected the merchant affectionately, not opening his eyes from the screens. - We're coming toward them. They want a battering ram, and we'll give it to them.

 - But that's suicide," Holland groaned. - Even if they weren't Oroc cobblestones, but Imperial cruisers, to ram them back at such a difference in tonnage would be the end of it!

 Except that Hazzel was only speaking out of inertia, seeing the answer in the devilish eyes of the madman standing next to him.

 Holland had no doubt that if he didn't give the order, that crazy piece of Grox shit would hack him in half with his damned chain sword!

 - Let's board her. - With disobedient lips he still gave the order, fully committed to what was about to happen. - All hands prepare to strike...

 He was still saying something, but even he wasn't listening to himself. All his attention was focused on the feverish whispering of the Saint, who was smiling cheerfully at something.

 - Hehehe, how about that, huh? Let's see how this ends now! I told you that this world can't bloody hold me!

 Meanwhile, the two small frigates were "bravely" racing towards the two giant Orochi ships made of solid space wanderers.

 *****

- Boss-boss! They pavered! - One of the noobs tapped his green head incredulously, as if trying to get what he'd seen out of his head.

 - What did you say, Groovy? - The captain, huge even by Oroc standards, turned his head, crowned with a black triangle, and stared at one of his aides.

- They're coming straight at us, Boss! They're ramming us!

- No way! - The boss, who was also the commander of the two ships, couldn't believe it. - They've got brawn like a real orcish fighter!

 The deck shook with the rolling rolls of loud orcish laughter.

 - In the name of Gork and Mork! Nada respect such an enemy! - Trench Kasmichi's fist grinned merrily. - Hey, everyone, put all the enarge on the engines! Gazgkull Mage Uruk Trak bet that there's a good shepherd and brawl in this shithole! And the vaivode was right! WAAAAGH!

 - WAAAAGH! - The roar of joy was echoed by all around.

Hearing the boss's orders, the Gretchin and Orc Mechs quickly scrambled, redistributing power and turning the ship's clear bow around.

 With a bang, the giant cruisers, if they could be called that, raced forward, gaining more and more speed with every kilometer they traveled.

 - Not fast enough! Little, little, little, little, little! - Trench pounded menacingly on the armrest of his throne. - Turn on the Busta!

 - Boss, but she's not ready to finish yet... - one of the Gretchins tried to object, but a shot from the "big slugger" rang out and the Gretchin vanished.

 - I said turn on the Busta. - Kasmichi's fist pressed firmly and the orc-meks obediently started activating the engine afterburner mode.

*****

The largest orc cruiser shuddered all over its multi-kilometer hull, and a few of its cannons and outbuildings came off, but it wasn't a big deal.

 But the titanic exhaust behind the cruiser, which was twice the size of the last one, was a much more interesting sight.

 As if getting a kick in the ass, Trench's cruiser began to rapidly gain speed, overtaking its slower counterpart. The latter, unwilling to give up, ordered the mechs to fire up the reactors to full speed.

But the Gretchin who gave the unsolicited advice was more right than ever. The ship of the Kasmichi Fist was not yet prepared for the increased "engine". The bolts, already wobbly and held on the prayers of Gorka and Morka, were torn off and the engine was sharply skewed.

But the force of inertia and the strength of the thrusters played a cruel trick on the Oroc ship. Where the Imperial engines would have already shut down, the Oroch engines, on the contrary, only added power, literally tearing through the armor and tearing through the hull of the cruiser and standing almost perpendicular to its previous placement.

 From the new "configuration" of the engine moved to the side, the cruiser at full speed began to shift towards its mate. There the crew, fully engaged in the race, did not notice the threat looming over them until the last second.

 With a thunderous rumble, however, inaudible in space, the two titans collided. In their normal state, the orc's engines could still withstand a blow of this magnitude, but when fired up to their full potential, they set off a chain reaction of thermonuclear explosions.

*****

The bridge of the Mecha, like the other three Imperial ships, was completely silent. The crew of the starships watched with shock at the colorfully exploding two orc cruisers, which flew into each other almost under the nose of the traders. The latter even had to slow down to avoid crashing into the same pile of malu.

Hazzel smiled unabashedly and slowly turned his head to congratulate the Saint. Now Holland had no shadow of a doubt that next to him stood a true saint of the Emperor himself, for no one else was capable of such miracles. And how foolish he, Hazzel, was, if he did not realize at once the brilliant plan of this great man. Surely he had fully calculated the orcish tactics!

 But when Holland saw the Saint, all congratulations died on his lips.

 The Saint's face was more like the face of the demon Khorne, and Hazzel had had the misfortune to see that creature's face. Skewed with hatred, it bore little resemblance to anything human. The man's fingers clenched the metal of the chain sword so hard that it seemed to begin to bend.

 "This is the true rage of the Emperor's chosen," Hazzel thought with respect and admiration, "Even though the orcs are dead, the Saint still craves their slaughter. Truly, in all my life I have never seen anything more beautiful than this! Trade be damned when such deeds are done, every man's share to follow such men!"

Without a word, the Saint turned and moved toward the exit. After hesitating for a second, his guards hurried after him as well.

 However, with each stamping step of the Saint, a single word rumbled louder and louder through the starships. It rumbled from the clear upper decks, all the way to the hideous nooks and crannies of the ship. It resonated in the weapons and echoed in the bones of the crew.

 "Holy!"

 The Saint had finally arrived at Armageddon and woe to those who did not hear his heavy footsteps approaching.

This is the first chapter with full editing This chapter was edited by Old Man of the Mountain/Darklord331 Thanks to him pat him in the comments.