CHAPTER 146 — Straight to Terra
Gaius returned to the Oath of Rectitude without ceremony.
There was no flash of light and no alarms. One moment the corridor was empty, and the next, he was there. The ship's systems adjusted automatically, lights steady, consoles humming as they always did. Nothing was disturbed.
His armor reflected the soft glow of the corridor lights as he stepped forward, his boots echoing quietly on the deck. No officers were called. No announcement was made.
He did not stop to look around.
He did not pause to rest or reflect.
For now, there were matters here that demanded his attention.
Gaius turned immediately and began walking toward the control room.
The bridge crew noticed him before he spoke a word.
One by one, officers straightened. Pilots adjusted their posture. Conversations ended naturally, not from fear, but from habit. Gaius did not need to raise his voice.
He stepped into the center of the control room and looked at the main display. Star charts scrolled slowly. System readouts showed stable conditions. Everything was exactly as it should be.
"Set course for Terra," Gaius said.
His voice was calm. Clear. Final.
The words carried meaning beyond the order itself. Terra was not just a destination. It was the heart of the Imperium. It was where decisions were made. It was where his gene-father Resides.
An officer stepped forward at once. "Aye, Lord Captain."
No one asked why.
They did not need to.
Gaius continued, "There are matters I must discuss with the Imperial Regent."
That was enough.
Hands moved across controls. Data shifted. The ship's heading began to change. Preparations for long-range travel started immediately, layers of protocol unfolding one after another.
Two serfs were dispatched without being told. They bowed quickly to Gaius as they passed, then hurried down the corridor toward the Navigator's chamber. The Navigator would need time. Warp travel always demanded respect.
Gaius watched none of it for long. His order had been given. It would be carried out.
He turned and left the control room.
Further inside the ship, Titus and the Bladeguard Veterans had already returned.
Titus gave Gaius a respectful nod as their paths crossed, the other Bladeguard mirroring the gesture.
"Our mission was completed," Titus said simply.
"Good," Gaius replied.
That was all that needed to be said.
The Bladeguard moved off toward their assigned stations, armor heavy but familiar, their steps steady and assured as they resumed their duties.
This was not their first return from battle.
It would not be their last.
Down another corridor, the Dreadnought, who had also just appeared, shifted slightly as its internal systems adjusted to the ship's environment. When Gaius approached, the ancient warrior within stirred and spoke.
"Are we back, Captain Gaius?"
"We are now, indeed," Gaius replied.
"Then I shall slumber until you require my assistance once more," the Dreadnought said.
No commands were exchanged.
The Dreadnought turned and moved on its own, each step making the deck tremble faintly. It made its way back toward the Dreadnought Vault. The massive doors opened to receive it, then sealed shut once more, returning the ancient warrior to rest.
Everything was falling back into its proper place.
Gaius did not return to his quarters.
Instead, he changed direction, heading deeper into the ship, away from command decks and armories, toward the lower sections where the hum of engines mixed with the quieter sounds of daily labor.
This part of the Oath of Rectitude belonged mostly to the serfs.
Men and women in simple robes moved through the corridors carrying tools, data slates, and crates. When they noticed Gaius, they stopped and bowed deeply, pressing themselves aside to give him room.
He acknowledged none of them directly, but he did not need to. His presence alone told them enough.
Gaius walked with purpose.
Food and water.
That was where he was going.
The main storage control section was quiet compared to the rest of the ship. Here, everything was measured. Counted. Logged. Supplies were life aboard a warship, and nothing was handled casually.
The serf in charge of the food stores was reviewing data when he noticed the shadow fall across his station.
He looked up.
His breath caught.
He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly across the floor.
"L-Lord Captain Gaius," he said, bowing deeply. "What brings you here today?"
Gaius looked at him calmly. The serf was older, his hair streaked with gray, his posture straight despite years of service. This was a man who took pride in his duty.
"I am here to bring supplies," Gaius said.
The words were simple.
They made no sense.
The serf blinked, confused. He glanced past Gaius, looking down the corridor. There were no carts. No escorts. No armed details carrying crates.
"Supplies?" the serf repeated carefully. "My lord… have we landed on a world?"
That would explain it. Sometimes the ship docked near agri-worlds to replenish stock. It was rare, but it happened.
"We have sufficient stores to last us decades," the serf added quickly. "Ration levels are within acceptable limits."
Gaius shook his head once.
"These supplies were acquired from a high agri-world," he said.
The serf nodded slowly, accepting that much. "I see. Where are they located, my lord? I will have carriers ready at once."
Gaius' gaze did not move.
"I am carrying them now."
The serf froze.
He looked at Gaius again. At the armor. At the empty hands.
He did not question it aloud. He had learned long ago that questions were not always wise.
"P-Please," the serf said, gesturing respectfully. "This way, my lord."
They moved deeper into the ship.
The rations hold opened before them like a cathedral built for storage rather than prayer. Long corridors stretched out in both directions, disappearing into shadow. Stacks of adamantium crates lined the walls, sealed and stamped with Aquila symbols, Munitorum codes, and purity seals.
Plastek coffers sat beside rusted iron casks that had been in use longer than most of the crew had been alive.
Lumen strips flickered overhead, casting pale light across everything. Incense burners hung from chains, their smoke drifting slowly through the cold, dry air. The smell was familiar to anyone who lived aboard the ship: stale grain, preservative, metal.
Food here was not meant to be enjoyed.
It was meant to last.
Hard ration bricks. Protein paste slabs. Concentrated nutrient gruel. Freeze-dried fungus. Grain bricks older than memory.
The serf led Gaius toward a wide, empty section at the far end.
"This area is clear, my lord," he said.
Gaius nodded.
"Here."
The serf stepped back.
Gaius raised his hand slightly.
There was no sound at first.
Then the air shimmered.
Crates appeared.
One.
Then another.
Then dozens.
They materialized in neat stacks, heavy and solid, filling the empty space rapidly. The floor groaned faintly under the growing weight. More crates followed, appearing faster now, row after row, stack after stack.
Food. Meat. Packaged goods.
Ten thousand tons.
The serf stared, mouth open, unable to speak. His hands trembled slightly at his sides.
He had never seen anything like this before. Supplies were appearing out of thin air, right in front of him.
When it finally stopped, the space was transformed. What had once been an empty section of the rations hold now looked like a small city of crates.
Gaius stepped forward and opened one.
Inside were loaves of bread. Fresh, sealed, soft. Other packages held snacks, preserved meals, foods the serf did not recognize.
Gaius reached in and took a small bar wrapped in thin paper.
He turned and held it out.
The serf looked at it, confused, then at Gaius.
"T-Take it," Gaius said.
The serf did so carefully, as if afraid it might vanish. He unwrapped it slowly. A sweet smell rose from it, unfamiliar and gentle.
He took a small bite.
The taste hit him all at once.
Sweet. Rich. Warm.
Tears welled in his eyes without warning.
He had eaten ration bricks his whole life. Hard, tasteless things meant only to keep him alive. This was something else entirely.
He covered his mouth, overwhelmed.
Gaius watched quietly.
He understood.
He knew how wide the gap was between this and what the crew normally endured.
"I want all crew to eat these," Gaius said, breaking the silence. "All ranks. No exceptions. These supplies must be finished within two years."
The serf nodded hard, tears still falling.
"Yes, my lord," he said hoarsely. "I swear it."
Gaius turned and left the rations hold.
Behind him, the serf was already calling for workers, his voice steady despite his emotion. Plans were forming. Distribution schedules. Fair shares.
For the first time in a long while, the crew of the Oath of Rectitude would eat well.
Gaius walked back toward the upper decks.
Along the way, officers and pilots bowed as he passed. He repeated the order only once more.
"We go straight to Terra."
Every response was immediate.
~~~
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