In a magnificent room, the governor and his officers spoke with false bravado, ordering the officer of the Astra Militarum to the top of the tower but also to prevent these so-called intruders from entering.
The governor's bastion on Veridian was a bubble of obscene opulence in the heart of hell. While the outer walls shook from shell impacts and the screams of the dying, the throne room, paneled in precious wood and adorned with tapestries, was an air-conditioned sanctuary of cowardice.
Governor Helsmire, a portly man clad in silk, sweated profusely, clutching a glass of amasec that trembled in his hand.
"Where is the Guard? Where are the Astartes?" he whimpered, his eyes bulging, fixed on the surveillance screens showing the city burning. "We pay our taxes! The Imperium must send reinforcements!"
An officer of the local Astra Militarum, Colonel Strom, his face scarred and tense with a sense of duty on the verge of breaking, stood stiffly.
"Your Excellency, long-range communications are jammed by the xeno... influence. No reinforcements will arrive in time. Our last units are sacrificing themselves to hold the line."
"Then do something!" Helsmire screamed, throwing his glass against a wall. "Man the ramparts! Lead by example!"
Strom clenched his jaw. The order was suicide. But before he could respond, another officer, younger and more zealous, stepped forward.
"Your Excellency! Our sensors detect new ships in orbit. Unregistered. And... troops on the ground. Soldiers in strange armor. They are fighting the xenos, but they are not ours!"
The panic in the room redoubled.
"Intruders! Heretics!" cried Helsmire, his fear turning to paranoia. "They are taking advantage of the chaos to seize the planet! Strom, your absolute priority is to secure this tower! And prevent these... these so-called saviors from entering the bastion! Use the Guard if necessary!"
Strom stared at him, horrified. "Your Excellency... They are fighting the enemy! They are saving our citizens!"
"I don't care about their actions! I am the legitimate power on Veridian! No one enters here without my authorization! Obey!"
Meanwhile, outside, Julius and his group had fought a bloody path to the heavy entrance doors of the bastion. The smoking corpses of Orks littered the ground behind them.
"Here, Commander," indicated a Spartan. "The command post should be at the top."
As they approached, the doors did not open. Instead, Veridian militiamen, pale and trembling, emerged from advanced firing positions, aiming their lasguns at them.
"Halt!" cried a sergeant, his voice quavering. "Governor's orders! No unauthorized forces enter the bastion! Stand back!"
Julius stopped, his lightsaber still active, the blue blade crackling. He felt the stupidity and fear emanating from the defenders. He raised a hand, signaling his men not to fire.
"We are here to help," he said, his deep voice carrying thanks to his armor. "Your city is falling. Your governor would rather see you die on his doorstep than accept help?"
"Those are the orders!" the sergeant stammered.
Suddenly, a strong voice rang out behind the militiamen. Colonel Strom appeared, pushing the men aside.
"Lower your weapons! Immediately!" he ordered. "Look around you, soldiers! Who is fighting for Veridian right now? Them! Or the gilded coward up there?"
The conviction in his voice made the militiamen hesitate. Strom turned to Julius, saluting him with a respectful nod.
"Commander. Governor Helsmire has lost his mind. The defense of this planet, or what remains of it, is yours. I will take you to him."
Julius extinguished his lightsaber.
"Colonel. The galaxy needs more men like you and fewer men like him. Lead the way."
Ignoring the hysterical protests coming from the internal loudspeakers, Julius and his men entered the bastion. The battle for Veridian was not only against the Orks. It was also against the stupidity and cowardice of those meant to lead it. And Julius had just won a crucial victory on this second front