The command room of the Conqueror's Star was silent, disturbed only by the hum of systems and the holograms projecting continuous data streams. Julius, now back in his command uniform, his psionic helmet resting nearby, observed the reports with a look both tired and determined. Around the table, his officers – Data, Raynor, Nova, Caleb, Tosh, and Strom, now promoted to the rank of military advisor for Veridian – waited.
"The five new Battlecruisers are fully operational," announced Data, breaking the silence. "They increase our orbital strike capability by 84%. However, their full integration into our fleet tactics will require 3.4 days of simulations and recalibration of coordination networks."
Julius nodded. "Good. Raynor, you ensure the crews are trained and that these new ships are deployed to hotspots as a priority. We can't afford to use them as mere static bastions."
"Understood, Julius," grumbled Raynor. "But these new toys mean more area to cover, more logistics. And we lost good people on Veridian. Good ones."
The mention of losses cast a chill over the room. Nova spoke, her voice neutral. "Final casualty report: 127 Marines, 23 Firebats, 8 Ghosts, 41 Goliath units damaged, 12 of which are irrecoverable, and 3 Vultures destroyed. The Spartans sustained only light damage to their armor."
"That is an acceptable price for a world," commented Tosh, his fingers brushing a psionic crystal he was spinning on the table. "Death nourishes the future. Their spirits strengthen the veil around us."
"They are not a resource, Tosh," retorted Caleb, a glimmer of ancient pain in his eyes. "They are lives. Men and women who died so others could live. We owe them more than statistics."
"And we owe them a strategy that avoids repeating the bloodbath," Julius continued, refocusing the debate. "Data, analyze the engagement patterns. Where did our tactics fail? Where can we improve coordination between infantry, armor, and air support? I want a predictive model for future conflicts against numerically superior, disorganized forces like the Orks."
"Processing," replied the android, his golden eyes blinking. "The battle data from Veridian is being integrated. Preliminary conclusions indicate a lack of rapidly deployable, area-denial specialized units to contain the initial waves. I propose an increase in Spider Mine production for Vultures and the development of automated turrets deployable by Dropship."
"Approved," said Julius. "Strom, your field experience is crucial. Your militiamen fought with incredible courage, but with inadequate equipment. We will establish a joint training program. Your best personnel will come to train on Bastion, and we will station Terran instructors on Veridian. Your militia will become a proper planetary defense force."
Strom straightened up, visibly moved. "The population will be eternally grateful, Commander. We will not forget this."
"Gratitude is one thing, self-sufficiency is another," Julius replied. "Our goal is not to create an empire of dependent clients, but a federation of strong worlds. Veridian is the first. It must not be the last."
He stood up and walked towards the holographic star chart.
"Today's problems are tomorrow's lessons. We have solved the immediate crisis on Veridian. Now, we must look to the future. Data, in addition to tactical analysis, I want a recruitment and production plan for the next six months. We must replace our losses and increase our numbers. Not just infantry. We need more Science Vessels, more detection capabilities. The expansion continues, but we can no longer afford to be caught off guard."
"The resources of the Bastion system are sufficient to support a 20% increase in our military production capacity without compromising civilian development," Data calculated instantly. "I will present a detailed schedule within 12 hours."
"Good." Julius placed his hands on the table, his gaze sweeping over each face. "We have won a battle, not the war. The Imperium is still out there, somewhere, and we have drawn attention with this demonstration of force. The Orks will not be the last xenos we face. We must be stronger, smarter, and more united. Everyone to your posts. Data, to your calculations. Raynor, to training. Nova, to surveillance. Strom, to reconstruction. Tosh... continue finding ways to bend reality to our will."
A slight smile touched the psyker's lips.
"As for me," Julius concluded, "I will have a word with our good friend Stetmann. It's time to see what wonders – or nightmares – he has cooked up with his new monkey friends."
The council was over. The problems were identified, the solutions in motion. Julius Braveheart's war and diplomacy machine was grinding back into action, more determined than ever. The future was being built, one decision at a time.