Among all the Skaven clans embedded within the Solar System, only the XX Legion, the Alpha Legion, remained untouched by the inherent wretchedness of rat-kind. Omegon, leading the Astartes of the Twentieth, returned once more to the Hydra Fortress on Pluto, the very site of his defeat and recorded death ten millennia ago.
Though this furthest reach of the Sol System remained heavily fortified, the watchful gaze of Rogal Dorn was long gone. Omegon was determined to reclaim his glory.
The defenders of Hydra faced a far lesser "vermin blight" than those on Pluto's surface. As an artificial orbital bastion, it lacked the chaotic sprawl and rotting bio-matter of a Hive World that typically sustained Skaven infestations. Garrisoning the fortress were the Doom Fists, a Successor Chapter of the Imperial Fists who stood watch over Hydra in solemn veneration of Dorn's slaying of Alpharius (who was, in truth, Omegon).
Supported by half a million Astra Militarum Tempestus Scions, these "stone-headed" sons of Dorn remained stoic and detached, ignoring the cataclysmic rat-plague tearing Pluto apart below them to maintain their vigil over the gateway to the system.
"My Lord, we have ordered the mortals to conduct a subterranean sweep of the entire fortress. Nothing has been overlooked," an Astartes of the Doom Fists reported to his Chapter Master.
"Vigilance is our shield, Brother. The walls of Rogal Dorn must not fail."
"Understood, my Lord!"
At that moment, a monitoring Astartes let out a sharp cry of alarm. "Massive warp anomaly detected! It's a Warp Jump—inbound!"
"What? Impossible! No vessel can navigate a storm of this magnitude!" the Chapter Master roared, rushing to the tactical displays.
On the fortress-grade auspex arrays, the silent vacuum of space was violently torn asunder. Within the jagged rift, a multitude of contacts flared into existence.
It was an entire fleet.
Pluto and the Hydra Fortress immediately scrambled every available hull. A desperate screening force of two cruisers, three frigates, and five torpedo boats was mustered to intercept. This was no suicide mission born of arrogance; with the surface-based Orbital Defense Platforms flickering in and out of operation due to constant Skaven sabotage, losing the high anchor meant facing a localized Isstvan III, resulting in wholesale orbital devastation.
The fleet emerging from the Warp was the Alpha Legion. Omegon, manifested now in the towering, dread form of a Verminlord, sat upon the throne of the long-lost Gloriana-class battleship, the Alpha.
Hidden by Alpharius within the depths of the Warp for millennia, the vessel had been brought forth once more after his pact with the Great Horned Rat. Now, as it had ten thousand years prior, it served as Omegon's flagship for the conquest of Pluto.
Flanking the Alpha was the Whisper, former flagship of the Serpent's Teeth warband. Together, they led a crushing armada: three battleships, six cruisers, and eighteen destroyers.
Against the meager Imperial presence, this force was a tidal wave. However, every planet in the Solar System was currently drowning in its own rat-plague. On Mars, the Fabricator-General and Archmagos Belisarius Cawl were locked in a direct, high-level confrontation against the Clan Skryre; even if they wished to intervene, their priority was Holy Terra, not the frozen wastes of Pluto.
"My shame... the failure of the Alpha Legion shall be washed away this day!"
On the command bridge of the Alpha, Omegon's Verminlord form was covered in snow-white fur. His Pythian Scales, the sea-green power armor of the Primarch, had been reshaped by warp-craft to fit his monstrous new proportions.
Drazus and Solomon Akurra stood before their gene-father, their faces alight with fanatic zeal. "Yes, Father. Give the command!"
"In the name of the Hydra, my sons… slaughter every last scion of Rogal Dorn. Let them taste the agony of a ten-thousand-fold gnawing!" Omegon's voice boomed, layered with the discordant echoes of the Warp.
"For the Hydra!"
With the Alpha Legion's cry for vengeance, the fleets collided in the void above Pluto.
The Imperial cruisers Endurance and Dauntless, both Lunar-class, acted as the spearhead, trailing long plumes of reaction mass as they burned toward the invaders.
"Fools," Omegon sneered. Such gnats were beneath the Alpha. He signaled the Apocalypse-class battleship Deadly Silence to lead three cruisers and five destroyers to erase the Imperial screen.
With superior caliber and range, the Deadly Silence fired first. Its prow-mounted Lance batteries lanced through the dark with terrifying destructive power. Simultaneously, the Alpha Legion cruisers and destroyers fanned out like the multiple heads of a hydra, unleashing volleys of macro-cannon shells and torpedoes that turned the black void into a corridor of fire.
On the surface of Pluto, the Tempestus Scions entered their orbital gun batteries, awaiting the order to fire.
None noticed the mark of the Hydra hidden beneath the uniforms of certain officers, or even carved into the ceramite of the "loyal" Imperial Fists reinforcements. These master spies and assassins had infiltrated the garrison long before the fleet's arrival, replacing key personnel with surgical precision.
Direct confrontation was never the Alpha Legion's primary tool. A true serpent strikes only when the prey is blind.
"For the Emperor! For the Imperium!"
The Endurance, crippled and venting atmosphere but still functional, accelerated to full thrust. Its captain intended to replicate the legendary sacrifice of the Divine Light, aiming his vessel directly at the Deadly Silence to earn a seat at the Golden Throne.
The maneuver failed. The Alpha Legion were not the blunt instruments of Abaddon; a focused Lance salvo from the Deadly Silence reduced the Endurance to cosmic dust in seconds.
"Enough. Advance all forces. Tell Hydra and Pluto that Alpharius has returned!" Omegon commanded, still utilizing his brother's name as a weapon of psychological warfare.
The Alpha Legion fleet descended upon Pluto. Within the atmosphere, the silhouettes of troop transporters and escort ships became visible to the terrified defenders.
"Prepare to fire! Do not let these traitors profane the Emperor's realm!" a Commissar screamed, raising his power sword within an orbital battery.
Suddenly, the magazine stores behind him detonated. The shockwave hurled the Commissar through the air.
Before the dazed survivors could recover, the yellow livery on a dozen Imperial Fists standing guard underwent a shimmering transformation. The ceramite shifted to iridescent sea-green scales. They raised their bolters and began a systematic cull of the mortals.
Hydra's Claw drop pods streaked down from the atmosphere. Alpha Legionnaires disembarked, bolters and plasma guns roaring as they fell upon the garrison. It was the Legion's first large-scale deployment in ten millennia. Drazus and Akurra led the charge, their chainswords and power blades singing through the air in a frenzy of long-awaited catharsis.
Yet Omegon remained cold and calculating. The troop dispositions of Pluto and Hydra had long been mapped by his agents. Like a grandmaster playing against a blind man, the Primarch seized every vital node one by one.
Only after the link between the Hydra Fortress and Pluto was severed did he prepare to step onto the battlefield himself to reclaim the Solar System's most formidable bastion.
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