Chapter 242 — Right of Crossing (2)
The new Command Center of Varrak Prime stood where the Palace Spire once existed.
The difference between the two structures was obvious immediately.
The old Spire had been built to inspire worship. Massive golden towers stretched toward the sky. Giant statues lined its walls. Everything about it screamed authority and divinity.
The new fortress did not.
The Command Center looked practical.
Efficient.
Strong.
Its walls were dark reinforced metal layered with defensive plating and void shielding systems. Watchtowers stood at key positions around the outer perimeter. Anti-air batteries rested along the upper sections while communication arrays continuously rotated above the structure.
There were no giant statues.
No shrines.
No decorations meant to impress civilians.
Only function.
The building existed for one purpose.
Control.
Deep inside the upper command floor, Gaius sat behind a massive metal desk reviewing reports.
Hololithic displays floated across the room while servitors quietly moved from one side of the chamber to another carrying data slates and documents. The low hum of machines filled the background constantly.
Outside the massive reinforced windows, Varrak Prime continued rebuilding itself.
Thunderhawks crossed the skies.
Construction cranes moved endlessly.
Smoke still rose from distant manufactorums.
Life continued.
Gaius picked up another report and read through it carefully.
Food production progress.
Hive reconstruction percentages.
Military recruitment numbers.
Educational development reports.
He approved some requests immediately.
Denied others.
Every decision was direct and efficient.
One report requested additional military spending for decorative monuments dedicated to the Ultramarines.
Denied.
Resources wasted on symbols held little value right now.
Another requested expanded transportation routes between lower hive sectors.
Approved.
That would improve logistics and labor movement.
Beside him, another stack of documents waited.
The amount of responsibility had become enormous.
But Gaius handled it calmly.
Ultramarines were built not only for battle, but also for leadership, administration, and control.
Then a soft sound echoed quietly, heard only by him.
Ping.
A glowing notification appeared in front of him.
[Feature Unlocked: Right of Crossing]
[Can now be used.]
Gaius paused slightly.
Then opened the Multiversal Chat.
Messages were already flooding the screen.
Naruto: IT'S OPEN!
Tony: Finally.
Mindy: Took long enough.
Saeko: It seems everyone was waiting.
Tanya: Ready.
Diana: About time.
Even through the messages alone, Gaius could tell everyone had been waiting for this.
Tony sent another message quickly.
Tony: So? Everybody ready?
Naruto: I'm ready!
Mindy: Born ready.
Tanya: Ready.
Saeko: I am prepared as well.
Diana: Me too. Nothing important is happening on my side right now.
Then Tony asked:
Tony: What about you, Gaius? Will you be able to come?
Gaius answered immediately.
Gaius: I will come.
Naruto immediately replied.
Naruto: Nice!
He genuinely sounded relieved.
The others felt similarly.
Gaius had become one of the strongest and most dependable members of the group. Whenever dangerous situations happened, everyone felt safer with him present.
Tony sent another message.
Tony: Then say your farewells first.
A moment later he added:
Tony: No time dilation means we could disappear for days, months, or maybe longer from our own worlds. Better handle your responsibilities first.
The others agreed quickly.
Saeko: That would be wise.
Tanya: Agreed.
Diana: I'll return shortly.
Naruto: Same here!
One by one, the members temporarily went offline.
Gaius closed the chat slowly.
Then activated the room vox system.
"Summon Titus and Metaurus."
The command echoed through the fortress immediately.
Far below the Command Center, Thunderhawks launched from nearby military sectors.
Not long afterward, the command chamber doors opened.
Titus and Metaurus entered together.
Both immediately saluted.
"Praetor."
Gaius looked toward them calmly.
"I will be leaving Varrak Prime temporarily to visit other worlds."
Neither Ultramarine looked surprised.
They already understood what that meant.
They had followed Gaius into other worlds before.
Gaius continued.
"If necessary, I may bring both of you with me."
Titus nodded once.
"Understood."
Metaurus remained silent, listening carefully.
Gaius stood from his throne-like seat and slowly walked toward the large tactical display in the center of the chamber.
"If we disappear without preparation, instability may return."
That was the important part.
The people of Varrak Prime obeyed largely because the Ultramarines maintained constant authority.
More specifically,
Because Gaius himself ruled.
If he suddenly vanished without explanation, rumors could spread quickly.
Fear.
Confusion.
Possibly rebellion.
So preparations needed to happen first.
"Relay orders to lower-ranking Ultramarines," Gaius said calmly. "All stationed officers are authorized to make operational decisions through their own judgment during our absence."
Titus understood immediately.
Decentralized authority.
Even without direct leadership, the Ultramarines could maintain order themselves.
Metaurus spoke next.
"We will ensure the chain of command remains stable."
Gaius nodded once.
"Good."
The two Ultramarines saluted again before leaving to carry out the orders immediately.
Once the chamber became quiet again, Gaius sat back down.
Then opened his parcel system.
Large rows of stored items appeared before him.
Enormous quantities of preserved Sea King meat.
Weapons.
Lasguns.
Bolters.
Chainswords.
Heavy bolters.
Flamers.
Countless magazines and ammunition crates.
Frag grenades.
Krak grenades.
Melta bombs.
Medical supplies.
Armor components.
Everything carefully stored and organized.
Enough supplies to support prolonged combat if necessary.
The crossings were unpredictable.
Every world carried unknown dangers.
Preparation mattered.
Gaius closed the inventory.
Then leaned back slightly in his seat.
The large metal chair behind him resembled a throne.
Cold.
Heavy.
Practical.
His red cape rested behind him while the Auramite Iron Halo remained mounted behind his head, casting a faint golden light across the chamber.
Combined with his massive armored form, the image looked almost divine.
But Gaius himself remained calm.
Focused.
His massive power fist slowly clenched once.
Strength capable of fighting Primarch-level beings rested inside that gauntlet now.
And still,
he relaxed slightly in his seat.
The chamber became silent again.
~~~
Relay Station Aegis-9 existed in the middle of a war that never truly stopped.
The station itself was massive.
Cold steel corridors stretched endlessly through the structure while docking bays continuously received military ships, supply convoys, and refugee transports from nearby sectors.
No one there lived comfortably.
Comfort no longer mattered.
Humanity was losing ground against the Covenant more and more each year.
Inside Operations Deck Three, Lieutenant Marcus Hale stood watching holographic displays rotate slowly across the tactical table.
Convoy routes.
Supply movements.
Fleet reports.
Casualty numbers.
Always casualty numbers.
A logistics officer nearby spoke while typing quickly across a terminal.
"Refugee intake from Cygnus Sector confirmed."
Marcus barely looked up.
"Route them toward secondary intake."
"We already are, sir."
Marcus nodded quietly.
Everyone looked exhausted.
UNSC personnel moved constantly around the operations room, carrying reports or monitoring communications traffic.
A marine standing near the wall adjusted his rifle sling.
"If the Covenant finds this station," he muttered quietly, "we're dead before warning arrives."
Another marine answered immediately.
"We are the warning."
No one laughed.
People stopped joking much during the war.
A soft alert suddenly echoed through the room.
One analyst frowned while staring at his console.
"Strange Slipspace fluctuation detected."
Even he was not fully sure it was truly Slipspace.
It resembled it, but at the same time felt different.
The fluctuations did not fully match normal Slipspace readings.
Marcus turned slightly.
"Source?"
The analyst paused for a moment before answering.
"Not clear."
Another analyst leaned closer to the console, studying the readings.
"It doesn't match normal UNSC signals."
Marcus stepped closer to the tactical display.
The holographic marker flickered in and out, like it couldn't stay stable.
Unstable.
Incomplete.
Wrong, but still there.
"Maybe it's leftover interference from recent fleet movement," someone suggested.
Marcus narrowed his eyes.
"There haven't been any fleet jumps in this area recently."
The second analyst nodded slowly, as if that made things worse instead of better.
"That's exactly the problem."
Marcus crossed his arms, still watching the display.
"Run full diagnostics."
"They already are," the analyst replied.
Fingers moved quickly over the console, pulling up deeper scans.
"Every time we try to lock onto the signal, it breaks apart," the analyst added.
Marcus didn't look away from the hologram.
Something about it didn't feel right.
It wasn't Covenant.
It wasn't UNSC either.
It didn't fit anything they normally dealt with.
It just felt…
Wrong.
Thirty seconds passed in silence.
Then another alarm went off.
This one was sharper.
More urgent.
"Lieutenant," the analyst said quietly, tension rising in his voice, "the fluctuation moved."
Marcus frowned.
"Where?"
The analyst swallowed slightly.
"It's no longer outside the station perimeter, its inside."
Silence filled the room instantly.
Marcus stared at him.
"That's impossible."
"Confirmed," the analyst answered.
The room shifted immediately.
No panic.
Only training.
"Security alert," Marcus ordered immediately. "Lock down nearby corridors."
Marines moved instantly.
Weapons were checked.
Communications officers activated emergency protocols.
Marcus stepped closer to the tactical display.
The anomaly marker flickered.
Then,
It stabilized.
Inside Hangar Bay Three.
The lights flickered once.
A deep vibration rolled through the floor.
"Motion detected," an analyst reported.
Marcus drew his sidearm.
"How many?"
A pause.
"…it's not movement."
"…it's a breach."
The alarms triggered.
Red lights filled the station.
Inside Hangar Bay Three, workers backed away as marines formed a defensive line.
Then space tore open.
Not Slipspace.
A vertical tear opened in the air, hanging like a wound in space. Its edges burned with faint, unstable golden light, as if reality itself was being pulled apart.
Warm radiance spilled through the opening.
Then figures stepped out.
The first was impossibly massive, an eleven-foot-tall warrior in layered auramite armor that shone like solid gold under sunlight. A halo-like structure of the same metal floated and locked into place behind his head, steady and unmoving. A deep red cape fell from his shoulders, trailing slightly as he moved. He looked less like a man and more like a living legend given form.
Behind him came a teenage boy in an orange outfit, his expression focused but controlled. Beneath the loose outer clothing, a tight combat suit designed for mobility and protection could be seen, clearly engineered for him rather than standard wear.
Next was a woman with purple hair, stepping lightly but confidently. She wore a fitted black combat suit, built for agility. A blade was secured behind her back, and twin firearms rested at her hips, positioned for quick draw. Her posture was calm, but alert.
Beside her emerged a man in advanced armor formed from shifting nano-technology, constantly adjusting and flowing like liquid metal. It resembled designs from a far more advanced future, compact, efficient, and heavily reinforced.
A woman followed, wearing armor with a more practical, worn look. A blade was strapped to her side, and a coiled rope sat secured to her gear, suggesting experience in close-quarters combat and mobility.
Another woman stepped through next, also with purple hair, striking in presence and composed in movement. She wore a tight black suit similar in design to the others made by the same advanced craftsmanship, with a katana resting at her hip.
Last came a child in a soldier's uniform, noticeably smaller than the rest. The outfit was clean but clearly military-issued, oversized in some places, giving the impression of someone placed into conflict far too early.
The portal behind them snapped shut with a sharp crack, as if reality had sealed itself immediately after their arrival.
The marines froze.
Marcus stopped at the entrance.
Everyone did.
The entire hangar went still.
The marines held their defensive line, weapons raised, but none of them fired immediately. Some hesitated. Because despite the impossible arrival, several of the figures still looked human.
All eyes shifted toward Gaius.
Tony glanced at the armed formation and sighed.
"Not exactly a welcoming committee, huh?"
Marcus stepped forward, rifle steady but voice sharp.
"Who are you?!"
~~~
(Image here)
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