In the annals of history, and by the chronology of men, we were ancient by far. Super humans, enhanced by the Emperor’s science to be the might of the Imperium; and carry the Light of Truth to the lost tribes of humanity around the galaxy. We were the First, the best, the truest of the Emperor’s mighty Space Marines. We were Idealistic children. For nearly 100 years our legion did the will of the Emperor at his side, until the day that we discovered our beloved Primarch, Lion El’Johnson on the feral world of Caliban.
We were ecstatic, we all remembered the darkness that befell the Emperor when his great experiment in creating the Primarchs of the Space Marines had gone awry, and his mighty sons lost to him, scattered through time and space. Many Primarchs had been recovered, Horus, Fulgrim, Sanguinius… Now at last our great Primarch had been located. We longed to meet the progenitor of our legion, as the gene-seed used by the Emperor to transform us from mere humans to the Super-human Space Marines we are today, and be led by our greatest brother.
But we were Terran, our legion raised from the great hives of the Emperor’s home world of Terra. And while the Lion was created on Terra, he had been sent through the warp to Caliban in his formative years, and had grown as a Calibanite. His Majesty and Love was reserved for those who adhered to the ancient ways of Caliban; and though we had taken Caliban to be our new home world upon discovering our lost Primarch, we were still outsiders and as such were not privy to his inner circles.
Over time many of my fellow Battle-Captains began to become aware of a testing that was taking place. Seemingly odd occurrences, which upon closer inspection, proved to be staged rather than accidental. The Lion was testing us. Learning where our loyalties lied, and not just us Terran’s, but many of the Calibanites, as well, that we had learned had opposed the Lion when he tried to unite his planet. It became apparent that anyone who was not in lockstep with the Lion’s thoughts and beliefs were being segregated and isolated.
Then the order came. The great commander Luther, the Lion’s right hand, and surrogate father was to lead a defensive force back to Caliban. The Lion spoke to all the battle-captains; myself included, and explained the unexplainable. Horus, the mightiest of the Primarchs, and Warmaster of the Great Crusade, had turned against the Emperor and all of mankind. And worst of all, he was not alone. Other Primarchs had listed their loyalty with Horus, and the end of the Imperium was at hand. We were being sent back to Caliban to protect it from the “rogue” Legions blazing across the galaxy.
We protested. We wanted to face this new threat to the Imperium at our Primarch’s side, but he would not hear it. He sent us to Caliban, and so began the downfall of the 1st Legion. So began the war of the Angels.

Months went by with no word from our Beloved Primarch. Luther had long since established our defenses, both planetary and system defenses had been bolstered, and while we knew we could not halt the untold numbers rumored to be heading our way, we would certainly slow them down enough for the Emperor to finish the job.
I was planet side, deep in the bowels of the great fortress monastery that my company had been garrisoned in to await orders when the bombardment began. Something was wrong, we had received to contact from the fleet or our orbital defense systems of an attack, and Luther’s aides had not informed us of any breaches in security.
My company Chaplain roused me from my meditations and rushed me to the battlements of the monastery in time to see the first barrages falling to the north. War had come to Caliban, and my 4th Company would be ready.
The alarm had been sounded, the monastery echoed with the sounds of marines donning their armor, checking their bolters, and performing the litanies of war we had all been taught to focus us for the coming battles. Pride filled my soul as my men filled the gallery below the main spire of the monastery. That pride turned to horror as I saw the white glare of the orbital strike heading our way. Realization that my men would be unable to meter out the Emperors justice on the field of battle was an affront to my noble senses. Then there was the flash as the strike hit the center of our position….
Darkness. A faint laughter, so very far away… Am I dead? MY MEN! I awoke from some slumber that I should never have been in. By all accounts I should be dead. I lay on the floor of some large room, my armor still encased me; I could feel my bolter in my gauntleted hand, my blade still in the scabbard at my waist. Attempting to ascertain my location, I surveyed the room, motionless lest there be traitorous scum nearby waiting to finish off the near dead.
The room appeared to be round, with vaulted ceilings inlaid with symbols of the order, as well as strange symbols that I couldn’t recognize. My auto senses picked up movement to my right, and I could feel my secondary heart kick in, and I bolted upright, pistol squarely barrel to barrel with one of my own warriors. We both surveyed the room from our new vantage point, slowly lowering our weapons, recognizing the potential of other threats. We were on the bridge of a ship, and we weren’t alone.
Sergeant Vargus, near as I could tell the only other man to awaken besides myself, assisted me in establishing an idea of our surroundings. We were on the bridge of the Strike Cruiser Emperor’s Light. All of my sergeants and senior staff were arrayed about the floor, some restful, other pitched and tossed. We were in the Segmentum, so 7 days from Caliban according to the Navigational Cogitators. Vargus and I gently set about awakening our brethren from their odd sleep, unsure of what condition they may be in, and unsure what our next course of action should be. After several minutes and hurried explanations, our squad set about securing the ship and determining if we were alone.
“Brother Marius.” Vargus chimed into his helmet-vox.
“Report Brother”
“Sir, it appears that our entire company is onboard.” Vargas said, pausing “Sir did we just dream that we were on Caliban? If I’m not mistaken this is the same cruiser we were on when we received our orders to bolster the defense of Caliban some 6 months ago. The armories are full, the flight decks are loaded, and even the motor pool is prepped. It’s as if we never left, save for the crew…”
“What about the crew sergeant?” I felt a sudden foreboding.
“Sir, they aren’t here.” Vargus stated. “No one, not one single rating. Every Brother we found was unconscious; we awoke them and sent them on the patrols. We have searched every square centimeter of this ship, and we are alone.”
“Have all our Brothers been located and briefed?”
“Yes Brother-Captain”
“Then gather up the command staff and meet me on the bridge. We have much work to do.” I instructed.
Within the hour, Sergeant Vargas had rounded up the rest of the command staff, meeting in the bridge to discuss our next move. The last memories any of us had was looking up, seeing the bright light shed by the orbital strike fired upon us, and then waking up here. During the discussions, I noticed a lighted rune flashing on the control console of the Command Lectern. Pushing it turned on the main display, where the image of our beloved Primarch, Lion El’Johnson looked upon us with obvious worry on his face. His visage was both beautiful and terrible to behold.
“Captain Marius! This is an urgent communiqué. Astrotelepaths cannot be trusted. Only standard transmissions can maintain the secrecy of this mission. We have been betrayed Brother. Luther has betrayed his oath. He has taken beloved Caliban and it is to us to stop him from destroying our mighty legion. I know I can count on you. Rendevous in the Rubicon Straits for muster within the week. Timing is important, I have sent this message to all of my trusted commanders. I rely on you to do the rest. We will wait in the Rubicon for two weeks to form up the armada. To wait any longer would give the traitors to much time for reinforcement. I trust that you will arrive in time. If not we must go without you. Good Luck Captain. Death to the Traitors of the Emperor.” The screen went blank.
“By all that is Holy!” exclaimed Vargas “The Blessed Primarch orders us to attack our Brothers! Will this days confusion never end?!”
“Peace Brother. First things first, we have our orders.” I tried to reason ”Undoubtedly we had fallen under attack by some traitorous agent, and the serfs abandoned ship thinking all was lost when we were rendered unconscious.”A dubious prospect at best, but for the sake of sanity I grasped at straws.
“But we all…” Vargus began but I cut him short.
“Sergeant! We have our orders. Brothers, it is up to us. Man your posts, I want this ship battle ready within the day.” Checking the Navigation Cogitator, I quickly calculated that we could be in the Straits in three days. “We have five days solar to arrive at the muster. We are three days out. Make them count. Dismissed!”

Within twelve hours we were underway. With no navigator, Brother Librarian Talanak was want to attempt a warp jump to the rendezvous coordinates, we would have to travel under thrust. The colossal speeds we could attain unrecognizable in the void. It was a long three days.
We entered the Rubicon Straits as the last of the fleet was aligning itself to make the jump. A quick word to Vargus sent a signal to the fleet requesting assistance, and defensive protocols went into effect in preparation for treachery.
“Emperor’s Light, identify command authority.” Came the response from the picket vox officer.
“Protocol: Sierra 2 2 Calfia 8 1 Rubicon.” A tag that was downloaded to the command lecturn when our orders were displayed.
“Verified Battle-Captain Marius, glad you could make it. How can we assist you sir.”
“We seem to be bereft of our Navigator. We are battle worthy, though I do expect that we would be a bit late for the engagement should we not find a replacement.” My shame of losing a key component of my ship safely hidden behind soldierly bravado. After a few moments, sergeant Vargus reported a shuttle launch on an inbound course.
“That we can do Brother Marius” the unmistakable voice of the blessed Primarch came through the Vox. “Can we lend you any further support?”
“No sir my Primarch, we will be ready for battle transit within the hour. Thank you sir” The Primarch speeking to me. It was a thrill that only hightened my shame of the shape of my ship.
“Very well then Marius. One hour then we launch. For the Emperor, For Caliban!” The Lion Exclaimed.
“For the Emperor, For Caliban!” I responded, and cut the line. Activating radio silence protocols.
The navigator arrived within twenty minutes, and did not receive the welcome to which people of his station were accustomed. A fireteam of Astartes troopers, prepared for boarders, briskly escorted him to his socket under the bridge, and we were ready for transit by the end of the second twenty.
The stage was set, Emperor’s Light took up station flanking the Battle Barge Caliban’s Heart and within minutes we made transit. Troopers took up their stations throughout the ship. Tech Sergeant Corelis had activated every servitor on the ship for battery detail, supported by our heavy weapons specialists and the few Techmarines at our disposal we were able to man the lances and bombardment cannons for full effect. Defense turrets we slaved to servitors, making them less reliable, but able to be handled in bundles. For a ship that was undermanned, we would fare well I felt. Those who did not have immediate duty were resting at their posts, conserving all energy for the coming battle.
We broke warp over Caliban, entering the system merely hours from the planet itself. Our intimate knowledge of the system defense systems allowed us to bypass them and jump in all but unacosted. A picket of Sword Class and Frigate Cruisers broke from the fleet, and began hunting for lurking ambushers, while the Strike Cruisers and Battle Barges moved in system. Light resistance from the orbital platforms was easily crushed. Chatter on the vox suggested that Luther had indeed taken control of Caliban, and had built his defense around the assumption of a ground attack. The Lion became enraged. Vox’s were opened throughout the fleet to here his commands.
“To all fleet commanders. This is the Lion, son of the Emperor, and son of Caliban. Luther assumes that we would rather march to his walls and beat ourselves on the ramparts of his treachery than blemish beloved Caliban. I will not be so denied. Caliban has been spoiled by the taint of this man I once called brother. We will destroy his walls, and rend his armor, and cleanse this world of his foul stench. Spread the fleet. I want a systematic bombardment of all known garrisons. I will deal with the Rock personally. Luther will know my wrath, and have nothing to keep him from it.” The vox went dead momentarily, as the depth of what was just ordered sank into my brain. We were going to exterminate Caliban. The main screen lit up as the priority signal from the Lions Flagship came through.
“Marius, it is to you I assign the destruction of the Castle Rosewood. The fortress monastery of the Rosewood dynasty, near the equator. We have augurs suggesting there is more than a company stationed there. Do not fail me in this Brother. Lion out” There is was. The Lion had issued his orders and what was there for me to do but obey.
“Lance Batteries! Bombardment Cannons! Prepare firing solution for these coordinates…” I entered them into the datapad on the lecturn, sending them immediately to all combat stations. On the viewscreen overhead, I watched as the Strike Cruiser Emperor’s Justice Bombarded the Monastery in the northern reaches, above the forest line where the ice was begins, with a strange sense of déjà vu. “Fire when ready Tech Sergeant!”
The ship shuddered under the thrust of the bombardment cannons recoil, followed by the brilliant flash of the Lance Batteries… A flash that seemed to fill the bridge…
“Everybody Out!!” I shouted, then…
Blackness. I awoke on the bridge of the mighty Strike Cruiser Emperor’s Light. I was at the command lecturn, Sergeant Vargas was at ops, troopers were stationed exactly where they had been moments ago… But something was wrong here. Vargus awoke again, followed shortly by the rest of the command. All of us looked at each other, completely lost in puzzlement… Then Vargus began to moan, pointing out the viewscreen…
“Where’s Caliban?” he asked. “Where are we, I don’t even recognize any of these constellations.”
I checked the Navigation Cogitator, and found little in the way of solid information. According to the Cogitator, we were in the Eastern Fringe, fully the other side of the Galaxy…
“I don’t know Vargas. The Cogitator must’ve sustained damage during the bombardment. It shows us on the other side of the Galaxy.” I explained “And look, even the chronograph is off, it puts the date as 367.M41, and I know full well it was 124.M30 when entered into Caliban’s orbit… Here’s the log.”
“No sir, there is no defect in the cogitator sir.” Vargas said looking at the datapad in his hand. “The log was updated moments ago. We are lost sir.”