Chapter Ninety-Seven: Bartko Mark II

At Mandeville Point in the Bartco Galaxy, five starships emerged from hyperspace and set course at sublight speed toward Bartco II.

“The galaxy-level early warning radar is online and scanning the system,” reported Captain Jiang Tao from the ship’s command room. He had activated the radar upon entering the system, beginning surveillance of the entire Bartco Galaxy.

The travelers’ destination, Bartco II, was a bountiful blue world, its surface largely covered by vast oceans. The inhabitants lived upon enormous floating islands supported by colossal native planktonic organisms. The planet’s sole major landmass, called “Kaga,” was roughly the size of the Asian tectonic plate on ancient Earth.

Yet the current state of this once peaceful blue planet, as recorded in imperial archives, had deteriorated drastically. The “Kaga” continent was now cloaked in the sounds of gunfire echoing from every human city.

Endless warfare and chaos raged across the continent. Citizens loyal to the Empire shouted oaths to the Emperor while battling those who had embraced the corrupting faith of Chaos. Each city lay in ruins, devastated by relentless fighting.

Buildings crumbled under artillery fire; loyal imperial citizens fell dead by the dozens. Chaos cultists erected blood sacrifice altars atop ruined skyscrapers, their malevolent runes scrawled across the streets and alleys. Automatic weapons and laser fire tore through shattered walls as these heretics vowed to offer every human head on Bartco II to their dark masters.

Bartco II was never a heavily militarized world—it was a tranquil civilization where residents lived in comfort and peace. Its prolonged serenity and near-garden world environment lulled its imperial citizens into forgetting the grim realities of war.

The local planetary defense force, the “Bartco Warriors,” had grown so complacent that their combat effectiveness was pitiful. Even the neighboring Mors Galaxy’s “Mors Guards” could easily outmatch them tenfold.

This weakness, combined with the planet’s peaceful lifestyle, gave the Chaos cultists their opening after the Great Rift’s emergence. Exploiting the influence of Chaos psykers and the corrupted planetary defenders, they spread propaganda claiming the Empire had fallen and that only the true gods among the stars could save humanity. Within months of the Star Beacon’s extinguishing, vast numbers of Bartco II’s populace had fallen under Chaos sway, laying the groundwork for the current rebellion.

At first, the planetary governor dismissed the cultists’ actions as despair-driven responses to the Star Beacon’s failure. He ordered measures to pacify the population and commanded the astro-communicators to desperately seek imperial rescue forces.

But after several months, no aid arrived. The cultists escalated their campaign, massacring imperial citizens and government officials alike. With weapons seized through their allies within the planetary defense forces, they launched a surprise assault that shattered the loyalists’ ranks. The defenders, barely more than lightly trained armed police with little combat experience beyond subduing deranged civilians, were overwhelmed and routed.

The rebellion served as a harsh lesson for the once-complacent Bartco Warriors, revealing the true nature of ceaseless cosmic war and the malevolence of the dark gods.

Fortunately, a cadre of veteran instructors—retired officers of the stellar military—rallied the loyal planetary defense troops. When the cultists attempted to storm the governor’s palace and execute the planetary governor, these veterans held the line, preventing the insurgents from breaching the city that housed the government.

The governor refused to surrender. He continued ordering the astro-communicators to send distress signals to every potential imperial force, clinging stubbornly to the hope that the Empire would not abandon them.

It was this hope that inspired the loyal imperial citizens of Bartco II to take up arms and mount desperate counterattacks against the frenzied cultists, striving to hold out for the promised imperial relief.

“Governor, those fanatics have seized three of our positions in Dinaenri again today. If the battle isn’t turned around by the Twenty-Fifth Infantry Regiment under Cassano’s command by tomorrow, losing Dinaenri will be inevitable,” reported a man with one arm, gesturing over a map laid out on the table before the planetary governor in the converted governor’s mansion.

The situation was dire. Dinaenri, the city closest to the governor’s palace in the heart of Bartco II, was on the brink of falling to the cultists. Should loyal forces fail to retake it by dawn, the insurgents would have a clear path to the city of Nelle, where the governor’s seat was located, and the planetary government would be directly threatened.

“General Hector, how many troops can still be redeployed from Nelle?” the governor asked after studying the map, his weary eyes bloodshot.

“Governor, only about five thousand green recruits who have barely learned to fire their weapons. We cannot expect them to hold the line. Sending them into battle would be suicide—they’d simply become sacrifices for those fanatics,” General Hector answered grimly.

“They don’t need to stop the cultists, only delay them until imperial reinforcements arrive…” The governor’s voice was heavy with despair as he met Hector’s gaze.

The name “Dinaenri” once belonged to an ancient goddess of life and peace in Bartco II’s mythology, but now the city bearing her name was steeped in death and war.

General Hector did not reply immediately, instead studying the governor’s bloodshot eyes in silence.

“Governor, do you truly believe imperial aid will come?” Hector asked earnestly.

“Why do you ask that? I have ordered the astro-communicators to send distress signals ceaselessly across space. Surely some imperial force will receive them,” the governor replied, puzzled.

“Governor, forgive my bluntness, but it has been so long. Our astro-communicators have sent emergency signals around the clock with no reply. Do you know what that means? It means the Empire no longer has any forces able to rescue us,” Hector stated solemnly.

“General Hector, are you suggesting we surrender to the cultists? Betray the God-Emperor?” The governor’s bloodshot eyes narrowed as his hand slipped beneath the table toward the pistol at his hip.

“Governor, I would never betray the God-Emperor. I am merely stating a fact. You have known me for eleven years—you know my loyalty is unshakable,” Hector assured him, noticing the governor’s subtle gesture.

“Even if that is true, so be it. If Bartco II cannot belong to the God-Emperor, then no one shall have it!” The governor’s voice was resolute, bordering on madness.

Hector knew these words were no idle threats. Deep beneath Nelle lay viral bombs and bioengineered pathogens capable of sterilizing the entire planet. Should the governor activate them, Bartco II would become a dead world, inhospitable to all life.

Sighing, Hector nodded, saluted with the Imperial Eagle, and prepared to leave to issue the governor’s orders.

But as he reached the door, another person beat him inside. The newcomer was an astro-communicator from the Stellar Choir.

Without glancing at Hector, the astro-communicator strode directly to the governor’s desk.

“The God-Emperor’s divine son sails once more among the stars. He comes from Mors—the salvation of Bartco II is at hand!” the astro-communicator proclaimed, leaning on the desk with both hands as he relayed the received star message to the planetary governor.