Rising up from a Nobleman to Intergalactic Warlord!!

Finishing our survey of the laboratories, Amallyn and I headed up to the bridge to catch up with the other Eldar. Catching them in the middle of a system diagnostic test, Idrerenn turned to greet us as we stepped into the room.

"Were you able to find anything useful in the labs?" Idrerenn inquired, stepping away from Eldanial.

"We found some old schematics of early prototype Craftworld ships. It might prove useful in rebuilding Biel-Tan. Amallyn sheepishly said, handing the documents over to her, "There was also an incident in one of the biological laboratories. Our ancestors captured a unique specimen that attempted to use me as an incubator."

"Huh…?" Eldanial remarked, looking back at us with confusion.

Projecting an image of the creature, I gave them a basic rundown of everything I could recall about Xenomorphs. Very intrigued by the creature, Eldanial and Idrerenn looked at one another for a moment as a thought crossed their minds.

"Based on your expressions, you seem to have realized that the Tyranids and Xenomorphs are eerily similar. From what I can tell you, the Xenomorphs are several million years older than the Tyranids. Whoever created the Tyranids likely used Xenomorph DNA as a genetic base and further perfected their adaptation ability," I remarked, speaking what I felt we were all concluding.

"If that is the case, they could potentially share a similar genetic flaw that we can take advantage of. We will need to research the subject thoroughly, but this could lead to a breakthrough in dealing them a deadly blow. If we find anything of note, I will be sure to pass it along to you. Eldanial remarked, before switching subjects, "Now about this ship, would you be willing to sell or trade this vessel to us? It holds a great deal of lost technology that could be of great use to our people."

"Take the ship; it rightfully belongs to the Eldar to begin with," I said with a grin. "If you feel that some sort of compensation is required, I will happily accept your research findings on the Tyranid and Xenomorph connection."

"That is hardly a fair trade; both sides stand to gain a great deal from sharing information on our common foe. Is there anything else you might want?", Eldanial asked, glancing at Amallyn for a split second.

'Oh god, is he suggesting giving Amallyn to me as payment for the ship!? Sure, I would love to add her to my family, but I will not force her into it.', I thought, already having a backup plan in mind. "In that case, could you potentially share the method used to collapse Webway portals? There are hundreds of Imperial Worlds that are at risk of Daemonic and Dark Eldar attacks. Closing them would help save countless lives on our side."

"While we do trust you, sharing secrets about the Webway with others is forbidden by our laws. It is a vital lifeline for our people; if someone were to misuse the information, it could result in the extinction of our people.", Idrerenn answered.

"I understand; every race has a few secrets they do not wish to divulge. In that case, would your people be willing to help close four or five portals for us?" I inquired.

Seeing no issues with that request, Eldanial accepted the agreement on his people's behalf. Promising to contact me as soon as they were ready to work with us, the four of us teleported back to the infirmary to begin moving their comrades into stasis pods for transport.

---Thirty Minutes Later---

Watching the vessel sail off into the debris field, the color in Amallyn's eyes began to fade as the ship vanished from sight. A permanent outcast of her people now, the Eldar woman was at a loss for how to proceed as everything she ever loved was now gone. Concerned that she would spiral into depression and potentially become a Dark Eldar, I forcefully pulled her into a hug to console her. Trying to push me away at first, when she realized I could not be overpowered, Amallyn gave up and began to quietly sob into my chest.

"I have been tirelessly traveling the galaxy to make my homeland whole again, and—and they tossed me out like some criminal!" Amallyn whimpered, gripping my cloak. "When our homeland became fractured, I stepped up to serve in the only way I could think of. Everyone who could provide a solution to our problem was dead; the best option we had was to find detailed diagrams of their initial construction. I risked my life on several occasions for my people, suffered brutal isolation from those I cared about, and have done unspeakable things so that others would not have to, and yet… all my agony and suffering was for naught."

"Hear me, Amallyn, your banishment was through no fault of your own. Your inept leaders needed to place the blame on someone for their inability to fix your Craftworld. If everyone who could provide a solution is truly gone, the fault falls on past Elders who did not think ahead for this possibility. Since they are long gone, and the current Elders cannot admit their predecessors screwed up, they put the blame on rangers like you," I remarked, lifting her head up as I retracted my helmet, "All of you are risking your lives for the betterment of your people, but that sacrifice means nothing to them. It is easy for people who have never walked in your shoes to condemn you. If you ask me, they are fools for banishing such an upstanding individual like you."

"You are only consoling me because I have something you want. While I may be devastated that my people have turned their backs on me, I will not tell you anything about our people's secrets and the Webway," Amallyn retorted, wary of the situation she found herself in.

"If I wanted the information that badly, I could easily rip it out of your mind before you could stop me," I told her telepathically. "The truth of the matter is, I meant every word I have said to you. From the moment I laid eyes on you, my interest was piqued, and I found myself drawn to you like a magnet. While I certainly find you physically attractive, the more I learn about you, the more I am certain I want you to be my wife. Your burning passion to aid your people is very attractive in my eyes; it shows me that you would be an excellent life partner."

"M…MARRIAGE?!," Amallyn shrieked, blushing slightly, "I… I am so much older than you, and our lifespans are incompatible!"

"My lifespan is longer than yours; for all intents and purposes, I am a Perpetual," I informed her. "If a short time together is what you are fearful of, that will not be a problem."

Looking at me in shock, it was apparent that she never considered that possibility. Letting Amallyn go, I made it known that she was more than welcome to stay with us until she decided her next move. Accepting my offer immediately, while she was uncertain about giving me a chance, at the very least she felt comfortable around me, which was a start. Motioning for her to follow me, I was about to head over to a nearby ancient ship when one of my Helldivers began shouting my name from a nearby Chaos vessel.

(AN: I am referring to the race of people from Stargate when I refer to Ancients here.)

"Supreme Commander, we have found a heavily injured Space Marine in the cargo hold," the Helldiver announced.

"A Space Marine? From what chapter or legion?", I inquired.

"Uh... the Imperial Fists, I believe," he answered, verifying his answer with the data on his HUD.

Piquing my interest, the two of us followed my soldier inside the vessel to have a look. Greeting members of the engineering division as we passed by, from what I could see in passing, this vessel was likely a relic from the Great Crusade. While it had some tech from ten thousand years ago, most of its systems appeared to be much older than that.

"Over here, sir!" he said, pointing to where several dozen Helldivers were gathered. "He is currently in a stasis chamber with grievous injuries."

Creating a path for us, as we approached, I leaned over the chamber to have a look at the occupant inside. Glaring at me with fiery rage, the Primarch Rogal Dorn was frozen in time on the verge of death from his gory injuries. Missing huge chunks of armor and flesh, whatever he had been fighting in his last moments was truly a force to be reckoned with given what he was capable of.

"Do you recognize him?" Amallyn inquired, noticing the shocked look on my face.

"This is this Imperial Fist's Primarch, Rogal Dorn," I answered, immediately dialing Roboute's communicator. "His return to the field could be a great boon for our effort to close the Great Rift. Not only is he a powerful warrior, but he is also one of the most skilled builders in the history of the Imperium."

Picking up my call after a few rings, Guilliman asked if he could call me back in a few minutes. Stating he was in an important meeting with Belisarius Cawl, I insisted that this matter could not wait. Hearing the excitement in my tone, he inquired if this had something to do with the Blackstone Fortress.

"Roboute, we have found Rogal Dorn. He has been trapped in a stasis chamber aboard a Chaos Vessel this whole time. The ship was inside the fortress' space dock.", I informed him.

"You… you found my brother Rogal!?" Roboute shouted, elated to hear that he was alive.

"Rogal is in very rough shape; with your blessing, I would like to begin treating him aboard my ship. Whatever he was fighting in his last moments did a real number on him.", I said, sending him photos of Rogal.

Taking a moment to review the images, I heard a loud crashing sound as he broke some furniture near him. Calming himself down, Roboute told me to do whatever it took to save his brother.

"Of course, that is what family does," I remarked.

"…so you have spoken to my father then," Roboute said in a softer tone.

"There is a lot we have to discuss, but for the time being, I will focus on saving my uncle's life," I assured him.

"As soon as he is stable, make your way to Terra. I will ensure both of you are given a proper greeting upon your arrival.", Roboute promised.

Promising to give him an update once surgery was complete, I ended the call and began connecting to home base to prepare for surgery.