The edge of the Five Hundred Worlds.
Amir, an industrial planet not officially incorporated into the realm of Ultramar.
Across the vast desert outside the Hive city, a motorcycle tore through the sands. Its roaring engine devoured fuel, sucking in grit only to expel it through specially designed sand-ports. A petite figure, entirely out of proportion with the massive machine, sat in total command of the vibrating bike. She came to a halt at a concealed elevator entrance hidden beneath the dunes.
The shifting of mechanical gears moved heavy steel plates, opening a passage. The young girl drove her motorcycle inside. This was an underground workshop; raw materials obtained from factories or mines were sent here to be processed and ultimately forged into weapons.
"Uncle, there are more Astra Militarum patrols today."
The girl, named Lachi, handed her helmet to a nearby cultist and walked toward a middle-aged man who was studying Imperial weaponry.
"They are desperate," said the man, Uncle McLaren. "As we move to shake their rule, they choose the most shameful, cowardly path. They use ambushes and armies to try and force our compromise. But unfortunately for them, we will never yield. In the name of the God-Emperor, we will fight until the last of us falls!"
Lachi tuned out halfway through his speech. To other believers, McLaren's oratory might be inspiring, but to her—having been raised by him since childhood—these words were becoming tedious.
"Uncle, you say the same thing every day. Why not spend that time making more weapons? This is our best opportunity."
In recent years, the planet's surface had been plagued by natural disasters: earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions. According to the cult's psykers, these were signals of the God-Emperor's imminent descent. His arrival would be their greatest reward.
Lachi still remembered when she was young; the cult had led her to witness a grand sacrifice. They threw ten thousand devout believers and a hundred thousand heretics into vats of concentrated acid, using a mysterious device hidden deep underground to send their prayers to the God-Emperor. The Emperor's legions must have received the signal; they were coming with the most merciful and greatest will in the universe.
"We still have much work to do," McLaren continued. "After we take full control of this planet, we will take the treasures and tools hidden by the nobility and distribute them to everyone. Every person will be fed. We will prove to the God-Emperor that we are His most loyal subjects."
Lachi shook her head, setting these lofty ideals aside. "Enough talk. Our ammunition transport route needs to change slightly. The original path has been occupied by the Adeptus Mechanicus; we'll have to use the backup route."
"Then I'll leave it to you. You are our best scout."
Lachi nodded. This was her specialty. She was a fourth-generation hybrid of the cult. She maintained a basic human form and had not received the "God-Emperor's blessing" (mutations), which was a source of disappointment for her. Fortunately, the Emperor had gifted her with extraordinary perception and combat prowess; she was proficient with any weapon she touched.
Hundreds of trucks were already being loaded with ammunition. Lachi collected the necessary supplies from her old friend Isa in the quartermaster's office. The round trip would take two weeks, or longer if she stayed to ensure the delivery was successful.
"Let's give them hell this time," Fran, the quartermaster manager, said with hope.
Lachi returned a smile, kicked her bike into gear, and roared out of the underground factory.
Yellow sand filled the sky over the vast landscape. As she rode past rolling hills, Lachi breathed in the air thick with chemical pollutants. The air was toxic, but that only mattered to the pampered lords of the Spire. As far as Lachi knew, the people of the Underhive and the Mid-hive, as well as most members of the cult, could ignore the toxicity. It wasn't exactly a blessing from the God-Emperor, but rather a genetic adaptation developed over millennia. In the hearts of many, they and the Hive lords were no longer even the same species.
Lachi had also heard that in several Hive cities that had been successfully "liberated," the people of the Spires had been slaughtered by those from below. After being violated by thousands, if they weren't eaten, the remains of those lords who once oppressed the people were hung from railings to wither in the wind.
Lachi found it hilarious. Those aristocrats always used their distorted version of the "God-Emperor's Truth" to deceive the masses, claiming that if they didn't follow the rules, the Great Enemy of Mankind would corrupt the populace. And now? The cult had launched a war, killed countless evildoers, and employed supreme wisdom. Where was this "corruption"?
"It's all nothing but the lies of a decaying Imperium. No one can stop our liberation."
Suddenly, Lachi saw two people ahead. She swerved sharply, kicking up a wall of sand several meters high, and drew her bolt pistol, aiming it at the pair.
The man and woman showed no reaction. To be precise, they ignored her hostile posture and continued their playful banter.
"I told you we took the wrong path," the woman said, swatting the man's arm with a force that looked entirely flirtatious.
"You're the one who said you wanted to come here and look around. We weren't even supposed to come this way."
"I never said I wanted to come here. You're the one who received a signal halfway through and decided to divert."
"Can you blame me? It's rare to get a signal specifically inviting me over."
The man looked exasperated. Seeing they were not hostile, Lachi prepared to ignore them. Unexpectedly, the woman called out to her.
"Hey, little girl, do you know where the nearest Cult of the God-Emperor is?"
One of us?
Lachi scrutinized their appearance. She saw no traces of the Emperor's "blessings." Perhaps they were Hive residents looking to join? But their demeanor and clothing didn't suggest people who would choose the cult.
Cautiously, she replied, "I am of the Cult. What do you want?"
"I know you're with the cult. Haven't you already started your takeover of the planet? How's the progress?"
The woman's casual tone sparked a flash of anger in Lachi. What kind of attitude was this? Was she describing the life's work of countless people so flippantly?
"I say, Hylia, just tell her who we are," the man said.
A strange, cryptic smile spread across the woman's face. In that instant, Lachi felt her mind being invaded. A flood of information poured in, more than she could process, but a familiar sensation—a connection originating from her very genes—allowed her to confirm one thing immediately.
"Messenger of the God-Emperor... please forgive my offense. I will take you to our stronghold immediately."
"Well, that won't be necessary," the man said in a doting tone. "Hylia, why are you starting to play around again?" He turned back to Lachi. "You seem to be on a mission. Take us with you."