You couldn't fly drones in the Warp zone, you needed actual pilots. So, Azure and her fliers were having the time of their freaking lives here.

Making up TL4-5 stuff was incredibly easy. A few printers could run off parts basically constantly. With no need for refined components, and basically down to hydrocarbons and mechanics, that level of simple stuff could be assembled almost as fast as they could design plans for them.

Naturally, that didn't mean the advantage of being a TL10 civilization wasn't there. Tolerances were incredible, printing was much better than assembly, so things were being built at 25-30 QL's, meaning their performance and maintenance was much smoother and easier.

Roaring prop-jobs raced ahead, and those incoming fighters found themselves in the dogfight of their lives. I was up there as Azure, screaming in ecstasy as I pulled a 10g turn that would have flattened most people, not even getting tunnel vision, totally flummoxing the guys trying to tail me as they helplessly overshot, and suddenly I was spinning over and on their tail like the air was serenading me.

I blew tracers through the wingman within ten seconds as we gyrated back and forth through the sky, and the main pilot thought he had looped behind me when I pulled a 12 g turn so hard it looked like I was sliding sideways through the sky. His rear shooter had just about enough time to panic as I peppered them and roared on past on all that horsepower.

Boo-yeah!

I had the entire aerial ballet going on clearly pictured in my mind, as radar worked for shit in this area, synthesizing everyone's viewpoints and input and plotting everything over several thousand feet of sky.

Marktells flew this way and that, and scattered dogfights started to gather and cross. As they did, enemy planes were shredded in crossfire. No computers here, pure intellect and reflexes, and pulling all them g's as the wind shrieked and engines thundered and tried to tear free of the sky...

Uh, yeah, Azure really loved to fly...

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Like solving a puzzle, the enemy planes began to come apart in the skies as they were pulled in front of our fliers with /tellepathic coordination. It took less than two minutes for forty of them to plummet from the skies, with only two of ours falling, razzed mercilessly by the rest of us as they had to bail out.

They parachuted down and landed smoothly on the long line of prone Imperial legionnaires all upside down watching the fight above in amused detachment. The Disks didn't let go, so they had no problem 'hanging' upside down on the Disks to enjoy the show as we sped along.

Naturally I had to form up Azure's team as honor guards, one squadron on overwatch while the others scoured the area. We didn't have radar, but we had a very big /Marktell with The Map, and nothing got in the air within hundreds of miles without having eyeballs on it very quickly. The Marktell Positioning System was working perfectly well within the vivified zone.

I asked the Marines idly on the radio if they'd prefer taking a ride on the planes instead of the Disks, and somehow wasn't all that surprised when I got a lot of enthusiastic agreements.

------

The mid-air transfers didn't actually take all that long. The Disk Train swooped over the wing of a plane holding level, a very strong hand reached out to lock on the cockpit, the Marine swung over, locked his magnetics to the airframe, one Marine on each side, and the pilot pulled ahead with a whoop.

Soon the only ones left were me, Briggs, Corporal Tummal, and Captain Donnal, while the rest of the Emerald Bulls were roaring into the distance on swooping, diving, spinning, and generally enjoying themselves prop-jobs.

Of course, with only the four of them, Briggs could windbreak with me, and we could move a lot faster. Not having to keep a low profile meant that the planes actually weren't outdistancing me, and the people behind me could sit up and watch everything going on.

Despite himself, Captain Donnal found himself appreciating the aesthetics of the aircraft. "Is that a Mechanist design, Colonel?" he asked over the radio.

"No, Captain. Too many design flaws in what we could dredge up. We had to go back to basics and design some totally new things to fit in the zone limits. Came out pretty well. Nobody's designed aircraft that don't need anti-grav for so long that the only thing out there was recreational ultralights for some serious hobbyists. Weaponizing them was fun for all concerned. Of course, we've got the basic Runecraft incorporated, but took the next step for Rantha-level Warp Resistance. They are holding up fine here."

"Rantha-level Warp Resistance, Colonel?" I had his immediate attention.

"I own a company that makes extremely Warp-resistant combat tech and computer systems for the Coronals and Umbrans." I turned my head slightly back. "Huh. I don't think any of the Legions use Vakker-tech or Rantha-tech. I haven't looked into it, but I'm pretty sure you're under some pretty exclusive contracts for wargear, right?"

He grunted. "Our arms and armor have been supplied exclusively by the Mechanists for millennia, Colonel."

"Yeah, they love not having to invent new stuff and having a monopoly on old tech." His face stayed level, but his eyes flashed. Our Autobows had definitely drawn some interest from the Marines. "Shame, I would have liked to outfit you with some upgraded kit, but, rules are rules..."

And as the main base drew nearer, I left him to think about what he was going to do.

------------

Captain Donnal sat down before the holographic projector, still thinking.

He had seen a great many things on his way out from Vanguard Base, the operations center for the push into the Warp Zone.

A push into a Warp Zone. It was doctrinal craziness. But the Planetary Guard forces of Janus Prime seemed to be having a good time of it.

There were more psions active in a battlezone then he had ever personally seen... and none of them were Mentats!

There were Umbran Agents and Coronal Squires leading Striker teams... up to a company in size! It was like they were playing at being military commanders, or something.

There were more mindclaws manifesting then he had ever believed possible. It looked like tens of thousands of mindblade wielders were heading to a fight... and they were dangerously competent. Sun Shots seemed to be the rule of the day...

The camp itself was amazingly free of the Warp Miasma, and it seemed to have something to do with the white fires burning around it... which were constantly receiving the corpses of Warp adherents trucked back from the fighting...

There was non-AMT standard technology all over the place... or, more precisely, modified AMT technology, which was just as bad... and the Coronals and Umbrans were using it openly.

More to the point, the air was crackling with energy, with drive. There was a hunger for combat that seemed completely out of place for a PG army.

Where had all these psions come from? Captain Donnal fell into deep thought.

Six thousand years ago, all of the Legion Primogenitors had gone mad and rebelled against the Emperor. That didn't mean all of their Legions did, as their loyalty to the Emperor came from birth, and to their Primogenitor only once they were admitted to the Legions, and reborn in his service. As the sons inherited the blood of the Emperor, so the Legions inherited the blood of his sons... but he was still the ultimate source of their blood, even two generations diluted.

As the Legions had fought one another, the Coronal Knights and the Order of the Fallen Moon had stepped forward, bringing forwards elite teams of cybered and psionic warriors to contest against the fallen Legionnaires, coordinate the armies of the Empire, and turn the tide. The Mentats had been blooded in that war, elite psions who also existed to counter the might of the Legions, as well as the Warp powers that stood behind the Black Legions.

With his life reduced to serving upon the Eternal Throne, the power in the Empire had shifted from the elite born from the Emperor's bloodline, to the other legacy of the Empire, the powers of the mind the Emperor had bequeathed upon his students and followers.

Seeing tens of thousands of psions was a numbing blow. What were they being trained for? Who was commanding them? They were engaged in battle against the Warp... something both truly worthy, and in the end, ultimately corrupting, as far too many had found out over the millennia.

The idea of an army of psions great enough in number to rival a full Imperial Legion was mind-numbing, yet here on this rimward mining world, it was happening!

And the Umbrans and Coronals were aware of it, which meant tacit approval from the Orders Bright and Dark...

What were they doing out here on the rim, with the light of the Celestial Beacon, and Holy Tellus, locked away behind a Warp Rift of such size? Rebellion was a natural thing that would happen when the center of the Empire was locked away, and people had to rely on themselves instead of reinforcements from the Empire to address their problems. This whole assault against the Warp was a symptom of both the will to fight and survive without the Empire, and what would grow into a will to secede from it.

He had ridden out here on a Disk Train, nearly four hundred Disks deployed to bring people and goods into and out of the Warp Zone. They were run out on foot, since towing them behind a vehicle wasn't very feasible, with people being rotated out and back to their jobs on the waiting transports and haulers at what had turned into a very busy resupply point below the lip of the plateau, where full technology once again started to work.

It was here that he was shown into an insulated room, bare yet precisely designed for his meeting with the Coronal Duke. He'd been offered a full-face meeting if he desired it, but had turned it down for the moment. The tone of the communication had been precise and courteous, neither obsequious nor overbearing, both of which he had encountered in functionaries of the past.

The Dukes of the Emperor's Hands were always chosen from skilled field agents, and so were always Tens or better, and by requirement, that meant powerful psions. While Legionnaires were on average physically and mentally superior to almost all normal humans, they still had to be wary of psions, and a skill level of Ten meant very, very skilled indeed. Even most Battalion Commanders never got past it. The General of a Legion was required to be a post-Ten, meaning they truly earned their post.

He was dealing with a peer and a very powerful man, however he decided to look at it.

A polite and smooth woman's voice arose as the holocaster hummed to life. "Captain Donnal, are you ready for your meeting with the Right and Left Dukes?"

The Umbran Duke was also present? Captain Donnal frowned, wondering how dangerous this situation was. "I am present and ready," he affirmed.

"Thank you. Connecting you now, sir," the professional voice replied, and lights flickered as the room darkened, and two men materialized in excellent detail, only slightly transparent to indicate they were not truly present.

Both were standing behind a table to greet him, and the Captain rose as well. "Your Graces," he nodded to both of them, looking them over as they were clearly doing the same to him.

He could tell he was making an impression, and wasn't sure exactly why. The soldiers had not seemed particularly awed by having Legionnaires among them. Then again, with the number of Ancients running about in heavy armor, they were probably used to similar things.

"Captain Donnal of the Emerald Bulls Battalion." The Coronal Duke's voice was that of a statesman, firm and inspiring, the picture of a Coronal Knight. "May I present myself, Honus Parablum, and my counterpart, Duke Rimval. It is a pleasure to greet a member of the Emperor's Legions on Janus III. I will have you know it has been over twelve hundred years since an actual Legionnaire set foot upon this world."