=== Maximus ===
Maximus stood at the edge of a high, sun-bleached ridge overlooking Invictum Aeternum, the roaring city he and his brothers had built beneath the crashed battle barge. It was now a bastion of Imperial rule in this lawless world of sand and sun. The sky above him was scorched white, the twin suns of Tatooine blazing down with punishing heat that would have killed a lesser man in hours. But the towering Ultramarine paid it no mind, his massive armored form casting a broad shadow over the comms array in front of him.
Behind him, Raxor sat on a metal crate, polishing the barrel of his heavy bolter to a shining gleam. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen, as he was waiting on his new shield to be finished.
The Captain of the First Company shifted slightly as the holoprojector flickered to life. Bo-Katan's image emerged in pale green light. Her helmet was off and clipped at her side, red hair damp with sweat from the battle she had just come from. Behind her, the standard of the Azure Talons snapped in the wind on Lah'mu, the distant shapes of her Mandalorians moving about like silent wraiths picking through the remains of the Republic's once-secret base.
"Lord Maximus," she said, her voice carrying its usual calm steel. She brought a fist to her chest in salute. "The Azure Talons have secured Lah'mu. The last of the Republic stragglers surrendered last night. I'm… concerned, however."
Maximus tilted his head, folding his massive arms over his chest. "Speak."
Bo-Katan glanced over her shoulder as if checking for eavesdroppers. "The locals… they've been whispering about something stirring beyond the Rim. They don't know what. Just… talk of shadows, ships disappearing near dead systems. And… stories about the stars disappearing."
She met Maximus's red lenses squarely, her tone slipping into something almost hesitant, rare for a woman of her iron discipline. "I'm a warrior, not a witch. But my blood knows when something isn't right. And I think something bigger than the Republic is about to wake up out there."
Maximus gave no sign of concern, though the air in the comms station seemed to tighten, as if the sand itself held its breath.
"You and your Talons have done good work, Lady Kryze," Maximus said finally, his deep voice like a boulder shifting. "Continue to secure the Mid Rim. Push our borders, strengthen our footholds. Mandalore is safe in your absence. You have my word on that. Tell me if you hear any more of these… whispers."
Bo-Katan dipped her chin in respect, though she did not smile. "I will, my Lord."
She gave a final salute, and the transmission winked out, her figure dissolving into nothingness, leaving only the dry hiss of Tatooine's wind.
No sooner had the hololith gone dark than another flicker sparked to life. This time it was not a warrior's helm that appeared, but the simple, hooded face of a communications officer.
"My lord. Forgive the intrusion, but… we have an unscheduled vessel entering our airspace, a Republic courier. They broadcast no weapons active. They're requesting immediate landing clearance."
Maximus arched a brow behind his helm, more intrigued than alarmed. "And the identity?"
The officer swallowed visibly. "They claim to be Jedi Master Dooku. He… wishes to speak with you personally."
A sharp, humorless grin cracked across Maximus's face. Even Raxor paused in his polishing.
"So. The old wolf finally comes down from his mountain," Maximus said. "I had wondered how long he would watch from his ivory tower before realizing the truth."
Raxor snorted, the sound echoing inside his helm as he hefted his massive bolter to his shoulder. "I believe you have this covered. I'll go see our brother's new shield. The Pyro Drakes forge team better not have botched it."
Maximus gave a short, approving nod, the faintest glimmer of camaraderie passing through the red lenses of his helm. "Very well. I will handle this. Though," he added, "I would have you meet us in the Cathedral when I am done."
Raxor nodded. "We'll be there, Brother." He clapped one gauntleted hand to his chest in salute, then turned and walked away.
Maximus turned, cloak snapping in the dry wind, and began the trek toward the landing zone where the Republic courier had begun its descent, its hull gleaming silver as it cut through the twin suns' harsh glare.
By the time the small vessel hissed onto the landing pad, a throng of serfs and armed sentries stood back at a respectful distance, wary eyes fixed on the lone passenger about to disembark in the heart of the Imperium's desert bastion.
With a muted hiss, the boarding ramp lowered. And out stepped Jedi Master Dooku, tall and regal, his heavy cloak swirling about him like the trailing wings of some ancient bird of prey. For the briefest moment, a flicker of surprise crossed his sharp features when he saw the massive figure waiting at the base of the ramp, no aides, no guards, no ceremonial retinue.
Only Maximus. The Ultramarine Captain inclined his helmeted head ever so slightly in greeting, the gesture powerful in its simplicity.
"Master Dooku," Maximus rumbled, his voice like granite grinding on granite. "I would not insult a guest of your stature by sending another to greet you."
Dooku's lined face softened, just enough to betray a flicker of gratitude, though the old man masked it quickly. "Your courtesy does you credit, Captain. I must admit, I did not expect… you, personally."
Maximus hummed, the sound deep and rich. He extended a massive gauntleted hand toward the path leading away from the pad. "Come. Walk with me."
They began the walk side by side down the weatherworn ferrocrete path, the arid winds tugging at Dooku's cloak and the Ultramarine's cape alike. Far ahead, Invictum Aeternum sprawled in the plane, a city of spires and Gothic ramparts rising like an iron fist from the sands.
They spoke first of smaller things, the sort of diplomatic pleasantries that meant nothing and everything all at once, how the desert people had reacted to Imperial rule, how the local traders had grudgingly accepted the new currency, and how the endless suns never seemed to show mercy.
Dooku's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as they walked. "I've noticed your aura is different, Captain. It's no longer the endless void, the black hole it once was."
Maximus gave a slight incline of his head, almost approving of the observation. "That is because I have learned to control it. My null field is not a mindless abyss anymore."
His armored fingers tapped lightly against his breastplate. "I can expand its reach to about five meters in any direction, enough to disrupt any witchcraft or sorcery within my grasp. Or…" He looked sidelong at the Jedi Master, his eyes glinting like frozen coals behind his helm. "I can draw it inward, containing its effect entirely within myself when needed."
Dooku hummed, the ghost of a smile flickering at the edge of his lips, though his eyes were still troubled. "A useful talent. One that makes you… uniquely dangerous."
"So I have been told."
It was only when the first shadows of the new city's towering fortifications fell across them that Dooku's careful veneer cracked. He stopped, forcing Maximus to turn to face him.
"I did not come here to trade pleasantries, Captain," Dooku said, his eyes sharp and tired all at once. "I am tired. Tired of the Council's squabbling, tired of politicians bickering over scraps while discord grows. You know what's coming. I know you do. I see it in your eyes. So tell me… what does your Imperium plan to do when the stars begin to bleed?"
Maximus stood there a moment, massive arms folded over his broad chestplate, lenses locked onto the aging Jedi's face. He said nothing at first, only gesturing for Dooku to follow once more.
They came to a broad ridge that jutted out from the rocky edge of the city. Below them stretched a breathtaking expanse: an entire canyon transformed into a miniature forge world. The ground was a hive of industry, lines of servitors and laborers moved mountains of steel like ants. Rows of machinery stood in various states of assembly.
A single Dreadnought, its vast sarcophagus form entombed in new armor plates, trudged through the valley floor like a lumbering god. Sparks rained around it as Techmarines and Magos Biologis hurried to affix new weaponry to its arms, servitors scrabbling across its hull like parasites on a leviathan.
Dooku felt his breath catch for a moment. Even he, who had seen more of the galaxy than most men ever would, had never beheld the raw scale of the Imperium's war machine so nakedly displayed.
Maximus gestured with one massive hand. "This," he said, the word a rumble that vibrated through Dooku's bones, "is how we prepare for a war."
He looked down at the Jedi Master. "This Universe is primitive in some ways, advanced in others. Its people squabble like children over baubles they do not understand. Its politicians are blind to the monsters howling at their gates."
Maximus turned back to the canyon, watching as the Dreadnought stomped forward. "But here, we forge the old with the new. We have begun integrating the hyperdrives your people use, we now reach across stars in hours instead of days. Your weapons, your tanks, your walkers, your shields, we've study them all. We take what works, what is worthy, and we bend it to the Emperor's will."
He then looked at the Jedi Master. "Though it has been a pain to convince the Mechanicus to involve what they consider alien technology." He then turned back to the canyon. "But once they saw its effectiveness, their superstition quickly turned into infuriating curiosity."
As if on cue, the Dreadnought below halted in its march. Its vast chassis hummed, then erupted with a flickering dome of energy that spread out in a shimmering bubble. Within the radius, soldiers paused, protected from the simulated strike that followed. A moment later, the shield collapsed with a crackle, dissipating into the air.
"Only five seconds' worth of protection now," Maximus murmured, "but enough to buy a moment to strike when the Archenemy comes. And when they do come…"
He pointed across the valley. The Dreadnought turned, bracing its new arm-mounted weapon. A moment of charged silence. Then a bolt of pulsing energy thundered forth, a beam so intense it painted a line of annihilation across the desert floor. A mountain ridge half a mile away dissolved in a roar of molten rock and debris.
Dooku shielded his eyes with one hand, the echo of the blast rolling over them like the scream of a dying star. When he looked back at Maximus, there was something approaching a flicker of hope.
Maximus spoke again, his voice booming with pride. "This is what the Imperium does! We do not beg the galaxy to be merciful. We do not plead for the stars to spare us. We build the shield and the sword. We embrace our role as the Emperor's servants, we bring death to some, salvation to others, so long as it fulfills His will!"
He turned fully to Dooku, the wind tugging at the golden laurels etched into his armor. "We are not children playing at war, Jedi. We do not hope and pray that the darkness will be kept at bay. We force it to."
Dooku's eyes narrowed as he peered back down at the dreadnought, still smoldering from its test fire. "And what role do you see for men like me, Maximus? If you know what is coming, what would you have me do?"
Maximus paused, his lenses narrowing in silent contemplation. The question hung there in the dry air, the last echoes of the mountain's destruction rolling away into the Tatooine wastes.
When he finally spoke, it was with the voice of a warlord, a tactician, and something more, an Angel of Death, and a builder of empires.
"Walk with me to the Cathedral," he said. "And I will show you."
The hot winds of Tatooine still brushed at their backs as Maximus and Dooku moved from the ramparts of the foundries into the heart of Invictum Aeternum. The clangor of forges and the hiss of plasma torches faded behind them, replaced by a strange, reverent hush that deepened the closer they drew to the cathedral's great doors.
Maximus led the Jedi Master up a broad avenue lined with banners bearing the sigil of the Aquila. Citizens and artificers parted before them, bowing their heads, whispering scraps of litanies as they passed. Dooku's eyes caught the glimpses of discipline and devotion that radiated from every laborer, as if they were building not just war machines, but their very future.
At the end of that avenue, set upon a massive plinth of polished basalt, rose the Cathedral of the Emperor, a monumental fortress-temple of black stone and gleaming metal buttresses. Gilded statues of Astartes flanked its vast entrance, their stone helmets stern and pitiless. The doors themselves were each the height of a small hab-block, wrought from ceramite reinforced with shimmering veins of a strange new alloy the Mechanicus had begun to craft.
Maximus gestured Dooku forward, and the doors swung open with the groaning resonance of an ancient reliquary. They stepped inside, and the Jedi Master froze at the threshold.
Vaulted ceilings soared hundreds of feet overhead, each arch ribbed with black steel and inlaid with gold. Litanies of devotion were etched in High Gothic across every beam. Rows of towering stained-glass windows threw shards of crimson and sapphire light across the polished floors. The images told stories from another universe, the rise of the Emperor, the forging of the Primarchs, the burning of Terra's ancient enemies in holy flame.
And at the far end of this echoing sanctum, upon a dais of onyx and marble, stood a statue that stole the breath from Dooku's lungs: the Emperor of Mankind, the Master of the Imperium, rendered in adamantine and gold, taller than any statue he had seen in the Republic archives. One hand rested upon a massive blade, its tip piercing the stone beneath, while the other was outstretched as if to gather all of Humanity to His breast. A halo of wreathed flame rose behind His head, crowning him as the Master of Humanity.
Dooku swallowed, his mouth dry as they walked deeper into that colossal hall. He saw citizens lining the flanks of the nave, some kneeling in silent prayer, some at their labors, polishing relics, tending to weaponry, burning incense that filled the air with a scent of sanctified oil and cold iron.
"You'd be surprised how quickly the so-called dregs of society become loyal citizens," Maximus said as they walked side by side. His deep voice reverberated against the cathedral's stone. "They only need one thing."
Dooku glanced at him, arching a brow. "And what is that?"
"Purpose."
At the foot of the statue, he saw Raxor, the stoic Salamander, looming with his massive bolter mag-locked to his back, the golden lenses of his helm glinting in the cathedral's gloom. And beside him stood Sebastian, the Black Templar, clad now in his full battle plate, freshly sanctified by the priests. At his left arm, he bore his new shield.
It was an abhorrent thing, yet strangely magnificent. A massive slab of ceramite and adamant, the skeleton of Mace Windu himself had been entombed into the slab, bindings worked with Imperial scripture. The bones had been bleached and oiled, posed as if he had been buried. The Grandmaster's scorched lightsaber hilt was clasped in the skeletal hands in front of his chest, forever holding his weapon.
Dooku stopped short, his eyes widening, his breath catching in his throat.
Sebastian looked at the Jedi Master, his optics fixed on Dooku with a strange, near reverence.
"You are troubled, Jedi," the Black Templar said. He rested his gauntleted hand on the shield's crown. "Be at peace. He was one of the most formidable foe's I have ever met in single combat. He stood as a lion among jackals. It is right that he stands with me now. He will never be forgotten, not by me, nor by the enemies I shall slay."
Dooku's nostrils flared. "You… defile his corpse, and call it an honor?"
Sebastian gave a cold, humorless smile. "It is our way. To carry the spirit of a worthy enemy with us. To give unto him endless battle against our foes. You may see barbarism. But we see redemption for fighting against the Emperor's Angels."
Maximus watched Dooku carefully, studying every flicker of the man's weathered face. He spoke, his voice carrying through the cathedral like the grinding of tectonic plates. "This is our way, Dooku. It is the Imperium's way, and it will become yours too, if you choose to stand beside us."
Dooku tore his gaze from the grim trophy, locking eyes with Maximus. The Jedi's bearing was proud still, but there was a fracture beneath it, a tremor that came from seeing how real, how fanatical, this all was.
Maximus gestured broadly, the deep blue of his plate catching the light of the stained glass. "Look around you, old wolf. This cathedral, this city, this people, they are not of your Republic. The old order will crumble. The Senate is a festering corpse, its bones hollowed by parasites like Palpatine."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "When the Republic collapses, we shall be there to take its place. And as I told you before, if you wish to have a say in how it all unfolds, you will need to join us, sooner, rather than later."
He pointed toward the massive statue, the Emperor's outstretched hand. "If your Jedi want to survive, they will need a new purpose, a new structure. The Emperor Himself will show you this path. But you, Dooku, must lead them into it."
Dooku's brow furrowed. He seemed suddenly smaller against the grand scale of it all, a single man, weary and burdened by the failures of so many years.
"We will not force you. But know this: war is coming. You have seen it in your dreams. This galaxy is not ready for what will crawl out of the Warp."
He leaned in, helm shadowing Dooku's lined face. "When the time comes, will you stand alone, or will you stand with us?"
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the echoing prayers of the citizens and the distant hiss of incense burners. Raxor and Sebastian watched, impassive, one bearing the boltgun that could shatter tanks, the other his grim trophy that made a mockery of Republic notions of 'civilized' war.
Dooku looked up once more at the towering Emperor, flame-crowned and unyielding.
"I… accept."
Maximus smiled like a predator that had caught its prey. "Good. Then perhaps there is hope for you yet."
===
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