"Though we were surrounded by the foul creatures, we had always remembered our training: Never surrender, never betray your brothers, and always use biomancy for Carpal tunnel. That is how we defeated the dreaded paperwork."
-Chapter Master Tolencius Cobus, 38th Chapter Master of the Disciples of the Throne.
When he took office and knowing the travail ahead of him, the current Chapter Master had that maxim engraved onto the inkstand of his office aboard the battle-barge Emperor's Mercy. But the inscription was currently hidden by the vast piles of scrolls and dataslates of outstanding paperwork. The months-long combat operations on Auhert's Beacon had been completed barely a day ago that he was back on the grindstone of dealing with this most annoying Duty. Since their arrival in the system, he barely had time to deal with the ongoing flow of paper, occupied by heavy combat both in orbit and on the ground and so the paperwork had accumulated. His secretary had dealt with some of it in his absence, but even then he had to review the decisions made.
Massaging his temples and recalling through his psycho-indoctrination the necessary mindset to deal with paperwork, he decided on the order on which he would deal with it. He also had to keep in mind that the ship would jump into the Warp in a week to the next step of their participation in the Onerare liberation operations, so any astropathic message had to be sent beforehand.
First would be the report from the four company under his direct command for this operation, which needed to be reviewed and signed off. Then the requests for decorations and accolades from the captains for the marines under their command. Next would be the reports from the specialists attached to the four companies and his honor guard. His own report would have to written and reviewed too. Then, with his command cadre, a formal post-victorium of the latest campaign for lessons learned and possible changes to their doctrine that would had been made apparent by this latest operation. Such changes were rare and would have to be reviewed by all the captains of the chapter, perhaps even in a conclave on Praevoss, but they were necessary; perfection being the goal of an unending quest that required constant efforts.
Next would be dealing the usual bickering among his force, bickering that couldn't resolved by the captains. Even among Emperor-blessed superhuman warriors, and to his eternal chagrin, disputes and disagreement arose and had to be dealt with swiftly and evenly, lest they soured in deep rancunes, devastating in such a small force. Those usually took form of requests, letters of grievance, formal complaints and more. This time, those included a dispute between the marines wanting to use the relic weapon of a fallen brother to avenge him and the techmarines who wanted to secure back the weapon into their vaults, a disagreement between a chaplain wanting to lock a marine for penance and his captain who wanted to keep him fighting and between the librarians who wanted to make a relic out of the gene seed of a codicer who sacrificed his life on the planet below and the apothecary wanting to use it for implementation. In addition to this, the promotion of one of the three new sergents had come under (figurative for the moment) fire from the marines of another company, who considered him unfit to lead. Papers to be read, forms to be filled, meetings to be planned, decisions to be taken.
He also had to sign off the promotion of the other sergents, the promotion of six scout to full marines, the transfer of marines from the reserve company travelling with them toward the combat companies and a handful promotions toward veteran; all changes that meant ceremonies to prepare. Another ceremony would have to be scheduled by the senior chaplain of their force, a dirge for their fallen, accompanied by the solemn oath of avenging them.
His mood was aggravated at the idea of even more ceremonies, time spend standing and repeating words told a thousand times over under a thousand suns. He was able to see the rational behind such pomp, but he had grown weary of it throughout his centuries of services. A fleeting though crossed his mind, perhaps the Space Wolves were right in their raucous celebrations, instead of the rigid decorum of most of their peers. In both case the time was lost, but at least in the Wolves' case, it seemed to be pleasant (well, as much as drinking intoxicants and eating meat of dubious origin was pleasant)? Even then, the culture of calm and discipline of his chapter made that such celebrations wouldn't be taken very well. Then he dropped the thought from his mind, refocusing on the task at hand.
He would need to make a decision on whether or not to apply a specific training regimen to his companies during their current travel. That proposition had been drafted by a member of his honor guard, an ex-Deathwatch member used to dealing with exotic locales, taking into account the condition of the worlds where they were most likely going to fight next (Suresnes IV, a water world with habitats kilometers below the surface and Kai'Tlon, a gas giant with rock formations floating in the stratosphere), which would give them an edge in that fight. Of course such order would be seen as an overreach of his authority by some marines, as training decisions had always been a prerogative of the captains, especially Narios, captain of the 4th, who had always been fiercely independent. There had been a few precedent, which he will have to dig up from the archives to support his decision if he went forward with this proposition.
The next pile over concerned ressources allocation from the stockpiles they have received as a thank you from the planetary governor. And then the stockpiles they had forcefully asked when they realized the governor was being a miserly bastard. He smiled, remembering the governor's reactions and how the pampered (and inbred) nobles had soiled their pants under his withering glare. The raw and semi-refined ressources will have to be divided through his fleet, to each ship according to its need. Regarding ressources, his master of ordinance was complaining about depleted stores of planetary bombardement shells and was asking that more be crafted. Except that it used nano-optronics conductors, which were also used for repairing terminator armor, which put him into conflict with the veterans wearing them, since that ressource was rare and could only be crafted on a Forge-World or on Praevoss. He would most likely have to compromise here, which won't make anyone happy.
He would have also to review the production order of the supplies to be used during the future combat operations, transforming the raw material in ammunition, fuel, medical supplies, combat drugs, spare parts and more necessary to the efficiency of his fighting force.
The repairs of the damaged vehicles will have to be prioritized too, which would, as usual, result in heated discussion between the affected companies. Considering their destinations, the predators of the 5th will have to go after the thunderhawks and stormtalons of the 4th. He made a note to warn the chaplains to be vigilant about the reactions of the marines and to make sure the training cages were ready so that the marines in question could vent their frustrations. The vehicles lost (one predator, one land speeder and five bikes) during the ground fighting would have to be replaced, with orders being prepared before being sent to the forges on the homeworld.
The reports from the rest of his chapter, which he would use to update his information on its current state, containing detailed information on casualties, promotions, material lost and crafted and any particular deeds of note. He felt pride considering His chapter, his own army of superhuman beings, blessed by the Emperor's Blood and Will to wage an eternal war against the encroaching darkness. And felt also the crushing weight of his responsibilities as he was the one to lead them, their highest authority barring He Who Sits on Terra, in the constant wars of this grim Age, often Mankind's last line of defense against the depredation of the Xeno or worse.
In any case he would have to decide if their current orders (in reserve, guarding the Homeworld, patrolling the sector, purging operation of a minor Xeno race and aiding in the Angevinus Crusade) would have to be amended to take into account the ever-changing state of the sector and the myriad of pleas of help he was receiving.
Alongside the updates from the various companies, reports from Preavoss were piled, regarding recruitment, gene-seed implementation, forging of new weapons, armor and vehicles, marine and specialist training and more. Each one had to be read and some had to followed on by new or updated orders. And even with their distant rule of Praevoss, the world had to be monitored so that the population stayed loyal to the Imperium, its citizens pure of mutations, its wildlife under control and the world safe from natural calamities and raiders from the cold depths of space. Praevoss was their world, their home, their past with the great archives and relic vaults and their future with their recruits, so they were dedicated to stand ever vigilant in defense of it. Such information was also important in regard to the planification of the recruitment campaign, training operation and patrols; but it was the responsibility of the captain of the 8th company, currently guarding the homeworld and he would have only to take a cursory look.
A cogitator nearby contained the reports from the ships under his direct command for this campaign (a battle barge, Emperor's Mercy, two Strike Cruiser, Bringer of Light and Pride of Dijon and ten escorts). Battle damage, fuel, ammo, supply and crew levels had to be checked before the Warp jump. A new captain for one of the escort will have to be sworn into service, his predecessor killed in the space battle above Auhert's Beacon. The fate of the wreck of the two escorts they've lost will have to be decided, but they will most likely be left as salvage for the Imperial Navy, in exchange for a small favor along the line. That decision, once approved by the Fleet Master and his command cadre, will have to be communicated to the Navy. He sighed, perhaps they'll at last drop that complaint from when they docked at the sector capital, he didn't really understand what the fuss was all about, it wasn't that big of a hole.
The cogitator also contained informations on the rest of the Chapter's fleet, but it was unlikely to have changed since last time, perhaps just an update on the refit of one of their battle-barge. There was also a proposal from the Fleet Master on a possible plan to replace their latest loss of ships to evaluate. Hum, perhaps it was time to use that favor from the Selene Forge World. Or just ask to Klendathu, the magos there seemed friendly enough.
Sitting next to it was a pile a pleas of help received from all over the Imperium, sent by all the possible organisations. Even if his secretary had already binned some of them, he would have to decide on which to dismiss out of hand and those he would discuss with the captains if he felt the request could be accessed. Accompanying them is the pile of military dispatch, news reports and intelligence reports, from the Inquisition and other sources, updating him on the various battlefronts and potential threats across the sector, segmentum and wider Imperium. Most of it was bad news and worse news, not made any better by the fact that he couldn't do anything about most of it. But he needed to know, he had to know because his chapter had to be ready for when the storms will come calling to the corner of the galaxy under their watch.
Even more dispiriting was a new memo concerning their current dispute with the sector Administratum regarding the tithe on their homeworld. In theory, as an Adeptus Astrates homeworld, Praevoss was exempt of any tithe. But, apparently in the usual Administratum bumbling incompetence, the recruitment figures for his homeworld had been lost, causing a meddling and power-hungry clerk from the sector capital to claim that it wasn't used as a recruitment world, but only to enrich his chapter and so it had to pay a tithe. He had answered this willful claim by providing reports showing how their world was actually serving them, accompanied by a letter of support from the sub-sector governor. In addition to this he had fired back with a complaint to the segmentum capital about abuse by the sector Administratum. All of those which had to be prepared, with forms filled in triplicate and adorned with the necessary stamps. He decided he would have to probe a few of his "friends" in the Holy Ordos if they had heard of any plots against his chapter, better be paranoid that surprised.
On one corner of his desk, left there by his secretary, with latest news from their continuous recruitment and training efforts, a small tidbit caught his eye: a raw recruit was displaying a psychic potential unheard even in their psyker-focused chapter. Even more importantly, first reports indicated a strong willpower and a seemingly preternatural talent. That was one which he would have to keep an eye on. What was his name? Ohrmuzd? The name of a lord of Wisdom from old Terra? Good. A powerful name for one who most likely will become a powerful marine. Secure in the knowledge that the next generation of the chapter will be greater than their predecessors, he went back to his endless task.
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I tried to think of what kind of paperwork a chapter master would have to work on and his feelings during such an ordeal. Most of the writing was done at work while struggling on annoying bug.
