The communication link reconnected.
Derosa’s holographic image appeared even more disheveled than before.
But her eyes—they were brighter than they had been just moments ago.
“Commander, I have it.” She held up a data slate.
“This is the master control password for the Angel Forge, as well as the highest-level authorization key for the defense systems.” Thaddeus saw the key that had finally been obtained, his tone carrying a suppressed rage: “You should have produced this long ago, Adjutant!
Because of your delay, we have wasted four whole hours!
Do you have any idea how many Defense Forces have died in those four hours?” Faced with the Space Marine’s accusation, Derosa did not flinch.
“It was not my delay, my lord.” She spoke the truth.
“Vandis locked down the Forge.
He told me…
that the Blood Ravens Chapter had turned traitor.
He said you were here to plunder Meridian and ordered us to hold the Forge at all costs to delay you.” “What?!” Avitus let out a furious roar, slamming a fist into the wall, leaving a fist-shaped dent in the metal surface.
“That coward!
That traitor!
We are here to save his life!” “Yes.
I was deceived.” Derosa’s voice was laced with anger.
“When I discovered the Tyranid Swarm landing while the Governor remained out of contact, I realized something was wrong.” She looked up, staring directly into Tarkus’s eyes.
“I took my guard and stormed the Governors Palace.
I fought my way through the Governor’s private guard and forcibly hacked the master control room.” This plot…
is a bit explosive.
The Adjutant led troops to raid her own direct superior’s nest?
“That was when I discovered the Governors Palace had long been emptied.
Vandis took all the valuable assets and has already fled three sectors away.” Derosa gritted her teeth.
“He abandoned Meridian.
He abandoned the entire sector.
He abandoned billions of subjects who believed in him.” Tarkus listened in silence, then nodded.
“You did well, Adjutant.” The tactical sergeant’s voice was devoid of its previous coldness.
“But you must understand, according to Imperial Law, your actions constitute an armed coup and betrayal of a superior.
When Vandis returns—if he ever dares to return—you will be executed.” “I know.” Derosa straightened her dust-covered collar and stood tall.
“But I don’t care.” She looked out at the burning city, her voice firm and powerful.
“The Governor broke his oath, but I did not.
Currently, only you are saving Meridian, and only the Blood Ravens are bleeding.” “In this moment, it is obvious to whom loyalty is owed and to whom the keys should be given.” “Hmph.” Avitus broke the silence.
“You’ve got guts, woman.” Avitus gave what was likely the highest praise of his life: “You should become a Battle Sister.” Derosa seemed not to have expected such a comment; she gave a slight bow and cut the communication.
Alex stood nearby, completely stunned.
He looked at Avitus, then at the darkened screen, his mind struggling to keep up.
“Wait…
what did you just say?” Alex had a look like he’d seen a ghost.
“Battle…
Sister?” The kind of women who wear black robes, sing hymns in cathedrals, and are gentle and frail.
And “Battle”?
He imagined it— A nun carrying that heavy bolter in Avitus’s hands, singing hymns while blasting Orks into mincemeat.
“…How did you people even combine those two words?” Alex couldn’t help but complain.
“The religious circles in your universe are a bit too martially inclined, aren’t they?” — Meridian.
Outer districts of the Angel Forge.
There was no daylight here.
Heavy acid rain washed over the steel-forged streets like a waterfall.
Every drop that hit the armor made an irritating crackling sound.
Visibility was less than ten meters, with only the towering streetlamp posts in the distance casting pale halos through the curtain of rain.
The air was thick with the smell of damp rust and the stench of overflowing sewers.
“Attention, attention.
All non-combat personnel are to report immediately to designated shelters…” From a megaphone on a street corner, an emotionless broadcast echoed through the storm.
“Present identification.
Report any signs of non-humanoid activity immediately.
Repeat, report immediately…” Alex wiped the rain from his face, feeling his boots already filled with water.
He carried the melta carbine in his hand, trudging along behind the Astartes giants.
Without a chimera, those few mortal veterans were of no use.
“No, I mean, guys…” Alex looked at Tarkus’s back ahead, which was as wide as a wall, and finally couldn’t hold back.
“Why did you drag me down here if you weren’t bringing a vehicle?” Do they understand how hard it is for his short legs to keep up with two-meter-plus big guys?
Thaddeus, walking in front, turned his head, the lenses on his helmet shimmering with the rain.
“Brother, do you plan to complain for the entire duration of the mission?” The young Assault Sergeant’s tone carried a rare hint of teasing—after several previous battles, they had grown accustomed to this mortal brother’s constant muttering.
“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Alex rolled his eyes.
“Just keep a good eye on me, or I’ll just drop dead right here…” A faint scuttling sound made him shut his mouth.
Skitter…
skitter…
the sound came from underground.
Through the drainage grates on both sides of the street, the sound of some kind of arthropods rapidly crawling through the pipes could be clearly heard.
Densely packed, in the thousands.
“It’s full down there.” Cyrus’s figure flickered in the rain, his muzzle pointed at the ground.
“They are looking for a breach.” On the comms channel, Derosa’s voice rang out urgently: “The defense systems failed completely twenty minutes ago.
The Swarm is infiltrating through the underground pipe network!
You must head to the generator sets immediately and restart the Gate of Angels!
Otherwise, the Forge will fall!” “Copy that.” Tarkus raised his Bolter.
“Continue the advance.” Turning the corner, the sound of gunfire became dense.
A squad of Imperial Guard Soldiers in grey flak armor, covered in mud, were huddled behind a half-collapsed barricade, stubbornly firing forward.
The insignia on their epaulettes could barely be recognized— Meridian 85th Infantry Regiment.
Their opponents were a group of Zerglings and a Warrior Bug responsible for command.
Lasgun beams hit the Warrior Bug’s carapace, scorching black marks—but failed to penetrate that layer of chitinous shell.
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”