“Begin treatment immediately.” Leon’s voice came through the comm channel.
He was still at the relay station, racing back with the SCV.
But the Medic had already arrived in the center of Gear Street.
Marine One stood guard with his C-14 Gauss Rifle leveled, covering the scavengers clutching rusted pipes and iron clubs.
No one dared cross the invisible line.
The Medic ignored them.
She hurried to Helena’s side.
A compact alloy shield unfolded from her left forearm.
A row of blue indicators lit up across its surface.
“Scanning patient’s vital signs.” “Heart rate critically low.” “Blood pressure below survival threshold.” “Alien parasite detected.” “Preparing localized excision.” Three razor-thin cryo-laser beams extended from the center of the shield.
They locked onto the jagged bone blade protruding from Helena’s abdomen.
There was no explosion of gore.
No agonizing scream.
The instant the lasers touched the alien tissue, the bone blade was carbonized by intense heat.
Crack.
The blade snapped in half and clattered onto the muddy steel plate.
The unborn parasite inside Helena shrieked violently.
It instinctively burrowed deeper toward her vital organs.
The Medic gave it no chance.
The cryo-laser slipped through the torn wound.
Its precision avoided every major blood vessel and organ while separating the writhing green parasite from healthy tissue.
The infected mass was burned away piece by piece.
The smell of scorched flesh filled the air.
The entire operation took less than five seconds.
“Parasite removed.” “Beginning tissue regeneration.” A slender medical hose extended from the backpack on her back and connected beneath the shield.
A pale blue nano-healing beam enveloped the fist-sized wound in Helena’s abdomen.
The blackened flesh corroded by alien toxins began to shrivel.
Then it peeled away.
Fresh muscle fibers writhed beneath.
New tissue intertwined.
Blood vessels sealed.
The torn skin slowly drew together.
The rusted iron rod slipped from Ironbone’s hand.
It struck the ground with a metallic clang.
His jaw hung open.
His yellowed teeth were completely exposed.
Only meaningless gurgling escaped his throat.
What passed for medicine in the Underhive?
If you had a fever…
You endured it.
Lose an arm or a leg…
They cauterized the wound with a red-hot piece of iron.
If you survived…
You lived.
If you didn’t…
Your body was dumped into the sewers.
Even those wealthy enough to hire a Mechanicus Tech-Priest usually ended up losing the damaged limb…
Only to receive a heavy mechanical replacement.
But the woman in white…
Was making flesh grow back.
No metal staples.
No amputations.
No turning people into half-machine monstrosities.
Ironbone dropped to his knees with a splash.
The scavengers behind him immediately followed.
None of them understood cryo-lasers.
None of them understood nanite reconstruction.
They only understood one thing.
She had been dying.
Now she was alive again.
That…
Was a miracle.
Ironbone had barely opened his mouth when Marine One slammed the butt of his rifle onto the steel plate.
Boom!
Every cry of worship died in their throats.
“Maintain silence.” “Medical treatment is still in progress.” Ironbone immediately pressed his forehead into the mud.
Helena drifted in and out of consciousness.
The Purestrain’s venom had long since numbed her nervous system.
According to Arbites casualty regulations…
There was only one acceptable procedure after infection by a Type-II Mutant.
Place the barrel inside the victim’s mouth.
Pull the trigger.
She had already accepted that fate.
Yet…
The unbearable pain in her abdomen suddenly vanished.
It was replaced by a strange warmth.
An itchy sensation spread from the edges of the wound deep into her body.
Countless tiny needles seemed to be stitching her flesh back together.
Strength slowly returned.
Helena’s eyes snapped open.
Above her floated a transparent tactical visor.
Behind it…
A young woman’s face.
Focused.
Calm.
There was none of the hatred Imperial Sisters displayed toward heretics.
Nor the cold indifference Tech-Priests reserved for mere flesh.
“Vital signs stabilized.” “Genetic contamination successfully contained.” “Treatment complete.” The Medic retracted the nano-healing beam.
She stepped back two paces and resumed her position behind Marine One.
Helena drew in a deep breath.
Slowly…
She looked down at her abdomen.
Her combat suit had been torn apart, exposing a large section of skin.
There should have been a massive hole there.
A wound ripped open by an alien monster.
Instead…
There was only smooth, newly regenerated skin.
Perfectly whole.
No stitches.
No scars.
No metal staples.
She cautiously pressed a hand against it.
There was no sharp pain.
No foreign object beneath the flesh.
Helena froze.
Even the Empire’s greatest Hospitaller Sisters…
Faced with Tyranid venom…
Usually had only two options.
Amputation.
Or purification through death.
Yet here she was.
Sitting upright.
Completely restored.
Her gaze slowly shifted toward the Medic’s white armor.
It was…
Too clean.
Far too clean for anything that belonged in the Underhive.
The armor fit perfectly.
Soft blue energy flowed along her arms and spine.
Every movement was graceful.
Gentle.
Nothing like the Empire’s bulky medical machinery that constantly reeked of incense and sacred oils.
Nor did it resemble anything born of the Warp.
Warp corruption brought only decay.
Tumors.
And flesh twisted into nightmares covered with eyes.
This technology was different.
Cold.
Precise.
Clean.
The memory of the steel fortress rising from the scrapyard in less than half an hour flashed through Helena’s mind.
The SCV.
The Marines.
The Medic.
The Water Purification Module.
And above all…
The man who had never once offered a prayer to the Machine Spirit.
Helena’s breathing grew faster.
Lessons she had studied in the Ecclesiarchy’s academy slowly assembled into a single conclusion.
A complete STC.
A Standard Template Construct.
The legendary inheritance of Humanity’s Golden Age.
Technology capable of producing flawless creations from simple commands.
If this wasn’t an STC…
Then what else could it possibly be?
If Leon wasn’t a heretic…
Then who was he?
The answer seemed obvious.
He possessed knowledge the Adeptus Mechanicus would trade an entire Forge World to obtain.
Such a secret could never belong to an Underhive gang.
Nor to an ordinary wanderer.
He had to be carrying out a classified mission for the Inquisition.
Perhaps…
He was even acting under the direct gaze of the Emperor Himself.
Supporting herself with both hands, Helena slowly rose.
By the time she reached Leon…
He had just returned from the relay station.
The SCV rolled in behind him, its treads still stained with gray dust and green alien blood.
Before Leon could say anything…
Helena crossed both arms over her chest.
She struck her shoulders in a perfectly executed Aquila Salute.
Then…
She dropped to one knee.
Thud.
Muddy water splashed across her face.
“Helena, Fourth-Class Arbites Arbitrator of Planet Karas…” “…offers you her highest respect.” Her voice had completely changed.
Gone were the suspicion…
And hostility.
Only reverence remained.
Mixed with a burning fanaticism.
“Thank you for granting me a second life.” “I understand that your identity cannot be spoken.” “Your mission stands above all else.” “From this day forward…” “My life.” “My faith.” “And my weapon…” “Are yours to command.” “Even if you order me to assault the Planetary Governor’s Palace…” “I will obey without hesitation.” Leon looked down at her.
His thoughts raced.
Moments ago…
He had been wondering how he could possibly explain an army that literally descended from the heavens.
Now…
She had answered the question herself.
And even paved the road ahead for him.
A secret Inquisition mission.
An STC.
The Emperor’s blessing.
With those explanations in place…
Seizing resources…
Occupying strategic positions…
Even mobilizing local Imperial forces…
Would become much easier.
Borrowing the Emperor’s authority…
To conduct StarCraft business.
Saving this woman had definitely been worth it.
As for what would happen if a real Inquisitor eventually appeared…
That was a problem for the future.
By then…
His forces would hopefully be strong enough.
Right now…
He needed someone who understood Imperial law…
And Underhive society.
Helena was perfect.
Leon made no move to help her up.
He pulled out his familiar unlit cigar and placed it between his teeth.
“Since you understand that some things cannot be spoken…” “Keep your mouth shut.” His tone remained perfectly calm.
But to Helena…
Those words sounded almost like confirmation.
She nodded firmly.
“Understood, Commander.” “Everything I witnessed today…” “Will die with me.” “Even under the Grand Inquisitor’s truth examination…” “I’ll be nothing more than a blind woman who lost her memories.” Leon turned around.
“Lead the way.” “Take us to the nearest Arbites stronghold…” “Or somewhere with valuable energy reserves.” Helena stood.
Brushing the mud from her knees.
Her body was still weak.
But the uncertainty in her eyes had disappeared.
“Commander.” “There is an abandoned Arbites logistics warehouse in Underhive District Four.” “A shipment of high-explosive ammunition and Promethium fuel was sealed inside.” “It was originally scheduled for transport to the upper levels.” “But after the transport route collapsed…” “It was abandoned.” Leon’s eyes lit up.
“How far?” “East.” “Beyond the wastewater treatment facility.” “About four hours on foot.” “Move.” Leon gave the order.
Marine One and Marine Two regrouped.
Their rifles swept forward, clearing the route ahead.
The Medic quietly took position beside Leon.
The SCV’s engine rumbled behind them, crushing broken stone and mud beneath its treads.
After taking two steps…
Leon suddenly stopped.
He looked toward Ironbone.
“You.” Ironbone immediately slammed his forehead onto the steel plate.
“Y-Yes, Commander!” “Return to the scrapyard.” Leon pointed toward the purification module.
“Guard that purifier with your life.” “If anyone touches it…” “I’ll come back and dismantle your skeleton.” Ironbone nodded frantically.
“You have my word!” “Even if every member of the Gear Gang dies…” “Not a single scratch will appear on that sacred machine!” Leon ignored him.
Leading the squad deeper into the tunnel.
As they walked…
He switched to Ada’s channel.
“Ada.” “Does the Norn Suppressant the Medic used have any side effects on humans?” [No toxic reactions detected.] [Norn Suppressant targets only the Tyranid adaptive evolution mechanism.] [Primary function: Prevent enemy organisms from analyzing friendly genetic material through consumption.] Leon frowned.
“Then how did it cure Helena?” [Correction.] [The Suppressant possesses no healing capability.] [Treatment was performed by the Medic’s nanite reconstruction module and cryo-laser surgical system.] [We use science.] [They rely on superstition.] Leon twitched the corner of his mouth around the cigar.
“Don’t say that in front of her.” [Recommendation accepted.] [Current indigenous belief system is structurally fragile.] [Further stimulation may result in cognitive collapse.] Leon glanced over his shoulder.
Helena walked quietly in the middle of the formation.
Her face remained pale.
Her steps were still unsteady.
Yet she held her weapon tightly.
Only moments ago…
She had been on the verge of death.
Now she had already convinced herself she was serving the Emperor.
Leon looked forward again.
At that very moment…
Ada’s voice became noticeably colder.
[Warning.] [Large-scale high-frequency biological signatures detected ahead.] [Numbers extremely high.] [Targets rapidly approaching.] From the darkness surrounding the wastewater treatment plant…
Came the sound of countless chitinous limbs scraping against concrete.
Something…
Was climbing up from the filthy waters below.
Leon stopped.
“All units.” “Battle stations.” The Marines raised their rifles.
The Medic stepped back into the center of the formation.
The SCV planted its treads firmly as the plasma cutter ignited with brilliant blue light.
From somewhere deep within the darkness…
The first alien screech echoed through the tunnels.
[Current Resources:] [Minerals: 85] [Vespene Gas: 100]