Chapter 39: Blood Calamity (III)

Soshyan returned to the bridge once more. As he entered, Losa was monitoring the effectiveness of the *Spark's* defensive barrage; the intense green light from the monitoring screens and observation stations cast a sharp contrast against his silver-white silhouette.

"What have you found?"

Soshyan asked as the other crew members bowed in greeting to him.

"Before we could clear this damned asteroid field, the auspex couldn't complete a full scan. But we just identified its keel code. It's the *New Phalos*, a transport vessel belonging to Makand II."

"A transport? Is it heading to Makand II?"

"Based on its trajectory, it doesn't look like it. Although it is moving slowly toward the planet, it is far too slow for a freighter."

Losa played the signal they had just analyzed.

A ghostly whisper subsequently echoed across the bridge, immediately putting Soshyan on high alert.

"...Traitors..."

The signal contained only those two words. Soshyan analyzed many possibilities from them, but if he followed the worst-case scenario, they would be facing one of the most lethal threats to the Imperium of Man.

Ten thousand years ago, although the Horus Heresy ended with the death of the traitor Warmaster, the Legions that participated in the rebellion were not completely annihilated. A significant number of rebels fled into the Eye of Terror at the center of the galaxy.

The vast majority of them eventually threw themselves into the embrace of the Chaos Gods, abandoning the loyalty and honor they once held as Astartes, and falling into darkness.

In the ten thousand years since the end of the Great Heresy, they have been almost everywhere: in the depths of the ever-boiling Eye of Terror, within the cloud-shrouded Maelstrom, on desolate death worlds and dark moons, in precipitous fortresses, or within elusive fleets.

Emerging from these hidden lairs, bloodthirsty Chaos tribes launch attacks upon the domains of His Imperial Majesty.

As Astartes, they were once proud and mighty warriors; faith was the armor that protected them, and justice was the weapon in their hands. They possessed a will far more resilient than that of mortals.

But once fallen, their transformation was far more violent than that of any mortal.

Chaos Space Marines became the champions of the hungering Dark Gods; hatred gnawed at their souls, and selfishness filled their thoughts.

Aside from gaining more power and satisfying personal ambitions, they had no other goals or ideals.

They once used the sacred bolters and purifying flamers in their hands to cleanse the entire galaxy; now, however, Chaos Space Marines threaten everything the Emperor worked so hard to establish.

These rebel warriors are the most loathsome yet most lethal of the Imperium's enemies. Chaos Space Marines no longer care for loyalty, honor, sacrifice, or duty; they have sold their lives and souls to the Chaos Gods, trading their oaths for immense martial power.

They indulge in excess and corruption in the hope of attaining the chance to become immortal daemons.

But they are also the most fearsome enemies. Not only do they possess the superhuman physique and devastating weaponry of Space Marines, but they also obtain mystical weapons and equipment imbued with magical powers through pacts made with the Chaos Gods.

The capabilities of these weapons and gear are so mysterious and bizarre that even the Adeptus Mechanicus cannot comprehend the principles of their operation.

Chaos Space Marines also conspire with the servants of the Chaos Gods; on one hand, they use the gathered energy of daemons to cast sorcery, and on the other, they directly summon daemons to support their combat.

For ten thousand years, traitorous Chaos Legions and small-scale warbands have pillaged and destroyed countless worlds belonging to the Emperor.

The Inquisition spares no effort in erasing their massacres and conquests from the history books to prevent anyone from being seduced into the embrace of Chaos, while loyal Space Marines fight them in bloody combat, striving to keep them outside the high walls of humanity.

Most of the Imperium's citizens remain entirely ignorant of this long and fierce struggle.

Of course, this was the worst-case scenario; it could also just be ordinary Chaos cultists or pirates, but Soshyan's rule of engagement was—calculate the worst case first.

"Have any other warships or fleets been detected nearby?"

"No traces of any other vessels, only a Sword-class frigate docked at the orbital defense station."

"Sword-class?"

Soshyan seemed to catch something, a fleeting flash of insight.

"Tell me, could their target... be that frigate?"

"Then how did they break through the defense station's interception fire?"

Soshyan's fingers tapped against the railing.

"You just said this transport belongs to Makand II, right?"

"Yes."

"Then is there a possibility, or rather, a hypothesis..."

Soshyan looked up at the three-dimensional image of the ship on the display, pondering for a moment before saying

"Suppose we want to land on the orbital station but want to avoid heavy interception fire. What method could we use? For example, acquire a transport ship, then pretend to suffer a malfunction or accident to lure the orbital station's rescue vessels to arrive. Then, seize the rescue vessel and use its security identification codes to bypass interception."

Losa was stunned for a long moment.

"That seems... feasible."

"Following that plan, once they land on the orbital station, they would have to face the attacks of the garrisoned troops. The Adeptus Mechanicus forces on the ground would also react quickly; leaving wouldn't be easy."

"Unless they seize another warship."

"Exactly."

Soshyan clapped his hands lightly.

"Their target is that Sword-class frigate."

"Then how should we respond now? The intrusion has likely been happening for over twenty minutes; the enemy has most likely seized the frigate and is preparing to leave."

Losa did not finish his sentence, but Soshyan already understood the implication.

Concentrate firepower to take it down before the Sword-class frigate leaves the system.

This would not be difficult for the *Spark*. Even at its most basic level, the *Spark* was a powerful Vanguard-class cruiser, and over the passing centuries, its original design had been rebuilt and expanded.

New engine modules, plasma circulation systems, three layers of adamantium bulkheads—its capabilities were far superior to the cruisers used by the Navy.

No matter what the traitors possessed, within this system, they could not hide firepower large enough to threaten the *Spark*.

Thus, their lone frigate would naturally be like a fish in a jar.

"What is the status of the orbital station's communications? Can you lock onto a distress signal?"

"Not yet," Losa replied, shaking his head.

"Once we reach the highest orbit, there will be a better chance to make contact. Local records list that distress signal as being emitted from a marked small signal station. We cannot determine if the garrison is still resisting, or if that signal is merely playing on a loop."

"Then we deal with that transport first. Now is when its defenses are at their weakest."

"And that also makes it a perfect trap. We know those traitors are fond of setting all kinds of traps, luring insufficiently vigilant or overly confident targets into death, or worse."

"If we dismantle that trap, they will have nothing left to threaten us with."

"Then we can also blast it into scrap from a distance."

Losa was still unwilling to let Soshyan take risks, but he overlooked one issue.

"We need to learn about the enemy through it, and we cannot let the supplies on board go to waste."

Soshyan shook his head.

"Besides, I bet these traitors absolutely do not expect us to come, and they won't live long enough to escape the orbital station anyway."