Chapter 40: Blood Calamity (IV)

Upon reaching high orbit, the *Spark* immediately sprang into action.

The Strike Cruiser shuddered under an almost uncontainable surge of power, the air thick with the static discharge of its void shields and the thrumming pulse of its charged lance battery arrays.

Replacing Sothian as commander of the bridge's command throne, Losa was surrounded by a sea of holographic displays and data readouts.

The observation port's blast shutters had been lowered; the space behind them was now dominated by monitoring screens and observation displays that occupied the center of the dim bridge.

Losa watched the crew busily at work.

Generally speaking, Space Marines rarely noticed their mortal servants, let alone their specific activities. This was not out of arrogance, but rather because the vast physiological and psychological chasm made it difficult for transhumans to notice the frail humans scurrying about their feet. Those controlling the bridge were among the most privileged of the thousands of servitors and attendants serving the warship; experience and expertise afforded them better rations and more comfortable quarters.

Even so, they were useless and fragile creatures. Their grey-white robes hung loosely on thin frames, making them appear gaunt and emaciated.

In a futile attempt to mimic their masters, some had shaved their scalps, while others bore aquila tattoos on their faces and arms.

Losa observed them working at the vox-stations and auspex arrays, monitoring engine output and preparing to coordinate fire.

Everything was conducted in silence.

At this altitude, no matter how hard she tried, Losa found she could not distinguish any of them—old or young, male or female.

They were the property of the Chapter; whether by choice or coercion, they were bound to serve on this vessel for the rest of their lives.

Such was the cruel and indifferent face of the Imperium of Man.

Choice, for most, was a luxury they could not afford.

"Chapter Master."

Losa opened the long-range comms to speak with Sothian, who had already arrived at the torpedo launch tubes.

"We are closing in on the transport. Identity scans and keel markings confirm it is undoubtedly the *New Phalos*. Your orders?"

"Have you signaled her?"

"Yes, but there has been no response. Close-range auspex scans detected minimal signs of life. A landing craft was jettisoned about twenty minutes ago, targeting the orbital station. I believe your suspicions have been confirmed."

"It seems those traitors have already had their fun. That ship is nothing more than a morgue now."

"Indeed, but they might provide intelligence before we land—such as the identities of the traitors."

Losa stared at the monitor.

Even without magnification, the *New Phalos* was clearly identifiable, its mottled, unappealing hull silhouetted against the rotating green and white sphere of the planet.

What had its crew encountered? What now occupied its decks and corridors in the darkness?

"Chapter Master, we will be within launch range in twenty seconds."

"You have control."

After twenty seconds of silent waiting, Sothian felt the vibration as the assault torpedoes enveloping him ignited.

Behind him, First Company stood motionless, fully armored and armed. Auto-stabilizers and mag-locks held them steady as the torpedoes launched toward the flank of the *New Phalos*.

The *Spark* had closed to a distance so tight that, regardless of whatever defensive systems the enemy possessed, they could not lock onto the Imperial Knights as the boarding torpedoes tore through the narrow void between the two vessels.

The proximity alarm blared, and before the narrow metal compartment could be filled with fierce red light, less than fifteen seconds had passed on the timer on Sothian's faceplate.

"Prepare for breach!"

Sothian commanded, setting the stabilizers to maximum power.

As the armor locked, he felt the braking rockets suppress a violent impact; at the very moment of collision, he let out a grunt.

The power armor absorbed the intense gravitational shift, a force sufficient to tear a mortal into mincemeat.

The torpedo seemed to pause for a moment, then a new vibration shuddered through the deck beneath Sothian's feet as the melta-head burned through the outer hull of the *New Phalos*.

Sothian drew the power sword from his hip in one fluid motion.

He could feel the hunger for battle from First Company behind him; they had waited too long.

Yet, Sothian found himself praying that there were not too many living traitors left on board, and that nothing would complicate the slaughter. The Imperial Knights could not tolerate failure, nor could they afford significant losses.

Pushing his concerns aside, Sothian focused his mind.

He was no longer merely a soldier.

Soon, the shattered metal plates were blown open by a dull explosion from the boarding torpedo, followed by the shrill whine of auto-bolters.

The flickering lights inside the torpedo shifted from red to green. Sothian was already moving before the ramp even lowered; the roar of the power sword's disruption field cut through the deathly silence, meeting the screaming darkness outside.

In the next second, Sothian's auto-sensors captured distorted, unnatural shapes. They had been torn apart by the torpedo's breach, their fragments scattered across the corridor, making the scene even more grotesque.

His sensors detected an unmistakable, loathsome warp-stench.

This was a group of highly corrupted Chaos cultists, or perhaps mutinous crew members.

Their pale bodies were covered in blasphemous symbols, their wide mouths filled with jagged teeth, as they lunged at the Death Angels wielding various primitive weapons.

"Exterminate them."

Behind Sothian, First Company surged forward, swiftly annihilating the first wave of Chaos cultists lunging from the darkness. The Space Marines did not even use their bolters, instead using chainswords and fists to tear the enemies into wet shreds of flesh and black ichor.

Sothian trampled over their twisted corpses, while the traitors bared their teeth in hatred.

That grotesque terror would have shattered the sanity of most mortals; blood-sucking fangs and newly sprouted limbs twisted and lashed out, attempting to snag the silver-grey armor.

But before the Space Marines, they remained as fragile as paper.

Sothian sliced through them with ease, allowing chunks of black filth to splatter against his armor.

Farzad charged down the corridor, the fury of his twin battle axes filling the enclosed space. Screaming fragments and sprays of blood rained down upon him, staining him a dark crimson.

Second Company soon emerged from the landing craft to protect the flanks of the first. Their heavy bolters hummed with energy overload as they evaporated the Chaos cultists further down the corridor into bursts of flame and ash.

After the last Chaos cultist died with a wail under Sothian's fist, he pressed onward until he reached an open bulkhead.

He stepped through it, searching for new enemies.

His auto-sensors revealed the slaughterhouse he had entered. What was once the ship's chapel was submerged in blood and hanging limbs. Hunchbacked, cloaked creatures writhed in the mad butchery, and the cultists recoiled at Sothian's appearance.

Sothian did not hesitate; he swung his blade, tearing through their twisted limbs.

The cultists did much to claw and strike at one another in a desperate attempt to escape him, but it was useless against the silver-armored giant.

He soon ensured these people joined the very slaughterhouse they had created.

"No other crew members found."

When Farzad arrived to report, Sothian stood there breathing heavily, viscera dripping from his ancient armor.

He struggled to control himself, struggling against the impulse to continue the killing driven by rage.

Simultaneously, a second combat report arrived on his faceplate from Second Tactical Squad, who had infiltrated the ship's engine room.

"No survivors."

Ustad stated everything he saw.

"No sign of traitors; the engine room is currently under control."

However, Sothian's attention was drawn to a massive symbol on the chapel wall. His intuition told him this symbol was deeply connected to the identity of the traitors, so he captured the image and sent it to Losa on the bridge.

"Losa, did you receive the image I sent?"

"Received, Chapter Master."

"What is it?"

On the bridge of the *Spark*, Losa stood on the command platform, staring at the image Sothian had transmitted to her faceplate.

"Chapter Master, it seems all your suspicions were correct. We have indeed encountered traitors."

On the blood-soaked wall, a brass-colored symbol shimmered with an evil light.

"It is the symbol of the Chaos God Khorne. We have encountered a Khorne warband."