Chapter 42: Peril

Morinette was the first to enter the central control hub, but he was cut off in a corridor before another blast door; the defenders had successfully sealed the passage.

Alarms blared incessantly everywhere. An unlucky worker, dragging his coveralls, stumbled out from a side door, only to be casually cleaved in two by Morinette's serrated battle axe.

"Blow it open," Morinette commanded. A World Eater warrior pushed forward, beginning to fit a set of mag-lock thermic dissectors.

Then, he paused to inspect the obstacle.

"A fortress-grade blast door. Is it a local Adeptus Mechanicus product? Or imported from elsewhere? The main locking clamps are on both sides of the central pin bolt, here and here."

"Go whine to the Warp," Morinette barked loudly. "Open it!"

The World Eater shrugged, clamped a pair of dissectors onto the points just indicated, and stepped aside.

"Get back," he said, activating the detonator wired to his right arm armor.

In an instant, the directional dissectors melted their molecular fuel, generating a vibration, and with a low thud, they ignited.

The thermic burn followed, boring straight into the heavy door and melting two holes through the adamantium plating.

A mass of flame flickered, and a faint cracking sound emanated from where the two door leaves were sealed together.

"You!" Morinette pointed to another warrior. The largest member of the warband squeezed through his brothers with a shoulder nudge, grunted, and slammed his fist against the fractured part of the door, beginning to heave.

Accompanied by a low grinding sound, the World Eater tensed his muscles and lowered his head, as the ancient, patched-up servos of his power armor gradually augmented his already formidable strength.

After a second of shoulder-shoving, the automatic hinges began to yield.

As the locks melted into sludge, the heavy doors swung open.

Behind them lay a vast array of cogitator crews and power coils; the terror-stricken guards could do nothing but watch.

"Kill them," Morinette ordered, and the warband charged into the generator room.

As they hacked through screaming mortals, Morinette strode toward the central mass of power coils, cooling valves, and gear blocks.

This was the main generator of the orbital station's central control room. The air at its core throbbed with static electricity; arcs of lightning flowed across Morinette's armor like warm currents. He then drew a grenade.

BOOM—!

The lights in the central control room died; it took three and a half seconds for the emergency cables laid across the floor to activate.

By then, the slaughter had begun.

With a casual *crack* and a sudden shift in air pressure, five massive warriors clad in crimson thick-plate armor suddenly appeared, surrounding the shallow pit where the central cogitator computers sat.

As the backup lighting kicked in, they opened fire.

General Sora collapsed behind a row of cogitators, covering his ears as the room filled with the thunderous explosions of bolter fire.

Part of his brain understood that the hub's power system had been compromised and that they were facing a ferocious assault. Beyond that, there was nothing left in his mind but pure, blind panic.

The cogitator crews shuddered and sprayed sparks under the barrage of bolter fire. He saw two augur operators on his right fall, their torsos blown open; one of them was the young soldier who had come to see him during the briefing in the intelligence room.

Sora fumbled for his pistol, trying to draw it from his belt.

"Sir!"

The augur operator let out a wail. Just as Sora tried to scramble toward the cover beside the station master, a bolt shell struck the man's right arm.

The limb vanished in a spray of blood and shattered bone, spinning him halfway around. His scream lasted nearly a second before another bolt shell tore away the left side of his face, leaving a mangled corpse to slump to the floor.

"By the Emperor..." Sora stammered, struggling to disengage the safety on his pistol.

Suddenly, everything went quiet.

Except for General Sora; his heart was hammering violently.

The pool of blood flowing from the augur operator's corpse stained his knees, but he forced himself not to move.

Heavy footsteps vibrated through the deck, accompanied by the hum and grind of power armor.

"Who are you?" a stammering voice asked; Sora recognized it as the Deputy Station Master.

Then, following a crushing sound, the unlucky man began to scream—a scream that lasted a long time.

Afterward, the footsteps grew heavier.

Finally, a shadow fell over the station master, who was clutching his head tightly. He looked up, trembling, blinking incessantly due to blood and sweat.

He tried to raise his hand, but the pistol felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, and it fell to the floor with a loud *clatter*.

A giant stood before him, clad in power armor covered in skulls and human skin. The helmet was fashioned into a beastial, long-nosed visage with short tusks and upward-extending wing-like guards—a crown worn only by the warriors of Khorne.

The giant's lenses emitted a dark, resentful red glow, and the brass brand decorating the massive breastplate was not covered by blood, but rather shone even brighter.

"No, no, no..."

When the giant gripped him with a massive, spike-covered gauntlet, General Sora finally remembered how to scream.

But he didn't last even a second.

***

"Dammit, dammit, dammit! Omnissiah, why did I have to run into this kind of hellish crap!"

Hiding in his own control room, Locken cursed incessantly while frantically operating various instruments.

According to the intelligence returning from different directions, the central system had likely fallen, and the enemy was cutting off power to various compartments and departments. Fortunately, Locken had backup power, so he didn't need to worry about that for now.

The problem was that, with the hub fallen, he had lost all means of communicating with the surface. He could only broadcast distress signals on shortwave frequencies, hoping a passing patrol fleet might receive them—an opportunity that was, of course, slim to none.

It wasn't that he hadn't thought about fleeing, but to flee, he would have to head for the starport, and it was obvious the enemy's target was the starport.

After analyzing the situation, Locken decided staying in his nest was safer; it was encased in thick metal, possessed independent signal transmitters and backup power, and was connected to the station's auxiliary control system.

It was also he who had ordered all passages and corridors to be closed, specifically to buy time.

"Whatever, just get the frigate away first."

Thinking that he couldn't let the enemy succeed so easily, Locken began sending messages to the frigate, ordering it to ignite its engines immediately and leave the starport.

But that, too, would take time.

Locken was working hard to maintain the station's operation. After all, the enemy only had a few people, while the station still held at least twenty thousand guards—they just couldn't muster together right now.

He was planning routes to ensure as many guards as possible could become a force to obstruct the traitors.

A 3D holographic image of the orbital station floated before him; every gate and every compartment was under his surveillance.

Suddenly, he felt a chilling sensation wash over him.

Locken spun around violently, but saw only the closed door.

"What's going on—"

*THUD!*

Suddenly, a massive bang erupted from the door; something was ramming it.

"DAMMIT!!!"

Locken was so terrified he nearly lost control of his bladder.

Those damned things had realized something was blocking them, and they had come for him!

(End of Chapter)