Far from the Ishimura's orbit, approximately six million kilometers from Shield-7's surface in deep space, a blue-white radiance suddenly tore through the void.
This was the spatial ripple left behind when FTL engines shut down in the Dead Space universe. Following closely, a rescue vessel smaller than a Luna transport gradually materialized.
The hull bore scratches and mottled old paint, as if witnessing countless hasty deployments and desperate calls for aid.
The bow identification was clearly visible: Kellion.
The rescue craft's power engines roared silently in vacuum, tail nozzles igniting pale blue plasma light, advancing toward Shield-7's near-orbit with urgent, hurried bearing.
Inside the cockpit, red warning lights flashed rhythmically, reminding everyone that electromagnetic interference in the current sector remained unstable.
The female communications officer at her station operated the control console, her voice amplified through the radio yet carrying slight static due to signal disruption:
"Ishimura, please respond if you copy, this is rescue craft Kellion... repeat, this is Kellion, please respond!"
However, only the "crackle—" of electrical interference echoed through the headphones, deathly silence mixed with static, increasingly unsettling.
The communications officer set down her microphone, expression somewhat grave.
Brief silence fell over the cockpit as several crew members exchanged glances, their eyes carrying undisguised anxiety and hesitation.
Cabin lighting was dim, only the fluorescent green light from operation panels casting shadows on faces, making their expressions appear even more tense.
The female officer's chest nameplate flickered in the light, bearing the name "Kendra Daniels."
She pressed her lips tight, gaze still searching for any possible signal echoes on the screen. In the cockpit's corner, several accompanying armed mercenaries and engineers had quietly taken positions.
Their equipment wasn't particularly advanced—compared to federal forces, it could even be called crude—but each person's eyes held a determination forged by survival and protection.
Seated in the forward position was the Kellion rescue team's security officer—
A burly, bald man with deep brow ridges and cold gaze, his chest nameplate clearly marked "Zach Hammond."
Behind the security officer, a man in work clothes with steady bearing quietly observed the deep void beyond the viewport.
His facial features were resolute, expression grave and wordless, yet giving an impression of silent "weight." His nameplate bore only simple lettering: "Isaac Clarke."
As the Ishimura continued to remain unresponsive, the cockpit atmosphere grew increasingly heavy.
The entire rescue craft seemed shrouded by invisible pressure, every slight tremor of the bulkheads like reminders they were gradually approaching some unknown abyss.
"Maintain course."
Zach Hammond ordered quietly, his voice hoarse yet carrying the calm characteristic of security officers.
Hammond understood clearly that retreat wouldn't solve problems. Since Kellion had been dispatched by the company, their duty was investigating the truth.
However, just then, the radar screen suddenly blazed with piercing red light.
The pilot started, then quickly looked up at detection echoes, his voice carrying a tremor of disbelief:
"Sir... detecting two large vessels ahead... identification unknown."
Before he finished speaking, the entire cockpit fell silent.
Light dots on the radar waveform display dominated the entire screen—massive, clear, that kind of oppression sufficient to chill anyone accustomed to warships.
"Magnify." Hammond quickly said.
"Yes sir."
Following the command, shadows gradually emerged from deep space on the holographic imaging.
As the rescue craft drew closer, those shadows gradually solidified until fully revealed before everyone's eyes...
They were two steel giants slightly larger than the Ishimura.
Their hull lines were sharp and angular, like two slumbering steel beasts standing in the void.
The bow main gun ports were almost terrifyingly massive, currently locked precisely onto Kellion. Moreover, the hulls faintly flickered with blue energy patterns, displaying magnificence and solemnity completely different from federal technology.
The cockpit's lighting seemed to lose relevance in this instant as everyone directed their gaze toward the viewports, that dual oppressive force causing the pilot to instinctively jerk the controls, making the rescue craft rapidly decelerate, inertia pulling everyone slightly forward.
"These... these aren't federal ships..."
Kendra murmured quietly, pupils suddenly contracting.
Her voice almost represented everyone present's thoughts.
The Ishimura's silence was already sufficiently unsettling, and now these two steel giants spanning the void undoubtedly transformed that unease into cold fear.
Kellion rescue craft was completely intercepted in the void, the shadow of bow gun ports capable of instantly annihilating the entire small craft coldly enveloping them.
Throughout the cockpit, only instrument panel beeping and crew members' rapid breathing intertwined, as if even heartbeats were infinitely amplified in this moment.
At this time, a cold, metallic voice suddenly rang through the previously silent communications channel.
That voice seemed to pierce through heavy hulls directly striking their minds, so heavy it made breathing falter slightly.
"Kellion, this is the Imperial Martial Legion of the Human Empire."
A concise, sharp opening, like casting a boulder into the void, shocking everyone's spirits.
Then that voice continued, each word carrying undeniable authority:
"We do not wish armed conflict with your party, so please immediately disarm, maintain status quo, and await our recovery of your rescue craft.
Note: do not attempt to escape, nor make any small moves, or face consequences at your own risk."
As the final syllable fell, the cockpit became so quiet it seemed air had been evacuated.
The low-frequency alert tone still echoed in their ears, but compared to the earlier oppression of two massive vessels, this sound seemed infinitely small.
"Human... Empire? Imperial Martial Legion?"
Kendra Daniels quietly repeated, unprecedented confusion appearing in her eyes.
Her fingertips froze on the operation panel, throat somewhat tight.
Throughout the cockpit, everyone instinctively exchanged glances, each person's eyes carrying the same questions and fear.
What exactly was that?
Why had they never heard of such a force within Earth Federation territory?
Who were they? Where did they come from? And why could they deploy such a massive fleet in this sector?
The cabin atmosphere was so tense it nearly solidified, as if even the lighting was trembling coldly.
Finally, everyone's gaze fell on Zach Hammond.
This security officer's expression was grim, more grave than anyone else's.
His chest rose and fell, but he maintained rational calm throughout, arms crossed before his armor, gaze fixed on the massive ship shadows beyond the viewport.
Before coming, the orders they received were extremely clear—direct commands from Concordance Extraction Corporation's upper management.
They stated the Ishimura had encountered abnormal circumstances while executing planetary cracking operations, suspected electromagnetic interference causing complete communications blackout.
Kellion's mission was investigating and implementing rescue.
In Hammond's understanding, this was nothing more than a dangerous yet fairly common mining accident.
But reality had completely overturned his expectations within mere minutes.
They faced not some natural disaster or equipment failure, but a massive force far exceeding federal fleets.
Beyond the viewport, those two Gloriana-class cruisers stood like steel barriers spanning the galaxy—any single cannon firing could erase Kellion's existence in moments.
Hammond knew well that even if they unleashed all the rescue craft's firepower, they couldn't leave half a mark on the opponents' armor.
With this thought, the suppressed chill in his heart grew heavier.
Resistance was simply a dead end.
Escape? Under locked-down conditions in this space, it would be tantamount to suicide.
He took a deep breath, compressed air "stretching" his chest with dull pain, yet still maintained composure, slowly speaking:
"Since they emphasized not wanting conflict, it means they don't necessarily view us as enemies."
His words were steady but carried no relaxation. Everyone in the cockpit listened intently, each word like a decisive hammer hanging on life and death's edge.
"If we resist or rashly attempt escape"—Hammond's gaze was cold, sweeping over each crew member—"the result would only be needless sacrifice of all personnel, without even a chance for survival."
The cabin air seemed several degrees colder.
Everyone's expressions froze, and they understood Hammond spoke the truth.
"So—" his voice was very low but equally carried unquestionable weight, "we must show our attitude, at least let them see we're willing to cooperate."
His eyes fell on Kendra: "Daniels, use communications to respond, tell them we'll cooperate with arrangements as much as possible."
Kendra bit her lip, hands still trembling slightly, but she quickly pressed the communications key.
Her voice carried obvious tension while trying to control her emotions, replying:
"This is Kellion, message received, we will follow instructions, disarm, and maintain standby status, please confirm."
The moment she finished speaking, everyone in the cockpit held their breath, staring at the holographic screen, waiting for that cold metallic voice to return.
Several seconds felt like infinite time extension.
Each heartbeat was infinitely amplified, like war drums thundering in their ears.
Finally, response came through the channel, that voice still cold but seemingly less sharp, carrying more certainty after confirmation:
"Kellion, received, maintain unchanged status, you will be taken under our management, please wait quietly."
As this response concluded, the tense atmosphere pervading the cockpit eased slightly, but no one dared relax.
Beyond the viewport, those two cruisers like steel colossi still stood, their massive silhouettes reflecting on the rescue craft's glass, creating overwhelming oppressive force.
Hammond remained silent for a long time before slowly exhaling.
He understood clearly this was merely the beginning—the Ishimura's abnormalities, the sudden appearance of the so-called Human Empire, and the "Imperial Martial Legion"—
The truth behind all this was more massive than any of them could imagine.
Soon after, a large ship-based cargo craft slowly appeared outside Kellion's viewport.
Following closely were two sleekly designed carrier aircraft racing forth, their flight trajectories clean and sharp, like swords carving sharp arcs through the void.
Light inside the cabin illuminated the crew members' pale faces as they instinctively held their breath.
As the cargo craft's central bay opened, a tractor beam emanating blue-green radiance suddenly released, like a long chain in the void, firmly entwining Kellion.
"We're... locked on."
The pilot quietly swallowed saliva, hands powerlessly hanging on the controls.
The rescue craft trembled slightly, then no longer responded to any operations, as if becoming a puppet under the opponent's will, forced to move.
The tractor beam remained stable, dragging it toward the massive cargo craft's belly.
At this moment, whether in the cockpit or the narrow corridors in the engine compartment, everyone could feel that bone-deep sense of powerlessness.
The entire Kellion under irresistible force was like a small boat drifting with currents, brought into the trajectory of a cruiser's massive hangar.
"My God..."
Kendra Daniels couldn't help but whisper quietly.
Her voice trembled slightly, palms gripping the communications panel yet never touching any buttons.
Her eyes flickered—not just fear, but mixed with some unknown complex emotions.
Finally, Kellion was precisely placed on the cruiser's hangar deck by the cargo craft.
Thud... thud...
Buffer struts emitted slight metallic grinding sounds, vibrations spreading throughout the ship.
Just as the engine bay was about to stabilize, all rescue team members looked outward simultaneously, and they almost simultaneously constricted their pupils—
Standing on the deck were rows of "giants" clad in heavy power armor.
These figures stood in orderly, solemn formation, their armor reflecting hangar lighting, golden badges and legion insignia on breastplates gleaming under cold light.
Even through the viewport, everyone could feel that oppressive force heavy enough to suffocate.
Those were towering frames far exceeding ordinary humans—a rough glance revealed heights exceeding two and a half meters, broad shoulder guards, thick arms, steps steady as mountains.
"Are these still human?"
An engineer murmured, voice carrying uncontrollable trembling.
No one answered because everyone's hearts harbored the same question.
The beings before them had far exceeded their recognized human categories.
Hammond stared at the giants outside, expression grim yet resolute. He understood clearly that continuing to hide inside the craft would only make the situation more passive. He spoke in a low voice:
"Let's go... we can't keep hiding inside forever."
As his words fell, though everyone's expressions varied, they were still moved by his calm authority.
Isaac silently tightened safety fasteners on his work suit, Kendra took a deep breath, barely steadying her emotions, while other soldiers and engineers gathered at the hatch, forming a line.
As the hatch slowly opened, intense white light first flooded in, making eyes tremble.
When the radiance faded, the scene before them made their hearts tighten again—they were "surrounded."
A row of Imperial Martial warriors stood around the deck, holding .75cal bolters, cold faceplates emanating invisible pressure. The air seemed heavy due to Astartes presence, each breath accompanied by "substantial" oppressive force.
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